Cambodia

Cambodia will always have a special place in my heart. No more of a cliche statement could be made apart from that. Cambodia to me is a place of rich history, pain, enchantment, mysticism, corruption and smiles.

I have been here for 9 days, and spent the majority of that time in Phnom Penh. A city I did not intend to stay in for that long, but one in which I found a significant part I could play, albeit a short one, by helping the children of the People Improvement Organization in the Stoeng Mean Chey garbage dump.

PIO helps over 200 students in Phnom Penh. All are poor, some are orphaned. In the class I am volunteering with, their ages range from 10-18. They are boys and girls that do not look their age. Poor nutrition has stunted their growth, like many Cambodian children, to the point where one 15 year old boy in my class could easily pass for 8.

They run up to me the moment I step out of the tuk tuk. They take me by the hand. They hug me when I leave. Perhaps they are so starved for some sort of love, some fatherly figure, that they clutch to whatever foreigner comes into their midst.

They track barefoot over broken glass, sheep dung, hypodermic needles and viles of blood. They do this, all the while smiling and playing, making make-shift kites out of notebook paper and yarn, dancing about amongst garbage pickers and truck drivers.

Here, they are getting a shot at a better future. One that their country and their government cannot provide. They face exploitation, from yes, foreign hands, and I find the tourists that drive by their school to photograph their faces, unknowingly using them as if they are a circus side-show.

Something has happened to me, even before I got to this school. Something about the people of Cambodia and their ways. Something about the immense suffering they have witnessed and that has shaped a dim future. Working with these students only furthers my belief, that even though it is idealistic and hopeful, I believe I can change the world. Even though I know it cannot be done by one person, namely someone like me, whose name does not end in Jolie or Pitt, or whose company does not do 60 billion in sales, I still feel the same way. That I can make that difference. That I can lead them to something better.

Cambodia is reaffirmed that this is the work I was meant to do. Maybe it is because of my upbringing that I can easily relate to these children, maybe that is the reason I am skeptical of the rich and the privileged, namely Westerners who exploit and complain at the drop of the hat. Maybe it is just my simple belief that one person can make a difference, and that there is no better time to start than now.