Apparently malaria pills are the #1 untapped drug by people all over the world. One little, blue pill each night not only keeps you from dying of malaria, but it also turns you into a superhero as soon as you close your eyes. Last night I was invincible. All of my superhero friends became my enemies and, as SuperJuJu, I defeated them all. I could fly, become invisible, eat and not get fat. That's right. All this from one little, blue pill.
Last night's dreams were a much needed lift after yesterday's events at the hospital. I barely made it home on my squeaky bicycle. And not just because I got lost on the way. I had become so tired from sitting in the same position all day tracing pictures out of coloring books for the children to draw (by the way, I found out that I'm a bad tracer-that's right-a bad tracer), my little feet would barely move. And then the rain came. It was the second time that day I had been on my bike and gotten caught in the Cambodian rain. Finally, I made it home, but was too discouraged to do much of anything. I just don't understand how this is therapy for anyone, least of all, the kids. I hope I can change some things around here. But for now, I am the new girl from the US who can't speak Khmer and can't trace a picture.
Today a little girl finally got up the nerve to start drawing on her own from a blank sheet of paper. It was beautiful. I didn't care what it was. It was hers. And then when she finished, she looked at it, crumbled it up into a ball, and shoved it under her foot. She thought it was ugly. I unfolded it and in my best hand gestures, tried to let her know that if she didn't want it, I wanted it. She put it with her other pictures (ones that I had traced and she colored in) and took it home. I need to learn Khmer and I need to do it quickly.
