Faces

Four days back into the normal routine after my trip to Asia, but I keep thinking about these faces...

Power Lines

I could spend a month taking pictures here in Phnom Penh of the faces and the lives, the buildings, and the markets. One thing that has been particularly fascinating to me are - oddly - the power lines. Quite frankly, they are a mess. Thrown up on a pole with no thought, no organization, no process. It looks like something my three year old would do (if asked to hang power lines, that is...). 

I'm fascinated because they seem to be an unfortunate visual representation of this country. I'm not sure where I was when we studied Cambodia in history class - perhaps I fell asleep that day, or perhaps we never studied it. In preparation for my trip here, I dug into everything I could read about Cambodia and was shocked to learn that the dismantling, breaking, and crippling of this country has happened in my lifetime. The Khmer Rouge, an anti-government gang rose up in power, promising a better life for the common man. They began with a mission to kill the educated, those in favor of the government, and anyone else who was in support of structure and a flourishing nation. We visited The Killing Fields on this trip and witnessed chilling mass graves of people sent to "reeducation" centers who never made it out.  We saw random bones and teeth sitting near the graves - which are really just areas of dirt where bodies were buried - that continue to surface from the ground when it rains. By the end of 4 years in power, the Khmer Rouge was responsible for 2 million deaths, either through torture and execution or due to lack of food and medical care.

The Khmer Rouge left Cambodia with nothing. No schools, no structure, no government, no hope. And the wounds are still fresh. Our tour guide told us that his dad had been killed by the Khmer Rouge when he was a baby. He has never seen a picture of his father and doesn't know what his face looked like. They have tried to rebuild, but unfortunately, corruption has driven much of the reconstruction of the government and educational systems.  They will tell you that the educational system provides free schooling, but the teachers demand pocket money from their students (and more cash means better grades).  So while school is "free", many children cannot afford to go.

The Prime Minister is the ruling authority in Cambodia, an elected official. About 18 months ago, a new Prime Minister was voted in. However, though one person won based on the people's votes, another man was sworn in and is now ruling the country, and the people are up in arms. Even during my visit, the tension is mounting, and the police have been lining the streets and filling the parks with anti-riot gear, ready to fight against any rebellion.

To think about the trafficking here in Cambodia, you have to understand the state of this broken country.  You have to understand the poverty, the lack of control, and the basic need to survive. It's easy to wonder how parents could let this happen to their kids. Kids here are not getting kidnapped like the girls in Nigeria - the parents, in most cases, are offering their children into the industry as a way to make money and pay their rent or feed their families.  There is a strong cultural mindset that the children are responsible for supporting the family by working, and if a child can provide "services" to someone even at the young age of 3 or 4, that just means they are beginning to fulfill their duties at a young age. That mindset and willingness makes it very, very difficult to end the cycle of trafficking.  It has also put Cambodia on the map for every pedafile, and it's chilling to see "foreign" men walking around the riverfront with little Cambodian children.

I have to admit that I came to Cambodia to learn about the issue so I could help make it stop.  That's such an American thing to do - we want to give money and fix everyone's brokenness. The power lines here are really tangled, though, and the issues will not be quickly solved. The Hard Places Community is doing what they can to remove children from situations of trafficking, to equip them with skills like speaking English and using computers, educate them on concepts like good and bad touch and how to respond, and to provide afternoon clubs in the worst areas of the city. They are partnering with the families, where families are involved, to teach parents that if children can come to the Center and learn, they will be able to get better jobs in the future, which will mean better support for the family in the long run. The biggest thing they are doing, though, is teaching the children that they have value for who they are. Children are conditionally valued here, but not taught that they are precious creations, made and loved by God.  It's that teaching that will, more than anything, change who these children are, how they see themselves, and how they will raise their own children some day.

The Wheels Are Turning

Arrival in Phnom Penh, Cambodia:
We pulled into the airport and were greeted by stifling heat and a Dairy Queen - two things that make this Texas girl feel at home.  Vans, taxis, several Lexus SUVs and Mercedes sedans pulled up to pick up passengers.  And then our ride arrived. They call it a tuk-tuk, an open-air golf cart type of vehicle, powered by a motorcycle.  The driver greeted us with a smile and polite bow, strapped our suitcases on with a big rope, and we took off into the mad mass of chaotic traffic with the wind and the smell of the city in our face.

Phnom Penh is a strange mix of everything a city should be and everything it shouldn't -
Beautiful government centers and golden clad temples serve as backdrops to begging and prostitution.
Schools full of children in blue and white uniforms sit next to deteriorating shacks where naked children chase roosters on the street.
Monks in bright orange robes go door to door collecting the daily offering from those who have so very little.
Luxury next to filth. Affluence and abundance in the same snapshot as extreme poverty and need. Dirty, colorful buildings. 

My world is so orderly and "zoned" - the haves and the have-nots are kept apart, and we don't enter each others' worlds very often. Commerce - restaurants, shopping, nightclubs - are zoned for specific parts of the city, and homes sit in residential communities where, for the most part, families live life tucked away inside.  Here in Cambodia, it all exists together, and people live life out in the open. The everyday family operates a small stand or shop selling goods, food, clothes, hubcaps - just about anything - in front of their residence.  The streets are lined with shop after shop after shop, and people sit in their chairs outside waiting for business.

Children are everywhere. Many are unclothed or at least without shoes. Many are selling something, some are begging.  Cars are crammed full of kids without car seats or seatbelts.  Most ride on the back of motorcycles, hanging on to an adult for dear life or sandwiched in between other siblings.

From the tuk-tuk bench, I was taking it all in, the wheels turning, my brain trying to process a world so foreign to me. Fusion to the point of confusion.

Out of the corner of my eye I saw a little boy sitting on a motorcycle with his dad. He saw me in the tuk-tuk and got a huge smile on his face and started waving, and of course, I waved back.   A sweet reminder that children are children wherever you go.

I can already tell that I love this place - the energy, the movement, the honesty, the resourcefulness.  But I also know there are a lot of dark, deep-rooted issues here, and I feel overly protective of each and every child I pass on the street, knowing that their health, happiness, and future could be at risk because of the extreme poverty and cyclical horrors that continue to be bred from generation to generation.

I'm processing it all - taking it all in - not saying much.   So glad to be traveling with a dear friend who has been here before and has such a passion and desperation for this city that she continues to return and do what she can to encourage the staff at the Center and love on these kids.

Chutes and Ladders and a Trip to Asia

One of the great things about little Emmy being three years old now is how many "family things" she is able to join in on. One of her favorites is family game night, which typically involves Yahtzee, CandyLand, or her favorite, Chutes and Ladders. Remember that game, where you might get lucky and land on the square with the really tall ladder, and you got to climb way up, passing all of the other players with hopes of getting to the finish line first? And then there were the times that you landed at the top of a very long slide and had to go all the way back down to nearly the start square. Even now, I get pretty upset and will mutter an "Oh Shoot!" when I have to slide down -- I seriously think the game should be called "Shoots and Ladders" (but only because "Damn It and Ladders" just doesn't have the same ring and probably isn't age appropriate).  At this age, Emmy isn't concerned about winning, so she doesn't care if she is going up or down. She has a little sound effect for both, and I would guess she thinks chuting is actually more fun than laddering, though up or down, she's having a great time. 

I'm writing this post from a cramped economy seat of a United Airlines flight heading to the first of multiple stops over the next 26 hours. Dallas to Houston to Tokyo to Singapore.  One of my dearest friends-but-more-like-a-sister lives in Singapore, and I can't express how therapeutic, inspiring, grounding, and comforting it is to spend time with her.  It has been 4 years since I've seen her on Asian soil, so Santa was nice enough to gift me with a trip for Christmas. About 36 hours after I arrive in Singapore, we are boarding another flight to Phnom Penh, Cambodia to serve at a Center that brings rest, recovery, hope, safety, and dignity to some of the most discarded children in the world.  If you are unfamiliar with the horrific child trafficking issues in Cambodia, I encourage you to do some research. It will unsettle you and make you ask, "What can be done?" and maybe even, "What can I do?"

I'm expecting a lot of Chutes and Ladders on this trip - the downward plunge of seeing the worst of what humanity has to offer, and the elated hope of witnessing how simple acts of love and sacrifice can change someone's outlook on the world and their future.

Albert Einstein wrote, "There are two important days in our lives - the day we are born and the day we realize why." I can't say I've discovered the ultimate reason why, on November 27th, forty-ish years ago, I was brought into the world, but I suspect it was partly to help the world have less Chutes and more Ladders.  The hardest part of that mission is that there are very few hard things in my little world.  My girls' biggest complaints over the last week have been not getting to watch Frozen every single day, feet aching from pointe shoes, getting a boy's toy in the Happy Meal instead of one for girls, kids being rude at school, and having to wash dishes.  As a Mom, I must admit there is a huge part of me that is glad those are the most severe things my girls have to worry about. We could have just as easily been born into the poverty and despair of Cambodia, with the choice of having to sell one of our children haneously into an evil, harmful, and shameful industry or watch our other children starve.  I don't know why I was born into this relatively luxurious life, but I'm starting to understand that it comes with grave responsibility to help those who can't help themselves. When we step back and see all the pain in the world, it can be overwhelming - maybe even stifling- and we don't know where to begin.  I personally don't believe that one person can change the world, but I do believe that one person can change a life. And if we all look for opportunities to change one life, collectively we will end up changing the world, one Ladder at a time.