It has been awhile since I have blogged here.  Some of  you might wondered why I did not blog about my Cambodia experience like I did when I was there around the same time last year.  I just had too much going on that I felt overwhelmed and if I could not sit down and write about my experience in a reflective manner, because it would all be too emotional and when I get emotional, I cannot get the tasks at hand done. 

Going from Thailand to Cambodia was a totally different world.  I felt as if I had to switch my mind to function differently than I did when I was in Thailand.  Some of you might heard that my first night in Cambodia was shattered by the news that my friend Ti (who worked as a care taker of the place I was staying at in Cambodia) had passed away in April. The news shadowed the rest of my two weeks in Phnom Penh. 

But this blog is not about my loss or heartache, but it's about Socheata, one of my photography students from Boeunk Kok Lake and her family and how my experience with her gave me a sense of renewal hope in humanity. 

I am but one person.  After seeing my Khmer students and listening to the going-ons in their lives, I just felt overwhelmed with all that I see and hear in Socheata's one room house.  Later in the afternoon, I met with my friend Anna for lunch at The Living Room Cafe.  She asked me what my day was like and I recounted a story about Reach, Socheata's little brother and his broken wrist (hadn't seen a doctor for it yet) and another how Socheata's mom wants her to quit school so she can work and bring extra income to feed her four other silbings.  

Socheata's dream was to learn English and be a doctor I said to Anna.  I told Anna, I cannot do everything, but I want to do something.  Anna then told me I need to meet one of her friends, Sylvia Sisowath, Secretary of State, member of of the Royal Cabinet of his majesty, the King.   After Anna and I took Reach to see a doctor to get x-rayed for his arm, we swung by Kabiki Hotel to meet with Sylvia Sisowath.   I was honored that she would drop everything to come meet me to discuss my students' affairs. 

That was in mid August.  Earlier this week, I got an email from Sylvia and Anna saying that Sylvia has helped the entire family providing the mother with a monthly income for each of the kids and a brand new sewing machine (hers got stolen) as well as food and clothing for the kids.  Anna has been arranging for her Khmer instructor to teach English to Socheata in the slum. 

I cannot thank my friend Anna enough and cannot thank Sylvia Sisowath enough for their dedication to want to help those in need.  I saw the fire in Socheata's eyes and the passion in her voice, when she pulled me aside and in her broken English told me, "Samantha, I Socheata, study English, look me write English...I no marry next year, or next year, no marry like you...I go to school and study."  I wanted to hold her and cry because I do want her to succeed, but in my heart, I was not sure how to do it,  but God brought amazing people into my life so that I can do His work in honor of Him alongside others.     

Reach with his broken arm that his mother tried to heal with natural herbs.

Socheata's mom with her sewing machine that got stolen last year.

Socheata in her one room home she shares with 5 of her siblings and step dad and her mother.

My trip to Houaxay (Houaisai, Houeisay) was a haste trip. It was a one day trip that Sue and I took to Laos. It was quite surreal to be there. No words can describe my thoughts as we crossed the Mekong from Chiang Kong to Houaisai. I looked up and down the river trying to figure out which way we escaped Laos that night. I looked at Chiang Kong's side to see where my aunt's house would've been. It was there that we stayed once we crossed the river. Looking at Laos, I can see a temple upon the hill.

I remembered vaguely as a child, that I would sit upon our wooden fence to see the Mekong River dividing Laos and Thailand and can get a glimpse of a cargo boat floating along the river. When I hear the sound of a motor bike, I would run down the hill to sit upon the dirt paved steps before the dirt road to have a sniff of the gas being burned through the motor bike's exhaust pipe. The night that we escaped, I remembered the hill on our left side as we were walking towards the Mekong River in the dark. We were questioned by one of the soldiers that spotted us. We lied and said that our relative is ill and we are visiting our relative in the country side. I also remembered walking home from the movie theatre. How my older sister would yell at me for not wanting to walk home because I was sleepy after our night at the cinema. All I remembered was that of a four year old child. The landscape of baan Bokeo has changed over the years/

As our driver took us through baan Bokeo, I looked for these things...the hill upon which our house would've stood, the dirt steps upon which I would wait for the motorbike to pass by, the house with bamboo walls across the street, the school, the place where the cinema would've been...I think I saw them all...

I wish I can share my experience with mom...to let her know that I went to the place in which I was born to be closer to her and to find myself.

Roots: part of the body of a plant that develops, typically, fromAngkor Wat, Phnom Penh Cambodia, summer 2008 the radicle and grows downward into the soil, anchoring the plant and absorbing nutriment and moisture.

Sue, the director of baan AYUI is going with me to visit my birthplace, Houasai (Houaxai, Houaxay), Laos.  While teaching the Akha children the value of preserving one's culture, I feel as if I'm holding a mirror and see a reflection of myself when I look at them.  I remembered being young and wanting to live like all my American friends and thinking that my mom's culture and ways of life was strange or ancient.  But as I've gotten older, I have observed how the elders of the community are diminishing and the younger generations don't know much about the traditions or customs of our own people.  My dream was to go to Yunnan Province to find my parents' birth place, but never in my wildest dreams did I dare think that I will be so close to visiting my own birthplace. 

Our roots makes us who we are regardless of how we've changed through our language/accents or our looks, the roots of our past is the nourishment that completes our quest for our personal history. This workshop is so more than teaching children the art of photography, working with these hill tribe children made me realized something that I was totally unwaware of, that my parents were a minority in their home country as well. 

My emotions are a mixture of joy and sadness.  I've been imagining this moment (of me visiting my birth village) for awhile now and each time, I would get all misty eyed.  I wish that my mom could see me now...see that I have not forgotten where I came from and that I am proud of my heritage and lineage.

an Akha head dress in Hilltribe Museum, Chiang Rai, Thailand. I read a really interesting article written by an American gentleman who received some funding from the Rockefller Foundation to do some work with the hill tribes of Thailand.  In it he commented on how the youths of hill tribes are embarrassed to be themselves and how the media are influencing them.  I understand the need to want to be mainstreamed.  I was there myself when I was younger.  But when a culture is close to losing its identity, it is scary.  Selfishly speaking, I don't want to have to go to a museum to find authentic traditional costumes made by the hill tribes. I know that change is inevitable and I look forward to doing more resarch and learning more about hill tribes and the influence of main stream culture.

We took the kids to visit two of the children from the youth hostel's village yesterday.  We went to baan Pa Seuth.  It turned out to be very nice.  One of the boys from the hostel didn't want to participate in the workshop in the beginning.  But then when we started editing photos and have critiques, he would come by to listen and watch what we were doing.  Finally I asked him yesterday if he would like to do some photography since we were going to be visiting his village.  He smiled and said yes.  It was nice to see him show his mom what he's learned when he finally saw her. On our way back , we passed a rice field with some people still working on it.  We made a quick stop to take photos.  The kids blew me away with their images.  Here are some photos from yesterday's workshop. 

three of my students photographing an Akha woman sewing