The Children of Angkor
During my visit to Cambodia earlier this year, I was affected by the many children begging, selling tacky souvenirs or just playing around the temples in Siem Reap. As a way of coming to terms with what I experienced, I wrote two versions of the same story. One I sent to Your Life is A Trip, which you can read by clicking on the link, and the other one is below.
They buzz around me in droves. Irritating little mosquitoes. Sometimes noisy, sometimes quiet. They seem to be an ever-present nuisance. Even if I try, I cannot avoid their onslaught. “Lady! Lady!” Dirty little hands push tacky souvenirs in my direction. I don’t want to make eye contact. I don’t want to see them. “Only one dolla.” I fasten my pace, keep my face stern, and pretend not hear them. Maybe they will go away.
* * *
UNICEF estimates that there are 600,000 orphans in Cambodia. Of these only 3,000 are in orphanages; 99%+ of all Cambodian orphans are being cared for by their extended family, or their wider community; in a small percentage of cases children are fending for themselves.
* * *
Unkempt little bodies jump from stone to stone. Lithe and agile. Darting now towards, then away from the never-ending stream of tourists flowing over the raised wooden causeways of Beng Mealea. They claim the unrestored stones of the temple, 40 kilometres east of Angkor on the ancient royal way as their playground. Nearly nine centuries of heat and humidity have played havoc with the precise placement of the blue sandstone blocks. Gone is the former wealth and glory of an empire. In its place poverty reigns.
* * *
Cambodia is still one of the world’s poorest nations and unbelievable, grinding poverty is a brutal fact of life for many people. In Siem Reap province over one third of the population lives below the official poverty line, existing on less than 49 cents per day.
* * *
Little fists clench clear plastic bags filled with sweets. Dark, unfathomable eyes pry into mine. An accusation, a challenge, a plea? Under the eternal watch of the stone guardians of the ancient Khmer temples they lay claims on the hearts and purse strings of tourists.
* * *
1 in 7 children die before the age of 5.
* * *
Skinny legs wade into murky water to pick a lone lotus flower bud. As a symbol of purity and spiritual awakening, the it contrasts sharply with the sense of despair and deprivation that cloak the shoulders of the children aimlessly lolling along the water’s edge.
* * *
A lack of proper sewage and waste water treatment, coupled with poor standards of hygiene, result in many people being forced to drink contaminated water. Both surface and ground water are contaminated in some areas, and in Cambodia 40,000 children die each year, many due to waterborne illnesses.
* * *
“How cute!” a tourist exclaims, reaching for her camera. Three little barefoot children, as if on cue, strike a pose. One with a hand on her hip; the smallest, unclenching the fingers of her left hand to form a victory sign; the last just staring ahead, silently sucking a blood red lollipop. There is no glimmer of joy. Their faces are wax masks. Unreadable.
* * *
It’s not a normal reaction for any child, wherever you are in the world, to run up and hug a stranger coming in from the street. What seems so lovely to foreigners who are welcomed into orphanages by children holding their hands and hugging them is in fact a sign of the children’s distress.
* * *
The sun pours its golden light into the tranquil water of Sra Srang that once was reserved for the king and his consorts. The world is at peace at the break of this new day. “You want to buy postcard? Only one dolla.” My heart sinks. My fragile equilibrium instantly shatters. I sigh and look up. Her school uniform is neat. There is the beginning of a smile that hovers near the corners of her mouth. Hesitant. Cautious. I try to ignore her plea for money, and engage her in conversation. We talk about her school. Finally, a shy smile reaches her eyes. “I love my teacher.”
* * *
Teacher’s salaries are only $30 to $50 per month and they cannot survive on this so are forced to charge unofficial attendance fees, or fees for extra tuition, or for examination results etc. Such fees are beyond the means of the poorest families.
* * *
He counts on his fingers, pauses, thinks, and scribbles down an answer. A diligent student, doing his homework against the towering backdrop of Banteay Kdei, a former Buddhist monastery dating from the late 12th century. His father, unpacking bundles of merchandise he hopes to sell to the day’s influx of tourists, fail to distract him as he passes by his son’s ancient stone desk. His tiny body is oblivious to his surroundings. I silently pray that his dedication will be rewarded with a better future for him and his family.
* * *
Children go to school for half a day, either mornings or afternoons, and a credible 90%+ of children enrol for primary school. Costs of school uniforms, books and other materials, the need to travel greater distances, and unofficial fees, mean that only 1/3 start lower secondary school and just 13% finish upper secondary school.
* * *
The constant presence of the children of the Angkor temples is an uncomfortable reminder of the face of poverty. It is a heart-wrenching mixture of hope and despair. My encounters with them reinforce my travel philosophy: how I travel is as important as that I travel.
* * *
All quotes in italics come from information pamphlets distributed by ConCERT Cambodia.
Siem Reap, Cambodia, January 2014
Both texts are very powerful. The one here with information interlinked also makes me bounce between dry statistics and the very human reality they represent. “How I travel is as important as that I travel”. Your texts let me be part of your travel too, at least a tiny bit, and I’m very grateful for that. This is the kind of testimonies we need to better get to know the world we live in.
I am glad that I could make you a part of my travels, Gunilla.
Beautifully written and well done. I hear about the poverty of Cambodia and the shocked reactions from my friends. It’s something we forget when we are planning our holidays. When I came to Thailand, way back in 1989, I remember when children surrounded us at the market, begging for change. It was shocking how many surrounded us. My mom gave them money then shoo-ed them away. Those kinds of things you don’t forget.
Thank you, Lani. You are right, we never consider the face of poverty when we plan our holidays. I am always deeply disturbed when children are begging. I always wonder what I would have done if I were in their shoes. These encounters always humble me, and make me grateful for the many blessings I have in my life.
Word!
Very insightful jolandi! It is soooo sad that there are so many suffering children in the world! You feel so powerless to help!
Thank you, Alison. The feeling of powerlessness is rather disconcerting. I often encounter children begging on my travels, but somehow these children’s faces have been haunting me much longer.
So well written, and is this sad part of travel…throughout Asia I have seen so many great young minds that find the best option available is begging (family/social pressure). Egypt was where it bothered me the most (outside of the large cities), as it was aggressive and really a breakdown of infrastructure. It does cause such mixed emotions, mainly sadness and helplessness.
Thank you, Randall. It certainly is an enormous problem in many countries where poverty is rife. I agree with you that it is sad when young minds choose begging as a solution for their problems. It is not very comfortable to travel to places where one is accosted by beggars the whole time. Like you say, one experiences such mixed emotions.
Thank you for very interesting Article, as usually 🙂
thank you for sharing this important information. aleya
I was in Cambodia recently and it broke my heart to see all those poor children ;(
A very unsettling experience indeed!
A really interesting and thought provoking post. When I was travelling through Kenya it was a very similar situation with children surrounding the vehicle every time we stopped. Tiny little hands were scratching at the window; absolutely heartbreaking.
It sure is, Sara.
i like how you incorporated the facts into your narrative… well written and a necessary read for outsiders to understand the depths of poverty in cambodia. when i volunteered there, i was horrified to learn that nurses only made $10 a month working at a government hospital… despite lunch being on average about $2-3 a meal. thus nurses were forced to work 2-3 jobs outside of the hospital in order to have a living wage. the street children, whether urban poor or countryside poor… really difficult to swallow, it’s something i still wrestle with. thanks for sharing this.
It took me a long time to write about this aspect of my experience in Siem Reap. My travels have often taken me through places of poverty, but nowhere has it affected me as much as in Cambodia. How wonderful that you have volunteered there. Your writing is wonderfully evocative to bring not just your experiences, but the people and patients that cross your path to life.