Thai - Burma Border: At 21 Years Old, Another Life Shattered

It�s 6 am, the usual time to take off, as the military checkpoints are not too tough in the early mornings. It�s going to be a long and hot day; we�re heading to Colonel J�s headquarters. I jump into the dusty pick-up truck, and settle myself among 2 boys, 2 girls, 25 bags of rice and 50 mosquito nets. 3 hours and 438 curves in the road later, we reach the boat that takes us across the river. There, at the top of the hill, the colonel is already at guard, two soldiers with big guns along his side.


Again I am surprised by how quiet it is. It�s hard to imagine that this beautiful picture above is the theatre of an indescribably cruel civil war in Burma. Sometimes you can hear the shootings, explosions, panic, but today it is very quiet. That doesn�t necessarily mean any good. We drink Burmese tea, my thoughts drift away on the soft sounds of a language that I do not understand. I picture myself sitting there, surrounded by all this army-green. A remarkable appearance: a Dutch girl, amongst all those real-life Rambo�s, somewhere in the Burmese jungle� sometimes I wonder if it�s not just a movie scene. Just when I think the conversation has reached a dead end, we get permission to build a new medical clinic and prosthetics workshop. Finally! After months of negotiations, building relationships with both the Thai authorities and the Burmese leaders, it�s finally going to happen! We leave the rice and mosquito nets behind for one of the refugee camps, and the team of 4 sets off into the jungle. They will be running a 6-weeks mine risk education program in the villages. They�re so young, yet so devoted. And so much needed. The backpack teams are my heroes.

It�s late at night when we arrive back in Mae Sot; a quick noodle off the street suffices for dinner. A meeting with a general of a different area is on schedule for the next day. A journalist who recently wrote a fantastic book about life in and around Mae Sot accompanies us. Phil Thornton�s �Restless soles�: a must-read when you want to get a glimpse of life on the border.

Again we find ourselves back at a place that could easily be the set of a bizarre movie. The headquarters is lined with coconut- and banana trees, overlooking a rapid in the river. Under a large mango tree, we meet the general, this time with 4 guards. Half a year ago, I didn�t think I would get used to all these weapons around me. The general is famous for his disciplined troops and when we shake hands, that doesn�t surprise me.

A quiet man, with a battered face and eyes hard as stones. His mouth is red with betelnut and for a second I get goose bumps when I imagine what this man must have seen and done in his life. What am I doing here?! I remind myself: �He�s a good guy, not a bad one�. And again there is some tumult about �the white girl�. I decide to walk around a bit in the camp, while Phil starts his interview.

Then we receive a phone call. One of the girls that we dropped yesterday for the mine risk education mission has stepped on a landmine. I remember her face; she was sitting next to me in the truck. No details are known yet, but �the damage seems limited�. Those words mean just as much as: �she survived�. Later that day, they amputate 1 leg below the knee. They have to wait and see if the metal scraps that the blast of the landmine forced into her body, will bring infections or other complications. She�ll have to go through a rehabilitation process, including prosthetics care and if needed, Clear Path will support in any other possible way. 21 years old; again a young life destroyed. Of course you can do a lot with prosthesis. But when you have to run and hide in the jungle, a handicap could be a life-threatening condition. Unfortunately is this the every-day reality.

Before I fall asleep that night, I can�t help to wonder once more: �How many victims, how many lives, how many innocent people must we sacrifice before this war is coming to an end?�

Lobke Dijkstra,
Physiotherapist and CPI country representative on the Thai Burma border