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“So…. how’s Cambodia? How’s Peace Corps?”
Hey, thanks for checking in! I’m glad you care about me and remember that I exist and want to know how I’m doing. Trust me – I appreciate being reminded of that more than you know. But… those questions are the equivalent of the ubiquitous ‘how’s college?’ or ‘how’s the new baby?’. The immensity of this past half year cannot possibly fit itself into the neat summary you want.
“Cambodia is good!” I’ll reply, even though I know it doesn’t satisfy your curiosity or my need to make you understand, to give you a more vivid window into my life. I’m going to try to unpack that question as best as I can considering the complicated highs and lows thus far. I’m nearing a half year in the Kingdom of Wonder and have had some time to fret, experience, reflect, and integrate (somewhat). It’s not all spontaneous adventures, otherworldly temples, romping around with the village kids, and “saving the world”. In this blog post, I want to take some time to expand on both the lighter and darker sides of my Peace Corps service thus far to show you a more holistic view of my life.
Perhaps a metaphor for going ~deeper~
Disconnection, Resentment, and the Cure in the New Ordinary
Some days, I return home to my beloved hammock after trying to teach an unruly fifth grade class about basic hygiene and sanitation, wondering if they actually absorbed a single word. Feeling close to breaking down from stress and frustration, I nestle into the comforting folds of canvas, stress-eating a fried banana I bought from the num lady for 12 cents. Lying there, I wonder what the hell I’m doing here when I could just be in New Orleans with my best friends, working for a year or two before I go back to school. It could be so easy.
It’s so tempting sometimes.
While I know working service jobs to make ends meet isn’t exactly easy living, it’s hard not to romanticize it from afar. Homesickness and doubt can take over for a week at a time and I can’t stop thinking about how much easier it would be to go back home - somewhere where I don’t have to struggle to work and exist in another language, where I am intimately familiar with the culture, where I know how to act or not act, and where I have close friends and family. I know what to do and how to go about it, for the most part.
In those times, I must step away from social media because it pains me to see what my friends are doing - the common hangout spot they are frequenting, what great bands they are seeing, even the food they are eating (oh god, don’t get me started on the food photos). I need to be more present in my community, not less. I push myself to get out of my house and walk around, because something more positive will inevitably happen when I leave my sulk-sanctuary. And it always does…but during those especially tough weeks, the good mood is only temporary.
Recently though, I’ve had many experiences that help me appreciate and enjoy my unique situation and that have gotten me over the first difficult emotional hump. Little moments that accumulate.
A month and a half ago, a grandmother that I recognized from the health center spotted me while buying vegetables and she held up a piece of beef liver, asking me ‘teacher, can I put this in my grandchild’s rice porridge?’ That was the first time I was recognized in the community as a source of knowledge outside the context of the health center, rather than just being ‘that barang’ (foreigner). I was also so proud of this grandmother for putting in the effort to improve her care of her infant grandchild (the mother works in Thailand), especially since I had personally counseled her after seeing that her grandchild was at risk of being underweight. Was this it? My first little nugget of hope, a good sign for things to come?
There are also everyday experiences with my village kids that bring me joy, like when we go on walks and I let them take me to new areas of the village, or when they ask me to lead yoga for them (even though they have 15-minute attention spans at most). Sometimes we go on group bike rides together, and I am excited to show them the little taste of freedom they can have if they are willing to put in the work. I consider all of this a two-fold success: I get to integrate into the community by hanging out with these awesome kiddos, and also help them shape the concept of exercise as a fun and regular activity.
just a little Sunday hatpraan
A unique part of the Peace Corps experience is having the opportunity to celebrate my own holidays with my host family and village – like when we carve pumpkins for Halloween, cook ‘pumpkin pie’ for Thanksgiving, or light Hannukah candles. Their excitement to experience a little of my own culture is infectious. I can’t help but feel excited with them, not only from my own nostalgia of the holidays but to be able to share experiences and rituals dear to my heart.
Hannukah, Cambodia-style: with a wood stick as a Hannukiah and lots of smiles
I am lucky to have a welcoming host family and site that eases my transition into life here in the village, but I have to put in the conscious effort to stay afloat and not only keep myself open to new opportunities but to also create them myself.
Daily Frustrations
On gender inequalities, more overt and overarching than in America. From the home, to school, to the workforce, to social life, religious practices, and more. And not only how it affects my own lifestyle as compared to my male PCV counterparts, but also how it affects many facets of every female Cambodian’s life. Talk to me if you want to hear about my feminist rage as I struggle to understand it from a cross-cultural lens. I’ll expand more on this in another blog post.
girls looking into the mosque from the outside, not allowed to enter
On the ability to communicate – to understand and be understood. I know, logically, that I’ve only been here for five months and that my language skills have really improved a lot, but damn - sometimes it just really gets to me. Like when I’m at a work meeting for 3 hours and only understand maybe 20% and feel useless. Or when I ask a mother at the health center to see a child’s vaccine and growth records, and she stares blankly at me for a second before turning to her friend and laughing, telling her she can’t understand me. Moments like that make me simmer with rage inside – but on the outside, I force a polite smile and turn to a co-worker for help, who understands what I am trying to ask. I wonder to myself if the mother can’t just try a little harder to understand me, or at least ask me to repeat myself, or if she actually understands how difficult it is to do this work in a language I have only been learning for five months.
But no, she does not understand. Why would she? Why would they? I have to remind myself, over and over, to accept it and keep trying to improve.
On moments of true clarity – realizing what must only be part of the enormity and complexity of the issues you are trying to combat, and feeling utterly insignificant…but ultimately come out more motivated than before.
We come to Cambodia and spend two months learning about all of the complex public health issues that the Khmer people face, and the many obstacles to health on a personal, cultural, and an institutional level. Then, we are released to our sites to start chipping away at it. At the health center, you see only one side of it – the results of all of these persistent public health issues. For me, living with a fairly middle-class family in a ‘suburban’ area close to my provincial town, I have limited exposure on a daily basis to some of the issues of rural Cambodia. However, on a recent vaccine/vitamin A outreach to a very far-off village (think 45+ minutes on difficult, uneven dirt roads) I was able to see the larger extent of these issues. Issues that go beyond education - they are issues of accessibility. Access to secondary schools, fresh vegetables and fruits, hygiene infrastructure….it’s all simply not in the equation for many of these families. My primary job – education – is not enough. How can I tell a soon-to-be mother that she needs to eat a lot of leafy greens if there isn’t a vegetable seller for miles and miles? What can she do with that information?
These issues are difficult and complex, but I understand and learn a little more everyday.
The Perpetual Ups and Downs, but Mostly Ups
The moments that I just want to let out a huge, frustrated scream are balanced with moments of pure contentment and bliss. Gliding through the dirty rice field water when the local bridge floods and simply enjoying that familiar feeling of freedom and weightlessness; sipping a bougie hot chocolate in pajamas while watching the steady morning rain pound onto the city street; biking home from town during late afternoon when golden hour sunlight lights up the rice fields in the most spectacular, beautiful manner. In these moments, I feel like I am exactly where I need to be.
family, before some Sunday Funday swimming
when you've been staring at the sky for too long and your family wonders if you're insane
And, of course, there are those experiences , those funny little uniquely Khmer moments, that I would not be able to have anywhere else in the world under any other circumstance.
…Like that one time when I went on a long bike ride and promised myself I will stop and get a smoothie on the way back. I pulled up to the smoothie stand, and the smoothie lady is shocked that not only is there is a white person standing in front of her, but also this white person can speak her language. As I ordered my smoothie, all of her aunties and grandma and nieces trickled in to look at me, a very sweaty and red barang who can somewhat speak Khmer. In classic yeiy fashion, the grandmother comes up and gives me a nice pat on the butt. I turned around to face her - she has already pulled up a chair for me to sit right next to her. Laughing, I took my seat. As I gulped my smoothie down, we all chatted about my country, my work, my food intake, my lack of husband and children, my ability to speak Khmer, etc. After twenty minutes of chit-chatting, I politely extracted myself and headed home refreshed, physically and mentally.
And then there are times when I have a specific goal to accomplish, but that ends up getting sidelined for more important things. Like, when I headed over to the village chief’s house to get some information and end up picking fruit with her and her children. She sent me home with three papayas, a bundle of some unknown sour fruit, and a big bag of ambok (sort of like hoemade rice crispies). Didn’t get that much information, but making friends and building relationships is maybe more significant, as per the Khmer way.
As any Peace Corps Volunteer will tell you, Peace Corps is a roller coaster. The staff even attempt to explain this in training using a succinct and pretty chart displaying the different emotional phases of service. But what they don’t tell you is that in just one day – and even in one hour - you can feel like you’re soaring on top of the world, then plunge into unsettling depths of doubt, frustration, and homesickness. But, for me at least, the good – the unique experiences, small successes, simple everyday joys – far outweigh the bad days.
So, how’s Cambodia?
It’s good.
But maybe if you ask me next week, I’ll have a different answer.
yours truly, goofin' around on a mountain