Staying "Polite"

  One of the biggest differences between American culture and Khmer culture are manners.  It’s hard to be polite in a society where you are unsure of the exact definition of “polite.”  Khmer culture differs greatly from American culture in that Americans are fairly straightforward and will generally tell you when you are making a faux pas.  Khmer people will not tell you if you are doing something bad or rude, and you may never ever find out that you have offended someone.  Rather, if they want you to know that they thought badly of one of your actions or that you behaved inappropriately, they will tell a friend to tell one of your friends to tell you. This is not a joke.

  

  I am constantly in fear of offending someone.  At least, I was when I got here.  But I have learned to take things as they come and just try my best.  Adjusted expectations are a crucial part of the Peace Corps. 

  For example: in America, it’s extremely rude to tell someone that they are fat. It is generally a compliment to tell someone that they are skinny – what this says about our views of ourselves and definition of “beauty” …but anyway I digress.  In America it’s rude.  In Cambodia, it’s just another description.  When I went back to my training host family for training #2, my host mom told me that I had gotten fat.  “Tow-aht” (fat) she said to me repeatedly.  I looked down at myself, fairly certain that absolutely nothing about me had changed in the two months I had been at my permanent site.  Then I looked back up at her and shrugged.  She asked me what I had been eating and if I had been eating a lot of rice.  I told her not too much rice but I drink a lot of water and she caught her husband’s attention.  “See?” she said to Sao Sareth, “she eats no rice and she gets fat. She eats water and she gets fat.” I smacked my head against my palm because a common belief here that eating a lot of rice will make you skinny and drinking a lot of water will make you fat.  It’s a myth that CHE volunteers are attempting to dismantle due to the incredible untruth of it. Anyway, the point is that she thought nothing of calling me “fat” to my face.  On the other hand, when I returned from that training to my permanent site in Kampong Saom, my host mom told me that I had gotten skinny. “Skorm, skorm,” (skinny) she said to me over and over, gesturing to her face and neck.  I checked the only mirror we have in the house and once again, I was still looking at the same face that I had when I arrived in Cambodia a few months before. 

  And then there is cooking.  I love cooks.  I love them because they make delicious food that I get to eat and not have to worry about cooking.  I personally do not like to cook, which from what I understand about most other people is not a very common attribute among the human population.  It’s not that I don’t know how to cook (although a ready argument could be made for that statement), I can cook, I do not enjoy it.  I take no pleasure in preparing food. I would rather eat raw food then go through the trouble and pain of cooking it. So it goes. From what I have found, this is also not an attribute that transcends culture. 

  During the holidays I headed to a fellow PCVs house (Erik, you’ll meet him later) where he was cooking New Christmakwanzikahgiving for myself and two other PCVs.  He told his family that I was coming and they asked if I would be helping to cook the meal.  His answer was something like, “I’m not sure she knows how to cook…” and that swayed them not in the least.  “She’s a woman, she knows how to cook,” they reassured him.

  Traditionally, in Khmer culture, the women cook the food and the men eat the food…you can imagine what this type of thinking does to my digestive system.

  When I first got to Cambodia and moved in with my training host family, I thought that by working with them, it would aid in my language skills and assimilation.  So I always asked if they “jong jooey” (wanted help) in the kitchen.  I viewed this as “polite” because in my world, sometimes you do things you don’t want to do to be polite. 

But…

  It’s kind of like at Thanksgiving when Grandma’s in the kitchen doing something funky with the turkey’s gizzards and you ask if she wants help because she has rickety bones and your parents raised you with manners.  What you really mean by “help” is icing the cake, or better yet, taste testing the pumpkin pie that Aunt Joanie has made from scratch just to make sure that the whole family doesn’t get food poisoning from bad cream the way everyone did that one year you were too busy mashing the potatoes to sneak a taste from the pies and your cousin Jake, who said he would test the pies and bring you a spoonful, ended up eating the ice cream instead, the numbskull. Grandma, however, thinks that by “help” you mean standing at the stove for 30 minutes straight stirring the curiously green gravy which makes you mildly suspicious because it’s Grandma’s “secret recipe” and the truth of the matter is that Grandma lived through the Great Depression and she’ll eat anything that’s put on her plate. Meanwhile everyone else watches football and helps themselves to fruit and veggies and their respective dips before the grand finale of turkey, green beans and deliciousness minus the interesting looking “gravy” that you’ve been trying to avoid smelling for the past 30 minutes.

  My parents raised me right. Did I stop asking if the women wanted help in the kitchen? No way! I have manners! 

  The first time they had me help, Bo sat me down on the floor with a mortar and pestle grinding up some chili peppers and herbs to put in the som-law(a kind of soup).  I won’t lie to you, I enjoyed it!  I had this great story in my head, thinking that I was like the pioneers, contributing to cooking the food from scratch, not relying on a microwave or frozen food (which is essentially what I lived on once I was responsible for my own food).  Hey, I was a child once, I played Oregon Trail back in the good old days – my family always died of cholera or drowned in the river…but that’s a story for a different day.  There is something strangely satisfying about grinding up your own herbs. The first time.  The second time I was put to work on the mortar and pestle I started looking around the room wondering if maybe chopping up the chicken wasn’t as bad as I thought, or perhaps releasing leaves from a branch had its uses.  The third time I praised the gods of microwavable food and refrigeration, trying my hardest not to conjure the sights and smells of my mom’s leftover stew or my dad’s salmon.  There HAD to be a better way to cook the food, a more efficient way of getting these herbs ground, an easier food to cook!  And well, there is. In America. Effectively on the other side of the planet.  So herb grinding it is.  Bo is no dummy though.  She started to notice that I ceased to eat any food which I had a hand in helping prepare and so I was banished from the kitchen.  It was for the best, really.

  The night before I left Angtasorm for the second time (after the second bout of training) my host brother Mao asked me if I was going to come back to Cambodia and visit them once I returned home in about 2 years.  I told him I didn’t know and he asked if they would be invited to my wedding in America.  I told him of course they would be invited and he said that we could Skype the whole thing.  Then he explained that before that happened he had to do 5 things: get a computer, get internet, download Skype, learn how to use Skype, and add me as a friend.   Mao has high hopes but I told him I believed in him. He started talking about the lengths of time and eventually decided that I could have 5 years back in America before I returned.  I thanked him for his generosity.  Then he said to me, “maybe you come back with husband.  Maybe you come back with two or three baby.”  Maybe, Mao…maybe not.  I laughed because I have explained to many Khmer people many times that I awt jong baan (don’t want) a husband or children.  (They smile knowingly, like they’re in on a secret that I haven’t been included in.  I can often see and hear the wheels turning in their heads and am terrified that one day I will show up at a classroom ready to teach nutrition and instead a wedding tent will be set up and beauticians ready to do Khmer bride makeup on my face).  Mao told me that while I was gone he would build a hotel for me to stay at.  It would be a “million star hotel.”  A “million star hotel?” I asked him.  He said yes, because if I wanted to see the stars, I could go on the roof and can look at a million stars. 

And I thought that was a great idea. 

Stay tuned for the Great Pancake Debacle

Xo-Amanda

Photoshoot!

Hi Y'all! I couldn't upload these photos for my last blog update so am posting a few now. The following are my health center, the ANC room where I usually am for my days, and my beautiful health center staff during one of our English lessons.

 

I had mentioned that one Friday, I went on an outreach day with some fellow health center staff. These are photos of the hike to the community center...

The introduction and gathering...

And some photos of the communty and community building:

 



And for my birthday, a few PCVs came out to dinner, and went on a boat cruise:

In this last photo, a few of the guys wrote a song for the January birthdays and serenaded us.



Have a great weekend! - Amanda



Just Another Day

  With all of these posts about traveling and holidays, you are probably wondering what it is that I’m actually supposed to be doing over here in Cambodia.  Though I do enjoy going to Phnom Penh for meetings and Siem Reap for half marathons, my primary work in Kampong Saom is by far my favorite part of the country.  Thus I would like to walk you through one of my typical work days so that you can see what it is I am doing.

  As I have mentioned, I am a Community Health Education Volunteer for the Peace Corps.  I was placed in Kampong Saom in a health center which serves 11 villages and 5 island villages (I think).  My primary work is focused on educating the Khmer people in one of 5 main areas of health.  These areas include Maternal and Child Health, Hand Washing, Sexual Reproduction, Noncommunicable Diseases, and Nutrition.

  I also like to educate on exercising and since it is great for the health, I take special pleasure in bringing my exercise habits to the people of my village.  Sometimes when they come to the health center they say to me, "you exercise every day!" and I smile and reply, "why yes, yes I do...and let me tell you why..."

  I wake up between 6 and 6:30am to the tinny of rain falling on the roof outside.  Maybe every three days or so I go downstairs to do laundry.  On days that I do not do laundry I try to go back to sleep (like the able-bodied adult that I am) or do some Khmer studying.  My boan brohs leave for school around 6:30am and so I am left to my own devices while preparing for the day.  Sometime before 8 I get ready to go to work - this consists of me washing my face and maybe bucket showering, smell-testing my clothes, and getting dressed   At the health center, I work almost exclusively in the ANC room (pre-natal care) with pregnant women and midwives.  There I am able to see pregnant women and talk to them about (among other things) nutrition, breastfeeding, birth control, vaccinating their children, and sometimes exercise.  If there are no pregnant women to see, I work in the pharmacy, telling people the types of medicine they are getting, probably side effects, and a little bit about what not to consume with the medicine (like alcohol).  When there are no patients left (sometimes around 11am) I teach my health center staff some English.  I am usually at the health center until about noon. 

 Some days I go on outreach and am able to visit villages.   One Friday I went to work as usual, only to be abducted (willingly) by some NGOs and other health center workers for an outreach to an island village.  To get there we drove down my red dirt road to the end where a fishing village resides, climbed into a small wooden boat, and started about a 20 minute journey to the island.  

  When we got to the island, we hiked about a kilometer up to the community center where most of the members of the village sat waiting for us.  After introducing ourselves and doing a bit of explaining (most of it was in rapid Khmer and beyond my language abilities), the people were able to see the doctor, get medication and vaccines, and see me, resident Barang, attempt to remind them that leafy green veggies are ridiculously good for them. The last patients were seen at about 4pm, and so we trekked back to the waterfront and put-putted back to the floating village and my health center.  

  Back to my regular day: at lunch time I walk back home and usually enjoy a peanut butter sandwich.  Then, along with the rest of the country, until about 1 I rest or take what I like to call a “safety nap.”   I would explore or try to engage someone else in conversation but alas, the entire community - and I might argue the entire country - naps after lunch..."when in Rome," my friend.  After the country-wide nap, I do one of a wide range of activities.  Until 3 or so I am usually getting work done involving secondary projects like camps for kids or education materials.  Secondary projects involve a lot of planning, asking permission, and applying for grants so they usually also require a lot of phone calls and computer time.  At 3 o’clock I have a Khmer lesson with my teacher where we translate or write in Khmer for an hour.  Every other day or so at 4 I take a bike ride for exercise from 4pm to 6pm.  On the days in between, I do a little more work until 5pm and then go for a run until 6pm.  When I return to the house from my exercise I shower, and then eat dinner with my host family.  After dinner we all sit in the main room (also the only room downstairs) and watch TV or color, or I help Soktchea with his English homework and Man pulls out some sort of toy to play with.  Earlier this week we were without electricity for a few days and one night culminated in a wicked pillow fight...which I won, of course.  At about 8pm after wishing each other “goodnight and sweet dreams” we all retire to our rooms to fall asleep.  And by “retire to our rooms” I mean I go to mine and the rice mat and mosquito net is set up in the main room for my mother and brothers to sleep under. 

  At press time, I still have yet to make contact with the local high school or local orphanage but I hope to free up my schedule enough to be able to teach there, or at least have some sort of impact.  Because I am busy and used at my health center, my mornings are consumed with my primary work and my afternoons my by secondary work. 

  Secondary projects include outside work.  For example, another PCV and I are planning a Camp GO which is essentially an exercise camp for kids which will teach them not only the importance of exercise and nutrition, but also about teamwork.  Another project I am currently working on is a science lab book for kids.  A few weeks ago I was talking to English teachers who mentioned that their schools had a ton of lab equipment donated to them but which they did not know how to use.  I talked with them a little bit and we are putting together a small science/lab book which includes names and photos of the lab equipment as well as how to use it and some small short experiments that they can do in a science class.  The great part about these projects is that not only am I bringing knowledge to the people of Cambodia, but exercise and science are two things that I really enjoy and am passionate about. 

  A few things to mention about my village and Cambodia in general (these are generalizations and naturally you will find exceptions in almost every case...but for the purpose of explaining to Americans, here I go).  

  -In Cambodia people do not usually stay home for breakfast.  The morning is a really busy part of the day and breakfast is generally held outside of the home.  Like I have mentioned, rice with meat is a popular choice for any meal and can be gotten pretty much everywhere.  Another popular breakfast item is a sort of noodle soup.  For reasons completely beyond my understanding,  when eating Khmer (or as I like to call it: Khmeating) you use chopsticks for slippery noodle soup, and a spoon and fork for sticky rice and pieces of meat.  Anyway, my host mother is a sort of breakfast spot and so people come and eat noodle soup at my house for about 1500R (about $.30).  I usually eat a granola bar that my mother has sent from America because at home (America) breakfast is my absolute favorite meal of the day and the memory of it tides me over until lunchtime.  Also, though I am a morning person, chopsticks at 6am is too much.  

  -For dinner, people are at home and eat with the family.  This is a pretty important part of Khmer culture.  Also, Khmer people count how much you eat by how many bowls of rice you eat.  So my family gives me a bowl of rice and then there are bowls of a vegetable/meat concoction sitting in front of me to eat with the rice, and even if I eat a whole bowl of the tasty non-rice part of the meal, they still say I eat only a little because I've eaten maybe a grain of rice with each spoonful of delicious pork-and-pineapple. Many times my 11 year old brother will eat 3 bowls of rice and maybe half a bowl of a meat/vegetable surprise, but will say that he ate a lot and I ate a little if I have eaten only half a bowl of rice but a whole bowl of the other stuff.  Let me assure you, the first words I learned in Khmer were "I'm full" and "I'm not hungry".  This was after I learned that "breakfast", "lunch", and "dinner", were all known as "hope bye" or "eat rice".  My family doesn't tell me it's "dinnertime," they tell me it's time to "eat rice".  

  -People are not outside after dark.  In the city this is a little different - people are out after dark in touristy areas, and use tuk tuks to get around.  In the village this is because there is literally nothing to do.  There are no clubs, no coffee shops to hang out at, nothing to do and so people are at home hanging out with their families or doing whatever it is they do within the confines of the walls of their house.  Remember when I was coming back from the dentist and wandering along my road in the dark? That was a completely new experience for me because I've never been outside of my family's house when the sun has gone down.  It may never happen again.  

 On an unrelated note, my first birthday in Cambodia passed without a hitch! Some PCVs came to Phnom Penh to celebrate January birthdays and overall I can see that 24 looks to be extremely promising.  I was also featured in fellow K6 PCV Kirk Acevedo's blog,  60X27 - you can access my page on his site through that link (the only thing is he got my birthday wrong...but who's perfect?).  Kirk put together his blog with the thought of showing the web-world all about not just his experience, but the experience of our whole group.  You can check out some other PCV Cambodia K6 views and life happenings if you want to explore his blog (I highly recommend it).  He is also an incredible photographer! Thanks Kirk!

Happy Birthday to me! (It's January 19th, for future reference. I'll be here for one more birthday...and you can access the "snail mail" page to the right. Just saying.)

Xo-Amanda