The Jogger

The other day on my way home from work, a man caught my eye.  There were several reasons he stood out:
1. He was jogging.  That's not a particularly popular pastime here.  If you want exercise (which not everyone does), you could play badminton in front of your house or do aerobics in the park.  But no, he was jogging, and not halfheartedly either.
2. It was around 5 PM, while it was still hot.  It takes a special person to exercise while the sun is up, especially during April, the hottest month.  My rule is before 8 AM or after 6 PM, when the sun sets.
3. It was rush hour on a busy road.  It has no sidewalks, and people don't even really walk along it, let alone jog.  There's just not much room.
4. He had a prosthetic leg!

My first thought was "must be a land mine victim," because they are many in Cambodia, starting back in the Khmer Rouge era of the 1970's.  But you won't find them out jogging, nor are they wearing shorts that reveal the prosthesis.  I usually see them outside the Center for the Disabled or maybe selling souvenirs near a tourist site.  Even scars are looked down on here as marring a person's worth, and there are no anti-discrimination laws.  To my knowledge I've never seen an amputee employed by a Khmer business.  I'm guessing the majority of victims never make it to Phnom Penh, but stay at home in the provinces, where most of the still-unexploded land mines are.  Families tend to keep their imperfect members out of sight.

The next thing I noticed was his apparent wealth.  Jogging is definitely an activity for the middle- to upper-class, and his clothing looked pretty nice.  How did this land mine victim become wealthy enough to make jogging a habit?  How did he become strong enough to jog with ease?  How did he become confident enough to display his prosthetic leg with pride? 

Around me, I could see younger guys turning and staring at him.  And well they should!   You keep feasting your eyes, boys.  You take in the significance of this man.  You appreciate the statement he's making.  Go ahead and applaud, while you're at it.

I was getting pretty excited by now.  What a testament to perseverance!  What a symbol of the tenacity of survivors!  He reminds me of my older Khmer friends at school.  Thearey, who before age ten trudged through the jungle to safety in a Thai refugee camp and a new life in Minnesota.  Thavy, whose gentle, timid personality belies the courage to tackle snakes, heights, dire poverty, and floods up to her neck.  Chantorn, who lost her husband and all but one child, then learned English and became a "mom" figure to so many in Asian Hope.  The Khmer Rouge, the subsequent civil war, and other hardships left them, like Cambodia as a whole, battered and bruised but not beaten.

Amazed and inspired by him and his compatriots, I came home and told my roommates his story.

"Jogging on that road?  Isn't that pretty dangerous?"

And the thought crossed my mind - what if THAT'S how he lost his leg?