Women's Ministry Focus

This morning Ginny Hanson came to speak to us about her life and work here in Phnom Penh. She and her husband Eric, run In His Steps International, an organisation that oversees various community projects and interventions in Cambodia. Ginny came to share with us about one of these, Sak Saum. Quoting from the website, Sak Saum is dedicated to the rescue, restoration, transformation and rehabilitation of vulnerable and exploited people by creating a "nurturing, empowering program which facilitates vocational training in sewing, excellent products, and community development."

Ginny's compassion, dedication and power came through clearly as she shared from her heart about her work, and later, when we went to visit the showroom of Sak Saum, we got to see the quality of the results for ourselves. Sak Saum products are beautifully made, and along with the pleasure of owning a lovely item, you get to participate in the joy of restoring dignity to a person. So it was with a particular sense of purpose that I bought myself a handbag. Inside is written 'For Freedom'. Yes, Absolutely. More please Lord!

We went to one of Daughters of Cambodia's 'Sugar 'n Spice' cafe's for lunch. This was a very special treat for me, as I have had a particular love for the work of Daughters ever since I first heard of it. This organisation offers women working in the sex industry a viable alternative, empowering them to set themselves free. Choice is power. Never turning anyone away, Daughters of Cambodia offers training in seven different retail and service businesses.

'Sugar 'n Spice' is one of these businesses. And the salad I had for lunch was one of the nicest - and the most unusual - I have ever eaten: green mango, carrot and cucumber salad with a coconut dressing. I liked the environment and the decor. And I loved being there.

Upstairs in the same building is the Phnom Penh House of Prayer.

In the afternoon we went to one of the slums. This visit left me hoping that I will never again allow words of complaint about my home out of my mouth. Truth is that I probably will, back there in my comfortable first world. But maybe I will do so a little less often, a little less quickly...

I have complained about the inconvenience of having only one bathroom; these people have no bathroom.

I have complained that our house is very noisy, with so many people in it; these people live, a whole family, in one ramshackle room.
I have complained that there are too many chores to do - but I have running water, cold and hot; electricity; a washing machine, windows in my walls.
I have complained that it is hard work, caring for a family. These women show me what hard work really looks like. And yet they have dignity, and deserve respect for the grace with which they cope in very difficult circumstances.


The village we went to is in an area that may flood during the rainy season. So many of the houses are built on stilts, and there is a narrow wooden passageway along the edge so that you can get from one house (room) to another. You walk along this passageway, hoping that it will not collapse, and look down... below is a pile of refuse. Great breeding ground for vermin and disease, especially with water added.

At the end of this walk way is a small room that is rented by XP. It is used for teaching, children's activities and minstry to women. Today, Tracey, Suzanna and I met with some ladies and painted their nails for them. With a lot of help from Rose, our translator, we were able to have some sort of communication with a mother, her daughter and her young grandchild. Three generations, and they looked so alike. Tracey and I had both left our glasses behind, as we had not realised that we would be painting nails! It was rather funny. Rose explained the problem to the grandmother, but she wanted her nails painted anyway. I did my best, with quite a bit of instruction from her. I don't think she was very satisfied with the result, because later she cleaned the nail polish off - but she wore it for a while first, I think so as not to offend me!


The daughter had a very swollen eye. We asked if we could pray for it, and she agreed. We prayed and she said it felt better. We prayed again, and this time she was able to open her eye and she said it felt much better.

It was such a shocking thing, to see how these people, many many people, were living. I feel completely wordless when I try to describe it. Terms like squalor, filth, poor, broken, smelly, dirty just fail to capture what it is really like. I left there with a heavy heart, feeling more than a little overwhelmed. The problems are so huge! I found myself wondering what makes any of us think we can make any sort of difference at all? I left in a rather sombre frame of mind...

We went to a Mexican restaurant for supper, where I had the most delicious Nachos I have ever had. Served with spicy bits of chicken, I savoured every delectable mouthful!

And I had a lovely encounter with this beautiful girl. In the afternoon I had had a bit of free time, and I decided to make a necklace for someone. Thinking about the testimony of Sak Saum's National Director, Theavy Kang, in which she shared how God changed her sorrow into joy, I used a dark bead to symbolise the sad and difficult experiences of life. A grey bead to show the joy coming. And a red bead to show the blood of Jesus, because His salvation turns even the bad things to good for those who love Him. As Bill Johnson says: 'The trial becomes the testimony.' I knew this to be true from my own life experience, and I had a sense that I should share this thought with someone - I asked God to show me who. When our meal arrived at the restaurant, I was getting my camera out of the bag to take a photo, and the necklace fell on the floor. Our waitress picked it up, and as she did so, she joked and said: 'Is this for me?' Immediately I said: 'Yes, it is for you!'. She was so shocked and said she was only joking, but I explained that I had made it and was waiting for God to show me who it was for, and then I explained the meaning of the beads. And interestingly, the colours of the beads matched the colours of the dress she was wearing perfectly. She was delighted, and wore them straight away...

We finished off our day at a Karioke bar. There are many Karioke bars in the cities of Cambodia. Here you can sing with a pretty girl, in English or in Khmer for as long as you like. And other, less innocent things - for a price. The girls in these bars are always young, impossibly young to be involved in so sordid a line of work. I think of my own daughters, and I want to cry. Every time. Their stories are heart-breakingly similar - poverty in the family; hungry siblings; a father or mother with health issues. None are proud of what they do. In many cases, parents, far away, don't know exactly what work their daughters are doing (but they want the money the daughters send home, and keep the pressure on to provide it). Few would choose to stay if there were other options. Trapped in the need to make money, somehow, in an environment where jobs are scarce and salaries impossibly low, they feel bereft of choice. Change this, and maybe there will be less encounters with girls robbed of the joy and hope and dreams of adolescence and emerging adulthood.

For the first time in a Karioke bar, we laughed and had fun. Previously, my experience of Karioke bars has been of sitting with girls who cry as they tell their story.

When you arrive at a Karioke bar, you are escorted to a nicely decorated room with comfortable seating. Drinks and food are offered (we have learned not to accept, as it is outrageously expensive!) And you are given a song-list, from which you can choose Khmer or English songs. The sound equipment at this bar was really good. While we were waiting for the girls to come, Sophi and Sambo sang a song in Khmer. It was beautiful. Khmer songs are very plaintive, and often have sad themes to do with love and loss.

Suzanna and I attempted to sing 'Moon River'. Our problem was that we had trouble keeping up with the words, which had us exploding in laughter. Not a very harmonious sound at all. When the two girls arrived, they were extremely shy, so we carried on singing, and after a while they joined in. Then Sambo chose a lively song and we all got up and danced around wildly, the girls included. It was good fun and all of us laughed a lot. After this it was easier to talk with the girls. One girl was actually from Poip
et. She had come to Phnom Penh to study, and she had had a part-time job. But when she lost the job, she could find no other work other than the Karioke bar if she wanted to continue studying. We asked her if her parents knew what work she was doing, and she shook her head vehemently. She said they would be so ashamed if they knew.

So there you have it. A young girl with ambition and dreams, like any young girl back home in England. She wants a better life and knows that getting a good education will help. But education is expensive. So she needs a job. So here she is, in the flowering of her life, selling her body to make the money she needs in the hope of a chance for something better. She runs quite a gauntlet of risks - STD's, AIDS, violence, trauma, and financial exploitation - in her hope of a better life. Will she make it? Or will she end up like so many others, lying in the broken wreckage of her dreams?

Before we left we prayed for protection for both girls - and also for the young women, prostitutes in training, who served our drinks. I left feeling more than a little helpless. And more than a bit angry too. It was a tough day emotionally, and I was glad to have seen the work of Sak Saum and Daughters of Cambodia - it gave me hope.

Back in my room, I ran myself a hot bath and soaking in bubbles I reflected on the story of the loaves and the fish, when Jesus fed so many with so little. I really needed reminding of that. I needed reminding of the faith of a small boy, who gave his lunch to Jesus, KNOWING that it could not possibly be enough. God was very gracious in His ministry to me as I gave Him all my helpless and angry feelings, and my oh so little offerings.

I thought of Heidi Baker, and her question: 'What will you do with your little lunch?' Alongside her question comes her challenge to 'Stop for the one'. And I see that there really really is no other option. I can turn a blind eye, but now it is too late for blind eyes. I am responsible for what I know. There is no crossing to the other side of the road. The only option is to get involved. Empty handed as I am, trusting that God can use my love, my heart, my compassion. Multiplying and enlarging it so that after all, it does make a difference.

Like Sak Saum...


Sak Saum - Story Company Partner [Cambodia] from Story Company on Vimeo.