and have fresh tattoos, yet they look more like children in gang costumes. I high-five many of them, unable to imagine their hands committing the crimes that earned them years in this seedy jail cell. “My name is Ronnie,” one slender boy who looks about 15 says to me. “Nice to meet you,” I say. “Is there anything you’d like to learn today?” “Can you teach me to worship?” he asks. “I want to praise Jesus more.” His question shocks me. Is he serious? I wonder. But as he stares at me, I sense genuine longing in his eyes—the look of someone desperate to know God more, to feel His presence. “I would love to,” I say, motioning to the small guitar leaning up against his bed. He picks it up and stands across from me. “Thank you. Can you teach me ‘On the Wings of Eagles’?” he asks. “Sure,” I say, amazed that his faith survives in this darkness. Day 55: Sihanoukville, Cambodia As I wait in line for coffee in a small shop on the beach, I talk with an aged Australian man. While he sips beer and receives a massage from a thin Khmer girl, he shares things that make me cringe. “This place is like heaven,” he says. “You can get whatever you want.” “Oh yeah?” I ask him. “So what brought you here?” “A business opportunity,” he says. “I own a guest house. It’s the only one right in the street. You should come by.” “No, that’s alright. I’m staying with my friends at a motel.” Although I get the hint about what kind of place this man is running, I can’t help but ask more. “How’s business?” I ask, fearing how he will answer. “Oh, it’s great, mate. Hundreds of girls wait across the street. Guys pick out their dates, rent a full-priced room for an hour, then leave. I make hundreds a night. Really, you should come by.” Feeling nauseated, I shake my head and muster, “No, that’s quite alright.” But he continues: “Oh, come on, man. The girls are cheap. And young … really young.” At this point I can’t take anymore. Images of older men making deals with teenage girls flash through my mind. I look at him wideeyed and say, “That really depresses me.” He just smiles and laughs, so I walk away. After the conversation, I return and sit with my team as they eat lunch next to the beach. My teammate Shannon asks, “How was the
46 / RELEVANT_MAY/JUNE 11
PACKING LIST
Going on your own worldwide adventure? Here’s what you need to pack: Internalframe backpack (60-90 liters) Because it’s your closet Lightweight sleeping bag You’d be surprised how small these get Digital camera Kind of a nobrainer
Laptop/ Netbook Blog your trip or keep a daily journal Water bottle Especially useful in countries with no drinkable water Running shoes A good pair of shoes makes sure you can trek all day
coffee break?” I can’t even respond. The chubby Australian’s face is all I can see, and the more I think about him, the more I want to hurt him. I want to go back and throw his beer in his face, telling him he is the reason the world has problems. I want to knock over his chair and spit on him. I want to make him feel pain. Yet as I pray about our conversation, I know this man, a brothel owner, is just as enslaved as many of the girls wrapped up in prostitution. To him, heaven is making quick money, buying cheap beer and having unmitigated sex with girls who don’t love him. He has never tasted what true life is, and that’s nothing short of a tragedy. This is not to say he doesn’t carry responsibility for his actions, but it’s a reminder to me he is just as much in need of God’s love as the girls he profits off of. Cambodia is a vibrant nation with lots of life, and yet it’s plagued by one of the most destructive markets—the sex industry. I can’t help but recognize the paradox—that so many men here are satisfied playing in the mud when heaven is on the horizon. As I sit on the beach thinking through all this, I feel farther from home than I ever have before. Day 103: Phuket, Thailand Tonight we visit Bangla Road, one of Thailand’s capitals for sex tourism. Our goal: talk to prostitutes working in bars and invite them to lunch at SHE, an organization that provides women who want to leave the sex industry with work, shelter and group support. Walking down this street for five minutes is enough to change the way I see the world forever. Old Westerners purchase young Thai girls for $15; tourists get plastered on cheap alcohol, and transsexuals run through the streets, flashing men and dancing on bar tables for attention. “This street is the pit of hell,” Mark, the director of SHE, tells us. We arrive at about 9 p.m., before things get really crazy. I walk past a few bars when I notice my teammates, Lacey and Carmen, talking to a young Thai girl under a neon sign that reads “Bad