Only today did I realize the homecoming. I had been visiting my training host family in Takeo province overnight, and when it was time to leave, my brother accompanied me to the minivan I would ride home. Once I was inside and ready to go, my brother turned slowly and began walking away, slightly stooped. Every few feet he would turn back to see if I had gone, the sadness visible on his face. The third time he looked, I tried to wave goodbye, but the van had already begun moving, and I was sure he didn’t see. My gesture was lost, but my heart was found.
Returning to Ang Ta Som one year to the day after my arrival in Cambodia was a monumental experience. Admittedly, I was slightly jealous that my family had a new trainee living with them. I wondered if he ate more rice than me, got up earlier than me, spoke Khmer more than I did two weeks after arriving in country, or talked with my brother as much as I had (all things that would endear him to my family). While the answer to all four is yes, I have never felt more sure of their love for me. The visiting grandmother who I’d never met sang the praises of my Khmer speaking, my father nodded approvingly as I took my fourth bowl of food at dinner (1 bowl of rice with chicken curry and 3 with fried noodles and beef), and my mom took great pleasure in parading me around the market as a weight loss miracle.
Meeting
the new trainees and seeing them at their starting point was shocking in the
same way a slimmer figure can be to someone who hasn’t seen you in six months.
From day to day it’s hard to notice things like shrinking waistlines, growth in
cultural understanding, strengthening of family relationships, and improvement
of Khmer skills. However, the difference between my current self and the part
of me I see in so many of the new trainees is striking. I’ve come from speaking
no Khmer, knowing no one, and having no clue about Cambodian culture and
history to being reasonably conversant, integrated, and knowledgeable. While
there is so much I don’t (and will never) understand about Cambodia, I’ve
reached a point where I feel at peace.
Although I constantly look forward to seeing my friends and family, eating American food, smelling good, sweating less, and never having to eat rice again, I now know that I will miss the Kingdom of Wonder. My training brother, my host mom, the calming green patchwork of rice paddies, the quiet buzz of nights in Phnom Penh, the cool thunderstorms, and all of my new friends are irreplaceable. They exist here and now, occupying a space that is constantly under construction. In just over a year, I will be gone, and Cambodia will be changed, but it will forever be a place that I called home.
Once again, I strongly recommend this poignant post written by a friend and fellow PCV, Katie Muller, about what Cambodia means to her (and so many other volunteers).
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