The little things

I’ve been sick this past week. I’ve had the dreaded dengue fever which, as I’m sure you can imagine, is not ideal in this heat. I’m well over the worst now and am currently just suffering from extreme tiredness. I’ve spent the past week in bed, watching tv and movies on my laptop (it’s come to my attention that Carmella Soprano and Dana Scully have awful fashion sense, despite the exciting lives they lead. Such awful unflattering man-ish pants and oversized, shoulder-padded suit jackets, and Carmella, what's with the hair? Dana - you should totally pash up Mulder while you can, don't worry, the truth is out there). Now, let me tell you, sweating through a fever in 38 degree weather, alone and bored is a poor substitute for inhabiting a big comfy couch, a pair of 3XL mens track pants (grey of course) and a million blankets and pillows, and watching Jeremy Kyle and Ricky Lake re-runs. Needless to say it’s been a bit tough not being nursed back to health by someone resembling a mother, who will bring you all kinds of treats and prizes along with significant amounts of sympathy no matter how much of a complaining baby you’re being. However, it’s been really great to see how wonderful my friends are over here, two in particular have been bringing me lots of meals and fruit and generally looking after me. So it hasn’t been all bad. Spending lots of time at home and by myself has led me to think about all the little things that I look forward to having back in my life soon. Side note: I am leaving the border at the end of April and will go and seek my fortune in Melbourne for a time, more on that later. So, in no particular order, here are a few of the things that I have longed for this week:

1. Carpet – a strange thing to desire, it’s true. But lying down on the floor because you got a bit tired standing up isn’t the same when it’s hard shiny tiles, not lush, cosy carpet. 

Creepy outdoor sink

2. Being able to drink the tap water – this has been a big one this week as my kitchen is downstairs and my bedroom is upstairs, so in order to keep sufficiently hydrated (one of the biggest things with dengue) I have to go downstairs all the time to get more of the good stuff, I can’t just drink from the bathroom tap that is a mere 1m from my room.

3. A washing machine – no one here has a washing machine. This means that even doing my washing this week has been a gigantic hassle so I just haven’t done it. Usually I hand wash small things and just take sheets and towels to the laundry lady, but this week, no hand washing or laundry lady, far too much effort. If only I could chuck everything in a machine and press go...

4. Having a functional kitchen – this is a big one. My kitchen consists of one gas ring, my sink is outside in a mosquito infested concrete box (probably where I got the dengue from to begin with). I love to cook, but this past year has been the least cooky of my life and I miss it. Plus, being sick, it’s meant that people have had to bring me pretty much all my meals. No one here really cooks, it’s far cheaper to eat out, which is a lot less glamorous than you think. 

Low grade kitchen

5. Having clean feet – this issue closely relates to point one, above. I’ve been doing a lot of lying in bed. Having tiles through the whole house and incessant dust coming in through the permanently-open windows means that no matter how much you sweep or mop, your feet are always dirty when you walk around the house (fyi – wearing socks is not an option). This dirt is then transferred into your bed pretty quickly, gross.

 

That’s about it. The top five things I’ve been longing for this week (couch, daytime tv, track pants and comfort food aside of course, those ones are the most important, oh except perhaps cheese rolls. Man, I want a million cheese rolls so bad). Hopefully I shall have all these things again soon enough (except perhaps the ever-longed for cheese roll as it is endemic to the lower South Island of NZ)

PS. There are orchids flowering in my garden. I think that's pretty good stuff.

 

 

Living Inside a Heater

For those of you that know me well, you will be aware of the fact that I much prefer wearing no clothes to wearing any clothes. For those that don’t know me that well, this may be a new revelation to you, but don’t go getting any weird ideas, it’s just a well known fact that not wearing clothes is exponentially superior to wearing clothes. The purpose of this little gem of information will become clear soon. 

Depending on your level of knowing me personally, you may also know that I like to complain about things. And the weather seems to be a big point of complaint here in Mae Sot at the moment amongst many people, so I feel it’s only appropriate that I jump on this bandwagon. In the past few weeks, the weather here has changed significantly. When I first got back, it was dry, searingly hot and, as I said back then, like cycling into a hairdryer on full. It then became smoky. Oh so smoky. And the hairdryer became filled with ash and dust, ensuring that any venturing outside that was done left one covered in a fine layer of dusty, ashy grime, itchy eyes and a severly deminished ability to breathe. Then this weekend it rained. For the first time since October. Rain here is not just a casual shower. It’s all or nothing. And the weather has really put on a show in the past few days. There’s been thunder, particularly impressive lightening, and monsoon rain with big, fat, instantly saturating raindrops. This rain solidified my decision to get out of this place before rainy season (more on that another day), I just can’t do it again. 

You may think that with this rain would come some respite from the oppressive heat. Not so my friends; not so. Instead, the thick, wet air has upped the heat index significantly. Now, I have always been particularly interested in weather and temperatures and barometers and such. Thus, I shall tell you about the heat index (courtesy of our good friend wikipedia):

“The heat index or humiture is an index that combines air temperature and relative humidity in an attempt to determine the human-perceived equivalent temperature — how hot it feels. The result is also known as the "felt air temperature" or "apparent temperature". For example, when the temperature is 32 °C (90 °F) with very high humidity, the heat index can be about 41 °C (105 °F).

The human body normally cools itself by perspiration, or sweating, which evaporates and carries heat away from the body. However, when the relative humidity is high, the evaporation rate is reduced, so heat is removed from the body at a lower rate, causing it to retain more heat than it would in dry air.”

Exhibit A

So. This week, we have daily forecasted temperatures of 35-38°C, scattered thunderstorms, and a corresponding heat index of 48 degrees Celsius. Forty-eight. That is a mere two degrees short of 50, and as I am sure you are aware, 50 degrees is half way to boiling point. All this science talk aside, this means that it is real super heaps hot x1,000,000 here. The hair dryer is now on at full blast with a boiling (well, 50% boiling) kettle blowing its steam into the funnel of aforementioned dryer. Hopefully this doesn't cause pulmonary edema or some such.

This brings us full circle. As mentioned above, I am a no-clothes enthusiast. The nights don't even provide an escape from the heat anymore - imagine my dismay when I wake up every morning in my 30ish degree room (yes, I have a thermometer on the wall) and am forced to put on clothes. Well, this dismay would happen anywhere in the world for me, but what makes it most painful here is that I must put on conservative clothing. I refer you to Exhibit A, a photo of me dressed for work this morning. Note the long skirt (side note: this is my amazing Kansas skirt – it is the Sunflower State after all), and the t-shirt (pretty risqué today actually – you can see a lot of chest). Needless to say, these are hot items of clothing to be wearing in nearly 50 degree heat. 

 

It has come to my attention that the hottest places in the world also seem to be the most conservative, demanding the highest fabric:skin ratio. While Thailand itself ins't so conservative, Burma most certainly is. And here in little Burma, shoulders are scandalous, as are legs. Thus, singlets are out, as is anything above the knee. 

I'm too hot to think of a good way to finish this. So I'll just leave you with this: it’s real hot.

Living in the end times

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.