Tuesday, June 13, 2017

Cold and Shivering in the Dark - but not Alone

This blog post has nothing to do with Cambodia. It is the story of a character-defining hike 35 years ago. Down the mountains of the High Uintahs. In the rain. At midnight.

Summer 1982 (or could be 1981 or 1983). I had been asked to be a church leader/guide for about 25 girls (ages 15 - 18) and their leaders on a hike to the Rasmussen Lakes in the High Uintah moutains of Eastern Utah. One week prior to that hike, my friend Gary Smith and I took a practice hike to the lakes to confirm the trails and learn the terrain. We noted the "blazes" on the trees as they marked a light trail through 4.5 miles of pine trees and granite rocks (a "blaze" is an intentional scar made by trail makers who hatchet off a 12 - 18 inch section of bark on a pine tree, about 10 feet above the ground. The "blaze" exposes the light-colored wood under the bark). The trip was  beautiful, fun and uneventful (although tip-toeing across the 5-log bridge over a thrashing creek 10 feet below at the beginning of the hike was a kinda nerve-wracking). I looked forward to the hike with the girls the following week.

On the day of the hike, I checked the packs of the girls to make sure they weren't taking a bunch of unnecessary stuff that would weigh them down as they hiked to an elevation of 10,000 feet. Unbelievable. I removed six-packs of soda, Costco-sized cans of pork and beans, and enough outfits to last a week (we were only going overnight). Confident that the packs were now manageable, we started up the trail. The walk across the log bridge was like a "rite of passage" which set a great tone for the trek.

The girls were fun all the way up to the lakes - laughing, singing and constant chatter. No health issues other than some mosquito bites and few small blisters. At the camp site by the lakes, I asked the leaders to tell the girls to get their tents set up, gather firewood, store the wood in a sheltered place (under a tree), and get things prepared for supper. Once that was done they could go play and have fun for an hour before dinner. Didn't work. Only a few put up tents and no one gathered firewood. I reminded the leaders that we were in the High Uintahs, and rain could come suddenly at any time. The girls should get their tents up. But their instructions fell on teen-aged ears (which means the sound never enters the head). It was play, play, play.

I finished my dinner of fresh lake trout and baked potatoes (tin foiled in the fire with Lawry's seasoning salt) around 7:30, when the first raindrops started to fall. I helped stash firewood and finish tent set up with those I could, but it was too late for some. They hunkered down in their tents - cold and hungry. I hunkered down in my little one-man springbar tent that can weather almost any storm. Inside the tent I have a 4 inch foam pad and a down sleeping bag. I'm toasty and dry. As the rain hammers down, I fall asleep.

At 10:30 p.m. there's a "knock"on my tent door. Sister Ferguson, the Young Women's President, asks if I think we should pack up and go home. She said the girls were wet, cold and hungry. I told her it was her call - and I would support whatever decision she and her counselors made. She left, but came back 10 minutes later and said that we should go.

We packed up the best we could, but several girls left their sleeping bags and other gear behind (the bags were too wet and heavy to haul down the mountain). We counted noses to make sure everyone was there and I gave instructions for everyone to stay in a line and keep track of who was ahead and behind them (because it was still raining  and we would be hiking down in total darkness). We said a prayer, asking God to help us get back safely, poncho'd up and started down the trail.

I quickly learned that the trail was much harder to find in the dark than it was in the light (thank goodness I installed fresh batteries in my small flashlight before we left). I stopped the group on multiple occasions when I felt we had wandered off the path. I had them wait while I searched the trees - looking for the blaze marks. Those were tense minutes for me. I felt the weight of 25 women and their families who expected me to get them home safe. I don't think the women were worried about my getting them lost - but I was.

At first, the girls were singing and laughing as we walked down in the rain. But after an hour of hiking in the dark, the singing stopped. Soon, it was silent except for the occasional sniffle of a cold and tired girl. About 2 a.m. I heard a growl and a bark. I stopped the group, then quietly moved closer to the sound as the dog continued to bark (it was a regular dog). Then a different sound came out of the darkness - a woman's voice. It said, "are you lost too?" I responded, "no," then she said, "we're lost."

The woman, her three young children and a dog had started up the trail late in the day, and got caught in the rain (her husband had dropped them off and planned to be back two days later to pick them up). They had wandered off the trail and tried to set up their tent in a semi-clearing - hoping to ride out the storm until morning. They were huddled together - cold, hungry and frightened - under their makeshift tent. The dog was their only protection. They were in no condition to hike down the mountain with us, so we gave them what food we had and helped them set up their tent correctly so they could stay dry. They gave us a phone number for the husband and we said we would call him when we arrived back in town. We gave them directions back to the trail so they could walk down in the morning - and we left. I worried over them for hours until I finally got word that they were safely back home.

 As we continued our downward trek, the trail became much more defined. We no longer had to stop and look for blaze marks on the pine trees. Soon we reached the log bridge, which was the last obstacle to cross before getting to the cars. And it was the most terrifying.  The creek 10 feet under the bridge was churning even harder than before because of all the rain. It's dark and the logs are slippery. The bridge is only wide enough for one person, so the girls would have to walk across one-at-a-time. No siderails. It was only 20 feet from side-to-side, but every girl on that trip would tell you it was one of the most frightening things they had ever experienced. All flashlights focused on the bridge so the girls could see. I went first then stationed myself about 5 feet downstream just in case someone fell in. Fortunately all made it across. We got to our vehicles 20 minutes later, piled everyone in and  headed down.

With the adrenaline rush over, most of the girls fell asleep on they way home. Not me. I pondered the events surrounding the hike and marveled at the miracles we had experienced. 1. Decision to make a preparatory hike to learn the terrain. 2. Someone had "blazed" the trees to identify the trail. 3. Someone had taught me about trail blazes (and I listened). 4. I had impressions of when we were off the trail. 5. In total darkness we found the trail - every time. 6. We came across a family that was lost and were able to help them enough to keep them safe until morning. 7. All 25 of us made it across a wet log bridge without incident. 8. Most importantly, the women leaders were tuned in to the spirit enough to make an inspired decision.

Every person has defining moments in their lives - this was one of mine.

Wednesday, May 17, 2017

One year already. Wow! As I reflect back on our first year in Cambodia, there are a few major themes that pop up –but I only have time for three right now.



Theme #1. Cambodians are happy. Cambodians are a happy, genuine people. I find this remarkable when considering the obstacles they face. Poverty is everywhere and luxuries are scarce to non-existent. Relatively few homes have flush toilets or indoor running water. It’s like scout camp 365 days/year. But smiles and laughter are plentiful. Moto drivers laugh after a near miss (isn’t a near miss technically a hit?). Children are delighted playing a game using an old flip flop they found in the street. Cambodians have figured out that money isn’t required for a full life. THAT is an attribute worth emulating.

Theme #2. Love for the people. At 8 a.m. Sunday morning I sit at the organ/keyboard in our chapel, look over the assembled congregation (about 30 to 40 members) and experience a rush of love that completely engulfs my body and soul. Where does that come from?? The correct answer, of course, is Jesus Christ. But how that works, how He is able to make that happen is a mystery (at least to me). We sing together, we pray together, we study together, we laugh together and occasionally we mourn together. A new wing has been opened in my heart and the Cambodians have a lifetime lease.
Theme #3: Driving. Driving in Cambodia is a slow-paced, white-knuckle experience. My biggest fear is that I will inadvertently hit a four-person scooter and hurt someone. I used to occasionally get drowsy driving in the US. Not here. I CONSTANTLY scan every part of the road and nearby bushes watching for darting motos and child bicyclists. I’ve learned to slowly enter the traffic corridors (lanes aren’t a thing just yet) – concerning myself only with the BIG trucks that could take you out (Moto drivers usually weave around you as long as you don’t make sudden moves). Night driving is the worst. We live in rural Cambodia – which means that headlights are optional. Once you leave the few lighted streets, everything goes black. No painted lines, no lights, no road shoulders. We came within 6 inches of sending a woman to the spirit world a few weeks ago when she suddenly appeared on a dark roadside. Terrifying. I will miss many things about Cambodia when we go home – but night driving is NOT one of them.


More later…

Thursday, March 30, 2017

Trash Mountain






Trash Mountain. It’s a catchy name for a truly awful reality in Cambodia. Unlike most places in the US where municipalities dig massive landfill pits to hold their trash, the climate of Cambodia requires it to build landfill mountains instead. And unfortunately, there are no rules around what goes in the dump. Trash mountains are full of the typical household trash (similar to US landfills). But they also include unfiltered (and morbid) medical waste, chemical junk and other industrial garbage. They’re horrible. There are no formal recycling programs in Cambodia, so “pickers” (people who sort through the trash looking for saleable recyclable materials such as plastic bottles and metal cans) perform that function. Pickers and their families live all around trash mountains, and parents (and unfortunately many children) spend all day scouring through garbage. These families are among the poorest of the poor. Lack of sanitation, nutrition, education and resources have forced them into urban ghettos with virtually no hope for the future. In spite of all this, the people are happy. They smile, laugh and play together – seemingly oblivious to their surroundings.
The garbage dump in these pictures, Steung Menchey, was closed in 2009 (other landfills have opened). But the future for Steung Menchey was changed forever when Scott Neeson entered the picture in 2004. Scott was the former President of 20th Century Fox International, and was the International marketing director for Sony Pictures when he took a sabbatical trip to Asia – which included Cambodia. After seeing the poverty in Steung Menchey, he made the decision to do something for the children. He left his ritzy Hollywood job, cashed out and moved to Phnom Penh. 13 years later his Cambodian Children’s Fund (https://www.cambodianchildrensfund.org/) has created futures for thousands of children and their families.

We visited Steung Menchey last week with the LDS Church humanitarian missionaries (Elder and Sister Thurston). LDSC has partnered with CCF on several projects because of Scott Neeson’s determination and his commitment to the children. While looking at this urban wasteland, it was hard for us to imagine that it had been worse at one time. But as we walked through, our CCF representative showed us new school rooms, after-school daycare centers, libraries and playgrounds – all designed to support strong families and communities. Velcro corporation built a brand-new high school – which was beautiful (the picture makes it look like a jail, but it’s NOT). The LDS church has three congregations within the area of Steung Menchey. As the members attend Sunday services each week, they come with clean clothes and happy faces – something almost unimaginable considering the circumstances. But yet it happens – week after week after week.


I do not know the impact our service will ultimately have on the people of this country – nor does it really matter. But Cambodia has changed us forever. For that we are profoundly grateful.

Wednesday, February 8, 2017

Funerals

We hear funerals on a regular basis (Buddhist monk chanting is amped up to about 150,000 decibels so people from surrounding countries can listen in), but hadn’t attended one until a few weeks ago.  Actually, we didn’t know we were attending a funeral until we got there. A church member’s father had passed away and we took some local leaders in our car to visit the family waaaaaay out in the boonies. When we got there (about 7 in the morning), the chanting was in process and about 100-200 people had gathered in the back jungle for a traditional breakfast called “buh bah.” It’s simple to make and ideal for a large crowd. Fill a BIG kettle with water. Add chicken powder, some pork or chicken, cooked rice, edible weeds, seasonings and boil until the meat is done. Garnish with chopped green onions and bean sprouts. Cheap and Delicious. The most expensive part was the foam bowls and plastic spoons.






The deceased is kept in an open casket (no embalming) just a few feet from the breakfast tables (the culture isn’t squimish about death). Once everyone is fed, the “pall bearers” put a lid on the casket and carry it to a waiting truck. No fancy gurneys like in US funerals. It’s lift and carry the entire way. At this funeral they had to machete out a path in order to get the casket to the road. Family members jump in the back of the truck with the casket, and the convoy leaves for the local wat (temple). Cremation is the standard in Cambodia – but it’s different from cremation in the US. Cremations are often done in full view of the onlookers. The monks put the casket in the furnace, add the wood and light it up. The furnace door stays open until sufficient heat is generated. Then the monks close it. After that, everyone goes home. Sometimes ashes are collected and sometimes not.




Crematorium


But it doesn’t end there. Cambodia has a cool cultural tradition of having a party on the death anniversary date every year for four years. Monks do their chanting for a couple of hours, then dinner is served. We’ve been to two of these (we were invited to come AFTER the chanting had finished – but we could hear it from across town) so far, and they were fascinating. The first one was a fairly modest affair. But the second was lavish and HUGE! It was a circus tent 50 yards long by 10 yards wide – with guards checking invitations at the entry. Live band, clothed tables and chairs, catered dinner at each table, and an unlimited supply of canned soft drinks (the four missionaries that went with us were in heaven). Fanta grape, Fanta orange, Fanta blueberry, Fanta raspberry, Fanta green stuff (tastes kinda like cotton candy), sprite, coke (coke is everywhere – more common than water) and a Schweppes something – that tasted close to root beer (but not). However, the rusted lining of the event was the line-up of poor folks outside the tent – looking in through the plastic windows. It was the classic display of the “haves” and “have-nots.” Rich folks inside – at the king’s feast. Street kids outside, fighting over bread crusts. 

Someday this will change. Someday education will be available to all. Someday the decades-long socialist society and NGO mentality will end and people will empower themselves to become self-reliant. Someday. We often feel like the guy throwing starfish back into the ocean. We can’t make a difference for everyone, but we can for some.