My Sister is Knocked Up

            People who have talked to me in the past 2 months would know that my sister is pregnant. Yup. Knocked up. I’ve had lots of fun conversations with her about it. I think this might make for somewhat of an interesting blog topic. Note: All conversations were in the Khmer language, and have been translated into American English and American slang below (while keeping all important Khmer wordings).

            I first found out actually from my neighbor. My neighbor and my sister were talking, and I was upstairs hanging my laundry. The neighbor screamed up at me “heeeey! Guess what! You’re sister has a baby in her belly!” It was one of those moments where I understood quite clearly what she said, but I pretended I didn’t because I had no idea how to respond. So I just kinda made awkward noises and was like… what? So she repeated.

Neighbor: Your sister has a baby in her belly.

Sister: No I don’t.

*Then my sister walked inside in embarrassment for a quick second.*

Neighbor: It’s true, she has a baby. Ask her.

*Sister comes back*

Me: Sister, do you have a baby in your belly?

Sister: ….. I…don’t…. know…..

Me: What do you mean you don’t know?

Sister: My period is 5 days late…

Neighbor: See? What’d I tell yah. Knocked up.

Well, this was gonna change everything! For like a week or two I was in like shock. I asked her every week “so, do ya have your period yet??” I don’t know squat about babies. And my sister already works way too hard. Add a baby to the mix, and I’m just gonna feel too bad. She is not going to let me help her with chores and stuff. The baby is just gonna pee everywhere (in Cambodia, the world is a baby’s diaper). I was super dramatic about it and whined to my mother about it on the phone.

My sister’s reaction was actually quite similar to my own. She told me before she told her husband. Apparently it is Khmer belief that if a pregnant woman eats spicy foods, she will abort the baby. That night, she must have eaten like 15 raw chili peppers. She kept telling her husband how hungry she was for spicy foods, and asking him to buy her some.

Sister: Wow, I am SO hungry for spicy food. I don’t even want to eat rice, I just want to eat spicy. Diana, remember that really spicy thing we ate once?

Me: what? No…
Sister: Remember? We went to the Wat to watch a play, and we ate that spicy thing.

Me: Oh yeah.

Sister: THAT’S what I want to eat. Will you get it for me husband?

Brother: no.

She continued to eat spicy foods for a few days. Finally, the opportune moment came up, and I asked her about it.

Me: Sister, do you want to have a baby?

Sister: ehh… no. Having a baby is really hard. I will be very busy.

Me: I know. I want to tell you that if you do have a baby (we still weren’t sure at this point), I want to help around the house. Don’t be afraid to ask me for help. I could wash dishes and sweep the floors and…

Sister: you don’t know how.

Me: Yes I do! I’ve told you this already! In America, I washed dishes all the time. We didn’t have a machine until I was in College!

Sister: okay. But I won’t ask you.

            Eventually she stopped eating spicy foods, and told her husband that she suspected she was pregnant. One day when I came home for lunch, she told me it was confirmed, she is indeed preggers.

Sister: I’m going to have a baby, and it’s a boy.

Me: Oh yeah? How do you know that?

Sister: The fortune teller told me.

Me: *stifling a laugh* oh good, well at least we know now.

            About a week later, I came home for lunch again, and before I could sit at the table my sister stopped me and shoved a pregnancy test in my face.

Sister: Do you recognize this?

Me: Yes, I know what that is. Did you use it already?

Sister: Already.

Me: *takes a closer looks* Well, you’re pregnant.

Sister: yeah. Is this a good pregnancy test?

Me: I don’t know! But I’m pretty sure it’s right.

(She is always asking me to read the boxes of medicines and make-up and lotion that she buys so I can tell her if it’s good quality or not)

            Now that I knew for sure she was pregnant, I figured I should probably make sure she’s keeping the right nutrition. Especially since she was feeling so nauseous every morning and barely eating anything.

Sister: I want to throw up.

Me: You should try to eat.

Sister. What is good for me to eat?

Me: Fruits and vegetables are always good. And milk.

Sister: I know.

Me: And you should stop drinking coffee and coke.

Sister: okay.

Me: You should eat protein, so try to get some meat in.

Sister: No, the doctor said I should eat fish. Fish is really good for pregnant women.

Me: What? What doctor? You didn’t go to a doctor.
Sister: He said I should eat fish forever.

Me: That’s all you eat anyway!
Sister: That’s right. So it’s good for the baby.

            On another occasion I was hanging out (sit playing, as they call it) with my sister, and she confided this in me

Sister: I don’t want my baby to be black.

Me: Your baby will be beautiful like you.

Sister: Yes but my husband is black. I don’t want my baby to look like my husband. I want it to be white and look like you.

Me: *awkward laugh*

Sister: The ladies at the market told me the baby will look like you.

Me: Why?

Sister: Because you live here. So the baby will have a long nose and white skin.

Me: I… don’t think that’s how these things work.

Sister: So the baby won’t look like you?

Me: no. The baby will look like you and your husband, and the baby will be smart and beautiful.

            Most recently, I was sitting at the dinner table with my whole family. They were all speaking in rapid Khmer. Usually when I do that, I completely tune it out and eat dinner in what is usually much needed silence. But this time, I heard bits and pieces, and I just had to interject.

Me: Sister, are you saying that you have stopped drinking coke because you are afraid it will make your baby black?

Sister: Yes, and I need to drink a lot of soy bean milk to make it white.

Me: uh..huh.. and who told you this?

Sister: the market ladies.

Me: right… and are they health workers?

Sister: no. Why, is it not right?

Me: HAHA NO! That’s not true at all! don’t listen to them! I mean, you shouldn’t drink coke for the same reason you shouldn’t drink coffee, but coke won’t make your baby black!
Family: LOL

Me: You’re eating a lot of chili peppers over there. Are you going to have a red baby?

Family: LOL

Me: And how about your favorite drink, the green Mirinda? You know, if you drink that you’re baby is going to be green!

Family: LOL

Sister: hey! She knows how to make fun of me!

Family: LOL

            Now it is a running joke in my family. Every time she eats something particularly colorful, I tell her what is going to become of her baby. I’ve also upped the ante a bit to include smells. I told her if she keeps eating stinky food, her baby is going to be really stinky, to which she laughed and replied that it’s okay, she’ll just give her baby a bath.

            Now that she is over 2 months pregnant, the whole family has kind of gotten used to the idea. I would even say we could approach excited as we get closer. Well, excited in a completely different way. Having a baby isn’t like in America. It’s not as big of a deal. But we’ll be excited for Cambodian standards.

            She did eventually go to the Health Center for a check-up. The Health Worker gave her vitamins and told her she is due in October.

            I’m sure there will be tons more awesome conversations with my sister about it. Just wait til she actually has the baby! Did you know that in Cambodia, when a woman gives birth, they cook the mother? Quite literally, they wrap the mother up really tightly, put her on a wooden bed, and then set a fire under her. But maybe at that point I won’t be having witty conversations with my sister about pregnancy superstitions. Maybe I’ll just be there with like 500 liters of water making her drink every two seconds.

Here are some pre-pregnancy pictures from a day trip the three of us took to Kampong Cham a few months back:

Me and my Sister

Brother and Sister, husband and wife. These are the stairs to the top of Phnom Srei

Phnom Srei means girl mountain. There is also a "man mountain" but the girl mountain is taller. The khmer folk tale says that the men and women had a contest to see who could build a taller mountain before the sun came up. The women tricked the men into thinking the sun was coming up, and while the men were resting, the women continued working and won the contest when sun actually did come up.

At the top. After stopping every 5 steps so that my sister (in high heels) and my brother (the smoker) could take a breathing rest.

The view.

Of course, there is a pagoda at the top. This is a list of donators to bulding the wat, I believe.

My brother in front of an ancient temple

Exploring the ancient temple.

We need YOU!! How YOU can help ME help THEM!

This blog is about my two biggest projects at the moment, and how YOU can help!

First, let me tell you about my library.

When I first came to site, my co-teachers gave me the quick layout of the school. They said "here's grade 12, grade 11, etc, the school directors office, and over yonder in that general direction is the library."

Me: Can I see it?

Co-teachers: no.

Me: Why not?

Co-teachers: because it is not ready yet.

About a month later, we were having a 'school clean up day' and I heard that they were moving the location of the library. I offered to help but they wouldn't have it, again saying it wasn't ready.

Finally about a month after that I was given a key to go see the library.

I opened the door to find.... garbage. literally. garbage. Tons of old shredded textbooks in Khmer. They were covered in filth, strewn all over the floor. A closer look showed that they were all useless old editions of textbooks.

I spent hours in the library, often with student helpers, sorting through the old books. We separated the books into subjects. Then I went through I made a "garbage pile" of books that were completely unusable, which was far more than 50% of the books. The rest of the books are readable, but are useless to the school because they are old editions of out-of-date textbooks. I will likely give out many of these old textbooks to students.

That's when I started talking to one of my counterparts (Lina, pictured above) about really developing a library. We found an appropriate room, and discussed our budget. I began filling out the forms, and he began dreaming of what the library would be like once it opened. 

Lina was so excited that he actually began the painting process already! He chose a work day, enlisted a couple student helpers, and set to work. He told me he wanted the library to be yellow. and green. and blue. I was a little nervous... but it turned out great!!

Since then, I have begun painting a giant World Map with the help of my honor society students. Students in Cambodia know very little about geography. Many can’t even point out Cambodia on a map, and when you do show them their country, they are always astounded by how tiny their country is. The map is a great project for my Honors class because it is a volunteer project, and it will coincide with geography research.

Money that I raise through this website will go mostly to books and bookshelves. My counterpart and I hope to have tons of books in both English and Khmer. We want fiction and non-fiction in both languages, as well as some dictionaries and teacher resources. The remainder of the money will go to paint, posters, office supplies, and cleaning supplies. Students and teachers both envision a place where they can go and study or reference books when they have free time during the day. We are all very excited, and we can’t wait to get started pulling it all together!

To donate to this project, please visit https://www.peacecorps.gov/index.cfm?shell=donate.contribute.projDetail&projdesc=303-024

My second big project is called Create Cambodia. It is a collaborative project, organized by myself and 3 other volunteers, and hopefully joined by even more. Create Cambodia is a 2 day arts festival. Peace Corps Volunteers around the country create art based clubs where students are allowed to express themselves through dance, music, visual arts, fashion, comedies, role-play, or pretty much anything.

Then, in the beginning of May will be the 2-day festival at a beautiful venue near Phnom Penh. We imagine there will be about 160-180 students, plus Khmer counterparts, chaperones, and Peace Corps Volunteers. In addition to performances and galleries by students, we are also inviting professionals to come perform, lead workshops, or set up information booths.

Mostly, the festival is an opportunity for students to get a taste of arts education, as it is completely non-existent in this country. And it is an opportunity to meet and greet professionals, as well as other student from around the country, with whom they will have a lot in common.

I have 2 small groups of students who I hope will be participating. First is my chorus of about 10 students. We have been rehearsing for a little over 2 months. They can sing a few English and Khmer songs together. I also held blind auditions, and will allow 3 of my students to be featured and sing solo pieces. The second group is actually the group of students who did the role play on Womens Rights Day (see previous blog).

Check out our super-official website at http://createcambodia.wordpress.com/

Funds raised for the festival will go mostly to pay for food during the festival and the venue. Funds will also help purchase t-shirts and advertising paraphernalia. Groups of students will be contributing by fundraising for transportation costs. 

To donate to this project, please visit https://www.peacecorps.gov/index.cfm?shell=donate.contribute.projDetail&projdesc=303-022

Donations to both projects are tax deductible. All the money goes directly to the projects explained. Without your donations, neither project is possible. So I ask that you please consider donating, and spreading the word to anyone you feel might be interested in doing a little good around the world.

Thank you SO MUCH in advance for your support, from myself, and more importantly from the people who will be benefiting from your donations.

If you have any questions, please don't hesitate to contact me. Email me at diana.broberg@yahoo.com

International Women's Rights Day

Today is International Women’s Day, I am celebrating by reading stories and watching videos of countless women who have done extraordinary things and who really inspire me. I encourage you to check out this website and take a look at a few of these women.

http://www.makers.com/

I’ve always been a feminist, but of course I never gave myself that title until I was much older. Maybe it’s something that comes with having 2 brothers and countless older male cousins constantly roughing me up, but I just always had the opinion that if they could do something, there is no reason why I couldn’t also do it- possibly even better than them. I have been known to be competitive, sometimes to a fault, and that just stems from my innate thirst to prove myself.

When I was a kid, my mom signed me up to play baseball on my older brother’s PAL team. I played for two summers and I loved every second of it. I was the only girl on the team, and I was one of the youngest, if not the youngest player. I’m not going to say I was the best player on the field, but I was good. I never struck out once in those two years. I hit the ball at every at-bat, which was something none of the boys could say. I never hit a home run, but the coach could count on me for some contact.

My first year, I remember being somewhat oblivious to the fact that I was a girl. I wanted to play my best, not because I was a girl, but just because I wanted to be respected on the team. By my second year, I started listening to what parents and other coaches would say. Simple things like “wow, you have a girl on your team? And she’s good!” made me notice that people viewed me differently. Then I looked around and noticed that sure enough, there were maybe only 1 or 2 girls in the whole league. But anyway, I just loved the game. I wanted to be the first female major league baseball player. That was my dream.

But, after 2 years, my parents decided not to enroll me in baseball again. I’m still not sure of the reason. Maybe because they were worried their daughter was becoming too much of a tomboy? Or maybe they were afraid the boys’ skill would be too much for me as I got older? Or maybe it was because of that one game where I was assigned to play at first base, and my jealous brother flung a ball so fast at me during drills that it so painfully bent backward my entire big toenail. Regardless, that dream was never realized. In grade 7, I tried out for softball and played a year of that, but I still preferred baseball.

In high school I got really into volunteering locally and internationally. My efforts were noticed by my community. Many organizations, such as NOW recognized my dedication to serving others as a woman. I still was kind of clueless as to why it made a difference that I was a woman doing these things. Still for me, the most frustrating thing about being a woman was that I had to take gym class with GIRLS and they never wanted to actually play sports or do anything besides gossip (why couldn’t we do both at the same time?). Looking back, I now realize how much of an honor it is to be recognized by organizations like NOW.

College is when I really started becoming interested in women’s rights, and women’s empowerment. At the end of my freshmen year, I got out of a 3 year long abusive relationship. It took me months and months to climb out of that emotional rut, but it made me so much smarter and stronger. Once I was comfortable, I shared my story with people who would listen, hoping that if some can learn from my mistakes, they can spare themselves from making the same mistakes. In classes, I saw first-hand how professors and other people in power really do treat men and women differently. And not in a gender sensitive way, but in an unfair and sometimes offensive way. In my education classes, we studied statistics in education pertaining to gender, race, and social status. So, even if I hadn’t seen it in real life, there it was in black and white.

Later in college I started getting this idea that maybe I could do the Peace Corps. I secretly started my application, and I didn’t tell anyone until about 2 months into it. I was afraid that I wouldn’t know how to retaliate to “you shouldn’t do Peace Corps, you’re a girl. It’s unsafe.” And sure enough, when I did tell people my plans, I did get some of that backlash. To me, that is the most pathetic answer to “why not?” –“because you’re a girl.” It makes my blood boil. But I learned to take it quietly, retaliate softly when necessary, and then, most importantly, prove them wrong.

And now, here I am today. I am a Peace Corps volunteer in Cambodia, and by George I’m doin’ it. Actually, the majority of volunteers in my K5 group ARE female!

Even though I’m proving myself to doubters in America, that doesn’t mean I’m without trial here. Actually, there are many instances here where gender discrimination is way worse than in America. I am a foreigner, so I am given a certain amount of respect, but I am still a woman. There have been a few awkward conversations and even arguments with Khmer men because I was holding firm on my opinions which opposed to theirs. I have been warned “teacher, he is a male teacher, and he is older than you. You know that, right?” “yes, I know that, but I’m sorry, I’m not going to change the way I pronounce words, just because he is afraid students will realize he is wrong.” Or “I’m not going to make an exception for his daughter to study in my class when she is too young, just because he is male and older.”

Almost all of the teachers at my school are male. So, the fact that I am a woman does not go unnoticed. I do have to put up with occasional comments about my body. Here in Cambodia, I still need to prove myself to be more than just “a tall foreigner with white skin that came to meet the children and by eye candy for the faculty.” When I tell my faculty about plans I have or ideas, most often the response I get is basically “that’s cute. Good luck.” I have still only been at site for 5 months, so I am still establishing myself and proving myself, but I know for a fact that the first few projects would have been easier if I was a dude.

The hardest thing for me out here is seeing other women suffer from their lack of opportunity. Girls who stop school after 9^th grade so they can go work at the factory. Bright females having to stop school so that their family can pay for the younger male siblings to go to school and private classes. Girls being married off or made to help work in the market before they finish grade 12. Wives being forced to stay home and be housewives when they’re more than capable of having successful careers. Wives being forced to stay home while the men go out to drink and have girlfriends. Wives disallowed to travel, even to visit their own parents. Wives and sisters not being able to speak their minds because they are afraid of being beaten. These are all things I’ve seen with my own eyes, and heard with my own ears. The cool thing about the Peace Corps is that you live with the people and you build close relationships with them. I have women friends here who confide in me on all of these things. I don’t sit in an office and read statistics. I get the real stories from the real people. And I guess that while confronting their husbands is for the most part out of the question for me, the best thing I can do is be there for these women. I wish I had magic words to tell them to make the injustice go away, but there aren’t any. I just listen, care, and tell them that despite their situation, they are so special and so strong.       

Last night I had a particularly tough conversation with my sister. She really opened up. I mostly just listened and sat with her for a few hours. I helped her go through possible plans of action, and then left it all up to her. I didn’t get much sleep last night. I was upset and things felt hopeless.

And then, ironically, I woke up to International Women’s Rights Day. Here in Cambodia it is a real holiday and students even get off from school. One of my students invited me to her village, where she told me she was giving a speech. I had nothing better to do and I really wanted to be supportive, so I went.

I was surprised to see a number of my students- male and female- congregated at a house. My student showed me a small wall-less library that she had actually fundraised for and had built so that young children in her village could come read books after school. She was so excited to show it to me, and I was so excited to see it! There was only one small bookshelf, and as I said, there weren’t any walls, but she did that! 11^th grade female Laitheam did that!

All the students were incredibly excited to have me there. Laitheam told me she wanted me to be an honored guest, but I refused that haha. She wanted me to sit with the village chief, but I was much more comfortable sitting with my students.

Then 10 of my students put on about a 15 minute play talking about the role of mothers in Cambodian families. The play was in Khmer, so I did not catch all of it. But basically, the play began with a few mothers working hard and being treated poorly, and then by the end, the participating men had a change of heart and thanked the women for all their hard work.

I sat there with a huge grin on my face and my camera pointed at them the whole time. I was an incredibly proud teacher today. While things are certainly far from perfect now, there is hope for women here in Cambodia. If this is what the new generation is already putting forth, I believe in a few years, women in Cambodia can see big improvements. I now see that my role here is to work for a better future, even though I won’t see the benefits myself in my time here. Educate the youth and encourage them, and soon they will become leaders of this country.

Once again, the students have done the teaching, and I have done the learning.

From left to right: Borun- my oldest brother and also the sub-school director, Dad- my brother's father, me, mom- brothers mother, Svannah- oldest sister- married to Borun, Sokhen- my sister.

From Left to Right: Dad, some random lady, me, mom, sister Savannah, Sokhen, and Pisal- my brother married to Sokhen.

My grade 7 class

Sorry its blurry. The same class, and thats my co-teacher Daly, the only female English teacher in the school. besides me.

Ants made an anthill IN MY ROOM! On the second floor, nonetheless!

Mah sistah.

Ritz Crackers and Fluff

A lot has been going on, but it’s tough to pick one things to write about that will actually hold the interest of my readers. So I guess I’ll just give you a brief overview.

            I’ll start with a project I’m working on. 3 other volunteers and I are working to plan Cambodia’s first National Fine Arts Festival. It’s a big project that we hope can become an annual thing for PCV’s to facilitate. We are calling it Create Cambodia. The idea is that PCVs all over the country facilitate arts clubs in their schools. They can do basically anything, based on the interests of their students. We don’t know what exactly we will have yet, but some examples we gave were drama, comedy, music, dance, creative writing, visual art, fashion, architecture, etc. Then in May we are going to have a 2 day festival where all the clubs come showcase their work. We also will have performances and booths run by professionals, and some universities will be represented as well. So, as you can imagine, this is a pretty huge project with a considerable financial undertaking. We took the route of a PCPP grant (Peace Corps Partnership Project). This means that YOU can donate to this project! We are trying to raise 75% of the budget, and our groups will be responsible for fundraising the final 25%.

Here is our website: http://createcambodia.wordpress.com/

Here is a promotional video I made for the project: http://www.youtube.com/watch?feature=player_embedded&v=Evp8WIa_jq0

Here is the PCPP donation page: https://www.peacecorps.gov/index.cfm?shell=donate.contribute.projDetail&projdesc=303-022

            I have one other big project happening. I will be developing a library at my high school with one of my co-teachers, Lina. I have made a PCPP grant proposal for that as well, but due to a lot of frustrating obstacles, it is not yet up on the website. I will let you know when it is. However, do keep this project in mind as you donate to Create Cambodia. I will really need the support of my friends and family to fund this project.

            I was in Phnom Penh for almost a whole week for IST (in-service-training). The training was pretty typical for Peace Corps. Really long days. Long sessions. Some useful information. Some not useful. Typical. Sessions were from 8AM-5PM, and lasted 2 days.

            After those sessions, I then went to 2 hour meetings for the curriculum development project. Really quickly I’ll explain that Peace Corps is very much involved in writing a new curriculum and developing new textbooks for all students to learn English in Cambodia. This will be a long drawn-out project and will take place over a couple generations of volunteers before the new books are finally used in classrooms across Cambodia. The curriculum for grades 7-9 has been approved, and PCVs are now writing the textbooks. We also got the go-ahead to start writing the curriculum for grades 10-12. I was assigned to grade 10, which is awesome.

            IST was over Friday, and I wanted to go back to site on Saturday, but I stayed to work on the curriculum with my team. I figured no problem, I can go home on Sunday.

            I went to the bus station on Sunday and went to buy my ticket to Prey Veng. The seller said “Sorry, there is no bus to Prey Veng today.” Uhmm… what?? Prey Veng is the only province with only one daily bus to and fro. YOU CAN’T CANCEL IT’S ONLY BUS. So I was stuck in Phnom Penh another night. I know this doesn’t sound so bad (air conditioning, American food, etc…) but I had NO money for this, and I was really hoping to go back to teaching on Monday. Alas, no good.

            I got over it. Eventually.

            Then on Thursday, I was on the road again. I was invited to the wedding of one of my Khmer teachers from training. He lives in Svay Reing, which is the province right next door. So it should have been easy to get to, right? WRONG.

            I got up at 5AM.

            I rode my bike 15k to the provincial town.

            I left my bike at a fellow PCV’s house.

            I walked to the bus/van station.

            I argued with motorcycle taxi drivers, who lied to me and told me that there were no vans going to Nyek Loung today.

            Then I was hounded by 3 different van drivers, all going to Nyek Loung.

            I screamed at one of the drivers to stop touching me.

            Luckily I knew one of the drivers, and got on his van.

            We drove the 30k to Nyek Loung, which is a town in Prey Veng. Nyek Loung is one route that you can take to go to Phnom Penh, but it involves a ferry. People going to Prey Veng usually don’t take this route, but people going to Svay Reing do.

            I got out of the van at Nyek Loung and a nice man helped me find a different van going to Svay Reing.

            I squished into the over-flowing van. I listened to the people talk about me for a while before I let them know that I can speak Khmer and I know what they’re saying.

            The driver stopped to buy me a nom pow (a sticky bun with egg and other stuff inside-actually delicious).

            Finally, I was dropped off in the town of the wedding, at the local high school, where another volunteer was working. I got there 6 hours early for the wedding (because I had no choice), so I hung out with said volunteer.

            Then, as other volunteers attending the wedding arrived, they picked me up in their van and we drove the 6k to the village the wedding was in.

            The wedding itself was pretty fun. I’ve been to a lot of non-fun weddings. This one was alright. I danced with Samon (my teacher and the groom). I met his wife, who was GORGEOUS. I danced with other volunteers. I danced with random Khmer people. I yelled at Khmer men who hounded me. Then after the wedding, all the ladies went back to the house we were keeping our belongings to sleep. There, we slept on rice mats on the floor- true khmer style. We played truth-or-truth, and drifted off to sleep. In the morning we woke up to a giant tarantula on the wall, and rat poop all around us. Love Cambodian creatures. I'm really glad I went because Samon was so happy to have us, and it was so good to see all of my favorite teacher from Training again.

            Going back to site was just as exciting as getting there. Just backwards.

            I came back to the hottest day I’ve had in Cambodia yet- and no electricity. I was told our electricity was going to be out for 3 days because of a storm in Vietnam. There was no escaping the heat. At night, my host family slept outside on the porch, trying to entice a few breezes that wouldn’t reach them in their humid room. They invited me to join them, but I just put up with it and slept with my windows open.

            The next day (yesterday, aka Saturday) I rode my bike back to Prey Veng to charge my computer and my phone at my friend’s house. We hung out, went to the market, and watched a bit of a soccer game. He bought oreos. I bought another Engrish shirt. This one says “Youtube myspace, and I’ll Google your Yahoo. Hahaha.

            And that’s my last 2 weeks in a large nutshell.

            Now enjoy some pictures.

P.S. Ritz crackers and marshmallow fluff are DELICIOUS together!

Sitting in front of Buddha. This was before I was encircled by about 10 grandmas petting me and spitting on me as they told me they love me and I'm just like what they see on TV.

Parade around the building 3 times.

The woman in the center with the gold on her head is my mother. She is the mother of my host brother. She lives in Phnom Penh but loves to come visit me.

My "father" snuck this shot of me.

They wanted to take a picture of me with the kids, because I'm their first foreigner.

monks.

Dreams and Reflections

            When I was a kid, I used to have this recurring dream where I was all alone in the middle of a vast field with tall grass that nearly came up to my shoulders. It was never lonely though. On the contrary, it was freeing and peaceful. In the dream, I would run through the field with my arms stretched out like an airplane. The bottoms of my arms and my hands would graze the soft tips of the golden grass. Then I would lay down in the tall grass with my hands behind my head, where no one could see me, even if there was someone in the field with me. Sometimes there was a tree that I would be under, but usually not. Just me and the breeze and the tall sweet smelling grass.

            I used to love having this dream, partially because it was so peaceful, and partially because I was so curious about the idea that I could have the same dream more than once. I had it many, many times, rarely ever changing. Only once was there ever anybody who came with me in the dream: a boyfriend from the time. It was my secret place and it was mine alone. As I got older, I had the dream less and less often, and now, I admit, it has been a few years since I’ve had the dream. However, I have always been on the lookout for real places that look like my dream. Any time I saw a wheat field or corn field in America, I would be reminded of my secret dream place.

            Maybe you can tell where I’m going with this.

            Rice fields.

            I can’t help but notice a correlation between my dream and where I am now, in more ways than just the obvious appearances. The rice fields, right before harvest time, are that perfect color of green and gold (GO POST hahaha) The stalks stretch to just the perfect height. And in certain special places, that is all you can see for miles. Even the tree thing holds true. Despite my province’s name literally meaning “forest,” there are very few trees around. So sometimes you’ll see a tree. Usually not.

            The rice fields have also become a place of solace and comfort for me. When I need a break and I need some fresh air, that’s where I go. When I first got to site, I used to go there every day. Now I go a lot less often. Unfortunately this is mostly because the fields have been harvested already, and there are more mud squares than rice fields now. But come rainy season, I know I’ll be back quite a lot.

            There is a road that stretches through the middle of the field. It’s a big dirt road, and does get some traffic, but not nearly enough to make you feel congested like in the rest of town. Different from my dream, I do not actually run through the grass, because that would be a very muddy experience and I would probably come away with leeches. But still, the similarities are more than the differences.

            While on that road, I would say that 90% of the time, I am completely alone, and I can’t see another soul in site. And once again, I am reminded of the difference between being alone and being lonely. Loneliness is not what happens when I’m out there breathing it all in and reflecting. Loneliness is what happens when loved ones stop reaching out to you. Or when I try to reach out and no one receives it. Loneliness is waiting for others to be lonely enough to remember you. That happens while staring at a blank computer screen, a still cell phone, and an inactive facebook page, never out in the rice fields.

            Loneliness aside, Peace Corps is a very “alone” experience. It is also obviously a community experience. But at some point during it all, you’re going to have the time and the space to unload everything that you are, and reload it back, accepting what you’ve discovered. At least, hopefully you’ll be strong enough to accept it. Me? I unload it in the rice fields. And as I reload it, I like to think a bit of the tranquility of the surroundings rubs off on me, and I’m a better person for it.

                        I realize that my “secret” place isn’t so secret. Motos and bicycles go by, Heck, farmers work in these fields sometimes. But if we’re being symbolic here, and if the rice fields represent my experience, then that is indeed, my secret place and it is mine alone. Because I know, no matter how much I clue in my family, friends, and even other Peace Corps Volunteers, no one REALLY knows what it’s like to be here.

            I don’t think I’m the kind of person who believes in dreams predicting my future. Sure it happened in biblical times, but I hardly think my tall grass dream was a premonition of my Peace Corps experience. Rather, it’s more like a fact taped to my brain encouraging me to appreciate beauty, serenity, and solitude- now, and for the rest of my life.

These are some pictures from a Bon i went to a few months ago.

A Bon is a Buddhist Festival.

This particular Bon was for giving the monks new robes.

My two sisters and I walked in the procession together, carrying incense.

Left to right: Sokhen, Sovanna, me.

monks.

A PCV's Worst Nightmare

            Well, maybe not their WORST nightmare, but it’s up there, because realistically many volunteers DO experience this at some time during their service. I’m talking about food poisoning, parasites, stomach bacteria, and any and all related topics. The kind where you actually debate just curling up on the ground in the bathroom facility, because you can barely muster up the energy to walk somewhere else, and also because it’s pointless- you’ll be back in 10 minutes for more action.

            Although the past few days were among the most miserable of my life, I came away from it completely astounded and humbled by the care that my host family gave me.

            Sunday night, I barely slept, because all of a sudden I got SO COLD (mind you it is the beginning of the hottest season in Cambodia). I tried to just curl up under my sheet with my stuffed Nemo. No good, I finally got up at around 3AM and put on over my pajamas some sweatpants, a t-shirt, and the heaviest sweatshirt I brought here. Then I snuggled up again, but still had no luck. I knew there was a fever involved.

            Monday morning I started feeling so nauseous, dizzy, and weak. I actually still got up and tried to go teach. I hadn’t seen my students in over a week because of testing and I had been so anxious to go back to teaching. On my way out my sister saw me and asked what was wrong. I told her I wasn’t feeling well. She told me not to go to school. I told her I really want to go, so if I can’t do it, I will come back early.

            I went to school and couldn’t do it. I couldn’t stand for more than a minute at a time, and I was actually concerned I was gonna vomit or pass out in front of my students. I was back at home in less than 45 minutes, where I went straight upstairs, changed, got sick, and then went back to bed. Every muscle and bone in my body was aching. I called the Peace Corps Medical Officer (PCMO), who of course was less than interested at first.

            I went downstairs around 11 with a packet of instant oatmeal, thinking that was a safe lunch. My sister sat me down and cooked it for me.

            After lunch is when it really started getting out of hand. I was in the bathroom at least twice every hour. The oatmeal came right back up. It completely drained me. I called my parents in America, 3 times, even though it was the middle of the night there. Finally they called me back and I cried to my mother. I couldn’t even drink water at this point, because I would just throw it right back up. After I let my mother go back to bed, I called the PCMO again to basically say.. no this is different. I’m REALLY sick. So she did take more notice, and then called me about every 2 hours after that to check in.

            Soon after that, my sister let herself into my room. She NEVER does that. She completely respects my privacy. But she was so worried. She found me draped over my chair looking god-awful. She ran through a list of everything she could possibly cook for me, because I had eaten nothing except the oatmeal, and obviously that wasn’t REALLY eaten. Finally I agreed to let her cook me ramen noodles. I took a few sips of the broth, and vomited again. I slept in a hammock for a while, getting up every 2 minutes to run to the bathroom. My adult students started showing up for their 6PM class. My sister told every one of them that I couldn’t teach because I was so sick with diarrhea. Thanks sister lol.

            Upstairs again in bed, I started watching a movie. The PCMO called again and told me to try drinking water again, this time with some rehydration salts. She was concerned that I hadn’t peed once all day. She would call back in an hour and a half. I drank about half a water bottle worth of that, and then, of course… had to run to the bathroom and it came right back up.

            My sister knocked on the door and said “Diana…. Are you vomiting?” haha I wanted to say “no, I’m baking a cake.. DUH I’m vomiting, what does it sound like?”
            When I finally emerged from the bathroom, my brother had set up a mattress for me in the living room, so I can sleep closer to the bathroom. All day, my brother and sister were offering to give me medicine, buy me medicine, take me to the hospital, anything! But I had to tell them no, Peace Corps must say it’s okay first. They were so angry with Peace Corps lol.

            I laid down on the mattress my brother set up and my sister laid next to me. She tried to set up a fan on me, but I told her I was cold. After remarking about how crazy that was, she moved the fan, got me a thick blanket, draped it over me, and tucked my nemo under my arm.

            The PCMO finally was like.. okay you need treatment now. Not going to lie, I was re really worried about how I was going to make it through the night. I was so weak and uncomfortable. She told me she was going to have a Khmer Medical Officer call my host family, and ask that they try to find me a doctor to give me an IV and some medicine to ease my stomach. My sister watched me the whole time I was on the phone. She was watching so closely, she even spotted and picked a couple ants off my arm for me.

            By now it’s 9:30PM- past everyone’s bedtime. Luckily, my brother-in-law, who lives on our compound, but in a separate little building, works in the local health center. He started living here about 2 or 3 months ago during the week, and then going to Phnom Penh on weekends to see his wife and 2 kids. I really like him. He is one of the most genuine, stand-up Khmer guys I know. The two of us eat lunch together every day. Anyway, my brother told my brother-in-law that Peace Corps finally okayed some medicine, so he hopped in his car, and went to the Health Center to get some stuff.

            He came back, and asked me a few questions. He set me up with the IV like a pro. He then sat next to my bed for about a half hour, just watching over me and making sure it was working properly. He called Peace Corps, and I heard him talking about the other injection to settle my stomach. He decided not to give it to me because of the side effects. I trust him. He’s a really smart guy. I was too weak and delirious to argue anyway. Then he went back to his home.

            My sister and I fell asleep, but my brother stayed up til 12:30AM, time enough for him to change the IV fluid twice. Then he laid down next to his wife and went to sleep also. That’s when I realized that they really aren’t going to bed. Their full intention was to keep watch over me all night. I was amazed. They kept a light on so I could see my way to the bathroom, and so they could keep an eye on me. I don’t know what I did to deserve their care. I don’t know why they care so much. But I just realized how incredibly lucky I am to have these two sleepy people looking out for me here in Cambodia and I love them so much.

            In the night, at around 2:30 I got up to go be sick again, so I had to lug the IV into the bathroom with me. I guess my wrist was higher than the bottle for too long and my blood started going up the tube. I ended up clogging the tube with my blood. Woops. So my brother got up and tried to fix it, and when he couldn’t, he took it out for me.
            Every time I got up to use the bathroom, they would watch me leave, and watch me return, obviously trying to scan my face for any signs of imminent death.

            Finally, it was morning. The worst 24 hours ever was over. I was hydrated, and feeling slightly stronger. To make an already too long story shorter, I was indeed on the road to recovery. By Tuesday night, the PCMO finally told me I could start taking the antibiotics in our medical kit to help my weak body fight this. My sister helped like a pro with meals- starting me out with just a few spoonfuls of plain rice porridge, until I was back eating real food 2 days later.

            I am incredibly grateful for how my brother and sister and my brother-in-law really stepped in. We definitely had some real moments through it. They are really like family to me, and I to them.

            Oh I forgot one more thing. Tuesday, Valentines Day, my sister told me at the dinner table that they had plans to go to a restaurant the 3 of us for dinner (which is a really special thing). But they weren’t going because I was sick. I was like.. that’s ridiculous, GO it’s Valentines Day, a day for TWO people, not THREE. They said no, they weren’t going without me. Oh yeah haha, I forgot I was a part of the relationship. Weird lol. Hopefully now that I’m recovered I can bring up the possibility of a raincheck.

            I will wrap this up now.

            Don’t worry, I don’t have any pictures from me being sick.

            But I do have these:

One of the times I woke up to find a giant dying cockroach on my floor. Now I'm more used to it, but it took me a full 20 minutes to get up the courage to pick him up and throw him out to live out his last minutes elsewhere.

I was watching Harry Potter and the Sorcerers Stone on my computer lying in a hammock. My neighbor Mikey whatched about 45 minutes of it standing next to the hammock. He abruptly left, and then came back 5 minutes later riding a broomstick. <3

The most beautiful tissue holder I've ever seen. This is in the lobby of Navy guest house in Prey Veng.

PIG! at a wat in Prey Veng.

The sun setting over the lake. In Prey Veng.

Navy Guest House. In Prey Veng. 

Cheater Cheater Prahok Eater

            In light of this week’s semester exams (the Khmer version of midterms) I’ll tell you a little bit about testing in Cambodia. Cheating is an inherent part of any student’s test taking. Cheating is not something that Cambodian teachers waste their times trying to control.

            Tests are not an individual quest as they are in America. At the very least, they are partner missions, if not more. A classroom taking a test is not silent. At any given moment, there will be one student whining to the teacher about how hard the test is, and at least 4 or 5 students flat out having a conversation about the questions and answers. Students in the upper grades sit at 2 person desks. So those students will be cuddled together, working on their tests together. (yes, I really mean CUDDLED together). Sometimes one student will write an answer, and just give their test paper to their friend to copy.  Other times, they will just discuss what they should put.

            The above description is actually a test taken in MY classroom. Meaning, I control the cheating a lot more than Khmer teachers. In their classes, it is even more allowed. Students in the back of the room will ask the smartest kid in the class “what’s the answer to number four” way from the back of the room. And that smart kid will shout the answer back, or even just pass around their paper to copy. Other students will just have their textbooks and notebooks open, trying to find the answers within. Some students will even just skip asking the students, and will ask the teacher for the answer, or at least a hint.

            When I am proctoring an exam, you will hear a constant stream of words like “don’t help, don’t cry, and don’t crow like a rooster” coming from my mouth. Mostly I use those because I always forget the Khmer word for ‘cheat.’

            My students now know that I will not allow them to cheat, so they are sort of learning to be sneakier about it (which before was not the case). Once I walked past a student who was copying answers from a sheet of paper. I assumed it was his notes from a previous lesson, so I gave him the stink eye and he sheepishly put it under his desk. I walked by him again a minute later when he wasn’t paying attention and it was out again. I took it, and realized that it was an answer sheet that a student in another one of my classes gave him. I was so shocked! And slightly impressed. He would have been in so much trouble if he was in America. But he’s not in America, and the only thing I can do is laugh it off.

            There are some volunteers who have successfully stamped out cheating from their classrooms. They have employed American techniques such as “for every time you are caught talking or cheating, that is one point off your grade.” I thought about doing that, but I decided against it. I feel it would be wasting my energy in that I would be the only teacher in the whole school enforcing a no cheating rule. That’s not going to accomplish anything except giving me a headache. So during testing, I control what I can, and I admit to letting some things slide.

            Midterms are taking place over the course of 3 days this week. Monday-Wednesday. Today is Wednesday. I am not involved in the midterms. All teachers are called to proctor the exams, but I have been excused of this responsibility. Cheating is going to be happening in these tests. Cheating even happens during national exams. Imagine students sharing answers out loud during an SAT in America. Well that’s what happens here. And in Cambodia, a student’s academic future relies ENTIRELY on the results of the national exam. A good grade will get the student a spot in a university, and possibly even a scholarship. But honestly if you think about it, if every single student in Cambodia is cheating, isn’t that less unfair than if only some are? My point is, if I were to get myself involved in big exams like these, I would want to control the cheating. However, that might be hurting my students’ chances in getting into university. So in conclusion, I have no problem proctoring the monthly exams that I make, but I think bigger tests are a part of Cambodian education I should steer clear from. At least for now.

            In other news, it’s been a rough couple of days, mixed in with moments of success and excitement. Things at site are mostly wonderful. Things are coming along nicely. The things that get me through day to day are the people here at site. My family. My sister. My brother. My students. Even my co-teachers. Among these people are my best friends. They don’t even know it, but they’ve been here for me in a time where I’ve lost a little bit of faith in friendship.

A gift from my older sister. Khmer people wear pajamas all the time. I'm all about that. But this particular pair... is not my favorite.

Water buffalo

and farmers kids

farmers house in the rice paddies. This is on my favorite road near my house that I used to run on.

rice as far as the eye can see

riding the buffalo back home

my special road.