How can these people be so stubborn? After nearly five years of living in Cambodia and studying Pnong culture, I thought I was getting used to the vastly different worldview. But now I felt like I was going through culture shock all over again. I felt angry and wanted to get away. I felt the Pnong people were stupid and ignorant. Surely this isn’t the way Christ wants me to feel about the people He sent me to serve, I thought. Help me, Lord!

The previous Thursday, I had worked out a deal with Liu and two other Pnong girls from Boan village to work at our house in exchange for money to buy rice. They didn’t show up on Friday, so I hoped they wouldn’t come on Sabbath either, since I had forgotten to tell them they couldn’t work on Sabbath. However, they arrived for work Sabbath morning while we were at church.

It had been raining for nearly two weeks, and the road was very muddy and slick. On their way to our house, they had laid their motorbike over, and the foot peg had cut deeply into the top of Liu’s left foot.

One of the girls called my phone. “We’re at your house to weed,” she said.

“I’m sorry, but you can’t work today,” I told her. “Please come back tomorrow, and I will credit you an extra day of work.”

“Okay,” she said, and they returned to Boan village.

Sunday came and went, and no one came to work. On Monday morning, one of the girls called and told Daniel about Liu’s injured foot. He drove out and brought her to our house so I could have a look. The foot was badly swollen and infected. She could hardly even walk, it was so painful. The dressings would need to be changed twice a day, so I told her she would need to stay with us until the wound got better.

Daniel went to the pharmacy for an antibiotic, and I started cleaning the wound. Liu had packed it with a traditional poultice of leaves, which had rotted, and it took quite some time to get the debris out. When I finished cleaning and dressing the wound, I prayed with Liu and asked Chief God to heal her.

In the morning, the swelling had gone down some, and Liu was walking with less pain, so I knew the antibiotic was helping. Liu’s youngest daughter was sick with a fever and had come with her. Liu thought she might have malaria. After dressing Liu’s wound again, I took her daughter into the hospital to see a doctor. Her malaria test was negative, so they gave her an antibiotic for her cough.

Twice every day, I dressed Liu’s wound. After three days the infection was under control, and the wound was beginning to heal. I debated suturing it up but decided to wait and see how it healed. Every day, Liu told me how much she wanted to go back to the village. She was sure she could do the dressing changes on her own. I knew that with the rain and mud in the village, there was no way she could keep her foot clean, so I kept delaying her.

By day five, I was tempted to send Liu home even though her foot wasn’t ready. I was irritated with her asking every day to go home. I was tired of fixing her food she would eat, changing the dressings twice a day, and watching her relieve herself in my yard instead of the toilet. Western toilets and showers are completely foreign to Pnong villagers. At the beginning of her stay with us, I showed her how to use the toilet and told her I would show her how to use the shower, too, when she wanted to bathe. She never asked. Last night, I asked her if she wanted to shower. “No,” she told me, “showering here is not good. The river is much better.” Then she proceeded to go out the back door to relieve herself behind the house again. My patience was spent. My kids make dirt roads for their trucks back there!

When Liu came in, I confronted her, asking her again to use the bathroom inside. “It’s not a problem to do it outside,” she said.

“No, it’s not good,” I said. “When I go to the village, I learn to use the bathroom outside. Please use the bathroom inside when you are staying at my house.”

“I don’t know how,” she replied.

“I taught you how to use it when you arrived. Please use the bathroom inside,” I tried again. No response.

How can they be so stubborn? I wondered. Inside, I was reeling. Liu and her daughter are going to the bathroom in my yard. They won’t shower. They haven’t washed their hands once in almost six days. They’re picking lice out of each other’s hair while sitting on my porch. I’m feeding them more food than they ever get in the village. I’m giving them a mattress and pillow to sleep on. I’m buying them medicine and changing their dressings, and they have only said thank-you once. If she wants to go home tomorrow, I’ll let her go home tomorrow.

I had a hard time falling asleep that night. I felt like fleeing from the situation. I was surprised at the feelings I had. Please help me, Lord, I prayed. I want to be a witness for you and serve others. Why is this so hard? Did I already ruin things tonight when I got upset at Liu? I finally fell asleep. When I woke up to feed the baby, I had a hard time falling asleep again. I couldn’t get the situation out of my mind. Again, I prayed, Lord, please let something good come out of this situation.

The next morning, Liu’s wound was starting to fill in with new tissue. I told her the risks of infection if she went back to the village. If it got infected again, she would need to go to the hospital. I gave her a bar of soap and told her to wash her hands before changing the dressings and how to keep the wound clean. She was glad to be going back home. I felt bad for her. I’m sure it was hard and awkward for her to stay at our house away from the normal things she’s used to in the village.

“Goodbye,” I called as she climbed on the motorcycle to go back to the village. I had taken her out to see Kaak on Sabbath afternoon, and Kaak had given her a bunch of food from her field and told her about Chief God. She was going home with much more than she had come with. Inside, I still felt like a pitiful missionary, but I prayed Liu had seen Christ somehow through this experience.

Please pray for Lui and for one of her older daughters who has expressed an interest in following God.

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