These last two days have been among the hardest in my life. To give you a pretty graphic snapshot, this morning I woke up and within 30 minutes of being awake, I had a pair of latex gloves on and a can of Bactine in my hand. I looked at the kid front of me and said, “I’m not going to lie. This is going to sting. Grab the bench. Close your eyes.” She gritted her teeth and steadied herself, and I sprayed a fountain of antiseptic into an open sore that was weeping pus, even though only moments ago I’d cleaned it as best I could with soapy warm water and some gauze. I had to boil the water in a tea kettle first and then let it cool, because putting contaminated water on an infected sore seemed … well … counter productive, to put it mildly. Anything that comes out of the tap system in Cambodia is basically a melted Hepatitis popsicle.
I would have screamed like a bitch if someone sprayed alcohol into an open wound. This kid clutched the bench and took it like man, even though she’s a 10-year-old girl and only weighs about 50 pounds. Then again, here, in rural Cambodia, being a 10-year-old girl is a pretty tough occupation. She thanked me profusely in perfect English, hopped off the bench and scampered back outside.
Every single one of these children coming to the Let Us Create School lives in poverty. In Sihanoukville, there are not many citizens living above what any Western person would consider the basic waterline. The majority of the kids I spend all day with are coming from extreme poverty, even for this region. This little guy is my absolute favorite. Today, he wore pajamas all day. I’m pretty sure the school provided them. We actually don’t know his name because his parents just drop him off each morning with the security guard before we all get there. He won’t say his name, so I just yell “Hey Little Feet!” when I need him to pay attention. Seems to be working thus far.
One of the most crushing facts is that each night, I run into a lot of our students out in the bars and on the beaches. They wander around selling roses and bracelets to tourists till the bars close around 3 a.m. They need the money for food to eat.
Literally, stop reading and think on that sentence. Because I have been for days now. If they don’t do it, they don’t eat. And they come to school exhausted but so excited to learn. No one in their families make them come to us – they simply want to so badly, they run on a few hours of rest a night.
The lucky kids of this group sell enough roses to go home and sleep for a few meager hours before coming to learn. The unlucky ones become the victims of sexual predators. Regardless, every one of these children comes in daily contact with Hepatitis. With Tuberculosis. With HIV. A lot of them will possibly have some combination of all three.
They walk several miles alone just to get to our little school. If you asked them, they would tell you they are the lucky ones. And in a way, they are right. In a few days, I’m going to photograph this place everyone calls The Dump. It’s a landfill an hour outside of Sihanoukville.
I never realized that there are kids – whole communities of people – living in landfills permanently. They scavenge all day for plastic to recycle. The kids are barefoot and totally exposed to trash and violence and disease. They sleep in trash. They breath the smoke from fires, set to burn the trash.
I feel honored that they asked me to go with them and capture still shots of the kids living on the rubbish piles this Friday for use in future fundraising. Several of the kids come to our school now. They can have a shower, two full meals and a chance to learn English, work on their own school work and play games with other kids.
To be honest, while I would never pass up the opportunity to see something like this – let alone to be asked to document it – I’m also completely terrified of heading to this landfill. For some pretty obvious reasons. I came on this volunteer journey because I’ve been tired of my everyday, consumer life lately and I wanted to do something real with my time and my skills that would help out someone who’s less fortunate than I am. I want to make the world better for someone and also to change certain aspects of my life. I’m not sure I’m ready for the level of The Dump, but I’m going to go regardless. The kids in Sihanoukville are incredibly bright, beautiful, funny and happy. Despite the poverty and the situations they face, they will come running with giant smiles when I walk in tomorrow. That’s keeping me going through the sadness that sometimes seems to physically exhaust me.
Sorry for the super intense blog post. Obviously, I’ve been dealing with a lot to process these last couple of days here, and I am trying to figure out how I feel beyond simply sad and scared. I think I just needed to write. So, thank you for reading. If you want a great organization to donate money to now or in the future, I can’t recommend Let Us Create quite enough.
Search For
Archive
Categories
- Africa
- airplanes
- Alabama
- America
- Angkor Wat
- Arizona
- Asia
- Bangkok
- Batumi
- Birmingham
- Bolivia
- books
- Boutique hotels
- brooklyn
- Burma
- Calle Ocho
- Cambodia
- cats
- cemetery
- Central America
- Charlie Hebdo
- China
- Christmas
- Costa Brava
- Costa Rica
- Covid
- croatia
- Cuba
- Delhi
- dogs
- Dominican Republic
- Dublin
- dubrovnik
- East Village
- eating out
- El Nido
- europe
- family
- Fés
- Fes
- Fiji
- Florida
- French Quarter
- Full Bunny Contact
- Gay Pride
- Georgia
- Glasgow
- Greece
- Halloween
- Hanoi
- Havana
- Highland cattle
- holi festival
- holidays
- Hong Kong
- horror
- Hot Chicken
- Hurricane Sandy
- India
- Inle Lake
- Ireland
- Isle of Mull
- Istanbul
- Italy
- Japan
- journalism
- Kampot
- Kanha National Park
- Kazbegi
- Kep
- Kidepo
- Langkawi
- Laos
- Louisiana
- Lower East Side
- Luang Prabang
- madrid
- Malaysia
- Manila
- Mardi Gras
- Marrakech
- Mexico
- Miami
- Mississippi
- Mississippi Delta
- morocco
- Movies
- Murchison Falls
- Myanmar
- Nashville
- New Orleans
- New York City
- Oregon
- packing list
- Palawan
- Paris
- Pasay City
- Penang
- Peru
- Philippines
- Phnom Penh
- photography
- photos
- Portland
- recipes
- Republic of Georgia
- road trip
- road trips
- Rome
- safari
- Scotland
- Shanghai
- Siem Reap
- sihanoukville
- South
- South America
- Southeast Asia
- Spain
- Sri Lanka
- Stepantsminda
- street food
- Sunrise
- sunset
- Taipei
- Taiwan
- Tanzania
- Tbilisi
- Telluride
- Thailand
- The Florida Keys
- Tigers
- Tokyo
- Travel
- travel gear
- Trump
- Tucson
- Turkey
- Uganda
- Uncategorized
- Uyuni
- Vancouver
- Venice
- Vietnam
- Wawa Dam
- Wyoming
- Yangon
- Zanzibar
- Zombies
its hard to put it into words. glad you did. they are good ones.
once you see something like this, it definitely does change the way you interact with home. I still havent figured it out and struggle everyday, but I feel better just questioning it. You will feel a difference and you’ll be happy. more so than I, I’m sure 🙂
it’s funny that i was just thinking of you last night – thinking that I hadn’t seen anything recently from you and wondering how and what you were doing. now I know.
thank you for your candor (not like I ever expect anything less from you, though). what you are doing is what many like to think we could do, but don’t. For now, i’m making a donation to both ‘create’ and ‘small steps.’ thank you for what you are doing Jenny
Thank you soooo much. It really, really goes a long way over here. Hope your having a blast with your new freelance writing gig! 🙂 miss ya
I have been told that culture shock happens when you go to a place. I would argue that the culture shock happens when you return to your everyday life. Each time I’ve gone to Nicaragua, I’ve come back changed and have to figure out how to interact with the world I thought was my normal.
You are doing amazing things. Thank you for sharing their stories.
You AMAZE me. Be safe. Love love love. Love again. feel the hug.
Just concentrate on their smiles and you will get through fine. And let it change you, and the way you view life. Let it remind you how lucky you are; most of us don’t realise how fortunate we really are for just being born in the right country at the right time. It is, however, a good thing if we do, because it gives us an appreciation of what we have, and how trivial our pursuit for bigger and better is.
Hey Jen
Good to read where you are at. Cambodia is the hardest and most depressing country that I have ever traveled through. I read your blog and then went to the Small Steps video. I cried. I have not cried for a very long time. Thank you for what you are doing, just being there; sharing the simple stuff. Love, and recognition of life. Keep smiling and being real about who you are. It may feel to you like a drop in the ocean right now; but even one happy day shared in a child’s life is something… You have much to give.
love you very much. Hope i get to see you in a week or two!
I have never been a more proud brother of you than right now. Luv you. Be safe.
thank you so much. that means a lot. This is both harder and easier than i envisioned. It’s definitely a weird, awesome, humbling experience that I know I will never forget and now never go more than a year without doing something similar. love you