July 9, 2008 - Phnom Penh, Cambodia 10:00pm

Just when I think I've come to grasp the level of injustice and corruption that the Cambodian people have been subjected to, I learn something that knocks me right back into utter disbelief. Today was one of those times. We were greeted this morning by an American girl named Ali, who came over to Cambodia for a visit after graduating from college and, once she saw what was happening here, canceled her flight home and decided to stay to help. The specific situation that gripped Ali's heart was that of Andon. Andon is a “community” of squatters that was established by the Cambodian government about an hour outside of Phnom Penh. In the 1990's, foreign real-estate developers decided that they wanted to buy a huge stretch of land along the river in Phnom Penh. They were willing to pay a generous price to the Cambodian government for it, and the offer was too good to refuse. Unfortunately, the land was already occupied by approximately 1,600 families who owned homes and businesses on it. The government offered an insultingly low price to the families to vacate and they, quite rightly, turned it down. So, early one morning at around 4:00 am, the government invaded the community with tanks and armed soldiers. They woke everyone and told them they had 30 minutes to gather their belongings and vacate their homes. Those who resisted would be met with violence. Some did resist and were killed. The rest, terrified and confused, loaded onto the buses and were shipped to the middle of nowhere. There, they were given some meager supplies and then left to eke out an existence. So, 1,600 families were taken from an urban city-dwelling lifestyle, to being homeless in the fields and to fight for survival. Few of them knew how to build, farm, or otherwise make a life out of nothing. To make matters worse, the government had originally planned to buy 3 hectors for the families to live on, but didn't want to pay that much so they squeezed them onto one. And there they remain today. A small square of land crammed full of families who live in huts and shacks constructed of found materials. They have no space. They live shoulder to shoulder. They must compete for the limited resources available to them and, therefore, do not trust or look out for one another. They have no source of income, no place or way to get work. They live on nearly nothing. Their drinking water is drawn from trenches that you and I wouldn't even put our feet in. As I walked through Andon, I kept reminding myself that these weren't some breed of gypsies or voluntary settlers. These were respected business people and citizens of Cambodia. And they were reduced to this. The complete lack of control and power they have over their own lives was shocking to me. And, of course, they were extremely vulnerable to traffickers and exploitation.

The indignation I feel at how people can treat their fellow man makes me want to vomit. And I feel so frustrated that all I can do is look on and be angry. There are several organizations that have been trying to help the people of Andon, including the one that Ali works for, but for some reason Andon seems to be only further declining. There is a great deal of sickness in the community (mostly from the lack of clean drinking water), and rising levels of domestic violence, assault, and rape. And there are so many children. Everywhere I walked, all I saw were children. Naked babies being cared for by nearly naked toddlers, watched by barely dressed children. A whole generation growing up thinking that Andon is what their lot in life is. I wonder if they will ever know anything different.

While I was standing and taking photos, I felt a little hand on my leg. A tiny girl, no more than three years old, had wrapped her arm around my knee and was resting her head on my thigh. She didn't look up at me or ask for anything. She just wanted contact. Comfort. Shelter. She wasn't even clinging or grasping me. Just leaning ever so lightly. And as I moved along through the alleys, she stuck with me until, suddenly, I looked down and she was gone. My heart hurts for her and for the fact that I didn't swoop her up in my arms and take her away from there.