From Rice Paddies to Refugees

I've got a bad case of writer's block going on right now. There is so much to say, so much to express about what I've been experiencing since my last post that it almost seems useless to try, but in two days I leave for India and I have a strong feeling that from then on out my mind will be too overwhelmed to recall details about the time I've spent in Thailand, so I'm sorry if this post isn't as exhaustive and descriptive as it should be. And it should be. Just a few miles to the west of me is Burma, a country that I'd bet a lot of people don't know much about. I only became aware of the situation a few months before I left for my trip, but for the past week I've been living either in Mae Sot, a border city, or in a small orphanage for Burmese Refugee children, and I've talked face to face with victims of the crimes occuring across the river. The Burmese government is a military dictatorship. For years, it targeted ethnic groups around the country, trying to gain control of all of them. Eventually, a cease-fire was signed between the army and the ethnic groups, all except the largest one. The Karen people are now the main target of the government. They are exploited to extremes; taken as slaves, killed, their villages burned, their crops stolen. They are treated like second-class citizens and many aren't allowed to get passports, making it impossible to leave the country. Thousands have fled to Thailand and the majority are living in the refugee camp outside of Mae Sot. 41,000 refugees crammed into one village. At the orphanage, a group of students who fled Burma 4 years ago stayed with us. It was their first time out of the camp since they arrived, and very few students get the liberty to do that, even though they only went a few miles up the road, and I've never seen so many beautiful, beautiful smiles in my life. As we bitched and moaned about blisters and sunburns and bug bites, the Karen students worked harder and longer than everyone else in their flip flops and long sleeves and loved it. It was incredibly inspiring. The people we were working for have been doing so much to support the refugees. We were working to build a vocational skills center because refugees around the area generally aren't allowed to go to University (as they aren't allowed out of the camp). Ole, the Norwegian man who ran the orphange, is 24. He has two orphanges already up and running and is working to build a third. Makes you wonder what in the hell you're doing with your life. It was one of the most amazing places I've ever been, visually as well. The river we swam in after work every day was the border between Thailand and Burma. We floated on our backs down the current staring up into the high forested mountains of one of the most controversial countries in the world. It was hard to imagine, as we watched the village children run and scream and splash, what their lives were like before they crossed over that river. I've never seen such beautiful people in my life.
Before we came to Mae Sot and got smacked in the face with the reality of what's been happening in Burma, we were quietly lounging out in MaeJo. After the hot shot of tourism we got in Chiang Mai, a city whose signs were spelled out in English instead of Thai, MaeJo was like a cool fruit smoothie. Perhaps like the pinaepple one I just drank. Pure, simple, and all local. We stayed in homestays. I was lucky that the daughter of the couple whose house I lived in spoke a tiny bit of English, so it wasn't all just nods and smiles and gestures. I was even luckier that her daughter was the most adorable 2-year-old ever. It's so easy to get along with people without language when there is a cute kid around. While there, we worked in the gardens, carried bricks, helped with some earthen building, swam in the resevoir, hiked to a monk's home by a jungle waterfall, and learned a bit about farming in the area. Our leader, Alex, who was with us earlier in the trip, speaks fluent Thai so on our last night there, we were finally able to communicate with the people who had been hosting us for the past three days. Their story is pretty telling, and it's an essential piece of my research project. The villagers in MaeJo farm for their main source of income. When they were children, their parents were farming in the old ways without any Western influence. One day, they said, a white person came to their village and told them that he could help them make a lot more money with their farming. He bought their oxen and sold them machines, took their hoes and gave them pesticides, and took their seeds and gave them "better" ones. Because the village is so small, they only had one teacher and that teacher could only teach up to the fourth grade level, so these farmers had almost no education. When we asked them why they believed this person so readily, they responded that they had never known not to trust a person like that. In Thailand, villages are like families. Everyone supports everyone else, and the idea of someone from the outside coming in and hurting them like that was foreign. And it did hurt. The pesticides are making the villagers sick. The oxen created fertilizer for them and reproduced to give them new "machines" when they got too old, but the machines are breaking down and they can't afford new ones and oxen have suddenly become commercialized as well, so they can't afford to buy their oxen back. The seeds don't create new seeds, so every year they have to go back and buy brand new seeds whereas before they got their seeds from the previous years harvest. Now, the village is in debt, the health of the people is slipping, and the crops they are producing aren't as good as they were before. But the amazing part of this story is that the villagers have long sinced realized the faulty ways of Western agriculture. The reason we could stay in the village is because they started a homestay program to bring in travellers who want to experience village life and share what their lives are like at home. That way, income from the travellers can help the village buy back their oxen and start farming like they used to. Because the pesticides and machines allowed them to grow more, but shabbier, crops, they started selling to large companies like Lay's potato chips to make money back (another suggestion from a Westerner), but they don't want to support large companies like that anymore and they just want to be able to farm sustainably to feed themselves and maybe sell to some surrounding villages. These uneducated villagers in Thailand have realized how bad Western agriculture is and are working to change it, and yet we continue to farm unsustainably in America after decades of screwing up.
So I know I didn't get to talk much about my actual experiences, but I wanted to share these stories while they are still fresh in my mind. If anyone wants to learn more about the plight of the Karen or do something to help, try http://uscampaignforburma.org/. I hope my words have been able to convey, at least a little, the passion and love behind these stories of pain and exploitation, because more than anything what I've seen in Thailand is a people whose will power to overcome adversity is breathtaking, and their smiles are contagious. This is a beatiful country.
Next time, from India!

Suay!

After a 5 hour van ride from Wan Pen's back to Bangkok and a 14 hour train ride from there, I find myself in the tourist city of Chiang Mai. It's only been about a week since I arrived in Thailand, but the thought of Washington right now is more foreign than the country I'm in. It's absoultely beautiful (suay!) and the people here are so willing to help you and speak to you, even if they only know a few key English phrases. Since I left you last, so much has happened. The flight from Seattle to Korea was the longest I've ever been on, but Korea Air treated us so well. Each hostess looked exactly the same, and we learned later that to be hired for Korean Air, you must meet certain exact facial and body proportions. Most would fight, yell, and sue over that in America, but it's about setting an example for your country and the position holds a high degree of pride for those who are accepted. And I've never heard of better service on a flight before. I slept the whole 5 hours from Korea to Thailand and woke up at 1 am on the tarmac. The smell when you first walk out into Bangkok is overwhleming. Sweet, spicy, fishy, hot, all blended together in the most satisfying way. That night, I walked around the empty market during their dead hours. The workers were preparing for the next day. Live fish and frogs hopped out of their little water buckets and flopped around on the floor, full pigs were being butchered to sell, and the spice tent smelled so amazing everyone had to stop and sniff each one. Our hotel, the Shanti Lodge, was a quaint little tourist place with people from all over the world. It was all open, only doors on the hotel rooms, and plants grew from the alleys over the shower walls and through the cracks in the brick. In Thailand, you have to take your shoes off when you enter someones home, so we left our Choco's and Keen's outside in the alley and spent our time there barefoot. The first day, we walked to the river and hopped on a boat to go see some phenomenal temples. The architecture is outstanding and gold Buddhas are a favorite decoration. One temple had steps so steep you had to walk sideways to get up, but at the top we had a full view of Bangkok. Afterwards, we took a river tour through the "backroads" of Bangkok, which used to have no roads at all and everything was accessible only by boat. The Venice of the East. At night, we took a little tuk tuk to Khao San road, one of the biggest tourist roads in Bangkok. Lots of lady boys (men who dress like women), bars, clubs, and white people who spoke all sorts of languages. It was interesting. The next day, we were off for Erewan National Park and Wan Pen's. Wan Pen and her family are beautiful, wonderful, kind Thai people living in the jungles around Erewan. They have open air bungalows to host tourists and fed us the most amazing Thai food I've ever had. Pad Thai in the states is complete BS. We had fresh pineapple, starfruit, dragonfruit, and mango every morning, some from straight out back in her garden. We hiked to a limestone cave, played soccer with the local Thai boys (ages 9-15, who all rode up on their huge motorcycles alone), and meditated at sunrise on the hill behind the local temple next to statues of Buddha and monks. Every morning, the orange-clad monks walked down the dirt road for miles accepting offerings from the townspeople. In Thailand, giving to a monk is one of the most fulfilling things you can do. It's considered good karma to have them accept something from you. At 5 am every morning, the hundreds of town roosters crowed for hours to bring up the sun, and all of us. The second day there, we went to the Erewan waterfalls. Seven different swimming holes cascading down from the top of the mountain behind it, each one beautiful and unique in its own way. At the top, the water fell straight down over the limestone, but the rock is sticky and we could climb up to the top where there was a cave with crystal clear water, red rock cliffs rising behind it. In each pool, fish swim by your feet and eat off the dry skin. It's the strangest feeling ever, and people pay bunches of money to sit in a spa and have it done down in Bangkok. Bang came with us, one of the boys who live at Wan Pen's, and he showed us all of the best spots. Wan Pen walked me through her garden one afternoon, where she grows tamarind, pineapple, banana, peanuts, coconut, eggplant, avocado, bok choy, lemon, and all other sorts of vegetables, fruits, spices, and medicinal herbs. Many things she didn't know the english word for and we didn't recognize the smell of it. Her farm is completely sustainable. She uses no sprays or insecticides, she weeds the garden by hand, and the seeds for the next year come from nowhere but her own plants. It was sad to leave. But now I'm in Chiang Mai, a city I have yet to explore, so I better get off and see what I can see. Adios!

Blog?

Actually, I have two new pairs of shoes and I'm just about ready to trek and tromp and get some dirt up in between my toes. It's taken me about two weeks, but my bags are fully packed. My heart is full, my mind is open, and my clothes for tomorrow are waiting anxiously at the foot of my bed. I fly out at 1pm our time and get to Korea at 6pm their time...the next day. After an hour there, I'll be off to Bangkok, and then it's all downhill from there. Except in Dharmsala, where I think we'll actually be doing a lot of uphill climbing. It feels necessary to have a blog post before I go, or even get out of bed at my house, but I must admit I don't have much to say at this point. I'm a new blogger (blogette?) but I hope my words and pictures can convey some of the emotion of the places I pass through for all readers to see. I know it won't suffice, though, so I hope you all know I have a little bag tucked away in a safe little pocket with a little tiny window to look out and all of you are in there on this journey with me. I wouldn't be the person I am today if it weren't for the amazing people I've encountered throughout my life, and if you are reading this I'm sure you are one of them. So thank you thank you for being the beautiful human beings that you are, and I'll pass a little bit of that light you've given me on to all those I encounter in Thailand and India.
We had to write a little something before we left about our hopes, dreams, and blessings for this journey, and I would like to leave this post tonight with what I wrote. If I can maintain this mentality for my entire trip, I will consider myself successful.

I hope...
to leave with
No Expectations
to be with
No Boundaries
and to walk on
No Path

I will not see only the light I hope to see

Namaste, Sawatdee Kaa, and goodnight.