For whom the bell tolls?
(Picture of a bell )
I have stood here for the last hmmm let me think many years now. My history is interesting, I was made in one place fired in another and now I am here. I was made for defense, used for offence and now live for penance. That sounds exciting right? Ha, but my life is not so exciting. I am the church bell of the English Anglican Church in Mae la camp in Mae sot.
The church bell, that was once a missile
Nobody really takes me seriously except when there is a visitor and someone from the camp introduces me to them. But I hardly have visitors; I hear that it is not allowed to visit the camp, except with special permission. There are about 40,000 Karen, Chin and Muslim refugees all of whom are from Burma. Many of them ran away from Burma either because their lives were threatened or because their entire village is being burnt down. They were very frightened to live at home and so they came to Thailand. It’s not the better option but the only one they had. Many of the refugees, mostly Karen where I am from, had to run for their lives. They crossed the river to come to the camp. The camp has been here for more than 20 years, but the refugees keep coming and going. Yeah going they do and when they leave they come one last time to see me and say bye to me. Many of them are happy that they will be going off to a far off land called America – I don’t know where that is. But they don’t go as family, they leave their wife and children who come to the church and cry often. Sometimes I wish I could help them. Sometimes I wish that I could stop the guys from leaving their wives and children behind, but what I do, I am just the old church bell – but I once used to be the all powerful missile, look what they have done to me in the refugee camp. Is this what happens to many others who come to live in the camp as well. They come with a lot of zeal, they want to change their lives but as years by they loose it and become someone else, they change completely, the passion that they once had is gone into the mountains, hiding never to return.
The camp as seen from the church
So I was telling you about the my people, I am sure I did mention the Muslims and so they do have a mosque around. Five time a day the speaker shouts out to the people in the camp inviting them to pray. The speaker says that he cant see much, although is is up on the roof, the mosque itself is not on the hill and so he can only see the roofs of home. I have a beautiful view from where I stand, I can see the house, the hills, the sky and the clouds. Ha, another friend of mine is the speaker from the Buddhist temple. They often have prayers. They usually have a chorus like my church. The good thing is that we don’t have to compete with each other to be heard, we each have our time of glory and the others don’t interrupt. I often hear from my friend at the Buddhist monastery that the people are praying for food and safety. Some of them are not registered with the UNHCR.
They get their rations from the local NGO’s or sometimes their friends help them with it. Almost all of them are poor. Did you know that they cannot freely move outside the camp? If the men with the guns and lathis who come on motorbikes see my people outside the camp, they will arrest them and send them to Burma. Poor guys then have to find their way back. Isn’t it funny that they would not come to the camp and arrest them although they know that they live here. Anyway the other day someone from outside came here and there was a whole lot of noise about it. The men with the lathis were not happy with the ones who entered the camp. With all this action life goes on. What is sad is the fact that my people live not knowing what will happen the next day, or on the other hand if anything will happen at all in their lives. Children go to school not knowing what they will do with their education. But they do have a lot of fun, running around and playing together. What worries me is that they play terrorist and police game.
Children playing in the camp
Some cover their faces and pretend that they are the terrorist and the police try to chase them and sometimes catch and beat them up. It’s not the best game I would like my children to play.
The abled and willing men go to the nearby fields and work. In many cases the men don’t work and sometimes the women work. Just like me the bell, everyone sits around and stares into space. They have no purpose in life, they wish they could be resettled in the other place called America, but they are not happy to go without their family. They are just waiting, I am from being defense to offense to penance and they are from nothing to nothing, I wonder for who the bell tolls.
Florina Benoit, Visit to Mae la October 2009