What I Learned from Peace Corps:

How to Communicate

For the past five years, I’ve been living in a constant state of miscommunication. 

I never realized how much my own self was defined by language until it was gone. For the past two years, only a tiny percentage of my daily communication has been with native English speakers. And of those, the majority are Australian or British, while I myself am American. Bit by bit, over these past two years, I’ve watched as pieces of myself have floated away: My vocabulary. My grammar. My sarcasm. My pop culture references.

I have always loved language: Structure. Order. Persuasion. Beauty. Language makes us as much as we make it. When you look to the roots of language, you can find how inextricably tied it is to the culture surrounding it. Both constantly evolve as either takes on newness. 

Coming from the Midwest, I stereotypically had had minimal exposure to other languages, so when I joined Peace Corps Cambodia in 2011, I was in for quite a shock. At my going-away toast at the end of my service (more like a roast…thanks, guys), one of the Program Managers remarked that when he first met me, I spoke so quickly that he doubted I’d ever be understood by a Cambodian English-learner.  

Two years into my service, I had this to say about language and communication:

The way you communicate will completely transform. Learning a language from scratch through immersion is a powerful experience. You will learn to have complex communications though expressions, gestures, and basic vocabulary. You will learn to bond with another human being through silence. You will answer the same basic questions over and over and over again. You may never achieve the ability to discuss ideas and concepts. You will develop a new English language which consists of pared down vocabulary and grammatical structures. You will actively think of each word before you speak. Your speech patterns will slow. You will have to define words whose meanings you had always taken for granted. You will learn to listen. 

Thinking About Peace Corps?

Now, approaching my 5th anniversary in Cambodia, having moved from Peace Corps Volunteer to senior management at an education NGO and having progressed from a Cambodian boyfriend to a Cambodian fiancé, I have a few things to add.

I miss being eloquent. I miss seeming intelligent (or simply not stupid). I miss being understood.

I’m actually quite functional in Khmer by this point. I can speak, read, write and type (a fact that actually saddens me as many Cambodians are themselves not given the opportunity to achieve that). But the intricacies still elude me, and even the way I speak Khmer is still impacted by my American-ness. In Khmer, I still use the word ‘sorry’ with the frequency that only an American could, and I struggle to adapt to the lengthy language of appropriateness and politeness in formal Khmer situations.

When I was still a Peace Corps Volunteer, these miscommunications and lack of understanding were bearable and, most of the time, amusing. I still chuckle at the time I told an elderly woman that her son had ‘f@*ked’ me a lot as opposed to ‘helped’ (two such opposing words should never be allowed to have such similar sounds….). And, before, when I was the only English speaker at an event and got lost in the conversation, I could just tune out and play Snake on my little Nokia. 

In my current position, though, a lot rides on my understanding and being understood. This level of responsibility highlights my language failures every day. When a little kid mocks my accent, it’s no longer obnoxious. It’s painful. When I walk out of a meeting thinking we’d reached consenus only to find the opposite playing out, I ache at my failure. Just learning more vocabulary is not enough because communication is much more than mere words. It’s also patterns and culture. To be eloquent in Khmer is a level which I fear I can never achieve. 

To try to counter this, I’ve worked to adapt to find the bare-bottom necessities of communication. In both English and Khmer, I pare down words as well as abandon elegance and subtlety in order to be understood. Those parts of myself, though, I miss every day. I miss the power I used to feel from my command of a language.

In the midst of self-pitying, I must remember that this is a two-way street. I respect that everyone who communicates with me - either in Khmer or English - is also sacrificing a part of their selves to try to find common ground with me. I look to my amazing host mother who told me of her family’s experience under the Khmer Rouge via charades; she sacrificed the pain and emotion and importance of her language so that I could understand. I look to my fiancé who lives our relationship in a language that is not his own so that we can grow together.

Beyond mere miscommunication, I’m increasingly frustrated by finding how closely our opinions of others are correlated to their ability to communicate in our preferred language. When someone cannot understand us, it’s easy to write them off, to assume it’s the concept they can’t understand as opposed to the words. In my experience, I’ve found this to go both ways. I’ve heard foreigners mock Cambodian waitstaff for not catching the request from the customer. I’ve also been on the receiving end of these assumptions of incompetence, and I’ve had to resist to urge to respond as Sofia Vergara inModern Family: 

I’m working daily to remember this tendency to patronize based on language abilities and to recall when talking to others to dumb down only the language and never the ideas. I must look back to my early days in Peace Corps when learning Khmer was a pipe dream and recall that I could achieve understanding with someone through silence. While I may miss English full and bountiful in its boldness and abstractness, words are not the end-all, be-all of communication. Where words may fail, communication is supplemented by action and mutual kindness.  While not foregoing the need to continue my Khmer studies, I need to abandon my fetish with words (sorry, English teachers….).

Ultimately, it’s my responsibility when I feel misunderstood as I did not employ my full arsenal of communication. I must look back to my host mom who would daily work around words to help me understand. I must look back to my own words from three years ago and remember all of the complex conversations that I have had through ‘expressions, gestures, and basic vocabulary.’

I’m not being misunderstood. I am miscommunicating. 

Batteries

As the K8s are about to arrive and join Peace Corps Cambodia, we've begun the Training of Trainers for our Language and Cross-Cultural Facilitators. In preparing one of my sessions, I came across this Peace Corps story in the book Culture Matters; this story, it seems to me, embodies the beauty and potential of Peace Corps' goals of cultural exchange and relationship building:

I hadn't timed it right. The village I had to get to was still an hour away when night fell. Walking in the dark was a nuisance; also, it had been raining since early afternoon. Worst of all, as I leaned against the wall of the chauntara and felt the blessed release from the weight of my backpack, I discovered my flashlight batteries were dead. The hour ahead was shaping up poorly.

As I stood there in the rain, my glasses fogged, drinking from my water bottle, an old woman came around the bend, bent over under a stack of firewood. She headed for the chauntara, her eyes down, and nearly walked into me, looking up suddenly when she saw my feet. 'Namaste,' she said, shifting her load onto the wall. 'Kaha jaane?'
'To the village,' I said.
'Tonight? It's dark and your shirt is wet.' Then, more urgently, 'You're the American, aren't you?
'My son is in America,' she said. She didn't look like the type whose son would be in America. 'He joined the army, the Gurkhas, and they sent him there for training. Three months ago. He's a country boy. I worry. You need some tea before you go on.'
After ten minutes, we were at her small house beside the trail. She doffed the firewood and turned to me, 'Take off your shirt.' I looked surprised. 'I'll dry it by the fire in the kitchen. Put on this blanket.'
A few minutes later she came out of the kitchen with two mugs of tea, swept a hapless chicken off the table, and pulled up a bench for me. The tea worked wonders, bringing back my courage for the walk ahead. She offered me food, too, but I declined, explaining that I didn't want to be on the trail too late at night. 'It's OK,' she said. 'You have a flashlight.'
She fetched my shirt. I put it on, revived by the warmth against my skin, and went outside to hoist my pack. I turned to thank her. 'Switch on your flashlight,' she told me.

'The batteries are dead.' She went inside and came back with two batteries, a considerable gift for someone of her means.
'I couldn't,' I said. 'Besides, I know the trail.'
'Take them.' She smiled, showing great gaps where teeth had once been.
'You've been very kind to me,' I said.
'My son is in America,' she said. 'Some day, on the trail, he will be cold and wet. Maybe a mother in your land will help him.'

Victory!

Over Khmer New Year, Countryside Class worked with World Vision to put on three nights of entertainment at Kampongseyma Pagoda in Battambang Province. Part of the festivities were traditional games, which I got to take part in on the final night. You’re allowed only three swings, so Sambath says I cheated; I maintain, however, that I was merely seeking with a wide sweep and succeeded on my third hit.

Countryside Class, a small community organization just outside of Battambang Town, Cambodia, joined this year with Peace Corps' 3rd annual Create Cambodia Arts Festival.

During the Student Showcase, they performed a the traditional Coconut Dance (which comes out of Svay Rieng!). You can watch the video here.

Cambodian Cuisine

This weekend, PSE, an education NGO in Cambodia, hosted a fundraiser for their programs. The highlight of this fundraiser: bringing together unique tastes from across Cambodia.

Sean, Saeed, and I were pleased to engage in some edible nostalgia as each of our provinces from our Peace Corps site placements were featured:

Sean, Saeed, Monika and I shared a delicious meal of stuffed frog, spicy chicken salad, roasted beef and veggies, and spiced duck, all served over red rice. We certainly ate our full.

We then wandered the venue, which was packed, and ended up in the corner with carnival games. We all tried our luck at darts, and I walked away with an adorably ugly puppy that only cost about $1 in attempted throws.

We also all gave walking on stilts a try, and by that I mean we all failed miserably but with style.

In the past I’ve been a fairly vocal critic of living in Phnom Penh (it’s certainly a lot different from being with my family in Svay Rieng), but last night’s event has me rethinking the pros and cons of being in the capital.

When Peace Corps Volunteers Fall in Love

Peace Corps, at its core, is all about relationships. The agency's relationship with the host country's government. The Volunteers' relationships with their host families. With their work counterparts. With others in their communities. With people outside their communities. And their relationships with fellow Volunteers. 

And, every once in awhile, it becomes a romantic relationship between a Volunteer and someone from their host country...

This is my good friend Vaughn. He arrived with me in July 2011 as part of Cambodia's 5th group of Peace Corps Volunteers.A bit over a year ago one of his Cambodian friends introduced him to Sreymao. This past weekend they were married. 

Sean, Saeed, and I were grateful to be able to participate in the ceremonies on behalf of the groom since Vaughn's family could not attend. Cambodian culture and tradition are rich and intricate, and even though the family opted for a much smaller event in which every traditional ceremony was not performed, the day was full of beauty and complexity.

The evening before Vaughn and Sreymao joined her parents and Vaughn's stand-in parents to pray to their ancestors. They made an offering of rice and other foods and burnt incense with a prayer. Vaughn and Sreymao promised to maintain their union with honor in order to keep blessing upon the entire family. As a symbol of these promises, each of them placed a set of clothing in a red box to keep present during the following day's festivities. 

That night we also got busy preparing the groom's dowry. Each silver plate was filled with colorful and flavorful fruits, wrapped in saran wrap, and topped with a bow. Every plate had its pair, an identical plate so that the day's procession could go two-by-two. In addition to the fruit, the dowry included drinks, crackers, and a pig's head.

In the morning, not long after sunrise, we completed the groom's processional. The groom must arrive at the bride's gate with the agreed upon dowry in hand in order to receive the parents' permission to enter and meet the bride. If the bride and groom are from the same village, the processional starts at his house and might take quite some time to complete. Since we couldn't exactly walk from Minnesota, we simply walked out the gate, lined up, and walked right back in.

The sunrise processional, though, did not start our day. We were up at 3am to attend to the bride and prepare her for the day. Around 4am was one of the most beautiful ceremonies, in my opinion. The officiator, seen in the white shirt with his back to the camera, led a back-and-forth conversation among the groom and bride and their parents. They talked about love and respect, both within their couple and within their families. Similar to the unity candle tradition in the States, each parent, two on each side, lit a candle and held that flame to light a candle held jointly by Vaughn and Sreymao. Sreymao marks this as the moment that they were officially considered married in the traditional sense. 

All of these ceremonies are so beget in history and tradition that each one has its own soundtrack of sorts. 

A short clip of the band's playing can be found here:

After the groom's processional, some of the guests stayed out in the yard while the closest family and friends went upstairs for a few more ceremonies. First, one of Sreymao's relatives performed the duty of 'matchmaker' and introduced both Vaughn and Sreymao as well as the idea of them as a couple. She presents their qualifications for the approval of the parents and the officiator. 

Somewhat less traditionally, Vaughn and Sreymao re-exchanged their engagement/wedding rings. The photographer snapped away as first Vaughn placed the ring on her finger and then kissed her hand. Sreymao then did the same for him. Finally, they asked Vaughn to present Sreymao with a red rose, which he flourished to her with playful exageration.  

After a clothing change (of which there were many over the course of the day - I recall at least 5 different outfits), we performed the knot tying ceremony. Family and close friends presented the bride and groom with an envelope of money, which they placed between both their hands, sprinkled them with water, and then tied a red string of their wrists. These red strings are the most visible notification that someone was recently married as it is customary to wear them until they fall off (anything under three days will not preserve the good luck of the blessings). Many couples will save a few of the strings to tie to the wrists or ankles of their future children.

Starting around the time of the processional and continuing throughout the day guests arrived to share in the ceremonies or simply the breakfast or lunch and the dancing which went until about 4pm. As each guest arrived, they were presented with a small gift from the new couple. Seen here below are two adorable girls waiting to pass out red envelopes of 200 riel (about 5 cents) to arriving guests.

Even though Vaughn's American family could not come, he was not without those who loved him. His host family from Svay Rieng Province made the trip to Prey Veng to offer their congratulations. 

In all, we arrived at Sreymao's house at about 4pm on Saturday and didn't stop celebrating until late on Sunday. The event may have been exhausting, but the newlyweds sure were happy.

Oh Battambang!

Oh Battambang - A Short Documentary about Art in Cambodia's Battambang Province

This short documentary, Oh Battambang, was created by a Peace Corps Volunteer in Cambodia who arrived in my group in 2011. Arnoldo lived and worked in Battambang Town, Battambang Province, and he worked closely with the art community in the town.

Before the war, Battambang was reknown for its artists, who were then targeted during the Khmer Rouge regime. But now, as Arnoldo shows, Battambang is reclaiming its heritage.

My Staff Spotlight in Peace Corps Cambodia's Weekly Update

Welcome to Staff Spotlight, where our staff will be in the limelight every week so that Volunteers and other staff have the chance to get to know about a crucial member of our team. This week we are talking to the super-friendly, high-achieving lacrosse goalie with two families: one of the PCVLs, Christin.



Christin describes herself as “a proud Hoosier from Northwest Indiana, which is actually a suburb of Chicago” (Yeah right, Christin). She traveled north for school though, and attended Albion College where she studied English Literature, Political Science, and Leadership in Public Policy and Service. At school she was an ultra popular RA, heavily involved in volunteerism (who’da guessed?), served as President of the Student Volunteer Bureau, and played goalie for the lacrosse team. After graduating, Christin joined Peace Corps Cambodia as an ETTT PCV and she has been here ever since.

During inquiries about her family, Christin wanted to talk about both her American family and her Khmer family. Her parents in America, she says, are awesome, hard-working people currently enjoying a well-deserved retirement and getting ready to move to northern Michigan. She also has one older brother and sister-in-law who, as she puts it, are waiting to produce nieces and nephews until she is Stateside under threats from our own PCVL. As for her Khmer family, Christin says she has been equally blessed; her parents learned how to make the best French fries at site for her, and her sister is one of her best friends in life. She didn’t indulge about her “awesome nieces and nephews” because she said that she will “gush your ear off about them all”.

When asked why she joined Peace Corps, Christin answered, “to become a better person.” “I wanted to be removed from my isolated bubble of homogeneity,” she says, “and experience difference in a way that cultivated a better understanding of universal humanness as opposed to labels of differentiation.” She adds, “Peace Corps offered me exactly the opportunity I was seeking: to travel, be challenged, to learn, to teach, and to serve. I stayed a third year with Peace Corps because I love what it stands for. Although Peace Corps may not always get it right, it tries and the potential for changed lives is endless…Plus, I just really love this country. I am amazed and humbled every day by the people I have met and by the development and change happening so quickly in a post-conflict society. “ When asked what she would like to see Peace Corps Cambodia accomplish, Christin answered, “To have all Volunteers who have ever served here to maintain at least one host country national relationship throughout the rest of their life. “

Now that’s a goal. Get to know Christin through some of her answers below.

Why would a Volunteer contact you?

I’m here for you. Anything you need: someone to talk to, help with a project, a link to different resources, whatever. I also coordinate staff development sessions and am working with the other PCVLs to start a Peace Corps Cambodia website.

What is a cool or interesting fact about yourself that you would like to share with Volunteers?

I was captain of my elementary school’s chess club, which won a trophy at the state tournament. I also played Parks Department Baseball for a few years as the only girl in the league. I was the catcher. My team, the Rangers, was runner up in the 1997 championship.

What is the coolest or most interesting thing you have learned about Khmer culture so far?

I’ve grown to love the communal aspect of Khmer family life. My family compound comes with two houses and 9 people. My parents took in their grandson from Takeo Province to ensure that he could attend school. My 16 year-old nephew takes responsibility for his 6 year-old cousin’s education. When my sister needs to go to work, there are at least 3 other people there to watch her baby. I’m a middle-class Midwesterner; I was taught the value of personal responsibility and never relying on others, so living in such an intra-reliant familial unit has been a new and rewarding experience for me.

Do you have a good Volunteer story you would like to share?

As I was preparing to move out of Svay Rieng Province, I spent a lot of time writing letters of appreciation in Khmer to the people who mattered most to me in my community. The letter I worked on the hardest was the letter to my host family. My last night at home, my mom, sister, and I sat outside talking for a long time and I gave them their gift. My mom asked my sister to read the letter aloud. As I listened, red with embarrassment, I was horrified to realize a rather tragic copying mistake. Where I had intended to write, ‘When you look back on our time together, please think about the good things and forget the bad things,’ I had forgotten a line in copying and written, ‘When you look back on our time together, please think about the bad things.’ Both my sister and my mom busted out laughing and still tease me about it. I offered to rewrite the whole letter to fix it, but they refused. As my mom put it, now, when they miss me and read the letter, they’ll laugh as well as cry.

Here’s hoping every Volunteer has such a great story to share. Thank you for your time, Christin! Volunteers can contact Christin through email, telephone, signing up for an all-boys baseball team, or just dropping by the Lod Cha cart in front of the office in the morning to see if she’s hungry.

Khmer Proverb

ធ្វើច្រើន ខុសច្រើន ចេះច្រើន។

'Do a lot, err a lot, know a lot.'

Happy Independence Day!

November 11, 2013 - 70th Anniversary

Khmer Proverb

បើមិនខុសមេ៉ចដឹងថាត្រូវ?

If you are never wrong, how will you know when you are right?

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

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.

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

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.

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)