Cultural exchange: Food

It was black. I picked it up. It had a bit of a 'bounce' as I squeezed it between my fingers. I had a sneaking suspicion what it was. But I couldn’t tell for sure.

So I took a bite. I chewed. I swallowed. I took another bite. And then I decided, “No thank you. I think I have enough of this & don’t want anymore.”

She laughed, “That’s OK.” She laughed again. “Maybe you should try the sweet one? You might like it better than the salty one.”

OK, so I gave it another chance & took the ‘sweet’ one. Filled with honey, apparently. I bit, swirled it around my mouth to try to taste the ‘sweetness’, chewed, swallowed. It tasted just like the one before! Where’s the honey, honey?

“Sorry, I have to give up on this one too.” She laughed again.

“That’s so funny!” said my Dutch missionary neighbour. “It’s funny how when we’re not used to the things we grew up with, food can taste so weird!”

The German friend replied, “Well done Jessica! You’re so brave to try it even though you don’t know what it is.”

“Well,” I said, “I never quite thought that ANY Western food would be yucky. I thought only the Asians had a reputation for disgusting food! I won’t have the guts to eat the Khmer delicacies here – e.g. fried spiders, locusts, duck foetus in egg etc.”

Do you want to know what it was that I tasted?

LICORICE! 



OK, so it’s not quite that disgusting – depending on who you are! But it obviously did not go well with my palate. Our Dutch neighbours had received boxes upon boxes of these “sweet” treats from home recently, and they love every morsel of it. Apparently, they come in all kinds of flavours too! But I bet they all taste the same to my untrained (& unappreciative) palate.

“Well, next time, I’d like you all to try my favourite fruit….

 DURIAN!”

To which the German lady (who has been in Cambodia for 6 years) gasped… “NO WAY!”

One man's meat is another man's poison.... I guess!
(or in Cambodia... one dog's flesh is another man's dinner... !! like, literally...)

Privacy intruded?

Few days ago, Hannah threw a tantrum during lunch. She's done it a couple of times before, refusing to eat & crying very loudly. So we decided to let her cry in her seat until she calmed down while we continued our lunch.

If you have ever heard Hannah cry, you would know how absolutely deafening her screams can be. And how persistent & long too.

We ignored her cries, hoping to teach her that she could not have her way. That’s when the neighbour's house helper (who also works for us in the afternoons) walked over. She was at our front door, and we could hear her saying "Oh Hannah... you're crying so loudly!"

Immediately, a sense of annoyance welled up inside me. "Leave us alone! It's none of your business!" I thought in my head. I didn't verbalise them of course, but I was annoyed at the fact that our privacy was intruded, especially at such a time.

David opened the door, but she quickly said “It’s OK. I just heard Hannah crying & thought I’d come over to see what happened.” My level of annoyance subsided. She wasn’t trying to interfere – she was just concerned for Hannah!

This experience reminded me of the story that Marilyn Schlitt told in her book “Deprived or Privileged?” Following is an excerpt:

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Raising children in a different culture than one’s own brings its own set of difficulties. One day Amy seemed to be having a particularly bad time. Nothing was going her way, and she resented that. As I had an errand upstairs, I put her in the playpen for safety. Her screams could be heard for several blocks, I knew, but I decided that I would attend to her when she had calmed down.

All of a sudden her bellowing stopped! What had happened? Had she hit her head and gone unconscious? I raced downstairs. There stood my neighbour from across the street, holding Amy with a pleased look on her face. “Your baby was crying, Ate [big sister], so I came in to help!”

Amy was no longer mad, but her mother sure was! How dare my neighbour interfere like that! Didn’t I have the right to raise my child the way I wanted to? The book, Have We No Rights? by Mabel Williamson, helped me.

I always thought I had the right to privacy and to raise my children as I thought best. Or did I? Was my way always the best or right way? Was I so perfect as a mother that only I knew what was best for my child? My neighbour had feared that something was wrong and came to help only out of concern.

This was the beginning of the release of my tight hold on my children. Yes, God had given them to us to care for and nurture. We do have that awesome responsibility. But does that mean we alone are to be the sole teachers and guides? Can our children learn and benefit from others?

Marilyn Schlitt "Deprived or Privileged?"

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Change... so soon?

This sounds ridiculously trivial – but I never thought I’d feel disorientated to find that Lucky supermarket (a supermarket chain in Cambodia) has suddenly stopped selling 3 of our most frequently used products – all within the same week!

When we first came to Cambodia, we expected that we’d either not be able to afford our usual brands or that it would just be unavailable. So it was with such an expectation that we went to the supermarket for the first time, 3 months ago, to figure out what substitutes we could get.

Breakfast cereal & fresh milk is expensive here. UHT milk is a cheaper alternative but we managed to find a brand of fresh milk that was not too costly. We’ve also gotten used to a raisin bran cereal which was half the price of the others. And the baby wipes were the cheapest we could find - & they were of good quality.

To suddenly “lose” all 3 of these things in one week was a bit of an unexpected blow – not disastrous, but enough to cause a small sense of loss at what was beginning to feel familiar.

I guess the missionary life is one of frequent change, but I wasn’t expecting change to happen that quickly. And I certainly wasn’t expecting that change in such a tiny aspect of life to cause such an emotion. Perhaps it’s because there are so many changes that we have to adjust to, & to have to adjust YET again in such a short time to something so trivial makes it even more wearisome. OR, perhaps we’re just not very flexible after all?

Video: Hannah 'counting' in Khmer

Well, only the number 3 (Bey) at the moment. She can't count in either English or Mandarin yet!