Some basics for those of you just now dropping in: My sister and I are on an 11-month Christian mission trip to 11 different countries across 4 continents. We’re headed to: Argentina, Bolivia, Paraguay, Chile, Uganda, Ethiopia, Rwanda, Serbia, Bulgaria, Romania, Cambodia, and Thailand. The work will range from country to country in partnership with established ministries in each area.
It’s month 4. My team is in Kampong Chhnang, Cambodia.
We’re teaching English at a primary school.
Our host here in Cambodia is named Prach (pronounced prack). On the taxi ride into his city he said that we would be staying in his tree house.* “It is not a tree house,” he said. “But it is made of trees.” Then he laughed and laughed at his joke.
The most important thing about Prach is his laugh. Giggle is actually a better word for it. The first time we heard it we were definitely taken aback. The laugh stands in direct opposition to his time-worn face and steady gaze. But it’s a pretty accurate portrayal of his heart- young and energetic and pretty dang silly.
The most important thing to Prach is his tuk tuk. He cares for it with all the enthusiasm a middle aged American business man might bestow onto a ‘57 Chevy Bel Air.** The tuk tuk is shiny and red and has only broken down once while we were on it. Pushing it home wasn’t that hard and then Prach had an excuse to take off nuts and tighten bolts and shine things. He probably would have done that anyway.
The tuk tuk rides may be my favorite parts of our days. We ride to and from the school twice a day, so four tuk tuk rides if you’re counting. We pass rice fields with palm trees and distant mountains. Because it’s dry season and the fields aren’t producing all of the village cows are allowed to graze in the fields. Our family cow, In Christ, is released every morning. He walks alone down the orange dirt road to the fields where he roams freely with hundreds of other skinny white cows.
The first time he left for the day’s adventure, I thought he was escaping and ran after him. We were about a half a mile down the road when I caught him and walking back together when I saw Prach and my teammates waving at me. “Let him go!” They yelled. When I got back the grazing thing was explained to me.
“He walks by himself?” I asked.
“Yes.” Says Prach.
“And he comes back by himself?!”
Prach’s deadpan response was “in the afternoon.”
Apart from In Christ, Prach has six dogs, three geese, an unnumbered amount of chickens, and fifty pigs. The smell, unexpectedly, is not the most offensive thing about the pigs. The real problem is the noise. There’s really nothing quite as hard on the ears as the screeching of fifty squirmy pink pigs. The real real problem is the malaria. Prach says that there’s an unusually high risk of malaria here because of the pigs. Other than that I think they’re pretty cute.
Prach knows about things like malaria because he was a nurse at a refugee camp for three years. This was after he escaped from the Khmer Rouge army. If you don’t know anything about Cambodian history, those were the really really really bad guys. For two years he was a soldier and prisoner. It was by convincing his direct superiors to run away with him that he escaped. He turned eighteen in the refugee camp.
After dinner we teach English to Prach’s family. They are a busy and large crew. Prach’s wife, two daughters, and mother-in-law make brooms to sell in the market. They tear off pieces of tree bark that are then shredded into lines and threaded together. As they work Prach’s nephew Nan plays nearby and his father-in-law sits mumbling. Nan’s parents couldn’t care for him and the father-in-law had a debilitating stroke ten years ago.
These are the people I’m able to keep track of. There are also a few teenage boys and another small baby. There are three other girls and another woman. And a man that comes and goes and is always wearing sunglasses. If you go to the bathroom at night you walk past strangers hammocking in the trees and sleeping on the tuk tuk. It’s unclear how many people actually live on the property. Immediate family seems to be a lose construct.
But everyone seems contented and happy. And so are we. It’s not home, and it’s not easy. But the food is great and our students are adorable and it´s all temporary anyway.
I think that’s where I’ll stop. I apologize for the late update, but WiFi is scarce on our pig farm. And by scarce I mean nonexistent. Bear with me over the next few weeks as I have a lot more to say about Cambodia and a little more to say about Bolivia and it might all get posted next month from Thailand. For my devoted readers (mom), the timeline may get confusing. Sorry! Thank you all for your prayers and support!
-Sarah
*For the full tour, click here.
**I know nothing about cars. When I asked my teammates to name an antique car, they were equally inept. We ended up using the precious minutes we have on our international phone to call another squad leader who rushed out of ministry thinking it was an emergency. We apologized profusely and later that day got a text from another squad mate that read only “57 Chevy Bel Air.” Thanks, Tim.
