Month + 1 day: Back to School

Going to visit Jess is always great but puts ten million thoughts into my head with ideas, inspirations, thoughts and memories. I came back to school having to catch up almost a week of work for being away. Martha, Martha, Martha, call me Martha (if you don’t get it, reference Luke 10:38 – 42, the Holy Bible). So while I intended to spend the rest of Sunday in Sihanoukville alone with Jesus, I did not. And school has been brutal since then. Physically, mentally and spiritually.

My class has 15 boys and 5 girls. 3 times more boys than girls and 3 times the noise, bad behaviour and pranks. As a first time teacher without education, experience or training, teaching and lesson planning is hard. As a first time teacher with 15 boys, and roudy boys at it, is a real challenge. Other teachers have told me that teachers always cry the first year they teach. I came close today.

Morning devotions, my Grade 1 class was the noisiest (even noisier than the Kindergarten kids). The principal called them out on their behaviour. And I’m not going to lie, it hurt my pride but it also kicked me in the gutt. You know what they say: there are no bad students, only bad teachers. And boy do I feel like I’ve failed to love and care for my kids.

Today, Yeongin, who is a missionary kid from Korea was behaving badly again, talking loudly, screaming, singing, and just disrupting class. I told him to stand outside my class if he didn’t want to learn in class. He absolutely refused to get out of class and short of dragging that kid out by force, I let him stand in a corner inside class. But every time he gets punished, it never gets to him. Turn my back and he’s at it again. Behaving badly is one thing but sometime during class, I caught him showing the finger to the other kids in class. Not going to lie, I got mad. Scolded him, told him that it was not a nice thing to do and all he did was grin his cheeky grin at me. Moments later, I see 2 other kids show the finger back to him. After much scolding, I sat down in front of the class and came so close to sobbing right there. So frustrated. So helpless. Not knowing what to do with this 6 year old missionary kid who refuses to listen. And there and then I feel the weight of being responsible for the kids, of the judgement of the other teachers and people dropping hints that I have to manage my class better.

I don’t know how. I cannot. I have not the strength (even just physically to stand there and shout and call on kids and run after them). I’m at my wits end. Do I shout? Do I encourage?

My fists are clenched and my heart is heavy. Not a great start to this all or nothing commitment. Let go and let God, Camille. Let go and let Jesus take control. Open hands, open hands. Where nothing is mine, I hold nothing back and I receive fully from God’s grace.

Therefore, I am now going to allure her; I will lead her into the desert and speak tenderly to her.

Hosea 2:14

Lord, in the desert you speak. In the nothingness, You allure and captivate me. I am at the point of nothing. Will You be my all?

1 Month Anniversary: A Fantastic Weekend

After the amazingness of the conference and all that I’ve learnt, I headed to Jessica’s for the weekend. Jessica Nguyen is Diane’s cousin and my hero – true woman after God’s heart who has encountered and chosen to obey God in a radical way.

Friday night we went grocery shopping. Best grocery shopping experience ever! Perhaps it’s because the supermarket is about 3 times the size of the one in Sihanoukville. And we only have one supermarket by the way. I took a picture of the ice cream isle – very large and exciting indeed! I saw foods I’ve not seen in a month and marvelled at the modernity that is Phnom Penh. Sihanoukville has changed me. I wonder how it will be like when I go back to Singapore or Canada

Jess bought chocolate and we spent the rest of the night at her place watching Date Night on an actual TV. After I had a proper shower with HEATED WATER. Haven’t had a hot shower in more than a month. Jess’ was the closest thing to a 5 star hotel I’ve experienced in a while. But better. Because nothing beats spending time with a good friend from back home who shares a similar experience and spiritual background as you. Chocolate, good conversation, hot shower and internet – man, like cold lemonade on a hot summer day.

Saturday we took it easy. Started the day off with an extended breakfast on the 3rd storey balcony of Jess’ house listening to worship music. Then headed to the Russian Market for most of the day! Handicrafts, ethnic jewellery, cheap clothes, smelly meat market, a real good grilled tuna melt topped off with a banana cake and a brownie made for a perfect day. But the day was not over. Jess and I crashed when we got back, tired from the heat and bustle so we ate leftovers for dinner. But that to me was great. What was really great was the conversation. Sharing life, sharing struggles, sharing joys, sharing testimonies and sharing about our God who sees, saves and is glorified through each pain, sorrow and tear shed.

Sunday was a blast as well. Got to visit a church with a white pastor who preached in fluent Khmer. The service was alright but what was cool to see was that foreigner and local worshipped the same God together in different languages but the same hearts’ cry. After which, I dashed to the bus station, caught my bus, sat and talked to my smelly, yet friendly bus mate from Guildford, England, and arrived back in Sihanoukville with a million thoughts running through my head.

One thing that Jess shared was that coming here and moving on was the concept of all or nothing. Giving her all to God in exchange for all of God. And anything less than all is nothing. A deep commitment, the ultimate surrender. And that made me think. I need that. No, I desire that, I require that, I can do nothing but that. Yet, my self is weak and my desires are contrary but I have decided to start on this journey of all or nothing. Not because there is nothing to turn back to but because I have glimpsed at the beauty of All and can settle for nothing less.

“Women Are Like White Cloth And Men Are Like Gold”

There is a saying in Khmer which translates to: women are like white cloth and men are like gold. What this means is that when you drop white cloth in mud, you are unlikely to wash away the mud as easily as you would a bar of gold. This is the mindset of women in the sex industry in Cambodia and most of Southeast Asia. Girls coming out of the sex trade have a harder time integrating back into society than boys do. This is a reality girls face in Cambodia everyday. Boys get educated, girls support the family.

But whether boys or girls, many of them are children. Of the estimated 14, 725 (from 1996) prostitutes in Cambodia, 16% are minors with an average age between 12 – 16 years old. And every year, close to a thousand new minors enter the industry.

And of that 14, 725 prostitutes, almost half are Vietnamese. There is not even a 40% proportion of Vietnamese in Cambodia which means that a massive proportion of Vietnamese in Cambodia are in the sex industry. If you are a poor Vietnamese girl between the age of 8 – 17 years old, the chances of you being forced into prostitution sky rockets.

Yet, even with the advent of the sex industry over here I have to constantly remind myself that this is NOT normal. Just because I see it everywhere does not mean that I get cynical or glaze over it.

This is what the Lord Almighty says: “Administer justice, show mercy and compassion to one another. Do not oppress the widow or the fatherless, the alien or the poor. In your hearts do not think evil of each other.”

Zechariah 7: 9

This does not mean to say we become do-gooders, superheroes or vigilantes but that acting justly comes out from an overflow of being intimately indwelled by a God who is the source of justice itself. Sometimes, nay, most times I fall short. Not that my works of service fall short in themselves but that I do not desire to be filled with the holy justice of God. In my natural desire, I have rejected God, and in so doing am unable to administer justice, show mercy and compassion in and through my own strength. 

Yet I cling on to the hope that God is able and I am not. My hands are small but His are big. And that in 1993, a mere 1% of Cambodians were Christian. 99% Buddhist. In 2003, this rose to a small 4%. But imagine this, a 4 fold increase in a decade! And I am part of that 4%.  This is not just about numbers but that change is happening in Cambodia. Like a thousand year old tradition is waking up from its slumber. Like light dawning on a country in the shadow of age-old rituals, supersitions and discriminatory injustices for far too long. 

In Him was life and that life was the light of man. The light shines in the darkness but the darkness has not understood it.

John 1:4 - 5

1 Month – 1day: The People I Met

Very excited right now. Remember how I prayed that God would connect me with the people who He wants me to connect with? Well, an answered prayer! So during one of the breaks I got my cuppa tea and went to stand in a corner slightly tired of trying to fit in and just resigning to the fact that I’m either white nor Cambodian. Then as I was sipping dejectedly, this man comes up to me and asks if I’m Singaporean. I awkwardly say yes (I could tell people have been talking in Khmer trying to figure out WHAT I am). Turns out the man did his Masters in Law in Singapore and just wanted to say hello. He wasn’t quite a part of the conference but was the translator. And he’s the Director of the Legal Department in the Senate in Phnom Penh and a Professor at the Royal University of Law and Economics. Pretty impressive. Handed me his name card.

At lunch, I met this Cambodian lady again who works for iCAN, one of the organising partners, who sat next to me yesterday when I mentioned I worked for a Christian school. She asked if I was a Christian and when I said yes, she enthusiastically said she was a Christian too. So this afternoon so happened that I sat next to her at lunch too. And we were the only 2 left eating since everyone else was finished and left the room. So we had a good 10 minutes to ourselves and I got to hear her personal testimony.

After lunch, one of the groups presented their discussion answers. Their representative was a teacher from Logos International School, the biggest Christian international school in Cambodia. Cool, I thought. I’d love to talk to those people from Logos since our school is small and starting out and really could use some ideas and connections with bigger schools. So at break time, I determined to put aside my awkwardness and talk to the teachers from Logos. But before that, let me get some juice. Grape juice, since my tummy is hurting. There were 2 tables with juice – one on the left, one on the right. I head for the one on the left and the Logos teachers head for the one on the right. As I reach the table, I see someone grab the grape juice and finish off the last few drops of it. Dang. So I head to the table on the right and for some reason the Logos teachers were still lingering there. I make my move.

Turns out that one of the teachers in the group is also a grade 1 teacher! As am I. And very friendly and interested in connecting with us. She even offered to grab my email and wrote her email and phone number down for me even without me asking! I’m feeling quite blessed right now at the providence God has placed on my life!

And to top the day off, we had a talk by Patrick Somethingsomething, the Director of International Justice Mission (IJM) in Cambodia on the current situation of sex trafficking in Cambodia. It was very matter-of-factly, very thought-provoking and very convicting.

Oh yea, on a side note, I was nominated by my discussion group to present our answers to all the participants because I was the only one in my group who spoke English. So the upside is that people now know I am not Khmer and approach me in English. The downside is that people point at me and speak in Khmer and all I can catch is “Anglaise, Anglaise!” – meaning English, English!

Still don’t get this whole networking thing. I feel like I’m a school kid at the end of the year getting people to sign my yearbook. So awkward. But I’m so blessed to be able to be at a conference with some awesome people and hear first hand about what’s happening in Cambodia.

1 Month – 2 days: Thoughts on the Conference

Head is spinning. Mind is blown. The conference is organised by the Child Exploitation and Online Protection Centre based in the UK and was held in the iCAN British International School in Phnom Penh. First of all, most amazing school I’ve ever seen! Small but very well equipped and well designed.

Second and most importantly, amazing people there. The trainers are International Child Protection Network big wigs from the UK and they got the British Ambassador and special folks to open the session. Quite the affair. Quite the place to network too if I knew how to network. Also, conference has drawn people from all sorts of organizations, schools and ministries. Got the people from the Ministry of Education – don’t really care for them honestly because they’re older Cambodian men who seem more interested in the free food than the conference actually. There’s the policemen with their uniform. Foreign teachers, local teachers and lots of NGO personnel. Now, those are the interesting folks.

When I first came to Sihanoukville, I noticed a sign for a gallery at the beach for art that beach kids made. The organization is called Cambodian Children's Painting Project. That got me excited because it was exactly what I was interested in. Turns out the Director of that organization was in the bus with us from Sihanoukville and I got to meet her. She’s Canadian, from Edmonton. Tall, tanned lady – the kind you look at and think: she’s one of those cool, adventurous grandmothers who have decided this is how she will spend her retirement. But somehow, I also get a sense that this lady is looking for something more. Something that will satisfy her more than just doing humanitarian work…

Met a whole bunch of people from other NGOs that work with street kids. Village Kids, Riverkids Foundation, M’Lop Tapang… The guy from M’Lop Tapang, connected with various international players including the International Justice Mission, is particularly interesting. M’Lop Tapang is an NGO based in Sihanoukville and focusing on beach kids so their strategy is very particular and localized. And if you’ve read my previous blog posts, I have had an interest in beach kids and how to interact with them. So the presentation from M’Lop Tapang was such an eye-opener and an answered prayer. Praying, too, in the next few days that God would connect me with the right people to help with implementing programs in my school and, personally, maybe even getting into more community development stuff in the future. Got some name cards – people like to give me name cards when they find out I’m foreign I think. That is, if they find out I’m foreign.

So I’m usually quite honoured when people say I look Khmer. But after a while, it gets REALLY FRUSTRATING. Why? Because I CAN’T speak Khmer! I just get pushed around and people speak over me and look at me weird when I don’t laugh at their jokes or acknowledge them. And I can see that they think I’m dumb or something because I’m always looking lost. But I feel so arrogant every time I declare that I don’t speak Khmer and that I’m not Khmer – like I don’t want to associate with them. For the first time, today, I wished I was white. Man, sometimes it’s so much easier to stand out as the foreigner. I was looking at all the white people in their little cliques speaking English and I was so jealous. Wasn’t one of them so I couldn’t join them. Not one of the Khmer people either. So there I was during break time and lunch time – the awkward little Asian girl who can’t speak Khmer. Today was tiring – had a million people come up to me and speak Khmer, had to explain a million times that I wasn’t Khmer and see their puzzled expression of “but you look Khmer so you must speak Khmer”. Oh, the adventures of me.

However, all in all, a very, very exciting opportunity. In the middle of June this year, I decided in my room in Toronto that I wanted to get into international development and that if it was God’s will that He would open doors. I had no clue where to begin, and no contacts. 2 weeks later, I find myself interning for a not-for-profit that does development and community awareness through art. 3 months later, I’m on a plane heading for Cambodia for a year. And now, I’m in a meeting with NGOs, government officials, social workers and UN personnel from Cambodia, UK and all over the world really. Wow, maybe if I ask God for a moto, I’ll get one for Christmas! Kidding. God is no genie in a bottle. No, definitely not. He is way more gracious, way more powerful and way more amazing. He’s not only a good God but a just God. He is a God of justice.

1 Month – 2 days: Thoughts on Phnom Penh

The best way to discover downtown Phnom Penh is on the back of a moto, worming your way between a Lexus and a Toyota, wind in your hair, dust in your eyes, flashes of lightning illuminating the moody clouds at night.

I felt like a kid in a candy store looking at all the bright lights of Phnom Penh. And was thinking what a big and modern city Phnom Penh was. A sign that I’ve been spending too much time in seclusion in Sihanoukville.

I don’t really like not knowing where I’m going and sitting on the back of someone’s moto I just met a few minutes ago. So I determined, today, to get my moto license one day. One day, I’ll make it happen!

Visual Candy:

1. 3 dead pigs on the back of someone’s bike

2. 10 meter giant lobster on top of a lobster restaurant

3. And my all time favourite, pigs on a spit. Lots of them.

Some bits of Phnom Penh remind me of BJ. A smaller, dirtier, messier version of BJ. And swap half the bicycles for motos and half the cars for tuk tuks.

1 Month – 3 Days = 2 Boys + 1 Girl on a Moto

So, Phnom Penh, teacher from Life School, his friend picked us up from bus station, 3 of us plus our bags on a motorbike, me looking at diarrhoea on a plate (aka street food) and gulping it down. Hoping I’m fine tomorrow morning. Had to politely decline diarrhoea in a cup. Will let you know tomorrow if I survived the night. If you don’t understand my writing, neither do I. Tired. In Phnom Penh now for a conference on child exploitation education. Excited.

Too much to say, too busy/tired to write

Twenty Something Plus One: School Updates

We have a new principal! My roommate, Megan, a kindie teacher from Alabama has offered to take up the position. So things are looking up. Still a whack load of work to do but at least we have direction now. Some things I am excited about:

1. Morning Devotions

We are looking for a kids’ bible study curriculum so that we can have consistency with morning devotions for the kids and not just wing it every morning. Usually, each teacher picks a story from the bible and we end off with singing and dancing from a Vacation Bible School (VBS) CD we have. It’s been good but a little unorganized sometimes. So I suggested going through the book of John from beginning to end so that we focus on Jesus and who Jesus is before going into the more complicated stories. I am excited because, for me, growing up in a Christian school, I heard and I knew all the stories, all the verses but I wish at such a young age, that someone had really explained Jesus. Not just that Jesus is good and Jesus is love but that Jesus is GOD. Jesus is GRACE. Jesus is EVERYTHING the other bible stories point to – would have saved me a couple years trying to figure that out for myself maybe. I hope and I pray that this time, when the kids hear about Jesus, that He will not just be a story about someone great but that He would be life itself.

It excites me to think something small like devotions in the morning could have an impact for eternity, even if just for the life of one child.

2. A New School Building

This is more a long term vision. Currently, we have a school that’s nursery until grade 4. Next year, when the kids in grade 4 go up to grade 5, we will have no more classrooms. Also, our playground is basically a plot of dirt with a broken slide and a couple muddy tyre swings. So, hopefully a ne building which will not flood every time it rains heavily. Without a new building, our kids don’t have a school next year. Plus, we need more teachers. Most of us are already doubling up on classes and on little to no pay. And it’s crazy to think that the future of 80 kids are in the hands of about 10 teachers not old and not experienced enough. Megan is 25 with just 3 years teaching experience, and doing Grad School in the U.S. part-time on top of being a teacher and principal in Cambodia. All the other foreign teachers are under 26, hardly any experience and hardly any money ourselves. Most of the Khmer teachers are have a basic education or working through college now. An impossible situation. An unlikely bunch of people. But a God of the impossible.

3. A Photocopy Machine

Our school needs a photocopy machine for worksheets and materials for class. Right now, we use the machine in the University Library which means we have to trek up the hill every time we need something copied. And we only also have a 50 page limit every time we copy something. So somehow, by God’s grace, we will be getting a photocopy machine. Anyone got ideas how to get hold of a couple thousand dollars or a machine?

4. Conference on Child Sex Trafficking Education

I got picked to go to this conference in Phnom Penh. So if everything works out, I will be going to Phnom Penh next week to attend a 3 day conference informing me, as an educator, about child sex trafficking in Southeast Asia, how to inform other teachers in my school about that and how to teach my kids in class about it as well. Very informative. I am excited to learn. I am excited to meet other teachers. I am excited to go to Phnom Penh. I am blessed to be able to get this kind of training – for free. Thank you, God.

Please pray with me for all these things – the kids, our facilities, finances and myself. Thank you for partnering with me.

Day Twenty Something: Lost Count

I watched an episode of Friday Night Lights few nights ago. It’s the one where the star quarterback, Jason Street, has been paralysed and is now in the rehab centre for a few weeks now. His annoying but brutally honest roommate comes up to him taunting him about how he’s still in the honeymoon phase where people are still visiting and sending gifts. But after some weeks, a few months, these things dwindle and finally, people forget and move on. But the thing is, you don’t. You can’t. Because you’re still paralysed. Harsh! But true.

After a few weeks here, I feel like I’m at a turning point too. A few weeks of hardly any internet, no phone, no TV, no contact with the outside world and no church was tough. Very tough. New country, new culture, new job, new people, new language. It felt sometimes like I was paralysed (no offense to people with physical disabilities). I’ve had to learn a lot of new things and let go of things that I was used to in a developed country. But I think I’m on my way over the hump. The hump that is made up of floods, the bugs, the power failure every morning and every night, initial adjustment, pressure, confusion…

That also means people start to forget and move on. I forget too… Less emails, no more messages, no wall posts on Facebook. Yesterday, I got to talk to my daddy for 5 minutes. The first voice I’ve heard from home in 4 weeks. I only had 50 cents in my phone so I got cut off after 5 minutes and I just stood there in the dark corridor crying. It’s been so long since I’ve heard a familiar voice. So long since I felt like I was someone’s daughter, someone’s loved one, and be vulnerable and dependant. Often, checking my email is depressing. All junk mail. But then, it also starts to hurt less. I am slowly getting used to it. And one thing precious that I cling to is Jesus. On this side of the world, that’s all I have. That’s all I can hope in. That’s all I can count on. Not always easy to remember but something I can’t afford to forget.

So if the Son sets you free, you will be free indeed.

John 8:36

What does it mean to be forgiven of my sins? To be justified, to be set free? Absolutely free? What is freedom? True freedom? Freedom from my hurts, my shame, my bitterness. Freedom from fear of failure, fear about what people thing, what’s expected from me. To be so intimate with God that you are so sure that He will catch you when you fall that falling holds such a freedom. Oh God, that is deep stuff.

Days of Our Life International School

Marcus has not drawn Srey Leak a picture in 3 days. He has taken to drawing cars and playing with the boys again. He still interacts sweetly with Srey Leak but I think the infatuation has passed. And so has my hope. Hahaa kidding! And so, like sand that keeps piling into the drain every time it rains, these are the Days of Our Life International School…

Day Twenty Two: The Drama, the Scandals and a Crazy Little Thing Called Love

Who knew teaching was the least of my worries when I came here to teach? Teaching is tough alright but it’s the baggage that comes with teaching that is the problem. Well, there’s the other teachers and all the politics, there’s the parents (OH GOSH), and then there are kids growing up and growing astray. And when all of those factors add up, you just sit there thinking where did I go wrong? Today, I got a complaint from a parent, slack from some teachers and misbehaving kids.

The teachers I can handle. Some parents are a bit of a pain. They expect teachers to raise their kids for them. And getting a parent to understand where you’re coming from can be almost as hard as getting their little kid to understand brain surgery… in English. But then, when the kids themselves act up, you realize you’re so much more responsible for their education but also for the kind of person they turn out in the future. And that’s weighty. At 22, I’m not ready to be a mother. Not especially for 25 roudy kids!

But the thing that gets me by and gets me high is watching young love blossom. Ahhh… the blissful trappings of innocence. While some boys his age are starting to get into things like fighting, boobs, and other grimy things 8 year old boys get up to, Marcus is sweet, polite, still playful but listens well and tries hard to do what he’s told and learn from mistakes. When no one in the whole school volunteers to pray during devotions, Marcus steps up. But not before he looks around to make sure no one else has volunteered. At 8, Marcus has mastered the art of being a man. He is a bundle of a tanned brown boy with long lashes and a sweet voice. And Marcus is in love.

Well, maybe not love. But over-dramatization of young affection gives me something to smile about. My version of a soap opera while working with kids all day. Marcus likes Srey Leak. I like Srey Leak. She is the janitor’s daughter. Very sweet, very smart. Good choice, Marcus!

Ok ok, Rewind! How did I find out that Marcus likes Srey Leak? During Grade 2 English, I made the kids draw each other and they could pick their partner themselves. Marcus who sat all the way at the back called dibs on Srey Leak almost as quickly as I could finish my sentence. Not very scandalous.. but the next bit is sweet.

Marcus drew a very nice picture of Srey Leak. In pink with a giant heart shape on her dress. And then I gave them more time to draw after they were done. The kids could get more paper from me.

Marcus grabbed a sheet and earnestly asked: “How about Srey Leak? Can I get one for Srey Leak?”

“Yes, you may”. How could I deny young love?

He draws Srey Leak. Twice. One on the front of the page, one on the back. And then runs to the front of the class to put it on her desk.

But what warms my heart is to see that boys are not as fickle as perhaps previously thought (I am quite cynical you see). The next day was no different. Marcus again asks for more paper to draw a picture for Srey Leak. I relent. So Marcus got a special sheet. Not playing favourites here but I just cannot stand in the way of this boy’s endeavour. That would just be cruel. This time, he draws Srey Leak and himself next to a car. Hmm... looks like a date of some sort I’m thinking.

Turns out too that Marcus and Srey Leak get seated together in class today because new students arrive and seating arrangement gets shuffled. I wonder if the other teachers know. So now I look at them and I smile to myself seeing them interact. Marcus all chivalrous. A student in front of them stole Srey Leak’s eraser. Srey Leak is too sweet to get mad but Marcus calls out for me, the Teacher, and supposed superhero in this scene. But I come too late. Marcus has snatched the eraser back from the clutches of destruction and handed it back to the damsel-not-so-in-distress. The day is saved by Marcus.

It’s day 3 of the saga now and Marcus runs and plays with the boys like no tomorrow, gets his shirt muddied and his shoes wet but comes back to class and is as sweet as a pumpkin with Srey Leak. Haha.. this gives me hope about boys. I am not one to get into silly romantic fancies but kids don’t cover anything up. They mean what they say and do. And their affection is so pure and innocent.

I am excited to see Marcus grow up. I am also excited to see what impact he has on his parents and this world.

Day Twenty One: Brain Freeze

Wow my blog is getting quite intense. So, today I’m taking a chill pill. Came back from school again knackered and laid on my bed for 20minutes white caving. Thank God, after taking a shower, I entered a room smelling of goodness when my roomie offered to cook spaghetti. Oh, an answered prayer. And as I was summoned to look for a can opener, I found myself in Little Korea with all my Korean neighbours chattering excitedly, holding my hand, interdigitation-style, patting my back and seeing their shocked expression when I would proclaim my random Korean phrases (like hwa jang shil and pap joo say yo). It was fun and I hope (and not at the same time) that they would let me into their circle or coolness. And not really also because, I don’t know how to respect elders, be polite and submit to men in the proper Korean way.

Anyways, enough about that. Let’s talk about something random.

I am remembering Borders at Canberra Centre today. It’s a great bookstore. With the rain today, the laziness after work and wanting to curl up with a good book and people watch. Which reminds me of Marie. Who used to wait for me at Borders when we made dates to meet at Canberra Centre. Which reminds me of the most amazing notebook she gave me on my last day in Australia with tons of blank pages. My favourite book is one with blank pages so I can write and draw and Marie totally read my mind with that. I love Marie.

Which reminds me of all the silly little things we did. Carefree and careless until 2 weeks before the exams when we realised we had to study and locked ourselves in the library the whole day.

1. Cinema Adventures

This would be a story I’d tell my grandkids (if I have grandkids). Marie and I liked movies. A lot. Problem is cinema tickets cost $12 a seat at Dendy’s. Way more than we could afford. We quickly learnt a better way around that. On Fridays when we both didn’t have class, we would pick a movie we’d really like that was showing in the morning or early afternoon. After 2 hours of blissful enjoyment, Marie and I would leave the theatre and walk right into another one. It was always a pleasant surprise. Like winning the lottery. And that is how, my friends, I watched Indiana Jones, The Counterfeiters and other delights. By the time we emerged from our dungeon of darkness and delight, it would be almost always dusk. Perfect timing for dinner and dessert. And we would go home saying that would be the last time we’d watch free movies and waste our youth again.

2. Cycling on Sundays

Church was on Saturday afternoons. So on Sunday mornings, Marie and I would drag our bikes out for a cycle and attempt to get somewhere exciting and far – singing Sunday Morning by Maroon 5 of course. We’d never quite make it to our destination but we’d always find interesting things along the way. Once, we chanced upon the Vintage Car Show in the middle of a field outside Parliament Hill. That was pretty neat.

3. Great Ocean Escapade

Marie’s from Melbourne. Wow that sounds like I just made Marie up. Melbourne Marie of meticulously made-up imaginings. Marie’s real. Anyways, Marie, Shernie and myself made a trip down to Marvellous Melbourne once. And it was very delightful. It was also delightful to go down to Geelong and the Great Ocean Road with carefree abandon, hop on a public bus and drift from town to town. I have a picture of myself walking with Marie, clad in sunglasses, 2 pigtails, a flower in my hair and ready for adventure. We collected stories about the hot fish and chip shop boys, cycling along the coast, going to the grocers for milk and cereal and sitting right on the sandy beach eating breakfast. It was carefree, delicious and decadently refreshing.

4. Lug Dug

So our friend, Aaron, studied some sort of science. It involved learning about the human heart and one day he described his Prof explaining the pumping of the heart as lug dug lug dug lug dug lug dug… And for some reason, it stuck in our vocabulary.

Lug Dug (n)

a. A crush or boy you fancy. Also used for potential pursuers or aesthetically pleasing boy that makes your heart go “lug dug lug dug”.

James McAvoy is quite lug dug.

b. Could also be used in platonic relationships as a form of sisterly love.

Marie, I lug dug you.

5. Road Trips

Not where did we go but where did we not go? Mode of transport: Shelley, Aaron’s beat up car. All you need is an ipod and we’re good to go. Anywhere, anytime, singing our lungs out!

Oh the indulgences of youth. These memories make me happy. Reminds me of the endless summers, roads to nowhere and friends who are willing to take chances into the unknown. They remind me that I don’t have to have everything under control. They remind me that God’s got my back and always has. And I should just enjoy the ride because I’m not the one driving this train called life. Sometimes, when we don’t set out to accomplish anything in particular, that’s when you make the memories of a lifetime. 

Postscript: wow, that last paragraph was so cheesy!

I Like Swimming

I like swimming. I really do! During my weekend “away”, I got to go swimming in the sea. My favouritest thing. As mentioned, the water in Sihanoukville is shallow and calm – like a giant outdoor pool. It’s the most delicious thing swimming here (not counting the ice cold waters at Tamarama Beach on a hot summers day). But anyways, I swam out almost a few hundred meters along the shore. There’s something epic about swimming out there and being the only one out that far on the dead calm sea. To be able to just go on for ages because the salt water carries you forward and the soft tide gives you a gentle nudge. And to see a small boat out in the distance and be able to swim to it and see it bobbing in the waves up close, and awkwardly say hello to the guy on the boat as the swashing of the sea impairs your speech. Yes, something very special about it.

It’s something very solitary, very quietening, very reckoning. A good time for soul searching. And getting sun burnt.

Day Twenty: A, B-ch, C-side, D-train

Oh the dreaded D word :( I felt gastric-y the other day while waiting for the beach kids to eat their food. Megan and I went to the beach for the weekend. We spent 2 days at a beach bungalow on Serendipity Beach. The little bungalow was on stilts on a steep hill with other stilted bungalows for friends. It was perched above the rocky beach below and overlooked the sea and distant islands. At the bottom of the hill was the resort bar and restaurant which had a deck that edged straight onto the beach. In the mornings, when it was high tide, the waves washed under the deck and it was as if you were right on the water.

Well, back to the beach kids and the D-train… The first day there, I was excited to go swimming! The beach is almost a cove sheltered by coast and other islands so the water is clear, shallow and calm. Pretty much a natural swimming pool (minus the rocks near some of the shore). But while I desired solitude in such serene beauty, Cambodia is Cambodia. What I mean by that is I cannot live and enjoy Cambodia while closing my eyes to everything else. And what is evident on the beaches are kids peddling their goods. As I lay on the beach, sure enough, the kids came. Am, Mohm, Peter, Nice, Ana, Dteuk…

My first instinct was to complain: Can’t they see I’m trying to enjoy myself? Can’t they leave me alone? I don’t want to spend money! And then there was the part of me that sighed: You can afford 20 bucks for a beach bungalow but you can’t afford even a few minutes for these kids. You are willing to spend $3 on dinner later but you can’t even spare a few dollars for them.

Oun, a 17 year old girl, drew a picture of my decadence vividly. She came up to us smiling sweetly and didn’t try to mince her words like the other, younger and much more tenacious kids. Oun didn’t try to sell us anything but just talked… about anything. Everything. Oun has 3 siblings, 6 people in her family. She is the second eldest. She has been working since she was 7 years old. For 3 years downtown and the past 7 years on the beach. Obviously, an old hand at bartering, bargaining and working hard even at her young age. She’s one of the older kids. Her sister used to work on the beach too but is now too old to work there. People only seem to buy from kids it seems. So at 17, Oun must provide for her family. Her dad makes $20 a week. Not enough. So Oun wakes up at 4am everyday, cooks breakfast and lunch for the family, goes to school from 7-11am, comes to the beach at 12 noon, and goes home at 6pm to cook for her family again. She can go to bed at 11pm. And the cycle continues the next day.

Oun stood there telling us her story, still smiling sweetly. And still, not asking us to buy anything, she says: “you are so lucky”. And I am silent for a moment. Because how can I respond to that? I got my first job at 17. She’s 17 and been working for a decade. For me, I chose to come to Cambodia to live on $200 a month. Do you get how crazy that sounds? I have been given everything in the world at my fingertips. I am so wealthy that I get to choose to be poor. She, has no choice.

“I am so blessed” I finally respond. Nothing more, nothing less than God’s blessing on my life. I certainly do not deserve what I have.

So I am learning. I still don’t know what to do when street kids come and ask me to buy their things. It drives me crazy not knowing what to do when the handicapped man comes over to me. But little by little I am understanding that doing nothing is worse than doing something wrong. According to little pamphlets and some people, we shouldn’t buy from those kids because it keeps them out of school. But good business or bad, these kids will still be on the streets and I can choose to ignore them or befriend them. So I got them some food. 4 of them to a plate. And they wolfed it down using their hands. They may not have been malnourished but those kids were hungry. And I told Mohm that I didn’t need bracelets but I would like to learn Khmer. We spent quite some time with her this weekend and hopefully I’ll see her again the following weekends.

So that’s my story of D-train. Kind of.

My Hands are Small, His are HUGE

Your Hands, Her Hand, My Hands

I didn't get to tell this story before. But it's one that's stuck with me and is such a vivid picture of the human condition amidst God's invitation.

When I met with the missionary couple, Gary and Bev, from Canada in Phnom Penh, I asked Bev how it was like dealing with poverty in the provinces. She said that she went to the villages in the provinces once on a medical mission. With the state of the education system in Cambodia, the dilapitating local education has produced a dilapitating healthcare infrarstructure. And in a country with an Aids/HIV crisis on its hands, there is such need especially in places where there is so little education on basic sanitation and medical treatment. So while Bev is not a doctor nor trained in health sciences, her little knowledge beats none at all in some villages. 

Once, the team arrived in a village where they met a middle-aged lady with a huge sore on her hand which had become infected. She had HIV and needed to have her would taken care of. I think Bev said she gave her anti-biotics (or something to stop infection) and painkillers and told her to come back the next day for another check-up. She didn't show up. Bev was disapointed. The day after, she came back and her hand was worse. The sore had become much larger and one of her veins was discoloured. This meant she had blood poisoning. The lady had refused to believe Bev. She was stuck in her old traditions. She took the painkillers but not the anti-biotics. Instead, according to folklore, she pain money to have cow urine poured on her hand in hopes of having it cured. It didn't. Bev and Gary paid for a tuk tuk to rush her to Phnom Penh for treatment. The small sore could be taken care of, but now, she had to have her arm amputated. When Bev finished telling the story, I could tell this affected her quite a lot. Her last sentence rang in the silence. 

Cambodia needs more than just medical aid. It runs so much deeper than that. It needs more than just education. Deeper than even a new government administration. It needs changed lives. Changed souls. 

The world needs more than just aid. It runs so much deeper than that. More than just thinking positive or being democratic. So often, we, whether in Cambodia with no education or North America with the best institutions, are offered help, hope and life. But we think we know better. And even if we have a small inkling that what is offered might actually be true, we are too stuck in our ways and too prideful to give it a go. Instead, we let our lives spin out of control until we hit a road block. Jesus holds His hand out for us. We think this is crazy. Modern citizens of this world don't believe in a God - let alone a God who came down to earth years ago and died on a cross. And now you tell me He died and resurrected for my sins?!? Only children believe fairy tales like these. So we pile more dirt, more mess and more clutter on our lives until we cannot take it. Even then, some of us will refuse to stop. And for some of us, we think it is too late. Science might not be able to save that lady's arm but God is always in the business of saving. God is always in the business of meeting needs - physical, spiritual, mental..  We just need to put our pride aside and realize we cannot save ourselves.

Lord, continue to teach me and challenge me to face injustice and love this people and culture. Show me what it means to love deeply. Not just the kids I teach but their parents, this people, this nation, the unreached, the impoverished, the man with no legs who scours the beach for change, the old man who begs at the local market, the lady who sells vegetables, the children who peddle bracelets... Oh Lord, in me there is no love for these people. I am so tempted to live here not get my hands dirty with the troubles of this country. Teach me, Lord, in humility to stick my hands in the mud not because my hands are clean or my hands are strong but because Your hands are clean and Your hands are strong and the people need to see Your hands. The people need You. I need You.

Day Sixteen: Thanksgiving

THANK GOD FOR THE LONG WEEKEND!

It's been 3 teaching days and only half-days for the kids, but I am absolutely knackered. This week, I got to sleep in until 8.30am. It was absolutely heaven. Yes, it was. Tomorrow, my roommate, Megan and I will check-in to a beach resort for 2 days to enjoy little luxries like internet, hot showers and warm breakfasts. 2 days of relaxation for $24 sounds not too bad. 

But before looking forward, let's recap the past week. Hmm.. where do I start? There's so much. I guess there's really no better place to start than thanksgiving. (Oh yea, it's Thanksgiving weekend in Canada!) Happy Thanksgiving!

Oh for one, I thank God that He brought me through the week. For His mercies and His grace over my life - for being my sustenance and strength when my tank is just empty. Empty. The 6am - 5pm days drain me. And for an introvert, having to talk for hours in the day takes away all of my strength. On top of that, there's cooking, cleaning and not a lot of time for resting with Jesus. But He has brought me through.

I thank God for teaching me how to teach. During the day, I stop in amazement that I'm actually doing this. Often, I feel like a fish out of water with teaching. And then there are moments when it feels like I've been doing this forever and I'm blown away by the God-given ideas that just come. 

Thank You, Lord, for allowing me to be Your hands and feet. Most of my kids are from traditionally Buddhist families. But for an hour a day, they get to listen stories about God. About a God who loves and who desires to have a relationship with them. I taught them the class memory verse for the semester, Philippians 4:13. And even though my days have been hectic and I rush out of the house wishing I had more time for quiet time with God, I get to remind myself over and over again (repetition helps learning) that I can do everything through God alone who gives me strength. Simple yet deep truth that I am nothing but He is everything and that is my treasure and prize.

Thank You, God, for answering prayers. Before I left, I prayed Micah 6:8 and that I would love the children. Thank You for helping me love the children with Your love. Sometimes, I look at the kids in their mixture of innocence and grime and I just don't know where this love I feel for them comes from. When Sarick looks up at me sheepishly with his mouth half open, or when I joke about Marcus yawning during class and he smiles shyly at me, my heart just melts. 

Thank you, Lord, for small precious moments when I get encouraged by people back home. Thank You, for giving my parents peace about me coming here. Thank You for their emails that touch my heart. Thank You for little posts on my Facebook wall that are such gems. Songs that uplift me and silly chatter on MSN with friends. Thank You that sometimes (like today) the internet works!

Lord, I lift up my kids: Chan Leaph, Nita, Reesa, Chivorn, Yeougin, Stef, Sarick, Isak, Srey Som, Sodavith, Seyhar, Chanreasay, Sothy, Meng Heang and Ravy. Teach them Your ways and teach them English, Maths, Science and Khmer. They may be six right now, Lord, but use these kids to change this nation. Lord, teach them to walk with integrity and honesty. And to live counter-culturally to stand up against corruption, status quo, poverty in the provinces and the sex trade. Lord, raise up this generation to make a difference in this country and the world. And may that change start in their lives and in their families.  

Day Thirteen: First Day of Class!

Oh Lord! Help me! First day of class. I have 13 boys and 2 girls. A crazy handful. And 4 more kids on their way. Oh God, I HAVE NO IDEA WHAT I’M DOING. People get degrees in teaching and I have nada training, nada experience and nada principal to tell me what to do! We just had a half day of teaching today because it was more of an orientation. But even by 11.30am lunch break, I was absolutely knackered. I can’t imagine a normal week 6am – 6pm Monday to Friday and Saturday mornings. It’s 6pm now and I should be doing lesson plans and preparing for devotions for the kids tomorrow but I am BEAT.

Things on my to-do list for tonight:

1. Plan lesson for Grade 2 English

2. Plan lesson for Grade 2 Morals/Health

3. Prepare a Bible Story for Devotions

4. Cook and Eat

5. Pray for the kids

6. Take a shower

7. Contemplate life

8. Spend time with Jesus

All of this by 10pm so I can be up by 6am. I need Jesus.

Something else I’ve been contemplating is what it really means to live out Jesus in the classroom. It’s the toughest thing of my life. Kids see right through you. And in a country where cheating, bribing and slacking off in the classroom is the norm, what does it mean to discipline and train kids with such a hard hand. Where does grace stand in? How do I teach my kids that it’s not by works but by grace? But how do I also teach them to do their best, try their hardest and work hard to improve? How do I reward them on more than just their academic achievement and rigorous school standard?

And you know what the funny thing is, some of the Khmer teachers and officer with the best work ethic are Buddhist, not Christian. They live very moral lives. Morality as a set of rules makes sense. As a flight of stairs leading to a perfect standard. The trouble comes when you throw GRACE into the picture. When you realize in humility that you cannot reach that perfect standard. When you realize in humiliation that only God can and that He is able to work that perfect standard in me undeservingly. So where then do works fall in? What does it really mean to be a Christian?

At times like these, the line between being a Christian saved by the grace of God and just being a moral person seems blurred. How do I teach morality that comes only from God and not just morality out of human effort to a bunch of Khmer-speaking 6 year-olds?

Day Eleven: Sleepy Saturday

There was work in the morning but the rest of the day was all mine! Finally! Delicious! And God is so good. After a long lonely week, God provided such small, simple pleasures like a drizzling of milk chocolate and caramel on nuts that bring it from alright to super duper.

Things I enjoyed very much:

- Sitting at the end of the corridor praising Jesus, with a breath-taking panorama of the town overlooking the sea, feeling the melancholic breeze carry the sound of my singing with it on its adventures.

- Answered prayers – English church service hasn’t started on campus yet so I’m churchless until then. I was worried about having to email the missionaries here to ask them about churches, worrying about bad internet connection and worrying about them responding before Sunday. But as I sat in the corridor, my neighbour, Grace, popped out to hang her laundry and got me hooked up with a church her husband and her visited last week! She’s such a sweet Korean lady with a heart for God. Thank You, Jesus.

- Watching the village kids have such fun in a barefoot game of soccer.

- Seeing kites dance in the clear, cloudless sky.

- Seeing 3 cows chase each other around a tree – almost looked like they were having a dance party. I wished I could have frolicked with them. They looked like the happiest cows ever.

- Going to the night market with fun rides and a bouncy castle and seeing a crazy woman dance in the middle of the square. Then seeing some kids try to pull her moves and throwing my head back in laughter at them. And just enjoying the moment of absolute inhibition and joy with the fairy lights and balloon animals dancing in the night sky. I haven't laughed in a while.

This is a strange town. Sometimes it makes me laugh. Sometimes it makes me cry. But it always captures my heart.

Day Ten: Days Like These

There are moments when I walk down the hill of my school in Sihanoukville and kids run up to me and say “hello” and wave when I feel a rush of peace. Or when lightning strikes streak across the night sky silently yet powerfully, like the pulse of God’s heartbeat. Or at 6am when the sun is almost high in the sky and I get to eat breakfast with a vision of bright blue sky meeting the dark ocean crest from my room window. Nothing beats moments like these.

But then there are also days like these. Days where you miss simple things like a couch. Or drawers. Or a regular paycheque. Or church – in English. Or hugs. Days where these little things just take a toll. When you’ve been waiting for your family to contact you and they haven’t. Days where the internet just refuses to work and even if it did you wonder if you should bother checking your email. Only junk mail anyways. Days where you realize it’s been weeks since I had a good, gooood, deep conversation (not about the weather, the bugs or SCHOOL). Days where you stare into space and you wonder if anyone, ANYONE, knows where in the world you are. Days where you feel like a fool missing people, probably more than they miss you. Days where you stop, think and realize you have nothing left to give. Does anyone care? Days where you just lay your head down on the table and the sobs rise up to your throat and tears come but you can’t let it out because you’re roommate’s right beside you. Days where you come before God and have absolutely nothing to say and nothing to offer.

Today is a day like this.

Today is also a day where God’s love is all I have. Today is a day I realized that I am here simply because God loves me. Because God cares! He loves sooo much that He would bring me here to show me His heart. He cares so much for Cambodia that He would bring me here. He cares so much for me that He would provide for my every need in Cambodia. And He definitely loves me so much that He would still use my weakness and unworthiness to bring Him glory.

Before I left, Aban taught me something precious. To live life with your hands unclenched and wide open, where nothing is mine. I am still learning this. In a country with so much need, nothing is mine. But today I also learnt that an open hand is also one that receives willingly, gratefully and abundantly. 

Oh Lord, help me to let go of my pride and control. Let me receive of Your love freely and fully. Because I have nothing and no one left but You. 

p.s. God truly provides. Prayed for dodgy internet to work and it worked! Praise God!

10 Things I Hate About Cambodia

10. The chaos

9. Not having a brush to scrub the bathroom floor

8. THE BUGS!

7. Not knowing the language

6. The creepy Asian men

5. The old white men at the bars with young local women

4. The dodgy internet – takes me an hour to connect sometimes!

3. I miss being connected to the world

2. I miss my family

1. And what I hate most about Cambodia is that I don’t hate it, not even a little. Least of all, the people. I can see myself living here and loving the people. And it scares me. Because it means a huge challenge and a long lonely road ahead (especially with dodgy internet and mail).

Day Six: Silver Lining

Today’s been great! For one, no rain. But more importantly, a fruitful day at work and a fruitful lunch break. I’m starting to get the hang of things and figure out what is required of me. I will be teaching Grade 1 English, Maths, Health/Morals, Grade 2 English, Health/Morals, Art/Technology, Physical Education. I have a Khmer teacher who is my partner and is the only teacher who is not a Christian. I enjoy doing lesson plans in my ‘office’ with Brooke Fraser playing in the background and the beach close by.

Things accomplished:

1. Labelled all the important objects in my classroom

2. Made a ‘Birthday Tree’ for the kids to put their ‘Birthday Fruits’ on (I happen to think this a brilliant idea so don’t judge)

3. Made a course outline for the first time!

4. Went to Happy Burger for lunch

5. Got groceries so I can finally live on something other than cereal and instant noodles! I’m not taking the meal plan because it’s KOREAN FOOD EVERYDAY. I don’t think I can take that.

6. Made dumpling soup with carrots and cabbage

7. Wrote this blog. Tediousness.

Things NOT accomplished:

1. Enough quality time with Jesus.

Better get on that one now.

Day Five: FIRST DAY OF WORK

Today has been utter chaos! We have no principal, no Grade 2 teacher and no idea what to do! Apparently we’re supposed to clean and arrange our classrooms and start planning lessons and the year. But first, some major roadblocks: the calendar is not out yet, the daily schedule is not out yet, my textbooks are not out yet, and then, there’s the FLOOD.

So it’s the rainy season here. The university is up on a hill. But the International School is at the bottom of the hill. And the way from university to school is about 250 meters of unpaved, loose top soil. Rain comes from top of the hill and by the time it reaches us, it’s now thick, muddy slush which fills the drains and part of the first floor. After getting drenched in the rain coming back from lunch, I was greeted by the sight of the other teachers using dustpans as scoops to scoop and smash out of the corridors. It took us a good hour to clear the school and then dig out the soil that filled up the drain. But these are reasons why the flood was a good thing:

1. It got the teachers together, both Khmer and foreign teachers.

2. Even though I’m stuck in some small school, in some small town without a clue what I’m supposed to do or how to teach, me being here feels somewhat significant. 50 kids out there depend on 10 of us teachers for a clean school and decent education. And perhaps 12 kids out there need a Grade 1 teacher and there’s no one else. Inch deep in mud and stinking of sweat and rainwater, I felt important.

3. Who doesn’t like an excuse to play in the rain? Hehehe…

After work, I got to snuggle up to my bible, my journal and a good book. Ahhh… Quiet times are so much better after a long days work and nice shower.

In Him was life and that life was the light of men.

John 1:4

He must become greater; I must become less.

John 3:40