As I walk among my students for their first class of the day I can't help but notice the wide array of scents from their fresh showers and aggregated perfumes and colognes, their clothes still fresh from laundering, not yet besmirched by the shenanigans they get themselves into throughout the day from slapping and throwing things at each other to farm class and biking to and from school. Thinking of these scents, some blasting me with what can only remind me of my own terrible experimentation with exhuding cool, corporate America approved colognes and expunging my natural puberty as I was growing up in middle and high school. Somethings don't change across continents and cultures. Or maybe I'm just being a jaded adult discriminating against Cambodian olfactic culture!
The holidays come and go and I'm left with little reminders that make me giddy or cringe for example the wound on my forehead thanks to a low hanging roof, beer, and my trying not to step on a man washing a fresh blob of meat. The scab is disappearing and was never bad really but I still wore a bandaid to school that week -- half social experiment, half scared of getting a gnarly scar. “IM NOT READY TO BE HARRY POTTER!” I shouted on the phone to another volunteer who had to coach me out of feeling ridiculous and into going back to the party with the biggest bandaid I had slapped right on my forehead. I just answered, “kpueh peik” (I'm too tall) to anyone who asked. They still invited me to go to the clubs. I declined pointing not to my bandaid but to my body saying “hot nah” (so tired!).
I teach 5 classes with 3 teachers with around 250 students. All are cuties and a lot of them try really hard so it makes my job easier as I try to negotiate working in the classroom with other experienced teachers, navigating language barriers and flat affects whenever I ask if they understand. It's difficult working in a culture that doesn't value asking questions or being dynamic. “Twe akrak kho prepiynih” -- do bad, break tradition. A phrase that doesn't have much wiggle room especially if you're a woman. But it's not that bad--gender roles need to be seen through a cultural lens, and while its difficult to joke about and see how men get away with everything and anything, tradition has seen this country survive the 20th century full of colonialism, fragmentation of the country, uninvited bombing campaigns (by the good ole USA), genocide, occupation and now a fresh start coming into the 21st century surrounded by countries well into their development while Cambodia catches up slowly but surely, the population booming and campaigns here and there promoting safety and health and constant interest in education reform both campaigns aided by us lovely (and crazy) Peace Corps Volunteers.
We do a lot of work for sure, not only physically, but mentally as well, negotiating language and gossip, trying to show we care so much but we need time to ourselves to reflect and recharge. It's a 24-hour job and it's hard to explain to people why we left our family or why it's still hard because most of the people we serve have never done anything remotely close to this.
It's interesting to talk about differences between us. Yes, America has thieves and poor people but we also have much more money. Yes we have short people, tall people, Asians, Europeans, Cambodians, Mexicans, Africans, etc and just because someone was born in Vietnam, doesn't mean that individual isn't American. Just because that person is black, doesn't mean that individual isn't American. The diaspora is difficult to explain to a country that participated/s heavily in that citizens come and go to various other countries, some for labor some for life, and the people that migrate here are demonized as illegal or seen as temporary NGO workers. Also difficult to explain that the movie we're watching albeit American isn't a whole view of America. Even when the next three movies they see will feature similar faces and skin colors and materialism. It's hard when they think my beauty standards are white and blonde and blue eyed or if I'm like the other foreigners who come to look for ‘dark women' in Cambodia. And then I have to try to explain why they do that. “They like this and you like that. Just different. Yol ot? Do you understand?”
It's hard to tell people to love their skin and stop putting harmful chemicals on it to match up to their own standards of beauty, surely legacies of colonialism and international mass media that shows white is valid and being dark or black is a joke (a Korean comedy featuring a woman in blackface literally named ‘Black’ is dubbed and very popular here) or a medical condition to be cured by various skin products promised to deliver you to ‘sah saat’ (white is beautiful).
It's fun to play with children and let them mock you and you mock back all joking because as hard as it is to ignore somethings they don't mean it. The things we think are rude are just, how can I say, ‘tehehe’ moments. That was supposed to be a child's giggle.
I know I speak funny, but I'm trying. I know you speak funny, but you're trying. We try hard together to understand each other because that's what people do and that's what kindred spirits long for. So we get embarrassed and we stumble and we say dumb things but we fill the gaps with what we can say; to let you know I'm here and you let me know you're there.
We dance because we're happy and I dance like you because I love it and I want you to dance with me. I show you American moves because it's funny and I want you to know dancing can be silly and if someone laughs, maybe we did our job. You tell me I'm good at dancing and I smile because you were right next to me.
You call me skinny then you call me fat, either way you want me to eat more rice. I eat more.
We negotiate and renegotiate because we're stubborn and unsure of what we're saying but we get to where we need to go, and we can say goodbye and still smile. I can't apologize for the state of the economy that my country and countries like mine are partially/maybe mostly responsible for, but I volunteer here to show you I want to help your children express themselves on a world stage and tell whomever maybe listening that they will be in charge someday.
Some late afternoon ramblings as I think about my time here and going into the international new year which is simply a one day holiday here, nothing compared to the week long extravaganza that is the Khmer new year in April.
