Shocking and Sad--Cambodia Traffic Statistics (2010 WHO Report)

I've talked about my experiences as a passenger in Cambodia, both in cars and on motorcycles and tuk-tuks. I've even taken videos. This World Health Organization Report covers the statistics behind the personal experience.

Unsurprisingly, Cambodia is a country in which deaths and accidents may be underreported. The country is moving towards safer roads, but the safest check they have, according to the report, is that low-income countries (according to their classifications) are less endangered than middle-income countries. The statistics about car and motorcycle registration seem to support this; in a country of 14+ million people, 1,650,000 of them own registered vehicles of any kind.

An overwhelming 83% of vehicles owned by Cambodians are motorcycles. Yet, less than 10% of the population owns one. 11% of the population owns a motorized method of transportation. In the US, 83% of the population owns a vehicle--thanks to the multiple-car-per-family model.

It's now illegal to drive in Cambodia without a helmet if you are the driver. This new law has been implemented for road safety. That's great, but I saw a lot of people driving without a helmet, or taking it off when they figured they were 'safe'--on a backcountry road, close to home, etc etc. But it's the 'driver' part of the clause that's killer.

Most families cannot afford to buy helmets for all their users because five people can fit on a motorcycle. That's right; I've seen parents with three kids attached to them driving on unpaved, muddy, or chaotic roads, because that's the only way to get around. Cambodian families are very large; it's impractical to spend money on a helmet for each person. I saw ZERO children wearing helmets while riding as passengers on motorcycles. Small sample size. Anecdotal evidence.

9% of passengers wear helmets, the study says.

You, your spouse, a baby, a toddler, and a five or six year-old on a motorcycle. It's sobering, isn't it?

Day 5: Sorry for Party Rocking

Hello everyone! I've chosen to post a dual update, so I'll have a separate post about Saturday too. And...some student work to show you! But I don't want to spoil you all at once, so I'll have to parcel out one thing at a time...

-What happened to Sunday and Monday?

So much has gone on, and I'm under an imminent deadline, so my short explanation is: it's way too long to put into one post. Maybe even two or four posts. I'm not even sure Saturday is one post or two at this point.

I miss the Tango, so having a cat come and beg for food was almost nostalgic.

On Friday, I did my usual teaching. The students finished their projects (!!). I know it seems like they are progressing very slowly, but I have two goals: 1) to not disrupt their normal curriculum; and 2) to get them to think creatively, no matter how little they know. It doesn't take many words in a language to express oneself, no matter what you think. You're a function of your preferences and what you think is important. I also got to hand back papers. I had some serious dread about this since I had to call on students by name, and some of them have names like 'Sreynit' and 'Theung.' But, to be fair, this isn't Korea where all the students have names that are composites of two syllables, like 'Mi-ju' and 'Ju-yeong,' or Thailand where common names are so long that you'll need a Lonely Planet guide to take them in. Names like 'Davin' and 'Sophea' are fairly easy, no matter who you are.

I noticed that my issue some of the time was that I was putting the accent in the wrong place--that is to say, stressing the wrong part of the name--so 'Davin' is 'Dah-VIHN' whereas I think most native English-speakers would try 'DAV-in.' Khmer also has a problem with 'h,' which does not form a traditional 'ph' or 'th' sound. Equally confusing is 'R,' which is pronounced like 'ur' although the letter r usually sits in between English 'r' and 'l' and feeds the Asian stereotype of replacing one with the other. You say 'ra' while dropping your jaw and 'la' with your tongue up close to the curvature of the mouth; 'r' is the same sound, but your tongue moves straight out towards your teeth, kind of like a French 'r' but without the violent expulsion of air that accompanies a French 'r.'

Of course, my solution to knowing barely any Khmer thus far has been to widen my eyes and smile (automatic reaction, not fake). Since I came here, I've learned how to say 'two,' 'three,' and 'cilantro.' (NO, REALLY). So, add that to a very basic list of things, and...that's it. I feel embarrassed, but I haven't had any time to work on it since coming here given what else I've been up to.

Anyway, there's something viscerally wonderful about knowing how to say the names of one's students. Because they're already acclimated to the school year, there just wasn't any opportunity to do long introductions, and it wasn't really necessary. Classroom management and discipline, even by my co-teacher, is done by group, not by individual. Even calling on students is handled the same way. Plus, there's a focus on labels and functions, not on names, caused (probably) by the idea that Khmer names are difficult for foreigners. I had to learn my co-teacher's name by osmosis, because neither the director nor she chose to introduce herself that way. Yet, of course, everyone knows my name. Even if they're not pronouncing it correctly. Irony!*

Once I finish my graduate school work, I'm looking forward to busting out the world's worst Khmer and making everyone laugh. Maybe tonight I'll drag my book downstairs and question the hotel staff to death, because MWAHAHA they can't leave the hotel...

*On a side note about irony, my personal tuk-tuk driver, Mr. Scorpio, was shocked to learn on Saturday that I'm  not from the UK. I have an explanation for this: 1) I'm not in a country that cares very much for the letter 'r'; 2) When a majority of your conversations are conducted from a distance of four feet in heavy traffic or on the back of a moto, it's hard to be heard unless you enunciate. But you'll see actors and actresses betraying their roots when they shout or broadcast all the time, because it's hard to tap into your recesses and project like that without having an accent. So great, the one place I can unconsciously use the accent that I grew up with is in a country on the other side of the globe from my hometown. Also, I think being Korean and American at the same time confuses everyone here, though they certainly take it is stride and, unlike all the questioning I got in Korea, do understand the concept of 'adoption,' which prevents me in turn from having to masquerade as Japanese. Sometimes, of course, I don't offer that detail, and I imagine that in the other person's head they are imagining my perfectly happy, smiling, Korean-looking family smiling and looking happy and...you know what? I'm not going to ruin that for them.

Day Four - A Quick Post

I'm reaching the critical period on my own graduate school work, which has very definitely taken a backseat to what I'm doing here, but my day yesterday was amazing and I'll have super-awesome posts later to compensate!

Mr. Saveth and I continue to have dialogues about how to improve the school and extricate it from its current situation. The good news is that fabric came from the border for the vocational sewing program, so today I got to KNGO to hear the women happily working in the adjoining room. Also, KNGO has raised over $5000 thanks to its generous donors. I fear that people will think me a shill for donations, but the fact is that many people are too busy to find causes to donate to, so why not donate to something that a friend is supporting?

My day teaching was amazing and I received my first gifts from the students. The note reads, "I love teacher!" I also got a beautiful paper flower, proof that you can make something wonderful even from something as silly as flimsy Cambodian napkins.

I also got the advanced students to start writing creatively. This was a breakthrough much like the first English book reading from Tuesday, because many English learners in Asia do not get enough chances to write on their own. We wrote from a prompt, but I hope to encourage them to write and to continue to write. I am supposed to collect their work today, so we'll see how they do!

It's funny how many things are common to schools the world over. The teachers here are as serious about teaching as our own teachers, my former colleagues, in the schools in my hometown. They have varying strengths and weaknesses, too. But to see them in a meeting, even when I can't understand a word, discussing curricula and student performance, was to see the faces of the teachers in meetings around the world--a bit weary, a bit stony, a bit passionate, a bit intense.

Day Three - Today I Did Not Teach

Why not? Because I gave my time today assisting the Executive Director with planning KNGO's future. It's a happy coincidence that I'm here now, because even my rudimentary knowledge of nonprofits, grants, teaching curricula, and technology has been useful. I've committed to projects that terrify me, but the organization is fighting for its life, so why should I do any less than whatever I can? 

I'm happy to see that KNGO has already raised money via crowdfunding, but they need all the help they can get. I'm here. I'm working for the future. I'm drafting a curriculum template for proposals and working on grants and trying to pass on my knowledge so that KNGO can fold it into their daily practices before they know whether they can have daily practices. 

I wanted to teach. I missed the smiles and the giggles and the English recited at top volume. But we had an important meeting, and then I was responsible for working on some things.

On a lighter note, I wrote about my harrowing 'car ride' to Battambang from Phnom Penh two days ago. Walking around in traffic is just as exciting. I managed to snap a clip of my commute home:

And also of a tuk-tuk ride to school (tuk-tuks being a standard form of transportation here, especially for tourists):

Here's a picture from my daily commute:

I highly recommend Mr. Scorpio. He came with recommendations written on the ceiling of his tuk-tuk and the praise of the Royal Hotel manager.

If I'm brave tomorrow, I'll show you what it's like to walk around in a place without sidewalks where people drive like the roads have no rules...

Cambodia - Day Two

The Courtyard of Bospo Primary School

I write this post with a heavy heart, because I've learned that the organization where I'm teaching, KNGO Cambodia, which helps almost 450 children with English, computer skills, and vocational lessons, will close unless they receive funding.

Yesterday was my first 'true' day of teaching. After observing the children on Day One and realizing how much they are capable of that even their regular teacher does not realize, I was eager to begin implementing my own lessons. Children in this country learn by recitation, by memorization, and formula. There's nothing wrong with that, especially when learning a foreign language, but it doesn't engage one's creativity. The first two sections of my classes, the Level 1 learners, read their first book in English yesterday. I read it to them; we read it together out loud as I traced the words; we talked about vocabulary, with me miming meaning to them--it was exhilarating when they understood and shouted out the definition in Khmer--and we read together in translation.

The children were incredibly excited to even see a book, let alone think about reading one in English. They loved the pictures and the repetition, along with the building of meaning, allowed them to grasp the whole of the book and the individual sentences with which they had trouble. Today we will be working on making our own books. But my mind is racing with dread. I have pledged to help however I can, including advising KNGO to set up a crowdfunding campaign, and using my language skills to proofread, search for, and write grant proposals. But I'm not a grantwriter and I know that these things are difficult even for native speakers. No one has any training.

The leader of the organization, Mr Sun Saveth, who has been an excellent host to me, also sent out an email to all current and former volunteers, citing what he needed to continue running KNGO. Another suggestion that will hopefully reach many. I'm not sure how many children that I have been teaching will be turned away as the school makes sad and necessary cuts to its funding. I can't describe to you where children in this wonderful country can end up when the situation is dire for them; you've seen where children in our very safe first-world countries can end up...

I'm thinking about what I can do, and there are no clear answers. I'm only one person and I don't matter so much. But the school will be closing shortly if I can't help by coming up with some answers, so it's time for me to make some decisions.

Please, if you can help, here is the link to the campaign. It's not for me; it's for them. I will be fine no matter what...but they will not.

Cambodia – Day One

Almost twenty hours of flights, one twenty-four hour layover in Seoul, and a five-hour car ride later, I am here. My bed is a paradise, having gained the luxury of being weighed down by the time spent traversing the globe. My body feels rattled; a yoga episode in Phnom Penh only proved how broken down it was, and then I had a ride to Battambang that resembled nothing like a car ride.

People have been bombarding me with questions and good wishes, but I have wanted only sleep. The hours stretch out and then compress, and the Internet here is spotty—is that such a surprise in a country where you can buy a SIM card for $1? As I travel, I think about how unstoppable these people will be once they get good communications infrastructure, how a nation of people who all seem to know each other and who drive the way that birds migrate—noisily, in flocks, as they like, but always heading to the same places—will fare when they fully understand email.

A view of some houses as we go by

The school is in Bospo Village. A village isn’t what you or I think it is. It’s a winding labyrinth of dirt roads, one after another, too narrow to bring a car through for the most part. KNGO itself is an impressive structure, three white-stone rooms that sit side-by-side (this is not a country for hallways) and two outdoor classrooms that are ‘open air’…little more than a collection of benches and yard sale-esque tables, with no protection from the environment.

KNGO has an agreement with Bospo Village public school, a courtyard of rooms with hut-like roofs where children recite noisily what they have learned, each class out-shouting the others. I’m teaching with a kind teacher. Her first two classes are students that appear between the ages of eight and eleven; her second class between maybe eleven and thirteen, some of them already getting tall. Level 1 and Level 2, they are called. The students greet the teacher; they sit on benches made of rough wood that marginally resemble desks, and they take out their tiny little Asian notebooks and write. Today, I only observed. I think that is fair. Observed, helped, tried to persevere over the school’s standing-only toilet (failed miserably!), and plotted how to adapt my lessons to these children.

Sorry about the random water bottle!

Their English, while sounding suspiciously like Cambodian phonemes, is shockingly good. These children don’t have running toilets at their school, you see. Their cafeteria is an old lady with a bowl full of delicious Cambodian fruits and a hot-dog type stand. Most of them live nearby in houses smaller than your living rooms, with no windows or doors, only curtains for privacy. Maybe a back room that is more concealed from the elements and the neighbors. That’s not what pity is, though. That’s admiration.

I feel for them because they use these silly Oxford workbooks that have little to no comprehension of their world. They’re meant for Western children, or maybe for Koreans—they tell tales such as “Mrs. Smith can’t type” and “Mr. Roberts is an engineer”. Yet, most of these children can’t type. They don’t have multimedia classrooms. Their hands-on learning is basically having a foreigner come to recite the words to them, and show them how to form the ‘t’ on the ends of things, or the letter ‘z’. But somehow, they are learning English and some of them will go on to depend on it—in most cases, it could determine their lives.

Classes are small enough for a lot of individual attention, and the emphasis on notebook copying means that everyone has to produce writing, which alleviates a lot of the problems with, for instance, Korean public schools where the class sizes are too large for individual feedback or checks.

All in all, I’m happy to be here. I’m having a good time in between being very tired, and I’m looking forward to getting to teach today!

I leave Thursday!

People are surprised when I tell them that the flight from Korea to Phnom Penh is over five hours, and that, when heading east towards Korea, it's run as a red-eye. I don't think that people are uneducated when it comes to the size and scale of various world regions, but it's very possible to forget that there's so much distance between countries, and that hopping to 'Asia' and getting around would be like assuming that San Francisco is next to Baltimore...

I feel ready. I'm not finished; I have a million little tasks to complete and real-life obligations to fulfill before I leave, but I feel prepared to take in the long journey and come out on the other side. I'll be posting regular updates, and probably micro-updates on Twitter as well, so feel free to follow me @mspicone.