Takeo Province, Cambodia;
Even though today we technically had another day off, Gold Coast and I spent some time sorting through the storage room. The amount of donated materials and leftover ‘stuff’ we found in there was frustrating, and frankly sickening. We found hundreds of toothbrushes and tubes of toothpaste…lots of medication and surgical instruments…spare clothing…teaching books…exercise books…paints…coloured pencils…
We were aware that some of these things had been left over from before Happyland was Happyland (when it had been CPOC and before it had folded under the leadership of Mr Kim, due to his corruption, his money stealing and other ‘financial difficulties’), and that previous volunteers had brought a lot of supplies for the kids, but it was frustrating to know that the stuff was just sat there collecting dust – for example, the children didn’t have very good dental hygiene and all the while there were toothbrushes and tubes of toothpaste lying in boxes, waiting for someone to go and distribute them. It made me angry. It made me irritated, but most of all it made me feel disheartened.
The storage room needed a good clear out before Happyland moved to the new site; there was a lot of junk among the useful stuff – lots to bin or burn, and lots to transfer once the site was ready; so with supplies in abundance we decided to do something useful and practical with the things we found. We decided to put together some packages and gift boxes that the children could take home with them and call their own; we wanted to include a toothbrush, some toothpaste, a blank exercise book and some coloured pencils. It would be a bit of a task as the storage room was cluttered and was dustier than a nuns private parts, and it had spiders and beetles and all kinds of jungle insects running all over the place. But pushing our agitations aside, we were determined to give it a go.
It had only been a week for me at Happyland – today was Sunday and I was due to leave early on Tuesday morning, but the range of emotions I’d felt over the last seven days had been overwhelming. At times I’d felt happy and elated; I’d felt energetic and positive – ready to tackle the day and insert some joy into the lives of the children; I’d felt waves of success and accomplishment, I’d felt I’d made progress with some of the kids, and I’d laughed and chuckled with them; but on the other hand (like on Friday for example) I’d gone through periods where I’d felt lacking in energy; I’d been tired and frustrated, pissed off and angry, sad and upset; I’d felt hopeless and useless, worried and fragile. I’d felt like crying at times (a lot of times) and I’d also felt powerless – powerless in the sense that I couldn’t change anything, not really – I couldn’t change the situations the kids lived in, I couldn’t change their home lives, I couldn’t provide them with all the things I wanted to provide them with. And I couldn’t even provide them with genuine love, I couldn’t let myself go, I couldn’t delve deeper into their lives, and love them in the way I wanted to, because selfishly (knowing that I had to leave) getting too attached to particular children, that would hurt me too much. But as I write this, I’m afraid to say that it had already happened.
As with a lot of things in my life, sometimes, when I get too close to something, when I sense that something is good, when I can feel myself falling into a situation that could make me happy or could make others happy, I pull away, I distance myself. It’s not because I don’t want the situation to continue and it’s not because I’ve lost the will to carry on, and it’s not because I’ve lost interest – it’s because I’m scared of getting hurt and I’m scared of hurting the other party involved. And to distance myself from the children for the last couple of days…I felt I needed to do that. I’d already formed bonds with some of the kids, and cruelly, now it was time to sever them.
Not a lot of children attended Happyland on the weekends – there were no classes and the older kids spent their time playing football or studying at home; the neighbouring kids were always around but even then, they knew it was our down-time so they were happy to occupy themselves. Because of this I thought my internal struggle would be made easier, and that evening as all the volunteers gathered around to cook dinner together and to have a few beers; as London and Boston entertained us with their guitar playing and singing (which was beautiful), and as we all sat down to watch Disney’s Tarzan, it kind of was…
Chasing Amy-Lou 