He was a small boy. He couldn’t have been more than five or six years old. His skin was dark and smooth and his eyes were big and full of curiosity. He was wearing a patterned pajama suit that was at least two sizes too small.
“Not fair!” He pleaded with me.
I had just bought $1 worth of bracelets from each of his street-friend counterparts. He waved the wire hanger in front of my face; the woven bracelets shook back and forth. I watched his feet, dirty and bare, scampering to keep pace with mine. He was following me home. It was dark and the streets were bustling with nightlife. Young girls in tight short mini skirts and 5 inch heels sat waiting in chairs in front of the bars. Waiting for the customers, waiting for the money, waiting for the slow but sure unraveling of their once innocent hearts. This isn’t the place for a child.
“Who taught you how to say that?” I questioned him playfully, but beneath my composed facade my heart was aching. I knew somewhere on this cool, Cambodian night, someone was waiting for him. Maybe it was his ‘mom’, or maybe it was just a stranger who had hired him out. Whoever they were, they were waiting somewhere, not for the child, but for the money that he would bring back with him.
“I teach me. It not fair! You gave one dolla and one dolla but not give me one dolla!” He pleaded relentlessly. He was well rehearsed.
“Hmmm. How old are you?”
“25.”
“Wow!! 25?! You don’t look 25!!”
“I not tell you because it not fair!”
“What’s your name?”
“I not want to tell you. It not fair.”
We stopped briefly outside a convenience store. The members of my team went in to pick up some items, I waited outside with my little friend. He sat down on the sewage drain on the sidewalk, arms folded, head down, and buried his calloused little feet into the garbage below. I sat down with him.
“You know, if you want to sell more bracelets you can’t be grumpy like this. If you want to sell bracelets you need to be kind to people who want to do business with you!”
I laid my hand on his shoulder, fighting to break through his one-man act, but he was center stage and he wasn’t budging. I continued anyway.
“Can I tell you a secret?”
“I don’t want cigarette.”
“Nooo, a secret!! Not a cigarette. Cigarettes are bad for you. A secret is very important information.”
“No I don’t want anything.”
“Do you want a snack? Or some juice? Maybe some water?”
“No. I don’t want anything I want dolla! It not fair.”
I chuckled but my heart was breaking. I wanted to buy him food, but he wasn’t going to leave without the money. I imagined what might happen if he returned to an abusive situation where he didn’t bring back enough profit for the end of the night. I just wanted to take him home, or take him anywhere, as long as it would get him off these streets. The darkness on these streets lingers even in the daytime. I looked to my right, where children were just feet away rummaging through trash bins looking for anything worth selling. A homeless woman and her newborn baby just beyond them, making there bed on the sidewalk for the night.
Nothing seems fair. I sighed.
We continued to walk towards the hostel. This time instead of pacing by my side, he jumped in front of me and slowed his pace, interrupting my own stride. I continued my conversation with him as we neared the hostel.
“Okay. I need to tell you a really important secret. This is something that you need to know and I need you to remember it, okay? So I’m going to need you to listen.”
I kneeled down til my eyes met his. I waited until he nodded. He stared with anticipation. Jesus, his life is yours. I proclaim his life as yours. Please Lord, take care of this little boy, I prayed.
“I have something for you. But, I want you to understand why I’m going to give it to you. You know how you just followed me all the way back home? That’s how Jesus is following you, because He loves you. He’s going to keep walking with you because He loves you. So I’m going to give you this dollar, not because you followed me and got grumpy with me, but because Jesus wants you to know that He is with you and loves you and I want you to remember that. Okay?”
His eyes brightened and he nodded assuredly.
“So why am I giving you this dollar? This is important that you know this!”
“Because I follow you and Jesus follow me!” He smiled.
“Jesus loves you okay?” I handed him the dollar.
His eyes beamed and I knew that he had turned off his act. He was no longer a street beggar but a six year old boy. A child-like twinkle returned to his eye. He stayed and watched as I turned my back and walked away. It took everything in me to walk away.
I prayed for him a long time that night. His stubborn little voice ringing loud in my head… “it no fair!” I can’t help but feel the same stubborness. It’s really not fair. Human suffering is over my head. But it’s not out of God’s reach. And boy, does He reach.
A couple nights later I ran into my little friend and his street crew. They were wearing their same little pajamas, running around tugging on every passerby’s sleeve. As I approached their spot he looked my direction, a smile spread across his adorable face. My heart exploded with love and I rushed towards him.
He pointed at me and yelled, “You buy from me!!”
“Yes I did! Do you remember why I bought from you?!”
“Yes! Because I follow you, and Jesus follow me,” he said proudly.
He told me his name was Nak. We laughed and played together for a while, and then we decided to buy him and his buddies some dinner. By that time, we had rounded up six “hun-gee” and roudy little dudes. We ordered them fried rice from a street vendor and took a spot at a table with them as they waited for their food.
They yanked on our arms. They played games with us. They tricked us. They laughed with us. They yanked on us some more, and laughed some more. They took my nose. They put it back. We were having a blast, and we were talking about Jesus.
Then I felt a yank, this time more subtle, on my hand. I looked down and saw Nak sliding a bracelet onto my hand. He smiled as I looked on.
“Fo fee! Fo you!” He was beaming, but I honestly think I was happier.
I don’t fully know or understand what these children’s lives look like. I pray that they are cared for and loved on. I pray that they are healthy and being educated. But more than anything, I pray that they remember the love of Christ that we all felt that night. I pray that they keep saying His name, Jesus, and I pray that they grow to learn more about Him. I pray that they recognize that His love is so great for them that He is continually sending out hands and feet to feed them and hug them and laugh with them and pray for them. In a world that’s clouded with darkness, in a world that’s not fair, I pray they find the light. I pray they find the light that fills and sustains and leads and guides.
“Do not be afraid, little flock, for your Father has been pleased to give you the kingdom. Sell your possessions and give to the poor. Provide purses for yourselves that will not wear out, a treasure in heaven that will never fail, where no thief comes near and no moth destroys. For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.” Luke 12: 30-34
