The street children of Sihanoukville

Cambodia, Sihanoukville, Victory Hill,
17-02-2010.

Though there has been plenty of violence in my life, whether it be mental or physical, it can surely not be compared to what has happened to the Cambodian populace...they of all people should know how true and sure violence will infect ordinary men - and women, even chidren - with irrationality, how the resulting hatred and digust for what were once friends and neighbors who have turned executioners or victims and after the years of madness had to learn to live together again, but extinguished all hope for a normal life again....but then I guess there is no rationality in vengeance!!!

I see that too in the eyes of Sihanoukville's countless street children, another one of my artistic projects, walking downtown every morning in a mad search for photo opportunities and portrait possibilities, always looking for the lower casts of society which should be pas de problem in a city like Sihanoukville where homeless ragged small kids, dirty and unkempt, bare footed and dirt smeared, are my favorite subjects, a tatty 500 Riel and a free caricature or portariat done with my crayons will fill the eyes of poorest and most destitute with childish happiness, normally so absent in their young lives...

I try my poor French and syplified English on them while immortalising them on cheap stationary - they only drawing paper I could get in this primitive country - trying to find out about their way of survival, dragging huge jute bags with them that they fill up with empty water bottles, dripping cans of Anchor beer and assorted rejects for deposit purposes, a few tatty notes so necessary for their daily excistence...

Big dark brown eyes that betray the frequent use of glue as I have seen in the eyes of street children in Nairobi, Mombassa, the slums of Bangkok, symplified stories betraying the lust of overs*xed Western childmolesters, police brutality and more often than not going to bed on an empty child's belly, in ruined houses or on a forsaken part of the beach, their treasured bags with garbage closely guarded...

Walking back to Victory Hill early afternoon, my Farang head full with stories of destitute and human depravity, getting hassled a zillion times "motorbike mister" "you like smoke" "maybe lady, sir "???? stopping at the Mojo Bar for a necessary first beer of the day, wondering about my own luck having been born into a more "civilised society" but still not understanding it.....