I still see their faces, small hands pressed upon the window of the moving bus, heads inclined towards me, voices that spoke not a syllable in audible sound but enunciated volumes in the deep recesses of my spirit. Traveling across the border from Vietnam into Cambodia was no different to any other part of our journey… the children followed. They walked with me on the streets, they told me about their lives, they knelt beside me in restaurants, their enquiring faces looking at me with eyes of hope, they asked me to take their photograph, they showed me places hidden in the ruins of Angkor, they pressed their hands upon the windows of buses, they took my hand in theirs, they said nothing at all.

At first the pivoted attraction seemed merely amusing to those with whom I traveled, however after a day, after two days, three days, four… they all shook their heads in bewilderment and asked ‘what is it about you?’ I left Asia forever changed by the memory of these children, my heart was softened and I found within me a compassion that I never knew existed. It was almost as though they had seen within me something which I myself had not yet understood.

In some ways I still don’t understand it… I gaze at their photographs on my wall and find tears rolling down my face, they have got to me in a way that few can. The stories of tragedy and hope interwoven through the lives of those so young and innocent inspires bravery in the weakest of persons and ignites compassion in the hardest of hearts. On 25th December I will again be encountering stories that will both inspire and break me as I travel through Philippines, India, Africa and Cambodia. I can only hope that the raw strength and tenacity of my compassion can drive me beyond mere empathy and kindness into the realm of determined change.