So while I have now been at site for over three weeks at the time of this writing (which is staggering in its own right) I have yet to give an overview of my experience. Of course I wrote before about how rough the road is, and how that really challenged my thinking process initially. But let me expand some on the aspects of my site.
“Romeas Hek” literally translates to “Rhino Tear” (tear as in to tear paper, not tear as in crying), which has given rise to Molli’s co-teacher cheering “Rhino!” at me every time I see him. So weirdly appropriate… The Romeas Hek District is in the upper right-ish corner of Svay Rieng Province, which in turn is the south-eastern most province in Cambodia. The Cambodians call it the “parrot’s beak” due to the way that it juts into Vietnam. My town in fact is about 7 kilometers from the border. However, due to the fact that American citizens must have a Visa from Phnom Penh ahead of time and must cross at only one point, being this close to the border doesn’t effect me much directly (though apparently there are things at the border I can visit without crossing, which I’m excited to do). But it effects me a lot indirectly due to the culture/goods that seep into my area. People sometimes have Vietnamese slang for things, and I’ve seen motos stacked with goods from across the border coming into my market. It’s certainly interesting because Cambodians often really dislike Vietnamese people. I think part of it is biases in the urban areas, while out here near the border there doesn’t seem to be that kind of animosity. Though they often talk about how things are “better” in Vietnam, the government cares about the rural people more, there are better roads etc. I can’t quite pick up on all the ethnic undertones, but I imagine it’s a combination of history and jealousy… especially since Cambodia was for a long time better off than Thailand or Vietnam. Though of course that was before Pol Pot.
Anyway, while many of the other PCVs found their permanent dwellings to be slightly more westernized (lots of tile used in construction, and indoor plumbing for some) mine is still basically a traditional Cambodian house. Up on cement stilts it is built from wood and stands with a rice field on either side (I have no immediate neighbors, which is definitely unique to what I have experienced for the most part here). And behind my house, the rice fields and palm trees extend to the horizon… I have seen debatably the most amazing skies and sunsets of my entire life here, though there were some awesome ones in Maine, Ireland, and Naples too. Completely staggering and no picture can really capture it (and I’ve tried). Right now things are mostly dry, but when some of the rains start I think it will be a place of incredible beauty even more than it already is. Also, I am about 100 meters (trying to think in terms of meters and kilometers than feet and miles… which no one understands here, even if they do speak English) from the entrance to my high school. Literally, it is across the street. This is pretty cool in that I can just walk out of my house and into the school yard. Also it will give me a lot of visibility to the students… and the jury is still out on whether that will be good, or overwhelming/invasive.
My host family is fantastic too. I have a mother, father, and two younger brothers who, mercifully, all have exceedingly easy names to remember. My youngest brother, Tee-ah, is 11 years old. He started off shy but is always smiling/laughing along with me and I think over time he will be a major boost to my mood when that is sorely needed. Then my brother Tee is 15, and during Khmer New Year he has shown himself to be totally awesome and potentially a great friend these next 2 years. He tried to call me lo-crew (teacher) until I finally have persuaded him to call me Colin (though he actually calls me “Bong Colin”, which basically is a term of respect for an older brother, hilarious). During Khmer New Year he would bike around with me to the various festivities (which are wild, and I’ll have to write about them later), and on one day we biked out to the river near my house… just sitting under a tree, eating the fruit that was falling out of it, and he said when the rains come we can buy fishing poles for 25 cents and go out on a little boat to this stilted house in the river and fish. So awesome, I’m going to be a Cambodian Huck Finn. There are also two students living in my house also (I believe they are cousins of some type) due to them living too far away to be able to easily make the trek so school. There names are Doit (like “Just Do It”) and Dup, and are very friendly and a nice addition to things. There is also a third guy that I gather is some sort of cousin named See-pole, my mom said his father died somehow, he hangs out here a lot… he is cool too, and I teach English in the evening to the 5 of them. My father, Tha, is 40 years old… so there was some confusion at first as to whether he would be called “Dad” or “Mr. Tha” in Cambodian. They tried to make me do Mr. Tha, but I pretty much just have been stubbornly calling him Dad until he answers to it… I will not be given the status of a renter if I can get the status of a big white son! He speaks really fast Khmer and won’t slow down for me, so it will take a while until I can really get in with him, but he laughs all the time and is super friendly.
My host mother is an absolutely amazing woman. She never resisted the mom label even though she is only 38, and is constantly slowing her speech for me, and complimenting me on my Khmer. She has been an irreplaceable support in many ways. For example, a lot of times people ask about me in Khmer rather than talking to me. Understandable since so few foreigners take the time or effort to know Khmer. But I was having a conversation with her and said how people never ask ME about myself, and I like to practice speaking. So now every time someone asks her a question, she says “Speak slowly and ask him, he knows a lot and he can answer you.” She’s totally awesome, and keep in mind that none of the described interactions occur with a word of English… so my Khmer is just steadily climbing. While many of my friends are facing the challenge of no one wanting to speak Khmer and having to search out lessons to continue study, I certainly don’t have that problem. I didn’t come to Peace Corps to just speak English and eat Western food, so I really like I’m really out in it while others are struggling a bit with feeling too removed from that. I’ve already gone for days with the only English I speak being with myself… its awesome to feel things moving forward.
There have been some really tough moments… which I have written/talked to some people about, and while I may touch on it later I won’t go into it now. But overall I am trying to focus as much on the positive as I can, and I think over all I am passing over the hills and through valleys to some really solid stuff. Overall I am happy (though ask me that question again in 30 minutes and the answer could be slightly different, haha). I am taking a lot of steps towards building my personal life and health here, and that combined with the events and amazing people existing around me are moving things forward slowly. One of the most amazing people here I have met is the 78 year old head monk of my Wat. He lived through the French colonization, fled from Pol Pot’s Khmer Rouge, and has seen more of life and death that I have and probably ever will. And yet when I came to visit him and spoke some Khmer he was so openly joyful, laughing as I practiced words, complimenting my speech, and asking the word for “cat” in English. He was also full of praise for the fact I had come to such a poor area in a poor country to serve his people (something it always helps to hear considering we often don’t feel too impressive compared to the strength of these people as we are trying to keep our heads above the water.) At the end of our meeting he pressed my hands between his and said a prayer for safety and success in my time in Cambodia, and it was an amazing moment.
But as I told him I wanted to learn more Khmer, make my home here, meet a lot of people, he said “Drop by drop, water can make a hole in even the largest of rocks.” As if words were shaped just for me and the madness of this transition…
And so it goes.
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