A man pushed a gate open as our van pulled inside the entrance to the Phnom Penh Bible School. There was a brick pavilion on the left that was neatly lined with picnic tables. Bright yellow buildings formed a U shape around a quad —a volleyball net in the center. Each building was open. Instead of walking through a main door to a building and having to navigate the halls from inside, the hallways were outside with the sun reflecting off the tile floors.
As I stepped out of the van into the warm sunlight, I had a flashback to Philadelphia. I pictured trekking across Germantown Avenue in ten feet of snow: my face bundled in a scarf.
And I thought: I can totally transfer here.
We were greeted by Anna: the registrar for the Bible school. We sat at a large wooden table and listened to how Phnom Penh Bible School was the first Bible school to open after the signing of the Paris Peace Agreement on October 23, 1991. This agreement allowed Cambodia to have freedom of religion; therefore, the Phnom Penh Bible School was officially recognized by the government in 1992.
We had the opportunity to sit in on a class that was not spoken in English. We sat in a line in the back of the classroom observing how the teacher and students interacted with one another. The students did not bat an eye as a gecko walked up the yellow wall. There were no laptops, just graph paper that each student wrote notes on.
At first, it thought this classroom couldn’t be any different than LTSP; however, I quickly saw how similar it was. The students and professor laughed together, asked each other questions, and were engaged with one another. They were a community.
We had the opportunity to worship with the students and faculty of the school. The chapel was open as well with birds chirping and flying around the chapel during the service. Two students lead the community in song with the accompaniment of two guitars, a keyboard, and drums.
I did not understand the words, but I appreciated the beauty of the student’s voices. As the second song started to play, I immediately recognized the tune to “How Great Thou Art.” The students and faculty of the Phnom Penh Bible School sang in Khmer, we sang in English. Our voices swirled in unison and starkly contrasted one another beautifully.
After chapel, we had the opportunity to eat with the students. As I sat at a table, I was greeted with a warm smile and quickly started to get to know the girl sitting next to me. We would ask one another questions, often stumbling to understand one another. As we got to know one another, we learned that our live couldn’t be more different.
She was 21. I am 24.
She has six siblings. I am an only child. She commented that my parents must be able to show me a lot of love, while I was amazed by the idea of living with six siblings.
She has a best friend she referred to as her sister. I have a best friend who I refer to as “my BFF.”
She was wearing a long skirt and a long sleeve shirt with gem buttons as I had sweat beads on my forehead even though I was wearing a short sleeve shirt and skirt. She told me how she likes it when it’s warmer, but that was about as warm as I would ever like to be.
She went to church for the first time in order to learn English. I went to church because my Dad took me each week for as long as I can remember.
Her parents do not believe in God, and this is a source of pain for her. It’s a source of tension in her relationship with her parents. She goes home each weekend, and often her parents ask her to stay home rather than going back to Bible school.
However, despite our differences, we were similar. In that moment, we were able to connect with one another and learn from one another.
As I sat down in the van and it started to pull away, I was struck by the beautiful silliness of the world. She and I live on opposite ends of the world, in completely different cultures, and yet we are connected to one another—we can grow together even if it was for that short lunch. - Joanna
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