273th 文/謝宗翰 Joseph Hsieh

作者為 美國 西北大學 生醫工程二年級

        Sipping on a NT$20 cup of watermelon juice, my mind floats back to those nine days at Cambodia spent with Taiwan Roots Medical Peace Corps. Those were the days when the difference between a great day and a horrible day was whether bottled water was available or not. Sure, there were plenty of watermelons during meal time. In place of watermelon juice, I sipped on the equally refreshing coconut juice sold by street vendors in Cambodia. So Cambodia is not so different from Taiwan, right? Not exactly.

        Flies swarm all around our meal. By a rough count, at least six flies are parked on the plate of watermelon, sampling our food. More hover and crawl all over the soup, rice, and any other food out on the floor. Another point to note is the lack of safe running source of water to drink, bath, and cook food with. Scenes of kids swimming and playing in muddy pools (or are they taking a bath?) are common occurrences throughout our drive around the countryside. Aside from personal hygiene, Cambodians lack the basic infrastructure, especially roads, to improve their lives. During our drives to the different villages, our bus often gets bogged down in the sticky mud pit that used to be a road. I can only imagine what the roads might be like for those villages that were not included in our itinerary because of the inaccessible road conditions during rainy season.

        Despite of all these obstacles, the Cambodian people still wear a candid smile on their faces and treasure whatever they do have. They are so grateful for us spending the time and effort to help them. I remember vividly an instance of this.

        Rushing back to the blood pressure station to pick up the next patient ready to see a doctor, I see a group of five kids, waiting in line to see the pediatrician, wave at me. I walk over cautiously, not knowing what to expect; I know only two words in Cambodian: “O-guun” (thanks) and “O-guay” (sit). One of the kids hand me a slightly crumpled piece of paper. On it is a sketch of “Ultraman” (鹹蛋超人) with its fist held high, pointing up to the sky. The boy then proceeds to mimic his drawing by also folding his fist and pointing it upwards. The rest of the kids and I break into a little laughter at the sight of this “Cambodian Ultraman”. Enjoying the attention, the boy breaks from a smirk into a full-on grin, baring his not-so-pristine-state teeth. Although missing a few of his front teeth, the boy’s smile is so genuine and perfect that I will never forget the joy and pride on the boy’s face that day. Patting his shoulder, I say “O-guun! O-guun!”. Just beside us, a wrinkled grandmother smiles at me. Putting her hand together, she nods at me and utter an “O-guun!”. On her wrinkled face that have weathered the pains of many years, I see the same pure and genuine smile as that of the young boy, the Cambodian Ultraman.

***

        The nine days spent at Cambodia was truly a memorable experience. I remember the bumpy rides on the bus, often drifting out of control and threatening to tip over. Here, I feel obliged to salute our bus driver for his masterful performance; he was able to navigate through the muddiest roads, narrowest gates, and windiest paths. O-guun, Mr. Bus Driver. Also memorable was the determination of the locals to help us reach our destination, no matter what obstacles stand in our way. Wooden gates and power lines were disassembled to allow for our bus to pass through the narrow roads. They even cut down a whole row of trees to let our bus through. (這就是排除萬難, 殺出一條血路的最佳典範.)

        Another unique experience is showering alongside a wall full of mosquitoes. Standing on guard, the mosquitoes are waiting for the perfect moment when I let down my guard to feast on my succulent blood. An especially unforgettable experience is the dinner when an army of termites decided to join in our meal. At first, only two or three termites fall from the sky onto our table. This trickle quickly turns into a downright outpour of termites; it was raining termites. They landed on our head, inside our shirts, and onto our food. The scene quickly escalated out of control; it was simply impossible to continue our meal with this endless swarm of termites raining from the sky. Finally, the termites left for other source of light when we turned off the overhead light at our dining table. So, we continued our meal in darkness. I must have stomached two or three termites unknowingly that night. Oh well, termites are a good source of protein!

        One thing I’ve realized from those nine days at Cambodia is the usefulness of a good pair of sandals. After the muddy experience from our first volunteer site, I decided to wear sandals instead of sneakers for the rest of the trip. And so like a good Cambodian, I wear my sandals everywhere. I wore my sandals around the volunteer sites, to Angkor Wat, and even on the plane back home to Taiwan. (這就是入境隨俗的涵義吧). Another lesson I’ve learned is the great privilege of having access to clean running water. Nearing the last days of our mission, we had the chance to eat dinner at a casino near the border between Cambodia and Thailand. It was not the food or the grand buildings that evoked the most reaction. Instead, a simple faucet with running water and soap to wash our hands was the cause of our joy. It’s funny how such small things deliver the greatest joy.

        During those days in rural Cambodia, I did not have access to the internet, TV, or other technology that defines the “modern world”. I was truly separated from the rest of the world, from the world I am used to. But, I felt more at home with the world than ever. In place of the internet or phone, we passed time by chatting with each other, interacting with our patients, and just generally being busy with many tasks at hand. Living “in the now” and away from the busy clutter of the modern world, I felt more connected with the the world than ever, even with people who don’t speak the same language as me.

        From those mud-filled, sweat-filled, and laughter-filled nine days spent helping the needy people of Cambodia, I realized the true priorities of life: health, friends, and happiness.