A trip that would have taken about 45 minutes in the USA, took twice as long thanks to the conditions of the road. As we bounced down the final, palm-lined dirt road, I was exposed to a totally different world than that found in Phnom Penh. The poverty here was extreme, but is simply the way of life for the people who live here.
We went first to the home of Chunn’s co-worker. A family spanning three generations shared the 2-room, wooden hut built upon stilts ten feet off the ground. I was surprised to find that the home was over 100 years old! Removing my shoes, I climbed the steep ladder into the hut, where I sat on the floor to enjoy coconut water and Pchum Ben cakes. There were no chairs, tables or beds inside, simply a straw mat on which to sit and sleep. A small alter took prominence within the room, fashioned after a Cambodian Temple and dedicated to the “house gods”. Finishing our snack, we began a round of visits.
First, to the in-laws. Chunn’s co-worker, although middle-aged, had never ridden in a car before. So after a few excited shouts of “Turn here”, “No, no, there!” we arrived at a similar hut as described above. While the steep ladder had been slightly nerve-racking for me to climb, it was difficult to watch her elderly in-laws descend this treacherous incline (which they must traverse daily). Here, she presented her in-laws with gifts; in return they recited a blessing over her, bowing repeatedly in gratitude. It was a privilege to witness this exchange which is deeply rooted in Khmer culture; as on all major holidays, the Khmer are expected to present their parents with gifts.
This tradition must relate to the fact that children care for their parents in their old age. The next home we visited was of an elderly couple in their eighties who had no children to look after them. Further, the health of the two was severely declined. The man was bent at an almost 90 degree angle, unable to stand up straight. The woman’s teeth had almost completely rotted, leaving a stain of blood around her mouth. Although, of course, they were speaking in Khmer, Chunn translated some of their story for me. The two were married in their twenties. When the woman reached her thirties, and still had not had a child, she asked her husband to re-marry. However, he refused. The two now rely on the generosity of the rest of the village to survive. The couple insisted that we take with us nearly all their Pchum Ben cakes, despite the fact that they had so little.
As we left their hut, a woman beckoned to Fr. Kevin. He soon realized that his Center provided her son with AIDs medication. We went to meet the 14-year old boy; as he was led over to us I realized that he was blind. His mother said he used to be very good at his studies, that was, before he lost his sight. Living in this small village, I knew there were no resources for him to continue his education
However, the most difficult visit for me was to the home of an elderly mother and her two daughters, one of which suffers from a mental illness. When we entered the hut, I saw that a curtain had been strung up. I heard Fr. Kevin’s exclamation, “Oh, oh, this is really difficult to see”. Immediately, I went on guard. Chunn beckoned me around the curtain. On the other side, was a cage made of bamboo containing the daughter suffering from mental illness. She lay listlessly inside, in soiled clothes, drooling. Her mother spoke passionately, with tears in her eyes. She said that when her daughter turned violent, they had no choice but to lock her up.
In the village, and throughout Cambodia, the people know of no other way to care for the mentally ill besides chaining or caging them. There are only 20 psychiatrists in the whole country, and no psychologists. While a number of NGOs are present in the country, none have been established to serve the mentally ill. There are absolutely no inpatient treatment centers. At one point, the daughter sat up within the cage and laughed hysterically, before lying back down. It was extremely difficult to see her in such horrible conditions and feel as if I could do nothing to help. That anyone should be forced to live in such circumstances is inhumane.
Seeing her was a life-changing moments, where nothing can quite go back to the way it was before. The image of her will always stay with me. This experience caused me to think a lot about what I was doing here in Cambodia for the year. It seems like such a small and mundane thing to be teaching English when such greater problems exist throughout the country. I eventually justified to myself that in educating these girls, hopefully they, like Chunn will help improve the living conditions and bring aid to some of the poorest of the poor. Further, I feel that in the long-term, I may have discovered my own mission: perhaps one day I can help open a center for the mentally ill in Cambodia.
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