Yes, it’s that time again — we are off on another journey to regions unknown. . . Ok, not actually all that unknown, but we are off!
Michelle, Carrie, and I (Aiyana) will be traveling from February 17 to 27. You can follow along on our new blog at imaginegoods.tumblr.com, depending upon our internet access.
Thanks for your thoughts and prayers while we’re gone!
Hello friends. It was a long, good day today.
We started out from Poipet early this morning having picked up a couple of extra passengers on our bus — a couple of tourists whom we met at our hotel last night and who were looking for a way to Siem Reap. Hospitality to strangers is a gift we were glad to be able to give.
After an uneventful two and a half hour bus ride here, we had a lovely lunch (my first caviar — I think I can do without it next time), then we were off to see the famous temples of Angkor Wat.
The temples, which are one of the seven manmade wonders of the world, are spread out over several square miles. It seems the ancient kings of the Khmer people each wanted to outdo one another in the monuments they built to the gods.
However, these mystical ancient ruins provide just the backdrop for our true purpose here these two days: to try to make some sense of what we have seen these last days in Cambodia.
We began this afternoon to talk about how we each might start the journey of processing everything that we’ve learned and seen over the past week. It seemed that there was pretty much a consensus of feeling that it will take a while until we are fully able to understand how to process the trip internally, much less how to be able to explain it to others.
Tomorrow we will continue to talk about how to go home — how have we each changed? If much is required of those to whom much has been given, then surely we have greater responsibility now — what is each of our individual purposes and callings?
So we are rising early, early in order to be at the temples by 5:00 to see the sunrise, where we will spend time meditating on these questions. We pray that the Spirit will guide our process.
We may or may not be able to update again tomorrow, since the schedule is tight, then we fly out tomorrow night. If not, thank you for being part of this journey with us — we are so grateful for the support you’ve given us!
Hello, friends and family! We are well — sorry for the gaps in blogs — the internet service here is spotty, so sometimes we can’t get online for half a day or so.
I don’t have much time to write, so here’s a brief overview of our last couple of days. Yesterday we worked at the Safe Haven, a lovely place out in the country that we have worked at for the last few years each time we visit, making bricks, digging trenches, and other generally menial but sweat-inducing labor. This year we were put to work moving a pile of large rocks from one spot to other spots around the edges of the property where dirt was washing out under the wall and forming holes. The weather was mercifully breezy and overcast for most of the time that we worked (thanks for any prayers that were said for the weather — we were very grateful!).
This morning we visited two different Schools on a Mat where various members of our team led the children in songs, games, and stories. The little ones had a great time, and our team loved the interaction with them! By the end, the children were holding hands with us, asking to be held, and generally being just about the cutest human beings we’ve ever seen.
The entire morning the sky was gray and threatening rain, but it held off until lunchtime, when the skies opened and poured heavy rains for a couple of hours. Since we then couldn’t continue with our plans of visiting more Schools on a Mat, we went instead to the Safe Haven again, where we were able to observe some of the classes for a while. We then played with the kids and were able to see the houses where they live.
I’m out of time, so here’s some pictures until next time:
Well, we arrived in Poipet yesterday afternoon after a seven hour bus ride. Happily, it was a smooth trip, and we all were grateful for the many prayers that are being said for us!
This morning we attended devotions with CHO (Cambodian Hope Oganization), our partner organization here. It is always special to hear believers from a different part of the world singing in their own language! Many of us were moved by the devotion speaker, a man named Mao; even though he spoke in Khmer and we couldn’t understand him, his sweet and gentle passion was evident.
Then we were off to visit many of the various CHO projects. We traveled over bumby roads in the CHO truck, which is outfitted with benches and a cover over the back. Needless to say, it is a dusty and hot way to travel, but yet again they were troopers, with no complaining to be heard!
One of the first places we visited was a motorbike training center, where a CHO teacher gives boys ages 13 to 20 the skills they will need to get a job. There were about 10 boys there, all sitting on the ground taking engines apart and then putting them back together. 
One of our team members, Ryan, sat with them, and when I mentioned that Ryan also knows about engines, they offered to let him help. He sat and worked for a bit, then laughed and said that they knew what they were doing almost better than he did!
We then went to see several other projects, including a micro-loan project, where a group of women who had been given a micro-loan worked together to sew clothing; a School on the Mat, where children who cannot attend school come and sit on a mat in their village for one hour a day to learn basic reading and writing skills (CHO runs sixty of these); a toilet that WhoCares? built last year at a school in the slums; and a well.
This well was one of the highlights of my day. It was just built with money that two of the girls on our team helped to raise at Lancaster Bible College this past year. Estelle and Laura were with us last year, and they decided that they wanted to help CHO with various projects, so they went back and raised over $3000. So to be able to see this well in an incredibly poor area was just amazing, and there were a few happy tears shed.
Tomorrow we will be working in the Safe Haven, a complex of buildings out in the countryside that CHO has been building over the past few years as funding comes in. We worked there last year when there were no children living there, and so it was pretty cool to see the school with over sixty children and the four homes with thirty three kids living in them!
Please pray for our health and stamina. Several of our team have had mild stomach upset, and although they have been so strong, not complaining at all, it would be great if they start feeling better! And tomorrow will be a long day of hard work in quite hot weather, so we’ll need a special grace.
Thanks for all of your comments! I’m printing them off to let the team read them, and everyone really appreciates them!
Last night our team went to a restaurant called Friends, a happy place painted in yellow and blue and filled with paintings of local life scenes. The food was fabulous, and the purpose behind the place even better: Friends employs former street children and others who had been vulnerable to abuse. The parent organization trains these young people in the hospitality industry so that they can find good jobs in restaurants or hotels.
As we sat waiting for our food to arrive, I asked if each person could share one thing that had stood out to them so far in the trip. One team member, Amber, shared that she had seen a woman sweeping her own small piece of sidewalk in front of her home, even though there was trash on either side. Amber shared that it gave her hope to see that this woman wasn’t daunted by a “hopelessness” that the trash was unending, or that all she could do was this little bit — she still was going to sweep her spot.
Another teammate, Laura, who was also in our group last year, talked about a little girl she saw where we ate dinner the previous evening in the tourist district by the river. About the size that my daughter was when she was five, although it’s hard to tell ages since they are smaller than we’re used to, this little one held a tiny kitten and came up to our group to show us while we stood waiting to leave. Laura shared that it moved her to see this child, and she couldn’t help but think, “Who is watching out for this little girl? Why is she wandering the streets all by herself? Does anyone care for her?” But she also shared that she feels different this time here in Phnom Penh than she did last year — she sees more hope.
Pam told us that she felt incredibly privileged to be able to see what we are seeing. She explained that she feels that so few people get to have this kind of experience — the kind where we see the incredible poverty and also the rays of hope that shine through.
As I listened to each team member share, I realized that there was a theme emerging — one of hope. Many of us felt encouraged by the hope that we see here, from the restaurants that employ former street children — thus rescuing them from a life of certain poverty and probable abuse — to the work of the many NGOs here, organizations that work on behalf of those without a voice.
Even when we visited the Russian market, a labyrinth full of anything a tourist might like to buy, the one shop in which most of us found our souvenirs was one that sells fairly traded goods made by AIDS patients, former street children, or those with disabilities.
Amanda M. (there are two Amandas with us) shared with us that the moment that stood out to her the most was something she saw in that shop. In one corner of the shop there stands a case full of jewelry — rings, necklaces, bracelets — all of which has been made from recast bomb shells. These bombs tell a somber tale from Cambodia’s history, which is so full of strife and conflict. But for Amanda, the restoration of this metal from a use intended for harm to use as a beautiful object, there lies hope.
Today we go to see the Tuol Sleng Museum and the Killing Fields, both memorials to a dark time in Cambodia’s past, when the Khmer Rouge killed between one and three million people in a quest to “purify” the population. I can only pray that our team will still find hope — the hope that comes from the only true possibility for restoration from such a tragedy — the hope of forgiveness.
Well, we arrived in Phnom Penh about six hours ago after four legs of flights (long but thankfully uneventful), and we could all immediately see that things here are different than at home (“curiouser and curiouser”).
The van that had arranged to pick us up was a bit smaller than we had thought, so we squeezed all fourteen of us (and our not inconsiderable luggage) into a 10-seater minivan. There were a couple of people sitting on laps (on a pretty hot day with no air con in the van) and two more sitting on top of suitcases (inside the van, not on top!). But it’s all good, and our team had their first chance to show themselves to be troopers, with nary a complaint in sight.
On the flight on the way here, I watched the new Alice in Wonderland movie (if you couldn’t already tell from the references above). There is one scene in which Alice has just seen the ferocious, dragon-like Jabberwocky, whom she is about to fight and whom she is destined to slay, and she says to the Mad Hatter, “This is impossible!” “Only if you believe it is,” he replies. She, quoting something he had told her earlier, “Sometimes I believe as many as six impossible things before breakfast.” “That is an excellent practice. However, just at the moment, you really might want to focus on the Jabberwocky.”
I, being a huge fan of childrens fairytales that come with a message, naturally loved this, because it is so reflective of my own reality. I am one who must be reminded to believe in the impossible — that people stuck in extreme poverty can find freedom, or that those who have been abused and tormented can find a way to healing through forgiveness — these things are generally impossible in the technical sense of the word. But once I am reminded, I do love the sentiment, that one can be encouraged to “believe six impossible things before breakfast”.
However, there are times, such as when Alice met the Jabberwocky (or when our team confronts the evils of the sex tourist industry, which feeds the sex trafficking industry, which feeds upon the most vulnerable among us), that one must be reminded to take a look at the horror before us so that we can be prepared to fight and slay the dragon.
This trip is about “focusing on the Jabberwocky” for this team. We are here to look the evil in the eye and to learn about it — why do these things happen? What are the systems and cycles that promote sex tourism, trafficking, and extreme poverty?
Only once we have taken a good look at the problem can we then turn to each other and think about those six impossible things that can be done to bring change and to remind each other that it is only impossible if we think it is.
We leave in two days, but I am saying goodbye to my family now. As I think about how to describe this trip so that they will be able to understand what I am experiencing, I come against the old familiar wall. Perhaps an excellent storyteller has confidence that her reader sees what she sees (or perhaps not); I surely don’t have that confidence. Not to worry, though — I will try.
For now, though, I’ll leave you with some lines from an Auden poem entitled The Runner.
The camera’s eye
Does not lie
But it cannot show
The life within,
The life of a runner,
Of yours or mine,
That race which is neither
Fast nor slow,
For nothing can ever
Happen twice,
That story which moves
Like music when
Begotten notes
New notes beget
Making the flowing
Of time a growing
Till what it could be
At last it is,
Where Fate is Freedom,
Grace, and Surprise.
I recently read a story about a woman named Rochom P’ngieng. Known in Cambodia as the “jungle woman”, she disappeared in 1988 while tending water buffalo with her sister. She was eight when she vanished that first time.
She was found three years ago after she was caught trying to steal food from a farmer’s lunch box. After her family confirmed her identity by a scar, she was reunited with them, but had a difficult time reintegrating into society — she preferred to crawl than to walk, did not like to wear clothes, and hadn’t been able to learn either of the two main languages of the area, but communicated through grunts.
This week P’ngieng made news again when she ran away, presumably back into the forest. Her father said that she disappeared while taking a bath, and that she left without her clothes.
Although there are some who dispute the probability of this story — could an eight year old girl have survived so long in such a harsh habitat on her own? was her behavior possibly more consistent with that of someone who had been held in captivity? was it likely that these may not have been her actual parents? — I find myself captivated by the story for other reasons.
There are days when I find myself bewildered by the world around me. The guy who turns left in front of me then shouts curses at me for barely stopping in time — who is that person, and how did he get to be that way? Why would he yell at me? I just don’t understand.
That little girl who shared my name, Aiyana, from Detroit — who was accidentally killed last month when police raided her home looking for a gunman — how horrible both for her family and those policemen. What kind of universe is this that I live in? I don’t get it.
As I was writing this very blog entry I received an email telling me that a beloved and respected leader of our church died this morning in a car accident. I don’t understand.
Some days it seems that everywhere you turn there is a fresh disaster, new evidence that life is painful. In my own small way, I understand P’ngieng’s bewilderment at life outside the jungle. Life is strange, and especially so when one feels pain. When I look at the difficult things in my own life or in the world around me, there are moments when it all just seems unreal — the hurt doesn’t make any sense, and it is then that I feel most strongly that it wasn’t meant to be this way.
As I prepare to return to Cambodia in a couple of weeks, I find this concept of returning to the jungle to be one that is both comforting and frightening. Cambodia is not a place without its demons (figurative and probably literal, too), but I like it there. It is not that life there is simpler than it is here, but that my life is simpler when I am there. It is not so much that I have a home in Cambodia, but that I am sometimes more at home within myself when I am there.
I hope that wherever P’ngieng is, she can find a place that is home, a place that is safe and full of love.
“In the womb of winter, summer seems a myth.” These are the lyrics of a song I listened to as I sat in the shuttle bus from JFK to Grand Central this afternoon, trying to stay awake . . . mostly unsuccessfully.
I had already been traveling for around 40 hours — a hairy taxi ride from Poipet to Phnom Penh (more on that below), a few hours in the city for dinner (and a much needed shower at a new friend’s place — thanks, Mary and Steve!), then a plane to Seoul, another layover, and finally the flight back to JFK.
So as you can imagine, by the time I was on that bus heading toward Manhattan, I was already in a state of hazy-headedness, not sure if the exhaustion I felt was more due to the days of travel, the twelve-hour jet lag, or the waiting forty minutes in a somewhat ineffective bus shelter.
As I sat on the bus, staring out the front windshield at snowflakes hitting, then being wiped away by the huge vertical wipers, a song came on by Brett Dennen called “Someday”. The first line is, “In the womb of winter, summer seems a myth,” and I thought, “Yep.”
I had begun the day in steamy Cambodia, where bougainvillea blooms over rough-hewn walls and yellow mangoes abound in the markets, and ended in frozen Connecticut, where everything in sight is heavy with a wet snow. It’s not easy for a body to reconcile the experience of such staggeringly different climates on the same day (well, technically two days, but you know what I mean).
This dichotomy always gets me when I return from these trips — the reality of life in Cambodia seems a myth when back in the States, and vice versa. And it’s not just the difference in climate, but the contrast of experiences.
From Cambodia, where I ride on the back of a “moto” (a motorbike “taxi” — I have my suspicions that sometimes I’m just hailing an ordinary driver on their way by, and they say, “Sure, I’ll take $1 to give you a ride!”) primly sidesaddle in my skirt and without a helmet (don’t tell my kids!), to Connecticut, where I have never once ridden with my husband on his motorcycle because of vague imaginings of my children being orphaned.
From Cambodia, where I ride in a taxi going speeds up to 85 miles an hour (and intermittently playing “chicken” with various oncoming cars, buses, and bicyclists in order to pass other vehicles) without a seat belt (none available), to the States where I could (not wrongly) be called legalistic about seat belt-wearing (I wear one to drive even the two short residential blocks from my best friend’s house to mine). (As an aside, I’d like to reassure any of you who are either starting to worry about me or reconsidering your own desire to join me on a future trip, the above taxi ride is not the normal experience, even in Cambodia. I received an email after I got home today that a friend of Carrie’s had awoken in the middle of the night with an urge to pray for us at what would have been just the time we were on this ride! So I think I will ascribe our safety on that ride not just to luck, but to Providence!)
I think you get the picture — not only is the reality of life quite different in Cambodia (see other blog entries below and it is undeniable how other it is), but I think I can sometimes be a different kind of person there, too.
It’s not just that I put up with hair-raising incidents with a casual-shrug-attitude, either. While I am there, the realities and stresses of everyday life back home seem a “myth”; they seem less real and of far less concern than the poverty issues the people in Cambodia face. Then, when I am back home, the certainty that I had gained that I should not allow trivial things to upset me somehow fades to become a myth-like apparition, too.
This, then, is also the challenge of the return: how to remember not just what I saw while I was there, but how to be as I was there . . .
Hello all – Michelle here. Yesterday we were able to spend some time in the afternoon sorting through the latest batch of bags the CHO sewing teachers gave to us. We love them! There are so many fun colors, patterns, and different looks! Aiyana and I had purchased the fabrics for this batch when we were here this past June, and it is such fun to see the completed product. It is even more fun to know what these bags stand for and what they can help accomplish.
Who Cares? designs the bags, purchases the material, and gives a fair- wage paying job to ladies who have graduated from the sewing program that CHO has for woman who have been rescued from or are vulernable to trafficking. It is such a joy to be a part of this!
It was great to meet with the sewing teachers again. I was quite excited when they walked in with the large bag of the product which had been completed! And — it was such fun to hand them a detailed notebook with material swatches, designs for a new bag, and other information on the additional 90 bags they will begin making for us now!
So, we are bringing home 57 bags this trip! Even more than that, though, we are bringing home hopes and excitment for what this can eventually mean in the lives of those who we’ve come to have an ongoing relationship with.
I do love what I am able to be a part of here!
