i got a little…behind…on a couple posts which are now up here and here, if you feel like backtracking to read them, and we finally fixed the problem we were having on the Angkor 1 post. Enjoy!

 

So last week, I wrote a little but about our visit to Toul Sleng. Well, today we visited Choeng Ek, one of the many “killing fields” in Cambodia and the one that the victims of Toul Sleng were brought to to be exterminated. A sign out front explained that truckloads of prisoners were brought to Choeng Ek several times a month, when there would be mass executions. They would walk off the truck and walk to a ditch to be immediately executed. There’s a new memorial at the site, which is a tall wat-style building with glass walls and several stories filled with human skulls. The place isn’t really educational or anything like Toul Sleng, but more of a memorial to the dead. A place to reflect on the evil that was done.

            The grounds were large with several other interesting things, besides the memorial. Many ditches were fenced off with signs indicating the number of people recovered from each mass grave. One tree had a sign saying children were beaten to death against it. Another told that it had once held a speaker that blasted random noise to muffle the screams from beatings and executions. Piles of clothes scattered the area, some just beginning to surface from the earth. Bone chips were still embedded in the ground or laying around, much like loose gravel or pebbles. Larger bone fragments sat in piles, waiting to be moved.

            Boeurn, our friend from New Hope acted as our guide. He was born in 1977 and said his family survived because he had an uncle in the Khmer Rouge that ensured his mother and his safety. He says he remembers finding bodies and skeletons frequently when he was a child. Just playing or walking around in his village, he’d see whole skeletons or bodies on the ground. He said he’d often search the bodies for gold or silver jewelry. Sometimes he remembers finding rings still on the finger bones of skeletons. Perhaps the scariest thing I heard that morning though, was that this history is not taught in schools and its rarely spoken about within families. With one quarter of the population killed, everyone lost multiple family members, and the pain runs extremely deep. Yet the absence of any discourse on the topic has led to younger generation forgetting and doubting what happened. Boeurn said that even his two younger siblings discount much of what happened to imagination and exaggeration. Its terrible that something like the Khmer Rouge genocide happened, but it would seem almost equally terrible if Khmers forgot about it and failed to learn from it.

            I’ll add one paragraph of background here before moving on, since I haven’t really given any historical context to this post or my Toul Sleng post. Like much political history in South East Asia, the Khmer Rouge was the brainchild of Maoist China and came to power through the turbulence of the American Vietnam War. By 1975, the Khmer Rouge took Phnom Penh. They immediately ordered everyone out of the city within hours, on the pretext that America would soon bomb the city. This seemed plausible to many people as the US had continually bombed Khmer Rouge forces during its “Secret War” in Lao and Cambodia. Within several days, the metropolis of Phnom Penh was a ghost town. Pol Pot declared it Year Zero and it became apparent that nobody would be returning to the city. Instead, the Khmer Rouge was attempting to evacuate all cities and turn Cambodia into an agrarian society. Anyone with any education or status was imprisoned and executed. Boeurn told us that all the teachers in Cambodia were executed. He added that educated people, people deemed intelligentsia, and even people that simply wore glasses were executed. This madness went on for four years, during which anywhere from 700,000 to 2 million people died. The population was continually tricked, children were made to inform on their families, people accused their own families under torture, and many opportunists accused others for sex, revenge, or outo f jealousy. People were arrested and tortured until they “confessed” to charges of being a CIA or KGB spy, stealing from the Khmer Rouge, disobeying orders, or any number of other trumped up charges. Toul Sleng mentioned several times how the Khmer Rouge destroyed trust in Cambodia. During the 1970’s nobody trusted anybody, not family, not neighbors, not no one. Choeng Ek showed us the horrible consequence of being naïve with the Khmer Rouge or trusting anyone.

            Not quite as horrific, but equally sobering was a drive to the local garbage dump. Boeurn asked us if we wanted to see, so we of course agreed. Driving towards it, we could see mountains of trash, with spires of smoke rising. As we got closer, more and more people began to appear, collecting bottles and cardboard, filling bags with rubbish. We were soon in a valley of trash and dozens of people were all around the car. Little kids, the elderly, and everyone in between collecting, recycling, and burning trash. Worst of all, was the fact that these people lived there. Working at a dump would be bad enough, but living on trash? What could be worse? I think photos will tell the story better than I can.

the black smoke of burning trash fills the air

dozens, probably hundreds of people working on literally hills of garbage

not sure if that’s this guys shelter or drink stall

what a life…

Some men go skimming over the years of existence to sink gently into a placid grave, ignorant of life to the last, without ever having been made to see all it may contain of perfidy, of violence, and of terror.
-Joseph Conrad, Heart of Darkness

Volunteering in Phnom Penh has been an entirely different experience from our village experience. Comfort-wise its been infinitely easier; we have a wide-range of eating options (versus being limited to the orphanage’s cooking lady), we have a nice room and bed to go back to (versus sleeping on a beach mat on a tile floor with no electricity), and we only helped out about five hours a day (versus 14 hours). Our work has been considerably different, as these city kids lead completely different lives than their rural counterparts.

            Even in an orphanage, the differences between urban and rural life are clear. The city kids are much better educated, as even the tiny ones in the Phnom Penh orphanage had better English than the village teenagers. Besides English, it was clear that they knew quite a bit more about hygiene and cleanliness. They dressed more what we would consider “normal” and spent time watching tv, helping fix motorcycles, or hanging out and listening to music. The downside to all this is that the kids were a lot more restless because they didn’t have a big yard to run around and burn off energy. That was more Joylani’s problem than mine though, as we taught two groups in PP. Joylani got the little ones and I got the older teenagers, which was fine with me. Teaching the older kids was much easier than teaching little kids, urban or rural. The older ones spoke pretty good English, so we mainly just concentrated on expanding the vocabulary. One day, we did internal anatomy; respiratory, circulatory, nervous, and digestive systems, along with bones, joints, and random things like how blood works. I think I got too carried away on space, although my world geography lesson went pretty well. Despite how much easier it was too teach these kids, I didn’t feel as if I was really needed at the PP orphanage. These kids had plenty of education and international volunteers constantly visited to help. The village kids barely ever got foreign volunteers, much less Khmer staff. Actually, we learned that Kompong Chnang orphanage had its entire staff replaced recently due to some shady things that went down and the kids had only first seen foreigners about a year ago; apparently they’d seen a few since then, which is why they didn’t inspect our big Caucasian noses and white skin. The kids in Kompong Chnang weren’t very educated, but they always wanted to learn and study. Although anyone could teach the basic English we did, if we weren’t there, this curiosity to learn would’ve been wasted. In Phnom Penh, the kids were plenty educated and weren’t nearly as enthusiastic. Plus, the Phnom Penh orphanage had a full time teacher already. Not feeling very useful, Joylani and I helped a bit in the office on our final day. We helped them with basic things like networking the printers, showing them how to share files on the network, and use Excel more effectively. Not as altruistic as teaching orphans, but at least we felt that we were doing something of value.

            As Joylani mentioned in her post, it was nice to have a routine. Usually a quick breakfast, before catching a moto to the orphanage. Teach a couple hours and then break for lunch, internet and rest. Then another couple hours of teaching, before heading out for some dinner and a night at our nice hotel. Staying in the same place for awhile and not doing anything but working, it has been nice to indulge in some creature comforts like tv and good bed. Like Joylani mentioned we splurged on an AC room our last night, which was glorious. I guess I don’t have to much to write about PP, because there’s not much to explain. It’s a city and most cities are the same in many respects. We volunteered, but I covered details of that in my Kompong Chnang post. It was nice to have some routine, but it wasn’t a great routine.

The orphanage is about four miles from our hotel.  It’s just too hot and too far to walk there and back twice a day.  Instead, we take a moto.  Motos are everywhere in Cambodia, filling the streets, parked in rows along the sidewalks, in a pack at the front of the line waiting for a green light.  Gas stations appear to have been invaded by the swift vehicles, and they materialize from surprising routes through alleys and sidewalks.  The moto taxis wait in clumps on street corners, waiting for passengers.  Some drive along the road, letting out a friendly honk as they pass you, just in case you need a ride.  “Beep.  Beep.”  Translation: moto coming up behind you, need a lift?  It never takes us long to find a lift.  The hard part is describing where we want to go.  (New Hope Orphanage isn’t exactly one of the top five tourist destinations in the city.)  Luckily the same drivers lay claim to the territory outside of our hotel, and we’ve been able to hire the same guy three times—nice considering the city is full of hundred of drivers.

It seems that even the average Cambodian driver has both the ingenuity and skill to load and transport an astonishing assortment and amount of items on a moto: pigs, a stack of foam-rubber mattresses, a family (the older kid stands in front of dad, who’s driving, mom sits on back holding the baby), lots of chickens (say 30 or 40), a small cow, enough Styrofoam boxes to fill a small bathroom from floor to ceiling, even wheel axels (tires attached).  And four times a day there’s a moto in Phnom Penh carrying two Shibatas clinging to the back of the driver. 

It’s pleasant to walk out of our hotel in the morning to the calls of, “Lady!  Moto?”  Our chariot awaits…

Back to the city…thank goodness for running water and an attached bathroom…Matt and I both got sick with something.  I went the store this morning to pick up some breakfast and discovered that I was exhausted from the walk.  The traffic here is kind of nuts.  Traffic lights give a semblance of order, but just because there’s a “walk” signal doesn’t mean its all clear.  Plus it’s necessary to always be looking both ways as motos will frequently be driving up the wrong side of the road.  Who know crossing the street could be so tiring?

We woke to the sound of children singing, light coming in the windows, water splashing out of a wheelbarrow rolling by, and, on the first morning, to a pair of curious eyes peering in through our window.  When are they going to get up??!  All this before 7am.  Not wanting to be a lazy volunteer, I managed to roll out of bed.  Well, not really rolled.  More liked ducked out of the net and stood up.  Many of the kids were already outside and either playing on the swing set or helping with chores.  Some of the kids had school in the morning, others in the afternoon.  There were at least a dozen around at any given time.  Our time was spent teaching basic English interspersed with games, art projects, and just hanging around the playground.  Games, we quickly learned, were a fun way to practice English as well as entertainment for the adults as we laughed at the kids’ competitiveness being marred by their confusion between things such as bringing us the red or green pen (which was which?!) amidst the shouts from their teammates during a “steal the bacon” type game.

I had been advised to bring some art supplies for the kids, and this proved to be a great investment.  In addition to the usual paper, pens and pencil, I had brought along several pairs of scissors.  During some down time in the afternoon of our second day at Svay Kroum, I showed a couple kids how to make a spiral-shaped mobile by cutting a circle, drawing a swirl, and cutting along the outline.  “Snake!  Snake!” they exclaimed and smiled at the finished product.  So began an afternoon of snake after snake.  I would draw the outline, and the kids would cut it out themselves.  Some caught on quickly and began making their own snakes or other cut-outs.

Matt showed some kids how to make palms trees, which was also a big hit.  “Cutting time” was one of the highlights for me—it was so much fun to see the kids get into drawing and cutting out shapes, especially knowing that it provided some variety to just playing outside (not that there’s anything wrong with that!).

(Some outside kids from the village who arrived late in the day, but still wanted a chance to make a snake!)

The orphanage was basic.  It was completed a few months before we arrived.  A brick wall was still being built around the generously sized compound.  Most of the area was covered in dusty sand; there were a few coconut trees, and newly planted papaya and banana trees, yet to bear any fruits.  With no running water, each morning the boys would pump water to fill troughs in the outhouses and the large jar by the cooking and eating area.  Power came in the form of a few hours of generator use on special nights and from a car battery rigged up to a fluorescent light.  In addition to a cooking area, there was a multipurpose building at the entrance of the compound used for both meetings and housing, a playground with lots of swings, and a main building.  The main building provided shelter from the sun during the day and other elements at night.  Two staircases led up to an outside corridor on each side of the building, on leading to the boys’ room, the other to the girls’.  Bunk beds filled each room.  In the girls’ room pictures from a coloring book adorned the wall.  Woven mats lay in place of mattresses.  We slept on a mat too, in one of the rooms downstairs.  It was hard.  Literally.  But the actually sleeping wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be.  A mosquito net provided us with extra physical and psychological comfort.  (Regarding Matt’s post…are there any other ways to sleep than the three you mentioned, regardless of mattress?  Sitting up maybe?  I did that a lot in college…)

Traveling in Nepal and observing villagers throughout the trip prepared us for staying in a village in many ways.  One of which is the bucket bath.  For privacy, I would take my bucket of freshly pumped water to the “grown-up” toilet next to the multipurpose building.  This small space consisted of the bottom half of a western toilet (no seat, and no water tank), a cement floor, and a drain in the back corner.  One night I waited too long and it was dark out by the time I took my shower, I opted to do as most villagers seem to do, and bathed fully clothed by the water pump where there was a little bit more light.  Matt went this route every night.  By the last night he had an audience of little kids who helped by pumping his water, holding the flashlight, and one kid even held the bottle of shampoo.  I thought it was cute that Matt had so many assistants to help him out.

As for the food, I feel bad to say it wasn’t so tasty, but it was lovingly prepared by the lady with the help of the girls, and on our last night someone else even came in to make us loc lak.  It was interesting to eat new things.  Cucumber stuffed with ground pork in broth, preserved ciku fruits, fish soup, noodles with water lily stems and other goodies, and a mystery dyed-pink rice dessert.

(Some of the girls making dessert.  Pen Face looks on in the background.)

The kids ate most of the same stuff we had, only I suspect we got more meats, particularly on the loc lac night.  The majority of the meals consisted of soup with fish and greens and lots of rice.  Throughout the day I’d see some of the kids snacking on fruits and leftovers.  It will be good for them when the fruit trees mature.  One night Matt had the idea to bring out cans of coke to share with the kids.  They ran around energetically like usual before crashing on the floor in front of the tv, using each other as support.  It was like they could have been any other kids at home on a Saturday night.  Only there were a lot of them, and they didn’t watch tv everyday.  And they were watching dvds, not real time television; instead of carpet and couches, they lounged on the table and tile floor.

There were so many kids, and with me already bad at names in addition to trying to teach English for the first time, neither of us learned the kids’ names.  But we made up for it with nicknames.  The kid in the red jacket (later known as “Sank You”), Pen Face (two days in a row he had gotten pen scribbled all over his face by eager helpers…), the Kid in the Shorts, Ladybug Shirt (“Someone has got to tell that kid he is wearing a girl’s shirt,” Matt said, though neither of us had the heart to break the news to him.), Little Sister, etc.

(Little Sister with her big sister.)

I had a lot of fun hanging out with them and watching them play with each other.  They were really great kids: eager to learn, helpful (both for us, the caretakers, and their peers), and energetic—as shown by their constant running around and playing games throughout the day.  One of the younger kids helped an older one with a learning disability to write down the lesson.  Pen Face was constantly teasing Little Sister (as older brothers tend to do) and a group of the younger boys got kicks out of walking around like ducks to annoy each other.  Matt eventually got annoyed of it himself, but on the last night (after figuring out what they were actually doing) I sat on the steps with some of the girls and shouted out other animals for the boys to mimic and we all had a lot of fun.

(Goofing around.)

 

When asked how and where we would like to help out, we said we could do whatever wherever- we just want to help. We were told that the rural orphanages had the greatest needs, particularly the one in Kompong Chnang. Located in a village with no guesthouses or hotels, few volunteers ever elect to help there. When New Hope’s administrator, Boeurn, asked us if we’d mind helping in a village, we said sure. “Are you sure?” he asked a couple more times. We assured him we’d be okay- we’d stayed in villages throughout Asia. He said he’d arrange for us to stay there for two nights and we could decide later if we wanted to stay another night.

            Pulling into the orphanage, about a dozen of the kids gathered around the car and just stared at us as we got out. I took the initiative to say hello and they all reciprocated. We put our bags down and stood around a pair of tables, the children scattered around us. “So what now?” I asked Sokham, our driver and New Hope staff member. He told us it was up to us; we could teach, we could play, whatever. I now understood why the orphanage needed help; there was barely anyone here. There were a few men who worked at the church and helped out at the orphanage (building a wall, helping with maintenance, etc), but the only person around all the time was a lady who cooked and cleaned. With 15 kids staring at us and no idea what to do, I asked Sokham to ask the kids what they wanted to do. Their response was, “learn English.” Thus began three days of hastily prepared English lessons. They played a good amount, but whenever we asked they always wanted to study. So we spent the mornings and early afternoons teaching. Then in the evenings, all the village kids would come to the orphanage for a lesson. With the exception of a couple kids that knew a fair amount of vocabulary, the kids could not put sentences together and could barely read. This made it easy in a sense, because teaching vocabulary was easy. We taught them colors, but their limited English was frustrating too. We taught them the colors and how to spell each one. If we said the word they could remember how to spell it, but if they saw the word they could not read it. They could memorize how to spell anything and sentences too, but reading was nearly impossible with most. They did like repeat things though and my annoyance with that helped me to cut down on my filler words: um, ah, okay.

Joylani the teacher

I did not enjoy the teaching too much, but playing with the kids was fun. Sometimes I got them too riled up, so I learned to show them games they could play with each other. They were tough kids, so I showed them how to sit on each others shoulders and chicken fight. I tied their legs together and showed them how to three-legged race. The boys continually wrestled, climbed trees, and ran around. The girls did not have it so good. Although the boys wheelbarrowed water to the latrines in the morning, the girls worked all day. Helping prepare food, washing dishes, cleaning, and so on. Plus only one of the girls went to school, while all the boys who were old enough did. Regardless of gender, all the kids stopped studying or playing whenever Joylani got out the craft stuff. Joylani thinks they liked drawing and coloring so much, because they don’t usually do it. Whatever the reason, those kids loved her art projects and they’d always show her when they finished. They’d walk right by (which was fine with me) and line up to get her praise.

kids lined up in front of orphanage for a game

It wasn’t all fun and games though. This week has taught me kids are a handful. We awoke every morning at 5:30, when all the kids woke up and would be singing. I’d try to sleep in as long as possible, but I was usually up by 6:30. Then it was non-stop playing and teaching until we went to sleep around 9pm. The kids never napped and they had unquenched energy, continually playing on the jungle gym, running around, and wrestling. Every night, we were exhausted. Our “bed” was a bamboo mat (think beach mat) on a tile floor in a spare room. I learned there’s three positions you can sleep in on the floor: on your back, on your side, or on your stomach. On my back was most comfortable. I laid on my side a few times, but it felt like I was bruising my hips and ankles. I also slept on my stomach a couple times, but that was hard my neck. None of the positions relieved the heat. The orphanage staff did graciously turn on the generator for us in the evenings, so we could see. But they shut it off when we went to sleep, so we had no fan to relieve us from the stifling heat. It was hard, but it was the same conditions that the kids and staff lived in. The kids had the same thin mats over their wooden bunks. And the food wasn’t great, but it was much more than the kids got (which might explain why they were the smallest kids I’ve ever seen).

if nothing else, at least we were entertained

Overall, we enjoyed our time at the orphanage. The kids were dirty, but they were fun. The living was difficult, but we felt like we were filling a need. We stayed that extra night and were sad to go. The kids were sad to see us leave, but they told Sokham they’d had a good time with us. Hearing some of the things they said really made me feel like our time was worthwhile. I mean, it was relatively short and anyone could have played and taught the kids. But the kids enjoyed the few days and few people ever volunteer to help these kids. Boeurn told us lots of people like to volunteer, but they just stay in Phnom Penh or do a quick day trip to a rural orphanage for a few hours. Many people want to volunteer, but we filled a need that others weren’t willing to. I’m not trying to toot our own horn, but I am saying that the past few days gave a purpose to all the difficult situations we put ourselves in throughout this trip (ie, bad accommodation, bad food, etc).