Just Focus On Trying To Breathe

Umpiem on fire

This has been a smoky week. On Thursday last week one of the nine refugee camps along the border caught fire. It’s home to close to 20,000 displaced people, and it’s just 87kms from Mae Sot. It’s currently the dry season here, so the simple wood, bamboo and thatch huts were no match for this raging inferno. Around one quarter of the camp was destroyed with over 4000 people being left homeless. By some amazing stroke of luck, no one died in the fire and only a small handful of people received serious burns. Needless to say, everyone here was on high alert for casualties and injuries, but thankfully we weren’t needed. Our Emergency Response Team raced down there as soon as we got the news, to help out in any way they could. It has been incredibly inspiring seeing the response of the community, both Thai and Expat, to the fire. Over 40,000 baht (over NZD$1600), was raised by our community within the first few hours of the emergency, and supplies and donations continue to trickle in. I've driven by this camp several times,  and some of my friends work in it, so it's really sad to know what's going on there at the moment.

The aftermath

But my reason for mentioning this is to add to the general air of this post. Mae Sot has been under a blanket of smoke for the past week or so. It’s ‘burn season’ here at the moment, so farmers are burning off their fields in preparation for new planting, a fine layer of the resulting ash coats everything outside. Added to this is the fact that there is an enormous forest fire raging somewhere nearby on the border. The Thai government is allegedly trying to blame this smoke extravaganza on both Burma (apparently the fire is slightly more on the Burmese side of the border) and on climate change. Either way, this is a horrible and uncomfortable place to be at the moment. 

Usual visiblity in Mae Sot

Current visibility in Mae Sot

There is no escape from the smoke, not even inside my house, as we have screens on the windows and don’t/can’t close the actual glass on the windows. Everyone is struggling to breathe, dry throats and coughs abound. And itchy, sore red eyes are everywhere. It’s a bit rubbish really. Two days ago the Bangkok Post stated “Smoke from wildfires has reduced air quality and visibility on the Thai-Myanmar border in Tak's Mae Sot district to the point of a crisis as dust particles are almost exceeding safe levels”. I’m not sure what’s meant to happen when safe levels are exceeded, but I’d say they have well and truly exceeded them now. The tiny airport here has been closed for the past 4 days or so due to visibility issues, although the smoke did clear up enough yesterday afternoon for a small window, so the one-flight-every-second-day that comes in here was able to land. 

 Last night as I was trying to sleep, my room was full of smoke, everything is dusty and I feel grimy all the time. A while back I said that sometimes it’s like cycling into a hairdryer here. Well, currently it’s like cycling into a hairdryer that is also loaded with dust. Here’s hoping the smoke clears soon, at the moment I’ll just focus on trying to breathe.

The Things You Remember

 I’m lying here on my floor trying to think of what to write. It’s the hottest part of the day, so not entirely conducive to thinking or writing, but I’m trying anyway. It’s been at least 35 degrees minimum since I got back here, with crazy amounts of humidity. My perm has never looked better. I don't know what I will do when hot season begins in a couple of weeks. If this isn’t hot, I really don’t know what is. The upside is that this season seems to coincide with mango season, so I’m eating pretty wild amounts of them.

So what to write about? Well, what have I been up to? Um, not much really aside from working and watching lots of tv shows and doing pilates – I’ve hurt by back a bit, again. The upside of this is that I’ve been able to justify getting a couple of Thai massages in the last wee while.

And now I am reminded of a memory from my trip to Burma last year...

At the jetty

We’d met these two lovely guys in Rangoon on our first day there, so when we returned a week later, we called and met up with one of them again. We went for a bit of a walk and sat at the main jetty of the Irawaddy River watching people and boats come and go, and couples stealing private moments together under cosy umbrellas. It was a particularly beautiful sunset and a wonderful way to spend our final evening in Burma, I can remember it vividly. After a while, our friend received a phone call from his friend, the other guy we’d met, asking if all of us (three in total) wanted to come and meet him for a massage. My friend and I looked at each other and thought, why not eh? So we packed into a beaten up old shit box of a taxi and raced through the crumbling city. We pulled up outside this decrepit wooden building, its facade was a rotting, disintegrating mess, it was at least four stories high and looked like it was about to fall down. By this time it was dark. Our friend pointed to the door and said, “It’s just in here”. Um, ok, not quite what we were expecting, but, I suppose this is ok. Maybe? My friend and I stepped inside. It was pitch black and there was an overwhelming stench of mould in the air; there was a steep, wide flight of stairs in front of us. We tentatively started up them, the damp floorboards creaking under our weight, with our new friend following us up. About half way up we exchanged glances that said “Oh no. What have we gotten ourselves into?” No one else in the world knew where we were, not even us, we spoke minimal Burmese, didn’t really know this guy, although did seem to be genuinely nice, and this building would have been well and truly condemned anywhere else in the world. Had we just made a totally rookie decision and were about to meet some horrible fate? There was not much we could do at this point other than keep going and see what happened. As we got to the top of the stairs, my heart was in my throat, I was thinking “well, I’ve really messed it up this time”.

Downtown Rangoon

Slowly, the sliding doors in front of us began to open letting out a slice of golden light. As they opened, they revealed the total opposite of whatever it was we were expecting: behind the doors was a beautiful, clean, brand spanking new waiting area. The couches were soft and plush, there was steaming green tea and tiny cups waiting for us on the ornate coffee table, and the reception desk shone with a gleaming golden finish, matching the golden walls and sumptuous carpet, and the beautifully dressed staff were attentive to our every need. We both let out a huge sigh of relief. After our tea, the three of us were ushered into a small room. Our other friend was already in there waiting for us. The room itself was rather unremarkable, but maintained the same welcoming feeling of the waiting area, it had the obligatory floor mattresses all massage places here have, and a gigantic flat screen tv on the wall, which most places don’t have. After some more tea and idle chat, in came four Burmese girls and the massage commenced. I can’t really remember much about the actual massage, other than that my girl kept burping and my friend kept giggling as she was so ticklish, and that we got pretty into trying to figure out what was going on in the soap opera that was being played on the tv (this was an ongoing game with us, Burmese and Thai soaps are so dramatic). 

After the massage and more tea, we tried to pay but were told under no uncertain terms that this was their treat and we were not to pay a cent. We headed back down the stairs which, this time, didn’t seem so dark, didn’t seem to creak and, strangely, the smell seemed to have disappeared. We clambered into another dilapidated taxi and the four of us headed to dinner. On the way, we asked what was with the whole dodgy-building thing, considering the inside was so beautiful. Turns out massage of any kind (sassy or no) was illegal in Burma, but our friends were important guys who were “in the know”. Why this is, I still haven’t been able to figure out. But I sure am glad I didn’t die in there.

Back to reality, I guess.

I got to meet little Micah

So, I’ve been getting a few emails and messages from people enquiring when I’m going to get this bad boy back up and running. Here goes I guess.

I had an amazing trip home to Aotearoa, but I’m happy to be home in Mae Sot. My visit to NZ was a fairly spectacular friendship extravaganza and, as my best friend put it the week after her amazing wedding when we’d all gone home, I’m now having a pretty serious friend come-down. But that’s ok because now I get to hang out with all my great friends here. 

I know I’ve said it several times already, but once again, thank you so much to those of you that have helped me out. I have been truly humbled by the generosity and support of my community. I quite literally could not have made it back here without your help. From selling pakoras at markets for me, to buying my t-shirts, buying me a drink so I could save my pennies, to slipping me little envelopes and just generally giving me words of wisdom and encouragement, every little bit has helped, and you are all welcome at my place anytime! I’ll even take you on a guided tour around town and buy you a bowl of delicious mohinga.

 

At this stage, things are very up in the air regarding how long I will be here for this time – there are many, many factors to be considered before any concrete decisions about anything can be made. But for now, here I am. I’d kinda forgotten how insane this place is. Everything has changed in the month I’ve been away, yet at the same time, somehow everything is still the same. The babies are still screaming on immunisation day, and the fathers are still grinning in anticipation as they rub their wives backs while they’re in labour. The days are still scorchingly hot (minimum 37 degrees all week, no clouds and currently 24% humidity to be precise), the nights and mornings are wonderful and cool; but not for long, I can feel the hot season encroaching upon us at an ever increasing rate. This is liberal chap-stick application territory – the occasional breeze brings no respite from the heat, instead making you feel like you are cycling straight into a hair dryer. One thing that is noticeably different however, is the abundance of mosquitoes around at the moment. They are eating me alive. Here’s hoping I don’t get dengue or malaria I suppose. 

Christmas at the beach

As for work, it’s pretty much the same as always. Once again, I’d forgotten how much there is to do here, constantly. I’ve worked more in the past three days than the past 5 weeks. Not surprising really when you consider the fact that I was on holiday for those weeks, but still. I’m right back into the delicious food over here, although, I was a bit bummed out to find a big black bug in my noodle soup today; it’s from my favourite place that’s usually so reliable! Oh well, no health regulations over here. For all the good food here though, I was pretty happy to eat obscene amounts of cheese when in NZ. Oh cheese, how I miss you. 

Anyways, I hope those of you who have had summer holidays have had a wonderful break – I know the weather in NZ has been pretty hit and miss this summer. And for my dear Northern Hemisphere friends, well, it sucks to be you in the cold I guess. But I hope you’ve managed to roast a few chestnuts on the fire or whatever it is you do in Northern Hemisphere winters. 

For those I saw – I love your faces! For those I didn’t see, I still love your faces, but they might be a bit blurry in the ole memory so here’s hoping we catch up next time I’m home. It’s always just grand indeed to hear back from you, so do be in touch eh. I’m off to eat a mango. Ka kite.

That time of year again

Hangin in the Gulf of Mexico, USA

So it’s that time of year where things get crazy and people stress out. This is not so much the case in Mae Sot, as it seems people don’t really care too much about Christmas here, there are more important things to think about instead, or something. Not having a tv or speaking the local languages has helped with this Christmas oblivion I’m experiencing, it was only a couple of days ago that I realised the big day is next Sunday. Anyhow, I don’t know what I’m going to be doing for Christmas this year, as I will still be in Thailand. I thought about trying to make a pavlova for my friends here (who are keen to make eggnog, which sounds disgusting if you ask me), but the idea of using my arm to whip those egg whites seems like all too much effort, especially as I don’t even like pavlova that much, I’d much rather have a bag of salt. Also, you can’t get cream here so the whole idea is probably pointless. Anyway, I’m very excited to be heading back to Aotearoa (that’s NZ for those of you that don’t get te reo Maori) just in time for New Year celebrations with my friends.

Loving Bagan, Burma

All dressed up for a Karen wedding

This has been one of the best years of my life, I’ve been incredibly lucky to have had so many amazing new experiences in eight very different countries and at home, and to have met so many awesome new friends from all over the world. I love my life in Thailand, but sometimes it gets really tough living here; there are days when nothing makes sense, everything is difficult, loneliness, homesickness and empathy-fatigue set in, and it feels like the world is out to get me. At times like this it really helps to know that I have so many wonderful friends and family that love and support me. I’m truly grateful to all of you; I couldn’t have done any of this without you.

Adoring abandoned babies at work

Living amongst such desolation and poverty has helped me reassess myself and the things I want in my life, I’m not trying to get all deep and meaningful here, just saying that you can’t live in a place like this and not be reflective on how it changes you. I’m yet to see just how much I’ve changed, as I think many of the things I have learned are subtle, and will only come to show themselves over time. However, something that hasn’t changed is my particularly high levels of scepticism and cynicism. Some people probably think this is a bad thing, but I wouldn’t be me if I wasn’t constantly sceptical. Who knows, maybe Burma is really changing? 

Hanging wit Nellies in Thailand

Serving up kava in Tonga

I think I’m going to leave this here. I’ll be in Aotearoa for about a month or so, so hopefully I’ll see a lot of you in that time. I’ll be back in Mae Sot and writing this again in February. Until then, have a great summer (and an acceptable winter to those of you in the Northern Hemisphere). Stay safe and all that.

Angkoring it up in Cambodia

I can't wait to see what 2012 will bring for us all (and it will not be the end of the world, trust me).

Love Liz.

PS. If anyone is thinking about being charitable this festive season, take a look at our Christmas appeal, we need all the help we can get to continue our programmes.

Never let your fears prevent you from doing what you know is right.

The IDP Lands

We were supposed to leave at 8pm. Then it was postponed until 4am. At 3.30am the trip was cancelled, and at 6.30am I got a call telling be to be ready in 10 minutes, my ride was on its way. Lucky I had showered at 3.20am in preparation for the 4am departure. I climbed into the back seat of the pickup truck with my friends (and workmates) Jess* and Ma Aye San*, with Dr Cynthia in the front, and some others in the tray. We began the gruelling journey down the Death Highway. We arrived at Nam’s* house around 10am, not too bad really. She plied us with an enormous breakfast of Karen-style curries, and then Dr Cynthia announced that she was off, and we’d be spending the day with Nam, inside Burma. Um, ok, sure. See you at 4pm.

The peanut harvest drying in the scorching sun.

We were on this last minute trip as we thought we were visiting more boarding houses supported by the Clinic, as we’d been on another such monitoring trip earlier in the week, which you’ll hear about below, but as it turned out, we’d misunderstood. We all piled into Nam’s pickup truck and headed to the border. This is the first border crossing I’ve been to here where the Rim Moei River doesn’t form the border. There were simply two flags, one Thai, one Burmese, and a small “guard” shack on the Burmese side with KNU and DKBA soldiers sheltering from the blistering 45 degree sun. That was it. Borders are such an arbitrary concept to me. A made up, man-made line that changes everything. 

We headed into the Karen State down a dusty road peppered with holes and giving away evidence of all the landslides here during the rainy season. After about 10 minutes we stopped in an IDP (Internally Displaced Person) village and clambered out. It was really hot. We were at Nam’s clinic. Not only does she spend every moment at home looking after 50 displaced children (whom I wrote about way back in June on my first visit to Nam’s place, you can read it here), but when the kids are at school, she goes to work as a Nurse. Today marked the closing of a “Mine Risk Education and First Aid Training” course that had been taking place in the clinic with about 20 young people attending. There was lots of speeches and prayers and songs (all in Karen), and then it was photo and introduction time. A KNU Lieutenant was part of the celebrations, and when he heard where we worked, he was insistent on taking photos with us (I’d love to post these pictures, but for obvious security reasons, I can’t), it was very interesting to meet someone like him. 

After the closing ceremony was complete, we headed further into the Karen State to another IDP village, and walked up to visit their tiny school. As per usual, the kids were stunningly beautiful. But there is so much dust around at the moment that every tired, desperate, hungry looking face was covered in dirt, and so too were their clothes. We had thought that the migrant schools and boarding houses around Mae Sot were desolate places (schools and dorms in Thailand that cater to displaced Burmese children or the children of migrant workers etc., who cross the border for economic and/or safety reasons), but these ones were far worse. The schools had no floors, just dirt (dust), the absolute bare minimum of school supplies – only one or two chalk boards in three different schools, most of the time they just used a piece of wood to write lessons on – and a maximum of two teaches simultaneously teaching up to 5 different grades. 

The options available to these kids are very bleak. There are no schools available in these IDP areas after primary level, so if these eager-to-learn children want to continue their education past about age 10, they will be forced to leave their families and go and live in Thailand alone at a boarding house. Many of them were not in class this day as it is peanut harvest time and their parents need them to help, even the youngest ones of 3-4 years old. They are all tiny and malnourished; we were shocked to find out that a group we had thought was the kindergarten class are actually all around 7-8 years old. Nam explained that, in the Thai schools, children are given milk every day to help them grow. Here, they get nothing to eat or drink at school, and the staple of their diet at home is white rice. However, they all had enough energy to proudly sing us songs and recite the alphabet to us in English. This is the only time in my life that I can remember not being intensely irritated by Christmas songs.

The people in these areas, including the children, live in constant fear of attack by government troops. The fragile cease-fire that is currently in place between the KNU and the DKBA in this area could very easily fall apart at any time, causing everyone to flee the fighting that will ensue. Things have only just returned to “normal” here after two years of fighting that led to the destruction of many homes and schools, and two out of three of Nam’s clinic buildings. The reality of the risks faced by the villagers in this area was made clear when we were walking back to the car at one point, and were told, “don’t go near that field [about 3 meters away], there’s lots of landmines in there”.

IDP Village

The houses in the villages are the simplest structures: platforms on stilts with banana leaf roofs, and woven mats for walls. No match for the mosquitoes at all, it is no wonder that malaria is at epidemic levels around here. The sun is scorching, and there is barely any water in the area. Everyone is desperately trying to harvest their peanuts and corn as fast as possible.

After about 4 hours in this IDP area of the Karen State, we headed back into Thailand to visit a migrant school. The difference is remarkable. These kids have wooden floors, educational posters on on the walls, and enough food to keep them full, most of the time. When they are old enough, some of them will be able to access the Thai education system too. 

A migrant school in Thailand, very different.

Earlier in the week, Jess, Ma Aye San and I had been on a monitoring trip to several of the boarding houses that the Clinics’ Dry Food Programme supports, and we had felt at the time that these homes and schools were not really all that good in terms of supplies and living standards – but don’t get me wrong, all the children are happy and cared for, they all receive a lot of attention and are fed as well as possible, they are excellent facilities considering the problems that they face – seeing similar schools in these IDP areas really helped put what we do into perspective, and reaffirmed how necessary places like the Clinic and our Child Protection Programmes really are, and therefore how important the work we do is.

Nap time at one of our boarding houses in Thailand

It’s quite upsetting to realise how “lucky” the kids at the migrant schools are after seeing the children in the IDP schools. All the children are so eager to learn, and are so studious and serious about their lessons. Comparing them to the kinds of schools I got to attend as a child makes me feel both sad and incredibly grateful. Nothing in the lives of these children is ever going to be as safe and easy as my life has been. It’s a really cruel world out there. 

*Names changed. It’s not my place to identify these people, and doing so could put their security in jeopardy.

Thank You!

Firstly, I’d like to say an enormous thank you to all of you that have shown your support since my last postcard. And to those of you that have chosen to contribute, thank you so much. It’s a cliché, but really, words cannot express my gratitude, it means so much to me that there are such amazing people in my life. So thank you thank you thank you. 

While I have made significant progress in the last week, I am not quite there yet though, so if anyone else wants to help in any way, let me know. But at this point, it looks like I’ll be back here in February! I am so excited about this, and it’s made work so much easier, I’ve just finished writing up a six-month communications plan for the Clinic that I will actually be able to implement. It’s fantastic.

So, how about that election then NZ? The results were not even remotely close to what I was going for, but I suppose that’s democracy. Although, I am really shocked that Winston is back. That’s just weird. Apparently voter turnout this year was the lowest it’s been since 2002, which is incredibly disappointing. Apathy is a terrible thing. At this stage, the electoral office is saying that only 73.83% of eligible voters actually bothered to vote. I find it really distressing that there are people the world over literally dying for the right to vote, and so many people from the place I call home don’t bother to exercise their right to vote. 

Anyway, last week I started taking meditation classes with a monk from Burma, King Zero, that was a key leader in the Saffron Revolution of 2007. He now lives in Mae Sot as it is far too dangerous for him to live in Burma anymore. He fought for the democracy we take for granted, and now he can't go home. Our first class was at the library and training centre he established, and this week he’s taking us to a monastery to practice. I love these things so much about living here: where else would you get the chance to learn such things off a real-life revolutionary, and work for a Nobel Peace Prize nominee? I love Mae Sot.

This weekend a work friend of mine got married, so eleven of us from the Clinic made the six hour journey up the border to Mae Sariang for the wedding. It was just great. We stayed with one of our colleagues that has a house up there, we all slept together on the floor in the main room, well, the two boys with us slept outside. I’m not sure why as there were plenty of other places in the house they could have slept and still been separated from us. The next morning we all got up super early (as is the local way), and got dressed up in our traditional Karen outfits, I have my own Karen skirt and my friend gave me an amazing top to wear, it wasn't Karen, but it was similar. It reminded me of some kind of Eastern European folk dancing attire with all it's ribbons and tassles.

We got to the church – the most quaint Catholic church I have ever seen. It even had stables with cows living in them at the bottom of the steps. The windows were open to views of the mountains and the recently harvested rice fields. It was picturesque to say the least. The whole ceremony was in Karen, except for the vows, which were in English, so I had no idea what was going on at any stage, although you don’t need language to understand love and happiness, as cheesy as that sounds. My friend, the bride, looked absolutely beautiful in her Karen outfit, with a traditional western style white veil, she was glowing. The whole thing was fantastic. 

After the ceremony we all followed the bride and groom down the street in a parade to the reception. Unfortunately, the food was a bit much for me, I’m not so into chicken feet and skin soup, and uncooked pork mince with congealed blood mixed in. But everyone else was into it, so it was ok. The reception was a dine and dash affair, as we had a six hour drive ahead of us on very winding roads that were partially washed away in many places due to all the rain we had in the wet season. So we all piled back into the back of the pickup truck (no safety rules here), and off we went. I felt terrible for some of the girls: it’s been a long time since I’ve seen so many people so seriously car sick. The drive was stunningly beautiful though, and we stopped off a few times to buy vegetables and things, and drop things off to peoples family members in one of the refugee camps along the way. The whole weekend was lovely, it was great to spend some time with my local colleagues outside of work, and it was wonderful to be part of such a rich cultural experience as a wedding.

 

Until next time.

The dream is nearly over

Right outside my office

The time has come for me to start thinking about heading home to New Zealand. I am not ready for this at all. There is still so much to be done here and I don’t want to leave. I have a whole life here now, an awesome job in which I actually make a difference in people’s lives, friends and a home. But alas! I have to return to NZ for various reasons in a mere five weeks. Somehow time goes by a lot faster here than in the rest of the world, so I feel like I will fall asleep one night and the next day it will be time to go.

The dilly of a pickle I now find myself in is that I need/want to come back here in the first or second week of February, but as I have been self funded for the majority of my time here, my savings are gone and I can’t afford it. The Clinic is facing massive funding shortages at the moment and is looking at having to cut some of our services, such as our dry food programme, that provides rations for over 3000 displaced, unaccompanied children along the border. Needless to say, they can’t afford to help get me back over here, or pay me if I make it, even though they still want me here.

There's not enough room to properly house all the patients.

So this is where you, my dear friends, may be able to help me. I have calculated that I only need around $5000NZD to come back here and live, self funded, for a further six months. Currently, I am looking for sponsors, so if you, or anyone you know may be interested in helping out an incredibly good cause, please get in touch with me. Or perhaps you know of a grant or fund that I might be able to apply for. I have some fundraising schemes up my sleeve that I am trying to pull together, but as most of you know, January is a strange time in NZ, in that the whole country basically shuts down for the month, meaning fundraising when I am back is going to be tough, and trying to raise that much money right now is also difficult as I am flat out at work trying to get all kinds of things finished, up and running etc. before I leave. 

I’m not sure what I will do if I can’t come back here soon. I love this work, it is what I have always wanted to do. It’s what I worked so hard for all those years to become qualified to do. I really don’t feel like I can go back to NZ and be done with this place. Don’t get me wrong, I am really excited to be going home to see my whanau and other loved ones, but this is what I am meant to be doing with my life. It seems so unfair that the only thing now standing in my way is some money. 

So, if anyone has any ideas on ways I can raise the money quickly, or if anyone would like to help me, please get in touch.

Work is continuing to be as hectic as ever, the Clinic is full to the brim with people at the moment, we have another eye surgery clinic happening and there just seems to be so many more people and patients around than usual. Our new website has launched, which is really exciting as I wrote the majority of the content for it, so now I am trying to self-learn html as there are constant improvements to be made. If you have the time, take a look at it.

In other news, I voted this week. It was pretty exciting, so I really hope all of you vote. If you need some inspiration as to why, read this. 

Also, the rainy season is over! The flooding is still really bad in other areas of Thailand, but up here in the mountains, luckily we have been spared. I now no longer have to carry a poncho and umbrella with me wherever I go, and I don’t get drenched on a daily basis anymore either. It’s a beautiful time to be here, the mornings and the evenings are cool, while the day boasts clear blue skies and a searingly hot sun. It’s also really great to be able to see the stars at night, because for the first 5 or so months I lived here I didn’t see one star or the moon due to the ever-present rain clouds. Now the sky is full of little sparkling lights, as well as the majestic Loi Krathong lanterns that people are still setting off in the early evening.

I really love this place. I don’t want to leave.