We did it. The K3s have completed training successfully- we survived hours of technical sessions, bumpy remork rides, hours upon hours of Khmer instruction, thousands of bowls of rice (collectively), a few cases of giardia and dengue, the dreaded LPI (language sufficiency test which we all passed), and spiders the size of our hands. We survived, we got to know each other, we recognized our strengths and weaknesses, and now in two days we will leave to go to our permanent sites all over the country.
We had a farewell party for the host families in our training village yesterday. We formed groups last week to make different kinds of American food to serve to our families at the party and went on wild goose chases all over our provincial town to find ingredients. I decided it would be a great idea to try and figure out how to make chili... it turned out more as a bean surprise, but it was pretty delicious. A few of us also had the brilliant plan to make a piñata for the party- paper mache and all (now thats what I call Peace Corps ingenuity). Our families slowly trickled in and greeted one another and sat under the shade to chat while the trainees prepared food. We spent the next hour feeding our families and trying to explain what american food is, much like they had been doing for us for the past two months. As I watched the trainees, my friends, chat in Khmer and laugh with our families and extended families I thought back to our very first day in the village two months ago when we were all unloaded at a strange and dusty Wat knowing almost no Khmer at all. We were blessed by monks and then introduced to the heads of our families. We were scared, had no idea how to act or what to say, and didn't know what we would face once we got to our homes. The contrast between the scared, timid foreigners and their extremely nervous new parents and the happy families that I saw at that party was incredible.
I cannot speak for all of the trainees in my village, but my family had nothing and yet gave me everything. Every moment of time and every ounce of patience they had, they expended it on me to make sure I felt safe and loved. It was extremely awkward in the beginning for both me and my family- just imagine a stranger who could not speak more than ten words of English sitting at your dinner table and trying to listen to your conversation. Mid conversation this stranger suddenly says "lizard!" or "bowl!" or "rice!". This is how the first week or two of my home stay went with my training family, and yet they always smiled, laughed, said "you are learning so much!" in Khmer and then went back to their conversation. Slowly but surely I learned how to communicate, how to joke around with my sister while we were cooking dinner, how to ask my little brother where he went that day or if he won his volleyball game, how to ask my father if his cows were doing well... My family in the training village will always hold a special place in my heart. I will go back to visit them as soon as I can, and my host dad said he would bring my host sister out to my permanent site to visit me next summer.
As sentimental as this post is, its only a tiny outpouring of the gambit of emotions I feel everyday here in this place. Tomorrow I become an official volunteer, and I will leave for my permanent site on Sunday where I will live and work for the next two years of my life.
Love to everyone, stay well.
K
Goodness. This is really amazing! I can understand how the language barrier could have made it really difficult at first, but living people and sharing yourselves in such a close way really makes it all come together. I can't wait to hear more!
ReplyDeleteLove love!
Robin