Every weekday this month, when not in school, I've been at the girls' house associated with Logos. Their guardians are in the US for the month, so several of us teachers are stepping in to supervise, though the girls don't need much help. They're four orphans...well, kind of...who live in an orphanage...well, kind of. Really, they're teenage girls with unique personalities, but who have faced some common challenges.
These girls are definitely Third Culture Kids, like most of my students. That means their identity is not fully based in any one culture. For them, the story is more dramatic and even painful than for many. The American family who first started the group home and Logos School established an English-only policy for all 30-odd children, forcing them to replace their Khmer language. The older children, who have since graduated and moved on, retained enough Khmer to still be fluent today. The youngest ones, who came as toddlers, had never learned much Khmer to begin with. Even now, after several years of Khmer-language study in school and around Cambodia, their mannerisms and accent in Khmer label them as outsiders.
"I grew up overnight in sixth grade," one told me, reflecting on her maturity for her age. "Really? Which night was that?" I teased her, taking her comment as metaphorical. Oh, THAT night. The night she found out that Mom and Dad - those original guardians - were never coming back from their brief furlough in the US. There are many layers to the hurt they've experienced, but most of the girls have shared some stories about life with those guardians - the ecstasy of belonging to a new family, the joyfully chaotic Christmas dinners, the struggle to move on afterwards. After that couple left in 2005, the girls experienced a succession of guardians coming and going, none Cambodian, each with a new set of expectations.
Finally, last fall, a Khmer-American couple committed to these girls until the youngest girl moves out - about 5 years total. Though Jeff is American, he's fluent in Khmer, and he and Vanny have spent the better part of the last 19 years here as missionaries. For the first time in six years, the girls have someone to call "Mom and Dad" again, and they truly seem to feel like a family. Jeff and Vanny understand the girls' American-style upbringing and preferences, but have done wonders in helping the girls feel Cambodian for the first time. I love hearing the girls joke in Khmer and seeing the progress they've made in just a year in learning Khmer worship music, cooking, etc.
Still, it's a process for the girls to feel at home outside a Third Culture environment like Logos. Their neighborhood, just down the street from Logos, feels like the province. Chickens and cows roam in front of traditional wooden homes on stilts, underneath which families squat on mats to eat. Though one girl - quite the athlete - was invited to play volleyball in a nearby vacant lot, she said no, knowing that good Khmer girls aren't supposed to be athletic and mix with an all-guys crowd. "They all think I'm gay or lesbian," she told me. She's gorgeous and likes cute clothes, but is equally comfortable in baggy T-shirts and long shorts. It's far more appropriate for guys to be effeminate than for girls to seem masculine, so I'm not surprised the neighbor guys are confused.
Another told me, "I usually like going on walks, but not around here. The neighbors always think I'm Filipino or Khmer-American." I'm not sure if there's a Khmer equivalent of a block party or potluck, but I think the girls haven't yet found a way to build positive connections with neighbors.
I came along to their Khmer-language church one day - they normally attend Khmer and English-speaking churches back to back. With few available seats left, I ended up sitting apart from them, next to a woman in red flowered pajamas. She asked who I was, and I pointed to the girls, saying I was their teacher. "Oh! Do you know (girl's name)?" she asked me, brightening. "That's my daughter!" I thought she meant it figuratively - lots of people are honorary aunties, etc. But indeed, I learned that she was this girl's birth mom! I had known that two other girls were in contact with their moms in the province, but hadn't realized that any of them had family in Phnom Penh, or that this girl knew any of her relatives. This girl told me about some of the difficulties that led her mom to give her up, but I still wonder what kind of "what-ifs" both mom and daughter have dealt with. Today they're working on their relationship, but there is much that isolates them from one another.
Their story reflects the bizarre culture around orphanages. Many poor families believe their children are better off in orphanages, especially Western-run ones. Though orphanages are a dime a dozen, a very low percentage of Cambodian children in orphanages have lost both parents. Today, Asian Hope and other organizations are recognizing the folly in unnecessarily removing children from their families, and have committed to addressing families' needs in more constructive ways.
As we drove off from church, I tried to find a sensitive way to ask the girls how they felt about growing up away from their families. It was a casual conversation, so I'm sure there's a lot they didn't say. But I didn't sense much bitterness from them, unlike one of the boys, who says he was robbed of his native language and culture. Instead, it was almost like they couldn't imagine themselves growing up purely Khmer. These girls love Celtic music, Korean dramas, and Filipino karaoke. They dream of attending college in Uganda, India, Thailand, and the States. For better or for worse - or maybe both? - they're global nomads.
Sunday, August 28, 2011
Tuesday, August 2, 2011
Reasons to smile – Cambodia edition
More and more Cambodian songs that I really enjoy.
A very cool rainy season: no fan needed at night all week?!
Being able to print 16 largeish pictures of France for under $3.
The sight of an elephant in traffic at least four times this summer in four different locations.
The kind owners of a roadside stand who let me take a poncho (urgently needed) though I’d left my wallet at home.
Funny miscommunications, like trying to ask for the artificial flower section, but instead being brought a flowered pillow.
The receptionist at the Khmer language tutoring center whose warm smile, patience, and sweet questions always make me feel special.
Reading Kevin Henkes books with little girls who now love him just as much as I do. (Notably “Chrysanthemum,” if you were wondering, though “Lilly’s Purple Plastic Purse” has also caught on.)
Celebrating the marriage of a woman who’s given some of the best years of her life to serving orphaned Cambodian girls.
Getting into an extensive French conversation with the man selling me vegetables, who spent years in Paris.
Standing outside a gate at night with the Khmer teachers, laughing, chattering, and waiting for someone to arrive with a key, only to realize we’d been swarming the gate to the wrong house the last ten minutes.
Teaching a community Bible study and then having a young girl share as her prayer request that “God make Teacher Chelsea prettier.”
Samedi’s delectable homemade treats: a soursop smoothie and coconut macaroons in my first 24 hours at her house!
A very cool rainy season: no fan needed at night all week?!
Being able to print 16 largeish pictures of France for under $3.
The sight of an elephant in traffic at least four times this summer in four different locations.
The kind owners of a roadside stand who let me take a poncho (urgently needed) though I’d left my wallet at home.
Funny miscommunications, like trying to ask for the artificial flower section, but instead being brought a flowered pillow.
The receptionist at the Khmer language tutoring center whose warm smile, patience, and sweet questions always make me feel special.
Reading Kevin Henkes books with little girls who now love him just as much as I do. (Notably “Chrysanthemum,” if you were wondering, though “Lilly’s Purple Plastic Purse” has also caught on.)
Celebrating the marriage of a woman who’s given some of the best years of her life to serving orphaned Cambodian girls.
Getting into an extensive French conversation with the man selling me vegetables, who spent years in Paris.
Standing outside a gate at night with the Khmer teachers, laughing, chattering, and waiting for someone to arrive with a key, only to realize we’d been swarming the gate to the wrong house the last ten minutes.
Teaching a community Bible study and then having a young girl share as her prayer request that “God make Teacher Chelsea prettier.”
Samedi’s delectable homemade treats: a soursop smoothie and coconut macaroons in my first 24 hours at her house!
Book three head
Khmer is my third foreign language, but my first with no relation to English. I’ve found it helpful to seize hold of patterns and trends in the way the Khmer language is organized. So I’ll let you in on a few of them. The Khmer language features...
-Differences in word order. Adjectives follow the nouns they describe, and question words often come at the end. “Why do you have a blue book?” would turn into “[Uncle/little sister/etc.] have book blue why?”
-Simpler verbs and nouns. In Khmer, there’s no need for articles (ex. a/the/some), verb conjugation, verb tenses, or plural noun forms. It’s correct to say, “He go Vietnam yesterday” or “She have friend many.” Extra words like “yesterday” and “many” clarify meaning, or you can add more general words like “past” or “plural.” But you’d never alter the verb or noun itself, as English does (ex. go => went, friend => friends).
-Lots of compound words. A daughter is “child girl,” a driver is “person drive car,” a fridge is “container ice,” milk is “water from cow,” lime is “orange cat,” a bath towel is “towel stomach cow.” Hey, I didn’t say they were 100% logical to foreigners! It really does make it easier, though, because they often build on one another, so you can multiply your vocabulary quickly.
-Lots of nasal sounds. “Nasal” means the air is coming through your nose, not your mouth. Picture a stereotypical French laugh or the first syllable in “français.” That’s how Khmer often sounds – probably the majority of their vowels are nasal. I tell my students this helps them learn French, also a frequently nasal language.
-Lots of French loan words for things they imported. “Robe” (dress), “café” (coffee), “freins” (brakes), “valise” (suitcase). All of these are pronounced with a Khmer accent, meaning they don’t pronounce final consonants: valise => vali. I love loan words.
-Classifiers for many nouns. Someone wouldn’t say, “I have two children.” Instead, they’d say, “I have child two person.” I’ve only learned a few of the maybe 20 classifiers, but so far my favorite is “head” (kbahl) to classify books, cattle, horses, buffalo, and enemy soldiers. “I have book three head.”
-Lots and lots of vowels. English has 5 or 6, which make a total of maybe 20 sounds. Khmer has 35, making a total of over 50 sounds. 23 vowels are dependent, meaning they have to be placed with a consonant that determines the sound they make. Each vowel has a certain position in relation to the consonant: it can go to the left, right, top, or bottom, or a combination of all those. I haven’t learned any of the 12 independent vowels yet. It’s not quite as bad as I’m making it sound: for me, knowing the meaning of what I’m reading is much harder than deciphering the sounds. And I’m very thankful that it’s mostly phonetic: even English breaks the spelling rules far more often. Still, it’s relatively slow going. The good news is, it really has helped my pronunciation to better understand these vowels.
-Different registers, depending on formality. I’ve only studied one, for speaking with “normal” people. But if I wanted to talk with a monk, or the king, or an animal, I’d need a whole different set of verbs. I think there are six.
-Complicated terms of address. Khmer has a word for “you,” but it’s rarely used. Instead, like in many Asian languages, you mostly address people according to their age in relation to yours: auntie for a woman younger than your mom, grandpa for a man older than your dad, younger brother, niece, etc. This means it’s important to judge people’s age correctly and quickly, and it’s not rude to ask how old someone is, if you’re actually having a conversation with them. But with quick exchanges, like at the market, sometimes I misjudge them at first. Also, sometimes it’s more complicated: I can call a girl “bong” (older sibling), but if I say it to a guy, I have to include his name or it’ll sound like we’re a couple. That’s why if you don’t know a guy’s name (ex. a motodup driver), you usually just call him “uncle.” I’ve probably even said “uncle” to guys younger than me. If it’s a very close friend or loved one, sometimes you call them “myself.” I still wonder how that works: if you want to say “I love you,” how do they know you don't mean“I love myself?”
-Differences in word order. Adjectives follow the nouns they describe, and question words often come at the end. “Why do you have a blue book?” would turn into “[Uncle/little sister/etc.] have book blue why?”
-Simpler verbs and nouns. In Khmer, there’s no need for articles (ex. a/the/some), verb conjugation, verb tenses, or plural noun forms. It’s correct to say, “He go Vietnam yesterday” or “She have friend many.” Extra words like “yesterday” and “many” clarify meaning, or you can add more general words like “past” or “plural.” But you’d never alter the verb or noun itself, as English does (ex. go => went, friend => friends).
-Lots of compound words. A daughter is “child girl,” a driver is “person drive car,” a fridge is “container ice,” milk is “water from cow,” lime is “orange cat,” a bath towel is “towel stomach cow.” Hey, I didn’t say they were 100% logical to foreigners! It really does make it easier, though, because they often build on one another, so you can multiply your vocabulary quickly.
-Lots of nasal sounds. “Nasal” means the air is coming through your nose, not your mouth. Picture a stereotypical French laugh or the first syllable in “français.” That’s how Khmer often sounds – probably the majority of their vowels are nasal. I tell my students this helps them learn French, also a frequently nasal language.
-Lots of French loan words for things they imported. “Robe” (dress), “café” (coffee), “freins” (brakes), “valise” (suitcase). All of these are pronounced with a Khmer accent, meaning they don’t pronounce final consonants: valise => vali. I love loan words.
-Classifiers for many nouns. Someone wouldn’t say, “I have two children.” Instead, they’d say, “I have child two person.” I’ve only learned a few of the maybe 20 classifiers, but so far my favorite is “head” (kbahl) to classify books, cattle, horses, buffalo, and enemy soldiers. “I have book three head.”
-Lots and lots of vowels. English has 5 or 6, which make a total of maybe 20 sounds. Khmer has 35, making a total of over 50 sounds. 23 vowels are dependent, meaning they have to be placed with a consonant that determines the sound they make. Each vowel has a certain position in relation to the consonant: it can go to the left, right, top, or bottom, or a combination of all those. I haven’t learned any of the 12 independent vowels yet. It’s not quite as bad as I’m making it sound: for me, knowing the meaning of what I’m reading is much harder than deciphering the sounds. And I’m very thankful that it’s mostly phonetic: even English breaks the spelling rules far more often. Still, it’s relatively slow going. The good news is, it really has helped my pronunciation to better understand these vowels.
-Different registers, depending on formality. I’ve only studied one, for speaking with “normal” people. But if I wanted to talk with a monk, or the king, or an animal, I’d need a whole different set of verbs. I think there are six.
-Complicated terms of address. Khmer has a word for “you,” but it’s rarely used. Instead, like in many Asian languages, you mostly address people according to their age in relation to yours: auntie for a woman younger than your mom, grandpa for a man older than your dad, younger brother, niece, etc. This means it’s important to judge people’s age correctly and quickly, and it’s not rude to ask how old someone is, if you’re actually having a conversation with them. But with quick exchanges, like at the market, sometimes I misjudge them at first. Also, sometimes it’s more complicated: I can call a girl “bong” (older sibling), but if I say it to a guy, I have to include his name or it’ll sound like we’re a couple. That’s why if you don’t know a guy’s name (ex. a motodup driver), you usually just call him “uncle.” I’ve probably even said “uncle” to guys younger than me. If it’s a very close friend or loved one, sometimes you call them “myself.” I still wonder how that works: if you want to say “I love you,” how do they know you don't mean“I love myself?”
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
