Border Crossing

by Grant Horst (United States of America)

I didn't expect to find Cambodia

I had crossed a quite a few borders before by bus and plane, but neither I nor you will forget the checkpoint at Poipet, the crossing between Thailand and Cambodia. I was heading to Cambodia in search of new stories and adventure, but nothing could have prepared me for this. The town of Poipet was a scorching hot post-apocalyptic wasteland. The city was small but bustling with energy. The biggest source of the economy here was stemming from scamming the tourists crossing or the two large casinos casting their nauseous neon lights upon the dense dirt of the messy road. At the customs checkpoint there was a large overhang titled ‘Kingdom of Cambodia’ with the iconic temple style of Angor Wat. Upon stopping, our bus driver spoke over the intercom. “Okay, we have arrived now. Please wait for a few minutes. Follow signs to customs and visa checkpoint and ignore all people who try to sell you things or give you directions,” he said. We were parked in front of the Grand Diamond City Casino, people flowing in and out trying to make new luck in their world. I looked out my window and saw a woman with a toddler and a baby an arm’s reach away. The setting was bleak, with garbage scattered around and a small bag I imagined containing her possessions. The woman was wearing a battered, pink one-piece dress, the older child was wearing a batman shirt with no bottoms. The baby was naked and in only a grimy towel separating the child from mother earth. It looked small - too small- and the newborn ball of sunshine was barely moving. The mother kept attempting to feed from a milky bottle but to no avail. They looked like they had never had a real shower in ages, let alone access to soap and clean water. The baby started wailing, not crying because it was either too hot or too dehydrated to produce tears. The mother picked the baby up and tried to relax the little sweetheart. She cried out whimpering Khmer while rocking the bundle of joy back and forth. She grabbed a small unknown bottle that was droplets away from death and attempted to feed the baby. I wondered what its name was, or if I could even pronounce it, or what future it may lead. The toddler’s stoic impression displayed this was a common occurrence, paying no attention to his mother. He was too preoccupied sketching in the dusty road with a sharp stick. I kept thinking of ways I could try to help this family. Whether I could give money, clothes, a blanket, or even the illegible Asian snacks our bus operator gave to us passengers. From what I could see, anything could help. I decided that I would give them ten U.S. dollars. In Cambodia the dollar is standard, and their own Cambodian Riel is worth so little that it’s equivalent to our quarters, nickels, and dimes. I exited the bus behind the other passengers and I started walking towards the family. The pant-less superhero stood before me and stuck his hand out immediately. I pulled the cash from my pocket and he quickly grabbed it. He then dashed across the street and handed my ten-dollar bill to a leathery man dressed in a bright red polo, clean sunglasses, and fresh khaki shorts behind a street stand peddling wares. The man gave the boy a pat on the head, a small bottle of water and a bag of chips before sending back across the street towards the woman and her baby. I stood there completely stunned, wondering why or how anyone could do such a thing. I gave her all my food and the rest of my Thai currency. I made eye contact with the woman and I swear we both shed a tear at the same time. She nodded and said some words I couldn’t understand. I guess the house always wins.