I’m sitting in my apartment writing to you, but I should be packing. :-) This evening I went for a swim on my rooftop pool – the sky was clear with a few stars twinkling in the distance. The city is silent from my apartment; only flashy lights can be seen among the skyline. The air is still hot; and the water in my pool is quite warm. :-) I float on my back and watch a plane fly high above. I will soon be on one saying goodbye to Thailand. Tomorrow, actually.
These last two weeks in Bangkok have gone by fast. The office work is tedious and often difficult to sit throughout the day. But the evenings have been filled with friends and lots of good times. I am sad to be leaving, but happy for what’s to come next. It feels good to know I worked hard, made some great friends, and enjoyed a bit of this beautiful world so far from my home. I’m very thankful for my experiences here. Interviewing refugees has been very rewarding and quite interesting at times. My favorite part is knowing that these people are at the start of a great adventure! And amidst all the struggle and the fear that will accompany them, there will be great opportunities and wonderful surprises awaiting them! I hope the same goes for me as well. :-)
Goodbye Bangkok!
Aug 5, 2007
Aug 4, 2007
Jul 12, 2007
on the run
I’m currently in Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia interviewing ethnic Burmese Chin refugees. They are urban refugees, unlike the refugees in the camps in Thailand. We’re working in the city of Kuala Lumpur at the UN site. The refugees are coming from all over Malaysia. The current safety situation for these refugees is rapidly deteriorating. All who we interview have UNHCR ID cards which, in theory, are provided to give a certain level of protection. However, the ID cards have stopped working. There is an organized police force, apart from the city police, whose sole purpose is to round up refugees and bring them in to the city police. When a refugee is caught and brought in for detainment, that “police officer” is given a bounty of $15 per refugee. $15 is a lot of money for capture of a refugee. And especially when so many are being captured. Many of our refugees that have gone through the interviewing process with us and with DHS and who have been approved and are ready to fly…are suddenly captured and imprisoned. They are not showing up for their flights to safety because they have been already been caught.
Refugees are illegal in Malaysia. The government does not allow organized refugee camps or communities to exist. These urban refugees live in hiding and they live in constant fear. Each night at dusk, the refugees begin their night on the move. They stay in stadiums, constructions sites, and old buildings. Large masses of them stay together and those friends and family who are separated frequently call each other throughout the night to be sure the other has not been captured. It’s a game. And when I think of it; it makes me ill.
Our interpreters are local refugees themselves. They are my colleagues. They have no place to sleep at night; they can’t afford to sleep or they may be caught and imprisoned. I go home to a furnished serviced apartment. Sometimes it’s hard to sleep at night. I’m safe and comfy and my colleagues are out hiding and running in the dark to keep from being caught. We offer them protection during the day while we’re at work on the UN compound; but at night they’re on their own. And some mornings, a few of the interpreters won’t show up. They’ve been captured.
Many of these urban refugees come to Malaysia to work; rather than staying in a camp in Thailand. There’s also the battle between the ethnic Chins and the Karen…the Karen live in the camps in Thailand and don’t consider the Chins equal. Why do people hate each other so much? One is forced to leave their country for the safety of their lives from a corrupted government with soldiers who attack and kill; they then flee to a nearby camp where it is relatively safe, but the opposing ethnic group won’t accept them and chase them out. They reach a third country and find that there are organized groups that scour the city at night looking to arrest and detain them in prison, and who get a reward for doing so. All the while, one has to search for food and take the chance of closing their eyes for sleep at some point. Will they wake up in a prison cell or attacked by a military soldier? Or will they awake to the sun and start another day hiding and running and never really feeling safe.
Refugees are illegal in Malaysia. The government does not allow organized refugee camps or communities to exist. These urban refugees live in hiding and they live in constant fear. Each night at dusk, the refugees begin their night on the move. They stay in stadiums, constructions sites, and old buildings. Large masses of them stay together and those friends and family who are separated frequently call each other throughout the night to be sure the other has not been captured. It’s a game. And when I think of it; it makes me ill.
Our interpreters are local refugees themselves. They are my colleagues. They have no place to sleep at night; they can’t afford to sleep or they may be caught and imprisoned. I go home to a furnished serviced apartment. Sometimes it’s hard to sleep at night. I’m safe and comfy and my colleagues are out hiding and running in the dark to keep from being caught. We offer them protection during the day while we’re at work on the UN compound; but at night they’re on their own. And some mornings, a few of the interpreters won’t show up. They’ve been captured.
Many of these urban refugees come to Malaysia to work; rather than staying in a camp in Thailand. There’s also the battle between the ethnic Chins and the Karen…the Karen live in the camps in Thailand and don’t consider the Chins equal. Why do people hate each other so much? One is forced to leave their country for the safety of their lives from a corrupted government with soldiers who attack and kill; they then flee to a nearby camp where it is relatively safe, but the opposing ethnic group won’t accept them and chase them out. They reach a third country and find that there are organized groups that scour the city at night looking to arrest and detain them in prison, and who get a reward for doing so. All the while, one has to search for food and take the chance of closing their eyes for sleep at some point. Will they wake up in a prison cell or attacked by a military soldier? Or will they awake to the sun and start another day hiding and running and never really feeling safe.
Jun 21, 2007
HAPPY BIRTHDAY DAD!!!
Dad got a new toy this past fall...is it as old as he???
Happy Birthday Dad!
I love you!!!
K
ps - enjoy an extra piece of mom's cake for me. :-)
Jun 7, 2007
sunday afternoon
It was a pleasant Sunday afternoon. Sun was shining, the resort was quiet. I’m still up on the Burma border working in Mae La Camp and had a weekend up here. Weekends up here are incredibly lonely. Most of our team is gone as those leaving for Bangkok take a bus Friday night and new people don’t arrive until Sunday evening. It was a quiet weekend. I decided I needed to go to the grocery store in town and get some food for the week. Those that eat at the resort restaurant can be heard suffering from food poisoning the next day; I try to avoid the restaurant. :-) So I approach the reception desk and pray the manager’s wife is there to speak a few words in English to me. She wasn’t. Charades it is! I wanted to know how to get into town. Our drivers are not here on the weekends and town is not within walking distance; nor is there any public transportation. We’re very secluded up here! After 15 minutes of charades and trying to phrase in the most simple of ways that I wanted to go to Tesco (the local grocery store) the young girl at behind the counter tells me 5:30. 5:30? I ask. Yes, 5:30p. Now I don’t know what’s going to happen at 5:30p. I don’t know if that means there is a van or someone can bring me into town. But I decided to chance it come 5:30p. :-)
I arrive at the front desk at 5:30p. They point to a van in the parking lot. Ok then! I guess it is to be my ride! I hop in and ask the driver if he can drop me at Tesco. He gives me a blank stare and smiles. I ask if he speaks English; again, no words, just a smile. I look in the back of the van to see if I recognize anyone from my team. Nope. Looks like a few Japanese tourists. And they weren’t speaking English. We start to drive towards town. I’m a good five kilometers from the resort and realize I hadn’t asked how or when the driver would pick me up and bring me back! And he doesn’t speak English. I try with the other passengers. No go. Ok, not panicking. But I am wondering how this is going to work. I’m pretty sure I can get him to drop me off at Tesco…but how I get back may be tricky. I realize I do not have the resorts number, or my team leaders, or any of the Thai staff that were still at the resort. And to be honest, I hadn’t seen anyone all weekend. The place was like a ghost town.
I decide there’s not much I can do at this point and I really don’t need to worry. The Thai culture in general is very kind and helpful and will try their best to help you; even if they have no understanding of what you’re saying! I sat back and enjoyed the view. It has been raining these last couple months and things have turned from brown and dry to very lush and green! It was gorgeous! I tend to always close my eyes and sleep when I’m in the van to ward off the motion sickness. I hadn’t noticed how beautiful it was up here until this past Sunday. :-)
We arrive in town and the driver drops off the other passengers at a restaurant and then hops back in the van and looks at me. I ask if he can drop me at Tesco. I had to say it three times and then he got it. :-) We pull into the parking lot and he turns to me and says in perfect English “what time would you like me to pick you up?” I just stared back at him. I couldn’t believe it. His English was perfect. I say forty five minutes; he looks at the clock and answers 6:30p. Yep, he speaks English and I had no reason to worry! I was a tad bit embarrassed; especially when he started laughing at the shocked look on my face when he spoke to me in English.
Tis my adventure of Sunday afternoon. :-)
I arrive at the front desk at 5:30p. They point to a van in the parking lot. Ok then! I guess it is to be my ride! I hop in and ask the driver if he can drop me at Tesco. He gives me a blank stare and smiles. I ask if he speaks English; again, no words, just a smile. I look in the back of the van to see if I recognize anyone from my team. Nope. Looks like a few Japanese tourists. And they weren’t speaking English. We start to drive towards town. I’m a good five kilometers from the resort and realize I hadn’t asked how or when the driver would pick me up and bring me back! And he doesn’t speak English. I try with the other passengers. No go. Ok, not panicking. But I am wondering how this is going to work. I’m pretty sure I can get him to drop me off at Tesco…but how I get back may be tricky. I realize I do not have the resorts number, or my team leaders, or any of the Thai staff that were still at the resort. And to be honest, I hadn’t seen anyone all weekend. The place was like a ghost town.
I decide there’s not much I can do at this point and I really don’t need to worry. The Thai culture in general is very kind and helpful and will try their best to help you; even if they have no understanding of what you’re saying! I sat back and enjoyed the view. It has been raining these last couple months and things have turned from brown and dry to very lush and green! It was gorgeous! I tend to always close my eyes and sleep when I’m in the van to ward off the motion sickness. I hadn’t noticed how beautiful it was up here until this past Sunday. :-)
We arrive in town and the driver drops off the other passengers at a restaurant and then hops back in the van and looks at me. I ask if he can drop me at Tesco. I had to say it three times and then he got it. :-) We pull into the parking lot and he turns to me and says in perfect English “what time would you like me to pick you up?” I just stared back at him. I couldn’t believe it. His English was perfect. I say forty five minutes; he looks at the clock and answers 6:30p. Yep, he speaks English and I had no reason to worry! I was a tad bit embarrassed; especially when he started laughing at the shocked look on my face when he spoke to me in English.
Tis my adventure of Sunday afternoon. :-)
doorknobs
Doorknobs are a fascination up here. From the very young to the very old…all are fascinated. I guess when you live in a bamboo hut with no doors or doorknobs, they would be a bit of a challenge. :-)
Jun 1, 2007
survival
Try and picture this. A young boy, just 10 years old, is forced by the military to carry heavy bags of rice and ammunition. He is forced to carry the wounded soldiers and to dig holes for others to sleep in. He is still a small boy. When he gets tired from carrying the heavy bags and/or is exhausted from not being fed properly or given enough water to drink, he is kicked with heavy army boots, slapped on the face and beaten with the butt of a gun. He is screamed at; hateful words that his ethnicity is evil and nonhuman. He has to keep moving or his life is in danger. He has seen too many of his friends shot to death because they couldn’t keep up with the soldiers.
This is his daily life…for twenty five years. He is given brief weeks were he may return to his village, to his family, and to try and live freely. The freedom does not last long and he is once again “captured” and forced to porter.
This particular young boy grows up, gets married, and has three young children. One day while he was quietly working on his farm outside of the village, a member of the rebel group, who is fighting for the freedom from the military, came to him wounded; the soldier was aided to a hospital. As a result of his kindness to a wounded soldier, he is now a target. He is falsely accused of being a member of the rebel group and sought after to arrest and be tortured. The young man gathers his family and runs to hide in the jungle.
Now the young couple, along with their three young children, lived in the jungle hiding for two years. Two years the father goes out each day looking for food and water for his family to survive; two years he lives in fear of being captured, tortured, and killed; two years he protects his family.
I sit across the table from this family. They are almost safe. Safe as in they are now in Thailand where the rebels can only send bombs across the border; no invasions or capturing. Almost safe in their application for resettlement is on its way to acceptance. This family did not look as if they lived in the jungle for two years. But when you look them in the face, their eyes tell you something. And there’s this wild picture that flashes in my mind of what it must have been like.
The thing that gets to me the most is the fear. How do you live for so long in such fear? We all have things we are afraid of. We all have fears that we’ve held onto for far too long. Some of us have fears that we’ve let consume us. But a fear of physically being tortured and killed and watching your family suffering; a fear of not being able to provide for your family or what would happen if you were captured; a fear of being captured. We can’t understand what that feels like to live it out. No one should have to understand what that feels like.
It still shocks me that in this day of age where we have such power and knowledge and resources to share, that people are still living in such fear of survival. I know the politics of it all is not that simple and the solution is far to be found; but I look at these children sitting across my table and they deserve a chance to live without the fear. And even if I don’t always agree with the best interest of this resettlement program, I do believe these people deserve a chance. Everyone deserves a chance to live in freedom of fear for their very existence. I’m overwhelmed with the thought of being able to help in some small way of making that happen. And I truly hope that those who come in contact with these people in America are able to understand the need for that freedom. We may not be able to picture the stories they tell, or the lives that they have lived as a refugee; but they are people just like us. They have families, children, and a hope that tomorrow will be better than today.
This is his daily life…for twenty five years. He is given brief weeks were he may return to his village, to his family, and to try and live freely. The freedom does not last long and he is once again “captured” and forced to porter.
This particular young boy grows up, gets married, and has three young children. One day while he was quietly working on his farm outside of the village, a member of the rebel group, who is fighting for the freedom from the military, came to him wounded; the soldier was aided to a hospital. As a result of his kindness to a wounded soldier, he is now a target. He is falsely accused of being a member of the rebel group and sought after to arrest and be tortured. The young man gathers his family and runs to hide in the jungle.
Now the young couple, along with their three young children, lived in the jungle hiding for two years. Two years the father goes out each day looking for food and water for his family to survive; two years he lives in fear of being captured, tortured, and killed; two years he protects his family.
I sit across the table from this family. They are almost safe. Safe as in they are now in Thailand where the rebels can only send bombs across the border; no invasions or capturing. Almost safe in their application for resettlement is on its way to acceptance. This family did not look as if they lived in the jungle for two years. But when you look them in the face, their eyes tell you something. And there’s this wild picture that flashes in my mind of what it must have been like.
The thing that gets to me the most is the fear. How do you live for so long in such fear? We all have things we are afraid of. We all have fears that we’ve held onto for far too long. Some of us have fears that we’ve let consume us. But a fear of physically being tortured and killed and watching your family suffering; a fear of not being able to provide for your family or what would happen if you were captured; a fear of being captured. We can’t understand what that feels like to live it out. No one should have to understand what that feels like.
It still shocks me that in this day of age where we have such power and knowledge and resources to share, that people are still living in such fear of survival. I know the politics of it all is not that simple and the solution is far to be found; but I look at these children sitting across my table and they deserve a chance to live without the fear. And even if I don’t always agree with the best interest of this resettlement program, I do believe these people deserve a chance. Everyone deserves a chance to live in freedom of fear for their very existence. I’m overwhelmed with the thought of being able to help in some small way of making that happen. And I truly hope that those who come in contact with these people in America are able to understand the need for that freedom. We may not be able to picture the stories they tell, or the lives that they have lived as a refugee; but they are people just like us. They have families, children, and a hope that tomorrow will be better than today.
May 16, 2007
Happy Birthday Andrew!!!
My little brother turns 21 today!
(And this is the most embarrassing photo I could find in my small collection at the moment. :-) Good thing he's on a ship with no Internet...the pic is really just for the rest of us to enjoy!)
I miss you!
Happy Birthday!!!
Lots of Love from your big sister :-)
May 13, 2007
happy mother's day!
When God thought of mother,
He must have laughed with satisfaction,
and framed it quickly -
so rich, so deep, so divine,
so full of soul, power, and beauty,
was the conception.
-Henry Ward Beecher
My mother is the QUEEN of laughter. She really is. She’s also the GREATEST MOM IN THE WORLD!!! Now I know everyone says that about their mom, but I really am telling you the truth. My mom is the greatest!!!
And I could tell you all the ways she is the greatest, but that would just be rubbing it in and make all you other moms look bad. :-)
So I just want to say…I love you mom! And even though we are worlds apart right now, you’re still with me! I am my mother’s daughter - and very proud to be! (Someday, when I grow up, I want to be just like you!) You make life look easy. Your laughter and kindness are contagious. You are so beautiful! I appreciate all you do and all that you are. Thanks for being the greatest mom in the world!
I love you!
Kristi
He must have laughed with satisfaction,
and framed it quickly -
so rich, so deep, so divine,
so full of soul, power, and beauty,
was the conception.
-Henry Ward Beecher
My mother is the QUEEN of laughter. She really is. She’s also the GREATEST MOM IN THE WORLD!!! Now I know everyone says that about their mom, but I really am telling you the truth. My mom is the greatest!!!
And I could tell you all the ways she is the greatest, but that would just be rubbing it in and make all you other moms look bad. :-)
So I just want to say…I love you mom! And even though we are worlds apart right now, you’re still with me! I am my mother’s daughter - and very proud to be! (Someday, when I grow up, I want to be just like you!) You make life look easy. Your laughter and kindness are contagious. You are so beautiful! I appreciate all you do and all that you are. Thanks for being the greatest mom in the world!
I love you!
Kristi
May 9, 2007
bugs, bugs and more bugs!!!
The rains have come to Thailand. They started a few weeks ago and I was really excited to enjoy the thunderstorms rolling outside my window in Bangkok. I love falling asleep listening to the thunder and the rain falling down. But then I had to walk to work in the rain; and carry groceries home in the rain; and then my umbrella broke. The excitement didn't last long. :-)
Now…along with the rains…have come the BUGS!! I’ve been spending a lot of time at the refugee camp and it is suddenly flooded with bugs! Every shape and size!! The picture below shows a mere example of how essential it is to scan the outhouse before using it! This morning I entered my cubicle in the trailer for interviewing and there was a HUGE hairy spider on the floor! Spiders don’t bother me. But this one was mighty ugly! I don’t know if it was poisonous or not…but it was very very furry! I asked one of the guys to take care of it – I didn’t want to touch it! He didn’t either! So he called for one of the refugees; who came in, smashed it and carried it outside!
Today I’ve felt like bugs were all over me. It’s just that feeling you have – like when you slide into a bed full of bed bugs. (Yes, unfortunately that has happened here on several occasions!) And then you can’t sleep because it feels like they’re all over under your skin! And it drives you mad! That’s how today felt; along with the heat and the smells and the very questionable lunch. Oh speaking of lunch…there were bugs in my lunch as well! I don’t think they were a delicacy either. I think there are just so many of them because of the rains…that they got caught up in the frying pan! Yum! Yum!
Apr 24, 2007
ridiculous
Some days I just sit back in amazement and watch the scene unfold before me. This week I’ve had some very ridiculous things happen. And it’s only Tuesday! :-)
So yesterday I had a family that looked like they literally did come straight from the jungle. I know this is politically incorrect and probably a horrible thing to say, but let me explain. It was a couple in their early thirties, with two small children. The man looked a bit wild with his long hair sticking up in every direction and a hair on his chin that protruded a good eight inches from his face! I couldn’t stop staring at it. (This may be some cultural honor – I don’t know!) He was quite scruffy looking. And he was chewing beetle nut, which is this deep red tobacco that stains your teeth and mouth and is absolutely disgusting. (I can’t stand the smell of it.) His wife was pretty much the same; she had her hair pulled back but long wisps of it still stuck out all over her face and straight up in the air. Some very bad bed head. :-) The best though, was their three year old daughter. She was a trip! She had a full head of hair that her father kept rubbing and circling the top of her head so that the static electricity made it wildly stand on end in all directions. And she had these dark brown eyes that kept squinting at me each time i looked at her - like she was about to attack! I was a little afraid. The family is dressed in traditional village attire, but all of the clothes are torn and tattered and quite soiled. (This is unusual.)
I start the interview and its going well…then the chaos began. The mother took off her shirt completely to breast feed the 1 year old; who sat there and played with the other nipple in plain view of my interpreter. He didn’t know what to do. I asked if maybe she could cover up a bit; didn’t work. Then the baby bites her! And she jumps out of her seat and gives the child a gentle swat on the face. The three year old begins to go crazy running in circles within the small cubicle space and screaming in intervals at the top of her lungs. High pitched short screams that make you jump and cringe at the same time. None of this fazes the parents to give either child any attention. The one year old sees how much fun his sister is having and decides to join her…he starts toddling around the room and lands at the feet of myself and my interpreter…that’s when he starts poking at our feet! The screaming has not ceased and we’re trying to talk with the parents; unfortunately, I needed both of them in the room at the time or I would have kindly asked the one of them to take the children outside. The interview never ended! It literally took all afternoon and it was completely out of control! I’ve never experienced a case like this!!! And it’s so unlikely of this group of people – most Burmese children are the most well behaved and quiet as I’ve ever seen. But not this family! At one point I just had to sit back in amazement at the scene in front of me. They are going to have so much fun in the states! :-)
Side note: Yesterday it was 45 degrees Celsius. (about 115 degrees Fahrenheit) My eyeballs were even hot! :-)
And today, my second case was going smoothly until we came to the persecution story. One of the reasons the man left Burma was because of the “short pants”. What you say? Yes, the short pants. My interpreter was laughing because he didn’t want to interpret this. He said that there was a branch of the Burmese military that came to their village that wore short pants, and they were very cruel. All the villagers called them the “short pants”. So did the applicant in front of me. Hmmm…I wonder what the US state department will say about that? :-) Evidently the “short pants” went around and tortured people in specific ways. I felt like I was writing a bad Saturday morning cartoon. Do these things really exist in real life???
Oh and half way through the interview…my applicant almost started on fire! The father was holding his four year old son who had found his lighter in his shirt pocket. The kid was playing with it and started his father’s shirt on fire!!!
I can only shake my head – very little surprises me anymore. :-)
I just sat down for my lunch and am starving. It’s 1:30pm. I took a chance and ordered from a local restaurant here in the refugee camp. So far last week I was safe with the food reactions; I feel today I will not be as lucky. Something that was supposed to be fried pork that I just ate – I’m pretty sure it wasn’t. :-)
Oh…and to start out this ridiculous day within the first hour a three year old had an explosive diarrhea episode just around the corner in our interview rooms - all over the floor. I was already feeling ill this morning from a very nauseous hour drive to the camp; the smell was unbearable.
Does anyone else have a job that they can laugh at midday and still not know what’s to come this afternoon? Some days, like today, are just ridiculous. :-)
So yesterday I had a family that looked like they literally did come straight from the jungle. I know this is politically incorrect and probably a horrible thing to say, but let me explain. It was a couple in their early thirties, with two small children. The man looked a bit wild with his long hair sticking up in every direction and a hair on his chin that protruded a good eight inches from his face! I couldn’t stop staring at it. (This may be some cultural honor – I don’t know!) He was quite scruffy looking. And he was chewing beetle nut, which is this deep red tobacco that stains your teeth and mouth and is absolutely disgusting. (I can’t stand the smell of it.) His wife was pretty much the same; she had her hair pulled back but long wisps of it still stuck out all over her face and straight up in the air. Some very bad bed head. :-) The best though, was their three year old daughter. She was a trip! She had a full head of hair that her father kept rubbing and circling the top of her head so that the static electricity made it wildly stand on end in all directions. And she had these dark brown eyes that kept squinting at me each time i looked at her - like she was about to attack! I was a little afraid. The family is dressed in traditional village attire, but all of the clothes are torn and tattered and quite soiled. (This is unusual.)
I start the interview and its going well…then the chaos began. The mother took off her shirt completely to breast feed the 1 year old; who sat there and played with the other nipple in plain view of my interpreter. He didn’t know what to do. I asked if maybe she could cover up a bit; didn’t work. Then the baby bites her! And she jumps out of her seat and gives the child a gentle swat on the face. The three year old begins to go crazy running in circles within the small cubicle space and screaming in intervals at the top of her lungs. High pitched short screams that make you jump and cringe at the same time. None of this fazes the parents to give either child any attention. The one year old sees how much fun his sister is having and decides to join her…he starts toddling around the room and lands at the feet of myself and my interpreter…that’s when he starts poking at our feet! The screaming has not ceased and we’re trying to talk with the parents; unfortunately, I needed both of them in the room at the time or I would have kindly asked the one of them to take the children outside. The interview never ended! It literally took all afternoon and it was completely out of control! I’ve never experienced a case like this!!! And it’s so unlikely of this group of people – most Burmese children are the most well behaved and quiet as I’ve ever seen. But not this family! At one point I just had to sit back in amazement at the scene in front of me. They are going to have so much fun in the states! :-)
Side note: Yesterday it was 45 degrees Celsius. (about 115 degrees Fahrenheit) My eyeballs were even hot! :-)
And today, my second case was going smoothly until we came to the persecution story. One of the reasons the man left Burma was because of the “short pants”. What you say? Yes, the short pants. My interpreter was laughing because he didn’t want to interpret this. He said that there was a branch of the Burmese military that came to their village that wore short pants, and they were very cruel. All the villagers called them the “short pants”. So did the applicant in front of me. Hmmm…I wonder what the US state department will say about that? :-) Evidently the “short pants” went around and tortured people in specific ways. I felt like I was writing a bad Saturday morning cartoon. Do these things really exist in real life???
Oh and half way through the interview…my applicant almost started on fire! The father was holding his four year old son who had found his lighter in his shirt pocket. The kid was playing with it and started his father’s shirt on fire!!!
I can only shake my head – very little surprises me anymore. :-)
I just sat down for my lunch and am starving. It’s 1:30pm. I took a chance and ordered from a local restaurant here in the refugee camp. So far last week I was safe with the food reactions; I feel today I will not be as lucky. Something that was supposed to be fried pork that I just ate – I’m pretty sure it wasn’t. :-)
Oh…and to start out this ridiculous day within the first hour a three year old had an explosive diarrhea episode just around the corner in our interview rooms - all over the floor. I was already feeling ill this morning from a very nauseous hour drive to the camp; the smell was unbearable.
Does anyone else have a job that they can laugh at midday and still not know what’s to come this afternoon? Some days, like today, are just ridiculous. :-)
Apr 18, 2007
beautiful people at mae la
I’m back up in Mae La Camp on the Thai/Burma border interviewing refugee clients this week and next. I haven’t been here since the first of January; we are now at a new work site! It’s complete with air-conditioned trailers and toilet seats! There has been some action going on up here this past week – bad action. The Karen National Union (KNU) has been launching missiles from inside Burma and firing at the camp. They’ve moved farther north, so we are told our worksite is now safe; though a few days ago the fighting was only six kilometers away. I’m a bit nervous, but trust that the situation is being monitored closely. I don’t know if I’ve ever been this close to fighting before. It’s oddly unsettling.
It’s also been a few weeks since I’ve interviewed applicants as I’ve spent a week on vacation and the two previous in the Bangkok office updating files. I enjoy interviewing. The questions are mundane and the paperwork is tedious; but each story is unique. And I’m always entertained watching the kids squirm in their seats. They never say a word; but they watch me and they squirm. :-) I had two little boys in a family today that took turns making faces at me and then giggling when I’d catch them! They didn’t know quite what to do when I made the face back at them. :-) I also had some nice conversations with my interpreter today. The interpreters here are local refugees who speak English; they too are applying for resettlement. Most of the interpreters are young; early twenties who have had schooling. My interpreter’s name is Justin. He was telling me how bad things were getting up here and how difficult it’s becoming to live in the camp. I asked about the recent action. He told me they all have their bags packed and are ready to run. I asked where to? He pointed up into the mountains; the jungle. He said some of his friends and family are already there and hiding for their safety. I didn’t know what to say. His bags are packed. I wished him a safe night and prayed for their safety.
It’s very quiet up here. The air is much cleaner than in Bangkok. Though, it’s quite dry and dusty; they are hoping the rains come soon. Our new work site is just outside the camp borders, within the boundaries of the camp police. There are not so many onlookers watching the site in curiosity compared to the UNHCR site inside the camp. I forgot how many children are here; they are all full of smiles and giggles as I walk around the site. They sit outside my door and watch as I continually trip from the lip of the floor. And they laugh. Every time. And I am aware of this lip, but I still trip. :-)
I had some incredibly beautiful people whom I interviewed today. A little girl had this angelic round face with dark hair curling around it; her eyes twinkled. She was maybe 9 years old. Her two brothers were the ones making funny faces at me. Her mom was also gorgeous. And my last case of the day was a woman thirty four years old and her husband. She was so beautiful. I couldn’t stop noticing how her face just lit up when she smiled; her eyes held laughter. And I noticed they had quite a few laugh lines around them; but they were so beautiful. Funny how we freak at the wrinkles around our eyes and moan at getting older; slathering on eye cream to plump up the skin. But on this woman, it was those wrinkles that made her so beautiful. I was a bit fascinated. :-)
It’s also been a few weeks since I’ve interviewed applicants as I’ve spent a week on vacation and the two previous in the Bangkok office updating files. I enjoy interviewing. The questions are mundane and the paperwork is tedious; but each story is unique. And I’m always entertained watching the kids squirm in their seats. They never say a word; but they watch me and they squirm. :-) I had two little boys in a family today that took turns making faces at me and then giggling when I’d catch them! They didn’t know quite what to do when I made the face back at them. :-) I also had some nice conversations with my interpreter today. The interpreters here are local refugees who speak English; they too are applying for resettlement. Most of the interpreters are young; early twenties who have had schooling. My interpreter’s name is Justin. He was telling me how bad things were getting up here and how difficult it’s becoming to live in the camp. I asked about the recent action. He told me they all have their bags packed and are ready to run. I asked where to? He pointed up into the mountains; the jungle. He said some of his friends and family are already there and hiding for their safety. I didn’t know what to say. His bags are packed. I wished him a safe night and prayed for their safety.
It’s very quiet up here. The air is much cleaner than in Bangkok. Though, it’s quite dry and dusty; they are hoping the rains come soon. Our new work site is just outside the camp borders, within the boundaries of the camp police. There are not so many onlookers watching the site in curiosity compared to the UNHCR site inside the camp. I forgot how many children are here; they are all full of smiles and giggles as I walk around the site. They sit outside my door and watch as I continually trip from the lip of the floor. And they laugh. Every time. And I am aware of this lip, but I still trip. :-)
I had some incredibly beautiful people whom I interviewed today. A little girl had this angelic round face with dark hair curling around it; her eyes twinkled. She was maybe 9 years old. Her two brothers were the ones making funny faces at me. Her mom was also gorgeous. And my last case of the day was a woman thirty four years old and her husband. She was so beautiful. I couldn’t stop noticing how her face just lit up when she smiled; her eyes held laughter. And I noticed they had quite a few laugh lines around them; but they were so beautiful. Funny how we freak at the wrinkles around our eyes and moan at getting older; slathering on eye cream to plump up the skin. But on this woman, it was those wrinkles that made her so beautiful. I was a bit fascinated. :-)
Apr 15, 2007
koh lanta island
I have just returned from a fabulous six day R&R on Koh Lanta Island off of the southern coast of Thailand. The waters of the Andaman Sea were warm. The sand rippled under my toes and the moonlight glistened off the waves as they crashed under the stars. Sunsets were magnificent. Sunshine was bright. And the banana smoothies were very smooth. :-) It was a wonderful and relaxing vacation! Quite uneventful from my safaris in the past – I actually don’t really have any stories to share with you. :-) We laid by the poolside, ate some delicious Thai meals, and read a lot of books. No work, no internet, no distractions. It was just what was needed!
I’ve uploaded some pics on my flickr site – check them out!
(ps - don't mind my glistening face in the photos. its just my way of admiring the sun! :-))
Mar 26, 2007
8:44 pm
Have I mentioned how hot it is here in Bangkok?
It is currently 8:44 p.m. and at 99 degrees Fahrenheit with 82% humidity. It's dark outside. And it actually feels much cooler than it did this afternoon. And this morning. And at noon.
It's hot. It's really really hot!!!
I love my air conditioner. :-) Oh and my rooftop pool - was uncomfortably warm last night. I think it may actually boil during the day! I'm not complaining. :-)
The sunshine still instantly makes my day! I can't wait to enjoy it on the beach in a couple of weeks!!
It is currently 8:44 p.m. and at 99 degrees Fahrenheit with 82% humidity. It's dark outside. And it actually feels much cooler than it did this afternoon. And this morning. And at noon.
It's hot. It's really really hot!!!
I love my air conditioner. :-) Oh and my rooftop pool - was uncomfortably warm last night. I think it may actually boil during the day! I'm not complaining. :-)
The sunshine still instantly makes my day! I can't wait to enjoy it on the beach in a couple of weeks!!
Mar 22, 2007
happy endings
The other night I couldn’t sleep. I called a friend and she told me a bedtime story. The story turned me into a princess and was created around some of my life events. However, she gave them a little different spin than I normally think of when I look back on the past. It was nice. :-) And it got me to thinking about people’s stories. How much of our translation of these stories changes the events or how we respond to them; how the stories are written and the words we use to describe; the picture it paints in our memories.
I record people’s stories every day. Then my supervisors read what I wrote. Some comments come back and often I am either too descriptive or not descriptive enough (I think it depends on their mood that day!) Either way, it is a balance and a judgment call of how much and what I write down on paper. The stories I communicate play a large part in whether these refugees are approved for resettlement or not. Any little discrepancies can disqualify them.
I was thinking today as I wrote a case that this would make a good movie! And then I thought of the cases I had yesterday that were even more dramatic – they would have a deeper plot and create a much more colorful film. I then thought of the film I watched last night on Kurdish refugees in Iraq at the beginning of the war. The film was done beautifully and was very interesting…but as the story unfolded, the truth of it was very difficult to watch.
I’m not able to visualize a lot of the events that make up many of these refugees stories. I can’t wrap my mind around what it would feel like or look like to be tortured and beaten or raped and pregnant, carrying that man’s child as a reminder of that awful night. I struggle with the words to relate or bring a bit of comfort to these people as they sit in front of me and share these very uncomfortable events. I normally share and empathize with people who I’ve had similar experiences with – or try to find a similar experience to relate with. I can’t do that with many of these people. And I wish I could. I don’t wish for the experiences, but I wish I could understand where they came from and what causes the looks on their faces when they share with me their stories. I wish I could understand. I want to communicate their stories in a way that would not provoke sympathy, but share their life and who they are. They are beautiful people.
I like to watch the documentaries or the international films that are out there to communicate reality and share truth of what is really happening. And I used to think that the more exposure I have, the more I can see and read and hear of what’s really happening, the more empathetic I could be with people and more effective in working towards a positive change in this world. But I don’t know that seeing such horrific things will do that. I don’t know that experiencing those things would do that. Those experiences leave scars and I don’t know that they are always able to heal.
I wish I could turn each refugee story into a bedtime story that would be enchanting and make you feel good at the end; I fear though that many of them are still in that documentary stage that is interesting and intriguing, but leaves you a bit haunted with the images the next day. I hope that for many of these refugees, their stories will continue. And that they all will have happy endings.
I record people’s stories every day. Then my supervisors read what I wrote. Some comments come back and often I am either too descriptive or not descriptive enough (I think it depends on their mood that day!) Either way, it is a balance and a judgment call of how much and what I write down on paper. The stories I communicate play a large part in whether these refugees are approved for resettlement or not. Any little discrepancies can disqualify them.
I was thinking today as I wrote a case that this would make a good movie! And then I thought of the cases I had yesterday that were even more dramatic – they would have a deeper plot and create a much more colorful film. I then thought of the film I watched last night on Kurdish refugees in Iraq at the beginning of the war. The film was done beautifully and was very interesting…but as the story unfolded, the truth of it was very difficult to watch.
I’m not able to visualize a lot of the events that make up many of these refugees stories. I can’t wrap my mind around what it would feel like or look like to be tortured and beaten or raped and pregnant, carrying that man’s child as a reminder of that awful night. I struggle with the words to relate or bring a bit of comfort to these people as they sit in front of me and share these very uncomfortable events. I normally share and empathize with people who I’ve had similar experiences with – or try to find a similar experience to relate with. I can’t do that with many of these people. And I wish I could. I don’t wish for the experiences, but I wish I could understand where they came from and what causes the looks on their faces when they share with me their stories. I wish I could understand. I want to communicate their stories in a way that would not provoke sympathy, but share their life and who they are. They are beautiful people.
I like to watch the documentaries or the international films that are out there to communicate reality and share truth of what is really happening. And I used to think that the more exposure I have, the more I can see and read and hear of what’s really happening, the more empathetic I could be with people and more effective in working towards a positive change in this world. But I don’t know that seeing such horrific things will do that. I don’t know that experiencing those things would do that. Those experiences leave scars and I don’t know that they are always able to heal.
I wish I could turn each refugee story into a bedtime story that would be enchanting and make you feel good at the end; I fear though that many of them are still in that documentary stage that is interesting and intriguing, but leaves you a bit haunted with the images the next day. I hope that for many of these refugees, their stories will continue. And that they all will have happy endings.
Mar 15, 2007
it's been one of those days...
My day started out perfectly fine. And then I had a “little village” of a case, as my interpreter called it – a very large family. For each individual we have to write up a family tree and each time a spouse or parent is married multiple times, they must have a separate tree for each spouse and family. The original family had 14 siblings with one mother; the father was married three times and had children with each wife! It took me forever to complete this! And then just as I finish, my computer decides to act up and is moving slower than a tortoise. Then the printer acts up and decides to print the wrong pages back to back and had to be fixed several times.
Ok. So the morning wasn’t so bad. I pick what looks like an easy case of two people for the afternoon. In walks a family of five! It was a father and daughter on the case; the wife and two younger girls had just arrived in Malaysia and need to be added-on. Then I find out half way through the interview that their two sons are still in Burma and they don’t have the money to bring them here. They decide to fly without them and hope to file for the sons once they reach America. I start the family tree and the father tells me that his father was born in 1800. Now, obviously this was incorrect! But it took a good 10 minutes for the interpreter to understand the incorrectness of this statement and to change it. (Ah the joy of working with amateur interpreters all day long! :-)) The date of birth is changed to 1900; with the date of death at 1970. I look at the case and realize the man in front of me has a birthday of 1970. I ask again – thinking he must be wrong – but no, he insists that his father was 70 years old when he was conceived. I didn’t know that was even physically possible! I fill out the five family trees with the multiple spouses for this case. On to the persecution story! I won’t even try to explain that now. :-) So I finish everything on the case, make all the necessary notes to add on the family members and try to reunite the sons…and the mother speaks up and says they have a problem. I can’t even imagine at this point what the problem could be – I really thought we covered everything possible in a case interview today! (it took over four hours!) Turns out the 17 year old daughter was recently raped in her home by a man who was living there. (many of these urban refugees are sharing one or two bedroom apartments with 20+ people. Or they are living in construction sites or in the jungle). As the interpreter stated “the girl was not lucky this time – she is pregnant as result of the rape”. This information is difficult enough to hear; the family was afraid to tell me as they feared it may change the case or she would not be able to travel. They are also afraid that the man will come back and rape her again. This case has now turned into a Protection Case. The father sitting in front of me was about to lose it. I wasn’t sure what was going to happen next – nor did the interpreter. He tried to convey his concern that his young daughter is pregnant and unmarried, his wife and two children recently joined him after three years of separation, they are all still living in very harsh conditions with five other men, and his young sons are still in Burma but he has no money to bring them to Malaysia and therefore has made the decision to travel to the US without them because he can’t provide for his family here and get the money to bring the sons over. But he understands that by going to the US, there is a chance that he may never see his sons again. I ask what he is asking for me to do – I really don’t know how I can help. He didn’t have a request. I make a case note and flag the file that this case is now in need of protection for the minor who is pregnant and to try and speed up the entire process for the health of the family. And then I’m at a loss of words.
Thankfully this was my last case of the day. Oh and did I mention that in the middle of all this, it started to rain really really hard? I love the rain, but we are in tin roofed trailers and can’t hear anything when the rain starts! The trailers are also only partially partitioned, so we are often trying to talk above each other. Yesterday I had a torture case to my left and a rape case where the woman ran out of the room weeping to my right. The man in front of me was suffering from post traumatic stress and/or torture – he was quite dazed. Today, along with the heavy rain, one of the little girls kept passing gas for the last four hours that made the rest of us have to plug our noses and try not to faint. Babies are also screaming outside. I had to step out for a minute as I could feel myself about to laugh at the craziness of the day and didn’t want to offend the family – I return to find oranges rolling around my floor! I have no idea where they came from! :-)
And that was my day.
:-)
Ok. So the morning wasn’t so bad. I pick what looks like an easy case of two people for the afternoon. In walks a family of five! It was a father and daughter on the case; the wife and two younger girls had just arrived in Malaysia and need to be added-on. Then I find out half way through the interview that their two sons are still in Burma and they don’t have the money to bring them here. They decide to fly without them and hope to file for the sons once they reach America. I start the family tree and the father tells me that his father was born in 1800. Now, obviously this was incorrect! But it took a good 10 minutes for the interpreter to understand the incorrectness of this statement and to change it. (Ah the joy of working with amateur interpreters all day long! :-)) The date of birth is changed to 1900; with the date of death at 1970. I look at the case and realize the man in front of me has a birthday of 1970. I ask again – thinking he must be wrong – but no, he insists that his father was 70 years old when he was conceived. I didn’t know that was even physically possible! I fill out the five family trees with the multiple spouses for this case. On to the persecution story! I won’t even try to explain that now. :-) So I finish everything on the case, make all the necessary notes to add on the family members and try to reunite the sons…and the mother speaks up and says they have a problem. I can’t even imagine at this point what the problem could be – I really thought we covered everything possible in a case interview today! (it took over four hours!) Turns out the 17 year old daughter was recently raped in her home by a man who was living there. (many of these urban refugees are sharing one or two bedroom apartments with 20+ people. Or they are living in construction sites or in the jungle). As the interpreter stated “the girl was not lucky this time – she is pregnant as result of the rape”. This information is difficult enough to hear; the family was afraid to tell me as they feared it may change the case or she would not be able to travel. They are also afraid that the man will come back and rape her again. This case has now turned into a Protection Case. The father sitting in front of me was about to lose it. I wasn’t sure what was going to happen next – nor did the interpreter. He tried to convey his concern that his young daughter is pregnant and unmarried, his wife and two children recently joined him after three years of separation, they are all still living in very harsh conditions with five other men, and his young sons are still in Burma but he has no money to bring them to Malaysia and therefore has made the decision to travel to the US without them because he can’t provide for his family here and get the money to bring the sons over. But he understands that by going to the US, there is a chance that he may never see his sons again. I ask what he is asking for me to do – I really don’t know how I can help. He didn’t have a request. I make a case note and flag the file that this case is now in need of protection for the minor who is pregnant and to try and speed up the entire process for the health of the family. And then I’m at a loss of words.
Thankfully this was my last case of the day. Oh and did I mention that in the middle of all this, it started to rain really really hard? I love the rain, but we are in tin roofed trailers and can’t hear anything when the rain starts! The trailers are also only partially partitioned, so we are often trying to talk above each other. Yesterday I had a torture case to my left and a rape case where the woman ran out of the room weeping to my right. The man in front of me was suffering from post traumatic stress and/or torture – he was quite dazed. Today, along with the heavy rain, one of the little girls kept passing gas for the last four hours that made the rest of us have to plug our noses and try not to faint. Babies are also screaming outside. I had to step out for a minute as I could feel myself about to laugh at the craziness of the day and didn’t want to offend the family – I return to find oranges rolling around my floor! I have no idea where they came from! :-)
And that was my day.
:-)
Mar 13, 2007
where is heaven?
One of my favorite things about air travel is getting a window seat to sit and stare at the clouds. I can stare at them all day and never grow tired. I’m completely fascinated. Are they made out of snow? Or cotton candy? Are they sticky or if you jump, would you fall right through them? Some even look like rigid mountain tops. And the shapes…so many shapes for the imagination to create! In my childhood, there was this dip in our back yard where I imagine an old stump must have been pulled from. A saucer-like hole where green grass grew up. My dad and I used to lie on our backs in that dip and watch the clouds float by. We’d create animals and dragons and imagine what it must be like to fly high in the sky. I always dreamt of cloud hopping and lying on my tummy on a big fluffy cloud with my legs kicked up and laughing at the silly little people below me.:-)
Yesterday as I flew to Malaysia, it was still light outside and I once again lost myself in the sheer joy of the clouds. But as I thought back on my fond childhood memories, I looked out and down beneath the clouds. You can’t see anything. We were flying just above them and you can’t see anything below. That kinda killed my romantic notion of belly watching once I got to heaven. :-) And then I thought of where heaven must be? If God can hold the whole world in his hands and if the universe is just a small creation of his making…where is heaven? As a child we’re told our loved ones who pass away are watching us from above. But you can’t see anything that high??? The thought made me a bit sad. Maybe it’s one of those beliefs that require a “child-like faith”? Or maybe…once we get to heaven we’re given super sonic vision that lets us cut through the atmosphere between the clouds above and the earth below? :-) It would go along very well with our ability to spread our arms and fly!! (I can’t wait to be superwoman! :-))
Yesterday as I flew to Malaysia, it was still light outside and I once again lost myself in the sheer joy of the clouds. But as I thought back on my fond childhood memories, I looked out and down beneath the clouds. You can’t see anything. We were flying just above them and you can’t see anything below. That kinda killed my romantic notion of belly watching once I got to heaven. :-) And then I thought of where heaven must be? If God can hold the whole world in his hands and if the universe is just a small creation of his making…where is heaven? As a child we’re told our loved ones who pass away are watching us from above. But you can’t see anything that high??? The thought made me a bit sad. Maybe it’s one of those beliefs that require a “child-like faith”? Or maybe…once we get to heaven we’re given super sonic vision that lets us cut through the atmosphere between the clouds above and the earth below? :-) It would go along very well with our ability to spread our arms and fly!! (I can’t wait to be superwoman! :-))
Mar 11, 2007
waiting on the world to change
A catchy tune played on my ipod the other day. It’s one of those songs that you sing along to on a sunny day as you take a drive with your arm out the window feeling the breeze. :-) The song is called “waiting on the world to change” by John Mayer. And I really like the tune, but every time I listen to the lyrics they make me upset. I understand his message and I think it’s a good one. We need to not wait on the world to change, but rather take the power within us and make the change ourselves. I just think that we so often feel powerless to do so – and therefore justify our actions of doing very little.
Some say refugees are “waiting” for the world to change; for it to be safe to return home. No more military soldiers gone bad; no more famine; no more injustice.
I think they are changing their world.
They have courage. They flee – but only with the hope that there is something better. For nothing is worse than what they leave behind. To flee is not always a negative thing. Many people view refugees as running away from their situation rather than taking action against changing it. That could be true for some; but the majority of refugees whom I have had the opportunity to meet and to work with are running towards something. Safety. Education. Food. Shelter. Hope. Many of us flee as well. Are we fleeing from things within our individual worlds we created or are we creating a better one? Or are we just waiting for the world to change? Ignorance is not a plea. If a family from the poor lands in Burma who can find hope that there lies something better across the border and if they can survive to get there; and if the Africans who are starving and suffering in the extreme heat of the desert can make their way to a camp in hope of some food and protection; and if both extremes can make a go at resettling in the America – surely we who are able to access this computer and read this blog are able to make a change. We need to stand for something and we need to take action. No more waiting.
“it's not that we don't care,
we just know that the fight ain't fair”
It’s not fair. But that doesn’t mean we step aside and allow things to continue. I’ve run into some conflict with people at work and to be honest, I’m tired of fighting. But I was kindly reminded that it is my responsibility to stand up for what I know is right and to fight for it. Too often I’d like to step aside and let someone else fight the battle. But if we all stepped aside, who would step up? Who would fight to make change happen? The world will not change without action. This past week I’ve been working in the Bangkok office and I keep trying to remind myself as I’m drowning in endless files and papers that I’m taking a stand for those who want to make a positive change. It’s the little actions we do each day that will amount to great changes…right?
I have to believe so. :-)
Check out the lyrics:
John Mayer: Waiting On The World To Change
me and all my friends
we're all misunderstood
they say we stand for nothing and
there's no way we ever could
now we see everything that's going wrong
with the world and those who lead it
we just feel like we don't have the means
to rise above and beat it
so we keep waiting
waiting on the world to change
we keep on waiting
waiting on the world to change
it's hard to beat the system
when we're standing at a distance
so we keep waiting
waiting on the world to change
now if we had the power
to bring our neighbors home from war
they would have never missed a Christmas
no more ribbons on their door
and when you trust your television
what you get is what you got
cause when they own the information, oh
they can bend it all they want
that's why we're waiting
waiting on the world to change
we keep on waiting
waiting on the world to change
it's not that we don't care,
we just know that the fight ain't fair
so we keep on waiting
waiting on the world to change
and we're still waiting
waiting on the world to change
we keep on waiting waiting on the world to change
one day our generation
is gonna rule the population
so we keep on waiting
waiting on the world to change
we keep on waiting
waiting on the world to change
Some say refugees are “waiting” for the world to change; for it to be safe to return home. No more military soldiers gone bad; no more famine; no more injustice.
I think they are changing their world.
They have courage. They flee – but only with the hope that there is something better. For nothing is worse than what they leave behind. To flee is not always a negative thing. Many people view refugees as running away from their situation rather than taking action against changing it. That could be true for some; but the majority of refugees whom I have had the opportunity to meet and to work with are running towards something. Safety. Education. Food. Shelter. Hope. Many of us flee as well. Are we fleeing from things within our individual worlds we created or are we creating a better one? Or are we just waiting for the world to change? Ignorance is not a plea. If a family from the poor lands in Burma who can find hope that there lies something better across the border and if they can survive to get there; and if the Africans who are starving and suffering in the extreme heat of the desert can make their way to a camp in hope of some food and protection; and if both extremes can make a go at resettling in the America – surely we who are able to access this computer and read this blog are able to make a change. We need to stand for something and we need to take action. No more waiting.
“it's not that we don't care,
we just know that the fight ain't fair”
It’s not fair. But that doesn’t mean we step aside and allow things to continue. I’ve run into some conflict with people at work and to be honest, I’m tired of fighting. But I was kindly reminded that it is my responsibility to stand up for what I know is right and to fight for it. Too often I’d like to step aside and let someone else fight the battle. But if we all stepped aside, who would step up? Who would fight to make change happen? The world will not change without action. This past week I’ve been working in the Bangkok office and I keep trying to remind myself as I’m drowning in endless files and papers that I’m taking a stand for those who want to make a positive change. It’s the little actions we do each day that will amount to great changes…right?
I have to believe so. :-)
Check out the lyrics:
John Mayer: Waiting On The World To Change
me and all my friends
we're all misunderstood
they say we stand for nothing and
there's no way we ever could
now we see everything that's going wrong
with the world and those who lead it
we just feel like we don't have the means
to rise above and beat it
so we keep waiting
waiting on the world to change
we keep on waiting
waiting on the world to change
it's hard to beat the system
when we're standing at a distance
so we keep waiting
waiting on the world to change
now if we had the power
to bring our neighbors home from war
they would have never missed a Christmas
no more ribbons on their door
and when you trust your television
what you get is what you got
cause when they own the information, oh
they can bend it all they want
that's why we're waiting
waiting on the world to change
we keep on waiting
waiting on the world to change
it's not that we don't care,
we just know that the fight ain't fair
so we keep on waiting
waiting on the world to change
and we're still waiting
waiting on the world to change
we keep on waiting waiting on the world to change
one day our generation
is gonna rule the population
so we keep on waiting
waiting on the world to change
we keep on waiting
waiting on the world to change
Mar 10, 2007
the clothes washer
I have been in battle with my tiny washing machine since the day I moved into my flat. Its gone mad. First off, the dials and buttons have no universal symbols or English instructions. Secondly, the door does not like to open once it has been closed; my dirty or clean clothes are therefore held in hostage. And third, it shakes so fiercely that I found it in the middle of my kitchen during a spin cycle! (It is suppose to stay tucked neatly under the counter between the refrigerator and the sink!)
I decided I had to laugh at the incredibly long and ridiculous amount of energy it takes me to wash my clothes! I almost resorted to hand-washing instead of this newly purchased machine because I could not get it to work properly! But before I battle the machine, I must conquer the supermarket! Detergent must be bought. Not a problem you say? Ah but I am in a foreign country where English is not all that widely spoken. And all products are advertised in Thai. I find the detergent isle; it’s quite lengthy and with an extensive selection of brands and smells. I look for a familiar but am not so lucky. Then I decide to try and decipher the foreign words. Nope, that surely doesn’t work! Finally, I resort to the sniffing method; they have little bottles of each detergent to open and smell. My friend Kate would love this aisle! I sniffed all twenty plus options. Half of them cleaned out my nose! And in the end…I picked the one which looked similar to a product at home. No rhyme or reason. :-)This process took me a mere 30 minutes. And while I was hard at work, two little Thai girls came up and watched me. Giggling. I wondered what was so funny. :-)
I decided I had to laugh at the incredibly long and ridiculous amount of energy it takes me to wash my clothes! I almost resorted to hand-washing instead of this newly purchased machine because I could not get it to work properly! But before I battle the machine, I must conquer the supermarket! Detergent must be bought. Not a problem you say? Ah but I am in a foreign country where English is not all that widely spoken. And all products are advertised in Thai. I find the detergent isle; it’s quite lengthy and with an extensive selection of brands and smells. I look for a familiar but am not so lucky. Then I decide to try and decipher the foreign words. Nope, that surely doesn’t work! Finally, I resort to the sniffing method; they have little bottles of each detergent to open and smell. My friend Kate would love this aisle! I sniffed all twenty plus options. Half of them cleaned out my nose! And in the end…I picked the one which looked similar to a product at home. No rhyme or reason. :-)This process took me a mere 30 minutes. And while I was hard at work, two little Thai girls came up and watched me. Giggling. I wondered what was so funny. :-)
Feb 27, 2007
hello
I've titled this website “unexpected journeys” because I think life brings us many surprises. Some are good, some are difficult; some bring joy and others bring sadness. But I believe there is beauty in each journey. It is the unexpected part that is of beauty and that which I challenge myself to see in each new experience.
Moving across the world to work at a new job, live in a new city, meet new friends and essentially create a new life is definitely a challenge. My mom always tells me to “expect the unexpected” and the drama won’t seem so dramatic at the time. :-) My new life here in Bangkok has brought many unexpected challenges. It has also provided to be quite exciting and entertaining! I’ve now moved into my own little apartment, so I have a place to call home after traveling to the field sites. I’ve worked up in Mae La Refugee Camp; which is located on the central western border of Thailand and Burma. I’ve also traveled to Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia to work with the urban refugees. And have had an unexpected two weeks in Bangkok where I stayed for a week at the luxurious Bumrungrad International Hospital with a case of salmonella food poisoning gone very bad! There’s nothing like a stay in the hospital to teach you humbleness. :-) Am doing much better now and am happy to be home and hopefully back to work in a couple days.
This past week I’ve had much time to think without interruptions. A lot of life is happening around me. It’s hard to be far away from the people who I love when their lives bring the unexpected. I wish there was more I could do to be supportive and to help ease the craziness that can be overwhelming. I also miss my friends and family when the craziness is happening to me. :-) I was encouraged this past week by the visitors who came to keep me company in my little blue hospital room. Especially by my new Thai colleagues – there are many cultural differences as well as a language barrier – but they came and sat with me and made great attempt at cheerful chitchat. :-) I have also been extremely lucky with my new girls here – I don’t know what I’d do without them! We planned our beach trip and all the new cafes and shopping we have yet to do once I got out!
I’ve set up an online photo album with Flickr, at http://www.flickr.com/photos/khunkristi/, so you all may check out the places I visit. I’ll try to update as often as I’m able. No great photography, but will hopefully show you a bit of my world over here. It is a beautiful one!
And I will take some pictures of Bangkok soon and maybe think of a few humorous stories to share with you. I know the writings shared when I’m out working in the field are not all that “light”; but sometimes life just gets a bit heavy. :-)
Hello to you all – from Khun Kristi (Ms. Kristi in Thai :-))
Moving across the world to work at a new job, live in a new city, meet new friends and essentially create a new life is definitely a challenge. My mom always tells me to “expect the unexpected” and the drama won’t seem so dramatic at the time. :-) My new life here in Bangkok has brought many unexpected challenges. It has also provided to be quite exciting and entertaining! I’ve now moved into my own little apartment, so I have a place to call home after traveling to the field sites. I’ve worked up in Mae La Refugee Camp; which is located on the central western border of Thailand and Burma. I’ve also traveled to Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia to work with the urban refugees. And have had an unexpected two weeks in Bangkok where I stayed for a week at the luxurious Bumrungrad International Hospital with a case of salmonella food poisoning gone very bad! There’s nothing like a stay in the hospital to teach you humbleness. :-) Am doing much better now and am happy to be home and hopefully back to work in a couple days.
This past week I’ve had much time to think without interruptions. A lot of life is happening around me. It’s hard to be far away from the people who I love when their lives bring the unexpected. I wish there was more I could do to be supportive and to help ease the craziness that can be overwhelming. I also miss my friends and family when the craziness is happening to me. :-) I was encouraged this past week by the visitors who came to keep me company in my little blue hospital room. Especially by my new Thai colleagues – there are many cultural differences as well as a language barrier – but they came and sat with me and made great attempt at cheerful chitchat. :-) I have also been extremely lucky with my new girls here – I don’t know what I’d do without them! We planned our beach trip and all the new cafes and shopping we have yet to do once I got out!
I’ve set up an online photo album with Flickr, at http://www.flickr.com/photos/khunkristi/, so you all may check out the places I visit. I’ll try to update as often as I’m able. No great photography, but will hopefully show you a bit of my world over here. It is a beautiful one!
And I will take some pictures of Bangkok soon and maybe think of a few humorous stories to share with you. I know the writings shared when I’m out working in the field are not all that “light”; but sometimes life just gets a bit heavy. :-)
Hello to you all – from Khun Kristi (Ms. Kristi in Thai :-))
Feb 6, 2007
a prayer mountain
A cross was built and placed on top of a small mountain near a village in central Burma . The young pastor and his congregation built the cross as a place for people to pray and fast; they called it a prayer mountain and named it “Zion Mount”. It stood atop the trees, away from the hardships and pains of life, overlooking the beautiful countryside – a place of solitude. The pastor and two of his church members were the first to spend a three day retreat fasting and praying at Zion Mount. On the third day their camp was visited by three Burmese military soldiers. The soldiers cut down the cross, burned it, and severely beat the Pastor and his two friends. After the soldiers had finished their destruction, they began descending down the mountainside. The Pastor pulled himself up and tried to reach his friends who were severely hurt. During this process, he slipped on a rock, which rolled off the side of the hill. The rock hit one of the military soldiers square on the head and killed him instantly. This was an accident. The remaining two soldiers didn’t see it that way. They ran back up the hillside and began to beat the pastor until he was unconscious. The soldiers killed the other two men; and left all three at Zion Mount.
The Pastor awoke in a hospital bed a few days later. He didn’t recall how he got there, but he did remember what had happened. He was in a military hospital and guarded by a soldier. After spending over a month in the hospital recovering from his severe beatings, he was arrested and brought before the court. The Pastor was accused of killing the military soldier and his two friends. He was then sentenced to twenty years in a labor prison camp.
Two years passed and the Pastor continued to be mistreated and worked hard in the labor camp. His family felt pity on him and sold all their possessions to bribe him out of jail. The military took their money; but they did not release him. Luckily the Pastor had befriended a guard at the prison; who later allowed him to escape at dark. He fled to the jungle and ran by foot to the capital city, where he was able to hide with an uncle for a few weeks. Once his escape was discovered, the military began their search for him. They visited his home several times, harassing and severely beating his wife. She was soon arrested and imprisoned for not revealing the whereabouts of her husband.
The Pastor and his wife sat before me last week; their two children beside them. He told me this story in a very humble manner. As the story unraveled I had trouble keeping eye contact with him; it was difficult to hear his story and not show a terrified emotion of disbelief. The way he told it made it sound as if it came straight out of the Bible. However, truth is it happened just a couple years ago. And he now sat at a table across from me. What really surprised me with this family was not their concern of the pain in the past, but rather how proactive they could be in creating opportunities for their future. The pastor’s concern was for his sons who had missed two years of school. (In Malaysia , refugees are not allowed to attend school.) And that was really important to him. He wanted his boys to grow up with the education and opportunities to share the peace and hope of their faith with others. He wanted his boys to build prayer mountains of their own in a place where they would not be persecuted for their faith. The boys were young; 8 and 10 years of age. They sat listening to all of this in much detail. They never took their eyes of their father. And they smiled. In spite of the hardship and the pain and the persecution; they were able to smile. They have a hope that better days are coming. :-)
For those of you who share the Christian faith of this Pastor and his family, I’d encourage you to pray for the persecuted church in Burma . Many have not been so lucky to escape and are suffering for their beliefs every day.
The Pastor awoke in a hospital bed a few days later. He didn’t recall how he got there, but he did remember what had happened. He was in a military hospital and guarded by a soldier. After spending over a month in the hospital recovering from his severe beatings, he was arrested and brought before the court. The Pastor was accused of killing the military soldier and his two friends. He was then sentenced to twenty years in a labor prison camp.
Two years passed and the Pastor continued to be mistreated and worked hard in the labor camp. His family felt pity on him and sold all their possessions to bribe him out of jail. The military took their money; but they did not release him. Luckily the Pastor had befriended a guard at the prison; who later allowed him to escape at dark. He fled to the jungle and ran by foot to the capital city, where he was able to hide with an uncle for a few weeks. Once his escape was discovered, the military began their search for him. They visited his home several times, harassing and severely beating his wife. She was soon arrested and imprisoned for not revealing the whereabouts of her husband.
The Pastor and his wife sat before me last week; their two children beside them. He told me this story in a very humble manner. As the story unraveled I had trouble keeping eye contact with him; it was difficult to hear his story and not show a terrified emotion of disbelief. The way he told it made it sound as if it came straight out of the Bible. However, truth is it happened just a couple years ago. And he now sat at a table across from me. What really surprised me with this family was not their concern of the pain in the past, but rather how proactive they could be in creating opportunities for their future. The pastor’s concern was for his sons who had missed two years of school. (In Malaysia , refugees are not allowed to attend school.) And that was really important to him. He wanted his boys to grow up with the education and opportunities to share the peace and hope of their faith with others. He wanted his boys to build prayer mountains of their own in a place where they would not be persecuted for their faith. The boys were young; 8 and 10 years of age. They sat listening to all of this in much detail. They never took their eyes of their father. And they smiled. In spite of the hardship and the pain and the persecution; they were able to smile. They have a hope that better days are coming. :-)
For those of you who share the Christian faith of this Pastor and his family, I’d encourage you to pray for the persecuted church in Burma . Many have not been so lucky to escape and are suffering for their beliefs every day.
Jan 30, 2007
a life story
We all have a story to tell. We all have many stories to tell. :-) My new job requires me to ask and record the stories of refugees who have fled their countries and are applying to flee again from their country of asylum; their final destination being the United States . I recorded some of my first persecution stories today. It’s one thing to read through numerous stories that have already been completed; it’s another thing completely to be sitting in front of a family while they are recalling their flight of persecution. I don’t know how to explain the emotions that emerge while listening to their stories and trying to diplomatically record. A young family of five sat before me this afternoon. The wife was a tailor in her home in Burma . She had a little shop. One rainy day the rebel group came into her shop to get out of the rain. The military found out. They imprisoned her and threatened her life. They told her if they heard of anymore encounters with the rebels she would be tortured and killed. She was detained underground; beneath the local police station. Two days later, after her family had bribed a police officer with a large sum of money, she was released. Time passed by. One afternoon as she was pounding rice in her home, the rebels again walked in. They didn’t speak to her, they didn’t harm her; their presence alone endangered her life and the lives of her family. That evening she was attending a worship service at the church when her brother found her frantically and told her to hide – the military had heard of the rebel visit earlier that day. She was in danger. So she hid. She hid in an open tomb. And then she ran. For days, by foot, until she reached Thailand and then Malaysia . She is now safe. Her husband caught up with her months later after escaping imprisonment from the military due to her absence.
I’ve got some crazy stories to tell in my life; but hiding in a tomb…in a cemetery…I can’t beat that. Nor fleeing by foot through the jungles and mountains of Burma . I drove through the Thailand side of those mountains just the other day. They were majestic. And for the hiking enthusiast they would be grand. :-) But I would not survive that hike by foot. And especially not alone. And the jungles in Burma , well…they are something fierce. This woman is a year younger than I am. She and her husband now have three young daughters. The youngest is still nursing. He has been learning English and the girls are excited to go to school – they only had the opportunity to learn from a volunteer teacher in an informal classroom. I’m glad I’m not the officer to make the decision on their case. I don’t know how I could turn them away.
I am now in Kuala Lumpur , Malaysia for the next couple of weeks. We are interviewing cases at the UNHCR compound before the state department comes in and gives the final decision on each case. I will see an average of 5-6 families each day; recording and verifying information, as well as writing their stories of persecution.
I looked up the word “persecute” in the dictionary. It is defined as to oppress or harass with ill-treatment. Persecution by definition is the act or practice or persectuting on basis of race, religion, gender, sexual orientation, or beliefs that differ from those of the persecuter. And to “oppress” is to keep down by severe and unjust use of force or authority; to weigh heavily on; to crush. To cause to suffer.
I want to keep perspective when working at this job. I don’t want to get caught up in the emotions of the persecution stories; nor do I want to be desensitized to the reality of what is really happening. Each of us suffers from a form of persecution; each of us has oppressed someone in one form or another. The extent of that persecution is vastly diverse and how we decide to live with it and what we do with it is up to us individually. But what if we don’t have a choice in our physical safety? What if our persecution stories, our suffering, is too much to bear? Where do we turn for help? I think too often we turn inward and the answers become hard to find. I imagine that feeds the suffering to continue. I also imagine it causes those who are in our lives to suffer as well. And I’m learning through my travels and through my work that we are not here to suffer alone.
For those of you interested, I found a couple websites that have many good articles as well as photos of both the Burmese Karen (who I've been working with in Mae La) and the Burmese Chin (who I'm now working with in KL, Malaysia.) The photoset on the KHRG site is good. And pretty much what it looks like up there. :-) And the articles on the CHRO site are very interesting. Though after reading a couple of the persecution stories it becomes difficult to continue. I'm hoping my job doesn't! :-)
http://www.khrg.org
http://www.chro.org
Hope you are all well! I'd love to hear you. It's a bit isolated traveling and not having internet. It's been hard to find these past few weeks and we've been working really long hours so my energy to find a wireless Starbucks is low. :-) But I'm doing well and enjoying this new challenge.
I’ve got some crazy stories to tell in my life; but hiding in a tomb…in a cemetery…I can’t beat that. Nor fleeing by foot through the jungles and mountains of Burma . I drove through the Thailand side of those mountains just the other day. They were majestic. And for the hiking enthusiast they would be grand. :-) But I would not survive that hike by foot. And especially not alone. And the jungles in Burma , well…they are something fierce. This woman is a year younger than I am. She and her husband now have three young daughters. The youngest is still nursing. He has been learning English and the girls are excited to go to school – they only had the opportunity to learn from a volunteer teacher in an informal classroom. I’m glad I’m not the officer to make the decision on their case. I don’t know how I could turn them away.
I am now in Kuala Lumpur , Malaysia for the next couple of weeks. We are interviewing cases at the UNHCR compound before the state department comes in and gives the final decision on each case. I will see an average of 5-6 families each day; recording and verifying information, as well as writing their stories of persecution.
I looked up the word “persecute” in the dictionary. It is defined as to oppress or harass with ill-treatment. Persecution by definition is the act or practice or persectuting on basis of race, religion, gender, sexual orientation, or beliefs that differ from those of the persecuter. And to “oppress” is to keep down by severe and unjust use of force or authority; to weigh heavily on; to crush. To cause to suffer.
I want to keep perspective when working at this job. I don’t want to get caught up in the emotions of the persecution stories; nor do I want to be desensitized to the reality of what is really happening. Each of us suffers from a form of persecution; each of us has oppressed someone in one form or another. The extent of that persecution is vastly diverse and how we decide to live with it and what we do with it is up to us individually. But what if we don’t have a choice in our physical safety? What if our persecution stories, our suffering, is too much to bear? Where do we turn for help? I think too often we turn inward and the answers become hard to find. I imagine that feeds the suffering to continue. I also imagine it causes those who are in our lives to suffer as well. And I’m learning through my travels and through my work that we are not here to suffer alone.
For those of you interested, I found a couple websites that have many good articles as well as photos of both the Burmese Karen (who I've been working with in Mae La) and the Burmese Chin (who I'm now working with in KL, Malaysia.) The photoset on the KHRG site is good. And pretty much what it looks like up there. :-) And the articles on the CHRO site are very interesting. Though after reading a couple of the persecution stories it becomes difficult to continue. I'm hoping my job doesn't! :-)
http://www.khrg.org
http://www.chro.org
Hope you are all well! I'd love to hear you. It's a bit isolated traveling and not having internet. It's been hard to find these past few weeks and we've been working really long hours so my energy to find a wireless Starbucks is low. :-) But I'm doing well and enjoying this new challenge.
Jan 24, 2007
Mae La Refugee Camp
I smell like pigs. Covered in dust; sweating through every pore. It’s the end of day two. And I will be so happy when we are done with form filling and I can do my job of casework. However, the casework will consist of verifying all the form filled information and then writing the persecution story. It’s hard for me to ask about the deceased relatives – how did they die? When did they die? Where did they die? I’m not sure how it’s going to be to ask about the persecution story and to write it objectively. It’s not objective. It’s someone’s life. But I do understand the importance of keeping it diplomatic and truthful so that there are no discrepancies that would keep them from being resettled. Resettlement is not the greatest life. But it would be much better than this camp life. And the future of Mae La refugee camp is unknown – the Thai government could shut it down and force them to return to Burma at any time. We are in a village – the refugees look like what most of us would think of as people who live in a very poor and secluded mountain village. They live very simple lives, have very little education and speak a minority language. It will be very difficult for them when they reach America . When I asked a woman if she had lived at the same address for the past five years in the camp, her response was, “well we’ve lived at the same address but have needed to change the bamboo several times!” :-) Houses are made of bamboo. Our “offices” are made of bamboo…its’ like walking on a balancing pole each time you walk around. Very very dodgy. :-) I had an unusual case today. There was one case left to interview and it was a case of two – I was very excited it was a small case! Until I looked at the bio forms…an elderly man who was lame and blind and his son who was “mad”. Now I was a bit confused as to why this case existed as it was not linked with any family members. It did not seem in the family’s best interest to resettle due to the delicate age of this man and that once he passed away, his son would inevitably be placed in a mental institution. But that’s not up to me to decide and my job was to interview the case. Except…the son was too “mad” to come to the interview – according to the father. I ask what is to be done and they send me in a vehicle with the man to his house inside the camp! It turned out that his son was mentally handicapped but was in no way “mad” (a term I later found out they use in this culture for all mentally challenged). I had been a bit nervous about going to a mad man’s house all alone – but it provided a very unique opportunity that I was able to experience. :-) I did conduct the interview in his home and it was even more simple than our hoisted bamboo huts we call offices. :-) Inside the camp it is very much built up along the mountainside. The terrain is rough with dry dirt and uneven rocks. The houses are all bamboo huts hoisted at least four to five feet off the ground. (I’m assuming that’s for the rainy season) There are little food stands lining the crippled streets. (A vehicle cannot drive through the majority of the camp as it has overgrown its space over the years). I followed my interpreter and this adorable 80+yr old man with his cane up this tiny windy trail through bamboo huts with beautiful flowers and vines draping from the trees and the sun shining through. I was thinking that yes, the lives of the refugees are hard; but there is a beauty in such a place as harsh and difficult to live as a refugee camp. I obviously am not living in the camp and may be completely arrogant to make such a statement – but speaking with the refugees today and visiting with them in their home, I get this feeling of genuine peace. The reality of the worst is behind them. After fleeing for one’s life and trekking through jungles and over mountains, the feeling of safety has to surpass all worries and provide a sense of comfort. That comfort is shown through their smiles and wai’s of hellos. They are welcoming of visitors. They are nervous for their interviews as the understand this to be their ticket to the outside world. The camp has a feeling of home to it. People go through their days just like we would. You enter our work site and you can see people walking over foot bridges and washing clothes in the river. Babies are cooing and crying. Children are content to play in the dirt with a stick – drawing pictures for their friends to see. And refugee families are sitting quietly and patiently on the bamboo benches waiting for us to arrive and start our day. This is what they call field work. :-) And aside from smelling like a dirty pig and enduring the heat of the sun; I think I’m going to enjoy it!
Jan 15, 2007
entertaining angels
My friend used to tell me that we often are entertained by angels – random people who were sent to encourage or enlighten or guide us. This long journey across the Pacific has reminded me of those simple acts of kindness that people give. I’ve experienced several of them already and wonder if we crossed paths for just that purpose. My connecting flight in Tokyo was canceled and I was put up in a hotel by the airlines. There were 200+ passengers that were also rebooked and were in the same situation. I had the chance to speak with many of them; and was surprised with each conversation of their kindness and concern for other people. Many were tourists, some were humanitarian workers, and others were English teachers or missionaries. All were very unique in their life experiences and wanting to share them as we passed the time waiting! :-)
I’m feeling encouraged. I have survived my first few days of my new job and although they were quite overwhelming, each day has been easier. I suppose it’s to be expected to take some time to familiarize myself with this new city and a new job. I find the Thai culture to be very welcoming; the people are friendly and wanting to help when there’s a need. The sun has shown brightly each day and I’m enjoying the warmth of it very much!
I had great success yesterday as I toured the city with a realtor in search of an apartment – and found a sweet little modern place tucked away on a quiet street, within walking distance to the sky train, and with the most beautiful rooftop garden and pool – which has a fantastic view of the city! I can’t wait to move in! :-) (And there's plenty of room for visitors as well!)
I will be traveling up to Mae La, a refugee camp on the Burma/Thai border, next Sunday. And will spend the next three weeks performing my first pre-screening circuit ride! (Tis what we call our refugee pre-screening interviews when we travel outside the city.) I’m looking forward to being outside of Bangkok and spending some time in the refugee camp. The pictures I’ve seen show very lush green mountains, very muddy terrain, and lots of little children running around with big smiles. :-)
I’ve been wanting a new adventure for a long time. And now that it’s begun, complete with all the unexpecteds I am to expect :-), I am really happy to be here. And I hope that my excitement will continue to grow and I will be able to pass on some of that simple kindness to others that I’ve been shown in this last week.
A big hello to you all! I’m in Thailand!! Another journey has begun…wish me luck!
Kristi
I’m feeling encouraged. I have survived my first few days of my new job and although they were quite overwhelming, each day has been easier. I suppose it’s to be expected to take some time to familiarize myself with this new city and a new job. I find the Thai culture to be very welcoming; the people are friendly and wanting to help when there’s a need. The sun has shown brightly each day and I’m enjoying the warmth of it very much!
I had great success yesterday as I toured the city with a realtor in search of an apartment – and found a sweet little modern place tucked away on a quiet street, within walking distance to the sky train, and with the most beautiful rooftop garden and pool – which has a fantastic view of the city! I can’t wait to move in! :-) (And there's plenty of room for visitors as well!)
I will be traveling up to Mae La, a refugee camp on the Burma/Thai border, next Sunday. And will spend the next three weeks performing my first pre-screening circuit ride! (Tis what we call our refugee pre-screening interviews when we travel outside the city.) I’m looking forward to being outside of Bangkok and spending some time in the refugee camp. The pictures I’ve seen show very lush green mountains, very muddy terrain, and lots of little children running around with big smiles. :-)
I’ve been wanting a new adventure for a long time. And now that it’s begun, complete with all the unexpecteds I am to expect :-), I am really happy to be here. And I hope that my excitement will continue to grow and I will be able to pass on some of that simple kindness to others that I’ve been shown in this last week.
A big hello to you all! I’m in Thailand!! Another journey has begun…wish me luck!
Kristi
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