Building Walls and Scrubbing Classrooms

Once a month, Projects Abroad organizes a “Dirty Weekend”: a Saturday when any volunteer who is free takes the day and helps one of the organizations we work with to complete a project they have been working on. This weekend we were at VCAO, an orphanage and school in the dump outside of Phnom Penh, building a wall around the school yard and cleaning the classrooms.

I had a great time: I am a pro with cement an cement blocks (or bricks) after Honduras and Nicaragua, so I felt right at home. My friend Georgie and I were working together at one point, and we were pretty proud of ourselves when we had four perfect rows, one after the other. (A prefect row is a row where you don’t have to break any bricks to complete the row. It is a big deal when building walls).

I like the Dirty Weekend idea because it gives me a chance to see what conditions other volunteers are working in, and what conditions their students are living in. VCAO, like I said, is at the dump. And I don’t mean near the dump, or close to the dump, I mean right in the middle of the dump. There are roads through piles of trash, and the students at VCAO work in those piles, picking up trash that their families can then sell for a few riel (Cambodian currency). It is the same situation Amigos for Christ is trying to fix in Nicaragua with Villa Catalina, and it is just as sad and awful here as it is halfway across the world.

Then, out of all the trash and dirt, comes games and playfulness, and children being children:

Cambodia #6: In Which I am Protected from Large Monkeys by Small Children

On Saturday, I went with a friend on a bike trek across the countryside to Udong, the old capital of Cambodia. It was incredible: not just because I biked more than 46 km, or because I finally got out of the city, but because we were literally biking through rice fields, along cow paths, through front yards. I felt like I was able to see a little of what life is really like for most Cambodians, not just those who live in Phnom Penh.

Udong is quite a small town now: there are just a few places to eat, and some vendors on the side of the road at the base of a long ridge. On the ridge, there are several stupas and incredible views of the Cambodia countryside.

Vihear Preah Ath Roes in the first building you come to once you climb the 166-step staircase to the top of the ridge. The original building was erected and dedicated in 1911 by King Sisowath. The Khmer Rouge bombed the building in 1977, destroying the huge Buddha inside the building and leaving just a few sections of wall intact. Big Buddha, as it is called, has been reconstructed and the building is being slowly rebuilt, but it is still eerie: there are still bullet holes in the walls, it is still possible to see which walls were bombed.

The rest of the stupas are beautiful and intricate, and the views breathtaking, but the best part of the tour is the way tour guides work. As we started toward the hill, a bunch of kids came running up and started telling us facts about the place. Between Steph and I, we had five tour guides. And these kids are not just tour guides. They also work as your insurance against the monkeys that hang out on the ridge. On the way down the hill, the steps go through so denser forest, and within the forest lurks some large monkeys. The monkeys can be vicious, biting tourists and stealing cameras, or anything shiny, from right out of their hands. The kids were constantly looking out for them in the trees as we descended, and if one even started to look like it was heading our way, the kids would chuck rocks are hard as they could at the monkeys to get them to go away.

It is a little bit funny how diligently they keep an eye out for the monkeys, until you realize why they are so on top of it. For the kids, there is a war being waged against the furry creatures. These children work all day for the few dollars they get as guides to help put food on the table at home, and to help pay for school and English lessons. If the monkeys start hurting visitors to Udong, people will stop coming, and the kids will lose their livelihood. So, they keep a constant eye out, and they fight the monkeys off with rocks the size of my fist. It is a sad, but common, story here.

The Tension of Opposites

In the book I’ve just finished, Tuesdays with Morrie, Morrie talks about the tension of opposites, and how life is run by those tensions. The tension of opposites is exactly what it sounds like: it is the tension we feel between two opposite things. Morrie talks about it in relation to knowing he is going to die, but want to live life to the fullest. Here in Cambodia, I feel that tension everyday: in the classroom, at the apartments, around the city, and especially within myself.

In the classroom, there are moments when I am so happy to be teaching these children, because sometimes, they really understand what I am teaching. I see the instant when their face goes from the confused, what-the-heck-is-she-talking-about face, to the oh-oh-oh-I-get-it face. When I witness that moment, I feel as though what I am doing is not a waste of time, that I might actually be making a difference. Then there are the moments when I think about all the English teachers that have come before me and all the English teachers that will come after me in these student’s lives, and I wonder what I am actually accomplishing. I am here for three months teaching these children. Learning a language takes YEARS, not months, and I think I can really teach these students something they will remember? When I feel this despair, I have to remember that moment of understanding, and remember that even if I can’t teach them everything, I can at least solidify the knowledge they have, and maybe, if there is time, work on something new. I can come up with ideas, and leave them for the next volunteer, so that things aren’t repeated too often, so that we can build on the student’s English foundation. Even if I am only here for a short while, I can do something.

Back at the apartments, I hear the same complaints from the volunteers: They don’t know if what we are doing is worth the time we are giving. Is what we do going to be remembered in the future? Is what we are doing actually appreciated? We want to be giving our time, we want to be helping, but sometimes it feels as though it is pointless, that we should be doing something else, were we can instantly see that we are making a difference. When these questions come up, we all just have to remember that teaching and care is what we came here for, and that whatever we can do is more than what the students and children would get if we were not here.

Within the city, within the country, I see this tension everywhere. I see it in the fact that many things are becoming westernized, that the people all want the lightest skin possible, but there is a fierce national pride. Cambodians love their country and their culture to bits, but at the same time what everything they can from the Western world. It is a hard thing to keep even: retaining the good parts of old ways, but still moving forward into the next phase of life.

And finally, me. I am made from this tension right now, that is it. I have never wanted to be with my family and friends more than at this moment, nor have I ever wanted to stay and experience and help more than right now. It is hard, to have such strong pulls in both directions, and the key is to keep the pulls even. If it isn’t even, then I get homesick, I feel miserable, and I seriously want to find the next flight home and be on it. Each day it is easier to keep the forces even. Each success in the classroom makes it easier, each time a new volunteer arrives it makes it easier, each time I sit down to dinner and hear about the success and troubles of the other volunteers it makes it easier to stay.

It is hard being here, making new friends daily, not know the language, not understanding the customs all the time, not always being able to communicate, not always knowing what I am eating, but each day gets better, each day gets easier, and one of these days, I won’t have to worry about feeling homesick and ready to quit. One day, I won’t want to leave this place.

Water Festival

This past weekend in Phnom Penh has been crazy. Literally a million people come in from the provinces to participate in the Water Festival, a three day festival in November with boat races, fireworks, vendors, Ferris wheels, and light parades on the river at night. On the streets of Riverside (one of the districts of Phnom Penh, can you guess where?) there are vendors everywhere, even more than normal. They sell bright pink and orange and yellow pinwheels, flashy plastic light up toys, and little festively painted bamboo animals on sticks. There is an abundance of people selling small baggies of sweet sugar cane juice, pushing their carts filled with long pale sticks of sugar cane and the roller that flattens the cane and squeezes out the liquid.

The crush of people is amazing. There are more people in Riverside than anywhere I have ever been before. It is a zoo. There are children running around, people yelling, motos beeping trying to get through the crowd. There is so much activity everywhere you turn; there is no respite from it all. Even when you find a restaurant with a balcony above the crowds, it is still loud with music and voices, and your nose is accosted with the most delicious smells one moment and the most vile scent the next. Then, on top of everything, it is hot hot hot. The sun beats down during the day, and at night, there is plenty of residual heat with the crush of people keeping the evening air from cooling off. It is crazy and exhausting, but exhilarating and energizing all at the same time.

The boats they use in the races are long and narrow, low to the water. On Saturday when we went to see the beginning of the races, one of the boats had actually sunk, and the team was trying to get the boat back to the shore to get it emptied and floating again. The boats have teams of between 60 and 70 rowers, all dressed in fluorescent tee shirts with a matching or contrasting baseball cap. The men either sit or kneel along the sides of the boat and paddle together, much like crew. And like watching any crew team, or any spots team: when they are not competing, they are on the sidelines, fooling around, playing music, and dancing. One guy was using a big plastic bucket for a drum, and another team member was rapping through a megaphone while the rest of the team was dancing and having a grand old time. One of my friends from Project Abroad went in and joined them, and they thought it was crazy cool – it was hysterical and really kind of fun to connect in such a way with the locals.

In the evening, starting at about 6pm, there are fireworks and a boat parade on the river. The fireworks are good: they last almost a half an hour and all my favorite types made an appearance in the show. The boat parade consists of boats from different branches of the government, each with a different picture or design fashioned completely out of lights. Some of the boats have music, some have words, and some just have a picture. The boats continue to move up and down the river all night, and it is a calming, beautiful, majestic background that contrasts nicely with the more rambunctious celebrations on the banks of the river.

The atmosphere of the festival is just one big party, and just like any party, it is a good time while it lasts, and then after, it is nice to go back to the normalcy and routine of everyday life.

Buddhist Meditation and The Rain

So, right now in Cambodia it is supposedly the dry season, but the past few afternoons it has clouded over a 3 o’clock on the dot, and has rained at least two evenings now. I was fine with it, until the other night when I went with three other volunteers to Wat Lang Ka for free meditation in the beautiful temple.

We hopped in a tuk tuk (a little carriage pulled by a motorbike) because it is kind of far away from our apartment, and the sky was looking a little iffy. When we got to the door of the temple, I stopped short. There were a few people already meditating, sitting on little, round, deep purple cushions in the center of these saffron and orange mats in front of a towering, serene Buddha . To be honest, it looked like something straight out of National Geographic and for a second I was speechless. I had no idea what to do, and none of my cohorts were moving either. I guess we stopped just long enough, because a monk noticed us and came over, asking if we had ever meditated in the Buddhist style before. Since none of us had, he asked us to get mats and cushions, and meet him on the balcony just outside the temple for a preliminary lesson. We tiptoed into the temple, chose rich colored mats and cushions, and sat down outside. In the distance, we could see a storm coming in, and as the monk was explaining how to practice meditation, the sky was flashing with bolts of lighting behind his head. It was so surreal to be learning how to meditate, from an honest to goodness Buddhist monk, in the middle of Cambodia, while there the sky was full of lightening – it just seemed to be straight out of a novel.

Once we knew the basics, he let us practice on our own for about a half an hour. Personally, I had a really hard time: my entire right leg, from hip to tips of the toes fell completely asleep, so I didn’t give it much of a chance. (But I am going to go back!) We had to go a little before the hour ended or we would be late for dinner, but by the time we were leaving, the storm had reached us and it was pouring. The Independence Monument is all lit up at night, and there was so much water coming from the sky that if you looked at the monument lights you could see waves of water in the air when the wind blew. It was crazy: within five seconds of stepping out from under the overhang of the temple we were all soaked to the bone. We ran to where we had entered the temple grounds, but found that the gate had been shut and locked while we were inside, so we then proceeded to splash our way around the entire temple looking for an open gate. When we finally found one, we hoped there would be a tuk tuk right there, because usually they are everywhere, but because it was raining so hard, all of the tuk tuk drivers were hidden away. By the time we found our way out of the temple compound and found a tuk tuk driver, we litterally could not have been any wetter if we had just jumped into a lake with all of our clothes on.

The whole thing was quite an adventure, to say the least.

One World

One of the coolest parts of being in the Projects Abroad apartments here in Cambodia is meeting the other volunteers. I am meeting people from all over the world: the Netherlands, Europe, England, and Australia. It is really exciting to speak with everyone, to laugh about the funny words we use to describe the same thing, and to realize that though we are all from very different places, we all like lots of the same things. Around the dinner table is really crazy too: we can all be speaking English one moment, and then the next moment there are conversations in English, Dutch, German and French, and then in the kitchen, the cooks are gossiping in Khmer. The dinner table is helping me see the world in a more global perspective.

That is the most mind boggling of all: the way my view of the world as a globe has changed. I have always known that the world is a sphere, but just recently, as in within the past three days, I have started to picture the world in my head as a globe, rather than a flat map with the US in the middle. I started thinking about the difference when my friend Libby from Australia told me that her flight was only six hours or so from Sydney to Asia. I was floored for a moment, because, for one, that’s as long as it takes me to get to Lake George, NY from my house, and two, isn’t Australia, like, closer to Europe? I thought about it and discovered that even though I can point out Australia on a map, I always associate it with England, and therefore, I group Australia with Britain, even though it should be grouped with Asia. When I started thinking about the world with Australia in the right place, and the fact that I am literally halfway across the world from Maine, my 2-D version of the world immediately became a 3-D correct version of the world.

And you know what? It is pretty nice to think of the world as a whole, rather than a as a bunch of puzzle pieces. The change in perspective makes my flight path make so much more sense.

Welcome to Cambodia!

Today makes the one week anniversary of my arrival in Cambodia! I have never experienced such extreme highs and lows in such a short amount of time ever before. The first few days were impossibly difficult; I was so lonely and homesick that all I wanted to do was come home, but then I got some sleep, ate some (delicious) food, met some people (both Cambodian and not) and all of a sudden, I was having the time of my life. Sometimes I am so happy and excited the feeling just literally bubbles up inside me and all I can do is laugh and smile.

Though I have only been here a week, I feel as though I have been here for much longer. Cambodia makes it easy to feel that way: the locals are ridiculously friendly, and they all want to practice their English and say hello. The children are the same. They want to play with you, to make you laugh and smile. They love to say “Hello, Teacher. Good morning. How are you today?” and take whatever you might be carrying for you to the desk. When you answer back, “I am wonderful this morning, thank you, how are you?” they smile their bright, open smiles and say, “Very well, thank you.” Not only are the people themselves welcoming, the city of Phnom Penh as a whole is really cool. There is a park running down the center of one of the bigger streets here, and in the late afternoons, When school lets out and everyone is off from work, the place fills with families and groups of friends playing badminton and a game like hacky-sack, walking or jogging, and just hanging out. At one end of the green, there is even free open-air aerobics (though, all the locals call it dancing).

The vibe of the park is one of great community and inclusivity, which is incredibly welcome in a country where not only can I not understand the language, I can’t read it, or even muddle through a conversation a little bit. When it comes to French or Spanish, the language has a similar sound to English and it uses the same alphabet. When it comes to Khmer, the language spoken here in Cambodia, the sounds, the alphabet, and even the way words and sentences are written, is completely different from anything I am used to. For example: there are no spaces between the words in a sentence, soit'slikewritingandreadinglikethis. The absolute language barrier makes everything else just that much more intense, and sometimes, everything is just so very overwhelming. But, at least it is not a tonal language like Chinese!

Tomorrow is my first day teaching solo, and I am so excited! I've been at the school for a few days now, but another volunteer has been teaching most of the classes. Hopefully there will be some funny student stories coming soon!