This past week, I learned some valuable lessons from two Sri Lankan families who are refugees that have been living, or barely
existing, in Thailand, waiting to get approval from the UN to be legal residents
of a new country.
The first family, consists of a
mother and her two sons. They have
been here almost five years and found out, two months ago, that they may have a
chance to move to Australia. The mother,
Latta, is 34 years old. She
married when she was 16 and her husband was 18. Her parents thought she was too young to marry so she
eloped. Her husband was a
good man, she told me; one who loved music and got paid “top dollar” to perform
at functions. Sadly, he, his
parents, her parents, and almost all of her other relatives were killed. I don’t know how or why but from our
conversation I know it is still too painful to talk about, even though her
husband has been gone almost seven years.
Latta’s only surviving family are her two sons, one 16 and the other
11. Both the boys are happy,
caring sons.
I went to visit Latta last
week. It has been particularly
hot, with the heat index exceeding 104F most days. As I stepped into their humble home, I immediately sensed
the pride Latta had taken in cleaning and setting up her small room. It is just one room, with cement walls
and one small window. There is no
air conditioning and it is stifling hot.
So hot, that the boys shirts were drenched with sweat by the time I left. They have two plastic chairs, two wood
stools, a very small table, one computer, and a few books. In the corner is a small shrine to her
husband. She has divided the room in half with a curtain rod and fabric. I’m guessing behind the fabric is a hot
plate and their bed rolls, if they have those.
They pulled out the only two chairs
they had and insisted that myself, and my friend, sit down while the boys stood
and the mother sat on one of the wooden stools. Latta and her youngest son,
excused themselves for a minute and went behind the curtain. When they emerged,
they had a tray with two tall glasses which were filled to the top with grape
fruit juice. They set these
glasses on the other stool in front of us, smiled and pointed for us to drink
their juice
I knew the bottle of grape fruit
cost around 70b (about $2.50) and I also knew, based on the size of our
glasses, that they had given us the majority of their juice. Later, in our conversation Latta mentioned that the
UN gives her 3,500 baht a month.
That is equivalent to about $116 US dollars. I can’t even imagine paying my rent, utilities,
transportation, and trying to feed two teenage boys on $116 a month. Seeing her give us the best she had caused me to reflect if I really know what it means to give,
when it’s not comfortable, when it’s hard, and when giving means I will have
less. Latta taught me a beautiful
lesson and part of the beauty is, she doesn’t even know it; because she is
doing what comes natural for her.
Then, last night, my husband and I
saw a man named Hobson, his wife, and their 10 month old son Solomon off at the
airport. They are also Sri Lankon
refugees, who have been waiting
for over five years to leave Thailand. They just got approval from the UN that Finland had accepted
them. This sweet family never
asked for anything. Yet, they were
always willing to help in their own way.
The law in Thailand requires that
before a refugee can leave the country they have to serve “time” in the
detention center, which is like a prison.
Hobson went into the detention center last week and he, along with other
refugees leaving, were escorted directly
from there to the airport where he meet his wife and son, who he hadn’t seen or
been allowed to communicate with for six days.
When he arrived at the airport, and
spotted his wife and son, he ran
to them, embraced them and started sobbing. He was very emotional and once he could speak he said
that even though he had been in
the detention center only six days it felt like six years. He said he was crammed in a small room
with about sixty men. There was
not enough room for him to lay down, and it was so crowded that he couldn’t
even stretch out his legs straight in front of him. There was no air conditioning and it was filthy dirty. He had shaved his hair, before going
in, because he heard most people have lice. We asked him about the food, and he
said they were given chicken bones and dirty food to eat. He knew, going in, that the food was
meager so he had packed enough food for six days. We asked him if he had brought enough food. He said, his food had only lasted two
days because he gave most of it away to the people around him. He also gave the books he had to the
people left in the detention center.
He said some of the refugees had been there for nine years! Later, I watched him quietly go over to
a Chinese refugee, who is also leaving Thailand for Finland, and try to share
with him some of the little money he has.
Again, I reflected on my life and wondered if I was in the
same situation, with as little as he had and not knowing what lies ahead in
Finland, would I be as generous.
I know the world defines Latta and Hobson as poor but I
think they are some of the richest people I know. They have learned what brings happiness.
