Today we were so busy that I have not had time to sit and write. We started at 6pm and it is now 9.30pm. We are busy, but that is not the problem, there is just so much to process. I run all my ideas past my Cambodian darling friend Colap. She helps me process what I am seeing. She is shoulder height with a little voice and a demure manner. But don't be deceived. She is a giant. She is faster than I am and believe it or not, way more asinine. Her gentle manner and small stature is a cover for a powerhouse of a human being. The last thing I did in Battambang was stand in her hotel room and listen to her rave and lecture about all sorts of things.
We are now in Siem Reap suffering from culture shock. One man in our group warned us, but it is far worse than I imagined. I feel very much like I did when we flew from Havana to Cancun. Yuk! Siem Reap is a tourist Mecca. There are hundreds of 5 star hotels lined up on the airport road, lights, shops, Irish pubs, Indian cafes, spruikers standing on the street showing you menus, and every tourist in the world is walking the streets, "Pub Street" to be specific. We are in sensory overload and cannot think for input.
Friday, January 14, 2011
Wednesday, January 12, 2011
"Kidnapped" by Greta Jean Carusoson
I got kidnapped!
The white slave trade is alive and well it seems. A trap was laid, I was lured in, I was kidnapped and drugged by a large gang of Cambodians. I talked my way out of it.
Okay, you know me well enough to know that while my initial claim is not a lie, it is not the real picture.
A trap was laid: A brand new service station opened up next to my hotel AND it has a cappuccino machine.
I was lured in: There was no one at the cashier's desk, and no one to be seen, but a great deal of noise coming from out the back.
I was kidnapped: All the friends, family and associates of the owner of the petrol station were having a party. They were sitting on bamboo mats on the concrete floor of the car wash out the back. Food and drink was spread out, everyone was happy. As soon as they saw me with my Diet Coke and 70 cents in hand they surrounded me. A special place on the ground was made for me, a place was cleared and food was served. I was gently but firmly guided to my spot and told I was their special guest. They would be terribly offended if I did not eat and drink. Most spoke really good English. A whole bunch of them work at the ANZ bank. The were all bright, educated, funny, sophisticated and charming.
and drugged: They insisted that I drink a beer.
I talked my way out of it: We laughed and joked, the young women made fun of the young men, we played guessing games. They they told me all sorts of interesting things about their lives, Cambodia and what they think of current issues. They seemed much more switched on than the teachers I am working with. They probably earn four times as much as well. Teachers get such low wages that they just cannot attract many clever people into the profession. I was not allowed to go til the party was over. It was the best experience of kidnapping that I have ever had.
Now for the explanation. In Cambodia, it is really important to try to get a white foreigner to come to a party. You do not have to know them, you just want them to come. This is true of weddings and funerals especially, but also of all parties. So, I was the first white foreigner who staggered in and my presence raised the status of the event. (Usually it is the other way around.)
"Hope for Children Centre"
There is a wonderful orphanage in Battambang. It is called the "Hope for Children Centre". It is secure, neat, tidy, clean, well organised, and above board. They have great teachers and a brilliant 26 year old female Cambodian woman running the place. It has the best library in the city and a great variety of toys. They take kids with aids, disabilities, and TB. (Apparently other orphanages in Battambang do not and possibly cannot do this.) But there are a couple of problems. First, it is entirely funded by Australia through AusAid. Second, there are impoverished, desperate children everywhere, and the centre had a limited number of beds. The organisation is well known, so they get a great many donations (which they need) meanwhile other desperate children get very little or nothing. It is a model organisation, but unsustainable and not reproducible.
Here are the bits that you might not want to think about.
The centre is so well resourced and well run, that desperate people may be tempted to drop their children off at the centre. It may well be in the child's best interest to just leave it at the centre whether there are parents or not. The director said that she was trying to set up a program where children could stay in their village, with their community, perhaps cared for by a relative. The are trying to find a way to support extended families who are trying to take care of desperately poor, abandoned or orphaned children. In a terrible way, the center is so well, that you can understand people wanting their children to go there. There is some concern that the very success of the centre means that abandoning a child could turn into a good idea. The staff were certainly aware of the problem and were really thinking about how they proceed.
There is talk that there are organisations that "rescue" children when they would be much better to resource and support the families. There are terrible stories of abuse and neglect, so the impulse to run in and grab a child can be strong. Unfortunately, this leaves the perpetrator and the problem behind in the village. Possibly at times, there is no other way, but when you think about Australia's history of "rescuing/stealing" children and the arguments put forward you can imagine some of the complexities.
There is now such a thing as "orphanage tourism". Lots of people like me come to Cambodia and go on tours dropping off gifts. Unfortunately, they all go to the same orphanages; and there are organised groups of tourists doing the rounds, but always of the same orphanages.
The white slave trade is alive and well it seems. A trap was laid, I was lured in, I was kidnapped and drugged by a large gang of Cambodians. I talked my way out of it.
Okay, you know me well enough to know that while my initial claim is not a lie, it is not the real picture.
A trap was laid: A brand new service station opened up next to my hotel AND it has a cappuccino machine.
I was lured in: There was no one at the cashier's desk, and no one to be seen, but a great deal of noise coming from out the back.
I was kidnapped: All the friends, family and associates of the owner of the petrol station were having a party. They were sitting on bamboo mats on the concrete floor of the car wash out the back. Food and drink was spread out, everyone was happy. As soon as they saw me with my Diet Coke and 70 cents in hand they surrounded me. A special place on the ground was made for me, a place was cleared and food was served. I was gently but firmly guided to my spot and told I was their special guest. They would be terribly offended if I did not eat and drink. Most spoke really good English. A whole bunch of them work at the ANZ bank. The were all bright, educated, funny, sophisticated and charming.
and drugged: They insisted that I drink a beer.
I talked my way out of it: We laughed and joked, the young women made fun of the young men, we played guessing games. They they told me all sorts of interesting things about their lives, Cambodia and what they think of current issues. They seemed much more switched on than the teachers I am working with. They probably earn four times as much as well. Teachers get such low wages that they just cannot attract many clever people into the profession. I was not allowed to go til the party was over. It was the best experience of kidnapping that I have ever had.
Now for the explanation. In Cambodia, it is really important to try to get a white foreigner to come to a party. You do not have to know them, you just want them to come. This is true of weddings and funerals especially, but also of all parties. So, I was the first white foreigner who staggered in and my presence raised the status of the event. (Usually it is the other way around.)
"Hope for Children Centre"
There is a wonderful orphanage in Battambang. It is called the "Hope for Children Centre". It is secure, neat, tidy, clean, well organised, and above board. They have great teachers and a brilliant 26 year old female Cambodian woman running the place. It has the best library in the city and a great variety of toys. They take kids with aids, disabilities, and TB. (Apparently other orphanages in Battambang do not and possibly cannot do this.) But there are a couple of problems. First, it is entirely funded by Australia through AusAid. Second, there are impoverished, desperate children everywhere, and the centre had a limited number of beds. The organisation is well known, so they get a great many donations (which they need) meanwhile other desperate children get very little or nothing. It is a model organisation, but unsustainable and not reproducible.
Here are the bits that you might not want to think about.
The centre is so well resourced and well run, that desperate people may be tempted to drop their children off at the centre. It may well be in the child's best interest to just leave it at the centre whether there are parents or not. The director said that she was trying to set up a program where children could stay in their village, with their community, perhaps cared for by a relative. The are trying to find a way to support extended families who are trying to take care of desperately poor, abandoned or orphaned children. In a terrible way, the center is so well, that you can understand people wanting their children to go there. There is some concern that the very success of the centre means that abandoning a child could turn into a good idea. The staff were certainly aware of the problem and were really thinking about how they proceed.
There is talk that there are organisations that "rescue" children when they would be much better to resource and support the families. There are terrible stories of abuse and neglect, so the impulse to run in and grab a child can be strong. Unfortunately, this leaves the perpetrator and the problem behind in the village. Possibly at times, there is no other way, but when you think about Australia's history of "rescuing/stealing" children and the arguments put forward you can imagine some of the complexities.
There is now such a thing as "orphanage tourism". Lots of people like me come to Cambodia and go on tours dropping off gifts. Unfortunately, they all go to the same orphanages; and there are organised groups of tourists doing the rounds, but always of the same orphanages.
Flip the Coin
Our little slice
The Cambodians we are working with, who hopefully will run the program next year are a mixed bunch. One jumps into new things quickly and is keen to try new ideas, another needs a bit of a push, the third has gone elsewhere; who knows where. We are mentoring them, they are implementing. Every day they pick up an idea and try it the next day. Invariably, their implementation is better than ours, but they do need us for the ideas. We are stuck on the question of whether any of this makes any difference, whether it is passed on, whether we are just building a culture of dependence. It is fingers crossed.
Cambodia has a few national talents. It seems everyone in Cambodia can do these three things: memorising, drawing and singing. These are not things that the are a little bit good at. These are talents far beyond what you would think humanly possible. They give word perfect oral presentations without notes, they recall all the details of every text ( they do not necessarily process the meaning, but they have it word perfect) and the most gorgeous illustrations I have ever seen. Not some Cambodians: ALL Cambodians.
Cambodian poetry is ALWAYS sung or chanted standing up, sometimes as a chorus. Gen and I have been encouraging them. It is the most beautiful thing. Some songs are stirring, most are soothing. I fall into a rapture when they do it. We keep asking for more.
The flip side
In a rural school, the teacher might not show up or might come late. same for the kids. Can you blame them? There are no resources, no pens, paper or floor, sometimes no walls, certainly very few if any books, only a little chalk and an old blackboard, perhaps desks, no electricity, no outside source of knowledge except some families might have a television or radio, almost no support, hole in the ground for a toilet, no art materials, no parents who are literate; just teachers who are as broke and poor as the students. Few people from charity groups go out to the rural schools because it is just so hard, and the rural schools do not want people coming to gawk unless they are going to help.
Just when you thought things could not get worse, we were told today about the conditions of the hospitals. Burned babies left screaming and untreated because no one could pay the doctor, women dying in childbirth is common, the conditions are just so sad.
The Cambodians we are working with, who hopefully will run the program next year are a mixed bunch. One jumps into new things quickly and is keen to try new ideas, another needs a bit of a push, the third has gone elsewhere; who knows where. We are mentoring them, they are implementing. Every day they pick up an idea and try it the next day. Invariably, their implementation is better than ours, but they do need us for the ideas. We are stuck on the question of whether any of this makes any difference, whether it is passed on, whether we are just building a culture of dependence. It is fingers crossed.
Cambodia has a few national talents. It seems everyone in Cambodia can do these three things: memorising, drawing and singing. These are not things that the are a little bit good at. These are talents far beyond what you would think humanly possible. They give word perfect oral presentations without notes, they recall all the details of every text ( they do not necessarily process the meaning, but they have it word perfect) and the most gorgeous illustrations I have ever seen. Not some Cambodians: ALL Cambodians.
Cambodian poetry is ALWAYS sung or chanted standing up, sometimes as a chorus. Gen and I have been encouraging them. It is the most beautiful thing. Some songs are stirring, most are soothing. I fall into a rapture when they do it. We keep asking for more.
The flip side
In a rural school, the teacher might not show up or might come late. same for the kids. Can you blame them? There are no resources, no pens, paper or floor, sometimes no walls, certainly very few if any books, only a little chalk and an old blackboard, perhaps desks, no electricity, no outside source of knowledge except some families might have a television or radio, almost no support, hole in the ground for a toilet, no art materials, no parents who are literate; just teachers who are as broke and poor as the students. Few people from charity groups go out to the rural schools because it is just so hard, and the rural schools do not want people coming to gawk unless they are going to help.
Just when you thought things could not get worse, we were told today about the conditions of the hospitals. Burned babies left screaming and untreated because no one could pay the doctor, women dying in childbirth is common, the conditions are just so sad.
Tuesday, January 11, 2011
What a pity!
There are many reasons not to go to school.
- You are sick in the stomach due to chronic infection caused by dirty water.
- You simply cannot get there; the person who usually dinks you on their bike has not ridden by to pick you up.
- The family income of $35 per month has run out.
- You have your period and there is one toilet for girls and one for boys in a school of 700 students.
- You are too hungry.
- You do not have any pens or paper, so there is no point.
- You are the only person available to look after the young children and babies of the extended family.
- You are bruised from the bashing and sexual abuse that you are subject to.
- You have to stay home to help with the rice harvest or you and your family will not eat.
What a pity you are the teacher!
Don't comfort yourself by thinking that I made up any of those reasons above. Every one of the reasons is based on a real incident, and, sorry folks, none of this in uncommon. Of course there are other stories, better stories. I have told some of them and I will tell more of them. But you can't just pick the things that you want to know.
Granted, the comforts of my hotel are obscene and the obscenity is compounded by the fact that I am in one of the world's poorest countries. My rationale is that I just can't function for three weeks without a comfortable bed and the secure knowledge that I will not fall down the stairs. Today in the late afternoon, a whole heap of us absolutely hit the wall of exhaustion. We were reeling with tiredness, and pretty useless to anyone. The pity is that many Cambodians will experience exhaustion; few Cambodians will ever know a soft pillow.Monday, January 10, 2011
Digesting the information
If you happen to be in Battambang, and you are trying to visit me at the Stung Sanke Hotel, I may not be in my room, then, you can should look for me by the pool. Genevieve's various ailments of middle age go unnoticed and unremarked upon Australia. Likewise, the things that ail me are entirely pedestrian when in the comfort of my own home. But in a third world country, everything gets hard.Walking: uneven roads, few footpaths make tripping a problem
Shopping: the stifling heat and lack of oxygen at the markets makes concentration on the exchange rate impossible
Breathing: the heat, the humidity and most of all the dust make this a challenge
The stairs: one cafe has ladders on a slight incline, it is a nightmare all the time
Sleeping: the chanting/music starts at about 4 am (I think we are near a crematorium)
Resting: Asian mattresses are not for those who have even slight arthritis or osteoporosis
Crossing the street: the advice is walk straight across do not stop or zig zag, let the traffic go around you
Ordering food: On the menu today "Khmer Soup" was listed four times. The Khmer writing for each one was different, so clearly they were different soups, but there was only one English translation. Fun huh?'
The digestive system: well, you probably don't want to know. Suffice to say that hardly a conversation in our group goes by without the internal machinations of the body being raised as a topic for discussion.
Of course, all these things are part of the fun and we are all loving the place, it is just that we are pretty determined that things should not end in tears.
I am teaching, but are they learning?
Our class of teachers is coming alive and our Cambodian teacher/leaders are really useful. We are putting them to the test, and they are doing very well. It is possible that they have learned one or two useful things.
I am teaching, they are learning!
If you come to Battambang in the future, you will find a great statue erected in my honour. This will surely happen because of the great contribution I have made to this country. With the wonderful assistance of my new Cambodian pal Colap, we have managed to teach a Cambodian cafe owner how to make iced coffee. I supplied the recipe, Colap translated and explained. The cafe owner sent staff running to buy the ingredients. I bet you think this sounds easy but think again.
"Expresso" has little meaning so it had to be "strong coffee"
"Vanilla" has no translation so it had to be "white" or "plain" ice cream
"Vanilla" has no translation so it had to be "white" or "plain" ice cream
"Milk" means that strange powdered stuff they give you in hotels to add to your tea, so it had to be clear that it was "fresh milk" (which turned out to be UHT milk.)
"Ice" means shaved ice, so it had to be "ice cubes"
The type of glass was an issue, the straw AND long teaspoon were brought.
The communication of proportions was hilarious, we got stuck here until Colap started asking me for percentages.
So, 25% strong sweet coffee, 50% fresh milk, 25% plain ice-cream and a few ice-cubes, served in a tall glass with a straw and a long teaspoon. The end result was a very big tray with each of the items laid out. The little buddy cup of ice-cream was especially cute. I showed him how to put it together and hey presto.
Only later did I discover that Colap had done all the translating and instructing without ever having had or even seen an iced coffee. She declared it her new favourite drink. The cafe owner says that he will put it on the menu.
Sunday, January 9, 2011
Climbing Cambodia
We are still in Battambang, but if you want to drop by for a drink, we have moved hotels. We are now staying at the Stung Sangke Hotel which is good because both Genevieve and I have been stung. Me on the foot, and Gen on the face by some nasty little insect. The bite hurts and swells a little, then seems to sort itself out. Perhaps tomorrow we will wake with great sores, but for now we are fine.We now have a pool, a gym and most important of all an elevator. The exercise of ascending five flights of stairs at the last hotel was doing us good, but the stairs were uneven and winding. The hand rail simply did not work as a means of support and many of us had taken to coming down one step at a time. I am certain that the image of a bunch of middle aged women carrying all sorts of bags and boxes containing teaching materials up and down the stairs made a great image. Indeed our mission of providing entertainment for the locals has well and truly been fulfilled. Most of us had taken to coming down very slowly, one step at a time. We look really stupid but all of us fear coming down the stairs the fast way.
Today was a big trip out to a small ruin from ancient times, a visit to Cambodia's first and only winery, and a visit to see a few bats. The temple ruins were lovely once you reached the top of the mountain. There are hundreds of steps. Tiny Cambodian people make a living by walking along with you and fanning you as you walk. Genevieve was most ably assisted by a girl who claimed to be nine but looked like she was 5. She fanned, carried the water bottle and then, to top it all off massaged Genevieve's legs each time she stopped to catch her breath. She was like a miniature sherpa. There was little more the poor girl could do short of giving Gen a piggy back. I dismissed all offers of assistance because they just made me nervous.
The wine was absolutely awful, sort of like honey made from petrochemicals mixed with cordial and a few grapes. I suppose you have to start somewhere with a new industry, but this was just terrible. The bats might have been interesting if you have not seen bats before. The people living in dust and piles of rubbish upset me, but that is Cambodia, I suppose. Lunch was overpriced, less than ordinary French food. Dinner was underpriced Cambodian chicken and lemon sour soup. The company of the group is wonderful and we seem to spend a good deal of time belly laughing.
Saturday, January 8, 2011
"Another great day in Cambodia"
Around town
Our new pal Judy finishes everyday by with the declaration that we have just enjoyed "Another great day in Cambodia." We have not had a bad meal or a negative encounter. Cambodia is yet to get on top of the tourist thing, so there are few people hassling for money, no one following you or pawing at you to sell you something, people give you the correct change and tell you when you have offered them too much money, the streets are safe, the town is quiet. The price of an unrefined tourist economy is that it is hard to get a coffee and the expectation is that we have three hours for lunch, this means mind-bendingly slow service.
If you came to Battambang as a tourist, I imagine that you would be here for a day or two and then leave feeling that it has little to offer. Because we have a mission, we are really happy here. A few things about Battambang that I will not take on are: the piles of raw meat sitting on slabs at the market in the heat of the day, the numerous stalls selling roasted song birds and the fact that women mainly ride side-saddle when they are passengers on a motor bike.
Around the teachers' college
Our three trainees, who hopefully will do our job next year, are just swell. The scally-wag has proved himself a talented orator and natural communicator. We are giving them ideas for the lessons, they are delivering much of the content. We then sum up the teaching idea and they discuss how it could be implemented. This means that the damage from the long list of possible mistakes that we could make is minimised. And, yes, for the smart alecs out there, we have ticked off the full list of possible errors. (See back to January 4.) What our Cambodian teacher trainers are doing is letting us know what mistake we are making when. Adjusting on the spot is hard, usually I think that we just shift to a different mistake, but I think we are getting there.
Everything is NOT okay. Do not do this in Cambodia.
The unknown unknowns. Today I made a mistake that was not even on the list of possible mistakes. I said that one person had done good work and made the hand gesture for okay. It quickly became apparent that this hand gesture does not mean "okay" in Cambodia. In fact, it has quite another connotation. I over-acted great horror and embarrassment when I realised and apologised profusely. Possibly, by the end of the progam, I will have some idea what I am doing. That, of course remains to be seen. One of the lovely ladies, Sue, who has been coming here for more than four years says that she feels that she has less idea every year. The known unknowns.
Here are a few random facts about literacy teaching in Cambodia.
Our new pal Judy finishes everyday by with the declaration that we have just enjoyed "Another great day in Cambodia." We have not had a bad meal or a negative encounter. Cambodia is yet to get on top of the tourist thing, so there are few people hassling for money, no one following you or pawing at you to sell you something, people give you the correct change and tell you when you have offered them too much money, the streets are safe, the town is quiet. The price of an unrefined tourist economy is that it is hard to get a coffee and the expectation is that we have three hours for lunch, this means mind-bendingly slow service.
If you came to Battambang as a tourist, I imagine that you would be here for a day or two and then leave feeling that it has little to offer. Because we have a mission, we are really happy here. A few things about Battambang that I will not take on are: the piles of raw meat sitting on slabs at the market in the heat of the day, the numerous stalls selling roasted song birds and the fact that women mainly ride side-saddle when they are passengers on a motor bike.
Around the teachers' college
Our three trainees, who hopefully will do our job next year, are just swell. The scally-wag has proved himself a talented orator and natural communicator. We are giving them ideas for the lessons, they are delivering much of the content. We then sum up the teaching idea and they discuss how it could be implemented. This means that the damage from the long list of possible mistakes that we could make is minimised. And, yes, for the smart alecs out there, we have ticked off the full list of possible errors. (See back to January 4.) What our Cambodian teacher trainers are doing is letting us know what mistake we are making when. Adjusting on the spot is hard, usually I think that we just shift to a different mistake, but I think we are getting there.
Everything is NOT okay. Do not do this in Cambodia.
The unknown unknowns. Today I made a mistake that was not even on the list of possible mistakes. I said that one person had done good work and made the hand gesture for okay. It quickly became apparent that this hand gesture does not mean "okay" in Cambodia. In fact, it has quite another connotation. I over-acted great horror and embarrassment when I realised and apologised profusely. Possibly, by the end of the progam, I will have some idea what I am doing. That, of course remains to be seen. One of the lovely ladies, Sue, who has been coming here for more than four years says that she feels that she has less idea every year. The known unknowns.Here are a few random facts about literacy teaching in Cambodia.
- Our class of experienced teachers worked all morning on one very short text about koalas taken from the grade 3 NAPLAN test. They thought it was appropriate for Year 7.
- They do not know what a paragraph is. The idea of paragraphs is not introduced at all til Year 11/12. The teachers in our class are middle years, so this is beyond them. (Still they have asked for us to explain this new idea more at a later date.)
- Weirdly and inexplicably, they are very good at oral presentations, even though they have NEVER done one or seen one as it is not part of the Cambodian curriculum.
- They can generate a lot of facts about Cambodia, but know precious little about the world.
- There is one book for each year level. But there is often only a teacher copy of the book and no copies for students.
- The teachers do not prepare materials for teaching, they open the book, do the task, deliver the questions and correct errors.
We have much to process. I am really pleased to be absorbed in this.
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