tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-64193532024-03-23T11:09:46.844-07:00Other side of dawnThe McCollum family's journeys abroad in service of Asia's HopeJohn McCollumhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14757876504958350010noreply@blogger.comBlogger476125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6419353.post-90084281494795000212011-03-31T10:57:00.000-07:002011-03-31T10:58:55.250-07:00BB2 kids Power of Your Love<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial, helvetica, clean, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; border-collapse: collapse; line-height: 15px; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; "><object width="425" height="344"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/OUdg9J8erKA?hl=en&fs=1"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/OUdg9J8erKA?hl=en&fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"></embed></object></span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial, helvetica, clean, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; border-collapse: collapse; line-height: 15px; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; "><br /></span></div>John McCollumhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14757876504958350010noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6419353.post-45647645317682636162009-05-03T09:10:00.001-07:002009-05-03T09:10:38.180-07:00No longer blogging here...<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times; "><div style="border-top-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-color: initial; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 3px; padding-right: 3px; padding-bottom: 3px; padding-left: 3px; width: auto; font: normal normal normal 100%/normal Georgia, serif; text-align: left; ">Hey, guys. I leave tomorrow for Asia, and I'll be blogging on an almost-daily basis at the <a href="http://www.asiashope.org/directors-blog">Asia's Hope web page</a>. Please follow my journeys so you can pray for me. Also feel free to pass the link around to as many people as you think would be interested. Thanks!</div></span>John McCollumhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14757876504958350010noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6419353.post-892737400427616122009-02-16T10:14:00.001-08:002009-02-16T10:14:52.002-08:00Sony's Medical ExpensesThanks to all of you who prayed this week for Sony, the wife of Asia's Hope Cambodia's national director, Savorn.<br /><br />As you might know, Sony was injured in an explosion during my last day in Cambodia, and was burned on her face, arms and chest. She is still recovering, and may require more extensive medical care, perhaps even in a country other than Cambodia.<br /><br />Asia's Hope has set up a fund to collect funds for Sony's ongoing medical expenses.<br /><br />You may donate to this fund by sending a check to:<br /><br />Asia's Hope<br />PMB 185<br />343 W. Milltown Road <br />Wooster, Ohio <br />44691 <br /><br />Make sure you put "Sony Medical" in the memo line of the check.<br /><br />Thank you, and God bless you.John McCollumhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14757876504958350010noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6419353.post-45882886546942963102009-02-10T13:40:00.000-08:002009-02-10T13:41:42.956-08:00I'm backI'm back, and I'm beat. The jetlag is killlliiing me.<br /><br />I will post an update and a wrapup after a while. For now, however, I'm going to go to bed...John McCollumhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14757876504958350010noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6419353.post-91415018959973854392009-02-07T15:36:00.000-08:002009-02-07T15:41:02.528-08:00Update on SonyThe explosion, it turns out, was caused by a large bouquet of hydrogen-filled party balloons (Until tonight, I never knew that Cambodians didn't use helium!).<br /><br />Sony's at the hospital -- Sherrod and Savorn spent the night with her, tending her burns. I haven't heard any news since last night, but first indications are that the worst burns are on her arms, and that while she might have some scarring, she's going to make an otherwise-complete recovery.<br /><br />Please keep praying for total healing, for comfort, and for management of the pain.John McCollumhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14757876504958350010noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6419353.post-54923648773926168902009-02-07T05:45:00.000-08:002009-02-07T05:46:06.920-08:00Please pray now.Hey, guys. Greetings from Cambodia.<br /><br />I need prayer for Sony, who is the wife of our national director, Savorn.<br /><br />I just left a wedding reception for one of our Cambodian friends, and while I was on the phone with a friend still at the reception, there was an electrical explosion, and Sony was injured. Apparently she has burns to her face, arms and chest. I don't know how bad it is.<br /><br />Please, please join me in praying for her. Thanks.John McCollumhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14757876504958350010noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6419353.post-83282818826937379952009-02-05T15:39:00.000-08:002009-02-05T16:14:08.034-08:00the tipping pointWell, it's arrived -- right on schedule.<br /><br />It happens every time I travel, and it happens just a few days before I leave.<br /><br />I suppose it's a tipping point of some sort; it's the time when I realize that, despite the fact that the kids at the orphan homes are fantastic, I need to be home with <span style="font-style:italic;">my</span> wife and kids.<div><br /></div><div>Sure, I've missed them from day one, but as day 20-something rolls around, the dull ache has become a stabbing pain (and I'm not talking about my colon -- that's a different tipping point...). I'm dreaming about them, I long for them while I'm driving or as I'm eating dinner. I miss them when I wake up, and when I go to sleep. You get the idea.</div><div><br /></div><div>Another sign that I've reached the tipping point is that I become more concerned about things at the office. I woke up at 3:30 this morning, thoughts of proposals and presentations, of logos and letterheads stampeding through my brain.</div><div><br /></div><div>Further evidence that <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">the time</span> has come is that I've run out of things to blog about. It's not that I've run out of exciting activities or valuable interactions. It's not as if the kids here are any less adorable or our staff less amazing, it's just that I can't seem to put my words together in any sort of cogent order. (Or is it order cogent?)</div><div><br /></div><div>We <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">have</span> had a great week. On Wednesday, we closed the school and took all of the kids to a "water park" (Unofficial slogan: <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">We put the 'Yum' in Bacterium!</span>) And yes, when I say "water park" I bracket the words with those little finger-air-quote things. Unlike the one in Phnom Penh -- which, in comparison, looks like <a href="http://www.schlitterbahn.com/nb/">Schlitterbahn</a> -- the Prek Eng water park is an algae-infested death trap. But boy, do the kids and staff love it.</div><div><br /></div><div>My <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/80053800@N00/3255402815/">pictures</a> of the park do it a great service; it's actually way grimier than the photos imply. Health and safety concerns aside, we had a blast. No one got hung by the loose rope dangling across the zip line, none of the kids were launched into orbit by the maliciously steep waterslide. And as far as I can tell, no one is suffering from burning, explosive diarrhea from accidental ingestion of the rancid water.</div><div><br /></div><div>We baptized about 50 kids, and then we partied all day long. We danced, we grilled eggs and we roasted marshmallows, celebrating our friendship and God's goodness until dark.</div><div><br /></div><div>So, it's not like I don't have anything to write about.</div><div><br /></div><div>But I am ready to come home. I leave Monday night (our time) and arrive Tuesday morning (Ohio time). I have a major client meeting 10am Wednesday. By then, I may wish I was back in Cambodia.</div>John McCollumhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14757876504958350010noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6419353.post-66618603578363379142009-02-03T08:43:00.001-08:002009-02-03T08:44:15.931-08:00Battambang in the morning<div style="float: right; margin-left: 10px; margin-bottom: 10px;"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/80053800@N00/3250034529/" title="photo sharing"><img src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3470/3250034529_5db6751df0_m.jpg" alt="" style="border: solid 2px #000000;" /></a><br /><span style="font-size: 0.9em; margin-top: 0px;"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/80053800@N00/3250034529/">Battambang in the morning</a><br />Originally uploaded by <a href="http://www.flickr.com/people/80053800@N00/">John McCollum</a></span></div>I'm posting this and about 100 other photos on Flickr. <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/80053800@N00/">Check them out...</a><br clear="all" />John McCollumhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14757876504958350010noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6419353.post-10996371274168405322009-02-02T04:55:00.000-08:002009-02-02T04:56:37.033-08:00Battambang bang bangWell, it’s Monday at 8:30 in the morning. The rest of the team is already on the bus returning to Phnom Penh, but I have some work left to do in Battambang. I haven’t yet photographed all the facilities, and I haven’t given quite enough hugs.<br /><br />Whooboy. Yesterday was a full day. <br /><br />I woke up at 4:30am to caterwauling monks from the local Wat. Every 7 days, starting on the first of the month, they engage in some sort of monk-y business that includes a high volume recital of some of the world’s worst music. Imagine Paula Abdul singing in Khmer, backed by an orchestra filled with first-year clarinetists. Play it backwards, turn the volume up past ’11,’ shift the pitch up half an octave, and add a chorus of angry, cymbal-banging bonobos in estrus. Play this ‘music’ about 40 yards from your hotel room window from 4:30am to 8:30am. This, my friend, has to be some violation of the Geneva Convention, right? I’m as liberal as the next guy, but I would consider advocating the admission of these monks to Guantanamo. Prisoners? Fine. Interrogators, even better. Trust me, they won’t need to break out the water boards.<br /><br />Unable to drown out track 9 from the “Welcome to Hell” orientation CD, I showered, got dressed and hit the town at about 5:40. It was still dark, but I decided to see what I could capture on my camera. I did a little “Waking up in Battambang” series, and I actually think that some of the pics are pretty cool.<br /><br />I returned to the Te.O Hotel at about 7am, and met the rest of the team for breakfast, poached eggs and French toast, for those keeping track.<br /><br />At about 8am we arrived for church at our main campus, which is currently home to the Battambang 1 orphan home. BB3 and BB4’s buildings are under construction on that property, and there’s room for another one at some time in the future. (We’re also hoping to raise about $14k to build an outdoor shelter large enough to accommodate all of the kids, all of the staff, neighbor, visitors and passers-through – a church building that could serve 300 people in one service.)<br /><br />Stepping into the main hall of BB1, our sanctuary for the morning, I was mobbed by about 30 kids, some of whom I recognized, some entirely new to me. “Hello, John! Hello, daddy John! How are you daddy? I miss you! Come sit with me! I miss you! I love you daddy!” The service itself was wonderful. Each of the five orphan homes performed songs and dances.<br /><br />As the kids from Battambang 1 danced to “That My Soul Knows Very Well,” ripples of emotions began to form in my feet and wash up through my body. At the line “When mountains fall, I’ll stand by the power of your hand, and in your heart of heart I’ll dwell, that my soul knows very well,” I almost broke loose into an audible sob; I just barely kept my composure.<br /><br />It won’t make sense to all of you, but a few years ago, many of those kids were taken from us in a scandalous abuse of power. We fought for them, our staff and directors risking imprisonment – and maybe worse – because of the promise we had made to those children when we first admitted them into our home: “You will always be safe, well fed and loved.” To see Visal, Uddom, Chanthea, Lihour, Pisey, Chhem, Samneang, Dina, Soktheuon and the rest of the kids from that group we rescued was too much. Too much joy, too much sorrow. It’s almost too much to write about…<br /><br />After church, we piled into cars, vans and rented flatbed trucks and headed about 40 miles out of town to the baptism site. I had to choose between an air-conditioned van filled with our team members and some staff and the bed of a truck lined with 2x4s and stuffed-to-overflowing with sweating, squirming kids. I chose the kids. I began to regret my decision only when we left the paved road. Yep, the last 30 or so miles were over dirt roads that had apparently been used at some time for bombing practice. And since it’s the dry season, we traveled – like some cut-rate analogue of the children of Israel’s journey out of Egypt – in a cloud of dust by day.<br /><br />As you can imagine, I arrived in a state that would not reach “sheveled” without a significant personal hygiene intervention. Remote, yet beautiful, we reached our site and disembarked. There were a series of hammock-strung cabanas along a brackish lake, whose far shore abutted a small range of lush, green mountains. My backbreaking transit aside, it was a very cool location.<br /><br />Dave, Savorn and I waded into the water as the children sang the Khmer version of “I Have Decided to Follow Jesus.” One by one the children stepped into the water, each one joined by their orphan home father, who performed their baptism. After being dipped, each child received hands-on prayer from Dave and I. The process went pretty quickly, and before long, all 28 baptisms had been performed. We sang a couple of songs as we returned to the cabanas to eat lunch.<br /><br />After lunch, the kids changed into their swimming clothes and walked down to a manmade creek that drains water off the lake. There was a fair amount of debris – mostly paper and plastic – but the water seemed pretty clean. I did not intend to get in, but the kids convinced me to do so.<br /><br />After swimming, I fell asleep in one of the hammocks. When it was time to head for the seat I’d reserved for myself in the van, the kids from Battambang 1 pleaded with me to ride with them. Sigh. Ooookay. The trip back was, for some reason, even worse than the trip there. I am so not built for that kind of travel. I weigh 3 times as much as those kids, and I’m certainly not as flexible or resilient as I used to be. But I made it.<br /><br />After dinner, I treated myself to a therapeutic back massage at “Seeing Hands Massage by Blind,” and I also underwent a rather uncomfortable, but effective fire cupping session. This morning, I feel – and look -- like I was beaten by a gang of cymbal-weilding buddhist bonobos. Good thing I’m staying an extra day. I can afford to sleep in. I may actually get out of bed in a few minutes and get this, along with about 100 pictures I’ve taken since arriving in Battambang, up on the internet. <br /><br />Well, wouldn’t you know it. The internet is broken in Battambang. Should be up by the afternoon. No big deal. I’ve got a lot to do today – I have some research projects for our microenterprise work and I’ve got some orphanages to visit. Peace.John McCollumhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14757876504958350010noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6419353.post-49946666642952724382009-01-31T05:06:00.001-08:002009-01-31T05:06:49.505-08:00BattambangIt’s Saturday, about 11:00 in the morning. We’ve been on the road since about 8am, and our bus is careening down a road somewhere between Phnom Penh and Battambang Cambodia. The road is much better than last year, and it’s in a completely different category – that of a road – than when I first started coming to this country. <br /><br />Back then, the road was unpaved, and more of a dirt trail than anything else. The trip between Cambodia’s two largest cities was nearly unnavigable, cratered and cracked like the surface of some other planet. The journey that will today take about five hours would, in those days, have taken closer to 20. So, instead of driving, we’d fly on an old Russian propjet and take a moto into the city.<br /><br />It’s dry season in Cambodia, and the difference between today’s sights and those of a rainy season trip are striking. The fields that stretch to the horizon on either side of the road aren’t flooded; you can see all ten feet of the stilts upon which the Khmer style houses are built. The cows are grazing aimlessly in the fields, not tied up by the roadside on a narrow, dry berm. The countryside is arid and dusty, not lush and verdant, but it’s still beautiful.<br /><br />Every time we pass a village, I see dozens of young students in uniform – blue shorts or skirts and white oxford-style shirts. It’s lunch hour, so the kids are heading home to grab a bite to eat. They walk, run and ride bikes. The lucky ones live close to the school, they’ll probably get lunch and a nap during their two-hour break.<br /><br />I also see a lot of kids working in the fields, working at construction sites, hauling debris, tending animals. For these kids, school is an impossible dream. Even if they could afford the books and the uniform, their families couldn’t afford to lose the meager income the kids produce.<br /><br />Perhaps some of these kids are orphans. Many of the kids in our orphan homes were forced by an uncle or grandparent to work from dawn to dusk at menial labor before they were finally determined to be unaffordable despite the dollar a day they generated. Those kids faced a double deficit: no parents and no education. A hard-knock life, indeed.<br /><br />At any rate, I’m happy to be heading to Battambang. Battambang is the site of our very first orphanage, and I’ll be seeing some our “original” Asia’s Hope kids. I’ll also be visiting a number of new orphan homes that have been completed since my October trip. I’ll also get to participate in the baptism of more than 50 of our kids and a handful of our staff. Savorn has been teaching baptism classes for the last couple of months, and has determined that they’re ready to take the plunge, so to speak.<br /><br />I’ll also be doing some work with the jewelry co-ops, delivering not only money to the women, but also supplies for the next order. I’m excited about this project, and interested in seeing where it leads. We certainly need to be developing jobs and markets for our kids as they graduate, and our partnership with Trade Justice Mission seems to be a great first step.<br /><br />Well, I’m getting sick of typing on the bus. I’ll post more when I get to Battambang.<br /><br />Okay. It’s 3:15, and I’ve been in Battambang for about an hour. I took a quick nap, and now I’m sitting in the restaurant on the ground floor of the Te.O Hotel, waiting for Savorn to arrive to discuss microenterprise plans with me. The restaurant, like everything else at the hotel, is simple, yet clean. I’m sitting near the entrance; the doors and windows are always open during business hours. The ceiling fans are providing a nice breeze.<br /><br />Okay. Savorn has arrived. We’ll chat for a while and then go to visit the orphan homes. <br /><br />Oh my. It’s 8:00pm. We’ve exhausted ourselves and probably the kids, and we had a great dinner at the Cold Night restaurant, so now it’s time for ice cream back at the Te.O. It’s been a long, but good day. Tomorrow we join all the kids for worship. I can’t wait…John McCollumhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14757876504958350010noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6419353.post-53538316277361239222009-01-29T11:54:00.000-08:002009-01-29T13:04:36.768-08:00Heaven and HellYes. I know. It's 3am, a ridiculous time to be blogging. But I just woke up from a very intense and very disturbing dream, wherein an American friend was shot by a Cambodian police officer in a case of mistaken identity. So I'm a bit rattled anyway.<br /><br />I'm not sure how to contextualize what I did yesterday, other than to say that I visited hell on earth. We were invited by a Cambodian friend to visit the type of place that none of us likes to imagine exists and meet the children the Cambodia has tried very hard to forget.<br /><br />I've been a lot of bad places in my life, and I've seen a lot of bad things, but the Stung Meanchey garbage dump has to be one of the worst. This gigantic, festering landfill is filled with spoiled food, medical waste, tattered clothing and filthy paper, and is home to hundreds of kids, who eke out a living in an environment so fetid the dogs won't even visit.<br /><br />Our tour of this modern-day Gehenna was facilitated by a French NGO that serves these destitute children in whichever way it can at its feeding center and school on the outskirts of the dump. There, early yesterday morning, we saw untold dozens of kids who, at first glance looked pretty much like every other Cambodian child, perhaps just a little squirrelier than average. The kids were relatively clean, having just bathed, and many were dressed in matching smocks or t-shirts. <br /><br />Upon closer inspection, though, these kids were covered with cuts and scratches, bruises and bumps, and their eyes were either wild with fear, or deadened by misery. After a shower and hot breakfast, most of these kids would change back into their own clothes and head out to the dump, where they would scavenge for hours under the hot Khmer sun, looking for anything of value that could be sold to the junk merchants who set up shop around the dump.<br /><br />Friends, Stung Meanchey dump is what the world looks like when Satan has his way, when the Devil himself is allowed to force God's image bearers to drink full strength the malevolent distillation of all of his contempt for the Creator. The NGO's compound -- founded and funded by a couple of French tourists who were shocked by what they saw -- is the front line in an epic battle between the Kingdom of God and the Kingdom of Evil, between Heaven and Hell.<br /><br />Inside the compound, I watched a pair of doctors examine and treat a couple dozen children, most of whom were no older than my daughter. Many of these kids had injuries for which I would hospitalize my child, horrid rashes and deep, open wounds which will almost certainly lead to permanent disfigurement -- or worse. <br /><br />One little girl sobbed inconsolably as the doctor changed the bandages on a cut on one of her toes, a gash that appeared to me to extend to the bone. In fact, this poor child's toe was nearly severed. After her morning with the NGO, she will return -- barefoot -- to a noxious landfill that I wouldn't have entered without the tall rubber boots lent to me by the aid workers.<br /><br />These kids' stories are so shocking that both Dave and I (who have pretty much heard some of the worst stuff there is to hear) were astonished. Nearly 100% of the children at the dump are severely abused by their parents on a daily basis. One girl reported having been stabbed by her father. Another's virginity -- and that of her three sisters -- was sold by her dad for 2,000 riel, less than fifty cents. Nearly every child had seen one of their friends killed by one of the dump's garbage trucks or bulldozers, and every one of them knew of a child who disappeared under the refuse, only to be found dead, bloated, dismembered days later.<br /><br />Despite my years of studying theology and missiology, I can't summon a satisfying answer as to why God's kingdom seems to be so far away in places like Stung Meanchey, but as Elie Weisel said after witnessing the incineration of bodies in a mass grave at a Nazi concentration camp, "Whatever you say about God, you should be able to say standing over a pit of burning babies."<br /><br />Standing ankle deep in filth, and in way over my head in human suffering, Jesus' words from the cross resonated more deeply than ever before, "My God. Why have you forsaken me?"<br /><br />Yet in the midst of all of this evil and injustice, there is at least a glimmer of hope. The Holy Spirit is moving, and is calling people -- some of who are not yet believers in Him -- to do his work among the "least of these." The kingdom of God is encroaching upon this hell on earth, and is taking a little bit of ground.<br /><br />The burning question I'm facing is, "What are we supposed to do about these kids?" Dave and John and Sherrod and I are praying about what role if any Asia's Hope should have in the lives of these children. The future is uncertain for the children of Stung Meanchey -- the government has announced that it will close the dump, and replace it with a modern, gated and guarded facility about 20 kilometers away. On one hand, I'm glad to hear that these kids will not be able to work in such deplorable conditions. On the other hand, I can't imagine what they will do to survive. Please join me in prayer.<br /><br />Last night, I visited our Prek Eng 1 and Prek Eng 4 orphan homes. I played basketball, I ate dinner, I taught songs. I hugged the kids a little tighter than before, and I lingered a while longer before leaving. <br /><br />I thank God for our kids and staff, and I thank God for all of you who make this ministry possible with your prayers and contributions. God bless you all.<br /><br />I think I'm going to <span style="font-style:italic;">try</span> to go to sleep.John McCollumhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14757876504958350010noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6419353.post-66014638865999341192009-01-27T16:59:00.001-08:002009-01-27T16:59:18.050-08:00Lots of new photos<div style="float: right; margin-left: 10px; margin-bottom: 10px;"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/80053800@N00/3232037092/" title="photo sharing"><img src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3091/3232037092_0b3802957f_m.jpg" alt="" style="border: solid 2px #000000;" /></a><br /><span style="font-size: 0.9em; margin-top: 0px;"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/80053800@N00/3232037092/">Songs at Prek Eng 2</a><br />Originally uploaded by <a href="http://www.flickr.com/people/80053800@N00/">John McCollum</a></span></div>Lots of new photos. Click on the picture of Metha to see more!<br clear="all" />John McCollumhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14757876504958350010noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6419353.post-11220606557902532112009-01-27T16:57:00.001-08:002009-01-27T16:57:57.569-08:00New photos!Check out <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/80053800@N00/sets/72157613012739795">new photos</a>. And spread the word about this blog!John McCollumhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14757876504958350010noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6419353.post-91769213012626968662009-01-27T00:26:00.001-08:002009-01-27T00:26:26.691-08:00I love this countryAs is pretty typical, I was the first one out of bed this morning. I got up shortly after dawn – about 6am – and headed out into the city.<br /><br />My first stop was soup restaurant across from a mosque not far from our guest house. The shop is run by a Cham family who escaped Cambodia for France in the early 70s just as things were getting dicey with the Khmer Rouge. They got out just in time, as the Cham – Muslim minorities who live in Vietnam and Cambodia – received special “attention” by the murderous Cambodian Communist regime.<br /><br />The restaurant serves a mean bowl of pho bo, or Vietnamese beef noodle soup. The version I had this morning differs slightly from what one would find on the streets of Hanoi, but it was just as delicious. Clearly the cook took time to do it right, simmering the beef bones for hours and hours to evince the subtly round meatiness that can’t be rushed and can’t be faked with MSG. I also ordered two cups of dense and sweet café sua, or Vietnamese coffee.<br /><br />At breakfast, I shared one of the long, communal tables with a bunch of Cham Muslim men, and struck up a conversation with a guy named (go figure) Muhammed. His English was nearly perfect, and he told me that he had lived in Sacramento for a time. He complimented me on my Khmer (again, Cambodians love to exaggerate when making kind comments), and we chatted. He invited me to visit the mosque some day, and I promised I would.<br /><br />Can I say it again? I love this country. After breakfast, I hailed a mototaxi and rode down to Psar Tuol Tom Poung (also called Russian Market), and I bought some fresh dragon fruit and pineapple. As my motodop weaved in and out of traffic, my affection for this country swelled. The people. The food. The life. <br /><br />I’m heading off now to get some shirts made and then to the school. I’ll also go to the orphan homes. I hope to spend the rest of the evening out there, and post this along with any photos I took later today.<br /><br />Peace.<br /><br />...I’m back. It’s 3:18 in the afternoon. The tailor shop was closed for Chinese New Year, and will reopen tomorrow. The school was great. When I arrived, the kids went nuts. I could barely get out of the truck, and when I did finally get out, I couldn’t move for the throngs of children. Many were kids I’ve known and loved for years. But there were also many, many new faces, mostly from Prek Eng 4, which has opened since my last trip here.<br /><br />I worked with some 5th graders on their English pronunciation – X, SH and F sounds are very difficult for Cambodians to say. I also taught a couple of songs, and then ate lunch with the staff. After the kids went down for their post-lunch nap, I went with Savorn to Prek Eng 1, where I ate another lunch with his wife and with Sopang and his wife.<br /><br />Both lunches were great. I found especially intriguing the quails, which were pregnant when they were killed. They grilled the birds with the eggs inside intact – we broke open the eggsac and ate the (thankfully unfertilized) eggs. A bit odd, but tasty.<br /><br />Now I’m heading back to visit all four of the orphan homes in rapid succession, and this time I’m bringing the team. I’ll try to post photos soon.<br /><br />Did I mention that I love this country?John McCollumhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14757876504958350010noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6419353.post-51363801685293193752009-01-26T06:58:00.000-08:002009-02-03T07:33:48.176-08:00"Home"It's good to be "home."<br /><br />I love Thailand. I love the kids there. I love our staff. But there's something about Cambodia that feels like home.<br /><br />I left Chiang Mai at about 3pm, flew to Bangkok, and arrived in Phnom Penh at about 8pm. After deplaning, I trudged through immigration, customs and the visa counter. I picked up my luggage and headed out the front door of the airport.<br /><br />I didn't know if anyone would be there to meet me -- I had told John Campbell, whose arrival had preceded mine by about an hour, to go on to the guest house without me, and that I could take a taxi. Nevertheless, I was greeted warmly by Savorn, Sony, Narin, Daniel, Ravi, Sopang, Narun and Savong. <br /><br />"Oh, brother John! So good to see you. We miss you and all the kids are very excited to see you tomorrow! You are still so very handsome (Cambodians are renowned for their exaggeration in compliments...)" <br /><br />After hugs and handshakes the men quickly took my bags and loaded them into the back of the truck. Savorn drove me back to the guest house with Sony, Savong and Ravi. The rest followed us back in the van. As we drove through the streets, I rolled down the window to breathe in the signature smell of the city at night -- roasting chickens, diesel fuel, dust, burning debris -- and I smiled. <br /><br />"Ah, I really feel like Phnom Penh is a home for me."<br /><br />"Oh, thank you very much. We are so glad to have you back."<br /><br />When we arrived at the guest house, my friends came in, helped me with my bags and left. They had taken time away from their families and some of them had driven a good 45 minutes. Just to make me feel welcome. Just to drive me home from the airport.<br /><br />I love these guys. I love this place, and I can't want to see the kids I love. I'll send pictures as soon as I can, probably by this time tomorrow. <br /><br />Peace to all of you. Thanks for making this ministry possible.John McCollumhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14757876504958350010noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6419353.post-72318086723417166532009-01-25T04:17:00.001-08:002009-01-25T04:18:43.853-08:00Sunday school at DS1<div style="float: right; margin-left: 10px; margin-bottom: 10px;"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/80053800@N00/3224492263/" title="photo sharing"><img src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3422/3224492263_2cbd121907_m.jpg" alt="" style="border: solid 2px #000000;" /></a><br /><span style="font-size: 0.9em; margin-top: 0px;"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/80053800@N00/3224492263/">Sunday school at DS1</a><br />Originally uploaded by <a href="http://www.flickr.com/people/80053800@N00/">John McCollum</a></span></div>I've posted two new photo sets. Check them out!<br /><br /><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/80053800@N00/sets/72157612966338722/">Set one<</a>br /><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/80053800@N00/sets/72157612967139736/">Set two</a><br clear="all" />John McCollumhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14757876504958350010noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6419353.post-24618583068992878952009-01-24T16:28:00.000-08:002009-01-24T16:41:38.161-08:00One week inIt's Sunday morning, and I'm getting ready for church. I miss my home church, but there's nothing quite like having church with the orphans. This Sunday, I'm back at <a href="http://www.asiashope.org/doi-saket-1/">Doi Saket 1 orphan home</a>. The kids there will be joined by the children from Doi Saket 2 and 3.<br /><br />There's nothing quite like hearing these kids sing. Dozens of kids, representing a multitude of ethnicities -- all singing joyfully to God at the tops of their voices. The experience transcends language and cultural barriers. It's very good for my soul, and it's exactly what I need today.<br /><br />As you can probably infer from my infrequent posts, I haven't had as much time on this trip to just hang out with the kids. Moving an organization from 4 orphanages to 14 in a year necessitates a lot of planning, a lot of policy introduction and review and a <span style="font-style:italic;">lot</span> of meetings. The work we've been doing is essential, but I'd always rather be out kicking a soccer ball with a bunch of kids than kicking around the finer points of policy with a bunch of staff. This having been said, all of the hard work we do on the "policy and practice" end makes live better for our staff and kids, so I'm happy to do it.<br /><br />Tomorrow I leave for Cambodia. I will be busy in Cambodia, but not as busy as I was in Cambodia. I hope.<br /><br />I also hope to post more photos and stories. We'll see. Don't go away quite yet...John McCollumhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14757876504958350010noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6419353.post-78129201769895242412009-01-22T06:02:00.001-08:002009-01-22T06:05:01.834-08:00Work, work, work.Sorry I haven't been blogging much. Over the last two days, I've had 19 hours of meetings. Tomorrow? At least 8 more hours. So much for the life of glamor and leisure you might have assumed from my previous posts.<br /><br />Going to bed now.John McCollumhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14757876504958350010noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6419353.post-87869739966726937382009-01-19T19:25:00.001-08:002009-01-19T19:26:20.137-08:00Armed attackers at Doi Saket 2<div style="float: right; margin-left: 10px; margin-bottom: 10px;"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/80053800@N00/3209820318/" title="photo sharing"><img src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3091/3209820318_e49ea35ac6_m.jpg" alt="" style="border: solid 2px #000000;" /></a><br /><span style="font-size: 0.9em; margin-top: 0px;"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/80053800@N00/3209820318/">Armed attackers at Doi Saket 2</a><br />Originally uploaded by <a href="http://www.flickr.com/people/80053800@N00/">John McCollum</a></span></div>I've posted some more photos. Another blog post will come soon, but for now, enjoy <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/80053800@N00/sets/72157612698997279/">these</a>.<br clear="all" />John McCollumhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14757876504958350010noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6419353.post-54523638024416403692009-01-18T15:48:00.000-08:002009-01-18T16:14:52.711-08:00A new dayIt's 6:50am and the sun is working its way up over the hills of Chiang Mai. Thanks to what seems to be a global cold snap, it's actually a chilly 55 degrees. The houses here aren't equipped with heaters, so I had to put on another blanket last night.<br /><br />I'm sitting at the dining room table of a well appointed house that, from a glance out the window, could be in a subdivision somewhere in Florida. There are palm trees, flowers and a couple dozen moderately-upscale-yet-nondescript tan and white stucco houses with spanish tile roofs. I've just chatted with my wife via Skype video, and I'm uploading digital photos while blogging. <br /><br />I'm not exactly roughing it.<br /><br />The guesthouse was pretty much a necessity. it's conveniently located, about half way between Chiang Mai city and our three orphan homes in Doi Saket. We bring sufficient numbers of guests to visit that we needed a place to house them all, and this is cheaper and less complicated logistically than getting hotel rooms for everyone in the city. It's all very nice.<br /><br />I do, however, miss the hustle and the bustle of Chiang Mai itself. Sure, I'll get down there a number of times over the next week or so, but home base is basically in a suburb that could pass for Southern California. <br /><br />This all having been said, it's not like I'm going to be spending much time here. Drive 10 minutes to the north, and the conditions become quite rural. Drive 30 minutes to the north, and you're entering the hill tribe areas. Some villages operate pretty much like they did 200 -- maybe even 500 -- years ago: handmade tools, handwoven clothes and subsistence agriculture. All of our kids come from these hill tribes.<br /><br />Lisu, Lahu, Akha, Hmong, Karen, Poh Karen -- these transnational tribal groups have lived for hundreds of years in the hills of Thailand, Vietnam, Burma, Laos and Cambodia. They've always been viewed as "suspect" by the national governments, and have been oppressed and exploited by whomever happened to be in power. Their orphan children have no access to decent education or healthcare, and are often tricked into working as slaves in factories or brothels.<br /><br />At our five orphan homes in Thailand, hill tribe orphans are given loving homes and are encouraged to maintain their tribal heritage, language and village contacts. At the same time, they're given the advantage of learning Thai and English, as well as the life skills they'll need to succeed as minority kids in a country wracked with social inequalities, class warfare, racism and xenophobia.<br /><br />I love these kids. I love this ministry. And I love all of you for making this possible.<br /><br />Check out <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/80053800@N00/sets/72157612677344961/">some of the new pics.</a> I'll post more as often as I can. The next few days are going to be very busy -- I have lots of staff meetings, training and strategy sessions -- but I will try to keep in touch.John McCollumhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14757876504958350010noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6419353.post-32385065872690994832009-01-17T20:25:00.001-08:002009-01-17T20:37:51.496-08:00Cool and comfyIt's a beautiful Sunday morning at the Doi Saket 1 orphan home 30 miles north of Chiang Mai, Thailand.<br /><br />The weather here is beautiful -- I'd guess around 75 degrees -- and it's good to be back. To be honest, I wasn't really looking forward to this trip. I have so much to do at home and at work, it seemed very inconvenient timing. But now that I'm here, I know I'm in the right place at the right time.<br /><br />When I arrived at the orphan home this morning, I was greeted by Atapa, Witawat and Bui, three boys with whom I have become close throughout the years. They grabbed onto my hands and wouldn't let me go. Shortly after arriving, the bell rang, summoning all the kids to church. Bui made a space for me next to him in the chapel, and the singing and praying began. <br /><br />We were joined by the kids from Doi Saket 2 and 3, and though there are dozens of kids I've never met, I feel the same responsibility and love for each of them -- even the ones I frighten with my horrific white visage.<br /><br />Many of the kids dress in outfits representing their tribal and ethnic origin -- Hmong, Lisu, Lahu, Karen and more. Right now, a little boy in a red Karen blouse is trying hard to get my attention with silly faces and winks.<br /><br />Now I've taken a seat on the porch of our learning center, where the young elementary age students are having Sunday school. My presence here with a computer is causing a bit of distraction, so I should probably go...<br /><br />I miss you all, but I'm glad I'm here. I'll try to blog and post pictures, and I'll try to be available via Skype. john_mccollum is my Skype name -- look me up and you may catch me.<br /><br />PeaceJohn McCollumhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14757876504958350010noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6419353.post-72819846735817632502009-01-17T15:57:00.000-08:002009-01-17T16:09:40.081-08:00The Lord's DayWell, yesterday -- and much of the day before -- was spent on planes or in airports, Mechanically, the flights were uneventful. In fact, I was able to sleep quite a bit, thanks to the wonders of modern pharmaceuticals.<br /><br />My traveling companion, Dr. John Campbell, had a much more memorable journey. On both of our long haul portions of the site, thee was a medical emergency call to which he responded. The first guy had gone into insulin shock and the second guy had some kind of cardiac arrest. According to John, commercial airlines are not at all well equipped for medical emergencies. It seems he managed in spite of the equipment shortages and language barriers, and both men survived.<br /><br />Me? I feel kind of satisfied that I got a couple of hours of sleep. Our team arrived here at the guest house around 1:30am. It's 7am, and I need to leave for church at 8ish. I sure hope I'm not preaching.<br /><br />Anyway, I think I'm doing pretty well. I'm probably going to be worn out by noon. I begin working in earnest on the projects that brought me here on Monday morning.<br /><br />Peace to you all. Pray for me and be kind to my family.John McCollumhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14757876504958350010noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6419353.post-10811967124257073072009-01-15T05:35:00.001-08:002009-01-15T05:38:07.830-08:00T-minus 21 hoursWell, by this time tomorrow, my journey will be underway. I fly from Cbus to Atlanta, from Atlanta to Seoul (a mind- and bum-numbing 15 hour flight) and from Seoul to Chiang Mai.<br /><br />If you add this blog to your RSS feeds, your feed reader will notify you when I've posted.<br /><br />As always, pray for me and for my family who will be left dad-less for a few weeks.<br /><br />Peace.John McCollumhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14757876504958350010noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6419353.post-72301406689282749482008-08-01T02:53:00.000-07:002008-08-01T03:12:45.622-07:00Wrap upWell, we finally made it home. I'm jetlagged and a little overwhelmed, but I'm grateful for both my life here in Columbus and my life in Asia. <br /><br />I've been doing mostly family stuff, and I've only stopped in the office briefly to sign papers and greet my co-workers. They've done a great job in my absence, and make all of this possible.<br /><br />My traveling companions were also fantastic. No drama, no ingratitude, no major freakouts. They demonstrated their love for the kids and staff, for each other and for me. Planning and executing these trips is hard work, but it's much easier and much more fun with teams like the one I took this year. Thanks, guys!<br /><br />I know I didn't blog much from Thailand; I hope you have been <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/80053800@N00/">keeping <span style="font-style:italic;">track of my photoblog</span> --</a> it gives a better picture of what's going on in Thailand than I was able to manage.<br /><br />In short, our work in Thailand is amazing. It's incredible to think that over just a couple of years, our property at Doi Saket 1 has gone from a few bamboo huts to a modern campus serving 90 kids. I'm also amazed that God has given us the responsibility for two new orphan homes and a farm that serves widows.<br /><br />It's so clear to me that all of this is due to God's grace and our staff's hard work. Sure, Asia's Hope's board in North America provides funds and logistical structure, but what you see on the ground is a direct result of indigenous efforts and indigenous leadership.<br /><br />The same, of course, can be said of our ministries in Cambodia. I suppose Satan could take all of this success and tempt us to stand, like Nebuchadnezzar and say, "Look at all my hands have created." But right now, the craziness of that notion is pretty evident to me. My current reaction is, "Wow, God. You're amazing. Are you sure we're the right guys to steward this stuff? I mean, we're not complaining, but, wow. You're really too good to us. Really!"<br /><br />In fact, each time I return from one of these trips, I'm less proud and more intimidated. There's so much work ahead. There are so many potential pitfalls. So many unanswered questions. So many empty accounts and unpayable bills. If I thought that the success of Asia's Hope depended on me, I'd be one seriously depressed dude. I thank God that he is in charge of this thing, guiding our paths as we acknowledge his kingship and his goodness.John McCollumhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14757876504958350010noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6419353.post-4696208681267092462008-07-30T03:26:00.000-07:002008-07-30T03:35:03.690-07:00If I lived here, I'd be home nowWell, our 3 hour layover in LA is turning in to a 13 hour layover. Which means that we're missing our connection in Chicago by about 7 hours, and we'll be arriving home in Columbus at around 5:30pm, not 10am.<br /><br />I'm thankful that my team members were among the most patient and gracious in the terminal. Not everyone on our flight treated the airline employees with dignity. I considered throwing a hissy fit -- rolling around the floor wailing and gnashing, and then turning to the irate passengers and saying, "You see, that didn't do ME any good EITHER," but I figured my contribution was unnecessary.<br /><br />To be sure, I'm exhausted and disappointed and probably a little stinky, but like my team members, I'm working to get a little sleep and chalk this portion of the trip up to 'another crazy experience.'<br /><br />My patience in this situation, however, just BARELY covers the loudspeaker announcements that remind us (every two minutes in English and Spanish at 110 decibels) to not leave any luggage unaccompanied, and to take note of the TSA's new regulations about taking certain items on airplanes. THAT I could do without.<br /><br />Checking out at 3:30am LA time. Peace.John McCollumhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14757876504958350010noreply@blogger.com0