February 23

This last Thursday was a Buddhist holiday called Mahka Bucha, and since our school is seemingly 90% Buddhist and government affiliated, we got the day off. I went with Heather to Monument Books, and after that to Toul Thom Poung with Liz, so she could buy some new clothes. I've have been low on cash ever since my trip to Thailand, so I stayed outside to kill some time and avoid the temptation of extra spending. I had skipped lunch, so I got some noodles from a street vender, when a beggar approached me, like they always do. He put his hat out in front of me, "som mah-roy" (could you spare 100 reil?) he said. I slipped a bill in his hat and he thanked me and left. The problem with street venders is that their isn't a place to sit, and the problem with Toul Thom Poung, is that on all sides of the street are obnoxious abrasive men, hoping to sell you something, take you on their moto, or strike up an intrusive conversation. I open the bag, standing up, eating quickly with my chopsticks when the beggar approaches me again, speaking in Khmer. I told him I didn't speak Khmer, so he started to speak in English. "When I see you eat like this, on the road, I think you're like me, Khmer. I live on the streets, I sleep outside. Why not eat inside with the rest of the foreigners? They have a nice table for you there, you can pay after you eat." His english was perfect. "Yeah, but I have no money," I say. "Why have you come to Cambodia, hoping to find work?" "I work already, I teach English." "Did you come here all alone? Why are you alone?" he asks. "I close my tray of noodles. "No, I am waiting for a friend, I think I have to meet her now..." I lie and walk away.

Not that I don't love teaching English, or feel that my work here is not gratifying and useful, but something about this conversation strikes painful epiphanies. This man speaks perfect English, yet what has it done for him? He still sleeps on the streets. I was talking earlier to my brother, about if I would return as a missionary after I finished school and what I would do, and I told him I'd like to do more along the lines of work that ADRA does, or maybe something medical. I don't favor the mystery of not seeing the immediate benefits of my service abroad. Many of my kids might grow up and stay in Cambodia, where there is no tourism or need to speak English. Anne was telling me about the work they do for ADRA. They go out to all the provinces and teach the women about proper healthcare, cleanliness, how to properly care for their infants, then instruct the women to teach others and keep paying the knowledge forward. Those women are hired, thus creating jobs for the locals, fulfilling an immediate need. And so I asked myself, why am I bending over backwards, at my best still poorly educating children on irrelevant topics (like nursery rhymes and the ABCs), when so many other areas scream need and desperation, in the form of disease and death, hunger, violence. Am I really benefitting this country, these children by teaching them English? I am planting a seed, sure, creating somewhat of a possiblity or an opportunity for the future, maybe. But what if it makes little or no difference? Does it?