Anyone else with a tendency for writing would have blogged ceaselessly had they lived the month I just lived. Midway through my one year assignment in Cambodia, I traveled home to Australia and New Zealand to visit family and friends, visiting two major Australian cities, the Australian outback and various locations around the south island of New Zealand. From a desert in bloom to towering snow topped mountains, a hillside harbour view villa to a waterfront city condominium, any decent travel blogger would have spent a month writing fervently. Two road trips, shopping, scenic walks, soaking in hot pools, sipping wine and dining out were all on the agenda. Where once Australia and New Zealand were ordinary places that I called home, they are now strikingly special places that I call home with a sense of awe at my fortune.
Nevertheless that is as much as I am inclined to write about my holiday, which would rank as the “trip of a lifetime” for many, because I have now had about 15 hours back in Cambodia, catalyst to my writing impulses. Friends and family at home express problems such as waiting for an expensive dress to go on sale before being able to afford to try it on; needing to work full time to pay the mortgage and whether to stay in the current job or look at other options. There are always other options. The main topics of conversation at home revolve around issues that sit at this comfortable level of lifestyle in a robust and functional economy. I couldn’t see three friends whilst home because one family were road tripping interstate; another were holidaying in Singapore and a NZ friend was on a long weekend in Brisbane.
In contrast, when I ask my Cambodian contacts if they have traveled, most admit to never having ventured beyond their small hometown and almost noone has been to an airport let alone on an aeroplane. Finding the next meal is the focus of millions. This is an observable phenomenon everywhere in Phnom Penh if you understand what you are witnessing as you travel the bustling roads past street vendors, hawk-eyed tuk tuk and motodup drivers, trolley-pulling scavengers, disabled beggars and more. Most wealthy world witnesses, speaking from my own experience, actually don’t comprehend this fact, rather seeing the sights as intriguing and exotic.
With the contribution of many, including two considerably large donations, it appears that enough funds are going to be raised for 20 year old Sokum to have the heart surgery that should save her life. Had I not traveled home when I did, this would likely have never happened. Asking for money (my most loathed pursuit), even in a case of the life or death of a young person, is an almost guaranteed flop when you do so from afar, eg via online communication. Speaking to people in person has a slightly better strike rate although it is an excruciatingly awkward activity which I feel risks friendships. Many are already giving generously to their own causes and “my” cause does not ever have to be anyone else’s cause. Yet it is an interesting phenomenon because while it’s so difficult to engage people in something such as Sokum’s fundraiser, the challenge is trying to connect people to the cause as I know that if people met her, they would give generously. Those who do engage get an extraordinary amount of joy from the experience. An example is my friend’s teenage daughter who wrote to say that she had decided to forego her 16th birthday present in favour of sending the money to me “for Cambodia”. My friend wrote last week to say “She has also inspired some of her netball team and they want to donate as well“!
Last week I informed Sokum’s husband (the only English speaker, who has been actively pursuing all limited avenues to raise the money) that we look to be able to meet their target amount. It has not happened yet, but we have surpassed the halfway mark and have enough pledges on promise to bring us to the mark. He thanked me immediately and asked when I was coming home to Cambodia. A few hours later he informed me that they were bringing his wife to Phnom Penh on 25th September, to meet the doctors. After a 14 hour day of travel yesterday, this morning I was woken by his call that “we are at the hospital now“. I dragged myself out of bed and called my days-off tuk tuk guy before walking to three different ATM machines to withdraw the money already received (which can only be withdrawn in $400 amounts). Passing one of our two workday tuk tuks, I stopped for a quick chat and gave him the Sydney Australia t-shirt I bought for him, before heading across town to the hospital.
At the hospital I fell in love. Yet again. The most gentle, humble, smiling, beautiful young couple, with her equally charming mother, were sitting in a stuffy waiting room, waiting to see a cardiologist who would be available sometime after 2pm. The hospital is privately funded by a multitude of NGO partners, aiming to serve Cambodia’s poorest with quality care that is otherwise unavailable to the population due to the lack of resources and regulations within the government’s seriously under-funded Ministry of Health. In a sea of deficit there are occasional islands of hope, and while not coming anywhere near the quality we take for granted in the wealthy world, this seems to be one of them. Nevertheless, cardiac surgery does not come free and with no health insurance of any kind in Cambodia, the only way for this to happen is via a user-pays system. Sokum’s husband explained that the surgery is offered to them here at half the cost it would otherwise be. Still an inaccessible amount when you earn $100 per month.
After about an hour sitting together, talking about Sokum’s health, writing “Rheumatic Heart Disease” on a scrap of paper for them to ask the doctor if this is her diagnosis, photographing the medical information they had with them to send to a cardiologist in Australia who offered to assist if possible, answering questions about life in Australia and New Zealand and why I am in Cambodia, talking about her husband’s job and looking without success, for their tiny remote village on Google Maps, I left them with the funds received so far. Our farewell included promises to stay in touch and it seemed she will likely have surgery sometime later this week, but so far I haven’t heard the outcome of today’s consultation.
During our time together they informed me at least three times that “you can be our grandmother”. So now, at 48 years old, I find myself grandmother to adults in their 20s? It was spoken with such a tone of respect that I knew we were having a culture clash and that I was being granted some sort of honour, rather than being labelled an old hag! En route home we approached the corner of our street and there was my tuk tuk friend perched on his moto with no customers but looking very Australian in his new t-shirt.
After an outstanding holiday at home, the best day of my month off work was, of course, Day One back here in Cambodia.