If I would describe my first impression of Cambodia in two words, it would be…
dust and dirt.
Dust that filled the buses. Dirt and trash scattered through fields and in huge piles by the roads.
But it didn’t take long before I noticed the little people running all over the place…
The children of Cambodia.
I saw them at Angkor Wat, begging for food or pleading with me to buy the goods they were selling.
“I give good price.”
I realized they really know how to work someone for their money.
“What is your name? How old are you? Where are you from? You are very beautiful. Here is a bracelet for you, my friend.
Please come buy from my shop.”
I generally love children.
But I found myself feeling very worn by the interactions with these beautiful little ones.
They were friendly in order to receive money. I was friendly because I wanted them to know they are loved.
In the end, it felt like it was all about the cash I was or was not willing to give.
And some of them were so young…
I met a beautiful little girl in one of the temples while touring Angkor Wat. She was dressed in a pretty blue dress, her hair was black, clean and combed. I asked if I could take her picture…and she posed like a pro.
I remember thinking that many people had probably asked her this very question before.
After taking her picture, I showed it to her, and tried to communicate with her…after several failed attempts, she looked up at me with her big, black eyes, and said, “One dollar?”
I saw a little boy with hydrocephalus, in the arms of his mother, who was begging for money. The boy couldn’t speak. He couldn’t walk. He barely could move his head. I squatted down beside them, and took his hand in mine. I started saying hello, and asking God to bless him and his mom. He grinned really big…and then I walked away.
We are greeted almost every morning with a cluster of neighbor children. Sometimes they are peering in our windows when we wake up in the morning. Such curious, eager, little eyes and faces.
In the villages, there are so many kids, pouring out of the little houses, shrieking with excitement and coming to greet us.
Dirty faces, dirty hands, beautiful laughter and smiles.
Naked babies, torn clothes, barefoot, running feet.
I see my students every evening, shouting an enthusiastic “Hello teacher!” and frenzied waving as they leave.
Eyes hungry and alert to learn English, and songs, and Bible stories.
Many are so content, so dignified in this simplicity. In the life they’ve been given.
I look at my pack, and my stuff scattered across my little corner of my team’s room…and realize I probably have more with me on this trip, than some children or families own altogether.
And I don’t know what to do with that…
