| I actually felt butterflies as my tuk tuk wound through the outskirts of Siem Reap, past local markets, dusty roads, and a wedding tent that took up the whole road and made us detour. It had been a year since I’d seen our beloved Jenny and Jenna and the rest of the children at the Children’s Improvement Organization here in Cambodia. When we pulled into their compound, I was greeted by dozens of little smiling faces and a big hug from Sitha, a wonderful, caring man who founded CIO along with his wife, who everyone calls “Mama.” | |
Of course Jenny and Jenna were there to greet me with big smiles. Jenny, the younger sister, still had that wonderful smile on her face that lit up the world. And Jenna, more serious and stoic, was had grown a head taller and had turned into quite a strong soccer player. Sitha assured me that the girls had fit in and adjusted wonderfully in the year since they’d been placed in the orphanage and I last visited. They were catching up in school slowly but surely after never attending much before, and always were kind to the other children and extremely helpful. In the mornings, when it was a scramble to wake, feed, and ready 37 children for school, Sitha often didn’t have time to eat as well. But Jenna often came up to him with a plate of rice, reminding him to take care of himself and looking out for her new papa. Jenny and Jenna were still thrilled to see me and hugged me warmly but didn’t cling to my shirt, afraid and nervous to let go, like they did when we first brought them there. That was a great sign to see them so happy but also so strong, confident, and independent.
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Sitha brought me into the shade and sat me down on a red plastic chair that one of the children pulled up and we caught up on the year. Things were going well and the children were doing fine, but of course there was nonstop financial pressure. CIO, though one of the best orphanages you’ll find anywhere in the world, isn’t linked to big corporate donors or rich patrons, so each month, they sacrifice and count every penny (or Cambodian Reil) in order to pay their rent and buy food for the children. When prodded, he explained that the lease on the land we stood on was set for renewal in April one month away, and that meant they had to come up with a whopping $1,200 – three months’ rent – all at once. It was hard enough just to pay the rent every month, but $1,200 was truly troubling.
But despite the odds that are stacked against CIO and the children, Sitha and Mama never give up and never exude anything but positivity. Of course they have 35 little reminders why it’s all worth it, from 3 to 19 years old, with them at all times. The afternoon was cooling so Sitha walked me around and gave me a tour of the compound, like I’d received the previous year. But there were definitely improvements; the school room looked great, the colorful library and study center, complete with a few donated computers, was new, and they even had a spirited Khmer (Cambodian) college student, an orphan herself, living with them and teaching the kids English every day as she continued her own studies. There was even a small 1980s television, but the always-thoughtful Sitha explained that the kids were only allowed one hour of television a week on Saturdays. The boys wanted to watch U.S. wrestling, of course, but the girls wanted cartoons, so cartoons it was.
Little girls helped Mama in the kitchen where she prepared about 100 meals a day outdoors on wood and charcoal fires, a task that got her up at 5:30am and off work well past dark.
The soccer field was in full operation, a new volleyball court marked off in the sand, and the separate building with bathrooms was high class for rural Cambodia. There was a whole room with bicycles so the middle and high schoolers could peddle to the school 10 kilometers away every day, as there was no bus. The elementary school kids had an easy 5-minute walk in their blue uniforms and white shirts. The school day was spilt into morning and afternoon sessions in Cambodia with children attending one or the other, so kids were spilling as Sitha and I talked. Each child as they came home walked up to us, bowed and put their hands to their foreheads as is the custom of respect, and said hello and reported they just returned from school in English. Respect, manners, and discipline are integral to the lessons Sitha teaches them, and English is also vital if they hope to get good jobs above manual labor, like working in a hotel or restaurant with tourists for $150 a month or so if they’re lucky.
The soccer field was in full operation, a new volleyball court marked off in the sand, and the separate building with bathrooms was high class for rural Cambodia. There was a whole room with bicycles so the middle and high schoolers could peddle to the school 10 kilometers away every day, as there was no bus. The elementary school kids had an easy 5-minute walk in their blue uniforms and white shirts. The school day was spilt into morning and afternoon sessions in Cambodia with children attending one or the other, so kids were spilling as Sitha and I talked. Each child as they came home walked up to us, bowed and put their hands to their foreheads as is the custom of respect, and said hello and reported they just returned from school in English. Respect, manners, and discipline are integral to the lessons Sitha teaches them, and English is also vital if they hope to get good jobs above manual labor, like working in a hotel or restaurant with tourists for $150 a month or so if they’re lucky.
As Mama cooked and Sitha supervised the children coming home, I wandered over to the garden, a new addition in the year I’d been gone. As they were designing the flowerbeds, the children had a cool idea to build it in the shape of CIO – the orphanage’s initials. The water pump was also near the garden, an old-school red metal handle the children took turns working to get water to wash dishes, do laundry, and also bathe. I was saying hi to the kids there when I felt a biting pain in my foot. Then another one, and more on my other foot, ankles and legs. I looked down to see I was standing right in a nest of fire ants. Those little sons-of-ants (I gotta keep the language clean when writing a blog about kids!) hurt like wasp stings. I brushed and kicked and danced until they were off me, the children laughing with hilarity at my painful antics.
When dinner was ready, the children took out metal folding tables and plastic chairs and set them up on the concrete deck under the main pavilion. Some of them set the tables while others poured drinks into little plastic cups or took out metal cafeteria trays. Mama scooped the food onto each tray. There was white rice, green beans with chopped pork, and Lok Lak, a Khmer treat of beef in sauce, tomato and onion, and egg. I realized it was a feast to celebrate my visit; they couldn’t always eat that well, and many people here lack meat in their daily meals.
When dinner was ready, the children took out metal folding tables and plastic chairs and set them up on the concrete deck under the main pavilion. Some of them set the tables while others poured drinks into little plastic cups or took out metal cafeteria trays. Mama scooped the food onto each tray. There was white rice, green beans with chopped pork, and Lok Lak, a Khmer treat of beef in sauce, tomato and onion, and egg. I realized it was a feast to celebrate my visit; they couldn’t always eat that well, and many people here lack meat in their daily meals.
Before we dug in, some children were assigned to wave the flies away from the tables. Unfortunately, the orphanage grounds sits near a chicken farm and a crocodile farm if I heard correctly, both attracting swarms of flies that migrate over to their dinner tables. The children sang an adorable song of gratitude and blessings before the meal, which I asked them to repeat so I could video it.
We ate among the sounds of children’s’ laughter, but at the adult table Sitha gave me a sketch on the history and culture of Cambodia. He explained that Siem Reap province, despite being the top tourist destination in the country, was the poorest province in Cambodia (which is saying a lot). In fact, the home to Angkor Watt – one of the wonders of the world and an UNESCO world heritage site – brought in a ton of revenue, but the regular people never saw a penny of it. All of the hotels, bars, and restaurants were owned by rich foreigners or a small number of elite Khmer families and the rights to profit from Angkor Watt had been sold to a Vietnamese tycoon in 2004, in one of the most glaring cases of political corruption for profit I can fathom.
We ate among the sounds of children’s’ laughter, but at the adult table Sitha gave me a sketch on the history and culture of Cambodia. He explained that Siem Reap province, despite being the top tourist destination in the country, was the poorest province in Cambodia (which is saying a lot). In fact, the home to Angkor Watt – one of the wonders of the world and an UNESCO world heritage site – brought in a ton of revenue, but the regular people never saw a penny of it. All of the hotels, bars, and restaurants were owned by rich foreigners or a small number of elite Khmer families and the rights to profit from Angkor Watt had been sold to a Vietnamese tycoon in 2004, in one of the most glaring cases of political corruption for profit I can fathom.
I hugged him and mama, then shook their hands, and then hugged them again. There weren’t words to express enough gratitude for what they were doing for these children.
“You don’t say goodbye, only ‘see you later’” Sitha called out, reminding me of what I wrote about the orphanage in my blog a year earlier.
“Here you go Sitha, this will help,” I said, handing him a stack of crisp $100 bills, enough money to pay the upcoming 3-month lease that was hanging over them. I explained that I wasn’t the generous one; most of it came from donations from sweet, caring friends in the United States who had never even been to Cambodia or seen the kids.
As I left, the children lined up and waved, running behind the tuk tuk. I hoped to visit one more time before I left Cambodia, or maybe it would be another year before I got to see them all again, but I was heartened knowing they were all safe and happy and in great hands.
-Norm :-)
P.S. Drop me an email if you'd like to help the children of C.I.O.
“You don’t say goodbye, only ‘see you later’” Sitha called out, reminding me of what I wrote about the orphanage in my blog a year earlier.
“Here you go Sitha, this will help,” I said, handing him a stack of crisp $100 bills, enough money to pay the upcoming 3-month lease that was hanging over them. I explained that I wasn’t the generous one; most of it came from donations from sweet, caring friends in the United States who had never even been to Cambodia or seen the kids.
As I left, the children lined up and waved, running behind the tuk tuk. I hoped to visit one more time before I left Cambodia, or maybe it would be another year before I got to see them all again, but I was heartened knowing they were all safe and happy and in great hands.
-Norm :-)
P.S. Drop me an email if you'd like to help the children of C.I.O.
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