The Moken village, or Sea Gypsies

13 Oct 08 -



It's day three on Kho Lao with the Moken people and, as usual, I love them more and more as time goes on - especially the children. The older generation seems very depressed, but the children haven't yet realized the sadness of their situation. The story of these wandering sea dwellers is indeed and unfortunate one. Please read a brief summary found on the site of an organization started by a girl who came on this trip last year: http://www.themokenproject.org/.



They live in tiny desheveled huts that are completely falling apart and, unfortunately, they did not receive nearly as much aid as the other islands after the tsunami of 2004. There is also talk of corruption in some of the aid groups, NGO's and even missionaries. Since they have no citizenship and consequently can no longer travel anywhere legally, they are forced to collect shellfish at every low tide. This is the main staple of their diet which leads to a lot of malnourished children. Sometimes they go on dangerous fishing trips and a 14-year-old boy just died while diving. Last week they were caught fishing by the Burmese army, who have been known to shoot at them. They stole their fish and even their boat. A boy went to try and get it back and still has not returned. Some of them are missing hands and arms from extremely dangerous improvised explosives they sometimes use to fish. At first I was shocked by the poverty but things are beginning to look up here. It seemed hopeless when my group came and built a community center last year. But this year there are 50 new houses under construction and some more volunteers who are actually helping them.



Yesterday we leveled ground under the new houses and moved bamboo mats that would become walls. We went fishing at night, which was quite interesting. We simply let out a net that was literally close to a mile long. It was suspended by buoys and allowed to span about 8 ft. below the surface. When we came back to pull it in, we discovered 10 small silver fish that had become tangled, which we ate for dinner. I thought this was quite meager but the group that went out to fish the next night caught only a crab. It seems the tsunami took not only 10,000 human lives, but also most of the fish in Thailand.



We all sleep together in a mosquito-net city in the Church because their houses are too small to even fit us. The tide comes in right underneath the building and the soothing sounds of gentle waves helps improve the fact that we are sleeping directly on the hard floor. I was one of the first people to get up this morning. I got breakfast and sat at the end of the dock to watch the ocean as I at in silent meditation. All of a sudden I was attacked by small naked children who wanted me to swim with them. I dove in, and it was fun until they all began climbing me and almost drowned me. But it was a wonderful way to wake up and I felt great all day.



We spent the morning picking up broken glass from all over the village. The children don't have shoes and they run around in filth all day. They helped us after realizing what we were doing and showed us the scars and cuts all over their feet. There is trash everywhere because people are used to throwing biodegradable waste around and it was never a problem until the rise of plastic and glass. I couldn't believe how much glass we found and it felt good to do something that really helps them. A lot of them get skin infections and a group of us went to the mainland today to get a bunch of much-needed medical supplies.



We also bought them a soccer ball and spent the afternoon playing with half the village. I burnt the bottoms of my feet on the hot sand, but it didn't bother me as much as playing with my big right toe broken. Perhaps one of these days I'll let it heal, but certainly not while there's fun to be had!



16 Oct 08 -



We spent the afternoon today in Burma. We hadn't planned to, but since our plane arrived early and we were in danger of being fined for extending our stay past 31 days, we needed to. It's a regular practice for people to cross the border and pay $10 to have their passports stamped in order to stay longer in Thailand. I was excited to get an additional stamp in my passport. If there is one thing of which I am immensely proud it's this simple document. All of my world travels reflected succinctly in multi-colored ink. What a marvelous thing!



Since we only got to see a border town, it was, of course, very touristy. But it was Muslim and I really loved the beautiful prayers broadcasted over busy streets. There are no cars on the island, so you only have to watch out for thousands of mopeds. However, they drive on the right side of the road here - unlike dangerously confusing Thailand, where I never know which way to look for traffic. We were constantly nagged by English-speaking guides who would bring us to shops for a small commission. They were helpful, however, and I ended up spending a good chunk of change on gifts. As we were leaving, a man handed me a Burmese 20 dollar bill (worth less than a penny) and told me it was lucky. He then put his right hand out to shake, which had an extra thumb. We laughed together as we shook and I gave him 10 baht. I found the Burmese to be as charming as the Thais but also with a great sense of humor. A group of them made fun of me for sitting in a seat without first offering it to one of the ladies in the group. Then when another seat freed up they offered it to me and said, "ladies first."



I found it difficult to spend much time reflecting throughout the day as I spent every free moment reading. I found myself completely absorbed in the autobiography of the Dalai Lama. He is the only one of the three people I most admire, including MLK Jr. and Gandhi, that hasn't been assassinated - although I'm sure there have been plots by the Chinese. It is a sad thing that some of history's greatest men fell victim to the very hatred they dedicated their lives to rising above. It makes me wonder whether mankind will ever transcend his primitive violent tendencies. But even as each bright light of hope is extinguished, I feel that their legacy gently pushes the collective consciousness toward progress.



Two days ago I spent the morning at the school playing with children and the afternoon briefly helping to hand out medical supplies. I developed the utmost respect for preschool and kindergarten teachers as the whole room seemed to teeter of the brink of utter pandemonium. Even amidst the crying, screaming, fighting, running, and peeing on the floor, we managed to play some games and teach them some English. I enjoyed it very much, but I was again exhausted afterwards.



The next day we helped another group of Thai volunteers with a project to build a water supply. I was relieved that some of them spoke English and they seemed like very kind and genuine people. I took advantage of the low tide to wander though mud to the other side of the island. I was my only chance since the jungle was far too thick to allow exploration and there were no roads or paths. I came upon a place where the foliage gave way to a swampy area. It reminded me very much of that scene in "The Princess Bride" with the rodents of unusual size. I noticed that it was eerily quiet and when I stopped for a moment there was complete silence. "Nice for meditation," I thought as by body began to naturally relax itself beginning with mindful breathing.



But all of a sudden I was struck with fear, remembering that there were small poisonous snakes on this island. I realized that if I were bitten I was pretty much done for. I had no cell phone and I was miles from the village in the middle of a swamp. "It would take them days to find me," I thought, "But I can't go back the way I came - that would be boring!" So I continued on - carefully. I noticed what looked to be a fruit tree and, thinking this curious, went over to inspect it. I then discovered a field on a hill and was relieved to find a clearing/tree farm in the middle of the island. I climbed to the top of the hill, still watching for snakes of course, and was glad that I had not turned back. The view of the surrouding mountainous islands was breathtaking. From the other side of the field I could hear children yelling, which I would use as a marker to get through the thick jungle.



The thought of going back the long way now seemed intolerably boring so I had no choice but to press onward. "A little bushwacking never killed anyone," I said to myself before thinking about the statement. Then I realized that there have undoubtedly been countless numbers of people who have died while navigating unknown jungles. I picked up a small stick as my make-shift machete, which immediately proved to be completely useless. It wasn't bad at first until I noticed spiderwebs everywhere. Normally this wouldn't bother me but the day before I had caught myself within inches of walking into a large web. When I looked for the spider I was shocked to find the largest most satanic looking spider I have ever seen in my life. Now that image haunted me and since I kept unavoidably getting covered in webs I would frequently stop to scan my body for one of these absurdly terrifying creatures.



I amused myself with my paranoia as I cannot recall the last time I was afraid of any animals. I could feel also feel myself getting the dry-mouth and lightheadedness of dehydration, which served only to fuel my fantasies of impending doom. Finally, liberation. After one final compulsive scan, I trudged back through the mud - covered in dirt, webs, cuts, and God knows what else.



Tonight we were sent off in typical Thai fashion - a party equipped with drums, singing, and dancing around a fire. I found the celebratory aspects to assist in the pain of leaving. This time I was dancing with Moken children climbing all over me. As soon as you pick one up, another three or four just begin climbing you. And they are quite apt at this. After we tried and failed to climb a tree for coconuts, one of the little boys scurried up the trunk and kicked all of them down to us. Even with the added weight of children, I found myself in ecstasy while dancing around the fire and staring at the millions stars. There is something deeply spiritual about this act and I think I will miss it very much when I return.



I sat down completely exhausted and was shortly thereafter massaged by four children at once. Finally their endless amounts of energy was beginning to work in my favor! I love the children here and found myself particularly attached to a young girl of about five. Every morning as I attempted to eat my breakfast in silent prayer and meditation at the end of the dock, she would sneak up and then urge me to swim with her. She had such a beautiful smile and laugh that it made my soul feel a bit lighter. But she had a bad cough, and I sincerely hope it was temporary and not something more serious. I obliged her in swimming, as I did whenever she asked to be picked up and flung into the air. The only problem was that as soon as I did this a line of more children would begin to form - each with a smile and arms raised. As soon as I flung a second one, not only would the line grow longer as more children ran over, but as soon as I put them down they would run to the back of the line again. This would continue, I'm convinced, for eternity if I had let it. But unfortunately for them my back would begin to ache almost immediately and I felt like an old man as I tried to convey this to them.



The children seem to outnumber adults 2:1, which is not surprising since many of them die young. It is a very difficult life here with many dying of diseases and dangerous fishing trips. About 10 per year - a significant fraction of a village of about 100. There are skin infections, large tumors, unset broken bones, and even dead puppies floating in the tide. I sincerely wish I was joking about something that seems so comically tragic. Worse yet, there are stories of selling children because families were literally unable to feed them - something so incredibly unheardof in America that I found it immensely difficult to swallow.

The village chief is one of many alcoholics. He stumbles around yelling, peeing and mumbling discernable Thai. He almost died in one of the common drunken scuffles when his throat was sliced by a broken glass bottle. My heart goes out to him as I have become intimately acquainted with many alcoholics. I have seen firsthand the pain and suffering they have endured. When he says, "My mind is drunk, but my heart is not," I know he is telling the truth. Still I can't help but think that if he had it together the village might be in a lot better shape.

Fortunately, there are two saints who live here and help to pick up his slack. The first is P. Now, a large Thai woman from the other side of the island. She runs a small store and soup kitchen, where she cooks up large batches of food to give the children. She was so kind and loving, and she wouldn't ever let me walk by without serving me some delicious spicy food. The second saint is Ajhan Vichai. He and his group received the 1981 Nobel Peace Prize for their work in Cambodia. A man of true humility, he introduced himself as a bondservant of Jesus Christ, which made me admire him immediately. He was a very saintly old man with a frail body and long white hair and beard. He moved slowly and gently with an air of grace and powerful compassion. He is somehow on salary from the UN and lives among the Moken while making slow and steady strides to improve their lives. And then, of course, the Mirror Art Group does a lot of work with the Moken, just as they do with the hill-tribes up North. All in all, it was a bittersweet experience on the island. Although the poverty crushed my spirit a bit, I felt that these people were in good hands and things are really begin to look up for them.