Daughter, Georgia – pregnant novice with laughable building ability and motor skills.

Yes, we had made this expedition to Cambodia the year before, but this time we had our daughter - our pregnant daughter - determined to share our sad, mind-blowing, joyous experience from the year before, with her, before motherhood took over. After all, it was going to make her a better mother – my justification to her father and husband.

We arrived in Phnom Penh airport a wee bit frazzled after several hours delay in Singapore, and my first reaction was “God, will they still pick us up? Will the taxi driver know the Golden Gate Hotel? Is there more than one?” My ever pragmatic daughter said “Oh Mum, just look for the tallest, skinniest, white bloke”, and you have to believe it, she was right.

It’s not hard to spot Doug Quarry in a crowd of Khmer’s. He and wife, Jude, steer you through this whole memorable expedition with amazing good humour, while providing an admirable example of patience and respect for other people, even bolshie Aussies. From airport pick up, to the final adios.

The first night roof party is a great chance to meet your fellow builders, and it’s at this point we meet Janne, the founder of Tabitha Cambodia, and some of her local support group. The night is a very friendly and informal get-together over pizza and beer (and wine, and gin, and the odd non-alcoholic mixer thrown in for good measure, children, and pregnant people).

We get down to business the following day, with a visit to Tabitha Cambodia headquarters. If you were ever unsure of just why you were really there, or how much this was really needed, Janne’s presentation on the history of the Khmer people and their struggle (hardly an apt word, but where do you begin to try and find a word that justly describes such history?) leaves many a lump in the throat. In conclusion, Janne presented us with what I consider the builders’ badge of honour – the scarf (or kramar) to tie around the brow and soak up the sweat while you build. This is followed up by many purchases in Tabitha’s shop of silks and crafts. The only time the women of the family are permitted to shop without the husband/father complaining about excess baggage – it’s for a good cause after all! Following this, a visit to the S21 Prison and Killing Fields is a must.

Monday was down to business. A 7am cattle call for the bus ride to Sihanoukville, our base for the next few days. It’s at this point that we learnt the all important theme song – “Don’t Worry” by Bob Marley, Doug’s anthem of choice. The first attempt was rather mumbled and trailed off at different stages. However, by the end of the journey all and sundry were belting it out, not so worried about their singing voices anymore. Upon arrival we head across the road to the lovely warm waters of the South China Sea. After a quick dip and while enjoying some fresh fruit and seafood, quite a few of the group are commenting on what a relaxing trip it’s been. The repeat builders gave a wry smile and vowed to ask how they’re feeling this time tomorrow, after the first day of building.

Next day we are all up early and on the bus and eager to begin. What confronts you is hard to believe. Families living under a piece of plastic or some palm fronds - large families, with no real possessions to speak of. It is difficult to spot even the basic necessities of life. You really do begin to understand why a building donation is requested (and so clearly needed) when you sign up for this experience.

Shortly after arriving the relative silence of the village is broken by the sound of hammers – slowly at first, with the odd “bugger” mixed in while you look around to see who spotted you hammering your thumb (relieved to find nobody had seen it so you are free to carry on and pretend it wasn’t you…not that I’d know, I’m only guessing, of course…). The chatter decreases for a while, as everyone gets stuck into the work.

It’s at this point of re-telling the story to friends and family that they can’t quite believe we are actually building. When asked how long this takes, and we say a couple of days, people often find it hard to believe that this really is such an overwhelming experience, both physically and emotionally. The intensity of the heat, lack of shade, and no breeze to speak of are really difficult to explain to friends whose vast experience is limited to Bali and the odd summer heatwave. The lethargy is incredibly draining, and after the first day alone you really do wonder how you are going to be able to pick up and do it all again the following day. Our daughter was quite limited in what she was able to do, and regularly told just about anyone that would listen, that she was prepared to hold nails, run water, anything at all. Once you’ve started to help and can see what it means to these people, you feel almost redundant having to stop and watch other people continue. It is frustrating to a point that you feel the urge to ignore the screaming muscles and the heat and exhaustion, and carry on through the night.

Thank God for the water breaks, otherwise I’m sure we would’ve all passed out from heat stress an hour into the job! At first you look at the barrel of murky water and consider sacrificing your drinking water to dab on your face. After an hour of building you are prepared to bathe in and gargle just about any liquid, just to keep cool. It doesn’t take long before everyone’s builders' badge-of-honour (Tabitha scarves) are soaking and plastered to heads and necks in an effort to keep cool. Hammers became an extension of your own arm, and nail bags became a fashion accessory. All thought of appearance is left behind well and truly by the time we break for lunch. And even the dodgy “outback” style toilets are in full use. A bit of an eye opener for the ladies who have to balance on a couple of chunks of wood and hope like hell they don’t lose their balance and fall in. I’m told this is a vast improvement on previous years where there wasn’ t any wood for balancing, imagine!

At one point my daughter and I were working alone on a floor, when one-by-one a Khmer family very cautiously climbed the steps until they were sitting with us, inside the house. They smiled shyly and watched us build, careful not to get in the way, but wanting to see just what we were doing. Something that is a week-long trip to try and do “our bit” with the best of intentions, will provide them with a shelter we often take for granted. After saving and working to earn their single room house, it is finally happening for them. No bank loans, grumbling about mortgage repayments, jockeying for a house in a reputable suburb with multiple bathrooms and afternoon sun. Sobering thought that put our own gripes into perspective.

Five houses were built the first day. With men, women, children, Tabitha staff and locals joining in – some more creative in their efforts than others – with Bobby sitting atop Gordon’s shoulders to become the tallest building machine in history (see photo). Everyone pitched in, and it wasn’t long before the ladies of the group were giving the blokes a go for their money, perched off walls at various angles, hammering away. It was more of the same the second day, with four houses being built this time. In total, around forty-five children and their parents were provided with a simple one-room home. For example, one being a widow with five little tackers in tow, who had collected fire wood from the jungle and sold it to save her contribution. Who knows how long it took her? To even imagine being in that position is impossible. The pride of ownership fairly shone out of each family, as they took their place on the steps for their hand-over and photo’s to be taken.

Finally to our “last supper”, albeit an upbeat happy one. The Tabitha staff greeted and clapped in all the weary builders, making us all forget the extreme weariness of a moment ago. Thank you’s, goodbyes, and friendships forged and some amusing attempts at Khmer dancing followed. One youthful builder was heard to groan “Khmer dancing is like watching your parents dance.” Marvellous what a leveller a hammer and the tropical sun had been, as 4 year olds to…well….over 40 year olds joined in. Best way to describe it, kind of like the Wiggles doing a version of the Hokey Pokey. I’m sure we’re all now wondering how long before the incriminating photo’s come out, courtesy of our official group photographer, Brad.

Many made plans to return, and our daughter was again apologising for her “handicap” and limited abilities, adamant she would return when in a condition to participate more, and would bring her husband along for good measure (and more baggage allowance so she could get the bedspread she was eyeing at the Tabitha shop).

Yes, you do walk away aching in every muscle, even the ones you never knew you had…but feeling damn fine, and yes, we’ll be back