I'm not trying to open this blog with an introduction to an essay on existentialism. Rather, our time at Rescue makes me wish my writing was better. Trying to capture a moment in words is difficult, especially when there are plenty of moments; I find myself getting lazy, sliding in adjectives and adverbs to do the hard work instead of chewing on a sentence that will actually take me back there.
Oh well.
I promised stories.
The Birthday Party:
Trakuan spent the day bent over the oven. Damp tendrils of hair clung to her face. She was making pies. We were amazed she could stand to be near any more heat-- the temperature was almost in the 40's, and we were dizzy with heatstroke.
It was her friend's birthday, one of the house mums; a mother to 10 boys. Trakuan wanted to celebrate her. A secret party was to be held at 9:30. Pies and gifts and friends. We were invited to come along.
At 9:15 a gaggle of teenagers crowded in Vidiya's house. They put candles in the pie and filled balloons to the bursting point. The kids spoke in loud whispers as we filed out of Vidiya's and around the corner. We arrived at the door; one of the Mum's sons went inside to make sure she was decent and could receive visitors. "Ready?" The kids hissed through the door. "No!" He said. We waited. More excited whispers. A head popped through the door again. "Ready?" "No." Sigh. Some of the kids started to get antsy and began shoving each other. The candle flame burned low. Finally, the door opened. The house mum was thrust through the door and after a delayed moment balloons were popped and a loud happy birthday was sung. The house mum put her hands over her heart and caught her breath; she thought her sons had forgot her birthday. She was really touched.
We all went into the house and the boys spread out the eating mats. In Cambodia, people eat on the floor. We sat in a circle as Trakuan handed out food and the mum opened her gift: a beautiful dress. She ran into her room to try it on. "Everyone, look at our beautiful mom!" One of her sons yelled as she came back into the circle in a dress that fit beautifully.
We ate happily as we talked. The boys made fun of Steve, who had a habit of saying "oooooh" when responding to something he couldn't quite understand from some of the boy's English. They all chorused "oooooh" together and then made howling dog sounds and broke out laughing. Steve joined in and would begin howling everytime he caught himself saying it again. It was good fun, but it's started me in a bad habit-- I howl in my head whenever I hear him doing it.
After dinner we rolled up the mat and the boys cleared the dishes. I looked around the room at the bunk beds neatly stacked against the walls, and glimpsed the sight of some younger boys, fast asleep and unaware of our being there.
We said good night and the house mum thanked everyone. Her boys lined up to hug her, putting their arms around her affectionately. What a beautiful family. What a beautiful act of love and community. What a beautiful place of rescue.
Movie Night
Vidiya was leaving that Sunday. After a year teaching at Rescue it was time to go home so the organization funding her could assess her health and make sure she wasn't burning out. If all went well she hoped to come back for a year, but it wasn't guaranteed.
She threw a BBQ for the older students. We sat outside her house under the decorations the students made, hanging candle holders cut from pop cans strung above our heads. They cooked fish on the BBQ and we visited. Although uninvited, tiny kids wormed their way over to where we were sitting and demanded our attention. They climbed on us like we were human jungle gyms. They demanded pictures and were fascinated with their images on the screen. We finally had to put the camera away because they were fighting eachother for their turn in the spotlight which ended with lots of tears. It's hard to explain the concept of "turn taking" when you don't speak the language!
When dinner was ready we gathered on the floor at Vidiya's and ate. It was a feast of papaya salad, a cambodian spicy salad, fried rice, fish and chicken. It was great to watch the kids joke with their teacher. They were truly blessed by her.
After dinner one of the kids brought out a guitar and played for us. A few of the boys sang some Cambodian songs and a few church songs. One of the boys began to sing amazing grace when another poked him in the ribs and said " teacher Vidiya's said that song is for dead white people." We all laughed. They passed the guitar to us and we shared a few songs; a few we wrote, and a few worship songs. The kids were very sweet and excited to learn new English words to sing along to.
After we played for a bit we packed back into the house to watch a movie: Iron Man 2. We used a projector from the school and put it up on the wall. The kids pulled out their favorite treat, black jellies. It was an odd desert. It was kept in a large cooler and the kids would ladle out the moist strips of licorice-like gummies, and then pour sweetened condensed milk over it. It was eaten with a spoon like cereal. It was not our favorite, but the kids loved it!
The movie was a hit. It was cute to watch the reaction of the kids as their brains translated the English jokes. After a delay some of the kids would burst out laughing. Some rapid translating would happen and the laughing began again. Laugher is such a gift. We went to bed feeling light.
Music!
The day after Vidiya's party, we went to her house to hang out. A few boys were there using her kitchen--she would often let them practice their cooking in her house because there was more room to learn. One of the boys, Huong, grabbed his guitar and began playing the songs we played for them the night before. He had memorized the positions of our hands on the guitar. He played and we sang; he was very happy to jam. We invited him to come over to Marie's the next day for a jam session, and we said we would get lyrics printed of the songs we had sung.
The next day Houng came over with his guitar, and I gave him the lyrics to blessed be your name, and open the eyes of my heart, the two English worship songs we had played with him. "What about this song?" He said as he began strumming and humming. I laughed. "That's not a real song, that's just a silly song I wrote." I said. "I want it." He said. It turned out to be his favorite one to play. I was very touched and encouraged by that. I told him to learn it well and make it the next Cambodian hit when he got famous!
After we played for a while he asked Steve to teach him how to solo. Steve showed him how to do hammer-ons and pull-offs by teaching him the intro to "Tears in Heaven" . It is a tricky lick but the next day Houng showed up and played it for us perfectly. He had stayed up all night practicing. He has only been playing guitar for three months, but he is an incredibly fast learner and very committed. I wish I would have taken my lessons that seriously as a kid!
By the time we left, Hong had learned three new songs and was really excited. In exchange he taught us how to speak a few Khmer words. We really enjoyed a relaxed time playing music and getting to know new friends.
Our week at Rescue has come to an end. The stairchair is finished and as I write this I am sitting on the plane to Kuala Lumpur. There are alot of things to process about our visit-- but all good things. Despite being an orphanage filled with sad stories, it really is a place where normal life happens. Kids can be kids there. Healthy and happy. No one dwells on the past but instead find healing through community and become inspired to be the future of Cambodia. I have much to learn from the way these people view life: as a gift that matters.
Beautiful view from Marie's veranda:
Crazy kids!
Birthday party:
Jammin:
Cute kids:
Handy bug eater:
Flexible cow:
A wonderful home!
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