Please walk with me.

My name is Tim.

Some of you will know me as The Farmerlosopher.

I am an Australian man, and I now call Cambodia home.

I have dedicated my life here to helping the most vulnerable women and children, the elderly, the ill, the injured, the disabled, and the poorest of the poor.

I have run schools and built schools. I educate women and children, I build homes for the homeless, nourish the hungry, provide medical intervention for the ill, and sanctuary for the most vulnerable.

I am here to save lives and change lives.

And I need your help… please walk with me.

You too can save lives and change lives.

I need your help with my humanitarian work.

Do you remember the young man from my tribe, who had a terrible motorbike accident on New Year’s Eve, shattering his spine, and was told he would never walk again?

I never enjoy New Year’s Eve… it has not been important to me in a very long time, however last year I had many gorgeous plans for New Year’s Eve.

Early afternoon swim in the river and a couple of beers with some mates… late lunch with some Khmer friends of mine… evening wine and cheese gathering with some expat friends… and then a night on the town with more Khmer friends for what they call “countdown”.

However, not to be.

Halfway through my first beer, and before I could dive into the river, I received a phone call… one of those phone calls.

A call from one of the poorest families that I know. I built them a new home last year, and have helped them on numerous occasions.

Youngest brother… terrible motorbike accident… Takeo Province… horrific injuries to his arm and legs… we need your help please.

A 22 year old Khmer man, from my tribe.

He is taken to the nearest hospital, where he is routinely ignored without consultation or treatment for several hours. Left to lie on the concrete. Not a bandaid or a disprin.

I convince the family to allow me to relocate him to the hospital in Kampot where I can supervise the treatment of his injuries.

I am waiting for him when he arrives at the hospital in Kampot.

He is missing lots of skin and flesh from both legs… but that is irrelevant… he cannot feel those injuries… he cannot move his legs, and has no feeling below his belly button. X-ray shows he has shattered his spine. Two vertebrae… T12 and L1.

This is beyond this hospital’s capabilities, and he must be urgently transported to Phnom Penh.

New Year’s Eve is spent in the emergency room, gently and calmly holding his hand while staring into his terrified eyes, telling him that he is going to be alright… and several hours of frantically and urgently negotiating and demanding an Ambulance to transport him.

Cambodia does not have an Ambulance service like we are accustomed to. There is no 000.

Ambulances are rare, and are private vehicles owned by individual clinics. The driver is a driver… not a Paramedic.

In the early hours of 2021, we find an Ambulance and he leaves Kampot. He is accompanied by his mother, brother, and a doctor, and there is not enough room for me in the vehicle, so I race home to quickly shower and change and then follow them to Phnom Penh, and meet them at hospital #3.

I am familiar with this hospital, as I have spent much time here in recent months. It is enormous, and it is like a war zone.

He is placed on a gurney, and we wait our turn… in the twelve hours before he is seen by a doctor, many people are wheeled in and out, people are treated, and some people are not… people die, families wail.

At one stage in the afternoon I go for a walk to get some fresh air, and walk outside through the triage zone.

A mother grabs my arm and desperately tries to convince me in Khmer to treat her ill child, an unconscious little girl looking like a rag doll on the proportionately enormous gurney.

I gently hold her shoulders and try to explain to her that I cannot help her little girl… I am not a doctor… but she doesn’t understand… I am obviously a doctor… and not only does she know that I am a doctor, she now believes that I am a doctor that refuses to help her dying child.

I haven’t slept or eaten in days… I am running on adrenalin, but holding strong.

When the second mother grabs my arm to drag me to her child, I crack, and start to weep.

Immediately after being seen, he is wheeled into emergency surgery that will take several hours. The surgeon explains to me the extent of his injuries, what they plan to do, and the likelihood of the outcome, however they will not know until they open him up… he will talk to me again in the morning when he has more information.

I do not share anything that I was told with the family.

The next morning the surgeon tells me that four steel pins were inserted to correct the shattered vertebrae. The spinal cord had not been severed, however was significantly damaged. He has no movement or sensation in his legs. He has no bladder control, bowel control, or sphincter control. It is very rare for someone to recover from an injury such as this, and it is most likely that this 22 year old young man will never walk again.

I understand.

Unfortunately so does his mother and sister.

I watch as they comprehend that their baby boy may never walk again.

I watch as this very poor farming family starts to consider that they have just lost a bread winner and gained a dependant.

This is life shattering.

I go back to the ward, kneel beside him, hold his hand, stare him in the eyes and tell him that he is going to be alright… I promise him that he will walk again.

He tells me that he cannot feel his legs… he cannot move his legs. He is frightened.

I assure him again that he will recover… It may take weeks… it may take months… it may take years… but you will walk again.

I spent the first three weeks of 2021 sleeping on the floors of various hospitals.

After he was released from hospital, we transferred him to a rehabilitation facility.

He worked with the Occupational Therapists every day.

After about a month, he can get around on crutches, but with great difficulty and pain, and only for very short periods of time.

He is still mostly bedridden.

He is sent home.

His family set him up in a small room to himself, with a new mattress and a fan.

I sit on the end of his mattress, joking and laughing with him, until the pretty girls from the village come to visit… my cue to leave.

Several weeks later, I get a call from him… he is in Kampot.

Wait, what?... What are you doing in Kampot?

He has come to visit me… he has ridden here on a motorbike… he is walking again… he is riding motorbikes again… I don’t know whether to be elated or terrified.

And as of today, he is back working full time in IT, and is completely independent again, living a life that we were told was lost forever.

You too can walk with me.

This is the life changing opportunity that you can help deliver.

Please think about if this is something that you would like to do.

Please talk with your family… talk with your friends… walk with me.

If you are looking for an opportunity where every cent you donate makes a tangible difference every day to the lives of the poorest of the poor, this is it.

Every cent goes to saving and changing lives.

There is no CEO working in a corner office in Melbourne, earning six figures, there is no hierarchy of management, there are no enormous teams of marketing and PR professionals, there are no company cars and fancy offices.

There is a small team of dedicated humans on the ground in Kampot, Cambodia, who tirelessly work to change and save lives.

Peace and love.

Tim.