Prelude to a Next Chapter: Cambodia

Dr. Miles and a few of his PhD students at APNTS

About a year ago, while still in the Philippines, I met Dr. Glenn Miles.  Dr. Miles serves in Cambodia as the Director of Prevention and Research with an organization called Love146, which specializes in the prevention of human trafficking in Southeast Asia and provides aftercare for its victims. 


    I asked to meet with Dr. Miles for a couple of reasons.  On the surface, he was visiting campus to teach a course for our school's PhD program in Holistic Child Development and I was working on an article about the course and his work in Cambodia.  However, truth be told, I was really just personally intrigued by his field of research and passionate about the work of Love146.   


At the time, I had been working part-time with an anti-trafficking initiative at our school in a program called, "StepUP".   In this program, we worked with youth from at-risk communities providing them with employable computer skills, values education, and human trafficking advocacy.  While I was passionate about the work of StepUP, and felt that it was greatly rewarding, I wanted to understand more about the system of trafficking and exploitation in Southeast Asia and what essentially allowed for this multi-billion-dollar, anti-human, deplorable industry to operate so freely and seemingly unchecked in this part of the world.  

Dr. Miles was my connection to the front-lines of this battle.   We met for dinner and talked for a long while about the work of his organization and its single-minded focus of ending the plight of trafficked and sexually exploited children.  He detailed the role of research in this process and the great need of understanding the "whos", "hows" and "whys" of this dark context so that these issues can be addressed appropriately.  

In recent years, Dr. Miles' research has been focused on the sexual exploitation of boys in Cambodia.  It was a subject matter that had gone nearly untouched by most organizations around the world.  When we think of Sexual exploitation, our minds (and research, as it turns out) go solely to women and children.  The plight of boys, more often than not, is overlooked entirely.   We would like to think that the absence of research on this matter is due  to the fact that sexual exploitation/trafficking of boys is not as prevalent as with girls.  However, the more this subject is researched, the more this is found to be incredibly untrue. 

At the time, I had just finished a year of my own research focusing on identity development in a marginalized community just outside of Manila.  My research hadn't been specifically about trafficking issues, but it had raised a number of related and pressing questions that had fueled my interest in human development issues all the more. 

I look back on my dinner-meeting with Dr. Miles as a kind of defining moment for me.  This was the kind of research that I wanted to do.  It was like a great "ah-ha" moment in which all of the steps that had led me to THAT moment had seemed to have been guided or orchestrated by God to lead me right there to THAT part of the world, with THAT particular person at a time when I had just concluded THAT particular thesis research and had been processing THOSE particular thoughts.   In a moment, I had felt that I knew what I wanted to do with my career.  

Moments like these are truly gifts from God.  They provide clarity and insight and seem to re-enforce this beautiful thought that there are no random accidents, but that things happen for a reason.  It's a feeling of comfort and connection and nearness.   

Needless to say, it was a very meaningful dinner. 

Parting ways, I told Dr. Miles that I was greatly interested in his field of work and that I wanted to write and conduct research on human trafficking and development issues.   We decided to stay in touch, emailing now and then. 

As I've come back from the Philippines and begun the long, grueling process of applying for PhD Programs, Dr. Miles has offered a lot of encouragement as I've applied for schools and even helped me refine some of my application materials.   When I received my final letter of non-admission (aka: "rejection") from the final school,  I wrote him a quick note to update him on where I stood.   I told him that I had not been accepted but that I still would pursue this research in time.  The letter was positive--although, I felt utterly defeated. 

And then I received his response.

As it turned out, Dr Miles' research intern had backed out and he was in need of someone to help him conduct followup research for a paper to be submitted at a conference this fall in Nebraska.  It would involve flying to Cambodia and spending a few months collecting data and interviewing respondents in Seam Reap.   The position would be unpaid, but provide substantial experience and hopefully open some exciting doors in the future. 

After collecting myself from the floor and briefly dancing about like a little boy, I calmly wrote a response indicating my interest.  Within minutes of exchanging emails, I was quoting prices for airfare.  Days later, the tickets were reserved and my summer booked.   And as an added bonus--I found that flying to Manila is much cheaper than flying to Cambodia from the States.   So, in an effort to save the organization a good deal of money, I will be stopping in Manila for an extended layover to visit my Philippine "family" for a few days before continuing to Cambodia.  


For this, I am unreasonably excited.  :)   

The past month has felt like nothing short of a marathon.  I have been working non-stop, trying to "pad" my bank account so that I can cover my state-side bills while I am away.  I have been reading up on previous exploitation research in Southeast Asia and completing the endless laundry list of tasks to be done before leaving for the airport in just a few short days. 

The way I see it, this isn't yet the "next chapter", but maybe it is, at least, a kind of prelude to it.  I think of it as a kind of reminder that there is still more out there, there is more story to be told, and more plot to unfold.  


In the end, that's really what moves us forward, right?   The hint that there is something more, a next chapter, another adventure, some greater narrative that is bigger than the sum of its characters.   That is what the unfolding of this internship has been for me, to some extent.

There were a number of months after returning to the states that I struggled to see that greater narrative.   It was a frustrating and disorienting experience.   If anything I hope that I have learned that the "Place In-Between"---the seemingly empty space between the end of one chapter and the beginning of the next---is there for a reason.   It gives a much needed pause and allows the reader to gather his bearings, reflect on the past, and take a deep breath before diving back into the greater plot-line in progress.

This may not be the next chapter just yet but the knowledge that there is more to come--a prelude, of sorts--is just what was needed. 

That Place In-Between...

Today, I made a big change--a change that stands as a testament of my personal growth and emotional fortitude.  

Yes.  As of today--on Facebook--Jarrett Davis lives in Circleville, Ohio.  To most of you reading this, you will probably think I'm trying to be sarcastic or ironic making a statement like this; but I am quite serious.  This seemingly insignificant, digital change in my virtual life symbolizes a grand period (or at least a semi-colon) in the long and monotonous narrative between the turning of chapters in my life.  

Over the past few months,  I have transitioned from the busy life of a graduate student and communications officer in the Philippines to a substitute teacher hushing high school students in rural Ohio and working weekends as a waiter in Columbus.  Throughout this tumultuous transitional period of my Life,  I have learned a great deal about who I am as a person.   

I am one of those personality types that has the tendency to helplessly define himself on the basis of what he can-or-cannot do or accomplish.  Under this delusion, a person is only worth what they can produce and their value is directly proportional to the ground that they can cover towards a particular goal.   This mode of operation can have its advantages.  It can make you into the kind of person who gladly pulls an all-nighter to finish a project, or who works extra hours--without pay--just to ensure that something is done well and on time.  

However, it also has its downfalls:  

During my years of living, working, and studying in Asia I was constantly inundated with classes and projects and research--all of which aided to shape who I understood myself to be.   I was fulfilled because of all of the "hats" that I got to wear and the projects that I undertook.   There was great potential and much work to be done.  Step-UP, the anti-trafficking initiative of which I was a part, had the potential of taking great steps forward with our partners in India; there were numerous possibilities and projects outstanding in communications and marketing at APNTS.    However, in the midst of all of this, my student loans were coming due and personal finances growing scarce.   I had to return to the States in August of 2011.  It was difficult to leave the Philippines knowing that there was still work to be done and much of my identity rested in those efforts. 

Thus began, "the time in-between"-- my own personal purgatory of sorts -- to which I was banished to learn life's tedious lessons that I would have otherwise been oblivious to.

As soon as one chapter of my life ended and the next one failed to immediately begin, my impatience took over and drove me to frantically improvise new material.  Nearly before the suitcases were unpacked, I had begun studying for the GRE (Graduate Records Examination), writing statements of purpose and applying for PhD programs.   I began applying for careers, as well. I drafted and redrafted reams of cover letters, and polished and perfected my Resume  enough to make its readers weep.  

February came and I was still without a "real job".  I hadn't received any positive responses from any of the jobs that I had applied for--except for one research position in Nigeria.  I had made it through the final set of interviews, but in a toss-up between myself and the one remaining candidate for the position--I was the one just slightly less qualified.   "It's alright," I thought to myself.   I felt certain that something would work out with a PhD program.   I had a load of experience overseas, I was cum laude in my MA and BA programs, and didn't do to shabby on the GRE either.  Something was bound to work out. 

And then the letters came.  

One.  
Then another.  
Then the final one.   


Each letter carried the same disappointing message, stated in the same awkwardly optimistic tone.  My applications had not been accepted.  I had been back in the states for just slightly over 6 months and I felt that I had accomplished nothing.  


I dreaded that horrible and unrelenting question from others, "So, what are you doing now?"   Up until this point I had a story.  I had a vision in my mind--an exciting picture to paint.  I usually responded with something like: 

"Blah, blah, blah... applying for PhD programs... blah, blah... looking for graduate assistantships at OSU... blah, blah, blah"

And now... I didn't really have anything impressive or exciting to say at all.  In all honesty, I was spent.  Discouraged.  Frustrated.  I was left with nothing more than what was really there.   I really had nothing to say, except that: 

"I'm living with my parents, substitute teaching in Pickaway County and waiting tables on the weekends."  

That was perhaps the hardest pill to swallow.  


And so, after an entire gestation period of being in the states--nine long months--I have finally changed my Facebook status.   Jarrett Davis no longer lives in Taytay, Rizal.   Jarrett Davis is a waiter and a substitute teacher, living with his parents in rural Ohio.  


Don't get me wrong, I still cringed as I wrote those words.   I didn't enjoy typing them.  But I can type them, because I have accepted them to be true.   And I feel that--to some extent--I can never be ready to begin the next chapter until I can be present, here, in the place in between.   That annoying--but entirely necessary--place in-between. 


And with that, I begin the next chapter.