Well, I learned a tough lesson the other day, and it’s something that I won’t forget any time soon. Before I get into it, here’s a mini update on a few of the goings on here in Siem Reap.
I have yet to enjoy the takeout from the Italian restaurant that imports their ingredients from Italy in the humble Treehouse, and I probably won’t any time soon seeing that I moved out. The Treehouse, although very cute, was actually located about ten minutes by tuk tuk outside of the town’s main area, and across the Siem Reap River. Not only did the verdant tropical location look cute, but it welcomed mosquitoes to feast upon my legs. It also made getting into town somewhat of a challenge since at the time I had got only my two feet to get around a city full of crazy moto bike traffic. Turning my frown right side up, I’ll be residing downtown in the Villa Siem Reap for the rest of my time in Cambodia. Victory! What this means is that I can actually explore downtown on foot, or better yet via the pushbike that Savy and I purchased this morning. I think that I’m finally getting the courage to venture out of my “comfort zone.” Last Thursday I scuttled over to the supermarket, Angkor Market, where I bought Skippy to make PB and banana sandwiches for lunch. Maybe I will get even more adventurous and try dinner on the town or even a meditation class with me, myself, and I? We’ll just have to see. Well that’s about it for the update. I’ll write more about the weekend at a later date, but for now I’ll stick to the story I’ve wanted to tell since last Thursday.
I finally ventured out of my comfort zone, not only to the supermarket but also to a restaurant downtown for lunch. At the Khmer Kitchen I sat drinking my Coca Light and reading Daughter of the Killing Fields, perfectly content awaiting my chicken curry. As I sat at my table, situated at the front of the open restaurant, people started to approach me. First they would ask me where I was from, and after I responded “the US,” they would rattle off facts about the United States, everything from population to the fact that George Bush is our president who “no one likes.” I may have chuckled at that one. But getting back to the story, two little girls were selling packets of post cards and bracelets for $2 each; a teenage boy came by with several books about Pol Pot, the Khmer Rouge, the mines, and the killing fields. A man walked up to my table with a basket of similar books hanging around his neck; since he couldn’t speak much English he had posted a sign written in English on the front of his basket. The sign spoke for him; after loosing both of his hands from land mines we was hoping I would be kind enough to support him and his family for $8. Even though he was a proud man, his situation prevented him from finding work and he had no other means of income.
I feel so bad for having turned them all away. I know that they could all use the $2 or the $8, while I could afford to spare it. The $2 the girls were requesting would most likely equate to a substantial portion of their monthly school fee, charged to pay the teachers’ salaries. Me? I could probably find that much change lying around in parking lots in the States in the same amount of time that it took them to complete their sales pitch, sad as that is. Picturing the man affected by the land mines puts my stomach in a knot. I felt as though if I gave money to one, I’d have to give money to them all. I know that sounds, and is, absolutely horrible, especially considering how blessed or even spoiled I am; I lead such a privileged life. I have a loving family, amazing friends, I attend an amazing university, I have a beautiful house to live in, food on the table, and I’m free to pursue any dreams that I can imagine. I don’t think that’s anyone’s fault exactly, although it seems so wrong when people who’ve faired unfathomable atrocities like those committed under the Khmer Rouge approach me and I dismiss their pleas. Maybe it’s not so bad if you consider it like this: giving them money is a short-term solution. I’d be giving a handout, not a hand up; in the long term they may become more dependant instead of independent.
While I do believe it’s better to help through slow, gradual change, giving hands up like the long-term plans CFC has developed, the two little girls continue to give me a guilty conscious. I did not want to offend them or any of the others by saying flat-out “no thank you.” I now know that phrase is the best way to handle such a situation, but in order to be less harsh I said “maybe later” and went on with my reading. The little girls stuck around my table while I waited for my lunch, enjoyed it, and paid the bill, a process that took almost an hour. When I was getting into the van to go back to school, they approached me and asked me why I had I not purchased a set of bracelets and postcards? I replied that I had only said maybe and had to get back to school. I do not view “maybe” as a guarantee but a possibility of sorts. To these girls, maybe means something more. They have already overcome so much adversity in their young lives, “maybe” is a promise. For them had I broken a promise, and they did not hesitate to let me know. The girls stood at the doorway of the van as I climbed into the seat. One of them looked me straight in the eye and declared, “sorry won’t fix it.” Back at the Amelio school I tried to be excited about making a difference for the children sitting in from of me, learning important lessons about hygiene, but I couldn’t get the two girls out of my mind.
Sorry won’t fix it. The phrase echoed through my head. That little girl was completely right and possessed the wisdom that comes only through hardship. Considering the tragic past of Cambodia and the atrocities that occurred here, sorry won’t fix it. It hasn’t in the past, and it will not in the future. Nothing can ever fix the fact that the Khmer Rouge massacred the Cambodian people and their culture, particularly a phrase like “I’m sorry.” It almost sounds facetious. While I still have a guilty conscious about being so selfish, the little girls on the street taught me an invaluable lesson. If you don’t feel right about something or anticipate regretting it later, don’t rely on “I’m sorry” because often times sorry just won’t fix it.
Tuesday, June 10, 2008
Monday, June 9, 2008
Differences Can Be Made in One Day
Well, this is yet another unexpected post meaning that school and life lessons are still on their way. I am quite certain however, that the lesson I learned today is equally important, just in a different way: it’s a lesson in perseverance.
Friday night I was elated at having met some really interesting people whom I introduced to you promptly on Friday night. I was hoping to meet up with some of them for dinner and drinks last night, but that wasn’t in the cards so I stayed in a watched some French tv… which was great. I was even feeling pretty good this morning when I slept in until 8:30am. It wasn’t until after I’d digested my buttered toast and English tea that it really hit me… or I really hit it.
What did I hit? I don’t know if you’d call it a wall, but it was something that caused a breakdown or something like it. Questions started to flood my mind, and when I skyped my parents the questions turned into tears that flowed from my mind onto my keyboard. I didn’t expect to cry, but it was the moment I started talking with my Dad that I realized that I was no longer excited to be here. In fact I was almost resenting the fact that I decided to uproot myself from the familiar and live on a continent that I’d never been to, in a country that spoke a language that I’d only just heard of, and in a town stricken with problems that I can’t fix. Why wasn’t I just in DC? There I could be living with sorority sisters working the 9-5 and having the rest of the time to pal around, see the sights, and have some fun. Or better yet, why did I give up my opportunity to travel Europe and get paid with some of the most outrageous people I know? (Yes LeadU staff, I am sure that you are excited to have that prestigious honor!).
My conversation with Mom and Dad did help a bit; they reassured me that I’d get through it and that things would turn up. Deep down I knew that they were right, but when things are bad, they’re bad. And this morning, they were bad. I told them that I didn’t feel like I was helping anyone at the school, and that I didn’t like Siem Reap. In the past week I left the guesthouse to go to the grocery store, but that was the extent of me having a life and going out and meeting people. The only person I “met” at the grocery was a man in the wine isle, and he was grumbling about the price of the wine. I kind of wanted to say, “Hey man, you should just look outside,” because that might have shut him up. Either way, we didn’t become friends anyway, which has been tough for me because as you probably know, I like to be around people all of the time. While this is great when you live in a dorm or in a house full of little sisters, it’s a weakness when you live by yourself in a foreign country where their native language is Khmer. What is even more ironic is that I felt the same way when I began my semester in Paris. I now know, however, that I had it easy there since I had the language skills (how good they were makes no difference because at least I knew the alphabet and could say more than “thank you” and “hello”) as well as the accompaniment of Ms. Katie Pendery virtually everywhere I went.
Persistence. At least that’s what my Dad called it. He said that it was one of my strengths and that I could get through this because I was persistent. Like I said, I knew that I would make it somehow, but I was in a serious slump. Even the phone calls, texts, and emails that I sent to the few people that I’d met did not provide me any hope since they either gone unanswered or unable to go through. So instead of going out and seeing Siem Reap, I found alternative ways to occupy my free day. I made peanut butter and banana sandwiches and spent the entire afternoon glued to my Mac practicing French (I’m sure that you also know I’m a huge nerd). I figured if I’m going to waste one of my very few day offs, I might as well do something productive!
Things turned up around 4 pm when I got a text message from Savy who I consider to be my boss here. He’d been meeting all day with Kaye Bach and her husband George all afternoon. Originally from New Zealand, Kaye and her husband have lived in Singapore for eight years and have been involved with CFC for quiet a while. After helping with the Teacher Training program on and off for a few years, Kaye quit her job at the Singapore American School and decided to work for a year full-time with CFC. Thus, she came to Siem Reap to work out details with Savy and finalize things for the next year.
Not only did their presence provide a few additional friendly faces; Kaye and George were my guardian angels. Everything happens for a reason, and the fact that they were in town today is no exception. After touring the town searching prospective apartments for Kaye, the three of us ventured out for dinner. On the way Kaye and George provided me with the most useful information I’ve received since I’ve been here… not only did they know where to eat, but they had great ideas about everything you can imagine, including how I could get more involved with CFC. I’ll elaborate more a bit later, but if all works according to plan I will be helping to develop programs targeted to increase the students’ conversational English skills. It’s just remarkable what a few good ideas, some great people, a burrito, and mango margaritas can do for one’s spirit.
I called Mom and Dad after we returned to the guesthouse from what I consider my first real adventure out on the town. They continued to support me and tell me what a difference one day can make, and while I couldn’t agree more, I had to remind them that I had called in tears earlier this morning. Oh the difference that can be made in a single day. I’m just lucky that my guardian angels have quick response time!
Friday night I was elated at having met some really interesting people whom I introduced to you promptly on Friday night. I was hoping to meet up with some of them for dinner and drinks last night, but that wasn’t in the cards so I stayed in a watched some French tv… which was great. I was even feeling pretty good this morning when I slept in until 8:30am. It wasn’t until after I’d digested my buttered toast and English tea that it really hit me… or I really hit it.
What did I hit? I don’t know if you’d call it a wall, but it was something that caused a breakdown or something like it. Questions started to flood my mind, and when I skyped my parents the questions turned into tears that flowed from my mind onto my keyboard. I didn’t expect to cry, but it was the moment I started talking with my Dad that I realized that I was no longer excited to be here. In fact I was almost resenting the fact that I decided to uproot myself from the familiar and live on a continent that I’d never been to, in a country that spoke a language that I’d only just heard of, and in a town stricken with problems that I can’t fix. Why wasn’t I just in DC? There I could be living with sorority sisters working the 9-5 and having the rest of the time to pal around, see the sights, and have some fun. Or better yet, why did I give up my opportunity to travel Europe and get paid with some of the most outrageous people I know? (Yes LeadU staff, I am sure that you are excited to have that prestigious honor!).
My conversation with Mom and Dad did help a bit; they reassured me that I’d get through it and that things would turn up. Deep down I knew that they were right, but when things are bad, they’re bad. And this morning, they were bad. I told them that I didn’t feel like I was helping anyone at the school, and that I didn’t like Siem Reap. In the past week I left the guesthouse to go to the grocery store, but that was the extent of me having a life and going out and meeting people. The only person I “met” at the grocery was a man in the wine isle, and he was grumbling about the price of the wine. I kind of wanted to say, “Hey man, you should just look outside,” because that might have shut him up. Either way, we didn’t become friends anyway, which has been tough for me because as you probably know, I like to be around people all of the time. While this is great when you live in a dorm or in a house full of little sisters, it’s a weakness when you live by yourself in a foreign country where their native language is Khmer. What is even more ironic is that I felt the same way when I began my semester in Paris. I now know, however, that I had it easy there since I had the language skills (how good they were makes no difference because at least I knew the alphabet and could say more than “thank you” and “hello”) as well as the accompaniment of Ms. Katie Pendery virtually everywhere I went.
Persistence. At least that’s what my Dad called it. He said that it was one of my strengths and that I could get through this because I was persistent. Like I said, I knew that I would make it somehow, but I was in a serious slump. Even the phone calls, texts, and emails that I sent to the few people that I’d met did not provide me any hope since they either gone unanswered or unable to go through. So instead of going out and seeing Siem Reap, I found alternative ways to occupy my free day. I made peanut butter and banana sandwiches and spent the entire afternoon glued to my Mac practicing French (I’m sure that you also know I’m a huge nerd). I figured if I’m going to waste one of my very few day offs, I might as well do something productive!
Things turned up around 4 pm when I got a text message from Savy who I consider to be my boss here. He’d been meeting all day with Kaye Bach and her husband George all afternoon. Originally from New Zealand, Kaye and her husband have lived in Singapore for eight years and have been involved with CFC for quiet a while. After helping with the Teacher Training program on and off for a few years, Kaye quit her job at the Singapore American School and decided to work for a year full-time with CFC. Thus, she came to Siem Reap to work out details with Savy and finalize things for the next year.
Not only did their presence provide a few additional friendly faces; Kaye and George were my guardian angels. Everything happens for a reason, and the fact that they were in town today is no exception. After touring the town searching prospective apartments for Kaye, the three of us ventured out for dinner. On the way Kaye and George provided me with the most useful information I’ve received since I’ve been here… not only did they know where to eat, but they had great ideas about everything you can imagine, including how I could get more involved with CFC. I’ll elaborate more a bit later, but if all works according to plan I will be helping to develop programs targeted to increase the students’ conversational English skills. It’s just remarkable what a few good ideas, some great people, a burrito, and mango margaritas can do for one’s spirit.
I called Mom and Dad after we returned to the guesthouse from what I consider my first real adventure out on the town. They continued to support me and tell me what a difference one day can make, and while I couldn’t agree more, I had to remind them that I had called in tears earlier this morning. Oh the difference that can be made in a single day. I’m just lucky that my guardian angels have quick response time!
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