Mae La is the biggest of the refugee camps in Thailand, stretching 5km along the strip of land between the road and the limestone crags just before the Burmese border. Every piece of ground is covered by identical bamboo houses, each thatched with the same big, oval leaves. Sarah told us to hide our cameras and we were waved through the security checkpoint.
The gate we wanted arrived suddenly, and had a very steep concrete ramp running down from the road. Sarah negotiated this successfully and we were suddenly surrounded by a crowd of children eager to carry our stuff up to the church.
It was a long climb up to the little Baptist church that Sarah’s friends Arthur and Classper lead. We were able to sit down at the top, and Classper entertained us with coffee and little red bananas that had been grown in the camp.
We went to set up in the church but were asked to take our seats at the front and suddenly all the children sang for us. Karen singing is very powerful and this was no exception.
Jay made a rough recording which you can listen to here: http://www.grimsburybaptist.org.uk/wathailand/MaeLaChoir.mp3
We did a shortened version of the programme from the day before as we had to leave around 16.00. You have to be out on time and you certainly aren’t allowed to stay the night. “Find the Hat” generated a similar hysterical response as at Phop Pra, and the sad music pictures brought forth the same images of burning homes and running from soldiers.
One particularly poignant one was of a weeping man carrying the lifeless body of a woman.
Again we were saddened and angered that small children should have to carry such painful memories. At lunchtime the kids introduced us to the traditional Karen game of Cane-ball. This is normally played with a ball woven from cane and is a cross between ‘keepy-uppy’ and volleyball – you have to keep the ball in the air with your feet and have to kick it across the volleyball net to the team on the other side. If you let the ball hit the ground you lose a point.
The church was well-equipped musically, with bass, guitar, drums and keyboard so we formed a mixed band with the Karen musicians. The kids had a different air about them from the ones we met at Phop Pra. That place was a migrant camp so people can come and go fairly freely. But Mae La is a refugee camp and nobody is allowed out, so there was an air of quiet desperation behind the smiles, especially with the older boys. We spoke to several youngsters and heard the same stories of parents and other family members dead, in camps or left behind in Burma with no news of how they are for months or years. They make the best of life as it is, but with no way out of the camp their choices are very limited. Many are studying hard and taking exams with the hope of bettering themselves in the future. The lads in this picture are taking exams in English, Politics and Economics. Like the others they have lost parents and other relatives to the fighting, and will have relatives back in Burma of whom they haven’t heard for years.
We gave out about half the kazoos and recorders, and also gave the nicer of our two guitars to the lad who had translated for us that day.
Having packed the car we beat a hasty retreat up the steep ramp to the road and headed off to Noh Boh Bible School.
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