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 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.
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