Extended Family

Two weeks ago I had one of the best evenings. I have fallen in love with a family here – the father is a guard at our house, the mother is a cook at our school, and the son is an eighth grade student at Goldstone. Their love for one another is evident, and they have extended their hearts to me. They have become good friends of mine – all three – and we have kind adopted each other. The woman is beautiful and has such a tender heart. She is gentle, soft-spoken, and kind, and she has the power to make me the same way when I’m with her. I love it and wish it would stick. Her husband is also very soft-hearted, but he is a strong man. He is very eager to learn, always asking questions and digging for answers. He laughs with his eyes, and he lights up when he tells stories. Their son is great – he likes hunting scorpions and reads every ghost story he can get his hands on.
I wanted to make dinner, so they joined me at our villa on a Sunday night. I was hoping to prepare everything so they wouldn’t have to work, but the mother refused to let me work alone. This was a good thing, because as she “helped”, I became her apprentice in the kitchen. I was making pork-stuffed tomatoes with cilantro, potatoes with onions, and a zucchini-red pepper medley (would that sound good on a menu?) - and mango for dessert… every day. Turns out I have been cooking these tomatoes with pork the wrong way for the last six weeks and likely have some form of bacteria from raw pig, but never mind. Chivey gently took the bowl from my hands and worked her magic over the stove. We say very few words when we’re together, but somehow we connect beautifully. She showed me how to place the bowl in a boiling pot and steam the meat. Then she took a knife and modeled the best way to cut a mango, the blade running just under the skin. She really was an artist. I know she was laughing as I chopped away at the other vegetables, sweating like a mad cow. Chunks of garlic and onion were flying through the air, and olive oil splashed onto the kitchen floor. There couldn’t have been enough fans on me during this process. In end, it was edible, and the mango – as always – was sweet.
The conversation during dinner was inspiring -this is such a strong family unit. In Cambodia, the majority of marriages are still arranged. That was also the case fifteen years ago, of course, but this couple refused. Chivey’s parents had arranged a marriage with a wealthy, educated man in Canada. Not only did she have the opportunity to go to a different country, but she would have been able to study at a university. She would not go – she was in love with Seanghai. He didn’t have money, he wasn’t educated, and he wouldn’t leave Cambodia, but she loved him. So they started their lives with nothing but each other. I was swooning, loving the romance of their story.
A few years later, they had their son, and Seanghai was given the opportunity to work for an aunt in Canada – he could work as a cook in a restaurant and possibly bring Chivey and their son over a few years later. This would allow them to make more money, but again, they turned down the offer – they said life would not be worthwhile if they didn’t have each other. The only thing that mattered was being together. They believe that. They live a simple life, but it’s more than enough for them. They show so much appreciation and gratitude for what they have. They were even grateful for my charred vegetables and soggy potatoes.
I’m so excited to spend more time with them. They have invited me to spend a day with them this week. I’m going to the market with Chivey, then she is going to take me to their home. She will teach me how to cook some traditional Khmer foods, and Seanghai is going to show me their land. I’m eager to learn more about their lives. I’m happy to be living here instead of passing through on a tour bus – I’m realizing how much time it takes to establish trust and build relationships like this.