The Rent Collector

by Camron Wright

The most difficult battles in life are those we fight within.

In Cambodia, it’s unfortunately common for husbands both to drink and to beat their wives. Other families are abandoned, left to fend for themselves. Instead, my husband runs through the city for the better part of the night to make sure that his wife and son are safe.

Pay attention to my final lesson, Sang Ly. I could have saved the life of Sopeap Sin, my housekeeper, but I stayed silent. I have been paying the price ever since. Be careful in your choices. Consequences, good or bad, will always follow. I offer my final good-bye, Sang Ly. From your teacher, Sopeap Sin

I scream in the dark at my weakness, with disdain not heard. I seethe at my failure in the daylight, hidden by an impenetrable wall never seen. I shed tears of shame in quiet moments that race to my lips, and only I taste. I breathe in the smoke of despair, sickened by my selfish, filthy smell. I plead heavenward, begging for solace, send a miracle to heal my fallen heart. No heavenly hand carries my pain. No light disperses my sorrow. No voice offers answers. Only a peasant girl interrupts and asks that I teach her how to read. The ancestors have a very funny sense of humor.

out during the day—when she was awake

greeting us because we are here too late?

“That is your lesson,” I tell her, “and there is no other that is more important.”

Rain in the dump makes water filthy. Rain in the garden cleanses.

away from her home rebuilt from ashes.

sit back in the rain, letting it also cleanse and wash another, for perhaps an hour, holding Sopeap’s hand and pondering the wonder and sacredness of the day.

Of all the stories I have read about heroes, and all that I could ever read, of one thing I’m now certain—he is mine.

all good stories—stories that touch your soul, stories that change your nature, stories that cause you to become a better person from their telling—these stories always contain truth.

I will clothe myself in garbage as a disguise, so that I might have the chance to teach the people and restore their hope. For there is no greater gift I can offer than that of hope.’

By now she was old, and she realized there wasn’t time to teach all the people living at Stung Meanchey before she would be called back home. But being the wise teacher that she was, she wrote down her most important lessons in the form of simple stories that the people could understand, and she called on others to both write and tell stories, stories filled with truth—though sometimes hidden—to offer direction to anyone with patience and a heart ready to listen.

“To this day, if we look carefully around Stung Meanchey, if we search for stories that teach truth and goodness, stories with lessons that can soften and change our hearts—we will discover hope.”

The moments are infrequent in a hectic life that is still a constant storm of struggle, and yet when they occur, these moments are anchors. They keep me facing in the right direction. I still awake every morning to a dump that is smoky, but through the smoke, I’ve seen some of the most amazing sunsets.