Sunday, April 28, 2019

I Do Not Want to Sleep in the Forest on Banana Leaves

Part I - Two-Wheeled Cayon Tractor
I wasn’t quite expecting for nightfall to come and the day to end like it was.  My knees were crying for relief after over almost 2 hours of hiking in the dark. The harsh uneven terrain of the trail was sprinkled with mud holes, large protruding tree roots, and jagged rocks.  Our small medical team was desperately trying to make it the next closest wooden-stilted house from where we had been stranded deep in the Cambodian forest near the Vietnam border. The front axle of our South African host’s truck had broken, leaving us stranded on a path that was only meant for motorcycles and small tractors. We had run out of water and our last meal had been lunch.
Front Axle Broken
Earlier, about mid-morning after we had abandoned the truck, we decided to hike the remaining 30-minute path to our original planned destination. We carried a gym bag of pharmaceuticals, reading glasses, toothbrushes and Khmer Christian literature. We were heading to meet a family at their wooden stilted house. They were the only Christian family in the region. Our South African host had arranged for us to run a small clinic at their home and invite their Buddhist neighbors to come.
The family hosted us for lunch that included rice, fried fish heads, omelets, and canned tuna in tomato sauce. After lunch, we ran the health clinic under a wooden covering. Mid-afternoon we finished the clinic and wandered back to the truck that was now perched up on its side on a giant log (photo left).  


Part II - I am NOT a princess!

Our South African host had fetched a mechanic from the nearest village (photo: left). I peered from a distance as the mechanic attempted to repair the axle with a welding torch. It was not looking hopeful. It was about one hour until sundown and a 3rd attempt by the mechanic to fix it. Our medical team decided to hike to the next wooden-stilted house in hopes of hiring a Khmer two-wheeled cayon tractor to carry us back where we had left our second vehicle.
I had felt proud of myself up to this point. I had been sleeping in a hammock at night, falling asleep to the sweet sound of giant rats gnawing on wooden planks. I was the only female and eldest on the medical team. My pride surfaced, making  every attempt not to be perceived as “a princess”. Our toilet in the evening was an outhouse with a bucket of water for bathing. Unfortunately, I was way too tall compared to the average Cambodian woman and the top of the door of the wooden outhouse met belly height. Therefore, squat bathing had become a new technical skill I acquired on this trip.
Hammock Style Sleeping
During the clinic day, I had adopted the perfect hiding spot in the field behind our host’s home that was absent of an outhouse. I had decided that it had been about 35 years since I had peed in the woods. I was hoping the Cambodian farmer in the adjacent field wouldn’t notice the glare of a white woman squatting, naked from the waist down.
Did I mention the bees?  I jumped out of the truck earlier that mid-morning when the axle broke on the truck. Our South African host barked at us when the truck had come to a complete halt “Get out! Get out!” Hastily exiting the truck,  I became pinned between the truck door and a solid wall of brush. All a sudden, my right bum lit up on fire! I had stuck my butt into a bee hive when I exited the truck! I gave up at that very moment on the attempt to NOT be a “princess”. I screamed at the top of my lungs that blood curdling female yell that gives men a reason not to take princess women on camping ventures. My reputation quickly recovered when most of the remaining team members shared in my surprise.


Part III- Is this Suppose to be An Adventure or Lesson Learned?

I had volunteered to join this small short-term medical team for a medical outreach in a remote village.  We were going off the grid so to speak into a region that had no electricity, running water, or cell phone coverage. Now we were hiking out of the forest, tracking our truck’s tire tracks from earlier that day by cell phone light. Randomly we had to stop and investigate which trail our tire tracks originated from earlier in the day to determine our next direction. While hiking, I had a serious discussion with God, “What am I doing here? What difference does it make to go through all this just for 15 people? People who are younger than me should be doing this! I am hungry, thirsty, and in pain. I do not want to sleep in a forest on banana leaves!”
I was coming to a very stark realization. First, we underestimated the distance to the stilted-house with the cayon tractor. Second, we had no water. Third, my knees were starting to become very painful, and I was not sure if I was going to make the remaining hike. I had asked about 10 minutes earlier if anyone had any water so I could take some pain medicine for my knees - none.   I hated my weakness in this moment.
Medical Outreach Northern Cambodia, Vietnam Border
It was about that moment that I heard Tim, another teammate, yell from the front of our hiking line.  “Look! Look what I found!” In the middle of this Cambodian forest in the dark, Tim found a fresh unopened bottle of water lying on the ground in the middle of our trail. My team generously gave the water to me.  When we are weak, He is strong and meets our needs no matter how little they may be. God gave me fresh water to fill my thirst!
Funny enough, about 15 minutes later, there came a bright light that shone from behind us on the trail.  The mechanic had finally successfully welded the axle, and our host was rescuing us! We piled in the truck, my knees were thanking me, and I stopped to reflect on the day’s events. The day was both an adventure and a lesson learned. The 15 people we served at our clinic that day fulfilled His purpose. God knew my limitations and met me there. My faith was strengthened that day through an adventure and a lesson learned.


                                                                                                                                              Tricia