When I grow up I want to be...

My Aunt Lulie, known to most as Sister Luise Ahrens, is 70 years old, but from her no-nonsense walk, her perceptive conversation and her easy laugh, I would peg her to be in her 20's. She has never seemed to age like normal people. She doesn't get older; she gets wiser and more loving. As a kid, I bragged to my friends, "My aunt's a nun who body surfs and rides a motorcycle!" Still true. I have always loved my aunt with the unshakable adoration reserved for childhood heroes. In college I asked Lulie about Christ. Did she really think he was God? She said, "Whether you believe he's God or just an ordinary man, you can't find a better role model for how to live your life." But I found an excellent role model and she lives and walks and laughs at my jokes. Aunt Luise embodies much of who I want to be - someone who lets go of possessions and builds her life around helping others.

Last week, my boyfriend, Harry, and I visited Luise in Cambodia. Talking with her about her work and seeing her in action, I found my respect for her increase tenfold. Altruism is indeed admirable, but what's more, she combines this with a level of skill, confidence and energy that many aspire to and few attain. Enough of my awe; let me tell you about the programs. Luise scheduled us for a two-day tour of various Maryknoll programs in Phnom Penh:

Royal University of Phnom Penh - My aunt's primary work

Little Folks - Education and support for children affected by HIV

Seedlings of Hope - Rehabilitation of AIDS patients

Little Sprouts - Care for HIV positive children

Boeung Tumpun Community Development Program for Phnom Penh's most disadvantaged children

We also had a wonderful time visiting the Peace Orphanage and sharing dinner with the sisters. Lastly, if you want to donate to any of these programs after reading about them, please send a check to or donate online to Maryknoll. In the subject line of the check, or in the box provided online indicate that you'd like the money to go to the Ahrens Cambodia program.

Little Folks

In my volunteer work as a counselor I've seen firsthand how trauma in the family often affect the children very deeply. The family is often too caught up in its struggles to consider that the youngest members might be hurting. An ordeal such as AIDS in the family doesn't only affect a child's emotional well-being; the traumatic effects ripple out to the child's social life and educational development. This is why kids whose lives are affected by AIDS needs extra attention. This is why Little Folks exists.

In the windy roads of the new poor section of town, Little Folks hosts a big yard and several classrooms. The kids show up voluntarily at the center, where they can attend classes on basic school skills, art and social studies.

School in Phnom Penh is irregular, so that if you see a child in the market you never know for sure if he's playing hookie, or he just doesn't have school that morning. When the kids do go to school there is still a good deal lacking in their education. The teachers generally require payment, so the kids who don't have money don't get taught either. It's not the teachers' fault. The government does not pay them a living wage. Even teachers with multiple jobs can't afford to live without the extra money from the students. Furthermore, as the educational level in Cambodia suffered a huge blow in Khmer Rouge times, it's difficult to find teachers with the skills needed to handle a classroom and to pass on knowledge that helps prepare a child for college.

So, while an extra-curricular educational program might seem like a nice idea in the US, in Cambodia it is a life-saver. And it is especially important for children with AIDS in the family, because they are the ones most at risk to lose out in the shaky educational system.

Sister Mary led us to different sections of the yard, showing us different classes divided by age. What we saw looked like a normal classroom, except all the kids were outside. When I asked if this was like a classroom in a normal Phnom Penh school, Mary laughed. She gave me an explanation of a classroom scene that resembled my 3rd grade class during free time, the day before summer vacation, after being fed ice cream. Little Folks was where the real learning was happening.

Seedlings of Hope

In many small villages Cambodia, HIV and AIDS are still misunderstood. A person who has an infection from AIDS is ostracized. He sells his possessions to pay for medicine from untrained doctors. Once he has nothing left, but is still sick because the medicine did nothing, he journeys to Phnom Penh in hopes of better medical care. There, Seedlings of Hope takes him in.

Arturo (Bong) Ang kindly showed us around. Standing in the office where the clients come for counseling and education, Bong explained the reason his program exists and the great service it does for Cambodia.

As you can imagine, someone who has gone through the above experience has troubles that go far beyond the disease itself. Seedlings of Hope treats not just the physical disease, but the mental trauma and hopelessness that so often accompany HIV infection. As the patients recover from their illness, Seedlings of Hope counsels them, trains them and gives them guidance and confidence. While HIV was once a death sentence, now people with HIV may lead normal lives including marriage and parenthood. Seedlings of Hope teaches infected people how to lessen the risk of transmission to their partner and to their children. The program gives once helpless people the knowledge and confidence to help themselves.

The greatest tribute to the program's success is the fact that it is temporary. People in the program graduate and go on to lead healthy and productive lives. This is truly teaching people to fish.

Bong offered to take us down the road to see the hospice. The unfortunate reality of living with HIV is a high risk of infection, even with medication. In a pattern I was getting used to, I noticed the road turned from new cement into dirt.


Most of the hospice patients were watching a TV show in the front room. They smiled and seemed to be glad of our visit. I could tell from their skinny arms and faces that they were in varying stages of illness. Bong asked if we wanted to see some of the bedridden patients. In my limited experience I haven't spent much time in hospitals, so I was a little afraid. I was afraid too of what the patients would think of me in their room. I kept the camera around my neck, but didn't use it.

Two patients sat in this room. One was man who was clearly handsome at one time. Now he was frail and wearing only a diaper. He didn't smile while Bong caressed him gently and asked him questions. Bong explained that this man had been taking medication, but it seemed the virus adapted and they didn't change to a new medication in time. I didn't know what to say to a man who was so exposed, and in so much misery. I didn't say anything because I couldn't speak his language. How could I break through a barrier as large as language when experience and pain distanced us even more? What were we saying to each other with our eyes? During the ten minutes we spent in that room, the fellow never smiled. Occasionally he clapped mosquitos with a sudden smacking sound.

The other patient looked at us, but did not see. His infection had blinded him. His wife sat on a chair by the bed. Both looked sweet and heart-breakingly young. Bong help the man's hand and talked to him kindly. I don't know all that they said as they talked, but the patient began to cry. Bong said, "He's crying because he can't see anymore. He wonders what use he will be if he can't see." Worry and understanding showed on the wife's face. The patients and the wife all trusted Bong. They confided in him. Seeing them in pain wasn't easy. Seeing they were loved was my only solace.

On the ride home, I wondered aloud to my boyfriend if they felt uncomfortable with us there. "If they did not want us there they would have said so," he said, "I think people want others to witness their pain. They want their story to be told." I thought of the mothers I counsel every week here in Oakland. They share the hardest details of their life with me. He's right. We all want to someone witness our hardship.

Little Sprouts

The big news in the neighborhood was a paved street. This paving didn't actually reach the Little Sprouts office, which is just as well, because someone dug a 3-foot deep ditch in the road leading to the office. Needless to say, we traveled to the office by foot. No one in the Little Sprouts team seemed to know why the ditch was there at all, but the people working in it smiled at us in a pleasant way. At the office the children can come to use the computers, get attention and instruction from adults, and get medical check-ins. The children need medical check-ins because they are all HIV positive.

Mostly because of disease or death in the family, a large number of HIV positive Cambodian children are left with no place to turn. Little Sprouts finds these children homes with relatives, if at all possible, or takes care of the children in a family-like house setting. Fr. Kevin Conroy, a Maryknoll Associate priest, showed us around one of these houses. The children frolicked and chatted with Kevin, so energetic you'd never guess that some of those kids had arrived at the house quite sick, and all had HIV.

We met the smiling caretakers, who welcomed us with warm smiles and cold glasses of water. Kevin assured us it was safe to drink. The caretakers do there best to make the place feel like a real home, which must be a challenge considering how many children we saw running about. Medication twice a day is part of the standard day for the kids and it generally works, although there is still the problem of the virus becoming resistant to the drug, leading to an infection. For the most part, though, the kids lead a normal life. Little Sprouts also provides a high quality day center for all the kids in the program. Aside from the hoards of mosquitos, the pre-school we peeked in on looked just like the preschools I've seen in California. The center makes sure the kids are fed regularly, which is extra important for children with HIV, and keeps them engaged and learning. At snack time all the children had to have their hands washed and be sitting on a mat before they could sing the eating song that precedes the meal. We couldn't understand, but Sr. Regina said they were singing about washing your hands before you eat.


One of the little boys complained of an ear infection. Kevin picked him up and made sure he got to the medical center.

Looking back on the experience I can see how it all fits together. While these children don't have the benefit of their parents care, Little Sprouts does what it can to fill that role. From home, to school, to the doctor, these kids have many caretakers. It's the village raising the child.

Boeung Tumpun Community Development Program

In the southwest outskirts of Phnom Penh a gravelly road gives way to a path of dirt and cement chips. On either side houses stand on stilts in the dry season. In the wet season you can only reach these houses by boat. When the water drains the road appears with new muddy holes. The villagers fill the holes in with broken slabs of cement and rock, a solution that creates a navigable but painfully sharp road. The families live here temporarily. At any time they may have to move. For this reason they try to build their houses of steel, to carry easily to their next home. The poorer families have to use wood. Outside the houses are fields of a cheap vegetable - a staple of Cambodian diet, whose name I can't recall.

Sister Regina's Community Health and Education Project comes with a tarp and a deck of cardboard signs. Children come with babies on their hips. Mothers arrive with children to drop off. Children and teacher spread the tarp out on the cement yard under a house.

Class begins. The children, ages 0 to 10, are attentive. They love the attention from the teacher. They love when she calls them up to answer questions. They sing a song about dengue fever. The dengue fever mosquitos come in the day, they sing, so when you rest in the day make sure to be covered.

Regina let us watch this class and take pictures. The children in the back were distracted, catching my eyes to steal a smile. The teacher was animated though. I couldn't understand the words, but it was clear that Regina was right when she said this was a natural born teacher.

Anyone is welcome to the class, but the parents usually don't attend, and the kids don't travel more than a couple hundred meters from their homes. For this reason, the classes move from one small neighborhood to another. They find a nice patch of concrete under a house and ask the owner if they can hold weekly classes. None of the owners have never objected.
Above, the children demonstrate covering your mouth when you cough so you don't spread tuberculosis.

Even though the adults don't come, the health messages taught reach the adults as the kids share their new knowledge with their families. Watching the kids, I saw the benefit went well beyond the health education. Children in poor families hear much fewer words than their richer counterparts. The children we saw who didn't attend class wandered about the road unsupervised. I'm not sure what the kids would do all day, but it was clear that this time with the teacher was a time they cherished. The fact that the teachers come shows the kids that someone cares for them, someone takes time for them, and someone wants to hear their voices.

A few houses down another program was set up. Regina had watched the kids playing and noticed that even the older children didn't play with each other, so much as both play with the same thing. She noticed that the kids had trouble with simple puzzles, even the older kids. So they brought toys to play with - puzzles, interactive games and blocks to help the children develop normally socially and intellectually. This playroom was set up inside one of the one room houses, rented from the owners for $50 per month.


The kids were playing a game they had invented using cards with pictures of fruits and vegetables, many of which I couldn't recognize myself, but they all knew the names in Khmer. Unlike the children we'd seen at the orphanage, these kids were too engaged with each other to pay much attention to us. Plus, why would they want to play with grown-ups who can't recognize a sau- mau when they see one?

Some thoughts on the Khmer Rouge

Cambodia's history from the 15th century on seems to get worse and worse until the last two decades. I'm not a historian or a politician so I won't attempt to explain the history here. However, to understand the current state of the country, I found it helped understand the short rein of the Cambodian Communist Regime that was astonishing both in the extent of its cruelty and in its short-sightedness.

The leaders of the Communist revolution originally learned of communism through their Paris education. Saloth Sar, Ieng Sary, Khieu Samphan, Khieu Thirith and Khieu Ponnary represented a young educated class that wanted a better situation for their country. Following these friends through their adulthood, we see a slow transformation that I find difficult to explain. A wish became a goal, a driving force, and then an obsession. The Khmer Rouge leaders, then named the Kampuchea People's Revolutionary Party, fought their way into power from the Cambodian jungle. They picked up party members from the peasantry and created compounds of workers and soldiers. In part because of the folly of Cambodia's leaders - first Prince Sihanouk and then his usurper, Lon Nol - the Khmer Rouge finally took over Phnom Penh in 1975.

The Khmer Rouge immediately evacuated the city, advising the residents that the US would be bombing there and that they should leave behind all belongings. The fortunate displaced people were divided and sent to compounds in different regions of the country to join their comrades who had already become accostomed to long days of work, insufficient food, and no leisure. The less fortunate people were asked for their biographies. Most of these people were promptly executed. The first round of executions targeted officials of the previous regime and those considered too educated to be useful.

Those who survived and moved to the compounds suffered from hunger, over-exertion, but the physical hardship was not the worst. The Khmer Rouge separated children from adults, sent family members to different regions, and casually executed people who showed too much attachment to their family. The Khmer Rouge was insecure in its power, and ruled by terror. One group after another became the scapegoat for the failure of the nation to move forward according to plan. The real reason for the failure is that the people with the education to plan irrigation, dams, agriculture, etc. had all been murdered. Furthermore, the citizens were not working to their full potential because of miserable conditions. Fear of harsh punishment brought about deception, which in turn bred more deception.

In Phnom Penh, a secondary school was converted into the infamous S-21 prison, called Tuol Sleng. Prisoners at Tuol Sleng were chained to their beds and questioned at regular intervals. The questioning involved various torture methods. Once the victim had written in his or her own hand a full confession of completely fictional crimes, he or she was taken to a field and bludgeoned or shot to death. The few survivors give horrendous accounts of what happened there. The prison has been converted to a museum, which I visited while in Phnom Penh. Just hearing the stories is dehumanizing. Hearing about all the crimes and victims, I found that I feel not just sympathy for the victims, but also guilt for the perpetrators. Something of the evil seemed to seep into me and make me feel melancholy and cruel. It took several hours for my bleak mood to wear off. This photo was the only I took of Tuol Sleng. It is so strange to think such a bright sunny place could be the site of so much misery.

I can't blame the poverty and lack of education in today's Cambodia on only the Khmer Rouge. However, that particular history - one of torture, against family, education, and love between people - gives a unique perspective in understanding Cambodia's culture. I visited Tuol Sleng the day the trial of Duch, the prison's head, began. I never heard a Cambodian mention this while I was there.

The gains the country has made since the Khmer Rouge lost power to Vietnam in 1979 are impressive, but there is still much, much more to be done.

Dinner with the Sisters

Possibly the best night of the trip was when my Aunt Lulie and Sister Regina invited us to share a meal at their charming Phnom Penh home. As Harry put it, "I never knew a dinner with nuns could be so much fun."

I could see how you can live your whole life without marrying when you have a family of sisters like this. Relaxing on the breezy terrace, each of them shared what had gone on during the day in their respective projects. Sister Mary shared her frustrations at the impenetrable database that had been created for her Little Folks program for children affected by HIV. Sister Len talked about an intense session training active listening that brought up painful stories from the participants. There is a lot of pain in this country's history.

Lulie had prepared a tasty cabbage salad, ratatouille and cake, quite a change from our new Cambodian diet of amok, curry and fresh fruit shakes. Over the meal we talked seriously about world issues, and fell inevitably into laughter. When we discussed family planning and gay marriage and I found these Catholic women supported both I had to ask, "What do you think about what the pope says?" Neither Harry and I expected the response: a collective snort of laughter. Finally, Sister Len said, "With a grain of salt!" As they explained, out here in Cambodia, the pope doesn't much notice what's happening and they prefer it that way.

Sister Helene and Sister Regina let us laugh at their expense with their city slickers tale. Coming from New York and Chicago, they were astonished to see the livestock that creeps, prances and hops through Cambodia's roads. They were surprised to find cows come up higher than your hips. After all, you can't see how big they are in those picture books. Crates of chicks and bulls pulling ploughs seemed right out of a storybook. The greatest shock came from the dairy cows. Regina and Helene couldn't understand why the visiting dairy farmers were so preoccupied with caring for calves. You don't need calves, right, just adult cows? Both believed up until that day, just two years ago, that cows graciously produced milk expressly for humans. What a shock to find they were taking the milk from a needy calf! They had a good laugh about their innocence.

When the night guard arrived at 8, Lulie had to shoe us out for bedtime. As I was graciously kicked out of their happy home, I noticed I'd never felt so welcome. Thank you, to all of the sisters who made us feel at home.

Sr. Luise at the Royal University of Phnom Penh

Our tour began when we arrived by tuk-tuk at the Royal University of Phnom Penh (RUPP). The place was a university before 1975, when the Khmer Rouge devastated the educational system, relocating everyone to provinces and killing almost all of the teachers and students. When the university started back up in 1979, there were 3 professors and 36 students. Having suffered through years of war and a recent regime of terror and anti-bourgeoisie, this was worse than starting over from scratch. The Cambodians were building on a shaky foundation and a haunting past. Teachers taught what they knew, even if that meant teaching from a high-school education. Because the US had imposed an embargo against Cambodia that lasted until 1992, most of the aid to Cambodia came from the Soviet block. Nevertheless, the university made progress, a testament to the resiliency of the university staff and their faith in the value of education.

When the small Maryknoll team arrived in 1991, the university had one classroom serving as a library, which was locked. Knowing the trauma the country had suffered so recently, I was impressed to see how the university leaders, faculty, students, and visitors like Sr. Luise had transformed this skeleton of a school into a serious place of study.

"It looks like it's a serious university," I said, as Aunt Luise whipped us through the bustling campus.
"I know, isn't that funny!" she quipped, "The website looks like a real university website too! People e-mail me wanting to study here. I have to e-mail back and say, 'you don't want to study here!'" She chuckled, but she's modest. While the school has a long way to go, everywhere were signs of the work she and the other leaders put into it. There was an English department whose staff got its masters abroad. Funding from the World Bank, the University administration, the Ministry of Education, RUPP filled a real library full of books in French, English and Khmer, along with a fleet of used computers. In crevices were biological tables and journals that no one in the university knew how to use...yet.

Uniform students swarmed the library entrance, where they had to check bags so they couldn't steal the books. The door woman is illiterate, but keeps count of the library's patrons by having the boys put a marble in one basket and the girls put a marble in the other upon entry.

"You see, the students use the books. They love the books. The professors don't use the books, but this will change as the students become professors," she explained. But the books weren't the only draw to the library. The internet had a parental blocker, but the students found sites that leaked through. How did she know? "We find pornographic sites bookmarked at the end of the day," Luise said.
"They bookmark them?" I said.
"I know, aren't they stupid? They're kids!"

On the second floor of the library we saw the offices, with stacks of books yet to be shelved. Asia Foundation--Books for Asia Program has a deal with the customs agents that allows them to bring in boxes of books untaxed. Without this, the library would never be possible because the books would be taxed thousands of dollars at the border, or simply stolen. The library workers are paid so little that Luise has to supplement the salary so they can afford to stay a full day. Otherwise the library would only be open half the day. In fact, this same arrangement works for the entire administrative staff and professors. Teachers are not paid a living wage in Cambodia.

I was proud to be introduced as Luise's niece. Every person we met glowed with their respect for her, which she had gained even though she wasn't the person in power, she was a newcomer, and a woman. She knew what to do, and she brought an attitude that no one could stop, or that no one wanted to stop. I saw that she had gained their full trust and I could see why. She has a clear vision of what needs money and attention - books, world-class education abroad for future professors - and what can wait: - restoring the campus pool. She understands that even what looks hopeless now can change direction in just a generation or two, and she has the decisive attitude needed to push it forward. Above all, she has tremendous respect for the people who work their, their struggle to move forward in the wake of hardship.

"Can you imagine what it must have been like for them. Imagine if you and I were the only two people left in the family," said Luise. And I had tried to imagine, but it's odd how you cannot. You can read the horrors, see the pictures, look into the eyes of a person who has lived through torture, through the death of his or her entire family, and yet you still won't understand. Just me and Luise left out of our lively family of over 70 people? Impossible. To see these professors teaching as they can, pushing for what resources they can grab for their students, is to see at once the damage that so many external and internal forces have inflicted, and to see the power of hope and creating a better future.

I asked why Luise was no longer teaching. She explained that consistent attendance was a problem in the university. Because she had many responsibilities, she could not always make it to class. Even though the students still would have benefited from her instruction, she judged that this was not worth setting a bad example of poor attendance, so she devoted herself more to administrative and advisory role.

On our way back to the offices we popped into the back of a computer class. A student hid a photo on his computer of a half-naked woman a second too late. Don't let a nun catch you at that. The professor strolled over to meet us. "This one was looking at naked ladies," Luise reported. I had a feeling the professor would give much less retribution than Luise would have.

At coffee time we met the university's resident ex-pat professors. A psychologist, a chemist, and a handful of other PhD's had come from their respective countries to teach here. Ken, the chemist and biologist, explained how Khmer children were taught never to ask why. The first talk he gave in his class was on learning ask why. "Your experiments won't work sometimes. You have to ask why and try to figure it out." He said they learn that lesson quick. These are smart kids. They test into the university through one of the few honest testing systems, and come from all over Cambodia.

The latest high-tech innovation in the school was a basic database that had been set up by an outside organization so that the university's only IT worker could alter the structure. He showed us how they could now track students' grades and demographics in the database. This was a great time-saver over recent times when each grade was logged by hand in a notebook, and certainly leaps ahead of the library's marble system. My boyfriend reflected a few days after that at that moment he may have been the most advanced programmer in the entire country. It was strange to realize this was almost certainly true. RUPP hosts Cambodia's most educated and we'd met the best IT staff of the school. I say this by no means to devalue the professors at RUPP who have been pulling themselves up by their bootstraps. I'm simply highlighting that anyone educated here could put his/her skills to excellent use bringing Cambodia up to speed. If you ever wonder if you can make a difference in the world, go to Cambodia and you'll see you can.