Cambodia’s Hope

Scars and quiet faces. Burn marks and troubled pasts. You’d never know what happened to these kids before they came to Palm Tree unless you asked one of the administrators or opened up the filing cabinet. These children don’t exude pity or anguish. They fall down, scrap their knees and get back up to laugh some more. They play in the monsoon rains with their bikes, metal lids, and each other. They crawl up your leg as if you were a tree in order to give you the biggest hug and kiss they can muster.

I don’t believe in traveling the world to kiss babies. And I don’t immediately pity and coddle kids just because they are kids or because they are “less fortunate” than I. When I meet someone, I hold them to the same standards as I do any new acquaintance; if they have a good soul, they are a part of my circle. And even if they hide their character behind real angst, the gut instinct detects the good nature that allows humans to connect beyond language and cultural barriers.

The immediate hugs upon reaching the Palm Tree Orphanage were well-received, and it was interesting to see how my relationships with the kids evolved after that. This establishment is often visited by Americans and Western volunteers, and they’ve learned what to expect from some of these visits. Some bring mad amounts of gifts to be distributed to those they connect with most. Others are there for the long haul to make a real impact in their lives, and vice versa. I came to make some friends, get a feel for the place (Palm Tree and Cambodia), and offer up my skills and services for the greatest amount of good.

Upon day one, my purpose at Palm Tree was tested. The volunteer setup is completely based around what you want and are willing to do by your own initiative. I began by just hanging out with some kids and becoming a part of their dynamic. I sprawled across a table and started coloring something that would get them interested in me, but when my buddy, Sal, tested me in an effort to apprehend the community crayons for himself, I had to take the first-day-babysitter stance and show them I saw past the cute eyes and teardrops. I knew he was aiming to see how far he could go with my naivety to get what he wanted. I stood firm, and he wandered around the grounds crying to everyone that he “really loved crayons.” Later that evening before bed, he emerged from the depths of his dorm to sit by me, timidly before snuggling up to my side. He was my boy for the rest of the stay.

I spent my days wandering up to the classrooms where they conducted supplemental education for the other half of the day when they weren’t in government schools. My visit coincided with the change over to an American school, all subjects taught in the English tongue, and the teachers and students needed a lot of support. Evan, a long term volunteer, and I walked into a classroom filled with kids and lacking a teacher for that session. Seeing that their schedule said “Chemistry” and their American photocopied-textbooks went far above their heads, we created a dynamic lesson on the cuff by pouring water on the floor, knocking everything solid in the room, and squeezing ice cubes until they melted on their hands. While I tried to draw a propane tank on the whiteboard, Evan ran out to buy supplies on the street: powder for orange drink, a chunk of ice, a balloon, and water bottles. By the end of the class, the kids learned that chemistry was about liquids, solids, and gases, and Evan and I were pooped, yet invigorated by the idea that we taught kids about science in a language they didn’t know. Those little successes every day, every hour made me feel so alive and needed in this world.

Download the volunteer application here if you have 3+ months to volunteer at Palm Tree. Also check out the Cambodia’s Hope Facebook page.