The Smell of Tea Tree

You step outside the bus, and the odor of trash and sewage fills your nostrils. You feel the hot, humid air brush against your body. The sky is dark with no stars. The cement underneath your feet is cracked. A mother gently pushes her little girl towards you. Her dark brown glossy eyes stare at you. Her small hands itch her head. Strand by strand, you gently comb through her hair with a fine tooth comb. Relief fills her body every strand you brush. You massage her head with tea tree oil. You realize that this relief is only temporary. All she wants is someone to care for her, touch her, and love her. You look up at the many others waiting to be treated. You will never be able to help them all. 

Authors Note: Three summers ago, I went on a three-week mission trip with my church to Poipet, Cambodia. We worked in the slums, helping run a summer camp for children and offering food, medical care, and lice treatments to homeless families along the border. I’ll never forget the first mother in line who gently pushed her young daughter toward me. I combed through her hair while she quietly sat in front of me.

When it was time to leave, I felt terrible about the long lines of people still in pain. The experience made me question the long-term impact of our actions. We provided instant relief like food, health, hygiene, but could not empower the community to sustain itself. This was one of the first times I wondered whether aid might do more harm than good in the long term. I am not taking a side on whether short-term or long-term missions are “right,” but I do find myself asking: do we have the right to decide who receives help? Are we unintentionally creating harm through guilt, dependency, or unmet needs? These questions and reflections have stayed with me, inspiring this poem.