We all emerged richer individuals...

My Experience in CampVision Expedition Agape 2008
By Lilyana Gan

The air in Phnom Penh on a lazy afternoon is hot, balmy and dusty. Just 15 minutes under the sky without any sun protection can leave my skin toasting fresh with a smooth coat of brown. I travelled some hours by air and sat through a bumpy bus ride meandering through the organized chaos of the city’s traffic before arriving at the designated location.

Kien Khleang Orphanage, or KK as affectionately termed, has some 120 youths under their charge. It used to be run by a French Catholic mission before it was left ravaged by civil war. A large part of the compound’s façade was constructed in the typical French style. I could only imagine how beautiful and peaceful the place looked in its prime.

My days at KK, were spent refurbishing select sections of the compound which were long forgotten and had by now collected thick, crusty layers of dirt and cobweb.

Evenings were riotous sessions of fun with the young residents. Each night was a different craft activity and from their creations, it was obvious to see which of them could be potential artists, architects or engineers. What a waste it would be to see such talents untapped.

Education is valued by the administration of the orphanage. This value is reflected onto five of its children who are learning a second (and even third) language and who are either in university or have already secured employment. I am impressed by their enthusiasm and steadfastness towards learning.

I wonder if it takes me to lose everything, to start from nothing in order to value my every day gifts – the ability to read, write and count; the capacity to make discerning choices.

Outside of KK, a five year-old, HIV-positive boy held my hand and showed me around a hospital that has become his home. This was the first time I came across someone infected with HIV. I was scared. What if I got infected? I soon discovered that my fear stemmed from not knowing enough - here I was holding his hand, carrying him, giving him space to sit on my lap as I rested under a shade. He is like any other child; only unfortunate to inherit an illness borne from his parents’ irresponsibility.

He cannot speak English and I cannot speak Khmer. Yet despite the language barrier, I understood his friendship and welcome. My time with the boy was one of the many moments where I felt truly alive, humbled and loved.

As I recount my experiences, I realize that the chance to be with these people is a privilege. I have learnt so much and received more lessons than I can possibly record.

I now live alone with my 68 year-old grandmother who survived from a stroke. And as I continue moving forward, I think of how rich I want my life with her to be; just as rich as I had made to the lives of the people I met in Cambodia.