My immediate host family this time around is small, consisting of my host mother and my two boan brohs (little brothers). Initially when Peace Corps asked us for input regarding sites and families, I had no preferences. I was a little hesitant about living with small children because it's not something I'm used to. You, like me, may have heard horror stories regarding little terrors and temper tantrums. Regardless, I told Peace Corps to send me where they will, trusting in my own patience and bicycle skills for escape. Luckily I got a great family.
The best thing about my host mom, other than her constant cheery nature and patience with my language, is her ability to cook amazing Khmer food. I had thought during training that I didn't like Khmer food. Nope, I just didn't like my other family's cooking. My host mom is an amazing cook. She makes these dishes that are so delicious that I keep eating even after I'm full because they're just too good to go to waste. Also, somewhere in the back of my head I'm thinking who knows what the next meal will taste like so might as well get as much of the good stuff as possible. She never fails me though, every meal is as delicious as the last. Which is awesome because my hungry escalates quickly from hangry to homicidal. It's not a pretty sight. Another great part is that she takes allowances for me wanting to eat American food and she has a really open mind to trying it. After three weeks of rice all day, I asked her if I could try making myself some American food (I knew I was desperate then, because I'm not a cooking kind of girl). She said that was fine and the next day I went and bought some bread, brought it home, and whipped out this great big jar of peanut butter that Supermom sent from America. I proceeded to make a peanut butter sandwich (it's almost the extent of my abilities as a cook) and shared, of course. Maak doesn't like bread though, and though she doesn't like peanut butter, she did try them together before making this statement. Since then, I come home from the health center at lunch time and find a loaf of bread sitting on my peanut butter, waiting to be made into a delicious sandwich. I nom on my pb while they eat rice and a veggie/meat concoction, no doubt delicious but definitely no peanut butter.
Remember when I started walking the distance to my house after being dropped off a million miles away by the bus from Phnom Penh and she rode to my rescue on my bike like a white night rides a noble steed? Problem fixed. Maak's got connections at the stop, and so now when I go to the main rode, I can ride my bike and leave it at a local haang bai (road stand where they sell rice) until I return so that I have a way to get around that isn't my feet.
My host mom is great but I can't deny that my boan brohs are my favorite people in Cambodia. Soktchea is 11 years old, and very quiet but very clever. He speaks a little bit of English and busts this out at the most random times. I'll be struggling to explain to my mom the difference between "no" and "know" and Soktchea will sit somewhere near, silent and apparently playing a game or reading a book when all of the sudden he'll spout, "the difference between negation and verbs" and I'm a little taken aback. Sometimes when I'm out running I'll lose my sense of time and it starts to get dark. When this happens usually I turn a corner and Soktchea is sitting on the road on his bike waiting to follow me home as if he is my bodyguard.
Man Kheang is a whole different marble. He is 6 and sometimes forgets that I don't speak Khmer, chattering to me (or maybe to himself) away in a stream of words I neither recognize nor understand. He will climb on top of me or squeeze next to me in the hammock and just lay, giving me Khmer kisses and asking if I'm tired. "Bong!Bong!Bong!Bong!" are his favorite words when I'm around - "bong" is short for "bong srai" which means "big sister" in Khmer, and this is the respectful way to address someone older than you. He loves showing off for me, bringing me a small coloring book that he's completed, or displaying his vast knowledge of ninja moves. Once I was riding my bike down the road and spotted him coming back from school. He stopped when he saw me. "Bong!" he yelled proudly as he placed his hands on his hips, "where are you going?" When I answered that I was riding to a different village and would be back for dinner, he gave me the okay and I kept riding. "That's my Bong" I heard him tell the kids walking next to him, "mine."
I leave for weekends to Sihanoukville to run errands and my favorite part is coming back because they always welcome me with such open arms and big smiles it's kind of taken a piece of my heart. My host mom tells me that they miss me when I'm gone and are always asking where I'm at and when I'll be back. There is really nothing in the world like coming home to two little Khmer smiles and mischievous grins. It's truly a treat to be able to be their Bong. Plus I'm getting really good at playing Power Ranger Ninja Warrior.
Man Kheang right now is learning to write himself and that puts us at about the same level for Khmer writing (kindergarten/1st grade). He's also learning his ABCs while Soktchea continues his own English study. I don't have a tutor at site yet and so Soktchea and Man Kheang have taken it upon themselves to teach me some Khmer. This is especially great for my language skills. Likely my fellow K6 compatriots are gathering phrases that include the ability to do things like locate their sites for return from medical visits to Phnom Penh or ask for fruit in their markets. Myself, I know essential Khmer words such as "slingshot" (jup ja plee-um), "ninja" (jao), "to tickle" (jet graw lin), and "I win!" (ch'naya). Try to contain your jealousy, it's the business of assimilation.
My day isn't complete until, as I head upstairs to my room about 8pm, I hear a high pitch voice in my direction. "Sup-ban la-aw" (sweet dreams), says Man Kheang. "Sup-ban la-aw" I reply, and can rest easily, knowing I will wake up to greet my three favorite Khmer family members and continue my ninja warrior training via the best 6 and 11 year old boan brohs an American girl can possibly have.
xo-Amanda
bottom: my host mom
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