This time, I cried so hard when I said goodbye to...

The difference between the earlier years and this time was that... for all the times that I had cried in Thailand and Laos, they were sentimental goodbyes. The feeling that I'd never see them again, after all the good times we had. 

But with this boy... and the bunch of kids who visited us every day at the church, it wasn't just a sentimental goodbye, but a sad kind of goodbye that was mixed with a lot of worry. 

My mission group of 7 would often sit at the church's veranda preparing materials needed for class at a nearby kindergarten (the first pic in this post), and this teenage boy along with his group of friends often came poking their noses around to sniff out what we were doing. They weren't our beneficiaries, just a curious bunch of kids.

They'd make us flower head bands, twist fancy balloons, make cardboard cut-outs - all in a bid to impress us, and over three days, I grew to enjoy their presence. No common language was needed, purely actions.

But I found it strange that sometimes, he would be the only one to come visit us, even in the mornings when he was... supposed to be at school.

I couldn't ask him why he wasn't at school, all I could get out of him was his name and age, and even that took a bit of difficulty due to language barriers.

I remember fondly that one time when one of us told him to bring us a dinosaur (lol).... and the next minute, he brought us a bloody LIZARD. Blimey, all the girls in the team started to scream (except me cuz well, let's just say i'm atypical). He placed that lizard into a box and opened it every time he wanted to elicit a reaction from us hahah.

The next day, he came to us with the box again. With a cheeky smile, he egged us to open it. We, of course, didn't want to trust this boy again so we told him, nonono, we know what's inside. you think we stupid, but we ain't gon fall for that same trick.

Then he turned to me, as if to say, "you open it."

I took the box and opened the lid with much trepidation, thinking the reptile might just pounce right on to my face.

But..... all I could see were red petals.

I hesitated, because I thought "nanana, the lizard most definitely must be hiding in there somewhere......."

After I opened the lid fully, I truly found no lizard. It was just a box full of flowers and....

... a headband. made just for us :')

From then on, I knew that Mikhea was not only cheeky, but intelligent and above all, good-natured. He could've continued to taunt us and get a kick out of scaring us, but he didn't. He was a good one :)

Soon after, the day came for us to say our goodbyes. I was struggling to convey to them that my team won't be coming back anymore. Only after some non-verbal communication then they understood.

I wanted to tell them "study hard, find a good job, stay away from bad things." But all I could muster was, "study hard ok? study hard...." hoping they'd understand me. And when I finally had to leave, I hugged each and every one of them. 

The hardest goodbye was with Mikhea. He was standing the farthest from me but when I looked at him and opened my arms to him, I gave him a little hug. And he started to tear as well.

Till now, I still remember that look in his eyes.

I remember going back to the hotel that evening and when my friend left the room for xmas choir practice, I howled. I couldn't stop worrying about what might happen to him, whether he'll be all right and hoping he doesn't go wayward as he transitions to adulthood.

He is a latchkey kid, like so many others in Cambodia. We've read so many reports of kids there resorting to glue sniffing to get by, kids forced into labour of sorts - sexual exploitation, etc. It sucks thinking you can't do much within 5 days. 

I still have so many conflicting thoughts about ocip/mission trips. I don't know whether what we do overseas helps at all. Yes, the little actions matter and our presence is enough, but in such a short span of time, nothing really helps to alleviate their pain. I feel so helpless.

What's more, the emotional bonds aren't helping them once we leave. It's not good for my own emotional health either.

If you ask me, whether I'd do this again, my answer is, I don't know. I can see how over the long-run, these trips can help build schools and an educational foundation for students in the community. But in the meantime, I still can't see beyond just this yet.

I have talked about my dilemmas with my mission trip mates, and one of them shared with me a story he read in a booklet about a father saying his final goodbye to his daughter at an airport. Because he may not be able to see her again, he wished her 'enough'.

Lemme share it with you~

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