The Question.

Kaseka picked us up first thing in the morning and we set off on our three hour drive to see Mao and Mr. T (a family from Chrissy's film, "Bombhunters").  We pulled up to their home around 11 am.  We walked up the wooden ladder, removed our shoes and entered the wooden platform.  Their home.  Mr. T came running from the fields with tears in his eyes and open arms for Chris.  At that moment the world felt peaceful.  They held one another and we all took a seat on the floor to share the gifts that we had brought for his family (milk, sugar, bread, veggies, noodles, etc.).  The children quickly bowed to us and ate their bananas.

Shortly after, the room was filled with about fifteen khmers.  It didn't feel crowded in the least.  Can you imagine having that many people in your living room and not feeling crowded?

She runs her fingers across my white skin every chance she can get.

While admiring Mao's new baby girl, her father quickly spoke to me,  Kaseka translated, "will you take her back to the states with you?"  There it was.  The question that I just dread hearing because it is so hard to say, "no."

Prior to this trip, I used to joke that I would be coming home with many new childen.  Never in a million years did I think that people would off me their children with such frequency.

An elderly woman quickly sat next to me and held my hand.  She kept pointing at this little boy who looked about one and a half years old.  He was wearing only a t-shirt and had "the belly" (the sign of malnutrition).  He was quite shy.  He kept stealing glances at me, but when I looked back to play with him he would quickly turn away.  The elder woman spoke to me and Kaseka, once again, translated.  She explained that his mother died of malaria and he lives with this family now.  He is three years-old... I am shocked bc he doesn't look anywhere near the healthy size of a three year-old.  She then asks if I will take him home with me and raise him.  Again.

This was quickly followed by a series of questions from the women.  Our ages.  Relationship status, etc.  Turns out that Justine, Reen and I are all old, used goods.  Who knew?

I look down at my little boy.  He has come to sit next to me.  I notice that there are scabs and scars all over the top of his head.  I look closer, but I don't know what to make of it.  It could be anything.  All the while, this fifteen year-old girl continues to stare and slowly creep closer to me.  She runs her fingers across my white skin every chance that she gets.  Before I know it, she is petting my hair.  I smile and try to speak khmer, but she quickly becomes embarrassed and pulls her hand away.

Everyone is in their own world just waiting for Kaseka to translate for them next.  I must admit that I continue to be amazed by my brother, daily.  The connection that he has made with the Cambodians is truly indescribeable.  They are so happy to see him again, but they're disappointed that we won't be staying over night with them.  They keep thanking him and Mr. T keeps repeating, in khmer, "you always promised that you would visit me every time you came to Cambodia."  Chris has touched these people just as much as they have touched him and it's apparent in his every move.

As we go to leave, there is one last request for me to take the boy with me.  Mr. T turns to Chris and asks him one more time to take his daughter with him.  It sounds absolutely absurd and foreign for us to just think that someone would give away their children.  When I step out of the box, all these people want is a better life for their children.  An education, money, love, health and a chance at succeeding.  It's heartbreaking when you think about families parting in such a way, but it's equally heartbreaking when you realize that you can't fix it all and you can't take every child with you.  You just can't.  Can you?