With Eyes Wide Open

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Occasionally we have experiences that permanently alter our frame of reference in regards to how we view our own position in the world. I recently visited some refugees along the Thai/Burma border and the experience had just that effect.

Thailand’s western border regions bear witness to the human tragedy that is currently taking place inside Burma. I arrived at the refugee settlement on the back of a dirt bike, and I immediately took notice of the strong military presence and signs that warned newcomers about the presence of landmines in the area. The Thai Army keeps troops along the border regions to supposedly prevent Burmese troops from crossing the border to kill refugees. However, the Thai Army is also there to prevent Burmese refugees from traveling deeper into Thailand. Other armed groups in the region include the drug lords in northern Burma, and the ethnic Karin insurgents who are fighting the Burmese military within Myanmar.

Once in the settlement I was instantly befriended by a girl named Majon Freda who took it upon herself to show me around. Majon and her family are ethnic Karins, and they fled Burma to escape the Burmese Government’s war against the Karin. With no passport or citizenship to any country, Majon has been stuck in the settlement for years. Her family members did not even have records of their own birthdays; they only knew the months and years of their respective births. Majon had finished the settlement’s equivalent of high school, she speaks four languages, and she has a wicked sense of humor. What she lacks is the authorization to leave the square mile of land that is the refugee settlement she lives in.

I had dinner with her sixteen year old brother Lanan in a separate hut. With his eyes tearing up, he anxiously spoke about the boredom he experiences having been restricted to the same square mile of ground for so many years, and how he misses his homeland. He would flash a glowing smile as he told me about some details of his native home, but the smile would quickly fade when he explained how he would likely be killed if he returned. He told me that he had two brothers back in Burma, one of whom he had not seen for eleven years. The second brother risked his life to sneak across the border to visit his family one time in the past eleven years. I stayed with Majon’s family that night, but I was kept awake as four kids crowded around me and a single Australian Refugee Visa application form that they had brought to me. The hope of the children was that I could somehow complete the form for them so that they would successfully secure asylum in Australia. Sitting there in the candlelight reading the application, I felt the crushing weight of helplessness as these kids looked at me for answers with desperation in their eyes. My desire to help was as consuming as the feeling of frustration I felt knowing that there was little I could do to actually help them.

When I left the next morning I tried to give the family some money but they would not accept it. Instead, they gave me a bracelet. This family that had so little took me in, fed me the simple food they had to offer, and they saw me off with a gift. And all the while, despite their grim circumstances, they were kind, pleasant and jovial. The experience encouraged me to do a perspective check on my own behaviors and thought patterns. What resulted was a strong feeling of thankfulness for many of the things I often take for granted.

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