A Cambodian Boy

At the confluence of the Tonle Sap and the Mekong River in Phnom Penh is a city park where old men fish for dinner, women sell candy and water, and young boys skip school and dream of far off places.

A new hotel sits on a triangle of land where the two rivers converge and the view from its windows are of an exotic foreign capital with its catalogued tales of intrigue and adventure. Especially at night, the city has the beaded sweat under white linen feel of a Graham Greene novel.

At closer range life here is not so glamorous. It is a daily struggle. A never-ending hustle to survive. The candy corn dreams of a Huckleberry school boy are a luxury for most so no one will interrupt this boy’s nap under the hot mid-morning sun. Eventually the heat will wake him up and a handful of sugar will put a smile on his face. Maybe he will wander barefoot back to school. Maybe he’ll find some shade.

For now sleep pushes the struggle out of mind. Small boats and large ships move back and forth behind him as the swirling waters push with great energy toward the South China Sea. The river is long and wise and has witnessed this scene before.