A Farewell to Banteay Prieb

Banteay Prieb was my home for 10 years following my first trip to Cambodia. Initially, I was illiterate and felt like I was deaf. Without someone’s help, I couldn’t go anywhere. I struggled with accepting help from others and felt uncomfortable in those situations. Living without assistance was impossible, and it took time to come to terms with that reality. Though I couldn’t speak a word, I had to work alongside others. My strongest form of communication was laughter—if I understood something, I laughed; if I didn’t, I laughed too. It was the only way I could express myself. At times, I felt foolish and frustrated, but as my expressions simplified, so did my life, and gradually, my heart began to find simplicity as well.

In December 2009, what was meant to be a one-month trip extended to three months, and I found myself attending the graduation ceremony at Banteay Prieb. By then, I already knew I would return. I saw something in the people there—something so powerful that I couldn’t ignore it. While my friends believed I was at Banteay Prieb to help people with disabilities in Cambodia, my true desire was not to help but to live with them. The people of Banteay Prieb were poor, disabled, and marginalized by society. What they learned at Banteay Prieb was not merely a skill to make a living, but how to “live a normal daily life together.” This reminded me of the universal values and diversity of life that I had long forgotten.

Banteay Prieb is more than just a school that teaches vocational skills; it is a home that offers comfort and solace to the wounded, becoming a place where the underprivileged find friends and family. The concept of “togetherness” has a healing power. Living together involves understanding and accepting others, which in turn fosters the strength to acknowledge, forgive, and heal oneself. Through my time there, I learned that the fundamental question of how to live should not be about blaming my surroundings but rather about looking inward. The people of Banteay Prieb taught me, in their own way, how to treat life with humanity, and this deeply influenced my faith.

Many people have passed through Banteay Prieb. Some, like me, came and stayed for a while, others left in search of something, and still others prepared to share with the poor. Yet we were all strangers. Banteay Prieb was a healthy community that welcomed and accepted strangers, striving to solve problems together. It wasn’t about perfection, but about the possibility created by being together. This strength wasn’t the result of any one person, but rather the affection of many who had come through Banteay Prieb. The community shared its strength with all who passed through.

Finding comfort and being consoled by those who couldn’t live ordinary lives wasn’t about comparative advantage; rather, it was a revelation of how wonderful everyday life is, seen through their attitudes. I hope that the “power of the community” shown by Banteay Prieb continues to be a beacon of hope for all of us today.