The Missing Suitcase and Other Stories: Week One

I'd forgotten how much I love Cambodia until my plane touched down, until I arrived at the boat 14 hours after that, until the first day of clinic when the Khmer patients flooded into the ship and I got to see their smiles again. Now, being back in Cambodia for just over a week, it feels almost as though I had never left. I have found my rhythms with the clinic, with my research, with the crew, with the country. I have three regular crew members to whom I teach English, and I inherit two more for the week next week. I had forgotten how much I love to teach English as well--forgotten the excitement of watching my students understand what a word or concept means, their smile when they get a pronunciation exactly right (believe me, there are words in English that are incredibly difficult for the Khmer to say, and Khmer sounds that it's hard for an English speaker to make), how proud I am of them when I know how much they want to practice. The entire crew is motivated to learn and practice English--it is fun for me, because I have the opportunity then to talk to all of them and learn their stories and learn about Cambodia--for instance, one was telling me how he started learning English under a porch because learning other languages was forbidden in his village until the 1990s.

I love the Khmer people because though I cannot understand them, they strike me as incredibly kind. The landowner of the area where we parked our ship last week, a man of about 75 with a single tooth whose smile just lit up his face, brought us fruit every day--sapodilla, bananas, jackfruit (which has an interesting sweet flavor), Khmer sweets made with banana and rice and wrapped in a banana leaf. It is the only place I have been where people tell me my large, French-Canadian nose is beautiful. I love how they try hard to talk to me and I try hard to understand, but how one woman will indicate a chair and tell me to sit without words, or how they will take my hand. I can put my palms together and thank them, I can tell them to go upstairs to get their blood pressure taken, I can tell them how old I am but do precious little else save for smile and simply be present. For as much as I wish I could do more, it might be enough.

I am doing my research too, learning much about the lack of care women have during their pregnancies. I look forward to doing more interviews. I was greeted this morning by the ship's pharmacist asking if I would like to meet the woman in charge of the health center for this village--of course, I said yes. Before breakfast, I took a moto ride with another crew member translator to the health center, learned about her work, and saw a delivery room from ages past, dusty, dark, warm. This is where women who come to the health center here to give birth will stay. If there are any complications--eclampsia, breach, bleeding--the woman must go to Phnom Penh, if they can make the multiple hour journey in their fragile state. Much work remains to be done in this world, for sure.

While I waited for my translator this morning, six little girls with dirt-streaked faces and shy smiles clustered around--close enough, but not too close. A 16-year-old who spoke some English asked me my name and if I had a boyfriend (many tell me I should find a Khmer man!). Last night while talking to a few of the crew, a little girl in the cluster of 7 who were standing in the weeds watching the barang, the foreigner, called out I love you and hid behind her friend, giggling. I love this country.

And if you were wondering about the title of the post, I did have a missing suitcase--it was gate-checked in Newark and didn't make it to Phnom Penh until Tuesday, to the ship on Wednesday, just as I had finished my last pair of scrubs in my other bag. Perfect timing :) Every day is an adventure and may it continue to be so. Blessings to you all.