You're Alright

Cambodia, 

With your rice paddies, tuk tuks, street food, moto bikes, crowded markets, sweltering heat, fascinating language, stray dogs, constant traffic, gross tomatoes, sleeping locals, and daily rainfall you're alright. 

  

The Fields

Choeung Ek is where the Killing Fields are located.  One of over 300 locations in Cambodia where people were executed during the Khmer Rouge.  Many were kept as prisoners at S-21 and later brought here to be executed.  People that is -- people.  Brought here in truck loads, told they were just being relocated.  Today I saw mass graves before me, where people were thrown into piles one after one.  A tree whose naturally sharp bark was used to slit throats.  Another tree used to smash defenseless children against until they died.  To this day bones still surface after heavy rainfalls.

I saw piles of bones, jars of teeth, and rows and rows of skulls.  I walked the site of innumerable deaths.  Deaths that happened at all times of the day.  Music would play to drown out the screams.  DDT was poured to cover the stench, and kill off anyone buried alive.  This happened to everyday people.  Confessing to crimes never committed and executed for simply existing.  It all happened, and not too long ago.

Cheers

Four weeks and two days.  That is how long I have been here and that is how long I have been the happiest, maybe the happiest I have ever been.  It is this job.  This job is just great.  Actually, great is not a strong enough adjective to explain it.  No adjective is strong enough to explain it.  A few months ago I would have never expected to be living in Cambodia, and I would have never expected to be doing work that I love as much as this.

In class I was teaching descriptive words.  Intelligent, beautiful, independent, etc.  The board wasn't full so I asked every girl to shout out some words they would use to describe themselves.  That board filled up in no time as hands shot up and voices called out.  "Fabulous, lovely, kind, clever," and they just kept coming.

I assigned every girl to write five sentences describing themselves.  These sentences had to start with "I know I am...".  Silence came over us as everyone quickly scribbled down in excitement, only calling out to ask for spelling help.  We all sat around the table, papers in hand.  Each girl read their sentences aloud to the class, but they did not just read them.  Each girl sat up straight, head up, and shouted their sentences.

By the second sentence their voices would start to fade.  "Louder," I said, "Let the whole world hear you!"  And louder they would read.  Louder they would yell.  Louder and louder and louder.  Every girl was yelling their sentences, just five of the many things they know they are.  "I know I am a good friend.  I know I am kind.  I know I am beautiful.  I know I am intelligent.  I know I am strong!"  Every one of these girls is beautiful, and every one of them is stronger than they will ever know.  With every word and every sentence was all and nothing but the truth.  I know it, and these girls know it.  They know they are beautiful, intelligent, and strong amongst many wonderful things.  They know they are everything and it is time for the world to know.

After each girl had her turn I did not even have to say a single word.  Each girl in that room clapped, cheered, and roared with happiness.  Laughter came out, hands came together, and the girls jumped out of their seats with joy.  They cheered for one another and they cheered for themselves.  I know they are everything they said that day.  Everyday they should yell it for the world to hear them loud and clear.  Here's to that perfect day, here's to the girls cheering for each other, cheering for themselves - beauty, brains, and all.

Currently

Currently my life consists of early mornings, busy days, teaching English, taking photos, empowering young girls, speaking in Khmer, sweating from heat, drinking tons of water, eating noodles, eating rice, writing in my journal, writing emails to friends back home, and loving every second of it all.

Expectations

Here I am typing a blog post from Phnom Penh.  That's Cambodia for crying out loud!

I went to college like I was expected to.

I graduated just two months ago.

I now am part of the eight percent of the world that holds a college degree.

Eight percent.

I landed an internship position in Phnom Penh.

An internship position at an organization that helps victims of sexual exploitation.

I got it.

I accepted it.

I came here.

Now I'm here doing what I wanted to be doing.  Around graduation everyone was asking my post-graduation plans and although I had a plan, I chose not to tell too many people.  

Everyone asks about the post-graduation plan because they expect you to have a job lined up.

They expect you to have a job, an income, security, safety, and all that other bullshit.

They expect so much of you, yet at the same time so little.

These expectations wear away at your soul and your drive to actually do what you want.

Do I want to have security and settle for the first job that comes my way?

Do I really want to do that?

Do I love that?

Don't I want to do what I love?

I'm not sure enough people ask themselves these questions, and even if they do ask, maybe not enough are answering with honesty.  I'm not one to tell people how to live their life, yet everyone else is willing to tell the world how to live theirs.  How to live up to every single expectation set by society, set by your classmates, set by your family.

These expectations are set and it is my first instinct to follow them.

But wait a minute.

Is that what I want to do?

Yes, I am currently in Cambodia.

Yes, I arrive back to the States in a little over two months.

No, I do not have a job waiting for me.

I do not have an apartment to come home to.

I do not have a clue.

At first this scares me. 

I have to look for a job, I have to think about grad school, I have to I have to I have to.

Actually, I don't have to do anything.

I'm not saying I'm not driven, because I sure as hell am, but maybe I don't know what I'm driving towards.  It's a nice feeling to know what you want.  You can just go out there and work your way to get what you want.  

That is what is expected of you.

Graduate, know what you want, go find it, interview for it, get it, accept it, start your life.

That's not how it is for me.  I'm here in Cambodia without a clue of what is next.  It scares the living daylights out of me, of course, but at the same time I'm free.

I know I want to go to graduate school, but maybe not just yet.

I know I want to find an apartment, because I can only sleep on my sister's couch for so many nights.

I know I want to find a job, because my grumbling stomach will explain that one.

And I know I want to help people.

I came to Cambodia in the first place to help people.  To help these girls.  The girls that light up the room with their smiles, that make you laugh during language barrier charades, and who make it all worth it.

Two months ago I did not know much of what I wanted after graduation.

I knew I didn't want a dead end job that I would just settle for.

I knew I wanted something new.

I knew this decision was right for me.

Coming to Cambodia will not only help these girls, my resume, and ability to self reflect, but it will help me be lost.

I have no clue what I am going to do in two months and instead of being afraid of the unknown, it is time to embrace it.

Fearless

I'm spending my time here in Cambodia interning for a non-profit organization that offers aftercare to victims of sexual exploitation.  That aftercare consists of a house to come home to, hot foot to eat, therapy, school, and even skateboarding.

Skateistan is a local skate park that works to connect kids to education through skating.  A few of the girls I work with skate once a week and this past week I decided to come watch.  The skate park is filled with kids smiling, skating, and laughing galore.

The girls walked right in there, geared up, and just went for it.  Skating down ramps, weaving around other kids, and falling, tripping, slipping.  

These girls are fearless.

It was amazing watching them.  I was in a daze as they rushed by me back and forth.

Not only are these girls skateboarding, but they're learning a skill, learning to take chances, learning to help each other out.

The number of times I saw hands offered to a girl that fell, helping one another fix their elbow pads that were slipping down their arms, or just giving each other pats on the back to let them know they're all doing great was heart warming.  

It may sound cheesy, but it's true.

These girls are learning to be leaders as they help one another perfect a certain skill.

They are learning to be brave as they fall down the half pipe and get right back up again.

These girls are learning to be friends as they hold hands to help keep each other's balance.

These girls are learning confidence, trust, and so much more.

I want to watch these girls skate every week.  I cheered for them, stuck my tongue out at them, flashed them thumbs up when they gave me a quick glance, and I'm just getting to know them.

Being in Cambodia for less than two weeks I already care about these girls.  I cared about them before I knew them and now I care about them even more.  Whether I'm working on social media to promote this organization or teaching them English on a daily basis, these girls are the future of Cambodia, the future of the world, and they are fearless.