After 1,200 Curves on Death Highway...

The day started with a lizard falling on me from the ceiling as I was turning on my light at 5:30am. A co-worker picked me up at 6am with two other women from different NGO's in town, and we began our journey. Travelling the 3 hour stretch of road on "Death Highway" through the mountains was both breathtaking and physically painful. South of Mae Sot and right on the border of Burma, we arrived in Umphang. My vomit tally was up to 5: four on the road and once in the car.

Our first stop in Umphang was to see Nana, an incredible Karen woman around 50 years old. For years, she operated a clinic inside the border of Burma until the Burmese military soldiers raided it in October 2008. She had four nearly grown children at the time, and decided she could take in more. She opened her home to kids from Burma who would now get a safe home and a better education. She currently hash 40 kids. Her house is large, and it's surrounded by pigs, chickens and catfish. Her family recently received a micro-loan to start a large farming project, and we took a trek down the road to see the progress. Out of only a handful of farmers, two of them are missing a foot. One was blown off by playing with a shotgun as a child, and the other was the victim of a landmine in Burma.

Next was a visit to the H2O orphanage to visit a family who needed our help. We were invited into their small hut on stilts, and I wondered if the floor made of woven bamboo could hold all of us. ToeToe held TuTu, his 15 year old daughter. in his lap as he explained how they need help caring for her disability. She suffered brain damage following complications from meningitis as a baby, and the mother had been home with her every day since. There are no wheelchairs or handicap access in their remote village, they also have a 6 year old daughter (WaWa) to care for, the father worked nearly around the clock to support his family, and the strain was increasing. Traces of a lively spirit still flickered in his eyes, but despair was taking over. He spoke with such concern for his daughter and her quality of life, and wanted to receive training from a physical therapist on how he could best care for her. We had already decided to employ him if he wanted to move to Mae Sot, but they didn't want to move WaWa from the new school she loved. We told him we could provide food and housing for him to come to Mae Sot with TuTu for a week or two, and that we could arrange for them to meet with a good doctor. We are also exploring what long-term engagement in their lives could look like, which has led to some very exciting ideas. My co-worker said to ToeToe before we left regarding our effort on their behalf, "I can't promise you anything", and he responded, "Can you promise a little?" The thought of being there when we share how we can work with them, and to see some hope restored, is almost enough to make me brave the intensely sickening drive again.

I took a tablet of dramomine and thankfully slept for most of the drive back. After a shower and a brief nap, I was off to a going-away/birthday party for someone from another NGO. I met a guy there who completed the package of this impactful day. He is 20 years old, and escaped to Thailand from Burma a few years ago. He went to school, and then lived in the Umphiam refugee camp with his parents for one year. We actually drove by it earlier that day, so I had the image of hundreds of tiny huts lining the hills along the highway fresh in my mind. He currently works for an NGO, and he just received a scholarship to attend university in Sweden. But, he has no passport or documentation to be in Thailand, so he's unable to leave the country. He said it's easier to get paperwork in Malaysia, and would like to give that a try. Without realizing how silly this question was, I asked if he'd go ahead and buy a ticket to go to Malaysia. He laughed. "No, I can't buy a ticket. I would have to be trafficked". He has contacts in his refugee camp who can assist him in trafficking himself, which would put him at all manner of risk. It struck me how different out lives are, and how extreme the challenges are that he'll face. I realized the value of a US passport and the ability to freely go anywhere in the world. To not be "illegal" and to not have allow myself to be trafficked in order to have opportunities for education and work. I asked him if he ever wanted to go to America, and he gave an emphatic "no". I was taken aback by his response, but he explained, "I will never be able to go to America. I can't even think about that".

I went to bed with a healing stomach, a full head, and a racing heart.