From August 18, 2008

August 18, 2008

This is my last entry, as I leave Cambodia on Thursday. Lately, I think my journals have been somewhat negative. August has certainly been frustrating for several reasons. However, my recent writings do not accurately convey my thoughts about the entire summer.

Cambodia’s Hope is an amazing organization. They are doing a great service to the children, as they are receiving a great education, they are learning English, and they have food and shelter every day. Compared to street children in Cambodia, they are very fortunate. This is all thanks to Cambodia’s Hope and Palm Tree Orphanage. I think the language differences and the communication problems would have been present in any organization here, so I do not fault the staff for that. However, it was very different from any other Watson summer and I am thankful for the experience. I would have been very upset if I traveled thousands of miles to sit in an office from nine to five.

Most importantly, I have made strong connections with all of the children at the Palm Tree Orphanage. I think that I made an impact on the kids by letting them know that I was there for them, no matter what the circumstances were. I made an emotional connection and I think most of the kids appreciated that. On the subject of my teaching, I think I made a greater impact outside of the classroom. In class, I felt that I was really only following what the teachers had done before, and there was no room for me to make suggestions or corrections. For example, the children can only read because they are repeating what they hear phonetically. Most of them cannot pronounce a word they have never heard before, but I tried to have them ‘sound it out’ and recognize the sound of the letters. This did not go far. However, outside of class time, I was able to work on their language skills by talking with them informally, reading to them, and answering questions they had about homework. Overall, I think I did make an impact and I hope the kids feel that way too.

I believe working in Cambodia has been the best thing I ever done. I am proud of myself for dedicating myself to the idea and then following through to make it a reality. I am not a natural traveler; before this trip, I had only been to England twice and that was with my family. I like to think it was bold to plan my first solo trip abroad to a developing nation. Certainly, I was presented some challenges that others, in more wealthy countries, were not. Of course this was done purposefully. I sought a transformative summer and I thought I would learn and change the most by living in a radically different place. I am satisfied with my work and progress over the past three months.

From August 15, 2008

From August 15, 2008

When I first planned my trip to Cambodia, I scheduled myself for eleven weeks and figured I could add more time if I felt inclined to do so. However, upon reaching the halfway mark, I realized I would probably not want to do another three or four weeks. I am glad I made that decision. I finish my work next week, and though I have mixed emotions about leaving the children, I am very excited to go back home.

Between the language difficulties and overall lack of communication between the staff and the interns, day to day life at the orphanage has become increasingly frustrating. In hindsight, I realize that about two or three weeks in, I began to work independently. When I first arrived at the orphanage and was looking for help from the staff, I would routinely get wrong answers to my questions. If I asked if there was a meeting and was told no, I would have ten children looking for me fifteen minutes later, to tell me that yes, there was a meeting. From that point on, I kept to myself and figured that if the staff needed me, I would find out one way or another and deal with it then. Last weekend, all of the children thought I was bringing them to the beach for some reason. Even the staff was surprised to find out I never told the children this and would not be able to pay for it. I am still not sure where anyone got this idea. I felt guilty, but simply did not have the money or the means to take all the children to Sihanoukville. However, if a child told a staff member about my alleged plans it would make sense if they would then talk to me about it, instead of just accepting it automatically as truth.

The staff was also unable to be a source of support or guidance. More often than not, our interactions were brief and full of confusion. For example, there were times when the staff knew that the power would be out, and they would not tell us. Earlier this week when I asked about the power being out for three days, I was informed that they were rerouting the electrical system at the orphanage. Why wouldn’t you tell all the interns about that? We live at the orphanage! Also, I still have no running water. Though some staff members came in to take a look, they simply said it was broken and that was it. These interactions reinforce the fact that I was pretty much on my own this summer.

I am proud of myself for making it this far. And that is not to say that I thought I would die or run away, but there were some weeks where it was incredibly difficult to deal with living in Cambodia. It was incredibly overwhelming to see the desperation and poverty in the streets. It is frustrating to know that there is nothing you can do. Giving money to one begging child will not solve poverty. Teaching English for one summer will not rid the country of its ills. I would like to think that I made a small impact, but how far will my work go?

From August 3, 2008

From August 3, 2008

Life at Palm Tree has been difficult for the past week. There are only three Americans teachers left. At one point, we had ten or eleven volunteers, and the children were overjoyed! However, it is now just Becca, Evan and I, and we are struggling to make up the difference. Adding to this pressure is the fact that the power outages have increased in frequency, and there is no running water in my room. I look forward to going back home, if for the hot shower alone!

One evening, we planned to have a movie night for the kids. We picked up a pirated version of Wall-E from the market, and asked if we could gather all the kids after dinner to watch it. However, the power was off all day and, by dinner time, had not yet returned. One of the staff asked if we wanted to run the generator. However, the generator costs $30 dollars an hour, not including the price of gasoline. I did not see the point in paying that much, especially since we could just watch the movie another night. I told them we would watch it when the power returned later that week.

Since there was nothing else to do, Becca and I walked to a nearby gas station to sit in the air conditioning. It was not that dark yet, so we felt we were safe. We stayed for about an hour, but upon leaving, we realized it had started to rain. We were several blocks away, and we knew it would begin pouring rain at any moment. The street in front of the orphanage would be flooded in about ten minutes. To avoid this, we ran! We sprinted the entire way back, dodging motos and trying to ignore the fact that the lightning was incredibly close to where we were. Soaking wet and out of breath, we finally reached the gates of the orphanage. Upon entering, we were not greeted in any way you would greet someone who is clearly frightened and soaked. One of the boys asked us to buy gasoline for the generator. We told him we had already talked about it with the staff, and we would watch the movie another time. We retreated to our dark room to change our clothes and bathe out of five gallon buckets.

Fifteen minutes later, we heard a knock on the door. Another one of the older boys wanted to know why we did not want to pay for the generator. I was shocked that he would ask us that! I told him it was too expensive for us, especially since we could just watch it another day this week. To my surprise, he began arguing with me! He told me the children wanted to watch it very badly because they were all bored. I could not understand what the problem was. Why would we pay over $100 dollars for them to watch a movie I bought for $2 dollars at the market? I tried to explain to the best of my ability that it was too expensive, and then I closed the door.

But they knocked again! Now there was a group of older kids outside my door. This time, they told me the staff agreed to pay for the generator so they just needed the movie. Of course, they were lying. They said this expecting that I would say “oh no, the staff should not pay for it, here’s the money!” However, at this point, I felt really uncomfortable that they were bothering me all night about the movie. I gave them the DVD. Remarkably, the children began examining the movie, to see if it met their approval! One of the boys said, “Is this all you have?”

I was so frustrated. I was simply trying to do something nice for the children by buying them a movie. But this is where that feeling of obligation sets in once again. It was not enough that I thought of the kids to plan a movie night, but I must also pay nearly a hundred dollars so they can watch it right that moment. It made no sense to me, and left me feeling guilty the rest of the week.

From July 28, 2008

From July 28, 2008

It is hard to believe that I have less than a month left in Cambodia. Days seem to be flying by, whereas when I first arrived, time moved quite slowly. I am careful not to take these last days for granted, as I know I will miss the children very much when I am back in New York.

All the children know I am leaving this month, so they have begun to ask me what day and time I am going to the airport. It is hard to hear them ask when my last day is, because I am not sure how to approach the issue. I tell them when I am leaving, but then I tell them that I will try to return next summer and that more volunteers will come to be with them in the meantime. However, this answer does not seem to satisfy them, as they continue to look at me and hold on to me tighter. In the next few weeks, I must help them adjust to the idea that I will be leaving soon. It will be difficult for the children, since I lived with them at the orphanage for the entire summer.

However, other children are having a much different reaction. Some of the older boys, realizing that the summer is almost over, have asked me to buy them items that they cannot afford. Buying things for the children was a constant the entire summer; whenever I went to the market, a crowd of children would come expecting I would buy them hair gel or ice cream. The first few times I obliged, but it was unrealistic for me to buy items for ten children each time I needed something from the store, especially if this was in addition to my weekly donation of fruit for the entire orphanage. Once it was clear I only had a few weeks left, one older boy continually asked me to buy him an iPod or give him mine.

The feeling of obligation that plagued me the entire summer has gotten worse lately since I am leaving soon. The pressure is not only coming from the kids, but from the staff as well. A few staff members would come with us to the market expecting me to buy them things, and it made me very uncomfortable. Even when buying fruit for all the kids, there was no word of thanks from the staff. It was just something I was supposed to do. I was happy to purchase things for the children, but I felt that it should be my decision about what I am buying and when. I would much rather buy all the kids fruit than buy ice cream for the few kids that happen to see me leaving for the market.

Learning from the volunteers who were here before me, I saw that this was simply the way things were around the orphanage. The American teachers would always buy things for the children. However, I do not think it is appropriate for the children to think of their English teachers as people who will buy them anything whenever they ask. Because of this system, I notice that some of the kids have become very spoiled. They will pick the most expensive item, and then it is usually broken or stolen within the next week because they do not take care of their belongings.

On Hiatus

So, my laptop is broken...again. I won't be able to do much blogging now, since the computers in Cambodia are just way too slow to get anything done. When I return to the States, I'll type up four new blogposts. For now, pen and paper will have to do.

I am currently backpacking through Thailand, Laos and Vietnam. I'm in Bangkok right now and it's amazing. There are just no words, sometimes.

I'll be home in 22 days. Hope to see you all soon.

You Look Black!

From July 22, 2008

An interesting aspect of my life here with the children is the importance of skin color and race in Cambodia. In Khmer culture, skin color is tied to class. Darker skinned individuals are seen as lower class. Peasants and farm workers usually have darker skin from being in the sun all day, so this is seen as negative in Cambodian society. Lighter skin is favored and associated with higher classes. I noticed how prevalent these ideas about skin color were as soon as I stepped off the plane. All the girls commented on my light skin and told me how beautiful I was. When I go to the market, I am usually stopped by older women who tell me how they love my light skin and small nose.

Accordingly, as much as they love people with white skin, I have seen the children say extremely racist things about people with dark skin. One example occurred when we were at the airport a few weeks ago, waiting for a new intern to arrive. I have noticed that when the kids travel to the airport and see people of all types and nationalities, they tend to laugh and make fun of the people who are not like them. They openly point and laugh at people of color. One of the older girls pointed at a man with dark skin, perhaps of African descent, and said, “If the new volunteer looks like that, I will tell him to get back on the plane.” I was shocked! I could not believe that one of the sweetest girls at the orphanage was being so blatantly racist and offensive. I ignored the comment at first, not knowing what to say. But then, she asked me, “Would you be happy if your skin looked like that?” I told her that it would not make a difference, since I was the same person on the inside and skin color really does not matter.

Earlier today, I had a discussion about skin color with the same girl. Having returned from the beach, my skin is darker than when I left. She came up to me and, with a look of disgust, said, “You look black.” Laughing it off, I told her I tanned on the beach. She told me I should stay out of the sun, because I was so beautiful before and now my skin is so dark. Seeing how serious she was, I told her that no matter what color my skin is, I am still the same person. She walked off, with the same look on her face, as if to say, “Why would you deliberately darken your skin?”

I am not sure how to respond in such situations, because I do not want to imply that my cultural views are correct and theirs are not. However, it is extremely troubling to know that the children place so much importance on skin color. I think I dealt with these encounters correctly by telling them my opinion, and letting them know that there is more to a person than what is on the outside.

This Is Our Country, Not Your Country

July 21, 2008

Last weekend, I traveled to Sihanoukville. A few of my fellow interns and I took a four hour bus ride to the southern coast of Cambodia. Sihanoukville is very well known by tourists for its beautiful beaches and excellent seafood. I anticipated a relaxing time on the beach. Although I did have an enjoyable time overall, a number of events occurred that continue to trouble me as I write this.

I have become accustomed to seeing children working everywhere. I often see them cleaning tables at restaurants or selling books on the street. In Sihanoukville, girls and boys walk around to the tourists in beach chairs, offering to make them custom jewelry out of string or lanyard. A few girls came to talk to me and the other interns, and offered to make us “friendship bracelets” for free. I was skeptical, since nothing is really free, and I gave the girl who made mine a dollar. They eventually left after we told them we were not interested in buying anything. Later, the other interns changed their minds and purchased jewelry from different girls.

However, this was the wrong move. The girls who had made friendship bracelets somehow found out we purchased from other kids and confronted us that evening! As we ate dinner, six or seven girls surrounded us and asked us why we would give money to other kids, after they had made us friendship bracelets first! They stood there for about a half hour, attempting to get us to buy something from them by making us feel guilty. Since I had given my girl a dollar, she did not bother me. However, it was quite odd to feel so intimidated by this gang of eight or nine year old girls. It was also disturbing to think about where the money was going. Was I naïve to think it was going towards their education, as they told me? Was the money feeding their family? Or did they simply pass off the money to an adult who was just using them?

I was also deeply disturbed by the child prostitution I noticed there. At night, we would see white men casually walking by, holding hands with girls who looked extremely young. I would not be surprised if some of these girls were twelve or thirteen. Many of the girls were clearly intoxicated, struggling to walk without falling down. It was disgusting to see these fifty and sixty year old men cavorting and flirting with these girls as if there was nothing wrong with what they were doing. I have a serious problem with anyone who would travel thousands of miles to live out the disgusting fantasy they have in their heads.

Essentially, it is about power and Orientalism. These men have ideas of docile, Asian women and children being submissive to their demands. They do not think of the woman they are violating as an individual, someone’s child, someone’s mother, someone’s sister, someone with a personality and dreams and ideas. It is absolutely appalling to know that this is going on across the world. However, it goes even further when you see it happening right in front of you and you are entirely helpless. Should I call a hotline and be satisfied when they tell me that they know about the problem and they are working on it? Am I supposed to confront one man and tell him he is disgusting, while thousands of other men are doing the same thing? Do I help the girl, who has probably been raped so many times since she was five that she cannot imagine any other life? How can I do anything?