A second location of my favorite coffee shop (The Shop, as you may recall) opened near my apartment about a month ago. I go there quite a bit, and the staff know who I am by now. I popped in for lunch today, and one of the guys asked me a question that's pretty familiar. Here's our conversation:
Dude: "You stay in Cambodia how long?"
Kate: "Nearly 3 years."
Dude: "But you cannot speak Khmer?"
Kate (confused): "I can speak Khmer."
Dude: looks at Kate strangely
Kate (in Khmer): "I went to America for four months. Now I forget everything. But I will study."
Dude (looking unconvinced): "Oh."
Apparently I need to get back to my language lessons. Or start lying about how long I've lived here.
3.06.2010
3.01.2010
Patron-Client Process
Cambodia's culture is often described as being patron-client oriented. Life is arranged with a series of benefactors, who provide job opportunities, finances when needed, and serve as "patrons" to those below them. Clients feel indebted to their patrons for their generosity and giving, and patrons are able to take advantage of these clients, sometimes bribing them for services, etc. When something goes wrong, clients can lean on their patrons for assistance. This means, in the words of Irving Berlin (as sung by Bing Crosby in the classic film, White Christmas)"There's always someone higher up where you can pass the buck."
In reality, the situation is quite complicated, and perhaps Bing is not the person to describe it. It's easy, though, to get caught up in a patron-client relationship without even realizing it.
For instance, you might hire someone for short-term labor, say, driving for a program. When that person later has trouble finding work, or they know you might be hiring again, they call you, trying to find out if you will hire them (even when the position is gone, or filled by someone else). Or, you could experience what happened to me today: someone came into my office and requested that we hire a family member for an extremely short-term position. It was difficult to know what to say. The woman is a good employee, and I really like her, but we had worked out all the details for this position already (really, we were contracting the service from a different company), and then she presented this family member option, which is cheaper, but more complicated. And really hard to decline.
I don't know how to say no in these situations. A lot of times, it's easier to say yes, and then deal with the consequences later. But sometimes, I feel constantly like I'm being put in these "patron" positions, and immediately my relationships are transformed from being someone who is on equal footing, to someone who controls purse strings. They aren't even my purse strings-- I'm often trying to use the organization's money for one of our programs. Which makes it extra difficult to turn people away, when cost is an issue and even a little will go a long way to help someone.
Navigating these complex relationships is one of the reasons I'm jealous for the situation I left in the US. When you want something done, you send out a bid, and you take the best, most cost-effective option. When there's a problem, and you need something fixed, you don't call your driver's cousin's husband, you call a professional. Of course, you pay (often a lot) for these services, and there's little relationship behind the delivery. But there's typically no worry, no questioning whether or not you've unknowingly inserted yourself into a situation you shouldn't have, no occasionally feeling taken-advantage-of, no instance of the same person coming back later and asking you to hire him or her again.
It's equally hard to explain this to Cambodians, who feel that it's perfectly all right to approach me (or anyone who clearly has more money) for these kinds of things. And it's true that I love to be able to help, and feel really good when I can use resources at my disposal to do more than just meet our organizational needs. But I seem to be missing some middle ground, some really important cultural piece, and instead of feeling like I'm blessed to be a blessing, I feel as though I've been marked for my generosity. Unfortunately, there are no easy answers, and it's going to take a lot more than me simply discovering what makes me so uncomfortable to fix it.
In the meantime, I'm trying to be wise in the ways I use what's been entrusted to me. I'm trying to understand what motivates people to approach me for things I'm not ready or able to give. I'm trying to figure out how to be a patron without becoming patronizing. It's turning out to be trickier than I thought.
In reality, the situation is quite complicated, and perhaps Bing is not the person to describe it. It's easy, though, to get caught up in a patron-client relationship without even realizing it.
For instance, you might hire someone for short-term labor, say, driving for a program. When that person later has trouble finding work, or they know you might be hiring again, they call you, trying to find out if you will hire them (even when the position is gone, or filled by someone else). Or, you could experience what happened to me today: someone came into my office and requested that we hire a family member for an extremely short-term position. It was difficult to know what to say. The woman is a good employee, and I really like her, but we had worked out all the details for this position already (really, we were contracting the service from a different company), and then she presented this family member option, which is cheaper, but more complicated. And really hard to decline.
I don't know how to say no in these situations. A lot of times, it's easier to say yes, and then deal with the consequences later. But sometimes, I feel constantly like I'm being put in these "patron" positions, and immediately my relationships are transformed from being someone who is on equal footing, to someone who controls purse strings. They aren't even my purse strings-- I'm often trying to use the organization's money for one of our programs. Which makes it extra difficult to turn people away, when cost is an issue and even a little will go a long way to help someone.
Navigating these complex relationships is one of the reasons I'm jealous for the situation I left in the US. When you want something done, you send out a bid, and you take the best, most cost-effective option. When there's a problem, and you need something fixed, you don't call your driver's cousin's husband, you call a professional. Of course, you pay (often a lot) for these services, and there's little relationship behind the delivery. But there's typically no worry, no questioning whether or not you've unknowingly inserted yourself into a situation you shouldn't have, no occasionally feeling taken-advantage-of, no instance of the same person coming back later and asking you to hire him or her again.
It's equally hard to explain this to Cambodians, who feel that it's perfectly all right to approach me (or anyone who clearly has more money) for these kinds of things. And it's true that I love to be able to help, and feel really good when I can use resources at my disposal to do more than just meet our organizational needs. But I seem to be missing some middle ground, some really important cultural piece, and instead of feeling like I'm blessed to be a blessing, I feel as though I've been marked for my generosity. Unfortunately, there are no easy answers, and it's going to take a lot more than me simply discovering what makes me so uncomfortable to fix it.
In the meantime, I'm trying to be wise in the ways I use what's been entrusted to me. I'm trying to understand what motivates people to approach me for things I'm not ready or able to give. I'm trying to figure out how to be a patron without becoming patronizing. It's turning out to be trickier than I thought.
2.25.2010
Not a Sneeze
I haven't formally re-started my language learning. I'm going to venture into the dangerous waters of reading and writing Khmer, so I'll probably hire a formal tutor, and the person I've asked is checking her schedule. In the meantime, I'm taking an ad hoc approach to learning Khmer (or re-learning, as the case may be), and trying to find ways to make myself understood. It's always most difficult on the phone. Here's an example, from a phone call this afternoon about an evening get-together:
Kate: I want to know if you can bring some things for the party tonight.
Staff Person: Yes, yes, of course.
Kate: Great! Can you bring charcoal and ice?
SP: Chocolate? Ha, yes.
Kate: No, not chocolate. I mean, yes, if you want, but we need charcoal.
SP: I don't know this word.
Kate: Um, you put it on the grill, I mean barbecue. It's what you light on fire. It burns.
SP: Cha-coal? No, I don't know it.
Kate: It's black, it's made from wood... I don't know the word in Khmer.
SP: I don't either.
Kate: Um.... I'll ask someone.
At this point, I walk out into the main office to ask someone. It goes like this:
Kate: Do you know the word for charcoal?
Other Staff Person: Charcoal?
Kate: Like, for a barbecue. Charcoal.
OSP: Oh, yes. Kchung.
Kate (wonders if he has just sneezed before realizing it's a word): Kachoo?
OSP: No. Kchung.
Kate: Kchung.
OSP: Yes.
Kate: Thanks!
So then I try it out on the phone:
Kate: Kchung. We need some kchung.
SP: OH! Yes, yes, I know. I will bring.
Kate: Great! Thanks! Oh, and don't forget the ice.
We'll see if the right stuff actually shows up. If not, we'll just have to eat chocolate, I guess.
Kate: I want to know if you can bring some things for the party tonight.
Staff Person: Yes, yes, of course.
Kate: Great! Can you bring charcoal and ice?
SP: Chocolate? Ha, yes.
Kate: No, not chocolate. I mean, yes, if you want, but we need charcoal.
SP: I don't know this word.
Kate: Um, you put it on the grill, I mean barbecue. It's what you light on fire. It burns.
SP: Cha-coal? No, I don't know it.
Kate: It's black, it's made from wood... I don't know the word in Khmer.
SP: I don't either.
Kate: Um.... I'll ask someone.
At this point, I walk out into the main office to ask someone. It goes like this:
Kate: Do you know the word for charcoal?
Other Staff Person: Charcoal?
Kate: Like, for a barbecue. Charcoal.
OSP: Oh, yes. Kchung.
Kate (wonders if he has just sneezed before realizing it's a word): Kachoo?
OSP: No. Kchung.
Kate: Kchung.
OSP: Yes.
Kate: Thanks!
So then I try it out on the phone:
Kate: Kchung. We need some kchung.
SP: OH! Yes, yes, I know. I will bring.
Kate: Great! Thanks! Oh, and don't forget the ice.
We'll see if the right stuff actually shows up. If not, we'll just have to eat chocolate, I guess.
2.22.2010
Women in Cambodia
As most of you know, I spent the last few months working on a dissertation, and as part of that, spent a lot of time writing and researching the topic of women in Cambodian society. Gender and culture are significantly tied together here (as they are in many places), and being female profoundly impacts choices and opportunities.
Instead of going on about theory or culture, though, I wanted to briefly share an article about this woman, Mu Sochua, who is an interesting example of the politics surrounding gender and, well, politics in modern Cambodia. (It also features a slideshow with some lovely images of rural Cambodia.) I first heard about Mu Sochua last year, when she was being sued by the government, and there was fear that she would be sent to prison. She has done a great deal for the situation of women in Cambodia, particularly around issues of domestic violence and human trafficking.
As an American woman living here, it's often difficult to really understand some of the gender issues that exist here; after all, I grew up with much different ideals and influences. For me, it's both inspiring and hopeful to see a Cambodian woman working to improve the lives of her countrywomen while acknowledging the culture, and its values. She is trying to work within the system, and is a voice for freedom and equality-- it's a voice that deserves to be heard.
Instead of going on about theory or culture, though, I wanted to briefly share an article about this woman, Mu Sochua, who is an interesting example of the politics surrounding gender and, well, politics in modern Cambodia. (It also features a slideshow with some lovely images of rural Cambodia.) I first heard about Mu Sochua last year, when she was being sued by the government, and there was fear that she would be sent to prison. She has done a great deal for the situation of women in Cambodia, particularly around issues of domestic violence and human trafficking.
As an American woman living here, it's often difficult to really understand some of the gender issues that exist here; after all, I grew up with much different ideals and influences. For me, it's both inspiring and hopeful to see a Cambodian woman working to improve the lives of her countrywomen while acknowledging the culture, and its values. She is trying to work within the system, and is a voice for freedom and equality-- it's a voice that deserves to be heard.
2.16.2010
Pluses and Minuses
I'm in my second week of being back in Cambodia, and it's remarkably… normal now. The homesickness is still there, but it's at manageable levels, the kind of lingering feeling of knowing that I'll always be missing out on something, somewhere. It's a feeling I'm used to, even if it's not entirely comfortable. However, in honor of my friend, Susannah, who is currently living in Munich, I've decided that the best way to ease back into life (and blogging!) is to make a list. So here they are, the good and the bad (but not the ugly) things about being back in Cambodia.
+ My favorite coffee shop opened a new branch only 5 minutes from my apartment.
- There is a severe shortage of bagels in this part of the world
+There are tons of cute Cambodian kids running around.
- None of them are my niece.
+ I haven't had to take a snow day since I arrived and the weather hasn't been unbearably hot.
- My sojourn in the US was during the winter, so Cambodians everywhere are commenting on my clean, white skin.
+ Driving a moto again is pretty fun.
- Driving a moto again is downright terrifying.
+ Coming across foods that I forgot I really enjoyed.
- Food poisoning, and being ill for 24 hours last week.
On the whole, it's pretty balanced, and I forgot to include things like, "Spending time with friends I'd missed" and "Being back to work," so maybe it's a little more in favor of the positive at this point. I think there are always good and bad things about relocating, even when it's somewhere you want to be. And life isn't about balancing the equation, is it? We'll always have some negatives in amidst the positives, and sometimes one won't outrank the other. I'm growing more and more accustomed to living in between the bad and the good, and learning which of these values really carry the most weight in my life. In the meantime, I'm drinking coffee and trying to get some work finished. Five months is a long time to be away.
(Oh! And I've now caved to peer pressure joined twitter, so you can follow me there: http://twitter.com/katepieps. I'd love to follow you, too, so let me know if you're there!)
2.13.2010
Heading for Home
Have you ever felt yourself wishing you were somewhere else? I don’t just mean wishing to trade work for the beach or sitting in traffic for a seat on the couch. I mean a heartfelt longing for a different place.
I’ve arrived back in Cambodia after nearly five months in the US, and it’s a bit strange. Cambodia, and life here, is quite familiar after all this time, despite how long I’ve been away. However, I’m more homesick on this re-entry than I’ve been after other, shorter visits to America. Perhaps it’s because I spent a lot of time with family, or fell into a comfortable routine. Whatever the cause, though I’m very happy to be back, I still want to be somewhere else at the same time.
I think it’s within each of us to want something different, usually something better. We’re waiting, hoping, maybe even working toward some situation that we deeply desire. For me, right now, it’s somehow uniting the purpose I feel for my work in Cambodia with the comfort and security of ‘home’. For others, it might mean a better job, marriage, achieving social justice in a fallen world. There are lots of possibilities, and they’re unique to each of us. At the core, though, it’s a divine longing, isn’t it? We want to be away from the frustration, the discomfort, the pain of this life and to be somewhere infinitely better. We’re all homesick travelers on our journey with the Lord. We’re heading for the joy of heaven, we desire face-time with our Father.
It’s one of the blessings of our Christian faith that we can acknowledge these feelings of homesickness, of longing for somewhere else. I don’t think it’s a coincidence that after applauding some very faithful people, the writer of Hebrews says “Instead, they were longing for a better country—a heavenly one. Therefore God is not ashamed to be called their God, for he has prepared a city for them” (Hebrews 11: 16). Today, I’m taking comfort in the fact that no matter where my feet are planted, Christ has understood my longings for somewhere else and prepared a heavenly home for me.
I’ve arrived back in Cambodia after nearly five months in the US, and it’s a bit strange. Cambodia, and life here, is quite familiar after all this time, despite how long I’ve been away. However, I’m more homesick on this re-entry than I’ve been after other, shorter visits to America. Perhaps it’s because I spent a lot of time with family, or fell into a comfortable routine. Whatever the cause, though I’m very happy to be back, I still want to be somewhere else at the same time.
I think it’s within each of us to want something different, usually something better. We’re waiting, hoping, maybe even working toward some situation that we deeply desire. For me, right now, it’s somehow uniting the purpose I feel for my work in Cambodia with the comfort and security of ‘home’. For others, it might mean a better job, marriage, achieving social justice in a fallen world. There are lots of possibilities, and they’re unique to each of us. At the core, though, it’s a divine longing, isn’t it? We want to be away from the frustration, the discomfort, the pain of this life and to be somewhere infinitely better. We’re all homesick travelers on our journey with the Lord. We’re heading for the joy of heaven, we desire face-time with our Father.
It’s one of the blessings of our Christian faith that we can acknowledge these feelings of homesickness, of longing for somewhere else. I don’t think it’s a coincidence that after applauding some very faithful people, the writer of Hebrews says “Instead, they were longing for a better country—a heavenly one. Therefore God is not ashamed to be called their God, for he has prepared a city for them” (Hebrews 11: 16). Today, I’m taking comfort in the fact that no matter where my feet are planted, Christ has understood my longings for somewhere else and prepared a heavenly home for me.
11.13.2009
Change for Sale
A few weeks ago, I was sitting in Starbucks, drinking my coffee and doing some work, when I heard a man behind me say “I promise you, it will change your life.” Naturally, I was curious. So I shamelessly eavesdropped while the young man promoted a weight loss product to a young woman. He promised her that she would lose 100 pounds; claimed that his family had experienced radical change by using the product; and told her that spots with his promotion team were filling up fast and she would need to give him $500—soon—to reserve her place with the company.
I know that this high-pressure sales technique is simply what the young man has been taught, and my guess is that it’s working for him. But all the talk of “life changing” made me rather skeptical. After all, is radical change really something that can be bought and sold?
I started to think about whether I would be susceptible to such a pitch. What would I do if someone told me they could help me change my life? What would I want to change? I briefly considered asking this guy (and his captive audience) if his life is as satisfying as he would have us believe. Is it deep-down change, or does he just have more money to spend?
As Christians, we talk about the fact that our lives are different because we know the Lord. We believe that we have been irrevocably changed, don’t we? But what does that promise truly mean when someone sits across the table from us, offering a chance to change our lives? According to Paul, it means that “we will no longer be infants, tossed back and forth by the waves, and blown here and there by every wind of teaching and by the cunning and craftiness of men in their deceitful scheming” (Ephesians 4:14). It means that we can cry out to God and say, “Satisfy us in the morning with your unfailing love, that we may sing for joy and be glad all our days” (Psalm 90:14).
My prayer for all of us this week is that we would regard the changes that God is working in us as proof that it is only through Him that we can experience true and lasting change; even more, I pray that we will be satisfied with Christ’s love, that we will be glad and sing for joy.
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