When my team and I found out we would be living in Prek Toal, a Cambodian floating village, this month we were equal parts nervous and excited. Our transportation to the house was a canoe, we could only bring 3 outfits, no access to towns, we wash our clothes in the river, take bucket showers, sleep on sleeping pads on the floor and had to keep our big packs at a hostel 2 hours away. Our house is elevated to withstand the water level rising during wet season, which is why we named it, the Little Red Treehouse. We have to be under the bug nets by 7pm each night because the mosquitoes are so bad (not like that stops them. I am covered in bites regardless. They are vicious little devils) Living conditions are different, but life is a dream. I didn’t sign up for comfortability anyway. I signed up to be pushed outside of my comfort zone. To test my limits and see what God can do when I can do nothing.
We are teaching English to Khmer (pronounced ‘Come I’) children 5 days a week. And they LOVE to learn. Some of them wait on the steps for hours until class begins. They also love to teach. They teach me Khmer words every day (none of which I can spell). They are remarkable.
Today is Friday, which marks one full week of teaching. It also means that we only have a week left. I am not sure I can adequately communicate how I feel about teaching these kids, so please bare with me. I have a morning class and an afternoon class. My morning is rough. I have 3 good kids and 5 rambunctious ones. They are boys and girls between 6-8 years old. If it weren’t for the 3 good ones, I would absolutely lose my mind. I guess that’s karma for being a disruptive student myself…
One of the rambunctious girls, Moi Yi, was actually a huge help today. As I wrote vocabulary words and attempted to draw pictures next to them on the whiteboard, she came up and wrote the word in Khmer so that the other students could understand the lesson. That means she understood what I was trying to do! My heart almost burst. Not only did she understand me, but she made sure the rest of the class got it, too. I think she likes me now because she joined us on our evening walk last night and I took a portrait picture of her. She loves that picture. (Portrait mode is the key to making friends on the race. Everyone wants to see themselves through the lens of someone else’s perspective. Everyone wants to be seen and feel beautiful.)
My afternoon is a dream. I have 5 boys in middle school. I was certain I would hate it. Middle school ages have never been my thing. I like the little kids. As it turns out, I love middle schoolers, too. As the week has gone on it has been incredible to see their personalities come out the more they feel comfortable with me. Siw Minh, Sak, Makara, Penhly, and Yo Hak. They are incredible boys and I am loving being their teacher. Leaving them feels impossible, but as with every month, inevitable.
This place feels more like home than any other, so far. I know it is only month 3, but I feel so connected to these kids, this village, this life.
These kids have bewitched me. I just want to love them for the rest of my life.
Our host, Joyner, is the sweetest woman. She is Korean and went to college in Florida. She is an incredible caretaker for us and she is only 23. We eat Korean food every day. Never knew how much I loved Korean food until now. That is one of the best things about the race. You get to experience all these new things that sometimes become your new favorites.
The village is unlike anything I have ever experienced. It is like a little neighborhood of families who share everything and withhold nothing. All the homes are pretty open. Usually having sheets for doors. Privacy does not exist here. Many of the homes are on the water. Built out of wood, metal sheets and empty barrels-to keep it afloat. Oh yeah, and there are crocodile farms all around us. Selling crocodiles is a big source of income for families here. So, you can find a crocodile farm about every 100 feet around our treehouse. Our kids love taking us to them and sitting on top of the cages just peering in at these beautiful, but dangerous creatures. They hardly move so most times they just look like statues.
Children run around all day playing together and working. They have no fear of getting hurt. They take risks. They look out for each other. The parents don’t fear when the kids run out of sight. They know they are coming home for dinner. It reminds me of my childhood. No electronics and a lot of imagination. I want my kids to grow up in a community like this. A neighborhood that does not need to encourage kids to play outside, they just do.
This place is enchanting. Evenings are spent eating dinner together and then Mya and I run off to play with our students. Some nights we just go for walks, but other nights the kids convince us to play soccer and volleyball with them. We are already sweaty, so why not add a little more. We quickly found out that our favorite student, Seiha, is a really sore loser. Which makes it even more fun to beat him. Keep ‘em humble, you know? It is such an amazing thing to be able to teach the kids by day and then call them our friends after class. It is such a unique relationship that we are not afforded in schools in America (generally speaking. I know there are always exceptions.).
We came into this month expecting something crazy and we weren’t wrong. God has poured out His blessings on us and we could not be more grateful. He is teaching me so much and it has only been a week. He is showing me how to truly embrace simplicity and enjoy life for life itself. I see His abundant love in the squeals of the children’s laughter, through the roar of the canoe motors whizzing past us, and the colorful, peaceful sunsets He paints for us daily. If this is what I get for being outside of my comfort zone, I pray I never go back to it. God is incredible always, but I am finding Him on such a new level by letting go of what I thought I knew.
