How I can't Write about Mud.

Sitting with my dear friends Michael and Lisa in Prey Veng last Saturday night, I posed Lisa this question. “What will I blog about this week?” She had just updated her blog about Mud. Her street is a mud pit from the flooding and I had even hosed down the muddy shoes outside the house that day. In fact, all of Prey Veng Province is muddy from the record 10-year flooding. Naturally, I had to think of something equally enthralling to blog about. I can't write about mud because I haven't experienced mud like Lisa has. I have to reflect on my own experiences, or perhaps I can reflect on the experiences and stories of those around me.

Just the night before I’d heard stories from another colleague who’s teaching macroeconomics at a rural Cambodian university. He has great stories, about eating dog, kicking dogs who attack him while jogging and playing ping pong with a professor who skipped classes to beat him at ping pong.

Then there was the Danish lady in Prey Veng province doing her PhD research on domestic violence and battering in rural Cambodian settings. We discussed the data she had collected in her latest focus group about perceptions of rape. The data was fascinating; our reactions to said data were shock and horror.

Which reminds me of another interesting person. She’s Italian and volunteering as a monitoring and evaluation consultant with an NGO that does similar work as my partner. We swapped challenges and tools for M&E and then I learned about her, how she’d just completed her PhD in historical anthropology (which is about when my ego crashed), and she’d just decided against getting married and was moving to Cambodia long-term. Completing a PhD and then entirely switch careers, interesting.

Thinking of my partner organization, I consider the interesting donor visit from Friday. Two people from our one donor organization and four pastors came to understand about peacebuilding and the overall partnership. They were Australian, and they were absolutely enthusiastic about talking with me and our director. In normal life, I normally have to keep conversation flowing, but this time I scarcely had to ask one question at all. The enthusiasm and excitement about our work was all the encouragement I needed. 

Still thinking of my partner organization, I was asked Friday if I’m going to wear a traditional Khmer outfit to a colleague’s wedding at the end of November. I deflected (because I don't wear sparkles), and asked her if she had obtained her attire yet. She replied that she got obtained all her wedding dresses, though she won’t be going the customary 13 or 14 bridal outfits. Then I was asked how many outfits American brides wear. “Just one, sometimes two, but it’s often very expensive,” I respond. They were not impressed.

Of course this could not top my favorite Cambodia interaction of all time. I walked in late a staff lunch at my partner organization the weekend after an unusually short haircut (it was definitely short). A male colleague saw me and commented, “Grace, we haven’t had hair this short since Pol Pot time. Have you been to Toul Slang [Genocide Museum] and seen the pictures of the girls with the short hair? You look just like that.” It was futile to explain I was going for “Amelie” from the French film “Amelie.” I felt very insecure, and probably went very red before repeating my standby line of self-defense..."it’s different in my country.”

I cannot believe how delightfully surprised and blessed I am to meet such fabulous people who share pieces of their lives with me, and who's stories sometimes intersect with my own life. However, you don’t have to live overseas for similar amusement. You just have to be live your life.