Melancholy

I was going to title this post Sadness but it’s not quite sadness. I don’t know if it’s melancholy either but that’s closer I guess. It plays to the soundtrack of Everything by Lifehouse. So if you have that song, feel free to play it now.

Cambodia is a place full of people with stories. Their eyes and face tell a million stories. So much tiredness and life experiences, yet such a hope and assurance that there’s no other way but up from here. Today, I talked to Vuthi. He is a Theology graduate from Life University and helped out at the Life International School for 2 weeks. I asked him how many brothers and sisters he has. He said 8. I said wow. And still calm, his eyes smiling, he said some of them have died from an illness so he does not have 8 anymore. Just as a matter of fact.

I don’t know if this makes sense but I guess that conversation sums up what I have come to think of as the mood here in Cambodia. Hardship is a part of life. The younger generation sometimes complain about the hardship and the older generation (not that there’s many since the Khmer Rouge) bear it quietly. But for everyone, they wear it proudly as a battle scar. It’s almost as if poverty and hardship are part of the Cambodian culture.

Coming from Singapore, Canada and Australia where, comparatively, people bleed money, this everyday exchange of topics like illness, death, poverty and prostitution like the exchange of weather news is slightly unnerving. I have to constantly remind myself: this is not normal. I have to. Or else fall into a state where I become blind and accustomed to street kids coming up to me and asking for food. Blind to the old lady who asks for change. Blind to the Night Clubs and Karaoke Lounges with dim lighting and scantily clad young girls with too much make-up hanging around the lobby looking unhappily haughty. By that I mean brothels if you didn’t catch my drift.

But at the same time, I don’t want to pity the Cambodians. I am no better than them. I just had the privilege to grow up with more money. Giving them money or food is tricky too. Some people say we “spoil them” by doing that. But then, how do I just stand by and watch dirty little kids who can’t afford to go to school while I have a well stocked fridge, food on my table everyday? Although, I do understand the other side of the dilemma. Handouts aren’t sustainable.

Anyways, enough of my dilemma and back to the people. Melancholic. I wish I could videotape each of them telling their stories, their expressions, their past and the hope mingled with sadness at the future they see. They see a bright future. Sadly, not in their generation. Most of who I have talked to are around my age or just a bit older – at the start of their lives and career. Yet they cannot hope to dream too big for themselves. They have to save their biggest hopes for the next generation. Maybe I should make a movie. Perhaps after I write my book. Or after I write that play, as suggested by Pritee. 

This is Cambodia. And despite appearances, Cambodia does have a Hope and a Future.