Sending sunbeams
Door: Sann Holtslag
31 Maart 2013 | Cambodja, Phnom-Penh
Last week, the local newspaper ‘Cambodian Daily’ opened their first page with a picture of cars in Wales. Not because the cars were so special, but because it looked like they were trying to eat their way through a wall of snow which was covering them. I know most of you are dealing with the coldest (or longest?) winter since……. Long. Here in Cambodia we have fully entered the hot season (with daytime temperatures over 40 degrees) and in my mind I am sending you all a small package of sunbeams, warmth and a palm tree, just to make it through the last weeks of winter. Or better: first weeks of spring.
I remember my first weeks here, in Phnom Penh, getting to know the city, my new life, new people, and getting used to the idea that I might stay longer here than I initially intended. In the months that followed I have grown to love and appreciate this country. Still smiling everyday about the small motorcycles that carry up to 4 people or the energetic children who wave as I cycle by who string together all the English they know ‘hello-how-are-you-what-is-your-name’. But with my project coming to an end in a couple of weeks, I am ready to explore another corner of the world. But first… ready to go back home.
Since my last message, my work has continued, but I also took some days off when a friend was visiting me. Going around Phnom Penh with him made me aware I have become quite integrated here, for as much as a tall blonde person can integrate in a country with small, dark people. Making a little bow whenever I receive something, putting up the serene Cambodian smile going around the market when it is 40 degrees and I feel small rivers flowing down my back, joking around in Khmer language with ‘my’ vegetable lady in the market about how I always manage to bump my head onto the ceiling of her stall because I’m so ridiculously tall. I am going to miss the smiles of people on the street. I will miss the way the young girls in the supermarket give me my change: clasping the notes with both their hands as if it were precious diamonds, bowing so deep that their ponytail topple over their heads, while saying very seriously ‘thank you so much and bless you.’ Handing me back 100 Khr which equals €0,02.
Still every day there are things that amaze me, and make me silently wish I could contribute more to increasing the standard of living here for the majority of people. Like today, seeing a motorcycle driven by a young man with a young woman on the back, holding a small baby in one arm and holding a bamboo-stick with a drip, which is attached to the baby’s arm, in her other hand. There is such a lack of everything in public hospitals and they are often so dirty that patients are taken home by their family to be fed, bathed and then driven back for another night in a bed without mattress or blanket.
And luckily, there are also still things happening every day that amaze me, but make me laugh. For instance last Monday, coming back into the office after my days off. Turning on my computer, discovering that all the documents of the project that two other people before me and myself have been working on for the last three years are no longer on our internal drive. Hoping there would be a totally logical explanation for this I went to our IT manager. ‘Kimsorn, was there a problem last week with the internal drive?’ The 28 year-old wizz-kid looks at me with a big Cambodian smile and replies ‘Of course! Someone deleted all the files of your project.’ He says it very cheerfully, as though he is wishing me a happy Christmas. Being shocked for some seconds by this news I blink my eyes a couple of times and finally reply ‘Oh, but Kimsorn, that is seriously bad news.’ ‘Yes, bad news.’ Kimsorn agrees with me nodding enthusiastically and still smiling as though he won the lottery. ‘But Kimsorn, I am sure there is a back-up available.’ ‘Hmmmm…. Nooooo… no, we not have.’ The smile has now faded as Kimsorn is thinking really hard as though I have asked him where he last saw his lost glasses: ‘Maybe we ask head-office UK, maybe have, maybe no, but is difficult.’ ‘Yes, that sounds like a good idea Kimsorn. Please ask the head-office, because it is quite important to get all the documents back. It’s worth three years of work.’ Kimsorns smile is back again, happy with this plan of action. I return to my desk, just sitting for a few moments, amazed again by the Cambodian way of dealing with a crisis. My Scottish colleague at the desk next to me asks me if I’m alright. I explain briefly the situation and Kimsorns response and we both start laughing at the absurdity of the situation. We agree that I won’t tell yet that I made a personal back-up of all the documents on my own laptop for a couple of days… What better way to build capacity then to stimulate someone to take action and provide the chance to achieve great things. Like retrieving lost documents :-). And, of course, one day later, a very proud Kimsorn came to my desk, telling me with an even bigger smile that he managed to move the UK head-office into action and they would restore all documents within a week.
And so I am learning from Kimsorn as well…. whenever there is a crisis, never lose your calm, but just smile and trust that it will all turn out ok, somehow.
I remember my first weeks here, in Phnom Penh, getting to know the city, my new life, new people, and getting used to the idea that I might stay longer here than I initially intended. In the months that followed I have grown to love and appreciate this country. Still smiling everyday about the small motorcycles that carry up to 4 people or the energetic children who wave as I cycle by who string together all the English they know ‘hello-how-are-you-what-is-your-name’. But with my project coming to an end in a couple of weeks, I am ready to explore another corner of the world. But first… ready to go back home.
Since my last message, my work has continued, but I also took some days off when a friend was visiting me. Going around Phnom Penh with him made me aware I have become quite integrated here, for as much as a tall blonde person can integrate in a country with small, dark people. Making a little bow whenever I receive something, putting up the serene Cambodian smile going around the market when it is 40 degrees and I feel small rivers flowing down my back, joking around in Khmer language with ‘my’ vegetable lady in the market about how I always manage to bump my head onto the ceiling of her stall because I’m so ridiculously tall. I am going to miss the smiles of people on the street. I will miss the way the young girls in the supermarket give me my change: clasping the notes with both their hands as if it were precious diamonds, bowing so deep that their ponytail topple over their heads, while saying very seriously ‘thank you so much and bless you.’ Handing me back 100 Khr which equals €0,02.
Still every day there are things that amaze me, and make me silently wish I could contribute more to increasing the standard of living here for the majority of people. Like today, seeing a motorcycle driven by a young man with a young woman on the back, holding a small baby in one arm and holding a bamboo-stick with a drip, which is attached to the baby’s arm, in her other hand. There is such a lack of everything in public hospitals and they are often so dirty that patients are taken home by their family to be fed, bathed and then driven back for another night in a bed without mattress or blanket.
And luckily, there are also still things happening every day that amaze me, but make me laugh. For instance last Monday, coming back into the office after my days off. Turning on my computer, discovering that all the documents of the project that two other people before me and myself have been working on for the last three years are no longer on our internal drive. Hoping there would be a totally logical explanation for this I went to our IT manager. ‘Kimsorn, was there a problem last week with the internal drive?’ The 28 year-old wizz-kid looks at me with a big Cambodian smile and replies ‘Of course! Someone deleted all the files of your project.’ He says it very cheerfully, as though he is wishing me a happy Christmas. Being shocked for some seconds by this news I blink my eyes a couple of times and finally reply ‘Oh, but Kimsorn, that is seriously bad news.’ ‘Yes, bad news.’ Kimsorn agrees with me nodding enthusiastically and still smiling as though he won the lottery. ‘But Kimsorn, I am sure there is a back-up available.’ ‘Hmmmm…. Nooooo… no, we not have.’ The smile has now faded as Kimsorn is thinking really hard as though I have asked him where he last saw his lost glasses: ‘Maybe we ask head-office UK, maybe have, maybe no, but is difficult.’ ‘Yes, that sounds like a good idea Kimsorn. Please ask the head-office, because it is quite important to get all the documents back. It’s worth three years of work.’ Kimsorns smile is back again, happy with this plan of action. I return to my desk, just sitting for a few moments, amazed again by the Cambodian way of dealing with a crisis. My Scottish colleague at the desk next to me asks me if I’m alright. I explain briefly the situation and Kimsorns response and we both start laughing at the absurdity of the situation. We agree that I won’t tell yet that I made a personal back-up of all the documents on my own laptop for a couple of days… What better way to build capacity then to stimulate someone to take action and provide the chance to achieve great things. Like retrieving lost documents :-). And, of course, one day later, a very proud Kimsorn came to my desk, telling me with an even bigger smile that he managed to move the UK head-office into action and they would restore all documents within a week.
And so I am learning from Kimsorn as well…. whenever there is a crisis, never lose your calm, but just smile and trust that it will all turn out ok, somehow.
-
31 Maart 2013 - 15:05
Ton Holtslag:
Sanne, wat een leuk sfeervolle beschrijving van de situatie. We nemen jou zonnestralen graag in ontvangst.
Wat knap om met een smile het verlies van de documenten op te vatten. En het zal je toch iedere keer weer blijven verwonderen dat mensen in andere culturen heel anders op situaties kunnen reageren dan wij, als "efficiente" westerlingen zouden doen. Nog fijne laatste weken in Cambodja en we zien je gauw weer thuis. -
31 Maart 2013 - 18:13
Ankie:
HHhhmmm lekker die zonnestralen, dank je.
We komen net terug van een heel mooi paasritje met de auto. Rostoel achterin en ik met mijn neus uit het raam en hup even later zit je al ineens in Cambodja, na het openen van jouw mail :-)
Want och wat schrijf je toch altijd leuk, Sanne, ik zie de markt, de met familie en bagage bepakte motorfietsen en de lachende Kimsorn!
Heerlijk dat je je al weer in zo'n korte tijd gemakkelijk bent gaan bewegen in een andere cultuur tussen de kleine donkere mensen. Hoe je snel leerde anders om te gaan met plotselinge teleurstellingen en stress.
Je zult het nog missen straks als je weer hier bent... wij zijn zo anders, alles is hier zo anders.... Maar gelukkig is hier wel weer veel dat je kunt waarderen èn je familie en vrienden.
Ik wens je nog een goeie tijd, Sanne, en een fijne afsluiting. Iedereen zal roepen: 'Thank you so much and bless you'.
Dikke zoen,
Anki -
01 April 2013 - 11:25
Vera Borsboom:
suuuuuuuper herkenbaar, ik word weer helemaal nerveus van de glimlachjes met slecht nieuws. En ik begin al te zweten bij het lezen over de hoge temperaturen. Toen ik zelf in Cambodja was, vond ik het niet eens zo indrukwekkend en enerverend. Maar nu mis ik het land regelmatig. En zeker als ik jouw warme verhalen lees. Wat een gek idee dat je al weer bijna naar huis gaat....geniet van je laatste weken! -
01 April 2013 - 11:40
Ranjana Van Dijk:
Hoi Sanne,
Jij hebt jouw verslagen leuk geschreven.
Veel plezier in jouw laatste weken!
Liefs,
Ranjana -
01 April 2013 - 20:33
Judith:
ha sanne, wat een mooie verhalen schrijf je! hele fijn tijd nog even en misschien tot over een paar weken. liefs, judith -
01 April 2013 - 22:56
Hank:
Dear Sanne
De tijd vliegt, zo neem je afscheid en zo schrijf je dat de laatste weken al weer aanbreken.
Ik zal je verhalen missen. En ik ben heel benieuwd wat je volgende plannen zijn.
Succes met een goede afronding van je project.
Tot ziens in Diepenveen. -
10 April 2013 - 17:21
Lies Kortenhorst:
Sterk verhaal Sanne, zo komisch ook, dank je wel. De lente probeert het hier nu echt met 11C.
Dat kalmeert en verzacht iedereen en zal je terugkeer ook zeker veraangenamen.
Nog een heel goede afsluiting in Cambodja!!
Liefs van Lies
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