Four punctures and a power surge

Efficiency can be a challenge in Cambodia. Early in our time here, I was helpfully told that, if you start the day with ten things to do on your list and finish the day with three things accomplished, you have had a successful day.

One of the things that conspires against reaching even the modest 'three tick day' accomplishment level is the dreaded puncture. Roads here are littered with every imaginable little nasty. I have very seldom gone a month wthout a puncture. My norm would be a puncture every two weeks. This week I scaled new heights - four flatties in 48 hours. Check my hair line - it has affected me.

Getting a puncture fixed is no biggie. In a land of small businesses, every fifth block or so will have a guy under an umbrella with a few tools. The trick is to look for a compressor machine at the side of the road. Helpful locals will always point a poor bloke pushing his moto in the right direction.

Here we go again - time is waiting for me too often, too

The basic repair has a piece of rubber cut out, then the tube sandwiched in a little flamed setup that bonds the patch into the tube. It costs 2,000 riel (US.50c). As I've often got one or two people on the back of my moto, the art is to feel the flatty as quick as possible. 20 metres and you've done the tube in too.

I'm riding a little paranoid at the moment - tho' it is now 20 hours and the tyre is still firm. I'm hopeful that my discovery 7pm last night that the rubber liner was missing on the inside of the wheel rim may make the difference. How does a liner go missing??

But there is some good news on the home front too. We have got power - as in serious power - at our house. From day one our power levels have been dismal. Turn the electric jug on, and the lights dim; the fans slow. At night we could turn on a switch and it would take five minutes for the light to flicker on. Our bathroom light would regularly not come on at all .... until 2am (in the dark, you forget the lightswitch is down).

There has been no landlord joy - until now. Our two year lease is up next month and we advised him that we would be moving. Two weeks later (after viewing some shocking joints owned by amazing optimists) we said that 'if we were to possibly consider to stay, then we have a list here ...'

The voltage stabiliser machine - settling into its duties at our place.

Getting the power sorted was the top non-negotiable - and there has been action quicker than my flat tyres. A transformer machine has been hard wired into our power, stepping the voltage up from what we were getting (170v) to a consistant 230v. Wow!! We now have fans like aeroplane propellars. Our toaster can now brown the toast. The jug boils in half the time. The bathroom light turns on within five seconds.

230 glorious volts - day and night!

The only thing not yet sorted is our aircon. We've had it checked and told that it is fine - just the power was too low to run it. But alas - we need a second opinion. We've got a sound and light show happening when we try to run it now. The power is sucked in - the machine gasps, takes a breath and everything dims - then surges. The second meter, sitting on zero, flies up to 75 - the lights blaze like crazy, lighting up the neighbourhood; then it all settles down until the machine takes another gasp 30 seconds later.

It is entertaining - but maybe just a wee bit dodgy.

Veasna's new clothes

We have had a most lovely young guy with us this week. Veasna came to care for his mum who has come to us with still undiagnosed throat and chest pains.

Veasna has pains of a different kind - a big cloud of rejection and sadness hanging over him. He has just 'outline sight' in one of his eyes and he lost his dad four years ago. As a 14-year-old, life has been very sad.

For three days, Veasna would not speak at all, even when he was spoken to by our staff. He would smile and nod but he was so shy and withdrawn he just would not respond. Susie decided that he needed some individual attention; some caring that told him that he was loved and special.

Sue noted that he only had one set of clothes. We got Sopheap to take him shopping for two new sets of clothing - whatever he wanted. You can hardly imagine the transformation in this little guy when he came back in the most colourful gear to be found in the market! Such a small gesture of kindness has such an enormous individual impact.

Veasna in his new gear

These last three days, he has worn these clothes day and - I suspect - night. The second set of clothing he got was actually school clothing - a long-sleeved white shirt and some good looking longs. When it came time to go today, he got out the school clothing and put it on - over the trendy new shorts and t-shirt.

Getting dressed for the return home.

It is common for us to see patients arrive with next to no clothing. The poor are very, very poor. It is possible to buy used clothing by the pile here - as in a 1.6 metre high bale of clothing for US$150. We thought this was maybe just too much clothing to handle, so looked to option two - 400 pieces of clothing for much less. Our friend Michelle (a fine Aussie nurse who is here for six weeks yet again, working with Donnie into the provinces) heard of our plans and gave a bunch of clothes to us for this purpose.

Healing Home op shop - Sue, Bonna, Sreymom and Touch happily sorting through the clothing pile given to us today. Thank you, Michelle!!

My ABC's

Now I know my ABC's - I wish

Actually, I'm still nailing the alphabet - and thought it was about time that I introduced you to my journey of learning Khmer script. If you have a cup of coffee and ten minutes to kill, then feel free to engage your brain and step into my language world for a bit.

Many languages have one big plus - they use the Roman alphabet. Alas, Khmer is composed of whirls and twirls - a Sanskrit-based alphabet system that has morphed over the years into what we have today. I'm told that the written form here has similarities to Thai and Lao. It has no vague similarities whatsoever to the good old ABC's.

So, here are the consonants - all 33 of them. So far, so good. Note the number of variations of the letter that looks a bit like a 'G'. Six of them - a couple that I still mix up. Then there are the four 'n'-type letters. Four is better than six, I assure you.

The blessed consonants

Every consonant has a built-in vowel sound. We have a 'k' sound; the Khmer consonants (yep, plural ..) sound 'core' or 'co', depending on whether it is a first-series consonant (the red ones in the alphabet picture) or a second series consonant (the blue ones). The 't' sound is a bit sadder - four consonants start with a 't' sound and a further two have a 'dt' sound. Which one to choose in spelling is still a complete lottery to me.

But wait, there's more. The pronunciation of each consonant changes with the vowel used. My sweet mother-tongue language has five vowels. Khmer is a wee more complicated - there are 23 vowels. Every vowel will alter the consonant pronunciation. Many of the subtleties are indistinguishable to my old ears. That leads you to the times when people helpfully correct you - when what they say and what I think I have said are identical. But no, it is different.

... and the blessed vowels

23 vowels are obviously not enough. So, to correct this deficiency, 17 of the 23 vowels have a different sound when used with first-series consonants to when they are used for second-series consonants. Check out the first vowel like a reversed 'r'. Following a red letter, it changes the 'ore' sound (that is built-in; remember?) to an 'ar' sound. Following a blue (second series consonant) letter, the consonant is pronounced with an 'ee-a'.

So, now we have 40 vowel sounds to play with. Vowels here are very random animals. In placement with the consonant, they can appear over, under, before, after or a combination of the above (seeing many vowels have two and yay, even three, parts to the one vowel).

Once the consonants are learned (I have) and the vowel sounds sorted (I haven't) we are just getting started. Enter the world of the subscript consonants ....

In Khmer, many words have consonants running together. For example, 'I' is pronounced 'K'nyom'. The 'k' is half-pronounced before cutting away to the 'ny'. There are lots of words like this. Sometimes (but certainly not always) when two consonants run together at the beginning of a word, the subscript consonant is used. What this means is that the second (usually smaller) consonant is placed underneath (or before) the normal first one. The fun is that in lots of cases, the subscript consonant does not bare any resemblance at all to the normal one. When I discovered this whole new world of subscript animals my heart sank greatly.

No blessing at all in these little guys - in black and in light blue are the subscript consonants.

OK lets string a bit together. Check out a simple one - 'hallelujah'. We assemble it like thus:

mmm, that's a bit messy; I hope you get the drift ...

If your coffee has made you extra-bright, you possibly picked up that the 'y' is a second-series consonant, and so the attached vowel should be an 'ee-a' sound (halleluyeea??) That's where the little " above (they are called 'rats teeth') change things - when they show up, they change the vowel sound of a second-series consonant to that of a first-series consonant. I guess you are figuring by now that there are a whole lot of dirty tricks in this written language! And - I'm still discovering more ...

Secondly, take the word for 'eye' - 'p'nairk'. How much trouble can you get out of a three-lettered English word?? Here is how it pans out.

'P'nairk' - eye

So, in this case the progression goes from the second letter, down to the subscript, back to the first letter which is the vowel for the subscript and then to the final consonant - the 'g' which gets pronounced 'k' at the end of most words. Well, not quite - Khmer is notorious for dropping off the final 'hard' sound of a work so 'eye' comes out more like 'p'nair' with the hint of a 'k' sound at the end.

18 months ago, I had no heart for trying to learn the written stuff. Just give me the conversation. A year plus down the road, and I was hitting just too many blocks. Some people learn great by listening and learning. I wasn't.

I discovered that I need visual structure in order to sort out pronunciation. I have to see and nut it out in order to comprehend. There is plenty to see too - there are no gaps between words, so everything runs together. It is a real slow magical mystery tour but I'm actually finding more go-forward by backing up and getting some alphabet handles.

Rourn

Rourn, whom Susie fought for in the hospital system, died yesterday. We received the news this afternoon.

In the words of John 3:16, we do not know whether she perished or whether she has eternal life. What we do know is that this is life on the edge - the narrow ledge between a short earthly life and eternity.

Sreymom

I've been a bit re-miss in not introducing our newest team member, Sreymom, to you. She has been with us for three months already. Fun or not, time surely flies.

Sreymom was recommended to us by Jesse, the pastor at New Life, back in August. She's a great girl who was not quite ready to jump into the unknown with us back then. Six months later, with Chantol leaving to pursue her heart for business, Sreymom was again invited to come join us. We are delighted that she has said 'yes'.

Here she is, our legendry Sreymom with Susie

Her first day was unforgettable - the day that Daa with the fist-sized holes of bed sores in his buttocks, came to us. Sreymom got to be introduced, sit in devotions and then help Sue clean Daa's buttocks. It took her two months to tell me 'you know, after the first day I want to quit'.

She's no quitting girl tho'. Sreymom is pretty focussed, intense and a real straight shooter. I have learned to happily shoot her straight back. I've pulled her leg so often now that she is learning to respond with a smile rather than a serious 'what do you mean' expression. She's a great little lady and an invaluable part of the Healing Home team.

Ahhh - another great reason to come to Cambodia

I am used to re-mortgaging the house for anything beyond the most basic of dentist appointments. It comes as a real bonus that working on the ivorys is delightfully affordable here - and the quality of work is top notch.

Win-win - Dr Heng gets to have the pleasure of this view and I hardly feel the pain in either mouth or wallet.

Colleen, who has taught me survival skills ranging from where to buy sandals that last thru' to which market food stalls do not run on you later, directed me to Dr Hengs's door. The outside sign reassuringly proclaims a post-grad degree from Dunedin. He is a mild-mannered, exacting technician whom I would now trust with my cat.

My root canal - US$50. My first crown - $150. I didn't get to sneeze in a dental surgery at that price at home. If you are looking to come out this way, I do recommend that you take your dental $ and use them to put into an airticket. There will be money over for the teeth, the sandals and the kebabs.

Everybody loves baby

Little Alisa came for a visit today, together with her blind mum, Navey. The poor little poppet had spent a couple of days in hospital with a fever. Her living conditions are not much better than a hobbit's hovel and it is a challenge to keep her in good health.

Alisa tanking up at our place this morning. She stayed happily until around 5pm. Navey phoned back at about 8pm to say that she is crying and crying - can they please return to the Healing Home. We will tackle this one tomorrow.

One thing that has been of concern is that, as she grows, she is keen to explore. Up to now, the raised double bed has been the only place that Navey has for Alisa to stay while she is cooking in the room. The little babe has been regularly crawling off the bed and landing 'plonk' on the concrete floor.

Today we found what we have been looking for - a little scooter seat for her to be placed into at her home. We've got two happy girls now!

Navey with Alisa in her new super scooter.

Give me beans

Of all the good veges that have been planted in the Healing Home garden, first prize must go to the beans. This week I have been picking a good handful every two days. Man can beans grow fast!

Meanwhile, we have mangos dropping like flies onto the concrete below. The jackfruit have come on-stream too so between the fruit and the veges, we are indeed happy campers!

Susie on the warpath

Sue has made herself a woman of reputation this week. She got in a spat with a local hospital where staff are shamelessly ripping off the poor.

We had a critically ill woman, Rourn, arrive last week. She had tubercleosis (TB), pneumonia, a collapsed lung and maybe 20% capacity in lung two. And that is not counting a lupis-type disease wrecking her insides. The poor lady was gasping for breath. Her lovely, patient husband was with her and so worried.

Susie got her admitted to the good guys at Sihanouk Hospital. Once they had established a TB diagnosis she was transferred to a large hospital in the city that deals just with TB patients (and you wonder why Singapore heavily fines anyone spitting in a public place??).

The TB and leprosy hospital not far from our place. It's shaped like a big 'H' and makes you shudder to realise just how much TB is in this nation.

This is where the fun began. The hospital should provide free care as the World Health Organisation (WHO) provide the funding for TB care in Cambodia. Our staff were going up daily to provide food and to pray - and quickly came to realise that the husband was being fleeced left and right. For example, his wife was being charged for oxygen at NZ .80c per hour - pretty well a days wage per every two hours for the poor! The money went into a male nurse's pocket and got divied up from there no doubt.

Sue spoke with the attending doctor and was assured that TB medication and care was free. He said that the lady needed to have another three weeks in hospital. By now the husband was totally out of money. Susie then headed upstairs and got the hospital big wig. 'No, all free; oxygen free'. He came downstairs to announce 'free' in the ward - where other patients too were being fleeced. Next thing, the doc said 'she (Rourn) can go home today'.

Another day another coffee - nothing like a shot of caffeine for Sue to calm down and refocus before the next round of whatever comes her way.

We love Cambodia. We hate the iniquity. The callousness with which the poor are treated; the love of money and absence of compassion are hugely distressing here. On a bad day I want to bang some heads.

We brought Rourn and her husband back to the Healing Home for two days this week, but all she wanted to do was to go home to her village. They are not Christian, but oh so open to prayer and having the Word read. Now, we have to leave them fully in the Lord's hands - back in their village.

A long wait.

I remember a friend telling me about when he was the new apprentice in a firm and some of the tricks that were played on him. For example, there was the time when he was sent down the road to a shop to ask for 'a long weight'. A bloke told him to take a seat while they got him one. What he got was a long wait.

This is surely the land of the long wait. I quickly came to realise that, in Cambodia, time is not money - time is waiting. Coming out of a western world time-money-achieve driven culture, living here is, well, a little different. The perfect work of patience has many, many opportunities to find you in this country.

Yesterday was an example. I was happy to be on the road to the clinic at 7am with David and Heng on the back of the bike. We are still trying to get a handle on David - whether indeed he has had a motor-bike accident related brain injury or what. Heng, well she is one toothy beautiful mama who has a seized hand, a bad back and a few other negatives in her body.

Settling in for a long wait - patients watch a dvd on the life of Christ at CSI Clinic. A great young evangelist hits the 'pause' button periodically and preaches the Word. These guys do a great work in Phnom Penh. Heng is second from left on the seat.

Thus began the day of the long wait. Lunch time, and David asked if he could go with another health worker and have lunch at the church. No problem. Well, not until he did a runner and failed to return. Which left just the two of us, waiting.

I've learned to take my language books for potential long wait times. People see my lovely Khmer writing and immediately presume too much. My head may nod but my eyes are vacant. I'm mostly clueless by their fifth word. One lovely young guy approached me tho' and said 'pastor, I want to ask you question about God'. He told me that this was the first time he had spoken to a foreigner (all white-skins are called 'foreigner' here). We had a great time on the waiting seat. With his English and my Khmer we were peaking at around 14% comprehension.

3pm and we made a discovery - Heng's form for the clinic was, well, misplaced. By now the queue was pretty well over so it was simple enough to get a new form done, and wait. 4.30pm and she was in, being seen to by the most amiable and competent Dr Doug (who had, I saw, the original form in his folder ...). 5.15pm and just one more wait for some medication. 6pm and the lightened moto scooted home - where the AWOL David had re-appeared.

The AWOL David leaning on the lawn mower this evening. Our lawn may only be about 10m x 4m in size but it sure wrung a swimming pool worth of sweat out of the two of us!

Waiting is normal life here. Every day I watch the motodop drivers, sitting on their motorbikes and waiting for someone to hire them. Usually they sit in clusters of 4-6 and take turns. I estimate not less than 80% of their normal day would be waiting. There are over 10 times too many of them in this city. Ditto the tuktuk boys. They trawl the streets, cluster, talk and play cards - but for very many, the majority of their day is spent waiting. This is what I term 'underemployment'.

Time here is not money - time is waiting.

Here is 'our' trusty tuktuk man Kim, having a long wait for me at the airport a while ago!