With the clinics over, we leave the tranquillity of the villages, with their calm, gentle rhythms and head back to the complexity of modern Cambodia. The talk in the van is of the patients seen and medical conditions observed, “Talking Shop” as we nurse widowers would call it.
As the landscape rolls past the window, my mind drifts; I remember the clinics differently. We have travelled to the heart of Cambodia in more ways than we realise. It’s too easy to romanticise the picture postcard beauty of the villages we have seen. For the people who live there, life is hard; every day is unrelenting, back breaking toil and their needs are great. To our materialistic eyes they have precious little, but we overlook the fact that what they do have is still precious.
At each clinic we are greeted by children keen to see what’s going on. Friendly and curious, many try to practice their English on us. To the side the older people wait patiently. The pastor may offer a formal welcome or might arrange the order of the villagers to be seen; a late arrival may be ushered respectfully to the front of the queue.
After the initial formality, the clinic relaxes to find its own pace. The chatter amongst the ladies catching up on gossip. The spirited children running around, so friendly and curious. Such beautiful smiles on cheeky faces, their eyes bright and trusting, without suspicion or prejudice. The older girls closely scrutinise the nurses. Checking them out from head to toe; their hair, their clothes, envious of their height and fuller figures. They shield their mouths as they whisper to each other and erupt with embarrassed giggling when you catch them pointing in mid conversation, but most just sit patiently and watch. Westerners don’t visit these villages, so the villagers are intrigued by our big noses and ‘tom tom’ (big) backsides and are interested to find out what kind of people we are.
Chloe, with her pale complexion and thick red hair is always a source of great interest, particularly with the children who naturally gravitate towards her. Like some Celtic pied piper, she soon has clinic buddies following her wherever she goes.
In the van the nurses continue to talk about their patients, remembering the lady with the heart condition or the baby with the burnt arm. I remember the laughter. The warm infectious laughter that ripples across the nursing station as the patient and nurses talk via the interpreter. Apparently, husbands are the same the world over and are the source of much entertainment for their wives. I don’t understand a word but it’s magical. You hear the pride in their voice, the laughter in their words and the enthusiasm of their nods and gestures; so much gets said without the confusion of words. This is a pure heart to heart.
The Pastor tells us of his hopes for his village and of looking forwards to a brighter future. I listen intently but have so many troubling questions. With change there is always a price that must be paid and it’s the poorest that carry the heaviest burden. As Cambodia rushes to modernise I can only hope that these Cambodians will benefit and rise out of poverty. I admire the Pastor and the strength of his convictions, but I lack his faith. New roads are taking his people to the new factories, regular work with regular pay. It is still unending toil; rice fields have been swapped for sewing machines.
Siem Reap is a resort city; a party city full of western tourists like us, but the closer we get the heavier my heart feels. I feel so torn, so conflicted. To grow, this country needs money and tourist dollars are a good thing, right? This place is brash and loud, it’s not the Cambodia I have come to love. In this place the exquisite beauty of the Apsara dance is served up with a side salad and cold beer. In modern Cambodia, everything is for sale: its rainforest, its rivers, its needy population and its innocence; you just need to haggle a price.
I warned the team at the start that this trip would be difficult and at some point your will cry. My moment was the road to Siem Reap.
I will leave you with a quote from Joseph Mussomeli, a former U.S. Ambassador to Cambodia.
“Cambodia is a dangerous country, you will fall in love with it, and it will break your heart”.