I get up early, the Sunday morning of Mother's day. It's certainly not early by Cambodian standards; it's not 4:30 or 5 in the morning, before the sun is up and the air is yet unheated by it's power, but early enough for me, considering the busyness of this past week. It is refreshing to finally slow down enough, to actually be able to have clear thinking, to just go out and enjoy a short run. I've gotten used to this morning routine, once each weekend....
As I leave the gate, a young visitor to our neighbor wants to try out his english. "You warming up your muscles?" Yes, I reply, going for a run. It is a friend of Mony's coming to visit. I'm used to people wanting to try their english out on the foreigner....
I walk past the construction crews around the corner. Very young men, fully clothed in denim and long sleeved shirts, wrapped almost completely with scarves around their heads; they've been working for hours already, in the rapidly increasing heat. They are straightening rebar, to pour foundations for a rich man's house. I can only see their eyes as they stare at me. I am more than used to those stares....
I pass the bus parkade, which has any given amount of tour buses parked at any given time of day or night. It's an old parking lot with a building that the drivers now use as a home. Different men in there every day; cleaning their buses, fixing their buses, cleaning their bodies, sleeping, visiting, eating. I'm used to seeing them living without plumbing or electricity in that building...
I begin the run as I turn the next corner, to hear the familiar "ullo!" from the young son of the "sandwich cart lady." She is there with her husband every day, wearing one of the two outfits she owns, setting up camp, waiting to sell her food. I think little 7 year old "Kong" goes to school, as he is often dressed well, but otherwise he plays in the dirt around her cart, his home away from home. I have taken him toys, and he seems thankful. I shout hello back, wave, his mom smiles. They've seen me enough now, they're used to me....
I pass the Philmore building. A "school" that teaches young Cambodian women the fine art of domestic service, then ships them off to Malaysia to work. Another "ullo" from a window. I'm used to those hello's as they've come for 3 years now, on a regular basis when we pass...
...the familiar motodope driver, sitting on his moto, waiting for (who knows what?) a fare? He smiles and waves. He is friendly because he is just used to seeing me...
The smells along my regular route; the stench of sewage amongst the fragrance of year 'round flowering trees, the raw polluted water running in the ditch beside me, the flat and decaying dead rats on the dirt path, the uneven surface of the broken up road, even the unquenchable, humid heat...
I'm just so used to it now. And I think after 3 years, Cambodia might be (finally) used to me. Not as many stares. Not as many request for moto rides. Not as many stops by the police.
The regulars know us now, which means we are regulars! The familiar "adjai," the recycling collectors, pulling their carts behind them, day after day, they recognize us, accept our smiles with a nod. As poor as they are, they are certainly worth a smile.
And now, something else I could sure get used to: the feeling of peace, enjoyment, joy and thrill, after the successful run of Joseph. It is all over. The students were exceptional, and after 4 sold out shows, they excelled every time. (Check out the logos website for more pictures and facebook is loaded in picts.) It was so much fun, so much work, and for me, so worthwhile! Congratulations to you students, you certainly deserve it.
I'm so used to Logos. Logos is so used to me, to us.
It's all been so GOOD.
Thanks God.
I'm used to your Goodness, Love and Favor.
I am more than thankful for it.
