West best, East least?

I have gone through the greater part of my education learning about globalization, the (negative) effects that Western politics and economics have on the rest of the world, and also to respect the ways in which other cultures live. I had always based critiques under the assumption that Western culture was not superior or more effective. Perhaps the sympathies I felt for the two-thirds world of poverty led way to an unexperienced bias.

Now having lived for a month in one of the poorest countries in Southeast Asia, I am beginning to form a different sort of critique - and, it is disconcerting. I had not known that I was to begin a new discovery until very recently when we took a trip to another district. The unpaved roads meant that an easy 30 minute ride became a 2-hour turbulent venture.

Some roads out here, the only ones to take you to where you need to go, are ridiculously bumpy. I sat at the back row of a truck (an old truck with small wooden planks as seats), gripping onto the metal frame of the vehicle as my body was banged around. I thought how this might have seemed like a grand adventure. Sure, we were in the beautiful countryside of Cambodia, though at a closer look, one could see how this particular dry season has formed deep fissures in the soil all across the land. Some areas made it seem like we were out in the desert.

I began to think, just perhaps... unpaved roads and dirt paths are not signs of wild, romantic adventure. They certainly could be for the backpackers that have been able to afford to be unemployed at great lengths of time to come and explore the under-developed world. (Or university students like myself.) But here, for the daily reality of Cambodians, these are the signs of their poverty. Foreigners can always find the romance and exoticism of the places they travel to but so much of the world that has yet to become "Western" are not just merely preserved in the sanctity of their traditions and cultures. The hand that controls the sustainability of poverty goes deeper.

At first, I wanted to accept the way things were here. Accept the unpaved roads. Accept the lack of refrigeration. Accept not having a sink. Accept being dirty. I thought, yes, this is what it means for me to be on my GLT. This is how I should learn to live and that this might just be a better of living. A month later, I don't feel the same way. Of course the effects of Westernization has brought on a new world. At the same time, do certain upgrades in technology and sanitation practices really have to be distinguished as something Western?

I wasn't sure if I should feel bad for wanting Cambodia to become more developed. At this point, any guilt has subsided. I want the damn corrupt government to create a garbage system. No one here should accept having to toss all their garbage on the ground and then have to burn the heaps of it later. The stench, the trash and the smoke are infuriating. It is everywhere. It fills the streets.

I came to learn about a different way of living, only this way of living has made me sick and thrashed for the past month. Though I continue to battle obstacles of the flesh, I have realized that I want so much more for this country. Whether the thought began out of selfish desire to alleviate discomfort, I do believe that people here deserve a better standard of living. A clean one, a safe one. Western, Eastern; it is no longer about geographical distinctions. People should have clean water to prepare their food.

A student recently asked me why all the foreigners come here and get sick but when Cambodians go to the States, they never get sick. Yes, exactly.

My quest to understand and perhaps reconcile certain anthropological theories continue as I continue here. My findings so far have been a mixed bag of things. I have not come here and exclaimed, "Wow! Cambodia is amazing. I want to soak up everything about this wonderful place." It has been more troubling and more deep than that. Progression is only just crawling after years of civil conflict. Corruption of government is prevalent everywhere. The stench of poverty is inescapable. Maybe now that I have broken the wall of superficial enthusiasm, I can begin to dig deeper - into something real. That is my hope.