Same Same But Different

            This blog will answer a question; a question everyone who has worked at the Cooperation of Peace Orphanage in Cambodia wants to know the answer to.

What is it like to be back?

I always knew I would come back to Cambodia; I didn’t know it would be so soon. Literally taking the same footsteps up the stairs of the Tattoo Guest House to room #117,  I grasped how much I have grown since my last visit. Yes, here I am walking the same path, but now it is in a new direction. I am back in a place where I gave away an endless amount of love expecting nothing back. As I left two years ago, I had no expectation to be able to return in this same manner, where I would be able to rededicate myself to the kids. But here I am with the opportunity to do exactly that. I’m so grateful to be here and I’ve spent every day in that mindset.

It was surreal. There I was sitting in a tuk tuk on the way to an orphanage where I had given pieces of my heart to the kids. Already having gone to the orphanage with Lisa Marie and Karlie before the rest of the group arrived, I knew all the kids would be fervently waiting for us. So as the tuk tuk puttered closer, nerves jittered throughout me. They would all be here; I couldn’t wrap my mind around it. I was being given the ability to reignite old relationships and begin anew.

As we entered the orphanage, we were surrounded by the kids, all differing in size and age, but possessing the same eager grins. Stepping out of the tuk tuk, hands were intertwined with mine as arms wrapped around my waist. Gathering my bearings, I glanced around and began to pick out faces. Out of the crowd emerged Sok Heng, looking sly as he was weaving his way through the group; Srey Neath glowing with her soulful smile; and one of the twins, Srey Tom or Srey Toch, looking so grown up. I was craning my neck looking ever so slightly in search of one particular face belonging to Srey Mao. My heart was slowly saddening as I realized she may not be at the orphanage; I began to accept that I may be saying goodbye before I even got the chance to say hello.

However, I refused to let that impact this trip. I was still so grateful to see countless faces that I know and love. Lost in my thoughts, I heard a voice screaming my name. Looking up as I turned around I saw Srey Mao running towards me; my heart cracked open and joy flooded out lighting up my full body. She leapt into my arms, burrowed her head into my chest while simultaneously intertwining her hands behind my neck.  Our eyes were locked on each other. The tears streaming steadily down her cheeks matched my own. I slowly lowered Srey Mao out of my arms; with our fingers laced we joined the rest of the group. Outwardly, one might not have noticed, but we were both still raptured by the fact that we were together. I hold that moment close to my heart, treasuring it dearly. When I first met Srey Mao, her heart was laden with sadness from being left at the orphanage less than a month before our group first arrived in 2015 with her little, twin sisters. Two years later, I don’t need to force a smile onto her face. It’s already there. She seems lighter, as though within these two years she’s become unwound rather than burdened. The heaviness she used to carry with her was something I didn’t notice until I saw its absence. It’s remarkable to see the lightness she now exudes.

I had forgotten how warm the kids were; how in love I was with their consuming smiles. It’s irresistible and I am so grateful to be here.  

The future of the kids is something that has been in the back of my mind since the last time I left Cambodia. Being here has given me the opportunity to discover it. For the past two years, I have been completely ignorant about the kids’ lives, apart from being friends with a few of them on Facebook. Even then, all I see is a feed full of selfies and posts in Khmer.  Throughout the trip, I was able to learn about and experience the futures of the kids in and out of the orphanage. Srey Pii and Loa, now 18 and 20 are both living in the village. More importantly, they are both being sponsored to study at the American Bridge School. Then there is Rath; I was taken aback when I learned he was married. This put in perspective how much time can pass within two years; someone who I spent time playing football and volleyball with has now fully transitioned into an adult and a husband at that. The only kid, now outside of the orphanage, who I was able to personally reconnect with was Houen.

Despite his back being turned to me, as Houen walked through the gates of the orphanage I immediately recognized that head of hair. I leapt up from my chair and ran over to him; he was equally as surprised to see me as I was to see him. After a rib-cracking hug, we sat down and I got to hear his story. At 21 years old, Houen is now at a university on scholarship, studying IT and computer programming, while helping to teach at the local school in Andong. On top of this, he is working. Combining this with the anxiety of homework, he is merely getting four hours of sleep a night. His only hours of free time are on Sundays from 1:00 to 4:00 which he was choosing to spend with us. It was inspiring. Not only to be able to see his success as a model example for other kids at the orphanage, but for myself. Placed under due stress he is excelling. Going into my freshman year at university, setting myself adjacent to Hoeun is how I will be defining my personal success.

As I became accustomed to seeing old faces, I became struck by the new ones. Sitting in the back corner of the stage avoiding the group was the tiny, shaven head of a young girl. I was drawn to her. As I walked over, she did her best to avoid me. Thankfully, I can still run faster than a five year old; as I caught up with her I asked her for her name. She bashfully whispered it into my ear: Srey Sol. As I heard her name she became the source of my attention. Whether the group was dancing or playing a game, I was constantly checking to see if she was being included. As the week drew out, I slowly had to do less as Srey Sol began to seek out the activities. At first, her big beautiful, brown eyes would just watch as she lurked on the edge of the dance floor. Learning her story I understood why. Srey Sol and Pisey, her big sister, are the oldest of four. Their mom is in the hospital battling a stomach disease and their dad is balancing taking care of her while keeping a job. In order to do this, he chose to give up the kids. The youngest two are being taken care of by the grandma, while Srey Sol and Pisey were left at the orphanage indefinitely. Slowly a smile on her face started to grow; it appeared more easily with each coming day. At the end, I didn’t need to seek her out; although not knowing any moves, she was up on the center of the stage dancing with a grin illuminating her face.  

Now, for everyone wondering what it’s like to be back let me tell you. I felt everything more intensely, I gave away more freely, and I was more open. Some things were easier and others were hard. All of it was worth it.

I’m feeling so much: inspired, passionate, grateful, and dispirited, just to name a few. On a scale of emotions over the past two weeks I think I’ve hit every one. The kids continue to amaze me; they love so much having so little. It creates a reciprocal effect of sharing and giving love. I have yet to experience that with anyone else. That makes it easy to be passionate. When you’re giving so much of your heart to something, the work that comes along with it is simple. Even more so when you’re aware of how grateful the people receiving it are. I feel so lucky to have been able to experience it all over again.