Burmese Refugee Camp
It's been one full year since I visited Ratchaburi, Thailand. Just thinking of it reminds me of elephants, heat,
soda in a bag, and being sick :). Believe it or not, we stayed in a gated office and housing village out in
Ratchaburi. We slept on floors on the 3rd floor of a cement office building, but just a few blocks down were
gated mansions and a pool. Just a few more streets down was a Burmese Refugee Camp, which stuck out
like a sore thumb. A beautiful, sore thumb. The clothes hanging, the trash, stray dogs, scrap metal homes,
tarp and shoeless children were enough to make my heart melt.
I remember one of the mornings we didn't have ministry so we were able to go around the village and just
have some time to ourselves. While some of my team members felt they were supposed to just rest with
God, I felt like I was supposed to go to the Burmese Camp. I shut my bible and walked the couple of blocks
where I found my team leader who felt he was supposed to play soccer with the kids and assist with moving
some of the parents' belongings. That hour or two I spent with the kids of the camp was quite possibly the
fondest memory I have of Thailand. There was a definitive language barrier but we played leap frog, simon
says, hand games and I taught them songs. They also tried to teach me a few things and laughed
hysterically as I tried to speak thai or lost to their clapping games.
These photos are from the first night we went into the refuge camp and conversed and prayed healing over
many of its residents.
I find such immense beauty in the streets and alleys of these slums. The people, the "architecture" the
smells (not anything to write home about). I don't know what it is, but I just love them. It's one of the
reasons why I'm so excited to go back to Battambang. Seeing those people that we interacted with,
hugged, high-fived and prayed over again. Only 4 more months :) .