On Tuesdays and Thursdays, I have an early morning Mass for the Missionaries of Charity (Mother Teresa’s congregation) at their orphanage in Phnom Penh. About 8 to 10 toddlers also come, and they are a delight. They don’t know any English but they have memorized all the English Mass responses and parrot them back with gusto — and great volume.
The sisters’ Home of Love cares for infants and toddlers up to school age, and I have so enjoyed interacting with them. But several weeks ago, the superior told me that a group of about 15 of the children would be leaving, transferring to a government orphanage so they could begin primary school.
It was somewhat devastating to see them go. I recognize the necessity of the transition, but I couldn’t help feeling anxious and fearful about it. The sisters and their Khmer staff treat the children so well. There is proper and enough food, good hygiene and medical care, a committed staff, individual attention, and most of all an embracing love.
My fear was that at the government orphanage conditions might be much less supportive and life-giving. At the government institutions, the staff may not be so well-trained and educated, may not be so committed, may just see the children as problems to manage. There may be a lack of funding, insufficient food, a lesser standard of medical care.
As I said goodbye to the children and reflected on their uncertain future, I wondered if their early years with the sisters might be the high point of their lives.
I have had similar wonderings at our Deaf Development Programme. We work with deaf teenagers and youth age 16 and above. They have never been to school. When they come to us they have NO language. They have never spoken to a human being, not even their parents or brothers and sisters because they and their families didn’t know sign language.
When they come to DDP, we first teach Cambodian Sign Language. We then use sign language to teach them two years of simple reading and writing, basic math and a lot of life skills.
But most importantly, we help them become human beings. For the first time, with their new sign language, they are able to communicate, to have friends, to talk about their joys and sorrows, their hopes and dreams, their vision for the future.
We offer an additional year of job training, and then most of the youth return to their rural homes in the provinces. And that is what distresses me.
Before they came, they could not talk to their families, could not communicate in the village. But at DDP they were accepted, their gifts and talents were recognized, and they were able to share life with others — what most of us take for granted.
After three years of experiencing a fuller human life, they return to the villages where, again, they are not able to communicate because no one else knows sign language. In one sense, they are worse off than before because before coming to DDP they didn’t really understand what they were missing.
As I see them leave, I wonder if their three years with us were the high point of their lives.
Because of the international funding situation, I also wonder if our Caritas Deaf Development Programme has reached — and passed — the high point of our organizational life.
The Maryknoll priests group has ended their work in Cambodia and also ended their funding of our deaf program. Then Caritas Australia changed direction and stopped funding programs like ours. In the space of 18 months, we lost 60% of our funding — $400,000 — and had to close two centers and terminate 59 staff.
What makes it worse is that two months ago, USAID in Cambodia interviewed and screened us as potential funding recipients. We did well and were recommended for a possible $250,000. Then the Trump administration effectively shut down USAID.
Now we search for more funding and pray that DDP can be a high point in the lives of more Cambodian deaf youth in the future.
Father Charles Dittmeier is a priest of the Archdiocese of Louisville who serves the deaf community and English-speaking Catholics in Cambodia.
