When cruising the streets of any hectic Asian city you will see them. You will judge them. You will either respect them and it or you will not.
You might see them walk hand in hand. Maybe he will have an arm around her. Maybe she will cling to him as if there’s no day tomorrow. You will see her dedication to him. And maybe you will see how much he enjoys the attention of a young feisty girl.
It’s all about the love between two people. A young Asian girl and an old grey man that has seen better days.
Can you call this love?
It all depends on the definition of the word “love”. There are many different levels of love and many ways of feeling this “love.”
More or less any poor Asian girl knows that if she lands a Westerner it means security. She needs it and she wants it. Her family is dependent on it and they know if there’s no cash on the table there’s no food in the belly.
Through her eyes: picture a family of eight and where the youngest sister recently returned home with a new born baby, all living in a one room shed. A hole in the floor functions as a toilet and a bucket provides a cold shower. The kitchen is the fire they start outside their wooden entrance and only door.
You get desperate. You need money. You need security and you do not care how. Desperation for survival eats its way inside you.
Seeing the elderly Westerners who you know are looking for a good time, you start getting ready. Throw on your nicest piece of clothing and whatever make-up you are lucky enough to have and out you go. The bars, the streets, the restaurants even the corner of any highway.
When people look at you, they know. They think their thoughts about you and you feel humiliated, cheap and scared. But what you are most scared of is not being able to feed your sister’s baby and your family.
A man comes up to you and starts a conversation. You feel insecure about what to say. You want to say the right thing. You want him to like you, to take you in, to fall in love with you. To save you.
It happens, the greatest thing you ever dreamt of happens. You pinch yourself making sure it’s real, that in this moment, in this time, in this place. It’s real!
He feeds you, takes you to nice up beat restaurants, you hold his hand. You sleep with him and he treats you well. He’s a good man. An old man but a sincere man. You get to know more about him and him about you. He tells you he’s lonely and lives in a cold country on the other side of the world.
You cling to him; you feel “love” for him. You tell him you “love” him and after a while he says “okay.”
Your family starts to eat better; the baby is safe and healthy. He gives you money twice a month to help you and your family lead a better life.
Then he’s gone, back to his home country and your whole world falls apart. What now? The desperation you felt before meeting this wonder of a man starts burning inside of you again.
Then he calls: “Let’s go open a bank account and I will transfer the money to you while being home”. You feel relieved. You feel calm and most grateful to this God of a man.
A Reason To Live
Is this love? The answer would be yes and no.
She loves him of the fact that he helps her. We, the ones born and raised in a country where hunger is not an issue; far away from the world of poverty. We don’t see things the same way.
What we care about is having the right car, the cool shoes, the modern brands, the fashionable clothes, and the only desperation you feel is being cool enough join the community of the ridiculous materialistic world you live in.
He loves her too. She gives him a reason to live, even at home. He calls her, tells her what he’s been doing and how his side of the world treats him. They share stories, thoughts, smiles, and maybe even secrets.
They do have a relationship; they are together as a couple. Their exist in a world of their own.
What would you think if your father began dating this girl?
What do you think? Share your thoughts in the comments!
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