The Jogger

The other day on my way home from work, a man caught my eye.  There were several reasons he stood out:
1. He was jogging.  That's not a particularly popular pastime here.  If you want exercise (which not everyone does), you could play badminton in front of your house or do aerobics in the park.  But no, he was jogging, and not halfheartedly either.
2. It was around 5 PM, while it was still hot.  It takes a special person to exercise while the sun is up, especially during April, the hottest month.  My rule is before 8 AM or after 6 PM, when the sun sets.
3. It was rush hour on a busy road.  It has no sidewalks, and people don't even really walk along it, let alone jog.  There's just not much room.
4. He had a prosthetic leg!

My first thought was "must be a land mine victim," because they are many in Cambodia, starting back in the Khmer Rouge era of the 1970's.  But you won't find them out jogging, nor are they wearing shorts that reveal the prosthesis.  I usually see them outside the Center for the Disabled or maybe selling souvenirs near a tourist site.  Even scars are looked down on here as marring a person's worth, and there are no anti-discrimination laws.  To my knowledge I've never seen an amputee employed by a Khmer business.  I'm guessing the majority of victims never make it to Phnom Penh, but stay at home in the provinces, where most of the still-unexploded land mines are.  Families tend to keep their imperfect members out of sight.

The next thing I noticed was his apparent wealth.  Jogging is definitely an activity for the middle- to upper-class, and his clothing looked pretty nice.  How did this land mine victim become wealthy enough to make jogging a habit?  How did he become strong enough to jog with ease?  How did he become confident enough to display his prosthetic leg with pride? 

Around me, I could see younger guys turning and staring at him.  And well they should!   You keep feasting your eyes, boys.  You take in the significance of this man.  You appreciate the statement he's making.  Go ahead and applaud, while you're at it.

I was getting pretty excited by now.  What a testament to perseverance!  What a symbol of the tenacity of survivors!  He reminds me of my older Khmer friends at school.  Thearey, who before age ten trudged through the jungle to safety in a Thai refugee camp and a new life in Minnesota.  Thavy, whose gentle, timid personality belies the courage to tackle snakes, heights, dire poverty, and floods up to her neck.  Chantorn, who lost her husband and all but one child, then learned English and became a "mom" figure to so many in Asian Hope.  The Khmer Rouge, the subsequent civil war, and other hardships left them, like Cambodia as a whole, battered and bruised but not beaten.

Amazed and inspired by him and his compatriots, I came home and told my roommates his story.

"Jogging on that road?  Isn't that pretty dangerous?"

And the thought crossed my mind - what if THAT'S how he lost his leg?

Malaysia

I've been feeling the need to escape Phnom Penh for a while.  I contemplated leaving the country at Christmas, but ended up staying in town.  While that offered me some much-needed rest, it meant that I've been in Cambodia, surrounded by Logos people, constantly since early last July.  (They recommend that we leave the country several times a year, and I'm starting to understand why.)  Cambodia was getting to me: the exhausting heat, the dangerous drivers (babies perched atop laps while they swerve around trucks), the gulf between rich and poor, the catcalls as I go by.  Every airplane that passed overhead made me dream of America.

That's why I was counting on my trip to Malaysia to boost my spirits, and it was every bit as great as I'd hoped.  I finally got to visit a good friend who studied at Penn State but has returned to her hometown near Kuala Lumpur.  At PSU, she told everyone to call her "Ku," but since that's part of her family's name, I switched on this trip to "Ezreen," her given name.  She and her family hosted me during our 5-day weekend for International Women's Day a few weeks ago.  The trip left me refreshed and ready to press on.

My first night there, floods rushed through houses on her street and inundated her grandma's house miles away, to the point that her refrigerator floated!  We stayed dry, thankfully.

 It was fascinating for me to see a Southeast Asian country that felt so different from Cambodia, though the flight to KL was less than 2 hours.  Thailand and even Vietnam are more developed than Cambodia, but there are still some similarities in transportation, food, landscape, etc.  Buddhism is predominant in all three, and their cultural heritages have influenced one another.  Malaysia, on the other hand, is a melting pot of Malays, Chinese, and Indians, with Islam, Zen Buddhism, and Hinduism all prevalent.  I saw next to no motos on the smooth modern highways, and the rolling hills were blanketed with lush trees.  Some of the architecture looked very European - I felt at times as though I were in Germany.  It even got considerably cooler in the evenings and mornings than Phnom Penh.  While her house had some typical SE Asian features like the "wet bathroom" (where the shower goes directly onto the floor), it also had cozy carpeted floors - something I hadn't seen since leaving the US.  That and the lack of tile on the walls made it much cozier and less echoey than most Cambodian homes.

Left to right: Syafia, Uncle, Auntie, Edhura

Ezreen's family was amazing!  They all spoke excellent English, except her 2-year-old niece Syafia, who is officially as cute as a button.  (We still became great friends, though...she shared her Barbie butterfly toy and I helped her put together puzzles of fruit.)  Her vivacious and goofy older sister Edhura, Syafia's mom, studied at a German university, so I even got to practice a bit of rusty German with her.  Nadhira, a soft-spoken younger sister, took some great photos when she came with us on a day trip.  Ezreen's boyfriend/fiance Faissal tirelessly chauffeured us all over Kuala Lumpur and Malacca ("Melaka" in Malay), mostly preferring to listen, but offering some great insights into my questions about Malaysian culture.  As for Ezreen's mom?  "Auntie's" full-time job was to tempt me with Malaysian culinary delights.  I think she gave me 5 different homemade foods my first afternoon - rice puffs, beef and vegetables, dried fruit, pasta - and then we went out to dinner.  I was never in danger of going hungry there!

Ezreen eating tasty satay - like barbecue with peanut sauce - at a local restaurant.

I knew Ezreen was fun and outgoing, but in KL I got to see more of her artsy side.  She's started a vintage clothing business with Faissal, and often sported her wares with funky belts and colorful shoes.  It's quite a switch from her previous plans: she majored in biotechnology.  We didn't have time for me to shop while I was in town, but I'm hoping to order a dress or two soon from her website.  Apparently most are from Japan, with a few from the UK.  They're so fun!

Ezreen (R) with her younger sister Nadhira, touring a Portuguese fortress in Melaka. 

It was my first time in a Muslim home, and it brought up a lot of questions for me.  Ezreen stayed at my house for a week one Christmas vacation, so we'd talked a bit before about daily life as a Christian or Muslim.  But there were lots of things I hadn't realized.  For example, I knew that females in her family would wear the hijab (head scarf) around non-related males, but her mom was conservative enough to wear it in the house around me, since I'm a non-Muslim female.  The call to prayer interrupts pop music five times a day on the radio, reminding them to complete each prayer within the next few hours.  When we were on our way home from Malacca (a 2-hour drive), they pulled over at a rest stop specifically to pray...there was a big prayer room for that purpose.  They told me Malacca was famous for its pineapple tarts, but since we could only find them from Chinese vendors and not from Muslims, they didn't want to eat any.  "We can't be sure it's halal - it could have been cooked in the same pan as pork."  In a non-Muslim country, they wouldn't be so picky, but since there were plenty of halal vendors selling other goodies, they didn't want to take the risk.

When we were walking around downtown KL, we saw an old Indian mosque famous for its architecture.  We wandered around it for a bit, and as we were leaving, the employee handed me a stack of pamphlets on Islam with a Quran translated in English.  One document showed a timeline of key figures in Islam (many of whom overlap with Judaism and Christianity, like Abraham).  I knew they considered Jesus a human prophet, but was surprised to see him called "the Messiah."  I started asking questions and found out that they believe Judas died on the cross in Jesus' place, while Jesus was taken to heaven, where he waits for the world to end so he can return and give true Muslims an extra boost toward salvation.  For Muslims, you can never be sure if you will go to heaven.  They say Allah is forgiving, but they're never sure which sins he will forgive and which will remain on your record.  Your only hope is to avoid sin, do good works, and pray that he'll be lenient. 

Us at the mosque - you're required to cover up before you can tour it.

I've been thinking a lot since then about how different Christianity is.  How preposterous it is that God would guarantee salvation to all who put their trust in him.  How unthinkable that He would enter our struggles, our suffering, our chaos, so that He could fully sympathize with our weaknesses.  How backward it is that He, the Holy One who cannot stand sin, would love us when we were drenched in it, would give Himself to purify us from it, would free us from it and its terrible consequences by conquering it.  Ezreen and her friends and family work so hard.  They're so devout and dedicated.  But they have no confidence that it will accomplish anything, because they understand that their sins make them unworthy of God.  It's really sad to me, since I am convinced that their good deeds are worthless, but that God's work has already been completed on their behalf.  I'm glad they asked me to explain how differently Christians see Jesus.  But I can see why it would be hard to believe from their perspective!  Hoping we get to continue the conversation next time we're together.