In the much-loved words of many a diamond geezer in various London haunts, “We was robbed”. Mugged to be more precise. Though neither Boo (the “victim”) nor I (the hopeless “Jason Bourne” wannabe in this story) are victims. To the contrary, we are both very lucky.
Please don’t mistake the intent behind the blog post that follows. My initial effort at steering clear of any touristic cheerleading isn’t without consideration. This diversion from Facebook-friendly ramble comes from the heart. For anyone who cares to read what I tap into a keyboard, this is without ill intention or biased agenda of any sort.
Cambodia is beautiful. Its indigenous people are beautiful. But it is poor. Its suffering well known throughout the world for many years, Cambodia’s issues are not so much hidden, but line pretty much every street we’ve seen thus far.
Broken souls wander the streets, damaged by desperate symptoms of a nation ripped apart through the weaponry of hate. Child exploitation. Modern-day slavery. Landmine victims shamelessly advertise loss of limb.
We’ve witnessed misogyny that would bring a tear to the heart of even the most prehistoric of chauvinists.
I don’t say any of this as a form of revelation. The world is certainly well versed in its frailties and ubiquitous human failings, albeit with varying levels of national visibility. It should be noted that shenanigans are sold in all flavours.
Yet Cambodians are full of love, regardless of plight, injustice or savagery. For this, I am in awe. With some luck, a little bit of their spirit has resonated with my pampered existence.
Having said that, Boo did survive a rather violent incident a few nights ago. Crude generalization aside, for every 1,000 people, in any country, there will likely be one truly rotten apple. There will also be apples not so much rotten to the core, rather stained due to rat-infested destitution.
“We Was Robbed”
Our bellies lined with an evening of local brews and barrels, we ventured onto the nearest tuk-tuk. Cambodian tuk-tuks are romantic vessels, although my mood on this evening was less than romantic. My curmudgeonly persuasion was due, in part, to a heated conversation about the power of thoughts and whether good thoughts are the springboard to a fulfilling and successful life. While I agree with this, my behaviour at the time suggested otherwise. There is no grey area in the world of lightness and darkness.
Anyway, back to the scene of the crime: Tuk-tuks in this part of the world are mini carriages pulled by, for the most part, sweet souls on motorbikes. However, in this instance I believe my doubts behind the driver’s motives to be rooted in credibility.
Barely two minutes into our ride, I turned to my left to see Boo in a one-on-one handbag tug-of-war with two guys on a motorbike. Her “Oirish” feistiness kicking in, she wouldn’t let go. The bag started to tear. Yet still no budging to be seen from either side. Suspiciously our tuk-tuk driver slowed down, much to the benefit of the pair of thieves. Before I knew it, Boo was being dragged along the street.
Fueled by an evening of slurp, without thought, and probably a little ego, I dove from the moving tuk-tuk toward the sneaky perpetrators. In hindsight, this wasn’t the greatest of ideas given the voluminous traffic. Following a few clumsy rolls in the line of vehicles, I proceeded to sprint down the middle of the road after the motorbike (now pretending I was that super-cop out of The Terminator). Channeling my inner pikey, this chase lasted for about 150 metres, at which point I accepted reality. I am not 15 years old. Even if I were, the likely outcome from a situation like this is a character-building head kicking at best; or worse, a bullet or knife. Accepting my limitations, I sheepishly gave up pursuit as they sped out of sight.
We were indeed lucky. Boo lost her handbag, a pair of sunglasses, reading glasses, an iPhone 4 (we were asked to specify the model when reporting the crime) and more cash than we should have been carrying. Worse than any thing, she lost a family photo, its tangible memory and a little verve for 48 hours. The scrapes, knocks and bruises she suffered will disappear in a few days.
Now, I don’t hope the thieves are caught. To the contrary, I hope they make good use of the money and the iPhone. Given what they must lose in their occupation, they have certainly earned it, so to speak.
We Are All Human (as far as we know)
While no part of the world is immune from the human condition, Eastern wisdom has been stained by globalization. This doesn’t surprise me. But it does make me a little sad. In a way, the world has been turned inside out. While the West craves happiness and spiritual pursuits in greater numbers, their Eastern contemporaries feverishly pursue the latest mobile device and Western Trojan horse. In reality, this may be an exaggeration. Retail sales in the West show no sign of relenting, and demand for spirituality is certainly not without shameless commercialism and self-expressive vanity. Nevertheless, and while I find the word, irony, a little contrived, it certainly isn’t lost on me in this instance.
Think Good Things. Say Good Things. Do Good Things.
I am left with our conversation from that night and the wisdom of Zoroaster:
Think good things, for they become your words.
Say good things, for they become your actions.
Do good things, for they become your habits.
Be sure your habits are good, for they become your character.
Have good character, for it will become your destiny.
I am not saying that my mood determined the course of events that evening. What I am attempting to do, rather awkwardly, is share something that after 39 years in this world, I am only starting to grasp. The something I reference is rooted in thinking good stuff— and please excuse me for saying this, the most challenging and important step in the process to enlightenment and manifesting your dreams in this life.
Perhaps our brush with those Cambodian Pikeys will transpire to be a gift from the universe.
-Alain