A curmudgeonly acquaintance from Malaysia recently said to me, “I still can’t figure out why you choose to live in a place you apparently hate so much.”
Unless one has spent any time in Cambodia and has interacted with Cambodian people the way I do each day, I expect there really is no way of easily understanding the continual appeal of my adopted home.
It has long been clear to me that I thrive off of chaos. I am the most calm when very little around distracts me from life’s inequities and injustices. It forces me to only focus my energies upon that which I have true control.
Identifying a problem as such is merely the first essential step in doing something about a situation, and it is not a resignation to powerlessness.
So while I may engage in purposeful (and sometimes recreational) bitching as a means of processing the obvious from which most everyone in my adoptive country turns a ludicrous blind eye away, I never intend to suggest I have anything less than the deepest love and sympathy for the people of this country, most of whom can be truly seen as being kept purposefully ignorant of the crimes perpetrated against them.