I returned home one evening and saw my landlady captivated by the TV. She is a 60-year-old grandmother – very old considering that thousands of Cambodians died during the Khmer Rouge (1975-1979) and the civil war which followed. Perhaps due to the physical and emotional trauma she had experienced during those dreadful years, she lacks the energy of the 60-year-olds at home (in Hong Kong) who often still claim to be “young” – at least at heart. In fact, in most developed countries, 60 years old may still be considered the “golden age.” Many successful businessmen and politicians are in their 60s.
Most likely because of her traumatic memories, my landlady is also obsessive about security. During my first months here, she advised that I should come home before 8 o’clock in the evening, the time which she habitually locks the front gate. My bicycle must be parked inside the ground floor apartment (I live on the second floor). Lock the bicycle around the wheels if I return home late; otherwise, she warned, thieves would come.
Taking her advice, whenever I returned home late from a drink or dinner, I would lock according to her instructions. Later on, however, I noticed that she would always wake up in the middle of the night and take my bicycle back into the house. She just did not feel safe. Also, the next day, I would have to sit through her ranting, in Khmer, most likely about the dangers in the streets.
After a few months, she asked that I lock my bicycle to the metal staircase if I were to return late.
With her son working in Battambang Province, she lives with her two busy grandchildren. Both of them are universities students and work part-time. Therefore, she spends many mundane days alone, watching TV, washing clothes, cooking food, doing housework and running errands. She is usually the only one to greet me when I return home from work.
Because of her alertness and her (sometimes-over-the-top) sensitivity to safety and security issues, it was uncommon that she did not sense my coming into the house. That evening, she was so absorbed in the television that she only turned around in surprise when I sat down in a chair next to her.
She was watching a volleyball game. When she saw my puzzled face, she briefly withdrew her attention from the television screen. In an instant, as if gaining a rare wave of energy, she waved her arms, stamped her feet and began speaking in Khmer in a rather loud voice. I continued to look at her, puzzled. But the more puzzled I looked, the more frantically she pointed to her arms and knees and tried to make me understand.
From my limited Khmer, I understood that the game was volleyball – g’baal p’dtea and that the competition was held at the Olympic Stadium in Phnom Penh. From the broadcast, it also looked like that the Cambodian Team had won two sets already and was ten points ahead of the Indian Team in the third set. Whenever the Cambodian Team score, I could see my landlady slowly lifting the edge of her lips and gradually forming a reserved smile. The motion was subtle; but for her, this action culminated from much excitement and joy.
Watching the game, I could only see poorly trained players who could barely control the ball. Rarely could I see the effortless jumps, accurate passes, impenetrable defence and powerful spikes demonstrated by world-class volleyball players at the real Olympic Games held at furnished and well-maintained stadiums. My landlady must be happy just because she supported the home team.
With both teams weak in their volleyball techniques, each play was short and the scores moved along quickly. Very soon, the score became 20-10 – the Cambodian Team only needed five more points to win. A Cambodian player served again and the Indian players could not return the serve and the ball bounced off to the spectator stand. I was about to smirk at this ridiculously incompetent play, tell my landlady that I have had enough and go upstairs to prepare dinner.
But then, for a split second, I noticed something strange about this Indian player: he had no arm!
At a closer look, among the other players, quite a few had artificial limbs. Most probably, the rest of the players had other less visible forms of disabilities, such as mild epilepsy, deafness and learning disabilities.
Almost immediately I felt ashamed of my silent criticism and negative thoughts. Coming from a war-striken era, my landlady must have seen many people disabled by landmines, machetes, guns and accidents. She would understand the unspeakable emotional and physical experienced by those stripped of good and healthy bodies. Among her close relatives and neighbours, there may be individuals who were discriminated for their disabilities and were demoted to living in shame as outcasts. There must be families with breadwinners handicapped by landmines and fighting and could no longer find productive work. There would be many children who were denied education and social support due to injuries from a young age. Encountering disabled people and dealing with the hardships stemming from disabilities were inevitable parts of Cambodian life.
The victory of the Cambodian Team in disability sports therefore represents more than winning the Trophy. This victory indicates recognition for physically and intellectually handicapped people and honours their efforts to overcome physical limitations and accomplish “the impossible.” In Cambodia, this message serves as a crucial encouragement for many disadvantaged groups – not only the disabled. Many more who live in chronic poverty, suffer from diseases (e.g. HIV/AIDS) and are forced into demeaning jobs (e.g. prostitution) may be encouraged to take a bold step for their own well-being. The society may have doomed them, but they can – if they want – to live a life of dignity and be inspiration for others.
During these few months in Cambodia, I have heard about and met people who live with disabilities and diseases as well as those suffering from chronic poverty. The media also often reports about women forced into demeaning occupations and children working in the worst forms of child labour. However, there are also many international organizations, NGOs and civil society groups which work actively to withdraw people from destitute. Their success stories should be publicized to direct disadvantaged people away from fatalistic and pessimistic attitude; beneficiaries should stand out as role models and spread the message that individuals can make a different in their own lives.
At the end of broadcast, my landlady expressed joyously, “S’bay jet na.. m’sell min grom Kampuchea ban ch’nea dae… s’rok ey? Knom pleck hi… Bundai, s’bay jet na… (I am very happy… Yesterday, the Cambodian Team won also… Against which country? I forgot already… But anyway, I am very happy…)” She went on and on as I gestured goodbye and moved slowly out of her living room.
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