A Boy's Story

A Boy’s Part Story

17 years ago on the 27th of March in the year 2000 a little boy was born in a Cambodian hospital. He was one of thousands born that year but unlike those other babies born on that day, Cambodia would not always be the country he called home. This is his story… my story.
I am Channa.
In Cambodia there is no welfare system. Life is hard and people must work to put food on the table for their families and have the things that help you to survive from day to day.
After I was born my Mother cared for me until I was one. Then she could only spend time with me during the night. My Father took care of me during the day while she went out to work. He would spend the day hunting small animals in the jungle and fishing at the river with my two brothers and myself.
When I could walk work life began for me. Every morning at 5am my brothers would wake me up and we would leave the house by ourselves to search for rubbish. Thoughtlessly discarded cans and bottles became treasure to us, treasure that could be sold for money and needed food to fill our empty belly’s.
When life is hard and days are long and there is little money to buy the things to survive, it is not that unusual for parents to fight. This was when my life road became bumpy. Father often spent what little money my mother had earned drinking with his friends. One day he came home cranky. He had done this many times before but this time was different. My parents argued badly that day. Their argument broke our family apart. My father, drunk and angry, hit my mother. He hit her a lot. I remember trying to stop his heavy, hard fists beating her, but when you are small and people are angry, you are like a tiny mosquito, annoying and helpless and easily struck. My father left us that day and Mother took us to her friend’s house to be safe.
Without Dad to care for us during the day while my mum worked, my brothers and I had to go live with our grandma and step grandpa. They lived a long way from where my mother was working so she did not live with us during those years. Every day during those 3 years my brothers and I would have to get up at 4am to collect the water for the little farm that Grandma and Step-Grandpa kept. It was a long walk for us to collect the water, it was heavy to carry when you are so young and if we didn’t get up on time or collect enough water my Step-Grandpa would beat us with a stick. We went to live with my Uncle who was much kinder to my brothers and I. My mother came for us a year later and we went back to live with her and my step-father. My little sister was born during that time. School wasn’t important and I didn’t go very much. I didn’t learn to read or write. My step-father left after a year. This made me happy because he would beat me always, especially when I would take food from the cupboard when I was hungry.
When I was 10 an Australian man came to Cambodia. He met my mother and they fell in love. At 13 I moved to Australia and this is when my life became amazing. My mother has gone back to Cambodia but I stay here with my Australian Father. He is kind and he takes care of me. I go to school. I can read. I can write and speak in English. I have dreams for my future here in Australia. This is my story, a story of a boy who will grow to be a man in a country that found room for him to keep grow up safely in.

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