Looking back on: Friday October 16, 2009

This morning I took my opportunity while here to cross the border into Myanmar. It was a world of difference this time than the last (last time I crossed up North, this time I crossed in the East of Thailand). Don’t misunderstand, there was still a level of difference with Thailand, but this time I wouldn’t call it depraved, but poor. Street kids weren’t rampant as last time, and the standard of living was ever so slightly higher than before. Last time was a bombardment of the senses. I was offered to buy a woman, and loads of porn mere minutes after arriving. Everything was dirty and smelly, and I was accosted by merchants the moment I stepped foot on Burmese soil. Sangwan was with me this time, which would have made a difference, but I haven’t left devastated like last time.

The first thing that I did notice was that there was terrible border security. I think crossing over from Mae Sai was walking into a city, but crossing from Mae Sot is crossing into a small town, which may have lots to do with it. Sneaking into, or out of Burma, would be certainly possible down here though. We then ran into a nice surprise. They check your temperature on the Burmese side before you enter, and the woman who was doing it (Burmese woman) was reading the Bible. The gospel is alive there too.

One thing I did see though that made me wonder was a boy with Down’s Syndrome. The fact that this was the first child in Thailand or Myanmar that I had seen someone with it isn’t surprising, as the culture tends to view that kind of thing with shame. When I saw him, I caught the tail end of him being bothered by some old man. I think, anyway. All I saw was him pulling away as if from him, so I wasn’t sure, not enough to go on for me to hassle the man anyway. It was a familiar sight though. Child with a disability walking with his loving, and yet sad eyed mother. It made me see a new level of need though. In the west, we (at least those of us who aren’t cretins), value people who are disabled. There are levels of support set up for such people outside of their family. If something happens to a mother in the west, her disabled child will (usually) be taken care of, at least somewhat. But what of people in these third world countries who offer no support? What would happen to that boy if something unfortunately happened to his mother? Oh, God. The harvest is plentiful, but the workers are all too few.

After Myanmar we went and had lunch and did some grocery shopping. Asking me various questions, the workers here found out things like my age (which is always a surprise to them), and my plans to mission in Thailand. Later in the night, one of the workers asked “are you really going to be a missionary?”  then, assured of that, asked for me to pray for her sick mother. So I’ll be off to do so.

~ by Mono on October 20, 2009.