The real June 19th - part 2

After showering and eating, we had the privilege of speaking with a refugee from Burma.


His name was Jorda. He was quite short, in part from the hunched, withdrawn way he held himself. He was a ethnic Karen born as a Chirstian. He crossed into Thailand after his father died and the family didn't have the money to pay the hospital bills for his sick sister. At the time, he was ten-years old and he had the responsibility to take his sister to the nearest Christian hospital, where she would be treated regardless of her citizenship. Eventually all five of his siblings left Burma, except for his mother, who lived out her years in her country. (At least this was the version of the story that was told, although we would hear a bit more information in the coming days.)


He said that he was happy to live in Thailand and does not dream of going to another country or back to Burma. He is happy with his farming and raising his two young children in this area, near the Burma border, learning both Karen and Thai language. However he expressed concern about explaining to his children why he left his homeland and why he chose not to fight back for ethnic autonomy/independence.

To me it seems quite reasonable not to fight for a piece of lad when the same satisfaction can be found elsewhere. What was difficult to understand was his lack of hope for change in the situation in Burma. For me, hope is the forerunner to action. So even though circumstances may seem grim in Burma, or Thailand, or the US, I always hope that change for the better is inevitable and that I can be part of it.

(The part that Jorda didn't tell us, and the staff at the Foundation don't ask him to, is the story about the members of his family that didn't make it to Thailand. What he said was true, that all his siblings living were now in Thailand. Altogether, Jorda had seven siblings. Five of them are living outside of Burma, one in Norway and the rest in Thailand.
Two sisters were in Burma when soldiers of the military junta stormed the village. Both young women were gang-raped in front of their mother. They were taken to detainment for a short period of time. When they returned home both of the sisters committed suicide.
The eerie part of the story for me is not just in the tragedy for this particular individual, but the idea that just below the surface everyone has been a victim of such tragedies.)