I stand in the bright yellow of Rahab’s House and I feel warm – not the sticky heat that is everywhere; I feel warm because I know this place has been transformed and God has used Fairview, even us, to do this great thing. I stand in the bright front room and feel warm but the smell of garbage is still wafting in from across the narrow dirt road; the screams of the kids who gather outside are getting to me (most if not all of us) a little more than they had been. The village representative who has been with us the whole time has already stolen from us and we watch him like a hawk because he’s eyeing everything.
I walk up the steep stairs for the last time. This used to be the “virgin room” – not any more. It is now a beautiful airy space that is bright with light and bright with hope. I pray with two others who had come up for the last time. It is a powerfully emotional prayer for me as we acknowledge what this space was and that it will never be that again rather it will be a place of hope – it shines with God’s hope.
I go down the stairs for the last time. I feel good.
I walk through what is now a wide open, brightly lit room and there is a sense of holiness about it. I don’t think I am over spiritualizing it to say that. So much of the work that went into making the room as it is was holy work – knocking down walls, chipping away at the bits of wall still attached to the floor, scraping off the pink paint and on and on the list goes. Holy means “set apart for a special purpose.” Rahab’s House has a sense of holiness to it now.
God has used us for His purpose and for His own joy. My joy at seeing this place in this condition must parallel God’s joy. God’s joy is likely bigger not because we have done such good work but because He sees the whole of the plan from beginning to end. God knows what will become of this place and the impact it will have on Svay Pak.
11 days earlier I cried tears of distress as I walked through the cubicles. Today tears of joy roll down my cheeks.
Our part of the work is accomplished. God had things going on in Rahab’s House long before we arrived and God will have things going on long after we’ve left. ARC is having a kitchen installed as well as a new tiled floor and movable dividing walls are being constructed. It would have been nice for us to see all of that work done but that would have just served the purposed of making us feel good. It is probably better that we don’t get to see everything this place will be because it reminds us that we are just a small part in a much bigger work that God is doing here.
I feel God’s satisfaction. I walk toward the open gate. I stand just inside for several minutes. The team decides to walk through the village to the highway to be picked up by the van there. I step out of the holiness of Rahab’s House into the evil and need of Svay Pak and walk to the road. God has a lot to do here and He’s got some very good people here in Cambodia to help him.
I reach the highway.
It is time to go home!
Grant
Saturday, May 17, 2008
Last day - Tim
Last day in Cambodia. Here's a random jumble of some of the things I will not forget:
- on the third day at Rahab's House in the dark because the power had been cut - cleaning out the debris along the back wall of the 'kitchen' - weeping, not letting anyone see - for my own little troubles or for what had happened to kids in this miniTreblinka? - both?
- treading on some poor doctor's shirt and bones at Cheung Ek killing field, exposed through the dirt in the middle of the path and still not yet put at respectful peace by his country
- sitting across from the angels at ARC - and an offer I could not touch - it was Sacred
- the little tiny girls of Svay Pak. Always the little girls. May the Lion protect you and heal you.
- accelerated sweat
- meeting rare individuals of the Kingdom, like Helen, Clayton, Marie Ens, Cheung Te, and Ratanak, the ones who are on the front line of this anti-trafficking business for the long haul, leaders God Himself has raised up
- a senior army officer in a fancy SUV and wearing a contemptuous scowl, throwing his weight around by ramming a young woman's moto from behind when she had no place to move it out of the way anyway because she herself was boxed in
- one beggar with horrendous injuries from a landmine (both arms, most of both legs), yet still able to perambulate
- orange-clad monks who not only don't work but parasitize the rest of the population and encourage the worship of stone cows, the repetition of meaningless mantras, and much worse
- a spiffy (Saudi-financed?) mosque and Islamic centre amongst the most putrid poverty of the Muslim quarter just before you arrive at Svay Pak
- a free market economy on steroids and with no safety net, trying to do accelerated time travel down the 25 years they are behind other parts of Asia
- portraits of a nattily dressed but weak king not held in true respect by his own people because of his fear of Cambodia's neighbors and desire to maintain his own privileged position
- the much caressed elephant parked in front of his/her favourite bar and gloriously oblivious to traffic cops (sort of like everybody else)
- the beauty, patience, and natural grace of the Cambodian people. This could be Eden.
- other moments, from within the team, which are too private to disclose to the world
A deep thank you to Fairview and to the Lord Jesus for the privilige of being able to take these memories home.
rapping things up- Jeff
Today was a final market and sight seeing day. Many of us went to the mall or the markets to get some last minute gifts for the people back at home. Martin, Kit, Grant and I went to the markets and then we went for a tour of Phnom phen. Our tuk-tuk driver took us around the city pointing out some things that we might like to see. We saw the royal palace, watt Phnom and he even showed us where he lives. We passed the hospital that Sokna was born in as well, so we took some pictures (only from the outside) and then we went back to the hotel.
After all of the shopping I began to realize that this experience, this part of my life is coming to an end. This rose a range of emotions. Since Tuesday I have wanted to just leave this place, all that we have been through I feel that I am physically and emotionally drained. Even getting royalty type treatment in the hospital I feel that being in the hospital for so long that it made me just want to be home in my own bed near things that aren’t so foreign and even just having some of the comforts of home. On the other hand I think about all the things that still need to be done in Svay Pak, and all of the people and friends that we have made and it makes me a little sad that we are going to leave. I probably wont see many or even all of them ever again.
So were coming back tomorrow and we’ll arrive Sunday evening Vancouver time. I’ll leave here with both feelings of happiness and some sadness but I think I’m really looking forward to getting home
After all of the shopping I began to realize that this experience, this part of my life is coming to an end. This rose a range of emotions. Since Tuesday I have wanted to just leave this place, all that we have been through I feel that I am physically and emotionally drained. Even getting royalty type treatment in the hospital I feel that being in the hospital for so long that it made me just want to be home in my own bed near things that aren’t so foreign and even just having some of the comforts of home. On the other hand I think about all the things that still need to be done in Svay Pak, and all of the people and friends that we have made and it makes me a little sad that we are going to leave. I probably wont see many or even all of them ever again.
So were coming back tomorrow and we’ll arrive Sunday evening Vancouver time. I’ll leave here with both feelings of happiness and some sadness but I think I’m really looking forward to getting home
Hope -- Toph
So our time in Svay Pak is done. It is likely that I will never again visit this village, even though I would very much like to return to Cambodia. There are big issues I am still working through, however.
What did the trip achieve? The task of renovating Rahab’s House is done. The building is no longer a brothel, but a great, beautiful open space with bright yellow walls which will be a tremendous resource for the people who work there. Since the building was raided in 2003 and the girls working there liberated, the shell had remained. Though some of the girls have had the courage, tremendous courage, to return and to begin community outreach from this building, work was confined to the front room. This was a renovation that was needed, but which always fell just below the funding threshold for Aim4Asia. We were able to provide that service. All of Rahab’s House is now clean, functional, and able to be used by these women in their work: teaching, providing food, providing medical outreach, serving the community. In time, someone will live there full time, in the upstairs rooms. In a real sense our work was to provide a better platform for these people to do their ongoing work. On that level, I am confident that the trip was a success, and that we will see it as such in the future.
From the start, however, we have asked ourselves why it was necessary for us to do the work; wouldn’t hiring local workers be more cost effective? What did it mean in Svay Pak to have ten white faces there, day in day out, for something other than sex? I hope it meant something: we were seen to be giving; we were friendly; we were polite; we were asking for nothing from the village. Many of the kids, and some of the adults in the village, seemed genuinely touched by our presence. But…
The last day working was difficult. Some of the kids were especially rambunctious, even rude, and some new faces appeared, children we’d not seen before. Children were excited to have their pictures taken, but were wild, taking anything they could. Abouot two minutes before we left, one of the new children, a boy with a scratch on his chest that he bragged had been caused by a machete (this seems unlikely!), held out his hand and asked me for a dollar. So not everyone saw us as different, and though this was the only time it happened, it did sour things a bit.
In contrast, some kids showed real generosity. Paul, my wheelbarrow helper on the first day, had been given a hat by Richard as a memento, and then he offered it to me, almost immediately. Genuine generous reciprocity, even if it did miss the point of being given the hat. I encouraged Paul to keep the hat, so he could remember “Tom”.
But again, we only see the village during the day. We have no idea what goes on at night, and, the truth is, we are scared of it.
Today, Saturday, Richard and I went to visit an 11th-century temple two hours south of Phnom Penh (by Tuktuk!). It was beautiful – a wonderful reminder of the richness of the Khmer civilization that had flourished for centuries. As we drove along the roads, children waved. They waved from bicycles, from roadside storefronts, from the verandas of their shacks. But there was a politeness, a joy, a desire to try out an English “Hello”, and a look of surprise when we try responding in Khmer. Adults would also wave, as they sat in the shade in hammocks, with a child balanced on their bellies. This is what cultural contact should be like. It was truly happy, sincere, open, undemanding, fun. And it was completely unlike the encounters we have had for two weeks in Svay Pak.
Svay Pak in some ways looks like every other little Cambodian village. But it is also completely unlike every other little Cambodian village. This is a village where a gift of a soccer ball means one child runs home with his treasure, rather than it becoming a source of amusement for all the kids (I think four soccer balls were distributed, though none ever reappeared after it was initially put away. I had always thought a soccer ball like this could be a universal gift, for almost any age, anywhere in the world. Not in Svay Pak, where Yoda says (mimes) that the kids sell the balls for cigarettes.) So I ask myself, can Svay Pak change? Can the suspicion, and the hurt, and the brokenness, and the disfunction, and the corruption, and the perspectives of the West, and the disease, and the greed, and the exploitation, and the violence, and all that is wrong with this village change?
I have to believe it can. I have to believe that there is something redeemable in this village, though I admit my evidence is not strong. There have been two or three mothers with children who show affection. There are rare generous acts by the children. And, above all, there is the courage of the girls who had once been sex slaves in the brothels here, who have been rescued, and who choose to come back. Twice a week, to help the community from which they have been saved.
They see hope for this community. And because of them, so do I.
What did the trip achieve? The task of renovating Rahab’s House is done. The building is no longer a brothel, but a great, beautiful open space with bright yellow walls which will be a tremendous resource for the people who work there. Since the building was raided in 2003 and the girls working there liberated, the shell had remained. Though some of the girls have had the courage, tremendous courage, to return and to begin community outreach from this building, work was confined to the front room. This was a renovation that was needed, but which always fell just below the funding threshold for Aim4Asia. We were able to provide that service. All of Rahab’s House is now clean, functional, and able to be used by these women in their work: teaching, providing food, providing medical outreach, serving the community. In time, someone will live there full time, in the upstairs rooms. In a real sense our work was to provide a better platform for these people to do their ongoing work. On that level, I am confident that the trip was a success, and that we will see it as such in the future.
From the start, however, we have asked ourselves why it was necessary for us to do the work; wouldn’t hiring local workers be more cost effective? What did it mean in Svay Pak to have ten white faces there, day in day out, for something other than sex? I hope it meant something: we were seen to be giving; we were friendly; we were polite; we were asking for nothing from the village. Many of the kids, and some of the adults in the village, seemed genuinely touched by our presence. But…
The last day working was difficult. Some of the kids were especially rambunctious, even rude, and some new faces appeared, children we’d not seen before. Children were excited to have their pictures taken, but were wild, taking anything they could. Abouot two minutes before we left, one of the new children, a boy with a scratch on his chest that he bragged had been caused by a machete (this seems unlikely!), held out his hand and asked me for a dollar. So not everyone saw us as different, and though this was the only time it happened, it did sour things a bit.
In contrast, some kids showed real generosity. Paul, my wheelbarrow helper on the first day, had been given a hat by Richard as a memento, and then he offered it to me, almost immediately. Genuine generous reciprocity, even if it did miss the point of being given the hat. I encouraged Paul to keep the hat, so he could remember “Tom”.
But again, we only see the village during the day. We have no idea what goes on at night, and, the truth is, we are scared of it.
Today, Saturday, Richard and I went to visit an 11th-century temple two hours south of Phnom Penh (by Tuktuk!). It was beautiful – a wonderful reminder of the richness of the Khmer civilization that had flourished for centuries. As we drove along the roads, children waved. They waved from bicycles, from roadside storefronts, from the verandas of their shacks. But there was a politeness, a joy, a desire to try out an English “Hello”, and a look of surprise when we try responding in Khmer. Adults would also wave, as they sat in the shade in hammocks, with a child balanced on their bellies. This is what cultural contact should be like. It was truly happy, sincere, open, undemanding, fun. And it was completely unlike the encounters we have had for two weeks in Svay Pak.
Svay Pak in some ways looks like every other little Cambodian village. But it is also completely unlike every other little Cambodian village. This is a village where a gift of a soccer ball means one child runs home with his treasure, rather than it becoming a source of amusement for all the kids (I think four soccer balls were distributed, though none ever reappeared after it was initially put away. I had always thought a soccer ball like this could be a universal gift, for almost any age, anywhere in the world. Not in Svay Pak, where Yoda says (mimes) that the kids sell the balls for cigarettes.) So I ask myself, can Svay Pak change? Can the suspicion, and the hurt, and the brokenness, and the disfunction, and the corruption, and the perspectives of the West, and the disease, and the greed, and the exploitation, and the violence, and all that is wrong with this village change?
I have to believe it can. I have to believe that there is something redeemable in this village, though I admit my evidence is not strong. There have been two or three mothers with children who show affection. There are rare generous acts by the children. And, above all, there is the courage of the girls who had once been sex slaves in the brothels here, who have been rescued, and who choose to come back. Twice a week, to help the community from which they have been saved.
They see hope for this community. And because of them, so do I.
Go…Stop…Go…Stop - Grant
The last few days have been days of whiplash for me – not the kind you get in your neck so you don’t have to worry. It has been a real emotional time of whiplash which has a physical and emotional impact. It was go, go, go through the first 9 days we were here and then Jeff got sick. There was the frantic effort to get him to the hospital and get him the care he needed. He began to improve immediately and I was so thankful – we were all so thankful. Though we had a team working hard in Svay Pak, my place was with my son in the hospital. So for about 50 hours the two of us were full stop. I could go out and breathe in some stifling air but I didn’t go out much because Jeff couldn’t and I wanted to be there for him in everyway I could.
When Jeff was released we rejoined the team for our reflection time – to cheers mind you – and then out for supper. And then it was full GO again. We had one more day to complete everything at Rahab’s House before we had to be done. It was a crazy day as I felt like I was moving in slow motion trying to keep up. (I will post again on my reflections of that last day.) And now it is Saturday and we have left Svay Pak behind – physically at least. Today is a day to decompress and finish shopping and do some touring of the city we’ve not been able to do.
Go…Stop…Go…Stop
It is time to go home!
Grant
When Jeff was released we rejoined the team for our reflection time – to cheers mind you – and then out for supper. And then it was full GO again. We had one more day to complete everything at Rahab’s House before we had to be done. It was a crazy day as I felt like I was moving in slow motion trying to keep up. (I will post again on my reflections of that last day.) And now it is Saturday and we have left Svay Pak behind – physically at least. Today is a day to decompress and finish shopping and do some touring of the city we’ve not been able to do.
Go…Stop…Go…Stop
It is time to go home!
Grant
Friday, May 16, 2008
Kelvin's post # 10 "Restless in Surrey"
I was sitting in church one Sunday morning about six months ago going through the motions of a worship service but that was about it. I have been going to church all my life, I have sung all the songs, read the Bible, prayed, gone to bible classes, and much more. I have done all the things that you are supposed to do when you “Go to Church” but it all seemed to have become routine. I was getting restless, I could not explain it at the time but I had the sense that God wanted me to do more but I could not put my finger on it.
Now here I am in Cambodia, with an exhausted but satisfied team of dedicated Christians, most of whom I did not know three months ago. As a team we have been through a lot in the past two weeks, we have stared evil in the face in Svay Pak, Tuol Sleng, and the Killing Fields. We have seen the love of God poured out at Arc and the Rescue center. As said before by other members of the team, “Cambodia is a Country of Extremes” and God has shown us both sides of the coin.
A few months back when talking with pastor Tom at my Church I told him about going to Cambodia and I remember him telling me that I would come back a changed man. God has given me an experience so far out of my comfort zone that I don’t know if I will ever find it back!
Maybe He does not want me to find it back!
Tomorrow we get on a plane and leave this place; our part in the transformation of Rahabs House is complete. I thank God for calling me to be a part of this team and my prayer is that Rahabs House will always be a place out of the ordinary, a place that stands out in Svay Pak. A place where people can come to know Christ and a place where kids can come, feel safe and be kids.
This will be my last post and I would like to thank everyone for all their love and support over the past few weeks, we could not have done this without you.
Kelvin
Now here I am in Cambodia, with an exhausted but satisfied team of dedicated Christians, most of whom I did not know three months ago. As a team we have been through a lot in the past two weeks, we have stared evil in the face in Svay Pak, Tuol Sleng, and the Killing Fields. We have seen the love of God poured out at Arc and the Rescue center. As said before by other members of the team, “Cambodia is a Country of Extremes” and God has shown us both sides of the coin.
A few months back when talking with pastor Tom at my Church I told him about going to Cambodia and I remember him telling me that I would come back a changed man. God has given me an experience so far out of my comfort zone that I don’t know if I will ever find it back!
Maybe He does not want me to find it back!
Tomorrow we get on a plane and leave this place; our part in the transformation of Rahabs House is complete. I thank God for calling me to be a part of this team and my prayer is that Rahabs House will always be a place out of the ordinary, a place that stands out in Svay Pak. A place where people can come to know Christ and a place where kids can come, feel safe and be kids.
This will be my last post and I would like to thank everyone for all their love and support over the past few weeks, we could not have done this without you.
Kelvin
still alive- Jeff
Sorry for not blogging for a bit, the past couple of days have been quite the adventure. I’m sure as many of you know I was in the hospital for a couple of days. I was feeling fine until Monday night. It started with a bit of heartburn so I didn’t really pay attention to it. Paul gave me some Pepto-Bismol and I thought that was that. I was wrong.
When night hit all hell broke loose and I had probably the most terrible night of my life. I won’t share the wonderful details but I was really sick. Morning came and I was feeling same as I was in the night, so Barb stayed with me in the hotel while everyone else went to Svay Pak. When lunchtime hit I was feeling almost 100% better, until I ate something. There I was back where I was the night before. When everyone came back from Svay Pak I was getting worse and worse. The vomiting started to give me some harsh dehydration and that is when we decided that I needed to go to the hospital. We called up Clayton and asked him where we should go, he said there was a U.S run clinic but they were closed on account of it being a holiday. So we called him again and he told us he would go to the hospital and arrange things for us. While we were waiting for the arrangements to be made my dehydration started to get worse. I started to loose feeling in my hands and feet and they eventually became almost paralyzed. This is when I started to get scared. Though Clayton was on his was and he had gone to the hospital to make sure that I would get a bed and they were getting ready for my arrival.
We took a tuk-tuk to the hospital which was the fastest way to get there and they had a wheel-chair ready for me and within 10 minutes of being at the hospital, I had an I.V in me and was getting pumped full of fluids (wouldn’t get treatment like that in Vancouver). After being in the ER for a bit I was taken to my room. Clayton once again was a hero and told a bit of a fib to get me some special treatment. He said that we were working with the government at least something along those lines I don’t really remember (I was kind of sick). Anyways what Clayton said to the doctor must have been effective because when I got to my room it was nicer then any other room I have seen in Cambodia. I was nicer then any hospital room I have seen in Canada (though I haven’t spent a lot of time in hospitals in Canada). There was a flat screen TV on the wall, couch, table, sink, fridge, and I was the cleanest room I've ever seen in Cambodia.
When getting to the hospital I had no idea that I would have to be there so long. I thought I would be, go in the afternoon and get out at night. They told me when I got there that I would have to stay over night. My doctor was a Thai doctor who went by the name of Doctor Tom. On the second day he came back and told me that I would need 3 days of antibiotics to get rid of the ecoli infection that had caused this whole mess. So yesterday I was freed from the “Royal Rattanak hospital” and given some more take home antibiotics to help me finish off the treatment.
Today we went for our last day at Rahabs house. I wasn’t able to do a whole lot, but I was able to help do some painting. Part way through the day I was just feeling so tired that I had to return to the hotel early but at least I wasn’t feeling sick
Well thank you for your prayers and your support, I’m feeling much better now, not 100% but I'm getting there
Jeff
When night hit all hell broke loose and I had probably the most terrible night of my life. I won’t share the wonderful details but I was really sick. Morning came and I was feeling same as I was in the night, so Barb stayed with me in the hotel while everyone else went to Svay Pak. When lunchtime hit I was feeling almost 100% better, until I ate something. There I was back where I was the night before. When everyone came back from Svay Pak I was getting worse and worse. The vomiting started to give me some harsh dehydration and that is when we decided that I needed to go to the hospital. We called up Clayton and asked him where we should go, he said there was a U.S run clinic but they were closed on account of it being a holiday. So we called him again and he told us he would go to the hospital and arrange things for us. While we were waiting for the arrangements to be made my dehydration started to get worse. I started to loose feeling in my hands and feet and they eventually became almost paralyzed. This is when I started to get scared. Though Clayton was on his was and he had gone to the hospital to make sure that I would get a bed and they were getting ready for my arrival.
We took a tuk-tuk to the hospital which was the fastest way to get there and they had a wheel-chair ready for me and within 10 minutes of being at the hospital, I had an I.V in me and was getting pumped full of fluids (wouldn’t get treatment like that in Vancouver). After being in the ER for a bit I was taken to my room. Clayton once again was a hero and told a bit of a fib to get me some special treatment. He said that we were working with the government at least something along those lines I don’t really remember (I was kind of sick). Anyways what Clayton said to the doctor must have been effective because when I got to my room it was nicer then any other room I have seen in Cambodia. I was nicer then any hospital room I have seen in Canada (though I haven’t spent a lot of time in hospitals in Canada). There was a flat screen TV on the wall, couch, table, sink, fridge, and I was the cleanest room I've ever seen in Cambodia.
When getting to the hospital I had no idea that I would have to be there so long. I thought I would be, go in the afternoon and get out at night. They told me when I got there that I would have to stay over night. My doctor was a Thai doctor who went by the name of Doctor Tom. On the second day he came back and told me that I would need 3 days of antibiotics to get rid of the ecoli infection that had caused this whole mess. So yesterday I was freed from the “Royal Rattanak hospital” and given some more take home antibiotics to help me finish off the treatment.
Today we went for our last day at Rahabs house. I wasn’t able to do a whole lot, but I was able to help do some painting. Part way through the day I was just feeling so tired that I had to return to the hotel early but at least I wasn’t feeling sick
Well thank you for your prayers and your support, I’m feeling much better now, not 100% but I'm getting there
Jeff
It's Just the Beginning
Today was our last day at Rahab's House. We finished the work we came to do. The old, dark, evil, horrendeous building is gone and has been replaced with a big bright yellow, spacious building, where God's light is set to shine on the people of Svay Pak. Indeed it has already started.
It was very hard to leave those kids, not knowing what sort of future lay in store for them. However, I can take some comfort in the fact that we have made an impression on them and they can associate RH as a safe welcoming place, which will make it easier for Ratna, and the girls from ARC when they come to do the ministry and healthcare sessions.
Ratna came by today and we presented him with the banner. He is a friendly young man with a passion for God - and was already interacting with the kids before he left. The new Rahab's House is in good hands.
It was very hard to leave those kids, not knowing what sort of future lay in store for them. However, I can take some comfort in the fact that we have made an impression on them and they can associate RH as a safe welcoming place, which will make it easier for Ratna, and the girls from ARC when they come to do the ministry and healthcare sessions.
Ratna came by today and we presented him with the banner. He is a friendly young man with a passion for God - and was already interacting with the kids before he left. The new Rahab's House is in good hands.
I am going to be sorry to leave this place tomorrow, a country of contrasts, a country that is still dealing with the devastation and horrors of a civil war. A country where the seeds of God's kingdom is breaking through in places like ARC and Place of Rescue and now Rahab's House. A country that 30 years ago was in the Stone Age and is now trying to deal with 21st century issues, while missing a whole generation of people my age that were wiped out. A country where evil still has a foothold, but is in God's hands.
I don't know how this experience will change me once I get home. I will be processing this for a while. I do know that God brought this team of ordinary but amazing people together for a reason. I knew from the moment that this trip was announced that I had to be here. Time will tell what the results will be.
It is finished - by Paul
Today was our last day at Rahab's House... and we knew that by the 3:00 p.m. it would all have to be finished... the painting, the cleaning up, the rearranging of the little furniture that exists at the moment. What would we feel leaving a place where we toiled for ten days?
What a priveledge it has been to serve our Lord. He used ten ordinary people from Vancouver to transform an oppressive life-sucking building into a place of hope. In physical terms, here was our contribution:
What a priveledge it has been to serve our Lord. He used ten ordinary people from Vancouver to transform an oppressive life-sucking building into a place of hope. In physical terms, here was our contribution:
- Cubicle walls torn down and hauled out.
- Pedophile pink paint scraped off the walls, in many places down to the concrete.
- Wall footings chisseled out and filled in with concrete.
- Walls filled in where cubicle walls were attached.
- Ceiling and wall removed from upstairs rooms.
- Kitchen removed and floor leveled.
- Cistern emptied and cleaned out.
- All walls painted either sunshine yellow or bright white.
- Ceiling of front room painted bright white.
- Rafters denailed and painted white.
- Front of building scrapped and painted.
- Louvres cleaned of years of dust and painted.
- Upstairs door painted white with a yellow cross on both sides.
- Louvre glass windows washed.
- Front sliding door fixed, lubricated and painted.
- Tile floors scraped, swept and mopped.
- Staircase sanded and varnished.
There are probably a few things I missed, but all in all, we accomplished more than we expected. It is finished.
Well not quite. Ratana came by today. He is the young man who has been called by God to work in Svay Pak, just like the ten of us... except that he is going to be part of the next chapter of God's story. Ratana has been working with the girls who had been rescued from brothels in Svay Pak, including the building that is now Rahab's house. They have been coming out twice a week to share the love of God through teaching, medical outreach or food distribution. Until now they have only used the front room and the small space that was unoccupied by the brothel cublicles. They now have a huge area to work with, so their mission will be able to grow and evolve and spread out and shine brightly to light up all the dark and grungy recesses of this... come to think of it... NOT God forsaken village.
Leaving was hard. Our immediate work has come to a close. I will follow as best I can to what God will be doing in Svay Pak. I will wonder what became of the little children who came to play with us, but really wanted to abscond with our belongings. I will pray for the little girl who had an injury on her forehead, which Barb lovingly attended to everyday, and for her mother and sister... the only three people who seemed to love each other, and responded by bringing a small bag of fruit to Barb. Will they come to Rahab's house to learn of the love of God? I think they have already experienced some of it while we were here.
It is finished for us...
We left Svay Pak with lots of emotions still perculating inside of us. We didn't hop in the van today and drive out. Instead, we walked the road to the highway. We wanted to make sure that all the villagers saw a bunch of white middle aged guys and a couple of women walk out of there without having abused or raped any of their children or slaves, and that this would signal an end to their lifestyle and a new beginning for the village.
I'm finished here... and ready to come back home. Thank you all for sustaining us in prayer. Thank you Lord for calling us to serve you.
A Staircase to ...
Marty's Daily Diary #13
It is 4:30pm, Cambodia time, Friday afternoon, May 16, 2008. I have just had a shower having returned after our final day of work at Rahab's House. All the demolition, scraping, painting and cleaning is done. We are almost at the end of our mission trip and as such our blogging is coming to an end as well. So what do I want to talk about today?
That's easy - steps. The last thing I did at Rahab's House involved steps. An old steep mahogany staircase rises from the main floor to the two upper rooms. These steps, like everything in Rahab's House are a little worse for wear and they have taken a lot of abuse from all our team over the past two weeks. Everyday, up and down we have gone like yo-yos. The stairs are dirty with dust and grit, they have not seen paint in a very long time. Everything else in the place was being renewed but we didn't have a plan for the stairs. So we decided to give them a clean up. A clean up. The staircase is not the only thing in Svay Pak that needs a clean up.As Barb began the much needed scraping and wire-brushing of the staircase and we bought the necessary varnish for the steps I began to look closer at the steps. Looking caused me to think. I was the one looking at the steps but what had they seen over the
years? Last Monday when we arrived at Rahab's House and began to walk a round we all meandered in and out of the cubicles in the downstairs. Then we hiked up the steps to the upper area to find that pink shower area and that pink room. That room where young girls, correction, children were sold for the first time and depraved men had their sordid adventures, including the use of video tapes etc. The staircase in Rahab's House has seen everything and everybody. It has the dirt of everyone on its steps. As a result the steps look old, jaded, dull, in need of care and attention. The steps needed someone to love them.
years? Last Monday when we arrived at Rahab's House and began to walk a round we all meandered in and out of the cubicles in the downstairs. Then we hiked up the steps to the upper area to find that pink shower area and that pink room. That room where young girls, correction, children were sold for the first time and depraved men had their sordid adventures, including the use of video tapes etc. The staircase in Rahab's House has seen everything and everybody. It has the dirt of everyone on its steps. As a result the steps look old, jaded, dull, in need of care and attention. The steps needed someone to love them.Svay Pak needs someone to love them. That is a hard task to perform. In fact, God is the only one who could love this place, surely. The dirt needs removed, the scum scraped off and each step needs the tender loving care of being sanded down to its core. Only then can it be covered in a shiny new coat of grace.
And I believe He will do this. Just the way the staircase today has been transformed by one coat of varnish, God can and will redeem Svay Pak. Rahab's House is the seed that has been sown in this place and which will grow and grow and grow. These stairs have led children up to a hell-hole of iniquity like nothing we can imagine in our darkest nightmares. But now I pray that these stairs will lead child after child after child up in to the new shining rooms where they will hear about Jesus, they will worship Jesus and they will grow to love Jesus. These stairs have been redeemed, becasue Jesus decided to redeem them. I believe He is pouring out His mercy and grace on Svay Pak; a hell on earth and as such Svay Pak will become heaven on earth. I look forward to that.
I said my final goodbyes to Rahab's House today. I've been told about its past. I have witnessed some of the evidence of that past. But I have seen its present. I have watched as slowly but surely something beautiful has emerged and I believe its future looks bright. I don't know what that future holds. But I know someone who does.
Heavely Father, continue to burst forth into Svay Pak from this place. Continue to bless these people. Continue your work of varnishing these children of yours. Deal with the evil the way that you know best.
What a 2 weeks!
What a staircase!
Marty
P.S. - With regards "Marty and Me." In all seriousness it has been a joy and an honour to work alongside people of God over these past 2 weeks and in particular my new buddy Kelvin is one of the finest leaders I have ever known. You are a star in my eyes and in God's Bless you brother!
Thursday, May 15, 2008
Toph's Guide to Survival in Cambodia
1. Beer. There are three types of Cambodian beer, all lagers. Tiger is pronounced “tiger”, and is without taste. Anchor is pronounced “ann-chore”. Ankor, which comes in large bottles, is pronounced “anchor”. So if you want an Ankor—and you do (it’s our beer, our country)—ask for an Anchor.
2. Amok. The national dish seems to be some combination of river fish and mild curry, and is called fish amok. I have now had it in five different places, where I have been served (1) a fish pate served in a banana leaf, (2) a fish stew, with small chunks, (3) large steamed fish pieces in a brown sauce, (4) a grainy fish paste served on a bed of caramelized carrots in a lovely tin foil fan, and (5) a think stew with large chunks and full fresh “spinach” leaves (it’s not spinach, but the leaves are that size and colour), topped with yoghurt, served in a coconut. It is always served with rice. So the national dish is some kind of fish served with rice.
3. Economy. The economy runs on American dollars; everyone has them. The local currency, riel (4100r=1 USD), serves as change. Within days, your pocket is bulging with riel, and you find yourself buying newspapers, in hopes of handing over a fistful of bills.
4. Newspapers. The Cambodia Daily sells for 1200 riel, or 30 cents. Except there aren’t any cents, and the paper boy doesn’t have change for a dollar bill. The news combines local stories with international news, in English and Khmer, and has many job ads.
5. Tuktuks. They wait in clusters outside your hotel. You don’t want one, so you wave them off, and take three steps, when two more will ask if you want a ride. You wave them off and take two more steps, and are asked again, and wave them off. And so on down to the corner to buy your newspaper, whereupon a tuktuk pulls up, smiles and asks “tuktuk?”, as if he genuinely believes you haven’t been asked twenty times a minute, since your journey began. You hire him to drive you back to the hotel, just so you don’t have to feel guilty about not giving them work.
6. More on tuktuks. Tuktuks can be hired for $20 a day; they will be very pleased with this as it is more than they would otherwise make, and will take you wherever you want. They will wait for you, whatever you are doing. It turns out they may also offer to do manual labour. Apparently people haggle with tuktuk drivers; I find this hard to believe, the prices are so low…a buck to go here, two to go there. It’s clear I am overpaying, but it’s still less than bus fare. Word has got around about our group. When we ask a tuktuk driver how much to go somewhere, he just smiles and says “whatever you want to pay”.
7. Toiletries. When travelling, one is sometimes caught with insufficent toiletries. No problem; buy a doughnut. The local market is giving out free tubes of Pepsodent toothpaste with almost every purchase.
8. DVDs. The market sells a season of a tv show for five or six bucks, movies for two bucks. Movies that came out last week. Movies that will be coming out next June. Anthologies offer 28 Sandra Bullock movies, on a single disk. I don’t think she has made that many movies.
9. Clothing. When traveling, one is sometimes caught with insufficient amounts of clothing. No problem; buy paint. Canisters of white paint come with a t-shirt wrapped in a plastic bag, floating on the top. The paint has to drip off for a few hours before you can open the bag, and you have to remember to take off your paint gloves when you do. The t-shirt may preserve a slight smell of emulsifier.
2. Amok. The national dish seems to be some combination of river fish and mild curry, and is called fish amok. I have now had it in five different places, where I have been served (1) a fish pate served in a banana leaf, (2) a fish stew, with small chunks, (3) large steamed fish pieces in a brown sauce, (4) a grainy fish paste served on a bed of caramelized carrots in a lovely tin foil fan, and (5) a think stew with large chunks and full fresh “spinach” leaves (it’s not spinach, but the leaves are that size and colour), topped with yoghurt, served in a coconut. It is always served with rice. So the national dish is some kind of fish served with rice.
3. Economy. The economy runs on American dollars; everyone has them. The local currency, riel (4100r=1 USD), serves as change. Within days, your pocket is bulging with riel, and you find yourself buying newspapers, in hopes of handing over a fistful of bills.
4. Newspapers. The Cambodia Daily sells for 1200 riel, or 30 cents. Except there aren’t any cents, and the paper boy doesn’t have change for a dollar bill. The news combines local stories with international news, in English and Khmer, and has many job ads.
5. Tuktuks. They wait in clusters outside your hotel. You don’t want one, so you wave them off, and take three steps, when two more will ask if you want a ride. You wave them off and take two more steps, and are asked again, and wave them off. And so on down to the corner to buy your newspaper, whereupon a tuktuk pulls up, smiles and asks “tuktuk?”, as if he genuinely believes you haven’t been asked twenty times a minute, since your journey began. You hire him to drive you back to the hotel, just so you don’t have to feel guilty about not giving them work.
6. More on tuktuks. Tuktuks can be hired for $20 a day; they will be very pleased with this as it is more than they would otherwise make, and will take you wherever you want. They will wait for you, whatever you are doing. It turns out they may also offer to do manual labour. Apparently people haggle with tuktuk drivers; I find this hard to believe, the prices are so low…a buck to go here, two to go there. It’s clear I am overpaying, but it’s still less than bus fare. Word has got around about our group. When we ask a tuktuk driver how much to go somewhere, he just smiles and says “whatever you want to pay”.
7. Toiletries. When travelling, one is sometimes caught with insufficent toiletries. No problem; buy a doughnut. The local market is giving out free tubes of Pepsodent toothpaste with almost every purchase.
8. DVDs. The market sells a season of a tv show for five or six bucks, movies for two bucks. Movies that came out last week. Movies that will be coming out next June. Anthologies offer 28 Sandra Bullock movies, on a single disk. I don’t think she has made that many movies.
9. Clothing. When traveling, one is sometimes caught with insufficient amounts of clothing. No problem; buy paint. Canisters of white paint come with a t-shirt wrapped in a plastic bag, floating on the top. The paint has to drip off for a few hours before you can open the bag, and you have to remember to take off your paint gloves when you do. The t-shirt may preserve a slight smell of emulsifier.
My bud Marty - by Kelvin and Paul
The story is inspired by the stories Kelvin used to make up for his two girls back home. When they were a lot younger he used to create “Ruff Stories” every night just before they went to bed. Ruff was a cute little brown dog whose name was Ruff because he would always say “ruff ruff”. Ruff always had run-ins with the milkman, which made for pretty good stories which the girls loved. Here we don’t have a little dog and we don’t have a milkman, we only have Marty and Me.
Story by Kelvin. Illustrations by Paul
Warning: The names in this story have not been changed to protect the innocent. We're sorry Heather, we couldn’t resist.
Marty, it takes a special person to motivate us to produce this work. Unfortunately, the copywrite laws will preclude you from profiting from this story. Sorry. Hope you enjoy it.
Marty and Me
There once was a man named Marty, He is a nice man, I like Marty.
Marty is married to a lady named Heather, Heather is a nice lady, I like Heather.
Marty likes to talk so he decided he should be a minister, that way everyone has to listen to him. I like the way Marty talks. I would listen to Marty.
One day Marty decided to go to Cambodia, I like Marty. He is fun to be with so I went too. I like to be with Marty.
Marty is going to have to work hard in Cambodia so he had to learn how. I think he has learned really good. Marty like to hit walls with a big hammer, it takes him lots of hits but the walls do fall down. I like the way Marty swings the big hammer.
Marty is good at painting. Sometimes there is more paint on Marty than the wall but that’s okay, I think it makes Marty look better. I like the way Marty paints.
After work Marty is all dirty, I don’t like being with Marty when he is all dirty and stinky.
When dinner comes Marty is all clean again, I like going to dinner with Marty.
Marty eats a lot of funny things, I don’t like bangers and mash, but Marty does, he can have them all.
Marty likes to be in pictures, especially my pictures. Marty usually has a funny look on his face in my pictures. Somehow I have lots of pictures of Marty but that’s okay, I like Marty and we have become best buds.
Story by Kelvin. Illustrations by Paul
Warning: The names in this story have not been changed to protect the innocent. We're sorry Heather, we couldn’t resist.
Marty, it takes a special person to motivate us to produce this work. Unfortunately, the copywrite laws will preclude you from profiting from this story. Sorry. Hope you enjoy it.
Marty and Me
There once was a man named Marty, He is a nice man, I like Marty.
Marty is married to a lady named Heather, Heather is a nice lady, I like Heather.
Marty likes to talk so he decided he should be a minister, that way everyone has to listen to him. I like the way Marty talks. I would listen to Marty.
One day Marty decided to go to Cambodia, I like Marty. He is fun to be with so I went too. I like to be with Marty.
Marty is going to have to work hard in Cambodia so he had to learn how. I think he has learned really good. Marty like to hit walls with a big hammer, it takes him lots of hits but the walls do fall down. I like the way Marty swings the big hammer.
Marty is good at painting. Sometimes there is more paint on Marty than the wall but that’s okay, I think it makes Marty look better. I like the way Marty paints.
After work Marty is all dirty, I don’t like being with Marty when he is all dirty and stinky.
When dinner comes Marty is all clean again, I like going to dinner with Marty.
Marty eats a lot of funny things, I don’t like bangers and mash, but Marty does, he can have them all.
Marty likes to be in pictures, especially my pictures. Marty usually has a funny look on his face in my pictures. Somehow I have lots of pictures of Marty but that’s okay, I like Marty and we have become best buds.
P.S. Marty, looking at spending more time with you and Heather once back in Canada.
Kelvin and Paul
Fun and Games - and then Reality Hits Hard!
Today was our second to last day at Rahab's House. It was very quiet when we arrived. No kids, no Yoda to greet us, no Vietnamese coffee waiting for us, and the big iron gate was locked.
It was the day after the king's birthday celebration and the last day of a 3-day holiday - so everyone was probably sleeping in. I don't want to think about why the kids were sleeping in while there were a lot of adults up and about their business.
Toph says he doesn't want to think that everyone in this village is involved in the sex trade - however I am not so optimistic. There is no sign of any other kind of commerce in this place - except for one recycling home - so I can't see how they are not involved - even if it by complacency alone - they are still involved.
I have seen only two parents who seem to care about their kids. One is the mother of Barb's Little Miss Sunshine, and the other is a father who has shown up with his infant son in his arms. (this is very rare in Cambodia - that a father would take care of his children). The only other interaction that I have seen is grown ups yelling at or dragging away or smacking the kids.
We get started working. Kelvin and I are scraping the outside today. We are on the upstairs balcony - and Tim and the two Cambodians from ARC are scraping and painting the facade above with a dodgy extension ladder and a harness. It is amazing watching these guys work, they take risks that would not be allowed in Canada.
It is very hot work on that balcony which gives Kelvin and I plenty of water breaks.
Gradually the kids start to come around - and I spend my breaks playing with them instead of resting. My little buddy Ng is there and when I pull out my camera, he wants to have a go at taking some pictures. All the kids are fascinated at the images that they see in the camera, and he has fun taking pictues of the other kids - and me.
In all there must have been about 25 - 30 different kids there. We played a little soccer, some were trying to run me down with there bikes (but would swerve away at the last minute). Lots of hand clapping, counting, rough-housing, swinging off my arms. They all seemed to be enjoying themselves. I know in the back of my mind that they are 'sharks' and are always on the look-out for some advantage. But I would like to think that they are really having fun and thats they will remember this group of 10 people who played with them and did not ask for anything except for a smile and a laugh.
Unlike the white guy at the end of the day who showed up on his moto, sat and had a drink two doors down from RH - and then drove off on his moto into the heart of the village. He appeared to have no shame nor did he try to disquise what he was there for. Even with 9 other white people, who obviously did not belong there watching his every move, taking pictures. He was smiling and even said "Hello" as he drove past on his way into the village. My heart sunk at the realization of what was about to happen. I can only pray that it is not one of the beautiful smiling kids that I see each day here.
Although, I know that in this village, everyone is for sale.
It was the day after the king's birthday celebration and the last day of a 3-day holiday - so everyone was probably sleeping in. I don't want to think about why the kids were sleeping in while there were a lot of adults up and about their business.
Toph says he doesn't want to think that everyone in this village is involved in the sex trade - however I am not so optimistic. There is no sign of any other kind of commerce in this place - except for one recycling home - so I can't see how they are not involved - even if it by complacency alone - they are still involved.
I have seen only two parents who seem to care about their kids. One is the mother of Barb's Little Miss Sunshine, and the other is a father who has shown up with his infant son in his arms. (this is very rare in Cambodia - that a father would take care of his children). The only other interaction that I have seen is grown ups yelling at or dragging away or smacking the kids.
We get started working. Kelvin and I are scraping the outside today. We are on the upstairs balcony - and Tim and the two Cambodians from ARC are scraping and painting the facade above with a dodgy extension ladder and a harness. It is amazing watching these guys work, they take risks that would not be allowed in Canada.
It is very hot work on that balcony which gives Kelvin and I plenty of water breaks.
Gradually the kids start to come around - and I spend my breaks playing with them instead of resting. My little buddy Ng is there and when I pull out my camera, he wants to have a go at taking some pictures. All the kids are fascinated at the images that they see in the camera, and he has fun taking pictues of the other kids - and me.
In all there must have been about 25 - 30 different kids there. We played a little soccer, some were trying to run me down with there bikes (but would swerve away at the last minute). Lots of hand clapping, counting, rough-housing, swinging off my arms. They all seemed to be enjoying themselves. I know in the back of my mind that they are 'sharks' and are always on the look-out for some advantage. But I would like to think that they are really having fun and thats they will remember this group of 10 people who played with them and did not ask for anything except for a smile and a laugh.
Unlike the white guy at the end of the day who showed up on his moto, sat and had a drink two doors down from RH - and then drove off on his moto into the heart of the village. He appeared to have no shame nor did he try to disquise what he was there for. Even with 9 other white people, who obviously did not belong there watching his every move, taking pictures. He was smiling and even said "Hello" as he drove past on his way into the village. My heart sunk at the realization of what was about to happen. I can only pray that it is not one of the beautiful smiling kids that I see each day here.
Although, I know that in this village, everyone is for sale.
Transformation, the hospital and thanks - Grant
It has been a couple of days since I was last able to blog. Through much of Monday night Jeff was pretty sick. We got the antibiotics into him in the morning and Barb (one of our nurses) very graciously said she’d stay with him for the day allowing me not to worry about Jeff and continue to help with the work.
Tuesday was a good and busy day with getting a lot accomplished including a first coat of paint on the main walls. I did the last of the scraping and as good as that work was – to remove the pink paint – the scraping was getting a little old and I wasn’t sad to see the last of it. I worked on painting the back wall (kitchen) white and moved on to a couple of other walls that needed to be white. Rahab’s House was again transforming. The first transformation was the removal of the walls and with them the cubicles of the brothel. The second transformation was with the removal of the pink paint. The third transformation was painting the walls – white on the ends and yellow on the sides with white on the bottom sides of the rafters as well to add further light to the space.
Just after lunch I called Jeff to see how he was doing and he seemed to be improving. I rested easier and carried on with my work. By the time we got back to the hotel Jeff had taken a bad turn and was even sicker than he had been and he was very quickly dehydrating. Barb and Kit agreed that we needed to get him to a clinic. Clay had recommended a particular clinic that had American doctors. We called to arrange to get Jeff in. We were reminded that Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday were holidays in Cambodia to celebrate the king’s birthday. The only doctor on call was Khmer which made his ability to communicate in English a question mark. I called Clay not knowing what to do next.
Cambodia is mostly years – at points decades – behind the West as far as medical care goes so one must take care in where to go. It is also not a matter of just calling an ambulance – you are on your own. Clay gave me the name of another hospital and the phone number and told me he was on his way to the hotel to help. I called but got a recorded message that the number was not in service. Worry was really setting in now. Jeff’s dehydration was way passed anything I’d experienced myself. Clay called again and said that he’d just stopped into a hospital – The Royal Ratanak Hospital – and that he was on his way and would be at the hotel in 10 minutes. The Royal Ratanak Hospital – somehow that just seemed very appropriate. I was able to tell Jeff and Barb and Kit that Clay was on his way. When he arrived he called and told me that he’d arranged a tuktuk to get us to the hospital. I had been thinking about a taxi – like a real car – but the tuktuk would be able to move through the heavy Phnom Penh traffic much more nimbly. I had to help Jeff out of the room and down the elevator. When the hotel staff saw Jeff and me half carrying them they practically jumped over the desk in their concern.
Kit had Jeff on the other side. Paul was on the outside steps and immediately jumped up to take Kit’s place. We lifted Jeff into the tuktuk which had just become an ambulance. Clayton told the tuktuk drive, “I drive fast and go beep beep all the time. You follow me and drive fast.” We sped through the streets with our driver keeping pace with Clay’s moto. The rain started pouring. The driver made to put down the canvas but we told him just to drive. We arrived at the hospital which opened only a month ago and wants to be known as the best hospital in Cambodia. A security guard arrived with a wheelchair and a woman at the desk approached to guide us directly into an emergency room. Two nurses were immediately helping Jeff under the watchful care of Barb and Kit. I was called to go out and fill out the necessary forms which I did. Clay arrived after parking his moto. When I turned in the forms he told me to go ahead back into see Jeff and he would collect Jeff’s passport when it was ready.
In the time it had taken to fill out the forms the doctor had come and gone and an IV had been started by the head nurse. We were then whisked up to Jeff’s room. I’ve been in a lot of Cambodian hospitals to see the facilities and to visit with the people but I’d never seen a hospital like this in Cambodia – or even in Canada. The care has been superb. Even so I have to remind myself that only about 1 or 2% of Cambodians would be able to come to this hospital.
Jeff quickly improved with the IV fluids and antibiotics. He got a bad infection from something he’d eaten – and he ate with all of us so it was by God’s grace that we weren’t all like this. I stayed the night in his room. Barb was going to sleep down in the lobby to be close but I insisted she go back to the hotel with Marty and Kit who’d come to visit in the evening.
Jeff was much better on Wednesday and I half expected him to be released but the doctor wanted to keep him through the antibiotic treatment and until his systems were working properly. So I am sitting and writing this on Wednesday evening after Jeff and I had a very quiet day. I’ll be staying with them again tonight and we should be heading back to the hotel Thursday.
I want to publicly thank Barb and Kit for their amazing care. Barb who stayed with Jeff throughout the day and who first said Jeff needed medical care and who had to be told to go back to the hospital. And Kit who upon arriving back at the hotel was up to our room in a shot where she and Barb provided such loving care to Jeff and who both accompanied us to the hospital.
I also want to thank Clayton who truly is his brother’s keeper. Clayton has shown his quality as a disciple of Jesus in many ways went way beyond the call to make sure we got the care we needed. I will forever be in you debt Clay. We all love you and are so thankful that God has called you to work with ARC.
I’m off to another night on the couch – and I’m not even in trouble.
A very thankful Grant.
Tuesday was a good and busy day with getting a lot accomplished including a first coat of paint on the main walls. I did the last of the scraping and as good as that work was – to remove the pink paint – the scraping was getting a little old and I wasn’t sad to see the last of it. I worked on painting the back wall (kitchen) white and moved on to a couple of other walls that needed to be white. Rahab’s House was again transforming. The first transformation was the removal of the walls and with them the cubicles of the brothel. The second transformation was with the removal of the pink paint. The third transformation was painting the walls – white on the ends and yellow on the sides with white on the bottom sides of the rafters as well to add further light to the space.
Just after lunch I called Jeff to see how he was doing and he seemed to be improving. I rested easier and carried on with my work. By the time we got back to the hotel Jeff had taken a bad turn and was even sicker than he had been and he was very quickly dehydrating. Barb and Kit agreed that we needed to get him to a clinic. Clay had recommended a particular clinic that had American doctors. We called to arrange to get Jeff in. We were reminded that Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday were holidays in Cambodia to celebrate the king’s birthday. The only doctor on call was Khmer which made his ability to communicate in English a question mark. I called Clay not knowing what to do next.
Cambodia is mostly years – at points decades – behind the West as far as medical care goes so one must take care in where to go. It is also not a matter of just calling an ambulance – you are on your own. Clay gave me the name of another hospital and the phone number and told me he was on his way to the hotel to help. I called but got a recorded message that the number was not in service. Worry was really setting in now. Jeff’s dehydration was way passed anything I’d experienced myself. Clay called again and said that he’d just stopped into a hospital – The Royal Ratanak Hospital – and that he was on his way and would be at the hotel in 10 minutes. The Royal Ratanak Hospital – somehow that just seemed very appropriate. I was able to tell Jeff and Barb and Kit that Clay was on his way. When he arrived he called and told me that he’d arranged a tuktuk to get us to the hospital. I had been thinking about a taxi – like a real car – but the tuktuk would be able to move through the heavy Phnom Penh traffic much more nimbly. I had to help Jeff out of the room and down the elevator. When the hotel staff saw Jeff and me half carrying them they practically jumped over the desk in their concern.
Kit had Jeff on the other side. Paul was on the outside steps and immediately jumped up to take Kit’s place. We lifted Jeff into the tuktuk which had just become an ambulance. Clayton told the tuktuk drive, “I drive fast and go beep beep all the time. You follow me and drive fast.” We sped through the streets with our driver keeping pace with Clay’s moto. The rain started pouring. The driver made to put down the canvas but we told him just to drive. We arrived at the hospital which opened only a month ago and wants to be known as the best hospital in Cambodia. A security guard arrived with a wheelchair and a woman at the desk approached to guide us directly into an emergency room. Two nurses were immediately helping Jeff under the watchful care of Barb and Kit. I was called to go out and fill out the necessary forms which I did. Clay arrived after parking his moto. When I turned in the forms he told me to go ahead back into see Jeff and he would collect Jeff’s passport when it was ready.
In the time it had taken to fill out the forms the doctor had come and gone and an IV had been started by the head nurse. We were then whisked up to Jeff’s room. I’ve been in a lot of Cambodian hospitals to see the facilities and to visit with the people but I’d never seen a hospital like this in Cambodia – or even in Canada. The care has been superb. Even so I have to remind myself that only about 1 or 2% of Cambodians would be able to come to this hospital.
Jeff quickly improved with the IV fluids and antibiotics. He got a bad infection from something he’d eaten – and he ate with all of us so it was by God’s grace that we weren’t all like this. I stayed the night in his room. Barb was going to sleep down in the lobby to be close but I insisted she go back to the hotel with Marty and Kit who’d come to visit in the evening.
Jeff was much better on Wednesday and I half expected him to be released but the doctor wanted to keep him through the antibiotic treatment and until his systems were working properly. So I am sitting and writing this on Wednesday evening after Jeff and I had a very quiet day. I’ll be staying with them again tonight and we should be heading back to the hotel Thursday.
I want to publicly thank Barb and Kit for their amazing care. Barb who stayed with Jeff throughout the day and who first said Jeff needed medical care and who had to be told to go back to the hospital. And Kit who upon arriving back at the hotel was up to our room in a shot where she and Barb provided such loving care to Jeff and who both accompanied us to the hospital.
I also want to thank Clayton who truly is his brother’s keeper. Clayton has shown his quality as a disciple of Jesus in many ways went way beyond the call to make sure we got the care we needed. I will forever be in you debt Clay. We all love you and are so thankful that God has called you to work with ARC.
I’m off to another night on the couch – and I’m not even in trouble.
A very thankful Grant.
Cockroaches -- Toph
I do not want to believe everyone in Svay Pak is involved in the sex trade.
This is what we were told before we arrived, and I thought it an exaggeration. It is what we’ve been told here, that any child has a price. But some people, surely, just live in the village.
When we drive in every morning, yes we get fierce stares from the teenagers playing at the outdoor pool table, but the hula-hooping granny doing her exercises in her single-chair beauty salon seems oblivious to us. When we say good morning in Khmer to the woman across the street from whom we buy Vietnamese coffees, she smiles and seems impressed that we make an effort at their language, even if the effort really is minimal.
Some, certainly. Most, possibly, especially if we include indirect participation, such as selling condoms. But all?
I don’t want that to be true.
The demographics of the children have begun to change. Yesterday (Wednesday), while I was painting the ceiling of the front room, balanced on a wooden table, seventeen children were watching. Fifteen were boys. We have been told two of them are twins. Other sibling relationships are also clear. What is the future of these guys? Are they all trapped by the poverty of Svay Pak? Might some of them leave and live in other dirt-road villages, villages without the sex trade?
This afternoon, I see my first white face in Svay Pak other than our team. He is about six feet tall (I am six feet tall), with a shaved head (I have a shaved head), heavy set (I am sixty pounds lighter than him, probably) and he is riding a motorcycle. He pulls up three doors down from Rahab’s House, and orders a drink. He sits, enjoying it on the patio, while we have our entourage around us. The white face is smiling at the scene, behind his sunglasses.
My brain screams.
What I am looking at and what he is looking at are not the same things. I see hope, and the possibility of happiness, even if it is transitory. He sees his next conquest (and yes, I am making assumptions here).
He is confident, comfortable. He has been here before. After his drink he drives across the vacant lot across from us, nodding hello to a team of eight white people covered in paint, and on into the backroads of Svay Pak. He feels absolutely no shame in being seen here.
The brothel we have destroyed was hideous. It was unsanitary, even leaving aside the years of accumulated dust and spider webs. And we have only seen it during the daytime. At night, Svay Pak becomes somewhere else. Somewhere I don’t want to be. Somewhere much less safe. So in the daytime, I see the light. In the afternoon and at night (and it seems the transition takes place between 2 and 3), the cockroaches come out. And they look very much like me.
I don’t want to believe everyone in Svay Pak is involved in the sex trade.
This is what we were told before we arrived, and I thought it an exaggeration. It is what we’ve been told here, that any child has a price. But some people, surely, just live in the village.
When we drive in every morning, yes we get fierce stares from the teenagers playing at the outdoor pool table, but the hula-hooping granny doing her exercises in her single-chair beauty salon seems oblivious to us. When we say good morning in Khmer to the woman across the street from whom we buy Vietnamese coffees, she smiles and seems impressed that we make an effort at their language, even if the effort really is minimal.
Some, certainly. Most, possibly, especially if we include indirect participation, such as selling condoms. But all?
I don’t want that to be true.
The demographics of the children have begun to change. Yesterday (Wednesday), while I was painting the ceiling of the front room, balanced on a wooden table, seventeen children were watching. Fifteen were boys. We have been told two of them are twins. Other sibling relationships are also clear. What is the future of these guys? Are they all trapped by the poverty of Svay Pak? Might some of them leave and live in other dirt-road villages, villages without the sex trade?
This afternoon, I see my first white face in Svay Pak other than our team. He is about six feet tall (I am six feet tall), with a shaved head (I have a shaved head), heavy set (I am sixty pounds lighter than him, probably) and he is riding a motorcycle. He pulls up three doors down from Rahab’s House, and orders a drink. He sits, enjoying it on the patio, while we have our entourage around us. The white face is smiling at the scene, behind his sunglasses.
My brain screams.
What I am looking at and what he is looking at are not the same things. I see hope, and the possibility of happiness, even if it is transitory. He sees his next conquest (and yes, I am making assumptions here).
He is confident, comfortable. He has been here before. After his drink he drives across the vacant lot across from us, nodding hello to a team of eight white people covered in paint, and on into the backroads of Svay Pak. He feels absolutely no shame in being seen here.
The brothel we have destroyed was hideous. It was unsanitary, even leaving aside the years of accumulated dust and spider webs. And we have only seen it during the daytime. At night, Svay Pak becomes somewhere else. Somewhere I don’t want to be. Somewhere much less safe. So in the daytime, I see the light. In the afternoon and at night (and it seems the transition takes place between 2 and 3), the cockroaches come out. And they look very much like me.
I don’t want to believe everyone in Svay Pak is involved in the sex trade.
Almost done...(Kit and Barb)
Well....it has been an interesting few days. We will let Jeff tell you of his experience, and knowing Jeff, he will probably play it down and make it humourous, but believe me, Jeff is one courageous guy. And the next time you or someone you love has to make an emergency trip to hospital via ambulance - with prepared paramedics and sirens and traffic moving over to give the ambulance priority, think of Jeff heading out to a hospital across this huge insane city in pouring pouring pouring rain in a tuktuk - essentially a horse and (covered) buggy, with a moped replacing the horse.
So this blog is from Barb and me. Barb and Toph have headed to the museum, and she has a ton of stuff to do tonight as she arranges our medication kit to donate to Rahab's House.
Little Miss Sunshine, the little girl with the facial injury who broke/warmed Barb's heart, has returned every day with her young mom (and siblings) to show Barb her injury. (We think she fell off a moped). We figure the mom is treating the injury with cayenne or something, but every day Barb cleans off all this stuff and treats it with Polysporin (we should have bought shares in the stuff). It's Barb they want to see - no one else will do.
Barb and I have both stayed pretty healthy, but we have both been extremely careful with what we eat. And I mean 'extremely' - we have happily subsisted on French bread and tea for breakfast, noodles with vegies for lunch, and rice with vegies for nearly every dinner. Barb has eaten some chicken. Basically we have not eaten meat, dairy or salad since we arrived. But for a couple of old girls, we have a lot of energy, so this diet is not killing us. I am being bitten to death by flying critters - I never see them, but I sure see the results of their visits on my arms and legs.
Today I painted walls (both roller and brush), spray-painted the metal grid security gate, hammered a few nails, swept stuff (one could sweep forever here), played a zillion games of the clapping game with my little sharks, but now I have them playing it with each other, and counting aloud in English as they do so. We do have a lot of fun. I am amazed at how much I can communicate with them when I know about three words of their language. Barb scraped and swept and painted, and performed an amzing feat with those stairs - got them looking decent again. Now Marty is staining the staircase (he will do the steps themselves after we have completely finished The Yellow Room tomorrow. What he has done looks gorgeous!
These guys are amazing. They work incredibly hard, but keep their good humour, and get up and do it again the next day. We had no idea how hard the work would be, but 'the guys' rose to the task. . And they are all such decent men of God: devout, caring, faithful. They speak of their families with love and respect. Barb and I are so proud to be a part of this team.
But the days are short. We get up at some unspeakable hour (0530 actually), work hard, and we are all exhausted shortly after dinner.
As I sit here , in the lobby, I think the rest of the guys are upstairs in their rooms blogging. It is yet another rainstorm. I remember them from Africa, and I quite like them. The rain is warm and it plummets down with huge raindrops. And suddeny - after everything in sight is completely drenched - it's over. Gone.
This is the first time I have had the opportunity to blog in the afternoon, the first time therefore, that I have hd the energy to actually write anything. Most nights my face is falling on the keyboard, and sometimes I have actually fallen asleep here as I type. (I hope the same thing does not happen to you as you read it). I would love to continue, but I am five minutes away from our evening 'check-in' and I need to get upstairs.
Thanks for your prayers and your emails. They have brought me peace and pleasure. They have really meant so much, please know that. I know Barb would say the same.
Have to go, but know this comes with love.
Kit and Barb
So this blog is from Barb and me. Barb and Toph have headed to the museum, and she has a ton of stuff to do tonight as she arranges our medication kit to donate to Rahab's House.
Little Miss Sunshine, the little girl with the facial injury who broke/warmed Barb's heart, has returned every day with her young mom (and siblings) to show Barb her injury. (We think she fell off a moped). We figure the mom is treating the injury with cayenne or something, but every day Barb cleans off all this stuff and treats it with Polysporin (we should have bought shares in the stuff). It's Barb they want to see - no one else will do.
Barb and I have both stayed pretty healthy, but we have both been extremely careful with what we eat. And I mean 'extremely' - we have happily subsisted on French bread and tea for breakfast, noodles with vegies for lunch, and rice with vegies for nearly every dinner. Barb has eaten some chicken. Basically we have not eaten meat, dairy or salad since we arrived. But for a couple of old girls, we have a lot of energy, so this diet is not killing us. I am being bitten to death by flying critters - I never see them, but I sure see the results of their visits on my arms and legs.
Today I painted walls (both roller and brush), spray-painted the metal grid security gate, hammered a few nails, swept stuff (one could sweep forever here), played a zillion games of the clapping game with my little sharks, but now I have them playing it with each other, and counting aloud in English as they do so. We do have a lot of fun. I am amazed at how much I can communicate with them when I know about three words of their language. Barb scraped and swept and painted, and performed an amzing feat with those stairs - got them looking decent again. Now Marty is staining the staircase (he will do the steps themselves after we have completely finished The Yellow Room tomorrow. What he has done looks gorgeous!
These guys are amazing. They work incredibly hard, but keep their good humour, and get up and do it again the next day. We had no idea how hard the work would be, but 'the guys' rose to the task. . And they are all such decent men of God: devout, caring, faithful. They speak of their families with love and respect. Barb and I are so proud to be a part of this team.
But the days are short. We get up at some unspeakable hour (0530 actually), work hard, and we are all exhausted shortly after dinner.
As I sit here , in the lobby, I think the rest of the guys are upstairs in their rooms blogging. It is yet another rainstorm. I remember them from Africa, and I quite like them. The rain is warm and it plummets down with huge raindrops. And suddeny - after everything in sight is completely drenched - it's over. Gone.
This is the first time I have had the opportunity to blog in the afternoon, the first time therefore, that I have hd the energy to actually write anything. Most nights my face is falling on the keyboard, and sometimes I have actually fallen asleep here as I type. (I hope the same thing does not happen to you as you read it). I would love to continue, but I am five minutes away from our evening 'check-in' and I need to get upstairs.
Thanks for your prayers and your emails. They have brought me peace and pleasure. They have really meant so much, please know that. I know Barb would say the same.
Have to go, but know this comes with love.
Kit and Barb
Room 9
Marty's Daily Diary #12
Yesterday was a transformational day at Rahab's House. The walls got there first coat of yellow and just like that the place became a whole new buidling. Well, almost.
This morning I walked in and the place looked fantastic - almost.
OK, so what am I getting at? Last Monday Rahab's House had 9 small cubicle rooms, 2 cistern rooms, a front room where 'deals' where made and a kitchen. 3 days later the majority of that had been removed, leaving only the two cistern rooms and "room 9."Room 9 is still standing. It is going to be a 'museum' room. As such we haven't touched it. It is about 6 feet square with a wooden bed still in it and an old light fixture hanging on one wall. Remnants of posters and pictures are still attached to the disgusting pink paint and there are a few scribblings on the wall. One of which is the face of a little girl. Who is she I wonder?
Everything else around 'room 9' is newly painted. It doesn't resemble what it once was at all. But 'room 9' does! I stood gazing in to that room this morning and all I could think about was, how on earth anybody would want to have sex in that room, let alone pay for it?
One of the things that I have discovered whilst being here is that seeing these places and the village of Svay Pak on photographs is nothing compared to experiencing it for yourself. As such my friends and family back home will never really get a true reality of the horror of 'room 9.' So I want you to imagine a derelict house which has a small room that no-one has entered for a long time. The place smells and is dimly lit, if at all. The bed sheets on the bed in the room have not been washed for a considerable time and so you need to get that smell of fabric softener out of your noses and replace it with filthy dirty moldy clothes. Oh, and most importantly, the walls are painted pink! Now, in your wildest imagination, would you take your loved one in to that room for anything let alone to become one flesh?
So the people that have gone in to 'room 9' must be very weird people? They must be wired differently from me? They must be, and moreover look like, evil? Right? Well, in the past 2 weeks we have seen a few folks, both in Svay Pak and in our hotel lobby that, the chances are, they are not simply sightseeing. Today, one such person was sitting two doors up from Rahab's House, smiling, and then he rode of, down one of the little alleys in the village, on his motto. I wonder where he was going? And, all these guys look just like me. (Not literally, but you know what I mean.)
They don't look any different from me. I could be mistaken as one of these people. That's why, in preparation for this mission, our team discussed a lot about how to act in the eyes of the locals here to ensure that we can never be mistaken as being on the search for anything except some good food and a cold beer.
So what is different then? I need someone to help me here. I have read the stories of Hitler and WWII. I know a little, and have lived a little of the history of my own country, Northern Ireland. But I still don't understand the evil in these people. What makes someone do something deprived, inhumane, manipulative, immoral, wicked? What makes someone rob a child of their innocence for 'pleasure' in 'room 9?'
Whatever 'it' is - 'it' happens. Rahab's House and other places are evidence of that. But Rahab's House is more. Rahab's House is evidence that evil does not have the victory. 'Room 9' is surrounded by new life, the glow of God's grace and moreover love. 'Room 9' is nothing more than a museum. It is looking back, but Rahab's House is looking forward and by God's grace, the future of Svay Pak will not include 'room 9s' anymore.
May it be so Lord, may it be so.
Marty
Wednesday, May 14, 2008
Deja Vu
Marty's Daily Diary #11
When two worlds collide.
How can I deal with these two worlds that are colliding?
No – you are not having “déjà vu.” I posted a few days ago and started with this same question. For the past two nights after supper I have packed up a wee goodie bag of clothes etc to go and visit Jeff (and Grant) at the hospital. Jeff is doing really well and hopefully he will get a chance to post later today to bring everyone up to date on what he thinks about Cambodian food and healthcare. Anyways, back to what I wanted to say, and these two worlds.
Yesterday I painted, and painted, and painted and every now and again I would have to take a water break. Then I would stand and look out at the garbage heap. I can’t get that image out of my head. Svay Pak is, to put it bluntly, not somewhere you would ever desire to go. I completed my days work and jumped in the van to come back to the hotel and everyone on the team does a mini reflection on their day: mainly their interaction with the kids and the work. There are some highlights but mainly disappointment that once again there seems to be such a huge divide between our two worlds. I am sweaty, dirty and as my father often pointed out to me, I look as if I have more paint on me than the walls I’ve been painting all day long. So I need a shower. It is relatively hot. I use Fructus on my hair, I shave, and I just love shower gel. I am beginning to transform. The smell is being washed away. The grim is gone. I dry off and for my final touch I spray some deodorant, which Richard hates!
Now I am ready to go to the hospital to visit Jeff. I have moved from one world into the next. Svay Pak to the Royal Ratanak Hospital for affluent people. (That is literally how the place is advertised on the Web) I don’t want to steal Jeff’s thunder so I will leave him to describe the place etc but there he lies under his really comfy duvet and his PJs make him look like he’s about to jump out of bed and offer to take me on at judo. Can you picture Jeff yet?
Anyways, the contrast between my day in Svay Pak and my night visit to Jeff is unbelievable. In Svay Pak every kid is vulnerable to vultures with money. At the hospital Jeff lies in supreme comfort, in a room that is probably nicer than a lot of the places we really do live. What is going on in this city? (Don’t get me wrong here – I am not condemning Jeff for being in this hospital. In fact our team all believe that this hospital is an answer to a specific prayer request that we had.) However, I am left considering these two worlds. The two worlds that every single one of us sees and encounters every day.
Two worlds where poverty is suffering and rich is allfuent. Two worlds where evil is manipulating and controlling, and the kingdom of God is freeing and life fulfilling.
How can I deal with these two worlds that are colliding?
What about you?
Marty
When two worlds collide.
How can I deal with these two worlds that are colliding?
No – you are not having “déjà vu.” I posted a few days ago and started with this same question. For the past two nights after supper I have packed up a wee goodie bag of clothes etc to go and visit Jeff (and Grant) at the hospital. Jeff is doing really well and hopefully he will get a chance to post later today to bring everyone up to date on what he thinks about Cambodian food and healthcare. Anyways, back to what I wanted to say, and these two worlds.
Yesterday I painted, and painted, and painted and every now and again I would have to take a water break. Then I would stand and look out at the garbage heap. I can’t get that image out of my head. Svay Pak is, to put it bluntly, not somewhere you would ever desire to go. I completed my days work and jumped in the van to come back to the hotel and everyone on the team does a mini reflection on their day: mainly their interaction with the kids and the work. There are some highlights but mainly disappointment that once again there seems to be such a huge divide between our two worlds. I am sweaty, dirty and as my father often pointed out to me, I look as if I have more paint on me than the walls I’ve been painting all day long. So I need a shower. It is relatively hot. I use Fructus on my hair, I shave, and I just love shower gel. I am beginning to transform. The smell is being washed away. The grim is gone. I dry off and for my final touch I spray some deodorant, which Richard hates!
Now I am ready to go to the hospital to visit Jeff. I have moved from one world into the next. Svay Pak to the Royal Ratanak Hospital for affluent people. (That is literally how the place is advertised on the Web) I don’t want to steal Jeff’s thunder so I will leave him to describe the place etc but there he lies under his really comfy duvet and his PJs make him look like he’s about to jump out of bed and offer to take me on at judo. Can you picture Jeff yet?
Anyways, the contrast between my day in Svay Pak and my night visit to Jeff is unbelievable. In Svay Pak every kid is vulnerable to vultures with money. At the hospital Jeff lies in supreme comfort, in a room that is probably nicer than a lot of the places we really do live. What is going on in this city? (Don’t get me wrong here – I am not condemning Jeff for being in this hospital. In fact our team all believe that this hospital is an answer to a specific prayer request that we had.) However, I am left considering these two worlds. The two worlds that every single one of us sees and encounters every day.
Two worlds where poverty is suffering and rich is allfuent. Two worlds where evil is manipulating and controlling, and the kingdom of God is freeing and life fulfilling.
How can I deal with these two worlds that are colliding?
What about you?
Marty
Wednesday - and lots still to do (Kit)
Yesterday Kelvin asked me if I would paint the door upstairs in what was formerly (!) the hideous Pink Room. I raced upstairs and painted the door. White. Nice, cheap, crummy white paint. The paint looked beautiful ...for about five minutes...and then the old colour started seeping through. It looked dreadful. SoI painted the entire door again. And again. And again. And again. When it had about half an inch of white paint on it (I exaggerate) it finally began to look reasonably presentable. But I painted it again today. And again. And again. I also did a little trim on it - we all love it (the idea re the trim that is, not my excessive painting). I think it was Kelvin's idea. We'll send you a picture of it soon.
I did some other painting. If you can imagine ME, who practically faints 12" off the ground, and falls and breaks bones (I think I am up to six now) on a fairly regular basis, at the top of a very steep staircase painting the walls and shelves around me - and loving every minute of it..... (Don't believe a word of this; I was painting with one hand and hanging on for dear life with the other).
I am completely wiped, but I am so glad to be here, and I am not discouraged. I am convinced that God knows exactly what he is doing here, and though I will not be around to see the next chapter I am positive that our work is not in vain. I do think that this work is but a speck in the Big Picture of child abuse, hunger and human trafficking... but I am at home with Speck Work. No one has ever asked me to be involved in moving mountains. And just knowing that the former brothel we obliterated is gone forever is extremely satisfying.
The Little Sharks were out in full force today, and there are a couple I am becoming fond of. We play this inane hand clapping game that I sort of made up on the spot (couldn't recall the way we played it , um, fifty years ago). , and we count in English as we do it. The kids are indefatigable. If they are not racing after Tim or Toph or Richard ( "Tom!" "Tom! " "Tom!" "Tom!" "Tom!" "Tom!" for what seems like hours) they are fighting (screeching, slapping, kicking, yelling, shoving) over who gets to be next to slap their hands into mine. The little 'girl in the yellow dress' now approaches me, smiles, counts and plays with me....but her eyes still look disturbingly old. And those eys are usually fixed on our ice chest filled with Coke.
It occurred to me today, that I do not see many people my age, and I assume that this was the generation that was obliterated by the Khmer Rouge. In a country ravaged by war, genocide, and a huge lack of teachers, doctors, philosophers, etc (all slaughtered) this generation slows down to survive, so any untaught, untreated, uncared for. And the Little Sharks of Svay Pak wait in the wings, world weary, wary, waiting to be used, abused, or to get rich.... Maybe tonight.
Kit
I did some other painting. If you can imagine ME, who practically faints 12" off the ground, and falls and breaks bones (I think I am up to six now) on a fairly regular basis, at the top of a very steep staircase painting the walls and shelves around me - and loving every minute of it..... (Don't believe a word of this; I was painting with one hand and hanging on for dear life with the other).
I am completely wiped, but I am so glad to be here, and I am not discouraged. I am convinced that God knows exactly what he is doing here, and though I will not be around to see the next chapter I am positive that our work is not in vain. I do think that this work is but a speck in the Big Picture of child abuse, hunger and human trafficking... but I am at home with Speck Work. No one has ever asked me to be involved in moving mountains. And just knowing that the former brothel we obliterated is gone forever is extremely satisfying.
The Little Sharks were out in full force today, and there are a couple I am becoming fond of. We play this inane hand clapping game that I sort of made up on the spot (couldn't recall the way we played it , um, fifty years ago). , and we count in English as we do it. The kids are indefatigable. If they are not racing after Tim or Toph or Richard ( "Tom!" "Tom! " "Tom!" "Tom!" "Tom!" "Tom!" for what seems like hours) they are fighting (screeching, slapping, kicking, yelling, shoving) over who gets to be next to slap their hands into mine. The little 'girl in the yellow dress' now approaches me, smiles, counts and plays with me....but her eyes still look disturbingly old. And those eys are usually fixed on our ice chest filled with Coke.
It occurred to me today, that I do not see many people my age, and I assume that this was the generation that was obliterated by the Khmer Rouge. In a country ravaged by war, genocide, and a huge lack of teachers, doctors, philosophers, etc (all slaughtered) this generation slows down to survive, so any untaught, untreated, uncared for. And the Little Sharks of Svay Pak wait in the wings, world weary, wary, waiting to be used, abused, or to get rich.... Maybe tonight.
Kit
Stains - by Paul
When we walked into Rahab’s House today, we were a bit disappointed that some of the painting we did yesterday didn’t quite survive that afternoon’s rainfall. Rahab’s House needs a new roof. The old one was repaired, but there are still far too many places where the rain leaks through. The back room with the half cemented shut door was brilliantly white yesterday… and today some of the paint had washed off. A few more places on the side walls also had rivulets of water and washed off paint running down them. And my beautifully painted white rafters… had water stains showing though the first coat.
For all of you who have tried hiding a water stain with regular latex (water based) paint, you will know that it just does not work. No matter how many coats of paint you apply, the stain will somehow work its way into the next coat. Maybe after sixty-four coats, you may finally hide it, but then you have one thickly painted surface… which often is not the look you are going for.
So fruitlessly we applied a second coat of white paint to the undersides of all the rafters. I was wondering why I was wasting my time doing this, as no sooner had I run over the length of wood with my roller that it looked as if I hadn’t even applied any paint. Actually, that is not quite true, the unstained sections looked much whiter… which meant that the contrast between the brownish wood stain and the white paint was much more pronounced.
So I took a break from the work and went outside to interact with the children. We have all noticed that Svay Pak is a strange little village. In our visit to Marie Ens’ Place of Rescue, we noticed that when we turned off the main highway onto the dirt road, the inhabitants along the way were smiling and waiving to us in response to our smiles and waves.
For the past eight days, with only a couple of villagers, we have not been afforded one smile or wave by the adult population. I have come to the conclusion that this is because this village has a serious absence of love. We can see that in the hateful stares and unwelcoming looks. We can see that by the way the parents treat their children, screaming them and hitting them. We know this because the village has resolutely held on to its culture of enslaving children for paid rape despite hundreds of raids by the police since 2003.
We know that renovating an old brothel will not change this village. We could do a lot to pretty up the village, but the stains will still show through, because it is the wetness inside the wood that is the problem. Only God’s unconditional love will be able to break through the calloused hearts of the villagers and change them from the inside so they will truly love God and their neighbours… and repent from their evil ways.
I know that I won’t see that miracle while I am here, however I am confident that it will happen, and glad that I was able to be part of his story her in Svay Pak.
On the lighter side of life, on Toph’s suggestion, he and I took a tuktuk to find a restaurant more than one block from our hotel. It is the 55th birthday celebration of the King today, so our voyage took us by the Royal Palace to a restaurant on the waterfront. We had just taken our first sips of beer when the fireworks started. After a fine plate of Fish Amok, we took a brisk walk back to the hotel, meandering through tens of thousands of Cambodians, all out for the evening. I was thinking that this would have been a wonderfully romantic date if Karen were here with me. Maybe next time.
As I head off to bed, I think of Kelvin, who will soon complete his last Bronze Cross swim class and Megan who is preparing for her ballet recitals this weekend. Hope you both enjoy the experience. Karen, hope you are surviving this hectic week without me. I love you all.
For all of you who have tried hiding a water stain with regular latex (water based) paint, you will know that it just does not work. No matter how many coats of paint you apply, the stain will somehow work its way into the next coat. Maybe after sixty-four coats, you may finally hide it, but then you have one thickly painted surface… which often is not the look you are going for.So fruitlessly we applied a second coat of white paint to the undersides of all the rafters. I was wondering why I was wasting my time doing this, as no sooner had I run over the length of wood with my roller that it looked as if I hadn’t even applied any paint. Actually, that is not quite true, the unstained sections looked much whiter… which meant that the contrast between the brownish wood stain and the white paint was much more pronounced.
So I took a break from the work and went outside to interact with the children. We have all noticed that Svay Pak is a strange little village. In our visit to Marie Ens’ Place of Rescue, we noticed that when we turned off the main highway onto the dirt road, the inhabitants along the way were smiling and waiving to us in response to our smiles and waves.
For the past eight days, with only a couple of villagers, we have not been afforded one smile or wave by the adult population. I have come to the conclusion that this is because this village has a serious absence of love. We can see that in the hateful stares and unwelcoming looks. We can see that by the way the parents treat their children, screaming them and hitting them. We know this because the village has resolutely held on to its culture of enslaving children for paid rape despite hundreds of raids by the police since 2003.
We know that renovating an old brothel will not change this village. We could do a lot to pretty up the village, but the stains will still show through, because it is the wetness inside the wood that is the problem. Only God’s unconditional love will be able to break through the calloused hearts of the villagers and change them from the inside so they will truly love God and their neighbours… and repent from their evil ways.
I know that I won’t see that miracle while I am here, however I am confident that it will happen, and glad that I was able to be part of his story her in Svay Pak.
On the lighter side of life, on Toph’s suggestion, he and I took a tuktuk to find a restaurant more than one block from our hotel. It is the 55th birthday celebration of the King today, so our voyage took us by the Royal Palace to a restaurant on the waterfront. We had just taken our first sips of beer when the fireworks started. After a fine plate of Fish Amok, we took a brisk walk back to the hotel, meandering through tens of thousands of Cambodians, all out for the evening. I was thinking that this would have been a wonderfully romantic date if Karen were here with me. Maybe next time.
As I head off to bed, I think of Kelvin, who will soon complete his last Bronze Cross swim class and Megan who is preparing for her ballet recitals this weekend. Hope you both enjoy the experience. Karen, hope you are surviving this hectic week without me. I love you all.
Paint-Soccer-Paint-Soccer-Paint-Paint-Paint
We left for Rahab's House this morning, two players down. The Wilson boys were AWOL.
There are only three days left to finish what we started, so we were a little anxious. As we disembarked the van, little Ng was there as usual. He gave me a big hug and helped us in with our bags.
The only job that was required of us today was to paint, paint, paint. Lots of painting to do.
After our opening prayer we started in to our jobs (which was to paint).
I gave a soccerball to NG while finishing my coffee and kicked a few with him, then started in on the painting.
Don't get me wrong - I love to paint - but I found myself drawn outside after about1/2 hr, to kick the ball around again. This something you don't see at all in Svay Pak, is kids playing games on the street. You do see them hanging out on the street, around the storefronts, some riding their bikes down the muddy path.
One reason may be the adults. The soccer ball yesterday disappeared into the home of the woman next door to RH. I am assuming she took the ball because she didn't want the kids playing in front of her house. She would not give the ball back - even to me. She just kept shouting "No! No! No!"
This is a very strange place. Most of the kids seem to be afraid of the adults.
Today, I'm not sure what happened to the ball. After about 7 or 8 of us were kicking the ball back and forth, I went back to do more painting. Next time I went out the ball had disappeared again and this time no one would say where it went. Not sure if one of the kids is hoarding the ball as his own, or if one of the adults took it again. But no one would say.
Again this is a very strange place.
So I went back to my painting.
There are only three days left to finish what we started, so we were a little anxious. As we disembarked the van, little Ng was there as usual. He gave me a big hug and helped us in with our bags.
The only job that was required of us today was to paint, paint, paint. Lots of painting to do.
After our opening prayer we started in to our jobs (which was to paint).
I gave a soccerball to NG while finishing my coffee and kicked a few with him, then started in on the painting.
Don't get me wrong - I love to paint - but I found myself drawn outside after about1/2 hr, to kick the ball around again. This something you don't see at all in Svay Pak, is kids playing games on the street. You do see them hanging out on the street, around the storefronts, some riding their bikes down the muddy path.
One reason may be the adults. The soccer ball yesterday disappeared into the home of the woman next door to RH. I am assuming she took the ball because she didn't want the kids playing in front of her house. She would not give the ball back - even to me. She just kept shouting "No! No! No!"
This is a very strange place. Most of the kids seem to be afraid of the adults.
Today, I'm not sure what happened to the ball. After about 7 or 8 of us were kicking the ball back and forth, I went back to do more painting. Next time I went out the ball had disappeared again and this time no one would say where it went. Not sure if one of the kids is hoarding the ball as his own, or if one of the adults took it again. But no one would say.
Again this is a very strange place.
So I went back to my painting.
Kelvins post #9 "Changes"
The team worked well today despite being with out Jeff and Grant. I know for myself I kept thinking how much they must be longing to be working with the team. I was off yesterday with a milder case of what Jeff has and I felt rotten, I can't imagine how bad he felt. I was very excited to be feeling good this morning(14 hours of sleep really helps) and to be able to get back at it. We got lots done today and RH is looking fantastic. Before leaving this afternoon I asked Josh, a young man who is involved in the planning of RH, if this is turning out as expected. He turned to me and told me that this is more then he had ever imagined.
I also managed to talk with a local man who is involved with ARC who was helping us today. He had just been talking with an elderly gentleman who lives in Svay Pak and I asked him what the locals think about all this. He said the locals are jealous about what we are doing. When he elabourated he said that they see us coming in with lots of money and changing things, changes that may effect their buisness and they don't like it. They are happy that we are making a school that will be free and a place where free medical clinics will take place but they don't want the Christians. Christians and a child sex slave industry don't mix and they are worried for their money. I am glad that they are worried because it means that RH is already making an impact and it's not even finished yet.
Kelvin
I also managed to talk with a local man who is involved with ARC who was helping us today. He had just been talking with an elderly gentleman who lives in Svay Pak and I asked him what the locals think about all this. He said the locals are jealous about what we are doing. When he elabourated he said that they see us coming in with lots of money and changing things, changes that may effect their buisness and they don't like it. They are happy that we are making a school that will be free and a place where free medical clinics will take place but they don't want the Christians. Christians and a child sex slave industry don't mix and they are worried for their money. I am glad that they are worried because it means that RH is already making an impact and it's not even finished yet.
Kelvin
Tuesday, May 13, 2008
Run the race
Marty's Daily Diary #10
I woke on Tuesday morning feeling really energised and ready to go to Svay Pak. As usual the team gathered made their way to Grant and Jeff’s room, for morning devotions, but discovered a note telling us to go to Kit and Barb’s room. I presumed Jeff was sick since he was feeling unwell the night before. So down to the 2nd floor we went to discover that Kelvin was not feeling to hot either. (Grant looked exhausted from being up all night looking after Jeff.) Both J&K remained in the hotel and Barb stayed to look after them. I felt fine but every time I go to the bathroom, every time I eat something, I am wondering “is it me next?” Am I the next one to drop with a GI problem? Is the work we are doing in Svay Pak so profound that the devil is trying everything to disrupt this work and frustrate us? If anybody else gets sick will we be able to finish what we have started? Come on Marty – where is your faith? God has brought us this far, so just keep plodding along in that race. Kit reminded us a few days ago of Hebrews 11. (For those of you at Fairview etc who know her, I know this will come as a shock that Kit has referred to Hebrews 11 on this trip) Our task in this project, indeed in life, is to keep our focus on Jesus and run the race. Just keep going. So, we did just that. Off to Svay Pak we went. A tonne of paint later, we returned back to the hotel. Rahab’s House is transforming. The yeast is working. Richard has already spoken of the little boy who came and stood with us in our prayer circle. The Vietnamese pastor who is working in Svay Pak and maybe will be based out of Rahab’s House looked so excited by the place yesterday when he dropped by. The building it self, even though we have a ways to go before Friday, already has so much life and warmth in it, rather than the decay and stench of death from last Monday. Yes Lord. No matter what, You have claimed this place for yourself.
Last night was our last night with Clay. I’ve spoken of the angels I have met on this trip. Well, guess what? Clay is another one. I really don’t know where to begin to describe this chap. Clay has such a love for Jesus, a wisdom and maturity of Cambodia, a compassion for justice and righteousness, a tenderness for children, that it will not come as a surprise that a few of us have joked with him (even though we are not really joking) that we have a few people we would like him to meet in Vancouver. He is a great man of God and has inspired me and the whole team over these past two weeks. I wish him every God’s blessing as he continues his work in Rahab’s House and beyond in Cambodia. God bless you Clay, and may you continue to be an incredible blessing to others.
I woke on Tuesday morning feeling really energised and ready to go to Svay Pak. As usual the team gathered made their way to Grant and Jeff’s room, for morning devotions, but discovered a note telling us to go to Kit and Barb’s room. I presumed Jeff was sick since he was feeling unwell the night before. So down to the 2nd floor we went to discover that Kelvin was not feeling to hot either. (Grant looked exhausted from being up all night looking after Jeff.) Both J&K remained in the hotel and Barb stayed to look after them. I felt fine but every time I go to the bathroom, every time I eat something, I am wondering “is it me next?” Am I the next one to drop with a GI problem? Is the work we are doing in Svay Pak so profound that the devil is trying everything to disrupt this work and frustrate us? If anybody else gets sick will we be able to finish what we have started? Come on Marty – where is your faith? God has brought us this far, so just keep plodding along in that race. Kit reminded us a few days ago of Hebrews 11. (For those of you at Fairview etc who know her, I know this will come as a shock that Kit has referred to Hebrews 11 on this trip) Our task in this project, indeed in life, is to keep our focus on Jesus and run the race. Just keep going. So, we did just that. Off to Svay Pak we went. A tonne of paint later, we returned back to the hotel. Rahab’s House is transforming. The yeast is working. Richard has already spoken of the little boy who came and stood with us in our prayer circle. The Vietnamese pastor who is working in Svay Pak and maybe will be based out of Rahab’s House looked so excited by the place yesterday when he dropped by. The building it self, even though we have a ways to go before Friday, already has so much life and warmth in it, rather than the decay and stench of death from last Monday. Yes Lord. No matter what, You have claimed this place for yourself.
Last night was our last night with Clay. I’ve spoken of the angels I have met on this trip. Well, guess what? Clay is another one. I really don’t know where to begin to describe this chap. Clay has such a love for Jesus, a wisdom and maturity of Cambodia, a compassion for justice and righteousness, a tenderness for children, that it will not come as a surprise that a few of us have joked with him (even though we are not really joking) that we have a few people we would like him to meet in Vancouver. He is a great man of God and has inspired me and the whole team over these past two weeks. I wish him every God’s blessing as he continues his work in Rahab’s House and beyond in Cambodia. God bless you Clay, and may you continue to be an incredible blessing to others.
Just Another Day in Svay Pak - NOT
I have seen poverty stricken places before - but nothing like this place. Most people will show you some sort of kindness where it be a smile or a 'Hello' - but in Svay Pak there is nothing like that at all. When our big white van with 10 white people drive through, it hardly causes a ripple. They know we are there, but the suspicion and animosity and indifference is obvious. Some of the stares are downright hostile as we drive by on the little dirt track off the main road into the village.
And yet, with only 3 days to go, I am starting to feel that I am really going to miss this place when we do leave. I couldn't wait to get back to RH after our weekend break.
It's because of the kids. They are like everybody else in the village - out for what they can get. They are in survival mode - just trying to survive in a place that uses children for their own evil purposes. They are just a product to the adults that abuse, hit , scream, or ignore them.
One of the things that they are 'out' to get - is a little love. They aren't quite as jaded as the adults yet. So I see a bit of hope. So I show them kindness. I show them some patience. I give them some attention and play with them. They call me 'Tom' because they can't say Rick (it comes out Lick) - so since tom means 'big' in Khymer - it fits.
Today was a breakthrough of sorts. As we got out of the van this morning, a boy who has been coming every day was waiting for us. He jumped up into my arms and gave me a big hug. I was a little overwhelmed and embarassed, but touched. Ng followed us into the building and as we were getting our instructions for the day, he reached up and took hold of Tim's and my hands. But the most suprising thing was during our prayer before we start, Ng joined the prayer circle and stood qietly holding Kit's hand.
I really believe that RH is going to be the catalyst for change in Svay Pak - and the children are where it will start. I see hope in their eyes and a future for their lives.
We said good bye to Clayton tonight who was our representative from ARC. He is leaving tomorrow for the US to visit home and do a fund-raising tour. Clay is an amazing young man of God! He is so knowlegeable and obviously loves Cambodia. We are going to miss him - he was a big help and really mucked in with the rest of us to get the job done - as well as being a great guy to talk to. Hopefully we can get Clay up to Vancouver sometime soon.
And yet, with only 3 days to go, I am starting to feel that I am really going to miss this place when we do leave. I couldn't wait to get back to RH after our weekend break.
It's because of the kids. They are like everybody else in the village - out for what they can get. They are in survival mode - just trying to survive in a place that uses children for their own evil purposes. They are just a product to the adults that abuse, hit , scream, or ignore them.
One of the things that they are 'out' to get - is a little love. They aren't quite as jaded as the adults yet. So I see a bit of hope. So I show them kindness. I show them some patience. I give them some attention and play with them. They call me 'Tom' because they can't say Rick (it comes out Lick) - so since tom means 'big' in Khymer - it fits.
Today was a breakthrough of sorts. As we got out of the van this morning, a boy who has been coming every day was waiting for us. He jumped up into my arms and gave me a big hug. I was a little overwhelmed and embarassed, but touched. Ng followed us into the building and as we were getting our instructions for the day, he reached up and took hold of Tim's and my hands. But the most suprising thing was during our prayer before we start, Ng joined the prayer circle and stood qietly holding Kit's hand.
I really believe that RH is going to be the catalyst for change in Svay Pak - and the children are where it will start. I see hope in their eyes and a future for their lives.
We said good bye to Clayton tonight who was our representative from ARC. He is leaving tomorrow for the US to visit home and do a fund-raising tour. Clay is an amazing young man of God! He is so knowlegeable and obviously loves Cambodia. We are going to miss him - he was a big help and really mucked in with the rest of us to get the job done - as well as being a great guy to talk to. Hopefully we can get Clay up to Vancouver sometime soon.
Day 10 - Tim
Yesterday morning I had the exquisite satisfaction of smashing to splinters the beds of our former brothel. They are beds of duplicity, betrayal, unutterable defilement, violence, and spiritual oblivion. Beds of child sacrifice. Beds of Hell. I have never handled such filthy and disgusting objects in my life. I was sweating a light rain onto them as I worked - a higher rate of sweat than I've ever experienced. Yet I felt driven, at high energy, like a fanatic. I would have burned all these beds with gasoline in the middle of the street at high noon, and forced everyone in Svay Pak to watch (like the local Germans whom the allies forced to bury the Jewish dead at Dachau), had that been thought wise. So I smashed them instead. As a forester, I think I was unconsciously ashamed that trees had been used to make beds for this purpose.
And then I remembered another tree, 2000 years ago, outside Jerusalem, that had been used for an unimaginable Sacrifice. And things began, once more, to make a little sense.
Pray again tonight that the Lion would protect the little ones of Svay Pak from the predators hunting them.
And then I remembered another tree, 2000 years ago, outside Jerusalem, that had been used for an unimaginable Sacrifice. And things began, once more, to make a little sense.
Pray again tonight that the Lion would protect the little ones of Svay Pak from the predators hunting them.
Redeeming the Land - by Paul
I'm sitting on the steps of our hotel today. Having spent the day inside Rahab's House, and getting tired of the four walls of our room and the hotel lobby, I decided to blog with a view. It was cloudy with an occasional small drop of rain until five minutes ago when he heavens opened with a clap of thunder and a deluge of rain. Right on time... 4:00 pm plus or minus 20 minutes.
The tuktuk drivers quickly dropped down the walls of their tuktuks and dashed inside. My friend Mr. Black is waving to us in this picture. Unfortunately, the rain had slowed to a shower in the time it took me to rush up to my room to get my camera. Such is the weather here in Cambodia just before the monsoon season starts.
After yesterday's day of pulling nails from the rafters, a team of us proceeded to dust down the wood and the wall in preparation for the big paint down. The upstairs room is looking so good and can't wait to slap on the paint on the main floor to see the next step in the transformation. By the end of the day, we had most of the rafters painted with the first coat of white pain, and all the previously hideous pink walls covered in white (our base coat to make the sunshine yellow much brighter). I stood in amazement, looking at what was an oppressive and dark interior with all the lights on just a week ago, and seeing a room that was open and inviting with only the ambient sunlight and half the fluorescent lights on.
Back in 1999 when our worshiping community started our first project in Cambodia as part of our 100th year anniversary, we called it "Redeeming the Land". For a long while I didn't fully understand the power and beauty of the work "Redeem" or "Redemption" - to take something that is evil and turn it into something that is good. Only when I saw first hand the destruction that the Khmer Rouge had brough on its own people, and the near total absence of social care from the government, did I understand how God can transform something that is evil into something that is good. It also gave me a greater appreciation of his grace, his unconditional and immeasurable love for all his people here on Earth. "If not by the grace of God go I" always springs to mind.
As I watch our team do the physical work of God in transforming the former hell-hole brothel into a place of hope, I can once again see redemption in action, first in this building, and I am confident in the lives of the inhabitants of Svay Pak. I leave the village much more positive every day. Praise God.
BEFORE
AFTER
Monday, May 12, 2008
Coloured Streamers -- Toph
(apologies; another long post)
At the back of the former brothel, behind where the kitchen used to be are three little rooms. Two of them have cisterns and (some days) running water; the third is a little toilet area with a squat pot. Behind that is the back door, which was cemented over in its former incarnation, leaving no fire escape. We have considered breaking this barrier down, but the opening would then only face a brick wall. It does provide a slight breeze. Most of my scraping and cleaning today was in the cistern rooms.
Around 9:30 this morning, Kit and I were taking a break at the same time, and I suggested a walk. I haven’t really seen Svay Pak yet. We arrive along a dirt road, following about a 300m stretch, with a slight jog at the highway. The road continues past Rahab’s House the same distance again, ending with a Catholic Church on the left, well painted but with a large padlock. We have seen no indication that the building is used. All this we can see from our building. Directly across from us is an empty lot, used as a rubbish tip. In the mornings under baskets we can see roosters, and we wonder if they are fighting cocks.
Kit and I began by crossing the vacant lot. On the other side is a path – it would be wrong to call this a road, and we have to make way for a girl on a bicycle. As we follow a serpentine path, we lose orientation. The path winds back and forth; there is no easy way to retrace our steps. I remember being told this is where white men are led when they request something special in Svay Pak.
People sit in front of their houses, watching us. We smile, and sampeh (make a little prayerful bow with our hands folded in front of us), and I say hello, or good morning. I don’t speak Khmer, so what do I know? They are surprised – one woman in particular is clearly delighted. Has she ever heard someone white use her language? The expression on her face seems not. We are now well out of sight of the building where we work.
Even on these paths, buildings standing no further than a meter apart from each other in places, there are shop fronts. Most sell drinks, or foodstuffs. One seems to have mechanical parts, though there is nothing mechanical to be seen. Multicoloured streamers, about 4cm wide, hang from the roof of the shop fronts. It is a bright relief amidst the brown dirt which is everywhere. Then I see that they are condoms.
We have no right to be here. Fortunately we have a guide. The village hunchback, who does not speak, has adopted us, and assumes responsibility for monitoring entrances and exits. He is unforgettable – alternately comic and fierce, clearly a known presence in the village, but of no certain hierarchy. Unable to get a name for him, we have taken to calling him Yoda. He is guiding us trough the back streets of Svay Pak, where I would never be otherwise. He walks fast. As he starts sidestepping between two houses, it is clear we are no longer on even a path. I stop – some children are playing marbles, and they teach me how to shoot for distance with the middle finger, my hand like a scorpion. Since my hand lacks their flexibility, I shoot only a few inches, and they laugh at me.
I sampeh to them, and we continue the tour. The path is no winding alongside a manmade pond on one side (there is a safety fence, and houses right along the other side. One foot in front of the other we continue. The house on the right has a baby alone, swinging in a hammock. What is striking is that the house is really clean. It has been swept immaculately, and though the possessions are few they are tidy. This is not like the house with four teenage boys who glowered at us. Of the grandma with so many wrinkles radiating out from her nose that it looked like a sunburst. Or the young woman with her face painted white, and a hot pink cotton top, emerging from a room like a small warehouse.
Kit speaks to the young mother, and through gestures asks the age of her baby. Two months (or is she telling us that she has another child?). The mother is pretty, and modestly dressed, and maybe twenty. She seems to be trying to live in Svay Pak, rather than merely survive.
Yoda presses us on; he doesn’t want us speaking to anyone else. Eventually he shows us a direction, and that returns us to the far side of the vacant lot.
We cross, but keep walking. At the church some girls are skipping, and Kit takes one end of the rope, to help the children play. Skip rope, marbles – some children in Svay Pak have toys, but most do not. Across from the church is a yard, fenced with chicken wire. There is a gap at the gate. Within are over forty children, aged two to five. There is no adult or teenager within. A few play on the field at the back; others have slipped through the gate to watch the skipping. This almost looks lie a daycare. But it might also be a kennel.
There was no evidence of water in any of the houses. The cisterns at the back of the brothel seem suddenly cleaner than they were, and so we return, and I go back to work in those back rooms.
When I google “Svay Pak”, I am told it is the red light district of Phnom Penh. Except there are no lights, of any colour. The roads don’t have potholes, because they are not paved. I am also told all the brothels have been closed down by the government. Today, though, there is no doubt that the sex trade continues here. Our walk confirms the other signs we have seen. There is nothing attractive about this place. Yet still the kids play simple games with each other, and still the streamers wave in the breeze. Oh, right.
At the back of the former brothel, behind where the kitchen used to be are three little rooms. Two of them have cisterns and (some days) running water; the third is a little toilet area with a squat pot. Behind that is the back door, which was cemented over in its former incarnation, leaving no fire escape. We have considered breaking this barrier down, but the opening would then only face a brick wall. It does provide a slight breeze. Most of my scraping and cleaning today was in the cistern rooms.
Around 9:30 this morning, Kit and I were taking a break at the same time, and I suggested a walk. I haven’t really seen Svay Pak yet. We arrive along a dirt road, following about a 300m stretch, with a slight jog at the highway. The road continues past Rahab’s House the same distance again, ending with a Catholic Church on the left, well painted but with a large padlock. We have seen no indication that the building is used. All this we can see from our building. Directly across from us is an empty lot, used as a rubbish tip. In the mornings under baskets we can see roosters, and we wonder if they are fighting cocks.
Kit and I began by crossing the vacant lot. On the other side is a path – it would be wrong to call this a road, and we have to make way for a girl on a bicycle. As we follow a serpentine path, we lose orientation. The path winds back and forth; there is no easy way to retrace our steps. I remember being told this is where white men are led when they request something special in Svay Pak.
People sit in front of their houses, watching us. We smile, and sampeh (make a little prayerful bow with our hands folded in front of us), and I say hello, or good morning. I don’t speak Khmer, so what do I know? They are surprised – one woman in particular is clearly delighted. Has she ever heard someone white use her language? The expression on her face seems not. We are now well out of sight of the building where we work.
Even on these paths, buildings standing no further than a meter apart from each other in places, there are shop fronts. Most sell drinks, or foodstuffs. One seems to have mechanical parts, though there is nothing mechanical to be seen. Multicoloured streamers, about 4cm wide, hang from the roof of the shop fronts. It is a bright relief amidst the brown dirt which is everywhere. Then I see that they are condoms.
We have no right to be here. Fortunately we have a guide. The village hunchback, who does not speak, has adopted us, and assumes responsibility for monitoring entrances and exits. He is unforgettable – alternately comic and fierce, clearly a known presence in the village, but of no certain hierarchy. Unable to get a name for him, we have taken to calling him Yoda. He is guiding us trough the back streets of Svay Pak, where I would never be otherwise. He walks fast. As he starts sidestepping between two houses, it is clear we are no longer on even a path. I stop – some children are playing marbles, and they teach me how to shoot for distance with the middle finger, my hand like a scorpion. Since my hand lacks their flexibility, I shoot only a few inches, and they laugh at me.
I sampeh to them, and we continue the tour. The path is no winding alongside a manmade pond on one side (there is a safety fence, and houses right along the other side. One foot in front of the other we continue. The house on the right has a baby alone, swinging in a hammock. What is striking is that the house is really clean. It has been swept immaculately, and though the possessions are few they are tidy. This is not like the house with four teenage boys who glowered at us. Of the grandma with so many wrinkles radiating out from her nose that it looked like a sunburst. Or the young woman with her face painted white, and a hot pink cotton top, emerging from a room like a small warehouse.
Kit speaks to the young mother, and through gestures asks the age of her baby. Two months (or is she telling us that she has another child?). The mother is pretty, and modestly dressed, and maybe twenty. She seems to be trying to live in Svay Pak, rather than merely survive.
Yoda presses us on; he doesn’t want us speaking to anyone else. Eventually he shows us a direction, and that returns us to the far side of the vacant lot.
We cross, but keep walking. At the church some girls are skipping, and Kit takes one end of the rope, to help the children play. Skip rope, marbles – some children in Svay Pak have toys, but most do not. Across from the church is a yard, fenced with chicken wire. There is a gap at the gate. Within are over forty children, aged two to five. There is no adult or teenager within. A few play on the field at the back; others have slipped through the gate to watch the skipping. This almost looks lie a daycare. But it might also be a kennel.
There was no evidence of water in any of the houses. The cisterns at the back of the brothel seem suddenly cleaner than they were, and so we return, and I go back to work in those back rooms.
When I google “Svay Pak”, I am told it is the red light district of Phnom Penh. Except there are no lights, of any colour. The roads don’t have potholes, because they are not paved. I am also told all the brothels have been closed down by the government. Today, though, there is no doubt that the sex trade continues here. Our walk confirms the other signs we have seen. There is nothing attractive about this place. Yet still the kids play simple games with each other, and still the streamers wave in the breeze. Oh, right.
Scraping, a walk and reactions in Svay Pak - Grant
We were back out to Rahab's House to start our second week of work. Gone are the sounds of sledge hammers hitting solid walls and the crash of those walls hitting the floor. The sounds in RH today were the sounds of scraping and scrubbing and painting (true that is fairly quiet but one of the painters is a little chatty), pulling nails out of the wooden ceiling and other bits and pieces of renewing this place.
i was back to scraping the walls. We had rid the place of the horred pink paint last week but our test painting on the second floor shows that the paint under the pink paint is not absorbing the new paint well meaning we need to try and get everything back down to the concrete plastering. So the arms and shoulders continue to take something of a beating but it continues to be holy work. The strange point of the day for me concerned room 9. ARC decided to keep one of the old brothel rooms as something of a museum. Barb was in there today scrubbing the floor - probably the most disgusting job any of us have had to do so far. My job was scraping - as you already know - the pink paint in room 9 only goes as high as the interior walls which means there's about 4 feet of wall above the pink. So there I was trying so hard to scrape all the grey paint above the pink and leave the pink intact. The greatest temptation I've faced this week was to just strip all that pink off - but I didn't.
In the afternoon 4 of us went for a walk through the village - Kelvin, Paul, Marty and me. We walked up toward the highway and looked around. We went up to the two lane highway and walked along until we came to the next road in. We walked down it to see if we could get a view of the back of RH. We could see where it was but we would have had to walk through someon'e private property to do so - not a good idea in Svay Pak. On the way back I looked over at a group of men who were sitting and chatting at a cafe. I briefly made eye contact with one of them who puckered his lips into a kiss. I wasn't sure if he was looking to make a sale of some sorts or if he was telling us to "kiss off." Either way it was a little unsettling. Back in SP proper we turned up a sidestreet - a narrow alley really - and carried on to the end. We looked down a couple of even narrower alleys and had no thought of going down those. As we turned to go back to RH a well dressed woman smiled at us and beckoned us to follower her down the alley - she obviously had something or us she thouht we wanted - my stomach turned.
I've been in many different Cambodian villages in my 5 visits to this country. Svay Pak is like no other. In almost all villages Westerners are looked at with some curiosity but when you given evidence of care and concern the people - particularly the children - are very open and friendly. Not so in SP. The people here are way past guarded. The looks of some are quite hostile while others are merely cold. There are a few children who come around and are happy to laugh and play but they are always looking to see what they might get from us. SP is a cold unloving village where children are for sale and you can feel it in the looks of the people.
We carry on with our work seeing in it the "mustard seed" and the "yeast" of the Kingdom of God. We don't know all that RH will be to this place but we know that God is doing somehting with it. So I will carrying scraping (one more day) in faith.
Blessings,
Grant
i was back to scraping the walls. We had rid the place of the horred pink paint last week but our test painting on the second floor shows that the paint under the pink paint is not absorbing the new paint well meaning we need to try and get everything back down to the concrete plastering. So the arms and shoulders continue to take something of a beating but it continues to be holy work. The strange point of the day for me concerned room 9. ARC decided to keep one of the old brothel rooms as something of a museum. Barb was in there today scrubbing the floor - probably the most disgusting job any of us have had to do so far. My job was scraping - as you already know - the pink paint in room 9 only goes as high as the interior walls which means there's about 4 feet of wall above the pink. So there I was trying so hard to scrape all the grey paint above the pink and leave the pink intact. The greatest temptation I've faced this week was to just strip all that pink off - but I didn't.
In the afternoon 4 of us went for a walk through the village - Kelvin, Paul, Marty and me. We walked up toward the highway and looked around. We went up to the two lane highway and walked along until we came to the next road in. We walked down it to see if we could get a view of the back of RH. We could see where it was but we would have had to walk through someon'e private property to do so - not a good idea in Svay Pak. On the way back I looked over at a group of men who were sitting and chatting at a cafe. I briefly made eye contact with one of them who puckered his lips into a kiss. I wasn't sure if he was looking to make a sale of some sorts or if he was telling us to "kiss off." Either way it was a little unsettling. Back in SP proper we turned up a sidestreet - a narrow alley really - and carried on to the end. We looked down a couple of even narrower alleys and had no thought of going down those. As we turned to go back to RH a well dressed woman smiled at us and beckoned us to follower her down the alley - she obviously had something or us she thouht we wanted - my stomach turned.
I've been in many different Cambodian villages in my 5 visits to this country. Svay Pak is like no other. In almost all villages Westerners are looked at with some curiosity but when you given evidence of care and concern the people - particularly the children - are very open and friendly. Not so in SP. The people here are way past guarded. The looks of some are quite hostile while others are merely cold. There are a few children who come around and are happy to laugh and play but they are always looking to see what they might get from us. SP is a cold unloving village where children are for sale and you can feel it in the looks of the people.
We carry on with our work seeing in it the "mustard seed" and the "yeast" of the Kingdom of God. We don't know all that RH will be to this place but we know that God is doing somehting with it. So I will carrying scraping (one more day) in faith.
Blessings,
Grant
Mother's Day, Meanderings, Marie...and More (Kit)
You have read comments from the others about the church service we attended en masse yesterday - started at 1015 and ended at 1230. 'Twas all very well that they had little machines that provided concurrent interpretation, but mine refused to work, despite my efforts of yanking out the aerial so as to pick up any signal beyond twenty feet, and waving it around searching for a signal, bopping others on the head, looking totally insane. However at one point in the service, I was called to leave my seat and approach the front along with a number of others. They had us all line up in front of the congregation. I looked over to our team in a state of anxiety. I had no clue what was about to happen next. I looked over to KVE who said "Mother" and then everything clicked into place. Mother's Day!! Jeff suddenly appeared on the scene with a gift in his hand - he was my 'son'! It was a pleasure to tell him that he has a wonderful mom of his own, who loves him very much (there was a gift for Grace too). When I later opened the gift I was just delighted - 2 bars of soap, which I may give way before I leave Cambodia, and a lovely krama which I will certainy keep.
A quick lunch and then a long, long trip via tuktuk to A Place of Rescue, run by Marie Ens. It was so wonderful to see this place: homes for dying AIDS patient, small homes (which hold bunks for 6-8) with live-in house mothers for each orphan , and homes for the 'grannies' who were completely destitute and living on the street, trying to eke out some food to survive...Their children are dead, killed in the genocide. They had nothing at all until being found and brought here. Grannies, families, kids, a football field, a volleyball court, chickens, rabbits, gardens, space, ... it is a wonderful place. These kids are so different from the ones in 'our' little village - yes, they are orphans, some are HIV positive, some have AIDs, but here they know they are loved. They were clean, respectful, and happy. And I had a ball - the girls raced up to me, grabbed my arms, and lined up for hugs. They put flowers in my hair, they cuddled and snuggled and laughed and smiled. Being far away from my own grown up daughters, I received a wonderful Mother's Day from these warm , energetic and happy little girls.
But morning comes early. Up to 'the suite' at 0615 hrs. In the van by sevenish, out to SP by eight, Vietnamese coffee waiting for us, 'Mr. Yoda' standing guard, flailing sign language and shrieking completely incomprehensible directions at us and at any kids who show up.
Hi-ho, hi-ho, it's off to work we...er... went. No sledgehammers today, but we worked and worked and worked. Clayton provides the coffee, arranges for lunch, goes off for supplies, and works very hard himself. We will really miss him - tomorrow is his last day with us before he heads off to the States for a bit.
Some very nice things indeed have happened to us this past weekend, but we were all very glad to get back to SP. We want to get this work done!! But it's tough. As I said in an earlier blog, we don't receive a roaring welcome when we arrive in 'town' and some people show open hostility to us. If this means that we are making even a slight dent - one heartbeat - in the ocean of human trafficking , I can live with their hostility. But the kids can be little sharks as well, tough little survivors without a lot of hope, without much of a future. And what will their kids be like, also with no teaching, no love, no peace, no hope?
Toph and a I headed out on a short walk this morning, a walk which quickly became an unanticipated guided tour, with Mr. Y, racing up to get in front of us, and leading us through the village. With his wretched physicanl handicaps, his inablility to speak, and possible cognitive defects as well, he (and possible only he) seemed to realize that we were just walking, that Toph was not looking for a young girl or boy, that I was not looking for children to buy (nand later use or sell). He gave us a wonderful tour of his small village. It is a sad, forgotten little community. I am sure here are lots like it, but Svay Pak has the reputation of being a child sex farm.
I would love to write more, but I keep falling asleep at the keyboard. It is 11:30 pm, and I have to get up at 0545, so I need to crash.
This comes with much love to you all.
K
A quick lunch and then a long, long trip via tuktuk to A Place of Rescue, run by Marie Ens. It was so wonderful to see this place: homes for dying AIDS patient, small homes (which hold bunks for 6-8) with live-in house mothers for each orphan , and homes for the 'grannies' who were completely destitute and living on the street, trying to eke out some food to survive...Their children are dead, killed in the genocide. They had nothing at all until being found and brought here. Grannies, families, kids, a football field, a volleyball court, chickens, rabbits, gardens, space, ... it is a wonderful place. These kids are so different from the ones in 'our' little village - yes, they are orphans, some are HIV positive, some have AIDs, but here they know they are loved. They were clean, respectful, and happy. And I had a ball - the girls raced up to me, grabbed my arms, and lined up for hugs. They put flowers in my hair, they cuddled and snuggled and laughed and smiled. Being far away from my own grown up daughters, I received a wonderful Mother's Day from these warm , energetic and happy little girls.
But morning comes early. Up to 'the suite' at 0615 hrs. In the van by sevenish, out to SP by eight, Vietnamese coffee waiting for us, 'Mr. Yoda' standing guard, flailing sign language and shrieking completely incomprehensible directions at us and at any kids who show up.
Hi-ho, hi-ho, it's off to work we...er... went. No sledgehammers today, but we worked and worked and worked. Clayton provides the coffee, arranges for lunch, goes off for supplies, and works very hard himself. We will really miss him - tomorrow is his last day with us before he heads off to the States for a bit.
Some very nice things indeed have happened to us this past weekend, but we were all very glad to get back to SP. We want to get this work done!! But it's tough. As I said in an earlier blog, we don't receive a roaring welcome when we arrive in 'town' and some people show open hostility to us. If this means that we are making even a slight dent - one heartbeat - in the ocean of human trafficking , I can live with their hostility. But the kids can be little sharks as well, tough little survivors without a lot of hope, without much of a future. And what will their kids be like, also with no teaching, no love, no peace, no hope?
Toph and a I headed out on a short walk this morning, a walk which quickly became an unanticipated guided tour, with Mr. Y, racing up to get in front of us, and leading us through the village. With his wretched physicanl handicaps, his inablility to speak, and possible cognitive defects as well, he (and possible only he) seemed to realize that we were just walking, that Toph was not looking for a young girl or boy, that I was not looking for children to buy (nand later use or sell). He gave us a wonderful tour of his small village. It is a sad, forgotten little community. I am sure here are lots like it, but Svay Pak has the reputation of being a child sex farm.
I would love to write more, but I keep falling asleep at the keyboard. It is 11:30 pm, and I have to get up at 0545, so I need to crash.
This comes with much love to you all.
K
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