Wednesday, May 12, 2010
Images of Thailand spin in my mind & keep me awake. I say to myself "I am in Minneapolis not Thailand. Go to sleep" However I know better. In Buddhist villages during Songkran a string is threaded from the temple to every home & connects everyone to the Buddha. I believe that one strand of that string attaches my heart to the land, culture & the people. So a part of me remains in Thailand & part of Thailand remains in me.
LA was a perfect transition point before coming back to Minnesota. I was staying in Korea Town and was able to hear an Asian language, had noodles for breakfast and gave and received a bow. Home Sweet home! Another 45% of the population was Latino and spoke primarily Spanish and I don't. So it was not much different then being in Thailand. When the Fed ex man spoke to me in English I almost didn't understand him.
Now when I awake in the morning in Minneapolis I look around my room expecting to be gazing through a mosquito net but there is none. My windows are closed and covered with curtains rather than open with the sun pouring into my room through the grates. In the quiet of the morning I expect to hear the temple bell, the monk’s chant, the rooster's crow, the migrant worker's shout, and the motorcycle's sputter. These were unwelcome sounds in Thailand that invaded my morning sleep. Now these sounds only remain in my imagination. However when I awake in Minneapolis the quiet is deafening.
I would like to share with you one of the major accomplishments while I was in Thailand. The training of Burmese monks by Fortune staff was a breakthrough on several levels. The Burmese monks were trained by two women and a young man. One older man stated that he had never seen monks being trained by women. The Fortune staff realized that they did have knowledge and skills to share with Monks and gained confidence in their abilities. The counselors were able to adapt and create a mental health session for the particular needs of the monks. This process released them from thinking that they needed to follow previous trainings word for word. They now know that they can create specific targeted programs for different audiences. Most importantly the training provided both knowledge about mental health for the monks.
I wish to thank you all for your support. I was not able to answer every email but know I appreciated each one and they helped me feel connected to my home. This ninth and final email brings to a close my sharing of this journey. I hope you enjoyed the correspondence.
Friday, May 7, 2010
Last night in Fang the beauty of the mountains, the orchards, and the sunset left me in awe. Last night the sight of impoverished migrant farm workers in their row of dirty grey concrete single room homes troubled me and made me reflective. How can such beauty and desperation exist side-by-side? How can a landowner see such natural beauty and not see the desperate conditions of their workers.
Maybe they do not see nor want to see.
Today what seems many hours later I sit in Chaing Mia one hundred miles away still in Thailand but far what seems far from what has been my home for two months. Writing reports, clearing up last minute details, meeting with colleagues, and packing bags I anticipate my journey back to the States. Eighteen hours of travel to LA, a day and two nights in LA and then a flight to Minneapolis.
As I prepare for the trip I keep looking at my wrist. I have two braided bracelets. They are a gift from one of the counselors. She is fiery young woman and she has made the bracelets for me to remember them. She is bold and intelligent. I like her and I will remember her and I will remember smart and energetic P., community oriented K., determined L. and gentle and kind K. Yes, I am anticipating coming home but I am now leaving a place that also feels like home.
Last night was the night that "it" finally happened. One week and two days before I leave for Chaing Mia to come home "it" happened. Not sure what I ate but between "it" and 104+ air temperature and a visit to a small Shan community I became extremely ill. The nurse practitioner at the clinic fortunately spoke English. "It" turned out to be an intestinal bacterial infection and dehydration.
As I was given a shot, three types of medication and electrolytes I began to worry if I had enough money because I didn't think they accepted Blue Cross. However, I didn't care whatever the cost. I just wanted to feel better. The verdict came in the treatment cost 70 Bhat or $2.24. At first I was pleased and felt how cheap the health care was in Thailand. “What is the problem with us in the states?” I thought. And then it dawned on me. The average migrant worker is earning $94 a month or less when they can’t work. $2.24 began to seem like a lot of money.
I am tired but feeling better. My neighbors showed their concern for me in various ways. Every time they saw me they asked how I was. Soon I realized that everyone in the neighborhood knew that I was sick. My nearest neighbor brought a cup of cherry soda with ice and cookies to help me to feel better. Sia Sam, the clinic director, came to visit and insisted on taking me to the coffee shop so I could be in air conditioning during the hottest part of the day. As in Africa when I became sick I just wanted to go home and be in my own bed but just like in Africa I learned that the kindness of others is what matters.
The schedule will be winding down. I have 2 community meetings, some case studies, a planning meeting and a monthly report. Then four days of traveling before I arrive home. I am looking forward to being home but will miss beThailand.
I work on a manual so that the trainings I have done for the counselors can be done again in the future. The group had an excellent session revising training materials on mental health for a session with monks. The session will be given on the 27th. I have one more training, two community visits and the training for the monks. I am starting to feel that time is short. Two more weeks I leave Fang for Chiang Mai and my flight home.
I shared with the director of the clinic that I felt that I had accomplished so little. He responded and said “What seems so little to you is too much for me because now I will need to think about of all of this for a long time.” I felt humbled by the statement. I am so American always thinking that more is better.
Songkran "the water festival" was a combination of New Years Eve, Easter Sunday and the Fourth of July. New Years because it is a three day celebration of the New Year, Easter because the temple celebrates with rituals and prayers, and the Fourth because the day is hot and family and friends gather for parties and picnics. And the unifying theme is water. Songkran are three days in which the profound and the profane meet. I am fortunate to be within a Shan culture region away from the tourist's celebrations in the big cities. I was invited to participate more as part of the community than as a tourist looking for a good time.
I melt into the floor. There is only oppressive heat and the hard cool tiles bring only partial relief. My students also lie on the tiles or sit in chairs next to the open windows. The heat spares no one. The river of humid air fills every corner of the classroom. The slightest breeze mercifully brings momentarily relief but only brings a promise nothing more.
Tonight as I write the memory of the day’s heat I begin to sweat. However, a cool night breeze reminds me that the mountains will soon pour forth a river of cool air and I will shiver as the river flows over me. And I will not shield myself against the cold but treasure the moment for tomorrow I will once again dissolve in the heat of the day.
The last two days I taught Shan counselors about the role of story and narrative in counseling. We reflected on ways to effectively work with individuals who are primarily from oral cultures and have suffered sever trauma. The translation from English to Shan and from Shan to English during the sessions took time and effort but somehow the challenge enhanced the learning.
This weekend I will visit Chiang Ria and will spend time in a border city Mae Sia. Later in the month my plan is to enter Burma and to stay for several days. I have been given the names of people to visit and to learn more about the Shan.
On a sad note I was given a ride from the Monastery to my home in a pickup truck full of young boys. Their laughter and sweetness were infectious. We drove through a neighborhood to pick up one of the boy’s father. The boys were excited because they were going swimming. Tragically the next day I was told that the young boy had died while swimming. In this land of Buddhism the impermanency of life is not only taught as a principle but often becomes apparent in such tragic happenings.