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TRANSFORMATION
It’s been a few years ago now, but I can still remember losing my temper … something that doesn’t happen real often with me. She had come onto the compound again and while hounding me for money for her and the young boy she was raising, the boy had gone into the empty resident’s area and collected clothes and valuables from the people who lived there. It wouldn’t have been so bad, if I hadn’t just given her the $5.00 she had begged me for… but when I saw the boy running out of the dormitory and I realized that she had just set me up again, I lost control.
“Mr. Sary!” I shouted, as I felt my face grow red hot. “Get her out of here and tell her I never want to see her again on this campus.”
By the time Mr. Sary came over to see what I was yelling about, she and the boy were long gone and we were missing more clothes, some stuffed animals, and jewelry that one of the ladies had put on top of her dresser. It wasn’t so much the value of the items that were stolen that bothered me; it was more the fact that this was the third time it had happened and I was foolish enough to fall for it again.
The woman deserved pity I guess, but I didn’t feel it had to be from me. She had never married but was rumored to be sleeping with different men in the community, perhaps it was in search of Love or just a lover… or maybe she really needed the money. She didn’t have a job and taking care of the boy was about all she did in life. They lived in a small shelter on a piece of land her brother let them use. The boy lost his real mother at birth and everyone, including the father, blamed him for killing his mother; everyone that is, except for the sister, who took the newborn child from his dying mother and raised him as her own… the best she could, with little help from anyone.
Buntheoun was about seven years old when I first met him. He was very affectionate but cunning and demanding at times; always wanting more then I had to give. I never really trusted him because I knew whenever he was around, the Aunt was sure to be somewhere close by. My coolness toward him however didn’t stop him from running up to me and giving me a hug, every time he saw me. I remember one time, in particular, when I was waiting at the main road for the bus to Phnom Penh. I saw a mini-bus stopping on the other side of the road and there was Buntheoun, excitedly waving at me from inside the van… and then he disappeared. I saw a motorcycle coming up from behind the van at a high rate of speed and suddenly froze with horror. I knew that if Buntheoun ran out in front of the van to meet me, he would not look out for traffic and they would surely collide, but if I tried to stop or distract the driver of the motorcycle, he might not be as prepared for the accident and it could make matters even worse. Time slipped into slow motion and I helplessly watched the accident unfold before my eyes.
Buntheoun went flying several feet into the air and came down hard on the pavement. I ran over to his motionless body and feared the worst. He was breathing but unconscious. I picked him up carefully and moved him off of the busy hi-way, into a shaded area. While I was examining him for blood or broken bones he suddenly opened his eyes and looked up at me. He smiled but then as he looked around at all the people who had gathered, he became confused. I asked him if he was in any pain and he said no. His Aunt came over and said she wanted to take him to the hospital and so I gave her $20.00. My bus pulled up and since there was nothing more I could do, I got on it. When I returned from Phnom Penh the following day I found out that the Aunt had also gotten $20.00 from the driver of the motorcycle but did not bring him to the hospital like she said she would do. He was bruised but seemed okay when I saw him and so I thought no more of it. With the money she got, they moved to Phnom Penh and so I thought I was through with them forever, but…
“What is she doing here?” I demanded of my assistant, Chenrouen, when I saw the Aunt and the boy sitting in the office area a few months later. They both looked in terrible shape. “I have given her all I am going to give. Tell her to get out of here.”
“But she says she has AIDS” Chenrouen answered, in the Aunt’s defense.
“Sure… and next week she will have cancer.” I replied, sarcastically. “I don’t care what she has; I am not giving her any more money.”
“But she has her test results.” Chenrouen responded, handing me the all too familiar paper with the checks in the POSITIVE spaces.
“Well, let her go to the Home Care office then, they can help her if they want to.”
“She was there already, and they sent her here because she needs a place to stay. Her brother won’t let her stay on his land anymore.”
“No!” I said emphatically. “There are other places she can go. I don’t want someone like her living here; she will ruin everything I have tried to build.”
“Where? What other place will take her and the boy?” Chenrouen inquired, defensively.
I didn’t have an answer for her and I could see that my lack of sympathy was not being received well by anyone in the room. The Aunt and the boy both had their heads lowered… trying to conceal their tears. I finally gave in and consented to letting them stay for a trial period of time. “But if she or the boy gives me any trouble or cause problems with any of the other residents that live here, they are both out of here.” I added, trying to regain at least some of my authority.
It has been a few years now since they came to stay with us. Buntheoun has just completed the third grade and is really excited about being a forth grader next year. His Aunt is one of the best Child Caretakers we have and is now learning to sew and do Macramé. The transformation that has occurred was not so much in them as it has been in me. Learning to see beyond what is in front of you is not an easy task. The Aunt and her child were only trying to survive in whatever way they could and because no one, including me, would help her in her time of need, she had to take risk and as a result… became HIV Positive because of her efforts to find food for the child no one wanted.
I know it is not possible to help every needy person I run into every day… but I do believe this experience has transformed me into someone who is at least a little more respectful and a little less judgmental of those who have been less fortunate in this life then I have been. Being a part of the solution to someone else’s problem is not always easy… but when it works out, the rewards are often immeasurable.
VFJ Wayne Dale Matthysse |