Laughter, sweat and tears

Day 5 and we have a half day to finish up the house. Unfortunately, I'm sitting in the back of the bus clutching a plastic bag and hoping not to throw up. Michelle tells me that it wouldn't be the first time on a build. I know I'll be less nauseous in the front of the bus, but more visible. I opt to hide. Fortunately, I make it to the build site and back to the doctors office for more anti-nausea tablets.

I start on the house about an hour later. We are painting window frames, filling gaps and generally cleaning up the build site and house. I'm on painting duty. The windows and shutters are being painted green and the locals gesture to indicate that I have green paint all over my face.

Word has gone out that no presents are to be given to homeowners since it creates jealousy in the community so Kangie is to be abandoned at the community centre. The kiwi bird has long flown the coop (or hopped, since it's a kiwi). I tuck away the clip on koalas, exercise books, pens and pencils I brought until they can be dropped off at an orphanage. Every house got a picture painted by school kids in the US and a first aid kit put together by the nurses. We also all pitch in a couple of dollars each which will provide lino for all the houses. These are our gifts.

Nevertheless, I overhear an American woman who commented that she had read her homeowner's story that she had to sell her wedding ring to make the house deposit so she'd asked her son, the jeweler, to replace it. Hello? I swear, there is always one.

Finally, it's house dedication time. A red ribbon is held in front of the house and everyone of us, including translators and local builders, makes tiny cuts in the ribbon. The homeowner, Mony, makes the final cut. Photos are taken. We are invited into Mony and Neary's house.

We each say a little something. Both Michelle and I have written something down in Khmer that I try hard not to butcher too much. Our translator Hannah helps me stumble through it. Apparently, Mony and Neary understood it. Then it is Mony's turn to speak. He has worked every day side by side with us on his new house, putting in his 200 hours of sweat equity. He is now overcome with emotion. He cannot speak for several minutes. His speech is heartfelt and beautiful.

We are then each given little tiny bricks with house 12 written on it and "thank you" in Khmer. Additionally, we are each given a silk scarf. After so many days of sweat and laughter, the tears come (and they help get the green paint off my face).

We head over to the dining area. Soon, the celebrations begin. First come the politicians, who remind me of pollies everywhere. Then there are more pertinent speeches, accounts, and thanks. A number of folk from the US team don western wear and do a line dance to Cotton-eyed Joe.

Kiwis Blokes do the Haka. The introduction to the Haka states that it is traditionally done to intimidate the opposition, but today it is being done in a spirit of goodwill.  Michelle comments to me that if 150 Kiwi blokes want to take off their shirts and do the Haka, she doesn't care what the reason is.

The Khmer translators do something that looks suspiciously like the Electric Slide to a Cambodian pop tune and the local staff start a dance that is a mix of traditional Aspara and popular dancing. When they invite others to join them, we have people from a dozen nations doing a spontaneous flash mob dance. It's awesome.

We are tired and happy, sad and exhilarated all at once. I think this is the nature of a Habitat build. Will I do it again? I don't know. I hear there are builds coming up in Mongolia and John does have a thing for yurts...

A Walking Disaster Area

It's been said of me with more frequency than I like to recall. About 10% of the time, it's true. Day 4 if the build was one such time. I burned my hand days before I was to leave Oz and I dropped a kitchen knife on my foot about a week before that but since then, I've been good. Day 4 was supposed to be the relatively fun day, where I got to go to the community farm and make bricks. I almost ended up in the fish pond, did send a shovel flying and managed to spend the afternoon tea time on in the doctors office.

The farm is run on land purchased by Habitat but managed by an Australian NGO (International Childrens Care Australia) with the community. There is a 5 year handover plan but it provides training and income for the community. The guys who ran it were sweethearts and the locals were incredibly patient with these groups of clueless Western desk jockeys.

The farm uses traditional Cambodian farming methods, including ploughing and raking with oxen teams (a form of Brahma cow), composting soil, using bamboo stakes in the gardening, and using traditional fishing nets on the fish farm. The farm currently grows a number of veggies and we helped plant bean seedlings (well, not me - I wouldn't inflict my black thumb on the poor unsuspecting things). I did drive the oxen cart to collect the compost, helped shovel the compost, and helped spread and work in the compost with a hoe. I also plow-surfed (I'm told its really called raking). The corn was recently harvested. I've specifically included a photo of me here shovelling compost for the amusement of my donors.

The farm also raises chicken for sale. We were told it is too hard to keep them for eggs because of avian flu risks. There appears to be no cohesive nationwide program to eradicate it. There is also a fish farm, which is fished using traditional weighted nets. There are also traditional canoes made from hollowed trees.

We got a chance to throw out the nets. They are quite heavy and it is harder than it looks. I came very close to falling in! A few minutes after my near miss, one of the local cops was inspired to give it a go. Unlike me, he did fall in! Shoes, mobile phone, and all. The locals were killing themselves laughing. I asked one of the ICC guys if anyone had fallen in before. "Not until now."

Lunch was its usual mystery mix except this time, I guessed incorrectly and ended up eating pork. I was fine for about a hour into the brick making before I had to leave the site and head to the doctor. He made me lie down in front of a cool fan with an icy cloth on my face and he gave me anti-nausea tablets. I stayed there until it was time to go back to the hotel.

However, I did get in an hour of brick making before that. I started by prepping the metal molds that make about 8 full-sized mud bricks. Prepping included scraping off the remnants of old bricks and painting the inside of the molds with diesel oil (just like greasing a big muffin pan). Then, a delivery of mud mix arrives and the mold is set on a tarp and watered. The mix is poured into the mold and tamped down, smoothed and grooved on one side. After awhile the mold can be removed, leaving the bricks to dry. They can then be moved to a curing area where they effectively bake in the sun.

The mix is sand, cement, local soil and water shoveled into huge mixmasters (bowl-type cement mixers). I had loaded up a shovel full of sand to put in the mixer, but because it was too heavy for me, the tip of the shovel blade got caught by the mixmaster blade, ripping the shovel out of my hands and sending it flying. Fortunately, no one was in its flight path and I kept my shovel loads smaller after that.

Upon repeating the days events to my husband, he was somewhat dismayed by my near misses. We all came through it alive, including me (although it was a few days until I was over the tummy bug).

Food - Drink - Lodging

Habitat put us up at the gorgeous Hotel Cambodiana. When doing my research, four comments stuck with me: (1) a beautiful facade, (2) a tired interior and infrastructure, (3) mediocre food, and (4) a slow lift. Most of these are true. While the facade is stunning, the bath tubs and counters need replacement and the water pressure is weak. The hot water is only warm (not really a problem since it doesnt really get cold here). The lift is incredibly slow but I used the stairs, which were a pretty hot and stuffy alternative but way quicker. The breakfasts were odd, but good. I enjoyed the sublime French pastries and omelets to order, but other things were a bit average.

Veggie options were awfully limited everywhere, not just at the hotel and there was a fair bit of mystery meat out there that landed me in the build site's doctor's office on one occasion.

The opening dinner was a buffet on the Mekong Deck. Brekis and day 3 dinner was in the adjacent dining room (also buffets). Morning and afternoon tea on site was often fruit. I learned to love rombutans (or eyeball fruit, apparently a close relative of the lychee). Lunch was always interesting but looked suspiciously like it was leftovers from the hotels buffetbof the night before. On day 1 they ran out of vego options, but subsequent days, the vego meals were labelled.

The end of Day 1 was at the Khmer Surin restaurant. Full points to any restaurant coping with 300 plus people. The local H4H guy explained that the Surin province was currently part of Thailand but had previously been part of Cambodia and the Surin people are influenced by the culture of both countries. The food of the place was obviously both Thai and Khmer. Mish and I sat with the esteemed leadership duo of Paul and Andy. Too tired for beer, we had coca-cola (ubiquitous and cheap) and a buffet dinner. Like all mass produced food options, it wasn't stellar, but then we were too tired to notice. We got directions from one of the local H4H guys to the Lucky Supermarket ("lucky" is the moniker for the biggest supermarket chain, the local fast food burger chain, as well as for our homeowner - many business names include the word). We bought diet coke, water, snacks and other supplies, for when lunch was too mysterious (or in Michelle's case, where lunch went missing).

Day 2 was a Vietnamese restaurant, Ngon. Again, full points for serving so many people. The food didn't stop coming, but they were reticent about bringing drinks, thereby reducing their earnings by many kiwis looking for cold beer. When beer was brought, it wasn't terribly cold and the restaurant itself was very hot and stuffy. Vego options were limited, again. Poor Mish has learned to embrace the fried rice.

We sat at a table hat included Jeff and Rema from Missouri, Anita from Hong Kong, and three other Americans (Stan, George, and Jan). Jeff and Rema are looking to be team leaders on a build to Bangladesh next year.

Day 3 was back at the hotel and a quiet affair. I had lasagna from the buffet and the refreshing, if light, Angkor beer. We sat with two of our team members, Karen and Lloyd. They are former dairy farmers and incredibly hard workers. Also, they are lovely people.

Day 4 dinner, I had managed to inadvertently eat pork at lunch and gave dinner a miss. It was a bit unwhelming by all reports. I ate rice crackers in the hotel room and slept lots.

Day 5 dinner for the closing ceremonies was on site. Again, lots of food and most of it was very good. I was a little unadventourous, but did try the fish amok, a traditional Khmer dish. It was a bit zingy but yummy. The best part of it was sharing it with our homeowner families.

Drinks were supposed to be on the Mekong Deck for Habitat vollies that night, but rain moved it indoors. The live band played Celine Dion at loud volumes. Rather than risking breaking out in hives (my usual reaction to Celine's music), we opted for a quiet beer and debrief.

Tonight was the first night away from the group. Mish and I hit happy hour at the FCC (foreign correspondents' club), a big expat hangout. Great cocktails (happy hour prices $6.50 for a pitcher of long island ice tea), great vego pizza, yummy NZ ice cream. Terrific setting overlooking the riverfront of PP, with breezes blowing off the water. We met up with Barbara and Ditmar from our team and had a lovely chat. On to Siem Reap tomorrow.

Operation Oi Oi Oi

Despite the APB put out on Kangie, no further intelligence is forthcoming. Everyone feigns ignorance, but there is a new development on the second day of the build. The inflatable kiwi bird (name unknown) goes missing. Suddenly, blame shifts to the two Australians on the team. However, we're convinced that this is just another attempt by the Kiwis to deflect attention from themselves in the case of the missing Kangie.

More speculation follows on day 3. But then, after lunch there is a break in the case. Teammate (and American - coincidence? I think not), Kris reports a sighting of Kangie. Upon questioning, her intelligence is confirmed. Operation Oi Oi Oi is put into effect in order to stage a Kangie rescue.

Kangie has been spotted through the window of one of the completed homes on the other side of the site. Surveillance shows she is not alone. The boy from day 1 is with her, as is his father. Cultural considerations dictate that we proceed with caution. We knock on the front door and, when answered, indicate (through a series of very complicated gestures) that we really need Kangie back at the build site until the build is over. The family appears to agree.

Once the delicate hostage negotiations have been successfully concluded, Kangie is returned to house 12 amid jubilation (okay, maybe just from Michelle and I). She is given medical attention that night (her crisis left her a bit deflated), but she is pronounced fit for service (no puncture or leak identified).

Coincidentally (harrumph), the inflatable kiwi also reappears a few hours later. It is sighted being included in a number of kiwi team photos.

With Kangie's return, the case of her abduction is closed. We may never know what really happened.

Hi Ho Hi Ho

The build itself is slog - pure and simple. Yes, it's for a good cause and yes, the homeowner is there and it's all worthwhile - still slog. It's hot and dirty work. I'm one of the unskilled labourers so I do a lot of little tasks. On the first day, it is trimming bricks (they are handmade mud bricks so sometimes need to scrape the edges to get a smooth line), and other prettying duties. Cleaning up both dry and damp grout lines, scrubbing the brick faces, and the inevitable floor cleaning at the end. Brick and grout dust are in every pore and airway. Because we are only up to the bottom of the windows, I'm working quite low and my back is sore.

We break every 2 to 2 and a half hours, with other breaks as needed. Morning tea, lunch, and afternoon tea. We have an appointed house mother, Karen, whose job it is to nag us to drink enough, take enough breaks, wear sunscreen, etc. She feels responsible when house leader Paul has a bit of a turn at the end of the day because he didn't really eat at lunch. Apparently, in 2009 in Cambodia, there was a heat wave during the build and on day 1, they had 100 people on IV drips to rehydrate them. They are hoping to avoid that this year.

In addition to the house mother, there are also the water angels who come around with wheel barrows full of water bottles and electrolyte drinks in icy water. They also have spray on sunscreen and icy wet facecloths to put around your neck. Despite drinking nearly 3L of water, I sweat it all out on the first day.

When we return at the end of that first day, the looks on the faces of the immaculate, genteel hotel staff are priceless. They are clearly horrified when 200 westerners return to their hotel covered in sweat, dirt and dust at the end of the day. No doubt, this is not the usual behavior of their clientele. I'm not sure they were fully briefed on what we would be doing.

The second build day I'm filling in holes in the mortar work. From my mosiac days, I find I'm better using my hands (gloved) than trowels. I become known as a pedant. In the afternoon, I'm actually laying bricks. By the end of the day, we have the windows in and have bricked around to the top of them. I now feel like I could build a retaining wall on my own. I use terms like "rebar", "flush", "string line", and "plumb" like a pro.

It is bit hotter on day 2 but no incidents on our site. I hear that one of the other teams had someone fall off scaffolding, but no serious injuries.

Day 3 is known as the hardest day. It is so far one of the hottest. The scaffolding is up so we are all in hard hats. Good thing too since the scaffolding is Cambodian people height and I hit my head a few thousand times during the day. Because the brickwork is quite high, we are mainly runners for the guys on the scaffolds, passing buckets of mortar, buckets of water for the bricks, bricks, and whatever else they need.

Housemum Karen is at the farm so bossy britches Yank (me) is the house mum for the day. The angels have lost interest and we rarely see them. There is no more freebie sunscreen. For the guys on the metal scaffolding, it has to be even hotter. I'm ruthless with my team. When morning tea comes, I holler out break time, adding "And don't make me tell you again!" I become the water angel (sans sunscreen), bring cold water, electrolyte drinks and icy towels to the site frequently. On one such run, I ask team leader Andy if he needs water. when he replies that he still has some, I retort "That means you're not drinking enough!" Despite my efforts, Andy is down in the afternoon with a bit of heat stroke. By the end of the day we are laying the ventilation bricks near the roofline. The roof will go on the next day.

This is life at the moment, long bus ride, slog, long bus ride. Nearly too tired to eat at the end of the day. Day 1 we couldn't even face a beer at the end of the day, we were that exhausted. We joke that the experience is either (1) like a chain gang - with a fancy hotel; (2) like a contiki tour for do-gooders; or (3) like a school camp with alcohol that you are allowed to have.

At the end of Day 3, an organizer announces that at our hotel that night is a wedding party. The hotel has asked us to use the side door and go straight up the stairs. I hear of a former build where H4H stayed at a beautiful hotel in Shanghai and were asked to don disposable booties before re-entering the hotel.

Day 4 for me is the farm and brick making. Kind of a half day off from the slog, I'm looking forward to it. The farm is awesome but in the afternoon, it's my turn in the first aid office. I inadvertently have pork for lunch (reminder to self - if you don't know what it is, don't eat it). I take the evening at the hotel to recover. The slog is nearly done.

Welcoming the roo

The Welcoming Ceremony consists of hundreds of school kids and local volunteers lining both sides of the road, waving little Cambodianian flags and bowing with their hands together, the traditional Khmer greeting. Kangie is a big hit with kids and grown ups alike when she returns the traditional greeting. Kids high five Kangie. She works the line like a pro. We are given necklace made of looped ribbon. A brief welcoming speech and we head to our house for a safety and orientation briefing.

Our house - number 12- already has the foundations laid and about 2 courses of brickwork. Happily there is also a loo already constructed and operational. When I finally have the need to avail myself of it at then end of the following day, I see that it "flushes" by pouring a scoop of water into it from the nearby bucket. I'm reminded of my days at the commune when we used leftover shower water to flush the toilets. At least it's not a squat toilet.

We stow our belongings and find one little boy has followed Kangie to the build site. He feigns disinterest in Kangie, but hangs around. Michelle prods Kangie closer. The boy pushes it away. This game continues until the kid finally embraces Kangie. A few moments later he and Kangie are gone. He doesn't reappear. We've been played and vow to continue the search for Kangie at the markets, where she is probably being sold as stolen goods.

Although there are unconfirmed sightings of Kangie thoughout the day, she doesn't return to the build site. It's official, Kangie was roo-napped within an hour of arriving on the build site. Missing for the requisite 10 hours, authorities are notified and an All Points Bulletin put out. A reward is offered for her safe return. Meanwhile, the smaller, less impressive, less identifiable kiwi bird remains unmolested.

Suspicion falls on the New Zealand team. Their glee is palpable. The had motive, means and opportunity. The kid may have been a bit player in the sad saga. We now believe the mastermind to have been team leader Andy. Investigations continue.

And we're off

So it's day one of the build. We start out early - breaki at 6 for a 7 am bus departure. Yummy breakfast buffet offers everything from custom-ordered omelets and custom noodle soup to pain au chocolat. I note that I'll need to make future plans for my caffeine needs.

Bus 3 (containing teams for houses 10, 11, and 12) is my new home away from home away from home. I'll spend hours here over the next week. Once on the bus, roll call begins as the sweet local Habitat guy makes sure we are all there by attempting to pronounce our western names - many snickers over "Semen" (Simon). I'm Zuzanne.

Michelle makes a grand entrance carrying a big inflatable kangaroo, complete with both a Joey and boxing gloves. The busload of mostly kiwis jeers and calls for "pns" and other sharp objects in order to pop Kangie. Our team leader, Andy, immediately starts blowing up the inflatable kiwi bird he brought.

Various incarnations of Kangie were beloved mascots on Michelle's earlier builds. It only seems right that she makes an appearance in Cambodia.

The bus ride in is fascinating, interesting, sobering. Phnom Penh traffic is bizarre, but somehow works. Trucks give way to bicycles and tuk tuks vie with motor scooters carrying, on average, 3 people. The family commuter car here is not the 4WD. I promise myself I'll take a picture when I see more than 4 on a scooter or if they start building on the second story.

PP clearly has some money, but beautiful new house are built amongst ramshackle wooden huts. Bently and Lexus cars are also around the place, but so are horse-drawn carriages on a main street in PP.

Many business names include "international", "world" and "global", including the World's Best School, a rundown small bedraggled compound. There is also a weird emphasis on dental clinics - my favorite sign proclaimed a business to be the Shine Your Charming Smile Dental Clinic.

As we get into more rural areas, there are cows and dogs and chickens roaming free. We see fish farms and a roadside stand every 50 meters. They sell fruit, water, sodas and trinkets. Kids wave at the buses full of westerners going past. Michelle reminds me that being in the window seat means I must fulfill my waving duties.

We pull into the Oudong Tourist Resort - there appears to be a temple of some sort and a marketplace, but nothing else about it says resort to me. It is beautiful country - very green with lots of water. We finally arrive at the build site. I estimate that it has taken about a hour to get there.

First impressions

Day 1 (or day minus one of the build, depending on how you're counting) featured us arriving and getting a visitor's visa at the airport (which of course, struck terror into the former immigration lawyer's heart). More terror followed when they took our passports with our $20. The passport then was meticulously passed down a row of about 8 immigration officials before being returned to us Happily, the dramas ended there and we were met by Habitat folk and escorted to an airconditioned bus which took us to our hotel.

Michelle was conscientious and took the tour of the dump where our families had been living. Many other families still live there.

I stayed at the 4 star hotel and crashed. I'm sure that makes me a bad person.

We also had the welcoming dinner for 300+ global volunteers including Americans, Kiwis, Australians, Canadians, Belgium-ers, Germans, Thai, Hong Kong-ese, Bangladeshis, Cambodians, Chinese, Koreans, Singaporeans, and Malay.

There were lots of speeches, including by government Ministers who informed us that while the population of Cambodia living below the poverty line was previously (when?) 59%, today it was 25% and the government aims to reduce it by 1% per year. There was also some pretty spectacular Cambodian dancing (lots of gold costumes and intricate hand movements).

Dinner was quickly followed by an early night for my 5:30 am alarm!

Transiting

Curiosity has its own reason for existence.
- Albert Einstein


So it's Monday-it must be Cambodia. Yesterday was Adelaide to Singapore. We overnighted in Singapore at the full-service Changi airport. As far as airports go, it is quite a nice one but a bit surreal. It reminds me a bit of Vegas because it is seemingly 24/7 and it's often hard to get a sense of day and night.

I was so proud of myself that (1) I got the free airport wifi to work and (2) I found the energy to blog. Of course, that's where my luck ran out and my blog post got lost in the Ether (not to be confused with the Cloud, which I'm still not sure I fully understand). Very depressing.

The crux of my post was this - I've been so busy over the recent weeks to make sure I get my butt on the airplane seat with all the appropriate clothing and equipment that I forgot about the Why of the build. So now I'm thinking on the Why. If I come up with any profound thoughts, I'll let you know.

The milk of human kindness

As we express our gratitude, we must never forget that the highest appreciation is not to utter words, but to live by them. - John F. Kennedy

In the US, we have a holiday called Thanksgiving. It's celebrated on the fourth Thursday of November, every year, like clockwork.  While it probably originated as a harvest festival of some sort, we celebrate it as the story of how Native Americans saved the colonists from starvation during their first winter in North America after their crops failed. 

Nowadays, Thanksgiving revolves around a huge feast where people eat WAY too much turkey and then, in a tryptophan-induced haze, pass out in front of the TV while watching (gridiron) football.  That’s if you’re lucky.  If you are unlucky, you are stuck in the kitchen cleaning up the dishes and packaging up the leftovers for a week of turkey sandwiches.

But there are great things about Thanksgiving too.  In the US, it is a more family-focused holiday than Christmas.  Thanksgiving is a 4-day weekend every year--the only one you can count on in the US - giving you time to slow down and be with your family.

But it is the spirit of the holiday that interests me.  Thanksgiving has evolved into a general, secular time of gratitude where people think and talk about what they are thankful for in their lives - a practice all too rare the rest of the year.

We can be quick to complain or find fault in our lives or with others.  Rarely do we stop and just be thankful for what we have and for the people in our lives who mean so much to us.  And if we are breathing and have cognitive ability, we have something to be thankful for. 

My thoughts turned to being thankful this week because of the fundraising efforts Michelle and I have been doing for the Habitat for Humanity build in Cambodia. 

I had set up my fundraising page on the Habitat NZ site and I got my first donation from Linda, a good friend of mine from law school days.  I graduated law school nearly 20 years ago.  I see my friend, Linda only very occasionally.  And, I am a shockingly bad correspondent -- a fact I know peeves her no end.  In spite of my faults, she made a generous donation and I am thankful.

Then there’s my husband.  He’d like to retire but works like a dog.  Yet he made time to ferry me to and from the Barossa for wine collections; to and from my office, hauling wine up and down, and of course, he came to our fundraising dinner after a 14 hour day.

Or Michelle’s mum, who got into the spirit of the whole thing by baking cookies that became part of the prizes at the fundraising dinner.  Baking is something that the women in Michelle’s family seem to excel at. Between her, her mum and her Aunt Mary (may she rest in peace), I never had anything less than a stunning baked good from her clan. 

Or to Michelle, who organised the dinner, wrangled with last minute drop outs, seating plans and money collection.  Not to mention that she is an excellent friend and travel companion.

Or Larissa, another Yank transplant with so much enthusiasm for our project that she rallied  troops from her government department to come and support us at the dinner, even though none of them knew either of Michelle or I.  They were simply entranced by Larissa and her persuasive abilities.  (She also sold several cases of wine to support the cause!)

Or the Spice Kitchen, who gave us a great deal on a dinner (eight years in a row now).

Or Grant Burge winery and their fantastic wines.

Or people who came to the dinner, even though a couple of them knew neither of us.

Or all the people who came to the dinner on a weeknight, with or without their partners and kids.  Not to mention, how grateful I am to many of their partners who stayed home with the kids.

Or people who bought wine and showed up at Friday night drinks, or just contributed money here and there.

Or my employers who allowed me to tap my colleagues for wine purchases and dinner/drink attendances, to store wine in my office, to use the premises for the liquor license, and to be generally supportive of our Habitat project

To each and every one of those people and organisations, I am filled with gratitude and (cynic that I am) with surprise too - surprise that a sense of community still exists.  I am grateful for the goodwill and support that was directed our way. 

I’m still unsure about what I can contribute whilst on the build in Cambodia, but I know that the money raised will go far.  In a country where a home can be built for about $5000, Michelle and I will have contributed funds for more than half a home - and when I say “Michelle and I”, I mean everyone who contributed time or money to make it happen.  I am grateful.

Preachy blog

Experience is not always the kindest of teachers, but it is surely the best

-Spanish Proverb

You know, you can get so caught up in this fundraising lark that you lose sight of the big picture.

WARNING:  Preachy blog post alert!

So we’ve done really well on the fundraising and assuming everyone takes the wine they ordered and everyone comes to the dinner they RSVP’d to and my liquor license comes through (details right?), we will have surpassed our fundraising goals.

But then, I ran an errand for my husband and met a woman whose husband is a veterinarian and every year they go to India with Veterinarians Without Borders and de-sex dogs to help keep down the street dog population.  She told me that on a previous year, floods came through killing a number of people and destroying homes.  Instead of spending their time de-sexing the dogs that year, they shoveled mud.  She told me that in going to a developing country like Cambodia (or India), I needed to be kind to myself because you almost leave that country to return to your comfortable western lifestyle with a sense of survivor’s guilt.

We talked and I recalled my time from 2004-2009 as a refugee lawyer, where every day was survivor’s guilt.  I could work 70 hours a week and still feel like I wasn’t doing enough.  I finally learned that there was no such thing as enough.  And in that role, I was well-removed from the in-your-face experience of day-to-day life in a developing country.  I just listened, day in and day out, to stories of horror from those countries.  Of course, I would have felt like I had never done enough. 

Those five years took a huge toll on my physical well-being and on my psyche.  It is only now that I had begun to think that I was strong enough to face a challenge like going on a habitat build to Cambodia.

My fellow habitater, Michelle, spoke of a similar sense of guilt upon her return from her first trip to Nepal.  She blogged about reconciling the poverty she saw in Nepal with her life here in Australia.  At the time, I chalked it up to that whole Catholic guilt thing.  But I’m rethinking the issue as my own need to confront it approaches. 

I like my lifestyle – I’ve been wealthier and I’ve been poorer, but it all happened within a pretty narrow bandwidth.  I’ve no doubt that I will find begging children and starving dogs on the streets of Phnom Penh to be highly challenging.  But I think it is a challenge I’m ready to face. 

Weirdly, a lot of the criticism of voluntourism (a category of travel our upcoming trip no doubt falls within) attacks the intent of the participant, as in “voluntourism is nothing more than a way to alleviate guilt”.  In praise of voluntourism, participants say that the experience enables them to better experience the culture they are visiting . So which is it?  And why do you feel guilty after the voluntourism experience?  And is that a bad thing?

Embarrassingly, this conversation with a complete stranger and the thought of whether I could handle my time in a developing country like Cambodia, brought me to tears.  Hell, maybe it is easier to concentrate on the fundraising.

All's Fair in Love and Fundraising, Part 2

 

The eight case “sample” we bought at Grant Burge didn’t last long.  John immediately laid claim to a number of reds (I made him buy them from me), bragging that he was spending evenings with “Elena” (the name of the red wine).  In the first week I received orders for more than I had in my possession.  I also needed to supply Friday night “tastings”, having offered a “try before you buy” option.

I sent around emails offering tastings every Friday night in August and promising that photos of Michelle and I looking suitably disgusting on the build site would be forthcoming.  All the emails had a Bob the Builder theme and urged people to drink for a cause (like you have to urge Aussies to drink).  The first email announcement had this picture attached.

It seemed appropriate.

After having obtained the requisite approvals, I sent out an email to the 400 plus employees at my workplace advertising the wine sales.  

Wine and lawyers go together like Torville and Dean [a famous ice-skating duo], a pie and sauce [meat pie with ketchup for the non-Aussies], Wimbledon and rain … well, you get the picture.  Buy into the stereotype and buy wine for a good cause!

I was sold out of my stock in the first hour.  People forwarded it to their partners, who forwarded it around their workplaces and the orders flowed in.  Clearly, I was going to have to go back to the Barossa soon for more wine.

Things came to a head last week when Heather from Grant Burge rang me to say that they were down to the last 15 dozen of the Elena.  “I’ll be there on Saturday,” I replied.

Although wine fundraisers are great in the end, you do have to carry quite a lot on your credit cards until the payments come in.  In preparation, John and I pooled resources to make sure that one of our credit cards could take the whole hefty charge of nearly $2000 worth of wine.  Credit arranged, off we went to the Barossa again.  The plan was that we would have lunch beforehand, then drive up to the Barossa.  There, we would pick up the wine, drive to my office, and unload the wine there.  After that, we would have time to go to an open house at 5:15.  John had done the photos of the house and it had a Moroccan style that he thought I would like to see.

The first wrinkle in the plan was Missy Kim, our Hyundai Getz.  She is a little car and ultimately, she would be loaded down with 26 cases of wine and two adults.  We weren’t sure that we would all fit or that she would be happy driving with all that on board.  Our backup plan was to go back to Grant Burge the next day if we had to.

We arrived at the winery and were on schedule, but the winery had a tour bus and the nice cellar door folk were run off their feet.  Since we had time, we ordered coffee and cake and waited for the tour bus crowd to leave.  Once they did, Heather came over, comp’d us the cake and coffee and then, went over the order with me. 

I gave her my credit card to pay.  Unfortunately, she initially put through the wrong sale amount and then cancelled the sale by telling the EFTPOS machine that the signature was unverified.  For those of you who have had dealings with American Express, you will understand the significance of this being A NEW CARD.  AmEx is great in a lot of ways, including their security.  But once you have a security flag on your card, it’s not likely to come off anytime soon.  Security flags are common for new cards and cards that haven’t been used for a long time, or indeed any obvious change in your spending patterns on the card.  So a new card coupled with an “unverified signature” had AmEx firing on all cylinders.  Needless to say, when Heather tried to put the correct amount through, we got the nasty “Da-naa” sound, which I’m certain was followed by a “but thanks for playing”. 

Heather rang the EFTPOS people first.  They suggested we contact my bank.  While I stayed on the line through a succession of holds and transfers with my bank, Heather was helping John load up Missy Kim.  John lays claim to his calibrated eye, a result of 14 years in the US military perhaps.  He was certain that all that wine could fit in our little Getz.  Of course, he was right (I hate that). 

I finally got onto someone who told me that Grant Burge needed to send them a fax on Grant Burge letterhead.  The fax needed to provide my account and purchase details and a request that the funds be released, with a description of what happened.  It was to be addressed to “Team Leader”. 

By now it was about 4:30 and Morocco was slipping away.  Letterhead was sourced and the fax written.  When Heather tried to send it, she learned that their fax machine was playing up. 

Finally, the fax machine began to cooperate and the fax was sent.  We waited 5 minutes, then tried our luck with the EFTPOS machine. “Da-naa”.  We waited 10 more minutes.  Morocco was gone and Grant Burge was closing.  Poor Heather looked like she needed a martini.  We tried again.  “Da-naa”.  I rang my bank and was told “Well, the fax machine is on this floor so someone must have it.  I’ll try to find it.” I stayed on the line.  The minutes ticked past.  Heather and I chatted.  She gave me two splits of their very nice champagne to drink with Michelle in Cambodia.

Finally, the bank chick came back on the line.  “Ok, your funds are release,” she said. 

“If you don’t mind, I might ask you to hold the line until this transaction goes through,” I replied.  Both Heather and I let out simultaneous whoo-hoos of victory when the EFTPOS machine made the happy “I like you again” noise. 

The sale finalised, John and Missy Kim and I headed for home with our 26 cases of wine.  Of course, the skies opened and drenched us but we no longer cared.  We had the wine.

UPDATE - ALL of the wine is now spoken for and my credit card STILL has security flag issues *sigh*  All’s fair in love and fundraising….

All's fair in love and fundraising...Part 1

If I have seen further than others, it is by standing upon the shoulders of giants

                                                                                    - Isaac Newton

So it was just a few weeks ago when I made the decision to go on this build.  The way Habitat works (see – I’m talking like I’m an expert already!)  is that Michelle and I pay our own travel expenses, but have to fundraise a certain amount – in this case, about AUD 800 each.

Previous builds that Michelle went on were organized through Habitat Australia and all donations were tax deductible for our Australian friends.  We are doing this build with the New Zealand team, so Australian contributors can’t get the tax benefit. On the other hand, the Australian dollar is strong (AUD 1 = NZD 1.24) and it looks really good when you make a donation on the Habitat New Zealand website.  Michelle and I have been welcomed by the Kiwi team with open arms.

Fundraising relies on goodwill – that of your donor base, industry partners and those who have gone before you.  My “giants”, as Isaac Newton refers to them, are Habitat for Humanity and Michelle Coram (they just know what works and have done it all before) and our industry partners, Spice Kitchen and Grant Burge.  My “donor base” is my friends and family, who have been wonderful and supportive.

Michelle has organised dinners over recent years with a great Indian restaurant called the Spice Kitchen (252 Kensington Rd, Leabrook SA) where, on a weeknight, she can book out all or part of the restaurant and people get a generous Indian banquet for $40 ($20 of which goes to Habitat as part of our fundraising and $20 to the restaurant).  The restaurant has been very supportive of Habitat in the past and so Michelle decided to organise another dinner there this year. 

For my part of the fundraising, I decided to sell wine, working on the theory that wine and lawyers are one of the world’s great pairings (and the vast majority of my friends are lawyers).  Fundraising with wine involves getting a one-day liquor license and having all sales take place on that one day. 

A couple of years ago, Michelle’s fundraising included wine from Grant Burge, a very nice winery in the Barossa Valley.  It was very popular and the H4H group ran out of the wine allotment.

Armed with this information, I went straight to the source – the winery itself.  After a few phone calls, I decided a tasting trip to the Barossa was in order (the things we do for charity – *sigh*).  The Barossa is only 30-45 minutes from my house but I don’t usually have a good excuse to make the trip. My husband, John and I went up there a couple of weeks ago (I “forced” John to go with me so he could taste the reds, while I decided on the whites).  Grant Burge has three cellars doors in the Barossa now and initially we went into the wrong one.  I had been told to ask for Caroline and the cellar door folk said that she was at another cellar door.  Apparently, we were at the cellar door that sold the more high the really expensive wines (I seem to always be drawn to the expensive stuff – it’s a talent).  The cellar door folk were happy for me to taste some of their wines, but I declined (not wanting to spoil my taste buds for the affordable stuff).

We continued to the Grant Burge cellar door on Krondorf Road, passing my personal mecca of Rockfords (a winery known for its beautiful Alicante Bouchet Rose, beautiful Basket Press Shiraz, and amazing Sparkling Shiraz – how I became a ‘member’ there is for another post). 

We tasted the cleanskins first, which, as the least expensive, had good fundraising potential.  Not bad, but the next level up knocked our socks off.  We decided on a 2007 Cabernet Sauvignon, known as the Elena and a 2008 Riesling, known as the Mariage. Even the more expensive range didn’t sway us. After a small markup (to go to Habitat), the wines were a very affordable $12 (red) and $10 (white).  We bought a sample selection of eight cases to see how they would be received and we resolved to buy more as orders came in.  The winery also offered to ring us if stock got down to about 15 cases of each.

The funny thing about the wines is that they were apparently a cancelled export order – the red was apparently bound for China and the white for Korea.  I assume this because of the back labels, which I reproduce here for your amusement. 

 

Besides the obvious Korean and Chinese characters, I think the red wine label reads as if marketed to Chinese men, using lots of adjectives like “strength” and “intense”; nouns like “character”; and verbs like “bursting” and “dominating”.  I’d say the marketing people were spot on.  Don’t get me wrong – it’s a great drop, especially for the price, but the descriptions just make me laugh.  No doubt the white description is good too – sadly, my Korean isn’t up to the task.

Family matters

“Be who you are and say what you feel because those who mind don’t matter and those that matter don’t mind.” – Dr Seuss

I rang Michelle on Sunday night,  “I’m leaning towards going.  How much were the airfares again?”  She squealed.  I guess that means she’s happy for me to be a saddo tag-along, copycat.

The next hurdle was telling our parents.  Yes, Virginia, you still have to worry about what your parents think when you’re in your 30s and 40s.  Why? Because we love them and want to maintain happy relations with them, whenever possible.  The only difference from when you were younger is that now, you’ll probably do what you want to, despite what they say.

Michelle has a long history of telling her parents about her somewhat unusual travel plans,  going around the world with me for 9 weeks (2000), taking her long service leave to do volunteer work in the US, England, Ireland, Scotland, etc (2002), walking across Spain (2006, I think) - and then the Habitat builds in Nepal.

My mom is gone, as is my brother, but I won’t get into that long, sad tale here.  Suffice it to say that my stubborn (yet loveable) 82 year-old father lives on his own in San Diego.  This is despite that fact that he is legally blind.  Either John or I go and visit him at least once a year, we call once or twice a week, we help out with rent and whatever else we can, but ultimately I live here, in Adelaide, South Australia, and I feel guilty as hell that I don’t do more.  Dad loves adventure and traveling but there are different rules for his daughter and what is appropriate.  I’m pretty sure he would consider any developing country to not be appropriate, but who knows - he may surprise me.  I know that when we were kids, it was Dad’s idea to do an African safari but Mom put the kibosh on that idea.  We also never went anywhere further south than Naples in Italy.  There were limits to the ‘adventure’ to which we were exposed. 

With my current work, I sometimes have to fly on small planes (single-engine) to outback locations.  Although I really prefer to have a back-up engine when flying, it is not always possible.  Whenever I go on these work trips, Dad worries about me and his last words on the phone are full of dire warnings.  I resolve to wait as long as possible to tell him so as to reduce worry time to a minimum.  Ok, so I’m a coward.

Michelle’s parents are pretty relaxed about her going to Cambodia. She has checked out the travel warnings and found that there are fewer for Cambodia than there were for Nepal.  I guess the argument is that she survived Nepal, so she will probably survive Cambodia.  I’m still waiting for the right time to tell Dad – maybe I’ll call him from the airport…

Should I stay or should I go now?

“Decision is a risk rooted in the courage of being free.” – Paul Tillich

I woke the next morning (Friday), having come no closer to a decision.  Should I go to Cambodia or not?  I decided I wouldn’t talk about it with anyone (besides John and Michelle) until I decided I was definitely going. 

During my walk to the bus stop, I thought more about it.  By the time I got to work, I was 80% sure I wasn’t going to go.  I mean really, what use would I be on a build?  Michelle and I still had many of the same friends and connections; we would be sharing the same fundraising base.  I really should save my money up in case Dad needed help.  Besides that, it had been two years since I got new glasses and I really should get a new pair.  I also needed to go to the dentist and that wasn’t going to get any cheaper the longer I waited. 

At the same time, I wondered if these thoughts weren’t just convenient excuses for doing something that, quite frankly, scared me a little.  In giving advice to my friends, I’m always telling them they should do things that scare them and shake them out of their comfort zones.  But here I was, wallowing away in my little comfort zone.

I was on planes before I could walk but didn’t stay in a youth hostel until I was 35.  I’ve always travelled and I love to travel but the closest I have even been to a “developing” country is a 5 star resort in Thailand.  Apparently, that doesn’t count.

I was nearly resolved by the time I got to work that no, I wouldn’t go. Typical of me, it took about 5 minutes at work before I was asking for advice from my friends (so much for not telling anyone until I decided).  Within an hour, I had agreed to meet Michelle for a coffee and fire questions at her:

“How bad are the toilets there?”  (Not too bad actually.  Some squat ones, but majority are not)

“Where would be staying?  In a hostel?  With a family?”  (A 4 star hotel and bused in and out of the build site each day)

“Do I have to get water filters, etc?”  (They supply bottled water and you can pretty much buy it everywhere)

“Hand sanitizer?”  (Yes)

“Will there be jobs that I can usefully do even though I am not the fittest, strongest person?”  (Yes, and most of the team is comprised of big, brawny kiwi men who will do the heavy lifting)

“What technology are you taking?”  (Phone, computer, kindle)

After the coffee interrogation, I was well and truly fence-sitting at about 50%.  At drinks that night, my friend Deana asked me the question that tipped me over the edge: “If you don’t do it, will you regret it?”  Definitely, yes. 

Over dinner, I began composing blog entries in my head.  But still, I wouldn’t commit. John sent me links to sites about Cambodia and suggested we hit the library the next day for books. 

Michelle sent me links and emails from other people’s blogs and writings on previous Habitat builds in Cambodia.  At the same time, she sent emails ‘politely inquiring’ on how my decision-making was going (mind you, she’d taken a month to decide to go on her third build and I was on day two of the decision about my first build so “pot – kettle – black”).

On Saturday, I checked out every decent book the library had on Cambodia and began reading.  I downloaded the latest version of the Lonely Planet guide for Cambodia onto my iPhone 4.  I was pleasantly surprised to learn that Cambodia was pretty wired and internet access was affordable.  I was dismayed to learn about the disease risk and the need for a number of vaccinations/booster shots (FYI Hepatitis A & B, Typhoid, Rabies, Japanese Encephalitis, Tetanus, Diptheria, Whooping Cough, Polio, and possibly yellow fever). 

I downloaded apps including an introduction to Khmer conversation for travelers.  Yes, I realize, looking back on it now, that blind Freddy could have seen that I was going to go, but I could not.

Ultimately, all the research in the world couldn’t make up my mind for me.  But I knew two things -

1.            If I didn’t go, I would regret it.

2.            If I didn’t go, I would be a hypocrite of the highest order.

It was time to leave my comfort zone.

Cambodia or bust (continued)

More than 10 years earlier, Michelle and I had met at work.  We became fast friends.  We both have a vicious senss of humor, like a good margarita, love the beach and the ocean (yet by virtue of our joint Irish heritage, are not ‘beachy’ types), love U2 and Pink and Ireland, and reading and great music and … well, you get the picture.  I was there for her through some difficult personal trials and she was on-hand to watch my first marriage self-destruct.  At one point, we lived and worked together.  We walked into work together, went to the gym together and hung out with the same circle of friends.  Just to make sure we really liked each other, we decided to go around the world together - for nine weeks.  Through it all, we always had the best time.  Together, we were more than the sum or our parts. 

After that I followed my heart back to the US and she began her volunteerism journey that has, thus far, culminated in her Habitat work.  Although I came back to Adelaide a few years later, like all friendships, our lives had diverged and those halcyon days were in the past.  We were still good friends, but we didn’t see as much of each other.  We both had different interests. 

I went on to get married (again) but this time with much better results, and I permitted the rest of my life to be consumed by my work.  Michelle became less work-oriented, a homeowner (with all that entailed), a gym junkie and a global volunteer.  But whenever we got together, we still had such a good time.

So the combination of Cambodia with Michelle seemed too good to pass up.  Like all good ideas I run with, I might have had a couple of glasses of wine.  I knew she was out at a Habitat reunion dinner that night (of course), but sent a message for her to call me if she didn’t get home too late. Cryptic enough to intrigue her but not to scare her.  Once I have what I consider to be a good idea, I just have to share it.  What can I say?  I’m a Gemini – you know, communicator of the zodiac and all that.  While I have finally learned how to keep a secret, I can’t keep my own secrets.

When she rang, my ideas all came pouring out in a torrent or words “I just want to ask you something.  And I totally understand if you say no, or yes.  I mean, I can see good reasons for both answers.  And I don’t want you to feel bad about telling me the truth.  In fact, I want you to be brutally honest with me.  (Deep breath) I’m thinking about coming with you to Cambodia.  What do you think?  Be honest.”

Silence.  Then, sputtering a little “Uh yeah.  That would be great.  Do you have the leave and everything?  Is this going to cause a financial crisis for you?” 

I told you we think alike.  I hear in her tone, after the initial element of surprise had passed, a growing enthusiasm.  I went on. 

“Yeah.  I think it is doable and you know how I feel about Cambodia.  I think it would be a blast.  I mean I haven’t decided yet.  I’m just toying with the idea but I really wanted to know what you thought.  I didn’t want you think I was some sort of hanger-on.” 

She said something then, I don’t recall what, that seemed to require me to clarify.  “I mean I would come for the build.”

More silence.  Both Michelle and I are such girls with tools and manual labor.  No doubt, Michelle has acquired some skills during the last three builds.  While I have a secret passion for power tools, my husband has managed to keep them away from me ever since I sanded the attic down to baseboards and nearly destroyed his computer equipment and cameras in the adjacent room.

I could tell she was really surprised that I was interested in the build.  But I thought, yes, I can build houses for four days for these people in this country.  It’s only five days… and 75% humidity … and hot.

We talked a bit more about logistics and then ended the conversation, both saying we would think on it a bit more and talk again in the next few days.  That was Thursday.