Everywhere I look, I see beauty. Beautiful people, culture, and landscapes, but it is masking so much pain. Pain that comes from a mass genocide that was caused by the Khmer Rouge, the ruling regime in Cambodia for multiple decades. Sure, the killing stopped years ago, but can people truly forget their history and the insurmountable pain they’ve been caused?
Our host told us last week that we would be going to a place called “The Dump” to bring clothes left by other World Race squads to some of the poorest of the poor in Battambang. They described it as the place where people’s trash is brought and they prepared us for the visit by saying that the people there might be so desperate that they would fight each other for any donations that were brought. It was suggested that we leave all belongings at our house and take off any valuables we had on us, including watches and rings.
At home, I worked with an organization called Mobile Loaves and Fishes, a big truck that brings food and clothes to anyone who needs it. I’ve had experiences where we’ve stayed in the truck and rolled down the window slightly to hand out bags of food because people could get violent out of desperation. So I was a little scared that we would actually have to get out of the vehicle and hand them out to people without the barrier of a car door keeping me safe.
What we saw when we got there is what I imagine the apocalypse will look like. There was an actual village set up in the biggest trash dump I’ve ever seen. My breath cut off quickly partially from the smell of burning trash and partially because I realized that this was multiple people’s living conditions. I could no longer complain about my small apartment or my car not being nice enough.
We dropped some clothes and supplies off and a man who lived in the dump told us that most people were sleeping, but he would tell them about our donations. We wondered if the lack of electricity meant that they had to go to sleep when the sun went down. There was no fighting like we imagined, just an eerie calm and a lot of heavy hearts.
On our way out, a woman ran after us, bowing to us with her hands in prayer position on her forehead. This signifies high respect for us, as in Khmer culture, the higher the hands, the greater the respect. You could see the desperation and gratitude in her face and it took everything I had not to also give her the clothes off of my back.
As our tuk tuk brought us back home, I was immediately reminded of Jesus coming to Earth and being born in a stable. He could have lived in a palace, but instead his mother “wrapped him in cloths and placed him in a manger because there was no guest room available for them.” (Luke 2:7). Christmas may be over, but Jesus still dwells among us, even in villages made out of people’s trash. Will you join me in praying for healing of this nation and for the name of Jesus to be known among the people?
*All photos taken by Makayla Barlow (makaylabarlow.theworldrace.org)
