I am sweating it out in Bangkok enjoying Christmas holidays and away from school. I want to let you all know, in case there were any lingering worries, that I am nowhere near the coast and am not at all physically affected by the current disaster. BBC is reporting the death toll to be at 23 000 right now, so we are all very much shocked. But I am still alive and kicking rather enthusiastically, getting up to trouble, having adventures and meeting interesting people. Right now I am writing from a free Israeli internet cafe with my new found side-kick, Ilse, from Holland, who is even crazier than I am. So you don't even know what we have been getting up to.
Much love and best wishes for your holidays to you all. Thanks for thinking of me and worrying.
Love
Jen
Tuesday, December 28, 2004
Friday, December 17, 2004
Cast of Degenerates
The office seems deserted today. Perhaps everyone is so used to having Friday off as an official holiday (which has been the case every Friday for the last month, it seems) that they all stayed home today. At any rate, I have actually been quite productive for a change. I have finally caught up on my marking and got a lot accomplished in terms of lesson planning. Although I won't have to work tomorrow (I often do), I do have to write my final exams for this trimester sometime soon, probably over Christmas break. Meanwhile, since life seems to be in a bit of a lull, and I wouldn't want to get TOO much accomplished today (that wouldn't be very Thai of me, would it?), I will take up some of my office internet time to describe in a little more detail the wacky cast of characters that make up life in Mae Sot.
Patrick
Patrick
I probably spend more time with Patrick than any other foreigner around. I teach up in Umphiem Monday through Thursday and he teaches with my Tuesday through Friday. As you can imagine, there isn't a lot to do in a refugee camp in terms of serious entertainment. Once a week, we hook a TV and DVD up to a car battery and show a movie, but the rest of the time, we're on our own. There is one other school in camp with foreign teachers run by an illegal NGO that does not have permission to be in Thailand. Consequentially, their teachers don't have permission to live in the camp, although they do. But basically, if I want to speak English, it's just the students, Patrick and I.
We spend a lot of time sitting outside the classroom, drinking coffee and talking. Patrick is 28 (I think) and from Ohio, U.S.A. He has lived a lot of places and done a lot of things, including studying acting, painting and holding art exhibitions in Portland, Oregon, and working in a framing shop. My favorite stories from Patrick so far include the time he skipped school and ended up winning a t-shirt by singing "Ice, Ice Baby" on the Jenny Jones show. The New Years party he spent in the company of a bunch of wild, bisexual clowns is another one, as is the mad brawl he got into while exiting a bar one night in Mongolia.
Patrick first started teaching in Korea, where he met Brooke and made a lot of money by working crazy overtime hours, mostly with bratty kindergarten kids. He and Brooke once ate octopus so recently killed that the suckers from the tentacles sucked onto their tongues until they were properly dead.
Patrick comes from a fairly conservative family. His brother, for example, is a tax lawyer. He once dated a girl for five years who went absolutely manic, has tried to kill herself many times and is on countless meds. She recently spent two weeks in jail, although won't say for what. His current girlfriend is a wonderful Thai cosmetic salesgirl named Nok. She started out being his language teacher and now they are going to get married. The family is not so keen on this, but I am looking forward to a happy Thai wedding. Patrick's future plans: when he is finished with EIP, he and Nok are moving back to Ohio and starting a self-framing / Pad Thai shop. Good luck Patrick.
Brooke
Brooke is the other person who works for EIP. The program was her idea and she enlisted Patrick, who she had met in Korea, to come help her with it. Brooke is from America, but studied International Development at McGill. Small world eh? Brooke spends most of her time in Mae Sot doing the office work, keeping the funders happy, getting the funders, writing reports and doing our administrative work. She teaches up in Umphiem Fridays, so unfortunately, I don't get to see much of her.
My first weekend in Mae Sot, I spent a lot of time with Brooke. She and Patrick and I and a few people went out for beers. We were sitting around when someone came up with the idea of going to the local disco, Club Y2K. Brooke was very enthusiastic.
"It's great fun!" she said. "They have these bands and these girls come on stage in these crazy little furry red bikinis!"
What can I say? I like the girl. Actually, Brooke would be a hard person not to like. She has a warm smile and a warm heart. She's one of those people you just can't help but feel good to be around. On the weekends, we often get together for tea in one of the little Burmese tea shops in Mae Sot and talk about our life plans, where we are going from here, development issues and politics. We also go visit the Thai massage parlor that is near my house once in awhile for a relaxing and only sometimes uncomfortable Thai massage.
Brooke's significant other also causes her friction with her parents. She is dating a really nice Burmese guy named Ong Ja (I have no idea how to spell it actually and it doesn't really matter because that's not his real name). Ong Ja is a Burmese political activist working for an association for political prisoners here in Mae Sot. Although he himself was once a political prisoner in Burma, he is now a refugee, registered with the United Nations. He is hoping to be resettled to the United States and is waiting for an interview with the US resettlement team in January. Meanwhile, he is one of the most active members of his organization, writing excellent reports about the situation in Burma and hiding from spies. His brother, an activist working inside Burma, recently came to visit him and Brooke had dinner with them tucked away in a dark corner of a shady guest house. It all sounds rather dark and suspicious, but really, it's just every day life here and he is a wonderful man, with a smile warm enough to match Brooke's.
Tim
Tim and neighbour boy
When I moved into my new house, Brooke said to me, "Ah, you will be living next to Tim, the crazy Aussie." So already, I was looking forward to meeting him. Tim is a tall, gangly guy with a thin face and a wiry frame. I rarely ever see him out of his singlet. He recently turned 36, which was the occasion for much of the drinking that happened a few weeks ago. He is from Melbourne, Australia and his girlfriend works at the Australian Consulate in Vietnam.
Tim was accepted directly into Australia's best law school and dropped out after two years. He came to Bangkok rather randomly and got a job there working as an assistant editor. In Melbourne, he ended up directing two advertisements for one of the universities, both of which were huge successes. He claims he was well on his way to becoming a film director.
Instead, he flew to Thailand, and sat on an island for the next three or four months, drinking, writing, smoking and preying on the female tourist population. He ended up in Burma on whim completely uninformed about life there, but spent most of the time in a hotel room suffering from Typhoid until a random stranger shipped him back to Bangkok for treatment. When he went back to Burma, he was better informed and on a mission. From his time there, he wrote and published a book, which I have yet to read. He returned again some time later to film for a documentary, which he is now editing. And that's what he does with most of his time, and that's what makes him such a great neighbor: he sits in front of his computer all day, not bothering anyone, but occasionally comes out at night and gets wild. We have had many an interesting dinner and breakfast conversation, many a good coffee and far too many cold beers.
There are, unfortunately, about five dogs that frequent Tim's house for food on a regular basis. They are the typical mangy mutts of Thailand and most of them are friendly and getting friendlier towards me all the time. He also has a crazy little cat that he rescued from the monastery across the street. It had a broken tail, so it's tail is all screwy but it's brain is pretty screwy too. It's name is Little Foot and I will be looking after it while Tim jets back to Melbourne for Christmas vacation.
Well that's enough for today. Sometime in the future, I will get along to describing Mel, Miles and Jack and then you will know the most interesting people I spend my time with around here. For now, Merry Christmas everyone and Happy New Year!
Patrick
Patrick
I probably spend more time with Patrick than any other foreigner around. I teach up in Umphiem Monday through Thursday and he teaches with my Tuesday through Friday. As you can imagine, there isn't a lot to do in a refugee camp in terms of serious entertainment. Once a week, we hook a TV and DVD up to a car battery and show a movie, but the rest of the time, we're on our own. There is one other school in camp with foreign teachers run by an illegal NGO that does not have permission to be in Thailand. Consequentially, their teachers don't have permission to live in the camp, although they do. But basically, if I want to speak English, it's just the students, Patrick and I.
We spend a lot of time sitting outside the classroom, drinking coffee and talking. Patrick is 28 (I think) and from Ohio, U.S.A. He has lived a lot of places and done a lot of things, including studying acting, painting and holding art exhibitions in Portland, Oregon, and working in a framing shop. My favorite stories from Patrick so far include the time he skipped school and ended up winning a t-shirt by singing "Ice, Ice Baby" on the Jenny Jones show. The New Years party he spent in the company of a bunch of wild, bisexual clowns is another one, as is the mad brawl he got into while exiting a bar one night in Mongolia.
Patrick first started teaching in Korea, where he met Brooke and made a lot of money by working crazy overtime hours, mostly with bratty kindergarten kids. He and Brooke once ate octopus so recently killed that the suckers from the tentacles sucked onto their tongues until they were properly dead.
Patrick comes from a fairly conservative family. His brother, for example, is a tax lawyer. He once dated a girl for five years who went absolutely manic, has tried to kill herself many times and is on countless meds. She recently spent two weeks in jail, although won't say for what. His current girlfriend is a wonderful Thai cosmetic salesgirl named Nok. She started out being his language teacher and now they are going to get married. The family is not so keen on this, but I am looking forward to a happy Thai wedding. Patrick's future plans: when he is finished with EIP, he and Nok are moving back to Ohio and starting a self-framing / Pad Thai shop. Good luck Patrick.
Brooke
Brooke is the other person who works for EIP. The program was her idea and she enlisted Patrick, who she had met in Korea, to come help her with it. Brooke is from America, but studied International Development at McGill. Small world eh? Brooke spends most of her time in Mae Sot doing the office work, keeping the funders happy, getting the funders, writing reports and doing our administrative work. She teaches up in Umphiem Fridays, so unfortunately, I don't get to see much of her.
My first weekend in Mae Sot, I spent a lot of time with Brooke. She and Patrick and I and a few people went out for beers. We were sitting around when someone came up with the idea of going to the local disco, Club Y2K. Brooke was very enthusiastic.
"It's great fun!" she said. "They have these bands and these girls come on stage in these crazy little furry red bikinis!"
What can I say? I like the girl. Actually, Brooke would be a hard person not to like. She has a warm smile and a warm heart. She's one of those people you just can't help but feel good to be around. On the weekends, we often get together for tea in one of the little Burmese tea shops in Mae Sot and talk about our life plans, where we are going from here, development issues and politics. We also go visit the Thai massage parlor that is near my house once in awhile for a relaxing and only sometimes uncomfortable Thai massage.
Brooke's significant other also causes her friction with her parents. She is dating a really nice Burmese guy named Ong Ja (I have no idea how to spell it actually and it doesn't really matter because that's not his real name). Ong Ja is a Burmese political activist working for an association for political prisoners here in Mae Sot. Although he himself was once a political prisoner in Burma, he is now a refugee, registered with the United Nations. He is hoping to be resettled to the United States and is waiting for an interview with the US resettlement team in January. Meanwhile, he is one of the most active members of his organization, writing excellent reports about the situation in Burma and hiding from spies. His brother, an activist working inside Burma, recently came to visit him and Brooke had dinner with them tucked away in a dark corner of a shady guest house. It all sounds rather dark and suspicious, but really, it's just every day life here and he is a wonderful man, with a smile warm enough to match Brooke's.
Tim
Tim and neighbour boy
When I moved into my new house, Brooke said to me, "Ah, you will be living next to Tim, the crazy Aussie." So already, I was looking forward to meeting him. Tim is a tall, gangly guy with a thin face and a wiry frame. I rarely ever see him out of his singlet. He recently turned 36, which was the occasion for much of the drinking that happened a few weeks ago. He is from Melbourne, Australia and his girlfriend works at the Australian Consulate in Vietnam.
Tim was accepted directly into Australia's best law school and dropped out after two years. He came to Bangkok rather randomly and got a job there working as an assistant editor. In Melbourne, he ended up directing two advertisements for one of the universities, both of which were huge successes. He claims he was well on his way to becoming a film director.
Instead, he flew to Thailand, and sat on an island for the next three or four months, drinking, writing, smoking and preying on the female tourist population. He ended up in Burma on whim completely uninformed about life there, but spent most of the time in a hotel room suffering from Typhoid until a random stranger shipped him back to Bangkok for treatment. When he went back to Burma, he was better informed and on a mission. From his time there, he wrote and published a book, which I have yet to read. He returned again some time later to film for a documentary, which he is now editing. And that's what he does with most of his time, and that's what makes him such a great neighbor: he sits in front of his computer all day, not bothering anyone, but occasionally comes out at night and gets wild. We have had many an interesting dinner and breakfast conversation, many a good coffee and far too many cold beers.
There are, unfortunately, about five dogs that frequent Tim's house for food on a regular basis. They are the typical mangy mutts of Thailand and most of them are friendly and getting friendlier towards me all the time. He also has a crazy little cat that he rescued from the monastery across the street. It had a broken tail, so it's tail is all screwy but it's brain is pretty screwy too. It's name is Little Foot and I will be looking after it while Tim jets back to Melbourne for Christmas vacation.
Well that's enough for today. Sometime in the future, I will get along to describing Mel, Miles and Jack and then you will know the most interesting people I spend my time with around here. For now, Merry Christmas everyone and Happy New Year!
Thursday, December 16, 2004
Meet my students...
WRITING EXERCISE
After a three-day workshop with an Australian journalist, Timothy Syrota, students were asked to write a detailed account of a significant experience in their lives. The stories are published here with permission from the students
Nickson
It was around 11 o'clock at night. There was a seriously dangerous sound from outside. One minute later, my mother woke me up and told me to run. The people who live next to our house were crying and in shock. Moreover, the bullets were coming around the camp beside my family and I.
A few minutes later, I heard a big voice from behind me. I looked behind me but nothing happened to me. Although I did see an old man who was around fourty years old who had been shot by the guns in his left leg. He said to his wife and children to run away quickly from the camp area to another. And you shouldn't take care of me, and you hadn't enough time, please run away.
This man's voice sounded like a pig being killed before it dies.
I thought that I was going to get my movies and things at my house. Although my mum said be quick so that my family and I could run away from our camp. Four or five minutes later, all of the houses, schools, hospitals, were burning and lighting.
At that time, some people with us sat on the field outside camp next to the Thai village called Hway Ko Loke. After that, we directly went to my grandmother's house who lives there. In the morning, I came back to our camp. What was burned had been changed. As a result, wood became charcoal and bamboo and thatch changed to ash. Everything was gone.
Cha Mu
Last year, on my summer holiday, I went to visit my parents, who live on the Thai/Myanmar borderline in a town called P'lu. In this place, we have Burmese soldiers, DKBA (Democratic Karen Buddhist Army) and KNU (Karen National Union). We're afraid of them.
After I had arrived and been there for two days, there was a problem in the house that is next to my house. This house was the home of a leader of the DKBA. In the evening around 6pm, my family and I watched karaoke and we laughed a lot. Suddenly we all heard a gunshot and my father switched off the electricity and the CD. Then we all went to the wall and peeked. We saw that there were more than twenty people who covered their faces with hats and surrounded the house. But they didn't care about us. I heard that they asked for jewelry from the wife. When they got it, they destroyed the television, car and drawers in the house.
At that time, my brother, who always visited this house, came back with his motorbike. He rode through the house and as for us, we didn't dare to stop him. We watched this situation nervously. When he arrived in front of the house, he was kicked by the army and his head hit by the edge of the gun. At the same time, one of the people sad, "Kill him now."
But the wife said, "Don’t' kill him. He is my son." So they didn't kill him.
But when they went back, they arrested my brother and the leader of DKBA. Before they left, they fired the house and they threatened us that we were not allowed to go in the house as they had left a bomb in there. But my uncle and my father went there and stopped the fire.
George
Last year, when I was sitting the entrance exam of ICFC (Intensive College Foundation Course), I was interviewed by the ICFC coordinators. They sat on a bench. The one who had a potbelly and was bald, was holding a microphone beside me. The one who had red-golden hair was with a tape-recorder. The other one was a woman. She looked like an Indian.
They all interviewed me but without a microphone and tape-recorder. As a resolute of this, I missed my words. I lost my self-confidence, I forgot how to answer. So, I lost my best chance. I mean that I failed and I didn't pass the entrance exam of ICFC because of the interview. I passed all the other subjects, but I couldn't attend that school because I failed the interview. So I realize myself that interviews are also important for further study. Although you are intelligent in other subjects, if you are not clever in the interview, you can't do anything that concerns the exam. So this is the big experience in my life.
Rose Gay Htoo
On May 29th, 2001, after I finished high school ten standards, I had to leave Laikaw and come to Thailand. It was the first time I was far away from my family. Moreover, I had to continue in my studies in a Karen refugee camp in Umphiem. It made me feel so upset when I arrived at Umpiem's bus stop. I had to take out my bag and arry it up to SEP (Special English Program). At that time, the weather in camp was very awful because it was slippery everywhere. It was cloudy and dark all day. Then I did not dare to take a bath. Furthermore, I was under the weather. I had to stay alone and study at SEP. Before I attended the school, I had to take the SEP exam and I had to stay at SEP dorms. I had no friends to talk to or go around with. People were friendly but I didn't understand what they were talking about in Karen because I couldn't speak their Karen language.
On the fifteenth of June, I told my aunt who took me to Thailand that I wanted to go back but she said, "you have o chance to go back." This sound hurt my heart a lot like and arrow that goes into your heart and draws blood. Everything was hanged in my life. I had never seen a school like SEP and houses like the houses in Umphiem camp. All of the houses are made by bamboo and thatch. There were no parks, no cinemas, no hotels and no restaurants. In my life, I had never heard that we had Karen refugees in Thailand. My parents never talked about Karen people and my aunt didn't tell me that Umphiem is a refugee camp. She told me that education in Umpheim is very good except the living standards are not, but you must try to live like them. I felt embarrassed that I am Karen but I couldn't speak Karen. Moreover, I didn't know about my people who had to be refugees in Thailand. Even if I ha never been in Umphiem, I wouldn't know about the Karen situation in Karen state. Now I know all about it. So I have to be proud of myself that now I become a real Karen. I thank my aunt. Because of her, I can study freely. Also I know my people so I am happy to stay in Umphiem camp.
Zaw Zaw Aung
When I was studying in the sixth standard in the high school of my village, I suffered from a serious pain I my lungs. It took a long time for it to be healed or recovered. I can recall the most specific time it troubled me.
It was a hot day. The crop fields, which are located on the right side of the school, had just been ripped. I could see several cowboys with their cattle from the second top floor of the school. It was lunchtime. Some students were running on the floor and grounds. Some were playing tops and some were playing football. Their white shirts and longies were full of dust and sweat. I was alone sitting at the corner of the second top floor, which was fenced by some intervals of wooden bars. The pain was increasingly more and more - eventually it was so much that I could not breathe. I closed y eyes and twisted and pummeled my belly. I guess I passed out for a while and when I woke up, I felt n o pain.
After the moment had passed, I was thinking, " do cowboys and other students have something of the same disease or pain like me? If yes, what time does it appear to them?" My head was full of those kinds of questions.
At that moment, the bell rang and I attended the rest of my classes that day.
Bway Kho Wah
When I as studying in tenth standard, I was a school group leader. Even though I as the student's group leader, my job was empty.
I heard some o y friends drank alcohol and took bad medicine, which gave them a good feeling. I wanted to taste and I copied my friends. I started skipping school with some of my friends. I did not dare to buy the bad medicine, but I asked some of my friends, who were my best friends, and they bought it for me. After that, I took five bad medicines at the same time and I felt dizzy and I wanted to sleep. But I could not sleep. I went to Zone B with my classmates and I spent the whole day o the road. We walked around Zone B. We didn't go to school the whole day. Even though I didn't go to school, my parents didn't know about me.
The second day, I went to school for one period and I started skipping school again. We went out and bought alcohol. We went to one of my friend's houses and we drank alcohol and smoked cigarettes. We spent the whole day like this. When I came back home, I thought my parents still didn't know about me, but they already knew. They asked me where I had been and I said that I had been at school. I tried to lie but they didn't believe me. My bother beat me and I wanted to cry but my tears didn't fall on my cheeks. I hated myself. To this day I have never skipped school or drunk alcohol again.
Dah Wah
In the year 1990-1991, I came to Thailand with my family. Because the SPDC (State Peace and Development Council) had come to my village, every family had to leave their poverty. They could take only a few things with them. By the time I came to Thailand, I was only six years old. I couldn’t take notice of everything exactly. My parents came to a Karen refugee camp, which was called Mor Ker, with me. When we arrived, many houses were already set up. I started studying. I was enjoying my studying.
In 1997, the DKBA came to the camp and burned the camp. At that time, I was a sixth-stander. I saw the burning. The bullets were shining dangerously. My family and I went down to the house and hid in a hole. The bullets came above my head. They nearly hurt my head. My legs were shaking, also my heart.
In the morning, I saw many people didn't want to eat, not even me. For the next two or three days everything was fine.
In the summer, my family and I went back to my village to visit. At that time, people could travel on the borderline. When I was again at my village, I saw the SPDC and DKBA. One of the DKBA visited my family. I also talked ot him, but I hated him a little bit. We spent only a few weeks there and we came back. For the next three years, all the people of Mor Ker had to move to a new refugee camp called Umphiem.
Poe Kler Htoo
I was born in Karen State in Pa Tu village. But I great up in a refugee camp. When I was living in Mor Ker refugee camp, I had a serious problem for the first time in my life. It put me in a fix. It was when the DKBA came and burnt the refugee camp. As a result, many houses were burned. Moreover, they shot guns. So a lot of people were running and shooting in the dark on the road. Because it was nighttime. That is the reason why I had to leave my house without knowing anything. So I was very depressed living in the refugee camp. It was five years ago, before we had moved to Umphiem Mai camp.
Secondly, on the twentieth of November 2004, it was nighttime when I was talking with my friends at ARC (American Refugee Committee) in Zone B. Suddenly, I heard Thai soldiers and my friends fighting each other on the main road in section one. Immediately, I went down and looked for my friends on the road. At that time, many soldiers were coming and beat my stomach and my head without any reason. Even though I wanted to explain the situation to them, they didn't listen to me and took me to the camp office in Zone A. Then, I had a conversation with the camp leader who works for the security of the refugee camp. However, I had no worries, because I knew myself that I was an innocent person. Also the leader understood me and let me free to go back home. But I have never forgotten being hurt by soldiers. It was the second sojourn in my beautiful life.
Thirdly, even though I am a refugee, I have a dream that one day Karen people will get back their homeland because our Karen people will be emancipated from the Burmese government. Our Karen people will abolish the SPDC in Burma. For this reason, the SPDC will be done and our Karen people will have freedom. Our Karen people will have a good education. Our Karen people will have a good relationship with the other ethnic groups. Also other ethnic groups will be free like the Karen in Burma. But I have never been satisfied being a refugee with less opportunities than other people. I have never been satisfied leaving our homeland and living in another country. I have never been satisfied with the killing of innocent people that is happening in Karen State. However, we are not wallow people in future. Therefore, one day, I have a dream: Karen people will get back their beautiful homeland and develop their lives. Moreover the world will know that the Karen people are one of the ethnic groups of Burma.
Say Say Lah
In 1986, I stayed in jail for six months in Burma. Because my father is a KNU soldier and the SPDC soldiers caught me. At that time, I was five years old. After they had freed me from the jail, I got a disease and nearly died. Even though they had freed me, I have to be afraid all the time because they knew me. I am worried that they will catch me again.
When I studied in tenth standard in 1998, they burned my house in my village. At that time, my mother did not stay in the house. If she had stayed there, they would have killed my mother.
Even though I have a chance to study, I am never happy because I am afraid all the time. On the other hand, I am lucky because my parents send me to school. If I compare my life with the other people, I am very lucky because other people don't have a chance to study.
In 2001, I went to the Thai/Burma border because the SPDC were aroused. They could catch us again, so my sister and I came to the borderline. When I arrived at the borderline, I was very surprised because I hadn't known that a lot of Karen people stayed in the border.
Now I live in a refugee camp and I know more about our Karen situation. I'm happy with them also. On the other hand, I knew why my father became a soldier. When I stayed in Burma, I never knew about our Karen situation. I know that the SPDC soldiers said that the KNU are not good.
In my life, happy and worried go together. All these stories, I will never forget, especially the experience in my life since I was a child, until this day.
Kler Paw
When I was in the eighth standard in 1999, I had an unforgettable picnic in my life. At that time, I was in Mawlamyine and I studied at Number Eleven High School. During December holidays, we decided to go somewhere with our friends together happily. We meant that we would go after we finished our second trimester examinations. As we know, boys and girls like a picnic very much. They always welcome it. Even older people like to have a picnic. As soon as one of my friends invited me to join a picnic party, I accepted it quickly. The picnic I went to was a happy occasion for me.
The picnic site was Kan Daw Kyi, which is located in Mu Don, Mon State. We went there by hired bus. After three hours driving from Mawlamyine, we arrived there. We chose a fine shady spot as our picnic ground. There were a few trees nearby. When we arrived at the picnic ground, we put down the things under some trees. We had pots of rice and curry, packets of some fruits, sweets and chocolates. While some were preparing for our lunch, a few boys and girls walked around the area. After a while, we gathered at the main spot to have a picnic lunch.
Though there were only a few boys and girls at the picnic ground, the place was alive with talking, laughing and clapping hands. When we finished our lunch, we played a parcel game. A parcel game was very popular for picnic parties in Myanmar. No one had to refuse to participate in it. The three boys of the picnic party played on an organ and the two hollow guitars. Some girls were good at singing. Some could dance very well. The occasion made the picnic party more friendly. Then, every partner became my close friend when we came back to our own place. How fine the picnic I went to was!
Naing Lin
The twenty-seventh of November 2004, was a snowing day. All the SEP students were tired, in view of the fact that they had carried rations from the ration store. I looked at my friend, called Rita's, face. She was sweating. I invited her to drink beer with me and she nodded.
We four, two girls and two boys, were sitting around the table. The time was nearly 11:00am. We put beer on the table but had no cups. We looked at each other, waiting for someone to start drinking it. But within five minutes, nobody had started. So I had to start. We only had one beer. It was gone within ten minutes.
After I drunk beer with my friends, I remembered something that my friend Rita had told me. She said that she had no more money to buy a coat. All I wanted was to share some of my money with her. However I did not dare to give her my money because she might think that I had fallen in love with her. I couldn't make a decision if I should give her the money or not. I continued talking to her. The two of my friends left from the table. So I made a decision that I would give her some money.
I went inside to my bed and took out 200 baht from my wallet and put it inside a diary book that I hadn't written anything in and gave it to her. First, she was surprised and refused to take the money. But when I said, "Don’t worry," she took it. I looked at her. She smiled at me. I was really happy.
This was what I have never done I my life. The day was the twenty-seventh of November, 2004, in the SEP dorm in section 6, Zone B. I will never forget this day that I had made someone happy.
Pho Kyaw Kyaw
I have many experiences in my life. But I clearly recognize only one in my high school life in 1999, in Nu Poe high school. It made me very upset at that time and also I found it difficult to solve. But later on I found a good way to pass it.
In June, 1999, when I was in grade 10 in Nu Poe high school, KT Taw, the mistress of high school in Nu Poe, treated me very badly and teased me every tie that she saw me.
One day, the second week of the school year, she taught in a grade nine class and I sat in grade ten class in the back row. She scolded her students and said that you, boys, did not respect the teachers like the students from grade ten. I then thought, it was not just and belonged to our class. So, I stood up and yelled at the mistress.
I said to her, "It is not a good example to the students, and makes the students upset by hurting other people that you don't know." Then she started crying at the time. I took my bag and left the school. I did not want to study any more with her.
When I left the school, I decided that as long as she taught in the school, I would never attend that school. After I had argued with her, she sent a letter to my parents that evening.
But I didn't go back home for two days. I spent time with my friends and drank a lot of alcohol. After two days had passed, I went back home.
My parents asked me, "What happened to you in the school? Here is a letter that came from the head mistress." The teacher and my parents had a meeting. But it was not successful because I didn't want to attend the school in Nu Poe, so they decided to send me to Mae Sot.
They sent me to a mission school, called True Life in God. This, I remember forever. It was the first time I had seen a partial teacher in my life. Also I didn't want to study in a school like that. But later, I heard that the teacher had resigned from her position and she had regretted that she had treated her students like that.
Johnny Htoo
During 1996 and 1997, I was attending the Kawthoolei High School in Karen State, which was located on the KNU Brigade Number (6). The high school was in a village called Kyite Don, where many resistance families were staying. Other business people were also staying there. I was in seventh standard and there were about seven hundred students in the school. Most of the students were from business families. A few people at school were from normal and resistance families.
On March 17th of 1996, there was an arrangement from the brigade general to provide military training to the students. The demand was for one hundred students who would be required to attend the training, including about thirty percent o the schoolgirls. Thus, on March 24th, 1996, I reenrolled my name to attend the training and many friends of mine did also. Then the training started.
The hatred of carrying guns, behaving actively and obeying rules were lost in my mind. There were three trainers at that time. I had to be in the training every day although I didn't want to. Uplift of dynamism of patriot spirit, uplift of fitness and obedience were given to me in my mind. The second step was to be involved in warfare, which the other people joined, not only me. At the military section, we had to follow all the things or orders that our officer asked of us. WE had to obey all the things, which we chose to be before. Combat, shooting, killing and learning about initial discipline were included in the training.
However, my true past experience is not only for the memories of learning these aggressive skills of warriors, but my actual dream is to remember the heart of the capacity to be active and to show our spirit of patriotism.
K'Shaw Paw
When I was in the seventh standard, I liked to ride my bicycle very much. but one day, I played with my friends, then I said that I will ride a bicycle down from the mountain. One of my friends asked me for a to ride a bicycle behind me. So I told her that I would try one time, then, if it is ok, I will bet you to ride behind me. I rode a bicycle down the mountain, then I couldn't control my bicycle. At that time, I was so scare, like I couldn't do anything, then I didn't see anything in front of me.
At the same time, I heard a loud sound calling me, "K'Shaw Paw! … 9 …10…"
My whole body was shaking and my face became red. In my heart I thought where the bicycle would go, never mind, I will let it be like that. I gave up, so my bicycle hit the tree that is in front of my house. Later, I fell down from the bicycle. My bum and my legs were very painful. Moreover, my legs got a wound.
Starting that day, until today, I have never ridden a bicycle, because it got me into a lot of trouble. The most important thing that I am afraid of is that I will lose my body.
Cho Cho Aung
Every year, there is a big festival for the students of Burma. In 1997, the festival was held in K'Chen State and I was chosen to go there as my school's representative. At that time, I was in sixth standard and thirteen years old. I knew that I had to go to K'Chen State and I felt very happy and excited. My aunt and cousin also prepared things for me such as clothes and pocket money for my trip.
Before I went to K'Chen State, I had to stay in P'Ahn for one month. I had to learn about dancing in P'Ahn for one month. From my village to P'Ahn, I had to go on a ship.
Two of the teachers from my school had to go also and went with my to P'Ahn. When I arrived in P'Ahn, my two teachers went and went on a bicycle to the place where I had to stay. We rode the bicycles for thirty minutes and arrived at the big building. I thought that it might be a government service's apartment. We went up to second floor and entered into a room. There was a woman there who was about fifty years old and she smiled at us. We also smiled at her. Then she told us to sit and gave us some water to drink. After that she said, "I'm sorry that I sent to message to you too late. The students who had to go to K'Chen State are too many. We are full. Yesterday I tried to send the message to your school but I couldn't find any messengers. I am really sorry that you and your students had to come here."
As soon as I heard that speech, I felt very sad. Then me and my teachers said goodbye to that teacher, took our bags and went to one of the teacher's friend's houses who lived in P'Ahn.
Bathsheba
On Friday, December 3rd 2004, at night time< I was in bed an going to sleep. Three of us were staying in the dorm and I was sleeping in the middle. AT about 11pm, one of my friends was shocked because she couldn't find her tape recorder when she wanted to listen to it. She called us to help find her. I was also shocked and awoke, wanting to know what had happened to us. We were afraid and I almost cried. WE all knew that the tape recorder was lost. Why our things were lost again and again? Some said that it was outside people who took them. "Is it really?" I asked and was shaken and afraid. Even though we locked the room with a key when we went outside, some kind of person stole our things. It made us afraid and worried that we dared not to sleep in our own dorms anymore. Lately one of my friends old me, "Don't worry, sleep well." We talked about funny things to try and forget the worry then about 12:30, I fell asleep.
Ler Lah Say
The scariest experience that remains with me always happened when I was six years old. I went to watch a football game with my father at the football ground. Before we got to the football ground, we had to cross the main road in order to reach the grounds. After we finished watching the football game, I came back before my father. Then, when I arrived at the main road, I saw a car coming at very fast speed. Before the car crossed in front of me, I tried to cross the road with a quick movement first. When other people beside me on the road saw this, they were very scared for me, because they worried that I would die in that accident. However, luckily, I was saved from that scare. When I got home, my parents scolded me and I cried. Then I went to bed and fell asleep. But I remember this memory all the time.
After a three-day workshop with an Australian journalist, Timothy Syrota, students were asked to write a detailed account of a significant experience in their lives. The stories are published here with permission from the students
Nickson
It was around 11 o'clock at night. There was a seriously dangerous sound from outside. One minute later, my mother woke me up and told me to run. The people who live next to our house were crying and in shock. Moreover, the bullets were coming around the camp beside my family and I.
A few minutes later, I heard a big voice from behind me. I looked behind me but nothing happened to me. Although I did see an old man who was around fourty years old who had been shot by the guns in his left leg. He said to his wife and children to run away quickly from the camp area to another. And you shouldn't take care of me, and you hadn't enough time, please run away.
This man's voice sounded like a pig being killed before it dies.
I thought that I was going to get my movies and things at my house. Although my mum said be quick so that my family and I could run away from our camp. Four or five minutes later, all of the houses, schools, hospitals, were burning and lighting.
At that time, some people with us sat on the field outside camp next to the Thai village called Hway Ko Loke. After that, we directly went to my grandmother's house who lives there. In the morning, I came back to our camp. What was burned had been changed. As a result, wood became charcoal and bamboo and thatch changed to ash. Everything was gone.
Cha Mu
Last year, on my summer holiday, I went to visit my parents, who live on the Thai/Myanmar borderline in a town called P'lu. In this place, we have Burmese soldiers, DKBA (Democratic Karen Buddhist Army) and KNU (Karen National Union). We're afraid of them.
After I had arrived and been there for two days, there was a problem in the house that is next to my house. This house was the home of a leader of the DKBA. In the evening around 6pm, my family and I watched karaoke and we laughed a lot. Suddenly we all heard a gunshot and my father switched off the electricity and the CD. Then we all went to the wall and peeked. We saw that there were more than twenty people who covered their faces with hats and surrounded the house. But they didn't care about us. I heard that they asked for jewelry from the wife. When they got it, they destroyed the television, car and drawers in the house.
At that time, my brother, who always visited this house, came back with his motorbike. He rode through the house and as for us, we didn't dare to stop him. We watched this situation nervously. When he arrived in front of the house, he was kicked by the army and his head hit by the edge of the gun. At the same time, one of the people sad, "Kill him now."
But the wife said, "Don’t' kill him. He is my son." So they didn't kill him.
But when they went back, they arrested my brother and the leader of DKBA. Before they left, they fired the house and they threatened us that we were not allowed to go in the house as they had left a bomb in there. But my uncle and my father went there and stopped the fire.
George
Last year, when I was sitting the entrance exam of ICFC (Intensive College Foundation Course), I was interviewed by the ICFC coordinators. They sat on a bench. The one who had a potbelly and was bald, was holding a microphone beside me. The one who had red-golden hair was with a tape-recorder. The other one was a woman. She looked like an Indian.
They all interviewed me but without a microphone and tape-recorder. As a resolute of this, I missed my words. I lost my self-confidence, I forgot how to answer. So, I lost my best chance. I mean that I failed and I didn't pass the entrance exam of ICFC because of the interview. I passed all the other subjects, but I couldn't attend that school because I failed the interview. So I realize myself that interviews are also important for further study. Although you are intelligent in other subjects, if you are not clever in the interview, you can't do anything that concerns the exam. So this is the big experience in my life.
Rose Gay Htoo
On May 29th, 2001, after I finished high school ten standards, I had to leave Laikaw and come to Thailand. It was the first time I was far away from my family. Moreover, I had to continue in my studies in a Karen refugee camp in Umphiem. It made me feel so upset when I arrived at Umpiem's bus stop. I had to take out my bag and arry it up to SEP (Special English Program). At that time, the weather in camp was very awful because it was slippery everywhere. It was cloudy and dark all day. Then I did not dare to take a bath. Furthermore, I was under the weather. I had to stay alone and study at SEP. Before I attended the school, I had to take the SEP exam and I had to stay at SEP dorms. I had no friends to talk to or go around with. People were friendly but I didn't understand what they were talking about in Karen because I couldn't speak their Karen language.
On the fifteenth of June, I told my aunt who took me to Thailand that I wanted to go back but she said, "you have o chance to go back." This sound hurt my heart a lot like and arrow that goes into your heart and draws blood. Everything was hanged in my life. I had never seen a school like SEP and houses like the houses in Umphiem camp. All of the houses are made by bamboo and thatch. There were no parks, no cinemas, no hotels and no restaurants. In my life, I had never heard that we had Karen refugees in Thailand. My parents never talked about Karen people and my aunt didn't tell me that Umphiem is a refugee camp. She told me that education in Umpheim is very good except the living standards are not, but you must try to live like them. I felt embarrassed that I am Karen but I couldn't speak Karen. Moreover, I didn't know about my people who had to be refugees in Thailand. Even if I ha never been in Umphiem, I wouldn't know about the Karen situation in Karen state. Now I know all about it. So I have to be proud of myself that now I become a real Karen. I thank my aunt. Because of her, I can study freely. Also I know my people so I am happy to stay in Umphiem camp.
Zaw Zaw Aung
When I was studying in the sixth standard in the high school of my village, I suffered from a serious pain I my lungs. It took a long time for it to be healed or recovered. I can recall the most specific time it troubled me.
It was a hot day. The crop fields, which are located on the right side of the school, had just been ripped. I could see several cowboys with their cattle from the second top floor of the school. It was lunchtime. Some students were running on the floor and grounds. Some were playing tops and some were playing football. Their white shirts and longies were full of dust and sweat. I was alone sitting at the corner of the second top floor, which was fenced by some intervals of wooden bars. The pain was increasingly more and more - eventually it was so much that I could not breathe. I closed y eyes and twisted and pummeled my belly. I guess I passed out for a while and when I woke up, I felt n o pain.
After the moment had passed, I was thinking, " do cowboys and other students have something of the same disease or pain like me? If yes, what time does it appear to them?" My head was full of those kinds of questions.
At that moment, the bell rang and I attended the rest of my classes that day.
Bway Kho Wah
When I as studying in tenth standard, I was a school group leader. Even though I as the student's group leader, my job was empty.
I heard some o y friends drank alcohol and took bad medicine, which gave them a good feeling. I wanted to taste and I copied my friends. I started skipping school with some of my friends. I did not dare to buy the bad medicine, but I asked some of my friends, who were my best friends, and they bought it for me. After that, I took five bad medicines at the same time and I felt dizzy and I wanted to sleep. But I could not sleep. I went to Zone B with my classmates and I spent the whole day o the road. We walked around Zone B. We didn't go to school the whole day. Even though I didn't go to school, my parents didn't know about me.
The second day, I went to school for one period and I started skipping school again. We went out and bought alcohol. We went to one of my friend's houses and we drank alcohol and smoked cigarettes. We spent the whole day like this. When I came back home, I thought my parents still didn't know about me, but they already knew. They asked me where I had been and I said that I had been at school. I tried to lie but they didn't believe me. My bother beat me and I wanted to cry but my tears didn't fall on my cheeks. I hated myself. To this day I have never skipped school or drunk alcohol again.
Dah Wah
In the year 1990-1991, I came to Thailand with my family. Because the SPDC (State Peace and Development Council) had come to my village, every family had to leave their poverty. They could take only a few things with them. By the time I came to Thailand, I was only six years old. I couldn’t take notice of everything exactly. My parents came to a Karen refugee camp, which was called Mor Ker, with me. When we arrived, many houses were already set up. I started studying. I was enjoying my studying.
In 1997, the DKBA came to the camp and burned the camp. At that time, I was a sixth-stander. I saw the burning. The bullets were shining dangerously. My family and I went down to the house and hid in a hole. The bullets came above my head. They nearly hurt my head. My legs were shaking, also my heart.
In the morning, I saw many people didn't want to eat, not even me. For the next two or three days everything was fine.
In the summer, my family and I went back to my village to visit. At that time, people could travel on the borderline. When I was again at my village, I saw the SPDC and DKBA. One of the DKBA visited my family. I also talked ot him, but I hated him a little bit. We spent only a few weeks there and we came back. For the next three years, all the people of Mor Ker had to move to a new refugee camp called Umphiem.
Poe Kler Htoo
I was born in Karen State in Pa Tu village. But I great up in a refugee camp. When I was living in Mor Ker refugee camp, I had a serious problem for the first time in my life. It put me in a fix. It was when the DKBA came and burnt the refugee camp. As a result, many houses were burned. Moreover, they shot guns. So a lot of people were running and shooting in the dark on the road. Because it was nighttime. That is the reason why I had to leave my house without knowing anything. So I was very depressed living in the refugee camp. It was five years ago, before we had moved to Umphiem Mai camp.
Secondly, on the twentieth of November 2004, it was nighttime when I was talking with my friends at ARC (American Refugee Committee) in Zone B. Suddenly, I heard Thai soldiers and my friends fighting each other on the main road in section one. Immediately, I went down and looked for my friends on the road. At that time, many soldiers were coming and beat my stomach and my head without any reason. Even though I wanted to explain the situation to them, they didn't listen to me and took me to the camp office in Zone A. Then, I had a conversation with the camp leader who works for the security of the refugee camp. However, I had no worries, because I knew myself that I was an innocent person. Also the leader understood me and let me free to go back home. But I have never forgotten being hurt by soldiers. It was the second sojourn in my beautiful life.
Thirdly, even though I am a refugee, I have a dream that one day Karen people will get back their homeland because our Karen people will be emancipated from the Burmese government. Our Karen people will abolish the SPDC in Burma. For this reason, the SPDC will be done and our Karen people will have freedom. Our Karen people will have a good education. Our Karen people will have a good relationship with the other ethnic groups. Also other ethnic groups will be free like the Karen in Burma. But I have never been satisfied being a refugee with less opportunities than other people. I have never been satisfied leaving our homeland and living in another country. I have never been satisfied with the killing of innocent people that is happening in Karen State. However, we are not wallow people in future. Therefore, one day, I have a dream: Karen people will get back their beautiful homeland and develop their lives. Moreover the world will know that the Karen people are one of the ethnic groups of Burma.
Say Say Lah
In 1986, I stayed in jail for six months in Burma. Because my father is a KNU soldier and the SPDC soldiers caught me. At that time, I was five years old. After they had freed me from the jail, I got a disease and nearly died. Even though they had freed me, I have to be afraid all the time because they knew me. I am worried that they will catch me again.
When I studied in tenth standard in 1998, they burned my house in my village. At that time, my mother did not stay in the house. If she had stayed there, they would have killed my mother.
Even though I have a chance to study, I am never happy because I am afraid all the time. On the other hand, I am lucky because my parents send me to school. If I compare my life with the other people, I am very lucky because other people don't have a chance to study.
In 2001, I went to the Thai/Burma border because the SPDC were aroused. They could catch us again, so my sister and I came to the borderline. When I arrived at the borderline, I was very surprised because I hadn't known that a lot of Karen people stayed in the border.
Now I live in a refugee camp and I know more about our Karen situation. I'm happy with them also. On the other hand, I knew why my father became a soldier. When I stayed in Burma, I never knew about our Karen situation. I know that the SPDC soldiers said that the KNU are not good.
In my life, happy and worried go together. All these stories, I will never forget, especially the experience in my life since I was a child, until this day.
Kler Paw
When I was in the eighth standard in 1999, I had an unforgettable picnic in my life. At that time, I was in Mawlamyine and I studied at Number Eleven High School. During December holidays, we decided to go somewhere with our friends together happily. We meant that we would go after we finished our second trimester examinations. As we know, boys and girls like a picnic very much. They always welcome it. Even older people like to have a picnic. As soon as one of my friends invited me to join a picnic party, I accepted it quickly. The picnic I went to was a happy occasion for me.
The picnic site was Kan Daw Kyi, which is located in Mu Don, Mon State. We went there by hired bus. After three hours driving from Mawlamyine, we arrived there. We chose a fine shady spot as our picnic ground. There were a few trees nearby. When we arrived at the picnic ground, we put down the things under some trees. We had pots of rice and curry, packets of some fruits, sweets and chocolates. While some were preparing for our lunch, a few boys and girls walked around the area. After a while, we gathered at the main spot to have a picnic lunch.
Though there were only a few boys and girls at the picnic ground, the place was alive with talking, laughing and clapping hands. When we finished our lunch, we played a parcel game. A parcel game was very popular for picnic parties in Myanmar. No one had to refuse to participate in it. The three boys of the picnic party played on an organ and the two hollow guitars. Some girls were good at singing. Some could dance very well. The occasion made the picnic party more friendly. Then, every partner became my close friend when we came back to our own place. How fine the picnic I went to was!
Naing Lin
The twenty-seventh of November 2004, was a snowing day. All the SEP students were tired, in view of the fact that they had carried rations from the ration store. I looked at my friend, called Rita's, face. She was sweating. I invited her to drink beer with me and she nodded.
We four, two girls and two boys, were sitting around the table. The time was nearly 11:00am. We put beer on the table but had no cups. We looked at each other, waiting for someone to start drinking it. But within five minutes, nobody had started. So I had to start. We only had one beer. It was gone within ten minutes.
After I drunk beer with my friends, I remembered something that my friend Rita had told me. She said that she had no more money to buy a coat. All I wanted was to share some of my money with her. However I did not dare to give her my money because she might think that I had fallen in love with her. I couldn't make a decision if I should give her the money or not. I continued talking to her. The two of my friends left from the table. So I made a decision that I would give her some money.
I went inside to my bed and took out 200 baht from my wallet and put it inside a diary book that I hadn't written anything in and gave it to her. First, she was surprised and refused to take the money. But when I said, "Don’t worry," she took it. I looked at her. She smiled at me. I was really happy.
This was what I have never done I my life. The day was the twenty-seventh of November, 2004, in the SEP dorm in section 6, Zone B. I will never forget this day that I had made someone happy.
Pho Kyaw Kyaw
I have many experiences in my life. But I clearly recognize only one in my high school life in 1999, in Nu Poe high school. It made me very upset at that time and also I found it difficult to solve. But later on I found a good way to pass it.
In June, 1999, when I was in grade 10 in Nu Poe high school, KT Taw, the mistress of high school in Nu Poe, treated me very badly and teased me every tie that she saw me.
One day, the second week of the school year, she taught in a grade nine class and I sat in grade ten class in the back row. She scolded her students and said that you, boys, did not respect the teachers like the students from grade ten. I then thought, it was not just and belonged to our class. So, I stood up and yelled at the mistress.
I said to her, "It is not a good example to the students, and makes the students upset by hurting other people that you don't know." Then she started crying at the time. I took my bag and left the school. I did not want to study any more with her.
When I left the school, I decided that as long as she taught in the school, I would never attend that school. After I had argued with her, she sent a letter to my parents that evening.
But I didn't go back home for two days. I spent time with my friends and drank a lot of alcohol. After two days had passed, I went back home.
My parents asked me, "What happened to you in the school? Here is a letter that came from the head mistress." The teacher and my parents had a meeting. But it was not successful because I didn't want to attend the school in Nu Poe, so they decided to send me to Mae Sot.
They sent me to a mission school, called True Life in God. This, I remember forever. It was the first time I had seen a partial teacher in my life. Also I didn't want to study in a school like that. But later, I heard that the teacher had resigned from her position and she had regretted that she had treated her students like that.
Johnny Htoo
During 1996 and 1997, I was attending the Kawthoolei High School in Karen State, which was located on the KNU Brigade Number (6). The high school was in a village called Kyite Don, where many resistance families were staying. Other business people were also staying there. I was in seventh standard and there were about seven hundred students in the school. Most of the students were from business families. A few people at school were from normal and resistance families.
On March 17th of 1996, there was an arrangement from the brigade general to provide military training to the students. The demand was for one hundred students who would be required to attend the training, including about thirty percent o the schoolgirls. Thus, on March 24th, 1996, I reenrolled my name to attend the training and many friends of mine did also. Then the training started.
The hatred of carrying guns, behaving actively and obeying rules were lost in my mind. There were three trainers at that time. I had to be in the training every day although I didn't want to. Uplift of dynamism of patriot spirit, uplift of fitness and obedience were given to me in my mind. The second step was to be involved in warfare, which the other people joined, not only me. At the military section, we had to follow all the things or orders that our officer asked of us. WE had to obey all the things, which we chose to be before. Combat, shooting, killing and learning about initial discipline were included in the training.
However, my true past experience is not only for the memories of learning these aggressive skills of warriors, but my actual dream is to remember the heart of the capacity to be active and to show our spirit of patriotism.
K'Shaw Paw
When I was in the seventh standard, I liked to ride my bicycle very much. but one day, I played with my friends, then I said that I will ride a bicycle down from the mountain. One of my friends asked me for a to ride a bicycle behind me. So I told her that I would try one time, then, if it is ok, I will bet you to ride behind me. I rode a bicycle down the mountain, then I couldn't control my bicycle. At that time, I was so scare, like I couldn't do anything, then I didn't see anything in front of me.
At the same time, I heard a loud sound calling me, "K'Shaw Paw! … 9 …10…"
My whole body was shaking and my face became red. In my heart I thought where the bicycle would go, never mind, I will let it be like that. I gave up, so my bicycle hit the tree that is in front of my house. Later, I fell down from the bicycle. My bum and my legs were very painful. Moreover, my legs got a wound.
Starting that day, until today, I have never ridden a bicycle, because it got me into a lot of trouble. The most important thing that I am afraid of is that I will lose my body.
Cho Cho Aung
Every year, there is a big festival for the students of Burma. In 1997, the festival was held in K'Chen State and I was chosen to go there as my school's representative. At that time, I was in sixth standard and thirteen years old. I knew that I had to go to K'Chen State and I felt very happy and excited. My aunt and cousin also prepared things for me such as clothes and pocket money for my trip.
Before I went to K'Chen State, I had to stay in P'Ahn for one month. I had to learn about dancing in P'Ahn for one month. From my village to P'Ahn, I had to go on a ship.
Two of the teachers from my school had to go also and went with my to P'Ahn. When I arrived in P'Ahn, my two teachers went and went on a bicycle to the place where I had to stay. We rode the bicycles for thirty minutes and arrived at the big building. I thought that it might be a government service's apartment. We went up to second floor and entered into a room. There was a woman there who was about fifty years old and she smiled at us. We also smiled at her. Then she told us to sit and gave us some water to drink. After that she said, "I'm sorry that I sent to message to you too late. The students who had to go to K'Chen State are too many. We are full. Yesterday I tried to send the message to your school but I couldn't find any messengers. I am really sorry that you and your students had to come here."
As soon as I heard that speech, I felt very sad. Then me and my teachers said goodbye to that teacher, took our bags and went to one of the teacher's friend's houses who lived in P'Ahn.
Bathsheba
On Friday, December 3rd 2004, at night time< I was in bed an going to sleep. Three of us were staying in the dorm and I was sleeping in the middle. AT about 11pm, one of my friends was shocked because she couldn't find her tape recorder when she wanted to listen to it. She called us to help find her. I was also shocked and awoke, wanting to know what had happened to us. We were afraid and I almost cried. WE all knew that the tape recorder was lost. Why our things were lost again and again? Some said that it was outside people who took them. "Is it really?" I asked and was shaken and afraid. Even though we locked the room with a key when we went outside, some kind of person stole our things. It made us afraid and worried that we dared not to sleep in our own dorms anymore. Lately one of my friends old me, "Don't worry, sleep well." We talked about funny things to try and forget the worry then about 12:30, I fell asleep.
Ler Lah Say
The scariest experience that remains with me always happened when I was six years old. I went to watch a football game with my father at the football ground. Before we got to the football ground, we had to cross the main road in order to reach the grounds. After we finished watching the football game, I came back before my father. Then, when I arrived at the main road, I saw a car coming at very fast speed. Before the car crossed in front of me, I tried to cross the road with a quick movement first. When other people beside me on the road saw this, they were very scared for me, because they worried that I would die in that accident. However, luckily, I was saved from that scare. When I got home, my parents scolded me and I cried. Then I went to bed and fell asleep. But I remember this memory all the time.
Jingle Bells!
I only just began writing Christmas cards this week. Not because I am lazy, although I am, but because it didn't really occur to me that Christmas was coming. Even though these cards have been posted, I wouldn't recommend that anyone hold their breath. The way things are going; the cards won't reach anyone until February. The weird thing is, mail from your end seems to be reaching me at the normal rate. Perhaps I need to bribe someone at the post office. As it is, I think I am annoying them. We had a long "discussion" today about where on earth Colombia is. I think we established that it was not in Europe, although I don't think we got much further than that. To my friends in Colombia: as of today, there is a Christmas card floating around the world somewhere with probably inadequate postage and your name on it.
As I was huddled in my blankets in the frosty ten-degree night, writing these Christmas cards in the last moments before the generator went off for the night, I heard singing from outside. A group of students from one of the other schools in camp were outside the dorm, holding candles and guitars and singing a mix of Karen and English Christmas carols. They have beautiful voices and sing lovely harmonies. The insects were calling softly from the banana trees and I stood with a few of the girls from the dorm, hugging each other for warmth, smiling at the candlelight and looking up at the stars.
The next day, our students sprang into action. Last year, they had gone caroling in the camp for three nights, six hours each night and raised the equivalent of about $100. That's a serious wad of cash around here. Although they loved the singing and found it very lovely, they were suddenly worried that they would be cut out of the game. An emergency meeting was called. The singing practice begun. I spent the next two evenings correcting papers in the classroom at night, while the students tried to figure out the words and tune to such classics as "Jingle Bells," "Silver Bells," and, of all things, "Feliz Navidad." They sound very lovely so it hardly seems fair to bother them about pronounciation, the correct tune or any such trifles. There were lots of laughs though, particularly as several students routinely mix up Jingle Bells and Silver Bells and sing the words from on to the tune of the other. I will miss the actual caroling, which is not too upsetting. Six hours of singing is a little much. But combined with this, there are six hours of walking in the dark and six hours of scaling and descending steep, muscle breaking hills. Thankfully, I am safely back in Mae Sot for the evenings in question. Otherwise, there could be no hope for me.
Meanwhile, we are all singing "Jingle Bells" under our breath, almost all the time. There's nothing that says it's the holiday season more than the endless repetition of the same old songs.
Suddenly it feels like Christmas.
As I was huddled in my blankets in the frosty ten-degree night, writing these Christmas cards in the last moments before the generator went off for the night, I heard singing from outside. A group of students from one of the other schools in camp were outside the dorm, holding candles and guitars and singing a mix of Karen and English Christmas carols. They have beautiful voices and sing lovely harmonies. The insects were calling softly from the banana trees and I stood with a few of the girls from the dorm, hugging each other for warmth, smiling at the candlelight and looking up at the stars.
The next day, our students sprang into action. Last year, they had gone caroling in the camp for three nights, six hours each night and raised the equivalent of about $100. That's a serious wad of cash around here. Although they loved the singing and found it very lovely, they were suddenly worried that they would be cut out of the game. An emergency meeting was called. The singing practice begun. I spent the next two evenings correcting papers in the classroom at night, while the students tried to figure out the words and tune to such classics as "Jingle Bells," "Silver Bells," and, of all things, "Feliz Navidad." They sound very lovely so it hardly seems fair to bother them about pronounciation, the correct tune or any such trifles. There were lots of laughs though, particularly as several students routinely mix up Jingle Bells and Silver Bells and sing the words from on to the tune of the other. I will miss the actual caroling, which is not too upsetting. Six hours of singing is a little much. But combined with this, there are six hours of walking in the dark and six hours of scaling and descending steep, muscle breaking hills. Thankfully, I am safely back in Mae Sot for the evenings in question. Otherwise, there could be no hope for me.
Meanwhile, we are all singing "Jingle Bells" under our breath, almost all the time. There's nothing that says it's the holiday season more than the endless repetition of the same old songs.
Suddenly it feels like Christmas.
Thursday, December 09, 2004
The King's Birthday
I fully realize that I have not yet provided you with the description of the Loy Kathong festivities, which did, indeed involve drunkenness and fire in large quantities. However, last week was the King's Birthday which involved a whole new set of festivities, and life is sweeping me along so quickly, that there hardly seems time for me to keep my head above the water, let alone write everything down.
Khun, the young eccentric owner of the most popular ex-pat's bar in town said, "Tabasco sauce is so Western. We will drink chilies." It was Tim's birthday, the Australian author/ documentary film maker who lives in the house next to mine and I was ordering him the typical Albertan birthday drink: the Prairie Fire. A Prairie Fire is a tequila shot with Tabasco sauce.
So Khun brought out the shot glasses and found some chili peppers, the small green ones known as "mouse droppings." The smaller the chili, the more intense the flavor. He dropped a chili into each glass and crushed it in the bottom, then topped up the glass with tequila, stirred it up and let it sit for awhile. When the four of us at the bar got to drinking those tasty little shots of fire, that's when the drinking started to get serious.
I can't even remember now what it was that made me laugh, but I was in the middle of shooting another round and the tequila was already going down my throat when I started laughing. Rather then spit all over everyone I tried to restrain myself and predictably, ended up getting a great deal of tequila up my nose. If it had just been tequila, I wouldn't have any complaint, but this round had been sitting on the bar for quite some time, soaking up the chilies and getting feistier by the moment.
Let me tell you something folks: chilies are not something you want going up your nose.
For the next few moments, I couldn't even tell you what was going on in the bar. I'm told that I squeaked. I couldn't talk for a few minutes. My head was a tingling mass of fire. My nose was in serious pain. SERIOUS pain. And of course, everyone was laughing. And, of course, there were more chili tequila shots to be drunk.
Unlike Tim, the King gets a huge party to celebrate his birthday. It is a national holiday. The center of town is transformed into a huge market fair complete with Ferris wheels, dodgem cars, Thai dancing and boxing matches every night. I thought it would be a quiet night, restricted myself to only a few beers and went down with my friends to check out the scene and see my first boxing match.
The crowds down in the market were intense. The crowds around the boxing ring were even more so. It brought back memories of my mosh-pit days, pressed up against the crowd, amoung the steaming sweat of bodies, swaying together with the press of people. We got there early and had places right up close to the ring. The wait before the fight started was entertained by strange conversation with drunken Thai and Burmese men, who are always fascinated by my height, what I am doing in the crowd and my ability to drink shots (in this case, most of the men were drinking concoctions of Red Bull mixed with Whiskey). I have no idea what they are saying, they cant understand me, we just stand there gesturing and laughing and generally having a good time. It's a bit like watching a movie with the sound off, trying to guess what the characters might be saying.
The boxing was interesting, but we didn't see the best fighting in Thailand. Although there is good fighting here in Mae Sot, the night we went down was mostly younger boys in the ring. That's good because they fight with big gloves, shorter and fewer rounds and less intensely. There are rarely any knock outs. The older men fight five long rounds, sometimes bare knuckled. They either get knocked out and usually there is some blood being spilled or spat out with some teeth. There is music being played while they fight: a drum and a high pitched horn and sometimes the fighters look like they are dancing, swaying and dodging and moving to the music.
When the fighting was over, most people had already left the fair. We wandered around as people shut down their stalls and wandered home. One of the guys I was with wandered past one of the fried bug stands and popped a medium sized beetle in his mouth, crunching on it loudly. "Come here and kiss me," he said with a beetle leg stuck between his teeth. We ended up buying a bag of grubs and yes, I did pop one of them into my mouth. They are a kind of worm that lives in bamboo trees and my students talked about them with relish when I described the escapade to them. They make a light, crunchy snack, a bit like a rice crisp.
Bars were closed in respect for the King and conversation among the people I was with was interesting and nowhere near winding down, so we stopped in the only place still open and serving beer: a brothel. We stayed there talking for several hours then decided to head home for the night. We were one bike short because Tim had gotten a ride down to the fair so I gave him my bike and said that I would walk home. I wanted to clear my head from all the craziness of the weekend.
Walking home at night in Canada is, indeed, an excellent way to clear one's head. But I live in Mae Sot now and walking home at night is not something I will ever do again. I had forgotten about the Pariah Dogs.
If you are riding a speedy bicycle, motorcycle, going about in a car or walking during the day, you hardly notice the Pariah Dogs. If you do, you may think they are merely someone's pets. They sleep during the day and hide from cars and people. But at night, the Pariah Dogs rule the streets.
Almost as soon as my friend's bikes were out of sight, a few came into view and I realized what a bad decision I had made. I stepped into someone's garden and relieved them of a couple of bricks making up a flower border. Then I stepped into action. I can't even remember the number of confrontations I had with the dogs, only that I can't remember the last time I felt so scared. At one point, I made the mistake of letting one circle behind me so that they were coming at me from all sides. Where I would have been without my bricks, I do not know. Tim said he could hear me coming down the street ten minutes before I arrived. The dogs were howling all around me. I dared not run, but walked calmly and strongly among them, often growling at them, threatening to hit them with my bricks, even getting up the courage to walk towards them in confrontation. By the last three blocks though, I was swearing at the mangy mutts loudly and profusely.
I haven’t been so happy to see my bed in a long long time.
And that's just a normal night in Mae Sot: a little boxing, some grub eating, chilling in the brothel and a walk home through packs of wild dogs.
And that's not even the half of it.
Khun, the young eccentric owner of the most popular ex-pat's bar in town said, "Tabasco sauce is so Western. We will drink chilies." It was Tim's birthday, the Australian author/ documentary film maker who lives in the house next to mine and I was ordering him the typical Albertan birthday drink: the Prairie Fire. A Prairie Fire is a tequila shot with Tabasco sauce.
So Khun brought out the shot glasses and found some chili peppers, the small green ones known as "mouse droppings." The smaller the chili, the more intense the flavor. He dropped a chili into each glass and crushed it in the bottom, then topped up the glass with tequila, stirred it up and let it sit for awhile. When the four of us at the bar got to drinking those tasty little shots of fire, that's when the drinking started to get serious.
I can't even remember now what it was that made me laugh, but I was in the middle of shooting another round and the tequila was already going down my throat when I started laughing. Rather then spit all over everyone I tried to restrain myself and predictably, ended up getting a great deal of tequila up my nose. If it had just been tequila, I wouldn't have any complaint, but this round had been sitting on the bar for quite some time, soaking up the chilies and getting feistier by the moment.
Let me tell you something folks: chilies are not something you want going up your nose.
For the next few moments, I couldn't even tell you what was going on in the bar. I'm told that I squeaked. I couldn't talk for a few minutes. My head was a tingling mass of fire. My nose was in serious pain. SERIOUS pain. And of course, everyone was laughing. And, of course, there were more chili tequila shots to be drunk.
Unlike Tim, the King gets a huge party to celebrate his birthday. It is a national holiday. The center of town is transformed into a huge market fair complete with Ferris wheels, dodgem cars, Thai dancing and boxing matches every night. I thought it would be a quiet night, restricted myself to only a few beers and went down with my friends to check out the scene and see my first boxing match.
The crowds down in the market were intense. The crowds around the boxing ring were even more so. It brought back memories of my mosh-pit days, pressed up against the crowd, amoung the steaming sweat of bodies, swaying together with the press of people. We got there early and had places right up close to the ring. The wait before the fight started was entertained by strange conversation with drunken Thai and Burmese men, who are always fascinated by my height, what I am doing in the crowd and my ability to drink shots (in this case, most of the men were drinking concoctions of Red Bull mixed with Whiskey). I have no idea what they are saying, they cant understand me, we just stand there gesturing and laughing and generally having a good time. It's a bit like watching a movie with the sound off, trying to guess what the characters might be saying.
The boxing was interesting, but we didn't see the best fighting in Thailand. Although there is good fighting here in Mae Sot, the night we went down was mostly younger boys in the ring. That's good because they fight with big gloves, shorter and fewer rounds and less intensely. There are rarely any knock outs. The older men fight five long rounds, sometimes bare knuckled. They either get knocked out and usually there is some blood being spilled or spat out with some teeth. There is music being played while they fight: a drum and a high pitched horn and sometimes the fighters look like they are dancing, swaying and dodging and moving to the music.
When the fighting was over, most people had already left the fair. We wandered around as people shut down their stalls and wandered home. One of the guys I was with wandered past one of the fried bug stands and popped a medium sized beetle in his mouth, crunching on it loudly. "Come here and kiss me," he said with a beetle leg stuck between his teeth. We ended up buying a bag of grubs and yes, I did pop one of them into my mouth. They are a kind of worm that lives in bamboo trees and my students talked about them with relish when I described the escapade to them. They make a light, crunchy snack, a bit like a rice crisp.
Bars were closed in respect for the King and conversation among the people I was with was interesting and nowhere near winding down, so we stopped in the only place still open and serving beer: a brothel. We stayed there talking for several hours then decided to head home for the night. We were one bike short because Tim had gotten a ride down to the fair so I gave him my bike and said that I would walk home. I wanted to clear my head from all the craziness of the weekend.
Walking home at night in Canada is, indeed, an excellent way to clear one's head. But I live in Mae Sot now and walking home at night is not something I will ever do again. I had forgotten about the Pariah Dogs.
If you are riding a speedy bicycle, motorcycle, going about in a car or walking during the day, you hardly notice the Pariah Dogs. If you do, you may think they are merely someone's pets. They sleep during the day and hide from cars and people. But at night, the Pariah Dogs rule the streets.
Almost as soon as my friend's bikes were out of sight, a few came into view and I realized what a bad decision I had made. I stepped into someone's garden and relieved them of a couple of bricks making up a flower border. Then I stepped into action. I can't even remember the number of confrontations I had with the dogs, only that I can't remember the last time I felt so scared. At one point, I made the mistake of letting one circle behind me so that they were coming at me from all sides. Where I would have been without my bricks, I do not know. Tim said he could hear me coming down the street ten minutes before I arrived. The dogs were howling all around me. I dared not run, but walked calmly and strongly among them, often growling at them, threatening to hit them with my bricks, even getting up the courage to walk towards them in confrontation. By the last three blocks though, I was swearing at the mangy mutts loudly and profusely.
I haven’t been so happy to see my bed in a long long time.
And that's just a normal night in Mae Sot: a little boxing, some grub eating, chilling in the brothel and a walk home through packs of wild dogs.
And that's not even the half of it.
Thursday, December 02, 2004
Sweet December
This week began with my kidnapping at the hands of the evil Education Destruction League (EDL). Because of my kidnapping, I was did not arrive at camp Monday morning to teach classes. This caused a great deal of confusion which lasted until the EDL delivered a note explaining that they hated EIP school and had a mission to destroy it unless the students could show enough strength and unity to warrant it's existence. Their first task was to pick up a package at a certain location. Inside the package were painting supplies and a letter demanding that a mural be painted on the outside of the classroom. If the mural was complete by 3pm, the anti-education terrorists would release me.
While my students were painting their hearts out, I took advantage of the free time to go for a hike in the mountains. The camp is divided into two zones, A and B. The residents of the zones came from different camps before coming to Umpiem. Umpiem exists because two camps were burned down by Burmese troops. I went for a hike starting up the hill opposite camp in what is known as Zone C, or the graveyard. From there I went over the hill, down into a valley and up another hill and down another valley. It was hard work and I quickly got covered in sweat and, as I progressed, mud and dirt. The hills are steep so although I hiked for several hours, I hardly got anywhere. Going somewhere wasn't exactly my goal anyways. I just wandered around, picking the most well trodden paths and singing random songs, so that I wouldn't surprise anyone who didn't want to be surprised. I found out afterwards that this was a good strategy, as those hills lead to Burma, only 8km away and are regularly patrolled by KNU forces (the Karen armed force, fighting the Burmese government for independence and protecting the camp from their raids). Singing is something I do when walking alone in Canada to frighten bears. Although I knew it wouldn't do much for the snakes and spiders, I thought that no one could accuse me of spying or possibly feel threatened by a naïve white girl tripping along, dripping with sweat and singing Amazing Grace (because actually, I know the words to remarkably few songs). Of course, this strategy only works when going downhill. Going uphill, there is no breath available for anything.
It was a fully enjoyable walk and I met almost nobody. I walked through grassy hills and down into a jungly valley where I found a tiny stream winding it's way through dense greenery. The sunlight filtered in through thick overhanging vines and fell upon a patch of bamboo where yellow butterflies played. The people I met were laborers returning from cutting the leaves used for roof thatching in huge bundles upon their backs. We said hello and they asked where I was going. Despite the steep muddy hill and their immense burdens, they still moved much faster than me and were soon on their way back to camp.
I spent the afternoon in the tea shop eating bean curry with flatbread, a dish that, when ordered in Burmese sounds like, "baby-o". At 3pm, I observed from a hill opposite school that the mural was complete and the terrorists released me, to the pleasure of my anxious students.
They thought it was all over and we spent the night playing games and having fun. But the next morning, my co-teacher Patrick didn't arrive for class. We thought he was just sleeping in. It was a "cold" misty morning, the kind where no one wants to leave their blankets. Students went into Patrick's room three times before I had to point out to them that it was unusually messy.
His room had, in fact, been ransacked at some point while I was teaching and the culprits had left a mysterious note: a picture of Patrick tied to a chair with his mouth taped shut and a phone number to call at 11am. The terrorists, our third teacher Brooke's Burmese boyfriend, gave the location of a second package which the students found in the boys shower room. The accompanying instructions demanded that the students make a school sign or mascot and gave them some building supplies. The rest of the day was spent sawing and planning and painting and nailing and laughing a lot, as the students were beginning to catch on to what was really going on with these wily terrorists.
That evening, someone from Mae Sot was up at camp and came over to the school to chat with me. They were up for a Sweet December party, a Christian celebration of the beginning of advent usually involving whisky and sticky rice, or a midnight trip to church, depending on who is doing the celebrating. I then realized that my visa would expire the next day but thought little of it. There is a small $5 fine per day of overstay.
"Are you sure about that?" asked my friend. "Our organization recently got a memo from the Thai government saying that they are putting in place a 5000 baht fine for overstayed visas."
Not wanting to risk it, I tore up to the dorm, grabbed my bag, put on my running shoes and ran down through camp, through the market to the road. As I ran, heads turned (no one runs, it's too hot, too rocky, too hilly and why hurry?). Little children laughed and ran after me shouting, "bye bye! Bye bye!" (Incidentally, they never shout "hello" no matter if you are coming or going.)
"One, two, three!" shouted a small boy.
"Four, five, six!" I panted as I ran by.
I made it to the road and found a truck waiting. One can never be sure about the schedule of the public trucks. Sometimes they go by once an hour, sometimes not for several hours. Sometimes they stop at 2:30pm, sometimes the last one goes by at 6pm. I was in luck. The driver told me that he wouldn't leave for another half an hour, so I grabbed some food from the market and sat in the shade.
Fifteen minutes later, I realized that I had left my keys next to my bed up at the dorms. At that exact moment, the driver motioned to me that he wanted to go. I did a frantic mime to him about my keys and tried to tell him I would be back in fifteen minutes. He seemed to understand, so I tore off.
Back I ran, over the stony trail, slogging my way uphill at every step, sweating past the market stalls, and weaving in and out of people. Past the children I went once more, hearing their chorus of "bye bye!" fade behind me, giggling as a small boy raced with me for a while, his pants falling down to show his small bottom. I passed several of my students, panting, "Keys!" and raced on.
The last stage of the trip is a serious uphill climb up steep steps. I thought I was going to have a heart attack and faint.
At the dorms, I grabbed my keys, wished everyone a good night again and raced back down with 7 minutes left until the deadline. Now I was heading downhill and seemed to have gotten my wind. The danger was not to trip over the uneven path or down the steep stairs. I jumped over a chicken only to narrowly miss landing on it's chick. I darted around men going to prayer only to almost hit a boy carrying a large load of wood. I jumped over small sewage streams and bounded over rocks. I raced the boy with his bottom hanging out of his pants again, running through the laughter and calls of the children for the third time today. Stall owners in the market laughed out loud as they saw me race by for the third time. And when I got to the road without a second to spare, exactly on time, I felt like I had won the Olympic obstacle race.
But my trials were far from over.
I got into the truck and we started heading off through the mountains towards Mae Sot. I was the only passenger, which made me nervous, but it did mean that I had the privilege of sitting up front with the driver, which reduces me chance of getting car sick. The driver is chatting away to me in Thai and I am pretending to understand, but I don't at all. I think he is talking about marrying me, at least it is something to do with the rings I am wearing. This is making me a little nervous.
After awhile though, I understand what he is really talking about and it makes me a lot nervous.
The driver of the truck is asking me if I can drive. I nod my head. He takes my hands and puts them on the steering wheel, then puts his hands beside his head and mimes himself sleeping. The man wants me to drive the truck through the windy, wacky road through the mountains where I am sure to crash into a cabbage truck if I don't drive off the side of the road. He is very insistent and his message is clear. I think seriously about it, but I know it cannot be done. Not only is the road insane, but I haven't yet driven a car on the other side of the road, let alone a large truck. A motorcycle, sure, but shifting gears with the left hand and fast thinking as trucks roar around the corner and pass you going uphill… it's not going to happen. But this truck driver wont' take no for an answer.
I make him a deal, he will drive through the windy parts and I will drive on the flat parts. I figure that if I have to drive, I can best handle that and hopefully by then, we will pick up some passengers. He seems happy and I devote all of my energy to making sure he doesn't fall asleep.
By the time we get out of the mountains, the sun is setting. There is a part of the highway where you come around a corner and go down one final steep hill and the view is spectacular. All of the plains spread out before you, bathed this evening in the golden glow of the last rays of the sun. There is a large sunflower field where the flowers have already lowered their heads for the night and white gum trees dripping their green leaves. It was an amazing sunset, so beautiful it was impossible to feel stress or anxiety or worry while watching it. Everything just melted away. Soon afterwards, we picked up passengers and I made it safely back to Mae Sot, picked up my bike and dinner and headed home. There were no Sweet December celebrations for me, but I suspect there will be plenty of drinking whiskey and counting down until midnight this time next month anyways.
In the morning I biked out to the border and walked over the bridge to Burma just as the sun was rising. Visitors to Burma from this entry point are only allowed a one day visa and may not leave the border town. I didn't even get a chance to explore the town. I sat in the customs shed and then walked back across the border to the Thai side, got a new tourist visa, hopped on my bike, picked up some sweet coconut sticky rice by the road and got back to work in time to catch the truck going back up to camp. I even passed someone along the way on my bike, which is simply unheard of. My Pheasant #3 and I are the slowest thing on the road beside the cows and the farmer's tractors. By the time I got to the office, I felt like Bionic Woman.
Up at camp, the students had completed their last challenge from the terrorists: making a school song. The song was really quite impressive, involved guitar playing, drums, an air guitar and the girls jumping around ("dancing"). Patrick and I really feel as if this week has been a success and helped the students come together and overcome the problems they have been having working and living together as a team.
Now it's the first Friday morning of December after one full month of being here. Hard to believe that the time has gone by so quickly. I am back in the office planning lessons for a regular week of school where I will actually have to teach again. That's fine, but I can't help thinking: why can't I get kidnapped by terrorists more often?
While my students were painting their hearts out, I took advantage of the free time to go for a hike in the mountains. The camp is divided into two zones, A and B. The residents of the zones came from different camps before coming to Umpiem. Umpiem exists because two camps were burned down by Burmese troops. I went for a hike starting up the hill opposite camp in what is known as Zone C, or the graveyard. From there I went over the hill, down into a valley and up another hill and down another valley. It was hard work and I quickly got covered in sweat and, as I progressed, mud and dirt. The hills are steep so although I hiked for several hours, I hardly got anywhere. Going somewhere wasn't exactly my goal anyways. I just wandered around, picking the most well trodden paths and singing random songs, so that I wouldn't surprise anyone who didn't want to be surprised. I found out afterwards that this was a good strategy, as those hills lead to Burma, only 8km away and are regularly patrolled by KNU forces (the Karen armed force, fighting the Burmese government for independence and protecting the camp from their raids). Singing is something I do when walking alone in Canada to frighten bears. Although I knew it wouldn't do much for the snakes and spiders, I thought that no one could accuse me of spying or possibly feel threatened by a naïve white girl tripping along, dripping with sweat and singing Amazing Grace (because actually, I know the words to remarkably few songs). Of course, this strategy only works when going downhill. Going uphill, there is no breath available for anything.
It was a fully enjoyable walk and I met almost nobody. I walked through grassy hills and down into a jungly valley where I found a tiny stream winding it's way through dense greenery. The sunlight filtered in through thick overhanging vines and fell upon a patch of bamboo where yellow butterflies played. The people I met were laborers returning from cutting the leaves used for roof thatching in huge bundles upon their backs. We said hello and they asked where I was going. Despite the steep muddy hill and their immense burdens, they still moved much faster than me and were soon on their way back to camp.
I spent the afternoon in the tea shop eating bean curry with flatbread, a dish that, when ordered in Burmese sounds like, "baby-o". At 3pm, I observed from a hill opposite school that the mural was complete and the terrorists released me, to the pleasure of my anxious students.
They thought it was all over and we spent the night playing games and having fun. But the next morning, my co-teacher Patrick didn't arrive for class. We thought he was just sleeping in. It was a "cold" misty morning, the kind where no one wants to leave their blankets. Students went into Patrick's room three times before I had to point out to them that it was unusually messy.
His room had, in fact, been ransacked at some point while I was teaching and the culprits had left a mysterious note: a picture of Patrick tied to a chair with his mouth taped shut and a phone number to call at 11am. The terrorists, our third teacher Brooke's Burmese boyfriend, gave the location of a second package which the students found in the boys shower room. The accompanying instructions demanded that the students make a school sign or mascot and gave them some building supplies. The rest of the day was spent sawing and planning and painting and nailing and laughing a lot, as the students were beginning to catch on to what was really going on with these wily terrorists.
That evening, someone from Mae Sot was up at camp and came over to the school to chat with me. They were up for a Sweet December party, a Christian celebration of the beginning of advent usually involving whisky and sticky rice, or a midnight trip to church, depending on who is doing the celebrating. I then realized that my visa would expire the next day but thought little of it. There is a small $5 fine per day of overstay.
"Are you sure about that?" asked my friend. "Our organization recently got a memo from the Thai government saying that they are putting in place a 5000 baht fine for overstayed visas."
Not wanting to risk it, I tore up to the dorm, grabbed my bag, put on my running shoes and ran down through camp, through the market to the road. As I ran, heads turned (no one runs, it's too hot, too rocky, too hilly and why hurry?). Little children laughed and ran after me shouting, "bye bye! Bye bye!" (Incidentally, they never shout "hello" no matter if you are coming or going.)
"One, two, three!" shouted a small boy.
"Four, five, six!" I panted as I ran by.
I made it to the road and found a truck waiting. One can never be sure about the schedule of the public trucks. Sometimes they go by once an hour, sometimes not for several hours. Sometimes they stop at 2:30pm, sometimes the last one goes by at 6pm. I was in luck. The driver told me that he wouldn't leave for another half an hour, so I grabbed some food from the market and sat in the shade.
Fifteen minutes later, I realized that I had left my keys next to my bed up at the dorms. At that exact moment, the driver motioned to me that he wanted to go. I did a frantic mime to him about my keys and tried to tell him I would be back in fifteen minutes. He seemed to understand, so I tore off.
Back I ran, over the stony trail, slogging my way uphill at every step, sweating past the market stalls, and weaving in and out of people. Past the children I went once more, hearing their chorus of "bye bye!" fade behind me, giggling as a small boy raced with me for a while, his pants falling down to show his small bottom. I passed several of my students, panting, "Keys!" and raced on.
The last stage of the trip is a serious uphill climb up steep steps. I thought I was going to have a heart attack and faint.
At the dorms, I grabbed my keys, wished everyone a good night again and raced back down with 7 minutes left until the deadline. Now I was heading downhill and seemed to have gotten my wind. The danger was not to trip over the uneven path or down the steep stairs. I jumped over a chicken only to narrowly miss landing on it's chick. I darted around men going to prayer only to almost hit a boy carrying a large load of wood. I jumped over small sewage streams and bounded over rocks. I raced the boy with his bottom hanging out of his pants again, running through the laughter and calls of the children for the third time today. Stall owners in the market laughed out loud as they saw me race by for the third time. And when I got to the road without a second to spare, exactly on time, I felt like I had won the Olympic obstacle race.
But my trials were far from over.
I got into the truck and we started heading off through the mountains towards Mae Sot. I was the only passenger, which made me nervous, but it did mean that I had the privilege of sitting up front with the driver, which reduces me chance of getting car sick. The driver is chatting away to me in Thai and I am pretending to understand, but I don't at all. I think he is talking about marrying me, at least it is something to do with the rings I am wearing. This is making me a little nervous.
After awhile though, I understand what he is really talking about and it makes me a lot nervous.
The driver of the truck is asking me if I can drive. I nod my head. He takes my hands and puts them on the steering wheel, then puts his hands beside his head and mimes himself sleeping. The man wants me to drive the truck through the windy, wacky road through the mountains where I am sure to crash into a cabbage truck if I don't drive off the side of the road. He is very insistent and his message is clear. I think seriously about it, but I know it cannot be done. Not only is the road insane, but I haven't yet driven a car on the other side of the road, let alone a large truck. A motorcycle, sure, but shifting gears with the left hand and fast thinking as trucks roar around the corner and pass you going uphill… it's not going to happen. But this truck driver wont' take no for an answer.
I make him a deal, he will drive through the windy parts and I will drive on the flat parts. I figure that if I have to drive, I can best handle that and hopefully by then, we will pick up some passengers. He seems happy and I devote all of my energy to making sure he doesn't fall asleep.
By the time we get out of the mountains, the sun is setting. There is a part of the highway where you come around a corner and go down one final steep hill and the view is spectacular. All of the plains spread out before you, bathed this evening in the golden glow of the last rays of the sun. There is a large sunflower field where the flowers have already lowered their heads for the night and white gum trees dripping their green leaves. It was an amazing sunset, so beautiful it was impossible to feel stress or anxiety or worry while watching it. Everything just melted away. Soon afterwards, we picked up passengers and I made it safely back to Mae Sot, picked up my bike and dinner and headed home. There were no Sweet December celebrations for me, but I suspect there will be plenty of drinking whiskey and counting down until midnight this time next month anyways.
In the morning I biked out to the border and walked over the bridge to Burma just as the sun was rising. Visitors to Burma from this entry point are only allowed a one day visa and may not leave the border town. I didn't even get a chance to explore the town. I sat in the customs shed and then walked back across the border to the Thai side, got a new tourist visa, hopped on my bike, picked up some sweet coconut sticky rice by the road and got back to work in time to catch the truck going back up to camp. I even passed someone along the way on my bike, which is simply unheard of. My Pheasant #3 and I are the slowest thing on the road beside the cows and the farmer's tractors. By the time I got to the office, I felt like Bionic Woman.
Up at camp, the students had completed their last challenge from the terrorists: making a school song. The song was really quite impressive, involved guitar playing, drums, an air guitar and the girls jumping around ("dancing"). Patrick and I really feel as if this week has been a success and helped the students come together and overcome the problems they have been having working and living together as a team.
Now it's the first Friday morning of December after one full month of being here. Hard to believe that the time has gone by so quickly. I am back in the office planning lessons for a regular week of school where I will actually have to teach again. That's fine, but I can't help thinking: why can't I get kidnapped by terrorists more often?
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