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.