A perspective on normal

Since I have been living in Cambodia, the term “normal” has come to mean many different things. Usually, although it is often difficult, I am content to admit that cultural obscurities are not strange, they are just different. What’s normal to me may be quite odd to you. Agreed.

But this week that was challenged when I visited Nay’s village again, as I do a few times a week. Sometimes I pop in on Nay’s mother. He died over three weeks ago now, and she is still a very obviously grieving mother. She has lost a lot of weight, and reminds me time after time of her guilt, and the fact that she cannot eat or sleep. I am no medic, but I guess in our country, we would suggest she get some sedatives, and counseling. Of course here, there is nothing but the daily reminders from family and “friends” that Nay’s death could have been prevented if she had not feared his going to Phnom Penh.

This week I asked her older sister, a believer, some advice about her. How was she really going I wanted to know? I explained that I was worried about her weight loss and general emotional well being. I was shocked by her response.

With surprise, she told me that I needn’t worry about her sister. Indeed, she was guilty of allowing her child to die, but she would be fine. Sure she was not eating now, but who would be after what had happened? She would be fine. It takes a few months she told me with wisdom, but she would get over the sadness and guilt.

In passing she mentioned that she herself had grieved for three children. Three? I couldn’t believe it. The ladies listening were equally surprised at my horror. Oh yes, they each shared one by one, they had all had children die. Didn’t that happen in my country too? Wiping tears from my eyes, as is becoming the norm for me out there in the village, they comforted me ... normal normal.

The death of at least one child, at least out here, is quite normal.