Episode 3: Fear and Loathing in Burma

OK, so maybe it's a little soon for my next installment, but the last few days merits two episodes. Here we go...

I headed north to Mae Sai, a border town with Burma to visit an amazing organization that does unbelievable work with trafficked victims and at-risk youths under incredible odds and unimaginable circumstances. The time I spent with them I will always remember, I just left them this morning after a wonderful 4 days and I am still a bit sad. My experiences with them and with trafficking wil be sharred in Episode 4.

But today's story's about the crazy events of yesterday, and my time in Burma.


I woke up from a restful sleep, ready to head to an important meeting after breakfast. I took the fruit from the fridge from the previous day's breakfast, a feast of the freshest pineapple, jack fruit, and one other one which name escapes me at the moment. I happily sat down, prepared my notes for the meeting and dove into the bowl of fruit. Nearing the end of my delightful breakfast, out of the corner of my eye I thought I saw something move at the bottom of the bowl. I took a closer look.

Sure enough there was a white worm squirming around in the fruit juices. OH - there's two. HA - make that three!

And i just sat there in mid-chew thinking that I've certainly ingested some extra protein already with my fruit, why waste the rest? But I just seemed to have lost my appetite a little bit. So now the question remains -- who will win? My digestive track or theirs? We shall see!

I had a FANTASTIC meeting, which left me excited and full of useful information on the current situation of trafficking in this section of the country. Feeling great, I seized the opportunity of a free afternoon to cross into Burma, I wanted to see some of the conditions that made these people risk everything to escape. I wanted to see where some of these victims are coming from, I wanted to learn, and so I went.

Crossing over was easy (for me), there is a river that marks the border, cross a bridge, hand a man your passport and $5 UD dollars and you're in Myanmar. The bridge is flooded with vendors selling what looks like every possible market good that comes from China at probably a 1/4 of the price.

I chose a direction and began walking, and as I left the main part of town, the paved roads turned to dirt, the concrete buildings into tin and bamboo shacks, and the fancy goods and vendors into the poverty that is Burma. The poverty was striking and I didn't feel comfortable whipping out my camera to take pictures of their misery and struggle, instead I politely nodded and half smiled. Some smiled back, most just starred blankly, curiously, angrily, longingly.

Then on my left reappeared the river, the brown border river snaked its way deeper into the country and out of my sight. I continued to walk mesmerized by the immense beauty of the hill tops that jut their way out of the ground, covered with every shade of green, such a sharp breathtaking contrast to the dark brown of the muddy river below.

I kept walking. The shacks became shabbier, and as I walked around the bend I saw that they were burning the hill sides on my right. From the black earth rose huge billows of white smoke that blended their way into the gray sky overhead. Through the smoke I saw two women in the distance with bundles on their heads walking towards me barefoot on deep red colored earth. Then then something further up the river caught my eye, it was a man with a huge bundle crossing the river, and I watched him until he disappeared out of sight into the Thailand hills. Risking be shot or worse if he's caught alive, this is how it happens everyday--people crossing the river to freedom, and sometimes just into another hell, crossing borders but still trapped by poverty.


Finally, a group of men sitting under a bamboo canopy asked me to stop and join them. I surveyed the scene, a woman appeared, they all smiled, and it felt alright. Only one of them spoke English which he was very excited to practice and his friends offered me what food they had. They were all very welcoming, and the man tried to explain their troubles to me but he had not the words. He asked me how he could get to America, but what could I say?

When I asked him if these people were his family, he laughed and pointed to his boss and then his partners.
"What work do you do?" I asked.
"How to explain? We bring things from Thailand, " He said.
"Into Burma?" I asked.
"Yes." He said.

Right. I was sitting with a bunch of smugglers, and I can't blame them for what they do to try and survive, but perhaps this was not the best company for me to keep in such a militaristic state. Too late. A military officer pulls up on his motor bike shortly there after (did he hear my freaking thoughts???!!). I didn't think anything of it too much, but he walked directly in front of me and stared at me until his eyes came to rest on my bag.

I politely nodded and half smiled. He glared in return, his eyes repeatedly shifting from me to my bag and I began to get a sinking feeling. His glare became menacing and he began barking questions at the guy who spoke English. He responded but the questions kept coming and the officer wouldn't take his eyes off of me. Then he let out a small evil smile and my stomach dropped and my eyes shifted to the Burmese guy for some sign of what was going on, but the look on his face didn't comfort me.

The officer pointed to my bag and barked something else, the Burmese guy asked me if I had a camera. "No" I responded and shook my head, looking as innocent as possible, blatant lie--please don't check my bag! please don't check my bag! The officer's agitation grew, and they talked some more. Then some guy around the corner called the officer who was momentarily distracted.

The Burmese guy turns to me and says, "You must leave. Hurry now! You can't be here, he doesn't like tourist here. Leave!" Unsure if me just getting up and running away from the scene is the best idea, I look at him and then the officer who has his back to me, "now?" I whisper.
"Leave now you must. Please!" And the look on his face is more than enough for me. I take my bag and calmly but with quickened pace start walking away. Damn all this MUD! And all I can think is how do I get myself into these situations?!

I walk straight without looking back, but above the pounding of my heart I hear arguing behind me growing with intensity--my stomach sinks. I keep walking, cursing myself.

Over the arguing I hear a motorbike start. My stomach jumped straight out of my body and flopped onto the ground. Well, this is it I thought, not quite the way I had planned to spend my day, month, or maybe even year. Ain't this a bi*ch! I turned a bend in the road and I can still hear the arguing over the sound of the motorbike, and the motorbike revs up and I hold my breath as I'm trying to book it down the road.

Then out of NO WHERE, this mini-van type vehicle they use here for public transport appears and four guys are happily smiling in the back and wave to me. I had stopped and said hello to them earlier in the day! They signal to the driver to slow down and motion for me to get on--YES! YES! Thank you Jesus! Thank you Buddha! Thank you Mohammad! Thank you Shiva! Thank you Abraham! Thank you!

I jumped on and slid to the back and bent over pretending to fiddle with my flip flop - in reality, just trying to hide. I heard a motorbike whiz by.
Maybe it was him, maybe it wasn't. Maybe he was just on his way to get his favorite ice cream, maybe he wasn't. Maybe he was just arguing about why Greece just won the soccer cup, maybe he wasn't.
I'll never know.

We reached the bridge and I set off across it, steps away from safety I still held my breathe excepting him to appear any moment.

He did not.


After what seemed like an eternity, my feet touched Thai soil and I needed a drink! BADLY! And I then I cursed, I cursed Thailand and the northern conservatism that prevents respectful women from buying alcohol! I stormed into a 7-Eleven a downed a bottle of water imagining the smooth, strong taste of vodka and rode my bike home.

I arrived to the company of my new friends from the shelter and upon recounting my story, one of the girls disappeared and then reappeared with a mug. I took a sip --alcohol! Ah, it's good to have friends! And the whiskey slowly coursed through my blood stream, calming my stomach, caressing my nerves, and warming me from head to toe. I took a deep long breath of the crisp clean air fragranced with the remnants of fog and sweet rain, fresh earth, and wet trees, and I let out a sigh and a small smile--the kind where only one side of my mouth rises in a half crescent.

And I was myself.

We ate and drank and before I reached my pillow for the night I would step on a burning mosquito coil, whack my head on a low door frame, and find a centipede in my bed!

But it was all good and I feel asleep, ready for another day.


My love to all of you! I am safe and I am well, and I am not telling my mother about this till am am back in th states and I would appreciate if you didn't either! thanks--good looking out!

Info on trafficking requires a separate email to share with you some of what I have learned and seen. I know I keep saying this, but it is on the way soon I just didn't want to bog down your inboxes.

Stay safe and stay well,
With Love,
Aisha