Power Outages

Here's the thing about a developing country: sometimes the basics are not so basic. Cambodia does not generate enough electricity to power the whole country. Some is bought from Vietnam, some is produced domestically, and when there isn't enough, well, the power goes out. In the hot season (March/April/May), Cambodia routinely (as in every day) shuts off power to different parts of the country, or even the city. The blackouts can be anywhere between a half hour to five or six hours, any time between 8 am and 11 pm. This makes everything hotter (life without a fan is awful), more inconvenient (get whatever you can out of the fridge as fast as you can), and a little suspenseful (when will the outage be today?). We've grown accustomed to power outages, keeping flashlights handy, learning to do things in the dark, even simply announcing it (oh, power's out again) instead of groaning. Even though it isn't the hot season anymore, it's been pretty warm the past few weeks, and we've had sporadic outages.

Yesterday, we (Deanna and I) came home for lunch. I went into the bathroom, and as I turned on the light, we heard a pop, and the light went out. It wouldn't turn back on, and I realized that the light in my bedroom wasn't working either. In fact, the power was out altogether. Chalking it up to poor timing-- thinking I had unwittingly chosen the exact moment of a power cut to hit the light, we went about the lunch routine and sweltered for an hour before heading back to the office. It's not uncommon for the power to go out somewhere between when we walk in the door for lunch and the moment we decide something needs to be microwaved. Life is cruel like that sometimes.

By the time Deanna went home at 4:30, the power was still out. It was out when I got home at 5:15, when our friends came over for dinner at 5:30, and as we were lighting candles to help brighten things in the ever increasing twighlight at 6:10. While it isn't unusual for the power to go out for such a stretch, what was odd was that the neighborhood was responding unusually. When the power is out, everyone gathers outside to talk, we hear the whir and hum of generators, and once, after a really long cut, the whole complex cheered when the lights came on. As we peered into our neighbor's homes, we noticed they were turning on lights and watching television. Curious.

With a glance at each other, we examined the lone fuse box for the apartment. It's not a very complicated system, I guess, because there is only one breaker switch. As neither of us are engineers, electricians, or particularly adept at construction of any kind, we had not expected that flipping the bathroom switch would blow the fuse for the entire apartment. Oops. A quick flip of the switch, and the lights came back on. Just in time to illuminate our embarrassed faces and ensure that our friends had a hearty laugh at our expense.

Looking Happy

Tourists love the Russian Market. To be fair, I also love the Russian Market. But I think that's more to do with it being the location of my favorite DVD seller and close proximity to the best lime soda in Phnom Penh. Anyhow, on a typical day at the market (especially a weekend), you can find people from lots of different locations browsing the stalls, buying things they don't need, and haggling.

One such couple caught my attention last week. I'm now able to bargain for most things in Khmer, which is nice, because I get a better price. I've been helping all our volunteers negotiate for things, since now that I can bargain better, I can experience the thrill of haggling. They watched me negotiate for something for one of the volunteers, and asked if I had any "tips." I laughed and told them to be friendly. Later, I found them browsing the fruit. They asked what was good, and I helped them purchase a couple of apples. Then the questions came. Here are the highlights:

"So how do you know the language?" the German woman asked.

"Well, I live here, so I had to learn."

"What do you do here? What made you move?" her English boyfriend (?) queried.

"I work for a Christian NGO, we do a lot of health education and community health work...I really liked Cambodia after visiting, and decided to move back." (something of an understatement, but hey, these were strangers)

"This is great, we've really been wanting to meet someone who lives here. It seems like such an interesting place." Boyfriend was the one most interested in the experience, but German girlfriend nodded along.

"Yeah, it has its ups and downs, but Cambodia is a great place. I really enjoy living and working here." By this time, my volunteers were approaching, and we were out of conversation points. In fact, it was getting kind of awkward. However, they decide to throw in a stunner.

"Well, you look really happy. It's so great to see someone who is really happy here."

I've never had a complete stranger tell me something so kind before. It was especially odd, given that it was about 100 degrees, I was sweaty and dirty, tired, and a little stressed. I didn't feel unhappy, just... it wouldn't have been my prevailing emotion. I was surprised at how good it made me feel, at how genuinely convinced they were of my contentment. I wish I'd had more time with them, even (strangely) wanted to ask them to have coffee, to try to understand what it was they saw in me that was so "happy." Sadly, they've departed Cambodia and I've returned to my busy schedule. Nevertheless, it was a small blessing to me, there by the fruit stand in the market. After a year of ups and downs, in the midst of a summer of challenges, two people were able to see my joy in being here, the thrill that comes with doing what I should be. I think it must be so great to see someone who is really happy here. I'm glad that someone was me.

Linguistic Foibles (Part Deux)

Sometimes, when I'm speaking Khmer, I inadvertenly say something funny. The other day, a shopkeeper thought I was negotiating a $225 furniture set for $25. We had a good laugh, once he got over the shock. However, sometimes language mishaps go both ways.

KonPleang is a 40-something Cambodian member of my church. She lives in one of the slum villages, and speaks not a word of English. I ran into her unexpectedly while working the other day, and she greeted me with a big hug and smile. She is one of the sweetest ladies I know. Yesterday, she wore a shirt to church with some English writing on it. In bold letters, the shirt proclaimed: "True F***in' Canadian."

Which is, quite simply, both explicit AND incorrect.

Rainy Days

Abbie and I after 5 minutes in the rain.

This is my second rainy season in Cambodia. Therefore, I feel qualified to dispense some advice about rainy season behavior. Here are Kate's Tried and True Tips for Surviving the Rainy Season:

1. Wear dark colors. Bonus points if these dark colors also include water resistant or quick drying fabrics.

2. An improperly worn poncho is as effective as no poncho at all.

3. Rain hurts at high speeds. Be careful out there.

4. Someone should invent a windshield wiper for motorbike helmet visors.

5. Time your trips appropriately. It's better to be heading home than going out when the monsoon hits. No use traipsing around like a drowned rat in public.

6. Get home quickly! The roads flood-- which means you may get stuck and/or splashed by an SUV driving by at an inappropriate speed.

7. It's always the hottest right before it rains.

8. Laundry should be done in the morning if you want to hang it outside. Otherwise, you'll just do it again later.

9. Rain makes things colder and smellier, depending on the thing in question.

10. If you think it's going to rain, it probably is.

Dream On

It finally happened. My work life-- coordinating our stream of ESL volunteers-- has finally spilled over and infected my brain. I woke up last night from a dream in which a volunteer was asking me questions. On a daily basis, my job is to answer many questions from volunteers regarding teaching, health, general Cambodia info, World Relief trivia, and personal stories. These questions, however, were a little weird. Especially since they were about raising her adult-aged son, whom I've never met-- not something that's part of my aresenal of useless knowledge.

I'm not sure what's going on in the complicated neurological pathways of my mind. In the past, I've had some pretty interesting dreams-- once I was a spy, I've had TV characters show up, and I even practiced my own wedding. I think this dream might be an indication that come August 3rd I'll need a break. It could also be my brain's way of telling me that these volunteers are leaving their imprint not just on Cambodia, but on me as well. In the meantime, I'm hoping it will be safe to sleep tonight. I'm overdue for another wedding rehearsal.

New Look

Here's a secret: I love the David Bowie song, "Changes." I can't explain it, I'm not a huge Bowie fan in general, and it's kind of an odd choice for a favorite. Nevertheless... there it is.

I've been humming this song a bit as I reformatted the blog this week. Not much is different, layout, some new links on the sidebar, a new photo. I've been feeling like it's time for a new look for awhile. The old layout felt a bit cluttered, and I always had trouble reading it. I was in the mood for something crisper, cleaner, a bit more minimalist.

Anyway, look around a bit, let me know if you like it, and enjoy the ch-ch-ch-changes.

Rampant Injustice

In the last week I have decided that there are two kinds of injustice. Obviously, this is pretty reductionist, and feel free to contradict me-- but first, hear me out. The first kind is Big Injustice: poverty, racism, sexism, genocide... the big ticket items. The second type is personal injustice: things that happen to us that don't seem fair. You may be thinking, "well clearly we're in a battle against Big Injustice, Kate. The little things are just bumps in the road. Unfair, but you know, in the face of Big Injustice, the little things are just an annoyance." Right, well, that line of thinking makes you a better person than me. Why? Because last week, I found myself pretty annoyed by all those little things, and a big one, too.

To start with, my home internet connection died without any explanation last Friday night. Poof, gone. Internet is a luxury item, I keep reminding myself, but it doesn't help soothe my irritation when it was nearly a week and we were still attempting to reconfigure the wireless router without the aid of a technician or anyone who has a clue what they are doing. Power outages compounded the problem, as twenty minutes before the tech was supposed to arrive, we lost the electricity, and it stayed off for 6 hours. This doesn't really count as injustice, unless you count random power outages and surges as such, but it is something that's unfair.

The second injustice, again, of the personal variety, we discovered last Saturday. A can of Pringles went missing. Then, on Sunday, we attempted to eat some snacks that Deanna carried back from her recent trip to the US. We found the box torn open (not neatly!) and half the cakes gone! My landlords (or, more likely, their grandchildren) must have come into my house through the connecting door--which, until I recently realized it was somewhat of a hazard in case of an emergency, was locked-- and opened our treats. Again, snack food is not on par with stealing someone's home, possessions, or freedom. It does, however, reveal that my neighbors are not to be trusted. And it makes me feel cheated, and resentful, grappling with how to address the issue without stepping over some invisible cultural boundary.

Lastly, the big ticket item (literally). I was pulled over by the traffic police last weekend, with a truckload of volunteers in tow. To be fair, I did go through an intersection just as the light turned red, as the left turn arrow began to turn green, and along with a few motorbikes. Of course, in my decision-making to go (versus to stop and have volunteers fly around the back of the truck), I failed to factor in that this is a known hang-out for the police. I pulled over, showed the officer my licencse while requesting that he give it back (sometimes they make you pay) and we started our negotiations.

The initial offer: 3 days of traffic school, for the foreigner.* Unless, of course, we can compromise (read: come to some agreement on how much money I will pay him).

The compromise: $20.00

My counter-offer: 5,000 riel (approx. $1.25)

Second offer: $10.00

My counter: 10,000 riel (approx. $2.50), or go ahead and write the ticket.

His reply: Fine, $5.00.

The end result: somewhere just over $4. (since I claimed I didn't have any money, despite carrying around a large cash advance for the visiting teams.)

*Note: every time he said "foreigner," I thought he was saying "for dinner," and could not figure out if I was being asked on a date, or for money to pay for his dinner. Either way, it was a no.

The whole thing was just annoying, since Phnom Penh is not known for its strict enforcement of traffic laws. In fact, we saw many people making the same move I had, just without the watchful (and greedy) eyes of the police on them.

This last incident, I think, is actually indicative of Big Injustice. It's no secret that Cambodia is corrupt, that the police do not do their job (and now I am evidence of that fact). Echoes of my mother's lectures on "civil societies" were sounding in my head after my run-in with the police. We obey the law because we anticipate that the penalties for not doing so are worse than the inconvenience of a red light. We obey the law because there are consequences, things that make it wrong to disobey. Here, the consequences are flexible, because the enforcers are not motivated or taught to be strict. Here, the consequences vary, based on who you are, how much money you have, on who else is available to take the fall. The worst part? This is the case from the lowest traffic offense all the way up to the highest, most public crimes. Just look at how long justice has been delayed in the Khmer Rouge tribunals. Nearly 30 years have passed, the perpetrators have died, and still the court system is only trying the case.

I know the US isn't perfect, I know that people are wrongly accused, wrongly convicted, that it is not an impartial system. In fact, I ran a red light in the US and got out of that ticket too. We live, though, with the expectation of justice, with the idea that when we are wronged, when others break the law, there will be a consequence. In the absence of that... well, snack food goes missing, and traffic is a mess, and eventually, somewhere along the line, there's poverty and genocide, and a host of other Big Injustices that are really hard to understand.

There's a spiritual parallel here, I'm sure, if we wanted to dig it out. "Justice is mine, says the Lord" and all of that. At the moment, I'm annoyed by injustice, big and small, wishing for things to be better, wondering if there was a way to fix it, and hoping I'll see change in my lifetime. I'm also humbled by my coworker, who when told the story of my neighbors and the snacks said, "well, just bless them. They will never get to try that food unless you bring it to them." Instantly, I felt like a jerk, whining about my lack of imported snacks. In the face of injustice, what else are we to do? We bless those who hurt us, turn the other cheek, and continue to fight for the poor, the oppressed, and for justice from the Lord.