Reached Kampong Cham early this afternoon and had a quick lunch and discussed what we could do to help the AIDS patients. This region has the highest rate of AIDS of any in Cambodia—there are 8,000 known cases and among them many children. They are cared for in two places—if care is the word for it. Those in the early stages and the AIDS orphans stay at a Buddhist temple. Those in the late stages are sent to a nearby hospital. Of course, these places only treat a fraction of people with AIDS. Most people come and hear their death sentence diagnosis. Some get medicine, but most just go home to suffer and die. Prostitutes continue to work for food and thus spread the disease further.

We called the doctor to see what the needs were, and he asked that the patients have something to eat. So we bought a supply of food and took it to them. The “hospital” is more of a place to go and die. Cattle graze on the grounds, and dogs wander freely through the wards. Families of the patients stay with them to cook and care for them. It broke my heart to see a mother with AIDS point out her daughter—a beautiful young girl—perhaps like her mom was once. Now the mother is just a skeleton. When I put my arm around her before we prayed, I felt only bones beneath sweat-stained clothes that clung to her. What can I say as I look into these pitiful, hopeless faces as they slip into the grave? What could I say? So I prayed.

Joseph and Sarah pour their lives into the lives of these kids, and the plants are taking root. Some of the kids live in the church house, but kids from all over the neighborhood are welcome—not just on Sunday but also after school. They are just kids who like most kids like to laugh, sing, play games, and eat sweets; but these kids also have enormous problems. Many of them get only two meals a day at home. Some have AIDS. One girl has been sent by her mother to sell herself in the red-light district.

The red-light houses are all around the church. I drove around last night to see them for this city, as in much of Cambodia, is notorious for child prostitutes and trafficking in young girls. Along dark, muddy roads, red fluorescent lights were strung up in front of shabby bars where girls (some of them no more than children) sit waiting and calling out for customers. To supplement their meager income, some are sent by their parents or sold to an agent to be the prey of pedophiles. Here life is cheaper than a meal.