10 days till takeoff: The goodbye bash

December 2, ten days until I take off to return to the US.

Yesterday on the first, I had a small going away party at my house -- one last hurrah before heading out of Kampong Cham. In all, around 25 friends and coworkers showed up, filling the living room and spilling out onto the balcony. I cooked Hainanese chicken rice, two kinds of curry and steamed fish, and most people chipped in food -- amok, fruits, plear threi, special soup, pork lime salad, tempura, strawberry jello. The pots and platters spilled off of the dinner table to the coffee table and the floor. I thought we would have too much food, but everyone did their part and by the end of the night I was astonished and impressed at the scraps and bones that remained.

The action

The bare bones

I wore my new Khmer outfit -- made by a local tailor to the pattern chosen by Sopheap and Somart. Even Vandong the monk came, though per his alimentary restrictions, all he had was a soybean drink.

Showing off my new outfit with the beautiful Muoy

A contingent over on the floor got their drink on, and finished 4 bottles of Randonal "power" wine, some ABC Stout, and about a dozen cans of grass jelly.

Somart, the party animal

Sarah drank her fair share of the Rum.
Rumdourl looks on, amused as usual

To honor my departure, everyone stayed later than usual. Somanee started the exodus around 8:30, and the rest followed soon after.

The girls out on the balcony.
L to R, Somart, Sok Pi, Sopheap, Van Dy, Sambath, and Muoy

By 8:45, Peace Corps Sarah and I were the only ones left. By then, magically, the leftovers were put away, the dishes were all cleared and washed, the floors mopped, and the furniture put back in its place.

KAPE Girls' Scholarships

Another video on one our main programs:

A new kind of computer for rural Cambodian schools

This is a video I originally produced in Khmer for one of our projects, just translated into English.

This year, the ESCUP project in Cambodia installed the first solar-powered thin client lab in a Cambodian high school. Thin client labs are cheaper to set-up than a traditional lab, reduce energy use by 88%, and are easier to upgrade and maintain.

Jess as Producer

Just signed a new contract this week to product three short videos for an international NGO. I put together a little movie as an experiment and it turns out that some folks in this NGO liked what I had done and decided to hire me to make more over the next month or so. I feel a bit like an impostor given that I have no previous experience with video editing, shooting... production, but I'm going to do my best and see where that takes me.

Things have been rough at the local NGO. The project I was working on was abruptly cancelled, leaving much of our staff (including myself, the expensive consultant) in limbo for the past couple of months. Without burdening this (small but elite) audience with boring details, the project's death was a basically the perfect case-study of all the things that can go wrong in development (project-based funding meaning salary insecurity for local staff; petty corruption; international NGOs making ridiculous requests and bullying local NGOs).

Thankfully, yesterday we got two pieces of really good news which have lightened up the atmosphere in the office considerably and mean that I'll probably be able to continue this video gig until I leave. Pretty spiffy.

Cook-off at Charthmei

My first attempt at simple video production -- showing a life skills class in cooking at Charthmei Primary School:

Flak Jacket

I haven't written very much about work stuff, perhaps because I've still been trying to process everything myself and get a handle on the best way to describe it all, but I guess here's as good a time as any to make a go of it.

So here I am, working with a local education NGO here in Kampong Cham. The organization's origins go back to April 1996, when USAID decided to halt funding for their Cambodia Assistance to Primary Education Project because of the political climate in Cambodia. A group of local staff from Kampong Cham province decided that it was unacceptable to suddenly drop aid and technical assistance to schools, and continued their efforts with their own personal resources. Eventually, with support from the local and national partners, the project was reborn into the organization it is today.

As I've described before, we're your typical alphabet soup of projects funded by a myriad of donors from all over the place. We try to organize ourselves into sections and consolidate projects into longer term programs as much as possible. I work in the Girls' Education Initiative (gei) section which currently includes two main programs: our Girls Secondary School Scholarship Program which includes a bunch of different activities including vocational training and "life skills" classes like computers, cooking, and hair-cutting, and the REACH project.

I was mostly hired to advise the REACH team, specifically to help them with research design and analysis, designing the new activities based on our research, and writing reports and proposals. I also act as advisor to the gei section in general, which currently means I'm sorting out a projected budget for the next 3 years, writing proposals to try to secure the money, and writing reports to current donors.

Unfortunately, day-to-day I feel like I'm buried in a mountain of bureaucracy. I thought I would be able to help this local NGO and learn a lot about development and I think I was right, but not in the way that I expected. Honestly, I'm most useful as a flak jacket to protect my team from the demands of donors so they can go ahead and get the actual work done. I guess someone needs to do it, but it's not especially fulfilling. I'm trying as much as possible not to just do the work, but instead help the team learn skills themselves so that they can function more independently of an advisor in the future, but it's tough to find the time and the patience. It's a constant battle between just doing things myself because it's faster and simpler, and trying to cajole the team into doing it themselves. So far, I'm teaching a weekly advanced English writing class (sparsely attended) and mentoring our team leader Rumdourl and temporary Program Manager, Rith, but it's slow going.



I guess I live for trips out to the field which remind me of the children and communities that all this paperwork is meant to help. This past week, I went out to visit three groups of girls who received a small loan from our NGO to start a business after completed our vocational training programs in sewing / beautician skills. It was super to see what they had achieved in only a little over 2 months. One group of 5 girls was making over $150/week sewing clothes for people in their village, at least twice as much as they could make individually in the rice fields.

To mark the difference the loan actually made, we also visited some individual students who hadn't received any credit assistance after finishing their training; 3 of 4 were out in the fields working, their sewing machines covered and unattended. Unfortunately, it seems unlikely that we can make the program much bigger ourselves since our main focus is education and we don't have the expertise nor the manpower nor the donor connections... so I'm going to try to look for a local microfinance partner who we can pass the groups off to instead.

I'm starting to see how education development can be a difficult field, given that the results are so vague... We assume that students who have more education are better off, but it's not always the immediate reality. In the long term, there's no doubt that a better educated populace is good for political stability and necessary for economic development, and it's certainly worthy to give children at least the option of a quality education if they want it, but like the example of the vocational training/microfinance link, it seems like education may be necessary to a point, but is woefully insufficient without other programs.

Anyway, enough for now. Missing home lots, but still doing well.

Cooling off

Today, the weather seems to be finally changing and there's a gorgeous breeze blowing through the office, cooling sweaty brows and tempers alike. After a number of heated moments in the past few days, it seems like things are finally calming down. If I will learn anything from my time here, I hope it will be patience and grace despite frustration because without these qualities, I won't survive another month.

This past week has been my most difficult by far in terms of my work here in Cambodia. Some of my worst nightmares of the donor community have come alive in ugly detail this week, and the sudden flare of my own displeasure with our partner, added to the unrelated issues brewing on our project team seems to resulted in the proverbial pot boiling over. Take a fundamentally flawed system, add miscommunication and language barriers, egos and reputation, throw in a little bit of incompetence and my own impatience, and you've got the recipe for a serious headache.

To be crystal clear, though there has been a small issue on the project team I'm advising, the major issues I'm taking about have to do with the folks who are funding my main project. Anyway, I don't have much time to write right now, but my seething sense of righteousness seriously needed a vent. I will describe the meeting and its aftermath in excruciating detail soon.

New pix from the field

Things have been hectic at the office lately trying to get our research wrapped up and our pilot off the ground before the school year comes to a close.

Thankfully, I was able to escape report-monotony twice in the past couple of weeks to observe some of our programs in action.

Some pix here.

More soon on the English class I'm teaching, my new responsibilities at the Buddhism and Society Development Association (BSDA), my trip over the bamboo bridge, various existential crises and more.

Muah,
Jess

The Office

Got into work about three-till eight today, parked my moto, exchanged hellos with my buddy Sopheoun and the administrative assistant and got down to work. Folks trickled in until about 8:10, about half the staff's around at any one time, with the rest out in the field of at some meeting-or-other. It's customary to kick our shoes off just inside the front door, next to the mail cubbies and the water dispenser and go around barefoot in the office. There's no air-conditioning, but the standing fans work just fine and help keep the flies away, except for the few hours per week when we lose power.

The office is located on the grounds of the Provincial Teacher Training College (PTTC), across from the Regional Teacher Training College (RTTC) where they train upper secondary school teachers (grades 9-12). Also on the same grounds are a primary school and a special institute for deaf and blind children.

We've got a good-old squat toilet over-around the side, which we keep padlocked presumably so the teachers-in-training can't make a mess of it. They have another public toilet right beside, but the school-children, alas, aren't so lucky and either have to hold it, or find a suitable tree.

The campus is a mix of extreme fastidiousness and disorder. The other day, we were instructed to park our motos facing away from the building because it looked "untidy" the other way. On the other hand, the path leading down the grounds from the main road is completely demolished (think asphalt someone decided to jackhammer and then just leave there). Roundabout noon, little boys and girls collect wood fallen from the trees in the compound to bring home to cook the lunch time meal. Later in the day, a few cows and the occasional goat keep me company just outside my window.

The office consists of four main sections, the Girls Education Initiative (GEI), where I am, Child Friendly Schools (CFS), the School Breakfast Program (SBP), and Educational Support for Children in Underserved Populations (ESCUP). GEI and CFS each have about 10 folks who sit together in two workrooms on one side of the office. Our room has windows with wooden shutters that lock on the top and bottom, so you get to clamber up on the desks each time you want to open or shut them properly. On the corner, next to GEI, you have management/administrative. Opposite all that, are two small cubicle rooms for finance and data-entry and the SBP office sandwiched in between. ESCUP has a separate office just around the corner.

There's a large digital clock mounted in the center of the office between the two sides which marks the time and lets us all know when it's noon and time for our lunch break. Every day, religiously at 12pm, the whole office shuffles out and the doors are locked. Folks ride home for food, a shower, and a nap, and then come back at 2 to finish out the day. The long break makes the day seem like two days since you've always got those two chunks. But every day, at 5 'o clock on the dot, we're out the door again. If there's a such thing as a rushed deadline (haven't seen it yet), I guess it's dealt with at home, because if your computer's not off and your shoes nearly on at 5:10, you're liable to be carried out rather unceremoniously.

A group of three monks and three Buddhist priests came and blessed the office at Khmer New Year; they chanted and prayed for an hour and a half to improve our chances at receiving donor support in the next year. We cleared an entire room, set up a special altar with incense, mini-pagodas and small offerings of food, and nearly the whole staff came. At the end, the monks threw candy and longans and flowers at us all. It was a beautiful ceremony but unfortunately for me, the main bit took place in the CFS section, and not my own, which means we only got the whatever luck was leftover near the end when the head monk went from room to room.

More to come on what I actually do at work, other than watch cows and pray.

Win the lotto, become a US citizen (!?)

Wow.

Word in the office is that our vice-director (at left) just won a lottery which qualifies him to move him and his entire family to the United States, where he'll be provided a job and a home and be able to become "American."

If you're looking a bit incredulous, that was my reaction too. I'm doing some recon to learn more, but the entire Cambodian staff ensures me that this is the real deal, and in fact, someone they all seem to know from the Provincial Department of Education won the same lottery recently. This POE man apparently migrated just last year and has spent at least one happy Christmas in the US celebrating in the home of new-found American friends.

Given how difficult it is to get a visa these days, and given the fact that our vice-director has very limited spoken English skills, I'm not exactly sure how all this works. I was just mentioning to some of the staff how a Canadian friend of mine at Google was turned away at the US border upon returning from a trip to visit friends and family because the occupation on her Google-issued work vis, "Computer Programmer" didn't match the occupation on her university degree, "Computer Science" (yes indeed, what is our country coming to?).

It's just another example of some of the hare-brained (and sometimes expensive or dangerous) schemes folks here seem to have to get out of the country to better things.

___________________________

Update as of 4/24

Sean kindly explained the deal to me:

Apparently, there is a lottery under the Diversity Visa program, which as far as i understand, is meant to ensure randomness in the visa selection process: http://travel.state.gov/visa/immigrants/types/types_1318.html

Fascinating.

Our staff retreat

Last week, I headed off with our office staff to a 3 day retreat to Steung Treng, a city at the very Northern tip of Cambodia at the border of Laos.

The trip was a mix of work and play: a day and a half of presentations and then a full day boat trip to a large waterfall.

We left at 7am on Sunday -- piled into the minivans. The five-hour trip got off to a bumpy start -- right off, we had to make a couple of bathroom breaks, pick up some Department of Education folks who had come in from Ratanakiri, and rebalance ourselves amongst the vehicles after the drivers complained that we were so heavy that the insurance wouldn't cover us in the event of a crash.

Our organization is like a big family. Already, Cambodians call each other "bong" (sister) "om" (aunt) "boo" (uncle) and a plethora of other familial names regardless of blood-relation; then, on top of that, everyone is friendly with everyone else despite the fact that many of them work in difference offices, and this friendliness extends to new employees and the spouses and children who came along. It makes me so happy to see the seemingly complete lack of social awkwardness -- people seem to understand inherently how they fit in to the group which makes for everything quite harmonious.

We arrived in Steung Treng around noon in time for a big lunch at the hotel's restaurant, and then had time for a short rest before a half-day of meetings. Everything was conducted in Khmer, so I had to sit close-by one of the English speakers and nudge them every so often for a summary.

According to Kurt, this was the first staff retreat planned and run entirely by the staff. The first retreat 4 or 5 years back was run entirely by advisors, which demonstrates how far the staff has come. All in all, it was definitely an interesting introduction to the way meetings happen here. All forty folks were in a room around some tables, including the drivers and cleaners. The content progressed in three ways: either someone presented (think powerpoint slides filled with Khmer text), or there was opportunity for feedback (people passing around the microphone to give their opinion), or there was groupwork (folks writing down ideas on big sheets and presenting them back to the group).

One thing really surprised me. In the US, you hear that people rate fear of public-speaking above fear of death, so when you see every staff member happily standing up in front of their peers to talk (often at length) about what they think, it's a all a bit shocking.

On the second night, there was a big going away party for Brigitte with food and toasts and dancing! That night we were instructed to wait until everyone had arrived before starting to eat -- on other nights, everyone tucked in to the food so quickly that if you came 15 minutes into it, you'd see half the tables already starting to be cleared. We danced some traditional Khmer dances -- the Rovull and the Madison -- as well as some more Western numbers: the Macarena, and some knock-off Cambodian rap.

The next day was the boat trip, so we got up early to eat breakfast and headed out in our vans at 7am. We crossed the Mekong on a ferry and drove for about an hour to a small village on the bank of the Sekong. There, we piled into a bunch of powered-canoes, 3-4 per boat, depending on your weight, piloted by a crew of boys and men from the village who ran the service as a small village enterprise. We spent about 2 hours heading up the river, stopping a couple of times to clamber and sweat through the brush on the bank where the river got a bit dicey, and eventually arrived at a rocky bank where we got out and started the climb up to the waterfall. Preparation being as it is, some folks had on sandals, some of us were luckier in flip flops and a select few had on good shoes. We hiked over spiky rocks and through bushes until we finally arrived at a multi-part waterfall. I found a spot, plopped in my feet and scarfed down the lunch we had packed along, then took off to explore.

The more intrepid braved sharp slippery rocks and swift currents and went up to the "big fall," the ones with younger children just lay in the shallows in all their clothes. As it got hotter and hotter, with some encouragement from my boatmen, I decided to embrace life Cambodian-style and went for a swim in one of the bigger pools, longsleeve shirt, pants, and all.

On the way back in the boat, we stopped at a mini-island (about 100 ft sq), took snacks and watched a pod of Irawaddy dophins play in the river.

The next day, burnt, tired and happy, we headed back to Kampong Cham.