Last November, I was in Cambodia for about three weeks doing work for the Savong Foundation which I created to help a community in the northern part of that country.
A few days before I made the long trip back home, I met a lady who was trying to make a business by selling
Cambodian pottery. She had a few samples
for me to look at and I was very impressed at the quality and care that had gone
into shaping each piece. Since I love to
drink coffee out of large mugs, I thought it would be perfect to have her make
a custom design for my morning caffeine ritual.
She was thrilled to have a new customer and I was excited about
taking home a souvenir from a country that I had grown to love over the past
couple of years. We sat down and I told
her everything that I wanted:
The size.
The shape.
The colour.
And I wanted Khmer writing all over it. I didn’t really care what the writing
said. I just wanted it to be covered in the
beautiful Cambodian script.
She smiled and nodded and took notes and I was convinced
that she understood everything that I said.
I asked her how much and she told me $20. It seemed a bit high (keep in mind that many
Cambodians make $50/month or less) but I was happy to support her fledgling
business. I was told that it would be
ready at least a day before I was scheduled to leave and we agreed on a time
and place for the pick-up. In my mind,
everything seemed very clear and simple.
A day before leaving, I contacted the woman because I had
not yet heard from her. Everything was
fine she said but the mug wasn’t ready.
She assured me that it would be ready before my flight. I was a little worried about this because I
had other last minute things to do besides picking up a souvenir but Cambodians
are such gracious and happy people, I told her that it wasn’t a problem and we
would meet the morning of my departure.
I couldn’t wait to see the mug. The delay only increased my excitement. On my previous trips, I had taken a few
souvenirs back with me but this was something I could use every morning and in
my mind’s eye, I saw exactly what it was going to look like.
At the agreed upon time, I anxiously awaited the woman’s
arrival. She was late but not by too
much time. After spending three weeks in
Cambodia, I was quite familiar with how fluid appointment times were and since
I was still on Cambodian time, it really didn’t bother me. She greeted with a huge smile and proudly pulled
four mugs out of a large shopping bag. I
took a look at each one.
None of them looked like what I had described to her. None of them.
I picked each one up.
There was no doubt that they were all beautiful. Handmade.
Rustic stain. And on the bottom
was a Khmer signature. They were large
but not the giant size that I had requested. I
was disappointed but the woman was beaming with a smile and in some weird way,
I felt like I couldn’t disappoint her.
“I’ll take this one” and picked up the one that had an
elephant head for a handle.
“Would you like to take all of them?”
Did you ever read those books when you were a kid that gave
you a choice at the end of the page? If
you chose one thing, it would send you off to a certain page and if you chose
something else, you would flip to a different page? The flow of the story would change depending
on your decisions so you could read the entire book a couple of times and have
several different versions.
I felt like there were several different ways I could answer
pottery lady and each answer would take me to a different outcome.
For example:
“You can take all your mugs and stick them where the sun don’t
shine!” Although this may have required
some Khmer translation, the emotion behind the words would have gotten my point
across.
Or
“Are you kidding me?
I gave you EXACT details on what I wanted for a mug and not only did you
NOT do what I wanted, you are trying to sell me FOUR mugs that cost as much as
a luxury meal in Los Angeles!”
Or
“Well, I’ll take one but it isn’t really what I wanted so I’ll
pay you $10 for it.”
Or
“They’re all so beautiful but I only need one. Here’s $20.
I wish you the best luck for your business.”
I chose the latter and handed over my money. She was thankful and she told me that she
hoped she would see me again when I returned to her country. I assured her that I would keep my eye out
for her—and buy my pottery somewhere else.
Actually, I only thought that last part. C'mon, I'm a polite Canadian.
Despite my crappy packing skills (I just throw everything in
and hope for the best), the mug managed to make its way across the Pacific in
one piece. I’m not sure if I was so
lucky but I was at least happy to stuff fast food down my gullet once again and
have a really long hot shower. You have
no idea how luxurious a hot shower is until you’ve been deprived for three
weeks.
Several days after arrival, I pulled my mug out of the
suitcase, cleaned it up and poured some steamy hot brew into it while I was
weeding through my morning emails.
Moments later, I noticed that the coffee that was supposed to be inside the container was now outside of it and dripping onto the floor. I snatched up the mug and lo and behold, the
beautiful souvenir that was supposed to be useful and meet my design
expectations was clearly leaking from a defective seam in the bottom.
The older I get the more patient I get. I think it’s from all those years working
with animals. I have learned that the
more upset I am, the worse it gets for me and anger really doesn’t improve a situation. Ten years ago, I probably would have thrown
the mug against the wall and stomped on all the pieces. Instead, I calmly emptied the remaining coffee into the
sink, rinsed out the residue, cleaned up my desk and poured some stain remover
onto the carpet. I dried the mug and
contemplated its fate. I wasn’t going to
throw it away; I paid $20 for the damn thing.
In the end, I stuck some pencils and pens in it and proclaimed it my Cambodian
homemade pencil and pen holder.
And actually, I kinda like it. It is far prettier than the hazy piece of glassware
that I used before and as a pencil and pen holder, it hasn’t disappointed me at
all.
Working in Cambodia is very much like the story of this
mug. The Cambodian people are wonderful
and NGOs (Non Governmental Organizations) such as The Savong Foundation want to
see them succeed. Yes, we can do lots of
planning to make everything perfect but everything seems to cost more and take
longer than what it should. And the end
result is usually not what was expected.
Should we be frustrated and angry and give up? Of course not because that doesn’t help
anyone. A better approach is to be
flexible, open and explore other possibilities within this unique culture and then
something good will usually happen. Therein lies the reward and everyone goes home
happy even if it means using a big Korean Starbucks mug for their morning brew.
The Savong Foundation is dedicated to helping the communities
of northern Cambodia. Please visit us at
our website www.savongfoundation.org
for more information.
