Feb 22

Allison left last night to go back to America. It was sad that she left because she really wanted to stay longer. I wish she could have too because all the kids and the staff were glad she came and it was great having another Physical Therapist here. Her leaving means that I only have about 3 more weeks here. Normally I would have 2 and ½ weeks left to volunteer with CCD, ending on a Friday and fly out on a Monday the 13th. However, there is a team of 8 people coming in on the 7th and the volunteer houses are going to be overcrowded by 2 people for the remaining days that me and Sarah are here. We decided that amidst the commotion it might be a good idea to take a few days to get out of the houses and go rest somewhere when the new people are coming in. So, we’re going to stop a week early and go recap the 6 months and start mentally preparing to go home. After Sarah leaves on the 9th I’m going to stay in Bangkok at a cheap guest house and visit with P Charlie and his family in the slums and take care of any unfinished business. I haven’t thought any about what it’s going to be like when I have to leave, and probably I won’t really think about it until a couple days before. I definitely will miss the guys I work with though and everyone else here. It’s definitely easy to fall in love with this country.

I’m thinking a lot more about coming out here for 5 years to do work among the slums in Bangkok with an organization called Servant Partners. The slums seem to breed hopelessness and sins which breed more sins and more hopelessness. I would be serving people through Servant Partners by helping to encourage social justice and spiritual freedom in the lives of the people. I was supposed to go today and meet again with one of the guys working in this organization, but he had lots of appointments today and so we rescheduled for next week. Instead I made it to the dentist and had my teeth cleaned and X Rayed for $22.50. Not bad considering I have no health insurance.

Upon returning home I was greeted by a snake in my room. Not sure what kind it was, but it seemed pretty scared once it realized I was still going to try to catch it despite the fact that it pretended it might bite me at first. After chasing it into every corner of my room I finally caught it using a coat hanger and my hand (a little technique I learned watching The Crocodile Hunter on the Discover Channel…see, TV can be a good thing). I figure that the snake was in my room anyways because it’s about 8000 degrees C. outside today, so I had some compassion on him and didn’t want to kill it. I dropped it off my balcony out back and then went to try to find it so I could take it to some guys and ask what kind it was. After I got downstairs though I couldn’t find it. Ah well.

My days here are a teeter totter, going from things that make me really sad, to things that make me really happy. This really is a city of contrast. I tend to focus on the things that make me happy more when I write because they are much more fun to think about and I presume they are more fun to read about too. However, at times, the sad thoughts can't be completely ignored. I wrote this the other night after being at work and thinking about going back home...

26-Feb-06

Strange, but I only have 1 week left to volunteer with CCD and tben one week to pack up and take care of the last bit of details before I make it back to the States. Crazy how time has gone. It’s not been too bad though thinking of leaving, because, I haven’t really thought of leaving. I’ve told a couple of the guys that I’m going…the ones who can understand it more. The thing is, it would be a lot harder to leave if I didn’t think I would ever come back to see them again. When you get here, you get an initial shock for the way that the guys have it. Granted, some of the guys are better off here than they would be with a family that doesn’t want them, but still most of the guys don’t have much at all in life and spend their days laying in a bed shared with 2 others staring at the wall or TV. Minute after minute, hour after hour, day after day, and the next thing you know…you’re 30 years old and nothing has changed except maybe the occasional change of wards or beds. Some of the guys have good brains, you look in their eyes and know they understand things and what is going on. They just lack the physical ability to speak or move their limbs, and so they probably have the hardest time passing the years.

When you get to the wards though, you can’t be sad. Well, you could, but what’s that going to do? These guys aren’t looking for people to cry with, they’re looking for a break in the dullness, someone to touch them because they want to, not just because they need to be moved or have their diaper changed. So, since you know you can’t be sad when you get their, it’s hard (for me anyways) to want to be sad for it when I get home in the evenings. I don’t wanna remember the things that make me sad when I think of the guys and work, I want to remember the smiles, or how much fun they had singing songs with us. You remember the fun interactions, how happy they seemed when they said “good-bye” at the end of the day. You go home happy you gave them memories, not just another day of 3 meals and a shower.
After about a month then, the sadness starts to fade out and you start to unknowingly come into a subtle acceptance for the way things are. You stop praying everyday that God would bring about change in their lives and end the injustices. Sometimes something tries to bring you back to the reality. You hear for instance that all the kids in one of the wards are getting colds because that ward staff won’t give them blankets at night during cold season since they’re just going to pee on them anyways. Or maybe you see one of the babies being hit because they are crying and that’s the only way that the caregiver can quickly stop the crying so they can finish their job. (Strange how when most small children are in trouble they tend to cry more, but when one of these kids gets punished, they stop crying immediately) But too, after a while, you forget these things and think of the caregivers that do really love the kids, and the smiles on the faces of the guys even when you bring them back. You quickly accept the situation again…until you start thinking of going back to America. And then you remember that you get to go back home and they are already in the only place they know of as “home”.