Meeting our Interpreters

A group of students from Johnson State College (JSC) is spending the next few weeks with Clear Path International in Vietnam. This is possible due to a partnership between Clear Path, the Break Away Program and JSC. The students and staff will be posting tales and photos from their journey to this blog. You can read all of their posts by clicking here. Photos can be enlarged by clicking them

(written by Dave Whitaker)
Today was our first full day in Vietnam. We roused surprisingly early from our slumbers with but minimal trauma from the rigors of our journey. As the light of morning glinted off the polished stone tile of the Hung Vuong Inn, a gentle harbinger of the searing heat to ensue, we savored our first meal in over 36 hours outside of �coach class�.

A walking tour of town soon followed and we were oriented with the traffic�.patterns?�internet cafes and atms as the temperature incrementally rose. On the last stop of our stroll we straddled bicycles that will be our main mode of transportation during our stay and eased, uneasily into the rushing currents of Hue�s traffic. We pedaled through town deftly evading buses, motorbikes, and attrition�this is not the group member who has showered the least since our departure�. they too however, were avoided in a most tactful manner�and I thank them for it�ah�attrition due to heatstroke.
It served us well to learn early the lesson of adequate hydration. Meanwhile, recuperating back at the hotel we struggled with the pronunciations of the names the ten English language university students that we will be teamed with during our stay. We will be meeting on the roof at 2:00 pm. Nhi had gone over our lists with us, patiently creating the sounds we strove to replicate. It is, I suppose, good practice for us as teachers of sounds to first, be learners.
The energy and excitement of our first encounter was channeled into �ice-breaking� games. A sheet was held up between the two crouching groups with one person from each group directly in front of it. When the sheet was dropped the first of the two facing each other to say the others name claimed that person to their camp. During introductions when this game was explained it was evident that they had lists of our names as well and everyone frantically crammed to match the faces with the names on the pages. The volume of facial expressions and laughter that this game produced was priceless.
We talked for a while after the games and their enthusiasm was infectious. Their role in the work that we will do with the school children increases our effectiveness exponentially. In Vietnam it is common to refer to others in terms of family, as in �Uncle Ho� for Ho Chi Minh and these students easily deserving the mantle of older sisters and big brother of the children we will be working with. I am honored to be able to offer them assistance.

The Vietnam Adventure Begins

A group of students from Johnson State College (JSC) is spending the next few weeks with Clear Path International in Vietnam. This is possible due to a partnership between Clear Path, the Break Away Program and JSC. The students and staff will be posting tales and photos from their journey to this blog. You can read all of their posts by clicking here. Photos can be enlarged by clicking them


(Written by Jill Piacitelli)

Well, here is the story of our journey from the beginning. I promise to try and make it entertaining� as entertaining as 38 hours of travel can be. The bulk of the group left from a Johnson State College parking lot on Wednesday, May 18th, at 3 pm. This was the place to be: a swanky school van, beautiful early summer weather, and a send off like unto those days of glory when competing for the high school wrestling championship. Staff and administration from the College sent us off with waves, shouts, and signs like �You rock!� and �Thank you!� and �Try to come back!�



The trip to the airport was pleasantly uneventful, thanks to the capable driving hands of our Director, Ellen Hill. We made it on time and met up with the remaining members of the group, sans one. Check in and boarding was uneventful (this was due perhaps to impressing our fellow flyers-in-wait by peeling and eating whole cloves of garlic. This is an unwritten part of our group health regimen, to keep away mosquitoes, but like any good idea, has served us beyond the original intent).
The first leg, to Newark, was quick and pleasant. Small plane, 45 minutes. Upon arrival, we hastened to eat some fine fast food, American style, at the airport �for the last time�. This notion got stretched throughout the next 23 hours, as we were served eggs, chicken, fish, mashed potatoes, noodle soup, chocolate muffins, rolls, or fruit every couple of hours and couldn�t manage to say �no� on account of the �last meal� mentality. Needless to say, we didn�t dip into our independent treat bag. Oh wait, we did. We simply ate a lot on the way over.
I digress. In Newark we dined and then used various means to kill the 5 additional hours in the airport. We also met up with the final participant, Chris Anderson. After reassuring his mom, sister, and girlfriend that he was safe with us and indeed, would have air conditioning in Vietnam, we were able to pry him away for check in. The rest of the group followed, and soon enough (12:30 am), we found ourselves in for the first long stretch to Seattle.
In Seattle, the bleary-eyed travelers wandered off the plane in different states of discomfort. You see, the airlines had begun the trickery of trying to change your body�s time zones by light depravation and force feeding. So, in pitch dark for the first couple of hours, we were startled awake by being roused for �dinner� at 3 in the morning. As explained above, we ate. So eating, plus immobility, plus sleep depravation hurt us as people. We used our short (1 hour) layover in Seattle to recover by walking around, doing yoga, and playing reflex based card games. Then, on to Taipei!
The tricks continued. The shades were down the whole time, and we were lulled into various states of altered consciousness by watching movie after movie such as �In Good Company�, �Phantom of the Opera�, �Something About Winn Dixie�, and �Electra�. All movies that the entire group had managed to miss while in the theaters. The feeding continued, and so did our eating. Some sleep happened too. No talking. This was a 12 hour flight, and sometimes silence is the relief to pain.
The turnover in Taiwan was quick, and a bit of excitement, as it was the first time that we could look out the windows and see a world that looked fairly different from ours. We boarded for Hanoi, which was another 3 hours, and then landed after eating all garlic and anything else we feared was too organic for customs. This included Jolly Ranchers, Air Heads, Nerds, and granola bars. Thanks to all that, we again passed through customs easily and snagged our bags to meet Nhi, our Vietnamese friend, translator, and guide for the final flight into Hue.
Finally, though, a snag! Nhi was nowhere to be found! The cool headed leaders did not panic, they just walked around in a dazed state and acted like a plan was in motion. 45 minutes later, Nhi showed up, having been delayed by weather. The happy reunion (and introductions) turned into somber silence, as we realized our next flight was still about 5 or 6 hours away. We pushed the envelope (only to find out there was no laying down in this airport) and so the envelope pushed us. We marched on in silence: walking, smoking, sleeping, reading�no talking.
I, myself, lost a little bit of the edge here, and don�t remember how the time all passed. Rumor is, there are pictures of me sleeping with mouth wide open, like an old lady. On the plane to Hue, we had finally learned to reject the offered sandwiches, and most of us drifted in and out of sleep in the frigid, artificial air.
If this all sounds like misery, it wasn�t. The group pulled through amazingly well, with nary a complaint. When we arrived in Hue last night, at 7 pm Vietnam Time (VT), personalities had gone flat, but not turned ugly. It was a sweet sight to pull up and see the hotel staff, now friends from last year. The kids had grown, the hotel had been painted, but the sweet welcome was the same. We checked in quickly, and then somehow pulled off a quick meal and a quick trip to show people how to use the Internet, before they all started dropping off.
It is good to be back, despite what can seem like the modern day rigors of travel. We�ve assigned out blog entries for all of the group, so every day will be covered and hopefully, in not such prolific mundane quality.

Mae La Refugee Camp:Thai-Burma Border

CPI co-founder Imbert Matthee is leading a group of CPI supporters to CPI project sites across SE Asia. All photos by Erin Fredrichs.

The story of the Fox and the Bird

Pah Ner tells us a Karen folk tale with a modern twist. It�s about a fox and a bird. The fox lives at the bottom of a tree. The bird lives at the top, where she pecks the bark to look for insects to eat. But the fox sees trouble.

�Please do not chip the bark because it will fall down and hurt me,� he says. The bird ignores him and, sure enough, the bark splinters into many pieces and falls down on the fox, hurting his back in many small places.

�Now I will take you to court,� says the fox. �You hurt me very seriously!�
Once in front of the judge, the fox makes his complaint with the bird as the accused. The judge asks: �Where are your injuries?� He shows the judge the spots on his back. They are barely visible to the judge.
�But those spots are tiny,� says the judge. �Why did you come to my court to complain about such a small injury?�
�Well, they may seem small to you, but they are very big to me,� he answers.
Pah ends his story and remains silent for a moment. Then, he explains the moral. �Never judge someone else�s injuries,� he says to the applause of everyone listening.
Hearing the story from him is a poignant irony. Pah is a landmine accident survivor from the Karen state. He lost both arms and the shrapnel from the explosion blinded him. Now he is dependent for his care on others at the Mae La refugee camp on the Thai-Burma border.
He is just about the last accident victim one would assign any resemblance to the fox, yet he tells the tale so he and his companions can keep things in perspective. All 14 landmine survivors who live with him at the �Care Villa,� a dorm hut in the sprawling refugee camp north of Mae Sot, Thailand, have injuries we would consider devastating. But no one here judges them as big or small.
The Care Villa for dependent disabled landmine survivors was started three years ago by the Karen Handicap Welfare Association. The KHWA is one of the ethnic groups Clear Path supports to help reach out to landmine survivors inside Burma with the help of new remote measurement technology.
The Care Villa, which has had limited international support, may also become a candidate for Clear Path assistance. The 24-hour-a-day care project needs funding for food, utilities and two nurses who assist the residents � all men aged 17 � 58.
�They have no one else to take care of them,� explains Father Simon Saw of the Mae La camp. �They are completely dependent, but they are well looked after here.�
Morikia, the head of the Karen Handicap Welfare Association, says 11 of the survivors were blinded by their accident and three can see only from one eye. Seven have lost one or both arms. Four have lost one or both legs. Only one can see well and he is a double leg amputee who uses a wheelchair.
Though most remain in their dorm with their eyes and heads cast down, it does not mean they are despondent. Being blind, they simply have nowhere to turn their eyes. But their loss of one sense has sharpened their others.
We were treated to several solo and group songs, some accompanied by a guitar, a mandolin and a keyboard. Without exception, their delivery was beautifully harmonious. Their voices were strong. Their singing was from the heart.
Some of the residents use their heightened sense of touch to their advantage. Three blinded survivors have taken up handcrafting beaded purses. We saw one practicing his newfound art. He reached into different bags for different colored beads and methodically strung them into a pattern for the flap of a purse.
Peh Kleh, the double amputee who can see, has taken a liking to making bamboo picture frames. They are simply, perhaps a bit crude, but it�s obvious they were made with attention to deal and a passion for creativity. We were his first customers.
Only three of the survivors have family in the camp, but their wives need to work during the day or look after their young children. The older children hang around the �villa� and seem inseparable from their dads.
�Their wives are faithful,� Father Simon says. �They have stayed with them despite their injuries.�
We spent several hours with the �boys,� listening to their music, their personal stories and their bittersweet folk tales. Effie, a massage therapist, worked with one of the survivors. Erin, the photographer, took her time to get comfortable with the group and to take relaxed portraits of them and their children.
Before we leave, they sing us one last song.
�Wherever you go, whatever you do, may God�s blessings follow you,� the lyrics go. All of us know we will be back to see them again.

Erin Fredrichs Posts from Cambodia

Erin Fredrichs is traveling with CPI Co-founder Imbert Matthee through Asia. She sent in this report. She also took the photo.

In Cambodia, it won�t be the majesty of the many temples of Angkor Wat that will consume my memory once we return to the States. It will be the 17 kids I met at the Cambodia Landmine Museum.

Exhausted for the unforgiving heat and clamoring over the ruins of temples, we all packed in the car for our final stop on our list of touristy activities: the landmine museum. We drove down yet another dusty, pothole-laden Cambodian road and stopped in front of a cluster of huts guarded by a small boy. He granted us admission to the museum.


Established in 1999 by Aki Ra, a former child soldier of the Khmer Rouge, the landmine museum attracts far fewer tourists than the war museum in Siem Reap. However, the rawness of the landmine museum sets it apart from any other tourist destination I�ve ever seen.
I couldn�t believe it was real. There were thousands of defused landmines collected into nets and used as posts for benches. Bombs spelled out the word �museum� on the side of the main building. A display had been set up on the side of the property to show visitors the different ways mines are set and ultimately triggered. Inside a shed-like structure is a detailed explanation of every mine in the museum�s collection.
Then I met Hak Hort. He eyed me as I snooped around the museum, balancing on his remaining leg and crutches, waiting for me to acknowledge him. When our eyes met, he smiled a deep, warm smile and in clear English, asked me if I�d like a tour of the museum. I couldn�t refuse.
Hak was eight years old when he lost his leg to a landmine explosion. The country was still at war with itself. The Khmer Rouge and Cambodian Army were battling for power. Hak and his older brother and sister were in their family fields when they found a landmine. Unaware of what it was, Hak thought it was a toy. The landmine detonated, blowing off his leg and killing his siblings.
�It is okay now,� he told me. �I live here in Siem Reap for three years and I like it. I go to school, I give the tours, it is good.� His smile never faltered as he wound down the tour. When he asked me if I had any more questions, I just shook my head and thanked him for the wonderful tour. I couldn�t bring myself to ask him how he ever got over losing his leg. I wanted to know if he was haunted by the loss of his siblings. I was a stranger, one of the hundreds of tourists that visit the museum annually. I had no business prying into his innermost thoughts, so I let the questions go.
I only got an hour at the museum and I could spend months there. I want to know all the stories of the boys who live there. I want to teach them English, photograph them, help them build extra housing, do stretches with them so they retain mobility in their stumps. I just want to be around them. It only took an hour for them to impact my life. I don�t know how I could begin to impact theirs.
A handful of Australian tourists who are spending the month volunteering at the museum were situated near the entrance at a table, drawing tattoos on the boys. Eleven-year old Boreak had a snake drawn on his back, a dragon on his arm and flowers on his chest. Once he was sufficiently inked, he bounced out away from the table and tried to engage other boys in one-armed muay thai boxing spats. He laughed as he through jabs and giggled at whomever jabbed back. His energy was electrifying. Anyone who came within his little radius stepped lively and laughed with him. He was just a happy little boy. I realized that was what the camp was full of: happy little boys, not downtrodden disabled kids.
We have bore witness to the atrocities humans bring against other humans day after day during this trip. The boys at the landmine museum have a camaraderie that provides them with strength and a sense of family. Their vibrance seeped into me and all I want to do is go back to show them what an inspiration they are.
Erin Fredrichs

Meet the Johnson State Group

Listed below are the group partipants in the Johnson State College trip to Vietnam with the Break Away program.

Tess Gauthier
My name is Tess Gauthier, and I am 20 years old. This is my first year at Johnson State College. I've been involevd with service for the last couple of years. Last year, I worked for AmeriCorps National Civilian Community Corps (NCCC). I was on a team with 9 others, and we traveled through the country doing various service projects. I'm looking forward to Vietnam and being a part of the Vietnamese culture.
Celine Riendeau
My name is Celine Riendeau. I'm a 20 year old from Orleans, Vermont, and a sophomore at JSC. I participated on a Break Away trip to teh Creative Community for Non-Violence (CCNV) my freshman year, which led me to working for a year with NCCC (National Civilian Community Corps) last year. I currently work at Clarina Howard Nichols Center, a shelter for women and their children fleeing domestic and/or sexual abuse.
Trista Reigert
Well, my name is Trista Reigert and I've been a Vermont rooted flower child all my life. Born in the town of Essex, where I lived until I was seven, when I moved with my mother to the small country town of South Strafford in Southern Vermont. Strafford has such a small population that there were only 18 kids in my class when I graduated 8th grade. Since the town was far too remote to have a high school of it's own, I attended high school in Hanover, NH, where I participated in a variety of activities from ice hockey to Amnesty International. Currently, I am an undecided freshman at Johnson State College; one of those kids who listens to indi-rock and buys organic. My personal ambitions vary vastly from music to creative literature, but as for a career path, I feel inclined to puruse psychology and political science.
Angela Twerdok
I am a native of Pennslyvania and now in my fourth year studying at JSC. I am studying anthropology and sociology, as well as pursuing certification in Nonprofit Managment. I have contributed on the statewide and national level at conferences in various roles, furthering the concept of active citizenship. I also hope to enter the world of nonprofits and NGO's upon graduation. This is my second time to Vietnam and I am very interested and excited about furthering relations that were established with the Vietnamese, as well as Clear Path International from last summer.
Galen Dickstein
I have been a students at JSC for over two years now. I have been student teaching this semester and hope to graduate in December 2005 with my degree in Elementary Education. I have been highly involved in the SERVE Office since setting my food on campus, and I am really excited to have the chance to travel to Vietnam with a wonderful group from Vermont. I love to travel and see new places, as well as learn about cultures that are different from my own. I am thrilled to be part of this group and have the opportunity to learn more about landmine issues in Southeast Asia. I hope to take what I learn from my experience and be an ambassador for this issue, which affects so many lives. I think that one's voice can be their most important weapon if it is used in the right way.
Laura Meyerson
My name is Laura Meyerson. I am 23 years old and from Burlington, Vermont. I just graduated from JSC as a psychology major. I feel honored to be participating inthe Break Away trip to Vietnam, and for the opportunity to work with Clear Path International. Most especially, I look forward to meeting and learning from the people of Vietnam.
Chris Anderson
I am a sophomore at JSC. I am a guitarist, a singer, and also very interested in the healing aspects of music. I am an Alternative Medicine major, with a focus in preclinical: Naturopathy. I am entering the program at Johnson State for the Nonprofit Management Certification. I transferred to JSC from East Stroudsburg University of Pennslyvania in hopes of seeking new horizons in my life.
I was born on Nov. 29, 1984 in Stroudsburg, Pennslyvania, where I lived my first 19 years. In the last couple of years I have been becoming moer and more in tune with my surroundings and the people therein. Along with this deeper connection, I have come to feel more and more the pains of others. I have deep concern for the welfare of all of the world's citizens, especially those bombarded by the unforseen and uncontrolled. I got to Vietnam in hopes to better understand these problems and to aid those effected by them, and in hopes that my actions can lead others to the same path. Someone once told me that nothing changes if nothing changes. Simple, yet true. For this change, everyone needs to rise up, grab hands, and leade each other towards a brighter day.

Rice Farmer Injured In Vietnam

On April 27th, a 20 year old Rice Farmer in Dakrong district of Quang Tri province was injured by a piece of ordnance left over from the Vietnam War while he was scattering rice seeds. He was using a metal stick to poke holes on the ground in order to put the rice seeds in when the unknown ordnance detonated.

He fell unconscious and was taken to Hue General Hospital for first aid and treatment.

He lost one finger in the right hand and received one abdominal injuries. This accident was reported to CPI by Hue General Hospital in May. The patient remains in the hospital, recovering.

Bomb Accident Injures Two Men in Vietnam

Two farmers in their twenties were severely injured by a Vietnam War era bomb in Huong Thuy district of Thua Thien Hue province on May 11th 2005. The two were planting eucalyptus trees in a hilly area less than a mile from their homes when the unidentified device exploded. They were then taken to Hue General Hospital for first aid and treatment.

One man received multiple of fragment injuries and his right leg was broken while the other had serious chest wounds, extremity injuries and facial burns. At the time of this posting he is blind, however it is not yet determined if it is permanent.