Return to the Motherland

I have spent the past couple of weeks back at home with my family in Lebanon. It was a perfect ending to very productive and fruitful nine months of travel. After living and working in New Zealand, to vigorously traveling Thailand and Cambodia, then volunteering and experiencing South Africa and finally seeing a very beautiful and picturesque area of England, I decided to end my trip back here, in Lebanon. And I am still here. My brother brought two friends with him whose extent of arabic language was "yes", "where is the bathroom?" and "the food tastes good". Surprisingly, my family and the two guys took to each other very well and were miraculously able to understand each other either through english-arabic, body language, facial expression or just blind faith that what the other was saying was understood. The two weeks we spent as a family eating (which is a very huge part of Lebanese culture), laughing, arguing/listening to politics and experiencing our fabulously rich culture were blissful. It wasn't until the end of our trip that we realized that the "labor strike" wasn't simply that, but a way for the different political and religious divisions within this country to have themselves heard, and this time it wasn't a peaceful revolution. Riots and violence in the streets of West Beirut made their way around. The "fighters", some being only zealous young boys with weapons, lit tires and cars on fires, closed off streets, shot at their opposition while hiding in buildings and some in the middle of the streets. As the army began maintaining the peace the fighting spread to other parts of Lebanon. That made travel in this country a bit more difficult. Conflicts would just break out and many people didn't know which routes to take in order to avoid it altogether. Fortunately for my brother and his friends their is a road to Syria (then to Jordan for them) that is supposedly clear and safe. Today they began their journey (and let's hope for their sake a very unexciting one)so that they can make their flight on time from Amman, Jordan to Chicago, Illinois. As for me, I was already supposed to leave but as we well know, the airport is still closed. I have the option of going to Damascus and flying from there, but unfortunately hundreds of other Lebanese and tourists had that same idea and all the seats are full. Right now I'm on a waiting list for a seat. We will see when I hopefully do get back home. How ironic that now, at the point that I'm willing if not almost looking forward to starting a "life" back home, I am unable to get there. Is this divine intervention? A sign that perhaps I'm not to go home right now? A sign that I'm supposed to keep on traveling and seeing the world through the inquisitive eyes I've been given? Only kidding, Dad, don't worry, I'm doing what I can to come back home. As for me? Do I kind of wish I did not come to Lebanon this time? There is no way. This country with its traditions, customs and political instability are all a part of me and my life. And every time I come back here I'm already wondering and hoping when the next time will be.

The Indlovu Project

Unfortunately, my time in South Africa has come to an end, but I am, however, quite grateful for the opportunity I have had here. I have spent three and a half very short weeks living in Capetown's largest squatter camp and have experienced a lot. My days mainly consisted of accomplishing random tasks wherever my two hands were needed, from feeding and holding babies in the creche, to serving lunch in the soup kitchen, to gardening and painting or simply just playing around with the "neighborhood" kids. Although it is a huge area here, the director and manager here have done a tremendous job of creating a strong sense of community. Di and Byiswa have worked very hard to build this community outreach program and, in my opinion, have made a very successful one. The soup kitchen is opened each weekday lunch to feed the elderly, sick and unemployed, as many as 200 a day, and all for the cost of about $50 per week. In fact, soon, anyone will be able to go onto the Shaster Foundation website and donate a week at the soup kitchen in honor of a birthday or holiday, in return the person who is to receive the "gift" will receive a card human mind has such an ability to adapt to its surroundings that even in such a place as the squatter camp, we got "used" to what we saw. It became a part of the life we were leading at the time. And, for me, that is a dangerous thing. I think the reason that so many people stand aside and do nothing to help such situations is because they have not seen it first hand, or do not feel the desperation. We on the other hand were living there, yet I still found myself occasionally overlooking the crucial need for change there. I had to, and still have to, remind myself to not be complacent, to not just remember the sweet children playing in the streets, but remind myself that these sweet children were sick, playing barefoot in dusty streets covered in broken glass, that many were malnourished, and some with parents who would squander the money for dinner on their afternoon drinking session. Yes, there were beautiful people with pure intentions and just wished for better lives for their families, those are the people that I can't forget to remember. A community based on this is what Di and Byiswa are hoping for, are working for. I love that place, what it represents and what it is striving to achieve. I hope to go back next year and see all of the advancements they have made. Oh, and there is a 15 minute video that basically sums up the Indlovu project and the exciting things it hopes to achieve. As soon as it is accessible on the internet, we will let all of you know! Also, if anyone is interested in lending support to Shaster and Indlovu, visit the website at www.shaster.org.za

South Africa

I believe one of the strangest things I have encountered on my trip is how quickly, and seemingly effortlessly, I adapt to my surroundings. Since early February I have been in several countries, several cultures, all very different from each other. I went from New Zealand to Thailand to Cambodia back to Thailand and then to South Africa. The only common factor these countries once shared was that I have never visited any of them before this trip. We plan, we pack, we go. New Zealand: check. Southeast Asia: check. South Africa: pending. I am having a hard time believing that I am finally on the continent that I have had such a fascination with for so many years. I am in Africa. Fair enough, I am in South Africa, but Africa nonetheless. When we first arrived here the feedback we received from locals about our plan to work and live in Kialetsche, Cape town's largest and most disadvantaged township, was discouraging to say the least. Most of the reactions were the same, a mixture of pity for our "naivety", fear for our safety and amusement at our idea. For me this was quite a disappointment. Africa was for me. This part of the trip was going to be my learning experience so such reactions were not welcomed on my part. It really frustrated me that we received no positive encouragement. Regardless, this is what I came to do, and this is what will be done. It took us quite a while to finally make it out to the township due to the busy schedule of the director, but when we finally arrived it was pretty much what I expected. Disheartening, dry, hot, overcrowded and poor. Very, very poor. Most of the homes and buildings are made out of recycled materials. By recycled materials I mean pieces of trash collected from the nearby landfill. Homes stood side by side, amongst which stood rows of toilets, randomly dispersed water taps and the occasional bar for some of the approximately 80% unemployed to pass some time. In the township there are guidelines that "guests" must abide by. There are certain streets that we just don't go down, even in our car. We are not to walk around unescorted by a local, even in broad daylight, and we are not to walk or drive around past sunset, period. I assume that as long as we follow these rules, we'll make it out in one piece :-) We were given a tour of the Shaster facilities; they are modest to say the least, but Di, the director, has some big plans. She is planning within the next five years, I believe, to convert 20,000 shacks into eco-cottages. Homes built out of sandbags and plaster using only solar power, growing their own gardens and becoming completely self sufficient--not relying on the very little that the government provides its suffering people. We went to the creche, preschool/orphange, and played with the children. Imagine about 40-50 babies and toddlers in a space about the size of your bedroom. That is the nursery. It's hot, crowded, a breeding ground for germs and bacteria and filled with the sweetest little faces. One little baby, the moment we walked to the door walked straight to Laura and reached up to her to hold him. They were all instantly consumed with their new guests. Three new faces, all of which appear to be very different from ones they have seen before. They touched our faces, rubbed our noses, examined our eyeballs and kissed our cheeks. They all vied for our attention, but unfortunately, it was difficult to spend time with all of them, seeing as there were so many of them and so few of us. For those of the children who have not lost their parents to diseases such as aids, the parents have to pay a moderately high price for the care. They have so little income and practically all of it goes to their expenses so quickly. From food to clothing to nursery to schooling to medical expenses to paying off debts, how can they possibly afford it. Thankfully, some can and thankfully the rate of extreme hunger in this township is very very small. Most families may not go to sleep very full, but they do go to sleep with something. There is a 45% aids infected rate in the township as well and TB isn't an unknown disease here either. The people go through a lot but they were still very kind and warm with us, making us feel not as strangers but as guests. We move in on Friday. We have been staying at a beautiful lodge at the beach until we made arrangements to hire a car so that we have our own transportation out there. I must say that I will be sad to leave such a comfortable and clean guesthouse by the sea but eager to experiencing life in the township. I will hopefully post again, sometime soon, but internet will not be as readily available, so my access to it will be limited. We miss you all and I look forward to seeing my family and friends in a couple months.

P.S.

Mary K and I both may pull an Angelina and bring home some Cambodian babies. If everyone would come to Cambodia once, no one will ever again make fun of her United Colors of Benetton family, the kids are adorable! They will want one too!

Au Revoir Cambodge!

Today is our final day in Cambodia, we will hopefully catch a bus back to Bangkok tomorrow and then hopefully an overnight train/bus down to the southern islands of Thialand in time for the full moon. Let me just recap how we have spent our final day here. We woke up and went to a school/restaurant to attend a morning class. Mary K and I learned to cook three traditional Khmer dishes. We were first taken to the market to pick out the fresh ingredients for our dishes. That was an event for us in and of itself. Watching men knock living frogs out by hitting them on the heads with mallets and then skinning them whole. Women scaling, deboning and cleaning fish as if it were second nature, and constantly having to dodge live fish jumping out of their boxes and onto the ground at our feet trying to escape for freedom, just to have an old woman reach down and grab it bare-handedly to throw it back in with its mates all awaiting their same fate. After that little treat we headed back and started cooking. I was pretty grossed out at first seeing all that raw meat, chicken, fish, eggs and knowing that I would be eating some of it later, but surprisingly enough, it all turned out really tasty; we're good cooks. We were given a cookbook to bring back with us, so get ready everyone for some serious Khmer cuisine! It was such fun to cook well for myself, meals I create for myself typically consist of soup and a grilled ham and cheese sandwich or eggs or something of equal simplicity. I made Amok curry with fish, Lok Lak diced beef with a sweet/tangy black pepper sauce and fresh vegetables, and a chicken hot/sweet soup with lots of pepper! After that we went back to our guesthouse and hoped on two motorcycles(the most common mode of transportation here) and were taken on tours throughout the countryside and rural villages. My parents, you may not find this next part amusing. Jokingly, I said to my driver, "So, when are you going to let me drive this thing?" Twenty seconds later, he pulled off onto a side street and told me to hop up front. By the way, this bike is manual, not automatic, and I have driven a manual car once in my life, and that was last year. So he gives me a twenty second lesson and tells me to go. I don't do it confidently, or perhaps the problem was that I was too confident. I go slowly a couple of times, not well, and stop quickly, not liking it. He told me to try again, and so I said, fine, last time. One last time was all I needed to crash the bike and we both fell over with the bike between our legs. I scraped up my right knee a bit, but a part from that, most of the damage was done to the bike. $90 worth to be precise. I now look back on it and find the amusement in it and realize it could have been a lot worse...My advice to you: next time you are in a third world country riding leisurely throughout rural villages, leave the driving to trained semi-professionals, lord knows I should.
After that we crossed over a suspended bridge (which I find to be a bit thrilling and cool) and made our way to a bamboo train. This train would be outlawed in the U.S. due to all that liability jargon, but it sure was a good time. Basically it is a small flat truck bed size raft made of bamboo with wheels and an engine. Then you just fly down an abandoned train track for a few kilometers. It's shaky, loud and the fear and threat of derailing is prevalent. We ran into another bamboo train cart coming our way, but because they had less weight on it (we had four people and two motorcycles) they had to get up, disassemble the train and wait for us to pass. How crazy is that? Only in Cambodia, I suppose! Then one of our drivers took us to his home to meet his mother and show us pictures and American books he has (a little random but friendly and warm all the same). After we came back to town and I paid the man for the damage I caused to his bike (tear) Mary K and I went and had Cambodia's best fresh fruit shake. It sure was. All the fruit is always picked fresh and nothing added to it, but mango, pineapple and banana! Anyway, just wanted to let everyone know about the "closing ceremony" in Cambodia! Wish us luck as we use the ever-so-reliable and efficient logistics system of Cambodia and Thailand...Should be interesting.

Peace out to Cambodia

We are still in Cambodia, but not for much longer. In a couple of days, and after only two weeks in Cambodia, we make our way back to Thailand, Southern Thailand, actually. These couple of weeks have simultaneously gone by quickly and slowly. Quickly because I have really loved it here and wish I could stay longer to see more places, meet more people, do more things, and try more foods. Slowly in that I have tried very hard to savor each day, to try to fully experience it so that it doesn't feel like a past lifetime that I was here. I have met lovely people, charming (and persuasive) children, learned about a new history for me, seen some pretty crazy things, tried great food, seen about a million geckos everywhere I go and have loved it all.
We went to the beach area of the country for the past few days and experienced a different aspect of Cambodia. We went to remote islands, ate barracuda, snorkeled (which I scraped my feet numerous times on the large corals), sipped fresh fruit shakes on the beach and made friends with a bunch of 12 year olds. One young boy, Da, was trying to sell me some paintings. Of course, this was another thing I really didn't need so I kept declining, politely of course, and he kept persisting. He quickly noticed my ipod, however, and focused his attention on it. In broken English, he asked me if I had any Bob Marley, so he took one earphone and I took the other and we listened. He took control of the ipod and started changing the tunes, to some pretty random ones actually and made himself comfortable. He laid on me for about thirty minutes until he decided he needed to be a bit more comfortable and laid across the chair and slept beside me for about an hour. Mary K and I just laughed and all the little girls and boys walking by to sell things would laugh and poke at him. I realized that this kid, and all the other kids are tired for a reason. Instead of playing in the water or hanging out with friends, a lot of the children have to go around all day long, in the hot Cambodian sun selling random things to take money home to their families. Most of them do it all day long and look like it, too. They try to sell anything they can. From hand-made jewelry, to fresh prawns, to manicures/pedicures, to threded hair removal. Anything to make a few bucks. It is so unfortunate that this is how too many kids spend their day, but for some of them it's the only way to have dinner or to go to school for a couple of hours, or whatever. We had two friends that would come by every hour or two and have a rest with us. We purchased stuff from both of them on other days and when I asked them how business was, they looked discouraged and said not good. No sales. The reason being the beach is saturated with child peddlers. Most people do purchase from them, but there are only so many sarongs and so many bags of fresh pineapple one can purchase. I don't really know if the kids understand that. They just see Western tourists, with what they assume to have a lot of money. How could they not want to buy such low-priced items, they wonder. And if you tell one of them you already purchased what they are selling, they sweetly and sadly say, but you didn't purchase one from me. How can you resist that? It's hard to without feeling like Cruella D'ville. One of the little girls and I played hand games for awhile and when I got up to leave, for the final time, she told me she was going to miss me because I play with her and I assume because we were so friendly with her. It made me sad to think that most of her encounters with people are so passing. She probably doesn't get to make too many friends with people seeing as everyone stays a couple of days and moves on to a different part of the country. She was an adorable kid.
We visited an orphanage one afternoon. The place was home for about 60 kids and an additional 140 for basic schooling each day. It was in a sad state to say the least. Far too small and ill-equipped for so many kids. A very yound woman was the director of the place and you could tell she loved her kids and they loved her. They were hugging all over us and vying for our attention. They were a bit dirty, wearing tattered clothing, but had addictivew smiles and laughs. They wanted to take photos, give you drawings, show you tricks, anything to make them stand out to you in your mind. We worried that maybe some thought we were coming to "look around", perhaps thinking of adopting. Their library was sad. A few books here and there, not nearly enough for so many children that live there. The playground was a very small grass field with a basketball goal and a small hut. Underfunded would be a polite exaggeration. So many kids need a lot more than what the orphanage can offer. There was one little boy, about three years old, that was left there since he was three months, brothers and sisters living there together, kids from about 3 years old to about 18. The director told us that a lot of the children cannot continue school after grade 4 because at that point they need sponsors since they have to be sent outside of the orphanage for school. She said that it costs about $24 a month to sponsor an older kid there, that includes tuition for school, books, uniform, everything. Not very much, huh? That's what I thought, but unfortunately, not too many kids get that chance.
A couple of people have asked me why we would want to see such depressing or dark places in this country, that it's sad, even border-line exploiting. But I think that it would be very selfish of us to come here, tour it, enjoy it and not take the time or effort to bear witness to their past and difficult present. Mary K heard a quote that says, "To love a country is to love its people". Moreso though, I think to love its people, you must understand where they come from, what their past was like, and possibly have a grasp of what their future may hold. These visits to the "sadder" places have helped me understand the people better, which in turn leads me to love, more.

Phnom Pehn

Two posts in less than a week? I guess once you start you just can't stop...probably not, though, who knows when I will the urge and thoughts to post next. We have arrived in the largest and capital city of Cambodia, Phnom Pehn. It is bustling, loud, polluted, a bit dirty, but the people as nice as always. Behind the insistent tuk-tuk and motor bike drivers, the inviting restaurant staff and the bright, smiling faces of the children lingers a rather dark and heart-wrenching past. Recent past, actually. As many of you know, the Cambodians have suffered disgusting injustices from the hands of their own countrymen. Pol Pot and the Khmer Rouge were a communist form of government that took power in 1975 by winning power through guerilla warfare in order to restore Cambodia and its people to a purer state. A purely agrarian society in which anything otherwise was deemed tainted, evil and to be destroyed. This included having anything from modern luxuries such as cars, watches, books to those who found themselves to be superior for being educated/professionals such as doctors, lawyers, teachers, government officials, soldiers serving in the past regime, basically anything other than poor/primitive peasant and farm laborers. It started in the capital. Everyone was forced to leave the city, mainly by walking. And according to what I have read, it has said EVERYONE other than the Khmer Rouge soldiers. They displaced an entire city. All wondered into the countryside to villages where they were forced into hard labor. Let me clarify quickly, the Khmer Rouge disguised themselves as being the saviors of the people. They forced everyone to leave the capital by lying to them and telling them that the United States was planning to bomb Phnom Pehn so everyone must leave to survive. The people quickly realized that wasn't the case and saw in store for themselves a very grim future. First the Khmer Rouge began to mass execute any and all people they could find of non-farming occupations. They tortured and killed thousands of teachers, students, professionals, politicians, soldiers, people who wore glasses (they were considered intellectuals) and all of their entire families. Some were able to disguise themselves as peasants when they realized what was happening. Obviously I cannot go into details about the tragedy because then I would be writing a book, and not a very good or probably accurate one at that. I will tell you that there are estimates of up to three million of the then eight million population was tortured, executed or starved to death during the four year reign of the Khmer Rouge from 1975-1979. Here in Phnom Pehn, the largest "prison", basically a concentration camp, was housed. Not far out of the city is the "killing field". The prison was a high school where they took anyone who was "unpure" to question and torture, from babies to the elderly. They would be then transported about 14km to the killing field where they were executed and pushed into mass graves, some filled with up to 400 bodies. It is a disgusting and painful past that Cambodia has, and I urge you all to read up on it, just a bit, in order to understand what this nation is recovering from. We went to the prison and the killing fields today. It was the most difficult thing I have seen. It was impossible for me to the see the hundreds of mugshot-type pictures they have put up of the tortured and not be deeply pained. I saw a picture of a baby, probably not even the age of one yet and tears started streaming down. To know that they took this child away from her mother and tortured and killed both is too much for one to comprehend. Perhaps we don't actually, since thankfully, we were not there to bear witness. I saw one picture of a man who looked absolutely terrified, even from the photo taken at the beginning of it all, you could tell that this man knew of his fate, of the tortures that lay ahead of him. I'm sorry that this is not a cheerful post, but this is a part of my trip. These are the type of life-altering discoveries that this trip was supposed to hold for me. This is me seeing what is beyond my doorstep and beyond the pages of cnn.com. I am seeing the repairs that this nations is struggling to make. The thousands of people who don't really have enough to feed their children due to disabilities from the fight and landmines, displaced lives, a weak economy, poor to no wages because of no education and a very weak system that is still not re-built since the Khmer Rouge. I see the beggers and the street children differently, I don't blame the people for doing/having nothing with/for themselves; for some, it really is the circumstance. I thought to myself, after learning about the Khmer Rouge, that there is no way this could happen today. But I was wrong. I quickly remembered that a similar situation is happening in Darfur. I have been thinking how could the world not help the Cambodians? How could other countries have known what was happening and not do anything. It took Vietnam four years to finally invade Cambodia, dismantle the Khmer Rouge and save the people. But how come, today, we aren't doing more for the Sudanese? What can we do for them? How can we try to ease and better yet stop their suffering? Perhaps I feel zealous this way since only this morning I experienced the prisons and killing fields. I don't know, but I am sure that what I saw this morning are images that I will never forget. And hopefully urge me on enough to try and help the situations I can.