Reflections from an intern: "What the slum taught me about changing the world"
How could I possibly love a family and community so much and still walk away?
Whenever anyone asked me what I wanted to do when I grew up, I answered, "Change the world."
As an intern for Alongsiders International, I was excited to travel to different Cambodian provinces to conduct interviews, write for the blog, and live in a Phnom Penh slum. I was sure I would see God working in incredible ways in my slum community.
I moved into an extended family of eight people, a dog, several pesky rats, and a million mosquitoes. I took bucket showers and slept under a mosquito net. I ate rice three times a day and tried hard not to get food poisoning. I went with Ming to the market to buy live frogs and helped her and her son cut them up and cook them. I biked to work in crazy traffic and learned to ring the bell on my bicycle when turning corners to alert other drivers to my presence.
Most importantly, I fell in love with my host family and neighbors. I'll never forget the night I carried the baby outside the slum to a sand dune to watch the sunset, while she laughed and clapped her hands. Or the night that Theary and I read Alongsiders comic books for hours. Or all the days spent playing Moan, Moan, Tia with the neighbor kids (Cambodian duck, duck, goose). Or rocking in a hammock while eating green mangoes dipped in chili powder and salt, trying to communicate with my host family using my limited Khmer.
But I also can't forget the hard things: the nights I ran to the bathroom with food poisoning. The day a drunk man shook Ming, and her terrified little granddaughter tried to slash him with a wire hanger. The meals when I looked down to see yet another plate of boiled, fatty fish and steeled myself to choke it down again. The neighbor lady who would slap her her little daughter. The food offerings made to ancestors by people who could hardly afford three meals a day. The rubbish and the stench everywhere.
Most of all, I can't forget the way I had to leave. One of the sons had a party, and eight hungover men sprawled in the living room later, my time in the slum came to a screeching halt. I cried to leave, choked back tears when Ming asked if I still respected her family. How could I possibly love a family and community so much and still walk away?
Because I had money and a support network, I could walk away and find new housing. The young granddaughters staying with Ming weren't so fortunate.
I had spent three weeks living beside them, playing with them every day, and now I had nothing to show for it but a broken heart and a lot of memories that were suddenly more bitter than sweet. I had read the story of changing the world, and this wasn't how it was supposed to go-- was it?
As I tearfully told the story to a friend, she stopped me. "What if living in the slum wasn't about you changing the slum but about the slum changing you?"
During our listening prayer time at Alongsiders the next day, I closed my eyes and told God how much it hurt to have fallen in love with my slum community, invested wholeheartedly in it, and then been forced to leave it unchanged. I poured out my prayer, and waited for His response.
He said simply, Listen.
“You are anxious and troubled about many things, but one thing is necessary. Mary has chosen the good portion, which will not be taken away from her.”
Over the next few weeks, I began to listen to God. At my new house, there was nothing for me to help with, so I found myself with a whole lot of silence and spare time. In the stillness I realized why it had hurt so badly to leave the slum: my identity had gotten wrapped up in making a difference. I was basing my worth as a person on 'changing the world,' at least in my Cambodian slum. Yet I myself had loved the people in the slum for who they were, not for anything they did.
The week I left the slum, I re-learned two important things: I am not the savior and my worth is wholly in the Savior. Ultimately, I learned that changing the world starts with being changed.
Three weeks later I got a text from the son: "I want to know that you feel safe now. I am sorry for the inconvenience. Our family would like to say goodbye before you leave."
So I head back to the slum one last time, to say goodbye to the community I've laughed and cried with, the community that taught me that worth is in being not in doing. As I walk back down my old street, the children come running. "Hello!" they cry. "Hello!" I enter the gate and Ming comes out and gives me a hug. My heart begins to heal as I greet her in Khmer.
It wasn't exactly the incredible summer of changing the world that I'd planned on. But I don't regret it for a second.
“When life is sweet, say thank you and celebrate. And when life is bitter, say thank you and grow.”
The story of an intern, an Alongsider and a bowl of rice
This is what happens when two young women step out of their comfort zones.
“Charity is simply giving someone crumbs off your table. Justice is giving someone a seat at your table.”
For Karuna Seng and Brooke Hill, it's been an unforgettable summer. Both twenty-one year olds have had the opportunity to travel to a different country through their work with Alongsiders International. Along the way, they've been learning what it means to serve people as their equals.
Karuna Seng grew up in the Chak Angre Leu, a slum community in Phnom Penh. Her father died in an accident when she was ten, leaving her, her mother, and sisters living with their grandmother. After his death, a woman in her community invited her family to worship at a local church.
Karuna didn't understand the service, but she was warmly greeted and welcomed by everyone there. Her heart filled with happiness as they shared some cake together.
Shortly afterwards, a woman in the youth group invited Karuna to become her little sister in the Alongsiders movement.
Karuna didn't understand what Alongsiders even was, but she was so excited to be invited by Somaly that she quickly agreed. Somaly took Karuna to Sunday school each week, and eventually Karuna became a Christian. Somaly taught her many important lessons, including how to clean herself and how to study hard so that she could get a good job later.
On the other side of the world, Brooke Hill was growing up in a small agrarian town in Missouri, USA. Growing up in a broken home, Brooke did not understand the depth offered in community.
Like Karuna, Brooke lived with her mom, and often missed her dad. As a representation of many American families, Brooke's family usually did not eat dinner together.
Also, like Karuna, Brooke discovered fellowship with local Christians. When she was at her friend's house, at age twelve, she saw a picture of kids at Christian camp. She thought it looked like a lot of fun, so she asked her mom if she could go. During an incredible week being welcomed by many loving people at the camp, she became a Christian. At the age of 16, she heard about missions at a Christian conference and was fascinated by the thought that some people spend their lives helping other people.
After a few shorter mission trips, Brooke decided to combine her love for the Lord, her heart for people, and her skill at photography in a summer internship with Alongsiders. In May 2015, she moved into Chak Angre Leu, right down the alleyway from Karuna.
For the past two months, Brooke has slept under a mosquito net, taken bucket showers, and eaten lots and lots of rice. Through laughter and language learning, Brooke has built relationships with her host mother and new neighborhood.
One of the first things Brooke noticed is the way everyone in the community looks out for each other. The most commonly asked question is "Have you eaten rice yet?" Her host mother feeds everyone who answers no. Many elderly women without steady income stop by regularly for meals. Meals are a time of fellowship and unity for Brooke and her community.
When Brooke first arrived in Cambodia, a little girl named Dali came over to the house and asked her name. Since then, Dali has come over every day to play with Brooke.
Every evening she walks in asking, "Hello Brooke, how are you?" Brooke loves to listen to Dali sing "Open the Eyes of My Heart."
Brooke reflects: "Dali has the purest form of faith I have ever witnessed. [She teaches me] that life is much bigger than myself. Dali has reminded me of the importance of praising God regardless of circumstances. When I return back to the States and my heart is aching for the people I have met in Cambodia, I pray that I will ask God to open the eyes of my own heart, that I may be open to sharing this same love and faith with those I encounter, just as Dali has done for me."
When she's not spending time with Dali or others in her community, Brooke works as an intern photographer for Alongsiders. She rides with Karuna on her moto to the Alongsiders office, where Karuna works as the receptionist.
Karuna is now an Alongsider herself, walking beside her little sister Vegegar in Chak Angre Leu. Karuna recently traveled to Singapore to share her story at an Alongsiders fundraising banquet. It was her first time outside of the country, and what she saw changed her.
Singapore was clean, beautiful, and organized. Cars obeyed the traffic laws and people waited in lines. Karuna couldn't believe that there was such a thing as a bus timetable, as she was used to waiting for the bus until it eventually showed up at an unspecified time. "When I saw that, I was so proud of their wisdom," she reflected. Her time in Singapore gave her a vision for her own country.
One of the most poignant moments was the prayer time at a Singaporean church they visited.
Karuna and the other Alongsiders present were intercessors at the end of the service for anyone who wanted to ask for prayer.
As an older man came forward to ask Karuna to pray for him, she hesitated. "He was rich and older than I, so why did he want me to pray for him?" Karuna asked herself. In that moment, God spoke to her heart that He had lifted her up to pray for these people. Tears streamed down her face as she prayed from her heart in Khmer for the Singaporean man.
Next she prayed for a woman who cried with her. It was a moment Karuna will never forget. "I hope God was working through me then," she said earnestly.
Back in Cambodia, Karuna shared about her experience in Singapore during the Alongsiders' Office devotional time. "May God open the eyes of my generation so that we can transform our country," she prayed. In the future, Karuna hopes to see three changes in her country.
- Justice for the poor
- An end to government corruption
- Respect for all people
"Someday, I want everyone to have rice together," Karuna dreamed. "No one will hold onto their position and use their power to set themselves above each other. We will all have rice together."
It's been a summer of learning to walk alongside those who are richer or poorer than themselves as equals. For Karuna, it's meant sharing her story and offering prayer for the people in Singapore. For Brooke, it's meant building friendships with people in her slum community. But for both of them, it's meant eating lots and lots of rice.
“My soul magnifies the Lord,
and my spirit rejoices in God my Savior....
He has shown strength with his arm;
he has scattered the proud in the thoughts of their hearts;
he has brought down the mighty from their thrones
and exalted those of humble estate;
he has filled the hungry with good things,
and the rich he has sent away empty.”
Six months in a slum – an intern’s perspective
In the days following her mother’s death, I remember longing to know how Dai, my 8 year old neighbor in this Phnom Penh slum, was doing.
In the days following her mother’s death, I remember longing to know how Dai, my 8 year old neighbor in this Phnom Penh slum, was doing.
You can only imagine how I felt, when after the death, I heard a familiar voice cry my name, “Han-NA”!
Turning around quickly, I received the emphatic hug of a small friend, whose presence perhaps provided as much comfort to me as it might have provided to her.
When I think about Dai’s future, I cannot help but wish that someone would guide her in the coming years—someone who shares the language and background, someone committed to her in the difficult time ahead without a mother, someone who will point her to an ever-present hope in God.
Dai is one of a significant number of children, in my community alone, that could use such a person in their life... someone to walk alongside.
As children face the brunt of neglect and injustice in most of the world, the Church is called to respond. Perhaps then, rather than fighting the wrong battles, the Church can be the kind of people who live like Jesus, in coming alongside the forgotten— communicating to the world, thus, that the ones the world has rejected… are loved, valuable, and absolutely worthwhile.
I am still not quite sure how I got connected with Alongsiders exactly, but the connection was a God-send, undoubtedly. My deep-seated desire to see local churches actively engaging in the reconciliation and redemption of lives in their community, particularly through discipleship and education, is exactly what I found happening in Cambodia, through Alongsiders.
As a fourth year student at Wheaton College, Illinois, getting to be a part of what is happening in Cambodia through a six-month internship, is an absolute privilege. These crucial six months are an opportunity to glimpse of what God is doing in the world, in the heart of marginalized communities, and a time to experience the difficult tension between the “Developed” and “Developing” Worlds.
The experience provides a platform to
question, what it means to live, responsibly, as a Christian in a divided
world, and further, to think through principles that I will carry with me for the
rest of my life.
Every so often, one gets the opportunity to witness something in life that
makes the heart come alive, that is so obviously steeped in God’s presence that
it brings us to our knees, that is so extraordinary that it can only be the
Kingdom of God.
Within the last two months in Cambodia, I have experienced a few of these moments, in places, perhaps, least expected. Some of these have been with my Cambodian family in our urban slum—moments of deep grace when I had nothing to offer, but a throbbing head, a lingering fever, and a few Khmer words.
I have also had the privilege to bear witness to an extraordinary group of local young people committed to the life of one vulnerable child each, at the epicenter of the system’s injustices.
I have been able to see a Church alive and active, in the discipleship of their community’s at-risk children.
Quite frankly, the Life—in every sense of the word— that is being shared, is nothing short of remarkable.
It is that Life that I wish for my friend, Dai
[Written by Hanna Tzou, currently interning with Alongsiders in Cambodia. Contact us for more information about internship opportunities in 2014.]