Humble Pie

Since I have gotten here to Mae Sot I have been encouraged by many to be more active on this blog. It’s true, I haven’t posted very often and I’d like to be writing more, but I’m not. It’s not for want of things to say – those of you who know me and my ever-flappin’ jaw know I never lack for things to say. Nor indeed is it because there’s nothing interesting here to tell you all about. This has been an extremely thought-provoking experience.

So why am I wasting your time with descriptions of stray dogs and promises of tropical fruit (the fruit is coming by the way, I promise)? Well, let me see if I can express my predicament with an old slogan: “Loose Lips Sink Ships.” The program I’m working for, the IRC’s Legal Assistance Center, provides some legal services for people living in several of the camps for Burmese refugees here in Thailand. Doing this work means that LAC works in partnership with a lot of people: there are the refugees themselves, there are the various elements of camp leadership, there are all the different Thai authorities involved in various aspects of the administration of the camp – police, army, municipal and provincial officials and others – there’s the Thai Ministry of Justice who is obviously an important partner in a program concerned with legal services in Thailand, and then finally there’s UNHCR.

That’s a mouthful already, and I’m probably forgetting some. Working with all of these groups together with their various interests and priorities is a delicate and political task and some of them are in rather precarious positions. In some ways we ourselves are in a precarious position. So you’ll have to forgive me for not saying more about what I do or indeed even showing you where I’m working. I do not want to unravel many years of hard work by other people just because I have an urge to share cool stories about what I’m doing and seeing out here.

“Oh, c’mon, Gabe, who’s going to read this blog anyway? Aren’t you being a tad paranoid?” I hear you say. Well first of all thanks for the encouragement. And second, I believe the Internet has been teaching all of us some important lessons for the past few years about putting information out on it. Once it’s posted, it’s public and it’s no longer yours. I intend to heed that lesson.

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But that’s not really what I wanted to talk about in this post. Problem is that all of the issues I referenced above (and a few more to boot) are standing in the way of really saying what I want to say. But I will do my best to express this appropriately.

Last night I had a conversation with someone I met recently. We talked for a long time about his life, what he’s been through and where he’s going. He grew up as a minority in a country that pursues a systematic campaign to marginalize his people. He has lived as a refugee, an immigrant and a fugitive. He has put his life and liberty on the line for his family and his community several times. Despite having no formal education until college he went to college and is now pursuing an advanced degree (his classes are taught in English which he learned as an adult to compliment the three other languages he already spoke). His story involved some incredible twists, setbacks and close-calls. At one point he said with a light in his eyes, “Actually, I’m glad I don’t exist,” which, even out of context, I think illustrates the Sinbad-the-Sailor-amazingness of his life story.

This is awfully abstract, I know. I could be talking about anyone, I could’ve made this guy up (which is sort of the point of telling it that way, savvy?). But I know what I heard and what I heard last night was one of those stories that is hard for me to wrap my head around. And the kicker for me – the real lesson – was when he explained with a smile (he often wears one) that this is just his life and he has never known anything else. He fights against it, but he isn’t particularly bothered by it. By the end I felt, well, humbled.

And he’s not the only one, of course. I look around and see so many people whose lives make my “hard-knock” childhood on the “mean streets” of Jersey City look laughably cushy. And it’s really gotten the gears turning in my head. Reminded me of what I’m trying to do with the rest of my cushy life. Hope I can live up to those goals. Until then I’m taking my cues from the title of this post. Yum.

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Mmmm... humility... [drool

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