Discussions on being here, what it means, and long overdue details

I’m now faced with a dilemma; to describe this beautiful world I’ve inhabited and found great happiness in, without limiting it or encapsulating the experience. I’ve thought of several ways to introduce and explain what I’ve witnesses thus far, and although chronological order makes sense, it wouldn’t be nearly as interesting. I’ve been here for two weeks now, and there are many, many things on my mind I would like to express. I’ll tackle it in order of personal priority; I hope it isn’t too random!

In the conversations I’ve had with friends and family from home, the first question is always “Whats it like over there?”. I know you’re just trying to be friendly, but an attempt to answer this question is positively exhausting.

If I were limited to one adjective, I would call Cambodia extremely, spectacularly, sometimes overwhelmingly real. Reality confronts you, knocks you on your back and spits in your face. Siem Reap is admittedly tame compared to places like Phnom Penh, however the reality here is unavoidable, shocking, yet strangely comfortable and satisfying. In my previous post, I analogized the culture shock of arriving to being lost and adrift in some huge, shifting angry ocean. I stick by this, but strangely, its a positively good feeling, which makes me hesitant to use the word “shock” at all. I walk around the streets of this city, conversing freely with tuk tuk drivers, shop-owners, beggars, amputees, vagabond children, absorbing the experience to the capacity of my senses, filling my mind with the patterns I’ve witnessed, fulfilling this peculiar inner hunger, assuaging some inner turmoil that I was previously unaware of. I’m certainly not suggesting that I derive happiness from witnessing the difficult straits that others are in; I see it more as the active acknowledgement of an inclusive collective reality, one that I was ignorant of for some time. Its a rebirth, in a way. Realizing this collective reality is enlightening; realizing it and being an active participant in the progression of this reality brings a dizzying mix of feelings. I would describe it as an emotional flood of elation, with hints of apprehension that force one to look inwards, debating personal capacity to adequately face the challenges that come with they have the capacity to enact the kind of change that is required.

Next, the children at the school. There are 26 of them, and like the “Whats it like over there?”, they vehemently defy encapsulation. They’re loving, playful, mischievous, joyful...the list goes on. They’re so incredible that you forget where they come from. Four years ago, some were living on the streets, others had abusive parents, others didn’t have parents...some were abandoned, others lost their parents to HIV. This painful history is not on the surface for the most part, however they present small idiosyncrasies that momentarily open up their entire dark past and force the realization that these kids really have been saved. First, physical affection is hugely important; hugs, handshakes, playful wrestling, you name it. Second, when all the joking and jostling and so forth is done, they become suddenly serious. They possess an acute awareness for where we are and where we’ll be, and always ask where we’re going, why, and when we’re coming back. The reasons for this are painfully obvious. They are all extremely concerned at all times of our well-being, constantly making sure we’re not hungry or thirsty, too hot or too tired.

As students, they’re everything any teacher could ever hope for. Hard working, appreciative, and sharp as a tack. When I handed out my first homework assignment, each student individually thanked me with a small bow of the head. I was absolutely floored. The students perpetuate an attitude of appreciation for the values of education. They challenge us, they want more, they demand that we don’t slack off and do half our job. They need what we’re offering, they eat it up, challenge it, contemplate it, understand it, and are up the next morning at 8 am in their desks when I walk in, ready to devour more. Its refreshing, yet forces me to look back parts of my life with a tinge of regret. When I was their age, I was lashing out against school, parents, basically anything with a structure that I could attack with my own backwards logic. I see these kids, and they simply radiate appreciation, intelligence and determination. You grow attached to these kids quickly for these reasons. They’re like one enormous family, all living together and helping each other out.

Which brings up a somewhat darker side. Just as you grow attached to them quickly, you become equally defensive of them. You see the world they will inevitably be discharged into, and become terrified for their futures. The school instills these children with a noble system of values and ethics. They’re smart, capable, and driven, yet being released into a world where succeeding means trading in these systems of belief for personal well-being. Yet, you look into their eyes, you see their faces, and the realization beings; these really are the next generation of Cambodians, a generation that just could maybe make an enormous difference. This circles back to a huge daily responsibility that I feel everyday to prepare these children, which at times becomes exhausting. However, everyday ends, finds me tired but undeniably happy. The meaning and value that extends from this work is difficult to describe; its far different than working towards a grade, in that you’re dealing first hand with the lives of these beautiful people. Its a constant responsibility, an obligation to be a positive inspiration and source of wisdom, truth and good.

I’ll keep on this for some time, describing different aspects of life here. I also want to give everyone a sense of the children and staff here, and will do my best to present each one in a unique light.

The ubiquitous moto; most common form of transportation here. The face masks are because it gets real dusty here, but seeing swarms of people clad in them is quite surreal at times.

This is our humble abode. Quaint little cottage at the end of a dirt road. I dig it, very much.

Another view from the porch. I have this terrible addiction to my fisheye lens which I'm sure you will come to realize during the course of my time here.
The room where I'm living. The cottage has two bedrooms, living room, kitchen, and bathroom. No hot water, stove, or A/C, just a bunch of fans that are absolutely vital anytime after 9 am and before 5. We usually keep them on all night to ward away mosquitos.
Neighbors! The little girl was quite amazed when, after taking this photograph, I showed her the photo on my camera's LCD screen. They don't speak any English, but we communicate enough
\Ah yes, we also have monkeys! These guys hang out on the road leading to our cottage. There are also heaps of stray dogs that seem to live in harmony with them. The monkeys are incredibly tame, they hang out and just munch on fruit, don't pay much attention to you.
The ultimate oxymoron?