I've got my eye on you.

A few weeks ago I snapped a few pictures of this boy who received a donated shirt. There were many donated items for children and in the mix was a Pike Place Market shirt. I thought this was remarkable because the donation of clothing came from Singapore.

Having worked in a souvenir shop and sold many Seattle shirts, I can state that the shirt was probably made in China or Indonesia, then traveled to Washington State or LA, where it was silk-screened. The shirt was then either picked up by a doting grandmother or the Singaporean family themselves, transported across the Pacific again and worn by a small child exactly twice. Once to impress the doting grandmother and again because all other items of clothing were dirty. The child subsequently grew out of the shirt quickly and thus it came to be donated.

By chance it came to me and I delivered it to a boy with a lazy eye. I snapped the pictures knowing full well that it would be nearly impossible to capture a lazy-eyed boy generously. Little did I know, the boy behind him was also giving me the stink eye. Looking at these pictures three weeks later I could not help but laugh. I post it here in the hopes that you enjoy it too.

Speaking of Seattle, I will be coming back in 5 days, on the 23rd. In true hours, it is closer to six days, but one of those days will be spent on a plane (hopefully in a drunken sleep). I look forward to seeing many.

Clinic pictures

A woman waits expectantly for help for her son.



Children coming to see what all the excitement was about.



Our clinic.



An apple a day (provided by the doctor) is supposed to keep the doctor away, as the saying goes, but I would be happier if it just made them healthier.

Medicine

My hotel ran a clinic last weekend for one of the villages we work in. To say that the hotel ran it doesn't give proper due to the registered nurse, Cindy, we had with us who was really running the show.

My job was getting the supplies ready and preparing the van and the staff to come along. The rest of the staff acted as medical assistants.

On the first, none of us knew what we were doing, but Cindy guided us through. By the second day, everything seemed to run smoothly, although it still took about 10 minutes to see each patient. The department head for housekeeping was there asking questions about symptoms, occurences, and duration, and translating it all from Khmer to English. The department head for spa was taking blood pressures and pulse. Finally, the guest relations officer was filling out prescriptions and explaining dosage. I stood to the side and wrote down notes and vital signs.

It was all quite entertaining and interesting. We didn't see any major medical problems, like gigantic wounds or gashes. A lot of the problems among children seemed to be compounded by poor nutrition and general cleanliness. Many of the older people complained of chronic coughs and fevers that had lasted for many months or even years. These individuals probably had TB and there was really nothing Cindy could do for them on the spot, except to tell them that they need to go to a clinic for testing.

One thing I found particularly interesting was the desire for pills. Patient expected some pills, regardless of what they had. A prescription for more sleep, fluids, and better food just didn't cut it. Eventually, we started doling out multivitamins, because hey, they probably won't do any harm, they could do some good, and they might provide a placebo effect. Sometimes if people believe a treatment will work, that is enough for the treatment to work.

Even though the work we were doing was temporary, there was still great satisfaction. Yesterday, some of the teachers from the village came to the hotel to pick up their salary. They said that everyone was doing much better (with the exception of one lady). That too gave me strong sense of satisfaction.

This was the first time in my life that I have sat on the other side of the doctor's table, to give advice rather than take it. In that power I realized that doctors have an immense potential to give hope and change. In a way, that is the power I hope to wield in the work that I do: the power to provide opportunity and a better future.

The clinic encouraged me to seek out more information about health and well-being. However, I thought to myself that if I had met someone like Cindy earlier in my life, I probably would have been easily spurred to pursue a career in medicine. For now, my knowledge is in economics/development, so I will have use that to the best of my ability.

Short visits

My father came to visit me in Cambodia starting on Sunday afternoon; he left today, mid-day on Wednesday. It was wonderful to have him here, but terribly short. It was the first time he had been outside of North America (i.e the US and Canada) in 35 years. I told him that I was proud of him for traveling outside of the US. He said he was happy to come and that he was proud of me and the work I was doing.

If I were starting international travels, Cambodia would not be the place I would start. Tourism infrastructure is great. My Dad and his friend got to stay at my hotel. We ate somewhat luxurious meals and hired a driver to take us to see the Angkor Temple. The counterpoint to that is Cambodia itself is quite poor. The people have low incomes; general infrastructure like electricity, roads, and water are usually non-exsistent; and for many the prospects for the future are sparse.



If you can get past that, Cambodians will amaze you. They are hard-working people, with seemingly indefagitable spirits. Furthermore, the smiles of old and young alike welcome any foreigner who searches it out.

My father got to see this aspect of Cambodia. I can't say for sure how he would describe the experience, other than to say it was impacting. When we returned to the hotel he described our visit as emotional, which I find meaningful for a man who is usually reserved.

Our first visit took us to Puok district, which is a very poor district in Cambodia. I had not been there before. The school we were visiting was a shock to see. Most schools are solid structures, but this was a shack protected by a few palms. Inside, one hundred and ten children patiently waited for us. They greeted us with loud, cheerful voices that made me feel like an all-star.



Our purpose there was to photograph each of the children for a few former guests who are trying to build a new school. In addition, two of the guest on the trip brought food and some school supplies for each child. The overall mood was joyous, but internally I always realize the limitations of our goodwill. I think that my father also recognized this limitation as well.




There is an incredible amount of work to be done, but limited resources and capacity to accomplish it. Furthermore, the ideals I want to see occur could take years or decades to come to fruition. Coming to this realization is often frustrating.

Likewise, my father's trip was somewhat frustrating. Having him here was wonderful, but it was a heavy reminder of all the people who are not here and that I want to see. A reminder that you cannot be in two places at once; that making a decision to do one thing means the inability to do other things.

On taking my father to the airport and saying goodbye, I felt a bit like crying. I cannot say if I felt that way because he was going or because I was staying. In truth, it does not matter. I am here and I am determined to do as much as I can.

There are a lot of smiles still to see.

Self-fulfilling

I get asked a number of questions repeatedly. I have been asked probably a couple dozen times if "in America, do you eat rice?" To which I reply, "yes, but not everyday or for every meal. Probably once or twice a week." I know why they ask the question. They are amazed that anyone could stop eating rice for many days at a time. Here, rice is a way of life.

Lately, the question I am asked is "Are you unhappy?" This is a strange question, and it puts me off balance. I am also asked "Are you happy when you go to the village?" Both these questions seem to be directed at whether or not I am enjoying myself. However, I am not sure exactly why my staff asks them.

In the US, we usually ask "How are you doing?" To which most people respond "fine." For some reason, the question "Are you happy?" gives me pause. I have to take a moment to reflect on whether I am truly happy or not.

What is odd is that I am exceptionally happy with life in general. There are only a few things which I wish to change (including romantic status). In large, I am immensely satisfied with what I do and where I am. I have a challenging job that allows me creativity and opportunity to explore the idea of improving the lives of others. I gain great satisfaction from my success, and I gain great knowledge from my mistakes and limitations. Furthermore, I enjoy my environment, the people I work with, and the privileges that come with being a somewhat wealthy foreigner.

Still, the question I have been asked is not "Are you happy?" but "Are you unhappy?" This leads me to believe that others think that I am not happy. In turn, I start to believe I may in fact be unhappy.

Like telling people that the economy is in recession, or some minority is bad at math tests, or that some one is ugly, even if these things are not true, people believe them and pretty soon they are true.

To counter this line of questioning, I have to go above saying something like "Yes, I am happy" to say something around the tune of "Actually, I have never been happier working than I am here." I can't say for sure if that is true, but it certainly feels like it. I suppose the most true answer is, I am happy for now, but I cannot say what the future will hold.

Holidays

Today is the Jewish New Year, so to anyone who celebrates: I hope the new year is a sweet and wonderful one for you. On Friday, I got to participate in a sort of Jewish New Year's celebration. There were no prayer books and no one really knew what to say or sing. Our Israeli host said the blessing over wine, we sang a few non-religious songs about peace, ate some apples with honey and other sweet food, and just hung around and talked. Very laid back and altogether a good way to bring in the new year.

Meanwhile, country-wide, the holiday of P'chum Ben day is being celebrated. During this 15-day period of the Khmer lunar calendar, Cambodians go to the pagoda and pray to all the souls and spirits that, due to bad karma, have not been reincarnated and are stuck in limbo/hell. Everyone brings food to the pagoda to feed the spirits. I am not sure if the food pacifies them because they are very hungry or angry. I suppose if you were trapped in hell without any food you'd probably be both.

Cambodians pray that the spirits do not remain in hell and that they do not torment the people still living. Cambodians have a special obligation to their own ancestors, so as a result, they try to go to the pagoda where their ancestors were burned to get a more direct line of communication. If you are a good Cambodian Buddhist, you will travel to many pagodas in the hope of not giving any ancestor the cold shoulder. Since P'chum Ben day happens only once a year, people go to great lengths "to speak with their grandmother."

Once the spirits have had their chance to eat the food, the monks claim the rest. But just like the spirits are unable to finish most of the food, the monk pass most of the food along as well. So after you contribute some food, the monks usually invite you to stay and have something to eat. It's not necessarily the food you brought, but in the big Karmic wheel, everyone gets to eat.

Being so far away from home, I have the tendency to simplify holidays to their basic form. Most holidays can be described in the following way: The past is important; your ancestors are important; so let us gather together and celebrate the present; let's toast to the future; everybody grab something to eat. (Except Halloween, which goes straight to the last part.)

I wish I could celebrate the New Year or P'chum Ben day with all my friends and family. Best wishes to all and happy holidays.

"What am I doing in Cambodia?" or "What I am doing in Cambodia."

To the few readers of this blog. I am no longer in Thailand, but Cambodia. I have been here for one month, working at a hotel named Shinta Mani. My job here is Director of Community-based Activities. At the moment, I am trying to compose a newsletter to send to all the past donors of the projects. Here is one of the articles that I completed. I hope that it explains some of the things I do.

"Driving along the road to Angkor Wat, I am riding in a van with some important people, including the owner of Shinta Mani hotel and a few potential investors. In the van behind us there are more important people, including the managing director and general manager of Shinta Mani. These people have importance, because two days prior to this ride I was hired as the Director of Community-based Activities for Shinta Mani. These higher-ups are the ones that make my job and these programs possible.

This is my first visit to the village and in a short amount of time I am expected to be an authority on everything related to our village and school programs. For now, I am simply in awe of the sights around me.

A paved road past Angkor Wat and the Bayon, leads to a dirt road proclaiming to be the entrance to Angkor Thom district. I am told that a joint-venture with a Japanese group expanded and reformed the road. However, huge divots in the road lead me to disbelief. Our driver deftly steers to avoid the obstacles. Thirty minutes later, he performs another deft feat by crossing a weak wooden bridge only a few centimeters wider than our van.

Across the bridge, we are led to an area full of brush. Here, land is cheaper and families came out in search of new places to start farms and homes. The family we visited had purchased the land 14 months ago. On a plot of land of 40 by 40 meters, the family began by planting a few items for subsistence consumption.

Their reputation as hard-working family was already recognized by their community. As a result, in January of this year, the family was approached by Shinta Mani to be recipients of a water-well. In the time since, the family has capitalized on their new resource by planting long beans, winter melon, and cucumbers from seeds provided with their well. The family continued to expand into sugar cane, a crop that requires regular watering, but yields about $0.15 per stem. This year they were able to make about $150 dollars from their harvest. Even more farsighted, the family has planted trees for custard apples, mangoes, and jackfruit, some of which do not bear fruit for four years.




The family was encouraged with donations of school supplies for their three children, as well as a bicycle to ensure that they could get to and from school. In addition, the bicycle allows the family to reach markets to sell some of their crops. After 7 months of hard work, this family became the 69th to receive a house from a Shinta Mani donor. When I visited with the higher-ups, only the foundation had been laid.

Within three weeks, the house was near completion. Finishing touches were added to the toilet and septic systems adjoined to the outside of the house. The family is very excited to be moving into their new home.

On a recent visit to the family, I asked how Shinta Mani had changed their lives. The father, Hai Lai, remarked that, “when I got the well, I knew I could make the family better. Now, I can make a big farm for my family.” With the farm performing well, Hai Lai looks to the future. He says that he does not want to stop farming, but he would like to own a business as well and start selling items in the market. Looking across the faces of his children, Hai Lai states, ‘we have, but not enough.”

Driving back to the hotel, on that first village visit, I could tell that the investors and owners were impressed with the programs. I too was impressed. A few donations had enabled a family to grow to a standard of living they thought was impossible 15 months earlier. Hai Lai’s story is not one often seen or heard by the average visitor to Cambodia, nor is it a story usually made possible through donations from an unimposing 18-room hotel."

Feel free to make comments about the lack of grammar or flow.