Here in Thailand, I am thoroughly exhausted, sunburned, and smiling. Truthfully, I have never been happier. When I first touched down in Chiang Mai, after many requests to stay home while the political unrest blew over but coming anyways, I was delighted and exhausted. Here I was, alone in a country. No friends, no acquaintances, just a name and an organization that would be my home for the next four months. I dragged my sleep deprived self, my camera, and my backpack all to the arrivals part of the airport. I was swept up by COSA, and taken directly to the shelter, all of my exhaustion ebbed away the closer I got to the NGO.
As I arrived, grimy, dark circles dominating my face, I probably smelled, young girls bombarded me. They stared at me. Not an innocent curious stare, but a soul-penetrating stare that made me feel uncomfortable and welcomed simultaneously.
They immediately began whispering to one another. My guide, Brent, fluent in Thai and a native English speaker, divulged to me that they were talking about my appearance. I remember my fingers going to the dark circle under my eyes.
It didn’t take them long to walk over, and they weren’t shy when they began twirling my blonde hair around their fingers. They looked straight into my eyes, touched my arms.
“They like the way you look,” Brent said. Obviously, I got self conscious and confused. They must have noticed, and Baifern, now a close friend of mine, grabbed my hand and showed me around, with a trail of girls behind us.
I’ve been to temples, a Muay Thai class, taught English, missed a bus, been to the Northern Hill Tribes, sunburnt, eaten traditional food, ridden on the back of a sontao, learned some Thai, and much more.
Since the first day, I have been comfortable, uncomfortable, amazed, and temporarily heartbroken. The project I am dealing with is by no means an easy one. Helping these girls who have been drastically affected by the sex trade has spiraled me to a conventional understanding of how the system works in Thailand. In America, it is a baffling, horrendous action to sell your child. But the almost all of the girls sold into the business are from the Northern Hill Tribes, people who are not accepted as citizens in the eyes of the Thai government, and have no other means of earning money. These are invisible people. But people nonetheless.
Something I have realized is that documents mean nothing, that the worth of a person is not determined in the eyes of the government, by eyes who don’t know you or your soul. These invisible girls have told me stories I couldn’t fathom happening to people, I have heard of places they’ve been that I haven’t even reached in the most terrible of nightmares.
But they laugh all the time. Smiles, hugs, and generosity are all I have received from these girls. And everyday I pose myself the question of “How can they smile?”. But they do, so I smile back and we go pick up a game or conversation together. I thought that coming here in a plane across the world by myself was hard. I was strong, I left my life behind. But what I have been through doesn’t compare to what the girls here have pushed through.
When these four months have ended, I will grudgingly get on a plane for home. I’ve found myself 34 more family members, members where even the youngest can teach me a thing or two about strength. Hopefully when I get home, I’ll be half as courageous, resilient, and happy as the girls are here.