We Are All The Same.

I have been gone from home for 53 days. Quite a few horrible things have happened since I have been gone. A bombing in Baghdad, an airport shooting in Istanbul, a shooting in Nice and five shootings in the United States. 

There seems to be a great deal of blame, lack of responsibility and misunderstanding. 

Religion and race are being generalized, reactions are made without thought, and everyone thinks they know the answers. 

People refuse to see the grey between the black and white. 

Over the last two months, I have had the pleasure of being a minority. I have been treated with love and respect by people of different religions and ethnicities. I have connected with Muslims, Buddhists, Hindus and Christians over the basic principles of humanity. 

When we strip away the labels and classifications we have given ourselves, one truth remains. 

We are all human. 

We have the same needs to survive. We have the same thoughts, feelings and desires. We all deserve the same rights. 

The outside environments and situations create our differences. 

These differences, and our ideas about what they may or may not mean, are what create the belief that we are better or worse than others. 

As humans, we like to believe that we are greater than animals. We are smarter, more sophisticated and more civilized. 

But are we?

Different species of animals co-exist in their environments. Together, they achieve what is needed to survive. There is harmony in life and death in the Animal Kingdom. 

Why is it that we, as one intelligent species, cannot live in harmony with our own kind?

Why is it so many choose to place blame, guilt, and shame on others, instead of improving ourselves?

The problems of the World are not the World’s problems. 

The problems of the World are personal problems that the individuals have chosen to ignore. Instead of looking inward and identifying our fears, inadequacies, pains and frustrations (as well as their sources); we choose to react outwardly. We choose to blame our parents, partners, societies, God and the things we do not understand. 

Take responsibility for your actions, behaviors, feelings and thoughts. Don’t let the negative fester. Let go of the pain, guilt, blame and fear that controls you. Fill that now empty space with love. Love for others and yourself. With peace; peace of what was, what is, and what will be, despite you. Remove your own inner conflict; your need for pain, fear, excuse, defense and anger. With all that gone from inside you, you will no longer project such things. You will no longer react to such things, although they may still be around you…. But, by ceasing to partake in the cycle, you have begun a small revolution… This minute action will consume your body and your mind. It is as contagious; powerful and infinite.

What epidemic would you choose to spread? 

Pain, anger, fear and blame? 

Or peace, love, understanding and compassion? 

Every day you make this choice within you. 

Every day you spread an epidemic. 

It is your choice what you spread within your world.

My whole life I have loved kids. I started babysitting when I was 10 years old. I want to be a mom some day and I definitely want to adopt. I was lucky enough to be raised by great parents who did the best they could for my sister and I. There was never and still is never a moment where I feel unloved.

On these trips, the hardest stories are not the stories of children who's parents have passed away. The hardest stories are of the children who's parents willingly leave them behind.

There are siblings at the orphanage named Srey Na, Srey Neath and SokHeng. Srey Na and Srey Neath are the most beautiful girls. They sing well, are humorous and sweet. They can also be very somber; and you would be too if your parents dropped you at an orphanage. SokHeng is the most precious boy; big ears, goofy grin and such a lover. Last year, their half brother was also at the orphanage. Pan Ya was about one and was left with the others because mom was pregnant again (3rd dad) and didn't want to take care of them. I met her once last year, she came to our celebration party dressed inappropriately and ate the food intended for the kids. Fast forward to this year. She has taken Pan Ya back, and she sold her 5th baby for $1200. Rumor has it she came to the orphanage shortly after, wearing new gold jewelry. I don't know where their father is, but SokHeng proudly showed me a photo of him once. He looks just like him.

There is a family that lives nearby that I have known for years. There are nine children, so the younger kids live at the orphanage while the older kids live at home. The oldest son is married with one child and another on the way. The second oldest son has a 9 month old boy named Dom. He is the most precious, even tempered baby. Unfortunately, both mom and dad are drug addicts of some sort and so Dom has been taken away and is being cared for by Grandma and his uncles. Throughout the day, Dom is passed from one relative to another, and I grab him whenever I can. His Grandpa asked me to take him back to America with me, but Grandma isn't too keen on that plan. Although Dom's dad hardly notices him when he walks by, Pou Rath and Pou Niroon give him lots of Cambodian style love.

Today I spent a lot of time in the village of Andong. Per usual, I attracted attention from local children; wanting my bracelets, to know my name, to practice counting and touch my hair. As I sat there, I received an occasional glance from an adult gambling nearby. The children continued to warm up to me and began to climb on my lap and on my back. I went back to the orphanage for lunch and ensured them I would return, which I did an hour later.

There was one baby in particular who was about 18 month, running around completely naked. He crawled up onto my lap, wrapped his arms and legs around me and nuzzled his head into my chest. The other children kept pointing to his ears and one girl brought me a pack of Q-tips. I cleaned his ears, which were oozing liquid, and gave him some water, then he nuzzled back in, falling asleep. I sat there for what seemed like hours, with this child on my chest, thinking how strange it was that we were here together.
Did he have parents?
Where were they?
When was his last meal, bath, hug?
How desperate was this poor boy for love that he would cling to a complete stranger?
Eventually, another little girl of about five walked up and started to pull the boy off me. He started screaming and crying, holding on to me tightly. The adults around the card tables started to stare and I let the girl pull the baby off me. A white woman clinging to a naked slum baby seemed like a bad situation. The girl drug the baby over to the women's gambling table and a woman picked him up and pulled him close, as the screaming and flailing continued.

She looked over at me, cold and expressionless; I looked back, my sunglasses hiding the tears pooling in my eyes.

I am not a mother, and I may never be. I do not think it is an easy duty and the responsibilities last a lifetime. To bring a child into a world of already so much pain and sadness, and not do everything in your power to create a loving, safe upbringing seems unforgivable. My heart breaks for the unloved.

Bracelets

The children at the orphanage have small rubber bracelets that they use as prizes for games and contests. A child with a  lot of bracelets is repeat winner in the group. These are prized possessions, and the children have started giving them away to us as gifts.

Although a wrist of rubber is seen as a status symbol, they are tight and catch on your arm hairs. For us, there is little personal joy in a wrist full of bracelets; the joy is in giving them back to the kids. To see a face light up when receiving a bracelet is a metaphor for so many things.

How much do we have that is not valued or special to us?
Do we hang on to it for status?
To prove we have it?
To impress people or seem more important than we are?

To these children, these bracelets are currency, yet without thinking twice, they give them to us in bunches. They have so little and are so generous.
What if we gave so freely? Their generosity inspires more generosity. A ripple effect of selfless giving. If children in the slums of Cambodia can give away their most prized possession, even if it is only a bracelet, I think we can all do so much more than we do.

Start small, just one bracelet, and see where it leads.

Cambodia, my safe place.

My fourth time at Toul Sleng prison. I don't feel it necessary to go inside the buildings anymore. I listen to the audio tour; some facts familiar, some new. The sense of sickness doesn't consume me here anymore. A calm and remembrance is more accurate. It is not a lack of respect or numbness, it is an acceptance. I do not need to see the horrors again, now is my time to reflect on how I will do all I can do to make the world a better place. My heart breaks to see older people at S-21 and the Killing Fields. They are returning to the places their family and friends were killed and tortured. Returning to a place of such pain and sadness. Perhaps these places have become a place of calm and sanctuary to them as it has become to me? There is such silence and tranquility here now. The only noises are the birds and crickets communicating, the soft footsteps of visitors paying respects. To me, these moments are moments of reflection. A place to choose; am I going to take every possible chance to better myself and cause a ripple effect into every life I touch? Am I going to recognize that every action I take will have a reaction? What legacy will I leave?

The students in my tuk tuk left S-21 impacted. They were horrified, shocked and at the same time, inspired. Inspired to learn from the tragedies and mistakes of the past and go forth as a knowledgable light to others. As we go into our first day at the school and orphanage, our student volunteers are on fire to make a difference, one moment at a time.

Nepal Part 2

My time in Nepal was full of wonder. There was so much newness: the seamless blend of religions; the survivors of a tragic natural disaster; the ancient, stoic buildings and streets that have seen so much. This country gives off a certain energy. It is hard to explain an energy in a place, but it is a combination of the people, the sights, the smells and an unseen feeling. I did not visit Nepal before the earthquake of April 2015, but I do not believe the energy could have been much different. There is a sense of calm. The people live with the end in mind here. How will they be remembered is at the forefront of their actions.

The students at Lisha school are so eager to learn. They take such pride in every part of their schooling; their uniforms, books, pencils, handwriting... Their homes have been destroyed, but their school and hope stands strong. One day, Karen instructed class 5 to bring flowers in for a science lesson. There was a range of beautiful flowers carefully tucked in bags and boxes. In the back of the classroom sits a small sweet boy named Vibek. I sat next to him and he looked at me shyly. When the teacher asked the students to pull out their flowers, Vibek opened his pencil box and removed a single rose petal. He gently stroked the petal with his finger while eagerly listening to Claire discuss the parts of a flower. In that moment I felt as though my heart was shattering. This sweet boy cared so much about his "homework" and did his absolute best to complete it. He took such pride in his accomplishment, a soft smile beaming on his face as he softly showed me his pale pink petal.

How often to we refuse to attempt something because our fear of not living up to expectations, ours or others? How often to we give up before we even try? We, as Americans, have more resources than the majority of the world, and we also have more excuses. Nepal taught me there is no valid excuse for anything. If you have heart, passion, determination and will, anything is possible. And if you don't then nothing will be possible. Not attempting is the worst of all failures.

Nepal Part 1

(Written June 14th, 2016)

Nepal is not what I expected, but in a good way. It is far more beautiful, cultured and green. The people are so soft and kind. You are always greeted with respect. The buildings are ancient, the temples weathered. The earthquake remnants are still visible, the collapsed buildings still hide around sharp corners, beams hold structures upright oh so gently. Brick walls resemble jenga pieces; holes with parts missing. It is strange to see a place so delapetated and know the reason is outside anyone’s control. The people here are rising out of survival mode, struggling to return to a normal life. This new normal includes collecting rainwater for washing, living with neighbors who are homeless, and sleeping as close to the ground floor as possible, in fear of the next quake. Cracks rise up the sides of otherwise perfect buildings and from the still-standing higher levels, you can see how low the skyline has become. The Nepalese are early risers, days starting around 4:30-5am. They make their way to the nearest Stupa and circle clockwise, softly touching Buddha’s third eye with a vibrant red powder made of a clay and ash mixture. From there, more Stupas and temples are visited. We accompany Laxman, who works at our guesthouse, on his morning ritual. Laxman is somewhat of a local celebrity in Bhaktapur, people wave and say “Namaste” as we walk through the streets. The Nepalese people have a great sense of pride relating to their nation, their education, their culture and their religions. Sharing it all with them will be a great gift. 

"Education is the most powerful weapon which you can use to change the world."- Nelson Mandela

"Nearly 58 million primary school age children are not in school. More than half of these children are girls and 75 percent of them live in sub-Saharan Africa and South Asia. Of all the primary-school age girls globally, 20 percent are not in school, compared to 16 percent of boys in this age group. That’s 1-in-5 eligible girls worldwide who aren’t going to primary school. But education is vital. Though it's hard to prove the impact of girls’ education statistically, over and over it has been shown that this investment can have a ripple effect of opportunity that impacts generations. With primary and secondary school education can come increased job opportunities and higher wages. Girls who pursue secondary education are also at a significantly lower risk of engaging in crime or falling victim to human trafficking. Educated women have also been shown to marry later and have fewer children."  
http://www.halftheskymovement.org/issues/education

I did not like school. I was a good student, but I didn't care a much as I should have. I knew I didn't want to go to college, so getting good grades and applying myself was not a big concern to me. I did what was needed to get by and nothing more. Over the years, I have found subjects I am interested in, and have started to take classes and learn new subjects. My trips with CGA have ignited a passion for schooling that I never had before. Although education is widespread in the US, there are plenty of students who, like me, don't see education as a necessary part of life. 

In certain places of the United States, and in most parts of the world, education is the most important thing in life. Being educated can be the deciding factor between life and death. For women, your quality of life relies even more heavily on your education. Despite the women's rights movements happening all over the world, there is still much inequality in business, education and respect. In every country I have visited, education of women is a driving force. More and more women and girls are becoming passionate about their learning and schooling. They have dreams and desires that go farther than just simply having children and getting married at a young age. The girls we have met in Morocco are prime examples. 

Youssra wants to be a doctor. A pediatrician to be specific. She knows that the better her English is, the better chance she will have to get into a good university. Her brother is equally ambitious, however he is hoping to become a professional footballer. Their mother did not attend school herself and struggles to find work. She has applied to many jobs and is denied, and her husband has inconsistent work. She spends her days at home painting to ease the stress of paying for rent. She supports Youssra's desire for furthering her education. 

Fatimasahra lives with her grandmother and mother. They all three share a room of roughly 8x8. We arrived for our home visit and the table in the center of the small room was covered in food, more food than they can afford to buy to feed themselves. Grandmother never attended school, had seven children and has spent her entire life caring for her husband, children and working to make ends meet. As she sits and tells us about her life, she repeatedly expresses her embarrassment for her lack of knowledge, claiming she cannot leave the house without getting lost. She cannot read a street sign or a bus schedule, she cannot express herself, and she cannot write her own name. 

Rabiee, Fatimasahra's mother left her parents at age 12 to marry a man in Rabat 40 years older than her. When I asked her if the marriage was arranged, she said no, she wanted to leave her parents and this seemed to be her best option. By the age of 18, she had given birth to Fatimasahra. 6 years ago her husband passed away. She works three jobs, 12 hours every day. Her total salary is 150 dirham a month and her rent is 300 dirham a month. (Yes, you read that correctly, when asked how she pays rent, she said she makes it work.) She talks of her desire to learn, and at the young age of 30, I assure her it is not too late. She smiles sadly and states she has no time to go back to school, all her energy must now go into creating a strong future for her daughter. 

Fatimasahra is a small girl of twelve. At school, she is quiet and hardworking. At home she is helpful and fiery. She wants to be an astronaut when she grows up and doesn't plan on getting married or having kids, to her grandmother's dismay. She has a strong sense of family and is fully aware of the sacrifices her mother and grandmother have made for her. Fatimasahra's grandmother repeatedly thanks us and gives her blessings for our being in their home and at the school She says she is sad that Fatimasahra has no one to understand her and she praises God for sending us to them, vehemently saying she does not want her granddaughter to end up like her. Her gratefulness and appreciation brings us to tears, as we feel we are learning so much more from them than they can possibly learn from us.