Flipping In Poop

RUN, JUMP, FLIP, DISMOUNT!… into a perfect pile of softness. Maybe it wasn’t exactly the way my coach taught me, but hey I’m in Cambodia, what do you expect?
   Our first day to our new Village home we were welcomed by hard pounding rain and kids full of energy eager to play. When we had first gotten to the village many of the children seemed scared of us. When we would try to hold one of them, they would shy away. A few hours later, I was making the journey out to the children in the swimming pool (Also known as the cow pasture) and began getting a full body skin treatment. 
   The second I stepped into that water I felt slimy muckiness under my feet. At that moment I knew exactly what I was about to play in, and I had to make a choice- “Am I going to make a bridge between myself and these precious children?” or “Am I going to save my feet from cow poop?” The decision was made for me as one of the village boys slid, splashing mud and water from my toes to my head. The majority of the team joined in, and we made an instant bond with those kids. For about an hour or so, we practiced mud sliding for our future fame in Baseball. We practiced our karate techniques as we kicked water at each other. With all that it was a given that we would practice our flipping as well. In the pouring rain, as we were slip’n’sliding in the mudpoop of Cambodia, our hearts began to melt for the adventures that were about to begin.
   This decision to jump out in the mudpoop and get messy, got me thinking about my willingness to jump into this next month. Last month we were in Vietnam- indoor AC, Internet at my fingertips, cleaniness, and local American food. I was almost home last month. This month, however, I am very far away from my old American home. It was somewhat of a shock to be ripped away from all that again into a village home way out in the country where I have one fan at night, no running water, and only fruit to represent America. I knew at the instant of the poop flip that this month was going to be a fantastic month, even if it did mean getting a little messy.
  
 
    A few days later, the adventures of Rambo began! It was just like a Rambo movie. As the rain began to pour, I was pounding on our door pleading for one of my team mates to let me in. I could see the enemy approaching as as small children with with mud for bullets began surrounding me. My pleas got louder, but to no avail. Dun…dun…dun…. All fire broke lose, and it was time to get my rambo on! The mission was to be the cleanest and to throw the most mud. Girls versus boys with mounds of dirt as protection. I quickly learned that my training was not sufficient, as my aim was terribly bad, and I was an easy target. There are certain things that all girls have a common code in, even when they don’t speak the same language. Two little girls and I were planning our next mission attack as three little boys came running over to me. The girls began to laugh as I received fire in the back of my head an in my ear, but when I received fire to the face all laughter quickly became astonishment. There was no turning back now, the boys stirred something up in the hearts of the girls. It was time for a counter attack! After our time of play, the children began to shout RAMBO as we victoriously marched for a picture.