Pulling on Her Skirt

DATELINE: August 1, 2013
Patricia E Lyon

Deanna and are enjoying our new teaching assignment at the Siem Reap Teacher Training College. More students come each day...I think we have about 30 in each class. Mine are spread out on the dusty floor in a U-shape inside the rows of sewing machines that we are not using.

The students arrive early, sweeping the floor and organizing their supplies. They are so happy and excited to see me.

The two young men in the class are very enthusiastic despite being out-numbered. We have begun the tie purse, but new students line up at my desk for the supplies they do not yet have. One tie has holes, so I replace, but not as good.

Their sewing is exquisite. A young woman shows me a sturdy back stitch down from under the pocket so you cannot see any stitching.

Mony goes back and forth between Deanna's class and mine. We can teach, but not explain concepts. So I wait to do "lecture" until Mony can translate. When he walks in the room, I have drawn an example of a meter of fabric with selveges. I want to explain bias and the straight grain of the fabric. The tie they are using for the purse has been cut on the bias.

I suddenly remembered seeing selveges on the edge of a navy uniform skirt. I ask to see the woman's hem to explain selvege. Mony noticed I found an example and came in front of me to see the writing on the selvege. He held the fabric in his hand and called the rest of the class to see her selvege. I hit at his hand to let go of her skirt and he realized that he was pulling on the skirt of a young woman and raising it higher for the other students to see. The class rocked with laughter. Mony put his head down on my arm with embarrassment.

I think they will remember "selvege".

Deanna's Server Not Working

DATELINE: July 31, 2013
Patricia E Lyon

Since our arrival in Siem Reap, Deanna's Road Runner has not been in service. Sometimes she can see that you need informaiton from her or that you need her to set dates. She and an excellent IT person have tried everything. They have Skyped to Time Warner Cable, where the problem resides. They were amazed and working on it, but we do not see the results. Sometimes she gets her hopes up and sees a message from you but is unable to reply. She is absolutely beside herself. This is when the United Methodist Conference Lay Leader needs to be setting dates and preparing for fall events.

I think it's God's way of giving her a break and alowing her to give water, education and hope to the people here...and just be with the people we love. An idea, but not a comfort. I have offered that if she can see something from you on her phone or desktop she can respond from my Ipad. Microsoft and Apple. Can they make peace?

I am saddened to hear about the death of Reverend Thomas Morgan, a classmate at Garrett Evangelical Theological Seminary. He had a wonderful spirit. Deanna did get that e-mail and told me about it.

Purple Ink on the Index Finger

DATELINE: July 30, 2013
Patricia E Lyon

Cambodia elections were held on Sunday. Polls open 7 to 3 p.m. Everyone must go to their home town to vote, and be pre-registered. Quite difficult for Cambodian people to leave work, and pay for a journey that may be far, far away. Before the election, the newspapers stated that there was a 126 percent voter registration. That tells you something is off at the get go. Our friends tell us that Cambodia may be the most corrupt country in the world. Therefore 18 countries served as signatories. One such country was USA. After voting, each person put their index finger in a plastic bottle of ink. Soon cell phones told how to remove the ink with fingernail polish remover.

Cambodia has a very large population of young voters (because of Pol Pot Regime). They have influenced the vote greatly, but did not overthrow Prime Minister Hun Sen. Many of our young friends supported the Rescue Party. It is a party that calls for change and protecting the environment.

It was exciting to be part of the campaigning. Tuk tuks carried loud speakers and blaring sound systems with music and speeches about the parties. There were rallies and parades. Many people drove by our hotel wearing matching T-shirts and hats. Most were piled on moto bikes, some had vans with banners. Sometimes the roads were closed. On Sunday, some shops and businesses were closed.

Sam stayed up late to watch the polling results. He watched the Cambodia news. The populace of the cities seemed to vote for a new Prime Minister. The rural population voted for continuance. The BBC spent some time reporting. CNN only a little bit. Aljezeera best reporting of the election.

No, You Cannot Say 'bong'

DATELINE: July 26, 2013
Patricia E Lyon

I listen intently to conversations, trying to pick up a few words of the Khmer language. Deanna knows many more words than I. Khmer words have a sort of staccato bling to them, not like English. Sometimes I hear Awnglish, or names of places, or I can read body language. Formal lessons begin next week.

It is very difficult for them to say my name. It comes out "Path" or "Pet" so they call to me, "Teacher", or "Madamme". "Deanna" they can say.

As I listen, I hear them beginning conversations with "bong." I hear them start cell phone conversations, with "bong". And at the Blue Pumpkin (Ice cream-bakery place) the waitress addresses an individual with "Bong" to double check an order. Yesterday I asked, "can I say 'bong'?"

This lead to a larger discussion of pronoun usage. You can only use the term "bong" when you are referring to someone the same age or older than yourself. They tell me, "you cannot say ‘bong’ because it is for someone older than yourself." We begin to inquire about ages of various mothers, grandmothers, elders. We cannot think of anyone who is older than I am in the entire circle of acquaintances. Maybe there is one grandmother at the church who has shaved her head, has red teeth from chewing the betel leaf, and leaves in middle of worship to go somewhere every Sunday.

Rats. One word I can remember and pronounce I cannot use.

Water Blessing

DATELINE: July 26, 2013
Patricia E Lyon

Certain members of our group have gone beyond the restaurant level of crossing cultural barriers. We have left the familiarity and comfort of Methodism and delved into the world of Buddhism. We make comparative analysis of the stories of Buddha and Jesus. We participate in worship with our friends as we would do at home during Lent for pulpit exchange and soup suppers. Perhaps today's leap of faith was a longer leap.

And now I am retired so I have to not work so hard at being careful about what you might think or whom you may tell. And so, dear reader, here is a story I have reserved in the past for very trusted friends who would know me well enough to know I am not going off the deep end.

I prepared by wearing clothes that were not clingy or would take a long time to dry. I removed jewelry and did not take a purse. Only small travel bag for a little money. Prem would take us. At the last minute, Sky asked his boss if he could join us. We stopped at a small store that sells things for Water Blessings. Things Monks like in the monastery. Canned milk, candles, things I cannot remember, and a pack of cigarets. (Which I do remember) Into the bag we put also our offerings. The money is used for the monastery and also for building roads and community projects that help the poor.

We respectfully entered the monastery and I carefully copied what my friends are doing. With heads down, we put our hands on a basket that held the offering. The monk was an older man who survived the Khmer Rouge death camps. His eyes were warm and intelligent. He was covered in orange robes. Sitting at his side were two boys that reminded me of altar boys. Under the platform where the monk was seated, a dog lay peacefully asleep. An orange young tabby cat who looked better fed, tip-toed along a rack of freshly washed dishes.

We were directed to a set of stairs next to an orange rain barrel. Sky stripped down to his skivvies because he had to go back to work. In the car, I was thinking phrases like "cleansed by the blood of the lamb". Like "wash me whiter than snow." Like "create in me a clean heart, O God". Like "cleanse me from all unrighteousness." I was saying "create"...when we were asked to take three sips of water from an aluminum bowl with candle wax floating in it. I smelled incense. I could not see the monk, but I knew was behind us. I was shoulder to shoulder with friends. I knew this was between us and a Greater Power but also there was a power between us. I knew I should not drink the water, but like many missionaries before me, I did.

Then as I returned to the prayer, I was hit by the first splash of water and my shudder came out loud. The next splashes fell more gently. I was aware of the prayers behind me. Then we went back to the altar for closing prayer. As I rose to leave, I noticed a cigaret in the corner of the monk's mouth. On the way home, a friend recalled the cigaret and told us it was something rolled into a piece of notebook paper.

Perhaps in all of today's experience of crossing over into another culture, the cigaret was the most difficult to embrace.

Should we allow a cigaret to prevent us receiving a blessing...from any Holy moment?

Deanna had tea waiting for me when I got back to the hotel. It included Schwepp's Tonic water, Ritz crackers and Gouda. I was back in the safety of a non-smoking zone.

I took an anti-diahrrea, a Peptol Bismol and a Cipro to cover my tracks.

Teach about Peach Perch

DATELINE: July 26, 2013
Patricia E Lyon

We wondered how many of our students could read or write. I found the idea of the peace purse in a book in the U.S.A. They called it the "Artsy Clutch". I noticed the fabric was canvas drop cloth with lining of just about anything that was interesting. Then you add a pony tail holder and interesting button for the closure. I did have canvas fabric donated from Emily after she covered her entire ceiling with Menard's drop cloth for a magic-show-birthday event. People donated interesting one-of-a- kind buttons. The book suggested that you could paint on the canvas with fabric paints or use magic markers to make a design. I made the jump to Khmer writing which the people liked from Cloth Book Project. Or if the student could not write, they could make a picture.

In the U.S.A., I made two examples of the peace purse. One was on a pillow ticking fabric that allowed for writing on lines and the other was on the canvas drop cloth. I wrote a little story about myself and family in the U.S.A. I encouraged the class to write their idea first on a piece of paper, then we would write on the fabric. A woman in the class who usually acts as a leader seemed to be lacking confidence in her writing. She had her brother write on the fabric. It was not good. Smeared all over on one side and a large mark on the other. And brother only come to visit. Now gone.

I asked Mony to translate. Can she write? Yes, she could, but she did not think it was good. I said, "it does not matter if it is good, but if it is from you like a present. Your idea from your mind, your heart."

Deanna suggested that perhaps the students did not understand the concept of peace purse. At the next class, I invented a small drama to teach about peace. I pretended to pick a fight with Mony, putting up my fists and making a face. Then I said "opposite of peace." Then Mony got it. He went off on a tangent about Khmer Rouge time and Pol Pot.

I told them "many people in U.S A. feel sad about Khmer Rouge Regime. They remember about war. When they see your purse from Cambodia they will remember and think about you." Mony translated. Big discussion followed. They liked.

They wrote stories. They showed each other their “peach perch.” They wrote Khmer alphabet. Write, sew, press, show teachers. Teacher like. They like. Okay, good. Sa'at. (Beautiful).

Slipping from One Culture into Another

DATELINE: July 25, 2013
Patricia E Lyon

It's like walking from room to room but not as obvious. I love it and I crave it and it is more difficult to do in my hometown.

Our multi-cultural experience became more obvious when we ate at the Weiner Schnitzel Restaurant in Siem Reap, Cambodia, on a dark, rainy night. Sam had individual meat loaves with gravy and mashed potatoes. Deanna had a kind of sumptuous goulash with spaetzel, and I had deep fried cauliflower, which I did not know was Austrian. Brave Prem, our driver and translator, was dubbed most brave for ordering sausage and sauerkraut with mashed potatoes. We were in a former Khmer restaurant with tiled walls. There was a Khmer flag on the wall with an Austrian flag under it. The labels on the beer were written in Israeli. We could see the Khmer cooks (women) on the second floor in a loft painted lime green with cartoon fish decals. Our host introduced himself as being from Vienna. The food was quite a leap from our routine rice with stuff on it. We were painfully full. When we got back to the hotel, Sam wrote a review on Trip Advisor. He had promised our host that he would.

Next: a brat fry. Stay tuned

Bump Speed and Other Observations on the Way to Bos Kralanh Village

DATELINE: July 25, 2013
PATRICIA E LYON

As the Toyota slowly moves across the wet red sand, we are met by a truck with giant Asian teeth. I cannot tell if the grill is smiling at us or growling. It up tips slightly to the left and then down again. Its wide tires mush one end of a dirt pile that was dropped off to create a "speed bump" for a nearby school. Everyone should slow down and watch for children. Mony grins, "The driver makes the bump speed better now for us to cross." By tomorrow, the bump speed will be almost flat. Perhaps someone will bring more sand for the bump speed.

At the edge of town, we are in a sort of industrial area. We drive by open buildings with green corrugated tin roofs covering lumber, furniture, cement and industrial things. These are mixed in with tailors, snack stands, and wobbly tables holding petrol in recycled soda bottles. The splashed Toyota weaves around trucks, makeshift wagons and carts, moto bikes, bicycles, and many dogs. I see a little boy, smaller than one of my grandsons, wearing an oversized sweatshirt and baggy pants. His head is nearly covered by a holely straw hat. He is the commander in charge of a troupe of ambling scrawny white cows. I don't know how he and the cows can make it through the traffic. This will be how he spends the entire day. My grandsons will be playing at the pool, being read stories or reading stories, taking naps, eating when they are hungry, doing assigned short-term chores, and if they are good, using a tablet like me or having other "screen time". I wonder how God thinks about when he sees all the children.

After class, I see a large gray water buffalo (which I love) sitting next to a small black dog. Their backs are to me. They are sitting up, as though in chairs. They look like a scene from Madagascar or Ice Age. They appear to 1) be very good friends, and 2) both be very curious about something. What do they see? I continue to wonder.

Cats and Rats and Elephants

DATELINE: July 21, 2013
Patricia E Lyon

Following a certain rat incident, which I had better not tell you about, Sky took us by tuk tuk to the Soup Dragon Restaurant. Not far from our hotel.

We climbed the steps in the French colonial building to a perch near the edge so we could watch everything happening below. Deanna ordered fried tofu in tomato sauce. Sam got something like pad thai but with more tomato sauce. I thought I was getting a cup cake with vegetables inside, but wondered if I got the pancake with vegetables inside instead. All plates were decorated with a carrot that was cut into some kind of wonderful design that I do not know how to do. We had ice lemon juice.

We observed that the once quiet and dark streets of Siem Reap were now packed with dazed tourists, buses, tuk tuks, Lexus, Land Rovers and tour guides. A giant screen TV played a continuous loop, advertising a light show about Khmer history. Neon signs lit the way. The drums of Apsara dancers competed with the rest of the noise. This used to be low tourist season.

At my feet were two Asian cats. Thin. Long. Every bone showing. Golden eyes bulging. One great with child (or many). Despite Deanna's disapproval, I fed her some of my (sorry kitty) vegetarian meal. She stood up on her hind legs and took it politely with her paws. She declined the tofu. I whispered words of comfort and assurance to her as we left.

Oh, the elephants? Deanna and Sam are going to Phnom Penh for meetings, and there are always elephants going up and down the busiest streets. I do not know why.

Meetings are about: Projects at K School, Khnar Thmei Church projects, students and graduation celebration, mosquito nets, check in with Cambodia Methodist Center, and more to follow.

Daffodil Flower Class

DATELINE: July 21, 2013
Patricia E Lyon

We offered one morning class at Khnar Thmei Village in the Methodist Church. Tony mentioned many children would come to the class. (Oh Dear). What if 30 or more children showed up in bare feet with needles, pins and clippers all around? As it turned out, there were small children but also older children and adults. One mother held a tiny toddler in her lap as she sewed. As I went over to see her project, the little girl screamed in fear and cried. I scared her! Big blonde woman with glasses. Very scary.

Later, I looked up at Tony and Deanna and we noticed together the joy of sewing. You could hear a pin drop, literally, in this case. The class lasted three hours for some. Beautiful yellow flowers, fabric donated from a Presbyterian woman in Vernon, and a woman who is a friend of a friend in Delafield.

After worship yesterday, Mr. and Mrs. Sok came up to have a look at the flower I was wearing. They liked. They want also for Bos Kralanh Village. After a meeting, we went on a search through the market for certain yellow fabrics. Difficult to find, but when we the right person saw the example, she knew. She knew. What an adventure.

P.S. Before worship, I found only one needle and one pin on the floor from the day before. And it was not in someone's foot!