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Post Production/Safe Haven Project Blogs
August 2009

Cambodia Bound With The Invisible Child

My poor little sister Cher, fresh off her return flight from Russia was barely coherent Friday morning at my house as we frantically packed for our trip to Cambodia. After loudly complaining that it is unnatural and wrong for me to lack any product with a trace of caffeine, she begins the task of repacking our ridiculously overweight suitcases that are stuffed with toys and medical supplies.

It’s been only four months since I returned from my last trip to Cambodia when I happened into the orphanage in Siem Reap and into the life of 5 year old Sum Nang, the boy who has lived his whole short life on his back in a crib, unable to move on his own. I’ve been unable to move him out of my mind and utterly anxious to move forward with some solutions for altering the quality of his life. Communication has been limited these past few months. The nuns caring for him have taken a vow of poverty and I’ve had to rely strictly on hand written letters from the Mother Superior both for information and permission to return and help him. With permission finally in hand and a tentative diagnosis as to his condition, we’re ready to move forward.

For the first time I am returning to Cambodia with a family member in tow. My sister Cher is spending her only two weeks off dedicated to helping me with Sum Nang. We’ve determined that he likely suffers from Cerebral Palsy and there is no one better equipped to assess his condition and help train the nuns in his proper care and treatment that Cher is. For the past 15 years, she has been a full time caretaker/therapist for a young woman with CP and now she is using that wealth of knowledge to bring hope and help to a boy on the other side of the world. We are also bringing with us a wealth of equipment, including a wheelchair/stroller that will allow Sum Nang to be able to sit upright in the room with the other children for the first time.

Getting the wheelchair to Cambodia is another matter altogether. By the time she has traveled from Boston to LA and we have traveled from LA to Bangkok we have garnered more than our share of double takes and questions. Yes, yes – they know we need to gate check the chair, but where is the child? Part puzzlement and part suspicion -as if we perhaps have forgotten the child back in security or on the shuttle bus. Cher grouses we should have made a sign. I think it would be more fun to simply talk to the empty chair.

Our flight to Bangkok is mostly uneventful. There’s a nervous moment when they announce the bathrooms on the right side of the plane are busted and repairs will delay us for five hours if we are not willing to fly with left wing toilets only. Thankfully, no one objects, which could be because it is nearly midnight and everyone is dozing off in the gate area waiting to board. Poor Cher is really wiped out from jetlag so we upgrade to business class in order to try and get some sleep. It is partially successful. She sleeps like a baby and I white knuckle it through the turbulent flight over the Pacific. She does wake up long enough to knock my cognac, which I got for my nerves, right onto my lap. So now I am nervous AND smell like alcohol.

16.5 hrs later I stagger off the plane, which certainly seems fitting considering the au de cognac. Cher, fresh off her lengthy sleep and smuggled Mountain Dew is feeling fairly chipper. Right up until I let her know we have a 6-hour layover. Our transfer and check in only takes up .75 hrs of that so Cher, myself and our invisible child sally forth in search of distractions. Who knew that Boots Pharmacy could be such a tourist trap?

Finally, we are on the plane to Phnom Penh and as we approach the airport, a familiar feeling washes over me. I am at once both excited and nervous. Coming back to Cambodia always feels like a homecoming. I can’t wait to see the kids and worry about what state I might find them in. Linna in particular always weighs on my mind. Charam’s little sister is now 6 years old and last month she went missing from her home on the sidewalk after her mother Yorn let a stranger walk off with her. Thankfully, she was found the next night but in Cambodia, sex trafficking is an all to real issue. I can’t trust Yorn not to sell her and one of the main purposes for this trip is to enroll Linna in a full time live in school. Finding my little artful dodger on the streets of Phnom Penh is always a challenge and with the stakes higher than ever, I worry about finding her safe.

With that in mind, after a quick change of clothes at our hotel, Cher and I immediately set forth to try and find Linna. Four months ago, she and her mother were living on a sidewalk spot near the National Museum market. I’m distressed to discover that the area they were in has been razed and no street squatters are there at all. After a fruitless couple of hours wandering through market alleys of rotten meat, fish and dying chickens – Cher asks if I need some thread for my needle in the haystack. Jetlagged and frustrated, we also walk the riverfront hoping against hope but come up completely empty. It’s Sunday night and hundreds of families now crowd the riverside making the chances of spotting her even more difficult.

Tomorrow I head to CCF to visit the kids from my documentary. I hope Charam will have an idea where his sister may be. I hope Yorn hasn’t left the city. I hope she hasn’t let any other “strangers” borrow her. I hope that I find her. I hope.

Phanton Lice, Real Gnats and Little Girl Lost

Cher is finding Cambodia more civilized than expected ever since she discovered Twinning’s Earl Grey Tea is served at Fresco, the coffee shop on the corner below our hotel room. Our jet lag caused us both to collapse into bed fairly early and thus we were up and ready to go by 6am. Any of my friends could tell you that I am NOT a morning person and my brain usually doesn’t follow my body out of bed for at least 30 minutes. This morning, however, my mind is already working overtime. My lack of success finding Linna is weighing heavily on my mind. At 9am I am suppose to meet Allie, one of the director’s of Azazi’s Place, a art oriented school I was fortunate to be able to get Linna into on a full time live in basis. If I only knew where the hell she was. My great fear is that Yorn has left the city and my chance to get Linna into a permanent, safe environment will have passed me by.

By 8am, Cher and I have hopped into a Tuk Tuk for the short drive to CCF to see my other kids, including Charam, Linna’s older brother. We’ve barely pulled up at the gate when the kids playing in the courtyard catch sight of me and starting hollering that I’ve arrived. So much for the surprise visit I had planned – one of the teachers has spilled the secret and my little family is waiting with glee on the other side of the gate. Charam and Layseng are the first to hug me, smiles split our faces all around. Charam dashes off to find Nhagn and Meng Ly and Layseng heads off to find Leakhena and Lyda. The kids are scattered about the CCF’s spacious building. With summer holiday upon them, they are only in part time classes and all of them are taking advantage of the morning break.

I introduce the kids to Cher and they are thrilled to actually meet one of my family members. Leakhena announces she thinks we look very much alike. Lyda and Layseng and I talk briefly about their new schedule of classes that include Chemistry and Advanced Math. I have plans for my girls that include college and I’m pleased to hear that they continue to make such amazing progress. Nhagn shows off his latest watercolors and present both Cher and I with two of his paintings. A little guy has attached himself to Cher’s hip and she is already measuring him to see if he’ll fit in her carry on.

I take a moment to pull Charam aside and ask if he knows where Linna is. He confirms that they got booted off the sidewalk spot where they were in May and says that Yorn, Linna and the new babies have been sleeping inside the Pagoda near the National Museum Market. Armed with this information, we promise the kids we’ll be back for lunch and Karate class and head back to Fresco coffee shop to meet Allie.

Halfway back to Fresco, our Tuk Tuk driver is zipping through the busy side street by the market when out of the blue; I spot Yorn crossing the street. Yelling at the top of my lungs for us to stop, I jump from the moving Tuk Tuk, shaving a few years off the Tuk Tuk driver’s life in the process. I holler Yorn’s name and chase her up the street. She turns and sees me and I waste no time asking for Linna. I’m of course the least surprised person ever that Linna is not actually WITH Yorn. She asks a nearby street kid if he has seen Linna and he nods and takes off into the Pagoda, beckoning for me to follow. I holler at Cher to stay put in the Tuk Tuk and tear after him. I am clearly not 12 anymore because he quickly loses me in the alleys of the Pagoda. Luckily, the sight of a western woman galloping through the Pagoda is providing free entertainment to a host of Moto Drivers and as I hit an intersection three guys all swing their arms to the right and point me in the direction I need to go. Seconds later, a little head pops up in a nearby doorway. “Mak Tor!” Linna hollers – she scrambles through the door and jumps up into my waiting arms. The relief at finding her is overwhelming. She throws her arms around my neck and laughs, greeting me with kisses. Seconds later, my worried Tuk Tuk driver and Cher pull up. Apparently, he didn’t feel it was the wisest course of action to take off into the Pagoda, home to a variety of street squatters, on my own and he chased me down. Linna is absolutely filthy, her feet and legs are black with dirt. She is sporting a healing scrap on one side of her forehead and a nasty burn that is starting to scab over on her thigh. Her hair, which was shaved about six months ago due to bad head lice, has started to grow out again and the lice have wasted no time in moving back into this inviting homestead. Just holding her in my arms has caused my own scalp to itch madly. She also has a pretty decent cough going on. Thankfully, my shirt absorbs most of the flying cough particles.

With my little imp firmly in my arms, we head to Fresco to meet Allie. We are early so we settle into chairs and get Linna a chocolate ice cream cone. Cher attempts to wipe a clean spot on her face but Linna is a bit suspicious of this strange woman sporting baby wipes and prefers to wipe her hands and nose on her skirt. The suspicion disappears the second we tell her in Khmer that Cher is my sister. Suddenly, they are old friends and Linna deems her fit to share both her affection and germs with her. Cher and I take turns picking little red gnats off her skin at various points throughout the morning, feeling like mother gorillas grooming their young and itching madly with phantom lice.

Within short order, we have met up with Allie and taken a trip over to Azazi’s Place. The school is absolutely perfect and the pink painted girls room enchants Linna. She admires the art and chatters to Cher in Khmer about the posters on the wall while I discuss her enrollment with Allie and Dan, the other executive director. We agreed that it is no longer safe for Linna to be left to her own devices with Yorn and plan on formally meeting the next day with Yorn to get her permission to transfer Linna into the school permanently. It’s hard to believe that last night I despaired of finding her and now we are on the path to starting her education.

With Linna in tow, we head back to CCF to see the karate class and let Linna visit with her brother. My little self-sufficient artful dodger makes herself at home right away. She heads over to the bathroom and hops right into a shower, emerging dripping wet and more or less clean. Then she helps herself to a big bowl of rice and plops down in the dining room to eat. Guess the ice cream didn’t hurt appetite at all…

The afternoon visit draws to a close and we head back to the Pagoda with Linna to drop her back off with Yorn. To our Tuk Tuk’s driver dismay, Cher and I truck back into the Pagoda on our own. But really, if 6-year-old Linna can handle it, we certainly can. Then again, as Linna leads us into a really dark room and back alley, Cher and I can’t help but think that it was just a tad sketchy. We find Yorn sleeping on a pallet in a back room. After hugs and kisses, we assure Linna we will be back to get her tomorrow and turn to find our way back out of the maze. Linna feels we can’t navigate it ourselves and takes the lead, showing us a short cut through a foul smelling hole into a back alley. She waves good-bye to us and disappears back into her life.

I can’t wait for her new one to begin.

Cambodian Time Warp

“I’ve never given much thought to how I am going to die” my little sister chirps at me as we careen along the streets of Phnom Penh at night, sans helmets on the back of a moto bike with a driver that cares little for such mundane concepts as road rules, construction zones or other moving vehicles. Out of habit, I simply have stopped looking in either direction. If I am going to get broadsided by a Tuk Tuk and flung to my impending death, I’d rather not see it coming. The baby balanced on the handle bars of the moto bike zipping past us appears to not share my concerns but I don’t have time to contemplate this due to the fact I am nearly bounced right off the back due to an impromptu short cut over the rubble of a sidewalk under repair.

We’re heading back after an evening theatrical performance by the CCF kids. Just your standard, uplifting piece about life in Stung Meanchy, the city dump. That old adage – you write what you know is certainly in effect here. Scenes unfold on stage showing the day-to-day struggles that all of these kids know far too well. Scavenging, stealing – breaking open used bottles to try and suck moisture out of them. People dying and living with chronic illness and exhaustion. Even though the performance is in Khmer- a language barrier is nothing of the kind as the emotions onstage unfold. It’s too much for some of the kids watching the play. Layseng falls into my arms at the end sobbing. The main character in the play dies in the dump and I’m sure she is reliving the death of her uncle, who was run over by a bulldozer in front of her.

After an emotional day, Cher and I are ready for a little R&R and we head to my favorite local massage parlor. An hour later and $8 poorer, we are far more relaxed and happy than we were on the ride of death and we head next door to Pop’s – a little Italian place for some dinner. Well, some dinner for me. Cher’s diet is very restricted due to allergies and other issues and she figured (wisely) that Cambodia might be a tough place to get organic, gluten free fare. So she pulls out a rice bar while I order a much needed glass of wine. Suddenly, the weight of the last 24 hours comes crashes down on us and the ability to carry on a coherent conversation goes on hiatus. Cher is suddenly convinced that everything that happened on Monday took place over two days and nothing I say seems to convince her otherwise. Of course, my exhausted arguments are fairly mono symbol and frankly, don’t make any sense to me either since I can barely keep my eyes open. It’s time to call it a night.

We awake in the morning with a renewed sense of purpose. It is an important morning with long-term ramifications for my little street urchin, Linna. The task at hand – convince her mother to allow Linna to leave the streets and live full time in the school I have enrolled her in. The staff at Azazi’s Place is geared for a confrontation but I am confidant Yorn will agree without issues. Yorn has come to expect my steady presence the last four years and she knows it is her best interest to let Linna go to school. Indeed, she agrees without hesitation. She only pauses to ask Linna if she wouldn’t rather just come to the United States and live with “Mak Tor” (godmother). It is a familiar refrain and one that drives me crazy. Yorn after all, also tried to give me her 2-year-old Charan shortly after he was born. I know that Linna is a self-sufficient street kid, but it can’t be pleasant for her to always hear her mother trying to give her away.

With Yorn’s permission firmly in hand, Cher and I head to the market with Linna for some basic supplies. First up is a backpack. Linna is beyond pleased and straps it on right away proclaiming that it is for “school”. Then we purchase some clean clothing for her to wear. Cher buys her a doll at one of the market stalls and Linna happily chatters away to it with her news of the day. We head to CCF so Linna can visit Charam and I can spend some time with my kids there.

Note to Self: I am NOT 14 years old anymore. (Side note to self – Jeans are not the right clothing for playing football with 14-year-old boys in 120-degree weather)

Our day winds to a close with my sleepy Linna tucked into my arms in the Tuk Tuk as we head to her new home at the Azazi’s School. We manage to get lost heading over but it brings us by a small store with teddy bears and Linna points in delight. Since I have no willpower when it comes to this child, I have the driver pull over and I buy the bear at a ridiculous price. Linna is so happy, she clutches the bear in her arms and kisses it over and over.

Leaving her is harder than I thought. In my heart, I know she is going to be safe and warm in a real bed tonight, but I am leaving my little street urchin with strangers at the place she will now call home. I’ve agreed to not visit for a few days to let her get acclimated to the kids and the school and staff but I am fretting over the whole thing. Cher has to drag me out of the school and already I am impatient for news on how she is adapting.

How wonderful to be able to worry about how she is doing, knowing where she actually is when only two days ago, I was worrying because I didn’t know where she was at all. Some days are simply better than others.

It’s Not Easy Being Clean

After another vigorous round of football in the courtyard with my boys, including a game in which the losers had to do pushups, I’m in a Tuk Tuk headed back to the hotel feeling less than fresh. Between the humidity, pollution and sweat – I’m not exactly feeling at my best. Cher puts in all in perspective: “If I was sitting next to you at home, I’d be really offended. But since the city just smells so bad in general, you are not that bad in comparison.” She sweetly informs me.

It’s been a busy day. Cher and I were up very early and headed to a village just outside Phnom Pehn for a meeting with the head of The Sharing Foundation, a multi faceted organization/school that has an impressive track record in their 12 years of existence. 32 of their village born students have already graduated – from college. Cher and I are there because The Sharing Foundation also has several multi handicapped children with CP and we are hoping it may be a place we can move Sum Nang too in order to give him a better opportunity at a productive life. Like any NGO in Cambodia, space and funds are limited and only time with tell if our little CP boy will find a home here.

After our meeting, we are off to the Olympic Stadium where Charam is competing in a karate tournament. Our arrival is timely and the kids wave madly to us as we enter the building, making room in the “CCF” cheering section. Charam wins his first match up and I’m busting with pride. Allie from the Azazi’s Foundation is also there with some of her kids, so I shamelessly pester her for a report on how Linna did her first night. She tells me that Linna has been charming students and staff alike with her quick wit. She’s a charmer, just like her brother and I am feeling very positive about her placement there. I can’t wait till Friday when I can visit her again. We felt it was best to let her acclimate for a few days but it’s been less than a day and already I miss her.

During the competition break I play more football because I’m simply a glutton for punishment and want to see just how many pushups I can do before dying in the Cambodia heat. The boys are rather impressed that someone as old as me can actually do pushups and take turns feeling my bicep muscles. I try to act nonchalant and not let on that I see black spots in front of my eyes and am incapable of speech. Cher decides this football/pushup game is certainly not for her and has a gaggle of girls around her learning Sign Language. They are fascinated with Cher’s ability to sign and are absolutely eager to learn. Leakhena in particular is a natural and Cher teaches her over a hundred signs. When it is time for her to leave for class, she actually uses her new vocabulary to sign, “I have to go to class”. Cher is beyond impressed and tells Leakhena and the other girls that she’s been trying to teach me for 15 years and they are already far more accomplished.

We return to the stadium in the afternoon for the next round of competition and Charam wins his second match. I’m an obnoxious stage mom yelling and taking photos as he moves into the final rounds. Unfortunately, he gets bested in the third match and is eliminated. I tell him how proud I am but I can tell he is disappointed.

With the day’s festivities over – Cher and I begin to walk the long walk across the Olympic Stadium grounds to the street to catch at Tuk Tuk. Then it happens: Poo Water Downpour. Its rainy season here in Cambodia and thus far we’ve been extremely lucky that is hasn’t rained yet. The skies have apparently decided to wait until we were in a wide-open parking lot far from any cover or transportation options. Drainage is not a concept that has made itself at home in street construction and the rain here can quickly build up into a noxious soup of pee, pollution and people. Cher is not thrilled to experience this new aspect of Cambodia and we make a mad dash for a Tuk Tuk figuring now is not the time to barter about price.

Now Cher is on the bed in the hotel beating to death a large bug that is walking across the spread and complaining that she just got out of a cold shower and is already sticky and sweaty again and needs another shower. My clothes from today are going directly into the sink for washing and I’m thinking it’s time for an $8 massage.

It’s not easy being clean.

Toddler Chain Gang

TWHACK! I’m just about to drop off to sleep when a can of disinfectant, wielded by my bug-killing sibling, nearly takes my nose off in an attempt to kill the fire ant crawling perilously close to my face. Startled back awake, I shout “What the hell” just as Cher finally snaps and gives in to her bug/germ phobia that she has admirably kept in check since our arrival. TWHACK! ‘Where the hell are they coming from?’ she cries. TWHACK! ’27! 28! 29!’ Miss OCD helpfully informs me. I’m hacking madly through the haze of disinfectant she decides to spray all over the bed. ‘No more bugs!’ she shouts. TWHACK! “30! 31!” Suddenly we look at each other and both channel Jim Henson: “31! 31! Fire Ants in the bed! Ah-ha-ha-ha!”

Other than our bed bug infestation, it’s been a fantastic day. We headed over to CCF early in a Tuk Tuk that sounded like it has seen better days. Our driver made a move to cross a busy intersection and he ran out of gas halfway across. While he frantically pushed us out of the way, I eyeballed oncoming traffic that clearly thought we should look out for them. Thankfully, there is a gas station on the corner. And by gas station I mean a lady with a push cart and gasoline in old soda bottles. Our driver forks over a dollar and she hands him a coke bottle. Within moments, we are back enroute. We had plans to meet Chamroeun, a staff member at CCF at 9am for a trip over to the Stung Meanchy Nursery/Preschool. Children under the age of 6 are of particular risk at the dump because they are too young to work, but are left to their own devices while their families pick garbage. It is a familiar sight, one that I am sad to say I am familiar with, to see toddlers filthy and naked, playing and crawling through the garbage all alone. CCF started this Preschool to provide these vulnerable little ones a safe environment to be in during the day while their parents scavenge for trash. I was in Cambodia when the Pre School first opened and there were 18 kids. Today, when we arrive, the population has exploded to 78 ranging in age from infant to 6 years old. Every day they arrive at 8 am and are given showers and a set of clean clothing. They attend classes from 9-11 and then free playtime in the afternoon after nap before heading back home to the dump in the evening.

Cher and I are given a tour of the updated facility, which has had to expand since my last visit to handle the influx of children. The kids are all divided up into their age appropriate classes and we decided to sit in on the 4-6 year olds. Someone, somewhere along the line early in the programs inception, decided it would be a fabulous idea to dress the children in black and white striped uniform shirts. With the bars on the windows, metal trays in hand that they are given for lunch – the overall effect comes across as the world’s smallest chain gang. Cher starts singing “16 Tons” under her breath.

My favorite part of the black/white prison shirts is the fact that all the girls are wearing flowery pink panties and no pants with them. Which is just unbearably cute. It’s hard not to notice many of the children are bald with scabies or sporting other scalp and body wounds. Life in the dump is unforgiving.

Cher and I sit quietly off to the side in the classroom watching the kids study. We are trying not to be a distraction, but I suppose two white women hanging out on the classroom floor is not an everyday occurrence. Needless to say when they call for a play break, the kids all rush at us screaming. Within moments I have at least 5 kids trying to sit in my lap at one time and another perched on the back of my head. Phantom lice are in full effect. They laugh and give kisses, chatting in a mix of Khmer and English, showing off their toys and antics.

Cher had decided earlier in the week after seeing my relationship with my kids here that she wanted to become a sponsor. Chamroeurn lets her know that most of these 4-6 year olds still do not have sponsors so she is waiting to see whom she bonds with. It doesn’t take long. A little whisp of a girl named Shrey Leap who plops herself down in my lap gives her a soulful look. Cher starts asking her questions through a translator and Shrey Leap turns out to be quite the chatterbox. Articulate and quick, she prattles on about everything in her life without pause for breath. My talkative sister has found her Khmer toddler soul mate.

With Shrey Leap perched on her hip, we head over to the lunch area where each child retrieves their metal tray and walks up to a worker who ladles their meal of rice and broth with morning glory. The whole scene looks like a Khmer version of ‘Oliver Twist’.

After a thousand kisses goodbye, we reluctantly leave our little chain gang and head back to the hotel for a much-needed shower. We end the day with dinner and drinks at the FCC overlooking the busy riverfront. As I watch -the street children and vendors bustle along plying their trade; motos zip by with reckless abandon and Tuk Tuk drivers cajole various tourists to pick them for their transportation needs. I revel in Cambodia’s quiet beauty and know I have come home again.

When NOT to Spa, or How I Lost All Sense Of Modesty In Cambodia

Thanks to the scorching Cambodian heat and humidity, my skin has seen better days. And frankly, sharing our bed with a colony of fire ants hasn’t helped. Cher and I have admittedly spoiled ourselves with the inexpensive options at the U and Me Spa next to our hotel. On our second to last night, we decide to take advantage of the “full” spa package: Citrus body scrub, steam room and 90 minute massage for a whopping total of $72 for both of us. Cher points out the irony of having a spa treatment prior to our visit to Stung Meanchy, the city’s garbage dump that we have on schedule for Saturday evening. Nonetheless, we sally forth to U and Me and are greeted warmly by the staff. Not surprising since we have been in there every day.

Our spa experience gets off to a less than auspicious start. Our two spa attendants show us to a room and ask us to strip down except for the oh so flattering paper panties that they have provided. “This isn’t so bad” I think, as they prepare to leave us to change when one of the girls exclaims, “Oh, I forget!” She dashes over to a cabinet drawer and proceeds to pull out a spa bra for each of us.

Let me add a disclaimer that the majority of the women here in Cambodia are, shall we say, a bit smaller in the chest region. And I, by virtue of some pesky DNA family traits, most certainly am NOT.

The spa bra is, at best, a size A. As the spa girl turns to leave I attempt to explain that this product, in no way, is going to work. This would be embarrassing under any circumstance. Toss in a handy language barrier and you get one red faced American with her hysterically giggling little sister pantomiming the impossibility of a DD cup fitting into a A cup. They are still not getting it: “Madame, please put on, please” An older woman who works at the spa stops by the room to see what the excitement is about. She finally gets it but has no solution, since it is the biggest spa bra that they offer. With little choice, I finally agree and they patter out of the room giggling as the older woman explains the problem to them. Good times.

I cannot adequately put into words the next five minutes attempting to put on the spa bra. Cher is attempting to help but the two of us are laughing so hard we can barely stand up. The end result is rather like trying to hold a bowling ball in a Dixie cup. I lay down on the table, all sense of modesty completely out of the window. The girls come back in and apparently the visual aid is all the need to truly comprehend the situation. One of them mercifully brings a towel.

Then the scrub begins. The spa girl is getting so intimate with the scrub; I begin to feel that I should have perhaps bought her dinner beforehand. We are scrubbed to within an inch of our lives and then led to the “steam room”. Which is actually a “steam box” about the size of a double coffin. Cher and I are popped inside and immediately the claustrophobia begins to set it. Cher lasts about five minutes. “I’m about to have a Native American vision quest” she declares. “Get me the hell out of here!”. She attempts to open the tiny Alice in Wonderland door but it won’t budge and appears to be locked from the outside. They “really” want you to sweat it out. Cher is having a meltdown literally and figuratively. She writes the word HELP in the steam on the little window. Finally, she forces the door open and flees to the outside. I stick it out for the duration hoping to purge all the toxins I am going to simply replace at Stung Meanchy the next day. Cher stands outside and offers commentary about the shower, including the bottle of Palmolive to wash off with. I scroll Red Rum in the window and try not to pass out. Did I really PAY to be shut up in a box sweating profusely when I have been doing it for free every day?

As I spooned with the fire ants that night in bed, I thought ahead to our last day in Phnom Penh and upcoming visit to Stung Meanchy. This week has gone by so quickly and already the kids have wheedled out of Cher and I a promise to visit in January. One thing is certain: I’ll be packing a can of RAID and my own spa bra.

Leaving Phnom Penh

It’s our last day in Phnom Penh and Cher and I are overcompensating by trying to cram as much activity as possible into one day. Already the kids are guilt tripping me about leaving. Layseng has a football match Sunday morning and tells me she can only win if I am there. Catholic guilt – good in any country.

We get a very early start at CCF at 6:30 am sharp on the express request of Kaana, the CCF administrator who has been juggling our schedule this week. Every Saturday morning all the CCF kids head over to the Olympic Stadium for a free for all of pick up football games and socializing. However, Cambodia time is rather like Los Angeles time – no one ever actually pays attention to schedule. We don’t actually leave for another 45 minutes and I can’t help but think we could have squeezed in a coffee ahead of time. And trust me, Cher is wayyyyy more pleasant with caffeine. I pass the time playing football with the boys in the surprisingly pleasant early morning breeze.

In no time we are crammed 8 deep into a two person Tuk Tuk. All my kids want to ride with us and who are we to say no? I figure if the Tuk Tuk crashes, we are packed so tight it will be like wearing a seat belt. Hundreds of kids from various NGO pack the Olympic grounds and everyone spills out of the Tuk Tuk excited. The boys want me to join in a full fledged game but I use the handy excuse that I want to take pictures to get myself out of a situation where I am likely to wind up crawl fishing in the dirt with my tongue hanging out seizing from heat stroke.

The boys laugh and shout and tear up and down the dirt field while the girls giggle and chat about boys. Teenagers are the same everywhere. My kids are eyeballing the time. Later on this morning we are all headed to market, each of them with $20 burning a hole in their pocket for new clothing and shoes. It is a tradition each time I am here to go shopping with them and then have lunch and ice cream. The morning flies by and within very short over my gang is on their way to the Russian Market. We make a quick pit stop to pick up my little Linna at her new school and give Charam a chance to check out her new digs. He is very pleased with her school and room, but confides to his teacher and me that he misses her desperately. The feeling is mutual – from the second we arrive; Linna has glued herself to his side. She slips a beaded bracelet she made in craft class on my wrist and it’s the best piece of jewelry I now own.

In short order, we are inside the market, where the temperature easily is topping 115 degrees. I pray the kids will find something quickly so we can move on to the restaurant and cold, cold drinks. Linna just LOVES to shop and she picks out several pink outfits, socks, a fish purse and bracelet for a $8. Cher is marveling that she was able to buy Shrey Leap, who is out at market for the first time, outfits with the brand The Children’s Place with the tags still on them reading $18 for mere $8. The chaperone from the day care is horrified – telling Cher she overpaid by at least $5. Cher has not yet been able to grasp the bartering system here. Just the other day she paid $5 for two sodas thinking it was a bargain compared to home. I’m sure the drink cart lady was thrilled to death when Cher walked away without her change of $4.50. I on the other hand, bought the football playing boys 25 waters for the same price.

The heat is even starting to get to the Cambodians and we head to the restaurant for some food and fun. Linna, who outweighs Shrey Leap by around 40lbs even though they are the same age, quickly tucks into a big sandwich. She eyeballs it, announcing to the group that her mouth is not big enough. That doesn’t stop her from attempting to shove it in anyway. She quickly cleans her plate. Charam then proceeds to give her half of his chicken dinner and his fries. This is typical of Charam, who always makes sure his sister has enough to eat. Their years of living on the street and providing for her are ingrained in his whole being. The teacher from the Day Care watches him care for her and feed her and comments to Cher about their special, close bond. Linna plows on, finishing Charam’s lunch and then tucks into a plate of fruit. Shrey Leap eats two fries and a bite of rice and watermelon.

My gang makes merry at the table acting like any group of teens. Looking at them, it is hard to believe that they are survivors – raised in extreme poverty, former garbage pickers who slept and scavenged all day and night for scraps to recycle in the burning refuse of Stung Meanchy, finding body parts and dead babies and seeing friends and family run over by dump trucks.

We are about to get a reminder. As the day winds to a close, Nghan and Layseng are heading home to Stung Meanchy for the weekend to spend it with their families. I am very close to both sets of their parents and I head home with them to pay my respects and visit. Nghan’s family had invited me to their eldest daughters wedding last month and I wasn’t able to attend. We park the Tuk Tuk on the outskirts of the village and walk into the smoky haze of ramshackle huts and garbage. Flies are thick and half dressed naked toddlers are everywhere. The village kids see us coming and quickly hoard us. It probably has something to do with the vitamin C lollipops Cher is handing out. We arrive first at Nghan's house via a very uncertain wood “bridge”. Cher is treading carefully certain it is going to collapse beneath her. Nghan’s mother greets me warmly. In short order, we are inside his hut and looking at an album of wedding pictures. We spend some time catching up and then head over to Layseng’s house. On the way we run into other children I know and we greet them by name with hugs and kisses.

At Layseng’s house, her parents put out stools and I introduce them to my little sister. They are excited to meet her and we talk about the difficulties they are facing now that the government has closed Stung Meanchy to the garbage pickers. They have no way to make a living and no means by which to travel to the new garbage site 8 kilometers away. I leave them with my traditional gifts of noodles and fruit and they tell me they wish they could give me gifts in return. I remind them that they are part of my family and family takes care of each other. Their gift to me is far more important – being included in their family and having the love of their wonderful daughter Layseng in my life. We are saying our goodbyes and getting ready to leave as we are quickly losing the light when a little voice pips up “CHER! CHER!” We turn and little Shrey Leap is running at top speed. She jumps into Cher’s arms, thrilled to see her sponsor in her village. Cher is even more thrilled, grinning from ear to ear and kissing her. It turns out that not only does Shrey Leap live a few houses over, but she is Layseng’s little sister Jeni’s best friend. With this happy discovery, we detour over to her house to meet her parents, running into yet another little girl we know – Naïve –on the way. Naïve attends Aziza’s Place, Linna’s new school and has promised me she will be a big sister to Linna.

After meeting Shrey Leap’s family it is time to go. Nhagn and Layseng walk us back to our Tuk Tuk and we head back to the hotel feeling heavy hearted at leaving the kids behind. Early the next morning, we complete the round of goodbyes with Leakhena, Meng Ly, Lyda and Charam at CCF and promise again we will return in January.

With our first week behind us, we are happy, exhausted and feeling reflective. Already Cher is in love with Cambodia and the kids and we haven’t even gotten to Siem Reap yet, where little Sum Nang, the 5 year old boy in the crib with CP awaits our visit. We are getting ready to fall in love, all over again.

Return To Siem Reap
 

With our week in Phnom Penh behind us, Cher and I pack up and prepare to head to the airport for our flight to Siem Reap.  I’m feeling bittersweet at leaving the kids, but elated that the main goal and reason for my trip to Phnom Penh has been met.  Linna, my darling little artful dodger is safely off the streets for the first time in her life.  She is adapting well to life at the Aziza’s Place school and I can’t wait to return in January to see the progress she had made.
 
It is also the last leg of our trip that Cher and I have to transport the wheelchair/stroller for little Sum Nang.  True to form, we arrive at the airport, request to gate check the chair and receive the standard puzzled look because it is empty.  This time, they don’t ask where the child is – they wonder why I am letting Cher push her own wheelchair instead of riding in it. They see she is wearing an AFO and assume the chair is for her.  Though fitting Cher in the chair would be like fitting me in another spa bra, without the profound embarrassments. (see spa blog for details!)
 
In short order, we’ve arrived at the gate and my heart nearly stops.  We are on a propeller plane for the flight to Siem Reap.  My mood plunges from Sunny to Surly in about 2 seconds and I try not to hyperventilate.  I’ve managed quite well day to day to keep my fear of flying in check because I fly several times a week due to my job, but some things I haven’t yet been able to master.  Flying in a plane that resembles a wind up toy is one of them. Cher is chatting next to me but I can only answer in mono symbols and I am sure I’m none to pleasant to be next to.  The attendants go through the dog and pony show about masks and life vests, though I often wonder who really has time to yank out that vest, put it on and inflate it while the plane is plunging from the sky.
 
Needless to say, we didn’t plunge out of the sky and land safely in Siem Reap.  The hotel is waiting to pick us up and they proceed to cram the chair roughly into the back of the van with Cher hovering nervously nearby trying to give them instruction.  Now it is her turn to be grouchy.  “It will be our luck that I’ve lugged this thing through two states, three countries and five airports and it breaks in Siem Reap when we arrive” she grouses.
 
Being grouchy takes a lot out of us and we are so tired at dinner we can barely keep our eyes open. Cher wearily focuses on three mosquitoes swarming about my head while I madly slap at them.  They clearly have gotten the memo that we stupidly left our bug repellant in Phnom Penh and they are eager to welcome us with a little Dengue Fever or Typhoid as a welcome to Siem Reap.  Luckily, this hotel provides bug killer right in the room next to the complimentary robes and Cher is on the case the second we are in for the night, prowling the room can in hand.  Typhoid Mary herself.
 
We awake the next morning happy and eager to begin the day.  Today is the day we head to the Missions Of Charity orphanage where I first met five year old Sum Nang four months ago.  My sweet little boy with Cerebral Palsy who is unable to sit up on his own or speak.  The overworked, understaffed nuns who care for him and TWENTY-ONE able bodied toddles and two other handicapped kids are simply not equipped to handle him. My amazing sister Cher, who has worked as a CP therapist and caretaker for the past 16 years ready to change this situation.  She has carefully put together a regiment of exercise and equipment designed to improve Sum Nang’s quality of life and create a workable day-to-day schedule for him that the nuns can easily follow.  Today is a day of firsts.  We must slowly introduce both Sum Nang and the nuns to the wheelchair and therapy toys and Cher needs to determine the extent of his condition.
 
I’m already in love with Sum Nang and have thought of him often in these last four months as I waited impatiently for permission from Mother Superior to provide assistance. It takes Cher roughly 5 seconds to fall in love as well.  He has the sweetest smile and it is clear he is intelligent, yet trapped in his body.  Though he is five, he is developmentally around 6 months old due to his condition and a lack of stimulation.
 
Cher fits him into the chair and he is delighted.  Sum Nang has spent most of his time up until this point on his back in a crib. He LOVES the chair.  He breaks into a huge smile and seems to react well to sitting up.  Cher works with him with a variety of therapy toys and he is particularly thrilled with a red bird that chirps.  She uses it to test both his hearing, his ability to track it with his eyes and his range of motion with his neck and head, which he cannot fully support on his own.  It is a busy morning of new sensations for him and in short order; it is time for a nap.  Cher has brought special shirts for him as well that are designed to wick moisture away from his body.  Since he spends so much time in one position, the humidity in Cambodia often causes him to break out in bad rashes.  But my sister has thought of everything and has included special shirts as well as prescription creams in her bag of wonder. She has also brought, according to the nuns, a miracle powder called “Thick It”. Sum Nang has a lot of difficulty swallowing and all his food is blended into thick soup. But up until now, he has not been drinking water or milk because he can’t swallow it. Cher demonstrates with the Thick It how to add to water and create a thick soup he can now swallow.  Sum Nang loves the water and this amazing product shocks the nuns.  We try it with some orange juice with the complete opposite effect.  Sum Namg HATES orange juice and makes no bones about letting us know this.  Cher spoons it into his mouth and he flails his arms at her, scrunching his face in an adorable, angry “YUCK” way.
 
After nap it is time for exercises.  We lay him on a bed and work with his gross extremities.  During naptime Cher and I worked with a translator and have learned a variety of Khmer words to use with Sum Nang related to exercises, body parts and basic baby words so we can be sure we are speaking and praising him in his native tongue.  I’m sure our pronunciation leaves a LOT to be desired but Sum Nang doesn’t seem to care.  He loves the exercise and smiles hugely at us when we praise him.  Already, he is making strides that Cher can’t believe.  He quickly catches on to the arm exercises as Cher lifts his arm up and down repeatedly.  On one series, she lifts it up and then leaves it.  We both say Sum Nang, Joh!  Which means down.  He focuses, strains and with a bit of difficulty, lowers his arm all on his own.  We explode into praise.  The nun in the room with us is thrilled beyond belief.  He does it a couple more times for good measure and we are just ecstatic.
 
Then we are on to some vocal exercises.  Sum Nang doesn’t speak due to Dysartera among other things.  We won’t know until further testing.  Cher places his little hand on her throat and makes the sound AHHHH.  Sum Nang jumps about 2 feet in the air and makes a loud vocalization. Good thing I was holding him at the time because his reaction caught us both off guard.  But we were excited by his reaction.  We both begin saying AHH with large movements of our mouths while Cher holds one of his hands to her throat and his other to his own.  Constant repetition finally pays off:  I lean close to Sum Nang and say Ah. He looks at me and says AH back, twice in a row.  We laugh in delight.
 
The day has flown by and little Sum Nang is exhausted.  Cher remarks that she could simply just put him in the chair and return to the States with him since everyone asked where the baby was on the trip over. Sister Sobila from India changes him for bed and we kiss him goodnight, already looking forward to the next day.
 
People will undoubtedly remark what a difference we are making in his life- but I think he is the one making the difference in ours…

Feeding The Fishes
 

After the daily chaos that was Phnom Penh, Cher and I have fallen into a comfortable routine. First up is breakfast and coffee/tea.  “A caffeinated Cher is a happy Cher” my sister informs me.  She has taken to ordering a Coke Light with breakfast as well after telling me one sleepy afternoon that her caffeine has no tea in it.  The waiters at Shinta Mani hotel, where we are staying, are all graduates of the hotel’s hospitality school.  The hotel runs a bakery and restaurant training program for older street kids and then provides job placement for them when they graduate.  Many wind up working for the hotel and are all overly eager each day to show off their skills, including their English.  You have to be carefully not to glance in their direction while eating – otherwise, they materialize next to you eager to offer more water or simply chat your ear off.  Something we found out during our first meal with an overly friend young man named Lyda, apparently named by the Khmer Johnny Cash, perched himself at the edge of our table and didn’t leave the entire time we were eating.
 
After breakfast we are off to the orphanage via the Khmer Market.  The orphanage is woefully lacking not only in proper things for little Sum Nang, but for all the children.  Cher and I have become fixtures at the market, buying up powdered milk, baby items, diapers, formula supplements and other necessities.  I suspect there is another reason Cher loves the market. On our first visit, she spied Mountain Dew in a cooler and nearly mowed me down in an effort to get to it. I suspect an addiction….
 
Sum Nang is happily sitting up in his wheelchair when we arrive, ready to begin his morning exercises.  He is too cute for words are we go through with the Sisters and an amazing volunteer from Australia named Virgina his new daily regiment.  Virgina has agreed to stay in Siem Reap for the next six months to make sure that the new therapy and nutrition schedule that Cher has set up is actually followed through.  Though the nuns have good intentions, they also have 21 children and little help.  Spending so much time working with one child is really next to impossible for them.  I’m also grateful that my friends, Dr. Etolie Leblanc and Dr. Karen Froud from Columbia University, have agreed to provide additional assistance.  This morning, Etolie brought a swallow specialist to examine Sum Nang. While he is being examined, I introduce Etolie to Baby Sum Nang – a 10 month old with a large growth between his eyes.  We’ve learned that the name Sum Nang means lucky – ironic since both of the boys named Sum Nang at the orphanage suffer from medical difficulties.  It turns out there is a small hole in his skull and fluid from his brain is leaking through to cause the growth.  It will need to be corrected surgically and Etoile and I discuss options that may be possible through Operation Smile.
 
Big Sum Nang’s examination takes him well into naptime, so we take off to give him a chance to get a good rest after his busy morning.  Cher and I have pretty much been working since we arrived in Siem Reap and haven’t ventured out at all.  With a few hours to spare, we hop a Tuk Tuk and head into Old Market. Being the seasoned Cambodian traveler that I am, I have a destination in mind.  I quickly direct my sister through the streets and approach a particular building at a fast clip, trying my best not to drool in anticipation. In no time at all, I am encased on a bar stool with a drink in hand.  My sister eyeballs me with a raised brow as Celtic dance music blares from the speakers.
“An Irish Pub??? Really???” she asks incredulously as I caress and whisper sweet nothings at my pint of Guinness.  
 
After our little tour of the UK, we are back to the orphanage for Sum Nang’s vocal exercises and some food experimentation.  He is grossly underweight and needs to put on some fat and muscle.  His diet up until now has been mostly rice and carrots in a blender.  Like all the children there, he also doesn’t get enough water and none of them drink milk on a regular basis.  Dehydration is simply par for the course.  Introducing him to new taste and textures has been met with success and very specific failures.  We already know he doesn’t like orange juice and he makes his feelings on mangos known by spitting them out and then throwing up for good measure.  We bought a variety of powdered milk and powdered weight booster formulas and I’m rather like a crazy alchemist in the corner, madly mixing together different things for him to try and spit out at us. We are working on putting together a menu for him that includes water with each meal and after exercising. His water and other liquids must be thickened in order for him to swallow them, so food preparation and actually feeding requires time and patience.  More than ever, we are grateful that Virgina has decided to stay.  Since she is a volunteer and not a nun, she is not bound by the vow of poverty and thus can communicate with us regularly via email and phone with updates on our little guy.
 
In the evening, we head back into Old Market to go to another of my favorite Siem Reap restaurants called The Red Piano.  Though the food is excellent, that is not what draws me to this Market hot spot.  It is the inexplicable presence of the two old guys from the Muppet Show at the top of each menu page extolling the Quality, Comfort and Hygiene of the restaurant. Speaking of Hygiene, if your feet are sporting too much bacteria – right down the street from The Red Piano is Dr. Fish Massage.  Cher and I amble up to the sign in front with its inviting photos of little barracuda swarming all over some white guys feet.  With spelling in place, I give you the sign:
            
                                    “You are ever seen and need to massage by man. Now we have a surprised fish is able to massage really exciting and better than man called Garra Rufa Dr. Fish! Dr. Fish could clean the old cells to lot the new ones grow quikly. Also know the therapy and release your exhaustion immediately, as well as fun with a superb experience.  After massage, you will get smooth skin without Bacteria.  Let is FUN & Experenced Together!”
 
When in Rome…. For three dollars, generously provided by my little sister, I found myself willingly sticking my bare feet in an uncertain looking fish tank with a random floating lotus flower and about a thousand little eating machines.  I don’t if the fish were surprised, as the sign claims, but I sure was and let up a yelp when they started munching away.  Cher stood by with dire predictions of disease and fish foot infestation, which didn’t really lend to my “superb experience”.  However, I must confess as I sit here writing this blog, my feet are damn smooth…
 
 

Anyone Know How To Smuggle A Little Boy In A Carry On?
 

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Last updated: November 20, 2009 11:25:16 AM