The Story of Ling

As I'm sure you all have come to realize by now, Raffi and I have found Phnom Penh to be the best city we've visited yet. But what we have not told you are all the reasons why. I think you'll agree with our overall conclusion to this city's magnificence after you read the following series of events we stumbled upon one night long, long ago. It starts, unsurprisingly, with a man named Phil Marshall.

As a part of our initiative to learn about the child prostitution and trafficking we were led to Phil Marshall who works for a wonderful organization called ARCPPT (Asia Regional Cooperation to Prevent People Trafficking). Before meeting him for dinner by the Tonle Sap River Raffi and I decide to walk around a bit, maybe grab a happy hour drink and kill the 30 minutes we have until our meeting. During our unproductive meander up and down the riverside strip we are quickly accosted by a band of street kids all wanting to sell us books. This is nothing new. You don't even look at the kids, say no and hope they don't follow you around like you're the Pied Piper for the rest of the night. I guess Raffi was feeling a bit rambunctious with the free time we had so he started goofing around with these little kids. I stand over to the side and watch him (without too much interest) making goofy faces and shaking their tiny hands. It's all going well and good with them enjoying the break Raffi is providing from their life of scrounging for any small amount of change they might be able to take home- if they have one- and share with their family. These kids are very dirty, their clothes are like rags, and they have to carry 10 pounds of books around their necks. Even though this is sad and horrible, at that moment I wasn't really interested in sympathy. I was hungry and wanted to eat. But out of the corner of my eyes and ears I would occassionally see or hear one little girl jesting with Raffi in a totally unique way. She was quick with the retorts, an excellent bargainer, and as witty as she is adorable. Wait a minute! Did I just say "adorable"?!? That's what I was thinking and it surprised the hell out of me. I can't remember the last time I actually thought a kid was "adorable". It was weird but something I quickly brushed aside since it was now dinner time.

Skip to the next day. Raffi and I are walking in, through, and around the Central Market in the city and guess who we run into....our little bookseller from the other night. We walk over to her, talk for a minute and then Raffi asks if she's had anything to eat yet. She says no so the three of us sit down and each enjoy a very large and well-prepared grilled squid. The chewy tentacles and lime juice seasoning was not the highlight of the meal. What made the meal good was the comraderie that burst from each of us. It was like we had known each other for years. We were pulling pranks, poking each other with chopsticks, had a speed eating contest, took pictures. In addition we helped her with the alphabet (which she is very good at except she had trouble writing the letters "s", "x", and "z") found out her age, family situation, and name. Her name is Ling. She even knew how to write that in English which blew me away. Through the entire lunch she was completely forthcoming about everything, not timid at all. It seemed as if she actually trusted us and knew that we just wanted to give her something good in her day. At one point I asked her if she had a lot of friends. She said no and named one person. I said, "That's it, only one friend? I do not believe!" and she shakes her head, points at me, says "one", points at Raffi, says "two", then names the original friend last. She recognized us as real friends even though all we did was spend 30 minutes giving her a good meal (who knows how often that happens) and somebody to talk to. It was all fun, but hot and I was ready to get on with the walking, content with saying goodbye to this funny little girl forever. So we try to settle up the bill and the vendor tells me an outrageous price for the three squids. Immediately I balk at the bill and start trying to bargain it down, but this woman is simply not budging. I give her a final price and am comfortable with walking away regardless on whether this woman accepts the money or doesn't. I give the vendor the money, she starts protesting that she needs more and out of nowhere Ling is right behind me saying, "I help. I help. I pay." I watch in amazement as she reaches into her moth-eaten, dingy pouch and pulls out a handful of crumpled bills. This the money she sweats over and fights for every day while living in some truly poor conditions and she's offering to help me pay for my bill. I quickly decided two things in that second:

1) I have no reason to let this happen and
2) This is the greatest person I've met in a long time and I will help her to achieve everything she has the potential to do.

I do have the money and it's not nearly as valuable to me as it is to her so I had to quickly pull this bullshit right out of her head. Even as she tried to run away after thrusting the wad of bills into the vendor's hand, I quickly snatched the money back, grabbed Ling by the arm, forced her money back into her palm and strictly forbade her from even attempting to spend her hard-earned wages on us. It was such an amazing gesture from her. That night I felt sad because with all the work we've been doing with the trafficking organizations I'm realizing that kids like Ling don't have a lot of options, especially as they get older (she's 10). What's worse, as I tossed around in bed a little bit more than normal, is that even though she's got the brain to skirt around all the pitfalls, I have no way to know if she's going to end up alright. So much uncertainty. But I eventually sleep.

Two days later: I'm mad. I just realized I lost my sunglasses. And I'm hot. Get me to a stupid restaur.....LING!!! As I walk out of the Internet shop everything falls into background static as I see Ling on the sidewalk. She runs up with her arms outstretched to give me and Raffi big hugs, the only thing bigger is her smile. Or mine. A weird and foreign feeling of genuine care for another is pushing out from the back recesses of my head. Raffi and I really didn't have too much to do for the next couple hours so we end up putting Ling and her brother on the back of our bikes and taking them, books and all, rollerskating. There's this dilapidated little abandoned carnival set-up nearby the river. It looks like it used to be great....in the '70s, but could now serve as a great setting to a bad B-movie like Killer Klowns from Outer Space (which actually isn't a half bad movie). The skates are stacked in mountains and all are in second, third, and fourth-hand condition. The laces are broken, the clasps don't snap, the lining is riddled with holes, the wheels squeak. But don't tell that to Ling or her friends or us because we end up having a great time. We took plenty of pictures that'll tell the story better. We ran around and I even taught Ling how to tango. An hour later they are dropped off back at their spot by the river and we depart.

That night I realize that I want to do something for Ling. No. I need to do something for Ling. There are too many traps in Cambodia that could snare her and destroy what could be a great and fulfilling life. Then Raffi tells me that I could either talk about it and feel like doing something, or I could actually do something. This was an enlightenment that didn't sound at all like something that's proposed and quickly dropped. You know, when you're like, "Yeah, I should really really do that. Yeah!" then your friend says, "Well, first you have to start here..." and you quickly stop listening because there's real work involved. Not this time. We quickly hatched a scheme to find a way to help her and save her by being her sponsor. By paying a small amount monthly or whenever, she might be able to attend school or learn a trade. Essentially, I not only realized her chances of being a victim could be reduced considerably but that it is my obligation to do this for her as someone with the monetary resources.

The very next day I meet with a girl who's become a friend to us in Phnom Penh and knows a bit about the organizations around the city. She tells me about this place called Friends (Mith Samlanh in Cambodian) that specializes in taking children in from off the street and supporting them in many different ways. Schooling, safety, just an alternative to sniffing glue or being pimped. That's all I need. Next thing you know I'm on my bike, make it to the office, have an impromptu meeting with a guy who doesn't know a lot but says to come back the next day.

The next day, I'm there, talking to the director. He tells me all I need to know about how Friends operates and that they would definitely be willing to take Ling in and work out a program where I can be her sponsor if she needs one. But I have to bring her in so they can ask questions. Shit! I don't know where she lives. If she has a home. Finding a street kid in a foreign city of pretty homogeneous-looking people is like a needle in a haystack. But I try anyway and hit the river first. I see some kids selling books and ask if they know Ling. They do and direct me back to the Central Market. Great. The Central Market is a virtual cyclone of people and motorbikes spiraling around the main hive of hectic activity. If I could find her in this disruptive, chaotic, erratic tangle of patrons then that's the sign that I was meant to help.

I find her almost immediately. Damn near run into her. I tell her about Friends and if she's heard of it before. She has, but is hesitant to go and talk with them. A man claiming to be her father comes up and I try to explain (using Ling as a translator) how I'd like to help her out. He looks at the pamphlet for about three seconds then starts violently shaking his head murmuring "no, no, no" then briskly walks away. Understandable. The parents probably don't want their kids to get off the street because that would mean they're not making any money. His decision I quickly dust off my shoulders and ask Ling if she would still like to go. I'd give her the entire night to think about it then ask if we can meet the next day and if she wants to we can ride over and just talk to them. "OK", she says, smiling. I ride back to the Friends office and ask the director if they need parental consent for a child to be admitted. they do not, only the voluntary decision of the child. Cool.

Noon, the following day. Raffi and I head back to the river and see Ling. She must be expecting us. She has on nice pink strappy shoes, an outfit of blue jean material, make-up and even lipstick! She looked ravishing. Raffi and I take her over to the Friends office and the stupid director isn't around. No one else speaks good enough English to see me and won't even agree to question Ling. This is a blessing in disguise. While we're all sitting in the sun and it comes up that Ling does go to school in the morning, from 7am-11am, the afternoons she spends selling books on the street. Not only does she go to school, but she admits that she likes it better there because they teach her better. Friends specializes in learning a trade like hair-styling and whatnot while Ling's current school teaches English and and things that are more geared towards using her mind, which is sharp as a butcher knife. I'd hate to see it squaundered. That's great. All I wanted was to do what was best for her and she prefers her current school. I just wanted to give her the option that I wasn't sure existed. I'm fully satisfied in the way it turned out.

We say our final goodbyes and Ling gets very upset. Very angry at the fact that we'll never see each other again. She refuses to give us hugs and slams her books on the ground as we ride away. We wave, her arms are stuck to her sides with fire in her eyes. With that intensity, I know she'll be alright. So I turn back, face the road and now all I can do is hope, but it doesn't seem that what I wish for her is so far out of reach anymore.

-jacob