One year in Cambodia

Time has flown by and though it seems somewhat unreal to me, I have now been living in Cambodia for one year. From the first few months of living in Traing district, Takeo province without electricity or indoor plumbing to my current home in Maung Russey district, Battambang province it has been an interesting experience so far. Whether it is something as simple as greeting someone new or more complex normative social beliefs, Cambodia is certainly very different from everything I was accustomed to in Augusta, Georgia. As a new group of Peace Corps Volunteers enters the country this week I am struck by the fact that things that once seemed strange and foreign to my Western mind now seem ordinary and everyday.

There is little Western context for some of the discussions I have had here on a fairly regular basis. For example it is common to be asked if you believe in ghosts. At first this may seem to be a childish question that offers little insight into the people as a collective, but as time progresses the fallacy of this first impression becomes apparent. In a country thirty one years removed from a genocide that claimed the lives of millions there is a certain inexpressible something that lingers in the atmosphere of Cambodia. Most commonly I am asked about ghosts by teenagers who were born after the genocide and saw limited amounts of the civil war that followed the Khmer Rouge's forced evacuation of Phnom Penh. These teenagers have hears the stories of family members and know of many of the atrocities that occurred, yet in they seem to have a certain amount of disbelief as if they don't believe that their fellow countrymen are/were capable of such things. In Takeo I was told that I lived down the street from a unmarked mass grave and the belief in ghosts was fairly high I gathered from the limited conversations I had with the people around me. As time has passed I have set aside the horror movie idea of ghosts for one that I find far more real and frightening. From hearing what I thought was initially a silly question, I have come to believe that there are ghosts throughout Cambodia. These ghosts are the unresolved traumas of a people that have seen and experienced too much; these ghosts inhabit every aspect of the alcoholic men forced to watch their family members killed or starved to death when they were ten years old. Ghosts torment the mothers who have been told that the only way to survive is to remain quiet and subservient in their daily lives. These ghosts feed on the suffering of the young women pushed into prostitution because of economic desperation; the young men who rape and abuse these women are haunted by the same ghosts that have made them unable or unwilling to see their own inhumanity and hatred. The common image of ghosts here is a disembodied head that is in search of a body to feed upon and the reality is just that; the great suffering to which everyone above the age of thirty was forced to endure still inhabits the minds of most in one way or another and seeks peace in the only way it knows, more destruction of self and others. Pchum Ben is the holiday in which the people make offerings to the ghosts of their ancestors and believe that they can ease any suffering of their ancestors in the process. No other Theravada Buddhist country celebrates this day, but in a land of ghosts, disembodied spirits of suffering and pain, it makes sense. While last year I simply observed the holiday as an outsider, this year I will make offerings for those ghosts haunting the living and the dead.

The ideas of material gain and success that I grew up thinking were the norm for every society have been proven false from my perspective. In a malnutrition and preventable illness kill many people every year, I see no value in having a big home, SUV, and televisions in every room. These things aren't bad nor are the people that want these things, but for me they are ways we use to escape the suffering of the rest of the world around us. For example, I don't have to think about the homeless man sleeping outside the local church when I am watching American Idol. Even now I feel that I am too far removed from all the pain around me. The true value of expensive clothing is not lost on me when I know that a pair of jeans in America could easily feed a Cambodian family for a week. Is looking nice more important than their hunger? This is what I ask myself and even now living on a volunteer allowance (far from a salary) I find myself feeling guilty for too much self indulgence when those near me are struggling to have just enough. There is a pronounced difference between the "have's" and the "have not's" in Cambodia and I have no interest in becoming part of the former if it means denying the latter. Too often this is what the price of "success" is and I now hope for something different. In reference to the ghosts of the last paragraph, it seems clear to me that seeking my own material gain while denying assistance to those with little or nothing is inhumane and continues the feeding cycle of those rapacious spirits.

Certainly I have noticed far more changes in myself and differences between life in my childhood home and now in Cambodia, but at the moment they hardly feel worth mentioning. The most important aspects of my experience in Cambodia are inadequately worded in the last two paragraphs and I don't have any desire to lessen or cheapen those observations with some of the more obvious differences. It may seem corny to some, I know I would have thought of it that way at another point in my life, but I find myself always adding "Peace and love" when ever I am communicating with anyone via the internet; this has a distinct reason. That is what is needed here and by "here" I mean in Cambodia, America, all over the world, within yourself, and within me. Everything that is truly beneficial to others and ourselves flows from peace and love and until we have these in abundance we will all be haunted by our own ghosts to varying degrees.

New collection of thoughts in the form of a poem...

I forgot my story

In the sight of you
there was a space in time where I forgot myself;
all the stories of who I am, what I want/need/like/believe,
all conception of class, race, ethnicity, gender, sexual preferences, political affiliation
all fears and hopes, fantasy and fact,
fell away instantaneously in that moment.
Without identity, the only thing left breathing was an agonizing love,
a cellular wailing
that fully recognized the tears of my brothers and sisters as my own.
In the face of famine our spirit starves,
in genocide dies,
in homelessness is without refuge,
in exploitation is raped and beaten,
in poverty is without resource,
in prejudice is hated and unwanted.
In the sight of your face, in that moment,
all truth was made known and I rejoiced from soles to soul,
complete in the reality that my soul and your soul was our soul…

Life's thank you list...

Too often in life I feel like I take for granted those aspects of my life that I value. Over the years my life has been altered for the better by many many individuals and this is a short list of people to whom I am immensely grateful for their contribution to my life. Many of these people probably have no idea how much they have benefited me. Some of them I don't even know particularly well, but they have aided me none the less. I have never met a few of the people listed but I have found so much meaning in their lives that I feel compelled to mention them. Here is a brief and far from exhaustive thank you list for those people who have impacted my life and how their influence has shaped me. (I am omitting family members, simply because I have a relatively large family for whom no amount of praise is enough. My focus here is to thank those who may be unaware of how grateful I am, whereas hopefully my family members know that they are a major source of blessing and inspiration in my life.) So here we go...

Mrs. McBurney and a few other teachers- one of many elementary and junior high school teachers who had endless patience and needed discipline for me. I can clearly hear her say to me "Philip, your actions thunder so loudly that I can not hear what you say." I am thankful that she taught me that it is my actions that tell the world who I am and not the words coming out of my mouth. By extension, she taught me that living my gratitude is not the same as saying that I am grateful. She and several other teachers planted seeds of an ethical/moral/spiritual nature throughout my youth that took many years to grow in the infertile land of my childhood stubbornness. As a teacher in Cambodia now, I can only hope to be a small fraction as effective as these teachers were.

Hanson Carter and family (and an extended cast of characters)- for spending countless hours with me when I was quite lost in the world. Always kind and open they taught me about loving people as they are with little to no expectations placed upon them. They played an instrumental part in removing a lot of the hindrances in my spiritual life. Their actions remind me that there is a big difference between calling myself Buddhist and acting with the love and compassion that the Buddha did. Their faith in Jesus showed me that the label of my faith is not nearly as important as actually living the message of love.

Dr. Micheal Schwartz- for continually pushing me to challenge my assumptions and beliefs. For handing me the hammer that broke down a lot of mental barriers to growth.For teaching the truths that don't always feel good to hear and showing me that it isn't necessary to run from those truths.

Dr. Alan Scarboro- for letting me continually sharpen my small ideas of society through discussion and debate. No matter how many arguments of mine he disproved, I always walked away from classes feeling like I had really learned something bigger.The way he taught social stratification and allowed me to debate it still shapes how I view much of the world around me. The way he presented labor movements and class discrimination reminds me that I am a part of the global community and therefore have an active role to play in challenging the accepted norms of injustice and inequality. I can remember him saying "We don't bring down the pillars of injustice all at once, we chip away at them over time." (paraphrased, because the way he said it sounded cooler)

Leesa,Betsy, Bryan, Henry, Owen, Jeff, Melanie, Kristin, John and countless other friends- for embracing the quirky ideas and beliefs I tend to have and celebrating those aspects of who I am that are often misunderstood. For pushing to improve themselves and encouraging me to do the same. For being themselves unabashedly and (seemingly) unafraid, doing their best to be true to themselves.

Gilbert- for helping me to find my way to where I am now one step at a time. Always willing to tell me the truth no matter how much I disagree. For teaching me to do the hard stuff.

Lama Surya Das, Khen Rinpoche, Dzigar Kongtrul Rinpoche, Dzongsar Khyentse Rinpoche, the monks of Wat Santidham, and countless other teachers- for teaching how to be a Buddha rather than a Buddhist. For having a seemingly inexhaustible wealth of wisdom, compassion, love, and equanimity and assuring me that I can too if I do the work.

H.H. the 14th Dalai Lama and H.H. the 17th Karmapa- for being beyond words. You bring peace and hope in the midst of seeming despair. For being selfless in a selfish time.

Corey- for always being able to help me laugh at my mistakes and forgiving my arrogance. Your friendship has made some of my best times better and some of my worst times more bearable. For always being my closest friend no matter what disagreements we may have or being separated by thousands of miles.

Rodney- for teaching me to view spirituality through a different lens that embraces rather than differentiates. For helping me learn that I have not/will not "arrive" or "get there" and stopping is not a real option. For helping clarify my vision enough that even when I try to walk away from it I cannot.

Andy and Patrick- for showing me a picture of myself in many ways. For helping me to believe that I can make a difference and providing me with a reason to continue to put forth an effort.

Malcolm X- after years of teaching racial segregation he had the humility and integrity to say he was wrong in front of a global audience after making the Hajj to Mecca. This teaches me that fighting injustice in the world in a meaningful way requires a deep commitment to honesty, integrity, and humility.

Nameless ex-girlfriends- for allowing me to learn what commitment and partnership is supposed to be about and for having the wisdom to let me know when I was quite obviously missing the point. I am a better man because of your unwillingness to put up with some of my boyish ways.

All the PCV's in Cambodia- for seeing many aspects of life far more clearly than I do and allowing me to benefit from your vision and service.For sharing an experience that would be quite lonely without your friendship.

So many friends and acquaintances over the years- for allowing me to learn through your example and the opportunity to share in your joy and sorrow.

This list is sooooo far from being complete that it is only reflects a fraction of those people to whom I am grateful. If you have taken the time to read this list I owe you a debt of gratitude simply because you have allowed me have a voice. If you didn't read this list, I find a sense of gratitude for reminding me that I am not special or unique; I am one among many.

Another quick poem on consumerism during economic crisis

I have been learning a lot about some of the economic forces at play that caused the housing and economic crisis in America. It has left me with some strong impressions and rather than attempting to put those factors into a long and in-depth format I thought I would just throw out a series of quick thoughts that relate to the economic picture as a whole.

We the People

broken and beaten
the flat screen television set democracy of tomorrow promises less than we have today
but it is convenient and packaged to sell
“ultra” “new” “improved” “20% more”
I don’t want my mtv anymore
corporate giants eat profits and people with a quarterly bonus
rise up and go shop at Walmart, you have the right to savings
it costs nothing but a sixteen hour work day for a 14 year old girl in Indonesia
feeling frustrated, confused, economically dwarfed and downtrodden…
maybe I suffer from class depression
maybe I haven’t had my daily allowance of high fructose corn syrup
no need to hedge those bets on derivatives spawned by these words, most don’t read and those who do say “that’s nice” and continue on… bargain shoppers have no need to consume what comes freely
educated to death, noose like student loans strangle hope
keep telling me that one day I can be president
make the nightmare of nine to five poverty feel like a dream
but don’t wake me, I have to work in the morning
land of the free to choose from the “extra value” meal while texting from my car
this home of the brave has been foreclosed upon
30 days and nowhere to go

A quick poem about gender inequality and the sex industry in Cambodia

Defiled Immaculacy

little sister dancing in the rice paddy
smiles shyly dropping head to shoulder
meeting unknown with curious caution, timid and excited in newness
slowly browning white school shirt symbolizing the possibilities of its owners eyes
in dreams and memories hold tight these moments
these times little sister are who you are and nothing less
dancing in the sun, smiling shyly, you are Immaculate without effort or reason
the gentle nature of your eyes brings peace and love to the troubled hearts and minds of those who know how to see
down the street and around the corner… men raise drunken eyes
haunted by ghosts of hungers and thirsts
looking past the object in western wear and makeup
to the next conquest of violence called love
poisoning meaning by motivation
brother see Immaculacy dancing in the sun and smiling shyly behind the mask of dancing and smiling
behind the mascara, under the dense growth of broken promises and unheard cries lies the peaceful destroyer of hungry ghosts
only in banishing ghosts in the sight of Immaculacy can you begin to free her from the lies of experience

Top 5 things missed about the South

This is a brief list of things I miss or just appreciate about growing up in the South...

1. Food- grits, fried chicken, greens, BBQ sauce, butter biscuits, squash, butter beans, fried shrimp, Brunswick stew, catfish stew, fried okra, black eyed peas, gumbo, jambalaya, peach cobbler, apple pie, the list goes on and on. There is no one style of Southern cooking as you have styles such as Gullah Gullah, Cajun, Creole, Low Country, Native American, and several others. Growing up in the South these various styles blend together at the dinner table and you don't think "Oh this is from the Carolina low country, but this dish is from the Louisiana gulf area..." Instead you get a powerful meal that isn't focused on health consciousness nearly as much as it is focused on making sure the ingredients bring out the best possible flavors. There is a reason folks get big in the South; we cook with Crisco, lard, fatback, smoked neck bones and wings, bacon drippings, real butter, salt pork, and other cholesterol filled, flavor packing ingredients.

2. Southern accents- people from other parts of the English speaking world act like I am the one who speaks in a funny way. Come on now, don't tell me that a simple phrase like "I ain't ate yet, but I'm fixing too. I'll give yall a holla when I'm done." is confusing. Southerners speak slow because we don't want to have to translate it for those of you that don't understand. I miss hearing folks speak the right way. People in the South speak in a manner that has a bit of soul and humility built right in to our pronunciation.

3. NASCAR- I don't even like NASCAR but I like people who do. Seeing a fully grown woman with 3 kids and a mortgage get excited about Dale Jr. winning the pole is just funny to me. For a sport that consists of little more than a lot of left turns and loud engines, people get fanatical in their devotion. Kevin Harvick, Dale Jr., Jeff Gordon, Dale Jarrett, Mark Martin, and any other number of drivers have no special importance to me, but after a while you just get used to seeing people wearing Budweiser hats with the number 8 on them or Tide t-shirts or any other number of corporate sponsors. NASCAR is a sub-culture within Southern culture and though I am uninitiated I miss those funny folks back home who after a few Natty Lites might punch you in the mouth if you say something bad about the Intimidator.

4. Walking around in a Walmart after midnight- Sounds a little odd right? Go to Wallieworld after midnight and look around. I don't even buy anything when I go, it is a trip made for sheer entertainment value. There are some free-spirited styles of dress all over the world, but nothing quite competes with the run-away fashion sense displayed in a Walmart after dark. Want to see a plus size lady in neon green elastic pants, red open toed shoes that have been customized with a Bedazzler, with a American flag patterned midriff shirt? Make the trip. Want to see a man dressed completely in camouflage hunting gear and sporting a mullet hair cut walking around like he is Bill Gates and has the power to buy and sell whatever he wants whenever he wants? This man is confidence on steroids and he shops at Walmart after midnight. He will probably be hopping out of his girlfriend's mid-80's pickup that has been customized with either a sticker or airbrush art on the back window with a picture of Calvin from Calvin and Hobbes urinating on either a Chevy or Ford logo. If you strike up a conversation with this gentleman he may show you his Tasmanian devil (cartoon character) tattoo that he got when he was 16 because he wanted to "express himself and have something original that represents him." Guys of this general description are all over the South and generally they are friendly good natured men, but if there is a sale on Walker Texas Ranger DVD sets or commemorative plates in the back of the store do not get in this man's way under any circumstances. Folks like this make shopping after midnight the only time I want to shop.

5. County folk influence- I don't mean good old boys or "rednecks" here; I am talking about the influence of folks that aren't that far removed from a small town mentality where the pace of living is leisurely, the purpose of asking how someone is doing is to actually find out how they are doing, your dog be it a Chihuahua or a Black Lab is a your buddy and friend not an accessory, and you treat your elders with respect because they are your elders. These are the people that don't understand Hollywood fashion or feng shui, but if your momma gets a flat tire on the side of the interstate they will pull over and help her change the tire because it is the right thing to do. Country folk tend to not be overly complex and don't put a lot of esteem in book knowledge, but don't be fooled these folks know some things that you can only learn by sitting on a front porch and drinking lemonade with them on a Sunday afternoon. Don't get me wrong, I am not country folk since I was born and raised in Augusta, GA which is a far cry from Cornelia,GA but I am influenced by country folks. It's country folk that are most represented on this list. You may live in the heart of mid-town Atlanta and dress in the newest clothes, but when you sit down at a bar in Buckhead and order fried shrimp and beer battered onion rings, you have country folks to thank for bringing you that meal. When you are planning a business lunch and you have the caterer serve up a variety of Po'boys you have country folk to thank. Whether you are listening to Alan Jackson or Outkast, you can thank country folk for perfecting the Southern drawl that makes their delivery just right and the slang of the South for making their music stand apart from similar artists in California or New York. From the lady living out at a horse stable in the country to the head of orthopedic surgery in a major hospital, if you were born and raised in the South you have been shaped and molded in many ways by country folks and that is a good thing.

Random thoughts on living in a developing country...

This is a quick and far from thorough guide to a few things you can expect living in Cambodia (with some exceptions being made for Phnom Penh and Siem Reap town).

First, you are going to get sick....you are going to get sick a lot and it is going to be painful. Diarrhea will be your constant companion for the first couple months, once it finally goes away you can expect it to revisit you at least once on a monthly basis. Dengue fever, giardia (caused my ingesting fecal matter), internal parasites, sinus infections from living in a dust filled environment, and constant lethargy due to the unending and inescapable heat are normal. You will not live here for long without experiencing some or all of these.

Second, bathrooms are a necessity, but don't expect anything too comfortable. Unlike their Western counterparts, bathrooms in Cambodia usually consist of a hole in the ground with a porcelain bowl over which you squat. They usually empty into a river, stream, or lake via pvc pipes. Because of this they are not suitable for toilet paper, hence you won't have any. What you will have is a small bucket and a reservoir of water. Unless you came prepared, you most likely will not have any soap. Come prepared! Wiping is accomplished through a an experiential learning process that focuses on leaning and pouring water at the proper angles. It should be noted that we don't really use our left hand for much social interaction as this is customarily the hand used for anything that is considered unclean. The bathroom conditions should be considered in light of my first observation (you will get sick a lot).

Third, if you are living in a rural area or any area in which there are not many tourists (basically anywhere outside of a provincial town), you will become an instant celebrity. Sounds kinda cool right? Nope! It sucks. Think of it this way, you have had diarrhea for two days and you are convinced that the local market is trying to kill you by spiking all of the produce with laxatives. It dawns on you that you should go buy some more soap and some bland food (see "Rice"). You step out the door trying to keep in mind a certain time frame so that you can make it back home the next time your stomach declares war and rises up in revolt. You make it about half way to the roadside stand where you can buy soap and you have already had "Hello" yelled to you by 15 well intentioned but star struck Khmer children. Once you get to your destination and negotiate the purchase of soap, you are greeted like most stars to an endless barrage of questions such as "Have you eaten rice today? Where do you go? Do you have wife? Girlfriend? How old are you? Why do you come to Cambodia? How much money do you make? What state are you from? Can I learn English with you? Where is your home? Can I have your phone number? What do you do in your free time? Do you want to marry a Khmer woman/man?" The list of questions does not end.... really it doesn't. Meanwhile you are plotting your getaway to buy rice when your constant companion, intestinal discomfort and pain, reappears. You make your escape to the rice seller's stand (Note: there are no "merchants" only seller's) and are greeted by the murmur of everyone in sight. Comments on how beautiful (determined here by skin color) you are come pouring in and there is no shortage of compliments or critiques. As you determine which of the 5 types of rice you want to buy, you realize your stomach can't maintain discipline and order much longer so you pick some rice and get home as fast as you can. What should have been 10 minute errands have turned into a labor intensive sea of attention that can take anywhere from 30 minutes to an hour. All the while you feel sick and continually hear the same questions and comments in a foreign language you barely understand. Being an instant superstar gets old quick...

Fourth, you are having rice for dinner. And lunch. And breakfast. Everyday. Really you are. Occasionally you will get a break from the norm and have noodles, but come on Cambodia is an agriculturally based society. Around 90% of the overall population makes their living as from farming and the number one crop is rice by far. For breakfast you have baubau which is basically soggy rice in water with or without additional seasoning. For lunch you may have beef (imagine jerky with a slightly burnt flavor or chewy fat depending on the dish prepared) with some vegetables and rice. Maybe pork or chicken, but rice is guaranteed. Dinner will be similar to lunch but there will be an expectation for you to eat a larger quantity of it because rice it is essential to Khmer people that you eat huge quantities of rice. It should be noted that the quality if the rice here is far superior to the rice I was familiar with in America. Uncle Ben's has nothing on rice from Cambodia. After a few weeks, you long to go a few days without rice. After a few months and maybe some time in a provincial city where there are non-rice options you may find yourself missing rice. Not everyone feels this way, but generally after a day or two without rice it becomes missed. If you don't like rice for whatever reasons, Cambodia is not the place for you.

Fifth, if you want a refined culinary experience go somewhere else. If you want a unique culinary experience we have you covered. Local markets carry lots of fish, beef, pork, and chicken. In addition to these we have plenty of dog, snake, frog, bird, insect,and various rodent meats to choose from. Keep in mind that refrigeration is nearly unheard of so most of these items that may make their way to your dinner table have been sitting in the insanely hot sun until you came by and purchased them. Making your selection is easy though, simply swat away the cloud of flies hovering over the meat sellers table and choose away. Feeling adventuresome? Try some snake on a stick, waterbug (imagine large cockroaches but more moist), large winged ants, crickets, fried spiders (larger than tarantulas), or similar delicacies; all of these are available in provincial towns and to a lesser extent in district towns. Some are quite good, some are not....there is only one way to find out. Personally, I eat frog as often as possible and find it to be delicious and nothing like chicken. At this point I am fairly certain that if I saw Kermit the Frog in one of the Jim Henson Muppet movies my salivary glands would kick into overdrive. Please remember my first observation. Fruits and vegetables are diverse and plentiful in Cambodia with an assortment of selections that I had previously never seen or heard of in the States. I won't go into much detail but sowmow, mein, dragonfruit, and several others must be tried. The one fruit that I will give some description of is durian. Durian is highly popular in Cambodia and other parts of Southeast Asia. It smells like a dead body left in muggy heat to rot indefinitely. It has the taste of a mixture between raw onions, cream cheese, and grape fruit. The texture of the edible section generally resembles custard or a thick pudding with a slight dough-like quality. For most Westerners the smell of durian does not make you want to eat it, the taste confirms the suspicions of the nose, and the texture adds an air or mystery. Try it, it builds character (or so I tell myself). It's awful but much like a car accident grabs your attention and won't let you look away, durian is horrendous but once you try it for some reason you find yourself thinking "maybe it isn't quite as bad as I remember...." It is.

This is only a short list, but there will be more to come in the future...