The night before we left was probably the most intense night of all for me.  I had the opportunity to interact with a young Khmer woman on a “date” (paid for, of course) with a 60ish-year-old foreigner, from Chicago as it turns out. (I had an interesting conversation with him too.)  I spoke in Khmer with her, as this guy didn’t know the language,  and she wants out of her situation.  I gave her some phone numbers of World Hope staff which she saved in her phone under “my love.”  It seems as if her phone use is not entirely private.   As most of my interactions with women in these situations have occurred post-rescue, talking with this girl was very impactful.  I’ll never forget the look she had on her face when I told her I knew people that could help.

Anyway, thank you all for your prayers, your thoughts, emails, and frisbees!  I wasn’t even there for 10 days, but the outcomes of this trip, I feel, will be much more long term. I’m working on the pictures still, I’ll try to get something up before the beginning of next week. Or I’ll just send an email.

Thanks again, y’all!

After visiting programs for girls all week, yesterday we went to the boys drop-in center.  I say “the” because it’s the only one in Phnom Penh.  With ALL of these programs for girls, one might think that young boys in general have it easy in Cambodia.  Not so much.  Though not as frequently under lock and key, many boys who live in the slums or on the streets are sexually exploited and abused.  This ministry is aimed to reach them.  Kevin Costner says, “If you build it, they will come.”  In this case, as the staff here started building it, before they even advertised what they were doing, the boys came.  Many of them–up to 40 at a time–have been coming ever since.

And yes, this boys club does have crafts, but yesterday we played frisbee, soccer, and some random tag-like games.  It was awesome.  I actually had this thought: “Boys programming/ministry is way more fun than girls!”  Then I felt weird for thinking that.

One of the boys there was HIV positive.  He no longer goes to school as he gets beat up and teased by his classmates.  He doesn’t here.  It’s clear that the boys club is like a family.  The khmer staff who work at this program are awesome—filled with energy and like overgrown boys themselves.  Probably the funniest moment came during the soccer game (we had to quit frisbee early; it got a little dangerous… once they learn how to throw, they’ll be fine!).  It was complete chaos–probably 12 people on a team in a cramped room.  The goals were these coat racks on wheels.  Yeah, you know where this is going…  One little, clever boy on my team, Mao, though he wasn’t goal tending, moved the goal ten feet to the left.  The goalkeeper didn’t even notice–no one was looking.  Then one of the staff kicked the ball with great force across the room and it landed square in the middle of where the goal USED to be.  Mao, only 4 or 5, was jumping in the middle of the moved goal cheering and laughing.  The staff, kids, and we volunteers could not stop laughing.  It was awesome.  Also, in world cup fashion, the boys would flop (fake injuries), and the staff would carry them off as in a stretcher.  Yeah, this was so awesome.

They also liked the ukulele.  I played the one song I could remember in khmer.  We danced and sang.  It was very good.

This visit also marked the end of our interaction with the different ministries and programs here.  Today and tomorrow, we mainly hang out.  Hopefully, i’ll have time to connect with most of the khmer friends I made while here.  I got to see some of them Wednesday night, and they’re taking us on a boat ride tonight.  Our team has blocks of time to rest at the hotel this weekend; it seems I can’t do that.  That’s what long plane rides are for.

Much love!  See you soon! And pictures to follow.

“e LEE sah Bet!”

Yes, I’m sure the women I worked with at World Hope’s assessment center are amused by the way I say their names too.  In fact, I was remembering names and called one staff “Soku-on.”  She said, “You forget, my name is Sok-euon.” Oh those crazy Khmer vowels!  But hey, all is fair in love, war, and interethnic communications…

The center has moved since I was last there and the new space is beautiful and flood-water free.  I got to see at least 6 of the housemothers, and after explaining that no, I am still not married (ha!),  we had lovely conversations in broken Khmer.  While the rest of the team was leading crafts with the girls, Sitach (See-ta(k)) pulled out the CD player.  Next thing I knew, I’m listening to the song that the girls wrote (with a little bit of structuring from Jennie and myself) almost three years ago.  Though incredibly long, it’s quite beautiful.  Each girl wrote and sang about her unique interests, gifts and people important to her; these verses were recorded individually. Then the chorus, sung and recorded as a group, was about how all of them were made by a God who makes good things–speaking to each girl’s inherent value neither destroyed by sex nor dependent on sex for validation.  If you’re interested, flag me down sometime and I can play you the song with a half-way accurate translation (don’t worry, this mediocre translation service is free of charge). Anyway, hearing this song in this place with these women ….yeah, I lost it.  Good tears, though.  Good tears.

We (as a group there for one day) didn’t learn much about the girls currently living there, other than their names, from the staff.  That’s intentional.  These girls are not exhibits, and their stories are only shared voluntarily.  However, we did see various levels of trauma–physical and emotional.  Two girls cried frequently (and seemingly sporadically) during our time there.  Another young woman, perhaps 16 or so, was 8 months pregnant.  The team and Cambodian staff led beading crafts with the girls. As crafts are an area of personal deficit, I played frisbee with one of the girls.  ”Leeng tiet! Leeng tiet!” (Play more! Play more!).  With the other girl, I got out the harp Jennie and I had left behind.  Though it was out of tune (they lost the tuner in the move), the girl had fun plucking the strings.  Both of these girls were the ones that cried frequently.  It seems that music and physical activity can be a relief from that.  As a side note, the staff are really not at all using the instruments we left there.  However, I hear that Kanha (one of the housemothers who was not there) still plays the keyboard.  Hopefully the harp too once i send a new tuner in the mail!  Oh yeah, and the staff also requested another copy of the chicken dance.  hahaha.  good times.

Connections: One strange connection I’m hearing about moreso than before is that between trauma and cognitive functioning.  In the US, we often discuss how folks with cognitive disabilities are at an extremely high risk for abuse of multiple kinds, including sexual abuse, as a disability can leave someone compromised, not to mention the reliance on others for various kinds of care.  It seems the relationship is reciprocal.  At Destiny Rescue in Kampong Cham, Robert (the current Cambodia operations guy) mentioned that they have about 5 girls who have significant cognitive issues as a result of the trauma (though it might be hard to pinpoint which came first).  At Bloom, a vocational training program we visited yesterday, we heard a story about another girl who was mute for many years following her initial year of trauma (age 5-6, currently age 18).  It seems that there is a connection between disability and child sexual exploitation of which I hadn’t been very aware prior to this week.

And briefly, I am so thankful to hear that Srey Touch is still at Destiny Rescue.  If you’re curious, ask me about her.  I just don’t have time right here. Perhaps a separate, brief entry will come later.

Questions: Yeah, when and in what capacity (and really to what region) do I come back?

I’m starting to feel overwhelmed at the number of “barang” (foreigners) in Phnom Penh.  It seems, though many NGOs (my khmer friends call us “whiteys”) have done wonderful things, there presence has increased even moreso in the last couple of years.  I guess, though I feel quite open to living over here again, I’m starting to wonder if I’m just open to living in Southeast Asia as a region, rather than specifically Phnom Penh.  Yeah, I’ve got some time before this transition thankfully.

As I type this, my itunes switched from Bach’s cello suites performed by Yo-Yo Ma to Yo Gabba Gabba.  Google it.  This reminds me I’m also open to staying in the states and working with organizations like Adam’s Camp or Wildwood school for kids with autism and developmental disabilities.  One of the Adam’s Camp kiddos this past summer LOVED this music–thus its presence in my media library.

Oh, life. Nothing is simple or linear. And that’s okay.

After I led us around a few blocks in search of the Anise hotel/restaurant (I was lost; I tried to hide it from my team by asking a tuk-tuk driver for directions in Khmer. His English responses kept me honest…) Anyway, on the way, two of my teammates spotted a cute “tiki-like” place that also served Cambodian dishes.  We kept things democratic, and the majority agreed to dine there.  While there, we saw a 50-something Westerner enter with a Cambodian young woman (perhaps not under age).  Clearly, by their interactions, this was not a casual meeting of friends or a father-daughter relationship.  As we were sorting this situation out (mainly by giving each other strange looks and gestures that attempted discretion but were completely obvious), another couple joined the area on my left.  This time both Khmer (despite the media dramatizations, most of the men that participate in the commercial sex industry in Cambodia are local), but the lady was clearly made up and dressed for sex.  I decided to call one of my Cambodian friends to get a trafficking hotline number (though I wasn’t sure if it was trafficking).  As I was leaving the place to place the call, I walked by the only other seated table in the restaurant–a white man and two Cambodian women.  Three for three?  That’s some impressive statistics for this restaurant, I must say. I stepped outside the restaurant and noticed a white gentleman on the balcony and two Cambodian women through the window.  Especially since these women, though young, did not appear as clear children, there was little we could do legally the same night.  However, after phoning a few folks I knew, I ended up reporting it to my friend at IJM who would relay it to their investigations team.

In the future, she said, shaming is totally appropriate as a temporary solution.

As the man took the girl down to his car, holding her hand. My stomach felt sick at the site of something beautiful perverted.

Alright, ugh.  I need to sleep and get up in time for aerobics.

Be well, friends,

elizabeth

Today, we made a 3-hour drive out to visit some projects in Kampong Cham province.  It was really nice to get out of the city.  And as much as I love our van driver, I kind of missed taking the bus.  I mean, the extra hour each way is totally worth it for the repeating karaoke CD.

Anyway, we stopped at the rest place famous for selling fried tarantulas.  They must have realized the big tourist attraction because now there are two human sized tarantula statues at the entrance and in front of the bathrooms.  I wonder if they will memorialize another tourist attraction, the squatty potty, in a similar way.  I wonder if they’ll use the same scale… yikes.

At each of these stops, young children approached us with bags of fruit and sticky rice saying, “you buy from me, lady? you buy from me, and i go to school.  pretty lady, you like pineapple? pineapple sweet.”  Because I have yet to find a consistent way to respond to it (do I really purchase fruit from 12 kids?  Do I give 12 kids a dollar or two each which will surely not fund their schooling?  Anyone?), I pulled out a frisbee from my bag and taught the kids how to throw. The first time we stopped, only one child dropped her goods to play with me.  On the way home, I had about 5 kids play with me.  Both times I gave the discs to young girls, as they were the first who joined me. (John Ray and Dan, thank you much!)  I decided to leave the discs with these kiddos, as I’m not entirely sure of their situation but realize that most of them do work all day rather than go to school.  Frisbees can perhaps substitute for some interesting physics class?  :)

Anyway, the morning in Kampong Cham was interesting.  World Hope runs some development projects in the rural villages, working with the folks to plant crops and work towards sustainable community (like many other relief organizations). A couple brief thoughts:

1. There is something inherently awkward and strange about visiting a village with a collection of foreigners. I’m not sure how the people saw us, but I was more focused on their perceptions of me than my understanding of them.  I was so afraid to appear as if I devalued their possessions, their way of life, and even who they are as people that I didn’t really think a lot about who they actually were, other than I thought they were neat.  Anyway, I find these “tourist-mission” experiences to feel quite strange and uncomfortable, perhaps moreso than if I were to just “pop by” their village on my own.  With a group,they feel on display, like an exhibit.  I tried to imagine folks coming to my home setting, looking super interested and curious, and taking pictures.  I’m not sure what I’d think about this. On a more important note though, I can attest that World Hope is doing excellent work in that area.  These folks have learned new skills, empowering them economically, and giving them a sense of accomplishment in their work and community.  Encouraging to see!

2. We got to see community development as prevention of human trafficking.  One of the new forms of trafficking involves Khmer women becoming domestic slaves in Malaysia.  The women are told that they can earn money for their families by working in Malaysia as nannies or servants in the home.  There are even companies that provide “training” for such things.  Once there, the women are treated as slaves, working in ridiculous conditions and receiving little or no pay.  Recently, 9 Khmer (Cambodian) women were found dead in Malaysia and were identified as domestic servants. One of the women in the development project actually was going to sign up for this until the project director informed them of the issues, sparing this woman lots of misery, and potentially her life.

3. This one is short.  I learned today that Destiny Rescue (after care center) in Kampong Cham is caring for and housing 5 girls with cognitive/intellectual disabilities–either pre or post-trauma.  White Lotus cares for two.  Perhaps there is a link in these fields afterall… Either way, I found out that Destiny Rescue still has Srey Touch.  My absolute favorite kid with disabilities.  I guess she’s gotten stronger and her behavior is a little more challenging.  I think this is probably only the third time in my life I’ve considered looking into adoption (yeah, I know, I’m not stable enough yet…).  She, my friends, is beautiful.

Alright, catch ya’ll later!

This is ridiculous.  I have started this entry 3 times over the past 3 days.  It’s so strange providing updates within a very short time frame.  I like to believe I am creatively motivated, but I fear I cannot wait for such literary inspiration. Hopefully this beautiful sunset and amazing breeze on the balcony (uh huh, it’s not cold here) will set the stage for at least something readable.  (Yeah, I know; it will probably serve as a distraction.)

First of all, this trip is explicitly different from many short-term “missons” types of trips.  The purpose is to educate and equip the group with information to spark further, more specific involvement in the fight against sex trafficking. Though we are leading crafts, playing frisbee,  providing encouragement, and praying, the impact we intend to have is not immediately visible or felt.

That being said, here’s the brief outline of what we’ve done so far:

Sunday (for most the team; I arrived Saturday): survived a 14-hour flight (among two others totaling 6 hours).

Monday: Spent the morning at World Hope’s office, learning about the assessment center that they run and getting a run-down of our week.  I do not remember much of what was said, truthfully, as I was making many trips down memory lane. (I noticed that they put more furniture on the ground floor–perhaps to discourage indoor volleyball.  What a shame…)

We then ate lunch with a friend who works with kids with disabilities in Cambodia.  The school that he worked at stopped providing services to non-residential kids, so he was sharing his new plans with me.  Though it’s sad to hear about the changes at the school, his plans are really exciting–definitely deserving of their own blog post. Perhaps I’ll use my airport time productively on the way home.

Following lunch, we took a guided tour of Tuol Sleng, one of the former “interrogation centers” (death camps), and the killing fields, one of the mass grave sites, during the Khmer Rouge. Today, I heard Cambodia described as “a country forgotten.”  It’s interesting to me that few people (myself included) have much general knowledge about this 3 year genocide.  You would think that a slaughter of 1/3-1/4 of a country’s population would stand out, whether in  history class or news references.  Not so much.  I won’t go in to much of it here, but I’d recommended learning about it.   The interrogation center was kept mainly intact–including walls, chains, even blood splatters on the ceiling.  The Khmer Rouge photographed their victims upon entry and prior to (and some after) murdering them.  These pictures were preserved and currently fill many of the rooms in the prison camp.  As for the killing fields, a new audio tour was available that provided a tremendous amount of detail about the site and how it was used to slaughter people efficiently and cheaply, sharing personal accounts of violence, murder, and rape.  It was a pretty weighty, sobering day. There are particular comments I have about these experiences, but words and time fail me.  More than usual.

Tuesday: That was today!  I’ve caught up!

This morning, we visited an aftercare center and led a craft (I watched and encouraged).  Also, I took a few of the girls who finished the craft early to throw a few frisbees. (Dan and Darwin, your frisbees are in good, Cambodian hands!)

More about the center: It developed by two women from the US.  On a trip to Cambodia 18 years ago, they saw young girls being pimped out and felt God’s call to do something about it. They have since started an aftercare center for these young women that has been going on at least the last 10 years.  They advocate and show their love for these women in many ways–from obtaining a cesarean section in a Cambodian hospital (one of their girls needed one, but it as “lunch time.”) to confronting UN soldiers about participating in the sex industry.  They even cared for two of their girls as they died of aids.  This Khmer proverb that describes quite well the situation of women in this country (and perhaps many others): Men are gold; women are white cloth.  Men’s value is seen as inherent.  If they get “dirty,” they can wash it and regain worth.  Women once unclean, are dirty forever.

This theme came up multiple times throughout the day, both at our visits to Chab Dai and IJM.

As the response to sex trafficking in Cambodia grew, involving various roles (law enforcement, aftercare, prevention programs, etc.) and many organizations, Chab Dai formed a few years back to enable collaboration, effective training, and communication between groups. Their role is huge and is being used around the world as an exemplar.  That’s all I can say right now.  I’m running out of steam…

Finally, we wrapped up at IJM–the group that partners closely with the Cambodian police to investigate and arrest, as well as with lawyers to prosecute, these crimes.  In his book, Terrify No More, Gary Haugen describes the coordination of these first-ever brothel raids in Cambodia back in 2002, bringing to light some of the complications of the issue.  At the time, child prostitution was rampant and visible on the streets, but the police were not cooperative–many tipping off brothel owners and taking bribes. Now the climate is changing.  The police are cracking down, but the operations of traffickers have shifted, making arrests much more difficult, if not impossible.  The transactions are made at karaoke bars (technically legitimate establishments) and the girls are taken off site for sex. The police have had difficulties getting warrants for the karaoke bars, making arrests and rescues much more difficult.  Additionally, IJM did a survey which suggested that the off-site sex results in a higher prevalence of gang rape.  A girl will be bought, taken off-site, and “shared” with the guy’s friends.  Prior to this, in brothel “establishments,” the pimp would ensure that money would be exchanged for each “use.”  Yes.  Please pray.  The complexity has increased, and everyone is still learning how to respond.

(Ha!  Apparently, I got a burst of “steam.”)

Oh man, this post is long and convoluted.

In very brief summary:

Team awesome. Tummy fine. Olympic stadium (5 am Khmer aerobics followed by freshly pressed soy milk) amazing.

Will try to do better with this new, more fact-based, blogging style.

Much love, and thanks for all the prayers.

http://indefinitelymisplaced.wordpress.com/

Hope ya check it out!

This may be a little heavy for a blog intro…  As much as I may claim to understand “the end times” and “armageddon,” I really have no where near the knowledge of which to blog about… but has that stopped me before? 

Of course not.

Yesterday was our last language lesson with our amazing and wonderful teacher, Kakada.  Yes, his name is pronounced just as it’s spelled–no mysterious vowel #43 in the Khmer language.  (For real, they have like over 40 different vowel sounds…My thoughts exactly.)    Being the last lesson, I got a little sentimental (Really?)  So, let me recall some of the most wonderful moments for  you with this hilarious man….

First of all, let me describe him.  Maybe 4’5,” Asian (what!?), more specifically, Cambodian, smiling all the time, except when telling jokes, and the only one in the Khmer Language School that wears a non-matching shirt.  That’s right.  Every day, the teachers all wore the same color shirt and every day was a different color.  Except Kakada, he never matched, except one time–and that was definitely by accident…or to keep his job. Maybe he’s a little cocky…but he’s earned it.  After 2 months of language, if our teacher was switched because he was sick, we wouldn’t even go.  Demanding?  Yeah, some things in Cambodia you just gotta be picky about!

He spoke English pretty well…I’d put him on a tier 2 (these tiers are my made up levels of Asian-English proficiency.  Some of our friends are 1.  Some are 2.  Some are on the watch list.  Some are 3.  And some don’t even register.  Kinda like my Khmer.  And since they’re my made up levels, that description helps you not at all.  Let’s just say, he knew quite a few words and some basic grammar, but the pronunciation was at times surprising.)

For example, he was teaching us the word for big in khmer which is thom (no, not thom/fom (for my lisping friends) or dom or tom, but T-hom).  So, when giving t-hom an English counterpart, he says “bij.” or to our ears “bitch.”  (Sorry, for those of you who thought this would be a G rated blog.  I guess it just got a little PG 13…ya might wanna scroll down.)  He probably says the word, “bitch,” like 10 times during the span of 3 minutes.  Once we realized what he was intending to say, we stopped crying and began to try desperately hard not to laugh.  I think of all things in Cambodia, not laughing is the most difficult!

Another time, he was teaching us the word for tourist.  OK, more accurately, 4 other times (we missed a lesson here and there and so we ended up reviewing/learning the same material 4 lessons in a row…).   There is a sentence that he was trying to teach us to say, which I don’t know why we needed to learn, since it wasn’t even true.  But, here’s the English sentence: “I am a tourist.”  Seems simple enough.  Here’s the Khmer sentence: “Khnom gu cia neak tissajaw.”  Here’s the Khmenglish/Kakada sentence, “I…am… a…TOURISM!” (yes, slowly and dramatically).  Now, he would correct himself, but like all of us, he never learned the first time… or the second time… or the third time… and by the fourth time he said that sentence, i was silently begging him to say it correctly because i knew i couldn’t hold in the laughter.  He didn’t, and I couldn’t.

There were definitely other times in our lessons where we definitely did not realize he was speaking English.  One of them in particular was most disappointing.  We knew he was speaking Khmer because he said the following words while describing a friend.  “Koat (Ko-aht) mook (moke) pii (pee)”  That means, in English “he/she came from…” THen he says the word tooky.  Yes, Tooky.  I was so excited.  I mean, how cool is that word?  Tooky tooky tooky!  Jennie and I looked at each other in excitement after repeating it for him like 6 times to make sure our oo was accurate. Then we asked him “What’s a tooky?”  He says “Tooky… the country, Tooky.  I am speak English.”  The disappointment we felt in that moment was just enough to keep us from busting a gut.  I really wanted to learn Tooky.

There are so many words and stories, but I will leave you with this final thought, also to dispel any other rumors.  During our first few months taking language, Kakada would occasionally make jokes about us being a couple.  For example, as he teaches us the word for friend, he then casually throws in the question, “Are you two more than friend? Just kidding, just kidding!”  Then he’d change the subject and Jennie and I would just sit there confused.  So, the last lesson, I just had to do it.  I popped the question.  No, I didn’t propose to Jennie, I asked Kakada if he thought we were gay when we first started.  Well, he responded by teaching us the words for gay, and lady killer (don’t know why that came up), and then admitting that he did think we were a couple.  So, we got to dispel that rumor, and just in case any of you had any questions to our sexual orientation, we are both straight.  Jennie has an engagement ring (to Mick) to prove it, and well, you’ll just have to take my word for it! 

So, we are counting down.  3 days til Jennie hops on the plane, 15 days until I do the same.  Thanks all for your love and support, and I look forward to catching up with you in person.  And I will show you the pictures I am much to lazy to put online.

Imagine with me, suffering a cough, a nasal drip, and possibly fever, sitting in a 100 degree house (no, not sauna, that would be nice and open my airwaves).  Just stifling heat.  To survive that heat, I lay on a straw mat under a fan in my wood house, but the fan constantly dries out my throat and makes me cough and the blows around the sweat on my body that has accumalated because of either a fever or the 100 degree temperature outside.  And I can just never be sure.

I decided that environment was not conducive to healing…or happiness.  I determined that mainly because I was crabby and exhausted….and crabby.  So, right now, I am sitting in the office underneath the air conditioner in my sweats, with a vest on and an afghan wrapped around me with a cup of tea.  For a white girl in Cambodia who is already an anomale to these Cambodians, I have increased their number of questions regarding my sanity.  In the last 20 minutes, my friend, Sophorn, has come in twice to ask me if I would like him to turn off the air conditioner.  To which, I replied, “No thanks.  I’m fine.”  To which he replied (confused),”But you’re cold…”  To which I replied… I don’t remember, but I’m sure whatever I said it really didn’t make sense.  And just now, as I typed that last sentence, our friend, Tong, walked in and said, “What you doing?,” laughed, waved his hand at me as if to say (I will never understand the whole lot of you foreigners..), and walked away before I could even attempt to rationalize my behavior.  That’s probably best.

At times like these, I’ve decided rationalization is overrated.  When you get a cold in Cambodia, and I mean an intolerable, is that sweat from fever or Cambodian weather?, why is my hair wet again and my throat dry? cold, don’t rationalize it.  Sit under that air con with your tea and afghan.  Maybe even grab  a book and pull up a wintery scene on your screen saver.  Your body will understand.  And that’s all that matters.