Barbed Wire and Bamboo pt. 1
Trip Start
Sep 2005
1
9
15
Trip End
Ongoing
Mae La,
Thailand
Tuesday, March 14, 2006
The Thai government never signed the 1951 Geneva Convention, so it doesn't recognize asylum-seekers as refugees. This means they don't have the same rights (freedom of movement, right to employment) as countries who signed to the convention. Lots of people give Thailand a hard time about this, but to be fair, Thailand has hosted hundreds of thousands of people fleeing persecution from most of its neighboring countries. Still the Burmese refugees can't go home, find jobs, grow rice, or get decent medical attention
Kids at the gate
. Thai and foreign aid organizations provide for reasonable education up to 10th grade. About $.30/day goes to feeding and caring for the refugees. There would probably be more aid to these camps, but you see, sometimes Karen soldiers put on civilian uniforms to visit their families, sometimes families save some of their rice for their soldiers. Knowing this, the Burmese military has occasionally attacked some of the camps, which are on Thai soil. Also church organizations don't like to be seen aiding military groups, Christian or not. More recently, US Homeland Security law has prevented some 10,000 refugees from entering the country because, if your family gave rice or shelter to a rebel group (whether that rebel group is fighting a government the US has sanctions against, or even if you were forced to do so), you are considered a terrorist. It's complications like these that keep the international community from making much progress.
With the pass in hand, I catch a truck north and hit the buzzer just outside the gates of Mae La Camp, where one of my former students is waiting for me. She looks nonchalantly up and down the road to check for Thai soldiers and we walk inside, ignoring my paperwork. Mae La the largest of the 9 camps, home to 50,000+ refugees, mostly Karen Christians and Buddhists, but also Burmese Muslim and a few other ethnic groups
Mae La 01
. We walk inside, watching out for shiny shoes and starched camoflage, and turn down a narrow red dirt path, flattened bamboo fences on either side. Like a chinese painting, the entire camp lies beneath steep limestone cliffs, a labyrinth of winding trails and tightly packed bamboo huts perched on steep hillsides, trees and homes clinging to the mountains. It is actually incredibly beautiful, and I imagine that it will become some sort of tourist resort someday, the day all the inhabitants wait for, when they get to go home.
Meanwhile, sacks of rice and soap are being distributed, children shout wide-eyed hellos, chickens peck, and pigs wallow in the mud. Young men play volleyball or guitars. Women mind small shops selling out-of-date canned goods, various vegetables, and mostly warm soft drinks. We walk to Khangsai's brother's house to meet her family. They offer me a heaping bowl of rice and fish paste and I try to politely explain that while I'm grateful for their hospitality, I really shouldn't be eating from their rations. But it's always the poorest who seem to give the most, and they insist.
I give her brother a couple of guitar picks and strings for his beat up Yamaha-copy acoustic. Since there's not much for people to do, everyone can play guitar. But the one I'm looking for is an old man, a shaman of sorts, who's known as the local folklorist. I've seen photos of him playing the Thana, a small harp that's the signature instrument of the Karen, but no one in this part of the camp can remember where he lives.
Khangsai and her brother walk with me to a hilltop church, where there are some students I'm hoping to interview
Mae La 02
. I talk to a few of them, and although they're shy and their English is lacking, they are far more politically astute than most American teenagers. State rights within a federal system? These kids know what they're up against and what they'll have to do if the military regime in Burma ever falls. In a nearby building, a group of Australian aid workers are showing photographs of downunder to a crowd of students. Since Australia is one of the countries accepting Burmese refugees for resettlement, the kids are curious and they know almost nothing about the country. One of the Australians said they were told they would be talking to about ten kids, but hundreds showed up, eager for any information about what may become their new home.
We walk further though the camp, which goes on for a few miles beneath the cliffbands. Although mobile phones are illegal in the camps, and there's definitely no internet, Khangsai's brother is teaching basic computer skills on about twelve McGyver'd machines. He also helps keep the camp radio station running, with his sister (my student) being the chief audio editor of the weekly broadcasts. The station consists of a shoddy stereo (the cd tray doesn't work, so you place the disc directly over the laser), a car battery, a small mixing board, two karaoke-quality microphones, and a homemade FM transmitter. It gets shut down from time to time, since the Thai government is very much aware that it could be used for non-civilian purposes. It's just been allowed back on the air, under the provision that it only be used for educational purposes.
We walk on, to the center of camp, where the Karen Women's Organization has an office, which consists of a storage space for UN donated goods, and several looms where women produce colorful fabrics, one of the few ways refugees can legitimately earn money
Mae La radio station
. Let Let Win is the woman in charge, a badass grandma who used to command platoons of women soldiers. "They didn't dare touch the women in our village," she says of her days as a soldier. In those days, her platoon tracked down and killed Burmese officers known for cruelty to women. She quit when the SPDC targeted her family. She came to Mae La and now oversees the income-generation projects, women's rights advocacy, and a few safe-houses. Feeling useless with no work opportunities, lots of men in the camps become abusive alcoholics, and with no real justice system in place in the camps, KWO is really the only group standing up against domestic violence.Let Let Win takes me to one of the safehouses, where a girl named Sunny cheerfully tells the story about how she left an abusive home in the refugee camp, only to be taken in by a priest who raped her. She was shunned by family and friends when KWO took her in. Her effervescence turns to tears as she talks of Australia and how she's going to go there, go to school, and work for women's rights. I'm speechless, saddened not only by her story. While I can grasp her English, there's no way the American radio listener will understand. Although she desperately wants me to broadcast her story, I know it will never reach the airwaves.
Since I have the recording gear with me, Khangsai wants me to interview another rape victim for her radio program. The woman just arrived in the camp from Karen State inside Burma. In November 2005, an SPDC soldier raped her and she stabbed him in the neck with a kitchen knife. She says this like she's reading a grocery list, only showing emotion when I take her picture. She knows that it's evidence against the SPDC, and the Karen are used to telling their story to foreigners...but as I've been told by my editors: talk about rape on the air and they'll change the station.
I catch the last truck back to Mae Sot and don't really enjoy the well-prepared pasta for dinner. My two dollar meal is nearly a week's ration in the camp.
