Same Same But Different

“How was your weekend?” “Week-ennnd….EGAY?”

Together I sit with Nari and Srey Am, two of my students from Group Four. We’re in our second-to-last extra help session. It’s just after eleven in the morning as we sit on the pleather green-purple-pink couch (which probably should have stayed in the 80’s). The sun is behind the clouds but the 35 degree heat is sitting heavy, my skirt is sticking to the couch, and the girls eyes seem to fade as the minutes pass and lure of lunch becomes stronger.

“Nari, what sound does a lion make? Srey Am, what makes a splish splash sound? Nari, where does an owl live?” I ask in rotation, quizzing them for next hour’s speaking exam.

Nari answers, “An ohwalll lives in a tree.” 

Srey Am answers, “A whahhle makes a spwish-spwash sound.” I smile at her response and she wiggles in pride.

I am beaming, because for the first time, Srey Am and Nari are unhesitant about their answers, remembering the details, and comprehending the questions in different forms. They are understanding. This wasn’t the case months ago: The girls did not know some of the sounds that went with some of the alphabet, they didn’t know basic conversational questions like “how was your weekend?” or “how is the weather?” They were far behind the rest of the class and falling even further with each passing lesson. Just talking with them wasn’t possible, communicating- and teaching- was even harder. 

But this session showed all of us just how much they had imrpoved. “Girls you are doing AMAZING! Your English is so good!”

We beam at each other for a few moments, before I continue: “Now girls, lets talk about our weekends. Nari, how was your weekend?”

Nari looks at me with a vacant expression in her eyes. “Ughhhhhhh weekend…. weeek-ennnd… (looks to Srey Am imploringly) EGAY? [means what?]”

A sting hits me at a derisive moment, one where I could go in the frustrated direction…as I want to explain to her desperately BUT NARI, we have gone over weekend EVERY HELP SESSION, you still don’t know weekend? I felt like a broken record. Had they not listened to me AT ALL?

…But instead I opted for the laughable, light-hearted option. I just had to laugh a little. Of course. It’s like a last tease, that last thing that I really want them to understand, but yet… they haven’t, despite all their improvements. 

Sometimes all you can do is just laugh rather than be frustrated, and keep explaining for the hundredth time: ”Nari, weekend= saturday, sunday, play football, have fun, go to woodhouse…”

=)

Leaving?

My impending departure pops up lightly in conversation, here and there.

“ELIZAAAHhhhhttttt-ayyyyy, when you come back to TGC?” Kontea likes to yell.

“I am not sure, first I must get a job and save money so I can buy a plane ticket.” I articulate, carefully. “But it will be years. When I come back to TGC, you will speak very good English and be tall.”

“Ooohhhhhh. You come with BOYFRIEND and BABY.” Kontea smiles mischievously and laughs.

“Uhh…” 

I have one week left with my students, one week left in Cambodia. One week left of Lida exploding in his chair with excitement, of Young Chi lazily rolling his eyes at in-class activities, of Savonn exclaiming “ELIZ-AAHT-AYYY, OIIIIII Yoouuu,” of Srey Am’s sudden peeps of nervousness; of Kontea’s contradicting “NO KHMER IN CLASS, nham ay Savonn?”; of Nari’s incessant use of khmer in English class, regardless of what I say; of Rahdy’s winks and confident head nods and notes in my pencil case (oh what ladykiller he will be); of Teary’s wide-smiles and observant, all-knowing eyes; of Kanya’s irrational but funny bouts of physical love (or hate) to the other students. 

I’m leaving a little earlier than planned, and for this I feel a lot of conflicting feelings. Excitement but guilt. Happiness and anxiety for the unknown. And also, now that I have finally reached the point of departure, the light at the end of the tunnel I would dream of when sick or extremely frustrated… now that it is here, shining in my face, am I actually ready for it?

The idea of America might seem sweeter than actually being there. 

To be continued.

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A Fellow Visits a Fellow Fellow (and an Old Fellow Fellow) in India

Words escape me when I try to write about my days in India. I have been attempting to write a blog post about it for the past two and a half weeks, but ceaseless demands on my time combined with an obnoxious brain fart have failed to produce anything.

The best part of my trip was getting a day-in-the-life view of fellow fellows Emily and Jeremy, more interesting than even the Taj Mahal or the temples of Khajuraho. Before going, I had only a tiny made-up image in my mind of what Bagru Textiles was, based upon the samples and stories I’ve seen and heard before. 

But let me tell you. I was DEEPLY impressed by what I saw.

I stepped off Jeremy’s temperamental moto in Bagru, was warmly welcomed into the Chupa’s household, and instantly swept up into their daily lives. Jeremy and Emily are constantly busy, checking off small tasks and big goals alike. Their days are spent dividing and conquering tasks, running around town doing errands and conducting meetings, collecting samples and consulting about blocks- everything and anything, big or small, that could possibly come up with attempting to run a business in India (and that seems like quite the job). Their shared bedroom is strewn with piles of textiles, samples and stray blocks. Emily uses her bed as a desk/inventory space/post office/internet cafe/rest stop, every day. Emily and Jeremy, quite literally, live their work. And what’s better, they have a definite presence in their community.  Passerby would shout fond greetings as we went around, and as we hopped from block printer to block printer, I realized just how expansive the network of artisans under Bagru Textiles really is. 

I left Bagru wowed by the entire initiative, feeling proud to be good friends with these awesome hardworking Minerva Fellows, deeply moved by their relentless work ethic and drive to make Bagru Textiles happen. I applaud them and their success because I know it has been a very difficult and bumpy road.

Check out the new website, bagrutextiles.com, to see what they have been able to accomplish!

Jeremy and some blocks!

Jeremy meeting with one of the block carvers, with some nifty new designs from a young Indian design student.

Emily in the Bagru Textiles headquarters/her bedroom. They really live their work.

Young Bagru-ians in matching sweaters and Bagru pigs. Nobody eats the pigs because 1. the town is full of Hindus (vegetarian) and Muslims (don’t eat pork) 2. the pigs spend all of their days munching on Bagru’s waste and becoming about equally as attractive.

Emily in the Pink City, in Jaipur!!

My 10 days in India were just an appetizer, but India seems like a world of it’s own (as I had heard before), very in tune with, yet still so out of touch with, the West and other countries around the world, a place of huge contrasts and contradictions. It’s much more in your face than Cambodia, it’s loud, it’s incredibly dirty, it’s chaotic, but somehow it all works. It was amazing to be there, to get a taste of the country, and to see the inner workings of Bagru Textiles.