I had never stayed at a $4 a night hotel before. I was out in rural Cambodia with Fountain of Hope, an NGO that supports community training and development, and there were very few housing options. It didn’t look sketchy, but $4? The lobby was bright, with beautiful wood carvings decorating the edges.
“Do you want the WiFi passcode?” The receptionist smiled and held out a piece of paper. I certainly wasn’t expecting WiFi for $4 a night. The room was clean, with an extra toothbrush, comb, and shampoo packets neatly held in a basket. I was surprised and delighted, and slept very well.
The next morning, we were off to visit the work in the villages. We stopped for breakfast at a small restaurant close to the hotel. “I don’t think Americans like noodles for breakfast. We’ll get you bread!” My hosts had been taking very good care of me. Our meals arrived, bowls of noodles for them, and beef stew, with bread! for me. It was a hearty way to start the day. On the television was a cock fight, lazily followed by some old men sitting in the corner with their tea.
We piled in the car and drove up to their office. The staff members had already gathered for the morning. They wore light blue shirts as a uniform, and were mostly under 35. A few were confident enough in their English to come up and say hi, but everyone offered a warm smile. The office was small, but sufficient. The walls around the room were fairly sparse, with hand-written mottos and mission statements taped up next to a large map of the area.
The leader indicated we were starting. A few people sat in chairs, but most just sat on the floor. After an opening prayer, someone pulled out a guitar and started singing. Everyone quickly joined in with soul-deep sincerity. It was a quick morning agenda. Reports and assignments were given, and the team left for their various projects, with cheerful waves and teasing encouragement to each other.
As I followed my hosts out to the village, I noticed a distinct lack of litter. It was ubiquitous in Phnom Penh. Plastic bags, water bottles, packaging, all piled up, strewn out, and occasionally burned. Out here, there was no packaging for their food. Everything was grown close by. Much of what they used was made by hand, by a family member or a neighbor. There was still an intense need for so many things, but the natural beauty of the countryside was so peaceful.
As you drive through, you’ll notice 1-liter soda bottles set up on wooden racks along the side of the road. Upon closer inspection, you’ll see that the bottles are filthy, and the liquid is the wrong color for the advertised drink. These are the makeshift gas stations. It’s a handy solution when you’re miles from the nearest pump.
At mid-morning, the coconut man drove by and our team all had a refreshing drink, with straws stuck into the macheted top. It was delicious, even if the container was a bit heavy. I laughed as I pointed out, “This much coconut water would sell for $10 in the U.S.” We had paid about 50 cents. They were astounded, and quickly started calculating what they could do with their newfound extravagant wealth if they started exporting. Coconut water is also used locally for IV fluid. You’ll often see people walking around town rolling an IV pole beside them. I assume they demand it the same way Americans demand antibiotics from doctors, whether it’s the most useful treatment or not.
After we visited the projects, we stopped by a river for some lunch. Hammocks were strung up next to the water bank for customers to use, and they looked very tempting with the gentle breeze on a warm day. I noticed many hammock stops as we drove around. Some workers brought their own to use for their daily afternoon nap. Others seemed to be permanent fixtures for whomever needed a few minutes to relax. They were often in use!
Lunch was chicken, probably killed that morning. We had some vegetables and a pile of rice to accompany. Small bowls were laid out and someone dished up fresh ground pepper, and added a bit of oil to make a dipping sauce. I have never tasted such delicious pepper in my life! Kampot, Cambodia, just a bit further south, is world famous for their pepper. It wasn’t to hot or spicy, just incredibly flavorful. It really made the lunch.
After a few days visiting the village projects, we returned back to Phnom Penh. We decided the best use of my time with their team was doing a workshop on strategic planning, logistical frameworks, goal-setting, communications, and advocacy. It was a lot to cover in three days, but I was excited to see what we could do.
Packing for a year in just two carry-ons was a bit of a challenge, but I made the call to toss in a light linen blazer. I’m so glad I did. It’s been great to have an option to have a more professional look, and I’ve used it much more than I expected to. I pulled it out for the workshop, along with my black ballet slippers (with some heel inserts because honestly, I’m not 20 anymore and arch support is one of those underrated great pleasures in life) to dress up a bit.
The team was talkative and engaged. Everyone spoke some English, but the entire session was interpreted so nothing was lost. I had to learn to speak more slowly and clearly, and plan for half the presentation time.
I broke them in to smaller groups to take a part of the strategic plan and plot out timelines and action items. They each had a large sheet of paper, and their resulting presentation was usually half written in English, half in Khmer as the discussion language often wove between the two. We talked about various audiences: clients, funders, government officials, partners, and which parts of the plan each might be interested in hearing.
“What about your goals? What is the one big thing you want to accomplish through your project?”
“My goal is to get cows to 40 widows.”
I was about to write it down, but then paused, and turned back around. “Is it really about the cows?”
He thought for a moment. “But that’s what I’m trying to achieve this year.”
“But if the cows don’t work out, could you use goats? Could you use chickens?”
“Ah, ah. Yes. We want to help the widows generate income to support themselves. I guess we could do that through other ways than just cows.”
We worked out a goal around economic self-sustainability for widows in the community.
As we moved through the agenda, I loved watching the discussion and engagement. The plans were coming together, with thoughtful and realistic goals and strategies. I shot off an email to my former colleagues who had created templates and trained us in strategic planning. “I bet you never thought your work would eventually help impoverished kids in rural Cambodia, but life is funny like that.” I thanked them for helping to equip me to provide the training I was doing, even if neither one of us knew it at the time.
As we wrapped up the three days, the team presented me with a locally made scarf and linen shirt. They were beautiful and I was so touched by their thoughtfulness.
The Fountain of Hope team is passionate about their work, about helping their country and their people in real and tangible ways. They are pushing to do better than they did before, to find new ways to be effective, new partnerships, new solutions, and innovative ways to make a difference. And every single day, they are doing it. I’m glad I got to share a few of those days with them.