Hello Contagion

The Culprits?



There is a short-lived feeling of celebrity that courses through the veins of many Peace Corps trainees the first time they hear the screaming “Hellos” of their adoring fans when they settle into their training villages. “They love us!” some may say as they rocket past a hoard of barefooted children running after the tuk-tuk full of “barangs.” (Barang being the generic term for foreigners here, literally meaning French in Khmer.)

The obsessive adoration from screaming children quickly dies down a week into training. Trainees begin to realize that screaming “Hello” to a barang is like a sixth sense for Khmer children. “Seriously, that kid was a full kilometer away from me and was already screaming “helloooooooooo!!!!” How do they do it?!” What is the goal of screaming “Hello” to the barangs? I can tell you right here – right now, it is not to get the expected response of “Hello” in return because they continue to scream “Hello” many times following the initial response.

Scheming...



Trainees become Volunteers and the word “Hello” becomes slightly...tainted. The first step out the door of your new home for the next 2 years is greeted with “HELLO BARANG!” And the fresh faced PCV thinks to himself “Oh....hi....? Do I know you?”
Walking to breakfast, all eyes are glued to your face. Politeness abides. Peace Corps Professional. You're new to the area, you want to make a good first impression. On your bike rides and morning runs through the village you wave and give an obligatory “hello” back to the screaming children.

Then you have a bad day; need to bike off some steam. You ignore a “hello” here and there. The “hello” is repeated. And repeated. And repeated. AND REPEATED!!! “Maybe the barang didn't hear me” thinks the screaming child. Scream it louder and longer, with more INTENSITY: “HHHHHEEEEEEELLLLLLLLLLLLLOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!” The child screams himself hoarse. A mystery “hello” coming from the woods. “What the heeelllll...? Where are you?” You think to yourself “If I can't see you, I can't, no, won't say 'hello' back.”

Four months in to your service, the word “Hello” is now a disgusting and offensive word.

Your first year of service comes and goes. That was not easy. But you made it. And you know what is still disgusting and offensive? The word “Hello.” How has this word not died down already? Why are they still screaming “HEEELLLLLLLOOOOOO!!!!”??? And it's not just in the village. It's on the way to your provincial town. It's in that alley in-between Sorya and P'saa Thmey in Phnom Penh. It's sitting next to you on the bus to Battambang.

The one on the right has the 6th sense



The “hello” contagion is set off by one child – the one with the keenest scent for barang – and so begins the domino effect of the melodically chimed, screeched, and blurted out “HELLOS!” It spreads so quickly, you can't pick it out with the naked eye. There's no way to avoid it. The “hello” contagion travels faster than any viral boob-slip-dick-pic-choreographed-wedding-procession-internet post you've ever seen.

Headphones during your run can't even eliminate the screams. The screaming “hellos” penetrate even the thickest of steel walls, the original Beats by Dre, and the most stubborn of Peace Corps Volunteers. Ignoring the “hellos” will makes it worse, much worse.

During your second year of service you begin to do freelance research and a full on investigation to find the origin behind the word “Hello” in the Kingdom of Wonder. You wonder “the chicken or the egg?.....these kids didn't teach themselves the word 'Hello.' Did they?”

AHA!

That yay at the health center forcibly took that newborns hand and made it wave “bye-bye” at you. “Why is that baby waving goodbye to me? He never even said...hello.” OP! There it is, as you exit the health center “Hello barang!” says the newborn swaddled in five towels and one floral polar-fleece blanket.

Hello. Is it me you're looking for?



This isn't as simple as you originally thought. It is not only the uncontrollable children screaming “Hello!” at you. It's the men drinking at the little shack on the corner “Hello!” It's the high-schoolers biking on their way to school “Hello!” It's the fruit ladies at the market “Hello!” It's sneaking up behind you on a moto “Hello!” There is no escaping the “Hello!” There is no stopping the “Hello!” The “Hello” owns you. You are “Hello's” bitch.

Your body now has a physical, involuntary response to the word “Hello.” Your limbs go numb from sitting too long, your eyes glaze over, dry mouth? Those crackers are making you thirsty. You suddenly get much better at surfing the internet. You can't seem to stop yourself from eating spoonfuls of peanut butter while sitting on your bedroom floor in your underwear. You sob uncontrollably when Aladdin finally frees Genie from the eternal shackles of a life of servitude in a bottle, baby.

With all the energy you can muster after your three-hour-post-lunch-nap, you walk to the market and attempt to educate the three year old standing 2 feet away from you, staring wide-eyed and slack-jawed as you get your nails painted. “Nyay 'Hello' m'dong kuut.” (“Say 'Hello' one time only.” You're sure the Khmer translation is not very clear but who cares?) Alas, you know your efforts are lost as the child walks away for a brief moment, returns with nom soam jeg in hand and screams “Hello barang!” with a mouthful of sticky rice. “Hello barang!” from around the shelf of beauty products. “Hello barang!” from behind the trash heap. “Hello barang!” from the fruit stand 100 meters away. Your thoughts jump to “This kid can teleport, I swear” as you trip your way out of the market. “Hello barang!” from the moto riding by with 3 adults and 3 babies “Hello barang!”

Hi.



I wish there was a way to somehow follow the “hello” contagion back to its conception and find that all signs point to Gwyneth Paltrow as the blame but real life ain't that easy, kid.

What I do know is that tucked tightly between each shrieked out “Hello” there is a quiet smile of a white-haired Ta riding by slowly on his bicycle. There's a shy little “Hi” of a young girl with a toothy grin watching you pass her by. Regardless of the “hello” contagion's degrading effect on the psyche of volunteers, there is a silver lining. Cambodian people love foreigners. It's an undeniable truth. If you want to travel to a beautiful country and feel welcomed by the locals, come to Cambodia.

Dog says "Hello" too.

The Entertainer

I'm not gonna lie; I like attention. (I think I've mentioned this before...)

I have, from time to time throughout my life, enjoyed being the center of attention. (Don't laugh.) But one specification is that I choose when to be the entertainer. In order to be the center of attention, I have to #1. know my audience to a certain degree. And #2. I have to feel a certain amount of comfort with my audience. But the overall most important feature of receiving attention is that I have, in some way, control of this attention and if I get overwhelmed, I have the control to at some point run away and hide because sometimes I also have social anxiety and would rather be alone. (Dear audience: I hope you enjoy reading about how crazy I am. I'm not ashamed to admit that I've got issues. We've all got issues! And shoes!)

The Entertainer: I once figure skated to this song.


Now. Picture this: A moderately small village in the middle of Cambodia all of a sudden receives a ghostly creature that walks around everyday, choppily speaking the local language, and petting the dogs. For a handful of the people in this village, especially the young children, this is the first time they've ever seen a creature of such strange facial features and such a pallid skin tone. I can understand how puzzling such a creature may appear and how difficult it would be NOT to stare. But after a year, you'd think - YOU'D THINK!!! This creature would be old news by now.

The village I live in is a spot on a main highway smack dab in-between Phnom Penh and another popular city, Kampot, in Cambodia. It's INCREDIBLY loud - due to the traffic, especially because of the gigantic semi-trucks tumbling and speeding by every minute. And it is very transient. People from all over Cambodia stop by my village while they are traveling around the country. There's a decent sized market for van loads of people to stop and buy food to snack on during their travels. And when this happens, a van load of fresh eyes get to gaze upon the ghostly creature - ME - creeping around the village.

Find the foreigner! Photo credit: Kate Yoder.


Being a Peace Corps Volunteer is a 24/7 job. The moment I step foot out my room, I am essentially ON-DUTY. I have to churn out Khmer to the first person that I set my eyes on. I have to tell people where I'm going and what I'm doing at all times. I was never really a fan of small talk and, unfortunately, small talk is every conversation of my life, ever in Cambodia. Khmer people are the BEST at small talk! People will be rolling by on their motos and ask me where I'm going and not even wait to listen to my response. And rather than asking how someone is - a more common question is to ask if they've eaten rice yet "Hop bai howee rue nou?" It's just something they do. Small small small talk.

Fortunately, I have a pretty normal routine - I eat my breakfast at the same place, I drink my coffee at the same place, and talk to the same people on my way to and from work. Those people involved in my routine everyday respect me and I respect them. However, there is still this spotlight on me where everything and anything I do is somehow different (and spectacularly entertaining!!!) in comparison to everyone else in the village and therefore people must take note of this. People chuckle every time I tell them what I'm eating for breakfast. "Goat jol jet nyam baan chaio neung quitio chaa." ("She likes to eat baan chaio and fried noodles.") They point out that I drink coffee every morning but don't really notice that pretty much everyone else drinks coffee in the morning also. But I guess it's just that much more interesting because I am the foreigner.

When I go running, the same children scream "Hellllllloooooooooooooooo" at me and scream even louder when I don't respond still after running through the village for over a year now. People still offer me a ride on their motos when they pass me while I'm running. You'd think - YOU'D THINK, that after a year, they'd realize that I'm not trying to get somewhere, I'm just exercising. I'm that weird foreigner that exercises and pets dogs.

And I can't help but wonder - is being the foreigner like this in every third world country?

During our pre-service training, Peace Corps staff told us that staring in Cambodia is rude. But somehow this does not appear to apply when the gaze is turned around and pointing like a flesh burning laser on to a foreigner. I still can't quite figure this out. And think that the whole thing about "staring being rude" is a load of crap...

I have never felt so uncomfortable on such a regular basis because of so much unwanted attention. Strangers at the market blatantly taking photos of me with their camera phones. People, young and old, turning 180 degrees around in their seat - rubbernecking - to stare with unblinking eyes at me while I eat my bowl of noodles. I have never appreciated the idea of anonymity so much. The very concept of anonymity seems so foreign to me now that I am the token foreigner.

There are bad days, when I get so fed up with this unwanted attention that I find myself struggling to leave my room. Aren't they bored of me yet? I'm not here for their entertainment and yet, many days I feel like that's all I'm good for. "What's that weird foreigner up to today? Maybe she'll run down the road again." And on the days I don't run down the road - they are sure to make note of it and ask me about it later. "Why didn't you exercise today?" But those are the bad days.

But then there are good days. The days when I choose to be "the center of attention." The days I choose to dance with the neighbor kids in the front yard. The days I humor the random person passing through the village and answer 20 questions for them. My patience for this is growing thin but luckily, it's still present and hopefully enough to last me the next 9 months.

Sometimes I choose to be the center of attention in Cambodia. Photo credit: Hayley Knicely.


And I have to remind myself that I am kind of a novelty to the people in this village. I understand that it is strange seeing someone like me in the middle of nowhere in Cambodia. It just gets old when the 7,000 person is asking me who I am and why I'm here. No matter how much I fight this, it's not going to change. And I need to take this opportunity to teach the people in my village what some Americans are like. This is a goal for all Peace Corps Volunteers serving in all countries throughout the world.

I also have to remind myself that this experience is novel! I forget how unique this experience really is and it's rejuvenating to be reminded of how fascinating my life is right now. The fascination has worn off because of unavoidable monotony but every once in a while something completely bazaar happens and it brings me back to the Kingdom of Wonder - Cambodia. It's not everyday you see an elephant walk passed you during your morning coffee. It's not everyday (in America) you see two grown pigs attached to the back of a moto. It's not everyday the neighbors try to kill the sewer rats with rocks and sticks. There are things that are uniquely Cambodian (as far as I know) that I will miss once I'm back in Cambodia and again, I'm trying to remind myself (look to previous post "TIME SLIP") that my days in Cambodia are numbered. I can't let all this unwanted attention ruin the rest of my time here. It will still aggravate me but I will try to focus on the positive. And won't it be super weird going back to America where no one cares who I am? I will no longer be a celebrity! This is why celebrities go crazy!!! Losing celebrity can't be easy...

Random elephant marching through town. Photo credit: Stacy Biggs

So there was my rant.