The above is a photo I took of our bus windshield on the way into town. The biggest dust devil I've ever seen formed right next to the drink shop we were passing on the roadside, blew off the roof, and flung it into the windshield of our bus. The window held together in it's shattered state, but every bump we expected the rest to come crashing down.
It's going to take longer than I have to tell everything that happened in the five days of outreach. Here are a few of my favorite stories:
A girl named Dalinut has been a Christian for only five months. She moved into the guest house permanently and offered English classes, Khmai classes, and plays with the children every day after she gets off work. Because the guest house is surrounded by, and in the middle of the slum, it is the perfect place to live (though not a clean or comfortable place) if you want to reach out to slum children. These kids rarely have an education. Dalinut gives these children a place to play, learn the basics, and sing songs, and just have fun.
Parents in Cambodia only care for infants, after that children pretty much fend for themselves. Physical affection, if shown at all, is shown in almost violent ways. I was holding a toddler one day, and her mother came up, smiled at me, the grabbed the kids head, whipped it around, blew air in her face and hit her upside the head. Older children mercilessly pummel their siblings in play, and since heads are considered the most sacred part of the body, touching anyone's head shows deep disrespect for them. (Small children are the only exception) As we walked through the slums most parents sat around playing cards while the children amused themselves. Gambling is a great problem in Poipet because of the casinos. Many incomes that are desperately needed for food are gambled away, or spent on alcohol and prostitutes.
We spent a few days visiting the AIDS/HIV hospital. It was very sad. There were a few men, but mostly women. Aids is a hideous disease here. Doctors don't know much about it. Most of the women in the hospital had been given aids by their husbands, who had since died of the disease. Soon the women would die, too, leaving behind children who will either die soon themselves, or be left orphans. One woman broke my heart. She was wasted away to nearly nothing, not speaking, just lying on her back with fear in her eyes. She's 24 years old. The same woman, one day, had a problem with her IV. Her arm began bleeding all over her bed. The doctors were sent for, and they fixed the problem -- wearing masks and gloves and all, but then they seemed to have just wiped up the blood and left. I was standing across the room thinking, "That. Right there. Is AIDS infected blood. And they just wiped it with a cloth. AIDS." Another girl that I only heard about and never saw was 14 years old. She had been a prostitute, and since she was so young, she was likely sold into prostitution by her parents because they needed the money. And just as likely, the money was then gambled away. (I can't say for certain about this girl, but that scenario happens more often than anyone wants to believe. This is no romantic Memoirs of a Geisha scenario. These girls are sold young, used until they contract AIDS, and then sent to a hospital to wait to die.)
Not everything was bad, although there is plenty of it there. We spent many days going into the slums or country villages and running childrens programs. We taught some songs with hand motions, games, a Bible story, and a skit about hiegene -- necessary here. We covered both hand washing and tooth brushing, and passed out some Unicef posters and flyers on ways to prevent disease.
Everywhere I went I played with children. My family and friends know that I've never been very touchy-feely, even a small child. But here, it is so easy to love children. They flock to anyone who wants to spend time with them. With me they are usually shy at first - I look funny - but then EVERYONE wants to hold hands or be held by the barang. I really really wanted to show these children affection in a way that isn't violent. And the children respond so well. All you have to do is hold them, or stroke their hair, or twirl them around, and they laugh and laugh. All games are fun, and they love it when I get blindfolded in Adam and Eva (a version of Marco Polo) and go stumbling around the circle. And if I speak even a little Khmai the children just let out a barage...I have to tell them that I can't understand, and that I only speak a little Khmer, but they love to talk! One little girl at our guest house led me around talking several days in a row. She talked to me about her friends, about what everyone was doing, about the snacks we were eating. If I sat down, she was in my lap. If I stood, she wanted to be in my arms. If I walked, she took my hand and led me around. And if I brought out my sparkly gel pens and some paper, I had to fend off all the children (even teenagers) who wanted to color with me.
My little friend from the slum outreach at our guest house. She ran screaming to me when she saw me coming -- and who can resist that!
There are so few opportunities to play, and few toys here. I saw one Big Bird toy, coated in mud, upside down in the dirt. Another boy rode his tricycle through the trash heaps. Children played with cardboard boxes, and discarded food containers. I watched a group of girls. They had a silver plastic tiara. Each girl got a turn to put it on her head and parade around for a few minutes. These children are so precious!! I am so grateful that I had a chance to play with them -- I thought it might be so difficult. I've never known what to do with young children at home, but here, with the culture being different, it's easy to love on them. And so much fun. And maybe, yes, we don't do much lasting good spending five days playing with kids and then leaving. But maybe, too, some of these kids will remember that someone cared enough about them to come into the slums and play with them. And that might make a difference. There are so many problems here that taken in the whole are so overwhelming. But if you concentrate on what you are doing right now, in this moment, it's all easy and bearable. One day after the team had taken a tour of the city, and heard and seen all the problems, we felt like nothing we did could have any lasting value. But Dina recounted the story about the guy on the beach throwing the starfish back into the ocean. And he told us that we probably won't have a lasting impact from those few days, at least in the big sense of all of Poipet. But we might make a difference in a life of a child or two. Give them hope that somewhere out there someone cares enough to come into their home and play with them. So, I don't know, but I'm so glad I had the chance, and I'm really looking forward to long-term outreach now. Before I wasn't. I love the lectures, but outreach was a frightening unknown variable. Now I know a little of what to expect, and I can't wait to have a longer time to make a difference.
A girl stands outside a nearby hut...one of the nicer huts in the area.
Sometimes this week things were challenging. It was very hot. I got heat exhaustion on Monday from walking around all day in the sun (even though I carried several bottles of water and drank them all) and wasn't able to eat again until Friday. (I tried to eat at least a few bites of rice if I could, but I was so nausious) I drank water and water and more water, and sometimes bought a little carton of Thai sweetened milk for sustenance, and during rest times I'd wrap myself in a sarong, pour a bucket of water over my head, and curl up in front of the fan. Doing that, I was able to participate in every activity, and didn't feel too bad at all. I didn't want to miss any of the opportunities! Luckily, hot weather acts like an appetite suppressant for me anyway, so I didn't feel hungry. Only once in a while I'd forget and twirl a kid around, and then have to go sit down and try to get my stomach to settle again.
All in all it was great! Even the things that were 'difficult' were never overwhelming, and so easy to bear! One day I woke up and remembered Corrie ten Boom and thanked God for the lice and rats and cockroaches and lizards (lizards are great - they eat the bugs!) and spiders and mosquitos. I don't know why, but once you've started being grateful for something, it's hard to complain about it! And it's definately an adventure sleeping under a mosquito net to keep the cockroaches out! And taking a shower in a bucket. And eating underneath a pole building with a thatched roof! And playing with children in the middle of a slum! And walking around a foreign city getting hit on - OOh! Barang, saá! Barang saá! (A beautiful foreigner) I'd often turn and greet them in Khmai, and then I was followed by comments of suprise, Barang nih-je Khmai! (The foreigner speaks Khmer) That never ceased to amaze them. Most foreigners don't bother, so even that makes a difference in how we are viewed. People want to know why a rich foreigner comes to the slums to play with their children. And why a rich foreigner is polite, and says excuse me, and thank you, and good morning. Which says less about me - since that's just common courtesy, and more about how we westerners go barging around foreign countries treating everyone like our personal serving staff. So, be aware of that when you travel. Just by being polite you show that you are different -- and they want to know why!
This week was great. So many things I'd learned in theory in prior settings -- like being thankful for everything, and not complaining, came in so handy here. And of course my verse for this trip "Commit yourself wholly so that all may see your progress" is always on my mind, and what enabled me to jump in and play when I normally would have stood back and felt uncomfortable. When your attitude is right, nothing seems bad at all, and things taken one at a time are bearable. At the end of the week, my leader said he was grateful that I am so ... wait for it...flexible.
(Mom and Dad, stop laughing! He also is thankful that in a culture of perpetual lateness, I am always on time....ha!)
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