On our way through Bangkok, we wanted to try to meet with a friend from the neighborhood. She’s been a difficult story. In short:
We met the family with a dad, two teenage daughters, and their three-year-old nephew. The two young girls held all the responsibility for the home & little boy.
The oldest teenager left for Bangkok at 15. We weren’t sure what her work was, but it seemed questionable.
The little three-year-old was reunited with his mom and dad, who had been in jail for three years for some sort of drug charges; we aren’t sure if it was use or trafficking.
The second teenager quit school to work at 13; we knew her really well and did our best to come up with solutions: job options after school, other forms of income for the family, supporting her schooling, etc. They were sometimes taken for a few weeks and the denied, or denied on the spot. Before long, she was off to Bangkok, too, and has been there over a year.
We’ve been trying to get in touch with her—to keep up the contact, to love on her, to see if she needed a way out. We know the home life wasn’t great for a myriad of reasons. But we also weren’t sure what sort of career she was open to, and we wanted to keep up the contact so she always felt she had a way out, a friend, or whatever else we could try to be.
Three trips to Bangkok later, and she’s a bit hard to reach!
Sometimes her phone is out of minutes, sometimes it’s been disconnected altogether. We finally acquired a current number for her and called this trip.
It was quite the conversation, a full twenty minutes of chaos in three languages.
Someone else answered, so I asked in Burmese if Chit Mhwe was there. We went back and forth, saying the name with different accents and emphases, until she replied, “Oh! Chit Mhwe!”
I then hear her shouting for Chit Mhwe to tell her a white person was on the phone. {So glad my Burmese is so convincing.}
Chit Mhwe was so excited—she immediately shouted our names and asked how we were. It was so lovely to hear her voice.
When I told her we were Bangkok, she asked, “In Bangkok? Now? You?”
I explained we hoped to see her, and she shouted, “Tomorrow! Yes, tomorrow!” in English.
At some point here she put us on speaker phone, so that all the girls around her could hear. She told them we were her teachers and we were here in Bangkok, and we attempted to decipher the Burmese of five or so girls talking all at once.
I asked where she lived, and got, “Tomorrow! Yes, tomorrow!”
“Yes, tomorrow. Where? What time?”
“Tomorrow! Where are you?”
“I’m in Bangkok, near Mo Chit BTS Station. Where are you?”
“—-no idea what she said—“
“Hmm…do you know the BTS? MRT?” (These are the two major transit lines, elevated and underground.)
“Yes, I know.”
“Do you live near there?” (I start listing off stations.)
“Kelli, one minute.”
There is much chattering. Suddenly the only male voice I’ve heard comes on the line. I ask if he speaks English, being my best guess of what they went after.
“Yes. English.”
“Where are you?”
“Yes, I am ok. Are you okay?”
“Yes, I am okay. Where are you?”
“I am okay. Tomorrow is okay.”
“Yes, tomorrow is good. Where do I go? Where are you?”
“I am okay. Are you okay?” (Repeat this interchange a few more times.)
“Where are you?”
“I am at ———.” (Repeat this interchange a few more times.)
“Do you speak Thai? One minute.”
We go down to the front desk and explain. They graciously take the phone and talk for a few minutes.
We learn they are in ———-. About two hours by taxi. We should go to this region of “Bangkok” (the wider definition of Bangkok, if you will) and then call her, and she’ll give the taxi directions.
Suddenly, our plan to go see her tomorrow gets slightly foiled. A wild goose chase of at best 4 hours driving, before a flight to the US?
We apologized we couldn’t see her tomorrow, but we’ll be back in three weeks and do our best to see her then.
_______________
Fast forward not so much time: maybe twelve hours. She has found us on Facebook! This is our initial interchange:
It then balloons into a “conversation” of many emoticons and broken Burmese. She writes so many questions and was so patient while we attempted to type out Burmese on our phones, and ultimately resorted to writing it and sending her photos. In the end, our battery was dying, so we snapped a picture of us and sent it to her.
And now, we have plans to make. We have a friend to visit next time we’re here, a trek to determine where she lives, and three weeks to determine more specific directions.
But I suppose, it was just really beautiful.
Sometimes it feels like we are doing nothing; that we see no results and we just see one broken story after another. And though the broken stories are numerous and sometimes pushing to the forefront, there are little glimpses into the joy. There are broken emoticon-conversations, where we love this culture we live in. There are broken Burmese conversations, where we give thanks for what we have learned to communicate. And there are these people, these friends, that we realize we love. We will make phone call after phone call and trek around a city of millions to find, because she is loved and needs to see that.