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.

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