Our past week in Cambodia has been amazing. We have been able to spend a lot of time at the orphanage and have even taken some of the kids out at night with the translators (more blogs to come on this later). I have loved being with the three other girls on my squad. Our daily lives have adapted to our new situation. We are staying in a guesthouse in one room with three beds pushed together. Only two of the workers here speak english, and though the woman who cleans our room does not, every time we pass her in the hall (or in our room) she smiles and gives us a hug. Our days have been spent at the orphanage and then hanging out together at different coffee shops in our area. Our guesthouse is located in a touristy part of town and we always are seeing foreigners around the streets. I love knowing the streets and walking to the orphange. It is so nice to not have to get in a tuktuk and be driven around. Its suprising how comfortable my surroundings have become, and because I love being back here, I find myself in moments of blindess towards the darkness that is all around us. But, no matter how far removed I feel from it, it never seems to stop coming up.
Tonight the girls and I went down one block from our guesthouse to this retaurant we had found a few nights before. It has delicious crepes and a relaxing atmosphere that makes it feel like I am back in the States and out with my friends. But, this fantasy land only lasts for fleeting moments throughout the meal. As we wait for our drinks to be brought over we look at a restaraunt balcony across the street. There is a white man and a young looking cambodian waitress peering over the edge. The man slides his hand down her back and walks back into the upper room. She peers down again, waiting a few seconds, then turns around and follows him in. It breaks my heart to think about what is going on up there. I return to the conversation at my table and am excited for the meal. As the food gets placed infront of me I catch a glimpse of a small, scruffy Australian man I had seen just two nights before. He had approached Jessie and I walking home the other night on a dark street and told us a story of being on a bus and having all of his money stolen when he fell asleep. He went on and on about what they had stole and only asked for a couple of dollars, telling us he would return it if we wanted. Even then we knew he was probably telling us a lie, but being alone at night and just wanting him to leave, we handed him a few dollars and walked off. Now as my food is infront of me two nights later, we see the same man, in the same clothes, pacing up and down probably a two block radius asking tourists for money. I have no doubt in my mind that he was feeding them the same lines he fed us the few nights before. He couldnt see us from our outdoor table, but for 30 minutes we saw him walking back and forth. I have no idea what his story is or how long he has been here, but I am sure he is trying to quickly collect money for an addiction, maybe drugs, maybe sex. I return to my food and once again adapt back in to casual conversation at the table, enjoying feeling normal. Then reality hits again. We notice a tiny, young Cambodian girl walking up the street hand in hand with a much older white male. Once again my stomach drops and my heart aches for the situation right in front of me: a girl who does not realize the value and worth that she holds, and a man who thinks its normal to buy and abuse another human being for the night. How are we supposed to return to our food and conversation like everything is alright, with the blatant injustice swarming around us? Sex tourism is one of the main attractions in Phnom Penh, and I am unable to walk more than half a block without seeing “massage parlors”or “VIP clubs” with darkened windows next to me. Dinner ended with us escorting oursleves from our outdoor table to the indoor bar due to a heated argument that had started in the street next to us involving a garbage truck and men coming at eachother with rakes. I still dont know what that was about, but it was again just a part of being open to the realities all around us. Within the course of a meal we witnessed darkness in many forms: abuse, lies, and hatred.
Even the other night, we had gone out with some translators from our orphanage and a few of the kids to this small makeshift carnival. We rode bumper cars and had the most wonderful time with the kids. The entire place was no bigger than a parking lot and was all Cambodians. It was full of families and children and laughter. When we were walking towards the exit all of us girls noticed two white males probably in the mid-50’s. They had no children with them and walked in as just the two of them. They made it about 10 feet into the place and were standing directly infront of us. It was a very strange moment, the two of them standing one foot away from the three of us as we wrapped our arms around our kids infront of us and stared. No words were exchanged and no guestures of acknowledgement were made. The men walked out shortly after. Why were they there? What were they doing? In a place full of locals and children, what were this two foreigners doing? In a city where the sexual abuse of children is seen as a tourist attraction I dont even want to think about it. It was just another one of numerous scenarios that made me break inside.
I’m not telling this stories to scare people, or make them think we are unsafe. I am exactly where the Lord has called me, and in my opinion, there is no safer place. All I want to communicate here is the truth. Sex tourism and human trafficking are issues that not only plague Phnom Penh, but every part of our world. Everyday injustice occurs, and I guaruntee it is all around. I encourage everyone to just open their eyes, chose to see the injustice around you and take action.
(For those of my readers currently in Orange County, CA I encourage you to go to www.notforsalecampaign.com and check out their events on the homepage. They have two events on Nov. 6-7 about the global slave trade and how to get involved in fighting it– and yes, this is even going on within our own communities in the U.S.)
