Death by Chicken Wire

You haven’t lived till you’ve cut yourself on rusty chicken wire in Southeast Asia. I looked down at the scratch on my hand. Flies were crawling on my calf, and I was too hot and tired to swat at them any longer. I just watched them silently cleaning themselves as a drop of blood welled up on my thumb alongside equally large droplets of sweat. The blood was on my thumb. The sweat was everywhere.

I looked up feebly at one of the kitchen women. “KDAO NAH,” she barked, smacking the back of my head affectionately. Being motherly in Cambodia often involves slapping you, pinching you, or yelling at you about how fat you are. If you are really loved, it’s some combination of the three.

“Yes,” I replied, “It’s so very, very hot. And I’m now going to die of lock jaw.” She laughed and walked over to where a three year old was playing with a sharp pair of scissors.

I added a new sentence to my daily prayers.

“Dear Buddha,

Please don’t let me die of lock jaw. Please don’t let me faint here and be eaten slowly by the flies and ants. Death by paper mache is not how I want to go out.”

Our little school has been asked to participate in the annual Khmarnaval Festival here next weekend. It’s a giant parade that promotes AIDS awareness and Road Safety. Clearly, if you are anywhere besides Cambodia, you are scratching your head and thinking “What?” But if you were here, you’d realize that there are two things that will kill you faster than all others.

1. Falling off a motor scooter without a helmet
2. Having sex without a helmet

So that’s the theme for our float in the parade – “Don’t forget your helmet.” We are decorating the truck with that slogan and pictures of condoms, and all of our kids will be piled in the back, waving little paper hand fans they made themselves and wearing scooter helmets. We are constructing two massive hands for the top of the truck from paper mache and chicken wire (now known to me as Death String).

The “hands” part of our theme ties into something we’ve been working on with our kids in a larger program on hygiene. We are discussing sex education with the high school students and working on properly washing your hands and brushing your teeth with the little ones.

And thus, I’ve now cut myself on chicken wire in Cambodia in 100-degree heat. I can’t remember when my last tetanus shot was. I know when my last tequila shot was. It was directly after school yesterday. People think bungee jumping or skydiving is scary? Nah … chicken wire, my friends. Chicken wire. That’s the real way to find out who you are. Right before you die of lock jaw.