Stages of Relationships

Month One: Everyone is polite. Shy. All smiles and best behavior from both sides.

Month Two: More comfortable, but very little communication. We share the same space and are still very polite. “Hello” and “How are you? Fine, thanks, and you?” (every time). No problems. The students are still very well behaved. I eat alone at a large table because they want to respect my space. I want to join the other happy table, full of laughter and jokes and joy, but want to respect their space. On the outside looking in.

Month Three: I ask more questions and force myself into their circle. I sit in the middle of their lunch bunch, unable to understand a word… but there, all twenty of us at one table while the other remains unused. English classes open the door to comfortable relationships. They practice speaking English during the day and giggle, still embarrassed. I butcher simple words in Khmer. We laugh together.

Month Four: We eat mango on the steps and have real conversations – stories and worries and questions. We attend weddings together and eat meals together. I spend time in the homes of the teachers, and we share about our families – how much I miss mine, how much they miss theirs. Time together.

Month Five: Real relationships continue to develop. I walk into the school wearing basketball shorts and a t-shirt. Pum says, “Oh, Molly, you look so handsome… ha ha ha.”
“Don’t you mean so beautiful?” I ask, flipping my hair.
“No, handsome – you dress like man. You not find husband, ha ha ha.” I act offended and pretend to hit him, but really love that we are on this level. It may be a little sad that I think real relationships exist when we start making fun of each other, but I love it anyway. The same guy makes a funny sound in his chair, and the teachers start laughing at him. He turns to me and asks, “How to say?” He stands up and, pointing at his rear, squats twice and says “toot, toot.”

Month Six: We are VERY comfortable with each other. I walk back to the kitchen to scope out the food scene. One of the cooks looks at me, says my name, and puts her arms out to the side, saying the word for fat. “What? You think I got fat??”
“Ha ha – Yes.”
I ask another teacher at the school if she thinks so too. She tilts her head. “Hmm. Yes, I think so.”
I run away. I try to come back the next day for soup, and a different cook holds her arms out in front of her, puffing out her cheeks. I scream and leave again, searching for a scale. Yes, two kilos (4-5 pounds) since January. Tough love. I am informed that they would not call me fat unless we were friends, and it’s actually considered a compliment. (“Fat is happy” they say.) My brother, bless his heart, assured me that I haven’t put on too much weight, and that he would notice because Carlsons carry weight in our faces. That’s true. But now I’m sitting further away from the camera during Skype sessions.
So yes, we are at a place of honesty - like family, right? Honest. And it is good for the most part.