Two Dollar

Two Dollar, a photo by alison lyons photography on Flickr.

Behind the Killing Fields a little boy stretches out his hand. His arm is so skinny it fits comfortably through the mesh of the chain-link fence of the memorial park. He holds up two fingers and pleads with his eyes. “Two dollar?” He says.

Around us are the mass graves where thousands of people were buried after they were brutally killed by the Khmer Rouge in the late ‘70s. There is a breeze blowing across the rice fields, shimmering in the warm sunshine. Here, under a canopy of trees, it is cooler. I watch a butterfly land on the fence and move on. The air smells of flowers. I have been listening to a piece of classical music playing on the headset provided at the entrance to this site and reflecting on the genocide that took place in this now peaceful landscape.

“Two dollar?” He cries out again, and again, insistently.. He follows me along the fence. Clinging to the mesh as he goes.

I could give him two dollars. I could give him two hundred dollars, just as easily. I actually have a $2 coin in my wallet. I look across to Stan, he is suffering the same internal agony that I am. Nothing compared to the agony of a starving child. Nothing compare the horrors that have taken place on this soil.

“No.” I say to the boy. “No, I am sorry. No” And I move away.

I am sorry. Deeply sorry.

To give money encourages begging. I have taken the moral high ground. But a child doesn’t understand that. I support international charities that help third world countries. I give money where I believe it goes towards the greater good. But my conscience will continue to be troubled by moments like this. It is the first day of our trip, and I am unprepared. I make a mental note to carry some fruit with me next time. At least then, I will have something to give.

As we leave the Killing Fields a young girl asks me for money. “No.” I say again.

“Water?” She asks, hopefully.

We are already in the car. Through the window we hand her our half-empty bottle of water as we drive off.

It is the the little boy’s words that remain with me... “Two dollar?” I will spend less than two dollars on my next mango juice or half-priced cocktail. Two dollars wouldn’t even buy a cup of coffee back home.

When my children were little, the toothfairy brought them two dollars for each tooth they lost.