I hope you all enjoyed last week’s video and photo update. Here’s more:

There are forty-one children at Future Light Children’s Home. We spent the morning playing games and doing art activities. The kids never grew tired of running around or hanging out with their new friends from Bangkok. Had any of them truly been tired, they surely would have been enthusiastically replaced by another brother or sister. By mid afternoon the play time had been converted into a group effort to do chores. The combination of the chores and the stifling Mae Sot heat made the kids yearn to go bathe in the nearby river.

“You know before the water is blue. But today, the water bad. Very brown. The rains not come.” This observation from one of the older boys didn’t seem to disparage his younger siblings at the orphanage. They had already jumped into the river from the rocky shore of the muddy Irrawaddy, not hesitating to begin bathing and playing. I looked up at the movement across the waters, examining the boats who were loudly vacillating between Thailand and Burma. The children, like the boats, are caught in a stateless limbo because of decades of conflict in Burma and Thailand’s muddy policy on refugees and migrants.

The children get three meals of day. A basic meal made of mostly rice and the vegetables that they grow behind the house. So when evening finally came I grinned and proposed to the house dad, Goin, that we sneak away right before dinner and get ice cream for all the kids. He agreed and off we went on his motorbike speeding towards town, but stopping once for gas just outside of Mae Sot. We took off once again to hunt down a bucket sized quantity of vanilla-raspberry swirl ice cream, but the bike stopped again–this time unexpectedly. Mai pen rai–or ‘nevermind’ in Thai I thought. We will work something out I rationed. Maybe someone will offer us a ride I thought, still being hopelessly optimistic. I will just call my team back at the orphanage to pick us up.

No, no, and no answer.

A mile later, still walking alongside the busted motorbike we had almost reached a bike shop that was already closed.

If nothing else was in our favor, the fact that a shop with a tub of ice cream was still open when our taxi arrived brought relief. Goin and I walked back in through the orphanage gates two and a half hours later. Everyone had already forgotten about dinner and kids had gathered singing and dancing their hearts out before bed (see a brief video clip here). Preoccupied with their singing, they didn’t notice the ice cream, the missing bike, or the overwhelming sense of relief we felt upon returning.

That night we scooped ice cream into cones, bowls, cups, and finally bare hands as kids made their second and third rounds for the treat. I can’t recall an instance where ice cream ever tasted so good, nor where the joy it spread was so abundant.

Feels great to have had the opportunity to spend with the kids of Future Light. This week we will be donating $1000 to them on behalf of the Cyril Duncan Siam Children’s Foundation. They are currently rebuilding their house and school and could use the support. If you want more info on making a donation yourself or voluntouring at Future Light you can contact them on facebook (or by emailing futurelightkids@gmail.com).

-Dwight

“Dream Big, Work Smart, Start Local.”

The waiting room is full and tense. There is a mixture or people from all backgrounds, packed together in a long but narrow corridor. They sit or stand shoulder to shoulder, but are worlds apart. I sit and hypothesize about that distance. Whether it’s the language barriers or the weight of solemn helplessness to aid loved ones that keeps people eerily quiet, I’m not sure. Then I sit and reflect on a few scenes I just witnessed coming in that seem to indicate the latter. A stream of shirtless, handcuffed Burmese men waiting with heavy eyes. Giant paddy wagons parked outside used in raids to arrest the people–our people–or people like them anyway.

“They sit or stand shoulder to shoulder, but are worlds apart.”

The paper work is done. And not a moment too soon, my sulking is abruptly interrupted by yelling in Thai. I understand and jump to my feet with the others. The command is followed by something broken and harsh, resembling English. I handover my passport for a locker key and crush my belongings inside. No camera and no phones is emphasized in the Thai commands over the importance of no metal or sharp objects. Is any connection to the outside a threat? I swallow that thought while they pat me down and carelessly molest the packages of food I’ve brought. Hands are waved and I wander over to the portable fence.

“I loathe this fence.”

Some of the detainees are already out and the searching and murmuring escalates. There is another row of port-o-fences partitioning the detainees from our fence with a meter or so in between, that at first impression seems to be a mile. The rest is a dysfunctional airport scene. Some elation, greetings, and smiles. The volume of the people shouting between the fences intensifies.

I loathe this fence.

It separates people in a different way than when we were outside. It is the physical personification of the same solemn helplessness I felt then. Damned fence. It doesn’t save me from the obvious desperation of the people on the other side, the heat of the sun, nor the stench from the toilets in the nearby cells.

I press my fingers through the fence and lean on it because I can see her now. “Mr. Noname!” she shouts.

I reply, “Happy Birthday.”

“Today there were enough volunteers to reunite her whole family during the visiting hour. We’re proud.”

She’s been here since the raids last October. Only a few months ago she was a regular attendant of the Saturday morning classes at the Bangkok Refugee Center, practicing her English with me, quizzing the other volunteers about the US, and teaming up with her friends to guess my name. When they couldn’t pry it out of me I was dubbed Mr. Noname. Today there were enough volunteers to reunite her whole family during the visiting hour. We’re proud.

Her smile is noticeably bigger than mine. She’s a teenager today. The other volunteers gather around the fence on our side. I glance around self consciously. Back to the dysfunctional airport scene. Back to the sign behind me that reads, “Don’t trow anything.” And finally, back to the fence. I join the others in crooning the happy birthday song through it. Later, they point over to the food supplies we brought, including bottled water and birthday cupcakes freshly smushed from the search.

The time is up. We wave goodbye to the beaming new teenager. I leave ashamed a little for comparing her birthday to ones I had. Or maybe from being unable to fully mirror her beautiful smile. But I’m thankful and positive–there’s no better way I could have spent my morning.

Join

This is just one of the many stories from the visits we’re making to IDC. It was built to temporarily house foreigners and migrants who overstayed visas or found themselves on the wrong side of Thai law. Thus it can often be quite crowded, without all the amenities of a normal prison. Many refugee families who are arrested end up there regardless of their status with the UN and with little recourse. Twice a week volunteers gather to visit, reunite the families, and bring supplies. Please consider donating or visiting with us while you’re in Bangkok.

Here’s a quote from Ryan who had to stay there a week before his family was resettled to the US:

“In IDC, people are short of everything…. They need most basic supplies, such as carbohydrates, vitamins, drinking water, and hygiene necessities. I know it’s gonna be really hard for yourself to make much different in these people’s life, but with more people actively involving in your program, I believe a lot of people’s life will be better.”

Other Good Ways to Go to Jail

There are other groups going into prisons and providing services to inmates. For example, the Christian Prison Ministry Foundation works with prisoners nearing release. In addition to giving religious guidance to inmates, they provide a series of educational classes to prepare participants to succeed once reintegrated back into society. CPMF is doing everything from art classes to running a halfway house for inmates. Get involved by volunteering to share a skill, especially if you have an interest in helping people rebuild their lives.

Get Uncomfortable

I understand that for many, visiting jails and detention centers aren’t the types of attractions you normally think of when you’re planning your trip to Thailand. I sure didn’t. But when you get in the habit of making yourself available to serve others, you’ll learn to love the adventure that is packaged with making a difference in people’s lives.

-Dwight