Vlady Fresh

I spent the morning working furiously trying to complete a biology project for the high school where I work. When 11:30 came around, I jumped on my bike return home to join Anita and Silas for lunch. Unfortunately, I found that my tire was flat so I began walking my bike home. Along the road I came across a grandfather with his grandson who sat beside a tank of compressed air. I asked if they could repair my tire. They agreed and quickly set to work. It was painful to watch the old man work because his knuckles were so huge in comparison to his hands. I’m not sure if it was because his joints were swollen or his hands had so little fat. Perhaps it was a combination of both.

They offered me a seat in the little bit of shade afforded them by a makeshift tarp overhead. I declined. 10 minutes later, covered with dust and rapidly dehydrating during the hot season noonday sun, I took up their offer and sat down. As I sat and watched the grandfather mend the inner tube, I couldn’t help but think that this was they way he spent his days. Every day, day after day, he sits on the edge of this busy, dusty road and waits for someone to stop needing air or a tube repair. I thought this was a truly miserable existence. I wanted to weep because poverty is such a hellish evil.

When he finished I asked, “Awhh, tlai bohnmahn?” (how much?) to which replied, “m’puon”. A half hour of deliberate labor, by arthritic hands, in scorching midday sun was to cost me 1000 riel, which is about one quarter. When I gave him a dollar, he looked embarrassed. It was a look which I immediately understood to mean that he didn’t have enough change. So I told him ‘please keep the change because you’ve helped me a great deal.” This was my unsuccessful attempt to ease my conscience regarding my extreme wealth in the light of the grandfather’s poverty.