Checking in and looking back

I'm happy to report that I survived yet another crazy week of meetings.  As is often the case with these chaotic weeks, friends and colleagues from all over the world flew into the city.  This time, Ratha, with whom I spent many tedious hours in the countryside of Cambodia, was in town to discuss her research on agribusiness in northern Cambodia. She came with news from Phnom Penh - mainly bad news. The small team I previously worked with faced threats of arrest from authorities (not surprising), but this time several staff were arrested, though eventually released.  If I was still in Cambodia, I would certainly have been one of those arrested.

Ratha's arrival also gave me pause to look back. The picture above is one that she took during a challenging week of research in Sihanoukville. There is probably a filter on this picture, but I swear the sunsets I remember, especially on that coast, were always bathed in some stunning, unreal light. 

This picture was taken during a very demanding, fast-paced month. At the time, our research team faced threats of arrest, so we moved our work to Sihanoukville, another province. The team, exhausted most days, bickered on and off, with a divide increasingly occurring between the Khmer and foreign staff.  I stood in the middle.  Days after that work trip, there was the elaborate Khmer wedding in the countryside, at the pepper plantation.  And then a few days later, I joined others for a lovely weekend in Koh Kong, at the Rainbow Lodge Eco Resort, to celebrate a friend's 30th birthday.  There was hiking and leeches, laughter, and sun-bathing.  That same month, Ethan had left to meet his family in Europe.  It was the longest time we'd been apart since we met.  A few weeks later Ethan would travel east, and I west, and we would meet in Almaty, Kazakhstan. It took me three separate flights to get to Almaty.  I remember it feeling like forever.

Note to Self: At 6 months.

It's September, which means that it has been 6 months since I moved to D.C. and over a year since I left Cambodia.  How do I feel? 

The city doesn't feel as alien to me as it did those first cold months, when I was easily unsettled by the darkness of the Metro and the tired faces commuting in the evenings.  I guess you could say I'm more accustomed to the lay of the land, including what is expected of me at work.  Also, now (most days) I can stare at the gigantic world map situated on the one blue wall in my office, stare at the little spot of the Mekong region, and not cry.  During my first three months, that was not the case.

I say this to Ethan and to any friends or colleagues who listen to my circular rants:  It's incredible what an emotional tie I have to that region.  Fine, I was born in Southeast Asia and lived in that corner of the world for a few years of my life.  But I never thought I'd want to live there, work there, and miss doing so.

Cambodia holds a special place in my heart, despite my struggles there.  Thailand-and the awesome concrete jungle of Bangkok - also hosts fond memories.

This week, I shared a drink with a woman who works at a certain human rights organization.  We met in Manila last year, during one of my meetings at the Asian Development Bank.  She flies around the world - all over Europe, Asia, South America, Africa - and advocates on  behalf of communities suffering human rights abuses. (She intimidates me a little.)

She asked me if I ever cried during a meeting, and we started talking about dealing with the stresses of this work. And I was brought back to this conversation and this one. It's not so different, is it?  Amazing people in a different city, in a different country, in a different phase of my life.

In other words, I'm starting to realize this work in the District is a continuation of those experiences.  It's connected, and hopefully that will help me push through.

Dream Collective and Adjustment

  Dream Collective/Kathryn Bentley via Jeana Sohn Photography

Two months in.  

It turns out it is taking me just a little longer to adjust to Bangkok life.  Today, as I was walking home from work with C, a refugee lawyer who was previously based in Cairo, I confessed that it still feels a little strange to me.  She nodded, as we walked along the jagged sidewalks and maneuvered ourselves around bustling produce stands and lazy dogs.  "I get it.  It's too easy for you here, isn't it?"  I reacted instantly: "No, that's not it."  But after a few minutes of talking it through, C may have a point.  

Am I finally beginning to process the past two years in Cambodia?  And seriously, how warped is it that a life that is "too easy" could be this jarring? 

It's not that I don't enjoy Bangkok creature comforts.  I love the convenience in this city.  I love that the subway, right outside my door, can take me across this city with ease -- and I don't have to haggle with motodop drivers everyday over the cost of transport.  I love how easy it is to find certain items here - hello, rosemary and good avocados!  I love that hygiene standards are higher, that people actually have pets, and that vintage dress shops are numerous.  I love the local food in this country.  The list is long.

Still, and strangely, Cambodia has left an indelible mark, with its intensity, endless frustration and richness.  There are things I miss.  What a departure from last month. 
 

Boeung Kak Lake

first image via The Los Angeles Times

The BKL women were freed, though their charges were upheld.  You can read up on the Economist blog here.

Interestingly, and at a critical juncture, Hillary Clinton, who is slated to visit Cambodia in early July, strongly urged the Government to release the activists as a sign of support for freedom of expression.

It's funny how things work here.  What a crazy last week.

Travel hair

 

via Cup of Jo

I love the hair tutorials on Cup of Jo. I think this messy "perfect knot" may be my perfect travel hairstyle.  To be honest, I've given little thought to my travel plans, which start next Monday: overland travel in Indonesia, a day in Malaysia, a flight to Kolkata, and then weeks in northern India and maybe Nepal.  It is going to be a hot and humid summer!

I am looking forward to fresh air and green scenery, to train travel, to boat/ferry journeys, and to new places. I have less than two days at work.  Will I be able to decompress?  Or, will I carry this work with me? 

Last summer, as I was traveling east from Kazakhstan, my organization and others were targeted by the Government for our work on the Railways project.  My team did a great job of keeping this information from me while I was away, but it eventually made its way to me.  In a dark internet-lab in Lanzhou, China, after over 36 hours of hard travel in the August heat, I read the news, and worry set in. 

The pace of work at this organization is so fast, so hurried, that you often do not have time to process.  It was only yesterday, as I was speaking to Dana, the bright-eyed American legal intern, that I realized how much of a threat we functioned under in May, when we traveled to the Manila meetings with the two community members.  Yes, it was a good time in Manila, if not surreal.  Evenings soirees at the Sofitel were filled with the fanciest canapés I have seen and free-flowing champagne.  But there were also meetings, and in those meetings with diplomats and politicians from European, Asian, and American constituent countries, we tried to impress the risks we faced when traveling to meet with them - perhaps we wouldn't be allowed to re-enter the country, or perhaps the organization would again be threatened, or perhaps the communities would face repercussions.  As I spoke to Dana about it yesterday, it dawned on me how nuts the landscape is here. 

Earlier in the week, I had a farewell breakfast with G, an American lawyer who has been working on land issues in Cambodia for many years.  "Sometimes, during your years of work, you leave people behind," he commented. "You have to learn to do what is best for you. Listen to what your body.  Do not apologize. Do not feel guilt."    

I wonder: Does it get easier?

Filled

If someone took a peek into my mind today, they would find that it is filled with these images:

Yesterday, we held a forum for the 150+ complainants we assisted in filing a complaint, many of whom I worked with in my research last year.  In many ways, this forum felt like a good ending to this period in Cambodia.   I wrote an email to a friend this morning.  It said: They were from all over the country.  I've seen their faces during hot days in the provinces, as they stood in their store-fronts, with their babies.  I've seen them in torrential downpours and in meeting rooms with officials. I've seen a lot of these women cry.  

I won't use this post to try to process how I feel about my departure because I don't think I have it all processed yet.  Or, I don't have the mental space or willingness to process it.  It will certainly be something I think about this summer, once I can put a lot of my daily work to rest.

 

I'm also anticipating July 1st and summer adventures, and I am fondly remembering last year's summer adventures in Kazakhstan and western China (Xinjiang province). My heart swells every time I think back to that time. 

One of my resolutions this year was to bring back summer vacations, without the adult guilt.  Check.

I spoke to my Khmer colleagues about this.  "You have a month and a half between jobs?!" one asked. It's a very un-Khmer thing, this holidaying without guilt.  My Khmer colleagues don't get it.  It's indulgent.  Perhaps this isn't too dissimilar to judgments across the world?  

 images link to source

Drawing dressmaking inspiration from the details on these dresses - one more dash to the Cambodian dressmaker.

At the resettlement site

This is a month of "lasts."

This week, I spent a few days at the resettlement site outside Phnom Penh with our research team.  These are days spent talking to people, sitting on floors, parsing out each translated word, all under the heat of a glaring blue sky.

I met this community before it was displaced.  I visited them when they were resettling to this site last autumn and now, during this last visit, I witnessed their lives 8 months later.  Their houses are more or less built, their babies are bigger, and a shred of normalcy has returned - except it hasn't really.  They are more in debt than before and poorer than ever, having borrowed money from private lenders to rebuild their homes (often at usurious rates and according to ambiguous repayment schedules).  With very little livelihood opportunities at the site, they eke a living from random jobs around the site and typically do not have sufficient income to pay back their debts. 

The other day, a woman (not the one pictured above) cried to me and asked for help: the moneylender had come to confiscate her house and land, where her extended family of 15 lived.  What could she do?

On the quiet tuk-tuk ride back to the city, I murmured to my colleagues that she will likely lose her house; all we could do is document it.  Here, solutions, if and when they come, are slow.

I didn't speak another word for that entire ride back home. Neither did my colleagues.  I sometimes wonder how I've been able to manage this line of work. For some reason, that day more than any other, the wave of helplessness really hit me. And I was exhausted.

Lotus blossoms

Free the 15! Stop the Violence!

Lotus blossoms have become the symbol of a growing international campaign to free the BKL women.  

My weekend

via Save Boeung Kak 

Last week was not a good week. It was one of those stressful, knock-you-down kind of weeks. Fifteen Boeung Kak Lake residents (all, but one, women) were sentenced to two and half years imprisonment after a snappy three-hour trial. Shockwaves jolted the land community in Cambodia. 

During the last few days, I have witnessed anger, shock, and frustration flash in colleagues' faces. These people, many who have been working on the case/campaign for nearly five years, have confessed to me that they have not slept; they cannot eat.   I'm not nearly as involved in this case.  But having worked on land issues in this country for over two years and having worked with some of the women imprisoned (who are lovely and strong - mothers and daughters), the imprisonment of these activists impacts me. I see this as indicative of the shrinking democratic space in which we function.

It is so surreal.

On Saturday morning, a large group visited the prison.  We walked the dusty road from the pagoda to the prison gates, people chanting, yelling, holding lotus blossoms and demanding the release of residents.  In front of one of the prison gates, I remember looking down at the ground, littered with pink lotus blossoms and the remnant stems, all wilting under our feet.  I think I will forever associate lotus blossoms with that day.

[Note: You can read up on Amnesty International's Urgent Action: Cambodia Women Human Rights Defenders Sent to Jail. The Urgent Action sets up more of the background on the case and ways to take action.]

And then, as so happens in Cambodia, the day shifts and things quickly become, well, quite ordinary: trips to the coffee shop, a visit to a new artsy space/pop up market, and sitting in a garden until the sun goes down and the sky turns red.

Early on in Cambodia, I was jarred by this disjointedness.  Since then, I've reconciled my love for this work with my love of good cheese and vintage dresses.  I've also grown more adept at switching from one environment to the next.  But the frequency and starkness of the back-and-forth still shakes me.

Maybe that's not such a bad thing? 

markers

This was over two years ago??  Since then, some of my dearest friends in Portland have moved, switched careers from law to medicine, been hitched - and one of these lovely ladies will soon be a mother.  Today- by her doctor's count!  This is another marker of time.

Time is passing quickly.  In some ways, I do not recognize this picture of a pre-Cambodia me devouring clotted cream and lemon curd with utter abandon.  (I paused briefly  to take the picture.)  This picture brings me back to my expectations at the time in my life, what I considered acceptable and unacceptable, where I thought I would settle, etc.  In my two years in Cambodia, I pretty much took all those things and tossed them up in the air.  (I didn't throw them away, but I suspended the need to define everything now, in the most rigid and steadfast terms.)  Life has changed drastically since that day spent in the Portland-suburb tea shop and along with it, I have changed in ways I could not have imagined.  It's a strange sense of freedom and openness that is both wonderful and scary, light and weighty.

I'm aware that my time in Phnom Penh is winding down.  The meetings and receptions in Manila were, in many ways, a culmination of the work I've put into this project/case/research in the past two years.  In Manila, I was also fortunate to meet other lawyers, researchers, and advocates working on similar issues from Kyrgyz Republic to Mongolia to Sri Lanka to the United States to the Netherlands.  We are a small group of people. 

Finally, the meetings drove home the fact that this case - and this work - will go on for years and years to come.  It's important to take breaks.

I am looking forward to my break in Indonesia and India, to a summer of being a plane, ferry, and train passenger to and through countries I have never been.  I'm looking forward to glimpsing the  majestic Himalayas with my own eyes  and breathing in the crisp mountain air.  I am looking forward to sipping a hot cup of Darjeeling tea in  the hillside town of Darjeeling and to rummaging through markets in Indonesia filled with batik textiles.  I am looking forward to walking the cobblestone streets of Ubud.  And even though my heart is heavy with the thought of leaving this work for now (an opportunity to work in Manila has presented itself and I am passing), I am excited about starting our life in Bangkok, Thailand.

Manila

via National Geographic

I have never really explored Manila as an adult.  The last time I was in the city was for one night in 2009, en route between Hong Kong and Mindanoa province.  It was a blur of a night.  I remember only concrete and more concrete, and a long taxi ride amongst humidity.

I was fairly closed off to the idea of visiting it, having remembered the ubiquitous car culture and endless concrete, but Eunice reminded me that I should give this megacity a fair chance.

That's what I intend to do.  I am in Manila all week for work!

Railway women, again

After drinks with Mark and a few other friends, I came home and prepared myself for sleep, when all of a sudden I received text after text about an assault on the railway women, whom I just wrote about previously.  Sources say that the village chief and armed men surrounded them in their homes in the late evening and assaulted them with sticks, batons, rocks.  People were injured and after the assault, too scared to leave.  Calls were made - the UN, Amnesty, other international partners.  The next day, trips to visit those in the hospital occurred, as did visits to the site.

Is it strange to hear that you cannot just ask the authorities to cease and desist based on domestic and international conventions?  You have to go beyond, go indirectly to others, who hopefully pressure compliance. 

I fear that the situation is escalating and becoming more violent.

It's Saturday early afternoon, and I am meeting a colleague from Australia for brunch.  I'm sitting in one of my favorite brunch haunts, sipping a cappuccino.  Classical music plays in the background.  A fan blows.  It couldn't feel further away from the reality outside.

Railway women

via Cambodia Trainspotter

Notice that most are women, who brought their crying babies and small toddlers in tow, as they marched to the Bank office to personally deliver the complaint.  In developing countries, land is so closely linked to life and livelihoods.  

Unrelated to this case: Last week, during a regional conference, three sessions on land issues and one  session on Burma were canceled due to pressure by local authorities.  The evening before (notice to cancel is always short), the owner of the hotel where the conference was to be held stormed the halls, tearing down posters of Aung San Suu Kyi and threatening to turn off lights and electricity if any "sensitive" words were uttered.

Such is Cambodia.  It is not uncommon to have police surround you when you are interviewing communities in their homes or holding meetings with community members. I freely admit, however, that the first time I realized I was being followed, I freaked out.

I've been trying to keep this space free of work-thoughts, as work already pervades so much of my daily life.  But sometimes I just have to document it.

Note to Self: On Working in Cambodia, Pt. 2

via Landesa

Can I confess that some days I am just so tired?  Land rights work in Cambodia is taxing. It is such a highly politicized area of law.

I'd like to share an exchange I had with a superstar American lawyer, who has worked on rule of law and land law issues in Cambodia for nearly 10 years, after having been in private practice in the States for a decade before.  Now based in Geneva, he was one of the people who warned me that land issues can be "toxic."  This first warning came about 9 months ago.  And I shrugged it off.  You see, while I certainly  am not an optimistic do-gooder, I did think I was a little tougher than that. 

I ran into him at a dinner party a few months ago.  I confessed to him that when I first met him that I did not listen, but (in the same breath) that 9 months can take a toll on you.  He advised me that it's okay to take a break from this work now and then, to leave the country, to re-energize, and to come back in some shape or form.  "There's no shame in it," he said.  This is a little sad, but it should be indicative of the state of things: we chuckled under our breath when he confessed that his recent work with domestic violence and gender issues in an un-named repressive country was a "nice break" from land law issues in Cambodia.  Seriously?

That's my mindset at the moment.  It has been for a few months.  I've  recently been offered an opportunity to represent refugees before UN bodies for a short period of time starting after my self-imposed summer vacation.  I was warned by the lead attorney that this was no break - that stories of rape and torture are often interwoven in these tales of displacement.  Still, I cannot help but think the experience might re-energize me, if not by allowing me to learn a new field of the law. (I'm not a refugee lawyer.)

But I am getting away from myself again.  The pictures of the women in Odisha!  Amazing, right?  Even when I am bogged down with the weight of Cambodia and land issues, I get really jazzed up about women and land issues, which makes me think that, no matter which path I take in the next few months, I may keep coming back to this work.

 

I'm looking back, to nearly two years ago when I moved to Cambodia.  It's been an incredible journey.

To be continued. 

An afternoon in a wat

A wat is a monastery temple.  In Cambodia, they often take the place of community halls. One has to be mindful of clearing out when it is lunchtime for the resident monks.

Rants, Reward

via Jumelle

I've been working my butt off during the past year on advocacy, field research and a publication on the Project.  The report will launch in Melbourne, Australia in a few weeks.  Yet, even as co-author and lead researcher, I will not be in attendance.  It seems unfair, and I've found myself frustrated with the process on several occasions.  Ethan tries to keep me positive by reminding me that a conference at a certain human rights center will be focused solely on the work, that this work could actually impact Project-affected people both in this Project and other related projects.   Yes, yes, all very rad, but I am a salty curmudgeon.  I suppose all the workings of the world aren't just.  That is one of many lessons I've learned through my experience in Cambodia.

Rant aside, I deserve a treat.  I'm thinking this pair of No. 6 clogs will suffice.  Question is, are they too similar to the previously posted Rachel Comey wedges?  (See last post.)

Note to Self: On Working in Cambodia

When I first moved to Cambodia, a colleague took me to my first meeting UN meeting on land rights.  As I sat around the table, listening to updates on land disputes and forced evictions within the country, I noticed that people laughed at really awful things. "That's what happens when you've been here a while," my colleague whispered to me, after noticing that I sat there, silent, mouth agape.  At the time, it weirded me out.

I understand now:  People cope, in any way,  by any means they can, and sometimes that involves laughing at some of the political and social realities, many of which are ridiculous, disheartening and frustrating to no end.  For other expats, it means drinking themselves silly;  yet, for others, leaving the city whenever the opportunity arises.

Why do people stay?  How do they continue to do this work?  These are questions I myself have tried to answer this year, though unsuccessfully.  I believe that people who work in this sector in Cambodia burn out quickly - over the course of the year, I have met four lawyers, all of whom have independently warned me about the intensity of land rights/human rights work here, how it can affect you.  For each of those lawyers, the answer to continuing their work in Cambodia came in the form of moving out of the country and working regionally on these issues, finding a home base that is safe and comfortable:  Geneva, Chiang Mai, Melbourne, Manila.  As much as I can surmise, the answer came in establishing distance, drawing boundaries.

Over a year later, I do not have answers.  I only know that somehow, at this time in my life, this work clicks with me.  As idealistic as it sounds, I feel fortunate to be able to contribute through my profession. 

But this year has been so very intense.

To be continued . . .

365 days, weeks #44-46.

How is it mid-November?  Someone please tell me.  For the past 3 weeks, the pace of life has been go,go, go. I'm almost at a loss for words, but in my attempt to document, here are a few thoughts today, disjointed just like the images above:

1. It's the early morning of day 3 of a crazy week, filled with: me kicking unethical journalists out of meetings, who I then chided for endangering already threatened community members; me and others just completely frustrated by the lack of progress by key stakeholders, by an apparent absence of due diligence (wish I could say more here, but I cannot); me writing frantically, harkening back to the late nights I often pulled working as a lawyer at a firm, except this time the subject matter is so emotionally taxing, the mechanisms unpredictable, inaccessible.

2. Last week, craving urban space, Ethan and I took a circuitous route through Koh Kong, Cambodia, with its verdant mountains, crossed the border into Thailand, and headed into Bangkok.  Again!  It was like many of our journeys: one of movement.  I've been fortunate to travel as much as I have this year, while working as much as I have - this would not have been possible except for the crazy Cambo holidays that riddle certain parts of the calendar.  In Bangkok this time, we observed the flooding preparations (sandbags, new concrete mini-walls in front of shops), and I probably had the best bowl of ramen since my last trip to Japan two years ago. I also scored a pair of yellow Worishofer-esque clog/sandals.

3. I started taking cyclos around the city, when I can find them.  They are much slower on movement, but I don't know how these men, usually much older, compete with the ubiquitous motor bike operators. I associate cyclos with Yangon, Burma.  One memory I have is of riding around one in the city after sunset, pitch black because of the common black-outs, the high-pitched cyclo bell ringing, cutting through the dark.

4. I really hate farewell parties.  

5.  I picked up my SFS Circle Top at the post office. It arrived in Cambodia from San Francisco in less than 1 week, although it took the Cambo post system some time to inform me.  Score 1 for the US Post.  The top is airy, the print is lovely.  

6. In one month, I travel home.  Wow.

Pursat Railway Communities

I meant to post pictures from this trip a few weeks ago, but never got the chance because I was off to Thailand and elsewhere immediately thereafter.  This community lives in and around a small station about 30km south of Pursat station, on the Northern Line  - the line that is intended to connect Cambodia with Thailand.  I don't know what is going to happen to these people.  The Project-sponsored resettlement site is chock-full, and eventually these people, who have built tailor shops and makeshift grocery stores on the station grounds, will have to move.  Where will they go?  After speaking to them a bit, we realized they have no clue - no clue about whether they will be forced to move, no clue about this project that will  inevitably displace them.

And, as in other land sector cases, these people will probably be given minimal (I'm talking like a month) notice of being relocated, as they are told to thumbprint (people don't typically use signatures here; they thumbprint documents) some contract or statement that they won't quite understand, before finally being required to move.  Many settled in the area after the fall of the Khmer Rouge in 1979.

There's an early Tuesday morning rant.

By the way, aren't those old sewing machines rad?  They're everywhere here.

The Cause of Progress

The Cause of Progress Film Trailer from Little Ease Films on Vimeo.

About a year ago, I traveled to Siem Reap to monitor the trials at Chi Kreng community, which placed me on a "human rights bus" with a few folks, including an Irish filmmaker and an activist monk.  The filmmaker was making a documentary about forced evictions in Cambodia.  At the time, he had been living in Cambodia for a year, following these stories.  When I think about that trip now, I remember, more than anything else, feeling elated, emotionally-reactive, alive.

On Saturday, more than a year later, I saw a trailer for the film.  It showed at Meta House, amidst a lively crowd of Boeung Kak Lake residents, mothers and children - all of whom peered at the screen for shots of their daily lives.   

After the film, Gayla and Ethan both turned to me and asked me how I continued to work in this field.  Even though Ethan lives in Phnom Penh and has heard so much about these communities from my constant rants, the images really struck him. 

I've been seeing these images for over a year and a half now.  Out of  necessity, I've grown accustomed to them, perhaps even numb.  But something on Saturday evening, something about seeing it from another person's eyes, jerked at me and brought back the waves of overwhelming feelings that gripped me during my first months in Cambodia. 

In any case, The Cause of Progress tells the stories of three Cambodians caught up in forced evictions and development in Cambodia.  This is just a glimpse.  I believe the final cut will be very powerful.