A Saint Named Bob


There are saints who walk among us and we don’t even know them. Perhaps they choose their anonymity, working without the fanfare and distraction that prominence and fame can bring. They are often disguised, hidden as ordinary persons, working quietly in places of need. Every tradition has them. Here I will tell you about one of the lesser-known saints, a former Jesuit monk named Bob who had spent the last 37 years of his life in Cambodia.

Bob ended up in Cambodia on a whim and a bet, made whilst sharing a cold beer with a fellow Jesuit brother.  They had been watching a news report on the refugee camps in Cambodia. Under the cruel regime of Pol Pot and the Khmer Rouge in the 1970s almost a third of Cambodia’s people were killed or died, and camps were now burgeoning with the traumatized survivors of the darkest period in Cambodian history. These two young monks, who were also trained as health care workers, looked at one another and one said to the other, “Wanna bet we can be there within a week?”

The rest of the story I heard from Bob himself. In order to meet him, we were told, we had to send a hand-written letter to a post office box in Bangkok. Bob had no phone, and he didn’t use a computer. He lived in Cambodia but would walk to Thailand to fetch his mail, which meant that our letter might not reach him for months. He used the money he saved on bus or train fare to buy soap for prisoners in Phnom Penh’s prisons where he sometimes served as a translator. Our desire and curiosity to meet him intensified.

Bob worked in the refugee camps for years among starved and weakened survivors of torture and forced labor. Over years he tended to thousands who had TB, mysterious fevers and infections, all made worse by the heat and moisture of a tropical jungle and a people who were hungry and full of sorrow. Many had lost limbs from the land mines that lay buried in fields throughout the country. He worked himself to exhaustion, and even got the shit kicked out of him by Thai soldiers on Valentine’s Day, he chuckled once.

Bob eventually left the despair of those camps and decided to stay on in Cambodia to come to know the people of this land better. He moved in with a family of rice farmers. He lived as they did, planting rice, barefoot in the water paddies, sleeping on straw mats, eating simply and very little. “Not an easy life,” he told me.

A year later, Bob met one of Cambodia’s great Buddhist monks, Maha Ghosananda. A deep friendship of mutual respect developed and they came up with a tender-hearted idea. They would lead a walk for peace throughout the countryside announcing to villagers that peace had finally come. These walks, often attracting hundreds or even thousands, began to take place annually. Healing was needed, and bearing witness to the suffering of a people can help them to heal.

Years later, his monk’s cloak and Jesuit way of life long faded away, he was left only with the grief and love that burns away any outer identification, the experiences in life that melt away the last remnants of pride or self-centeredness. He is humble. He also loves to laugh and has a sharp wit and a wild, kind sense of humor. In a recent letter, he wrote that he needed funds for some monks to put a roof on their library. He added a PS: “Bank robbers welcome, we can be discreet”!

He still hangs out with the Buddhist monks, volunteering at a monastic university in a northern province. He teaches them English, but mostly he does the cleaning. The school can’t afford a janitor, he says.

Bob is no longer interested in religion. He wears a t-shirt, simple cotton pants, and the flip-flops, a size too small, of a wandering ascetic. The Sufi poetry of Rumi is what he reads, or he sits in silence, which is his preferred mode of communicating. There is something about his eyes. So much has been stripped away, that only the empty space in his big heart is present, making room for a mystical love to move freely to where it is needed.

His tall and slender frame, fair skinned and hair burnt blond by the Cambodian sun, can still be seen walking along the roads of Cambodia. He carries a simple bag with all his possessions slung over his bony shoulders. Now in his sixties, he sometimes accepts a ride. He told me a truck picked him up one day.  The overjoyed driver was close to tears. “Remember me? You gave me some soap when I was a kid back in the camps.” 

 By Marianne Marstrand. Originally published by Creator at WeWork

(Some of you have asked how to send a contribution to Bob for him to pass on to people in need in Cambodia  – if you wish to do that please write us at info@gpiw.org. Very little goes a long way there.)


12 Comments on “A Saint Named Bob

  1. Bob is my cousin. My name is Donna Levison. He has always been a saint. I love him and miss his smile and that laugh. Wondering would you know How I could contact him? I would so love to contact him! Please let me know. Thank you!


    • Donna, I count Bob as a very dear friend who I have known since his days working with refugees on the ‘Border’. It has been my privilege to edit some of his writings. I thought you may be interested to learn about the short book I did with Bob. It was produced to highlight the poor in Cambodia and draw attention to the need for peace and reconciliation.All royalties go to help the poor in Cambodia through the health care charity Transform Healthcare Cambodia.

      The Amazon reference is:


      • Thank you for replying to me! I would love to buy the book! Please let me know what I need to do. When did you see Bob last? Thank you, Donns


      • Donna, great to hear from you. I last met with Bob a year ago in Phnom Penh and the year before in Battambang. He is not easy to arrange to meet as he has no phone or electronic communications….. or even a watch! I communicate with Bob through what he calls ‘snail mail’ sent to either Thailand or Phnom Penh. It does require patience as the turnaround of any mail is about 3-6 months.

        Donna, I do not know where you are living but the book is available on the Amazon internet site.The American site is http://www.amazon.com
        The book can be downloaded on kindle or bought as a paperback. Let me know if you have any difficulty . I know you will be moved by Bob’s writings. There is a little about me also on the Amazon page so you can see me in context.

        Are you able to share your email address so we can communicate directly?

        Best wishes,


    • Dear Donna

      Greeting from Cambodia, I am Socheat LAM, Director of Advocacy and Policy Institute, I am very close friend of Bob Maat .

      I can tell you how to contact him, if you can tell me his true full name of his passport.

      Best regards


      • Hi. Thank you for contacting me. My father John Cuozzo was Bobby’s mom’s brother. To be honest I don’t remember what is on his passport. I promise you if you tell him it is me he would give you permission to share his contact info. Thank you, Donna


      • Hi! Wondering have to been able to speak with Bobby about connecting with me. Thank you for helping me. Donna


    • I just received a beautifully hand-written letter from my dear friend Bob…it brought tears to my eyes when I read it. These were tears of profound joy, as Bob and I would spend hours talking about the research I was doing with Theravada Buddhist monks and their Buddhist monk-led organization called Buddhism for Education of Cambodia (BEC). But we mostly talked about life in general. Bob taught me a lot, and one day I learned an interesting story about Bob Maat from a complete stranger while helping Buddhist monks from BEC build a home for a poor family in Battambang, Cambodia. When I learned that this Cambodian man was in the refugee camps along the Thai-Cambodian border, I asked him if he knew of an American named Bob Maat. The older Cambodian man replied with a sense of pride; “everyone knows Bob.” This complete stranger continued by saying: “Bob Maat would stand in front of a loaded rifle to protect a Cambodian.” Bob is indeed a gift of generosity to the Cambodian people, who love him dearly…as do I!


      • Thank you so much for sharing. I just pray his health is ok. He truly is a treasure to this earth. I so miss talking to him. We had so much fun when we were kids. If you have the privilege of seeing him again please tell him. I love and miss. miss him. Would love to see him. Thank you, Donna


  2. Wonderful… I met someone who might have been Bob… some 30 years ago, a then young Jesuit working in refugee camps in Asia popped into our newly established Amnesty International office to the UN in Geneva in 1988 or so… and made a lasting impression on me.


    • I am sure it was him, especially if he left a lasting impression. Bob does that. Thank you.


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