Just another Monday in September. I'm on my way to the clinic, a short bicycle ride. Unlike the last couple of rainy days, is it getting hot early today. On my way, I'm being overtaken by several �sawngtaws�: some sort of pick-up-trucks, packed with people and piled up with anything you could imagine. Bamboo baskets, chickens, spinage, fish oil, televisions, pink toilet paper, rice bags, pallets Coca Cola, eggs, noodles, flip-flops, dried meat, pans, clothes, wooden chairs. Now and than a car falls over and you'll be amazed about what is being spread out over the road. They drive back and forth between the Mae Sot market and the Thai-Burmese border, passing several checkpoints on their way. If the authorities find it necessary, they'll let them completely unpack and repack the cars. The thick smell of petrol mixes with the smoke of barbeques along the road. Fish, chickens and frogs are served in a banana leaf or in between two sticks, from early morning until late in the evening. Just before the last stand I hold my breath and close my eyes (a risky thing in Thai traffic) , because the sharp smell of spicy chillies makes you cough en cry. Then I pass the fruit stalls; a bunch of bananas for 10 Baht, juicy watermelons and pomelo's. After the last stall comes my favorite part of the ride: fresh green rice fields, widely stretched out with the rough Burmese mountains in the background. A beautiful view straight ahead of me. The documentary that I watched yesterday about the brutal Burmese regime slips through my mind. The slavery, the torture of political prisoners, the numerous landminevictims, the enormous amount of displaced people who try to survive in the jungle... Maybe just there, in that �beautiful view straight ahead of me�...
Over a little bridge, where boys are fishing and welcome me with an enthusiastic �Hello, hello! What's your name?�. Slowly making my way through the motorbike taxi's that gather around the clinic, making fishing nets in between rides. Off the little hill, trying to avoid the mudpools and passed the MSF-car (Medecins sans Frontiers, who take care of the TB-patients).
It's a bit of a strange day today. The helicopters which use to fly over only once or twice a day, circle around now every ten minuten. There must be somthing going on at the border or so. At the clinic it's hectic as well. It only takes a second or two before I know what causes the restless atmosphere: they are cleaning the drain sytems. What a smell! I decide to do some computerwork at the library first, but there a second unpleasant surprise awaits me : a dead rat on the floor. I cross the mudpools to the inpatients department. A new medical student from Canada; a small group of people is standing around one of the wooden beds, yelling: �Do something�. The patient who causes the scene, screams �Aw� aw��, kicking around and waving his hands in the air. Two medics tie his hands and feet with some nylon robe and things calm down again. �Malaria-madness� is the diagnose and seems to be a result of the malaria medication. It doesn't take long before there's some more action around. A goat is being chased by two dogs and slips inside, running around through the people. �It's just like a little zoo� I think, and the chickens that shuffle around the toilets, make the picture complete.
At the trauma departure, the boys hang around, on, over each other as usual and when they notice me, the unrest spreads once more: �Hi teacher! Flexion, extension, abduction, adduction, inversion, eversion! Lessons today?� Last week, I started to train a group of medics and prosthetic technicians about the basics of rehabilitation treatment for the amputee patients in the Mae Tao clinic. It's a kind of action- learning program, which merely results in big fun: muscle stretching parties, eyes-closed balancing records, walk-on-your-knees-races and cheating on sensibility test. They learn how to solve problems in a practical way; jumping exercises for a double amputee doesn't make much sense (this may sound like a cruel joke, but is a true example of today's class). How to keep this same double amputated man active during his recovery? �He can't do anything, he's got no legs� is their first response. Well, he has still got his arms?! The idea of using a wheelchair seems to be the highlight of the day. But the next day, the wheelchair is still untouched. I ask why and they tell me �No use, flat tyres�. The idea of get a pump and solve the problem makes some eyes grow even wider. Gossip spreads just like the smell of this morning: on my way home, someone stops me and asks �Are you the phylosarist?� Well, something like that yes...(When I first arrived here, they had never really heard about a physiotherapist before.)
That night I'm having dinner at Casa Mia, the place to be for good food and to meet the just-arrived foreigners. �Hi Charlie!� I greet the boy who's working at the restaurant. �Hiiiii, Luka!� he replies and his eyes shine for the rest of the evening. I'm not sure about what happened to Charlie in Burma, but he doesn't walk smoothly and seems to have a minimal mental challenge. He has left behind his family, friends, and everything he had in Burma years ago. Now he works at the restaurant, 7 days a week, 14 hours a day, litteraly with his home country within sight. One time I asked if he wanted to go back to Burma. His shiny eyes dropped down and he answered with a dreamy look: �Maybe, one day�.
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