WalkTHISWay |
I walk the path-less-traveled and I write down what I see. Maybe our paths will cross one day. Who knows? |
One of the first things a loving mother teaches her child is to come in from the rain. It’s instinctive for a parent, it’s for their own good, they reason, they might catch a cold, get pneumonia or worse. So they teach a child to always bring an umbrella and avoid getting wet.
I was a good kid, so I can only count with one hand the number of times I actually got wet because of the rain. Most of them happened because it caught me completely by surprise. I was the type that always brought an umbrella or an extra jacket during the rainy season. Or if I’m caught unawares, I would huddle up and wait for the rain to pass in a covered area.
I have only one good memory of running around, playing in the rain. I was already a teenager and it happened at the prodding of a cousin who told me that I should live a little and stop being such a bookworm. (Well, I got sick and was reprimanded after that, but that’s another story).
I’m an adult now. And I’ve been drenched thrice since I came to Cambodia. Three times in three months. The first time was when we were on our way to a provincial prison, carrying food for the vulnerable individuals inside. I was riding on the back of the motorbike when a rainstorm happened and so I bunched up, cursed my luck and the uselessness of the umbrella I brought while traveling at fast speed.
The second time was when I was driving myself and a fellow volunteer from Korea, again on a motorbike, after having come from a nearby farm to ‘document’ (more like poke fun at, actually) the students from our center who were farming (their ‘community work’).
The third time happened just the other day when I was on a motodop in Pnom Penh, heading to the head office for my friend’s farewell party. She was leaving to go back to the Philippines for good and I had mixed feelings because I myself had just come from the Embassy to register myself, in anticipation of my long stay. I felt like I’m losing my family here. So when it rained, I looked up at the sky and remembered my country and the people that were waiting for me back there.
And of course, I thought of my parents who had always told me to come in from the rain, and to take care of myself, now that they were no longer around to make sure that I do so. I thought about what they would say if they were to find out that I’m getting drenched in a faraway city and that I could do nothing about it but to accept it as a fact of life. I’ve realized many “facts of life” while here. I’ve also gotten to know myself a bit better. I realize that I like living closer to nature. I’ve come to terms with the fact that my legs are a constant patchwork of insect bites, that even the strongest sunblock cannot prevent my skin from changing to a deep shade of honey, or that dust CAN and WILL get positively everywhere, no matter how much you cover up.
And when it rains, you get wet.
I’m not planning to abandon my umbrella somewhere and never look back. But yeah, I’ve realized that sometimes, the cold and the sniffles you get from getting drenched, well…
Sometimes, it’s worth it. :)
