A Profound Encounter

Today we visited the Angkorian temple of Angkor Thom, a large complex of several unique temples north of Angkor Wat, the "mother of all temples." Toward the end of our time here, we visited the Terrace of the Leper King, a rather uninteresting-looking platform with a headless statue on the top. On the south side, these is a hidden terrace about 4 feet wide that winds through four tiers of well-preserved stone carvings.

As we wound our way along the terrace, we came to a man sitting on the ground missing both feet and much of one leg, a victim of landmines. He was begging for money, and I turned my head away and looked down, feeling extremely uncomfortable. Not wanting to look and see and acknowledge.

Around another bend, we found another man with virtually no legs at all; and we hurried past, wanting to ignore his humanity and pain. After a few feet, I said to Orion, "We have to figure out how we want to handle and respond to these people injured by landmines."

After a few moments of discussion, we reversed our direction and gave each man some money, for which they were both heart-touchingly grateful, responding with huge warm smiles and bowing. We felt so much joy and love connecting with these courageous, heart-centered men.

One of the men, the man with short stumps for legs, began to talk with us in clear English, telling us about the landmine he stepped on in 1987 ago when he was 24 and was fighting against the Khmer Rouge. His name is Ontai. Every day he rides his hand-pedaled, 3-wheeled bike 1.5 kilometers to come to this place to beg. He lifted his sleeve and showed us his powerful muscles. He was so loving and so appreciate of our financial support and our company. We bid him a warm farewell.

Before leaving this temple complex, we visited Ontai again, taking him another dollar and the best of the three apples we had with us. He smiled warmly when we returned and took the apple, asking the name of this fruit in English. We told him, "Apple", and he repeated it after us.

We visited a few more minutes and took photos of each of us with him. We then bid him a final good-by as we wished each other happy lives.

As we walked away, I glanced back briefly and saw him cupping the apple in both of his hands and looking down at it intently. I heard him say quietly, "Apple," as we walked away.

As we left the hidden terrace and walked back out into the bright light and warmth of the day, my eyes filled with tears.