Rice Drive

On Saturday I was able to join a group of people from our church to deliver rice and food to a very poor community. Their village was at the base of Oudong mountain, about 40 km outside the city of Phnom Penh. The families in this village were in desperate need of food – some hadn’t eaten in several days. As we drove along the red dirt road, men and women started rushing to the delivery point. The children were waving, and rode alongside us on their bicycles. Everything had been arranged in advance, so the people who were registered in the community were given a ticket and were expecting the trucks. When we got out of the cars, we were greeted by about thirty little smiling faces, singing, “Hello!” The children huddled around the visitors, some dancing, some showing off on their rusty bicycles, and some quietly lingering at the back of the mob. The kids were barefoot – some with clothes, some without – and their faces were marred with dirt and sweat. A couple had scabs on their heads and legs. But it was impossible to look at those things very long - I was introduced to some of the most beautiful children I’ve seen. They were excited to meet us and loved taking pictures, so we snapped away. I went over to the lines of people from the village, and sat next to some of the women. They seemed to look hard at first, but revealed warm smiles when I got close to them. I love moments like this… the women always speak to me, and though I don’t know what they are saying, I am able to connect with them for a moment. They waited patiently, squatting on the ground, checkered scarves on their heads or shoulders. We started moving the bags of rice from the truck – each family received a 30 kilo bag of rice (over 60 pounds) and a bag of other food items and water. Some of the bags were placed on the ground, but eventually I was able to carry the rice to their homes, and that was where I was really impacted.
A woman took my hand, and I walked with her. She led me to her small house made of metal sheets and wood. She had a wooden platform inside, which served as her bed and table, and there was a small place for a fire. She turned to me and smiled, then gently tapped her chest, indicating that this area belonged to her. She called to the man in the opposite house. He smiled and came over to us, lightly touching his hand to her arm. He was her husband. Then both of them pointed to one of their neighbors. They shook their hands, indicating that she had not received any food. She was on a wooden flat, making a basket. She looked up and smiled, but did nothing else. I returned to the trucks to get food for her, but the rations were reserved for people with tickets. I tried negotiating, wanting the woman to have something, but found there was nothing I could do. So I returned empty-handed and sat with her for a while, knowing that I could have given so much but wasn’t able to offer anything at that moment. I didn’t like that feeling. A couple people came who could speak Khmer, and I learned that she had to sell her home when her father died, leaving her off the list. She was also responsible for raising a little boy who had lost his parents. Then a woman approached with two eggs. She appeared to be quite old and was very thin. She came to offer her eggs to the woman who didn’t receive anything. A few minutes later, some people came back with bread and a couple cans of milk.
I was moved by such a spirit of community and generosity. They were taking care of each other – giving out of their own poverty. I was also slapped in the face with an unfair reality. And I stepped back for a moment, questioning the reason we do things. Obviously we came to this are because there was a serious need. As we distributed the rice, we took many pictures – some were taken to remember the experience, but I think we can also take them to honor our own efforts in helping the poor. I was taking pictures of people who were sitting in a very desperate place, asking for help. And they were grateful, gracious, and very appreciative, but I realized that sometimes we make ourselves out to be heroes … when the heroes are the people who are fighting to survive despite extremely challenging circumstances and an uncertain future. The real heroes were sharing the very little they had. I was impacted by their actions of love. And I don't mean to imply that we should stop giving our time, energy, money, or love, but I suppose I'm simply seeing it as my responsibility to give what I have without bells or whistles. My responsibility to give on a small scale, without a scheduled Saturday trip or a trip to a third world country.
I valued this experience, but not because I was able to contribute much. All I did was pack a few bags of rice (that someone else purchased). I was really honored to spend some time with new people - people who have maintained a genuine heart of love, humility, and generosity. I hope I was able to offer love in that moment as well, but as usual, I received far more than I was able to give.