And Then There Were Three

One of my biggest fears while I was preparing to move out to site was that I would feel isolated. I absolutely love being with other people. Even sitting in comfortable silence is sometimes preferable to being alone. That isn’t to say that I don’t need my personal space. For as much as I like, even need, to be near others, I truly enjoy the solitary comforts of reading, writing, sewing and playing guitar these days. But I usually only crave those private moments after I have filled myself with the good company of friends and family. During training, I saw other volunteers on a daily basis and we used each other as a sort of support system to bolster our morale or share funny stories. From day one I knew it would be a shock to move out to permanent site and have to – gasp – entertain myself. All day. Every day. Yet it seems that I have already made three new friends who are helping me connect to the different communities within my new home; and each of them has a unique story I would like to share with you.


Sivauy

I first met Sivauy (pronounced: sue-hoy) during my site visit. I was biking to the school when a young girl rode up beside me and began speaking to me in impeccable English. I looked around half expecting to see another foreigner, only to find a bright eyed Khami girl. Her English was truly remarkable and I remember hoping I’d run into her again when I returned to site.

During my second day in Pursat, I was shopping in the market for some fabric to hang in my room. I had been there an hour already, and I was just about to give up when I saw the exact shade of teal I had been looking for in a stall a few feet in front of me. The saleswoman proposed an outrageous price for the fabric and I practically laughed, knowing she assumed I didn’t know what the proper Khmai price should be. When I began bartering with her in her own language, her eyes lit up and she said, “Oh! You speak Khmai!” I said yes and began to explain who I was. I was just about to launch into my speech about what the Peace Corps is when she interrupted me: “But I think I have already met you! You are the volunteer teacher working at my high school.” The light bulb went off over her head, then mine.

Of course it was Sivauy. What luck! She helped me do the rest of my shopping, insisting that all the vendors give me a fair deal, and showed me where her mother’s stall was so I could visit any time. Whenever I go to the market, I make sure to stop and see Sivauy. We usually stroll around together and talk while I do my shopping. She recently confided in me that she wants to be an English interpreter once she graduates. I have no doubt that she can achieve this goal and I hope to help her along the way.

Aside from being wonderful to talk to, I think she would be a great candidate for the girls’ leadership camp Deidre, Eddie and I are trying to coordinate. I’m telling you, the girl has bearings – and I expect she will do great things. She certainly is a wonderful new friend. In fact, it was Sivauy who introduced me to another important woman in my life.

Suthy

When Sivauy told her math tutor about me, she asked to meet me; so before her weekly lesson, we biked over to her teacher Suthy’s (pronounced: sue-tea) house. Suthy is a woman of about 50 and speaks fluent French. That afternoon we talked and laughed together and discussed each other’s lives. There are actually a lot of French speakers here, and it is always a relief to be able to really connect with someone. I think the Khmai people like being able to share their stories with a foreigner too, so I have never been happier to say I speak French. During the course of the afternoon, Suthy told me that her mother and father died of starvation during Pol Pot’s regime and that two of her five siblings were killed. She lived in an orphanage until she was old enough to begin teaching and then carved out a life for herself. I am impressed at the simple, but fulfilling life she has made after such a tragedy. She teaches math at the high school and offers private lessons on the side. She has four children who all have bright futures ahead of them: an embassy worker, a match teacher, a translator and a mother.

Suthy has taken on the unofficial role as my crazy Khmai aunt and protector. During our first faculty meeting, she ran up to me and gave me a big hug and began introducing me to all the teachers and telling them about me. When a young Khmai man named Mr. Bean (he made a point of adding, “You know, like the American comedian, yes?”) sat next to me to chat, she shooed him and said, “This isn’t a karaoke bar! Don’t sit so close to her!” When he insisted that it was okay because it’s okay in America, I turned to Suthy and asked, “But is it okay in Cambodia?” When she said no, he shamefacedly added, “Oh, so you want to be like Khmai?” and stood up to walk away. The three of us laughed and Suthy patted my back approvingly.

Anna

Finally, there is Anna. As I was leaving the internet café a few days ago, I heard a woman call out to me. She had a thick accent, but was most definitely Western. She was sitting with a young Khmai girl named So-ka, and I learned that the woman was from Spain. Her name is Anna and she is an architect in Pursat. Anna is the exact opposite of most Khmai women. She is loud, a little brazen and certainly not shy. It was refreshing to be with someone with such a large personality. She invited me to go to a floating village with her and So-ka that afternoon, saying how important it is to reach out to other Western faces when you see them. I eagerly agreed and planned to meet them again at 2:00.

We took a took took to Kampong Leun about an hour away from Pursat where we found the floating village. It’s hard to describe this place. Imagine a huge lake that stretches beyond the horizon with an entire village built on barges and rafts. I saw floating gas stations, pig farms and families watching television. There are no sidewalks or streets so the only form of transportation (and presumably recreation) is by boat. I saw little children no more than five paddling huge boats across the glassy lake, women selling goods from canoes piled high with fruits and vegetables and smarmy old men smoking cigarettes over the side of their vessels.

At the end of the day, I returned to Pursat with them and Anna assured me that she is always up for a cup of coffee if I want to meet up. She actually lives in a smaller village outside of Pursat, but swings by this way often and attends Church every Sunday on the outskirts of town, which I’m planning on checking out this week.

I’ll put up some photos of the floating village soon so you can get an idea of what that was like. In the mean time, take care of yourselves and send me some love.