Week in Chiang Mai: Part 2-F Monday

August 10, 2009

Monday morning, I had breakfast at my guesthouse as usual and then my friend Fon, from church, picked me up to give me a ride out to Viengping Children's Home for my last day of volunteering in Thailand. She gave me a helmet to wear and we headed out on her bike. It seemed that about 60-70% of the vehicles on the road were motorbikes. I wasn't sure if we would be able to talk to each other on the way, but we could, a little, especially at stoplights. I kind of felt sorry for the cars at stoplights, because all the two-wheeled vehicles work their way up to the front of the line and wait in a large mass in front of the cars for the light to change! It's such an unusual form of transportation for me, yet this time I was really comfortable in spite of the fact that it was a much longer ride and we were on bigger roads. Perhaps it was partly because we were actually wearing helmets, or because she was more of a friend, and a Christian sister, than a stranger. It was nice to have company on the ride out there. I just wish I could have done more for her. I was sad to say goodbye, but I am keeping her in my prayers.

Although I was a bit early, I was able to go to work right away. The time flew by so quickly. In the morning, all the babies were in the room with the cribs because the play room was being cleaned out. Almost all we did was feed and change. There seemed to be a few more volunteers there that day than before, so I had a little more time to spend time holding the youngest babies as I fed them, speaking loving words to them. Of course, they don't know English, but they don't necessarily know Thai, either. I think the youngest baby I held was about 5 weeks old.

I went with three of the other volunteers for a lunch break, and the food was really cheap, so I got two different dishes. By the end I was really full, but I was using up a lot of energy, from the combination of heat, the distance we had to walk to get there, and the work at the orphanage.

Towards the end of the day we were helping to bathe them, dress them again, and put them in their cribs. It was nearly time to go, and the little girl I was holding was so content in my arms, so trusting. When I put her down to leave, she wailed miserably, and then I started to break down. I walked to the bus stop, literally sobbing, with the older Englishwoman, and she was a bit of a comfort and encouragement. She said that many of the children will grow up there, but they look out for each other. We were waiting at the bus stop for so long before a bus came, that the other two gals we had gone to lunch with also came out and we all got on the bus together. It was pretty crowded, but we could still chat, and by then I wasn't crying anymore. I exchanged emails with the Englishwoman and the Japanese lady, and I got off the bus where the Japanese lady did because the street looked familiar. We said goodbye and went our separate ways.

The place I got off the bus was actually quite a ways from my guesthouse, but it was okay because I really needed a walk, and time to process. The sky was beautiful and pink with the setting sun, yet impressed in my visual memory was the beauty of the children's eyes gazing at me. I picked up my photos, but of course those were only of the elephant ride. So I only have them in my memory and my mind's eye. I could still smell them on my clothing all that evening. Now and then I would weep again for them. I loved this, and prefer it over any other activity on vacation, because it's real. Why is it that everything about modern life and society seems to be designed around falsifying reality and numbing pain? Even though I was sad, even though I didn't want to leave those children, I wouldn't trade those two days for anything in the world.