The first step Caitlin and I took in visiting Angkor Peak Sneng Junior High School (JHS) that Armin helped to build was to get in contact with the "Life and Hope Association." This is an organization based out of Siem Reap, which supported not only the building of Angkor Peak Sneng JHS, but has also created a few programs that help empower and educate Khmer people (for more information see later post).
The "Life and Hope Association" is based out of Wat Demnak, and is headed by the Venerable Somnieng Hoeurn, one of the many monks of Wat Demnak. We called him and arranged a meeting for that very day. Caitlin and I walked past the many buildings within the walls of the Wat, and were led to the back of the complex. We were seated at a large table, offered water, and told the Venerable Somnieng Hoeurn would be there to see us shortly. At this point I became quite nervous. This would be my first personal and private interaction with a monk. I kept going through a checklist of proper etiquette in my head: I am a woman and therefore cannot touch him (wait…what if it is accidental?), be polite and respectful. Remember Alison, I scolded myself, Cambodian customs dictate that as my elder I cannot drink my water until he has had begun to drink his…wait what were the rest of the things "the Lonley Planet’s guide to Cambodia" had taught me? This was a lot to remember! I did not have more time think, because at that moment the Venerable Somnieng Hoeurn walked into the room.
"Hello!" he greeted us warmly with a smile, performing the traditional bow of greeting called the wai, which we respectfully returned. The Venerable Somnieng Hoeurn was dressed in brilliant robes of bright orange, and his hair was closely shaven. He looked like every other monk in Cambodia, which was the point. This look of commonality is meant to take away a sense of individualism in the monk, in order to become part of the collective. We sat down and began discussing plans for our visit to the school, and upon his suggestion, a visit to the orphanage that the "Life and Hope Association" supported, which was only a two-minute drive from the school. His cheerful and friendly demeanour quickly diffused any feelings of nervousness I had about meeting the monk. His kind disposition and warm chuckle set me at ease. His English was also quite good, and he explained to us that he had recently been to Canada to take part in a series of conferences in Vancouver aimed at exactly what the "Life and Hope Association" endeavoured to represent.
We explained to the Venerable Somnieng Hoeurn that we wished to buy supplies for the school and orphanage to take with us, and asked if he could please let us know if there was anything that was specifically needed in either building. He procured a list of possible purchases for us to make, and put it down on the table in a delicate manner, a look of consideration upon his wise face.
"I understand," he began, "that you are young travellers and do not have a lot of money. Do not feel pressure to buy too many things. Even a little bit will help. Of course, you do not have to bring anything with you at all. Just being there will help, because it will bring something very important to the children. You visiting these children will give them hope, hope that people from other parts of the world, from North America, actually care about them. And hope is the greatest gift that you can give a child."
Wow.
These were powerful words.
I was floored, and deeply moved. I felt my eye begin to water. I felt my heartstrings quavering. It took a lot of strength to hold back those tears, let me tell you. I am in big trouble, I thought to myself. If I am almost in tears now, I am going to be a hot mess when we actually visit the children.
Sensing that I was on the brink of spilling over, the Venerable Somnieng Hoeurn changed the pace a bit. He asked a fellow monk to take us to the building next door where local women were learning to become great seamstresses. This was a 10-month education program sponsored by the "Life and Hope Association". It is a way to empower these women, giving them skills that will be transferable and of great value once they head back to their local communities. Upon entering the room all of the women stared in our direction, and quick as a flash, stood up and bowed respectfully to us, giving us the wai. Caught off guard by this display, Caitlin and I quickly collected ourselves and returned the wai. The women promptly returned to their beautiful sewing, diligently working towards new skills and a brighter future.
The next day, two representatives from the "Life and Hope Association" took Caitlin and I to a local market, which sold everything from dried squid to gold chains, house-ware to textiles. The plan was for Caitlin and I to buy forks, knives and bowls for the orphanage, and pens and notebooks for the school. We were with local people from the "Life and Hope Association" in order to ensure we did not get ripped off by the local merchants (being the targets of scams with our western looks), and could buy the maximum amount of supplies possible given our monetary constraints. It was an easy process, and we even got a price discount from a merchant when he learned that we were buying his goods for a local orphanage.
Early the next morning, we got picked up by a tuk-tuk driver sent by Wat Damnak, and began our long journey to the school and orphanage. We drove past Angkor Wat again, and kept going far down rural dirt roads. We drove past rice fields, roaming livestock, and small villages comprised of huts built from reeds and palm leaves. We bumped down the pot-holed dirt road, red dust sticking to our sweaty bodies. The two of us must have been quite a sight, as I do not think that Westerners often come down that road (especially by tuk-tuk.) Old women looked up from their riverside laundry and watched us as we passed by, too shocked to return our waves. People did double takes, staring at our flashy (fake Bangkok-version) ray-ban sunglasses and colourful shawls. Gangs of dirty, bare-footed children eagerly waved and yelled to us, chasing after our tuk-tuk. They were pleased and elated when we smiled and waved back. We were quite the spectacle.
After and hour long (and quite jarring) tuk-tuk drive, we arrived at the Angkor Peak Sneng JHS. Since it was a holiday that day, we had been told by the Venerable Somnieng Hoeurn that there would be no children there, but we were more then welcome to see the facilities. So it came as quite a surprise to us when we were greeted by a classroom full of children. Putting two and two together, Caitlin and I realized that the only reason these children had assembled today was because we were visiting.
They waited for us outside their classroom, and as we approached, ran inside and stood beside their respective desks. When we entered the classroom, they quickly sat down in unison, hands folded on their desks, attentively staring our way. The teacher grabbed chairs for us, placed them at the front of the room facing the class, and asked us to sit down. All was quiet, the room quavered with anticipation.
"Could you tell us about yourselves?" the teacher asked. "What are your names?" Where are you from? The children would love to practice their English."
We told the children our names, and that we were from Canada. What ensued was the same conversation repeated many times over, allowing the children to practice their basic English skills. What is your name? How old are you? One young girl informed us that she was, in fact, 53 years old.
Next, we were toured around the school property by one of the teachers. We saw the eating area, the rooms where the scholarship students stayed (particularly underprivileged students are given scholarships that pay for their education as well as their room and board at the school), the sports facilities, the area where the children learn to garden, the washroom/shower area, and the library. With time flying by, we were on our way to the orphanage before we knew it.
The orphanage was the more emotionally difficult of the two facilities we visited that day. We also got a tour of the orphanage property by one of the men who worked there. He showed us the girls’ dorms and the boys’ dorms, the activities room and the dining room, the garden, and lastly the soccer field and volleyball court. One of the dorms was painted particularly brightly; the white bricks full of large flowers, houses, and people holding hands. I asked the man touring us if the children had painted it. He told me that the housemother of that dorm room had had a particularly bad dream. In her dream a ghost had appeared to her – the ghost of the dorm – and informed her that the only way he would leave the dorm, the only way to protect the children, would be to paint the building in bright colours. So that is exactly what the housemother and children did.
We were able to meet some of the children staying at the orphanage. Some of them were shy, barely able to make eye contact with us. Others were outgoing and curious, coming up to us and giggling. Some could speak basic English, while others were not able to communicate with us. Fortunately, every child speaks the language of a smile.
We watched the children eat lunch (rice, a few pieces of chicken, and boiled greens). While they ate, the man who had been showing us around told us the history of some of the children. "Those two girls over there, and that boy beside them," he indicated towards three beautiful children, "they are all HIV positive." My stomach dropped. I felt sick. "They are five, six, and eight. We take them to the hospital quite often to get medicine."
The children left the lunch room and went outside. Some lying in hammocks, others playing together, some doing the lunch dishes (the washing of dishes is set on a cycle, so that all of the children do their share and take their turn washing.) Caitlin and I were then asked to be seated because they were going to feed us lunch. We had expected to receive the same lunch that the children had eaten. Instead, a spread was placed before us consisting of fried vegetables from the garden, fresh fish from the river, and chopped pork (most likely something the children rarely get to eat.) We felt terrible eating this lunch when all we wanted to do was give it to the children. It was too much, too generous for them to be providing us with this feast. It was more food than we could eat. However, we ate as much as we could, because in Cambodia the ultimate insult to your host is the turning down of food. We even drank the water they placed before us, slightly uneasy that it may have been pulled out of a local well (Caitlin is not known for her iron-lined digestive system), but swallowing it gratefully nonetheless.
One thing that I could take away from this day, one thing that will be ingrained in my memory forever, is the feeling of gratefulness I could sense in these children. They knew they were the lucky ones. They were getting an education, they had shelter and food, they were on the track to make something of themselves, something more than their parents had been. They had a bright future. And they knew it. I thought back to North America. How often do children in Canada complain that they have to go to school? How often had I taken my own education for granted when I was younger, perhaps even when I was in university? This would have been unheard of to the children I met that day. It is not just education, but also general quality of life. I am so lucky, and sometimes I do not even realize it. I should be thinking everyday about all of the blessings that I have, and being ever grateful for all that I have been provided in my life.
These children taught me a valuable lesson in how to be thankful, a lesson all North Americans would benefit from. What we have is enough. What more could we want? And how can we not give to those who need more?
No comments:
Post a Comment