How to Give?

How Should I Give?

Poverty here in Cambodia is noticeable in many ways. Children, adults and many with physical disfigurement do it. They all want money, or food.

Ladies about my age approach and their signal is to hold out an empty bowl and/or motion with fingertips at their mouths imploring me with big sad eyes to give. Mothers with tiny wee babies sit on the footpath waiting, hoping.

People in wheelchairs – missing arms or legs or both (the war has left a shocking mark on many people) wave a cap at me as I stroll past.

Kids, some as young as five or six wander the streets in dirty clothes. Often a young child will be in charge of an even younger one (the latter usually naked) held on by a cotton wrap and they want money for food too. Sometimes the child is thrust at me.

Yesterday from the lovely breezy comfort of the Foreign Correspondents Club (made famous during the war), I sat up high and nursed a lovely cold beer and indulged myself in some overpriced spring rolls. From this great vantage point I had a wonderful view over the Tonle Sap River. Across the road there’s a nice stretch of green grass adjacent to the river. From here I watched a young girl (maybe 10 or 11) bath herself and her 18 month old charge in the river, then stretch out on the grass. As each tourist stopped to see the view, she got up, positioned her sleeping charge on her hip and approached them for money for food. Eventually one gave. She left immediately – to buy food – to give it to the beggar-master (it’s said they exist) I couldn’t be sure as she went out of view.

It’s terribly sad. There’s no social welfare here. The NGO’s (Non Government Organisations) are doing a great job but the problem is immense. My dilemma is, should I give and encourage a dependency on begging? Yet I have a conscience, my western wealth is immense (comparatively) and there is an immediate need.

Personally I’ve decided on two approaches. I patronize stores (and put money in the donation boxes there) where and when I can because I know they are training people for fair trade employment. They help to give individuals skills and perhaps assistance to help them start up a business. Then, I give away a certain amount of money each day.

Of course, whatever I do, it’s never enough, but I’ve decided this is what I can do for now.

I’d be really interested to hear some feedback on the approach others have (or would) take when traveling in a developing country.

Terror on Tonle Sap Lake

When I planned a late afternoon visit to the most productive fresh water lake in the world; the home of many people who live on the water, the last thing I thought I needed to consider was my safety. Afterall, this is a very popular tourist attraction, and yet, this trip was extremely scary.

Access to the lake is via an extremely rutted dusty red road and for the first time in many days of travel on my tuk tuk I grab the holds with both hands to try to steady my body from being thrown out of the cab. Buses, going too fast for the conditions, pass us stirring up a thick cloud of dust. The air is disgusting with a nasty cloying fishy smell.

The poverty here is heart wrenching too as, lining the road on both sides, are one roomed shacks made of thatched leaves, some in a poor state of repair. I see the families belongings piled up on the raised floor.

We stop and a young man meets me – about 14 years old I guess. He directs me and I follow him down the hardened bank of mud, littered with rubbish, and climb over several long boats to get to the one I’m to go out on.

When I get to the boat I am worried. The boatman is already pulling and I move very quickly as the distance between the two boats widens. I am shocked to see the age of the “skipper” – he is a child and I am the only passenger. Too late to act, we are underway.

To get to the lake we navigate a muddy and confused water way. The skipper keeps stalling the motor. This is definitely not to be recommended in swift, swirling and confused water. I am even more worried with the company of three lads – the skipper aged 16 and his two companions 15.

They are hoons and keep larking about as though they are on a school trip. As I am the only person on the boat I feel rather insecure. My feelings of unease heighten when a machete drops down from somewhere. I take a little comfort in the fact that there are many other boats around us and I feel that if I need to, I’ll yell for attention.

But, when we reach the main body of the lake, they want to drop me off at a floating restaurant out there on the water (many people live on the water here) but I don't want to stop. The lads are not happy and confer in an agitated manner amongst themselves. From the truculent body language the skipper makes a decision - he takes the boat far away from everywhere and cuts the motor! I decide to play it cool and try to look like I’m not worried while we drift for a time.

Eventually the “skipper” starts the motor again (mind you he still keeps stalling it) and we do a little tour around the floating shacks on the water.

I am relieved that soon we turn to go back. Then they start hassling me for tips. They want money for school, they say. Although still concerned for myself .....I say "later".

He repeats and repeats his demands getting right up against my face so that I can feel his putrid breath on my cheek and I pull away a little. He says, rather crossly “do you understand what I’m asking? You pay me now!”

I nod. Then another of the threesome said “do you understand what he said?” nodding towards his mate.

I reply with much more bravery than I feel "yeah I understand really well....do YOU understand…..we are not back at shore yet."

I remind myself to breathe deeply. Where is the rescue remedy when I most need it?

I feel like I am in no win situation. I don’t want to tip them – the scumbags don’t deserve it. But I also feel that if I give them money and they think it’s insufficient they will make it difficult for me.

We make it back and they pull the boat up on a muddy bank. I see my lovely tuk tuk driver, the same one I’ve had my entire time in Siem Reap, and feel huge relief. He comes down and takes my bag and camera so now, unencumbered, I can easily leap off the bow of the boat.

Meantime the money I pulled out of my purse (in case I had no option but to tip) was still in the palm of my sweaty hand. I walk away, very quickly, grasping it and I feel much satisfaction that I've outwitted the young shites!!!

However, I was very cross and rather shaken. I told my driver and the people at the hotel. They said that I should have reported it to the water police out at the lake - but who would know! I was too shaken to do anything but feel relieved I had gotten away safely. It’s a shame because this behaviour does little for a region trying to grow tourism. I was happy to be back at my hotel and able to strip off all my clothes for washing and to take a shower to get rid of the nasty lingering smell.