Face Sucking and Sumbs.

Cow Sevin is a man about the same age as my Khmai parents, who works at a nearby NGO and sleeps at our house a few nights a week (he goes home to his family in a different town the other nights). Dinners with Sevin are always interesting. He speaks English, albeit brokenly, and is always curiously inquiring about things he’s heard about America, that he wants to clarify as being true, as well as voicing his personal opinions about America’s moral compass or lack thereof. “I heard that eleven year olds have babies in America. Is it true?” “I think that woman have more right in America than men.” It’s always a careful balance for me, trying to answer his questions or respond to his opinions in a tactful yet honest way. Last night at dinner, Sevin asked me, “Why you suck each other’s face in America?” Choking on my rice, I looked up at him. “What?!” I croaked as I pictured something vaguely reminiscent of a scene in Silence of the Lambs. “In America, you suck each other’s face. What is it?” Sevin replied. Using my hands as puppets to mime, I figured out he was talking about kissing.

Learning that “face sucking” (I explained the term “making out” to him) does indeed occur in America, he crossed his arms over his chest and said definitively, “It is not clean.” This coming from someone who uses his own spoon to serve himself soup from the communal soup bowl! Anyway, it was yet another encounter of many that are funny with Sevin.

Last week I was supposed to go observe Chun Saroon teach, the English teacher with whom I really don’t want to work. Chuon Nam Heng (the one I like) told me there would be no classes last week, since the school was still flooded and students were having trouble getting there, so I didn’t go. As it turns out, he was not teaching any classes- the other teachers still were. The following day, I was drinking a coffee with Chuon Nam Heng when Chun Saroon showed up. “Do you know that you are a liar?” he said to me. Great. I explained the misunderstanding, but he was not very empathetic. Needless to say, this encounter did not enhance my feeling for the guy. The following day, I faithfully showed up to observe his class. “Where is Chun Saroon?” I ask his classroom full of students. Nobody knew. “Ohhh, I am very busy! Very busy now!” he said to me when I called him. “What are you doing?” I asked. “Ohhhh umm… Today I not come to school because… I am busy! Sorry!” So just like that, Chun Saroon totally evaded his primary duty as a teacher because he was simply “too busy” and expected I would teach his class. I was furious. I talked to the school director, and we worked it out to where I now know all of the teachers’ schedules and will show up to observe at my convenience, so that they can’t just duck out knowing I will be able to take over their responsibilities. Unfortunately, I am not the first volunteer to have experienced this in Cambodia. Teachers are paid the same wage, by the government, regardless of how much they teach and when, so things are often “coming up” which prevent them from teaching and turn the responsibility over to volunteers, or, if no volunteer is present, the kids go home.

After school, twice a week, I’ve been teaching English to a group of ten and eleven year olds at S’rei Ohn’s house. One of the students is her daughter, the rest, her friends. It’s ended up being a lot of fun. The kids are extremely eager to learn English, and while more like parrots than people right now (they will attempt to babble anything that comes out of my mouth), I can see that their enthusiasm will translate to knowledge. So far, we’ve covered body parts, family, and animal vocabulary. What I like more than anything else, I think, and what frustrates me the most at the same time, is working on pronunciation. Those THs and Rs are nearly impossible for Cambodians, which is excruciating to listen to, but makes the occasional “breakthrough” that much more rewarding. “Thumb” for example, is pronounced by Cambodians, “Sumb.” No matter what I do, “Sumb” it remains. But during my language group, I had an idea to have them grab their tongues and try to say the word. It worked! And of course they were giggling uncontrollably over the whole thing. One boy is particularly enthusiastic: Dong Leeyung. We sit in a half circle on a table outside, me, next to the white board, and the kids surrounding. When we’re learning a new word, I’ll say it, and have them repeat after me, together at first, and then individually. The kids don’t really get the “individual” part, and continue to scream it at me in chorus as I’m trying to pay attention only to one. Dong Leeyung screams it in my ear, leaning closer and closer to me desperately vying for my attention until I turn to him and ask him to please scoot back and wait his turn. It gets mildly irritating, but I’m sure I wouldn’t be fooling anyone if I said I didn’t love it.

I should mention that Cambodians rarely smile in photographs. Even in their wedding pictures, they have a look as solemn as if someone just died. So the smiles that are beginning to show here are as good as gold. J

From this Saturday until the next, I’m going to a TEFL conference in Phnom Penh with Chuon Nam Heng. With twenty or so other volunteers, and their Khmer counterparts, we will learn about how to become better teachers. I’m really excited! I’ll report back after the conference. Thanks for tuning in!