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Personal stories
Behind every new case of AIDS / HIV there is a unique and very personal story to tell. AIDS / HIV can affect anyone from any background and its impact is as much social as it is medical. Tean Thor works through a range of measures addressing the specific needs of the individual, their family and the local community.
Tean Thor encourages people living with AIDS to share their stories with others, helping to raise awareness and break the stigma that they and their families often face in Cambodia.
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Dam Savy
Savy was born in Phnom Penh in 1963. During the Khmer Rouge regime, she was moved to Siem Reap before finally settling near Battambang in 1991, marrying a local taxi driver. Savy was unaware of AIDS / HIV when her husband first began to fall ill. He began to lose weight and develop skin rashes that wouldn't go away. When he finally decided to seek help, the tests showed that the AIDS virus was already in an advanced state. The family had few saving and so were forced to sell their car, their only source of income. In 2001, Savy's husband lost his fight against AIDS leaving her and their two children, kakade and Chantei behind. Testing provided by Tean Thor revealed that both Savy and her younger daughter were also HIV positive. Today, the family are supported by Tean Thor whilst Savy has taken on new roles as a community peer, educating others on how to protect themselves and provide vital support where necessary. Helping others to face the challenge of HIV / AIDS and seek help is something that brings Savy a little bit of happiness. |
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| Ngin Sreimon
Before being diagnosed and having never left her village, Ngin wasn't aware of HIV / AIDS. When she was 10, she came down with a fever and was sent to the local hospital. Five years later when she began to fall ill, it became apparent that the treatment she had received, also exposed her to the virus. Little explanation was given to Ngin and it was only when a local Tean Thor peer found her that she was encouraged her to seek help. Initially, some community members were fearful of those living with HIV / AIDS but through training and publicity organised through Tean Thor, Ngin feels that attitudes have improved towards her. Today Ngin receives both medical and spiritual support from Tean Thor and has already helped another in her community to overcome their fear and seek treatment for HIV. At the age of 17, Ngin's biggest hope is to stay strong long enough to one day set-up her own recycling business. |
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| Niau Ling
Ling is especially keen to tell his story as he believes it can help others. As a fisherman he rarely left his village where he married and began his family. When his wife died of AIDS he was unaware of the implications this meant for him and his four young children. Through the community peer network, Tean Thor was put in contact with Ling and today provides essential food and medical care for the family. What Ling is most pleased with is the support he receives from people in the village who have been made aware of HIV / AIDS through Tean Thor's education programs and regularly drop by to check in on him. |
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| Chi Si Nang
Nang lives along one of the main roads to the north of Battambang with her two young children. When her husband died of AIDS in 2002, she was aware of the virus but did not seek and was not offered testing for herself and her family. It was not long before she began to feel unwell and was diagnosed with AIDS through Tean Thor. Nang continues to work in textiles, providing for her children who also require anti-retroviral treatment and has taken on new responsibilities as a commune peer. Talking about her experiences and helping others to overcome their fear and prejudice brings Nang a lot of happiness, giving her strength to deal with her own challenges. |
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| Sumnar (7) & Gilia (6)
Sumnar and Gilia may look and play like brother and sister but were in fact brought together when their parents began to fall ill to the AIDS virus. In the past six months, Gilia has lost both her mother and her brother (3). Her father who is also fighting AIDS is currently away in Thailand looking for work. Sumnar's father left a number of years ago whilst his mother is growing too weak to take care of him. Thankfully, both children are being taken care of by Gilia's grandmother who although very old, is devoted to their care. Tean Thor is able to offer vital support to this family through the delivery of medical care and vital living necessities that with no sustainable income, would otherwise be unaffordable.
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Yeung's Story from the diary of Dickon Very.
Extract from "Yeung"
Today I visited Yeung. She is a five-year old Cambodian. She is small with piercing brown eyes. When she sees me she raises her little hands in greeting. Her tiny face creases into a smile and she is unafraid. She has become used to my visits now and she knows who I am. Before, she would run and hide. She was unsure of the strange man who visited her family. That changed when her father died and I came to the funeral and walked with her and her brothers and sisters in the procession to the crematorium. I felt like an imposter, I had little idea of the suffering they had gone through and the pain, but they asked me to come. Slowly in the following weeks I got to know them better. I showed them pictures of my own father who is also dead. “We’re not that different.” I said, knowing how crazy that might seem.
Yeung’s mother and father died of AIDs. I am not certain how they contracted the disease. For some reason Yeung’s father died second which is strange, as usually the men in Cambodia die first. His end was awful. He lay for days on a reed platform in agony. One of his sons sat on the platform pouring water over his head in an attempt to alleviate his constant migraines. Yeung was always close; one could sense their bond. She sometimes poured too. She was always near him. Searching with her eyes, wondering what was happening and why her Dad cried out in pain so much. It was brutal to watch. Eventually he died.
Now I sense that Yeung will die soon. She has AIDs too. Her body is covered in scabs and wounds. Her own immunity system is unable to cope with simple infections. Her nose is constantly flowing with snot. Her hair has been shaved and her head is wrapped with crude bandages. Her brothers and sisters tell me that in the evening she cries out with pain. Especially when it is a hot night, she hates the hot nights.
So why I am telling you this? I guess a lot of it is frustration and anger. The system here is broken. There is no one to take care of this little child. There are many NGO’s that have been set up to combat the spread of HIV/AIDs in Cambodia. But for some reason there are none that can help her. There seems to be a lot of resources and time put towards looking after adults with AIDs and HIV but little focus on children. This really makes me angry because the children who contract AIDs seem to be the most innocent and undeserving of the awful death it entails. Yeung has no idea she has AIDs. She had no idea what it is. She has no idea why she is in such pain. Her family doesn’t know how to tell her. She is five years old.
I was shocked to see how much she had deteriorated. I didn’t want to believe it. A big part of me wanted to just leave it alone. For some time I did. Afraid to get too involved in a result I could foresee. However, I decided to go back. I felt I owed her that much. Now I visit regularly bringing food and some basic vitamins and medical supplies. It is pretty hopeless. She now has full blown AIDs and I am guessing her body’s natural defences are shot to pieces. I am hoping that vitamins and the extra food I bring will somehow provide some sort of miracle. Like the man who’s cancer disappears over night. But, I know more than some, that it is just hope.
I realize that Yeung’s situation is no different from that of thousands of children in Cambodia, hundreds of thousands of children in Africa and many more across the globe. But I have never come fact to face with it. I don’t mean to preach at all. I feel my own actions have been largely inadequate as it is. But I do feel that the only weapon I have in combating this is my pen, or my keyboard. I wonder how Aid workers feel in Africa. How different are their emotions and actions from my own? I wonder if they have become hardened to the human emotion of it. I doubt it.
Witnessing Yeung’s struggle has really made me more passionate about building the Community Center at Ksach Poy. I believe that education is the only way to really combat the ravages of diseases like AIDs. Only when you get whole communities together and talk to them can you start to stem the tide. FEDA now has 150 children attending its classes. When our center is built we will be in the position to provide a facility that will be able to provide continuing education. With beacons like this in place then I think there is hope that Yeung’s fate will not be repeated ad nauseam. As for Yeung, I just hope the rest of her life isn’t too painful.
Thank you for listening.
Dickon
Extract from “Singing Orphans and The Case of the Green Crutches
On August 8th at about 4:30pm (Cambodian time) Yeung died of complications from AIDs. As I understand it she had such a bad case of Thrush in her throat that she could no longer swallow. Essentially she died of starvation. In the last three weeks her appearance has changed from day to day. I have visited her every couple of days and the transition from relatively normal child to stick thin waif was horrific to witness. When she finally died on Sunday I can’t imagine her weight was any more than ten kilograms. She was ten years old.
I attended her funeral on the morning of the 9th August. I have never been to the funeral of a child before. Recently a friend of mine emailed me about the funeral of a toddler she went to. I can now understand her sense of sadness. Children aren’t meant to die. Especially not an impish little ten year old with twinkling eyes and a penchant for “chumreapsuur-ing” (saying “how are you?”).
As an aside, “Chum Reap Suur” is the formal way of greeting people here in Cambodia and is often accompanied by raised hands in a praying motion (or a “wai”).
As I sat with the family, four monks chanted an endless funeral dirge, and I tried hard to blink back the tears. People don’t seem to cry at funerals in Cambodia and it was important that I didn’t lose face. I don’t know if the emotional hardness is a by-product of the Khmer Rouge years but I have always found it hard to fathom given the warmth of the Cambodian people. I didn’t cry but I felt very numb. I sought out some positives from the situation and at first it looked pretty bleak.
Yeung’s father left five daughters when he died last year. Yeung was the youngest. His oldest daughter is married and has one child and she is pregnant with another. His second daughter I discovered is also pregnant. No one seems to know who the husband is though. It sometimes seems that the cycle just repeats itself over and over. Too many mouths to feed, children leaving school early, ending up having yet more children and so on. Education has to be the answer (I don’t agree with the US Government’s stance that abstinence is the only way), but I feel that I have talked about this at length in previous emails.
At the time I centered on Yeung’s niece Srey Nean. She is the first daughter of Yeung’s oldest sister. She’s about three years old. She has little brown pigtails and twinkling eyes. She is out of control with her “chumreapsuur-ing”. She must have raised her little hands into the familiar “wai” to greet me at least forty-six times during the two hours I was at the funeral. I imagine she looks very like Yeung did when she was three years old. Except I don’t think Srey Nean has HIV and that’s a reason to be positive. Hopefully she can have the life that Yeung never did.
I remain,
As always,
Your Man in Kampuchea,
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