New Arival

I left Alaska the 15th. I arrived in Phnom Penh – the capital of Cambodia- the 18. It was a long trip.

After I’d gone through customs and received a visa I went outside into the humid Cambodia sun. A Khmer man with large eyes and a wide, white smile held a sign with my name on it. I smiled at him and he ran over to me. The man grabbed my suitcase and took me to a CSC van.

The man introduced himself as Si Tha (see- tah). He told me he would be taking me to the Chenda clinic, which is a partner clinic with CSC.

During the drive we spoke. I was very happy to be off the plane and very smiley. Si Tha is a very smiley man in general. He speaks good English, although sometimes I have to strain to understand his pronunciations. We chatted excitedly – at least I felt that he was excited – for the ride which lasted only about ten minutes but the whole time I kept staring out the window and watching hundreds of motto’s – basically mopeds- and cars drive in and out of each other haphazardly with no real direction or rules. A land cruiser was headed strait towards us before our driver, another Khmer man, swerved deftly out of its way in the last second. When I put on my seat belt Si Tha smiled at my silliness.

Outside, everything was bright and brilliant. Vibrant greenery and tropical flowers covered everything. Along the streets people gathered near fruit stands. Large piles of trash flowed into the road and small children picked through it. A scrawny bitch with teats huge from nursing scavenged along side the children.

A black Lexus pulled in front of us. Si Tha told me that it was a military vehicle.

“Millions of dollars come into Cambodia for aid but mostly the people don’t get it,” he said. “And the government has big houses and new cars. We think it is corruption, but we don’t know.”

After speaking briefly with the surgeon at Chenda, I was redirected to Jim Gollogoly’s house, the doctor who had invited me to come to Cambodia. Although Jim is in China for the week, a medical student named Annika met me at the house.

Annika is a tall athletic women with blonde hair, blue eyes and skin tanned nearly as dark as the Khmers’. She told me that Jim wanted me to leave tomorrow on the Smile Train Mission which would end in Siem Reap, the tourist center of Cambodia.

“You may want to stay an extra day and see the temples and then take the bus back,” Annika suggested.

The Smile Train, she said, was a relief mission for children with cleft lip and palate. The next morning a Thai business man, Som, was coming to Cambodia for PR for the charity. He was going to be traveling throughout the provinces of Cambodia, visiting surgeons and doctors. Jim wanted me to go along and write an article for CSC about the mission. Si Tha was coordinating with Smile Train in Cambodia so he would also be accompanying us.

Annika had brought several maps of Phnom Penh for me to use as well as a book to read. To get around, she suggested using the “toot toots” or mottos. The cost a dollar or two depending on the distance you travel. They were very safe in the day, she said.

I would only stay at Jim’s for a few nights. After that I could choose between staying at Chenda clinic for free or getting a guest house for only a few dollars a night.

She asked me if I was tired and I truthfully answered no, so she asked if I would like to go out for lunch at the Russian Market. Si Tha, who had stood beside Annika smiling agreeably through out the conversation, said goodbye and told me that he would pick me up at 8:30 the next morning.

Annika and I found a toot toot, which is like a motto drawn carriage, and she bartered with him for the price. As we drove all the men and women stared and smiled at me. Motto drivers would turn their heads as they passed to try and meet my eyes. I smiled back.

The Russian Market is a group of shanties gathered closely together to form something that almost has an inside. Inside, Western style knockoffs are sold for a few dollars. I bought a pair of shorts and two nice shirts for 8 dollars and a hat for 2.

Annika found a fruit stand and bought some round dark balls that she cracked open to reveal milky pulp. She offered me one. It was juicy and sweet. The fruit, she said, was the best part of this part of the world.

Annika, 28, was originally from Kodiak. She was the middle child of a family with 6 children and countless pets. After graduating high school, she went to CSU as a premed. She had spent one year at UAA in the WWAMI program, where she had met Dr. Owens and had learned about CSC. Each year, one WWAMI student is chosen to volunteer at CSC. She wasn’t chosen. However, after entering Med. school she had asked if she could come and had been accepted.

Annika has bright, joyful eyes.

We walked past a small girl selling books.

“Never buy from children,” Annika said. Ït keeps them in the streets and they don’t even get the money. There’s probably a pimp right here that will get whatever money she makes.”

Annika turned the girl, who wasn’t wearing a shirt. On her back were several long gashes.

“She’s not wearing a shirt on purpose. Someone probably cut her to make you more likely to buy from her. It’s sick.”

We walk past. I feel sad for the girl but not shocked. We see many children like her through out the day.

After spending the day exploring Phom Penh, we catch a toot toot to take us back to Jim’s house. Annika says goodbye and asks if I will get dinner with her the next day. I agree.

It is now 5 pm. I resolve to go to bed early since I’ll have to wake up by 7 and I don’t have an alarm clock.

Jim’s house is surrounded by high concrete walls and a small court yard. This is typical for upper class Cambodian homes. In front of his door there is a kiddy pool filled with drowned trucks. Jim’s 2 year old son runs out.

Jim’s wife, Kanya, is Thai woman. His son is half British half Thai and as dark as the Khmer. He has a fluid speech that jumbles together all three languages. He enjoys rolling his dump truck into peoples’ legs and taking the wheels of his truck so I will put them back on. When we go on walks he holds his truck up to me so I will grab it also and we hold hands.

Kanya’s niece is also staying at the house, as well as a house keeper. The house keep speaks little English. Kanya’s niece is fluent. The three of us walk to a near by market to by fruit for dinner. Kanya’s niece, a beautiful girl with long dark hair and dark eyes, is 17 or 18. She excitedly has me test several types of fruit. My favorite is mango.

The house keeper cooks dinner and sets it in front of me. She asks if I would like wine. I am embarrassed to be waited on and tell her she doesn’t have to. After dinner I take my own plates to the sink to wash them and she chides me and laughs.

Kanya’s niece is excited again.

“Do you like massage?” she asks.

Ï affirm that. She laughs and told me that she called Kanya’s masseuse who will be over in a few minutes. I get embarrassed again and tell her that its not at all necessary but she giggles and says its no problem, Kanya does it all the time.

Two small Khmer girls arrive within a few minutes. They ask me to sit on a bed. One begins massaging my shoulders while the other puts my feet in a tub of warm water and begins to wash them. I am mortified.

The girls proceed to spend the next hour kneading my muscles and giving me a pedicure and manicure. The house keeper sits beside them. They converse in Khmer. She pays them a few dollars when it is over. I run to my room and grab 4 more and give them both 2. They raise their hands to me as if in prayer and say goodbye.

I say goodnight to the house keeper and fall asleep almost instantly.