notes from surrealism...walk around Prague (original 27 April)

look up
avoid preggers
explore the depths
follow blondie
over cracks
twisting
smoldering
reaching
jump higher
over smokestacks
look down
sneeze ancestry
extinguish chambers
annihilate history
bricked over
cracked passageways
crumbling
whispering
stalking

(return home now)

history seeps the cracked earth (original 27 May)

Sometimes when I visit the villages my thoughts revert back to the early history of America and more often they are filled with times of the Khmer Rouge. I'll see a white-haired man or woman staring at me and instantly imagine their shock being in my presence during the ordeal. Somehow making it past "Chlops" in the forest and pirates on the rivers to experience their turmoil as well. This happens especially when I see a delapitated building that is somehow still occupied by human beings and their animals, or when the very disadvantaged are spotted. Sometimes it just happens and others I consciously place the current scene in various past times. This may sound crazy to you and it is a bit however; with my head full of stories and facts from past catasrophes I can't help but let my thoughts relate the present to what I know from books. For instance, in this one village the feeling stuck with me during the Moto ride back as it was so "out-dated" at least in the States, but Cambodia is similar to just after the Revolution War period as there are modern "comforts" but things are still stabilizing politically and economically.

James and I visited a Tampuen village that stretched into Government land that was currently not in use. We were told that some of the people now living on this land had lost their own land when the Khmer Rouge were here and others mistakenly sold too much at the first sight of money from city-dwellers. Now they all work on nearby plantations and live on the government land. One of these houses appeared to be more professional than the others and James decided it was the Office building for the plantations. After speaking with nearly every house in the village though, we were curious to know what was down the hill in this more stable structure. A young girl told us that a blind woman lived in the old-office with her two sons, although she was not married. Men had raped her multiple times and so she has two children now. After the first child though, her younger sister's husband died and now she took care of the children and elder sister.

We quickly scrambled down the hill to discover her situation and James carefully knocked before pushing open the door slightly. It seemed to open for us, as the blind woman was opening it while croutched on the floor. One child had tear streaked eyes and couldn't stop staring at me so, I began making interesting hand gestures learned in Elementary School. James spoke with the younger sister who was cooking and trying to keep the younger child still. The floor had more than a layer of dirt that was covering the younger child and blind woman who seemed to move in a frog position around the small room. She had a "kroma" wrapped around her waist but nothing more to shield her skin from the bugs and dirt swirling about as the chidlren ran around the room. As they spoke a little Khmer and no English but mainly Tampuen, James was the only one able to verbally communicate with them. I entertained the children while wondering if the blind woman even knew I was there. I croutched down next to her and debated photographing the entire scene. She looked my direction and seemed to sense someone or thing being present. I shifted my weight as she moved her hands on the door, turning her head towards James. I decided against the photos believing it may have left them feeling embarassed like I was simply a tourist viewing the local attraction.

My thoughts drifted back to the Khmer Rouge communes and this woman barely surviving except for entertaining the young males. Soon I was comparing early America and Europe to current Cambodian villages. I know that England was nearly worse than many "red light" areas of Thailand, Amsterdam, Russia and Viet Nam; also early America was not the sterile, pure image taught so often in the public school system. It was a much harsher climate that only tough women could survive in, or be very protected against the crude men who were mainly drunk most of the day. Anyway, before I begin rambling about the social history of America stemming from the lower class of Europe; I shall conclude on a brighter note.

After returning to Ban Lung, James spread the word of this woman's situation to friends and family while I collected some donations from the few people I know here. He ended up with a large bag of noodles, cans of sardines in tomato sauce, medicines, clothes and some food in the market (all of this was only $8 total). I collected some too and added it to the funds for rices and vegetables James purchased before visiting her again. This is one place I feel very safe but still know thefts are common so, I suggested that he do not let anyone else in the village know about what he is doing on his visit. He hadn't even thought of bringing the things hidden in backpack, since he was so exstatic to help these women and children. He did agree though that they might be stolen or put both women at risks of being harmed by the men, again. I did not accompany him on this second visit, as foreigners are already considered to be very rich and the donations might be viewed as an insulting "hand-out" or re-enforce stereotypes even more.

Well, I am exhausted from teaching in this sweltering heat and must plan a lesson for tomorrow still.

peace and love

Barang (foreinger) at Yaek Laom (original 21 May)

Of course, just when I have a chance to sit and explain a few things from the day the rain begins with a few flashes of lightening. Sorry, I will just leave you with a tidbit that kept crossing my mind a the lake today.

Cambodian buy every product possible to make their skin white whereas Americans purchase whatever they can to become darker. In Cambodia light skin is considered a sign of being elite and not having to toil in the fields. Only farmers have darker skin as they are exposed to the sun daily for long stretches of time. Interesting how they seem to be a bit more blunt with the obvious class difference that America also experiences but becomes flustered with insecurities of revealing too much. What is too much though? When we are all a part of the same society and all take part in creating a culture; wouldn't we rather be honest to change anything we disagreed with? Or shall we just let things stew and appear at awkward moments such as, rubbing on tanning oil on a dock surrounded by Khmer rubbing on whitening powder?

fluid ripples (original 20 May)

calmly sifting

through ideas, plans

minnows drift across my skin

settle on a crease

for a short moment

I begin to sink

immersed in smooth notions

slight kicks disturb the peace

bring air to my lungs

crack the lid

additional comparisons form

Khmer time slips unnoticed

as only a leaf floating down

causing slight ripples

no drastic changes on the surface

tradition goes as before

the depths conceal secret pasts

no need to plunge any further

simply continue living

with a few advances

Western time is meticulously kept

quickly passing one deadline

simultaneously creating another

as if trying to skip a rock

while scanning the beach again

already having pocketed two more

yet this new one might be better

the first is simply tossed in

crashing through layers of algae

confusing the entire ecosystem

but holding the belief

it will all settle better in the end

bright rays disturb my rest

instinctively shock my limbs

as if an alarm clock sounded

toppling me over

like a curved log

splashing

into any tiny creatures below

rushing off

to the next appointment

twenty minutes past

the agreed upon time

keeping with the Khmer system

striped snakes, moon cakes and spider hearts (original 16 May)

I am so sorry for skipping out on updating everyone on the last two days. I did warn everyone that this might happen depending on internet service, power outages and visits to villages. I hadn’t expected things to occur so soon but was excited to get out and about already. NTFP hasn’t been able to meet with me and plan class schedules as they were on holiday most of the week, so I’ve been recuperating from finals.

Wednesday night I visited a literacy class in the O Chum District with a missionary from Chicago and a teacher from Phnom Penh, originally Switzerland, who is debating moving up here. After a quick dinner we rode out to the village over bumpy dirt roads almost as lively as the conversations within the car. Ester, the woman visiting from Phnom Penh, shot off questions nearly quicker then Kreg, the missionary, could respond. I mostly sat and soaked in the stories of Cambodia ten years ago but at times explained the situation further north along the river; at least how it was last time I was here. We reached the village just as the sun had completely disappeared and single bulbs glowed in random huts. A few crowds were gathered around TVs probably watching Thai soup-operas or karaoke. We parked in the center of the village which soon became covered by a herd of cows. There were only two classes because something was wrong with the center classrooms light. After learning more details of the tribe and development work, as well as invading their hushed auras with bright camera flashes. I actually kept mine off because I always feel guilty blinding and shocking their shy stares full of curiosity and enthusiasm. After exploring the vilage by the moon light we wove past the cows and out to the bumpy dirt. We passed by graves and Cashew plantations while discussing the possibility of mixing development work and evangelism which is difficult up here. Most people do one or the other and are warned to remain focused on their specific project. Ester began asking about dangerous wild animals in the area, many of which have retreated to the National Park in the Mountains, but there have been random sitings of Tigers and larger Lizards and Pythons. Just as I finished explaining my problem with snakes Kreg exclaimed we just passed one and asked if we should go back. He had run over it's tail and decided to "finish it off" since it was a striped poisonous type. For some reason we were all silent as he went over it again, slight 'uhs' came out after the pop was heard, yet he still backed over it again. Somehow it kept darting the tire to preserve its head so after one last POP we left it for the villagers. I tried not to think about it while walking through Anne's yard to the front door with a tiny flashlight to light a spot ahead.

Thursday night I went to a youth Bible study at the church in Ban Lung with Anne’s “housekeeper” and previous gardener. They both, Dina and James, attend the church regularly and recently a youth fellowship has begun; tonight there were five not including me. James brought up a few verses and then everyone discussed them. One of the young men translated for me and I sketched an image of my interpretation. Sketches are easier to understand without words and each person can take away their own idea of what the inspiration behind the image is. Although it turned out a bit odd, even for my tastes, they enjoyed how it conveyed the message. For anyone curious, I will post the image and passages relating to it soon. We didn't get back until after ten and were exhausted from a long day in the heat. Time is no issue to people up here which is sometimes wonderful as I don't really understand all the rush back in the states but, often annoying when everyone shows up to me class an hour "late".

Today I finally met with the Director of the Program I will teach at. We discussed my contract and class schedule but decided to wait on planning things until speaking with the students. Tomorrow some might show up for computer lessons before going to Yaek Laom, a larger lake without leeches that Towel has, and swimming with James. I also visited this Vietnamese sweet shop in town for lunch. The owner, Kim, is very talkative but strangely left me alone for a bit when she saw I had a book out. Though after I had been there an hour of sipping tea and eating a moon cake, she sat down by me while preparing jackfruit (tastes like a banana but looks sort of like a durian) for a pastry. We chatted and she invited me to lunch on Sunday to meet her neices who also work at the shop sometimes but have families in Viet Nam.

nearly 24 hours of rain (original 13 May)

Watching the mist settle in the lush foliage surrounding me, my thoughts drift off to rainy days in Seattle. I have found myself comparing the areas quite often and in this case it simply involves rain and the outlook of it from the different cultures. Even the rhythm in which the rain falls seems different here than in Seattle. It varies between a thick and heavy rain that falls fast and hard, to a soft and slow mist that almost just sits in the grey. It has spunk in the way it splats onto thatched roofs whereas Seattle rain seems to hit the cement hyped up on as much caffeine as the population around it. This rain reminds me of Midwest rain and sliding across wide lawns in Southern Minnesota.

The people even react differently to this rain as it seems to be such an integral part of their culture; partially because “the rainy season” makes up half of their year. The farmers rest with the assurance that their crops will not wither in the coming months. The children attempt playing in puddles that happen to sit in the middle of the road, but are quickly dragged away by frustrated mothers. The younger ones take off all their clothes and lay in the muck outside. Others take advantage of the free and CLEAN shower that does not require a small bucket to splash water across ones back.

Many people consider Seattle rain to be quite dreary however; I disagree and love to curl up with a book and coffee on rainy days. Statistics seem to place blame on Seattle’s rain for high suicide rates and many theorists exhaust the lists of effects brought on by this grey weather. Some people believe in Seasonal Depression and purchase UV lights to remain content, even happy sometimes, during the grey stretches of the year. I don’t mean to offend anyone with my musings on this topic but it has been bouncing around my mind all day. I have settled on a few ideas behind Seasonal Depression that are much more complex than simply lacking the sunlight. Some of them warrant further discussion at a later date but until then let your mind wonder and begin its own discussions.

First of all, this modern world has removed people from most cultural and religious traditions and connections between people, their senses, and most natural elements. Sadly this has left many people even more fragile and suspicious of change. This presents an odd paradigm though because a lot of people crave change and intentionally create new experiences, events and tasks in life. Yet at the same time, if an unexpected change occurs they are shocked and lose stability for a few moments. This could be one cause leading into Seasonal Depression; the drastic changes proving no option for human control. Another aspect of this cause could be the lack f stability and control in their daily lives before adding weather to the equation.

Also, the majority of people affected by Seasonal Depression lead semi- to very detached lives. Social involvement increases a person’s dopamine production therefore increasing their potentially happy attitude. When this is not occurring a UV light can provide an extra amount of Vitamin E to boosts their mood and make up for the loss of dopamine. The same situation is possible when a person experiences a lack of Vitamin B-12 in their diet, their mood decreases quickly. If they are exposed to sunlight or electronically created UV rays they can remain stable enough without B-12 until it is available.

One worry brought to mind by this notion of Seasonal Depression is that these people do not understand how to gain a true and constant happiness. They are seeking satisfaction that will only be temporary through false sunlight but, they would not require any UV rays to benefit their mood if they knew the real truth behind happiness. Granted this requires further discussion; since each person holds their own personal truth and must discover what that is.

The modern world has conjured up many replacements for this attainable truth because many lack trust in things that are physically present so it is even harder to open up to an “invisible force”. Many in the modern world dismiss this notion of believing and having faith in something unworldly as lunacy. However, isn’t getting happiness from a lamp just as crazy?