Part II: Sex Trafficking in Cambodia

Quester Lauren Ebright posts part II of her recent journey to Cambodia to combat sex trafficking.

See the whole post, pictures and all, here

Inside Cambodia PART II: A Population In Poverty

Poverty in Cambodia
Photo Credit: Lauren Ebright | The Broken Telegraph

by Guest Contributor Lauren Ebright

In 2006 a community of people living in a suburb of Phnom Penh were uprooted by force and moved to a resettlement area now known as Andong. Over two years later, this village still does not have clean water, hospitals or electricity. Through the connections we made in the country, we were given the opportunity to visit Andong and meet a man named Abraham who has taken this community on as his personal mission. Abraham has built the village's only school and church from his family's own money. He has also worked to build new homes for the people of Andong (their original houses, only three years old, have begun to fall apart). Matthew and I were excited to meet Abraham and to see a place more rural than Phnom Penh. I had heard that Andong was a "slum," but I had imagined it would look similar to some parts of the city. I found out that Phnom Penh with all its poverty and chaos was modern and sophisticated by comparison.

We drove with Abraham in his slightly beat up Jeep about thirty minutes out of the city. I was thankful the AC worked as I gazed out the window at the countryside. We drove past stray dogs, random huts with goods for sale and entire families living on the side of the street. Every now and then we would pass a rich home, so absurd and obvious with its huge gates blocking the homeowner's view from all the disparity surrounding them. I asked Abraham who the homes belonged to and he told me government officials. I asked if they ever shared their wealth with the poor a la Bill Gates. He laughed and shook his head. Never.

After making it down a treacherous road blown out with pot holes and rocks (I thought of all the unexploded landmines in the country) we arrived at Andong. We parked next to Abraham's school, a modest four building complex with palm trees shading the entryway. Off to our right children bathed in the well while mothers scrubbed their kid's clothes. I thought of my irritation at having to walk all the way to the basement to deposit coins into an automatic machine to wash my clothes. And don't forget, I have to walk all the way back up to my apartment. Rough.

Abraham gave us a tour of his school. The last building we came to was long and narrow with about eight rows of school desks all facing a clean chalkboard. Matthew and I peered in as one of the school's teachers, a young man with cleanly parted hair and a warm smile, explained to us that the grade one and two classes are held here as well as the English classes. He showed us how some of the desks were bigger for the adults and some were smaller for the children. The sides of the building were thatched to help keep the sunlight out, but even so the temperature in the room was stifling. I imagined how it would feel to desire an education enough to sit in this room on the hottest of Cambodian days- learning alongside children.

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Andong school
Abraham's schoolhouse in Andong Village. Photo Credit: Lauren Ebright | The Broken Telegraph

After we had toured Abraham's amazing schoolhouse (and I really mean that, this man built this school from his own money out of conviction to teach these children), we made our way toward Andong's main living quarters. As we walked down the dirt road under the intense equatorial sun, Abraham spoke of the new houses they were building. Matthew told me later he was looking in the distance to some large houses on the horizon; marveling at how relatively nice they were, when Abraham directed our attention to the rudimentary shanty homes in front of us. These were the new houses.

The minute I entered Andong, stepping past garbage and into a corridor in this make-shift town, I was transported into a place where time stopped. It didn't matter if you had the latest iPhone, and nobody cared what kind of car you owned or what brand of jeans you wore. I was in a place where America didn't matter. We tend to fancy ourselves as being the center of the universe but I will tell you now, we, as a culture, do not exist in Andong. It was as if the modern world had never happened. Not because the people of that community are primitive or less complex than the rest of us; it was because life in that village was about something different. In Andong life seemed to be about something that the rest of us in our modern splendor tend to lose sight of.

We followed Abraham through the narrow passageways taking in all the scenes of daily life. There was construction going on for the new homes, every man pitching in to erect the long, thin beams of wood. There were children everywhere, being exactly what children are- joyful and unknowing. There were women cleaning their homes, smiling shyly as we walked past. We were given the honor of entering one man's new home. As I stepped through the doorless entry and into his home I began to feel my throat tighten. This man (like everyone else in Andong) had nothing. There was a huge basin of water, a bed, a small table and a dirt floor. The man beamed as we commented on how nice his home looked. He was eager to point out to us the sheet he had hung between the table and his bed so that it felt as though there were different rooms in the home. He had added this detail to create a better atmosphere; so that at night while he lay in bed with his wife they could feel a sense of privacy and seclusion from the rest of the world. I could see very clearly this man was proud to have us in his home and I could only hope at that moment that I could feel so grateful in my life.

We thanked the man ("Au Kohn") and made our way to the part of "town" that had flooded. Andong has no pipes, no toilets, faucets or showers. People use the surrounding field as their bathroom. Cambodia has heavy rains and since nothing is paved it all turns to mud and floods. It costs $8 for one meter of pipe. Andong needs 80 meters of piping. If you do the math that is $640 dollars U.S.. So far, they have been unable to find the funding. I began to think, how? How is it that these people are still living with no plumbing? Because if truth be told, I could afford to plumb this village. I could probably pay to plumb it twice.

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cambodian village
Andong Village. Photo Credit: Lauren Ebright | The Broken Telegraph

By this time Matthew and I are feeling emotional and have definitely sweat out half our body weight. I suspect Abraham could see this on our faces and suggested we sit for a moment. A woman graciously invited us to sit on her wooden slat bed; wonderfully shaded by a tin roof. Matthew and Abraham chatted and I tried to talk (with my highly limited Khmer) to one of the volunteer teachers of Abraham's school. In fact, all the teachers are volunteer. They all have to maintain jobs within the city to even afford transportation to Andong. In the midst of all our conversation, the woman who had invited us to sit appeared before us. She had in her hands a tray with four Sprites and four straws. She bowed and extended the tray to us. We all obliged and I felt a little dumbfounded. Here is a woman and community with nothing material to its name and they are offering us what ever little thing they have to make us feel at home.

Now I know I am verging on very cliche thinking. Yes, these people have nothing material to their name and here they are offering us maybe the one luxury they are allowed. And yes, I have a wonderful apartment, a good car, and a lot of nice, fun things to play with and sometimes I find myself reluctant to give what I have to someone in need. I am so grateful for what I have and I by no means intend to downplay the freedom and opportunity that being an American allows us, but my mind was opened to a larger concept that day. A concept that I know alludes the majority of us in the midst of all our excess and ease. That people and communities in places like Andong are defined by their spirit. The people of Andong are hopeful, hard-working, hospitable and gracious people. They think of one another and of their greater community. They do not have all those comforts, all those trinkets to insulate themselves from one another. Because isn't that what we're doing sometimes? Are we not padding ourselves from the outside world with our tinted windows and our gated communities? Are we not escaping authentic communication by excessive use of texting and tweeting and facebooking? (All of which I am just as guilty of...minus "tweeting" because the word "tweeting" infuriates me).

I sat there sipping my Sprite while looking at the exposed beds and tables and homes before me, and I tried to imagine living this way. I tried to imagine waking up at night and opening my eyes only to see my neighbors sleeping all around me. What kind of community does that create? What kind of transparent fellowship is necessary to live day in and day out that way?

While a part of me respects and admires Andong for how they are right now, the greater part of me believes that Andong deserves more than they have. I admire them for their perseverance; I admire Abraham for his courage and conviction. Lest I not forget these people did not choose to live this way. It was another choice made for them by a government that is negligent at best. The men, women and children I saw that day deserve clean water. They deserve plumbing, homes that will not fall apart, medical care, schooling, the right to worship however they please, the right to eat on a regular basis, shoes and clothing for their children, and the ability to work and make their own living. I believe that they already possess integrity, now how can we help them thrive?

I left Andong that day vowing to Abraham to tell his story and the story of Andong. All I can offer is my own account of what I saw that day and my own thoughts and feelings. It is up to others to connect to it and to take action. Please contact me at laurenebright at gmail dot com for information on Andong village and how you can support them.