Day 3: Samart School

My masterpiece in the library

It is getting hotter every day. This morning I started work early to avoid the heat (heh - it was only around 38 degrees instead of "argh!" at that time). I started my mural in the library, painting the numbers zero to ten on the wall. I painted using my fingers - one for each colour; although there were paint brushes, they were a little bit crusty and I wanted something more delicate. I had finished by lunchtime and signed off my masterpiece by leaving my two handprints in bright orange. Of course I then had the task of removing a solvent-based paint from my hands using only water: an impossible task. I started scrubbing and for a moment it looked quite hopeful, until the paint mixed with the water to form a thick paste, which gathered on my fingertips and stuck them together. I needed expert help, and appealed to Papi with my gluey hands, who rose superbly to the occasion by siphoning some petrol out of his motorbike and pouring it into a coconut shell for me.

After lunch we went to visit Salav's family. She lives on a farm about few hundred metres down the lane with her sister, nephew and parents. Salav is a superwoman: she's 18, and studies at school in the morning and afternoon. At 5pm she comes to Samart School to teach the intermediate and advanced classes, working for free. She helps her family on the farm in her spare time, as well as doing her homework; and on top of all that, she is currently directing a concert that the children are performing for the New Year. She speaks excellent English, German and Dutch, and wants to go to university; but before that can happen she needs a salary from the school, which can only come from donations. University is expensive here: $1,500 per year for the private university, and $400 for the state university, but Song tells us that his classes at the state college have been cancelled this year due to a lack of enrolments, so he doesn't know when he will finish his studies. There's a significant paucity of government support within the education system here, and I wonder how many other supremely intelligent children there are here who don't even make it to school. This is a frightening thought considering the country's bottom-heavy population pyramid, following the post-Khmer Rouge baby boom.

Salav gives us a tour of her farm

Salav's farm was beautiful: she showed us around the crops. Her family grows papaya, mango, milk fruit, sticky white sweetcorn (she gave us some cobs which were very tasty), mint, holy basil, spinach, and chillies, which are all sold at the market. There are coconut palms too, but Salav explained that their palms tend to be more fruitful when the trees grow near the house and human company; lonely palms don't produce much fruit.

The Polish couple left early in the morning, which meant that the remaining three of us worked flat out in the afternoon classes. The 3.15pm class was for the smallest children who were beginners, and today they were hard work. They were wound up, I think due to a combination of the heat and the fact that the holidays are approaching, and they could barely concentrate on anything, choosing instead to climb the walls of the classroom and over into the next rooms. Freya, a volunteer from Berlin, and I tried to revise emotions with them; we wanted them to use alternatives to the routine answer of "I'm fine," when asked, "How are you?". They already knew this material but they were far too energetic today to listen. We eventually settled for a song and I found myself bellowing, "The wheels on the bus go round and round" solo and at top volume (the four classrooms are separated by wooden partitions, and it's very noisy in each room so we have speak up). They looked on in silent bemusement - the only silence we achieved - until Freya and I couldn't handle it anymore and burst into tears of laughter, the children escaping around us into the sunshine.

Thankfully the following three classes were easier and more productive. The older children with a better understanding of English are more settled and are very keen to learn. But even so I was exhausted by the time we finished after 8pm and wasn't able to manage much more than dinner - a delicious tortilla omelette - and bed.

Salav's nephew rocking the Raybans

I'm leaving tomorrow; all three of us are departing very guiltily, because there are no more volunteers arriving tomorrow, which will put enormous pressure on the classes. But I'm travelling from Siem Reap to Singapore overland and it's a long journey, so I want some time in town before I leave to catch up on things (like paying for laundry; there's only so many times you can handwash clothes in a bucket before they start walking off you). I also haven't looked in a mirror since I arrived here - not that I particularly miss that - but I think I have paint in my hair and on my face; although I suspect I won't be able to do much about this.

You can read more information about Samart School here, and if you would like to donate you can be sure that the funds are going to an excellent cause: http://eco-cambodia.wix.com/samart-school