Cambodia's Biggest Problem...

No its not education, its not corruption, its not even the hat or the bugs...Cambodia’s largest problem preventing them from climbing the global ranks to “developed” status is undoubtedly its extensive and widespread lack of padded and cushioned seating. 

I first noticed this grave issue upon first arrival to this great country and have only continued to see the plight of this countrywide deficiency.  Anyone who has been to Cambodia and sat in a hotel chair, attended any kind of function at the Wat, sat in one of those little plastic chairs (that are definitely not weight-rated for Americans, I have broken two now…) or eaten dinner sitting K’mai style (basically sitting on top of a large wooden-slatted table, cross-legged for the duration of the meal) knows exactly what I am talking about.  I have had more cases of numb-ass, feet falling asleep and bottom bruising in my last two and half months than the rest of my combined life. 

While my primary assignment in Cambodia is to be a PCV and work on education and youth development initiatives, I am seriously considering writing a grant to import some American-standard padding for chairs, beds and vehicles in Cambodia.  There is actually probably a study somewhere out there demonstrating the correlation between the rising prosperity of a country and increases to the “cushiness” of its seating.

My frustration with this issue is only exacerbated by the fact that I have lost about 20lbs. (seemingly all from my ass, and thus my last remaining natural padding is gone) and my daily 10-12k bike rides (the seats are horrible…).  While in our training village it was difficult to choose between the stone seats around the dinner table and the unyielding, unpadded desk chair at our house, our new home will have several options ranging from a wooden slatted day bed or wooden slatted “sofas”, though the term sofa should not apply to something as torturously uncomfortable as this. 

Maybe the reason Cambodia has so many issues is that nobody wants to sit down at a desk or around the negotiation table long enough to get anything done.  I think if you really want to make a country more prosperous and democratic, give them nice chairs and padded seat cushions for their places of work, they won’t even want to leave to go home on their scarcely padded mode of conveyance to their even crappier padded kitchen table only to lie down on their rock hard or uneven wooden beds.  Problem solved...

Site announcement and visit!

I realize that my blog has suffered over the past month – I was kind of surprised to see that my last post was about killing the rat (which is still kind of awesome, I think…), mainly since so much has happened since then.  It not like I have been bored twiddling my thumbs, from permanent site announcements, to vacations, to swear-in and moving in to our new home, I have a great deal to talk about.

In fact I have been trying to keep in mind those little details that make blogs so entertaining so that I can recap when I finally put pen to paper, err…fingers to keys.  So I will try to give you a shotgun blast of updates over the past month and will ambitiously state that I will give you a retroactive post per day for one week. Ready set go.

Almost one month ago Kate and I gathered with our fellow trainees for a particularly special hub-site day, when all of the trainees from our group pour in from the three training villages to a larger central town.  As with many important milestones in one’s Peace Corps service, we were all simultaneously feeling a variety of emotions on our tuk-tuk ride in (Have I mentioned these yet?  Tuk-tuks are Cambodia’s approximation of taxis in the US, but that scarcely does them justice.  Imagine a motorcycle rigged to pull a small carriage and you have it.  They are really for shorter distances, but we sometimes test their abilities with trips of 20-30km.  Also, they would fit about four people in accordance with American definitions of comfort – we tend to have about six or seven in them on a regular basis).  As we enjoyed the wind in our faces from the bumpy, open-air ride to town, I remember literally being able to parse out the various emotions – excitement, confusion, relief, calm and some serious apprehension about finding out where we would each be spending the next two years of our lives.

So few moments in life are a true crossroads, where you can literally peer down different paths and see how the future will likely unfold based on a single decision or event.  Peace Corps as an organization must realize the power of these events because it seems like once you hit the send button on your electronic application you are subject to one every other week. 

The majority of the day was a typical site visit but we sat through each presentation or session with the impatience of children, only one thing on our collective minds.  Safety and security session, medical session (one of my favorites, our Medical Officer has an amazing balance of humor and knowledge that allows her to talk about chronic diarrhea, snake bites and skin irritations in the most comical ways), lunch, etc…but early in the afternoon we gathered in our main meeting room to see where everyone would end up.  The staff had outlined a giant map of Cambodia in tape on the ground with flags to mark the possible sites for the sixty of us PCTs. 

I must admit, this was an exciting way to approach a potentially frightening day.  As each PCTs name was called, the rest of us cheered and shouted them on as they walked to the location of their site on the map.  I think it was this event that made me realize the strong bonds I had developed with so many of my fellow trainees – I think something happens when you are with a group of such like-minded people serving a higher cause than yourself.  Over the past two months we have all experienced many of the same bitter frustrations, sweetest of joys, and identical WTF moments.  We had only each other to lean on through all of this and the experience has tempered incredibly deep friendships already. 

When we suddenly found out in which part of Cambodia we would be in and where our site would be I was excited to learn that we wouldn’t be going far from our training village and will be serving in a nearby provincial town where Kate will be “teaching teachers” at a Regional Teacher Training Center (RTTC) and I will be teaching English at the high school.  From a work perspective, one of the best aspects of our new community is the high density of NGOs and community programs that Kate and I will have the chance to become involved with for our secondary projects. 

The day following our site announcements everyone needed to get to Phnom Penh in order to then ship out to their respective provincial towns, and from them, catch more specialized transportation to their individual sites.  Kate and I were two of six trainees that didn’t need to go anywhere, as we were already in our province and therefore didn't need to travel through PP to get to our sites.  So we spent the day beginning to survey the town in more detail and took part of the day to relax and unwind in what would soon be our new home. 

It wasn’t until the next day that we found out that there was a problem with what was identified as our new permanent home.  In Cambodia, PCVs stay almost exclusively with host families, often living in the family’s spare room or in a smaller building within the family’s compound adjacent to the main building.  Since we are serving as a married couple, Peace Corps typically tries to find a living situation for couples that allows for a bit more privacy and independence than what is typical for the average single volunteer.  Often times this means that couples get their own bathroom, kitchen and sometimes even their own separate house entirely.  At our training site, we had a building to ourselves with a bathroom and bedroom to call our own but relied solely on our family for meals and any other necessities. 

We were invited along with the PC Staff to look at what was identified as our new home.  It was the upper floor of a small family’s house and Peace Corps had negotiated that Kate and I would have the use of the entire floor as our own apartment-like setup.  To leave out some of the gory negotiation details that followed, Kate and I left that house agreeing with the PC staff that both the family and their accommodations would not be a good fit for us for a variety of reasons.  In retrospect, we are incredibly grateful to the staff at PC who helped us navigate this, if not for them we would not have ended up in “our house.” 

The second house, which would end up being our home, was a separate building on the property of a medium-sized family of six.  There was nothing further to be desired from this house – running water, electricity, several appliances already ready for our use (including a refrigerator, small TV and even a washing machine…).  The family was simultaneously welcoming, lively and generous – we were later told that we were not the first set of PCVs to live here – and we immediately recognized them as our new family.  The front yard had several of the fruit trees we had become used to at our training site, the location of the house was close to the smaller of two markets within the town limits and is only about three blocks away from a large estuary that feeds into one of Cambodia’s major rivers.  In many ways, our new living situation is perhaps the best of all worlds – a rural feel with some of the conveniences offered by a provincial town, privacy from the center of the town but close access to many different people and organizations and the luxury of being able to cook for ourselves and live privately while also having a close proximity to a great family.  Truth be told, I am almost a little embarrassed around my fellow trainees that our situation is as great as it is. 

I think my biggest disappointment is entirely self-inflicted – in many ways this reality is a far cry from the perceived image of what I imagined my Peace Corps service to be.  It is hard not to form an image of what you will be doing for two years; I had built up an image of hardship service in the middle of nowhere.  I assumed that my MacGuyver-like skills and willingness to wrestle snakes before bedtime meant that this is where I would end up for my Peace Corps service.  BUT…this is where Kate and I are needed most; there is important work for us to do here, only I may end up doing it in slacks and at the front of a classroom instead of hiking boots and in six-inch deep mud.   

The Rat (Part II)

***A note on the pictures and some content in this post...they are a bit graphic and show a dead rat...my wife also gets the photo credits.

I knew it was only a matter of time before the rat had time to reconnoiter and plan a counter offensive.  For a week after our last encounter, I had been going over battle drills and preemptive strike scenarios until I ceased to see Kate's water bottle as only that, instead seeing a bludgeon that may be my only weapon in reach; instead of a shirt I saw a net to snare the beast in...my mind thought only of revenge.  This creature was the whale to my Ahab, the Roadrunner to my Coyote, and the french fries to my fat kid.  It was going to end one of two ways - with his gruesome death or my cowardly shrieking and asking for help from my host grandma.

Let me, once again, set the stage for what would prove to be our final encounter.  It was again dark, but this time it was also stormy.  The rain came down in sheets and Kate and I comfortably sat inside our home doing nothing in particular but otherwise enjoying a calm and romantic evening listening to the rain.  He chose this time, the bastard, when I was most off guard to launch his attack.

The rain had forced him to enter from the roof, which is not entirely connected to the walls of our house, but has room in between to allow for air flow and ventilation.  The rat seemed to repel down the wall with a quick and stealthy scamper.  Our only indication of his entry was when he landed on our metal trunk that is issued by the Peace Corps.  Kate and I sprung to our feet knowing that our outer defenses were penetrated.  The riot gear and tear gas canisters I had ordered off of Amazon.com would not arrive for a few more days, so I was forced to improvise.  Taking advantage of the rat's momentarily weariness from his rough landing near the trunk, I surveyed the surrounding landscape thinking of how I might vanquish him.

After a split second, I decided to try and trap him much as I had before, by pinning him with the trunk against the wall.  But this time, learning from my previous errors, I moved the other trunk into position to first cage him and then dole out the death blow.  As before, when I caged him against the wall using the trunks he tried to jump out of my trap - while he succeeded with ease last time, this time he could not make it and I knew that I had finally caught him.

A morale question quickly arose in my mind - could I actually do it?  Would I be able to destroy the creature?  After all, I am generally a pacifist and fairly easy going person and really don't ever wish to harm a thing.  After quickly weighing the pros and cons, I made my decision - he wasn't walking out of here again to eat my food, make scary noises at night, and poop on my floor.

***This next part is actually kind of gruesome...be warned***

I gave the rat a very small space to run along the wall being careful to not give him a full opening to freedom.  Once I saw that he took the bait and tried to escape, I ended the life of my greatest foe to date.

I quickly moved the trunk back flush against the wall, knowing that the rat was trapped between. As he tried to struggle out I waited until it was only his head left between the trunk and the wall (I did this out of mercy, I wanted it to be quick for him).  What came next was a quick shove of the trunk and a small squeak, as I carried out my opponent's sentence and saluted his spirit and ingenuity.

Of course, he was honored with a proper burial with full honors (I tossed him in our front yard and I think a wild dog got to him by morning...).  My sincerest hope is that this will stand as a warning to future rodents wanting to terrorize myself and my wife.

In all honesty, I have a dreadful fear of rats and while I may get a letter from PITA about this blog post, it took a lot for me to confront it (twice).  I am joking a lot but I really hate to kill anything - but this had to happen, and may again while in Cambodia.  Keeping our house pest free, whether they be snakes, lizards, bugs or rodents is something that is important for our general health and sanitation at home.  It is interesting to know that many of our live-in guests - like the small geckos on the walls or larger lizards - eat many of the other rodents and themselves are harmless to us.  I draw the line at rats though.

An update

There are always so many things to talk about that it is difficult to know where to begin when I sit down to blog.  Each day, Kate and I have random encounters and mind-altering experiences that make our lives in America seem truly dull (and they were).

Simple things like going to bed under mosquito netting (after removing the foot-long lizards from the outside of our net) each night, biking to classes every day on one of Cambodia's busiest roads, or teaching a class of Cambodian students or teachers provides input to ponder for hours.

For the most part, our lives are fairly static from a week to week perspective.  We either teach or study every day for eight hours, taking a few hours break during the sweltering mid-day heat to go home, shower, eat with our family, study and rest.  We ride our bikes everyday, typically around 10k or more, down red dirt roads like the one we live on and on National Highway Number 3, which is just about 200 meters from our house.  Sunday is our day off, and typically reserved for trying to find American food, socializing with other PCTs by playing volleyball or something, studying, cleaning, and of course...doing laundry.

Laundry is one of the biggest things that makes me realize I am not in Kansas (or Maryland) anymore.  Here is how it work:
1. Realize that I have too few clean clothes left and tell myself to do laundry
2. Nap instead because its hot - tell myself to do laundry on Sunday (wear smelly clothes the rest of the week)
3. Wake up early on Sunday and realize I need to do laundry or continue to smell like a foot
4. Do laundry: get the large metal laundry bowl, fill with water from our rainwater cistern that is usually crawling with giant red ants (they bite with their pincers, they don't sting like the smaller ones)
5. Put in soap and soak first batch of clothes in soapy water then scrub and squeeze clothes for a few minutes
6. Rinse in a separate bucket of clean water until the soap is out - by this time you will be very wet, a combination of sweat and dirty laundry water.  Be advised, ants seem to like this better and may begin biting you now.
7. Soak back in first bowl which of course you remembered to empty and refill with clean water and fabric softener, else your clothes will smell terrible even though you just washed them
8.  Wring clothes out A LOT or else they won't dry and might mold over
9. Lay out on fence to dry, being careful to avoid the small red ants (that sting)
10. Repeat until no more dirty clothes
11. Enjoy the rest of your day
5 hours later
12. Freak out when you are playing volley ball when it starts to downpour and know that your clothes are still outside
13. Come home, thank host sister for bringing in your clothes
14. Realize clothes are still wet
15. Rig up high-tech MacGiver clothesline system in house because its still raining
16. Wait two days until dry...
17. Realize it took too long to dry your clothes and they now smell like mold
18. See step 1

Needless to say, I won't be complaining about doing laundry in the US ever again.


This week also marks our midway point of PST.  We are halfway done with what we are told is the most grueling part of the Peace Corps experience.  Next Saturday we will find out our permanent sites - where we will be the next two years - and almost immediately thereafter leave to visit them individually.  We will regroup together in Phnom Penh for a night.  Kate and I are already planning on gorging on Western food whilst there, as well as hitting up the grocery store for some essentials during the last month of PST.


ALSO!  Thanks to Mama Watts for the care package!  We have been enjoying several jars of peanut butter this week as well as some other goodies.  Just in case anyone is wondering....you can find the address of where to send letter or packages to us on Kate's blog, but here it is:

PCT Chris Marsh
Peace Corps

P.O. Box 2453
Phnom Penh 3
Cambodia - US Embassy
Asia

I know the "Asia" part at the end seems a bit much, but we have heard stories of packages going to Columbia or Cameroon as Cambodia is not the most well-known country in the world. Also, make sure the declared value is VERY low or else someone might go through it and we are also charged a fee based on that amount here. The flat rate international boxes are not overly expensive and you can make those as heavy as you want.

Just in case you are wondering (further)...a running list of things that we would love to see when opening up a package might include:
-Candy from the states (usually hard or individually wrapped candy is best because of the heat and long journey of the package, we are not above eating melted chocolate though, just be sure to put it in a bag)
-Nutella (lack of chocolate here is astounding, but this stuff won't melt/spoil)
-Seasoning packets (we will be cooking on our own soon and want to stock up on some things that taste not like rice...like taco or faijita seasonings...etc.)
-Individual drink packets - crystal light or any kind of tea in those packets are great!
-A decent pack of pens
-Crackers like wheat thins or whatever...
-Granola bars, Cliff bars, fruit snacks...all are craved
-Marconi and cheese...that would rock...
-Dr. Bromners peppermint soap - so good for so much here, just be sure to put it in a bag and duct tape the top in case it leaks
-Also, for me, undershirts are a lifesaver with all the sweating, any kind will work and typically a medium fits me
-It would help to pack things in sealable plastic bags or hand towels as both are needed here
-Anything else you are so kind enough to want to send...

I have not written much about the food yet, so I wanted to write something in this update.  We eat with our host family almost every lunch and dinner.  We get breakfast on our own before classes.  Typically lunch and dinner consist of similar kinds of foods - our family knows what we like so they cook us all kinds of pork , beef, chicken (our favorite here, but very expensive), and fish dishes - they are usually with many other veggies or in a soup of some kind.  Did I mention rice?  We eat that a lot...rice in Cambodia is pretty much tantamount to Jesus Christ in the Vatican...its really popular.  Our family, and in particular our host sister, cooks amazing foods that we eat happily every day.  A few curve balls are sauteed ants and frog dishes that we get with some regularity.  I like both, but the frog is great - identical to chicken except for the bones which you need to spit out constantly.  They even gave us stuffed frog one night that had chopped up frog, curry and veggies all ground up - it was just heavenly (I know it sounds odd or even repulsive, but it makes my mouth water...).  Own family also gives us fruit after almost each meal, which is just awesome.  It has become a running joke in our house to give Kate bananas (because she hates them, but ate them out of respect at first) and watch her say how full she is and can't eat anymore - our sister loves this.

On our own at restaurants, we order noodles a lot to change it up from the rice.  For breakfast we have a few options - when we have time, we go to the market and grab a bowl of noodles with pork, a fried potato muffin that has veggies and meat inside, or a sticky rice and sugary crepe that my friend Kelly (thanks!) turned me on to.  The market atmosphere is really bustling in the morning - since few people here have electricity, let alone refrigerators, all food is usually bought and prepared the same day you eat it.  That means that you need to go to the market every morning and only buy what you need for that day.  This is fantastic for freshness, but not so much for convenience.

Just this weekend we have had some real treats.  Saturday night our training village all got together to make an American meal - pasta with homemade red sauce, garlic BREAD and grilled ribs were on the menu.  You will never see 24 happier people than we were that night.  The food was amazing, but the occasion allowed us all a chance to unwind, relax, laugh and be with the people that have become nearly family to us.  It was my favorite night in Cambodia so far.

Today we were treated again by a friend in a neighboring village who made some fantastic Jambalaya.  The dedication of this guy to bring his cajun spices all the way to Cambodia and cook for us is commendable and totally delectable.  Thanks, Ace!!

Well that about covers my fairly extensive update.  Look out for my exciting conclusion to The Rat Saga later this week!

The Coming of the King/Why We Teach (English)

I am currently four days deep into our six-day practicum week, practicing teaching English to a real, live Cambodian class.  While there have been frustrating moments, I view the week as a huge success so far as I am concerned.  I have been in front of my class about four times now and have enjoyed every moment. 

We all work in groups of three Peace Corps Trainees - all of us newly-minted and greenhorn English teachers.  We are only midway through our Pre-Service Training, so this is the time that we begin to use some of the teaching tactics and strategies to see what works, what doesn't and what will cause your kids to laugh at you for minutes on end in a standard Cambodian classroom. 

It can't be mentioned enough, I am working with some of Peace Corps' finest future teachers - Libby and Gilbert - thanks to you both for a fantastic and smooth (so far, knock on wood, throw salt over your shoulder, hit the light switch three times) week.  We are teaching an "English Crash Course" focusing on some of the basics, but really just "testing" our methods out on these amazingly bright and eager kids.  The feedback we have gotten from current PCVs doing the job that we will be soon has been invaluable, but more so is the chance to get in front of a class and just start teaching (finally).

Today was a pretty big day for us PCTs, as well as for our school, as the King of Cambodia drove by our school, waving out the top of an SUV.  I should disclaim, this isn't a HUGE deal, and probably made us PCTs more excited than the rest of the school.  Cambodia is about the size of Minnesota, so whenever the King travels he tries to "greet his people."  Also, there are only like eight paved roads in Cambodia, so he is bound to pass you by a few times a year. 

As our school emptied, students and staff lined the highway (yes, kids on a highway is usually a bad idea, but not so irregular in Cambodia...) with pictures of the King and waved Cambodia flags as his motorcade drove by.  My kids noticed, what I am told, is my huge resemblance to the King on day one of teaching them, and ever since we found out that the King was driving by they couldn't help but hold up his picture next to my face to compare.  I have to admit, at one point I had delusions of grandeur that the King would see me waving to him as he drove by, stop the car, and recognize me as the American brother he never knew - but it wasn't meant to be (though I am fairly sure that our eyes locked as he drove by, and that we shared something beyond words...). 

I can't say how rewarding and educational this week has been so far with still a few more days left to go.  I hope it is a sign of things to come, but the reality is that many Cambodia classrooms are in terrible shape, students are taught by and large by teachers who are ill-trained and unmotivated, and often times they have difficulty learning due to hunger or a lack of materials and supplies.  Many of the students I have taught this week speak English fairly well already and we know they are eager to learn as PC asked the community for volunteers since school is out of session this time of year. 

All this rambling brings me to my point: the Peace Corps' mission in Cambodia is a valid and difficult one.  I am not tooting my own horn nor am I commenting on the politics of how well Peace Corps does or doesn't do their work in a larger sense.  I want to point out the difficulties and need in what will soon be a tiny sliver of the world that I feel partially responsible for in some way.  Cambodia is a nation that is still trying to gain its footing after a decimating civil war/genocide in the 1970s and is simultaneously trying to compete against some of Asia's biggest rising (economic) powers like Singapore, Thailand and Vietnam.  As my grandma always says, "Education is the great equalizer," and thus the Peace Corps is here. 

Teaching English abroad may be some backpackers' wet dream for a "true cultural experience."  It is a way, for some, to put in a small effort teaching a skill they are already masters of to others who need those language skills to acquire better jobs, make more money, etc. Its a way for someone to say, "I did this, I helped and I have pictures to prove it," without giving too much thought to what happens next to the community you just helped.  It automatically makes you "worldly." I am not criticizing, help is help for those that need it. 

The way Peace Corps does it, is to not simply turn us loose upon the poor Cambodian masses and start getting them to pronounce the "th" sound (its really hard for them!), but to give us the tools, methods, language and cultural experience to become fully integrated members of our communities, to identify their problems and provide sustained and lasting help as one of them.  Teaching English opens doors for many, many students in Cambodia, and not necessarily for all the reasons one might guess.  Yes, many English speakers in this country strive to be tour guides or interpreters for rich American companies and the like.  However, the native language here, K'mai, is spoken by a very small minority of the world.  Combine this with the mass killings of Cambodia's intellectual class by the K'mai Rouge and you have a wayward, starving country that then must rebuild itself and compete with the world without the help of its best and brightest.  Beyond this, after the K'mai Rouge, Cambodia had no way of educating its youngest generation in specialized skills as the majority of its teachers and intellectuals were also killed.  English then, becomes a bridge for higher learning for many Cambodians.  If you want to be a doctor, lawyer or virtually any other kind of professional, you need to speak English (ok, ok I hear the anti-imperialists...English OR another highly used language like Chinese or French...) to be able to learn and acquire the necessary skills to practice your trade.  "Just teaching English" then becomes the ladder to the next level for many young, bright Cambodians and may give this country more of an edge to compete against other nations and forger a better future for itself. 

So for all you Peace Corps/English Teacher naysayers, here is a point for the good guys, and hopefully makes some folks understand why I want to be here and why I am really excited to start doing my job. 

The Rat

I don't claim to be a tough guy or superhero, despite my constant joking claims that I am, in fact, Batman. However, there are few things that truly frighten or scare me.  Bugs, thrill seeking sports, heights, snakes...even commitment, I can handle.  Rats are one of the only things that really makes my spine tingle and palms sweat.

If you have ever read Orwell's 1984, you might recall a scene where the main character is led to a torture room, "Room 101," where he is made to confess to a crime he did not commit.  The torturers know everything about the character, including his worst fear: rats. When I read this scene I immediately realized that I shared the same "Room 101" with the character.  When I read further about how the torturers strapped a cage to his face so that the rats could nibble at his vital bits freely, I came forever to the anti-torture side of the torture debate. 

I needed to give you that insight before plunging into my latest and perhaps most terrifying story since being in country.

One very dark night...its always very dark for stories like these...I was happily enjoying my evening in bed under mosquito netting.  I was reading a book with my headlamp on and my wife laying next to me doing the same. Since I have an old-man-bladder, I had to pee about twenty minutes after I had gotten into bed.  This is a terrible hassle for me after it takes about ten minutes to get into bed, cooled off and cozy.  It never fails that once I am all tucked in and ready to fall asleep to the caccophany of frogs croaking and dogs barking outside I develop the urge to pee.  Now, getting out of bed here is not exactly the same as when I am at my home in the US...there I just throw the covers off, step onto the knowingly bug-free, plush carpeted floor, and stroll through my air conditioned home to my bathroom (which has indoor plumbing and toilet paper).  Nothing about this scenario matches with its Cambodian counterpart.  

First, I must quickly untuck a portion of the mosquito netting from under the mattress in order to exhume myself from the bed.  I am careful to tuck in the net once outside to avoid a chiding from my wife about letting disease-laced bugs come into the lone sanctuary of our bug-free bed.  I am sure to grab a flashlight as it is pitch dark and my bathroom has no running water, so I must be able to see what I am doing to pour water down the drain to ""flush."

On this particular evening, I grabbed my flashlight on my way out of the bedroom and turned it on before opening the door to our larger living area which I needed to cross in order to get to the bathroom.  When I opened the door I heard a distinct scuffling from where we typically store our books and some snacks by the front door.  I  whipped my flashlight around thinking it was one of the larger, but albeit harmless, geckos that live in our house.  Instead, my eyes focused on the distinct image of a medium sized rat who was now frozen from the beam of my flashlight.  I freaked the hell out.

I walked back into the bedroom to tell my wife, who I knew would identitfy with my current level of fear - after all this is the same woman (who loves me, remind you) that would grab the stuffed animal rats at Ikea and pretend that they were scurring up my back to ban vanquish this beast for me.

Her response was less than comforting, "Oh my god - really?!  I am really freaked out right now. What are you going to do?"

In retrospect, I see the humor.  In the moment, I felt like my fellow soldiers had just left me behind enemy lines.

After the initial fear that encircled me when Kate told me that she was staying put behind the mosquito-net-forcefield, I took a deep breath, hiked my boxer briefs up in a show of pride and responded to her, "I'm going to kill the bastard."

(*Note, my words may have been different, and I can't fully remember the seaquence of events, what is important to remember is that I definately did NOT cry, and I certainly did NOT urinate on myself.)

I located a sturdy weapon with which to vanquish my toothy-long-tailed-foe: an electrified raquet we use to bug-zap mosquitos.  I was pretty sure the voltage was not strong enough to kill a rat of this size, but I hoped that the raquet itself would do as a bludgeon.  To paint the picture: I was in my boxer briefs, croutched in an army-like position holding a flashlight in one hand and the electrified raquet in the other.  I also had my headlamp on for added visibility and coolness. By this time, fear and the stiffiling heat meant that I was a sweatty mess and literally dripping, but God did I feel alive...

The rat had entrenched him or herself under the day bed in our main room and that was where I decided to fight my first battle of the evening.  I lunged at the beast, ensuring to shine my light on his face to stun it like before, but the creature was ready for me and narrowly escaped my first salvo.  It ran along the walls of the room for cover, me running after it and alternating between highly intimidating and inapporpiate swears and noises that a four-year-old girl with pigtails might make if she were to scrape her knee. 

The beast finally ran behind my Peace Corps issued trunk - a fatally-flawed move- and I reacted with the instincts of a cat and the speed of a ninja.  Shoving the trunk againt the wall, I pinned the beast in what should have been his deathbed.  As I drew nearer to crush him between the wall and the trunk, the brute jumped over the chest and ran straight into our bedroom, under our bed.  The clever beast had outwitted me in a brillant showing of strategy and cunning that Sun T'zu could scarcely have avoided. 

I should also mention at this point that my trusty sidearm had failed me - when I went to strike at it, the handle of the raquet broke from the rest of it and skittered away out of reach.  I realized that I may have to settle for a draw on the evening and began rooting out the beast from its new encampment - I was urged on by my steadfast wife yelling encouraging slogans and words of praise, "OH MY GOD OH MY GOD - IT CAME IN HERE!!  GET. IT. OUT. CHRIS-GETITOUT!!!" (Those of you who know my wife know that I cleaned up that dialogue a bit - I wanted to keep this a PG blog posting).

I had him on the run again and saw him run 'round behind me - he was trying to flank me yet again - only this time I was ready and I had arranged the furniture to funnel him out of our bedroom and back into the main room.  It was there that I lost him, presumably he fled, realizing the equal in his foe and the inevitable stalemate that would ultimately ensue. 

Plans are currently underway to trap and destroy the beast - I have become consumed with hatred and revenge for his atrocities and am considering the use of weapons of mass destruction.  Stay tuned...

Welcome To The Family

Hello all! 

I am writing to you all from under my mosquito net in bed with a cold.  After over three weeks in Cambodia my body has finally succumbed to the assault on it by foreign germs and the drastic changes to my environment.  Unfortunately I was not well enough to go to my language and technical training sessions today, but happily Kate’s computer was close enough to reach from the bed to hijack for a few minutes. 

Its hard to “catch you up” on what has been going on for me over the past few weeks, but I will try to hit most of the high (and low) points. 

When we first arrived in country, we had a few days to get acclimated to our new environment as well as the climate of a volunteer’s life that Peace Corps Cambodia helps to set.  After those precious few honeymoon days of air conditioning, Wifi hotel rooms and the relatively cosmopolitan feel (and cuisine) of Phnom Penh, we were shipped out to our more rural and decidedly more Cambodian-feeling training province.  After only four nights there it was time to meet our host families and break up into even smaller training groups that were based mostly on what you would be doing in Cambodia for the next two years. 

Kate and I are both education volunteers – specifically she will be focused on training Cambodian (or K’mai – this is actually how the term “Khmer” is pronounced and is used when referencing Cambodia’s language, people and overall cultural institutions) teachers to be effective English teachers.  My job is to teach English alongside a HCN (or host country national for those not yet fluent in Peace Corps jargon) and to work on or establish various youth development projects as those needs present themselves to me over my two years of service.  To that end, approximately one half of our PST (or pre-service training) over the next two months will help us to become familiar with teaching practices and the educational system and nuances in Cambodia.  The second half of our PST focuses on language skills and cultural immersion, to which having and living with a host family plays a very large role.

Our host family is small and unique in comparison to our fellow PCTs (Peace Corps trainees, we are not officially sworn in until we complete PST – you follow?).  At the heart of our family is our “yea” or grandmother.  She has an older grandson who occasionally stays with us when not in Phnom Penh on our small “farm” that mainly cultivates rice in the paddies that surround our home.  We also have a sister, though the relationship to our grandmother is somewhat unclear, if indeed there is actually a familial relationship at all.  We do know that the majority of her immediate family lives just next door, but that our sister, named “Mom” (pronounced “mum” - try to keep up) is basically here to cook for us and tend to other jobs that our yea can no longer do...which really isn't much, she has got to be about 75 or 80 and I saw her pull out a huge clump of weeds the other day that I know would have given me issues - I also recently saw her walking to our fence with a handheld hoe in her hands to do who knows what.  These two ladies are both very sweet to us and cook incredible K’mai dishes that include tons of local veggies, fish, pork, beef, chicken (less frequently as it is expensive here) and the occasional oddball dish like fried ants or chopped up frogs.  I should say for the record that I have not had a meal here that I have really disliked.  Everything is served with rice in Cambodia, so we always must eat our food atop loads of white rice. 

During dinner on our first night with our new family, my host brother who speaks a little English, told me that after meeting my family and a few of the neighbors, my yea and her friend (we call yea 2) each ran over to each others’ house to tell the other that I bore a striking resemblance to the current King of Cambodia.  At first I was honored and touched that they were giving me such a lofty compliment so soon after meeting.  After some more broken English from our brother, I realized though, that the main reason I looked like this King Sihamoni, was because we share a similar balding pattern.  Oddly enough, I felt even more at home that my new family, much like my actual family, would make open jokes about my baldness.  I knew that this would be a good home and family for as long as we would be able to stay here. 

Kate and I live in a more remote part of the town/village than do many other PCTs, so we bike to our language and technical classes twice a day each is about a 4km round trip.  We often ride to children yelling “hello” or “what is your name?” – the extent of the English training that they have reached all the more reinforcing the need for Peace Corps volunteers to teach English.  I will try to write a post specifically about our “mission” here soon. 

One of my favorite stories so far involves this very phenomenon.  As Kate and I were riding home one evening, we passed a home that always has about three or four younger children playing out front, they always see us and they always yell to us, seemingly hoping to get a “hello” back from us in either English or K’mai.  On this particular night, however, one of the younger boys was relieving himself on the side of the road, as K’mai boys –young or old – often do.  Kate rode by first waving and yelling hello back.  As I watched I noticed that we caught the little peeing boy off guard so that by the time Kate had passed and I was just next to him he was so excited to see us that he whipped around to ensure that his “hello!” was also counted.  Understandably, he lost all track of his previous task and while turning, continued to pee in a 360-degree arc around himself, spraying himself, the girl next to him and anything else within range of his stream in the process.

Our house itself is pretty plush by K’Mai standards.  We have three rooms to ourselves – a large main room where we keep our things and have a small desk, a bedroom and a bathroom to ourselves.  A disclaimer though: bathrooms here are not what you might think.  Most bathrooms here have squat toilets, often a glorified term for “holes in the ground,” I’ll let you make your own mental pictures.  Often there is no shower, but a cistern that holds a hundred or more gallons of water that is used for showering and flushing via a bucket.  We lucked out and have a “Western” style toilet that you can sit on, but we have no running water, so we still flush by pouring water in after our business has been done.  We shower simply by pouring the often cold water over our heads and bodies and since we have no running water, we use mostly rain water collected by various apertures around the house that funnel into our cisterns and central holding containers.  We use the same water to drink, though only after we disinfect it with bleach to kill viruses and bacteria and filter it through a world-class (when it works correctly) water filtration system.  We have electricity to a minimal extent, but no AC or anything like that.  Our home is very open so mosquitoes and other bugs can come freely in through the windows or open vents in the walls – we sleep under mosquito netting each night.  We also have other roommates like the two-foot blue and orange gecko living in our foyer, smaller geckos that eat the bugs (so they live rent free) as well as some other more unwanted pests that have giving way to some memorable stories.  (See my upcoming post “The Rat” for more details.)  

Beyond these amazing new memories and, now, commonplace happenings around our new home, our lives are beginning to resemble something of a familiar routine.  We wake up early (though not as early as at first when we were unused to the rooster crowing at 4:30am) and usually begin our day by going to the market or a local restaurant for  a quick breakfast.  Breakfast is the only meal we do not eat with our host family as it is not a part of the contract Peace Corps negotiates with them and allows us the freedom to sleep in somewhat and eat what we please, though its usually still rice.  We go to classes in the morning and afternoons and come home for a shower, some lunch (and sometimes a nap if its really hot!), and some study in between the four-hour language and technical sessions.  At night we sometimes linger with other PCTs in the heart of the town to grab a snack and talk before coming home for dinner at six with the family.  Cambodia is no stranger to snack foods of all kinds.  I have already established myself as a loyal customer of the “fried banana lady” who now tends to give me a few free pieces of friend potato when I buy from her.  There are also tuk-luks, or smoothies that are blended with your choices of fruit, sweetened condensed milk and ice – so refreshing after a day with full humidity in the high 90s.  I have also tried the friend crickets that taste just like a crunchy piece of fried-ness, with maybe a slightly earthy or nutty flavor.  Kate and I have also drunk our fair share of the K'mai equivalent to Starbucks: strong instant coffee with a few tablespoons of sweetened condensed milk and sugar over ice…another great way to beat the heat while simultaneously earning countless new cavities. 

Anyhow, I plan to keep up the writing as often as I have something to talk about – I welcome comments and questions if you have them.  I’ll leave you with this – my first impression of the K’mai people are that they are a generally friendly sort that are as likely to regard an American as a celebrity as they would be to invite them into their home for dinner.  While the darker sides are most certainly present, as is the case with all peoples, it would be a hard case to make to say that Americans and Cambodians are so different that we should ignore one another or not help each other when one has the need and the other the means to assist.  I am excited to serve Cambodia, and my own country, while here to my fullest effort, but I am also truly excited that I get to teach our K’mai brethren about America and in turn, to teach anyone interested and reading my blog a little bit about the K’mai.