Friday, February 18, 2011
Tuesday, February 1, 2011
Aaaaannnnd we're back
I know, I know, you probably think I haven't been updating my blog because I'm too lazy. It's not true! Ok, so I am pretty lazy sometimes, but in this case I wasn't at fault. Last month, the government of Cambodia supposedly decided to block Blogspot pages. The ban seems to have been lifted now, so I'll see what I can do about updating. Life in the 'bode has been busy!
Cheating 101
Semester exam time…
Ok, first of all, let’s talk about test day. First, you’re going to feel like you should look at the teacher to make sure he/she is not looking. Don’t do it! It’s a dead giveaway that you’re about to look at your friend’s paper or ask for an answer. It will only make your teacher watch you more closely.
Also, contrary to what you might think, the back of the class is not safer. Those desks in front actually get the least attention.
Now, let’s talk about how to get that essay of yours through the “Did you copy?” check. First, don’t use the same first or last sentence/paragraph as your friend. Dead giveaway. Avoid any large or unique vocabulary words that might tip the teacher off. Try to change around sentence order so your teacher has to actually read your essay to see if you copied. If you’re copying from a book, make sure to throw in a good helping of grammatical mistakes to throw off the scent. With 50 other cheaters out there, you don’t have to be foolproof, you just have to be questionable enough to make it out of the cheaters bin.
Happy copying!
Ok, first of all, let’s talk about test day. First, you’re going to feel like you should look at the teacher to make sure he/she is not looking. Don’t do it! It’s a dead giveaway that you’re about to look at your friend’s paper or ask for an answer. It will only make your teacher watch you more closely.
Also, contrary to what you might think, the back of the class is not safer. Those desks in front actually get the least attention.
Now, let’s talk about how to get that essay of yours through the “Did you copy?” check. First, don’t use the same first or last sentence/paragraph as your friend. Dead giveaway. Avoid any large or unique vocabulary words that might tip the teacher off. Try to change around sentence order so your teacher has to actually read your essay to see if you copied. If you’re copying from a book, make sure to throw in a good helping of grammatical mistakes to throw off the scent. With 50 other cheaters out there, you don’t have to be foolproof, you just have to be questionable enough to make it out of the cheaters bin.
Happy copying!
Friday, January 21, 2011
The Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Month
It’s not a secret that this Peace Corps thing is tough. I’d prefer my blog to be interesting and on the cheerful side – nobody wants to listen to me whine when I have so many cool exotic experiences to talk about! This past month, though, has been a doozy. Since the week before Christmas, I have been...frustrated.
Life in my village finally seemed to be on an upswing at the end of last week. I had some good times with my students doing an art exhibit and a weekend break with friends in Phnom Penh. The day before yesterday, though, three things happened:
1.My bike tire blew out for the second time in a week, leaving me stranded and giving me the options of either walking everywhere or riding a bike borrowed from the neighbors that everyone laughs when they see me on (since my knees come up to my chest).
2.We had a school staff conference. In addition to meaning my English club, my favorite and probably most productive part of the week, was cancelled, this involved sitting through 2.5 hours of incomprehensible meeting and being volunteered by my co-teacher, without my knowledge, to create and proctor the 9th grade semester exams.
3.(This was the tipping point.) I was told, in casual conversation, that the people at school think I’m lazy and unfriendly. They think this especially in comparison to Jane, my dear friend and closest neighbor who is doing some amazing things at her site, and her teaching of sports.
Word gets around here, and this was not the first time I’d heard people’s thoughts about me (I’m shy. I’m fat. I’m not very smart. I’m spoiled. I don’t know how to wash dishes/clothes). But these are the people I interact with most in my community. This is my boss. To find out they don’t respect me is, well, disappointing to say the least.
I’ve spent the last two days trying to see myself through their eyes. I understand how they can think I’m not doing all that much or trying very hard. From day one, the site assignment Peace Corps handed me contained a map of my province and 10 sentences about my school, 4 of which were about sports and how they wanted someone to come help teach sports. At my initial meeting with the school director and admin staff, I was asked multiple times if I could teach sports. No, I can’t, I told them. What about football? No. Volleyball? No. Maybe basketball? No. They have to wonder why Jane down the way is willing to help with sports when they got stuck with me, who refuses.
My school director has also asked about help finding books for the library, which clearly someone has told him many Peace Corps Volunteers help with. He’s asked multiple times about that, delegating my co-teachers to broach the subject with me. Now, I love libraries and coming in thought that would be a good potential project for me. Then I got a tour of our school library. A big stack of books labeled Room to Read (one of the big book donation projects), which someone had apparently gotten donated previously, were sitting in the back corner, still shrink-wrapped and gathering dust. And, well, no, I haven’t done ANY work to see about helping our school library.
The other request I got was to teach English. To the school director and his buddies. To my host mom. To other teachers at my school. Maybe, I told them. Let me see. After a while I can start. But I had no real desire to teach more English to people who would, in all likelihood, never have a need for it, after 20 hours a week of pulling teeth trying to get my students talk. Instead, I have been trying to make weekly trips to a bus stop in the next town over to practice English with the staff there who talk to and sell things to maybe 50 foreigners a day. But my school colleagues don’t see me do that. They also don’t see me sitting up in my room late at night, planning lessons and making activities for the students when most teachers teach straight from the book, or grading exams for my co-teachers, or correcting my students’ writing assignments. They don’t know about work I’m doing with Peace Corps or the meeting I had with an NGO that I’m hoping will do some programs with my students. No wonder they say I’m lazy. I can also try to be more friendly. I usually sit pretty quietly, since I can’t understand much of the teacher gossip that goes on all day during break times. Today as I was leaving school, I stopped by the teacher’s table to say I was going home, that I had to do my laundry, sorry I couldn’t sit and chat. “Who asked?” said one of the women.
I think I’ll move to Australia.
Sure, it’s easy to come up with all the problems I had today. The language barrier. My students’ lack of interest in my lessons. Not wanting to eat some stinking fermented fish thing for the third meal in a row. Vague stomach issues. My busted bike. Having to do my laundry by hand. Not having anyone to actually talk to.
Then there were a lot of pretty cool things about today too. My new buddy Mai (see the entry about Kirirom) who now looks for me to ride her bike home with me. The funny conversation my host mom and I had about school gossip. Iced coffee. The students who were excited to talk to me outside of class. The fact that I have yet to feel bored, a problem many other Volunteers have faced. My ability to zone and listen to American music on my iPod while I do my laundry by hand.
Peace Corps is not forcing me to be here. On the contrary, I could be on a plane home to the states within a few days if I wanted. I do think I’m having some positive effect on someone, somehow, even if it’s just myself. And it’s probably good I know what people really think of me, because I want to work harder to show them they’re wrong. Instead of thinking about the projects I want to do, I need to listen to what my community wants, even though I’ll never be able to satisfy everyone. I’ll probably wake up tomorrow and hear how fat I am and how big my nose is. I’ll probably get be asked to do more likely meaningless work for my co-teachers. I’ll probably be a little bit sick, as I have been for the past few days. I’ll probably feel pretty alone in the world, like I do most of the time.
But some days are like that, even in Australia.
Life in my village finally seemed to be on an upswing at the end of last week. I had some good times with my students doing an art exhibit and a weekend break with friends in Phnom Penh. The day before yesterday, though, three things happened:
1.My bike tire blew out for the second time in a week, leaving me stranded and giving me the options of either walking everywhere or riding a bike borrowed from the neighbors that everyone laughs when they see me on (since my knees come up to my chest).
2.We had a school staff conference. In addition to meaning my English club, my favorite and probably most productive part of the week, was cancelled, this involved sitting through 2.5 hours of incomprehensible meeting and being volunteered by my co-teacher, without my knowledge, to create and proctor the 9th grade semester exams.
3.(This was the tipping point.) I was told, in casual conversation, that the people at school think I’m lazy and unfriendly. They think this especially in comparison to Jane, my dear friend and closest neighbor who is doing some amazing things at her site, and her teaching of sports.
Word gets around here, and this was not the first time I’d heard people’s thoughts about me (I’m shy. I’m fat. I’m not very smart. I’m spoiled. I don’t know how to wash dishes/clothes). But these are the people I interact with most in my community. This is my boss. To find out they don’t respect me is, well, disappointing to say the least.
I’ve spent the last two days trying to see myself through their eyes. I understand how they can think I’m not doing all that much or trying very hard. From day one, the site assignment Peace Corps handed me contained a map of my province and 10 sentences about my school, 4 of which were about sports and how they wanted someone to come help teach sports. At my initial meeting with the school director and admin staff, I was asked multiple times if I could teach sports. No, I can’t, I told them. What about football? No. Volleyball? No. Maybe basketball? No. They have to wonder why Jane down the way is willing to help with sports when they got stuck with me, who refuses.
My school director has also asked about help finding books for the library, which clearly someone has told him many Peace Corps Volunteers help with. He’s asked multiple times about that, delegating my co-teachers to broach the subject with me. Now, I love libraries and coming in thought that would be a good potential project for me. Then I got a tour of our school library. A big stack of books labeled Room to Read (one of the big book donation projects), which someone had apparently gotten donated previously, were sitting in the back corner, still shrink-wrapped and gathering dust. And, well, no, I haven’t done ANY work to see about helping our school library.
The other request I got was to teach English. To the school director and his buddies. To my host mom. To other teachers at my school. Maybe, I told them. Let me see. After a while I can start. But I had no real desire to teach more English to people who would, in all likelihood, never have a need for it, after 20 hours a week of pulling teeth trying to get my students talk. Instead, I have been trying to make weekly trips to a bus stop in the next town over to practice English with the staff there who talk to and sell things to maybe 50 foreigners a day. But my school colleagues don’t see me do that. They also don’t see me sitting up in my room late at night, planning lessons and making activities for the students when most teachers teach straight from the book, or grading exams for my co-teachers, or correcting my students’ writing assignments. They don’t know about work I’m doing with Peace Corps or the meeting I had with an NGO that I’m hoping will do some programs with my students. No wonder they say I’m lazy. I can also try to be more friendly. I usually sit pretty quietly, since I can’t understand much of the teacher gossip that goes on all day during break times. Today as I was leaving school, I stopped by the teacher’s table to say I was going home, that I had to do my laundry, sorry I couldn’t sit and chat. “Who asked?” said one of the women.
I think I’ll move to Australia.
Sure, it’s easy to come up with all the problems I had today. The language barrier. My students’ lack of interest in my lessons. Not wanting to eat some stinking fermented fish thing for the third meal in a row. Vague stomach issues. My busted bike. Having to do my laundry by hand. Not having anyone to actually talk to.
Then there were a lot of pretty cool things about today too. My new buddy Mai (see the entry about Kirirom) who now looks for me to ride her bike home with me. The funny conversation my host mom and I had about school gossip. Iced coffee. The students who were excited to talk to me outside of class. The fact that I have yet to feel bored, a problem many other Volunteers have faced. My ability to zone and listen to American music on my iPod while I do my laundry by hand.
Peace Corps is not forcing me to be here. On the contrary, I could be on a plane home to the states within a few days if I wanted. I do think I’m having some positive effect on someone, somehow, even if it’s just myself. And it’s probably good I know what people really think of me, because I want to work harder to show them they’re wrong. Instead of thinking about the projects I want to do, I need to listen to what my community wants, even though I’ll never be able to satisfy everyone. I’ll probably wake up tomorrow and hear how fat I am and how big my nose is. I’ll probably get be asked to do more likely meaningless work for my co-teachers. I’ll probably be a little bit sick, as I have been for the past few days. I’ll probably feel pretty alone in the world, like I do most of the time.
But some days are like that, even in Australia.
Monday, January 10, 2011
Don't Get Lost in the Forest
(The title of this blog entry is a tribute to Book 5, Chapter 5, Unit One of English for Cambodia, the one about the trip to Kirirom. You all know what I’m talking about...)
Yesterday my alarm rang at 2:45 - wake up call for my day trip to Kirirom, a forest/nature reserve/waterfall in Kampong Speu province. I thought the 3am departure time was worth it to get to spend some non-class time with my students.
They picked me up in one of our two rented ‘lan’s (car/vehicle), which turned out to be one of the 15-passenger vans that are pretty ubiquitous here. I thought I was the last person since I’m past the market and by the time they got to me, there were already 19 people in the car (not unusual for Cambodia). I should know better by now. We made a quick stop near my house for two more passengers who were squeezed onto the front bench with two teachers. Then the last stop. When we pulled up and honked, I counted as two...four...five(!) more groggy-eyed teenagers stumbled out of the house. This required some rearranging but somehow everyone got squished in together. We set off and had just crossed the border into the neighboring province, about 5 km down the road, when someone told the driver to stop. We forgot someone! We turned around and found four cases of bottled water and two more students waiting to be piled in. Finally around 4am we set off for Kirirom, all 28 of us and food for the day for 50 people... I made it about a quarter of the way into our 200km journey before my leg started to go numb, and I think I was in a more comfortable spot than most of the students. Amazingly, I did not hear a single person complain. (Can you imagine American teenagers waking up in the middle of the night and driving 5 hours on bumpy roads sitting packed in like sardines?)
As it happens, Kirirom is actually gorgeous and was a fun hike up a mountain to a waterfall. While I watched in paranoia, 45 students climbed around on the slippery rocks, but nobody got hurt. At any rate, liability is a nonissue. I made buddies with the van driver’s daughter who, after initial apprehension, stuck to me like glue all day, made me teach her how to float on her back, held my hand all the way up the mountain, and took lots and lots of photos on my camera. Most of these were demanded by my students (individual, pair, trio, and group shots of everyone in at least four or five locations) who miraculously stopped being shy for the day and actually talked to me! All in all, it was, somewhat to my surprise, a great success.
Yesterday my alarm rang at 2:45 - wake up call for my day trip to Kirirom, a forest/nature reserve/waterfall in Kampong Speu province. I thought the 3am departure time was worth it to get to spend some non-class time with my students.
They picked me up in one of our two rented ‘lan’s (car/vehicle), which turned out to be one of the 15-passenger vans that are pretty ubiquitous here. I thought I was the last person since I’m past the market and by the time they got to me, there were already 19 people in the car (not unusual for Cambodia). I should know better by now. We made a quick stop near my house for two more passengers who were squeezed onto the front bench with two teachers. Then the last stop. When we pulled up and honked, I counted as two...four...five(!) more groggy-eyed teenagers stumbled out of the house. This required some rearranging but somehow everyone got squished in together. We set off and had just crossed the border into the neighboring province, about 5 km down the road, when someone told the driver to stop. We forgot someone! We turned around and found four cases of bottled water and two more students waiting to be piled in. Finally around 4am we set off for Kirirom, all 28 of us and food for the day for 50 people... I made it about a quarter of the way into our 200km journey before my leg started to go numb, and I think I was in a more comfortable spot than most of the students. Amazingly, I did not hear a single person complain. (Can you imagine American teenagers waking up in the middle of the night and driving 5 hours on bumpy roads sitting packed in like sardines?)
As it happens, Kirirom is actually gorgeous and was a fun hike up a mountain to a waterfall. While I watched in paranoia, 45 students climbed around on the slippery rocks, but nobody got hurt. At any rate, liability is a nonissue. I made buddies with the van driver’s daughter who, after initial apprehension, stuck to me like glue all day, made me teach her how to float on her back, held my hand all the way up the mountain, and took lots and lots of photos on my camera. Most of these were demanded by my students (individual, pair, trio, and group shots of everyone in at least four or five locations) who miraculously stopped being shy for the day and actually talked to me! All in all, it was, somewhat to my surprise, a great success.
The Zombies Ate Your Brains
In the eternal words of Kip Dynamite, “I love technology.” Cambodia loves technology too, but I'm starting to realize that love is still new and growing.
Exhibit A: The Refrigerator.
My host family got their first refrigerator last month. It is tiny and energy-efficient but still considered an extreme luxury in rural Cambodia (mostly since electricity here is so pricey). Now pretty much any food is game for the fridge, including the Cheetos I brought back from the city for my family to try.
Exhibit B: Nonstick cookware
My host mom is pretty proud of this new nonstick frying pan she bought. It’s great, expect the explanation is all in English. I cringe every time I hear her metal spatula scraping the bottom or see the pan heating dry over extra-high heat. My Khmer lessons somehow missed out on ‘nonstick coating can release toxic substances.’
Exhibit C: Gaming
My host brother loves the one computer game on the computer my (doctor) host dad uses for ultrasounds. It’s basic and involves placing weapons to shoot rows of oncoming monsters. The other night I was watching him play when the screen flashed ‘The Zombies Ate Your Brains!’ in drippy-blood lettering. I found it hard to explain why I was laughing so hard.
Oh, Cambodia...
Exhibit A: The Refrigerator.
My host family got their first refrigerator last month. It is tiny and energy-efficient but still considered an extreme luxury in rural Cambodia (mostly since electricity here is so pricey). Now pretty much any food is game for the fridge, including the Cheetos I brought back from the city for my family to try.
Exhibit B: Nonstick cookware
My host mom is pretty proud of this new nonstick frying pan she bought. It’s great, expect the explanation is all in English. I cringe every time I hear her metal spatula scraping the bottom or see the pan heating dry over extra-high heat. My Khmer lessons somehow missed out on ‘nonstick coating can release toxic substances.’
Exhibit C: Gaming
My host brother loves the one computer game on the computer my (doctor) host dad uses for ultrasounds. It’s basic and involves placing weapons to shoot rows of oncoming monsters. The other night I was watching him play when the screen flashed ‘The Zombies Ate Your Brains!’ in drippy-blood lettering. I found it hard to explain why I was laughing so hard.
Oh, Cambodia...
Monday, January 3, 2011
2011
Happy New Year! What is this “2011” stuff? I still think it’s the 90s and now the 90s are more than decade gone. I welcomed the New Year in style with a near-death experience from being about 20 feet away from fireworks that were being launched outside of the Naga Casino in Phnom Penh. The other celebrating volunteers and I were rained on by small debris from the directly-overhead explosions. Talk about starting with a bang!
I spent my Christmas in a more Khmer way by dancing (or, actually, walking around in a circle with small arm movements) for four hours at a housewarming party. Once I started saying yes when people asked me to dance, I felt like I couldn’t say no, so I danced until the very end. There is even some photographic evidence. As a note, it is not at all appropriate to show that much leg except in this sort of situation. My host mom wouldn’t let me wear the traditional Khmer party clothes I had tailored and instead insisted on this risque knee-and-shoulder-showing number. It was a good time, even if I missed all my Peace Corps friends who spent the holiday at the beach...those jerks.
I spent my Christmas in a more Khmer way by dancing (or, actually, walking around in a circle with small arm movements) for four hours at a housewarming party. Once I started saying yes when people asked me to dance, I felt like I couldn’t say no, so I danced until the very end. There is even some photographic evidence. As a note, it is not at all appropriate to show that much leg except in this sort of situation. My host mom wouldn’t let me wear the traditional Khmer party clothes I had tailored and instead insisted on this risque knee-and-shoulder-showing number. It was a good time, even if I missed all my Peace Corps friends who spent the holiday at the beach...those jerks.
Christmas Cheer
A few of my classes gave me gifts in the week leading up to Christmas. Back in grade school, I remember giving my teachers jars of nuts, candies, and candles. Now I suppose it's my turn. The gifts including two towels, two music boxes (one Hello Kitty and one with a revolving ferris wheel of teddy bears), a snow globe with a baby inside, and the following:
When its eyes are lit like that it means it is singing Happy Birthday in an Alvin the Chipmunk voice. Just cause.
The cards were actually my favorite part. The students frustrate me sometimes, mostly when they giggle a lot and/or refuse to even attempt to answer a question because they insist they just don’t know. They are good kids though, and these cards made my holiday as I spent it ‘alone’ at site:
Happy Marry Christmas
Hello! Teacher Alin. I think you’ll happy for my present. This is my love for you. All student who study at gread 10 “A” are very happy when we study with. I hope you still teach all student untill I study at gread 12.
for Alin
from student in gread 10 “A”
Happy New Year!
Teacher Lin! we are student in gread 10 d we wish you good luck and good health long giveity succes in your work and in life. Oh! i 4get we wish you more beautiful!!!!........
When its eyes are lit like that it means it is singing Happy Birthday in an Alvin the Chipmunk voice. Just cause.
The cards were actually my favorite part. The students frustrate me sometimes, mostly when they giggle a lot and/or refuse to even attempt to answer a question because they insist they just don’t know. They are good kids though, and these cards made my holiday as I spent it ‘alone’ at site:
Happy Marry Christmas
Hello! Teacher Alin. I think you’ll happy for my present. This is my love for you. All student who study at gread 10 “A” are very happy when we study with. I hope you still teach all student untill I study at gread 12.
for Alin
from student in gread 10 “A”
Happy New Year!
Teacher Lin! we are student in gread 10 d we wish you good luck and good health long giveity succes in your work and in life. Oh! i 4get we wish you more beautiful!!!!........
Monday, December 20, 2010
Christmas in Cambodia
Finally we’re having some cool weather here to ring in the season. Cooler meaning maybe low-80s. I even broke out a sweater the other day! I’m spending Christmas day here in my village so I can go to a big (non-Christmas-related) party my family is having. So far my celebrations this year have been limited to listening to some very cheesy holiday music (what, so I had a big crush on Donny Osmond as a kid because he was the voice of Joseph in the recording of Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat I listened to and memorized after it was the first musical I ever saw, and his holiday album just happens to be one of the few I have on my computer) and enjoying treats and decorations from a care package from home (Thanks Mom and Grandma!). I have this tree that cracks me up every time I see it, but just why might take a little ‘splaining...my family is awesome is all. Here’s my little personal holiday display.
Anyway, Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays! Time for a shameless plug... A couple people have asked if they can financially support what I’m doing here. Well, not so much directly, but there are plenty of ways to get involved in international development. If you’re still looking for last-minute gifts and have world-exploring/charitably-minded friends, donations are about as easy as they get. A lot of organizations will even give you something you can print out for/email to the recipient. BUT, although it can feel great to give to anything, it’s good to put some thought into your giving. There have been billions of dollars worth of aid poured into the developing world. Arguably, much of it has done more harm than good by making communities reliant on aid without providing any long-term solutions to problems, e.g. giving away mosquito nets that are then sold for less than they are worth, providing incentives for parents to sell and/or exploit their children to be the recipients of aid, or gifting supplies to a school or health center that quickly disappear to the homes of higher-ups. Unfortunately, (I read this in a study once though I can’t remember where) people who donate to charity are much more likely to give money to a specific individual or to buy a specific item. Think of the organizations that send you a personalized profile of the child you support. Those tactics are much more successful than an appeal for aid to a community of 4,000 people. Now, emergency aid is quite different, but in the long term, giving things to people doesn’t accomplish a whole lot.
From random reading of my own and seeing some aid work here, I have three ideas about what can potentially work in aid to developing countries:
1. Education. A couple much-discussed studies found that every additional year of secondary education a girl received substantially raised her age of first child bearing and lowered the number of children she would have (see here, this is fascinating stuff). Certainly not least, educated citizens are more likely to be able to effectively recognize and object to things gone wrong in their societies (notably corruption, which is a huge drain on almost all if not all developing countries). Education can also be outside of the formal education system, for example simple health education about hygiene or birth control. On a personal note, I can already tell you of more than a handful of people I know here who didn’t get picked for one of the few-and-far between scholarships they would have done well by. Sometimes these people are the most heartbreaking for me, since they saw a potential future for themselves beyond what their parents have but are often stuck following in their footsteps.
2. Women’s empowerment. See the first bit above. Also, aid provided to women is much more likely to be put to use to improve their communities, since women are usually the ones walking long distances to get water or raising their children without access to good education. Men in developing countries are often – though of course this is a gross overgeneralization – more likely to spend expendable income on themselves, frequently in forms like beer or buying sex services. Often violence against women is rampant in developing countries too, but you can’t give away freedom from domestic violence or sexual assault. Women need to be able to get themselves out of these situations.
3. Microfinance. This is the lending (not giving) of small amounts of money to people who might otherwise not be able to get cash for small business or self-improvement projects. Often, the loans are given to groups of people in a community, especially groups of women, because social pressure to repay the loans means low rates of default. Many microfinance institutions have incredibly good rates of repayment and are financially viable businesses. There are potential drawbacks to microfinance, for example this recent article about microfinance-related suicides. But combined with two areas above, it is a substantial way to allow people to make a difference in their own lives in the ways they want and need. In the end, aid is a drop in the bucket compared to the possibilities of the free market.
With the number of nonprofits out there today, it’s easy to find one doing work that jives with your interests and doing it well (check out www.charitynavigator.org to search through and see financials-based ratings of different organizations). A few I can think of that jive with my own thoughts above or that have well-thought-out strategies towards development are The Acumen Fund (microfinance focused on fueling enterprise to benefit the communities they serve) , The Huger Project (women’s empowerment with targeted initiatives in different countries), and Kiva (microfinance that is fun for gift giving, since your investment can be ‘tracked’ and re-applied after loan repayment).
Anyway, Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays! Time for a shameless plug... A couple people have asked if they can financially support what I’m doing here. Well, not so much directly, but there are plenty of ways to get involved in international development. If you’re still looking for last-minute gifts and have world-exploring/charitably-minded friends, donations are about as easy as they get. A lot of organizations will even give you something you can print out for/email to the recipient. BUT, although it can feel great to give to anything, it’s good to put some thought into your giving. There have been billions of dollars worth of aid poured into the developing world. Arguably, much of it has done more harm than good by making communities reliant on aid without providing any long-term solutions to problems, e.g. giving away mosquito nets that are then sold for less than they are worth, providing incentives for parents to sell and/or exploit their children to be the recipients of aid, or gifting supplies to a school or health center that quickly disappear to the homes of higher-ups. Unfortunately, (I read this in a study once though I can’t remember where) people who donate to charity are much more likely to give money to a specific individual or to buy a specific item. Think of the organizations that send you a personalized profile of the child you support. Those tactics are much more successful than an appeal for aid to a community of 4,000 people. Now, emergency aid is quite different, but in the long term, giving things to people doesn’t accomplish a whole lot.
From random reading of my own and seeing some aid work here, I have three ideas about what can potentially work in aid to developing countries:
1. Education. A couple much-discussed studies found that every additional year of secondary education a girl received substantially raised her age of first child bearing and lowered the number of children she would have (see here, this is fascinating stuff). Certainly not least, educated citizens are more likely to be able to effectively recognize and object to things gone wrong in their societies (notably corruption, which is a huge drain on almost all if not all developing countries). Education can also be outside of the formal education system, for example simple health education about hygiene or birth control. On a personal note, I can already tell you of more than a handful of people I know here who didn’t get picked for one of the few-and-far between scholarships they would have done well by. Sometimes these people are the most heartbreaking for me, since they saw a potential future for themselves beyond what their parents have but are often stuck following in their footsteps.
2. Women’s empowerment. See the first bit above. Also, aid provided to women is much more likely to be put to use to improve their communities, since women are usually the ones walking long distances to get water or raising their children without access to good education. Men in developing countries are often – though of course this is a gross overgeneralization – more likely to spend expendable income on themselves, frequently in forms like beer or buying sex services. Often violence against women is rampant in developing countries too, but you can’t give away freedom from domestic violence or sexual assault. Women need to be able to get themselves out of these situations.
3. Microfinance. This is the lending (not giving) of small amounts of money to people who might otherwise not be able to get cash for small business or self-improvement projects. Often, the loans are given to groups of people in a community, especially groups of women, because social pressure to repay the loans means low rates of default. Many microfinance institutions have incredibly good rates of repayment and are financially viable businesses. There are potential drawbacks to microfinance, for example this recent article about microfinance-related suicides. But combined with two areas above, it is a substantial way to allow people to make a difference in their own lives in the ways they want and need. In the end, aid is a drop in the bucket compared to the possibilities of the free market.
With the number of nonprofits out there today, it’s easy to find one doing work that jives with your interests and doing it well (check out www.charitynavigator.org to search through and see financials-based ratings of different organizations). A few I can think of that jive with my own thoughts above or that have well-thought-out strategies towards development are The Acumen Fund (microfinance focused on fueling enterprise to benefit the communities they serve) , The Huger Project (women’s empowerment with targeted initiatives in different countries), and Kiva (microfinance that is fun for gift giving, since your investment can be ‘tracked’ and re-applied after loan repayment).
Two Famous Things
Cambodia is famous for two things: Angkor Wat and the Khmer Rouge. I’ve been in Cambodia for five months now. Angkor Wat is everywhere – on the flag, on the most popular beer, and in a surprisingly large number of the examples my students use in English class (Yesterday...Dara went to Angkor Wat. Next year...Sopha will go to Angkor Wat. I have never...been to Angkor Wat). The Khmer Rouge arguably has a much more pervasive influence on 2010 Cambodia, but I’ve talked about it probably less than 10 times since I’ve been here. I’ve never had someone ask me if I ‘sgoal’ (know about/recognize) Angkor Wat – it’s presumably universal knowledge – but I’ve been asked several times if I know about Pol Pot and the Khmer Rouge. This is striking to me, since everyone over the age of 40 has memories of the Khmer Rouge era (1975-1979), and everyone over 30 or so lived through the very tumultuous times in the following decade.
My language isn’t really at a point yet where I can effectively understand people’s memories about the Khmer Rouge, so my conversations about it have been limited. It’s easy to forget what people have been through, because Cambodian people are very happy, at least outwardly, if not always actually. They place a lot of value on not losing face, and getting angry or upset in public would be doing just that.
What I’m getting at – the other day one of the lower-secondary English teachers at my school came over to try and chat. Because of his language level, our conversations are limited mostly to “How are you?” and “What class will you teach?” I was also talking to two teachers who speak better English (lower-secondary teachers make about 65 cents an hour, so the better English speakers teach other subjects in public high school and English in private schools). They were teasing him a little for trying to talk to me, but then they seemed to feel bad. He and his family are very poor, and the other teachers at my school have told me they pity him. Suddenly, one turned to me and asked if I knew about Pol Pot. Yes, yes of course I do. Well, this teacher, they wanted to tell me, had lived in a refugee camp. They explained about the refugee camps on the Thai border (assuming I didn’t know) and said he’d lived there for a few years. 15 years, he said. He answered them in Khmer that I could understand better than his English. He grew up there, and his family waited a long time for their turn to be relocated to America. Their chance never came, and eventually they came back to Cambodia, where he now struggles to make a living to support his five children. It was a quick reminder to me that there is more to many of my acquaintances than I know, and that, while I ‘sgoal’ the words Pol Pot and Khmer Rouge, I probably don’t begin to understand the toll it has had on the people who are around me every day.
My language isn’t really at a point yet where I can effectively understand people’s memories about the Khmer Rouge, so my conversations about it have been limited. It’s easy to forget what people have been through, because Cambodian people are very happy, at least outwardly, if not always actually. They place a lot of value on not losing face, and getting angry or upset in public would be doing just that.
What I’m getting at – the other day one of the lower-secondary English teachers at my school came over to try and chat. Because of his language level, our conversations are limited mostly to “How are you?” and “What class will you teach?” I was also talking to two teachers who speak better English (lower-secondary teachers make about 65 cents an hour, so the better English speakers teach other subjects in public high school and English in private schools). They were teasing him a little for trying to talk to me, but then they seemed to feel bad. He and his family are very poor, and the other teachers at my school have told me they pity him. Suddenly, one turned to me and asked if I knew about Pol Pot. Yes, yes of course I do. Well, this teacher, they wanted to tell me, had lived in a refugee camp. They explained about the refugee camps on the Thai border (assuming I didn’t know) and said he’d lived there for a few years. 15 years, he said. He answered them in Khmer that I could understand better than his English. He grew up there, and his family waited a long time for their turn to be relocated to America. Their chance never came, and eventually they came back to Cambodia, where he now struggles to make a living to support his five children. It was a quick reminder to me that there is more to many of my acquaintances than I know, and that, while I ‘sgoal’ the words Pol Pot and Khmer Rouge, I probably don’t begin to understand the toll it has had on the people who are around me every day.
Monday, December 13, 2010
Cutting Rice
I know the Northeast US is starting to get socked in with snow, but around here, it's rice harvest time. Cambodia is chock-a-block full of rice fields, and about two weeks ago, they all turned from bright green to straw-colored in about the same day. Now the entire country is going about the business of harvesting the rice by hand. The other day I asked a few of my students who had invited me to their village if they could show me how. It wouldn't be for those who don't like to get their feet dirty (literally, I was shoeless in mud up to my ankles), but I had a blast.
Khmanglish of the Week
(From a clothing tag)
Certificate of inspetion
SLLM FET
MADE BY BERllUCCi
THE clothes have been carefully Tailored by craftsmen to combine elegance of cut with Comfort and quality. A classis statement for a modem life.
Certificate of inspetion
SLLM FET
MADE BY BERllUCCi
THE clothes have been carefully Tailored by craftsmen to combine elegance of cut with Comfort and quality. A classis statement for a modem life.
Tuesday, December 7, 2010
Guest Post: Letter from Sam Orn
(*Note: Sam Orn is possibly my favorite student. Literally for the first three weeks of school, he was the only person whose name I knew. He wrote the letter below to send to my classroom in New York through the PC World Wise exchange program. I've edited it to make it more readable. If this doesn't make you smile, I don't know what will.)
Hello everybody! How are you? My name’s Tunn Sam Orn. I come from Cambodia. I’m a student at Hun Sen Taing Kork [High School]. I study [in] grade 11 “C”. I’m 18 years old and I have 7 brothers and sisters. In the future I want to be an engineer. Although I [want to be] an engineer, [I like studying English]. English language is my favorite language after my own and I like speaking with foreigner[s] although I can speak [only] a little or a bit, but I still try to speak with them. Furthermore, I’m so very happy that [we] have a foreigner [who] came from America. Her Name’s Cher Lin. She teaches students in my school and she is friendly with all the students and people in Cambodia [who] she [meets].
First, I want to tell you about my school. My school is in Taing Kork Village, Soyong Commune, Baray District, Kampong Thom Province in Cambodia. You know in my school there are seven [buildings]. One [building] is two floor[s]. In the second floor there is a good view because [it is] rich in trees in [the] school. In 2010 to 2011 there are 64 teachers and 1405 students, secondary and high school. All students in the school must wear a uniform when they come study. [The uniform is a white collared shirt with blue pants for boys and a blue skirt for girls.] If students [wear] a [different] color shirt, they would get [in trouble]. [In] one week they study 6 days except Thursday [they] study a half morning. In [...] one day they study two times: in the morning and the afternoon. In the morning all students start learning at 7:00 and finish at 11:00. [For] one hour they have a break. After [they] finish at 11:00 they go home and eat lunch, [they don’t] eat at school. In the afternoon, [they] start studying at 1:30 to 4:30, and they go home [and] eat dinner. But some students, they study extra school when they have free time. The subjects which they [study] are Math, Physics, English, Chemistry, and Biology. [At] 7:30 they come home and when [they] arrive at home some students teach themselves. Furthermore in my school there are 26 Red Cross students to help [if] some student [is] sick and [they] look after students. [The Red Cross students] wear a uniform that [is] different [from the other] students in school.
I hope you will write back to me because I want to know [about] there and about students in America, [student] activities, [and what the students do] when they [are] studying. If I know about something there, I would go to visit when I finish at University. I want to study there about English and I want to know about [the] view in America.
I wish you good health, good times, and success [in] all your studies and job.
Sincerely,
Tunn Sam Orn
Hello everybody! How are you? My name’s Tunn Sam Orn. I come from Cambodia. I’m a student at Hun Sen Taing Kork [High School]. I study [in] grade 11 “C”. I’m 18 years old and I have 7 brothers and sisters. In the future I want to be an engineer. Although I [want to be] an engineer, [I like studying English]. English language is my favorite language after my own and I like speaking with foreigner[s] although I can speak [only] a little or a bit, but I still try to speak with them. Furthermore, I’m so very happy that [we] have a foreigner [who] came from America. Her Name’s Cher Lin. She teaches students in my school and she is friendly with all the students and people in Cambodia [who] she [meets].
First, I want to tell you about my school. My school is in Taing Kork Village, Soyong Commune, Baray District, Kampong Thom Province in Cambodia. You know in my school there are seven [buildings]. One [building] is two floor[s]. In the second floor there is a good view because [it is] rich in trees in [the] school. In 2010 to 2011 there are 64 teachers and 1405 students, secondary and high school. All students in the school must wear a uniform when they come study. [The uniform is a white collared shirt with blue pants for boys and a blue skirt for girls.] If students [wear] a [different] color shirt, they would get [in trouble]. [In] one week they study 6 days except Thursday [they] study a half morning. In [...] one day they study two times: in the morning and the afternoon. In the morning all students start learning at 7:00 and finish at 11:00. [For] one hour they have a break. After [they] finish at 11:00 they go home and eat lunch, [they don’t] eat at school. In the afternoon, [they] start studying at 1:30 to 4:30, and they go home [and] eat dinner. But some students, they study extra school when they have free time. The subjects which they [study] are Math, Physics, English, Chemistry, and Biology. [At] 7:30 they come home and when [they] arrive at home some students teach themselves. Furthermore in my school there are 26 Red Cross students to help [if] some student [is] sick and [they] look after students. [The Red Cross students] wear a uniform that [is] different [from the other] students in school.
I hope you will write back to me because I want to know [about] there and about students in America, [student] activities, [and what the students do] when they [are] studying. If I know about something there, I would go to visit when I finish at University. I want to study there about English and I want to know about [the] view in America.
I wish you good health, good times, and success [in] all your studies and job.
Sincerely,
Tunn Sam Orn
Pictures! (My School)
My school is on the older side. One of the buildings was destroyed by bombings of Kampong Thom in the 80s and some of the others still show damage. But it's got a lot of charm.
1. The main high school building, grade 12 upstairs and grade 11 downstairs.
2. Some of my 10th-graders.
3. Another classroom building. All the schools I've seen in Cambodia are painted this yellow color.
4. Some 11th grade boys. Sam Orn, whose letter I'm posting above, is in the middle.
5. A cow on our school campus. They roam around along with the chickens.
1. The main high school building, grade 12 upstairs and grade 11 downstairs.
2. Some of my 10th-graders.
3. Another classroom building. All the schools I've seen in Cambodia are painted this yellow color.
4. Some 11th grade boys. Sam Orn, whose letter I'm posting above, is in the middle.
5. A cow on our school campus. They roam around along with the chickens.
A bowl of dessert
After being awake since 6am, reading and putzing around, eating my banana-and-peanut-butter breakfast in my princess tent, I finally ventured out of my mosquito net at 8:20am, grudgingly even though I had most of the morning off. This gave me about 25 minutes to dump cold water on my head and pull on a sampot before hopping on my bike and down to school.
I took up my usual place at the female teacher’s table under the big tree, saying hello to some of my coworkers. I looked through the lesson I thought we’d probably be teaching (I’ve given up trying to pin down things in advance) while they gossiped in Khmer. About 5 minutes before class was to start, I realized I hadn’t seen my co-teacher come out of the class where he should have been teaching the first hour. I ventured around to see if he was running late. A group of students approached: “Cher, uht kehrn crew Chart dtee.” Teacher, we haven’t seen Mr. Chart. Ah, so my co-teacher is sick, or at least absent. I should be disappointed, I know. This means of the 9 hours I should have taught yesterday and today, all of them are cancelled. A lot of those hours were for one teacher’s vacation, but also two for a school soccer game, then this. It’s not unusual. We’ve only been in school two months so far, but I haven’t yet had to work a whole week with all of my classes as scheduled. Rain, holidays, soccer, funerals, general unexcused teacher absences...well, there are a lot of reasons not to come to school.
So I didn’t actually do any of my real job for two days. But, as they liked to remind us during training, Peace Corps is a 24-hour gig. The most important thing I did today was eat some dessert. I went to the market on the thin pretense of buying a scrub brush for my laundry, knowing that if I wasn’t teaching, the best thing I could do with my time was just to hang out and chat. Usually the market affords ample opportunity to do that. Even though I knew roughly what section would have what I was “looking for,” I stopped and asked a few of the market ladies I’d previously chatted with where I could buy a clothes brush. As I made my way inside, one of my grade 11 students overheard and offered to take me to the stall herself. My scrub brush safely in my bag, she asked if I wanted to eat dessert. Now, it’s only 10:30 in the morning, but I’m never one to turn down some dessert if it’s part of my noble Peace Corps mission to reach out to the youth of this community.
I think we’re going to get some kind of nom, the ubiquitous Khmer word for practically any type of junk/snack food. Instead, she leads me to a stall just next to the meat section of the market. She pulls out a stool for me, and I sit with my back to some slabs of pork fat and a pig head laid out on a picnic tablecloth. I try to block out the smell of meat as she dishes me up a bowl of what turns out to be my favorite bong aim, shaved ice and chunks of chewy morsels covered in condensed milk and syrup. Even though she’s not one of the students I recognize as being a good English student in her class, I start asking her some of my stock questions to help her practice speaking a little. To my surprise, she’s anxious to speak English (the majority of students are too shy to answer even my simple questions) and blows me away with her complex answers. She has been holding back on me in class. I move beyond my basic “What time do you usually eat lunch?” and “How many brothers and sisters do you have?” to ask her about her family and the dessert stall they have at the market. Her parents make the sweets themselves early in the morning in their village, about one kilometer down the dirt road nearby. She helps them sell the desserts when she’s not busy with class, she tells me as she washes some bowls and uses a plastic bag tied to a stick to swat away some flies.
Soon enough the meat vendors at my back start asking her questions about me (in Khmer). Some of the women who are up on their gossip start to answer for me before I chime in and everyone realizes, excitedly, that I can understand them. I now have the rapt attention of all the shoppers and vendors within my field of vision as I answer their questions about my family, my salary, my marital status – the usual. I chat with them, and alternately in English with my student, for about 20 minutes before I need to be heading home to lunch. As I get out my wallet, my student motions to me to put it away. “I give you free teacher.” I hand her what I know is the usual cost for a bowl of bong aim and tell her thanks but I want to be able to come back and eat her dessert again. She gives me back 500 riel of the 1500 (about 37 cents) I gave her, shaking her head. “Thank you so much teacher.” I ask her why she is thanking me. “I’m so happy. I feel happy to talk with you teacher.”
As I walk home, I think to myself...it’s a good thing class was cancelled.
I took up my usual place at the female teacher’s table under the big tree, saying hello to some of my coworkers. I looked through the lesson I thought we’d probably be teaching (I’ve given up trying to pin down things in advance) while they gossiped in Khmer. About 5 minutes before class was to start, I realized I hadn’t seen my co-teacher come out of the class where he should have been teaching the first hour. I ventured around to see if he was running late. A group of students approached: “Cher, uht kehrn crew Chart dtee.” Teacher, we haven’t seen Mr. Chart. Ah, so my co-teacher is sick, or at least absent. I should be disappointed, I know. This means of the 9 hours I should have taught yesterday and today, all of them are cancelled. A lot of those hours were for one teacher’s vacation, but also two for a school soccer game, then this. It’s not unusual. We’ve only been in school two months so far, but I haven’t yet had to work a whole week with all of my classes as scheduled. Rain, holidays, soccer, funerals, general unexcused teacher absences...well, there are a lot of reasons not to come to school.
So I didn’t actually do any of my real job for two days. But, as they liked to remind us during training, Peace Corps is a 24-hour gig. The most important thing I did today was eat some dessert. I went to the market on the thin pretense of buying a scrub brush for my laundry, knowing that if I wasn’t teaching, the best thing I could do with my time was just to hang out and chat. Usually the market affords ample opportunity to do that. Even though I knew roughly what section would have what I was “looking for,” I stopped and asked a few of the market ladies I’d previously chatted with where I could buy a clothes brush. As I made my way inside, one of my grade 11 students overheard and offered to take me to the stall herself. My scrub brush safely in my bag, she asked if I wanted to eat dessert. Now, it’s only 10:30 in the morning, but I’m never one to turn down some dessert if it’s part of my noble Peace Corps mission to reach out to the youth of this community.
I think we’re going to get some kind of nom, the ubiquitous Khmer word for practically any type of junk/snack food. Instead, she leads me to a stall just next to the meat section of the market. She pulls out a stool for me, and I sit with my back to some slabs of pork fat and a pig head laid out on a picnic tablecloth. I try to block out the smell of meat as she dishes me up a bowl of what turns out to be my favorite bong aim, shaved ice and chunks of chewy morsels covered in condensed milk and syrup. Even though she’s not one of the students I recognize as being a good English student in her class, I start asking her some of my stock questions to help her practice speaking a little. To my surprise, she’s anxious to speak English (the majority of students are too shy to answer even my simple questions) and blows me away with her complex answers. She has been holding back on me in class. I move beyond my basic “What time do you usually eat lunch?” and “How many brothers and sisters do you have?” to ask her about her family and the dessert stall they have at the market. Her parents make the sweets themselves early in the morning in their village, about one kilometer down the dirt road nearby. She helps them sell the desserts when she’s not busy with class, she tells me as she washes some bowls and uses a plastic bag tied to a stick to swat away some flies.
Soon enough the meat vendors at my back start asking her questions about me (in Khmer). Some of the women who are up on their gossip start to answer for me before I chime in and everyone realizes, excitedly, that I can understand them. I now have the rapt attention of all the shoppers and vendors within my field of vision as I answer their questions about my family, my salary, my marital status – the usual. I chat with them, and alternately in English with my student, for about 20 minutes before I need to be heading home to lunch. As I get out my wallet, my student motions to me to put it away. “I give you free teacher.” I hand her what I know is the usual cost for a bowl of bong aim and tell her thanks but I want to be able to come back and eat her dessert again. She gives me back 500 riel of the 1500 (about 37 cents) I gave her, shaking her head. “Thank you so much teacher.” I ask her why she is thanking me. “I’m so happy. I feel happy to talk with you teacher.”
As I walk home, I think to myself...it’s a good thing class was cancelled.
Tuesday, November 23, 2010
From My TV
Many of you in America, it seems, have heard about what happened in Phnom Penh.
I was not in Phnom Penh this weekend for the Water Festival. Instead I watched the boat races, floating barges, and fireworks on TV with my family. Last night, I went to bed around 9 after watching the packed concert live from the capital city. Then today, we sat and watched on TV the aftermath of last night's stampede. All-day news coverage showed interviews with survivors and families of the deceased, government representatives visiting the bridge, and the hospitals. Everything at the hospitals. Cambodian television news, I learned today, is a fair bit more graphic than what we see in the states. They showed the many wounded lying packed into hospital hallways, placed close together on mats. They showed an interview with a survivor in the hospital ward who, between grimaces of pain, talked about what had happened to him. And they showed the dead, the bodies laid out in rows with narrow aisles between. At one location, they were outside, under an awning to protect from the midday heat as much as possible in Cambodia, and each was covered with a sheet. Another location where they have the bodies seemed to be inside, and the cameras panned over the faces in the rows, mostly young people still decked out in their party clothes. The camera crews rolled on as the families came through to identify and collect the bodies. In the background, I saw crowds of curious onlookers pressed against a fence, watching the bodies as they were wrapped and placed in caskets, then pushed three across onto waiting green trucks.
We watched through the afternoon and through dinner, too. The dishes from lunch went unwashed in the sink, an unprecedented event in my time here. I could understand little of what was said on the news all day. My host mother occasionally tried to explain in more basic words so I could get an idea. -This girl they are interviewing, her father and mother are both dead.- -They say the Prime Minister is going to give 5 million riel ($1200) to each family, money they can use to pay for the funerals.- As we saw the grieving families, she explained how they are identifying the bodies. She said that most of the people had cell phones with them. When family members call, the police, who have collected the phones, answer and inform the caller that the phone owner has died. Over and over, she just repeated ‘Ahnut nah,’ meaning roughly ‘Such a shame, such a shame.’
I couldn’t understand her explanation or the news stories about what had actually happened at the stampede. I’ve been able to read the English-language news online, but it’s clear that there are competing versions of the story being tossed around, particularly regarding the role of the police in what happened last night. To state a fact, on this year’s Corruption Perceptions Index, Transparency International scored Cambodia, tied with several other countries, 154th out of 178 countries. The countries ranking lower were Somalia, Myanmar, Afghanistan, Iraq, Uzbekistan, Turkmenistan, Sudan, Chad, Burundi, Equatorial Guinea, Angola, Venezuela, Kyrgystan, Guinea, and the Congo. While I’m not sure what the truth behind the stampede is, I can tell you that what was shown on the state-sponsored television station seemed to be different from what was shown on the other channels, and the initial government reports seemed to be different than what has been reported by most of the large news agencies. Yet another reminder that things are, well, different here.
I was not in Phnom Penh this weekend for the Water Festival. Instead I watched the boat races, floating barges, and fireworks on TV with my family. Last night, I went to bed around 9 after watching the packed concert live from the capital city. Then today, we sat and watched on TV the aftermath of last night's stampede. All-day news coverage showed interviews with survivors and families of the deceased, government representatives visiting the bridge, and the hospitals. Everything at the hospitals. Cambodian television news, I learned today, is a fair bit more graphic than what we see in the states. They showed the many wounded lying packed into hospital hallways, placed close together on mats. They showed an interview with a survivor in the hospital ward who, between grimaces of pain, talked about what had happened to him. And they showed the dead, the bodies laid out in rows with narrow aisles between. At one location, they were outside, under an awning to protect from the midday heat as much as possible in Cambodia, and each was covered with a sheet. Another location where they have the bodies seemed to be inside, and the cameras panned over the faces in the rows, mostly young people still decked out in their party clothes. The camera crews rolled on as the families came through to identify and collect the bodies. In the background, I saw crowds of curious onlookers pressed against a fence, watching the bodies as they were wrapped and placed in caskets, then pushed three across onto waiting green trucks.
We watched through the afternoon and through dinner, too. The dishes from lunch went unwashed in the sink, an unprecedented event in my time here. I could understand little of what was said on the news all day. My host mother occasionally tried to explain in more basic words so I could get an idea. -This girl they are interviewing, her father and mother are both dead.- -They say the Prime Minister is going to give 5 million riel ($1200) to each family, money they can use to pay for the funerals.- As we saw the grieving families, she explained how they are identifying the bodies. She said that most of the people had cell phones with them. When family members call, the police, who have collected the phones, answer and inform the caller that the phone owner has died. Over and over, she just repeated ‘Ahnut nah,’ meaning roughly ‘Such a shame, such a shame.’
I couldn’t understand her explanation or the news stories about what had actually happened at the stampede. I’ve been able to read the English-language news online, but it’s clear that there are competing versions of the story being tossed around, particularly regarding the role of the police in what happened last night. To state a fact, on this year’s Corruption Perceptions Index, Transparency International scored Cambodia, tied with several other countries, 154th out of 178 countries. The countries ranking lower were Somalia, Myanmar, Afghanistan, Iraq, Uzbekistan, Turkmenistan, Sudan, Chad, Burundi, Equatorial Guinea, Angola, Venezuela, Kyrgystan, Guinea, and the Congo. While I’m not sure what the truth behind the stampede is, I can tell you that what was shown on the state-sponsored television station seemed to be different from what was shown on the other channels, and the initial government reports seemed to be different than what has been reported by most of the large news agencies. Yet another reminder that things are, well, different here.
Saturday, November 20, 2010
The 'Aha' Moment
I was sitting in my school’s office during a break between classes this week, like you do when it rains and the teacher tables are wet. As usual, the chatting between the teachers was in language well beyond my comprehension, so I was zoning. As I looked around the office, I noticed a board on which a chart had been meticulously drawn (using a ruler, it must have been, as is a favorite pastime in Cambodia). I started reading the only part of the chart I could understand – the numbers. I could also make out the words ‘students’ and ‘girls’ at the top of the columns. The rows had the grades numbered 7-12. I been told earlier that we have 1400 students at our school. As it turns out, the upper grades have many more students; probably the students from further villages attend another school until grade 9 or 10. Now, I’ve started teaching in all of the classes for grades 10-12. Only one hour a week in each, but I teach them all. That’s 18 classes – 6 grade 10, 7 grade 11, and 5 grade 12. I hadn’t really thought about the sum total, having 40-50 kids in a class. As it turns out, I have about 900 Cambodian students.
Monday, November 15, 2010
Striking things I saw today
1. Snake as roadkill. That was a first.
2. A refrigerator. I know, I know. I was shocked too. It magically appeared at my house in the middle of the afternoon. Upon questioning my host mom, it turned out that it was a gift from ‘the people who sell medicine.’ I asked if it was because my host dad is a health center director and would need it to store medicines. No, it was for buying a lot of meds to sell to people. (My parents run a bustling clinic/dispensary out of our house.) Even further conversation revealed that the drug company (?) has also given my family two motorbikes, two TVs, electric fans, a laptop for my sister, the wall clock/thermometer/calendar, 5 huge flats of Coke, 5 huge tubs of laundry soap... As it turns out, most of the valuable items in our house are swag. Oh, and there’ll be a new motorbike coming in a few months, the 2010 model. I know pharmaceutical companies in the states are pretty messed up, but I’m pretty sure it wouldn’t go over well if they went around giving doctors TVs and motorbikes. (Incidentally, the motorbike model in question is $1500, more than the base yearly salary for a full-time upper secondary teacher at my school [and, moreover, I should be clear that all of the details contained herein – salaries, compensation, etc - are considered matters of public record in Cambodia]).
3. A funeral pyre. Last week, an elderly woman who lived two doors down passed away. There have been a lot of rites surrounding her death, most of which have been mysterious to me. (I’ve been to one funeral here, but it was a three-month funeral - in Cambodia funerals consist of multiple occasions.) I heard monks chanting next door late one night, and not on a loudspeaker, which I found strange since so far I’ve only seen monks come to people’s houses for big, very public, events. I thought at the time that perhaps someone was very sick. I’m still not sure if that was immediately after she died or if they were issuing some sort of last rites. For the rest of the week, from what I saw and heard, there were lots of visitors, lots of chanting, lots of singing in a mournful/wailing voice. (Possibly professional funeral singers? My language is not advanced enough to ask about these things yet.) Today, I passed by the house and saw that the front yard was roped-off with everyone dressed in white smocks, standing in a large circle are the fire in the center. A drum was playing a steady single beat. In India, there was a special place where cremation occurred, and it was not a place that women were allowed to go. This was happening in the middle of the morning on the side of one of the busier roads in Cambodia. I didn’t want to stop and stare or start asking questions just now, but it reminded me that I still have a lot to learn about Cambodia.
2. A refrigerator. I know, I know. I was shocked too. It magically appeared at my house in the middle of the afternoon. Upon questioning my host mom, it turned out that it was a gift from ‘the people who sell medicine.’ I asked if it was because my host dad is a health center director and would need it to store medicines. No, it was for buying a lot of meds to sell to people. (My parents run a bustling clinic/dispensary out of our house.) Even further conversation revealed that the drug company (?) has also given my family two motorbikes, two TVs, electric fans, a laptop for my sister, the wall clock/thermometer/calendar, 5 huge flats of Coke, 5 huge tubs of laundry soap... As it turns out, most of the valuable items in our house are swag. Oh, and there’ll be a new motorbike coming in a few months, the 2010 model. I know pharmaceutical companies in the states are pretty messed up, but I’m pretty sure it wouldn’t go over well if they went around giving doctors TVs and motorbikes. (Incidentally, the motorbike model in question is $1500, more than the base yearly salary for a full-time upper secondary teacher at my school [and, moreover, I should be clear that all of the details contained herein – salaries, compensation, etc - are considered matters of public record in Cambodia]).
3. A funeral pyre. Last week, an elderly woman who lived two doors down passed away. There have been a lot of rites surrounding her death, most of which have been mysterious to me. (I’ve been to one funeral here, but it was a three-month funeral - in Cambodia funerals consist of multiple occasions.) I heard monks chanting next door late one night, and not on a loudspeaker, which I found strange since so far I’ve only seen monks come to people’s houses for big, very public, events. I thought at the time that perhaps someone was very sick. I’m still not sure if that was immediately after she died or if they were issuing some sort of last rites. For the rest of the week, from what I saw and heard, there were lots of visitors, lots of chanting, lots of singing in a mournful/wailing voice. (Possibly professional funeral singers? My language is not advanced enough to ask about these things yet.) Today, I passed by the house and saw that the front yard was roped-off with everyone dressed in white smocks, standing in a large circle are the fire in the center. A drum was playing a steady single beat. In India, there was a special place where cremation occurred, and it was not a place that women were allowed to go. This was happening in the middle of the morning on the side of one of the busier roads in Cambodia. I didn’t want to stop and stare or start asking questions just now, but it reminded me that I still have a lot to learn about Cambodia.
Friday, November 12, 2010
Club Sandwich
Big day yesterday - the first English club day in the history of Taing Kork Hung Sen High School. High schools in Cambodia don't really do clubs, so it really was something bizarre. I had mentioned the possibility of starting one to a co-teacher in passing conversation on my second day at school. Since then, I've been getting When? Where? What? from students every day. For a week and a half , I conducted interviews for anybody interested in joining, about 120 kids in all. Some students couldn't even write their names in English. The most advanced 5-10 students understood all of my hardest questions (things like 'What is the weather like today?' and 'What will you do after school today?'). Given the range and the number of interested parties, I was...excited. You could possibly say I was freaked out. Just a little bit. But excited too.
Anyway, about 80 or 90 of the students had free time Thursday afternoon, so I decided on 1:30 Thursdays for club time. Since I can't even buy a snut of jake (bunch of bananas) without the entire town knowing, I figured I could rely on word of mouth to get things around. I told a few of my classes and maybe a few dozen students who asked me, hoping I wouldn't be TOO inundated.
Convinced there would be 150 men, women, and small babies showing up to gawk at my little experiment, I went to school half an hour early to be ready...
1:05 - Ok. Breathe. I'm on time. Planned activities? Check. Extra bag full of books and supplies to allow for spontaneous lesson changes should my planned activities sink like a can of Anchor in a rice paddy? Check.
1:18 - Whew. Nice, I've been able to meticulously write my entire lesson on the board as neatly as possible in peace and quiet without anybody staring at me.
1:22 - Ah, nothing like some good old PC-camaraderie texting to get the mind off what is sure to be this impending clusterbumble.
1:25 - Hmm, only five minutes until class, I guess I should look outside and let people know it's ok to come in.
1:29 - Huh? Hello??
1:33 - CRAP. I hate EVERYTHING.
1:36 - 'Hi Cher!' 'Hi Cher!' 'How are you Cher?' 'Did you eat rice yet Cher?' A line of 20 students files into the room from out of nowhere, all at once. 15 more kids soon join them. What's this? A manageable class size? Students eager to participate? They can actually speak some English? And they understand me?!
You could have knocked me over with a feather.
Anyway, about 80 or 90 of the students had free time Thursday afternoon, so I decided on 1:30 Thursdays for club time. Since I can't even buy a snut of jake (bunch of bananas) without the entire town knowing, I figured I could rely on word of mouth to get things around. I told a few of my classes and maybe a few dozen students who asked me, hoping I wouldn't be TOO inundated.
Convinced there would be 150 men, women, and small babies showing up to gawk at my little experiment, I went to school half an hour early to be ready...
1:05 - Ok. Breathe. I'm on time. Planned activities? Check. Extra bag full of books and supplies to allow for spontaneous lesson changes should my planned activities sink like a can of Anchor in a rice paddy? Check.
1:18 - Whew. Nice, I've been able to meticulously write my entire lesson on the board as neatly as possible in peace and quiet without anybody staring at me.
1:22 - Ah, nothing like some good old PC-camaraderie texting to get the mind off what is sure to be this impending clusterbumble.
1:25 - Hmm, only five minutes until class, I guess I should look outside and let people know it's ok to come in.
1:29 - Huh? Hello??
1:33 - CRAP. I hate EVERYTHING.
1:36 - 'Hi Cher!' 'Hi Cher!' 'How are you Cher?' 'Did you eat rice yet Cher?' A line of 20 students files into the room from out of nowhere, all at once. 15 more kids soon join them. What's this? A manageable class size? Students eager to participate? They can actually speak some English? And they understand me?!
You could have knocked me over with a feather.
Saturday, November 6, 2010
On Living in the Fishbowl
Today I arrived at school for one of my classes to find my co-workers having a heated debate. The question at hand: how much money I had changed at the market the day before. Apparently there were competing rumors. You know how word gets out. The paps have also been keeping close tabs on how often I drink a coffee from the coffee shop. To give them some credit, that actually IS a bizarre thing, for anyone who knows me. I’ve never been a coffee drinker, but I drank a few that my host mom bought me, not wanting to be rude, I figured out that the sweetened condensed milk they put in everything actually tastes pretty good with something bitter.
I hate to be a disappointing foreigner, but my everyday life is, well, pretty average. I wake up and take a cold shower, eat some bananas, go to school, do some laundry by hand, eat some lunch, go back to school, maybe study Khmer, go exercise for half an hour, eat dinner, then maybe read a book before I go to bed. If I feel like splurging, I might add a packet of drink mix to my water.
Actually, right now I do have some pressing business. There is a particularly pesky mosquito in my room, so I’m going to go hunt the bugger down with my Peace-Corps-issue electrified bug-zapping tennis racquet. And that’s my life.
I hate to be a disappointing foreigner, but my everyday life is, well, pretty average. I wake up and take a cold shower, eat some bananas, go to school, do some laundry by hand, eat some lunch, go back to school, maybe study Khmer, go exercise for half an hour, eat dinner, then maybe read a book before I go to bed. If I feel like splurging, I might add a packet of drink mix to my water.
Actually, right now I do have some pressing business. There is a particularly pesky mosquito in my room, so I’m going to go hunt the bugger down with my Peace-Corps-issue electrified bug-zapping tennis racquet. And that’s my life.
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