Out of the frying pan

It's a weird feeling to miss a national tragedy. It's also a weird feeling to walk into one.

If you follow the news, you may have heard about last Monday's stampede in Cambodia, just hours before the attacks on North Korea. Thousands panicked on a bridge while celebrating Cambodia's Water Festival, which draws two million visitors from the provinces. About 350 died, mostly of suffocation; about 400 more were injured. Prime Minister Hun Sen called it the greatest tragedy since the Khmer Rouge's era in the 1970s.

I was en route to the airport when it occurred, traveling during the holiday to a teaching conference in Seoul. So I didn't hear about it until Tuesday noon, about the time that the bombing was taking place on the same island as the airport. Instead of being able to mourn with Cambodians, to ask my friends and neighbors about it, or even to read updates online last week, my firsthand experiences were watching Koreans react to their own turmoil.

Trying to piece things together since my return, I'm struck by the fear and the corruption that pervade Cambodia. Most Cambodians are Buddhist/animist and live in fear of wandering spirits. For example, the spirits of victims were blamed for a subsequent bus crash where everyone died.

Cambodians try to assuage the spirits' wrath by leaving offerings, especially bananas, in the spirit houses outside their homes. The price of bananas rose drastically from $0.50 a bunch - I've heard estimates on maximum prices ranging from $2.50 all the way to $25 a bunch. Fruit sellers can't afford to pass up extra profit any more than the rest of Cambodia. I can't imagine the fear of everyone who couldn't afford the elevated prices, wondering if the hungry and offended spirits would lash out at them in the night.

The police's response during the stampede was vastly inadequate and understaffed. Better planning could have prevented the entire thing. Since then, the government hasn't much improved its handling of affairs. Hospitals were overwhelmed with the injured. Hospital workers demanded payment, though the government offered to cover costs of treatment. Prime Minister Hun Sen promised money to victims' families, and the bodies all disappeared from hospitals within 24 hours. It's impossible for all the families from the provinces to have arrived so quickly and accurately identified their loved ones. More likely, people who wanted that money claimed a relation or promised to track down the family somehow. Many of those families will never receive confirmation of their loved one's death, let alone a body to bury or the promised payment.

Talking about anything sex-related is strictly taboo in Cambodia, but death isn't hidden at all. Those TV reports I missed showed all kinds of graphic footage: people jumping off the bridge to their deaths, bodies piled up, and so on. Michaela and Sarah had to spend a large chunk of Monday morning helping their 5- to 7-year-old students process what they had seen. Our friend Sophorn was walking by a hospital where all the bodies were laid out. She couldn't sleep for four days because of the flood of haunting memories.

What's even sadder is the demographics of victims. Many or most were visiting from the provinces, on possibly their one trip a year to the city, a rare chance to enjoy themselves. Most were children, teens, and twenty-somethings: the next generation of workers. They were there with siblings and cousins, meaning most families who were affected lost multiple relatives. One girl at Logos knows of someone whose sixteen relatives visited her from the province; all sixteen perished. How can a family of rice farmers overcome such a loss of laborers? In a society where children are the only retirement plan, how will the older generation of this family survive after such devastation?

Pari, a senior girl dear to my heart, is the only Logos student I know who was present on that island. Fifteen minutes before, she'd tried to get on the bridge and concluded it was too crowded. She wandered away toward another route, unaware of the devastation until late that evening. Praise God for protecting her for the umpteenth time in a life full of extreme hazards.

I was so moved by the faith of South Koreans and by their fervent, compassionate prayers for their North Korean counterparts. Prayer is the only logical response to events like this. Please pray for Cambodia.

"Wait! I'm not in the picture!"

Hat ladies

The senior trip was fantastic, in my opinion. And not because I helped plan it! I hate being in charge of large events, and this was my biggest yet. But instead of being draining and nerve-racking as I had feared, it proved a lovely chance to relax with students and explore major questions together of God's call in our lives and the strengths He's given us.

"Come be a fool...a fool for Christ!" The message on these shirts resonated with students so much more than I'd expected.

One of the best aspects was the disregard for time. At summer camp, or last year's Bible camp, we were always reinforcing the message, "Be here at this time! Let's hurry so we can cram everything in!" It's kind of necessary when you're corralling eighty students, or two hundred.

The rickety path out to the edge of the mangrove forests...it seems we'd taken a wrong turn...

But fourteen is another story. Can we skip the beach when it starts raining and just hang out in our rooms? Sure we can! Can priceless conversations occur while in those rooms? Absolutely! Do we have time to learn the Virginia Reel before devotions tonight? I don't see why not. And during said devotions, can we spend 45 minutes on worship, leave out half the lesson, and start an entirely unplanned discussion? Yes, indeed.

Conquering the hill

Being a teacher, I've learned to segment each class period, to squeeze eight activities into 90 minutes, to finish within seconds of the bell ringing. It was good for me to leave my time-oriented tendencies at home and let activities expand or go a new direction.

We were going to divide into two groups to come back in the SUV, but the guys realized they could just cling to the outside of the car on the ten-minute drive home. This is Cambodia, after all!

Mixed in with the profound was a great deal of the goofy. We made up challenges for each student to complete on two different days. One had to kiss someone's hand every time anyone sneezed; another had to jump into every photo and complain when left out; another had to call everyone by their first and last names all day. (She was self-conscious doing that with teachers - it was pretty entertaining!) When we tramped through clay on our way to a waterfall, one student seized the chance for a free makeover, convincing several of us to join in.

The ringleader, at left, later developed a rash. It was worth it, though!

This class is close-knit, even compared to most Logos classes, and seems more sincere in their faith than many. They're wrestling with big questions as they start applying to college. Where in the world do I belong? How can I be myself and still respect my parents' expectations? How can I relish my friendships at Logos without being afraid of the goodbyes...possibly forever...next spring? Can I make it on my own in another world, far from anyone I know? They've been learning about God's provision and faithfulness through studying Isaiah and through the challenges of senior year, college applications, TOEFL and SAT exams, and family difficulties.

This girl and I had a great conversation during the boat ride. She was terrified of clambering on the rocks up to the waterfall but grew to enjoy it by the end.

This trip was a great place to discuss those questions and what they've been learning. We got to encourage them that these challenges will ultimately strengthen them. All three of us teachers were overwhelmed by the privilege of seeing their faith, of drawing close to them, and of investing in the lives of such eager and passionate brothers and sisters in Christ.

One means of strengthening: push-ups over a crevice