Oops

Perhaps I spoke too soon. When I headed back to my new favorite coffee shop to avoid the power outage, soak up the a/c, and attempt to finish my taxes, I ran into my new friend, Lyhov. He gave me a friendly greeting, watched over my motorbike, and when we left, I once again found myself turning down a marriage proposal. I think.

Lyhov and his fellow parking attendant (no name, sorry) were impressed that I told them "see you later" in Khmer, and then Lyhov gestured to his friend and said something to the effect of "Do you want him to be your husband?" I replied, "No, thank you." (I mean, it's not the most romantic proposal... the man was wearing a surgical mask at the time!) Apparently the friend thought Lyhov was shortchanging himself, because he got involved, asking me if I wanted to marry Lyhov, or to make him my "special" (read: boyfriend). When I (briefly) studied persuasive tactics in college, we studied this particular strategy: ask for something outrageous and then move to a smaller request, which won't seem so difficult to fulfill. Too bad I am wise to those games! Instead, there was only more practice at declining oh-so-tempting marriage proposals for me.

In non-marriage related news, I saw someone else on the road wearing the same helmet that I have (and thought, wow, what a great helmet!). I think this makes me a helmet trendsetter, and I'm quite proud. A few weeks ago, someone commented that the Pink Helmet is quite stylish, and wasn't I special for owning one (and yes, they were serious, thank you very much). Just in case you were worried that I 1) wasn't wearing a helmet or 2) was wearing an unfashionable helmet. Safety and fashion... all rolled into one. I guess that ends up being attractive to some people. Like parking attendants. Sheesh.

Quickly

Yesterday I was leaving a coffee shop and the parking attendant was chatting with me. Although my Khmer is still pretty limited, I can do short, basic conversations-- names, ages, I live in Cambodia, work for an NGO, I only speak a little Khmer--this usually earns me mild approval and even some respect from people I meet. Lyhov was no different.

So we were proceeding through the intro information, when he asked me a question about my house (bptea... a word I recognize). I didn't quite get his meaning, so he tried again, something to the effect of "Do you live with your husband (padei)?" I shook my head no, starting to laugh, and replied "K'nyom aht rivpkah" (I'm not married). His next question--and I should have seen this coming-- "Why don't you have a husband?"

My vocabulary is not nearly large enough to even begin to answer that. At least he didn't ask me to marry him.

Annoying

I’ve been a little homesick lately, but I think it’s less about missing people and places as it is missing constants, and feeling annoyed with the way things work here. So please allow me this brief interlude of complaint, and then we’ll get back to our regularly scheduled enjoyment of all things Cambodia.

First, the power outages. I know I live in a developing nation right now, and I need to deal with some inconveniences, but really, is it too much to ask that the power not be shut off daily for hours at a time? The supply of electricity in the city is not enough to meet the demands since the recent construction of larger buildings with big air conditioning systems. If you’re wondering, air conditioners use quite a bit of power (to the tune of an extra $2 or more a day here), and nearly all of the newest stores and restaurants cool their buildings considerably. In any case, the rest of the city has to deal with unannounced power outages at all times of the day. One day, the electricity went out around 12:30 and didn’t come back on until nearly 5 p.m. On Saturday night, from 8:15 to 11 p.m. we were without power... it wasn't easy to fall asleep without the fan.

I know I should not be so snarky about the loss of power. I should be grateful to have it at all. I guess what really unnerves me is that some people never lose power… the way the grids work, some houses are assured of a constant stream of electricity, and the center of the city (business districts, hotels, tourist locales) rarely loses power. Meanwhile, those of us on the outskirts, the ones who can’t afford or don’t want to live “downtown” have to live with spontaneous outages interrupting our daily lives (and fruit shake blending!), and for me that means living without a fan as the heat climbs up to 95 degrees, with 75% humidity. In other words, sweltering. (aside: I ran into a tourist today who asked me: “How long does it take you to get used to the heat?” HA!)

And the construction! They have started building a school behind my house, so there’s no end to the pile driving, dust-flinging, noise-creating havoc being wreaked only a few meters from my door. I can’t hang my laundry outside anymore, and until recently couldn’t even open the window. They begin every day about 6:30 (even on Saturdays) and pound until 6 p.m. The worst part? They’ve only just begun.

I’ve been unnerved by how inconvenient life can be; the grocery stores are on the other side of town, and even though I get fruit and veggies from the small local market, I am unwilling to buy meat there, since if I go in the evenings, it’s been sitting in the heat all day (they butcher the meat locally and only in the morning). I went on a hunt for a product that is readily available in the US (canned air to clean the ever-present dust out of my computer) and spent 2 days at 6 different stores before I found it. I really miss driving by Trader Joe’s or Best Buy… the easy things. Of course, wishing for those kind of businesses would make this place very un-Cambodia, and I’ll have to make peace with leaving them behind.

I have to interrupt my own rant to say that while I was writing this, one of our staff just came into my office and offered me some food. At first it looked like fried fish, but after some broken Khmer/English dialogue, I think it was fried mango. There’s no way to be sure. I took as small a piece as I could, and tasted it. Not as bad as some of the things I’ve tried, but not something I’ll purchase for myself. Of course, as soon as I mentioned that it was good, she offered me a lot more. I declined. This happens about once a week. Other staff are eating raw mangoes in the main office, and those are delicious. I guess I should make it abundantly clear that I am not annoyed by the mangoes in Cambodia, nor the generosity of the staff. Those things make me very happy.

It took me awhile to write this post, and my annoyance has calmed considerably since I started. Part of that is because I’ve had good time to spend with friends here, and I think I’ve accepted (well, at least a little) some of the things that have been getting on my nerves. Mostly, as my one-year anniversary approaches, I think these are the issues that continue to remind me that I’m not at “home” yet, and that maybe I never will be. In any case, at least I can drown my annoyance with mangoes (though not the fried kind).

Easter

I walked into church this morning and said "Happy Easter" to one of the Khmer guys at my church. He said, "What is Easter?" I said, "It's the day we celebrate that Christ rose from the dead." He said, "Oh, okay. Thank you for telling me."

This guy is a Christian, and has been for maybe a year. In Cambodia, Easter isn't a big holiday, with sales and candy and eggs. No rabbits, no baskets, and no big meals. It's strange to feel like it's just another Sunday-- in fact, I've made dinner plans to have pho (a Vietnamese soup) tonight with friends; not exactly traditional Easter dinner (but oh so good).

Today I'm thinking about what it means to celebrate Easter only once a year, and why this young believer was probably confused-- for him, every day is a day to remember Christ's sacrifice. Tomorrow is no less of an Easter than today is. And in a place like Cambodia, with monks chanting in the background and spirit houses with burning incense outside, it's good to remember that Easter is not just for today.

A friend has pointed out that a culture built around festivals, like the Cambodian culture, should perhaps be encouraged in celebrating a day like Easter. It provides a solid foundation, a focal point for our faith. Given that I am surrounded by other festivals I can't celebrate, maybe she is right. So now I'm not sure. Maybe it isn't one or the other, but something in between. Having a focal point for our beliefs, while renewing them each day. Easter becomes a signpost on the journey, declaring that we are ever in transit toward our goal of being more like God, celebrating our victory over death and our process toward life eternal.

Comfort

Did you miss me? I’ve not been gone for any real reason… just haven’t had much to say. In any case, I’m back, sunburned after a weekend at the beach, and overheating as I welcome the hot season to Cambodia. This means power outages, more dustiness and (you guessed it!) heat. So as I sit here and boil, I’ve been thinking about comfort.

I do not have a television. This is odd, since I used to study television content, and I was a big fan of my TiVo. At USC, we asked students in our class how many television sets they had in their childhood homes. Answers ranged from 1 to 12 (TV in the bathrooms…I know), with quite a bit of variation, and one girl whose father was a TV mogul (and had over 20 TVs). Nevertheless, all 200 would admit to having grown up in a home with a television. It is strange that now I would have to admit not owning such a “basic” appliance.

In the rural areas in Cambodia, not having electricity does not halt the spread of television. Families use a car battery to provide the voltage necessary to catch their favorite programs. One of the top 10 Cambodian shows is… professional wrestling. In villages far from the beaten path, kids wear t-shirts featuring Dave Batista and other WWE stars. I came home for lunch last week, and watched someone get body slammed as I parked my motorbike. It makes me wonder about the diffusion of culture and why some of America’s best things are missing here (democracy, justice) and instead some of our worst exports appear.

I’ve sacrificed television for many reasons. One is that I don’t think I’d watch it very much, since I’ve taken to going to bed early. Another reason is that I would have to pay for cable, since all of the non-cable programs are in Khmer. While it might sharpen my language skills, I’ve also discovered that Cambodian dramatic programming is… well, let’s just say I’m not a fan of reality television or soap operas. My choices here would be limited. Lastly, I found that even when I was staying in a home that had a TV, I mainly wanted to watch movies… when I wanted to watch at all. I can see the latest US films using my laptop DVD player (for the outrageous cost of $2 per DVD and the guilt associated with piracy). I’ve watched exactly 4 episodes of American Idol this season when I’ve eaten dinner with friends, and as I’m not a big fan, I don’t think I’m missing much. TV is simply an expense that I both cannot justify at this point, and which seems a little extravagant.

I realize that I do not live like most Cambodians. For starters, I live by myself, and my family is thousands of miles away. When my friends ask where I stay, and who I stay with, they are usually shocked that I “sleep alone.” (Note: I have come to realize the terms sleeping/living/staying are pretty interchangeable. It makes that last sentence a little less provocative, eh?) Second, I have a refrigerator, a microwave, and a washing machine. My apartment is positively luxurious. Finally, I own my own computer, and I have it in my home. For people living in the developing world, computers are not so ubiquitous. When my friends want to check their email, they go to work or to an internet café. Or, they simply don’t have email (here’s a game: name one person you know who doesn’t have an email address. I have 3).

When I started writing about not having a television, I was thinking about items that usually get quantified as “needed.” Yet, they’re really about comfort, not need. If I had to list the things I missed most about the US, my television would fall somewhere around the bottom of the list. Have I matured to the point where I can flaunt my lack of entertainment options? No, I don’t think so. I think everyone can live without television, especially when other options are available. I guess what I’m learning most is about what makes me comfortable. Sure, it’s things like TVs and iPods. Those are certainly nice, and they help pass the time. Yet the places where I’m uncomfortable in Cambodia are somehow more poignant. When I sit in our office Bible study and can’t understand what people are talking about. When I’m pretty sure there’s been a joke made about me in Khmer. When I accidentally do or say something just a little inappropriate, because I don’t have all the cultural do’s and don’ts figured out. When I can’t ask someone about how they are really doing because I don’t know enough Khmer to get past the basics. So these are the things that I’m driven to fix. These are urgent on my list of priorities: learning the language, understanding the culture, and deepening my relationships with Cambodians. They have nothing to do with possessions, and everything to do with people. When I think about it that way, living without a TV seems pretty easy.

Project

In about 3 weeks, I'll be getting a roommate. Which means that some outstanding apartment-decoration/comfort issues need to be taken care of by that point. The first step is dealing with the "couch." As pictured here, it's wooden, lovely, and highly uncomfortable. On my own, I have a comfy chair, which is good enough. But now that there's another person who might also want to sit on something that's unlikely to splinter... well, it gave me a project.

Here is the couch "before":

For awhile, it doubled as a bookshelf. Which gives you an idea of how useful/comfortable it is. I hired a tailor, who, instead of making the cushions, took me to a shop where I could buy them. After much negotiation (and confusion), I ended up with cushions. Here they are:

Let's go in for a close up, shall we?

Right. Hideous. I refused to subject a poor defenseless roomate to those cushions, not to mention my own eyes. So, the tailor made covers for me. They're... red:

But, I really like them. So here's the end result:

That's my "living room" as it were... and the cushions, though hideous, are actually pretty comfortable (I'm on the couch right now). Onto the next project... defrosting my freezer. Probably no pictures of that adventure.

Progress

I was out shopping this weekend (grocery shopping, that is) and then eating with a friend when she mentioned that Cambodia has really changed since she arrived (many years ago). Even in the brief stint that I’ve been living here, things are different. Soon, a 40-story building will grace Phnom Penh’s skyline, and the KFC opens either this month or next month. There are SUV’s (and I mean luxury SUVs—Hummers, Range Rovers, Mercedes) driving down the streets. As I looked around the shopping center we were in, I couldn’t help but wonder, is this progress?

Many would argue that an economic boom in Cambodia is a great thing. I certainly think that it’s helpful for people to have employment, and that a self-sustaining economy for Cambodia is a must. However, I’m not sure that what has happened in this country is what we should be aiming for in development. The rich are getting richer, and the gap between the richest and poorest Cambodians is widening. So the wealth benefits the few, not the many (some of you are now declaring me a communist—hang in there, I’ll explain).

I guess what drives me crazy is that the stability and growth of the Cambodian economy doesn’t seem to be improving things like health care, hunger, or justice. The tax structure is abominable, and though there is more money flowing in from business, the huge amount of foreign aid received here isn’t changing ($601 million in 2007). Instead, what has appeared are massive office and apartment buildings that the poor cannot afford; luxury items (plasma screens? really?) that people simply don’t need; and foreign imports that just aren’t any good (KFC, McDonald’s… American culture at it’s finest). In other words, all that new money can be shunted right into conspicuous consumption; it’s a practice I find suspect anyway, and certainly one I’m not about to endorse for a recently stabilized economy.

Living here has forced me to examine the value of living simply—it’s not something I’ve ever been good at. The words “need” and “want” are badly conflated in my vocabulary. But I’ve examined how I use the things that I purchase, and I think twice about whether or not I’ll really eat all the food that I buy (because after looking at hungry kids, I’ve changed my mind about mindlessly filling my fridge). So it’s really difficult for me to look around and see a class of rich Cambodians living off the fruit of cheap labor or foreign investment when there are children picking trash at the city dump. Is there a way to ensure that the wealth gets spread around? Is it a case of selfishness?

At the end of the day, I’m not sure what true progress looks like. I have an inkling, though, that it might have something to do with fewer hungry kids, more people getting an education, less disease, and certainly a reduction in poverty. I think what I’m craving here is not just a new economy, but a new value system—one more closely aligned with the Kingdom vision in the Gospels. In that case, it has to be more than just improving businesses and structures; it has to do with reaching people’s hearts.