Compare & Contrast

One aspect of this culture that I continually underestimate is the sense of it being a collective culture. My latest revelation is that even throwing-up can be a communal event.

The weekend before last I ate some dodgy food and spent the night vomiting. I tried not to puke too loudly so as not to disturb the rest of my family as they lounged, watched TV and then went to bed. On Sunday "dad" was preaching at a church in one of the provinces and the others had all planned to go too. I encouraged them to stick with their plans and was happy to be able to rest in a quiet house- only venturing out briefly in the late afternoon to buy lemonade from the house directly opposite ours.

Exactly one week later "mum" also ate some bad food. I was dragged awake by her extremely loud gagging, coughing and moaning. I tried to get back to sleep but noticed that my "little sister" leapt out of bed to assist. She went downstairs and I heard her slapping on her mum's back (I'm guessing to help get it all out?). I could here that "dad"was out of bed too. He was outside the bathroom offering sympathetic "oh"s, "erh"s and "tut tut tut"s between bouts. On Sunday "mum" spent the day resting on a mattress in the centre of the main living room. Somehow she slept through Cartoon Network shows dubbed in Khmer, Video Hits in a variety of languages, Khmer dramas, boxing, kickboxing and soccer matches as various family members as well as neighbourhood kids took charge of the remote throughout the day. She rested through my sisters giving her period back rubs and massaging her legs. No lemonade was given but there was ample supply of rice porridge.

I'm not sure if I'll ever become so at home here that I'll let my spewing become a family event. However, it was interesting to compare & contrast the past two weekends...

Long Story Shorter

For those who receive my email newsletters, this is a shorter version of my November news:

Last month I blogged about Big Brothers & Sisters of Cambodia. They had advertised for a Part-Time Expatriate Advisor and as soon as I heard about it seemed like a dream job. The great news is that I’m now living the dream!

Big Brothers & Sisters of Cambodia sees Christian young people putting their faith in practice by being matched up with one orphaned little brother or sister from their local community.

The concept is simple:

Big Brothers and Sisters form themselves into groups of between five and ten young people, normally through their church youth group. Big Brothers & Sisters of Cambodia provides training and then each Big Brother or Sister is matched up with one orphaned little brother or sister from their local community.

The Big Brothers and Sisters commit to visit their orphan at least once a week. During this visit, the Big Brother or Big Sister encourages, listens, plays, prays, eats with the orphan. As a group, the Big Brothers and Sisters also meet regularly and have a fun outing all together once a month. Camps are held on annual basis.

Such a movement has begun in Phnom Penh and with the establishment of Big Brothers & Sisters of Cambodia (BBSC) this year the hope is to see it spread country-wide. Just three months ago, a Cambodian national named Ono was appointed as BBSC Coordinator.

Ono’s role is firstly to spread the vision, to provide training and information for interested participants and to provide ongoing encouragement to inspire the Big Brothers and Sisters in Cambodia. My role is to mentor, help and guide Ono in his job.

Am I excited? You bet!

Quote 4 The Day

In the beginning we were happy.
And we were always excessive.
So in the beginning we were happy to excess.

Sean Wisley- Oh The Glory Of It

Trouble with the law...

This morning I was in trouble for riding my bike the wrong way down a one-way street. I knew my shortcut was officially against the road rules and that I was at fault (never mind the half a dozen people I'd seen do exactly the same thing...) The police officer stopped me and I started my Khmer speaking exercise, "Yes, I see the sign. I'm sorry, sir. Now I know clearly. I'm sorry."

As I was about to ride off again, the police officer yelled, "No sorry! Stop here. You have to pay a fine of ten dollars." I wanted to say, "You are so dreaming buddy!" but it is a good thing I don't know how to say that in Khmer so I had to just shut up for a bit.

Perhaps five minutes later he came back with an offer of a five dollar fine or a trip to the station. I asked about the location of the police station and for how many days they usually confiscate a bike in this kind of situation. He told me. I waited some more.

About ten minutes later he dropped his price again, "Two dollars fifty. You pay and you can go."
I still thought this was a bit steep so I decided to wait it out. Another ten minutes passed and the police officer approached me again. The conversation took a rather different turn:

Police: Are you American?
Me: No.
Police: Australian?
Me: Yes.
Police: You can speak Khmer?
Me: A little. I'm studying.
Police: Do you have a boyfriend?
Me: No.
Police: Do you want to have a boyfriend?
Me: No.
Police: Can I have your mobile phone number?
Me: No, I'm sorry sir.
Police: Don't you want to get to know me?
Me: I cannot. I don't think my family would be very happy.
Police: Oh. So you cannot come to a special restaurant with me?
Me: I cannot.
Police: Cannot?
Me: Cannot.
Police: OK- you can go then.

Friday Nights

I've started helping out with a Junior High Youth Group (run in cooperation with the International Churches in PP). The Calling meets twice a month on Friday nights. It has been two years since I've been involved on a regular basis with teenagers but I still love it!

Most of the guys who come have already made some kind of profession of faith. Almost all of them have parents who are strong Christians and some go to a Christian school. They listen amazingly well and play together well. They aren't perfect but overall they are a really easy-to-like, fun group. I hope that I can be another positive influence in their lives as they transition from a child's faith to increasing maturity. I hope that as they meet with students from different churches their appreciation for a variety Christian beliefs and practices will grow. I hope that this group will help families enjoy living in Cambodia and that parents will be able to fulfill their Callings here too.

When I was asked about what kinds of ways I would like to help out I said, "the talks"! It is great to be able to meditate on an idea from Scripture and then try to express that in a way that a 12 year old can understand and apply to their lives. It refreshes me as I prepare and teach.

Last Friday night we were looking at the topic of humility. The thing I wanted to focus on in the talk was that we can be humble (in Khmer this word is literally to lower ourselves) when we know that God has already raised us up. When God reveals our own value we can be free from constantly comparing ourselves to other people, from thinking that life is just one big competition and from the driving need to impress others. We can be free to consider others needs, to serve and to choose to put them first.

The students were all sitting on chairs and mats on the floor. To conclude the teaching time I went around and lifted each one up by the hand as a symbol of how God lifts them up. To each student I said something along the lines of, "God really values you. There's nothing God wouldn't do for you. God lifts you up to become his friend." Following this I gave a shorter exhortation, "So, when you get the chance, humble yourself." In response the students gave a short bow to symbolise their willingness to look for opporunities to serve others. I had this idea during the week but I wasn't sure if this would take too long or if it would sound cheesy. But I decided on Friday night to do this symbolic prayer anyway... I think the students liked it and I loved having the opportunity to take each of them by the hand and spend a few seconds speaks words of truth into their lives. Woo hoo!

...so why not in Cambodia?

There has been some press in one of the local English language newspapers this week about two rather disturbing websites. It seems as though a foreigner has begun offering his services to help other expats who want to kill themselves do so in Cambodia.

One of the websites (www.euthanasiaincambodia.com) starts off with this promise:

Euthanasia, defined as a Peaceful and Painless Death, is not Illegal in Cambodia.

It continues:
If You are Considering Taking Control of Your Life by Choosing the Time, Place, and Manner of Your Death Then I Would Like to Recommend that You Visit Cambodia.

Then comes the first mention of what becomes a constant refrain:
You are going to die anyway, so why not in Cambodia?

In case there is room for confusion, the site continues:
Let me make myself clear. I am not advocating for your death...I believe it is your life and that you are responsible for it. If all you want to do is kill yourself, do it at home. I am offering you an alternative end-of-life experience... I will help you to visit local Buddhist monasteries and pagodas. I will help you to find the right place for you to be cremated and I will see to the dispersal of your ashes. I will contact the police and they will contact the embassy. I will do this at your instruction which you will make in writing. I will do whatever it is that is necessary, within the law and my own comfort level, for you to have a satisfying end-of-life experience. I am a guide on the way to death.

Another random line highlighted on the site reads:
Wouldn't you rather die in the arms of 26 Vestal Virgins? I would!

Sadly, the law in Cambodia does seem to be vague on whether Euthanasia is legal or not. However, I'd agree with the US Embassy spokesperson who is reported to have said, "We think there has been too much death and destruction in Cambodia already..."

Smiling At Strangers

An Australian visitor reminded me yesterday of one of the great things about being in Cambodia. She noticed that if she smiled at a stranger, they smiled back.

A couple of weeks ago I was riding my bicycle home from a language session when an old truck overtook. The back of the truck was down and goods were stacked high on top of the container as well as inside. Young guys, with shirts worn through by days of toil, perched above me. Inside the darkened container, I saw the sacks had been arranged to make room for a group of old women. They were all dressed in classic "country" uniforms- sarongs and long-sleeved blouses with checked scarved wound skillfully around their heads. I couldn't help but smile.

One of the women noticed and returned my smile. As the truck grunted, shook, kicked up dust, ground gears and rumbled pask, the distance between the old lady and me grew. Yet, as the distance grew, so did our smiles.... until I was left grinning at nothing at all but the gift of living in this city of contagious smiles.