Our Trip to Vannak's

For last year’s Pchum Ben Festival, I and the other Svay Rieng Peace Corps Volunteers ventured by bike to our friend Vannak’s house where we spent the day playing with puppies and piglets and riding water buffalo. (You can read my previous post about this trip here: http://mylifewithrice.blogspot.com/2013/05/this-is-my-friend-vannak-man-not-water.html)

For this year’s Pchum Ben Festival, I and 12 others again visited Vannak and his family, but this time we hit up his in-laws in Pursat Province. In Cambodian culture, once married, the newlyweds will often move in with the bride’s family, so Vannak’s house isn’t with his own family in Svay Rieng where he grew up but in Pursat Province with his wife’s extended family.



Vannak’s wife and her family cooking up a feast for all the guests.



Vannak and his son.

Since Vannak’s house is in an extremely remote village outside of the provincial town, the plan was for him to come in with his District’s ra’mourk (a motorbike pulling a flat trailer) that runs in the morning to allow villagers to get to the major market in the town. Alas, we were foiled by rainy season with pouring, incessant rain from early morning until almost 11. Since the ra’mourk wouldn’t be able to get through in those conditions, we had to find our own transportation. Vannak got us in touch with a neighbor who had taken his motorbike into town, and he helped us find a van to fit all of us. The van-finding, though, was done with protest, since he assured us that nothing larger than a tuk tuk (essentially a motorbike-drawn carriage) would be able to pass on the roads. Frugality prevailed and we ignored his advice, renting a van to take us to Vannak’s house.

The neighbor acted as our driver’s guide, leading us down increasingly poor dirt roads, until we reached a canal running between two narrow paths. We ventured down the first path, stopping short where the road narrowed too much. The second path yielded no more success. So we piled out of the van, thanking our driver for his effort and commitment to the cause, and we walked the remaining two kilometers. Vannak’s village is so entirely remote, that we walked over a kilometer without seeing a single dwelling. His village is what I always envisioned I would live in during my time with Peace Corps, the no electricity, no paved roads, no school buildings type village.



Making the trek on foot after our van could not pass.



Vannak’s back yard.

Upon arriving at the home, we greeted everyone in the formal Cambodian manner of placing our palms together, fingers up, and bowing slightly. We chatted with Vannak, and he showed us around the area a bit, taking special note of river where we immediately went swimming while lunch was being cooked. I’m fairly sure we were the first foreigners most of the children had ever interacted with, so we were quite the wary fascination for them, and we had a large crowd examining us during (and after) our swim.



Enjoying the peaceful calm on the river bank before jumping right in.



Tysor’s flock of children.



Me, trying to bond with Vannak’s kid.

Lunch blended seemlessly into hours of socialization. We all chatted together, goofed off, and made new friends. Eventually, the music came out and the dance party started. Thankfully, we got the older ladies of the house to bust a move with us, which is atypical for Cambodian parties, and everyone seemed to get a kick out of it.



Willia and Oum gettin’ down.

Long before we were ready to say goodbye, it came time to leave. The only form of transportation available in the village was a plow modified to run on the road and trailing a large board. We all squeezed on, saying our goodbyes and accepting invitations to return at the next holiday. Two of the guys followed us on a motorbike to ensure our safe return, which ended up being a lifesaver as one of the plow’s tires blew and the motorbike was able to go borrow a tire from a neighboring village (they also proved extremely helpful as retrievers of our shoes and sunglasses that the rough bumps took flying).



Our ‘car’ for the trip back to town.

The strength of Peace Corps comes in the relationships you form. Because of our friendship with Vannak, we were able to meet people and have an experience that otherwise never could have happened. We we able to gain perspective and connections and empathy for a community we otherwise never would have known existed. We didn’t make any difference in anyone’s lives (except maybe provide some amusing tales), but we changed our own lives. It’s hard to live the same way after you’ve been in a village where you had to go to the neighbor’s house because your friend’s house didn’t have a bathroom, where your seemingly easy request for dancing music resulted in a concerted effort to find a music player and car batteries with which to play it, where an obviously poor family found enough meat to add to the vegetables you brought because you didn’t consider that they would feel rude not to provide you with meat for lunch. We’ll never forget our trip to Vannak’s.

Cambodia in Holidays: Pchum Ben

Pchum Ben, or Ancestors’ Day, is an annual 15-day celebration that follows the Khmer lunar calendar, usually taking place late September to mid October. This year, 2013, Pchum Ben falls from September 20th to October 4th. While festivities occur throughout this 15-day period, only the last three days are a public holiday, and the final day is the major celebration. Pchum Ben is unique to Cambodia, and is one of Cambodia’s most important Buddhist festivals. Many businesses will close as people migrate back to their home provinces to spend the holiday with their relatives.

According to legend,


“Phchum Ben came about because relatives of King Bath Pempeksa defied religious customs and ate rice before the monks did during a religious ritual. After their death, they became evil spirits. When a monk known as Kokak Sonthor gained enlightenment and became a Buddha on earth, all those evil spirits went to ask him, “When can we eat?” The Buddha said, “You have to wait for the next Buddha in the Kathakot Buddhist realm. In this realm, evil spirits cannot eat.” When the next monk, Kamanou, achieved enlightenment and became a Buddha, all the evil spirits came again to ask the same question, and he gave the same answer as the previous Buddha. Later, another monk, Kasakbour, achieved enlightenment and became a Buddha, and the hungry evil spirits again asked him the same question. The Buddha told them the same thing - to wait for the next Buddha. The final Buddha, Preah Samphot - also known also as Samanakkodom - said to the evil spirits, “Wait for your relative, King Bath Pempeksa, to offer merits and dedication. When the dedication is made, the food will be yours to eat.”

King Pempeksa finally made an offering, but he did not dedicate the offering to the spirits of his relatives. All the spirits that were related to him cried that night. And when King Bath Pempeksa went to the Valovan pagoda to visit the Buddha, he was told by the Buddha that, “All the spirits of your relatives are crying, demanding food. The spirits should get food in the realm of Kathakot. Although you offered food and did good deeds, you did not dedicate the food and good deeds to them.” So King Bath Pempeksa made another dedication and offering, and this time he dedicated the food and merits to his relatives. The evil spirits received the dedication and were finally reborn into paradise.”







Cambodians take great care to prepare sticky rice and other offerings, arranged in the most elaborate fashions (picture from khmerlovekhmerculture.blogspot.com)

And the legend has never died, Pchum Ben having been celebrated as long as collective memory can recall, every year dedicating offerings to bless the spirits of the dead. The dead relatives with bad karma can be trapped in the spirit world (hell), unable to be reincarnated. During Pchum Ben, though, the guardians of hell release these hungry ghosts to receive gifts of food and blessings from their living relatives. Cambodians can bring blessing to their deceased, trapped relatives in two ways: by transferring merit to the hungry ghosts through offering to the monks and by directly offering food by throwing sticky rice into the fields in the pagoda grounds.

Om Sam Ol, a monk at Steung Meanchey pagoda, explains more about the beliefs behind the festival: “During Pchum Ben, souls and spirits come to receive offerings from their living relatives. It is believed that some of the dead receive punishment for their sins and burn in hell - they suffer a lot and are tortured there,” he added. “Hell is far from people; those souls and spirits cannot see the sun; they have no clothes to wear, no food to eat. Pchum Ben is the period when those spirits receive offerings from their living relatives and perhaps gain some relief. Relatives consecrate and dedicate food and other offerings to them.”







People gather at the pagoda starting around 4am in order to have their offerings to their ancestors blessed. (picture from snappcambodia.com)

Traditionally, then, Pchum Ben is a holiday centered about religious rites at the pagodas. Every Buddhist will visit at least three pagodas during the 15-day period (the ideal number, however, is seven different pagodas) to pray for the souls of their dead relatives. Some people will have to travel very far to visit the pagoda where their dead relatives are most likely to visit, so the pagodas open their doors to allow travelers to sleep at the temples. If the living relatives do not make the appropriate offerings, some believe that the hungry ghosts will curse them in the following year; conversely, if the hungry ghosts are appeased, the living relatives will be blessed with happiness and success. On the final day of the holiday, the hungry ghosts are ordered to return to their prison to wait until the next Pchum Ben.









After the elaborate dishes are blessed, Cambodians parade around the main temple, stopping at each spirit house to drop a portion of the rice and other offerings and to say a quick prayer. Between spirit houses, they will throw some of the sticky rice over the temple railing and out into the field as a direct transfer to the hungry ghosts. (picture from cam111.com)

*quoted text from www.tourismcambodia.com

Youth Star Cambodia

Last Saturday was Youth Star Cambodia’s eighth annual fundraising gala dinner. This year’s theme honored the decade of the Roaring Twenties as ‘a decade symbolized by progress, innovation, liberation and prosperity. Youth Star’s Volunteers embody the characteristics of this time: they are change-makers bringing growth and development to the communities they work with.’ 

Thanks to the generosity of the USAID Director in Cambodia, I and a few other Peace Corps Volunteers were able to attend this event. We were all inspired by the vision and work of Youth Star, and we hope to work more closely with Youth Star in the future, learning from their methods and their dedicated Volunteers. 

Caitie, Kirk, and Jodi

Table 24 - arguably the most fun table at the gala

Youth Star was founded in 2005 by Returned Peace Corps Volunteer Eva Mysliwiec, and the mission and core values of Youth Star are actually quite similar to those of Peace Corps. Youth Star Cambodia sends young Cambodians to rural, impoverished areas to serve as Volunteers for a year, with the mission ‘to build a just and peaceful nation through citizen service, civic leadership, and social entrepreneurship. Our work is guided by the belief that building a just and peaceful nation is every citizen’s right and responsibility, and that each individual can make a difference.’

Youth Star Volunteers work closely with community leaders to achieve a community-directed development plan. Primarily, Youth Star Volunteers work with youth clubs, training up the next generation of leaders and empowering youth from disadvantaged situations. 

A Youth Star Volunteer leads a campaign for domestic-violence free communities through Cambodia’s Good Men Campaign (http://goodmencampaign.wordpress.com) (image from Youth Star’s website)

As a Peace Corps Volunteer in Cambodia, every time I read about Youth Star programs and events I am in awe at how much they are able to accomplish compared to us American Volunteers. Youth Star Volunteers are here, in their own country, helping in communities where they know the language and the culture and the everyday dynamics. 

You can learn more about Youth Star Cambodia and their vision and work at their website: 

http://www.youthstarcambodia.org/

Cambodia in Holidays: Constitution Day

On September 24th, the Kingdom of Cambodia celebrated their 10thConstitution Day, marking the late King Norodom Sihanouk’s signing of the Cambodian Constitution as well as his re-coronation as king of Cambodia’s newly formed Constitutional Monarchy on September 24th, 1993.

As part of the Paris Peace Accords of 1991, the United Nations stepped in to civil-war torn Cambodia to administer and monitor their first elections in decades. The May 1993 election ushered in a voter turnout of 89.6% of the eligible population, and Cambodia formed their first Parliament to draft and approve a new constitution.

The Preamble of this Constitution reads,

"We, the people of Cambodia, accustomed to having been an outstanding civilization, a prosperous, large, flourishing and glorious nation, with high prestige radiating like a diamond, having declined grievously during the past two decades, having gone through suffering and destruction, and having been weakened terribly,

Having awakened and resolutely rallied and determined to unite for the consolidation of national unity, the preservation and defense of Cambodia’s territory and precious sovereignty and the fine Angkor civilization, and the restoration of Cambodia into an “Island of Peace” based on multi-party liberal democratic responsibility for the nation’s future destiny of moving toward perpetual progress, development, prosperity, and glory.”

I live in a post conflict - post genocide - society.

The evidence of destruction and reconstruction are evident at every turn, from the interior administration to the physical landscape dichotomy of bomb-cratered rice fields and newly rising skyscrapers. Mostly, though, the history of Cambodia lies ever present in the skin of survivors.

I’ve talked with my host families about their personal history during the Khmer Rouge. Those talks are always my listening and trying to understand while my mother or father or aunt or neighbor tells a story that needs to be released, needs to be heard by someone - anyone.

Sometimes, though, I’m caught off guard. A statement so shocking, so painful, is given to me in passing conversation, and I simply don’t know how to respond. It’s not just my lack in language ability, it’s my lack as a human not knowing how to absorb and reflect and bear witness to pain so deep shown so freely. I’m afraid that I’m normalizing tragedy and horror.

Last night my neighbor’s aunt was visiting from California. She mentioned that she had come to honor and remember her father, who had died just a few days before Phnom Penh and the majority of Cambodia was liberated by the Vietnamese.

This morning my friend whom I spend every morning chatting with while I wait for my noodles to be cooked told me that he wish that he had been able to study English. Unfortunately, he said, he was 17 when Pol Pot came into power and abolished education. By the time schools resumed, he was too old to study.

I want them to know I’m trying to understand, trying to empathize, but my words are too few.

រៀនហើយ។⁣ រៀនទៀត។

'Studied already. Study more.'

Seen at a school in Takeo Province.

Chris, a fellow Peace Corps Volunteer who just finished his two years of service in Cambodia, offered up an encouraging moment to the volunteers still in service:

I was on my way to the Province that shall not be named. Along the way I met a Khmer boy on his way to this place. He took up the opportunity to speak English with a foreigner and came and sat by me on the bus. I asked him where he was going and he said that he was going to volunteer in the province with some Japanese volunteers on his short time off from University. He then started to tell me about a certain English teacher that he had in high school that had inspired him to study at University and to volunteer. He told me about how great and inspiring he was and how he helped find scholarships and that he had been inspired to study Japanese.. strange advice from an English teacher, but it seems to have paid off. Anyway.. he went on and finally said that he was a Peace Corps volunteer and asked me if I knew what Peace Corps was.. I was blown away. I had no Peace Corps shirts or hats on and I was certainly not expecting to hear about Peace Corps while going to a forbidden province. I asked him who it was and how long he studied with the teacher and he said Teacher Brian and for 6 months. I couldn’t believe how big an impact a volunteer had after only 6 months of a class that was held only a couple days a week.

Sometimes in your two or three years here, you will or have asked yourself what kind of a difference you made in this country (I know I have sooo many times). It is definitely sometimes difficult to see, but every lesson, every semester, every outreach, every conversation has the potential to inspire people.. even if it’s just one person. Maybe it’s students, villagers, friends, co-workers, tutors or teachers. You may not even realize it and maybe you will never get the chance to see it personally, but you are making an impact in Cambodia.

Good Luck, K7s and K6es! Keep going out there and inspiring people.

We wandered the garden in front of the Royal Palace, searching for the small tables marked by incense sticks. Finally, we stopped and asked a roadside cart seller: 'Do you know where we can find a fortune teller?' Serendipitously, we randomly asked a son of a fortune teller, who immediately explained that they all had gone in for the night but called his mother to ask her to meet us.

We waited at the food cart, loaded with Khmer snacks such as bird eggs, crickets, and tarantulas. My nerves jittered. I had asked to go to a fortune teller not to reveal a great mystery or solve a pressing problem; I simply wanted to experience something so imbedded in Cambodia's culture. But what if it turned out to be something other than what I expected? What if it turned out to be real?

The son got the call that she was ready, and he led us back to the house where the fortune tellers stayed. A woman was waiting for us, and she immediately inquired of Sambath what my language ability was. He assured her that she should be able to communicate directly with me but that he was able to translate if needed (it was needed).

She lay a rug on a small card table, smoothed it out carefully, and spritzed it with a layer of perfume. She then lit an incense stick, held it between her palms, and gave a short, silent prayer. We were ready to start.

Traditionally, fortune tellers in Cambodia are used for two main categories of questions: love and business. I was there to ask about my love life.

She passed me a deck of cards and asked me to shuffle it. Both she and Sambath chuckled at my Western shuffling technique and asked me to do it Asian-style, at which I am wholly unskilled, but I gave it my best attempts. Then it was time to cut the deck. I reached for it, naturally, with my right hand, and, since I touched the cards, we had to start over. So again I shuffled and again I cut the deck (properly with my left hand this time).

She dealt the cards out in a asterisk shape, turning only select cards face up, based on those cards, she made a statement about me which was quite accurate. She continued the process, pulling out more cards and making statements while asking clarification questions. I was permitted to probe and ask follow ups which resulted in various patterns of card dealing.

She told me that I have the potential to be a rich person and that I will soon encounter a type of promotion in my career. With sadness, though, after I pulled the King of Clubs three times in a row, she told me that in the next month I would encounter tragedy, and she implored me to pray to whatever god I pray to. When I told her I didn't hold to a religion, she suggested I turn back to Christianity or come back to her the next day to allow her to pray on my behalf. She said that in the next year I would have great success in my love life, so I inquired about my current boyfriend. She asked his birth year and declared that it shouldn't be because two dragons should not be together. He would hold me back from future riches. She apologized when she found out that my translator was my boyfriend, but she said she was only speaking the truth. She suggested that he go to her for a ceremony to make himself older by at least six months so that we would be different signs.

After about 20 minutes of various card drawing patterns and a two-person read in which Sambath's and my compatibility was tested (it again revealed his need to be at least a year older than me, but his own personal read was much better than mine, he drawing the hearts and me the clubs), we thanked her for her time, paid, and respectfully made our exit.

I won't make the return trip she requested to pray my upcoming tragedy away and Sambath won't perform a ceremony to add six months to his age, but that night's walk home from the riverside was a bit more quiet than usual. I understand why people would spend a small part of their salary each month to ask about what's coming, to get advice, and to have help to do anything and everything possible to make the future the best it could be.

I was nervous about moving to Phnom Penh, scared to be on my own without the love, support, and encouragement of living with a host family. And, while I’m still saddened to be so far from my Svay Rieng family, I’m finding that I’ll also have a family here in my landlord and fellow tenants.

My landlord, 79 years old and a former professor turned entrepreneur, is fulfilling a grandfather-esque roll for me in his repeated warnings to always double check my locks and never to travel with my passport. He and his wife are keeping me supplied with gifts of fruit.

My downstairs neighbor saw me taking my clothes to the laundromat around the corner and struck up a conversation about why I wasn’t washing my clothes myself. We talked about my work and travel schedule and how I haven’t had the needed free time to wash my things by hand, even though that’s what I prefer. Later that week she stopped me on my way upstairs to tell me to come to her with my laundry this weekend; she has a washing machine she wants me to use.

Her husband, who was visiting from another province where he watches the land while his wife watches the children in Phnom Penh, has spent a couple hours chatting with me in Khmer, being patient with my gaps in language knowledge. We’ve discussed Syria, economics, unemployment, Detroit, and Rwanda. He’s also told me his Khmer Rouge story. And, after asking where I’m from in the States, he looked it up on a map and we discussed the geography of my state, the surrounding states, and their proximity to Toronto, where he has family. He says he’d love to have me join their family trip to Bokor Mountain in a few months.

And then there’s Leak, the tailor on the ground floor, who is always there with a warm smile and friendly comment with her precocious daughter who reminds me so much of my niece Neath.

At the beginning of my third year in Cambodia through the Peace Corps, I am constantly grateful for the people whom I’ve met and the relationships we’ve formed together. I feel incredibly blessed to have had not just one amazing host family here but now this new ‘family’ as well.

Today the 7th generation of Peace Corps Volunteers swore in to service in Cambodia. As part of their departing training to begin their lives at site, our Country Director distributed a compiled list of advice from the 5th generation - my generation - which they provided while leaving the country. The list ranged from the comical ‘Are you sure I’m qualified to give advice?’ to the serious warnings of ‘creating inequalities through the flaunting of rules.’


My favorite, though, and a theme of which I’ve previously written: ‘Have high hopes and low expectations.’


I was also able to listen to a fellow Svay Rieng volunteer reflect back on his first day at site a year ago. He talked about his nerves and fears and insecurities and how simple advice from a province mate has continued to resonate with him: ‘Remember what this moment is like. Remember these feelings. Because that’s what you feel when you’re doing something awesome and risky.’

They’re loving their new skateboard, curtesy of Leslie C. Thanks from me and from them!

This weekend I had the opportunity to visit my host family in Svay Rieng. Even though I know Phnom Penh’s where I’m supposed to be work-wise, I miss having my family around me and life in the countryside. I miss not having to lock every door at all times; I miss communal naps when it’s just too hot to function; I miss eating rice on the floor; I miss losing money to my dad in cards; I miss the kids; I miss my mom taking care of me. I even miss the damn ducks.

I was only there 24 hours, but it was the most refreshing 24 hours possible. I was greeted with abundant enthusiasm and crushing hugs from Chayna and Neath. Neath clung to me the whole time, making sure my arms stayed wrapped around her, and even trying to sleep in my bed before realizing that she’s not quite old enough to be without her mom. My family had a gigantic plate of french fries waiting for me upon arrival, and I was treated to one of my favorite dishes for dinner as an early birthday present. We all sat around, laughing, watching Loem and some cousins trying out the new skateboard (thanks, Leslie!). My mom, Chayna, and I played the Dr. Seuss Memory game I got him from the States. My dad went to the school to show off his new watch that his American daughter brought him. My mom was adamant that I sleep downstairs instead of upstairs in my old room; she didn’t want me to be so far away. I was able to catch up with several teachers over dinner and over morning fruit. And I got to spend the ride to and from the Rieng revisiting majestic scenes of endless fields that I sorely miss and are sadly missing from my new city life.

Next month’s visit can’t come soon enough…

Today I made my way to Svay Rieng, taking a very familiar path for the first time in two months. This time, though, I had a unique insight via the only other foreigner (a Chinese man making his way to Vietnam) in the van. Through his experience, his eyes, I was able to project how far I’ve come in this country in the past two years. I think it’s a testament to how much the human body and spirit can adjust.

He was irritated by the wait time at the market and bewildered by the imprecise answers to ‘How much longer?’ ‘When we have enough customers’ was an impractical and indefinite as a structure for business. The stop at the bakery absolutely confounded him. That the ride should be a leisurely pursuit and not an efficient rush was bothersome. He gazed through the windows at Neak Loeung with awe, pity, and disgust at the conditions, beggars, and brazenness of the sellers. And all of this he had to do without communicating with the driver or other passengers (myself excepted since he had some English ability).

I sort of miss experiencing everything so freshly and so internally. I miss the challenge of throwing everything against my Western paradigms, trying to bring my expectations crashing down. I know there are still those walls, but they don’t seem so high, so insurmountable anymore.

I’ve been back in Cambodia 8 days and in my new apartment for 3. Just as when I went back to visit the States, the readjustment was quite smooth. Reverse Culture Shock seems to have been too busy to bother with me.

Tonight, though, I had my first bad day in a while, and I was surprised by how I longed for the comforts of the West to be my reprieve. I left work thoroughly exhausted, not having quite conquered jet lag and having sat in front of a computer for 10 hours. I left in what had appeared to be the tail end of a monsoon-season storm. I was fooled.

I arrived at my apartment, soaked and shivering, and had to drudge patiently through the 4 different locked gates to get inside. Those proverbial ‘little things,’ the molehills of everyday annoyance, were magnified. I found myself inwardly cursing the traffic, the weather, and whoever has permanently parked their motorbike in the tiny alleyway to my stairs. I then proceeded to lose my keys for 30 minutes (they were still in the exterior lock) and cut myself on a can of pasta sauce.

All I wanted was to dry off, wrap myself in my comforter, and indulge in hot chocolate and a ready-to-eat meal. But my sarang inevitably always has ants in it, my comforter is back in the States leaving me with the blanket that came with the apartment, and meals are made from scratch and clean up must be immediate. Thankfully, I was at least able to hit 1 out of 4 with some hot chocolate packets I had shoved into my suitcase as an afterthought.

Post-shower, post-dinner, and post-calming down, I started to consider my situation. While in the States, I had longed to be back in Cambodia, so why is my inward reaction to stress to desire to be in the States? Or at least to have the comforts of the States? So I’m working on it. These types of associations die hard. Slowly but surely, I’m working on challenging and changing what I deem a comfort or reward activity. Instead of ice cream, why not a tuk-a-luk from the corner vendor; instead of a burger, why not Cow Climbs the Mountain or ban-chaio; instead of escaping into a couch, why not escaping to the countryside?

I called my favorite aunt today to tell her that I was back in country and visiting her town tomorrow. I mark it as a language win that I had to identify myself because my accent no longer immediately betrayed me as the only foreigner who ever calls her.

Today was my last day at my school in Svay Rieng Province. I unexpectedly had to leave two weeks earlier than I anticipated due to needing to begin my new responsibilities as a Volunteer Leader. My goodbyes have been rushed, but I have the comfort of knowing that they aren't 'goodbye's, just 'see you in a couple months's. 

As part of my leaving, the school director put together a small assembly. He spoke of the history of Peace Corps at our school and presented me with a certificate of service from the school; he also framed a copy of the letter I had written as a parting gift.

As part of the ceremony, the director asked me to give a speech to the students. Here it is (in Khmer and then English):

ពីរឆ្នាំដែលខ្ញុំបានបង្រៀននៅសាលានេះគឺជាពេលសប្បាយចិត្តខ្លាំងណាស់ក្នុងជីវិតខ្ញុំ។ ខ្ញុំមានសំណាងល្អដែលអោយខ្ញុំជួបលោកគ្រូអ្នកគ្រូ សិស្សទាំងអស់គ្នានៅសាលានេះ។ ក្នុងចំនួនពីរឆ្នាំនេះខ្ញុំមានឪិកាសរៀន អំពីវប្បធ៍ម ភាសា និង ជីវិតប្រចាំថ្ងៃនៅប្រទេសកម្ពុជា។ សាលានៅកម្ពុជាប្លែកច្រើនពីសាលានៅប្រទេសអាមេរិក។ ខ្ញុំចំលែកចិត្តខ្លាំងណាស់អំពីការអប់រំ សិស្ស ហើយនិង គ្រូនៅកម្ពុជា ជាពិសេសដែលសិស្សហើយនិងគ្រូនៅកម្ពុជាមានការគោរពគ្នាច្រើនជាងនៅប្រទេសរបស់ខ្ញុំ។

នៅប្រទេសអាមេរិកពុកខ្ញុំតែងតែបរាប់ខ្ញុំថាការអប់រំគឺជារឿងសំខាន់ជាងគេ។ ខ្ញុំត្រេកអរថាខ្ញុំបានធ្វើតាមដំបូន្មានរបស់ពុកខ្ញុំ ហើយនិង ខ្ញុំពិតជាជូនពរសិស្សទាំងអសធ្វើតាមដំបូន្មាននេះដែរ។ សូមខិតខំរៀនពេញមួយជីវិត។

ពីរឆ្នាំនេះខ្ញុំសប្បាយចិត​តដែលធ្វើការជាមួយលោកគ្រូអ្នកគ្រូ បង្រៀនសិស្ស ថែមទាំង រៀនពីណុកគេទៃងអស់គ្នា។

ខ្ញុំសុំទោសចំពោះកំហុសដែលខ្ញុំបានធ្វើដោយអចេតនា។ ខ្ញុំបានខិតខំរៀនអំពីប្រពែណីវន្នធ៍កមណុជាប៉ុន្តែខ្ញុំដឺងថាខ្ញុំមានកំហុសខ្លះៗ។សុំទោស។

ខ្ញុំស្តាយណាស់ថាខ្ញុំមិនអាចបង្រៀននៅទីនេះយូរជាងនេះ។ ខ្ញុំមិនដែលបំភ​លេចសិស្ស គ្រូ និង សាលានេះម្តងណាទេ។ សាលានេះគឺជាសាលាលេខ មួយក្នុងចិត្តខ្ញុំរហូត។ ខ្ញុំវិងវឹកលោកគ្រូអ្នកគ្រូសិស្សទាំងអស់ខ្លាំងណាស់។

សូមអរគុណ។ ជម្រាបលា។

The two years that I taught here were extremely happy years in my life. I had great luck to be here and meet all the teachers and students at this school. In these two years, I had the opportunity to learn about Cambodia's culture, language, and daily life. I learned that the schools here are very different from the schools in America. I was very impressed with the educational system, students, and teachers in Cambodia, especially the amount of respect that students and teachers show each other here, much more than in America.

My father in America always told me that education is the most important thing. I'm very grateful that I followed my father's advice, and I truly wish for all you students to follow this advice as well. Please study hard throughout your whole lives.

During these two years, I've been very happy to work with the teachers, teach the students, and learn from all of you. I'm very sorry for all the mistakes I may have unintentionally made. I tried very hard to learn about Cambodia's traditional culture, but I know I made some mistakes. I apologize.

I regret very much that I can not stay and teach here longer. I will never forget the students, teachers, or this school, not even once. This school will always be Number 1 in my heart. I will miss all of you very much. 

Thank you and goodbye.

Breaking My Heart

Nephew: Grandma, what did you mean that Aunt 'Tin is leaving soon?

Grandma: She's leaving our house. She's moving to Kandal to work there.

Nephew: What did you do to make her mad?!

Peace Corps: Creating Global Citizens

A couple months ago I posted my thoughts on how the Peace Corps experience changes and challenges every volunteer, and it received a fair amount of responses, including not-so-flattering reviews and criticisms.

One commentator (whose comment no longer appears) took umbrage with this particular passage of mine:

You will be the biggest product of your Peace Corps work. You will change. And you will bring that change back with you.

(The full post can be found at http://mylifewithrice.blogspot.com/2013/05/an-open-letter.html.)

Since I can no longer access the original comment, my memory’s paraphrase shall have to suffice:

This post demonstrates exactly what is wrong with the Peace Corps, and the author even admits it! It’s all about the person’s own benefits, and not about helping others at all.

Peace Corps has three main goals, and I suppose the latter two could be viewed as self-serving as they focus on cultural exchange. That viewpoint, though, I believe is vastly cynical due to its shortsighted nature. 

I recently participated with other K5s (the 5th generation of volunteers in Cambodia) in our Close of Service Conference, where I was touched by the final remarks of our Country Director, Penny Fields. Penny was serving as a volunteer in Gabon when the Gulf War broke out. As she told us, her thoughts upon hearing of the war were of the people in her village: What if it had been here? Her political leanings and voting record have been perpetually guided by that moment of viewing the world from another country’s citizens’ perspective.

So maybe it’s true; maybe Peace Corps is a cultural exchange program and not a development one. But to claim that it’s selfish and won’t help those in other countries is ignorant of the development work done directly or indirectly by Returned Peace Corps Volunteers because of those ‘self-serving’ results.

Here are some ways that my time in Cambodia has affected me and will continue to do so in how I vote and for what I advocate and how I work: 

* I have a very hands on experience with my food here. Most vegetables in my village are grown locally, and the fruit I get from the trees in the yard. Meat is bought fresh and eaten that day. I know our eggs are fresh, because we’ll take them straight from our ducks’ roost. We don’t have a fridge and our ice supply isn’t reliable. Meals are prepared and eaten in quick succession. Apart from the occasional stomach mishap, I’m healthier here in large part to the composition of my diet. I won’t be looking at supermarkets and preservatives and importation the same way upon returning to the States.

* My province houses several different factories belonging to international companies. Many of my students will drop out of school if they have the opportunity to get a job at one of these factories. Last year, workers were fired upon during a strike for better wages. This week, two factories around Phnom Penh collapsed, killing and injuring workers. There’s been a long-term protest outside a Phnom Penh factory because large, well-known multinational companies are refusing to pay wages due. The average factory worker earns a decent salary by Cambodian standards. Ask me in a few years how I’m voting in regards to outsourcing.

* Lately, I’ve been a frequent recipient of the Cambodian health care system. Health care here is unbelievably cheap by American standards, but the quality is usually in doubt. Health insurance is either incredibly rare or nonexistent. Families will go into debt for emergency care. My host mother has foregone receiving medical attention for a long ailing stomach condition and even getting a pair of glasses because of the expense. My future earnings will be going in part to international medical outreaches and my effort toward making sure Americans aren’t also having to forgo needed care because of the cost. In conversation with my host aunt about America’s wealth gap, she expressed surprise that a country with citizens still struggling to meet basic needs is advising others on poverty policy. I’ve taken that to heart.

These are just three brief ways among several in which my notions have been challenged by living abroad and viewing life from a small village in rural Cambodia. These changes will affect how I view domestic and foreign policy for the rest of my life. I’m bringing those changes home with me, and they’ll be sent right back out in the form of my votes and activism. I’d wager that in the long run Returned Peace Corps Volunteers have multiplied the affect of their service on the host country nationals’ lives through their actions post-service.

I’d love to hear from others about their own countries of service and how they’ve changed as global citizens because of their time there. How were you a product of Peace Corps service?

This past year I undertook two projects through Water Charity’s initiative Appropriate Projects. Appropriate Projects provides funding through current Peace Corps Volunteers for water, sanitation, and public health projects. With grants of $500 each from individual donations through Water Charity, my village constructed a water tank and distribution system at the high school as well as a bathroom at the health center. The experiences were entirely different.

The school director was excited to have a way to funnel money into the school, but the logistics of the grant were left to me to needle out. I was responsible for setting up meetings, finding a translator, pushing to get all of the details, and sitting and waiting patiently while they did work they were supposed to have done before the meeting. And even though I repeatedly stressed that Appropriate Projects demands that the project be completed within two months of receiving the funds, the director has continuously delayed and prioritized other projects. Then, in the most recent meeting, he discovered he was $53 shy of the total cost and asked if I would donate from my personal funds (i.e. volunteer stipend). 

The health center, though, sought me out after hearing about the project at the school. They were proactive in arranging a meeting and came prepared. They thoroughly explained the need for the bathroom and outlined responses for each of Appropriate Project’s submission requirements. The construction began immediately after receipt of the funds (the purchase and delivery of the raw materials being pre-arranged), and the project was completed in less than three weeks. And when the project cost exceeded the grant amount, they simply reached into the center’s funds to supplement. 

The difference in these experiences, I believe, is that the project manager at the health center is my host aunt. She’s the same woman who arm wrestled me and my best friend, Jessie. The same woman who has insisted on paying to take me to airport when I leave. The one who told me that the only present she wants from America is phone calls from me. The one who whispered urgently to other guests to eat all the American food Jessie and I had prepared, even if they didn’t like it, to make me feel comfortable. Our relationship transformed me from a foreign money source into a human being - her niece - and that transformation made all the difference in our collaboration for the benefit of the community.

The links for the completed health center project:

http://appropriateprojects.com/node/1447

http://appropriateprojects.com/node/1578

The link for the high school project:

http://appropriateprojects.com/node/1331

(posted May 15, 2013)

Countryside Class: Help Us Build a New Classroom

I’ve been working very closely with this organization for the past several months, and I strongly believe in its mission and the individuals who are carrying it out. Please consider making a small donation.

How to Do Khmer New Year

#1. Make an offering of your favorite foods and treats at your house. At the moment the New Year begins (this year it was around 2:15 am), say your prayers and place and incense stick.

#2. Just take a load off and relax.

#3. Drink and eat more than your normal share of sugar and just go wild.

#4. Hang out with your family: eat, drink, make music, and be merry.

#5. Liven up your afternoons with a bit of gambling.

#6.  Dance with your family.

#7. Dance with strangers.

#8. Ask the monks to bless you and your family for the coming year.

#9. Join together with your family and pray for your ancestors.

#10. Karaoke.

The Day's Reflection - 30 April 2013

My school breaks for lunch from 11 am until 2 pm four days a week (the other two school days, school doesn’t resume after lunch, unless it’s a designated student labor day). On Tuesdays, my only class is from 2 pm until 4 pm, and it’s my favorite class, kids who are excited to learn and to learn from me. 

As 1:15 approached and I began to consider prepping to go to school, the thunder began to roll in. By 1:30 that thunder had increased in volume and frequency and the lightning was visible. By 1:45 we were all in a torrential downpour that lasted until 3 pm. 

In the States I never really considered the impact of weather as simple as rain. Sure, we got snow days or icy road days or fog delays, but rain days?  In the States, grab an umbrella and make a break for the nearest cover.

Here, though, that nearest cover doesn’t really exist. Most of the students commute a few (up to around 7) kilometers by bicycle, and many make the trek by motorbike. That journey becomes treacherous with slick roads and decreased visibility, plus there’s the ingrained fear of lightning strikes. Even if they all could make it to school, it’s fairly impossible to conduct class with rain pounding on a tin roof. 

There are simple things in the States that I never before considered as a privilege, and holding class and commuting during rain is one of them.

I’ve begun trying to speak to the baby in English, and most of the time she can figure out my meaning but when she can’t, she pauses, looks me in the eye, nods slowly, and continues about her business. It makes me laugh every time because that’s my exact response when I don’t understand what’s being asked of me in Khmer.

The Day's Reflection - 28 April 2013

My school slows to a start in October and faces holidays and exams in February closely followed by more exams in March after which it doesn’t usually resume till the end of April or the beginning of May. Final exams are in the beginning to mid of June. So, essentially, the most productive teaching months are November, December, and January.

Well, this year, I was sick during December and January so my school attendance was spotty and my teaching mojo less than adequate. So now that school is in its last months (which are really weeks), I’m looking back and feeling regret at my contribution as a Peace Corps Volunteer in the English Teaching sector. 

Today helped ease those regrets. 

Yes, a goal of my service here is to provide technical assistance as requested by the host country’s government. But there are two more goals, and those goals are focused on cultural exchange. Today helped enforce and reminded me to appreciate that the greatest product of my work with Peace Corps is the relationship I have with my host family.

As my time in Svay Rieng is coming to an end, I had planned to make the most of it by taking my bike out every day to visit people and places and take a lot of pictures. Well, as soon as that plan formed, I ended up with stitches in my knee cap and am still not cleared to ride my bike again. So I’ve been spending a lot of time at the house, which, while bringing me to feelings of restlessness, has also forged an even deeper relationship with my amazing family here. 

So here’s a list of just a few of the moments today that made me reflect and smile about how my life has been changed by these people:

* The baby coming to me in frequent intervals to give me a hug or put her head on my lap or kiss my cheek or just smile at me

* My sister and I teasing each other about who is the stupidest

* My family planning what wedding present to send to my friend Kelsey who has sent a few care packages for my family

* Sprawling out on the floor with my niece, nephew, and mom as we wrote thank you notes to Dave and Kelsey for the new clothes they sent for the kids

* My mother telling me not to repay the $1.25 that I had to borrow for a taxi to town yesterday

* My father letting me know that he cut down some mangoes for me to eat; my mother apologizing for forgetting to have me take pictures of my father in the tree and telling me that in a couple days he’ll climb it again and that I can take a picture to show to my parents in America and tell them that my Khmer father loves me so much that he became a monkey to get me my favorite fruit

* My nephew calling me to lay in the hammock with him where he, the baby, and I practiced our letters and numbers in Khmer and English

* Teaching the baby to say ‘I love you!’

The Day's Reflection - 22 April 2013

Today I’m waiting for the doctor to call. When he swung by my house on Friday, he told me that he’d stop by again on Monday and that maybe I’d get my stitches out and be cleared to ride my bike. Well, today is Monday. But I don’t know what time he’ll come. Or if it’ll be just another quick cleaning at my house. Or if he’ll take me to town to the clinic. Or maybe he won’t call and won’t come. I don’t know.

If I were in the States, this waiting and the unknown would bother me. Here, though, I’m too ashamed to even consider being bothered. 

First, the doctor has done everything for me for free: xray, debridement, stitches, antibiotic, a ride to my house, and a house call. He says that because I am a volunteer who has come to help his country, he wants to do something to help me. I have failed in my attempts to express how grateful I am to him. 

I recognize what a privilege I have being an American right now. I have the privilege of being able to follow through with the doctor’s orders to rest and not have to work to live. I have the privilege of the extra care my family is giving me since they recognize I am out of my element. I have the privilege of special care from the medical staff (being bumped to the front of the line ahead of people in much worse condition than me, being given a ride home from the clinic, being provided home visits, etc). 

But, mostly, being sick and/or hurt while living with survivors of genocide is drastically perspective shifting. Keeping my barely-injured knee elevated while my mother tells stories of life in the Khmer Rouge and my father stretches out his leg scarred from the war…well, I can’t really express what that does to one’s paradigm of pain and health and life moving on.

The Day's Reflection - 10 April 2013

I’ve never been in charge of my own kitchen. My family was more for take out or pre-made meals from the grocery store since all of us worked and had various other commitments. I went from there to a college with a great meal plan. Even during my semester in DC I didn’t do much cooking since my poor unpaid-intern self didn’t have money to spring for kitchen essentials, so I lived on cereal, raw fruits/vegetables, salads, pasta, and baked potatoes. From college, I entered the Peace Corps and have been living with a host family who has taken care of cooking for me. 

Next year, though, I’ll be moving from my village and my family in Svay Rieng and living alone and cooking alone in Kandal Province. Ergo, I have an urgent need to learn to cook. 

My sister has been gracious enough to provide me with cooking lessons, and she laughingly bemoans not having taught me sooner since I could have been helping pick up some slack in the household. 

Tonight we made fried eggplant with pork, and it was sublimely delicious. I really appreciate learning in this environment, but I worry that some of my newly acquired cooking skills won’t transfer well. For example, I’m pretty sure that in the States I won’t have to fend off aggressive ducks while chopping meat.

With each dish I learn, I get more and more excited to become a more independent person. However, I will miss cooking and bantering with my sister and holding the baby and letting her stir so she’ll stop crying. I dislike that my concept of independence is associated with separation from caretakers, and I’m becoming more and more attached to strong familial bonds that shape living situations in Cambodia.