Last Day, Part 1

On our last day at the orphanage we were all working hard trying to keep ourselves from acknowledging the inevitable any way we could. The reality had set in with our group that this would be our last day, our last hugs would be given and the odds were not in favor of our students ever seeing the faces of these orphaned children, that now felt like family, ever again. If  you stood still long enough and thought about leaving the orphanage, one last time, it was impossible to keep it together, so we kept ourselves occupied. So there we were, playing frisbee, polishing their nails, letting them braid our hair, anything to avoid letting that feeling creep in. I was busy running around spraying their pillows and bed mats with lice killing spray, first the boys room and then the girls. I told them it was to make it smell good and all their pillows they thought I was going to throw away (like last year) came out of hiding. When I walked upstairs into the girls room I saw someone covered with a blanket over her head and could see her body shaking...she was sobbing. She was accompanied by two older girls, one was trying to comfort her but she was also crying. This is a very rare sight to see as Cambodian as people rarely show emotion, I knew it was big. I maneuvered myself into the top bunk, praying it wouldn't collapse and asked what was wrong. None of the girls would tell me, they just sat and cried, so I did too.

Her name is Chantim and she is 15 years old. She sat up with her swollen eyes and tears all over her face and said, "No problem, Sister." She does not want to burden me. I begged her for answers through my tears. I asked one of the other girls if Chantim was sick and she says, "yes." Chantim insists she is not, tells me she is o.k. and covers herself again completely with the blanket. I ask the other girls how many days Chantim has been sick. They say, "Not days Sister...years, she has been sick for years." Again, my heart immediately gained 50 pounds. She never told me but we found out later Chantim has tuberculosis. She has been laying in that top bunk, fatigued and in pain for 3 years. Knowing she is keeping to herself, crying under that blanket and doing her best to not call attention to herself is heartbreaking. Even more heartbreaking is that Tuberculosis is completely curable if you are treated for it yet around 13,000 people die in Cambodia every year from the disease. It comes down to money. For Chantim, living in a home with 75 kids it is easy to get lost among them. Having a disease that requires treatment every day for two months is something she does not see as a necessity and knows it will take away from the money for their food and electricity. Her selfless strength takes my breath away.

I think about how different our worlds are and how real the problems are for these children.  It is my inspiration and fuel to continue to work harder for their well being and continue to shed light on their situation to our children in America. When you are educated on the world around you then it becomes possible to create positive changes. It is my hope and ultimate wish that the students from Vail see the value in this type of work and continue it in some capacity throughout their lives. The words, "it's not fair" are constantly blaring in your thoughts when you spend time at the orphanage, it makes you incapable of using those words in your own life. Through their brilliant smiles they only allow you to see glimpses of their pain. A 15 year old does not deserve to suffer from a disease she caught because of living in poverty. She also does not deserve to be denied decent, trustworthy healthcare and treatment because of money. She is just one of 75 and it does get overwhelming to think you can't get to them all, the feeling is painfully indescribable and will overcome you if you let it. I strongly believe in life there is always more you can do and that our work helping others on this Earth is never, ever finished. Their stories and strength continue to keep me in awe.

to be continued.....