A Cambodian take on accident prevention
Over the course of four weeks, four students at school were seriously injured, and tragically, one was killed. As you might suspect, rules regarding safety are enforced sporadically if they exist at all. Normally, we just joke about it, but sometimes the consequences are more serious. All the accidents but one involved careless driving. And the one exception was a girl who was refilling a gas canister (something prohibited by US law due to high risk of explosion). The thing is, there are some regulations here. There is even one speed limit sign in my town. But the only consequence of breaking the law is a fine. Which is handed to the cop right then so no need to mess with pesky paperwork and judges. The downside of basically bribing the police to let you off is that the police only work when they run out of beer and need money to buy more. So as long as you have enough money or the police are sufficiently inebriated you’re good. Until you crash because you see no good reason to drive at a safe speed.
But what is the response to this situation? More safety training? A call for better police enforcement? Nope. We will offer rice to monks. Clearly the problem is that God is mad at the school. So by offering food to the monks, we receive their blessing (they douse us with water) and all is good. This ceremony is called a flower ceremony, Each grade level made a tree out of gold or silver foil and hung money (flowers) from the branches. Then they took the trees for a walk around the school. Then they gave food to the monks. While I myself don’t think that this was the appropriate response to the situation (but who am I to judge, traffic accidents are the leading cause of teen death in the states, so we’re not doing much better), I have to admit the ceremony itself was a really fun day. Each grade took their picture with a money tree, and most asked me to be in the picture too. So then each student wanted an individual picture with me. And then one of them gave me a red scarf she had made in home ec class. The scarf is actually quite warm, which will be fantastic when I get home, but on 95 degree day it did feel like a bit much. I was already wearing the diamond bow-tie earrings that another grade had given me so I was looking quite stylish if I do say so myself.
Another exciting school related function was the soccer/volleyball tournament. It happened this past week in the provincial town. We played schools from all over the province. The students played surprisingly well, especially the volleyball team. They finished first in the province, the soccer team finished third. I was glad I was there, as I got to remind the other teachers to encourage the students and not be such jerks. It was a little ridiculous. Our soccer team played a team that had been practicing since the start of the school year. Here’s the thing, in Cambodia, practice happens during class hours, so the players don’t attend class. At all. Our team has only been practicing for three or four weeks. So their players may be better, but ours are smarter. It was fun to see them play, and the students were all very excited that I came. Whenever someone was like “What’s with the foreigner?” They’d be like “She’s our teacher!” I felt loved. The funniest part was when the soccer boys stole the first place trophy from the volleyball team so they could have their picture taken with it. They were so excited. Both teams climbed into the truck and cheered the whole way home. Whenever they saw people on the road they would beat the drum (a bucket) and start hollering to the rather surprised passers-by. And then there was no school on Saturday. So everyone was happy. Semester exams are about to start. Ironically this means students stop coming to school as they know they can learn more on their own than from class. So life pretty much stops for the students until after testing.
In other news, a word about foreigners. Being a foreigner myself has given me an entirely different perspective on what it means to uproot your entire life and move to another country. I have an excellent community that has taken me in, but if I didn’t have that small town atmosphere, the sense of isolation would be overwhelming. So I encourage you, whenever you meet foreigners, be as nice to them as you can. Because nothing makes you feel worse than when people treat you like dirt just because you can’t understand what they’re saying. I chose to live in foreign country for two years, and could honestly go back home whenever I choose. But many people who immigrate to the states left their old lives behind permanently, they can never go back. And now they’re in a place surrounded by things they don’t understand. So go easy on them, because this is tough. And for those of you who think that people who live here should learn English, please try to learn a foreign language yourself first. I’m not trying to be ugly, but it’s way harder than it looks. I totally think that people who live here should try to learn. But after two month of intense language study and a year and half of immersion, I am still not fluent in Khmer, a language that is ten times easier than English. So when people speak to you in broken English, appreciate the fact that they are trying. And when they don’t understand what you’re saying, be patient. While I know my readers already know these things, it never hurts to have a reminder. Being a foreigner is one of the toughest things I’ve ever done. Because people treat you differently, and even though the people here think of me as a part of the community, I’m still not Cambodian and I never will be. And strangers either treat me either like royalty or like an animal. Hard to say which is more annoying. So life is hard for foreigners. Show ‘em some love.
That isn’t to say that being a foreigner is all bad. In many ways I can do whatever I want because people will just assume it’s an American custom. I can say whatever pops into my head because no one knows what I’m saying. I’m sure there are many habits that will need to be broken upon my return to the States. Like if I’m supposed to work at 7 then I should probably get up before 7. Here, no worries. 7:00 class doesn’t start til 7:15. What I really like is when I show up really late, but turns out I’m not late enough. I went to school at six thirty the other morning so I could ride the truck to the provincial town with the soccer players. I was half an hour late. Clearly I was confused. Should have been an hour and a half late like everyone else. And I probably should wear clothing other than my pajamas in public. And should probably not say whatever pops into my head. So if you see me when I first get back I say something very rude, I apologize in advance. My last word – Geaux Saints! Much love to all the Saints fans and if you are not one than you should be.
Love and miss you all
Brittany