Angkoul: Out in the field

A couple of days and oh what a change
It's turned around quickly and much for the better
I've experienced joy in its entire range
So I'm glad for Cambodia and glad that I met her

KEP, CAMBODIA

June 19 - 21, 2008

Thank you, big brother Andy, for the email. As always, your advice to me to stop and smell the roses is appreciated and will be taken to heart. Often, it's easy to focus on the negative stuff when you're not around the people who would normally slap you silly for forgetting to notice the positive.

I FINALLY got out into the field on Thursday. To describe the events leading up to it, though, is a little difficult. I wasn't nervous, no that's not what I was feeling; and it certainly wasn't anxiety, nor was it trepidation. I'm actually at a loss for synonyms here, but what I was feeling was almost a worrying that I wouldn't like being in the field. It was like anticipating a disappointment, and dreading that. Luckily, there was nothing of the sort. I loved it. My translator, Sokun, picked me up in the morning and we headed off to the Kep village of Angkoul, quite easily one of the poorest villages in Kep. This I was a little anxious about -- I've never been on a moto before, and I was afraid that I'd fall off and die. I was wearing a scooter helmet, complete with a surgical mask that G insisted I wear to keep the dust and bugs out of my mouth and nose. I must have looked so supremely Asian. Anyways. There was nothing to worry about because Sokun is an excellent driver, weaving in and out of potholes (or should I say around?), and it was so much fun. New goal: learn to drive a moto by the time I go home. I'm buying my own helmet in Phnom Penh this weekend, because TH and I are going to use motos to get around once we're out of Cambodia.


Angkoul is poor. Really poor. I've seen some poor places before, but nothing like this. Just about everyone, except for the "rich" people in the village, live in single room shacks made of a combination of wood, palm leaves, and cardboard. Some have dirt floors; others, closer to the water, are built on stilts to avoid flooding during the rainy season. Those were the worst. The ones on stilts: the floor was not a continuous plane from wall to wall to wall to wall, but instead only extended partway to one of the walls, leaving a gaping hole to the ground below. This is the bathroom. You sleep, eat, and go to the bathroom here.


No one has outhouses; I guess land is precious and can't be wasted on that. There are few trees and bushes so your business is all out in the open. Nothing is a secret in these places. Which was really interesting; part of my ethics protocol dealt with confidentiality and privacy, and I had all these rules about how interviews would be private and we'd have a whole conversation about informed consent. Only, none of those things apply here. People don't want to have private conversations; the interviews are conducted with 4 or 5 (or as many as 15) people around, and the women have no problems discussing their medical histories with the whole community. As for informed consent, the women don't care, and when we try to go through a consent process, they just want to get started on the interview. They are so cooperative and helpful. They really want to participate, and completely out of the goodness of their hearts; I do give them a gift of thanks (soap or toothbrush) which they like, but they don't know that ahead of time. They're just happy to help. It's funny too, because the children are just enraptured with me. It would probably be even better if I were white, but they're just excited that a foreigner is around.


One kid today, one of the cutest kids I've ever seen in my life, followed me from house to house (running around totally naked). Every time I smiled at him, he giggled. So...the futility again settles in. I'm not really doing much for these people. The cute kid is the one in the very front.


But I did get to thinking about next summer. While I'm feeling as though I'm not doing much for the people now, my experience here, and learning about this place, puts me in a better position to do something next year which actually might have an impact. I'd like to develop a program and make my "research" project the implementation and subsequent evaluation of that program. TH is going to kill me when she finds out I'm considering a round two with CIH. It was a really good experience though, and I really thoroughly enjoyed it. My translator is awesome, and I had a great time meeting people and photographing the kids.


Plus the scenery was so interesting and different. As I was riding along on the moto I thought to myself, oh yeah, that's what it feels like to fall in love with a country. I'd forgotten that feeling, but it was nice to get it back. I loved this view; down below the wat, or monastery built into the mountain, are shacks, which stand in a stark comparison to the elegance and richness of the wat. A group of houses right on the shore. The people who live here are all fishermen.


This is Sokun, my translator, eating lunch. It cost 20 cents. It was instant noodle. The restaurant served nothing else.
I also FINALLY was able to buy some real fruit. I got a dozen little bananas in the village on the first day, and then today, another dozen bananas and a guava for myself, plus a dozen bananas for Doc V. A dozen bananas is 25 cents! There's also a Peon 2 story, but I'll save that till tomorrow.