Travels around the area
General FBC Missions, Karen Project Team 2008 February 6th, 2008 by Elizabeththe following is a letter from Brett;
The most common method of travel in this country is in the back of a pick up or on a 125cc scooter; millions of both.
Yesterday we jumped in the back of a pick up and rode 2 or 3 hours to visit a couple of IDP camps, actually IDP villages. The difference being these small communities have been in place long enough to begin to resemble something of a village. We jumped in a long boat and were taken across the river into Burma. In the villages we found traditional bamboo huts most raised off the ground and nearly 800 people in each village.
(photo; Long boat - a typical mode of transportation)
The organization Robert works with had just delivered rice to keep these people alive. When I say “organization” please don’t think in your mind of a UN vehicle swinging by the camp to drop off food. It is a man I will call Bob and his son who left Burma on foot 10 or more years ago, they have spent most of that time living in a refugee camp on the Thai side of the river with 50,000 other Karen refugees. In fact his wife is still in the camp and teaches in the bible school for the kids; yes she lives in a bamboo hut. Bob and his son have been our constant companions; the son is like sunshine he is so happy all the time. He is the driver of our pickup; he drives fast, aggressive and laughs as he does it.
In an odd way, two doctors, a pastor and a contractor sit in the back of the truck trusting this young man with our lives, and frankly enjoying it. Bob was an attorney in Burma and now lives a couple of days in the refugee camp with his wife and the rest in his “home office” working who knows how many hours a week. I think it is safe to say every Baht Bob receives buys rice, medicine, gas and goes to print a magazine highlighting the plight of his Karen countrymen. Oh to be like Bob. Bob’s son was educated in the refugee camp and has been studying law in S. Korea, he hopes to move to the US and finish a law degree.
Back to the camps… you cannot imagine how rough this life is. Granted, many of the Karen are rural people who live in these circumstances most of the time, but now they cannot farm, have an aggressive army over the next hill and never know when they will be attacked. As a result, life is reduced to existence.
But in a proud way they rise above this, in one village they had a bamboo clinic, a school, and a church. They instruct their kids in the school, hold services each night in the church and the clinic is staffed by a Back Pack Medic. It is truly amazing.
In the first village we entered they showed us a sight they have selected for a clinic (this village had no clinic, church or school) and were hopeful that some Western Shelters from Eugene could be supplied to get them established. (This is another story, but I will make a presentation to WSS when I return and am hopeful they will support this effort). In this village, Todd and I played a form of volleyball in which you can only use your feet, knees and head! We watched the young men play and decided to give it a whirl. Needless to say it drew a crowd and lots of laughs (I tend to ham it up a bit). But in the end, we did pretty well and I did not pass out of heat stroke, my main goal.
I know how frustrating it can be to be sitting in your place hearing us tell you how rough these people have it… seems like short term missionaries do lots of that. So I will say this, it as bad as you could imagine and maybe even worse… except for their spirit to survive and stay planted in their homeland, and their faith, which gives them hope.
Near each IDP camp or village is a Karen Army Outpost. We walked to one of these as well. The Karen Army is defensive only, they do not fire on the Burmese Army they only defend themselves and the camps. There are 500,000 Burmese soldiers and 8,000 Karen Soldiers, these brave men are really at risk.
In the camp I sat and visited with the commander, he joined the Karen army at 22 after school and is now 62. His wife has died and his children have fled to the US. It is an all volunteer army, I mean volunteer; they are not paid. They depend on food and medicines from the camps, and or they fish, forage and sometimes log and sell the wood. The camp was clean, orderly, had a flag pole with a white picket fence around it. They live in bamboo huts and meet to worship each night. By the way, I have better weapons in my hunting arsenal than this camp had at its disposal… WW2, Korean War arms, and a few really bad M16’s.
Remember the other form of transportation I mentioned? Well, last night Todd and Bill rented the only two scooters available at our guest house and Steve and I jumped on back. I think, no I know, trekking into camps in Burma was safer than riding with frustrated “bikers”. Today Steve and I rented our own motorbikes and lowered the risk only slightly. Did I mention that it is left hand drive here and that I am dyslexic… it has been a real adventure. But this combination is still preferable to embracing Todd from the passenger seat as we hurtle down the busy streets of Mae Sot. OK the bike gang just rolled up and are making a scene… time for dinner.
In Christ,
Brett for the rest