It seems that things will just keep moving, so I might as well just make a few notes as we go along.

We spent last week in Chiang Mai, going to meetings, chatting with friends, and a making a few purchases we can’t make here in Mae Sot. It was probably the most relaxing trip I’ve had to Chiang Mai, completely due to the overwhelming generosity of friends. We had some oh-so-kind friends that let us stay with them for the week, including my parents once they arrived, and let us borrow their motorbike and car to run errands and make it to meetings all over town. I was genuinely refreshed by their kindness, and seems noteworthy.

And then my parents came!  And we are giving them a true taste of our lives, as you’ll see.

Our bus ride to Chiang Mai was a unfortunate: it was old bus, we had seats in the back next to the toilet, our driver was terrifying, we were stopped & woken up repeatedly by police & military checks; the list goes on. It was around this time that I was questioning why we thought it was a good idea to take my parents on the bus.

And then they took the best bus ride ever. We had a brand new sparkling charter bus, with seats across the second row. Our stewardess spoke English, which is more of a novelty than I can describe. Typically, we never know how long the bus will stop at each break; we take turns getting off with the splendid plan for the other to yell for the bus to stop if it started to pull away. This time–for the first time ever–we knew that we’d be stopping for 5, 15, or 30 minutes, which makes the trip much easier, I must say. We were also only stopped by the police once, and our driver was spectacularly safe.

We celebrated Christmas that night and opened piles of presents for both us & the neighbor kids! This included, but was not limited to: new clothes, dolls, candy suckers, parmesan cheese, and microwave popcorn. Oh, and candy corn, bringing fall to our doorstep, despite the temperatures raging over 90 degrees.

They were quickly surrounded by a neighborhood of kids, plus one or two that needed bandaging up after some accidents. Mong Ey, our sweet Karen neighbor, came to us with fifteen stitches across her head from earlier in the week, and news of a grandfather that had passed away. We had taken him to the hospital a number of times, so we knew the family. Friday was quickly consumed with a visit to the family to pray for them and give a small monetary gift; we were then asked to help with transport for the funeral.

My dad had an allergic reaction to something when he arrived, so Mom & I took over for the funeral, followed by a five-hour hospital visit on our Saturday afternoon. With a few market trips in between and kids on our doorstep now shouting, “Kelli! Stephen! Mother! Father!”–they are seeing Mae Sot in full swing.

There is a football pitch near our house where I play football once or twice a week with a group of girls.

I played football for one season in elementary school, and our team wasn’t too good. We didn’t make a goal the entire season, except for one that went past our own goalie to give the other team a point.

It’s not hard to wonder why I played just one season.

And even now, I’m awful. Most days I leave thinking I should have enough pride to not return.

But I keep going back. I love the running around, the challenge. And they are gracious enough to tell me when I’m breaking rules I don’t know about, laugh it off when I miss a pass again, and simply let me play. It’s good.

But this week, I made two goals! One on Wednesday and another on Friday. I made a positive, quantitive contribution!

I will admit that I also fell once in each game. I suppose I shouldn’t get too prideful.

There are a few verses that have continuously circled my conscience since we arrived here. One of them is Matthew 25:31-46.

“When the Son of Man comes in his glory, and all the angels with him, then he will sit on his glorious throne. Before him will be gathered all the nations, and he will separate people one from another as a shepherd separates the sheep from the goats. And he will place the sheep on his right, but the goats on the left. Then the King will say to those on his right, ‘Come, you who are blessed by my Father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world. For I was hungry and you gave me food, I was thirsty and you gave me drink, I was a stranger and you welcomed me, I was naked and you clothed me, I was sick and you visited me, I was in prison and you came to me.’ Then the righteous will answer him, saying, ‘Lord, when did we see you hungry and feed you, or thirsty and give you a drink? And when did we see you a stranger and welcome you, or naked and clothe you? And when did we see you sick or in prison and visit you?’ And the King will answer them, ‘Truly, I say to you, as you did it to one of the least of these my brother, you did it to me.’
Then he will say to those on his left, ‘Depart from me, you cursed, into the eternal fire prepared for the devil and his angels. For I was hungry and you gave me no food, I was thirsty and you gave me no drink, I was a stranger and you did not welcome me, naked and you did not clothe me, sick and in prison and you did not visit me.’ Then they also will answer, saying, ‘Lord, when did we see you hungry or thirsty or a stranger or naked or sick and in prison, and did not minister to you?’ The he will answer them, saying, ‘Truly, I say to you, as you did not do it to one of the least of these, you did not do it to me.’ And these will go away into eternal punishment, but the righteous into eternal life.”

There is so much to ponder in this passage no matter where you are.

But the children that ask me for food and water on a daily basis make this more complicated, it seems. The regular visitors with cuts, burns, coughs, and fevers; the neighbors living in dilapidated homes, in a land where they are very much unwelcomed strangers and at times imprisoned; they seem to bring this verse screaming back to me.

I struggle as the children watch me cook each night, surely more meat and vegetables than their family will see today. I struggle to take someone to the hospital and pay for the care when I know he has spent the money on alcohol that has caused this condition. I struggle to set boundaries for the kids when this may be a glass of water they crave, a hug that makes them feel safe, or a toy that gives them a moment of joy.

I struggle to reconcile the ideological concepts of sustainability and development, while people are hungry now and I’m eating now.

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We attempted a community garden last year, with hopes of providing some healthy, free food for the community. It was somewhat successful: they harvested pumpkins, okra, and lemongrass; and some other jungle vegetables I didn’t recognize.  We have bananas and papayas growing successfully now, plus the lemongrass and jungle vegetables that continue to be used.

As rainy season comes to a close, we are welcoming another gardening season here in Mae Sot. And this year we have enlisted help from some Partners’ staff who work with sustainable agriculture throughout migrant communities here and in Burma.  They had some wonderful ideas, including a greenhouse-style design that keeps out bugs (and children) without pesticides. They have a way to add biochar into the soil for more fruitful yields, as well as make your own charcoal, which the community uses to cook every meal. We have a well in our yard, actually, that goes unused. They suggested we purchase a pump that would make watering the garden free of charge and easy for the community.

All of these sounded like promising ideas, but required some significant investments–well, for here. To get a structure built, install a well, and start seeds for this year, it would be a few hundred dollars. In the grand scheme of life: not so extravagant. In the grand scheme of Mae Sot and our expenses here: a hefty price.

We met with about five women last Wednesday evening to discuss the options and see if they were interested. It was an hour of attempted Karen being translated into Burmese over sugary coffeeThey responded wholeheartedly, and asked when they could begin learning.

So we’ve decided to dive in, to make the investment, and pray for high yields and miracles.  We hope that this is wise and loving. We hope that this is a move of both sustainability and blessing, meeting both immediate and eternal needs.

It was a long week.

Somewhere between two hospital visits, attempts to coerce a six-year-old to eat something, and teaching every morning for three hours, I was tired. But this weekend, we welcomed rest and laughter.

Well, after we spent Friday night at the hospital getting a man’s skull stitched back together.

A few things worth cherishing:

Saturday morning we took our weekly biking and hiking trip, returning about noon. I really love this time–we have three hours to talk through our week, our work, the community. We can observe Mae Sot and respond to all that goes on around us day in and day out. And we wear ourselves out in the process.

This Saturday, though, I was not so worn out. I went for a couple hours of tennis with a friend in the afternoon while Stephen spent some time in his studio. I love recreational sport, and have loved the year-round opportunity for tennis and regular football games with friends. And I am not so bothered at the regular loses and my general lack of skill and/or coordination.

Throughout the whole weekend, I feel like I laughed a lot, and very hard. Stephen is a pretty hilarious person, and that is worth celebrating because it can make a weekend.

In the evening I was still energized after the 34km of bicycling, a hike, and two hours of tennis, which we were a little baffled at. We decided later this might be related to the large amounts of sugar cereal we received in the mail for Stephen’s birthday. Though sugar doesn’t have quite the strong effect on him, the four bowls of sugar cereal I had through the day seemed to keep me over-energized until about 9:30, when I collapsed.

Stephen went to a friends house, supposedly to work on creating a camera stabilizer for his video projects. Instead, he returned home and surprised me with my very own incredible tortilla maker! Best gift ever and a very fun surprise. I had already crashed when he returned, requiring him to pound on the window (after multiple phone calls) to wake me to unlock the door. My exhaustion did mean we postponed our first batch of tortillas.

We enjoyed a Sunday morning doughnut run and spent a couple hours at the pool swimming and reading, followed by an evening with our friends who will be moving soon. We can at least enjoy the time we have with them!

And last, Yuh Meh Oo is back to her normal self, eating regularly and coming over for hugs and smiles. This gives me a deep rest that I am thankful for.

Oh, do your Friday nights not involve drunken men showing up your door with their head bleeding?

Stephen headed to the hospital with him on the back of our motorbike. There was a slight scare with new police in town; but he was quickly treated without too many questions. Stephen was sent to pay within an hour, and things were looking like a return home before 8pm. Perhaps we could recover a somewhat restful night.

And then Stephen walked back to the ER to find him gone. The doctors, nurses, or translator didn’t know where he had gone. He still needed an injection and presumably a ride home?!

The next hour was spent in confusion: talking to the neighbors; searching the hospital; driving along the roads home to try to find him; waiting home to see if he took a motorbike taxi himself.

And then he just showed up at his house. Completely unfazed that he had left the hospital without completing his treatment and without the person who drove him; still slightly fazed from the previously consumed alcohol and significant blood loss.

Stephen returned home and delivered the medicine; we shook our heads at each other and happily shut ourselves in for the evening.

Oh, my.

 

 

For my Karen lesson today, I was reading a children’s book with my teacher. I personally love children’s books; the sweet stories that often carry incredible virtues just under the surface.  One of my favorites is Max Lucado’s You are Special or Judith Viorst’s Rosie and Michael.

This one was not so sweet nor virtuous. And like yesterday’s Karen lesson, it seemed worth sharing. This is a slightly shortened English version from my memory, but I’m certain you’ll get the point.

There was an orphan boy who lived with his grandmother in a small house in the jungle.
He set traps in the jungle and caught a bird. He let it go free and told it to go back to his grandma and ask her to cook him. When he got back to his house, he asked his grandmother about the bird. She said that was not the way to catch a bird. Instead, he should twist the bird’s neck and put it in his bag.

The next day the boy went out again and found some mushrooms. He took each one and twisted the neck of it and put it in his bag. When he went home his grandmother told him this was not the way to pick mushrooms. He should pick them one by one and put them in his bag.

The next day the boy found a bee hive. He picked the bees one by one and put them in his bag. They bit him many times and his face was very swollen. When he got home his grandmother said this was not the way to catch bees; he should chase them away with fire and take the honey.

The next day the boy saw a deer. He chased it with fire and it ran away. When he went home, his grandmother told him that he should throw a spear through the deer to kill it.

The next day the boy went out and saw a monk. He threw a spear through the monk and killed him. (!) When he got home his grandmother told him this is not what he should do when he meets a monk. Instead, he should pray to the monk. 

And the next day the boy went out and came upon a tiger. He prayed to the tiger and it began to chase him. The tiger chased the boy until he caught him and ate him. (!)

The grandmother waited at home many days for the boy to come back, but he did not come back. She cried many days and died with a bitter heart. 

What!?

Well, we can sort out that it is stubbornness. Perhaps a little bit of sickness alongside, but quite a significant amount of stubbornness.

I went back to visit Yuh Meh Oo this afternoon after lunch. I had told her mother that if she hadn’t eaten by lunchtime today, she would need to go the hospital for fluids through an IV.  When arrived, she hadn’t eaten still.

This time, I had this passed on to Yuh Meh Oo: We were going to walk together to the little shop at the end of the street. She could pick any one thing to eat, and I would buy it. If she ate all of it, we wouldn’t go to the hospital. If she did not eat all of it, we would go to the hospital to get food through a needle.

Once we were there she picked out a sandwich-type snack. I explain in the shop that if she ate the whole thing, she could play with a baby at my house.

We walked back to my porch; I retrieved a cup of water. And she simply ate it.

Not a single problem. I told her thank you, gave her a high-five, and handed her the baby. We then proceeded into the house to see if I could get her to eat something else.

She chose a few things and ate a few pieces of guava. I sent her home with a bag of gummy bears, another bag of guava, and a package of ramen-like noodles.

I explained to the translator that she had eaten, so we didn’t need to go to the hospital. The woman explained that she would eat for me but didn’t eat for her mother.

To be honest, I think there is much more than sickness. Stephen and I have thought for some time there was abuse occurring in her home. She has come over with some significant black eyes and once a large cut across her cheek. When we ask questions, they are left unanswered or avoided. Due to other occurrences, we have suspected verbal abuse and some sexual abuse.  As for this scenario, we think it might be a combination of sickness and emotional trauma.

Either way, we can continue to pray. We can continue to love on her in the healthiest way we know how. And for now, she is back to her normal self. She was over here tonight hanging on us, asking to be held, and snacking away on crackers.

These are all disconnected, but so are our lives; so here it is.

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After retuning from the hospital Monday night, we had to call our bank. We have had some difficulties recently. It only became funny when I heard Stephen say over the phone, “No, we don’t live in Providence Pak. We live in the province of Tak. It’s a province. Like a state.”

Apparently they sent us new cards in June, so they probably aren’t going to arrive to us. That also might explain the recent fraudulent charges that will require having additional cards sent to us.

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Yim, who recently joined my work with Social Development, has been coming with me to training every day. She speaks Thai, Karen, and English spectacularly, with enough Burmese on the side.

But I can’t for the life of me understand her when she says “vote.” It sounds just like “wood” to me and leads to many miscommunications.

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About a month ago, I lost my cell phone. I left it in the motorbike basket outside of our house, but found it missing when I went back for it that night.

I was pretty certain the kids had taken it, but it took some time to sort it all out. In the end, there was a huge community gathering about it in the middle of the street, where the parents hashed out which kid had given it to whom. In the end and some very round about way, it was at the migrant school the kids go to down the street, and it was returned!

However, just today I was glancing through photos and discovered a whole host of pictures the kids–and perhaps adults–had taken with it while they had it. Hilarious.

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I heard the most hilarious story in Karen today. My teacher was telling us about old wives tales in Karen and Burmese culture, and this is the best one yet.

Apparently, if your child stutters at a young age (which was acted out to me in a shockingly politically incorrect manner), you can do this:

Grill a pig’s vagina. (Yes, this is the first step.)
Have your child sit in a chair, feed it to them,
and while they are eating it, push them over onto the floor.
They must actually fall to the floor, surprised.

And they will get up able to speak clearly.

However, I should warn you that my teacher witnessed this being done to her nephew as a child and it only helped him a little. (!)