Two Months and Counting

It's been just over two months since my dad died. My family is used to going about our daily lives without him. Less and less do I sit around and think to myself, "he's gone...he's really gone."

As time passes the less I'll remember him. I don't mind forgetting the fresh pain of losing him but I don't want to forget the good memories. I want to remember the way he snort-laughed when he found something REALLY funny, that he liked cinnamon in his coffee, that he suffered from bedhead in spite of his decreasing amount of hair, that his face always got prickly from his five o'clock shadow but I still would kiss him on the cheek...

I want to remember the details. But my memories will fade.

Nothing here on this earth is permanent. I can't even control my own memory. It's a sobering reminder that this world isn't home.Thank God. 

I'll see my dad again.

Daddy and his granddaughter, Felicity

Class so far

This year our free evening school for Cambodian kids in the community has 3 English classes instead of 1. We have officially changed our name from School-In-School (last year's name) to 2Five2 to Catch-Up School (a name that better reflects what we do: help students so that they are caught up with the public school system).

Last year I had 24 students. This year I asked for 20. I got 30. 

And here they are:


I'm teaching the beginner English class and have the arduous task of teaching them how to read. I'm making many mistakes but am looking forward to the end of this year when my students can hold their heads up high because they've learned how to read in another language.

In Cambodia learning English means more than just learning a foreign language. It is the key to a better education, a better job, access to written material and research which Cambodia lacks much of. I wish this wasn't true but it also means being treated with more respect from fellow Cambodians.

I hope the best for my students and I hope I can prepare them well.
On a lighter note, we had a power outage all of tonight's class and here's a picture of my students working on a Thanksgiving craft. (Like what I did there? On a lighter note...power outage.)

Nice Spoons

In Cambodia I'm constantly reminded about how much I have. Compared to my life back in Seattle, I live quite modestly here. I share a house with three other ladies (and we just upgraded our refrigerator so that we don't have to throw away food due to lack of space). I recently bought furniture (finally) after living with only a bed in my room. I don't own as much stuff as I would if I lived in Seattle but I'm okay with that. 

I've noticed my habits and views have changed over this past year. I buy less clothes. I buy less decor for my house. (I haven't stopped buying--please, I'm no saint--but I've cut down on a lot of my American consumerism.) I've realized I don't need many things at all, which is something that I've known but not something that I've lived.

Yet, with this realization, I still look at what other people have and I think about how nice it would be to have more things to live comfortably. Living simply doesn't come simply.

And yet, living simply here comes more easily than it does if I were back in the US. Generally speaking, Cambodians live with less furniture, clothes, decorations, etc. than the average American. Even though I'm living in the capital, there are still slums and lower-class houses a few blocks away next to the railroad tracks or just around the corner where the factory workers live. I drive by these places every day and it makes me grateful for the four flights of stairs I have to climb and my broken bathroom door. Because I have those things. 

A factory worker's home

Just tonight, my uncle and his family came to visit my parents' house. My aunt works in a garment factory and my uncle is a tuk tuk (a motorized rickshaw) driver. Coming to my parent's house is a treat for them (mostly because we feed their kids Kool-Aid and cookies). While getting some water for my relatives in the kitchen, my 12 year old cousin walked in and stared at the aluminum framed glass cabinet where dishes and the silverware were kept. "Nice spoons," she said. I chuckled to myself at how strange her compliment of the ordinary spoons was.

It took me a minute to realize that to her she sincerely meant that they were nice spoons. Spoons aside, I took her comment to heart and was reminded of how much I do have. I am a privileged individual and forget that at times. I'm blessed.

A Saturday Prayer

I don't know why I don't do it more often. Pray. I spent time praying this morning. Just me and God. I felt refreshed. Later I picked up my journal and read part of a psalm I had written down. Amazingly enough it was exactly my prayer, except much more poetic.

⁵⁷ You are my portion, Lord;

    I have promised to obey your words.

⁵⁸ I have sought your face with all my heart;

    be gracious to me according to your promise.

⁵⁹ I have considered my ways

    and have turned my steps to your statutes.

⁶⁰ I will hasten and not delay

    to obey your commands.

⁶¹ Though the wicked bind me with ropes,

    I will not forget your law.

⁶² At midnight I rise to give you thanks

    for your righteous laws.

⁶³ I am a friend to all who fear you,

    to all who follow your precepts.

⁶⁴ The earth is filled with your love, Lord;

    teach me your decrees. 

Amen. 

Pictures from around the neighborhood

I lived with my parents and my new sisters for four months when I first moved to Cambodia back in September. 

Here is a sneak peak of photos from the neighborhood of my parents' house.

Go here to see the rest of the photographs. The street in front of their house is all paved now. 

I now live in a house with three friends about 15 minutes away further in the city. My parents' house is borderline countryside (as you can see).

When Dentists Have to Use a Second Language

Through a program I work with, I have been going to the dentist with a group of kids as a chaperone. At the end of their dental visit, I collect their paperwork and hand it back to the front desk.

One girl handed me her form and my eyes glanced over her medical history which read: 

Leukemia. Anemia. 

--- 
I'm glad they caught that mistake.

April Showers

In the middle of class the rain started falling

and the children started sighing;

the rain kept falling

and lighting followed by booming thunder kept going

and going like a looped soundtrack. 

Then class let out

and 100 children were trapped in the hallway

because the gatekeeper was in the bathroom

and the students had a hard time staying still and in lines. 

Then the power went out

and the children started screaming

and the darkness was everywhere

and there was chaos

and three people used their cellphones to fight the overwhelming darkness

and the rain kept filling our ears with noise.

And then there was light. 

The children stopped yelling

but the rain kept coming down. 

And I made eye contact with a teacher across from me

and we laughed. 

moto'd

I handed $$$$$ to a complete stranger in exchange for this shiny thing:

Never mind my fear of Phnom Penh traffic and hauntings of a past accident (I got into a bicycle accident and limped around in a luxury cast for a month). The need for freedom was too great. 

It's been a month now since I've had my moto and it's pretty dang sweet. Sometimes I'll catch myself speeding around at night all the way up to fourth gear at 40km/h thinking, "I AM SO DANGEROUS." And then I remind myself that 40km/h translates to about 25mph. So no worries, I may be moto'd but I'm going very slow*. 

--

*Phnom Penh gives off the illusion of being a large city largely due to the fact that city traffic is at an average pace of 30 km/h (19mph) so it takes time to get anywhere which makes the city seem much bigger than it is.

Job No.1

These kids are a hoot and a holler.

One out of my five jobs is spent teaching English to these guys. Three evenings out of the week they come filing in the art classroom where we meet, noisily arrange tables and chairs and then sit and stare at my face in anticipation for something magical to begin. Okay, maybe not magical but they do wait for me to say, "Hello! How are you?"

"I'M FINE THANKS, AND YOU?!" they reply. 

In October School-in-School (a free after school program for Cambodian kids in the community) added an English class with me as the teacher. I had no idea what to expect except for I was volunteering for a school-year long commitment. 

These kids have bared with me through my inexperience and have trusted me even when I double and triple checked my spelling on the white board or changed activities halfway through because I realized no one understands.

They are patient with me as I try to explain concepts to them in broken Khmer. My favorite memory is when I was trying to communicate something but they didn't understand the English word and I couldn't find the right Khmer word so the entire class started shouting words in Khmer trying to help me out. It was like a spontaneous game of charades with 24 guessers.

I have so much to learn as a teacher. 

It's hard building relationships with students outside of class. I had the chance to get to know one student a little better and got to interview her and her grandma for a newsletter I wrote for Asian Hope (job #2). I know Lida's story a little better than my other students and how she doesn't attend school because of finances and her grandma's health (read Lida's story here). But I don't know much about my other students. I still have much to learn. 

I feel spoiled that I have found a career that brings me so much joy.

Abide

If you abide in my word, 

you are truly my disciples, 

and you will know the truth, 

and the truth will set you free.  

John 8:31-32

Abiding in the word brings forth freedom. 

Abide.

This verb has become a theme for me as of late.

No Groceries Please - FAIL

Originally written November 29th, 2011

Dear Reader,

I have failed you. In a previous post I advised you never to accept a ride from a moto driver with groceries. Yesterday morning I did just that.

Even though I had not yet made a deal with the supposed taxi driver I went against my better judgement as my eyes fell upon the green plastic bag full of veggies. I snuffed the small voice inside of me yelling, “Heed your own advice! Think of your integrity! integrity! [cue echo fade]”

Sure enough, not even a minute into the drive, the driver mumbled about stopping off somewhere. Seeing a gas station on the corner I assumed he needed to top off on fuel. We passed the gas station. Instead, he stopped in front of a house and started yelling through the opened front door, “HEY! I GOT THE FOOD!” Silence. “I GOT THE FOOD!!” Silence.

He turned off his engine, got off his moto, grabbed the groceries and disappeared into the wooden house. I stood by as a dumbstruck spectator. Of course. What else should I have expected?

May I reiterate my previous thesis? Do yourself a favor and disregard moto taxi drivers carrying groceries.

Thankfully this driver’s house was next to the main road and the detour didn't take up too much time.

Victory over Genocide Day

On January 7, 1979 the Vietnamese overthrew the Khmer Rouge regime and the peoples of Cambodia walked towards healing and away from the horrific rule of Pol Pot. Almost 30 years later those most responsible for the genocide are finally being tried. These criminals have lived without accountability for their actions for the past 30 years. 

The Khmer Rouge Trials are still in process. It may be years before they finish. Delayed as they are, the fact that the trials are taking place is a cause worth celebrating. Happy Victory Day.