Things I sometimes ride past on my bike

One bike, three kids.

It gets them where they need to go.

First series, independent vowels...?

     Now that I find myself with all this free time, I'm ready to resume studying Khmer. My first attempt, back in our first few weeks here, was an exercise in frustration and humiliation. I was too tired by the end of the day, too overwhelmed with all the other things I was trying to learn, and my brain was completely unreceptive to the idea of a new alphabet, let alone new words. In that time period, I integrated one new word every few days if I was lucky. I tried to learn more, but nothing would stick for more than three minutes. My Khmer teacher would come over and I would be filled with the dread of having to admit that I hadn't done any homework, that I couldn't remember anything he had taught me at the previous lesson, and that I was a complete failure as a student. Eventually, I just started using the time to interview him about Khmer culture, Buddhism, and his life. Then after a month of that charade, I admitted that I couldn't continue.


    After I stopped studying, I started to retain a few more words, particularly those I heard every day in the clinic. I could say "headache," "sore throat," "cold," "pain," and "two pills four times a day." I also learned important terms like "hammock," "drunk," "sorry," and "cilantro." I began to recognize a word here or there when listening to conversations. I read a book that included a lot of Khmer vocabulary (with English translations) and I occasionally noticed those words around me. I began to feel like I could tackle this project again, so on Monday I began my second attempt. 


     The question when studying a new language with a whole new alphabet is whether to just learn to speak and understand, or to also learn to read. I'm way too much of a visual learner, and the Khmer alphabet is way too intriguing to look at, so now I am the equivalent of a 48-year-old first-grader, learning a few letters at a time. I figured I could handle two Khmer lessons a week, giving me time to study in between and hopefully integrate the things I was trying to learn. It's a very slow pace, especially in contrast to the Khmer people here who might work all day then go to English class for two or three hours every evening, but I'm trying to be realistic. And when Yeum, my teacher comes back this evening, I'm hoping to redeem myself somewhat in his eyes by showing him that I actually practiced and remember what we did on Monday.


     It's going to be a long road. The Khmer alphabet is one of the largest in the world, with first series and second series dependent and independent vowels. I don't even know what exactly those terms mean just yet; I just know that such things exist.


According to this website:

The Khmer alphabet is the largest alphabet in the world (Guinness Book of World Records, 1995). It consists of 33 consonants, 23 vowels and 12 independent vowels. The 23 main consonants are separated into two groups: the first series (small sound) and second series (big sound). Furthermore, each consonant has two representations, regular and subscript (like upper and lower case, except in most cases the two do not resemble one another at all). Lastly, 10 of the most used consonants have a more "formal" appearance when written in titles, in advertising, on temple walls, etc. Hence, there are 101 distinct symbols.

Each of the 23 vowels has two distinct sounds, one when it is paired with a consonant from the first series and another when it is paired with a consonant from the second series. Sometimes, a vowel takes on a third sound when the pairing is followed by a certain other consonant. Confused yet?? Too bad. There is more. There are six accents that change all rules and add even more vowel sounds. They appear over top of words and act to either shorten, lengthen or emphasize sounds. The bontop looks a lot like a straightened out apostrophe, shortens a vowel sound, at the same time altering it. The bontop pii, which looks like two straightened apostrophes, (pii=two), changes the sound of a first series consonant to a second series sound. There is another symbol to change the sound of a second series consonant to a first series, but this only applies to a limited number. The other 3 accents occur infrequently

Khmer words are written without spaces in between. This leads to confusion because many words are compounds of two others. For example, the word for rencil is "black hand". If you start reading a story about little Phanith learning how to read and write in the countryside with his favorite pencil, and you don't know this, you might wonder if he is a psychotic serial killer and furthermore, question why anyone wrote a story about him.

The Khmer language, unlike others in the area is not tonal. (compare: Thai has 5 tones, Laotian has 6 tones, Vietnamese sounds like it is spoken backwards AND it has 6 tones) This might lead a new learner to the language to the delusional idea that it is a simple language to acquire. The joke, of course, is on that learner.

Reading the above description of the division of the alphabet and the schizophrenic nature of its vowels, one can quickly calculate there is a vast array of vowel sounds. To the untrained (in this case English speaking) ear, many of these seem virtually indistinguishable. This can lead to problems.

     I think that description is better than anything I can offer you in my own words. And whatapainitisnottohavespacesbetweenthewords. 


     Now I will offer you a peek at my homework, so you can fully appreciate the fact that I've put some effort into it:

It's harder than it looks... Or my fine motor skills aren't as good as I thought they were.

Someday maybe I'll know them ALL!!!!

 

What's with the spam blog comments???

    Nothing is more fun than getting blog comments, though who knew that people spam in this format? I can't figure out what the motivation is for doing such a thing. It's not spam in the sense of someone trying to sell me something, but these strange comments that seem to flatter somehow (when you can understand them at all.)

     The blog site does a good job of filtering the spam and putting them in a separate place to be moderated before automatically publishing them. The first few made me chuckle and I promptly deleted them, though recently I've started saving them just for my own amusement. I thought I would cut and paste one here for your amusement as well:

     This one came a couple of days ago:

I be enduring be familiar with a insufficient of the articles on your website now, and I unqualifiedly like your style of blogging. I added it to my favorites net stage list and disposition be checking to assist soon. Check in view my site as well and fail me conscious what you think. Thanks.

     Gotta love those online translation sites, but I would hate to ever "fail [you] conscious." On the other hand, I'd love to know what a "favorites net stage list" is.

     So, does anyone have any insight about the purpose of these weird comments? And can anyone explain why the comments only ever get made on two very old blog entries about laundry and luggage?


     I'm sorry I deleted the first few, because they made about as much sense as the one above. Now I'm kind of hoping for more, just for laughs, but I'd truly like to understand the purpose of such odd comments. Can anyone enlighten me?

Another perspective (meaning not mine, for a change)

     Just for fun, you can read someone else's account of our October boat trip to Battambang here. Kristina provides a much more detailed account and does a lovely job with photos.

     Enjoy!

Delivery!

    I had a most welcome phone call from the local DHL office this morning - "Some boxes here for you! Where you live?" And less than an hour later, the yellow van showed up and dropped off the beautiful pile of boxes below:

     Enormous thanks go out to my mother and her friend Lorrie, who pulled together all the contents, and to Mary and Greg who donated the cost of the shipping. We were like little kids on Christmas morning opening everything.

     Much of the contents were things for Steve's classroom - a combination of things we left accessible at home in case we had the opportunity to ship them and things my mother and her friend Lorrie pulled together. Some of the contents were things we needed for everyday life that I ordered online and sent to my mother's address.  And the best part of all were the wonderful little surprises tucked into every box - iced tea mix and coffee, magazines, maple syrup, and CHOCOLATE! Besides the Costco-sized jar of Nutella, there were Halloween-sized chocolate bars stuffed into every crevice. We promptly divided them up into three equal piles so no one would have to worry about missing out on their share if they ate more slowly than the others. (We know each other well enough to be able to predict that outcome!)

     I spent the afternoon reading Harper's magazine, drinking iced tea, and savoring morsels of Butterfinger. Steve spent the afternoon organizing all the amazing new school supplies and daydreaming about how he will use them all. Jaz was thrilled to have chocolate in the house.

     DHL is amazing - delivery from Vermont took five days and there were no fees on this end. 

     The people back home who made this possible are even more amazing. Thank you!!!

Where I find myself at the moment.

Some of you may be wondering what’s been happening with me – or maybe I flatter myself by thinking that you’re wondering – but I’ll just warn you that this post is all about me, so if you’re interested in reading about Cambodia, move along, folks – there’s nothing to see here.

(And isn’t blogging just a huge exercise in self-absorption anyway? Who am I to think anyone wants to read this crap?)

I came here thinking I had skills to offer. I was quickly asked to organize and manage a clinic. I was told that the clinic was “a mess”, that no one had time to put any systems in place and therefore it was chaotic and not as effective as it could be. While I had thought I wanted an opportunity for more direct patient care rather than administrative work, I felt it could be a worthwhile challenge and that I might have the skills needed to do the job.

So I tackled it, full on. I set about trying to understand how things worked and how I could improve efficacy and efficiency. I asked everyone who worked there a thousand questions. I made notes and lists and spent time at home developing forms and systems.

When I was told that a donor had recently purchased a vehicle for the clinic’s use and that it would be available for us every day during clinic hours, I expected that was true. When the car wasn’t available or had no gas in the tank, I questioned why. When I was told to put repair requests in writing so they could be taken care of, and then nothing happened as a result of those requests, I asked what was getting in the way and how could we overcome this obstacle. When I was told that I should purchase things needed for the clinic and then request reimbursement, I did so, but then I was told by someone else in the organization that I couldn’t do that. I asked why I was hearing two different things. When a pharmacist who helps fund the clinic came to visit and provide some recommendations to improve patient safety and financial viability, I took those recommendations and made sure that all the systems we were putting in place were compatible with his identified goals. Then I sent an email update to people within the organization and the pharmacist, and was told I was “not allowed” to communicate with donors.

I was asked to “be the boss” of the clinic, to “get this place running smoothly.” I took it seriously. Together with the GP who was there during my first two months on the job, protocols were developed, and unnecessary and dangerous prescribing by the Khmer “doctor” were drastically reduced. Some nurse volunteers came and went and reported a positive experience in the clinic. We stopped running out of medicines as the inventory and purchasing systems went into place. We began to keep actual records of patient’s clinic visits. We began to refer patients to other appropriate healthcare providers in the community to get them the specialized care they needed.  The Khmer translator staff eagerly studied new vocabulary and seemed genuinely happy.

There were enormous challenges, but it was exhilarating at times. Progress could be seen. It was far from perfect, but some things were working and some were in the process of being figured out.

But I made some mis-steps along the way. I have little tolerance for those who aren’t willing to put in some effort, and a couple of people within the organization (but not directly in the clinic) struck me as those who were much more interested in their own best interests than in doing a good job. While I thought I was being polite but firm, they thought I was being rude – my mistake in not yet understanding the cultural implications of my communication style. Unfortunately, both of these people happened to have more power within the organization than I understood initially – though to this day I cannot understand why they do. And while there are very few people in the world in whom I cannot find any redeeming qualities, these two might be at the top of that short list. I suppose it’s fair to say that I don’t like them, and they appear to know it (despite my efforts to be diplomatic) and I’m sure they dislike me too. Language gaps (one is Khmer and one is Nigerian) mean that that the subtleties of communication are lost and we probably don’t even read each other’s body language very accurately.

Anyway, the damage was done. My occasional efforts to smooth over ruffled feathers went nowhere. I began to get fewer responses to my emails and calls to the organization’s directors, until I felt I was being ignored completely. So I carried on, providing email updates where I thought appropriate, and wondering how an organization could ask someone to do a job and then never think to check in from time to time about how the work was actually going. Not exactly my management style – but then again, I should have known something was off when I was told by one of my nemeses mentioned above that my management style was “wrong.” I was told that I “worked too hard” and I needed to slow down and tell other people what to do so they could “earn [my] approval and be proud of themselves” for that. I explained that my style is to try to set an example, and never ask anyone to do anything that I’m not willing to do myself (if I’m capable.)

And then I was called into his office to be told that I “wasn’t a team player” and that I asked too many questions. I told him that nothing would please me more than to feel part of a larger team within the organization, and I had been hoping that management would extend any invitation at all to be part of that team. (Perhaps responding to emails would be a good way to start…?) In the meantime, I had worked hard to focus on the clinic and nurture a sense of teamwork there, which I thought was going well.

Then I was told – and this is a direct quote, because I was taking notes and I even asked him to repeat himself – that “the goal of ‘the team’ is to actualize the dreams of the owners of the organization.” I was stunned – I would have bet that the goal was to provide the best educational and health support for the population we identify as our clients.  And I would never have thought of the founders of a charity as “owners.” The depth and breadth of the gap between our styles and our vision about this work became suddenly clearer – this very well-paid “manager” had his priorities, and I was not playing by his rules. He had plenty more to say, as did I, but there was no common ground.

There were other issues that left me with unanswered questions: issues of transparency, fiscal responsibility, mission and purpose. I will leave those topics alone.

This meeting marked a change in perspective about my place in this organization.  Long emails were sent (some were accidentally sent to my blog subscriber list – oops!) and got perfunctory replies.  I spent many hours wrestling internally with whether I would stay or go – I believed in the potential of the clinic and I enjoyed my coworkers there, but I couldn’t imagine staying on in a place where I had such vast differences with the management (and “owners”) of the organization. I wondered if leaving the position would mean I was selfishly prioritizing my own ego over the potential good I might be able to do by staying. I asked myself if my expectations were reasonable, and whether I came here to have an easy life or a productive life. I thought in circles about what I saw as the problems and whether I thought they were insurmountable. I berated and then forgave myself for not understanding the lay of the land soon enough. I wondered what to do.

And then they made it easy. During a two-and-a-half hour meeting with the “owners” and management, I was told the following:

•        I did a lot of really good work in the clinic, but
•        I didn’t understand the chain of command
•        I was not allowed to communicate with people outside the organization
•        I needed to slow down – in fact, I should probably “take some Valium, like the rest of us!”
•        I must 100% support the philosophy of the organization

Then I was asked if I could do that – change my personality and 100% support their philosophy. Since no one has ever defined what the philosophy is, I am left to draw my own conclusions about it based on my observations over three months.

I told them I would think about it, but there wasn’t much more thinking to do. Two days later I gave them one week’s notice. (I figured that I gave the VNA six month’s notice after working there for 23 years, so one week was sufficient for a job I held for less than three months.) They seemed surprised.

The worst part was telling the clinic staff. I was not prepared for tears from young Khmer men. I struggled with how to explain the decision without putting them in any position of discomfort about conflicting loyalties. I cried with them. Then I worked harder than ever for the final week to accomplish as much as I could.

I spent a week being pissed off and sad and self-righteous and discouraged. I exercised enough self-restraint not to blog about it then. I whined on Facebook and to my friends via email. I endured the psychic discomfort of questioning my own motives.

Then I spent the weekend in the hammock and got a grip. And as I so often do, I found solace and direction in a quote from someone else:

“I beg you..to have patience with everything unresolved in your heart and try to love the questions themselves as if they were locked rooms or books written in a very foreign language. Don’t search for the answers, which could not be given you now, because you would not be able to live them. And the point is, to live everything. Live the questions now. Perhaps then, someday far in the future, you will gradually, without even noticing it, live your way into the answer…”   - Rainer Maria Rilke

So I’m learning. And I’m trying to live the questions rather than expect to find the answers. When the time is right, I imagine I will find other things to keep me busy. In the meantime, I will read and write and study Khmer and take bike rides. I will spend time in the hammock. I will listen to the birds and the dogs and the geckoes and the monks. I will grow sunflowers and cherry tomatoes. I will see what happens next.

Most of the clinic and outreach team - over for drinks on Friday night.