Lots of moments for lost in translation here. Best example is this. I live near a gas station called Caltex Bokor. Every tuk-tuk and moto driver knows where this is, so it’s a convenient dropping off point, instead of my house. Situation: Wishing to go home, I approach a moto-driver waiting for a fare and say “Caltex Bokor?”. He looks at me quizzically, with furrowed brow, shakes his head. So I say it again, but this time using what I think is a Khmer accent, so it sounds more like “Caltek Boko”. Still the quizzical look. Seeing this ongoing exchange, another moto driver with some English wanders over from the ever-present gang of moto drivers waiting by the corner and asks “Where you want to go?” So I say again “Caltek Boko”. He nods, as knows the place, and turns to the uncomprehending driver and says "Caltek Boko", exactly as I have just said it. The first driver has a flash of recognition and now repeats excitedly, Caltek Boko! Everyone is happy, everyone understands. However, I can’t help but wonder, are they taking the piss? Is this a joke and later in a local beer garden they'll have a good laugh at my expense: Hahaha, Caltek Boko, hahaha, funny lady!! I think I read about a similar experience in a Bill Bryson book, but somehow it is more disconcerting half way round the world.
Up until now, I have said little about work. I have held back for a few reasons. One, I wanted to absorb first what goes on there. Two, I had to sign some confidentiality paperwork, which I have done now, so know what I can and cannot say. Three, I've been trying to determine how to talk about the sex industry in an appropriate way.
I thought I'd start by painting a picture of where I work. Life is not easy if you are a poor young women in this country. A lot of girls get sold into brothels by their families who need a steady stream of income. The importance of cash flow. To combat this practice, the Director of Daughters has created a system where girls who willingly want to leave the sex industry can do so, by immediately giving the girls a salary and a job. At present, every weekday, 60+ women who are former sex workers show up to the office where they sew purses, scarves, place-mats, coasters, make jewelry, lace, greeting cards, etc for sale to retail and wholesale buyers. They receive lessons in hair and beauty, dance, photography, are given counselling if they want it and training in life skills. Like in any office, there is water cooler gossip and occasional slacking off but overall the model works really, really well. And the products the ladies make are excellent. A key idea that differentiates Daughters from some other NGOs in this space is that Daughters expects the girls to make real, sustainable changes in their lives, to take responsibility, to manage their money, and to make good decisions about their future. Much of this change stems from the increased self esteem of having a job and having greater control over their lives. These types of changes take time, as all change does, but overall it works. Far better than brothel sting operations you read about in the paper. And the positive impact on these women’s lives is vast. These young women, most in their late teens, early twenties are being giving a chance to live and to hope.
Each day, I sit in the office, taking loads of notes, bothering the staff with lots of inane consulting-type questions, mispronouncing the few Khmer words I know, and pondering how to help Daughters market their fair-trade products more broadly. The broader the markets, the more products sold, more money to hire more girls who want to get out of the sex trade, the more lives saved, the more hope created...
Around Phnom Penh, I often see the demand side of the industry hanging out in bars--the creepy soul-less dudes with vacant faces and vacant hearts. In my orientation packet for volunteering, there was a section that explained the sex trade here and described these guys: "Sad lonely middle-aged white men who are as interesting as a bucketful of warts." Granted, that is only one part of the demand demographic. It is a broad spectrum, including locals, tourists, and ex-pats. Simply a reality of human nature. I am trying not to judge. Just help clean up the mess.
In day to day living, on Monday, I nearly fell of my moto-dop. My driver took a corner too fast on a dirt road and the bike starting to slide out. I had to stumble off quickly (I ride side-saddle) before the bike fell out from under us both. I was not very happy with my driver. I just stood in the busy dirt road for a few minutes thinking about whether or not to get back on the bike or to walk away. Meanwhile, a collection of onlookers watched to see what would happen next. Not losing face is important here and I did not want the driver to lose face in front of all these people. But I needed him to be more careful. So I said quietly and slowly More careful. More slow. I had not yet learned those words in Khmer (I know them now) but figured he'd get the gist. Then, I slowly drew my finger across my neck in a horizontal line, trying to depict that I could otherwise get very hurt. Not sure if he understood that gesture. On reflection, he might have thought I meant I would hurt him. Which may have been a good thing, because either way, he drove more thoughtfully after that and I made it safely to Caltek Boko. No problem.
Up until now, I have said little about work. I have held back for a few reasons. One, I wanted to absorb first what goes on there. Two, I had to sign some confidentiality paperwork, which I have done now, so know what I can and cannot say. Three, I've been trying to determine how to talk about the sex industry in an appropriate way.
I thought I'd start by painting a picture of where I work. Life is not easy if you are a poor young women in this country. A lot of girls get sold into brothels by their families who need a steady stream of income. The importance of cash flow. To combat this practice, the Director of Daughters has created a system where girls who willingly want to leave the sex industry can do so, by immediately giving the girls a salary and a job. At present, every weekday, 60+ women who are former sex workers show up to the office where they sew purses, scarves, place-mats, coasters, make jewelry, lace, greeting cards, etc for sale to retail and wholesale buyers. They receive lessons in hair and beauty, dance, photography, are given counselling if they want it and training in life skills. Like in any office, there is water cooler gossip and occasional slacking off but overall the model works really, really well. And the products the ladies make are excellent. A key idea that differentiates Daughters from some other NGOs in this space is that Daughters expects the girls to make real, sustainable changes in their lives, to take responsibility, to manage their money, and to make good decisions about their future. Much of this change stems from the increased self esteem of having a job and having greater control over their lives. These types of changes take time, as all change does, but overall it works. Far better than brothel sting operations you read about in the paper. And the positive impact on these women’s lives is vast. These young women, most in their late teens, early twenties are being giving a chance to live and to hope.
Each day, I sit in the office, taking loads of notes, bothering the staff with lots of inane consulting-type questions, mispronouncing the few Khmer words I know, and pondering how to help Daughters market their fair-trade products more broadly. The broader the markets, the more products sold, more money to hire more girls who want to get out of the sex trade, the more lives saved, the more hope created...
Around Phnom Penh, I often see the demand side of the industry hanging out in bars--the creepy soul-less dudes with vacant faces and vacant hearts. In my orientation packet for volunteering, there was a section that explained the sex trade here and described these guys: "Sad lonely middle-aged white men who are as interesting as a bucketful of warts." Granted, that is only one part of the demand demographic. It is a broad spectrum, including locals, tourists, and ex-pats. Simply a reality of human nature. I am trying not to judge. Just help clean up the mess.
In day to day living, on Monday, I nearly fell of my moto-dop. My driver took a corner too fast on a dirt road and the bike starting to slide out. I had to stumble off quickly (I ride side-saddle) before the bike fell out from under us both. I was not very happy with my driver. I just stood in the busy dirt road for a few minutes thinking about whether or not to get back on the bike or to walk away. Meanwhile, a collection of onlookers watched to see what would happen next. Not losing face is important here and I did not want the driver to lose face in front of all these people. But I needed him to be more careful. So I said quietly and slowly More careful. More slow. I had not yet learned those words in Khmer (I know them now) but figured he'd get the gist. Then, I slowly drew my finger across my neck in a horizontal line, trying to depict that I could otherwise get very hurt. Not sure if he understood that gesture. On reflection, he might have thought I meant I would hurt him. Which may have been a good thing, because either way, he drove more thoughtfully after that and I made it safely to Caltek Boko. No problem.
