The past week and a half I have been in Phnom Penh for IST or In-Service Training; it’s a time where we all come together to receive more language and technical training. It’s been great to see other volunteers, especially those I have not seen since we moved to our permanent sites five months ago. I’ve also enjoyed getting to know the staff more; they have been a constant, more or less, in this shifting and evolving experience, and they are all such great people.
Another great thing about IST is I finally found the time to visit my host family from PST. I was kinda nervous about calling my family and asking to visit honestly. I haven’t talked to them since I left; I wanted to, but I just ended up playing phone tag with my host sister. So, after such a long time, I was nervous to call. They sounded excited on the phone, and my host mom assured me she would get a chicken and cook all my favorite things for my lunch visit. Even though the phone call went well, I was honestly still nervous. What if things had changed? What if it was really awkward?
So, on Sunday, I rode nervously and excitedly in a tuk tuk with a few other volunteers to our PST site. As the dust swirled and buildings whizzed by, I tried to stay calm and think about what I would say.
As we continued on, my thoughts changed. I thought about how much had changed since PST. I now knew how to talk to a tuk tuk much better and could navigate my way around Phnom Penh. I was voluntarily wearing jeans and almost brought a long-sleeved jacket to protect my skin despite the high temperature. Things had changed so much.
As I hopped out of the tuk tuk in front of my house, I walked up and my mom walked out to greet me. And… it was like nothing had changed. And… it was like everything had.
My mom and sister still rushed to feed me and make sure I had everything I could possibly need.
My mom wanted to hear all about my new family and life. She also wanted to tell me about all the things that had changed in their lives.
The knives in the kitchen were in the same place. The chickens still ran around the backyard.
My younger sister was still a little shy with me, asking a question here and there.
However, things were also so different.
My mom spoke loudly and repeated things several times. I assume she spoke like that before; I needed that when I was first learning Khmer. Now, I can get it on the first try.
I could express myself so much better than before. Things just spilled out; we talked about a variety of subjects more or less without too much difficulty.
I felt much more comfortable eating outside at the little table, using my utensils Khmer-style (including my fingers).
Miracle of miracles, I wasn’t sweating profusely from every pore of my body. I didn’t need a fan on me every second.
On the whole, I just felt more comfortable than I had before. It was a great moment that really hit home how far I have come in seven months: linguistically, culturally, and personally.
Peace Corps can be hard because there isn’t really a measuring stick once you get to site; there isn’t someone to tell you what to do or how to do it. While it is wonderful to have that freedom, it can be tough in the beginning to feel like you are accomplishing anything. One day often blends into the next, and sometimes you wonder why you are here at all.
Returning to my PST family was a moment of reflection and clarity for me; it showed me how far I had really come in a relatively short period of time. I think it’s important to stop and wallow in that for a little bit. It’s important to acknowledge the hard work and persistence it takes to make it to this point.
IST has been a great opportunity to receive more language and technical training, but it has also been a milestone that allows me to take stock of my service thus far.
And I am proud of what I see.
