Why I Prefer the Village People

And this has nothing to do with the YMCA.

Obviously, my host family lives in a village. I live in a village. With my host family. I love my host family. I can talk for hours with my brother and sister about anything and everything. However, when my EXTENDED host family comes to visit, my comfort changes.

My host brother’s parents (thus making them my parents as well) grew up in the villages, but have lived in a beautiful apartment in Phnom Penh for a long time now. My father is a well-educated man with a decent grasp of the English language. He used to work in some sort of control tower, aiding the American Air Force. Also in their Phnom Penh Apartment lives 2 of my parents’ grandchildren, who are all grown up already. One of them is 24 and is married with 2 children. The other is maybe 20 years old and is a university student. The granddaughter and her husband are also very highly educated. She works in a bank in Phnom Penh, but I’m not sure what her husband does. They do very well for themselves, are very comfortable with English, and are able to cater to their childrens’ every desire (and I mean EVERY). The grandson also boasts good English and a top-notch, expensive education. Actually the only one who can’t speak English in this house is my mother. She just enjoys repeating the few words she hears over and over again, with nearly unreckognizable pronunciation. Anyway, this entire family really is a group of wonderful, intelligent, and generous people. They are welcoming and friendly and beautiful people.

But. (you knew there was a but).

Why do I find myself groaning when I hear their voices, indicating their arrival? It took me a few months, but I was finally able to put my finger on what was happening here.

I have found that when I talk to more well-off Khmer people (and this extends to beyond just my family), I get talked AT instead of talked to. The high-class Khmer’s are just as excited to talk to me as the villagers are, but for different reasons. Their interest in me as a foreigner is limited. After all, they’ve seen plenty of foreigners in Phnom Penh. Instead, it’s more like an opportunity to show off. Sometimes it’s simple, like they will announce every move I make and every thing I do in English, just to show they have the vocabulary. Sometimes it’s more complicated. They will sit me down and rattle on about stuff I already know. I’ve been lectured by well-off Khmer about my own country on numerous occasions. They’ll lecture me about history, health, culture, science, etc. But these are not conversations. I’m not allowed to add anything. My role is to sit and listen, and be amazed by the wisdom coming at me. It seems like they feel they need to prove that they can be better than a foreigner. And sometimes that comes in different ways than proving intelligence. Sometimes they boast to me about their riches and all the trinkets they can afford. The washing machine, the beautiful house, the toys from America, the designer clothes. Omg the CLOTHES. The 24 year old dresses so nice, just like you would expect a cute Asian city girl to. She’s got little sundresses, shorts and fancy blouses, and all kinds of other things. And that’s what she wears when she comes to visit in the village. It’s like she’s going against her own culture. Look around you, no one else is wearing shorts above the knee. But anyway, the only thing that bugs me about this is that I always get compared to her. The sentence usually goes “wow, she’s wearing foreign clothes and looks beautiful! Much more beautiful than the actual foreigner. Why doesn’t Diana dress like that? She doesn’t know how.”

So, to sum up that last paragraph, I often don’t enjoy quality time with rich Khmer folk. Actually, interestingly enough, my favorite person who lives in that house is their servant.

On the other hand, we have the village people. Village people want to talk WITH me. They want to talk about the weather, food, family matters, work, pop culture, politics, travel, etc. They want to have NORMAL conversations. They actually want to get to know me. AND they want me to get to know them. They want to talk about Cambodia and America and other countries. They want to tell me what they know, and hear what I know.

I guess I just connect better with village people. As crazy as it seems, maybe we have more in common in some ways. I’m just glad I have a good number of friends here who treat me like a real person. I can’t say that I really like being put down in order to make others feel better about themselves.

This blog seems very negative. I didn't mean that. Let me try to word this differently.

I love that I live and work here in this rural village.

A quick work update: summer classes are finished and went well, particularly my beginner and pre-intermediate class.

The last month or so, I’ve been spend hours and hours every day working in the library. Things are finally starting to come together there. Money has been spent. Books have been purchased. They are organized and in their shelves, waiting for the students to read them. But there’s still a lot to do. Library cards need to be created, the room needs to be furnished with tables and desks, and most importantly, staff needs to be trained on running the library.

Classes supposedly start on Tuesday. I don’t plan on starting until the following week. I want to let the teachers and students get settled in their classes before I figure out my own schedule. Also, I will need that time in the library.

Sorry for the sudden decrease in blog output. I mentioned the hours and hours I spent in the library. Well, It’s true. I've been soooo busy and completely immersed in this project. Even in my DREAMS I’m working in the library.

Cambodia doesn't have McDonalds or Burger King or any of those. Lucky Burger is as good as it gets. And after a while at site, it is BEYOND good.

One of these trees is my favorite. Can you guess which one?

sunset

I went away for a weekend, and this is what my floor looks like when I return. (Hint, that's rat poop)

You can kinda see in the distance the chaos that happens down the road at the factory when the girls arrive at work.

Cars lie in Cambodia. A lot.

spider.

Before the painting of the world map happened, I sat in my room with crayons and did this!

This.. was a good day.

Emily the Tukay Lizard. He's about a foot long, and lives with me in my bedroom.

7 Reasons Why I'm NOT Leaving the Peace Corps

            I wrote an entire blog post on reasons why I want to go home. When I started writing it, I didn’t know that’s what it would turn into, but it did. Then I read it through, and deleted it right away. You know why? Because going home is not the decision I made.

            Recently I was talking to my Mom on the phone and trying to explain how I’ve been feeling the last few weeks. It’s really hard to explain, even to someone who understands me as much as my mom. I told her that Peace Corps is not a one-time decision. Peace Corps is a decision you make every. single. morning. Every day I wake up and I need to decide whether or not to stay. Now, of course some days this decision is incredibly easy that I barely think about it. But there are some days, weeks, and even months, where every day this question weighs heave on my heart, as it has the last few weeks.

            Before I go on, I want to remind people that leaving the Peace Corps is not really quitting. It’s just being brave enough to realize that either the job is not for you at this point in your life, or that the job is completed before the clock ran out. In the past few months there have been a few fellow PCVs who have made this decision, and written eloquent blog posts stating their sound reasons. So, in their style, I am creating this blog post.

            Why I’m NOT leaving the Peace Corps.

1. My job is not done. I am in the middle of this big library project, and things are even moving along as of now. And, although the numbers are fewer than I would like, I do have a few students who are really dedicated to learning English. In October when the school year starts, I will likely meet more. I am also in the planning stages of the second annual Create Cambodia Arts Festival, and there are whispers of a Girls Empowerment workshop for my province. I am part of a team creating a whole new curriculum and textbook series for the entire student body of Public School Cambodia to study English with. There are still things to be done here. Many of them could be done without me I realize, but I would be honored to be a part of it all.
2. My students. I mentioned above the handful of students who are dedicated learners. Well, they are also very dedicated to me. They are very much like younger siblings to me. I promised these kids 2 years and darn it, I’m gonna give it to them. A strange thing happened once I hit the 1 year mark. For certain students, I started seeing the imminent goodbye when I looked in their faces. It came on strong, strong enough to make me choke up a little. I know I’m way early for that, but I can’t pretend it’s not going to happen, that it’s not going to be final, and that it’s not going to be really really hard. I’m not ready for that goodbye yet.
3. Realistically, there’s nothing for me to rush home to. For a week or two things would seem perfect. I’d be right where I belong, surrounded by all my friends and family, but after a short time, life would go on. Friends and family would go back to their lives, and right now I don’t even have a life in America. I don’t have a job, any job prospects, or even really any idea of what I want to do. For at least a few months, I’d be keeping the couch warm, trying to figure out how this is better than sitting in Cambodia (aside from the comfy cushioning and temperate climate).
4. They asked me to stay. About 2 weeks ago, my oldest brother and also the Deputy School Director came to my house to visit with the family. Somehow, we began talking about my departure date in a year. He asked me what I was going to do afterwards. I told him I didn’t know. Then, he said one of the most loving things I’ve ever heard come out of his mouth. He asked me to stay. He told me I’m basically Khmer anyway. I speak the language, I know the customs, and I already have a built-in family. He said he could help me get a permanent job at the school, and he knows that the students and the community would be so ready to give me a great salary to teach private English classes. He said that marrying would be no problem for me, and I’d always have a home here. Of course I had to tell him that I couldn’t stay. But still, him asking meant a lot. Peace Corps applicants might be surprised to find out that in the Peace Corps, you can give everything you have from your time, to your expertise, and even to part of your own living allowance to your projects, but no one ever thanks you. I don’t expect thank yous, especially at this point, but this was probably the closest thing I’ve had to a thank you, and it felt even better.
5. I still have more to learn. I’m not so naive as to say that I know all there is to know about this country and these people. I am still learning about the language, the culture, the systems in place, the history, etc. The learning is much slower than when I first arrived, where on a bad day I learned 5 Khmer words a day. Now, if I’m lucky, I’ll learn 5 new words in a month. But still, it’s progress, and I do value everything I’ve learned about this country.
6. On the same thought process, I’m still learning more about ME and I’m still changing for what I believe is the better. Every day my patience is tested by people, time, the weather, and everything. Every day I’m forced to practice independence beyond what I ever thought I was capable of. I am constantly practicing forgiveness, grappling with my self esteem, considering creative alternative solutions, and doing my best to exemplify professionalism in a country where that trait is much less valued. And I’d be an idiot to say that I’m always successful at doing these things. Another year of practice might do me good.
7. The last reason is pretty simple. Regret. I don’t think I will regret staying. But if I leave, I think deep down I would always regret that decision. I don’t want to live with that. So this is for future Diana, to be regret free.

So far, the Peace Corps has given me the highest of highs and the lowest of lows and everything in between. In the blink of an eye, everything can change to the opposite of whatever yesterday was. Very often, I have not been in the driver seat of my own experience, but just sort of along for the ride, trying to grab hold of the steering wheel. Today, things may seem bleak, but who knows? Maybe tomorrow I'll be riding along as happy as a dog with my head out the window.

Besides, who would want a predictable life anyway. Not me.

Participating in the morning ceremonies of a wedding.

Traditional Khmer clothes.

We march down the street carrying gifts of fruit and Khmer cakes.

I let my sister dress me up for a wedding party. Oh, and I win at farmers tan.

The beginnings of the new library.

We took all the garbage, broken desks, and other useless things that were in there, and cleaned it up as best as we could.

And then started painting.

The students did most of the work.

Colors were chosen by my counterpart, Lina.

Half of the room is yellow.

We painted a green trim.

And the other side of the room blue.

Finished