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.

I Love My Khmer Family

Me: Can I come visit next weekend?

Sister: Why are you asking? It’s your house too. Come and go as you want!

Happy Independence Day!

November 11, 2013 - 70th Anniversary

Peace Corps Highlights

During my third year of Peace Corps service in Cambodia, the Kingdom of Wonder, I’m living apart from my host family of my first two years. Now, I live in the capital city Phnom Penh while my parents, sisters, brother-in-law, nieces, and nephews live a three-hour van ride away in Svay Rieng Province. My family has been the defining aspect of my time in Cambodia, and phone calls throughout the week are not enough the quench the loneliness I feel living apart from them. So I visit them as often as I can, which, sadly, isn’t often enough. Here are just some of highlights from this past weekend I got to spend with them:

* Cuddling with Chayna (6 years old) and Neath (2 years old) as we watched movie after movie. I think Chayna has watched Ice Age: Dawn of the Dinosaurs more than any other person.

* Helping Loem (16 years old) understand what was wrong with his facebook account and all of us laughing hysterically as we discovered that he was temporarily suspended from adding friends since he tried to add pretty girl after pretty girl to an excessive degree.

* My dad walking into the house after work yelling, ‘Hello!’ That was the first time I’ve ever heard him speak English.

* My sister and I gossiping about the men in the village.

* My mother demanding that I again sleep in the main room with everyone because my old room upstairs is too far away.

* Taking Chayna and Neath to the local pagoda by bicycle, me wearing an old motorbike helmet (per Peace Corps policy) and the kids sitting on the luggage rack in the back.

* Several of the teachers stopping by the house to take me and my sister out for soup.

* My aunts and uncles coming over for dinner. And bringing the beer.

* Having Neath follow me everywhere and even waiting outside the bathroom door because she would cry if I left her sight.

* Being sent home with more than 5 pounds of carrots and cucumbers because my mom doesn’t want me to worry about going to the Phnom Penh markets.

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.

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.

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…

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.

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?!

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.

The Day's Reflection - 9 April 2013

While I was growing up, my parents always enforced a Sunday afternoon nap. My brother and I hated it. I would always sneak from my room to his, being careful to sidestep the squeak in front of my parents’ door, and we would make a metropolis for his Matchbox cars in the folds of a crumpled blanket. 

Well, I’ve changed my tune. Not only do I love my Sunday afternoon naps now, but I also love my Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, and Saturday afternoon naps. In fact, the whole country of Cambodia adores them. The heat is so unbearable during the noon time (and also to account for travel time by foot, bike, or motorbike) that my school breaks for a 3 hour lunch break (11am - 2pm). 

Because I opted out of buying a fan for my bedroom and I’m tired of sweating through my mattress (it reaches temperatures around 120 degrees in there in the afternoon), I now take my naps downstairs. Communal napping has become one of my favorite aspects of Khmer culture.

Today, I lay, curled up on the wooden couch that my family bought with my rent money about a year into my stay here. My father sprawled across our low-laying ‘bed,’ my sister and brother-in-law and their baby lay on their mattress in the corner where they all shared the same long pillow, and my nephew cuddled with my mother on the cool ceramic tile floor.

I drifted off to the sounds of my nephew slapping his thigh against the floor as he bounced his leg up and down and the sounds of my niece talking to the mermaid sticker in the palm of her hand.

I love having found that sleeping doesn’t need to be a lonely endeavor. 

Thinking of Joining the Peace Corps??

Dear Person Contemplating Joining Peace Corps,

I imagine that you’re at a transition point in your life. Perhaps you’ve just graduated, perhaps you’re going through a career change, perhaps you have an itch for something more that can’t be scratched. Whatever the reason, here you are: contemplating joining Peace Corps.

But should you? Is it right for you?

Honestly, you might not know that until you’ve arrived. You can research by reading books and official publications or by talking with current/returned volunteers, but everything you read and hear will probably tell you the same thing: every person’s experience is different. Your Peace Corps life will be uniquely shaped by your country, program, and site. 

I’d like to think, though, that there are a few things that are universal throughout the Peace Corps world, and those things tend all to revolve around how you yourself will change - for the better and for the worse - because of your time in Peace Corps.*

Khmer Conversation #5

*Cow approaches the back door during dinner; father begins talking to Cow*

Father: Eat rice with us?

Cow: ....

Father: Where are you going, Cow?

Cow: ....

Father: *offers watermelon to Cow*

Cow: *walks away*

Father: *shrugs; eats watermelon*

(posted March 28, 2012)