The Gift of Music

I had heard rumors that Korea was donating electric pianos to every province in Cambodia, but I never believed it would actually happen. Or, on the off chance that it did, the piano would be a junky keyboard, quickly absconded by some Khmai staff for a small bribe, or shoved in a closet because it used too much electricity. Either way, I wasn’t getting my hopes up. Then, last Friday afternoon, while I was killing time between classes I heard a noise that sounded suspiciously like a piano. A good one.
I poked around until I found where the sound was coming from and to my utter astonishment there was a full size electric piano with weighted keys, built in metronome, working pedals, and—oh please, oh please, God—yes—they said I could play. The teachers in the room pulled up a red plastic chair, sat me down, and waited expectantly. To truly understand this moment, you have to realize I haven’t touched a piano in over a year, and haven’t seriously played in over four years. I always promised myself I would pick up lessons again after college and then I ended up in Cambodia where you can’t find lessons in the capital city, let alone out in the provincial towns. Every once in a while, when I’m fantasizing about my future apartment, browsing the William and Sonoma website in a last ditch effort to save my sanity when things get really crazy here, or playing Martha Stewart with the craft supplies I’ve managed to collect over the last six months, I get this longing to play. To just sit down and close my eyes and get lost in the music for an hour or two like I used to do once upon a time.

I put my hands on the keys and felt the smooth, cool, plastic beneath my fingers. My hands were shaking a little as I stared down at them, hoping that the music hadn’t left me for good. Playing piano is like learning a language…when you don’t use it for a while, you tend to forget. Did I still remember? I looked up at the staff—yup, they were still waiting—and then I began to play. I could feel my hands remembering the first notes of Fur Elise and, as my hands danced, I felt a little bit of that anticipation anxiety slip away—I still had it. It wasn’t perfect and it certainly wasn’t my most moving rendition of the first movement I’ve ever played, but it was there, inside, waiting to be polished.

The Khmai staff was sufficiently impressed and encouraged me to play more … but they didn’t have any music and I’ve long since lost so much of what I used to know by heart. I told them I’d be back and ran outside to find the head of the English department. I asked him if he thought I could play and if there might be people who would want to take lessons. Yes and yes. That’s all I needed. I headed over to the NGO I volunteer at to print out the last Sonitina, Nocturne and Aria I was playing before I quit, a few Christmas songs, and some miscellaneous classical music I thought would be good to “get back in shape” with and then began the long, impatient wait until the next morning.

I was at the school and situated by 7:20 a.m. (probably a new record). I had a small audience for most of the morning, but was more or less uninterrupted for three solid hours. By 10:30, I was starting to get some of my speed back, sure of the most common scales, and rediscovering some of the music that had been sleeping inside me…but badly in need of brushing up on my musical theory to make up for lost time (damn, that Barbra Crane was right-I DID need to know that stuff!).

Being able to play again is an incredible gift. It’ll be wonderful to share with anyone who wants to listen, but also a fantastic escape, and a little piece of home. More importantly, it’s a gift I can give to my colleagues and they can pass on to others when I’m gone. After I finished, several of the staff asked when I would be starting lessons. I said I could start on Monday and would teach a different person each day for one hour, five days a week. I know they were a little disappointed that I would only be taking five students, but learning to play will be a big commitment, and practicing will be a challenge at best.

I already designed my first lesson on the “language” of music. Interestingly enough, music is never taught in Cambodia except in a vocational capacity to monks and orphans learning to play traditional instruments. That means we are truly starting at the beginning. I feel like learning to play properly will be a great cultural exchange, the beginning of what I hope will someday be a true leisure and arts culture (since theirs was wiped out during the civil war), and good mental gymnastics to help push them beyond the easy, expected, and familiar.

It looks like Christmas came a little early this year…and what a present.