today and a few weeks ago

Today I said goodbye (until Monday, for a hot minute) to the trainees that I have taught for the last two years.  The school had a lovely graduation lunch for them, wherein I got to sit with eight men I didn't know, and Topher.  ;)  But it was fun to see them all so excited and celebrating.

Tonight, we gave our family a series of farewell gifts.  We had so many little things that we put them in a basket and had a great thirty minutes watching the kids exclaim over pages of stickers, a chocolate bar just for them, and lots of other little things.  And then our host mother started to cry and it was just too much.  It feels inauthentic to just say we're going to miss them.  They truly welcomed us to this country and gave us a literal and figurative home.

Tomorrow, Chris and I are headed to Siem Reap to visit Angkor Wat for the third and last time.  (Though it may seem like we were just there according to these photos, that's all an illusion. An illusion, I tell you!)

A few weeks back, Chris and I took part in something that's quickly becoming a tradition amongst PCVs here: we took Khmer wedding photos.

This one above is quite the most traditional; it's very rare to see smiles in these kinds of photos. As much as we tried to fight it, you can't keep the smiling American down for too long.

The process from going from everyday to THIS was quite intense.  It took three hours for the two outfit and hair changes, application of makeup and general posing. Three hours!  Luckily, the studio was air conditioned, so it was quite pleasant.

Well, except for those eyebrows. They were drawn so intensely that Chris kept telling me to stop scowling at me.

I wasn't.

Though 'funny' photos aren't typical for Cambodians, the studio we went to had seen enough PCVs that after we took a few normal ones, the photographer asked us if we wanted to pose for some funny ones.  Who are we to say no?

This last one is our host nieces' and nephew's favorite.  We printed a copy just for them.  Never seen a smile so big.

****

Huge thank you to my real and online friends who took a moment to respond to yesterday's post!  When I re-read the post, it got very close to a pity party, but it still means a lot that so many of you shared how you've been with me throughout this experience, and more importantly, enjoyed it.  So thank you. A lot.

lessons learned [part a]

This post has been sitting in my drafts for three months (give or take, given that the first paragraph initially read 'less than four months left in my service'), and I can't figure out if that's because it felt inauthentic to write about this topic when I still had a good deal of time left in my town, or if it was because I simply got exhausted, mentally and emotionally, when trying to gather all of these thoughts together.  Either way, here it is now.  A collection of things I think, of things I think I learned, and things I still don't know about Cambodia.  The other half soon, about things I think I know about myself, now.

Given that I have about one month left in my service as a Peace Corps Volunteer, I have begun the intense process that is internal reflection. The other day I actually jotted down a list of things that I felt I've learned about Cambodia and about myself since being here. It is so cliche but I feel like, at this point, I know more about myself than I do about anything else; that the more I've learned about my community, about Cambodia, the less I actually know.

The more information I process, the more confused I become. But here's part of what I know. For certain.

Or, at least, for now.

ONE.
Every single Peace Corps Volunteer's experience is uniquely and utterly theirs. This applies, I'd imagine, to my experience in Southeast Asia, as compared to someone's in Western Africa or Central America. But it even applies to my experience in southeastern Cambodia as compared to someone's in northwestern Cambodia- or heck, even my husband's nearly exact-same-logistical experience in the very same community. These differences make my experience no less valid or important or worthy. Even when I think about the previous Volunteer who taught at 'my' Regional Teacher Training Center (RTTC), lived in 'my' house and I get a bit down about projects he completed or people he worked with, that I meet and tell me all about how much they love him- I remind myself that it's actually better that I have branched out to different people, organizations, projects. If every PCV who went to a replacement site worked with the same people, tackled the same issues, progress would be stagnant. Who's to say that the next PCV at 'his/her RTTC' in 'his/her site' won't meet one of my trainees or students who came to my Camp GLOW and regale them with the things they learned from me, the broadened worldview they gained because of our interaction?

TWO.
Building real, deep relationships are tough. Because of language and cultural barriers, but also, somewhat, because of the inherent time limit of our work. Everyone knows we're here for two years. Then we go home. A co-teacher, when I first met him, remarked how I'd just be gone in two years. And he's right- it can be challenging to get someone who has seen two previous Volunteers come and go at their school to trust you and attempt to build a lasting relationship when you're just going to leave in a short period.  You can't expect to walk in anywhere with instant credibility and authentic relationships.  Often, the deepest and most fruitful relationships have only seemed to blossom in the last month or two here.

THREE.
Sometimes, as a foreigner working inside what I believe to be a struggling education system, I feel ineffective. Sometimes I feel like a prop- that me being inside the classroom could be viewed as belief that the existing system/curriculum/expectation levels are all correct. Sometimes I worry that my efforts are not viewed as I view them- new ideas and techniques that will better the current methods, that will lead to increased learning and thinking- but as fun but unrealistic techniques that the silly foreigner brought for a few years and then left so that the current methods could be continued as they have for good number of years.

FOUR.
All that being said, I've met enough intelligent, inquisitive, open-minded, strong-willed young people that I have no doubt- no doubt- that real change is imminent in Cambodia. That in a number of years I am going to return here and have no idea where the Cambodia I know has gone- and those changes will all be for the better as power shifts and is passed to the next generation of leaders.

FIVE.
Most importantly perhaps, I've learned that the struggles that Khmer people face are universal struggles. That the sixteen year old girl who drops out of school because it's necessary for her to start trekking to the nearby garment factory to bring in income for her family is not unlike the sixteen year old in America who drops out of school because her mom, who works the night shift at the grocery store, can't provide the transportation or money for transport to get the girl to her high school across town every morning. And that if we're still figuring out how to educate that student in America, there's no reason why I should expect that another country should have it all figured out by now. Progress takes time.

SIX.
And I'm increasingly devastated to be leaving Cambodia.  Especially when I spent a very short time working with a counterpart whom I feel truly could be a friend and colleague, with whom I could see us truly making an extensive difference as co-teachers. Just the impact we had in the short month we taught together has lifted my spirits and beliefs so high that I get deeply sad when I consider leaving.  It's devastating because what they told us when we first got here- that we'll do our best service at the end- is one thousand percent true.  My language is at it's highest (and I am on the current ebb of desiring to learn even more new words! just squeeze one more in!), my relationships have reached a place of mutual comfort and cooperation, and I only hate the heat slightly more than when I first came here.

SEVEN.
Cambodia changed me indelibly.  This country, these people, gave me more than I could ever dream of giving to it and them.

sour sounds

"Lee-hoo-ah? Ok, L-Y-H-O-U-R."

"Sr-eye-pitch-a-ra-wa-na? Ok, I think that'd be S-R-E-Y-P-I-C-H-A-R-A-V-A-N-N-A.  Oh, S-E-R-E-Y? Ok, that works too."

.....

Something funny happens when you speak a language separate from your native language.

{Technically, lots of funny things happen as you learn to speak a new language. Every day. Even two years after you've immersed yourself in that language and have begun to use nearly a third of the time when speaking with your husband. Ha.}

But that's not the point of this little ditty.

What's interesting, to me, is how I've adapted to reading the English language through the lens of Khmer.

Khmer is not a language that has adopted an English-phonetical-translation.  Not officially, anyway.  But someone- the French?- gave them a paper. And on this paper is an approximation of the English phonetics for Khmer.

And, as an American native speaker of the English language, this paper and phonetic translation is nearly the exact opposite of what I my brain tells me to write when I hear the sounds.

At least, it was the opposite two years ago.

But now? Now, I hear the name 'sr-eye-da-h' and I know to write Sreydav (yes, that's a 'v' where you, native English speaker reading this, might not think there is a need for it.)  In fact, I now have to remind myself how to pronounce an English word correctly when reading it aloud.  When I see the word 'sour' my poor confused brain has to send override signals to my jumbled mouth to read it with the strong 'ow/ao' sound and not the 'oo-ah' sound that it is interpreted to mean for Khmer speakers writing Khmer phonetically in English.

So, earlier this week, as I was helping some of the students who attended an art workshop with Chris and I a few weeks ago, it was quite second nature to have the students say their names and write them phonetically in English, and then verify with a Khmer counterpart that they were spelled correctly.

So, if you happen to hear me ignore 'v' sounds at the end of the words, or even pronounce that 'v' as a 'vw' sound, please do forgive me.  I'm having to re-learn how to read and pronounce my own language.  And it's hilarious.

a view into some of the deeper, darker thoughts

This month, our bi-yearly report came due.  Twice a year, Peace Corps Volunteers take a few hours to gather the informal and formal data we've gathered, write up detailed notes about our projects, and reflect on our experience and service so far. 

This time around, my third time completing my form, I have been inspired by a fellow PCV to actually lay out my thoughts from that form for you all.  I will likely share a number of reflections I've had and reported to my Program Manager here, but first up is the one that is inspired by Christin- my challenges.

I don't pretend that my thoughts are entirely eloquent, and they may even lack that vital element of humility that I try to embody every single day.  But they are from the heart, written nearly two years into this experience of living in a brand new place, amongst brand new cultural ideals.  That said, take it all with a grain of salt.

With that, here is what I jotted down.

**********

What challenges have you faced in your project or other areas of your Peace Corps experience?

There are a myriad of small challenges that Americans, particularly American volunteers, face each day living in Cambodia. Most of them are insignificant- dealing with extreme heat coupled with lack of air conditioning, large, disease-ridden mosquitoes out to suck our blood, and the real and present danger that the next food item we eat may be covered with bacteria that our body has never seen and, when ingested, will react violently to.

I've had the same challenges that many PCVs face- my trainees do not have free time for clubs that I thought I'd be able to start, mainly because they spend their evenings and midday breaks preparing their own lessons or getting extra money teaching classes. I've had projects start and stall and be inconsistent because of holidays, scheduling changes (they seem to change monthly), commitment from people who then are unable to meet that commitment, etc.

But none of these surface level challenges tend to get me down twenty months into my service. They are a part of my life, and they only serve to remind me of how truly lucky I have it when I live in America.

It is the deeper challenges that cause me sincere distress at this point in my service. Huge, cultural challenges that either prevent me from doing my work, or prevent me from feeling successful in my work.



BEING A FEMALE IN AN ENTIRELY MALE DOMINATED SCHOOL ENVIRONMENT

Without a doubt, the greatest challenge I have faced in my service has been being a female amongst a team of entirely male co-teachers. My experience has been largely defined by the men that I do my primary work with, and it has not been overwhelmingly positive. I'm aware that female Volunteers face challenges with their female counterparts, but, having recently finally been given the opportunity to work with a female counterpart, I am more aware of the differences between what my work is like with a female as compared to a male Khmer co-teacher.

My very first day at the RTTC [Regional Teacher Training Center], I showed up fifteen minutes before a meeting was set to begin. I was the first person to arrive, so I sat down to study some Khmer. As teachers began to trickle in, I greeted each of them politely, explaining who I was. Eventually, some of the English teaching staff arrived. When they saw me, they immediately knew who I was. The very first thing they said to me, before finding out my name, was that it would have been better if I was a man, or, since I was a woman, if the female English trainer who is normally on staff was not out for the year. They told me it would be much easier to learn the culture and be a teacher at the RTTC if she had been there.

They were 100% correct. Though I've been frustrated by that interaction for a number of months, I've recently come to realize that they predicted so accurately my two years of service that I wish I could go back to the Kate in October 2011 and tell her not to be angry- but to acknowledge this piece of wisdom, thank them for it, and then move on.

I have had four male counterparts during my service. One of them, who was not given English classes this year and thus I was forced to discontinue teaching with, is an exception to the statements I am about to make.

In my daily work with my male counterparts, I am never asked my opinion on a lesson strategy. Often, I am asked if I have an "idea" for what to teach that day. I have given a number of answers to this questions- from, "yes I have this great idea for a new strategy to teach XYZ" to "I have some thoughts, but I'd love to hear yours"- and nearly all answers were usually met with a shake of a the head, and then my co-teacher telling me what the plan is. I have had success in bringing new techniques and ideas to class when I am the sole person presenting- either because I am teaching the lesson alone, or because my counterpart has given me the allotted space or time to cover a topic or hour. When given this freedom, I have brought in a different personality and style to teaching, provided different resources for English or pedagogical development. In this vein, the near entirety of my experience co-teaching with my male coteachers has been using the model of shared teaching- we each teach a separate, distinct section of the lesson, with very little idea-bouncing or energy-trading while the other person is in the front.

I have had a range of mostly negative experiences with my co-teachers willingness to try both a) new things and b) provide the students with the knowledge I believe necessary to become successful teachers. In one case, I have one coteacher whom I have found to be very rigid and unwilling to view my teaching style and techniques as anything he could ever adapt for himself. I have been told by this teacher that he is not a woman and cannot act like me in the classrom- that what I do only works in America or because I am American, and would not work for him. When I finally felt comfortable providing feedback and ideas to improve his instruction, I was met with an uncomfortable laugh and an unwillingness to change. When I then felt it was time to provide some firmer feedback, I found small success only when it came to improving his English - never his methodology. Even when I provided corrections to his word usage, pronunciation- along with context of why it was incorrect, softened with a story of how I made similar mistakes learning Italian or Khmer- I was still confronted with questions like "are you sure?" and "well, this is how we say it when we are Khmer speaking English." Only with a much more forceful repeating of the feedback was it accepted.

With one co-teacher that I began working with this year, I was asked numerous times why I was qualified to work as a trainer at the RTTC. In the year prior, he had said, during a simple chatting sessions amongst teachers, the he did not 'believe' me when I spoke about enjoying my time in Cambodia, and went on to question much of what I was saying. There is a chance I didn't understand his humor- that I still don't understand his humor- but it soured our relationship before it had even began. When we did finally teach together this year, we had a very strong first few classes. I brought in some new ideas, he enjoyed them and I even had a glance into the relationship many have with their co-teachers, as I saw him take a lesson I'd delivered the class before and make it his own with some of my flourishes in the next class. We left that day agreeing we were a 'great team.' Something- I still don't know exactyl what, perhaps it was my lack of grammatical rule knowledge? - deteriorated our common ground. One day, he asked me what degree I had, expressed surprised I had my master's in teaching, made a reference to the previous (male ) PCV who knew a lot about grammar, and then made a comment vaguely referencing aspects of English that are easier for men to learn than women. Since then, it is difficult to work with him. He does not wait for me to go to class and will often park his moto near the classrooms while I am waiting on the other side of the building to enter with him. He will do the majority of the teaching himself, while I stand to the side.

Because of my adherence to cultural division between men and women (which I do out of respect and a desire to not be seen as a loose, American woman), I have never been able to develop a deep relationship outside of teaching with these men. I know- because I've seen it and because Peace Corps teaches us that trust and knowing the other person is the quickest way to build a strong relationship that will lead to efficacy between co-teachers- that having a solid personal relationship with these men would have greatly helped me effect a greater change with them in the classroom. I know because my husband has done amazing, amazing things with his male counterparts and friends. They are able to relate to each other in a way I never can as a woman. I know because now that I have a female counterpart, I finally have a relationship both inside and outside the classroom with a woman, and our students are succeeding because of it- because of our shared goals, laughter, and thoughts.



MY WORK BEING SEEN AS INSIGNIFICANT/NON EFFECTIVE BECAUSE IT CAN'T BE "SEEN"

I've shared this with my Program Manager, but my most recent challenge has been the repetition that I need to leave behind an 'achievement' at my RTTC before I go. When my counterpart first asked me what my achievement would be, I had to ask him to clarify. He gave examples like building a new classroom, or library, or computer lab (all of which my school has), or paving the walkways between the school buildings or fixing the bathroom or, even, building a new bathroom!

Luckily, this topic was broached late enough into my service that I felt comfortable being direct- but polite- with my coteacher. I explained the three goals of peace corps, and that goal number 1- what I do at the school- has nothing to do with leaving behind an 'achievement.' I felt successful because many of our second year trainees spoke English better, used more resources when they taught, had more confidence in front of the classroom. He was confused by this explanation of my 'achievement' and pressed the issue a number of times after the initial conversation.

I- and I think, nearly every single PCV- am confronted with the challenge of my work being seen as lacking value or impact because it isn't something I did or built. Because tangible items- like an English library or a world map- have already been completed by previous PCVs or NGOs, I am left with spending my time focusing on what I thought I came here to do - capacity build, train, provide expertise, knowledge, skills. And then being seen as not leaving behind anything of significance, and being completely deflated by a cultural distinction that I vehemently disagree with. I am conflicted in my desire to be understanding of the cultural/Khmer way of viewing schools/roads/bridges etc as examples of 'foreign aid' and 'progress' while also desiring to be direct and upfront that that, while that all aid can be valuable, it will be people-provided sustainable aid which will be truly progressive and change-making in the long run for Cambodian society.

Honestly, I think this is perhaps the greatest mindset issue which all PCVs- both health and education- face, because our primary projects are mostly intangible- we are building skills, providing training and knowledge, community education- and are thus seen as not really giving much to the community, as they can't be SEEN or TOUCHED, we are constantly questioning our ability to be a contributing part of the community in which we've learned to live.

The final thing my counterpart said when he brought up my 'achievement' was that, though no one would ever tell me, the people at my school would speak negatively about me, my service, my impact, behind my back if I didn't leave behind a tangible accomplishment for the school. They would discuss it when I left, and it would be one of the most memorable aspects of my time as "Kate, PCV."

And when I think about that, I'm left completely deflated and questioning the worth of the energy I've poured into my trainees and coteachers for the past 20 months, and the value of my time as a Peace Corps Volunteer. And I'm left frustrated and disheartened about the future of the culture, community and country I've come to love, because I worry that too much emphasis is placed on insignificant achievements, and very little pride is left for the people who do the hard work of building a stronger, smarter nation.

*******

As a final note, I don't feel this way all day, every day.  This is a summation of building sentiments over time.  Frankly, I love every minute I spend with my trainees, with my host family, with the people around me, and I am confident that I have done something of value, of worth here.  If not just for my community, most certainly for myself.  And that brings me immense joy, and immense fulfillment.

do you hear what i hear? (a cultural comparison of sounds)

A month or so ago, I shared my first attempt at an infographic, succinctly breaking down different aspects of Khmer culture (at least, my understanding of it) as compared to my own culture in America.

Today, I finally present my second attempt. 

There's a lot of talk amongst Peace Corps Volunteers about how loud Cambodia is to our daily life in America.  I hesitate to say it's louder outright- but there are a myriad of sounds that are not a part of my everyday life in Maryland- and yes, some do seem to be starkly louder than what I knew before.  However, I'd go so far as to say that Cambodia isn't necessarily louder- more so that America's sounds are stifled, muffled, by tall building, thick walls, and a life lived mostly inside.  In contrast, life in Cambodia happens outside, for all to see, hear, enjoy.

In the graphics below, I've tried to capture sounds throughout the day, from sunrise to sunset, as represented by a darkening sun and its rays.

 Those of you in either place- what would you add to my breakdown?

It's Universal, You Know.

So a few months back, Chris' Uncle John sent us the ultimate of world-uniting candy:

Pop Rocks.

And then a fantastic former co-worker sent us some more.

So we had to.

This evening, we had major pop rocks explosion fun.  Check out these four videos to see it all go down.

Thank you John and Keisha- they LOVED it.

and then i tie it all together with a great big bow

I bike a lot here the 'bode. And when I bike, I think.  Ergo, I think a lot here in Cambodia.  My high school English teacher (hey Ms. Keezer!) taught me when a writer takes their thoughts and lets them loose as the written word, no holds barred, letting a topic meander like a brook tripping over stones, splashing from one topic to the next- it's called stream of consciousness writing.

So what we've got here is the written, stream-like record, of my thoughts and ideas as they melded into one another earlier this week.

Welcome to the space between my ears.

..........

A month ago, I finally was given an answer to a prayer I'd been shouting in my head for eighteen months: a female co-teacher.  A Khmer woman to teach alongside, to work with, to chat in English and Khmer with, to offer suggestions to, to learn from, and to build a symbiotic relationship with (you know, symbiotic: as in, we both gain something from relying on each other. It's just a Language Arts lesson up in here today, isn't it!) as we co-exist together in the small space of my teacher training center.

Sopheary is more than the answer to my pleas to the universe- she is, in fact, better than I ever could have thought to wish for.  She is hilarious, and clever, and hard working, and open-minded.  We jive off each other while we teach, and- this is INSANE- when she is not sure about a spelling or pronunciation, she will straight up ask me, while at the board.

This is the opposite of the vast majority of teachers I have encountered here.  The education system here is based on the belief that the teacher holds all of the knowledge and it is their job to simply speak it or show it, and the student will learn.  A teacher making an error? Even greater, a student knowing more than the teacher about a topic?  Totally possible, but completely inconceivable.

(Which is, of course, a generalization and doesn't speak to all of the nuances of personalities that teach here, but as a generalization, is generally true and widely accepted, known, and practiced.)

Getting up to teach with Sopheary is the freshest breath of air and exactly what I needed in my final months of serving as an educator at the training center.  There are so many things to say about Sopheary and her amazing work as an educator, but it can be summed it like this:

She essentially eradicates my need to be a part of the informal women's group that's been formed amongst Volunteers.

Frustrated by double standards and cultural biases and differences that led to misunderstandings, feelings of isolation, and a longing to be heard and understood, I joined the women's group to tackle not only what I'd been feeling as a woman in general, but what I've felt as a woman here in Cambodia.

Havoc, wreaked on my confidence, belief in my intelligence and value as a professional, body image and life choices.  Lightly given statements that struck deep, that, as much as he tries, can never be truly understood by a compassionate husband.

A need for connection, finding similarities, relating- a need for friendships.  That was the path to the women's group and relief it has brought.

Friendships among women- where we feel valued, heard and liked.  Where we know that the other woman sees our beauty, our passions, our faults and our hopes and guards them like their hers, as well.

Who needs them?

I need them.

GIRLS need them.  GIRLS, as in, Hannah and Marnie and Jessa and Shoshanna (oh my lord, how I love this name and her character.)  In the end, it's about friendships, isn't it?  What binds women together, what can drag them under, what can tear them, break them, shatter them.  How strongly friendships are formed when women are confronted with similar challenges, and how quickly they can weaken when women metaphorically shift their priorities and pursuits.  How we seek out women who know what we're going through- school, work, marriage, family problems, weight or exercise goals- and when we find them, how difficult it is to hold onto old friends who know longer are confronted with the same truths.

My longest lasting and most constantly evolving friendship began when I was ten.  Katie and I joined the same soccer team.  We went to different elementary schools, but we shared a name.  I was the ridiculous, outgoing one, she was the witty, reserved one.  When I went to her eleventh birthday party, it's a well known fact that her mother wasn't sure she wanted me back- I was that over-the-top energetic.  But return I did, dozens of times for sleepovers, afternoon hang outs, and even more birthday parties.

Katie and I've had varying levels of connectivity over time- from those of steel, six feet wide, made from confessions of first crushes, of experiences with very first real boyfriends, of soccer practice nearly every afternoon for years to those made of slightly more tenuous leather, still ever so wide, made from high schools on opposite sides of town, of different soccer teams, of colleges thousands of miles apart.

But the connection is so real that it's as if it has always existed, since our births two month apart, twenty seven years ago.

And it all started on a soccer field.

There was a soccer tournament in our town this week- and my heart grew three sizes, I swear, when I saw two entirely female teams.  And I was back in Kalispell, Montana, on a weekend tournament with my U-14 team and Katie, when I saw them traipsing through town at dusk, on the hunt for dinner, three adults trailing them, oblivious to the loud and contagious laughter coursing through the group.

Female sports teams are so rare here.  Sports are for men.  Men play volleyball at the makeshift courts all over town.  Men play soccer on the field at the teacher training center.  Men coach the all boys basketball team at the local high school.

The Women in Development/Gender and Development committee I've just joined will face this reality, among dozens of other truths that are preventing true equity amongst sexes from existing in the world.

Which brings us full circle to today.  International Women's Day.  A day designed to celebrate, uplift, and highlight women- our achievements, our challenges.

So Happy International Women's Day, friends- men and women alike.  May you recognize the obstacles women face every day, but also, maybe more importantly, reach out to a woman you know and acknowledge your love for her- for her friendship, for her choices, for her goals, for her skills on the sports field and in her job. For her.

 For it all.

...........

And if you feel like spending your IW Day showing the love, fiscally, for women here in Cambodia, consider giving something - even the smallest contribution can help and is tax deductible - to these projects.

My province's second annual Camp GLOW

A friend's domestic violence prevention training

A friend's abuse in school prevention workshop

of s'mores and second goals

Last night, Topher and I were finally able to accomplish something we've been working towards for several months now.  Something we've been planning since we first asked my mother to send us chocolate, and marshmallows and graham cracker, which she obliged in a package around Christmastime.

Last night, we finally made s'mores with our host family.

It started as a craving when asked what we'd like in a package, and grew to a greater purpose when we realized this could be a truly fantastic, very "American" experience we could share with our beautiful Khmer family.

Although our original plan was to roast the marshmallows over our family's ceramic fire pit outside, we discovered (after weeks of tweaking to ensure it worked just right) that our gas stove worked just as well!

So we invited our nieces, nephew and sister into our home after dinner to partake in some fun of making a 'bong-aim America,' or American dessert.

It was a roaring success, I must say.


The best reflection of the enjoyment is seen in the imperfect lower right picture of the cluster below.

 After we had devoured our sugary snack, the kids played on our small whiteboard.  I took the opportunity to quickly help them visually see the name of the treat we'd just made.

In the Peace Corps world, we talk about our work within the framework of three goals.  

My primary work fulfills goal number one, but it's the daily joy I find in goals two and three that keep me excited to wake up each morning here in Cambodia.  A lot of my work relative to goal one often leaves me feeling impotent and out of control (thanks Cher!), mainly due to existing bureaucratic, systematic hurdles that exist in the education system here.  But all of my work relative to goals two and three feel meaningful, revelatory, and usually fun.

Which is exactly how I'd describe last night.  I explained to our sister that Americans typically make s'mores while camping and sleeping under the stars, which is why we like to roast marshmallows over the open fire, as we do when we camp.  They may have thought us a bit nuts, but the sweet, sugary end was a delight in and of itself!

What great American dessert would you feel compelled to share with another country?

we just don't do that: a cultural comparison

Happy Friday!  This weekend, the Acting Director of Peace Corps is in town, and I may even get the chance to meet her!  I'm off to join Chris in Phnom Penh bright and early tomorrow morning, after spending the evening attending a wedding of one of his colleagues here in his stead.

I've had this post in drafts for six months at least now, and I finally took the time to put it in an interesting format and share with it you.

These are my reflections on lines of politeness here in Cambodia, versus those in America.  This is definitely NOT an exhaustive list and certainly not an 'absolute truth' kind of list.  It's more of what I've noticed or been told as compared to how we do things, politeness wise, in America.

I've tried to break it down into an easily understood chart.  You can assume that if there is not a star in one country's column, it is not a common practice and the opposite, you can safely assume, happens all the time. I'll leave it at that!

Anything surprise you?

and I think he will make cute babies, too, so there's that

It may be a bit of a skewed depiction, as it's a conversation that happened just a few days ago, but it's a memorable conversation nonetheless, and one that I did, in fact,  have this year.

It is memorable it's non-memorableness, as it is the same exact conversation I seem to have every single week, often times with the same people, like the little savory cake seller at the market who loves my nose, or the teachers at my school that love to ask me, every day, if I'm going home to cook lunch, even though they know I'm not.

But this conversation ended on a note that seems to sum up all that I feel and speaks to why I love to have it, even when it's exhausting and repetitive and seemingly unending.

So there's that.

And here's the conversation.

.................................

The setting: 

Our tiled porch/entryway, midday.  In my hand, an electrified battery-powered mosquito racket in hand.  In my host mother's, a broom made of long grass, wrapped in colorful plastic along the handle.

The mission: 

To kill as many disease killing, blood sucking little biotches as we can so they don't escape into our house and bite me.  Which they will, if allowed. Never Chris. Always me.

Host Mother: Oh, you are killing mosquitoes? Here, let me help you.  I will shake the plants and you can kill them.

Me: Thank you!

*sounds of hundreds of mosquitoes being electrocuted*

Host Mother: Where is Chris?

Me: He is inside.  We are having several friends over to eat dinner to celebrate Christmas.  He is preparing the food.

Host Mother: Oh, ha ha, he is such a good husband.  He knows how to cook!

Me: Oh, I know!  I am very lucky to have a husband like him.

Host Mother: Very lucky!  In Cambodia, men do not know how to cook and the wife has to do everything. It is not very happy and it is very exhausting for the women.

Me: Oh, yes, I have seen that.

Host Mother: I think I like how in America men and women both know how to cook and share the duties of the home.

Me: Oh yes, me too!  I think it is easier that way for the family to be happy and healthy.

Host Mother: Oh, ha ha, yes.

Me: I am very lucky though. Not all American men like to or know how to cook.  But when I met Chris nine years ago, I thought to myself: He is handsome! He is funny! He has a good heart! He knows how to cook!  And I think he will make cute babies! So I should marry him!

Host Mother: Oh, ha ha, that is funny!  And so true! Ha ha.  Ok, we have killed the mosquitoes.  I will sweep them now.

Me: Ha ha.  Thank you.  I will go help Chris cook now.

.....................

And, it should be noted, for the record, that I actually really did help Chris cook.  I made the potatoes, and the carrots, and boiled the beans for him to finish.  And it was delicious, it was!

.....................

{give} and that was christmas

What a Christmas it was, too!  From a Christmas party with our community English class where we gave away lots of fun items we've been sent from America, to a glorious dinner and celebration with our province mates, with a weekend just the two of us and a curry dinner with lots of the gifts for the little ones with our host family thrown in, it was an amazing holiday season.

This year, we gave the gift of America's version of Christmas to many of the Cambodians we know and love!

...................

A photo essay, of sorts, of our Christmas 2012.

Amazing youth.

we heart kampot.

I made most of this! Three cheers for Kate!

probably my favorite from the many, many we took. genuine christmas laughter.

Wrapping gifts is a personal favorite pastime. Even if I have to use yellow duct tape.

What more could a girl ask for?

How was your Christmas?

because it's independence day

a few weeks back, i had the pleasure of attending my second official independence day celebration.  last year, independence day was the first official holiday i celebrated at my permanent site (we'd celebrated pchum ben with our training host families) and i remember trying to soak it all in and straining to understand the story of cambodia's independence that was blasted from a speaker.

last year, i also showed up to school at my then-normal time- 6:55 am- because i'd been told the celebration would begin at 7.

ah ha ha.

this year, i knew to sleep in a bit and instead join my fellow teacher trainers and our trainees at the independence monument around 7:45.  i avoided forty five minutes of standing around and needlessly walking from our campus to the nearby monument.  

this year, i parked my awesome bike next to all of the city's policemen's motos, and fell right in with my fellow teacher trainers, who were just heading to line up.

it was a bright and sunny morning, though not yet hot.  as like last year, a hired singer entertained us until the VIPs of Takeo- our governor, chief of police, ministry heads, and their deputies therein- arrived.

the story of cambodia's independence was told- how former (and the late) king norodom sihanouk secured a peaceful independence from france in 1953 and how cambodia had enjoyed an illustrious national history for the last 59 years.

monks prayed, incense was lit and offered by the VIPs.  finally, doves were released, as were balloons.

this year, we went all out for balloons- they were angry birds balloons!

the whole crowd was lit up with giggles as they noticed it too and camera phones came out to capture our province's angry bird balloon celebration of cambodia's independence.

 by 8:45, i was back at home and enjoying breakfast.

a most successful independence celebration indeed.

Pchum Ben, Part II

Praying with the monks at the wat.

As I shared earlier this week, Pchum Ben is a Buddhist celebration.  It is typically a 15 day celebration, with the last three days being the most important, and the national public holiday.

Pchum Ben is also known as Ancestor's Day. Part of the festivities center around the belief of reincarnation, and that people who do not behave rightly in their life will suffer by becoming a ghost that is unable to be reincarnated in the afterlife. 

Preparing food, and me, watching for visual cues for the amount of money I should offer.

These hungry ghosts are often punished according to the level of their sins.  Small sins can lead to becoming an unattractive ghost, or having a mouth so small that eating is difficult.  Larger sins can mean having no mouth at all.

It is during Pchum Ben that these ancestors, or ghosts, can return to Earth.  As noted, the ghosts are hungry, and are believed to return to various pagodas, or wats (temples of Buddhist worship), seeking out their living ancestors.  Those living should offer food and other tokens to the ghosts visiting the pagodas.  This can happen in mainly two ways: by throwing the food directly into spaces designated around a pagoda, or by feeding the monks.

Preparing food offerings at the wat.

Last year, Chris and I participated in the first ritual of throwing the food to the ghosts.  This happens very early in the morning, before sunrise.  Families prepare balls of sticky rice, fruit, and water to share with the hungry ghosts.  Carrying candles and incense, our community prayed to their ancestors with the monks for about twenty minutes, and then we walked around the pagoda three times, throwing our sticky rice balls and other offerings in several different spaces around the temple.  This happens before sunrise because many believe that ghosts are fearful of sunlight and must be fed before the sun rises.

Entertaining the children while their mother prepares food offerings.

Preparing the food offerings at the wat.

This year, we participated in the second ritual: feeding the monks.  Around seven AM, we drove with our family to "their" pagoda (they had spent the day before visiting 2-3 pagodas in a nearby province that is our brother-in-law's homeland and home pagodas to feed his ancestors' ghosts.)  Our host mother and sister worked with several other female family members to organize plates of food like noodles, small cakes, and high quality chicken and beef to offer to the monks.

Offering rice at the wat.

Large pile of rice offerings for the monks.

In the center of the pagoda, several rice bowls were placed for each family to offer a few cups of rice to the monks.  This tradition is usually held because the monks are seen as the gateway to speaking to their ancestors, and many believe that by feeding the monks, they are thereby feeding their ancestors or transferring good merit to their ancestors' ghosts and therefore helping these ghosts pay for their prior sins.

Bringing the food offerings to the monks.

These rituals are so important because ghosts can become angry if they are not fed by their ancestors, and could potentially curse their living family members.  

Other aspects of visiting the pagoda during Pchum Ben including offering small donations to purchase incense, and sending up three prayers using three sticks of incense- often asking for safety, healthy, happiness and offering rice and small amounts of money (2.5-12.5 cents) to younger monks.

Praying with the monks.

Personally, I also believe these Buddhist holidays- which nearly always involve visiting the pagodas and offering food- are a model for the Khmer cultural custom of helping others and sharing with those who are less fortunate.  Often, families in need are given leftover food from the feeding of the monks.  Offering food is one the easiest ways to balance out the difference between "nek mian" and "nek k'mian"- literally, those with and those without.  It is not only a part of Buddhist belief that doing so will bring merit to your current life, but it is also such an ingrained part of the culture that the thought of not offering a small part of whatever you have is unthinkable.

In many ways, this is the exact same thinking behind soup kitchens and homeless shelters in America that offer large dinners for those in need during the major holidays of Thanksgiving and Christmas.  What are your thoughts?

**big thanks to our Safety and Security Officer here in Cambodia, from whom I procured much of the wording of this information. He offered one of the clearest descriptions of the holiday and the why's and how's to us Volunteers and I am incredibly grateful.  If you want to know more, check out here or here.**