Living Life as a Privilege.

by Suyi Leong (Singapore)

I didn't expect to find Cambodia

Her name was Hart, and she was six years old. She acted every bit like every other kid I knew, running around with sparkling eyes and a mischievous smile, hands full of magic dirt and dreams. She hid behind familiar adults and only shyly approached at their encouragement. She was dressed in a shirt too big, walked around barefoot, and had a cracked toy truck. In another life, that could have been me. In another life, I could have been that six year old, full of energy and noise, chattering excitedly as a group of foreigners descended upon my home. In another life, I could have been raised at this orphanage, never knowing my birth parents, in a country with a violent history and a rough economy. In another life, I could have been Hart. But I was born 1500 miles away, in a country where most children had families and poverty meant living in government-subsidised rental flats. I was born 1500 miles away, to middle class working parents who could afford to send me on this school trip to Cambodia, amongst others. I was born 1500 miles away, taking my Junior College education for granted, taking my comfort for granted, taking my language for granted. Our team was in Cambodia for a couple of weeks, providing English and Mathematics lessons to 6-year-olds who delighted in the visits of every new volunteer, even if they never came back. We were taught, as 16-year-olds in our first rate schools by people who spoke impeccable English, that education was the key to break these kids out of poverty, that learning English was the passport out of their battered lives into a polished, new one in countries far away. That by providing our time and resource, we would be helping these kids achieve a life worth living. Hart could not speak a word of English. She could not count. She filled her broken toy truck with rocks and played with them during lessons. She was in no way disruptive, but she held loftier dreams than English and Math. She knew not a life of poverty, but a life of laughter, of friendship, of sitting by the stream in the backyard, her little feet splashing in the cool water. She knew a life of earthworms and locusts, of the different seeds for different seasons, of the occasional truck bringing in supplies from the nearest town. Her options were few and her situation dependent on so many circumstances, yet her contentment shone brightly as she danced with her friends under the hot sun in the dusty yard. We built a water tank at the side of the school, our complete lack of skill and strength complemented by the village men who mixed the cement, dug the ground, laid the bricks, and fixed the structure. (Our main contributions to the project included us providing accidental entertainment to the men who did all the work and loud incessant screams at the sight of displaced earthworms.) We brought along bars of soap that the children descended upon with glee once they realised their bubble-blowing potential. We carried donated toys and clothes from home to bless the poor poor children. We came with the expectation to make a difference, but we left different people, humbled, renewed, enlightened. Hart and her friends were not born into a life of privilege, but they lived their life as a privilege, with meaning, with hope, with total contentment. Eight years later, it is Hart and her smile that reminds me joy is found in the little things, that despite the high pressure office job, despite the mounting loans, despite the economic crises, I am living life as a privilege.