About a month ago, I received an email from a guy in Taiwan, originally from Texas, who wanted to volunteer at the school. He was hoping to put his experience with construction to use and was eager to start raising money to make repairs and improvements on our building. This guy came out of nowhere to serve – amazing. He showed up with his cowboy hat, a backpack, and a check for the school. Since his arrival, the school has been looking more like a construction zone than an institute of learning, but it has been great to see the students get involved in the work. We started by painting the outer fence and the walls on the grounds – and it was a good idea, in theory, to equip the kids with brushes, rollers, and buckets of blue and white paint. What a great experience! Work party! Enlist everyone! Well, it didn’t take long to see that 1) none of the students have had a formal PUD painter’s course, and 2) sixth and seventh grade students are quite capable of expressing themselves through abstract art …. everywhere. It looked like a massive capsule of White-Out exploded on campus. They went nuts. Gates, walls – yes (mission accomplished) – classrooms, windows, tiles, gold statue on the front of the building, armpits, toenails, cars – also yes. The trunks of the palm trees now don splashes of white, the tables are covered with white handprints, and even the tops of a couple old computers have a new white coat. So obviously we had to come up with a new game plan for our other projects, and I have spent the last couple days covering streaks. Painting fences and rails again – reminds me of summers at Box Canyon Dam.
The most recent challenge was laying sand and rock. A truck dumped a huge pile of stones in the middle of the school yard (leaving a crater in the cement)and we had to find a way to spread it around the school. I don’t know if they have wheelbarrows in Cambodia or not, but we certainly didn’t have access to one this morning. What we lacked in efficiency, however, the kids made for with zeal. The students were moving rocks in five gallon buckets, plastic cups, and grocery bags. First graders were collecting rocks in their pink pencil boxes, and the fifth graders started folding cardboard posters to cradle small piles. Dust pans, paint lids, fists – you name it. Resourceful little buggers. They were all eager to help, and it really was the perfect picture of teamwork. I don’t know if you are familiar with Nehemiah’s story of rebuilding the wall in Jerusalem, but I think this was the modern day children’s version. Some of them have worked tirelessly in hot, humid weather – barefoot. Others have seen it as an opportunity to kick back with a bag of sugar cane juice on the rocks. The place looks great - it’s amazing what a few buckets of paint can do to transform a place. There is a new sense of pride among the kids; they have been able to see the immediate fruit of their labor. It will be nice for the students to begin the next school year in a fresh environment – clean walls, doors that work, leak-free roofs. Yeah! A little goes a long way here. And thank you, Brad, for taking the initiative on a project like this and following through - with blisters, sweat, and only a few tears.
Wednesday, July 28, 2010
Monday, July 19, 2010
Minor Surgery
I should also mention that I am currently writing with a giant band-aid on the side of my face, and it hurts a little when I laugh at my own jokes. I had my first experience at a local clinic today. A cyst next to my eye had been steadily growing for the last eight months, and it really got to the point that 1) I didn’t want to stand to the left of anyone during a conversation because that’s all they would see, and 2) it’s all I could see. I had the peripheral vision of a city carriage horse. And people here are very direct – I can’t count the number of times people asked what happened to my face. The school director made an appointment for me at a clinic, and for 27 dollars they removed my small tumor. I walked into the waiting room, clearly the center of attention. The director explained the problem to everyone - I guess it was important to answer all of the questions for the public - and we waited. I told her she could go back to the school if she needed to, but she insisted on staying (and I was glad) because she needed to sign papers as a witness. Always need a witness. Yikes.
We went into a small room, where she actually ended up holding the light for the procedure (a dual purpose for the witness). My legs dangled off the edge of the surgery bed, and they taped a small piece of gauze to my forehead and cheek. I made sure they would, in fact, numb the area before cutting. The doctor said, “Yes, a little pain, but okay.” I immediately received five shots next to my eye – and I’m not so sure that numbing the area was the better option. It felt like wasps attacked my socket - that's a tender spot! But within minutes, the area was numb, and I could only feel the pressure of the doctor wringing my face like a towel. He could speak English, so kept me updated on the process, but I couldn’t see anything. When he got to stitching me up, he asked me if I felt pain. At first, no. Then I jumped, and said, “Yes – pain.”
“Oh, sorry.” He kept going.
Again, “ Yep – pain. I feel pain.”
“Sorry.” (Like you say sorry when you play the boardgame and send someone back to the beginning).
He said, “Maybe bruise for two or three days, but no problem.”
When he was finished, he was excited to show me what he removed (I know that’s gross, but I wanted to see, too)… but he couldn’t find it. He sorted through bloody squares of gauze, then lifted the tray. He looked on the floor. Nothing. I started laughing. My director showed me how big the cyst was by indicating the size on her finger, and the doctor continued to search.
“Maybe it fall behind the bed,” he said. “It fly away.”
Hilarious. I have no idea where the contents of a gland would go, but I hope they cleaned the room before the next patient arrived.
So it really feels like I was punched in the face, but I’m happy to have that thing gone.
We went into a small room, where she actually ended up holding the light for the procedure (a dual purpose for the witness). My legs dangled off the edge of the surgery bed, and they taped a small piece of gauze to my forehead and cheek. I made sure they would, in fact, numb the area before cutting. The doctor said, “Yes, a little pain, but okay.” I immediately received five shots next to my eye – and I’m not so sure that numbing the area was the better option. It felt like wasps attacked my socket - that's a tender spot! But within minutes, the area was numb, and I could only feel the pressure of the doctor wringing my face like a towel. He could speak English, so kept me updated on the process, but I couldn’t see anything. When he got to stitching me up, he asked me if I felt pain. At first, no. Then I jumped, and said, “Yes – pain.”
“Oh, sorry.” He kept going.
Again, “ Yep – pain. I feel pain.”
“Sorry.” (Like you say sorry when you play the boardgame and send someone back to the beginning).
He said, “Maybe bruise for two or three days, but no problem.”
When he was finished, he was excited to show me what he removed (I know that’s gross, but I wanted to see, too)… but he couldn’t find it. He sorted through bloody squares of gauze, then lifted the tray. He looked on the floor. Nothing. I started laughing. My director showed me how big the cyst was by indicating the size on her finger, and the doctor continued to search.
“Maybe it fall behind the bed,” he said. “It fly away.”
Hilarious. I have no idea where the contents of a gland would go, but I hope they cleaned the room before the next patient arrived.
So it really feels like I was punched in the face, but I’m happy to have that thing gone.
One Month Later...
Wow, I don’t know how a month has gone by so fast – I guess life just happened. I do know that I wake up with the sun at 5:30 and fall asleep, absolutely exhausted, every night around eleven or twelve. It’s a good kind of tired, and it’s a good life.
The school has been extremely busy – we have had eight volunteers in the last month, which has kept me running. I’m learning a different role as I coordinate schedules and try to make sure everyone is taken care of in this foreign place (which is still somewhat foreign to me). So far, I’ve done a pretty lousy job, but people are forgiving. Our most recent volunteer is a guy who has come to work on the grounds and make improvements on the building (bless his big fat heart – this is not a small task). I searched for a place for him to stay, but found nothing. He wanted to put his money toward the school instead of a guesthouse… so I told him to pack a tent. How’s that for hospitality? Well, we did one better than a tent – we set him up with a nice cot and a mosquito net and reserved a corner on the roof of the school. He had plenty of company – the guard was there along with the local rats and a roaming cat. He had an adventurous spirit, and now I figure he has a better story. It’s fun to have new faces around, and the students and teachers love meeting so many people. I have been excited to see the teachers freely engaging in conversations; they introduce themselves and ask visitors questions… then sometimes look at me to see if they did okay. It’s a different environment, and I really love being part of it. I have also enjoyed getting to know people from around the world - I don’t know how so many people end up here, but here we are. I had some of the volunteers over for dinner, and we collectively represented four continents. We agreed that it was a good beginning to a really bad joke – “so an Australian horticulturist, an English teacher, a Swiss surgeon a guy from Taiwan and a guy from Tennessee walk into a bar…”
There’s also music in the air. One of my best friends gave me a big chunk of change before I left, and I used it to buy a keyboard for the school. (That was an adventure in itself – we made the purchase and delivery Cambodian-style: after price negotiations, I embraced a four- foot, dusty Casio in a black garbage bag and a dented metal piano stand on the back of a motorcycle in the rain.) The kids have been loving it - we sing all the time! The third and fourth graders are rockin’ “This Little Light of Mine” with a lot of “oh yeah”s, and the grade nine students have decided to sing “We Are the World” at the end of the year. Yes, Michael Jackson. I promise you that the 80’s and 90’s will live on forever in this country. A girl asked if we could sing “Hello” by Lionel Richie at the party on the last day of school – so, yes, we have also been rehearsing that with all the soul we can muster. A few students have been eager to learn how to play as well, so there are lunchtime lessons almost every day. It really makes some of the students come to life, and it has the same affect on me.
The rest is just life, sprinkled with weird moments. Like the typical Sunday list: do laundry, buy groceries, and swing by a pharmacy to pick up de-worming antibiotics… for me, not a dog. (Foreigners should do this every three months, I guess – I just got my first dose). I started my on-line graduate classes … again, so that it dominating my world… again. But I have also had the opportunity to house- sit for my friend and her husband during their vacation to Holland. I love their flat – it’s simple and quiet, and it’s perched on top of the city. It’s like a little bird nest – I can see the horizon from both ends of the house. I watch the sunrise while the water boils for my coffee, and on Sunday evenings I get to see the sunset from the opposite balcony. I love looking at the streets below – the old women start walking early in the morning, and the moto-dope drivers are already on their corners, waiting to harass the first person to step out of his gate. The restaurant owner sweeps his floor while the guy across the street does stationary exercises on his roof. Yesterday morning there was a little parade of boys beating drums and a giant wobbly clown. I have been staying here alone, which I love. The only scare came a few weeks ago at eleven o’clock at night – I was talking with my parents on Skype, and suddenly there was a man on the balcony outside the window (on the fifth floor – he wasn’t just strolling by). My mom was yelling from the computer, “Who is it? Don’t open the door – don’t open the door!” Turns out some idiot on the top floor left the hose running and it was dripping on the metal roof of the tenants below… so I got to meet the landlord in his boxers and apologize.
So everything is great – but I am excited to come home!! In two weeks I’ll be boarding a plane – already starting to get restless.
The school has been extremely busy – we have had eight volunteers in the last month, which has kept me running. I’m learning a different role as I coordinate schedules and try to make sure everyone is taken care of in this foreign place (which is still somewhat foreign to me). So far, I’ve done a pretty lousy job, but people are forgiving. Our most recent volunteer is a guy who has come to work on the grounds and make improvements on the building (bless his big fat heart – this is not a small task). I searched for a place for him to stay, but found nothing. He wanted to put his money toward the school instead of a guesthouse… so I told him to pack a tent. How’s that for hospitality? Well, we did one better than a tent – we set him up with a nice cot and a mosquito net and reserved a corner on the roof of the school. He had plenty of company – the guard was there along with the local rats and a roaming cat. He had an adventurous spirit, and now I figure he has a better story. It’s fun to have new faces around, and the students and teachers love meeting so many people. I have been excited to see the teachers freely engaging in conversations; they introduce themselves and ask visitors questions… then sometimes look at me to see if they did okay. It’s a different environment, and I really love being part of it. I have also enjoyed getting to know people from around the world - I don’t know how so many people end up here, but here we are. I had some of the volunteers over for dinner, and we collectively represented four continents. We agreed that it was a good beginning to a really bad joke – “so an Australian horticulturist, an English teacher, a Swiss surgeon a guy from Taiwan and a guy from Tennessee walk into a bar…”
There’s also music in the air. One of my best friends gave me a big chunk of change before I left, and I used it to buy a keyboard for the school. (That was an adventure in itself – we made the purchase and delivery Cambodian-style: after price negotiations, I embraced a four- foot, dusty Casio in a black garbage bag and a dented metal piano stand on the back of a motorcycle in the rain.) The kids have been loving it - we sing all the time! The third and fourth graders are rockin’ “This Little Light of Mine” with a lot of “oh yeah”s, and the grade nine students have decided to sing “We Are the World” at the end of the year. Yes, Michael Jackson. I promise you that the 80’s and 90’s will live on forever in this country. A girl asked if we could sing “Hello” by Lionel Richie at the party on the last day of school – so, yes, we have also been rehearsing that with all the soul we can muster. A few students have been eager to learn how to play as well, so there are lunchtime lessons almost every day. It really makes some of the students come to life, and it has the same affect on me.
The rest is just life, sprinkled with weird moments. Like the typical Sunday list: do laundry, buy groceries, and swing by a pharmacy to pick up de-worming antibiotics… for me, not a dog. (Foreigners should do this every three months, I guess – I just got my first dose). I started my on-line graduate classes … again, so that it dominating my world… again. But I have also had the opportunity to house- sit for my friend and her husband during their vacation to Holland. I love their flat – it’s simple and quiet, and it’s perched on top of the city. It’s like a little bird nest – I can see the horizon from both ends of the house. I watch the sunrise while the water boils for my coffee, and on Sunday evenings I get to see the sunset from the opposite balcony. I love looking at the streets below – the old women start walking early in the morning, and the moto-dope drivers are already on their corners, waiting to harass the first person to step out of his gate. The restaurant owner sweeps his floor while the guy across the street does stationary exercises on his roof. Yesterday morning there was a little parade of boys beating drums and a giant wobbly clown. I have been staying here alone, which I love. The only scare came a few weeks ago at eleven o’clock at night – I was talking with my parents on Skype, and suddenly there was a man on the balcony outside the window (on the fifth floor – he wasn’t just strolling by). My mom was yelling from the computer, “Who is it? Don’t open the door – don’t open the door!” Turns out some idiot on the top floor left the hose running and it was dripping on the metal roof of the tenants below… so I got to meet the landlord in his boxers and apologize.
So everything is great – but I am excited to come home!! In two weeks I’ll be boarding a plane – already starting to get restless.
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