Fear Of Falling

"Fear of falling comes through inexperience" said the advertising slogan for a bungy jumping company in Northern Thailand. After my second motorbike stack today I'm starting to believe it. Falling is something I'd like to try to avoid but when it happens I figure I should at least try to fall well.

The first time I came off my motorbike was due to some eejut on wheels coming down the wrong side of the street at night. We had a head-on collision but I somehow landed on my feet. No damage.

Yesterday I was trying to avoid another crash. A motorbike came flying towards me from a side street and I felt sure that were were about to have an accident. So I put on the brakes. Not so luckily for me it was just outside a building site. The wind had scattered piles of sand across the street and I hit the brakes right on one of them. I skidded and before I could regain control knew that the bike was going down. I flipped over the front and did a rather stunning commando roll in the middle of the intersection. The bike suffered just one smashed indicator cover, which was replaced on the way home for 50 cents. When I got home I surveyed the damage to my body. Nothing dramatic. There's just some slight grazing on one leg and half a dozen sexy blue bruises.

It hurts a little but I'm getting some great experience in falling.

Ten Things

This post on Maggie Dawn's blog made me giggle. Thought I'd let you in on the laugh:

Top Ten Reasons Why Men Should Not Be Ordained

10. A man's place is in the army.
9. For men who have children, their duties might distract them from the responsibilities of being a parent.
8. Their physical build indicates that men are more suited to tasks such as chopping down trees and wrestling mountain lions. It would be "unnatural" for them to do other forms of work.
7. Man was created before woman. It is therefore obvious that man was a prototype. Thus, they represent an experiment, rather than the crowning achievement of creation.
6. Men are too emotional to be priests or pastors. This is easily demonstrated by their conduct at football games and watching basketball tournaments.
5. Some men are handsome; they will distract women worshipers.
4. To be ordained pastor is to nurture the congregation. But this is not a traditional male role. Rather, throughout history, women have been considered to be not only more skilled than men at nurturing, but also more frequently attracted to it. This makes them the obvious choice for ordination.
3. Men are overly prone to violence. No really manly man wants to settle disputes by any means other than by fighting about it. Thus, they would be poor role models, as well as being dangerously unstable in positions of leadership.
2. Men can still be involved in church activities, even without being ordained. They can sweep paths, repair the church roof, and maybe even lead the singing on Father's Day. By confining themselves to such traditional male roles, they can still be vitally important in the life of the Church.
1. In the New Testament account, the person who betrayed Jesus was a man. Thus, his lack of faith and ensuing punishment stands as a symbol of the subordinated position that all men should take.

Just checking....

Last Thursday night, 2-year-old Emma pulled me up and asked, "Pip- do you know that I love you?"

What a gem of a question! I've been trying it out on people over the weekend. Some have replied very matter-of-factly: "Yes, I know." Some looked shocked initially but then grinned. One friend sent me a text message in reply that read, "I did not know that you loves [sic.] me too. Thank you!"

Awesome! So many MOJ's from this one simple question.

In Brief...

Two thousand cannabis plants were torched in Kampong Thom on Tuesday. According to the Cambodia Daily it is not illegal to plant cannabis for personal consumption (e.g. 4-10 plants is OK). But the punishment for getting busted with 2 000 little trees? The three owners were not arrested but "educated that the product of the plant, marijuana, was illegal". They had to promise never to plant such a large crop again.

Rethinking the M word

I had to do a word association test as part of a psychological evaluation before being accepted to come and work in Cambodia. I'm sure it showed I'm not terribly religious. Next to the word lamb I wrote roast...mint sauce. For the word cross I wrote something like the road and hot cross buns.

When I think about the word mission my associations are very positive. I think about a compelling purpose and a grand adventure. Why then does the word missionary make me think social misfit and neo-colonialist? When I try to picture missionaries I think of some blue-eyed Americans who live in a simple but spacious home with their 3.2 children and do some kinds of vague but noble, well-intentioned good works. Recognising that this over-simplified stereotype still dances in my subconscious, I figure it is time to rethink the M word.

1. Missionaries. Sent Ones.

Too often I think of this sent-ness in purely organisational terms. I have in mind the long-term/ professional/ career missionaries who go through a lengthy process of selection, training, deputation and commissioning that can stretch over many years. While all these things may be necessary, thinking about sent-ness can be as simple as grasping this one verse that Jesus spoke as a prayer to our Father-

"As you sent me into the world, I am sending them into the world." (John 17:18)

What does this mean? It means that God's purpose for mission isn't at a distance. As Graham (one of the Pastors at the International Church I attend on Sunday afternoons) reminded us yesterday, "It is mission close-up and personal...It is engaging with real people in real relationships in real contexts." To do that we are simply required to deny our own agendas and follow as apprentices of the Master. More fundamentally than HR logistics, this is what it means to be sent.

2. Missionaries. Pushed Ones.

As I've just stated, the sending out of God's co-labourers and friends must not be thought of only in organisational terms. It is a calling from God to follow the Master through the enabling of the Spirit. I wonder if the Spirit sends as much by pushing as He does by quiet invitation!

In his book "A Time for Mission" Samuel Escobar points out that missionaries are a mixed bag. There are those who come with material, financial, educational and technical resources that are often far above the community they enter. Then there are "the little ones" who come "from below". Sometimes they are pushed from their countries- by war, persecution or disaster. Sometimes they are pulled by work or educational opportunities. So, we find in the mix of missionaries the refugees, the migrants, the students and the poor...and the blue-eyed Americans.

3. Missionaries. Desperate Ones.

Sometimes I wish I could be one of those "little ones" who comes "from below". I sometimes pretend for a few moments when I'm washing my clothes by hand in a bucket that I am one of the powerless I'm trying to understand. But then a few hours later when my clothes are dry I'll take some of them to change into when I do my session at the air-conditioned gym that costs me as much per month as many Cambodian people receive for their entire salary. Not wanting to be always seen as one who comes "from above", perhaps the best I can hope for is to come "alongside".

Although in many ways I'm rich, I seek the same empowering, dynamism, dynamite of the Spirit that compels those who have nothing but faith to go. It is this same Spirit who beats in my chest, compelling me to stay, live, proclaim, serve, seek transformation, worship and pray....because He has made me desperate. It starts small. Graham asked us last night, "How small was the Kingdom of God at the beginning?" He answered, "As small as a baby in a manger." I believe in this Kingdom growth of the mustard seed. I believe our small parts are directed by the conductor of history. I want to see the future reflected in the present. To stand and say with the bride of Christ, "Come, Lord Jesus, Come."

how curious

I've just come from the Hope School International's performance of Alice in Wonderland. Some of the Junior High School crew I hang out with on Friday nights were playing leading roles. All of the youth leaders were there to watch and clap. It was fun.

I caught up with seventh grade "Alice" before the show. After our initial greetings the conversation went-

Me: So, are you nervous?
Alice: No. I've done this kind of stuff heaps before.
Me: OK. But you don't ever get a little bit nervous?
Alice: No. I love it. I was destined for the stage.
Me: Yeah?
Alice: Uh-huh. See, first I'm going to be an actor, then a writer...or maybe a concert pianist. Then, after that I might become an interior designer.
Me: Sounds cool. Hey, Alice, could you sign my program?
Alice: Seriously?
Me: Yep. Because I'm sure you will be busy after the show and...
Alice: Are you serious?
Me: Yeah...and I want to get your autograph before you are famous.

So Alice took the pen I offered and wrote:

Dear Pip
ur so embarrassing!

(Awww! Maybe..but Alice- I know you secretly love it!!)

International Women's Day

International Women's Day is a public holiday in Cambodia. I exercised my right to sleep in this morning and my right to have a nap after lunch. Actually, despite the fact that it is now 6pm, I feel as though I haven't really woken up all day. I blame it on a cold/ fever that has been hanging around for the past week.

I was hoping to do a bit of research on this day about women's issues...starting with seeing how Cambodia is doing on the MDG's (Millennium Development Goals)... especially goal 8:

Promote gender equality and empower women:
* Eliminate gender disparity in primary and secondary education preferaably by 2005, and at all levels by 2015

But at this stage I am having some troublems tying to spell words like Millennium. Maybe another time...

Thai Trade

Coming across the phrase "to buy through exchange" last week led to an interesting chat with my tutor about the use of bartering in Cambodia. On Saturday, I was surprised to read that Thailand seems to favour this kind of trade too.

In the weekend Cambodia Daily there was an article about an exhibition in Singapore for military equipment. The article stated that Thailand was in the market for 12-18 jetfighters but preferred to pay with a combination of money, frozen chickens, shrimp and other agricultural products. How many frozen chooks for a fighter plane I wonder?!

more English language confusion....

I was stopped on the street by a keen English student yesterday. He had just taken the ticket from my bike when he asked me to wait because he had a question. I waited. He turned over the small bit of paper and wrote:

"lady killer = girl hunter?"

Hmmm....not quite....

Chapter 14: A Visit To The Countryside

I didn't particularly like reading Jane Austen set texts in High School. I was too impatient. But there is something about the slower pace of life in Cambodia that often makes me think- "Right now I'm living a chapter of a Jane Austen novel." Here we don't rush from one event to the next. The typical sequence is as follows: 1. the build-up before the event, 2. the event itself (which usually contains a) a minor drama b) interesting character vignettes and c) possible romances) followed by 3. the debrief/ post-event gossip.

Last Saturday we went for a trip to the countryside. Vee's* family home is in a small, picturesque village. She needed to visit to pick up a motorbike her parents had bought for her and we decided to make a day of it.

The Build-Up

On Friday night Vee picked out her favourite top, her coolest pair of jeans and her funky, pink, low-healed shoes for the event. We discussed how many motorbikes we'd take and who would travel together. I had already offered my moto and a tank of petrol so it was decided that one of the guys who was coming with us would ride and I should sit on the back. The night before, Vee was so excited she couldn't sleep more than a couple of hours. At 4am she switched on the florescent light at around 4am and started getting ready for the day. I was determined to continue sleeping for as long as possible. It wasn't until just after 6am when I was woken again by Vee tapping my arm saying, "Big sister, big sister, get up. Have a shower and get ready! We need to go to the market early today."

Soon after 7am Vee disappeared into one of the bigger food markets in Phnom Penh while I sat out the front minding the bike and waiting for her return. We lugged the food and gifts home and spent the next couple of hours washing and chopping the food then putting it all back into plastic bags for the journey. The guys arrived and at 10am our group of eight people was ready to go. We climbed onto the little motos with 50cc engines and started down the dusty, pot-holed, under-construction-in-parts "highway".

The Event

About 50km from Phnom Penh one of the moto's broke down. I don't know exactly what the problem was since my driver had sped ahead- testing the limits of the 60km per hour speedo whenever possible. We stopped at a roadside stall and waited for the others to catch up. As we got closer to the village it was time to shop for the last minute supplies. Our moto carried a block of ice on the front while I carried about 10kg of water in one arm, using my free arm to grip the seat. The dirt road turned into what I would have previously called a mountain bike trail and then became a hiking track. My driver didn't see any need to slow down.

We arrived at the village and greeted the parents, grandmother, aunts, uncles and small children who had gathered. We cooked the food outside using a wok and a wood-fueled stove. We sat inside on the cool, tiled floor and feasted. Vee and I shared a can of beer. We wandered around the village inspecting the cows, pigs and chickens. Small children burst into tears and ran to their parents when they saw a foreigner approaching. I attempted conversation with the elderly, toothless, beetle-nut chewing grandmother. Vee taught Jasmine* how to use the net to catch fish in the dam. After an hour or so she had caught around ten edible-sized fish.

On the way home we had one extra moto so it wasn't necessary for everyone to share motos. Would any of the guys and girls choose to ride together again for the two-hour homeward journey? Would they take the opportunity to flirt a little or would they just ride in silence? Would the girls observe what clues can be gained about the character of the guys by how they ride? Would they hold onto the seat behind them in the bumpy sections or would they see the need to hold onto the guy's shoulder for some stability? (Such are important questions for budding romances in contemporary Khmer culture...)

The Debrief

We returned home at just after 7pm and I was ready to take a shower and go out again. The couple of friends I called had already made plans for the evening but now I'm glad I was at home for the debrief. We said goodbye to the guys and a little later the fish was cooked for dinner. We ate slowly. The events of the day were remembered, interpreted and (in some cases) re-enacted. The strange ways of the foreigner were a particular feature in the dramatic re-enactments. Most of the girls took it in turn to express how tired they were. However, their sore butts, backs, arm and legs in no way diminished their capacity to laugh together or propelled any of them to bed before the rather late (for Cambodia) hour of 10:30pm.

I can't say that I've ready any more Jane Austin classics recently but I am warming to the pace.

* Nicknames used.