A Village Visit

The following day, Chunn invited me to go with her to visit a co-worker’s village; Chunn visits the poor whenever she can, bringing small gifts of food or money (she really lives a life of social action).

A trip that would have taken about 45 minutes in the USA, took twice as long thanks to the conditions of the road. As we bounced down the final, palm-lined dirt road, I was exposed to a totally different world than that found in Phnom Penh. The poverty here was extreme, but is simply the way of life for the people who live here.

We went first to the home of Chunn’s co-worker. A family spanning three generations shared the 2-room, wooden hut built upon stilts ten feet off the ground. I was surprised to find that the home was over 100 years old! Removing my shoes, I climbed the steep ladder into the hut, where I sat on the floor to enjoy coconut water and Pchum Ben cakes. There were no chairs, tables or beds inside, simply a straw mat on which to sit and sleep. A small alter took prominence within the room, fashioned after a Cambodian Temple and dedicated to the “house gods”. Finishing our snack, we began a round of visits.

First, to the in-laws. Chunn’s co-worker, although middle-aged, had never ridden in a car before. So after a few excited shouts of “Turn here”, “No, no, there!” we arrived at a similar hut as described above. While the steep ladder had been slightly nerve-racking for me to climb, it was difficult to watch her elderly in-laws descend this treacherous incline (which they must traverse daily). Here, she presented her in-laws with gifts; in return they recited a blessing over her, bowing repeatedly in gratitude. It was a privilege to witness this exchange which is deeply rooted in Khmer culture; as on all major holidays, the Khmer are expected to present their parents with gifts.

This tradition must relate to the fact that children care for their parents in their old age. The next home we visited was of an elderly couple in their eighties who had no children to look after them. Further, the health of the two was severely declined. The man was bent at an almost 90 degree angle, unable to stand up straight. The woman’s teeth had almost completely rotted, leaving a stain of blood around her mouth. Although, of course, they were speaking in Khmer, Chunn translated some of their story for me. The two were married in their twenties. When the woman reached her thirties, and still had not had a child, she asked her husband to re-marry. However, he refused. The two now rely on the generosity of the rest of the village to survive. The couple insisted that we take with us nearly all their Pchum Ben cakes, despite the fact that they had so little.

As we left their hut, a woman beckoned to Fr. Kevin. He soon realized that his Center provided her son with AIDs medication. We went to meet the 14-year old boy; as he was led over to us I realized that he was blind. His mother said he used to be very good at his studies, that was, before he lost his sight. Living in this small village, I knew there were no resources for him to continue his education

However, the most difficult visit for me was to the home of an elderly mother and her two daughters, one of which suffers from a mental illness. When we entered the hut, I saw that a curtain had been strung up. I heard Fr. Kevin’s exclamation, “Oh, oh, this is really difficult to see”. Immediately, I went on guard. Chunn beckoned me around the curtain. On the other side, was a cage made of bamboo containing the daughter suffering from mental illness. She lay listlessly inside, in soiled clothes, drooling. Her mother spoke passionately, with tears in her eyes. She said that when her daughter turned violent, they had no choice but to lock her up.

In the village, and throughout Cambodia, the people know of no other way to care for the mentally ill besides chaining or caging them. There are only 20 psychiatrists in the whole country, and no psychologists. While a number of NGOs are present in the country, none have been established to serve the mentally ill. There are absolutely no inpatient treatment centers. At one point, the daughter sat up within the cage and laughed hysterically, before lying back down. It was extremely difficult to see her in such horrible conditions and feel as if I could do nothing to help. That anyone should be forced to live in such circumstances is inhumane.

Seeing her was a life-changing moments, where nothing can quite go back to the way it was before. The image of her will always stay with me. This experience caused me to think a lot about what I was doing here in Cambodia for the year. It seems like such a small and mundane thing to be teaching English when such greater problems exist throughout the country. I eventually justified to myself that in educating these girls, hopefully they, like Chunn will help improve the living conditions and bring aid to some of the poorest of the poor. Further, I feel that in the long-term, I may have discovered my own mission: perhaps one day I can help open a center for the mentally ill in Cambodia.

Pchum Ben

September marks the celebration of one of the biggest holidays in Cambodia: Pchum Ben. Throughout this fourteen day holiday, Cambodians honor the spirits of their ancestors. They make frequent visits to pagodas, bringing offerings of sweets, rice, and money.
What this holiday meant for me: silence!

The culmination of the 14 days fell on the weekend of September 19th; on this weekend, the majority of Phnom Penh city-dwellers travelled to their family homes in the outlying provinces. Everyone left the school, including the Laura girls, teachers and staff. Best of all, construction of the new school stopped (which can normally be heard seven days a week). Traffic died down and many shops closed leaving the streets nearly deserted.

Dring this quiet weekend, a past pupil of the vocational school, Chunn, stopped by to visit. After having spoken with Chunn for only a few minutes, she invited me to go with her to the riverside (a local tourist attraction). Chunn works at a Center that cares for children with AIDs (most of whom are orphaned or abandoned). We met up with a group of these children along the river, where the Center had brought them to celebrate Pchum Ben.

I found myself immediately surrounded by children happily greeting me and vying for my attention. Looking into the beseeching faces around me, I had never so fervently wished I spoke Khmer. The children were full of joy, and I had a wonderful time visiting and laughing with them. On the drive back, the fact that many of their lives will be shortened significantly, sunk in. While it is wonderful that they are receiving good care at the Center and further, that AIDs is on the decline in Cambodia, it doesn’t lessen the deep sadness that some of these young lives that will soon end.

My Two Charges

Since classes don’t begin until October 5th, for the month of September I was given the responsibility of teaching English (and piano!) to two Aspirants, Srey Mom and Sopeak. In a country where all Catholics were martyred under the Khmer Rouge, and where 95% of the population is Buddhist, I truly admire the courage that these two girls posses. In choosing to follow their religious vocation, they travel a path which neither their family nor fellow citizens will understand. The freedom of religion is one of many human rights that I took for granted in the USA. While the USA is by no means perfect, it seems so in comparison with the rampant corruption throughout Cambodia. As Cambodian lawmaker Mu Sochua testified before the Tom Lantos Human Rights Commission in Washington this month, Cambodian’s judicial system operates under political intimidation.

Further, in a meeting with Hilary Clinton, Sochua noted that the US had donated $6.5 million in military equipment to the Cambodian Defense Ministry which uses intimidation tactics toward Cambodians involved in land “disputes” (or as it is more aptly named “land grabbing”). Sochua asked that future aid to Cambodia be contingent upon the country’s human rights’ practices. While Sochua stated that she feared for her safety upon returning to Cambodia, her return this week went smoothly. Sochua’s fear says much about the state of free speech within the country; I’ve repeatedly found that anytime the subject of government arises, the topic is quickly laid to rest.

Entrance Exam

September 1st marked the first day of examinations which students must sit for entrance into the Secretarial Program. Three hundred girls journeyed from around the country to take the exam, of which only fifty will be accepted. The test had to be administered at a nearby public school, as our school wasn’t big enough to seat everyone.

Just as the testing was about to begin, it began to downpour (testimony that we are indeed in the middle of the rainy season!). Half of the classrooms began to leak, forcing the girls to move out into the hallway for the exam. Despite this small glitch, the four hours of testing proceeded. When it came time to walk back to the school, the streets had completely flooded!

The Sisters have a very difficult task ahead of them, choosing which girls to accept. They give preference to the poor, accepting those with absolutely no other prospects in front of them. Those that are perceived as having the slightest other hope for the future are turned down.

Another part of the entrance requirements includes an interview. All of which were held in the three days following the exam. The teachers act as translators for the Sisters during these interviews. Talking with them, they said they dread this task. For a full three days they listen to the heart-breaking lives of these girls. For many, this vocational school is their last hope. The majority of them will not be accepted, simply because of limited resources. For those that are, they will learn computer, English, and accounting, life-long skills that will enable them to support their family. The Sisters say how wonderful it is to watch the girls blossom during the year, as they receive a purpose in life and hope for the future. I look forward to witnessing this transformation over the coming year.

Watch Out!

Stepping out into a street with vehicles, motos, and touk-touks hurtling towards me from both directions goes against my every instinct. Every time I have to cross the street my heart is in my throat, but somehow traffic always finds its way around me. On my quest for a cell phone, I had to cross the street multiple times (testimony to my desire to call home). I was happy and relieved to finally get one; I thought nothing of shelling out $20. As I spoke with the Sisters that evening, I found out that the cost for a student to attend the Secretarial Vocational Training School is $15 a month. While this is still a stretch for most families, it is much more affordable than University. It definitely gave me pause to think. While I felt I would be living simply here, my idea of simple is far above the average lifestyle of most Cambodians.

Pianist

When one of the Laura girls discovered that I played piano, she wasted no time in asking me to teach her. I was more than happy to agree. I couldn’t help but wonder what I would do if all the girls wanted to learn…how would I manage to teach them all! At the same time, I would feel horrible turning anyone down. The Sisters come up against this dilemma daily in the choices they make to serve the poor.

I asked Sr. Dory if I could use the piano to teach and she immediately took charge. She told me where the keyboards were kept, which girls I would teach and at what time. With the details arranged, we were ready to begin.

A challenge I had not fully foreseen was the language barrier. Not only was I trying to explain new concepts to the girls, but I was doing so in another language. While they all knew English to some degree, it definitely necessitated some added creativity. The girl’s eagerness to learn was catching. I soon discovered how deeply words of praise and encouragement affected them, which they fully deserved.

Many of the girls are very close to me in age, yet to them I am “Teacher”. During the first lesson, I kept thinking what a privilege I had to study piano growing up, let alone attend college. These opportunities now place me in the position of teacher to girls of my own age.
One of my students, Bory, is learning in leaps and bounds! She is excelling way beyond her classmates, even though she speaks very little English. She has nearly finished her first piano book within just a week. I can’t wait to see how far she progresses by the end of the year! She hopes to one day be a famous pianist. While I encouraged her, I couldn’t help but think how it would be next to impossible for her to achieve this dream. As Sr. Ophriini reminded me yesterday, I am here primarily to teach English; a life-skill that will benefit the girls in finding jobs and earning a living. Despite that, I plan to make time to continue these piano lessons. Music is so enriching. Who know, despite all odds, perhaps Bory will become a famous pianist one day. And besides, I discovered I really enjoy teaching piano!

Our Mission

I’ve already come to love the Sisters. They are such a joyful bunch, and they share a close and special bond. Not to say that they don’t clash heads. As Sr. Ophriini said to me, “Do you love your sister? And do you fight with your sister? Well, we are like that.” Sr. Ophriini is from India and is the Superior; she posses an incredibly kind and calm soul. Sr. Dory is from Colombia but sounds as though she were Italian…she constantly exclaims “Beauty, beauty!” and “Mama Mia!”. She reminds me of Maria from the Sound of Music; full of life and often running a little late. Sr. Lena is actually from Italy, while she is the oldest in the congregation, she is extremely young at heart. Sr. Malen is from the Philippines and is the principal of my school. She is often thinking of others’ needs.

The Salesian Sisters in Phnom Penh have two main centers, one at Teuk Thla and the other at Tuol Kork (about a ten minute drive from one another). Teuk Thla is a large center where they run a school for about 1,000 students. Christine will be teaching English there, but living at Tuol Kork with me. The main program at Tuol Kork is the Secretarial Training School for Girls where I will be teaching. The Sisters at Tuol Kork also take in troubled girls who come from broken homes, some orphans. The Sisters care for them in all aspects, and send them to nearby schools until grade 12. They are called the Laura girls. The group is named after a saint who suffered greatly during her young life as these girls have.

I often spend time with the Laura girls in the evening. You can tell how much they are in need of affection; at the same time, they give so much back. I was sitting with one of the younger girls this evening, who doesn’t speak any English. She was cuddled next to me, smiling. She asked one of the other girls to tell me “You remind her of her mother”. I was incredibly touched; but hesitated to ask where her mother was now. I know I will find it difficult to keep from falling in love with these girls.

(The room I'll be teaching in this year)

Good News!

Ever since the end of orientation, I’d been thinking how wonderful it would be if Christine could come to Cambodia with me. However, for a number of reasons, it didn’t seem possible. As the only volunteer, I knew the year could be somewhat lonely. As welcoming and kind as the Sisters are, they form their own community, to which I don’t fully belong. Further, I could tell Sr. Ophriini was concerned that I would not have another volunteer to go out, around the city with. The idea of Christine coming to join me in Cambodia kept niggling away at the back of my head. I finally decided it couldn’t hurt to ask if the Sisters would be willing to receive another volunteer. I finally caught Sr. Ophriini this morning. When she suggested that Christine could always come next year, I figured it didn’t look favorable. But later that afternoon, Sr. Ophriini pulled me to the side and said “Good News! Your sister can come. Tell her to come as soon as possible.” I couldn’t believe it! But was (and still am) bursting with excitement! Christine, we are all anxiously awaiting your arrival!

View from My Window

The day after my arrival, I awoke with the city around me. The hustle and bustle beginning on the streets below slowly brought me to consciousness. I forgot where I was for a few moments, but soon remembered. I eagerly pulled back the curtains to peak outside my window and was greeted with the sight of colorful buildings, tropical flowers, and the stark contrast of wealth and poverty. I was filled me with excitement and anticipation as the full realization that I was in Cambodia hit me; further, I had the whole year ahead of me to explore and experience this new, exotic country lying just beyond my window.

Welcome Back Home!

After 24 hours of traveling, I walked uncertainly out of the Phnom Penh airport, anxiously scanning the crowd waiting to greet those who had just arrived. I can only imagine that my face bore a completely bewildered expression for the few moments it took me to catch sight of the Sister who had cried out at my appearance and who was smiling and waving enthusiastically at me. She rushed over to meet me, as if I were an old friend; folding me in a warm embrace and kissing both my cheeks.

All of my uncertainties about the coming year were lifted at her loving welcome.

We loaded my luggage into the back of a pick-up truck, and then the two of us climbed in after it. The drive was rather overwhelming for me, as I tried to carry on a conversation with Sr. Ophriini while taking in the many new sites flying past. Colorful buildings, flared roof corners, piles of trash lining the street, signs written in Khmer, street vendors, children playing, and large gatherings performing traditional Khmer dance. Motos (small motorcycles) were rushing by, some with whole families piled on, a few with babies held in front of their parents (no helmets or protection of any other kind) and one very talented driver who managed to steer his moto while holding a twelve foot ladder!

Before I knew it, we had arrived. The gates to the school were flung open, to reveal the courtyard just beyond, where the girls were all awaiting my arrival. They began singing a welcome song and clapping for me; as I climbed down from the truck, I was soon encircled by them. They presented me with a ring of flowers, a traditional Khmer welcome as well as a Khmer scarf. Looking at the smiling faces around me, singing my welcome, I was incredibly moved. Being so far from home, it was especially beautiful to experience this loving reception. As the community of six Sisters I am living with emphasized that evening, I had been welcomed back home.