INCAMBODIA

ALISTAIRCRAIG

A patchwork of reflections on life, death and hope in

a Cambodian slum.

Foreword

If you want to find God, He is usually to be found in the most unexpected places. Jesus visited the temple, but he didn’t live there.

Inspite of the theological knowledge of the omnipresent nature of God, I still seem to experience something more tangible of His being amongst us when with those

whom society generally deems as the “poor”.

We think because we possess things we are well off - but it’s no different today than when Jesus spoke to the wealthy in the Book of Revelations “Because thou sayest, I am rich, and increased with goods, and have need of nothing; and knowest not that thou art wretched, and miserable, and poor, and blind, and naked:”1

It was Jesus who said “you shall know the truth, and the truth will set you free”2 - “I am the way, the truth and the life”3 Jesus is the “wonderful counsellor”4 prophesied by Isaiah, we should take note of what he has to say as it cuts to the core of our human existence. He shines a true light into the darkness of the human heart and exposes us for what we are.

When he said that “it is harder for a rich man to enter the Kingdom of Heaven than for a camel to pass through the eye of a needle”5 - He was speaking the truth. The poor are not “blessed” by their poverty but they do have the advantage of

recognizing their need for help, which is surely the starting point to finding God.

If you offered me a holiday in some gilded palace of the well to do or alternatively to spend it in a slum somewhere - I would choose the slum. Possibly I am mad and beyond hope, those closest to me suspect this to be the case, but when it comes down to it - I just like to be where I know Jesus is.

This book is a personal one. A record of some “snapshots” from four weeks I was privileged to spend in a Cambodian community of the “poor”. It contains the threads of a personnel discourse - it’s not intended, nor do I pretend for it to be anything else. The theology is likely to be as dodgy as my memory and many of the photos have been “slightly tweaked” in photoshop to enhance the feel - but by and large they are what they are.

The poetry (if you can call it that) is semi-tied to the image. I placed an image and then wrote the poem to coalesce my thoughts on what it’s memory evoked for me.

May the God of all light shine His face upon you.

1 Revelation 3:17; 2John 8:32; 3John 14:6; 3Isaiah 9:6; 6Mark 10:25

1

3

5

7

9

11

13

15

17

19

21

23

25

27

29

31

33

35

37

Home

I spy

Alms

Upwardly Mobile

Child

Monsoon

Iron

Teul Slang

The Narrow Way

Genocide Survivor

Recycle

V.I.P. Club

My Window

Mekong

Chew The Fat

Wet

The Beautiful Game

Today

Hosts

Index

Home sweet home

ever so humble is my home,

... it is my castle.

Home for eight people,

home for lizards and bugs,

home for rats to visit and roam in at night.

Home to the neighbors,

port of call for the prostitutes,

the drug addicts,

and the sellers of survival commerce.

Air conditioned - whatever the weather.

Aromatic with the fragrances of:

the sewer, the rubbish, the cooking.

It’s home, not as you know it,

but we love and laugh all the same.

My home, my castle,

where Jesus dwells.

Together we watch the football

on my little TV,

my electric window on the world.

Home

1

2

I spy

with my living eyes

food in a shop

I cannot buy

I don’t understand

why

I spy

with my dark little eye

something beginning with die

It is my world

I don’t understand

why

I spy

My mum with aids

Dad has gone

I have my toys

plastic wire and a stick

it dosent rhyme

why should it.

I spy

3

4

The color of faith

provides little color

in a desaturated cityscape.

A pale imitation

of the available spectrum

in God’s grand creation.

Pay me for a blessing!

Why not,

Have I not paid for the curse.

Alms

5

6

From the killing fields

of despots

to the killing arterials

of the daily commute,

we all struggle in

this upward aspiration,

to better our lives,

to climb the ladder,

to attain,

an obtain,

that very thing

we all once did disdain.

Upwardly Mobile

7

8

All I want for Christmas

is for you

to say hello,

smile,

maybe a sweet.

I don’t need a Wii

or a laptop

or an iphone.

A box of crayons

would be nice.

What do you want?

I could give you a shy smile

but I have to go now,

I have to look after my baby brother,

He was born in a mangy hut

below a flickering neon star.

Child

9

10

Can tropic rain

wash away the pain?

Even heavy rain,

heavier than the burdens

we carry.

Thunder rattles the pieces.

Lightning illuminates,

flashes on terror

in the darkest places.

Strobes grotesque on

demons work.

Syncopated with rivulets

of human tears,

coagulating fears

run down to pool

in the blood brown puddles

where God drained his life out,

to cleanse us deeper

than the rain.

Monsoon

11

12

Iron

out your soul

in hotel

Phnom Penh.

Financed by the fashion dollar

from the factory next door.

Rust will eat

her homes heart out,

all in due course.

As will the

monotony

of factory hours

rust upon her own.

Nice place to visit

but I wouldn’t want to live there.

The choice

to be clad with iron

was never our option,

the offer of work

was never iron clad.

Iron

13

14

There

are

no

words

Teul Slang

15

16

Take the

narrow road.

The path that

leads to life.

It veers right

off the broad way.

Takes you

through some

unsavory places

where you might

just

find yourself.

The Narrow Way

17

18

What I saw

God saw.

He found me afterwards.

He never explained why.

Just asked me to forgive

atrocities.

To forgive as

He forgave

those who hung Him

on the cross.

He looked after me,

an orphan,

so I look after an orphan too.

It’s the least I can do.

Genocide Survivor

19

20

Recycle!,

the mantra of the west,

for us its life

or death.

Sacks of trash

delivered to our door.

School is stripping

copper wire,

smashing electrical components

with a piece of scrap steel,

an improvised hammer

and cleaning out

used tin cans.

School pays! - a few baht,

and maybe a lollie

or a packet of crisps.

Recycle!

Other peoples discards

will pay our way

today.

Recycle

21

22

Filtered pool.

Aqua full.

Via the path

of beggars hands,

Lexus altar

stands.

Abraham admits us in,

greenback god,

sees, hears, speaks no sin.

Tiled temple serene,

shades vaunted vip’s

obscene.

We tanned

Roman demi-gods

recline.

Small talk

V.I.P. Club

23

on exchange rates

decline.

Poor are the poor,

encaged, enraged,

their place -

next door.

A coke,

a swim,

a sleep.

I choke on squalor,

its cheap.

Filtered pool,

chlorined fool,

self -

our god

still.

24

Can I imagine

a green world,

a house with a fridge,

snow,

what its like to fly in a plane,

food in a restaurant,

to own a computer?

I can only imagine.

I don’t have to imagine

what I see out my

pane-less window.

My Window

25

26

Mekong brown

precipitant

runs downhill to gather her strength

under tropic heat.

Provides life

for the feeding chain

of flora, fish,

crustaceans and birds

that fill the markets

lining her banks.

Conveys sewage downstream,

inundates the poor

and sucks the clay

into her belly.

Forever running from evaporation

in an endless cycle

of give and take.

Mekong

27

28

Unemployment

saps away the dreams

as we sit and wait

and chew the fat,

but there is no fat

and so

we sit.

The city offered

high hopes

but delivered

hopeless highs,

where drugs are cheaper than food

and girls are cheaper than both.

I took a gamble,

where all we do is gamble

and cling to the dream

that saps itself away

under this tropic boredom.

Chew the fat

29

30

Oxygen one

Hydrogen two

Fun for some

For some it’s new

Wet

31

For some its wet,

a free car wash.

For others I bet

it’s not so posh.

32

The pitch is a little soggy today.

The uniforms state of the art.

The dreams are bigger than real,

but the ref is blind and biased.

how can he call it out!

when there is no out-line.

Still why argue,

we can’t complain,

after all

its a beautiful game.

The Beautiful Game

33

34

Salvaged a gem!

A real inflatable swimming pool,

a treasure worthy of a communities attention.

Task one: Find, fix or make a pump.

Some improvisation, a little ingenuity

and it can be done,

NASA would be proud.

Hmmm...

Task two: Repair the leaks.

A bandage?

some sellotape?

All tried and ultimately failed - NASA stumped.

Pool deemed non-repairable.

Families status downgraded.

Better luck next Christmas.

Today

35

36

A homestay like no other.

Thankyou for sharing your spirit,

your lives,

struggles,

pride and humility.

Something no 5 star hotel

could ever offer.

Thank you for feeding me,

doing my washing and

for giving me the best

floormat in the house.

May the “Lord of Hosts”

prepare for you a place.

Hosts

37

38

“If you want to be perfect, go, sell what you have, and give to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven; and come, follow me.”Matthew 19:21

Four weeks in a Cambodian slum is not a long time. Yet one day in any slum can seem like an eternity. These are some reflections on my short stay with a local family near the Monivong bridge on the out-skirts of Phnom Penh. It is a combination of images and poetic musings that I hope gives you food for thought, personal reflection and a sense of gratitude for all you have.My gratitude goes out to the community that accepted my presence and to the Christian missions group “Servants” that facilitated my stay.

Service under the Carpenter

www.nzgodzone.com