A Few Thoughts...

As the end of my first stint in Cambodia is drawing to a close, I have had some time to really reflect on all that has happened during the last seven months. I want to spend more time processing the events, relationships and lessons before I’m thrust into the tailspin of trips and reunions that wait at home, but of course there’s always too much happening to sit and think. Maybe that’s what thirty hour flights are for.
It will be impossible to adequately explain the impact this experience has had on my heart and mind, but I suppose that’s the nature of experience – you have to live something to fully understand the significance. So I don’t expect my experience to change others, but I am no doubt changed myself… changed by the people, changed by the culture, changed by the images of poverty and beauty both, and changed by my own personal wrestling match during the last year.
I anticipated some things – I knew I would meet interesting people, eat wacky food, and work through various challenges. There was no way to know what those things would look like, however, until I came face to face with them in the context of life. That has been the fun part – interesting, hilarious, frustrating, scary – and fun. I didn’t expect to gain a best friend from Holland in Cambodia. I think I’ve learned more Dutch than Khmer. I didn’t expect to spend every lunch hour eating like royalty – really, how many hot lunch programs are serving fresh shrimp, beef and pork (OR blood, liver, baby frogs and chicken feet)? There’s no way I could have predicted that I would develop such deep love for the teachers at the school. I knew I would give my heart away to the students, but my deepest connection has been with the staff – men and women who serve tirelessly and who have taken care of me. They have become my family here. And their love hasn’t been reserved for me alone - five or six teachers sent gifts for my mom and dad with the message that they love them. They have so little, but they simply want to give. It’s special.
I also thought I would use Phnom Penh as a platform to do more traveling – I figured I would be checking out a new city or country every chance I had… Thailand, Vietnam, Laos. I think I actually left the city a total of three times in seven months, including a school study tour with 75 kids. I haven’t had wild adventures in the jungle or toured Southeast Asia yet. Rather, I have shared meals with families in their homes, celebrated holidays with the teachers at the school, and played volleyball with the students after school. I believe that has been the most valuable investment of time. The teachers don’t vacation. They were at the school every day of their two week holiday. Most of them have never crossed the border of Vietnam, only five hours away. So though I would like to do more traveling next year, I don’t regret my ties to this place. I may not have seen the post popular tourist attractions in Bangkok or Ho Chi Minh City – or even Phnom Penh for that matter – but I’ve eaten Khmer noodles and grilled fish with my friends, hitched rides on the backs of their motors, and laughed over and over at dumb inside jokes about soup, language, and being single. Those things are far more meaningful than my picture of Angkor Wat.
Living in Cambodia has helped me understand many things on a deeper level. Teaching at an non-profit school in a third world country seems like a noble endeavor, but in Phnom Penh, I’m one of hundreds. That’s why everyone is there. Almost every expat is working for some organization – everyone there has left family and the comforts of home to help the people of Cambodia. There’s no applause once you arrive – they hand you a shovel and tell you to roll up your sleeves; “Glad you took the plunge, now let’s go.” It’s good – I like that. It forces people to check their motives. It is a needy place – you can’t volunteer with the notion that the world is going to stop and honor your love for humanity… it’s the expectation. At the same time, it’s very possible to live a very comfortable life, somewhat isolated from the country. People can still go to their offices and coffee shops, jazz clubs and pools, having very little interaction with the real lives of those in poverty, with the typical life in Cambodia. We can do the same thing anywhere – stick to our community without venturing out to a different population or group. It’s easy to do, because it’s so comfortable. But, wow – I would have missed out on many rich experiences if I had stayed in the walls of expatriate land.
Often I was more of an observer than a participant – the foreign fly on the wall – but I have realized the value of presence. Just being there – sitting on the steps while the guys play chess, slicing meat while the women talk and prepare food, listening to the staff meeting with no translation. The conversation or event may not have had the same significance to me on a cognitive level, but I was able to communicate that I was invested, that I cared. That’s important. Ironically, the lesson of presence was equally powerful in my absence. Sharing meals with people here clearly meant that I wasn’t sitting at the dinner table with my family or friends, and that has been hard. I haven’t been the friend I would like to be – the one someone can call at three in the morning or be there for life’s trials. I have kept thinking about the quote by Theodore Roosevelt - “Do what you can, with what you have, where you are.” So now I’m almost home (staging for twelve hours in Korea) and I will do what I can, where I will be. I can’t wait for every second of precious time. I know it will disappear all too quickly, but I just want to stay focused on the moment – I realize that’s all I really have. I’m leaving Cambodia in a really good place (mentally, spiritually – physically, kind of… small infection that is forcing me to hobble through the airport, but ok), and I have a lot to return to. Thanks for sharing this leg of the journey with me. Now I’m ready to go home for a while.

Farewell for Now

The last few days have been great – I have been tying up loose ends and celebrating every day with food (shocking – that’s all I seem to talk about). We enjoyed the last day of school with a party at the school – the kids prepared dances and songs (and pork kebabs), and we said goodbye. Most of the kids will be at the school every day of vacation because that’s their safe place to study and hang out, but I will be gone …so the final days meant something to me. The day after our school party, the teachers took me into the mountains along with two other volunteers to celebrate the end of the year. We drove a couple hours, then the Corolla (with four in the back… good thing I’m small) climbed a mountain that belonged to the military, I believe. Our driver handed a couple beers to the guards and we were on our way. It was near the land owned by a teacher’s family - such a beautiful place. We made lunch near a small lake (they made lunch, I ate), and we had some time to share thoughts and feelings on the year and about each other. After, we went for a walk – which turned into boulder hopping with the guys. They caught a couple fish, and I had a rock skipping contest with Thuoen – really, the perfect day. No city, no motorcycles, no garbage. Those things were replaced with fresh air, green trees, jokes and chicken salad.
I also joined a family for dinner in their home the next evening – the daughters are students at the school, and we have bonded through singing and candy. We ate morning glory and rice, played ‘Go Fish’, and we listened to their dad play the guitar. I couldn’t understand the words, but he sang to his wife as she smiled from the other side of the room. . I flipped through their wedding album, and we shared different stories from our lives. Good moments. Their house, like others, is very simple, but it is packed with love. I managed to spend time with many people right before leaving – I took my friend’s daughters to the market for pedicures (yes, less than a dollar so I have done the nail thing), and I spent the morning packing with my friend who is very organized, unlike me.
I actually needed the help, because I have been hobbling around the last two days. I really wanted to go home completely healthy and fresh so my entrance to the US would scream “Cambodia is GOOD” (which it is, of course) but instead – after seven months of good health – I have an infected foot that looks like it belongs on an elephant. It really is swollen, and now I sit at the airport in Korea with my bandaged foot in the air, taking antibiotics every six hours. Not the message I wanted to send, but par for my course. I always come home with some injury - last time I arrived with ten stitches in my hand and had to water ski with a plastic dish glove and duct tape.
I was taken to the airport by a very large entourage of people – it was a pretty grand farewell, and again, I felt spoiled. We had a dinner at the school with the teachers and students to honor one of our volunteers, then everyone escorted me to the airport at nine o’clock at night. I jumped in the car with my lame foot, and about fifteen guys from the school – both teachers and students – followed alongside on their motorcycles. What a great sendoff! Again, there’s no way to out-serve these people. They just give until there’s nothing left – until they either run out of food or run out of time. Good thing there will be more of both. Two of the teachers said, “I’ll be here waiting for you.”