I was in Thailand at the end of March and beginning of April. Stories from this two week adventure are spinning around in my heart. I am having trouble harnessing them – for both my own understanding and your possible interest. To quote Inigo Montoya: “Let me explain…no, there is too much. Let me sum up.” But even the summary is long! I’ll give it to you in chapters. Read as much or as little as you like. For security reasons, I’m not sharing the names of some people and places, and I'm not posting pictures of most of the people I met.
The Karen
The Karen are a people group who made Burma (Myanmar) their home before the Burmese even got there. All they want is to live in peace and freedom, preferably on their own land. For the last 60 years, the Burmese military dictatorship has made this impossible. The Burma Army routinely attacks, starves, enslaves, rapes, and murders people from all the ethnic minority groups in Burma. There is a small Karen resistance army. They do their best to protect the people, but they are overwhelmingly outnumbered. Surrender is not an option, so the conflict goes on. <http://www.youtube.com/watch?
I first heard of the Karen through the words of Don Richardson in his book, “Eternity in Their Hearts.” <http://www.sonlight.com/420-The fire is still burning. There is even a Karen church of over 300 in Buffalo, NY, walking distance from my apartment. Each time I hear the story of another Karen believer, I am arrested by the frequency of miracles in his life and the reflection of Jesus in his character.
For years, I had been praying that God would “give” me to a people group, and them to me as well. I asked for a culture where I could use theatre and nursing and music in ministry. Late one night two years ago, I watched the movie “Amazing Grace” about the abolition of slavery in England. When it ended, I prayed through tears that God would show me how I could fight injustice for his sake. He led me to a volunteer opportunity with the Priscilla Project. I began mentoring pregnant refugee moms and taught a class on childbirth. Every refugee I worked with was Karen. I loved them. I asked God to provide me with a Karen language and culture teacher, if these were the people he had in mind for me. Ten minutes after that prayer, I met a Karen man who spontaneously offered to teach me his language and culture, if I happened to be interested. I was.
So my circle of Karen friends began to grow. I spent time in their homes, studied their language, and went to their worship services. Turns out that there is a desperate need for nursing care among the Karen in Thailand and Burma. They love music, especially singing. And they love doing plays.
Long-time friends of my family, MR and CR, now work with the Free Burma Rangers (FBR), a movement that brings help, hope, and love to Burma’s Internally Displaced People (IDP), including the Karen. <http://www.freeburmarangers.
Week 1
Turns out that the training was postponed for a week because the students were deterred by rain. They had to walk through the jungle for days in order to reach our training compound. The extra week was a well-placed gift for me. I got to spend an extra day in Chiang Mai. I caught up with friends I knew from living in Pakistan 15 years ago, hung out with a bunch of FBR people, and went to an international church.
MHT drove her family and me to her home a few hours from Chiang Mai on Monday. We picked up Dee (“Uncle”) half way there, and crammed him in amongst the luggage. He worked with the children’s home next to MHT’s house, but whenever he wanted a break, he would appear and help us out – with sweeping or pulling weeds or cooking bugs. The bugs weren’t too bad, once I got past the mental hurdle of sticking eyeballs and little legs into my mouth.
Staying with MHT, her Karen husband (BST), and their daughter was a delight. Parts of the walls were made of alternating wood and air, so spiders and lizards zoomed in and out at will. And different people zoomed in and out each day, along with a corresponding configuration of mats, futons, and mosquito nets. The place had running water, electricity, and two eastern toilets. I was off visiting one of these the morning of March 25 when an earthquake shook the house. No damage was done in our area, but at least 150 people were killed in Burma, we found out later.
MHT’s life is a whirlwind. She flies from one thing to the next, usually a bit late, juggling conversations in three languages, baby in tow. I got to look after her sweet 15-month-old daughter a lot. Unbelievably cute kid. We chased around the house and yard, playing with stickers and dirt and shoes. One of my favorite moments was waking up one morning to her slobbery kiss on my nose. I opened my eyes, and there she was, grinning over me.
I tried to help MHT as much as I could. We did a home nursing visit for a baby with Hirschprong’s Disease. We triaged the patients who came to the training compound. We laminated health booklets, mapped out teaching plans, gathered supplies. After MHT’s messy attempts at creating a substitute filter, and my erroneous assumption that the water was supposed to be poured directly over the grounds, we eventually mastered the coffeemaker (and had some good laughs in the process). BST made us delicious meals, ran a million errands, and conducted a training session on fish farming somewhere along the way. In fact, he and M., another Partners guy, launched a tilapia breeding project in one of the villages while I was there. MHT and her daughter and I got to come along. That day trip was, for me, profound and beautiful, full of sorrow and hope and prayer. You'll have to ask me in person if you want to hear more.
Week 2
I don’t generally like games very much. I can’t play guitar. I haven’t done anything with theatre for three years. My task in the Teacher Training was to lead games, songs, and plays. I was scared – of not having ideas, of my ideas not working, of the students not wanting to participate, of cross-cultural misunderstandings – basically of failure.
Many of you prayed with me for creativity and fearlessness on this trip. Mitch sent me Psalm 32:7 via email, which I claimed and then sang while I laminated posters and pulled weeds. “You are my hiding place; you will protect me from trouble and surround me with songs of deliverance.”
A few times a day, I got the students out of their chairs and we played games – applicable games that the students could teach in the villages later. “Duck, duck, goose” became “P’tso, P’tso, Pluh” (“Mosquito, Mosquito, Bite”). In “Mosquito Tag,” you got malaria and had to fall on the ground if the mosquito touched you, and your buddies had to drag you off to the malaria net base for you to get well again. We set up a “Fever Treatment” relay where teams had to squirt each other with water guns, our approximation of a “tepid bath” in fast motion. I was amazed at the students – both men and women, ranging in age from 20 to 50 or so. They played everything with willing gusto, no holds barred. So much laughter!
I thought it would be great to have a teaching song in Karen for the students to pass on to the villages. PK, our resident rock star, wrote us not one, but two songs perfectly suited to the purpose. One was about the beauty of being well (in two part harmony), the other about mosquitoes (with actions for the kids). One of our translators was able to play guitar for us, and we practiced every day. It made me want to learn guitar properly. The Karen can sing. You should really hear them. Clear, intense, unembarrassed, passionate voices.
And then there was the play. MHT and I wrote a synopsis with input from the class. Basically, this defiant guy does nothing to prevent getting malaria, the nosey grandma next door warns him to shape up, he gets bitten by a dramatic malaria-carrying mosquito, the grandma diagnoses and treats him, he gets better, and he gives grandma due credit. After some entertaining character work and warm-ups, four teams of three actors were sent off to improvise the lines and blocking. To my consternation, most of them simply sat on the floor for 5 minutes, then announced that they were “wee lee.” Finished. Without practicing anything? I was doubtful. But the next morning, they completely blew me away. They made costumes and props made out of recycled garbage. They set up all these great conventions for introductions, space, and passage of time. They stayed in character, told the story well, included tons of information, and made everyone else laugh themselves silly. They were practically ready for performance after one run through, and here I thought they were going to need direction from me!
In the space of four days, I helped start everything that I had wanted to do with the students. This was good because I had to leave on Friday. And in the following week, the students had the opportunity to lead each other in those same games and songs and activities – good practice for the School Health Days they were to lead later.
In all of this, I was not afraid. At the Sunday service that began our week of training, Pat, a veteran in faith-living, shared a message about the feeding of the 5000 from Matthew 14. Out of that rich banquet of truth, the morsel I most needed was this: obediently, in faith, offer Jesus what you have, and he will multiply it for his glory. Okay. Faith drowns out fear. When I remembered who I was asked to believe and what he is like, faith took over. Although it’s true that none of the events I feared were ever realized, I think praise is also warranted because the fear itself was gone.
And then…
My two weeks in Thailand served as a two-way extended interview. I wanted to see where I might fit in long-term – with what organization, in what role. And the Partners team wanted to see if I was a good fit – with my skills, my personality. The result? I felt like the gradual unveiling of a calling on my life was continued and affirmed. And they extended an open invitation for me to return as a member of the team, even of the family.
Back at River Rock Church in Buffalo, I shared about my trip and the answered prayers it contains. Several brothers and sisters in Christ gathered around me to pray. Pastor Bob spoke these words over me from Psalm 32:8: “I will instruct you and teach you in the way you should go; I will counsel you with my loving eye on you.” Verse 7 of the same chapter was the one Mitch sent me during the training. Next step, indeed. Hopefully no one will deem me needful of verse 9!
I’m working on verse 8 right now – seeking the Lord’s instruction on
the way I should go. I know his loving eye is absolutely on me, and
that makes his guidance so sweet.
Please let these stories lead you to prayer. For justice. Mercy. Deliverance. Comfort. Peace. Redemption. Love.
Isaiah 2:4 "He will judge between the nations and will settle disputes for many peoples. They will beat their swords into plowshares and their spears into pruning hooks. Nation will not take up sword against nation, nor will they train for war anymore." Amen!
Peace,
Heidi
