A week ago, I went on a four day trip to western Thailand, specifically a border town called Mae Sot (to pronounce it, think of "mass sought" together), where there is one of 9 U.N. refugee camps set up more than 2 decades ago to help Burmese refugees avoid the genocide that prevails in their country to this day. In this town, there is a spunky Thai gal, age 26, who graduated from University here in Chiang Mai and moved out there to work with a ministry called Compassio. (A Canadian guy started the ministry.) This gal hosted us for four days, showing us the many things that she manages on a daily/weekly basis, all trying to make a drop of difference in this massive pool of need. (There are a total of 180,000 plus Burmese refugees living in these camps along the border of Thailand. In the Mae Sot camp alone, there is estimated to be 50,000.) She told how the Lord gave her 7 children and one grandma to care for. The children are all from Muslim Burmese parents, so they are very dark (not resembling the complexion of typical Burmese people), and when they smile, they light up the room. Ranging in age from 3 to 13, all of these kids came in from the streets, and their new family consists of one another, 4 staff mama's, (who themselves are only in their early-mid 20's), and a grandma. The grandma is a 96 year old, deaf, Thai woman who lives right around the corner from the safe house (Thus named because the children live there to the mystery of any of their biological family who might try to get them back on the streets earning money from begging.) We had a blast playing with the kids after school, hearing them run and laugh and hang all over the 6'6" guy, Jamie and his wife, Lisa who were spending time with the ministry at the same time as me, and another guy, Dave, from Colorado. (And before any of you say anything about anything...Dave's married with kids. Great guy, and a good traveling companion. Six hours on a bus, one way, say no more!)
Grandma with one of the staff.
Jamie and LisaThe time in Mae Sot included going to two schools that educate Burmese children. Both schools are funded by Christian ministries since the Thai government will not take responsibility to educate Burmese children whose parents are here as refugees. I took some photos of the first school, New Day School, where there are about 150 plus students, brought to school each day in a scooter with a basket cage "school bus". It takes the teacher 6 trips a morning and the same again in the evening to gather all the kids and bring them to school. At least it works, and it's better than the alternative, which would mean no education for these kids. As we walked around the grounds of this school that resembled more of a barnyard with little open air huts as classrooms, one couldn't help but notice the disparity in the numbers. In Pre-K there were about 50 kids present (although they have 75 on the roll), Kindergarten had about 40, and 1st grade about 25. All of these classes had their own distinct hut with their own teachers. Then the older kids were all under one roof, separated only by a few feet of concrete by their grades, and taught by one teacher roving around between grade levels. Second grade had about 8 kids, 3rd grade maybe 8, 4th grade 6 and 5th grade 4. This was a clear indication of the poverty in which these kids live. Their parents insist they work to earn a little bit of money (about a dollar a day), as they get old enough and big enough to be able to do physical labor, education becomes less and less important. It was a peaceful walk around this schoolyard, but heartbreaking as well. The teachers are mostly all Burmese refugees themselves, receiving a small stipend for their efforts to educate these children. When you stop counting your blessings...think of these little ones in such challenging circumstances.
The Pre-K class at New Day School.
The School "Bus" at New Day School.
From New Day, we went to another school, where there seemed to be more students (about 300 supposedly) and obviously more older students. The 5th-7th graders performed a rousing version of "In the Jungle...the Lion Sleeps Tonight". I've uploaded the video so you can enjoy it too. This school had more older kids because they allowed them to sleep at the school and thus they were less of a burden on their families. This meant they could get an extra year or two of schooling before going to work. I met a Canadian gal there who's been volunteering a couple of years of her life to teach English to these kids. The new term had only begun the day before our visit, and she was voicing her concern for her oldest class of students. The previous term she'd had 7 in the class, and 3 of them had not returned and hadn't informed anyone why they weren't returning. She said when she asked the other kids they just said those 3 had gone to work and wouldn't be coming back to school. All of this was very disturbing to me as I tried to understand and process how a culture can be so cavalier about education, which I've always believed (and still believe) to be the door to opportunity. As I was pondering this, we took a drive with the founder of this school and several of the teachers (including a 30 year old Burmese woman who was introduced to me as the principal) to take a look at the new school they are building on the outskirts of town. It's on a huge piece of land and the bones of the school have been built with the help of volunteer teams from the western world (Australia, Canada, and America mostly). I sort of hung back in the shade of one of the buildings and chatted to 4 of the teachers, asking questions about their own background and the history of the school as well as the future for the students. They were all eager to practice their English with a native, and wanting to be good hosts, they talked with me happily. I learned that they had all grown up in the refugee camp, and that this work was really the best they could hope for themselves. Had they gone to university? No, they couldn't go since there were only two places a year available to the people in the camp, and they were not admitted. I asked if they were free to live where they wanted, and they said no. This was where they were allowed to live, and they felt blessed to have a safe place to live and work. They learned their English in the camp and had shown an aptitude for it, so they rose above the crowd a bit to become teachers in this ministry school. I gathered maybe they were able to take some university courses online to learn some teaching methodology, but mostly they were learning "on the job" as it were. When you stop counting your blessings...think of these young women living out their potential in such stringent parameters.
"In the Jungle."
After lunch, we drove for an hour outside of Mae Sot to visit an orphanage that was started in the refugee camp several years ago. The huts of the camp were built along the base of a mountain, (I was told they built it like that to make it difficult for the Burmese government to shell the camp from their side of the border) and there was a river running through it, which was the sole source of their water. Electricity lines were strung along the tops of the huts, so they had an energy supply. When we arrived, we drove right into the camp, parked the truck and immediately many young guys came out of a gate to help unload the food we'd brought up the mountain. The whole scene felt rather chaotic, but I followed the crowd and found myself walking up wooden ladder steps into a home, where there were about 30 children singing in Thai with a few adults around them. They were greeting us with their singing. This was the orphanage, and the kids had stayed home from school to wait for us, as they didn't know when we would arrive. Wow! It was a humbling moment, followed by many more such moments, as they sang for us, we sang for them, then we all sang together. Dave had brought some paper and pens so the kids could trace their hands and decorate them for his church in Colorado. I guess many of these kids are sponsored by people in his church. He's been coming here regularly for four years and is familiar with many aspects of this ministry. For about 45 minutes we all fanned out in groups of 4 or 5 kids each to help them make their hand prints. It was cool to watch how diligently they worked at getting their pictures to look just right. After awhile, some ladies brought out plates of spaghetti for us to eat, and frankly there's no way I could do it. We had just eaten lunch a couple of hours earlier, and the drive had kind of made me nauseous, so there was no way. Apparently, they always do this out of courtesy, but we weren't obligated to eat it. And if we didn't eat it, there would be more for the kids later, so I was eager to opt out of the food offering. We stayed for about 2 hours total and then hopped back in the back of the truck and went back into town. When you stop counting your blessings...think about these kids sleeping on a bamboo floor with no mattress or pillow.
As we were traveling back to town, we saw a rainbow in the distance and it was huge. I was encouraged by the sign from God, that He will be faithful to care for those He loves. A few minutes later, we were caught in a brief and light rain shower. Just a little wet from riding in an open bed truck, we stopped off at our hotel for a rest before dinner. I could hardly think about all that we'd seen that day, so I lost myself on the hotel lobby computer and surfed the internet. This was Tuesday, November 4th, after all, and there was something else about to happen in the world. (Being 12 hours ahead of New York and 15 hours ahead of San Francisco, the voting hadn't yet started, but the buzz was fierce all the same. Even in a sleepy little border town like Mae Sot.)
On Wednesday, we spent the entire day at the safe house, doing some repair projects, talking with the staff and eventually playing with the kids when they came home from school. It was a very cool day. I had a great conversation with one of the staff, a Burmese girl who is not living in Thailand legally, so she's confined to stay in that house or only go out at night for fear of the authorities asking for papers she does not have. A bright girl of 20, she misses her home and family, but knows she's doing the right thing to give her life to the cause of helping raise these 7 children, loving them, taking them to church to be loved by the rest of the Burmese believers. As she was telling me about a typical Sunday, how she teaches Sunday school and then leads the worship, and how hectic it can be sometimes, I thought of how many times I'd had the same feeling on a Sunday. Later, I was honored to get to meet the young man that pastors her church, as he came by to visit for a few minutes before heading to the factories to preach the word of God amongst the Burmese workers. Sweet man, with a passion to bring the hope of Christ to people who have very little hope in this life. Again, a humbling moment for me.
Later when the kids came home from school, we were playing with them in the streets, 'cause Dave and I had bought some cheap rubber balls and some badminton sets. When it started to rain, we took shelter for a few minutes then went back out after it stopped. The little 3 year old, Jamila, wouldn't leave my lap when the other kids went out to play. She just sat there and watched them with big eyes and fascination. She didn't want to throw the balls she had in her hands, and started to cry when it looked like she was going to have to. I just couldn't help but think, even something so small as a cheap ball is a possession that she wants to hold onto, because she lives with so many kids she must feel like nothing belongs to her. When you stop counting your blessings...think about these little ones.
Thursday we took the long bus ride back to Chiang Mai, and I spent a day and a half in hiding, trying to process all that I'd seen and done. I will continue to do so, but for now, I can only say, when I stop counting my blessings, I hope I can remember to think of those less fortunate than me, and ask God to forgive me, again!
Until next time,
LC from TH
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