Rubber Plantation 

Rubber Tree Forest

Rubber trees originated in Brazil, but today most of the production comes from Southern Asia - including Cambodia. The trees are planted in straight rows with precise spacing between each tree. Spiral cuts are made in the tree bark (it supposedly doesn't hurt the tree), then latex leaks out of the cuts and is collected in cereal bowl. Somebody periodically goes through the tree garden, dumps the latex into a plastic bag, then molds it into an ugly white lump. The lumps are sorted and graded by quality. The lowest grade is used for tires - which is VERY reassuring at 80 mph. Higher grades are used for whatever is more important than automobile safety. We poked at the lumps and they were squishy and rubbery - just what you'd expect.

The lumps are dumped into a huge swirly vat that looks (and smells) like a sewage treatment plant swirler (not sure that's a word, but it should be). The swirler breaks the lumps into smaller lumps then sends the white sludgey stuff down skinny swimming pool lanes (about 20 inches wide and 100 feet long) to a smasher. The smasher flattens and ribs the goo and sends it up a treadmill to multiple rinsers and yankers. The rinsers and yankers clean out impurities and "yank" the goo apart into smaller chunks (about the size of a big apple fritter, but the color and texture of cheese curd). The fritters drop into a conveyor belt, go through another rinser and steamer, then are manually "poured" into rectangular metal boxes (about 18 x 30 inches x 18 inches). The boxes queue up for a smoosher which heats and compresses the fritters into yellow rectangular bricks (the bricks are the same width and length as the boxes, but the thickness has been compressed from 18 inches to about 10). A picker, using leftover dental tools from the 1940's, "picks" at the bricks to remove black spots left by the smooshers. Workers then put the finished bricks into large plastic bread bags and throw them into a pile for shipping.










I marvelled at two things. One - we were allowed to tour EVERYTHING in the plantation without supervision (Our "escort" for the tour was a 25 year-old member of our church, who also works at the plantation). We poked and picked at the stuff multiple times, and explored the entire operation without a single person telling us to "LEAVE THAT ALONE!" Granted, this wasn't a "clean room" facility - it was a large barn with open sides. No fear of contamination. And there wasn't a "safety first" sign within miles (however, there was a "no smokin" sign outside the barn).  OSHA folks would have been apoplectic (although I'm not going to lie, I was a little concerned that some 18 year-old missionary would do something stupid like climb up the treadmill or try to bounce a rubber brick).

Two. The process, equipment and probably bathroom plumbing hasn't changed in about 50 years (or more). Labor is still cheap in Cambodia, so it's more cost effective to manualate rather than automate ("manualate" is in the same dictionary as swirler, yanker and smoosher). Quality control at a facility like this is a generation away (also comforting while driving 80 mph down the freeway).

We ended by visiting the plantation school. The plantation employs about 2,000 workers and has its own school for the children of employees. One of our church members teaches physics and math at the school, so we popped into his class (unannounced) and sang a couple of Christmas carols for his 17 year-old students. The kids loved it (the teacher was terrified).

We haven't completely figured out the school hours yet. It seems like kids go about 7 a.m., come home at 11 for the obligatory 3 hour siesta, back to school at 2, then home again somewhere around 6 ish. What we HAVE figured out is that when kids leave the school - they torpedo out like bats launched from a cave. A zillion bluish-white shirted kids with black pants or skirts riding ancient bikes (sometimes 2-3 per bike) vomit onto the highways and scare the beejeebies out of drivers like me. No such thing as school zones (although there are cross walks which are ignored by pedestrians and drivers alike). It's human dodge ball at 40 miles/hour. The locals seemed to have figured it out though - I've never seen an auto-bike accident (credit the kids and NOT the drivers). Bikes are the lifeblood of school kids. Without them, ignorance and illiteracy become the inevitable future. In Cambodia, "no child left behind" is really about bikes.

The unfortunate truth, however, is that some families are too poor to afford even a crappy bike. And some of the poor families live so far out in the boonies, that it is impossible for kids to walk to school. They remain illiterate urchins working the family garden patch or begging in the streets.

Public education, which we take for granted and kids of ALL generations have whined about, is a luxury in Cambodia. The government provides half-day classes for grades 1-8. The other half the family must pay for. If they can't afford it, the kids don't go. And if kids can't pass an end-of-year test to get to the next grade, they must drop out. It's stealth wealth. It ensures that those with money will continue to be the ruling class. Some poorer kids overcome the odds and find a way to stay in school, but it isn't the norm.

 It's heartbreaking - which made a service project driven by the LDS Charities Foundation such a Godsend to a bunch of rural families. All 16 of the Sr. Missionaries (code word for "old") in Cambodia traveled with LDSC to deliver 500 bikes to back-country school children. We started with the older kids (they can pump their sibs on the back) and continued down the age line until all the bikes were gone. It was a cool experience.

For the three remaining viewers of our blog, I apologize for the one-month delay. We've been up to our necks preparing for the grand opening of our new church building in Kampong Cham, and just haven't had time to get one out. The grand opening (Open House) and dedication have now been completed (yay!!), but the path getting there was not paved with yellow bricks. Actually, it was a cultural minefield, in which we blew ourselves up several times.We learned that delivering invitations to dignitaries has very specific protocols. First, the invitation ink colors are significant. You can't use black on the main part of the invitation because it's associated with death. Pink is best (huh??). Our team thought that hand-writing the names on the invitations (think calligraphy) would be a nice touch. Well, it's NOT. Anything hand-written is low class. It needs to be a professionally printed wordstrip - glued to the envelope. Oops. Reset and redo. We finally got a professional culture expert to guide us on the rest of the stuff. If we would have done it our way, we'd probably be in jail about now. We were lucky though. We delivered nearly 50 VIP invitations, and 30 came. 

All things considered, it was a good turnout. We did a custom tour for our VIP guests, and they were suitably impressed with more than just our building. The LDS Church has been a major player with Cambodian Humanitarian needs. Water wells, wheel chairs, painting schools and providing clean latrines are just a few of the projects our dignitaries learned about as they toured the building.  The obligatory speeches from a few dignitaries were nice - except for one, which was really a "vote for my guy" campaign speech. It wouldn't have been too bad, but it went on and on and on for 59 minutes. But at least it wasn't Donald and Hillary (please, no one be offended, we're viewing from afar). 

The ribbon cutting had very strict protocols as well. Red carpet (had to be red). Ribbon holders decked out in fancy Cambodian dress. And scissors that looked like they came from WalMart. Classic. 

Because of the loooong speech, everyone was starving and headed straight for the food tents - which unfortunately had no food (the caterer was late). But when it came, it was like opening night at Hogwarts. 650 people inhaled a several hundred pounds of food in less than 30 minutes (Cambodians take their food VERY seriously). 

All in all, it was a great event. Larger than expected turnout (650 ish people - we used every chair and bench we had except for 10). ALL of us are excited to be out of our crummy rented buildings and into this new one. But taking care of this beautiful building is the next chapter. LDS church members around the globe do the basic cleaning and maintenance work on their meetinghouses. This will be a new experience for us in Kampong Cham. No one owns a vacuum cleaner - many have never seen one. And bathroom cleaning is as foreign to them as pink ink on invitations is to us. Most in our area have outhouses - some less than that. 20 years from now, these will be great stories the members will tell their children and grandchildren ("Grampa, tell us again about mops and brooms - we love fairy tales"). But our Cinderella story is just beginning.

One of the cool things about being a senior missionary is the ability to communicate with loved ones everywhere. We video chat with each of our children (and their families) every week. We also occasionally video chat with friends from home and across the globe. A couple of days ago we connected with Bruce and Vivienne Sullivan in Finland to hear about their temple mission in Helsinki. They are 3/4 of the way around the world from us (or 1/4 if you go West), but somehow they didn't seem that far away. For those of you new to the video chat world, Apple FaceTime and Facebook Messenger are the best. Very clear. Skype is OK, but not as good as the other two. All are free and require a good internet connection.

Blankets - $3.75 each

From the Sullivans we learned just how different missions can be (sullivansinfinland.blogspot.com). Finland is a 1st world country with a world-class infrastructure and organization. Uhh, not the same here. If we can make it through the day without scraping a moto, it's a good day. Bruce and Vivienne have a friendly bet as to when the first day of frost will occur (Bruce thought 10/1, Vivienne 10/8). Frost. The only frost in Cambodia is in the freezer. If the temp drops below 70 people worry about an Ice Age (it hasn't been below 70 since we got here - and we're in the cool season). We are adjusting, however. Erin made a comment about the temperature being only 91. What??? Never in 40 years have I heard that comment come from her mouth. And, we bought blankets (go ahead - read it again). The AC is a little too cold, so we bought two blankets (total cost: $8.50). "Why don't you just turn down the AC?" you ask. It sounds good in theory, but the temp settings are glitchy. We've learned that adjusting the AC causes the unit to go on and off all night long - and it's noisy. Blankets are easier.

Mosquito racket

I'm sure there are mosquitoes in Finland, but there are multiple species here. Low riders that bite ankles. Teeny ones that go for elbows, knuckles, palms and wrists. And the normal annoying big ones that buzz ears and leave welts the size of quarters. We bought a mosquito-hunting racket to fight back(the "zap!


" of electrifying an insect is SOOO satisfying). We are told that when the rainy season ends, the mosquitoes mostly go away. I hope so. We may need a blood transfusion by November.



Bruce talked about the amazing dark chocolate that is made in Finland (goes from bean to bar in the same shop). Here, dark chocolate means it fell in the dirt. All chocolate is imported, and it has to be waxy enough to not melt on a shelf. You can find an occasional Tolblerone bar in a store freezer, but we've accepted that good chocolate will just have to wait (zap, zap!).

What Cambodia does REALLY well is grow stuff. Everything is fresh. No pesticides (can't afford them), no preservatives (don't need them) no refrigeration. What you buy at the farmer's market today was picked either yesterday or today. We bought a jicama this morning that was delicious. Cost? 12 cents (total). Year-round coconuts, bananas, carrots, potatoes, green beans, eggplant, roma tomatoes, broccoli, cauliflower, pineapple and a ton of other stuff we haven't tried yet. Organic marketers would go out of business because EVERYTHING is organic (occasionally a little too organic). Yes, you have to wash everything first - which is a pain. And yes, some edibles are non-edible unless you're a native Khmae. But the mangosteens, rambutans and mangoes (when they're in season) are (zap!) spectacular.

Many have asked how Erin is doing with her arm. Grudgingly good. She still hates that she can't do everything she wants. And she still suffers through having me brush her hair and clip it (I haven't improved and am seeking therapy). She can shave one armpit and hopes to do the other one soon. She claims she can use her regular razor, but I'm buying a weed whacker just in case. She's doing physical therapy and can raise her elbow level with her shoulder (you can see blue exercise stretch band artistically wrapped to the headboard in the picture above).

More later, got to go teach English next door (zap!).

Have you ever heard a song on the radio and said to yourself, "I know that song, but just can't remember the name." That's what Sunday church meetings are like in Cambodia. The structure and schedule are the same, but it's just enough different that it still seems somewhat unfamiliar. People come in their best clothes - which sometimes means matching shorts and tops. Flip flops and bare feet are the norm. NOBODY (except missionaries) wears shoes (this past week a sister wore Winnie-the-pooh fuzzy slippers when she gave a talk - awesome).

In the three sets of congregational meetings we attend, only one has a member who can play a piano. The other two are a capella (in multiple simultaneous keys). And only one keyboard works (nothing is being fixed because we are moving into a new building with brand-new everything in 6 weeks). I will start giving piano lessons in the new building next month (it's ok to laugh). There's a program administered by the LDS church which provides piano instruction and keyboards to members in remote areas. The Harman foundation generously provides keyboards to all, and allows students to keep them if they are diligent and complete all their lessons (THANK YOU HARMAN FOUNDATION!).

Congregation attendance ranges from 20 to 100 - depending on the week. Sadly, attendance drops by nearly half just after the main meeting (Sacrament Meeting). It makes it tough finding both teachers and students. The "parking lot" is a long driveway filled with motos and bicycles (last week we counted 36 motos, 10 bikes and one car - ours). And my favorite so far...we sang "Silent Night" for the Sacrament song. What does NOT change, however, is the spirit that is felt in a meeting when sweet, genuine people share their sincere testimonies. My heart is touched as I listen to members testify of Jesus and His sacrifice for everyone. I'm certain He is listening and telling them, "just hang in there. I'm coming."

Yesterday there was a "youth activity" sponsored by the KC 3rd branch (youth means anyone over 12 and unmarried). We hiked "Phnom Tooc" - which means hill, small. The hike consisted of 201stairs (I counted them) up to a small temple overlooking a beautiful valley. Food for the event was "corn-on-the-cob roasting on an open fire." It's pretty simple. Build a fire, throw corn (still in the husks) on the fire, pull the cobs out (takes about 5 minutes), shuck the burned husks, eat the sometimes scorched corn, throw the cobs on the ground. The Cambodians don't grow sweet corn like farmers do in the US. They grow field corn - the kind US farmers grow for livestock. It's tougher than sweet corn, but still tastes good (after you've been here for a couple of months).

In the evening there was another activity (different congregation) and I was asked to give a short talk and come up with a game. The branch president (local congregational leader) wanted us to demonstrate what "family home evening" looked like. I told them it consisted of three things: 1. learn about Jesus. 2. Have fun. 3. Eat. We did all three and it was a fun night. We taught them how to play, "this is a fork (spoon)." I haven't seen adults laugh so hard since we got here. Erin taught the kids to play "I have a little doggie and it won't bite you." They loved it. The food was cooked sweet pumpkin chunks in a bowl.

We wound up our night teaching English to our next-door neighbor family (and our landlord). We do this every Monday evening on their patio/kitchen/dining room/lounge area. The kids won't let us end the class until we've done a song - so we taught them "I've been working on the railroad," accompanied by dogs and mosquitoes. What an adventure!

Elder Lasswell (left) and Elder Bullough

We got our new missionaries from the MTC, and I'm already eating humble pie. I had expected to have deer-in-headlights missionaries who spoke Khmae worse than me. That is NOT the case. Our two missionaries, Elder Taylor from South Carolina (now Draper, UT) and Elder Lasswell from Houston, TX are competent and well trained. And they DEFINITELY speak better than we do. I'm super happy for them, because they have already hit the ground running. But I am a little discouraged realizing we're in last place in the language race. I know it isn't a race, and how well we speak Khmae doesn't really matter that much. But it's still a little painful. To the parents of Elder Taylor and Elder Lasswell - you have amazing sons. They have strong testimonies, a "whatever it takes" attitude regarding adjusting to the culture, and humble hearts. AND, they have been paired with terrific trainers. Elder Bullough (with Elder Lasswell) and Elder Shiefer (with Elder Taylor) are the best.

Taylor (front left), Galahad (front right), Lines (Peace Sign) Schiefer

Missionaries have a funny way to keep track of their mission growth. They are "born" the day they arrive in Cambodia. Their first trainer is "Dad" if it's an Elder. "Mom" if it's a Sister.  They refer to themselves as koon's (pronounced goans), which means "child" in Khmae. The day they leave is called their "death day." Missionaries print death day photo cards of themselves with their "death date" in prominent letters - along with contact info in their home country/state. It's a fun tradition - even if it is a little morbid.

We planted rice today as a service project (it was one of my "bucket list" experiences for this mission). Awesome. We came prepared for leeches (which didn't happen), mud (which DID happen) and sun (which was relentless).

I have even greater respect for the Cambodian farm families who spend hours every day working their fields. Sometimes they are planting in the mud, sometimes they're










on hard ground pulling weeds and grass. We all struggled (except for Sister Ham - who has rice planting in her blood) to differentiate grass and weeds from rice plants. It's sounds simple, but it isn't (I think the poor family who brought us in to help were really glad to see us go - before they lost an entire crop). My favorite part was hearing the missionaries sing hymns (in Khmae - including the newbies) as they planted (it was the Cambodian version of, "pioneer children sang as they walked and walked"). I hope as you look at the pictures, you can hear the young voices singing. These are remarkable young men and women.

Sister Lines and Sister Ham

Sisters Ham and Nit inspecting the men's work

Sister Galahad

Finally, we learned about international banking laws the hard way. Apparently the ATM card we got from our bank was a temp card - with a two month expiration. A permanent card would be sent later. We didn't realize it until yesterday when our attempts were canceled again and again (we went to 7 different ATM locations). At the last one, the machine "ate" our card and said we had to see the bank folks inside. HOWEVER, it was now 4:05 on Friday and the bank was closed until Monday. We banged on the glass door, until someone came over and flipped the "open" sign to "closed." We pointed at the ATM machine - making monster eating gestures, and annoyed them enough to get the bank manager to come over and  let us in (accompanied by an automatic weapons-carrying guard). She opened the machine, pulled out our card, and said she couldn't give it to us until she confirmed with Phnom Penh. We were invited to take a seat - along with the guard. Bottom line, she wouldn't give the card back because it didn't have our name on it (the card just said, "bank customer"). She said the card was the property of the bank (it says so on the back of the card) and she had to mail it back to the US. Ugh!!! We convinced her to just cut up the card (it wasn't any good to us) and sizzled our way out. Sooooo, we've learned that it is important to get a permanent card before leaving the country. The solution (get a new permanent card) sounds simple enough, except that it takes 2-3 weeks for any kind of postal delivery to arrive. And because addresses don't really exist in our town, all mail goes to the mission home in Phnom Penh - 120 kilometers away.

We'll figure it out. We can McGuiver something until the new card arrives (thanks to our amazing daughter). But to any future overseas-going missionaries going to cash-only countries: get it done EARLY.

3 point planting stance

Elder Schiefer and Elder Mather

KC missionaries taken from my crappy Samsung Phone

We welcomed six new missionaries to Kampong Cham to replace the five that left. Three of the new ones are full-time missionaries (Sister Line from Pleasant Grove, UT; Elder Bullough from Orem, UT; and Elder Taun from Siem Riep, Cambodia). The other three are "mini-missionaries" (nothing to do with their height) that are filling a two week gap until 22 new full-time missionaries arrive from the MTC in Provo next week. These "mini missionaries" are 18-22 year-old Elders and Sisters from Cambodia who volunteered to do a 2 week mission to help out. Most are planning to serve a mission within the next year, so this is good training for them. They are assigned to areas within the country, have full-time missionary companions and follow the same routine as regular missionaries. Most of them speak passable English (some better than their American counter parts). I worried that they would sit back and just watch - but that hasn't happened. Our three have jumped right in, shared their testimonies in lessons, helped out with English class and have been EXCELLENT translators. I will miss them when they return home next week.

Mini Missionaries

We will get two newbies next Wednesday- fresh from the eating capitol of the world (Provo MTC). They will be in shock for a couple of weeks - adjusting to new sounds, smells, food and bathrooms (think graduate-level potty training). And their Khmae will be worse than ours - which is almost unthinkable. But they will pass us quickly enough. President Christensen has the HUGE job of trying to figure out the who and the where. Glad it's him and not us.

I had a unique experience last Saturday - I got to baptize a new female convert. I didn't expect to do this - I assumed the Elders or members would do these ordinances. But with missionaries coming and going, this sweet Sister asked me to do it. It was awesome. There is nothing more gratifying than observing the atonement of Jesus Christ at work in real time. He loves this good sister, who lives under a tin awning on the street. She has nothing in the way of worldly possessions, but everything when it comes to humility and a desire to do good. I am grateful I got to experience this piece of missionary work again.

Baptizing Sister Jah Ree Yaa

But a word of warning to those buying white pants from the Distribution Center: the waist bands run smaller than is indicated on the tag. You MUST try them on first. I almost passed out sucking in my 64 year-old gut while speaking and raising my arm (I'm pretty sure I still have a red welt that reads "36 regular" on my lower back).

Erin is doing well. The follow-up x-rays were positive and the bone is healing nicely. She can ditch the sling in a couple of weeks if she wants. Until then she needs to do what I tell her. ROTFLUOLNWMP (which means "rolling on the floor laughing uncontrollably out loud nearly wetting my pants"). It'll NEVER happen.

With Elder Child - the day he went home from his mission

The final story of this blog involves a tall, blonde Sister missionary (Sister Line), and her 4'10" Khame companion (Sister Nit) trying to teach a lesson to a very sincere Cambodian Mom. I say "trying" because there was a super drunk guy slurring and drooling throughout this outdoor lesson. He shook my hand about 10 times - with the final one drawing blood as he scratched my arm with his dirty fingernails. He reached for Erin's hand and I had to physically stop him. I told the Sister missionaries we had to leave before I caused an international incident. Once safely inside our car, I apologized to the Sisters for cutting things short and getting angry with the guy. Sister Nit said, "it reminds me of my parents. I HATE it" - then broke down into tears. I make no judgment regarding people's life choices. But there WILL be a day of accountability when parents (including us) stand before God to give an accounting of their stewardship regarding those precious spirits He has entrusted to them. We are not perfect parents - far from it (just ask our children). And I am grateful every day that Jesus Christ made it possible for me to repent, make changes and have my muddy slate wiped clean.

We had our first medical experience in Cambodia. All in all, it was better than expected. But worrisome nonetheless.

Erin and I walk (she walks, I run long circles around her) the river walk most mornings. But last Friday, Erin twisted her foot on a walkway paver and went down. At first, she knew she was going down on her knees, and was mostly embarrassed because a group of guys was coming her direction in front of her. But she kept going. Then she hit her arm, and thought she was done, but she kept going. Finally her head conked the ground - and she was done. She tried calling out to me, but I was about 30 yards past her and didn't hear the yell. The group of guys coming her direction (we see them every morning and they doff their caps to Erin as they pass by) called out to me, "Eldaaa, Eldaaa" and I came running back. Her head was bleeding slightly, the knee was scraped and bruised, ankle twisted and her arm/shoulder - which took the brunt of the fall - was really banged up. We were about 1/2 mile from the car, so I asked one of the guys to stay with Erin until I could return with the car (she tried to tell the guy he didn't have to stay with her, but he said, "I told Eldaaa I stay, so I stay"). I ran back to the car like I was Matt Damon running on the beach in Bourne 2 (except I don't look ANYTHING like Matt Damon), while Erin rested on a bench. We drove home and video chatted my foster sister, Lidia, who has been a nurse forever and was a mission nurse in Nicaragua, for advice (I still shake my head at this marvelous technology). She recommended x-rays, so the Elders and I gave Erin a blessing, loaded up the 4 Runner and took off for Phnom Penh.

2 hours later we're in the lobby of the Royal Phnom Penh hospital - a hospital that looks like any modern hospital in the US, except you don't have to wait forever to get admitted (and they give you FREE room temperature bottled water).  The hospital staff was pleasant and most spoke passable English (the nurses wore those throw-back white cardboard hair thingies from the 1950's - it was fantastic). We received an appointment time for the x-rays, and headed off to the cafeteria for lunch (this modeled Western hospitals - expensive bland food).



Small fracture at the top of the humerus

X-rays were the worst - because it required Erin to bend her hurt arm to positions that almost caused her to black out with pain. They made her wear a lead-shielded loin cloth (it's what I picture a Russian bikini would look like), and had available a leopard print chest vest just in case. Awesome. We met with the Emergency Room doctor, who explained the x-rays (also passable English). We were very fortunate. There was a slight break in the top of the humerus bone, but the Dr. said that it should heal on its own and wouldn't need surgery. We were to keep her arm immobilized as best we could to allow the bone to knit together. We go back for follow-up x-rays next week, and hope to see the results everyone expects. Total bill??? $190.

leopard print vest

MEANWHILE, there was a side-story going on we weren't aware of. Char Christensen, the mission president's wife, had been on the phone with the Asia area Mission Doctor in Hong Kong, who said that if it were a shoulder injury, they'd probably just send us home. YIKES!! Char and Jim (the mission president) were worried sick that we would be sent home, after we had really just arrived. I called the Hong Kong Dr and gave him the diagnosis from the hospital. He said it sounded reasonable, but wanted us to forward him the x-rays. He would look at them, and also have the Church orthopedists in Utah review them just to make sure. He called us back about an hour later and said things looked good and he agreed with the diagnosis - keep the arm safe and let the body do its magic. So...Erin's in a mesh sling (perfect for Cambodia) and healing.

We're a week into this routine and I'm exhausted. This "being a Mom" stuff is unglamorous and tiring. Washing her hair isn't NEARLY as simple as washing mine. I just put a small blob on my hand, rub it on my mostly hairless head and VOILA, I'm done in 30 seconds. I put the blob in her hair and it gets really soapy - in one spot only. It doesn't transfer to the rest of her hair. I have to use multiple blobs and put them on strategic places - one at a time - to get full coverage. And never in my life have I used conditioner - what a pain. But the hardest is cleaning an armpit when the arm doesn't swing out (my hand does an army crawl trying to worm in with the soap). I am praying so hard for a quick recovery. The most frustrating, however, is buttoning a shirt when the buttons don't work like a guy's shirt. When I cross over the river Jordan (hopefully not the river Styx) I am going to have a SERIOUS conversation with whoever cottoned up the plan to have shirts button one way for guys and another way for girls. LAME!

Sister Curtis slung up with Sisters Nit and Ham

But truthfully, the hardest part is keeping Ms. Independence from doing too much. She HATES having someone do things for her that she is certain she could do herself. And occasionally I have to tell her to "stand down" and let me do it. She's pretty good about it most of the time (not always), but it's still hard. Neither of us want the injury to get worse, and have to go back home.

Speaking of home, 3 of our dear missionaries have concluded their 2 year service and are headed back to the US. We had them to dinner last night - our own version of a "last supper," and talked about re-entering the world of Babylon (thank you Bishop Johnson). We love these Elders as our own children, and pray for them every day. Re-entry is hard, and full of land-mines. Their families will be glad to see them, but the missionaries' hearts will still be in srok Khmae (land of Cambodia). They bring home strong testimonies of Jesus Christ, powerful legs from riding bikes for hours every day and shirts that wouldn't qualify as rags in most homes. We know they will do well.

Meanwhile, we prepare for their replacements. Some will be seasoned in missionary life, others will be fresh off the boat and in shock. All are here for one purpose, share the good news of Jesus Christ. I testify that He has risen and will soon return to his footstool - to reign as Lord and Savior of the earth. He is the creator of Heaven and Earth and gave his life for all - that all might live again. It's a great time to be alive.

Pioneer Day (July 24) is a BIG deal with the Cambodian LDS church members. They relate to the struggles of the early Mormon pioneers as they left their homes in Illinois and walked 1,300 miles to the deserts of Utah. The Cambodia saints are "pioneers" in their own way as they prepare and plow the road for future generations. Two of the three small congregations joined together for their own Pioneer Day festivity on 7/23.

A little girl came with this balloon

One of my assignments was to configure the A/V  set up (which was a "pioneering" adventure all by itself) to show the DVD, "Legacy." It's a film based on actual stories of early pioneers who made the long trek 169 years ago (the full film is also available on youtube). But this version was translated into Khmae - which was borderline hilarious (the voices were similar to those you would hear on a soap opera). Even though I've seen the video at least 10 times, I found myself waiting for a Southeast Asian leading man to spurn the girl because he had found another lover. Then the girl would attempt suicide and end up in a hospital where the lead man would rush back and tearfully tell her he was sorry - as she died in his arms.... But it didn't happen.

Heel Toe Polka

What DID happen, however, was a power outage in the middle of the video. There were about 140 people in a large room - which no longer had AC (remember this is Cambodia, where "dry heat" is just a myth). I pulled out the guitar and Sister Haddock (sister missionary from Heber City, UT) rosined up her violin, and the dancers (and a few others) came up front and began to sing hymns to the audience. Over the next 15 - 20 minutes, others joined the "choir" until it was about 20 voices strong. Unbeknownst to us, the local church leaders (8 of them) went upstairs to pray for the power to come back on. Just as soon as they arose from their knees, the power sputtered back on. I've mentioned before that there are some things you just can't make up. This is one of them.



After the movie we went to the next piece of the program.  We had been asked to teach the local members some pioneer dances. This would have been IMPOSSIBLE without the miracle of youtube (thank you Geoff Grobeg). The two videos we taught from were filmed at a barn in Mapleton, Utah. AND, Sister Haddock used to fiddle at that venue for that instructor. Calculate THAT coincidence! We practiced the heel-toe polka and Oh Susanna, and they had a blast. On event day, the dancers came in pioneer costumers (a surprise to us) and put on a great show. They even pulled in a few audience members to dance with them (the branch president was a really good sport). The "old" dances were followed by the locals doing traditional Khmae dances around a chair with a flower pot on it (it should have been a tree - but it wouldn't fit in the room). It was beautiful to watch (Erin danced while I hid behind my guitar).

The most awesome part was the outdoor lunch. The leadership hired a catering group, which brought wedding tents (pink and yellow), round tables, matching table clothes and covered chairs. A 3 liter bottle of coke was centered on each table and adorned by a pot of rice, a plate of fruit and a pitcher of utensils. The main course (soup) was prepared in a cauldron over a wood/charcoal fire under a tree next to the baptismal font. The caterers ladled the soup into dutch-oven-sized pans and set one on each table next to the coke and rice. Delicious.

Later in the day it was back to reality - teaching a lady in a jungle shack whose husband is in jail. You buy your way out of jail (prisoners aren't released at the end of a time period) and she is trying to save money to get him out. He gets one meal/day and lives in a dingy cell. Visitors have to pay to see an inmate or bring in food, so she can't afford to visit. Criminal justice (???) systems are the underbellies of 3rd world countries.

I often wish I could "magic wand" away their difficulties - but wounds don't heal overnight for a reason. Magic wands don't build character - they build crutches. However, we can all pitch in and help make the world a better place in our own ways. The Savior taught us to do good - every day. It's a great place to start.