January 6th, 2006 | The lowdown by Aliwyn Cole

Cambodian Street Kids.

“You buy postcards, lady? Ten for one dollar.” The list of wares sold for one dollar goes on: bracelets, flutes, bamboo fish and grasshoppers, cold drinks.

“Where do you come from, lady?” I come from England. “Capital London. Your country have four countries; England, Ireland, Scotland and Wales.” My friend comes from Southern Ireland, but she doesn’t have the heart to correct the children on the Southern Irish view on being part of England.

After having bought many sets of postcards and bracelets, I really can’t afford to buy any more, and tell the children this. They pester persistently, but they are so good at it, and so sweet with it, that I can’t get annoyed. Some look genuinely upset at not being able to make a sale; others carry on talking to you, eager just to have a conversation in English. I teach them a new song, or a different trick to play with their hands-give me five, to the side, down below, too slow.

One particular girl stands out in my memory. She gave me the usual spiel about buying postcards or cold drinks, and after a couple of minutes of this, she gave up and moved on to the next tourist. She spoke perfect French to them. Then, after another rejection, she moved onto a Japanese tourist, and spoke Japanese-I’m not sure if perfect this time as I don’t understand a word of Japanese, but if it was anything like her English or French, then she spoke it well.

I think about my young students in Thailand, some of whom are fast learners, and some of whom are definitely not. However, after hours of songs and games in English, their English is nowhere near as good as the little tykes of Cambodia, who, by common opinion, are too poor to go to school. The Cambodian street children speak whatever language it takes to earn another dollar.

The children who sell postcards, etc. appear to be the luckier of the street urchins. One night, after leaving a restaurant with my take-out breakfast, bought in preparation for a 5am start the next day to see the sunrise at Angkor Wat, three little children rushed towards me and tried to grab my bag of food. One cried. Another was wearing only a pair of underpants. All of them were grubby.

My friend and I were a little shocked, and felt guilty at having just spent five dollars on Indian food and red wine. It was the topic of conversation for the rest of the night, and the next day.

We decided to buy food, and hand it out to the street urchins the next evening. Did we decide to do this to make ourselves feel better? Perhaps, but we hoped the children would benefit from the feel-good tactic of buying chocolate milk, cookies and bananas, and giving it to hungry children, so this is exactly what we did.

As soon as we handed out the first carton of milk, we were descended upon by a multitude of children, disabled adult beggars with their caps held out to us, and mothers with babies clinging off them, empty baby bottle waved in our faces. We also attracted attention from other foreigners, perhaps concerned as to why we were giving milk and cookies to children, in a society currently sensitive to pedophiles.

One child told us he didn’t want milk, he wanted money instead. We said no, and he told us to f*** off. We were glad to give the last carton of milk and the last packet of cookies away. The caps and empty milk bottles immediately disappeared, and we could then relax over a glass of wine.

The wine was still not guilt-free, however, as I again wondered if I had done the right thing. Yesterday, I felt bad for not giving food to the children. Today, I felt bad for giving. I remembered a saying my father always used on me-you should help people to help themselves. A fellow traveler shared his opinion on handing out money and food to begging children, which was that it may breed a generation of people who expect everything to be given to them.

The next day, we had not given up on trying to help the poor children, growing up in the aftermath of war and suffering. Many children in Cambodia are very ill, suffering from conditions such as dengue fever and tuberculosis.

If donating money is not an option for you, like it isn’t for me, then you can donate blood instead. This is exactly what my friend and I did, in another mission of feeling good. The service at Angkor Children’s hospital was very supportive, and most importantly, the needles are clean. The plastic packets are opened in front of you so that you know they have not been used before.

It is against the traditions of many Cambodian people to give blood, so there is a serious shortage of blood for transfusions, which can help save the lives of many children. The same hospital also needs voluntary teachers, to teach children and hospital staff English as a second language and core curriculum subjects.

My overall conclusion of my one week visit to Cambodia is that it is a lovely, very friendly country, which is just beginning to pick itself up from the ruins of war. The children of Cambodia are bright little stars, trying to fight their way out of poverty and disease. It can go one of two ways for them - good or bad.

Some are learning to speak many foreign languages, and are true survivors. Some are not even getting a chance as a result of disease. Some are learning that if they cry enough at backpackers, they can obtain another dollar.

There is no easy answer. You can only do what you think is right. If you are interested in giving blood, then details of hospitals can be obtained from reception at your guest house. Blood is needed across the country.

If you are interested in teaching in Siem Reap, you can contact Miss Sinketh Arun, e-mail arun@angkorhospital.org


If nothing else, take some extra dollars with you to buy lots of postcards and cold drinks from innovative little tykes, teach them a new song, and give them a smile.