Feature
Cambodian journal - part 1
By: Alexandra Tinjala
Alexandra Tinjala recently returned from teaching children in Phnom Penh, Cambodia, to speak English. This is Part One of her journal
Posted: 10/12/2009
Alexandra Tinjala.
We were picked up from the airport by someone; he had a piece of paper with my name on it. He was waiting for Alexandra and Tinjala, two people. After quite some time spent explaining that I am both, he finally believed me and we took off for the car to the hotel (at least, I thought it would be a hotel) - of course, he was shocked to see our amount of luggage; we blamed it on the fact that after Cambodia, we would visit Thailand for a few more days. He was numb at our explanation.
At the airport, and for the first five minutes of the way to the hostel, I was relaxed, and thought the roads looked like Romania in the 1990s. As soon as we got into the ‘city' I was speechless - the smell, the traffic - there were almost NO signs - everyone (cars, tuk tuks, motorcycles, bicycles, pedestrians) arrived at the middle of the intersection from all four sides, and it felt like a huge collision was about to happen, but somehow it all merged into one, and they all come out safe and sound.
The hotel turned out to be a hostel, and Larisa (Claru), Anca (Precup) and I slept in the same room. Third floor, no air conditioning, a fan with two speeds, slow and very slow; no hot water, just a hose flowing into the sink, geckos everywhere, and soon more of nature's survivors would introduce themselves to us.
I felt as you would on 23rd August, at camps, when we were preparing for the national demonstration dances. The first feeling is that of pitying oneself: you are out of your comfort zone, you soon realise why you are there and you accept it, though you don't seem to fully be at ease with it. Larisa says that we are very lucky to have a bathroom in the room. I just think that I am very lucky not to be alone. Larisa has been on a volunteering trip for the past eight months all around the world, living with tribes, in the woods, in any kind of accommodation one can imagine; her stories made us appreciate what we were given. Little did we know that we would soon get extremely comfortable with what we had.
Next morning we awoke at 05.30 with strange music coming from across the street - very loud; it almost seemed to be the same tune in continuity. I thought it would stop after ten minutes … until 09.00, when we went down to meet the rest of the group. The music kept playing. We discovered that someone had died, and this was the ritual. We prayed that no one else died in the next three weeks!
We went to see the programs we will work with - Anca and I would teach the same class - 8 to 17 years old, English and computer classes, and Larisa will teach English to little kids.
Throughout the 1st days I had the same feeling, I wanted to make a change here. I soon understood that it would be impossible, but I recognised as well that one thing we can do is start with our program and leave something behind that the children can benefit from; thus we planned to paint and redecorate one of the classes, as we did at Tancabesti, back home.
There is so much poverty here; I feel Romania is heaven compared to this place. The difference is that Cambodia seems to be an assumed poverty - people are fine with it, they accept it, they focus on the day, they focus on today. There is no frustration; there is no aspiration either, other than getting over the here and now.
In the community we work in, more than 70 per cent of the people are illiterate.
There are children that work gathering garbage for $1 a day, which they exchange for a pot of rice. Soon we will visit our students' communities. I wonder - can it be any worse?
There's a very strong smell here … the smell of death. It engulfs us everywhere we go.
Poverty is something you look at; you can choose to close your eyes, but the smell, you just can't avoid. It's hard to smile, but when you look at these people and you see that they keep going and going and going, you realise that not even death will take their hope away, and that tomorrow may not arrive.
I am grateful I am here, I thank God I met Larisa, about ten years ago at a dinner in the mountains. I am even more grateful that she told me about this program, and I thank God I am not alone. Anca's smile is getting me through any moment I seem to stumble.
On the weekend we will go to Angkor Wat in Siem Reap and the next weekend to Vietnam.
For the first time in a very long time, I will go to bed at 21.00. And for the first time in a long time, I will not feel guilty that I am missing out on something, because for the first time in a very long time, time seems to be waiting for me, I don't need to catch it anymore, I don't need to run after it. What I have now will be waiting for me in the morning. What I have now, is enough.
19.10.2009: The Khmers, the world, and being Romanian
"Throughout the 1st days I had the same feeling, I wanted to make a change here."
-Alexandra Tinjala
Until the Khmer Rouge, when mutilation in Cambodia reached its worst point, the country seemed to have been passing through a process of having been slowly mutilated by many nations, from the Vietnamese to the Thais to the Japanese, even the French who seemed to be dragging the nation into the modern age, only to abandoned it overnight when it seemed they could not offer 'protection' any longer.
In the Khmer legends, thieves go unpunished and live happily ever after.
The guide told us something we hadn't heard before, something that you cannot find in most documents: that Pol Pot had actually killed himself. Maybe it is true, or maybe he just died of an illness, as most readings will inform you; anyhow, I chose to believe that he killed himself as our legends allow us the hope of justice, the hope that wrongdoing is punished. I chose to believe that out of remorse for his massacre, he decided to be his own executioner.
When he told us that the many of the Khmer Rouge high command are in prison still awaiting judgment, we asked the guide, "Doesn't this bother you, to know they are still alive?" He answered, "That's the law!" Humble people, the Cambodians.
The abuse of this nation of its own people, the sabotage of their destiny, gives me the feeling of regret for Cambodia not because of the poverty, not because of the horrible past, but because its people are lonely, and have been for a very long time and probably will remain so years longer. Like a beautiful widow that is still in love with her dead husband, a fact that no one wants to respect.
While visiting the King's Palace and hearing all the stories, for the first time I had a most authentic feeling of nationalism. I was proud to be Romanian. I was proud to be part of a nation that never had the power to do so much wrong in the world, that was maybe too cowered or lacked the drive to destroy other nations for its own advantage. Why do we like to put ourselves down for such insignificant things? It's still a mystery.
"The joy of experiencing an amazing nation of people who smile; smiles that I had never experienced until now."
-Alexandra Tinjala
Today we had our first lessons - English classes to two groups and computer classes. I planned everything the night before, prepared a nice schedule and when I started it in the morning, I realised that a schedule is not part of their understanding. You need to go with the flow and adapt, from one minute to the next. Everything is a surprise, just like their system, just like everything else that seems to keep this country going.
The English classes take place on a ‘stage' in the yard (a wooden platform with cloth material acting as the roof). I feel like I am about to put on a play, but I cannot get to feel what the role is exactly, or if I will get to play a role at all.
I began by handing papers to kids with questions on them to ask. Well, I found that some might be able to read, but they don't actually understand the meaning of the words.
I changed the words to ‘Hello, my name is and I am … years old.' Then to ‘Hello, my name is xx and I have xx bothers and xx sisters', but they did not know what brother or sister means. Then to learning the words; but how do you explain it without knowing their language? I wanted to make a sentence with the new words we learned "sister, brother, red, car, plane and train" but they do not know what a sentence is and the rollercoaster of an amateur teacher suggested I teach myself a new learning technique - at first, I had to adapt and just ask the staff to come and translate, but this is only a tactical solution, and I'm in need of something more long-term.
Between classes we have a long break. We chose to go to a supermarket and we ended up eating there, canned, yet "safe" food - out front they had tables and chairs. We returned about an hour before the class started. And stayed in the director's / teacher's rooms. Two rooms: the one in front has a couch, two desks, the one behind some chairs, a bookshelf and a bathroom - the bathroom is in the room, separated by some walls which do not rise all the way to the ceiling.
"We have been warned that the older kids will not behave. I wonder why the teachers said this, because the kids are a joy."
-Alexandra Tinjala
When the director went into the bathroom and we were ‘chilling' in that room (more than 35 degrees outside, humidity 100%). Anca and I prayed that for the next ten minutes our hearing would just go away, and we'd be deaf. It was not the case though - our hearing was more alive than ever!
Computer classes are in a basement, no windows, just two fans pointed towards the kids sitting on the chairs. So those standing (us), get no air…nada. And the same smell permeates everywhere. There are only six computers for a class of 18 to 22 children (there is never the same number of children every day). We split the children into two groups, each would take a half an hour class, some would still have to share their keyboard with someone else.
We tried to teach them all sorts of things - new words, type them down, put them in a sentence, type them again. But it was just boring for them, as they are used to looking at a book and typing from it. We taught them three new words - pig, pink and pin - not a good idea, they all seemed the same for them.
I was suddenly enlightened with a ‘great' idea, and taught them to select a word, control C, press the "End" button, and hit "control V". Their faces lit up. That's all I seemed to have to do; but then the greater idea came, and we taught them control A, control C, press the "End" button, Control V - and they were dancing through pages of just copying the same few sentences they typed in the beginning. Those that did had the longest document, won a little gift. And there was a winner - 1340 pages! Of the same thing.
So little, yet so much.
Every second I ask myself if I could move here - I want to make a difference, I see this place needs strength, power, determination, hope, aspiration - but only now do I realise that poverty does not need change. Poverty just needs sanitation! They are fine as they are; they are fine. And they are happy, content and relaxed. And they try to make it work with what they have, at their own pace.
Would that change the way I am, my aspirations, my dreams, my way of living? I don't think so. Because I am not them, I do not have their past and maybe it is better, since only this way we can do what we are doing. It's about improving and not changing. Changing is too much, improving is tougher for them and for us, even tougher.
"Today is Wednesday,the 21st of October, 2009"
This was the start of today's English class…
More teaching. Happy to see most of the kids did their homework and happy to see some improvements. Today we also learned the months of the year. When we got to the seasons though, we lost them. They cannot grasp that the weather can be cold anywhere else.
Today we went into the communities. So hard to put it in words, the pictures will do justice to my thoughts though. Once again, it is not the poverty; it is the smell and the dirt that people can live in. Once you are amongst them, sickness replaces the feeling of pity; frustration, however, remains.
We went to the second community where the Foundation that we volunteer for intends to open a school - houses flooded, really flooded; suffocated roads filled with muddy water, dirt, smells and God knows what germs and diseases paint the way to the people's homes and inside of them. You get into the community, and to the left and right you see what your eyes have only ever seen on television and suddenly a huge Pipera-like house rises out of nowhere. It is the house of the ‘owner' of the land. Five or six expensive cars in his yard. He rents these places for about $40 a month. $40 for four wooden panels in which people place their furniture directly on the earth - which again, is flooded. It is pure insanity.
Setting aside my latest experiences, my soul feels wrapped in joy. The joy of experiencing an amazing nation of people who smile; smiles that I had never experienced until now. I thank God every moment for this whole trip, and I hope and pray and dream that more and more people will do what we are doing. It is SO easy, and it is healing. It heals your pain, your frustrations, your misery, and your incapacity to reach what you think you wanted to reach your whole life.
In the evening all volunteers went out to eat. The highlight of the evening was seeing Anca and Larisa eat fried TARANTULAS! Joy because it stopped my appetite!
As Anca put it: "Happy birthday, life!"
22nd of October - Day 6
Woke up at 06.00. Six o'clock is the new time to wake up. I pray that this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship with the early hours.
Another day at school. Today we repeated everything we learned yesterday, and five new words. How do you teach new words when you don't know how to describe them? Using pictures is the easiest way, but let's assume those you have are not descriptive enough. Yes, you learn the words in their language (and let's not forget, we are talking about the Khmer language) and you pray the class will not turn force you to correct your pronunciation - this is my long term strategy, this is my way of adapting.
Six new words for them, and six new words for us. That's the deal! That's the whole deal of this trip - a fair deal! It's not giving or taking, it's sharing.
Friends are sending me messages to congratulate me, family is concerned that something is happening. Have I won an award? Have I lost a limb? None of the above. I have been blessed. I became a citizen of the world (and through Larisa's eyes and this country's jewels, I feel I've become a citizen of the universe).
We have been warned that the older kids will not behave. I wonder why the teachers said this, because the kids are a joy. They get very upset when we repeat the same thing in three consecutive classes and we end up telling them to write the word 20 times, but then I ask them to smile and they immediately do so. And it s not one of those, ok, give me peace - it's a genuine smile.
In computer class we learned colouring the words (meaning that we learned the colours as well) and BULLET POINTS! Another exciting time for them. Who would ever think that bullet points could bring such a thrill to them? And when you talk about Cambodians, and BULLET points, it proves to you again how humble the Cambodians are.
We decided to leave to Siem Reap where the temples of Angkor do justice to this nation (north from where we are) in the evening - take the midnight bus and get to Siem Reap at 06.00. In Philip Short's book entitles "Pol Pot" he describes the Angkor as "… both a benchmark and a burden - the proof of what Cambodians could achieve and a constant reminder of their failure to attain such heights again."
We booked a hostel - this time with hot water and air conditioning - at $15 per person per night - its luxury, compared to the $2 a night hostel we're at in Phnom Penh.
When we came home from school, a quarter of the street was blocked with a tent with black and white ribbons. Big pots of food were boiling inside, plastic chairs and tables nicely arranged. We asked what was going on, though we had a vague idea. Yes, the funeral of the person who had died five days earlier! The view was not that shocking, but how they manage to keep a dead person in the house in 35+ degrees, 100% humidity heat for 5 days, did not bear thinking about.
The music could soon be heard throughout the neighborhood, the same music that woke us at 05:30 on our second day in Phnom Penh.
We were secretly jubilant at the thought of leaving that evening. Later we met a friend of a friend, of a friend, Tanja, who has lived in Cambodia for the past three years - she'd come here to make a documentary for ten days, returned to do another and never left. I asked myself again, would I live here?
Alexandra Tinjala is the owner of Sister Advertising Agency. Her Cambodia journal continues in the next Vivid. View the gallery that accompanies this article here.
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