10,000 Miles in 30 Hours

My patient is delivered to her family outside the Manila airport

Editha was transported in a "Jeepney" to her hometown

April 17, 2011

Al Watan newspaper runs a story: "Undocumented house helper suffers stroke, paralysis: qualifies under amnesty"  The lady is pictured with my friend, Yolly who is a welfare worker at the Filipino Shelter.  Yolly told me about this lady who has not been back to see her family in 22 years and was now seeking amnesty so she could be returned to the Philippines for care. One catch: she would need to travel with a nurse. The problem: Filipino nurses who should love to get a free ticket home cannot get the time off work..."can you help?"

May 19, 2011

After much deliberation, the Philippine embassy granted permission and funding for me to travel with Editha. I took a taxi to an area of town where many Filipinos live and was met by a young gentleman who rents a room from Editha (a partitioned off partial room!)  Mueller was fluent and gracious.  Since finding her paralyzed in her bed 2 months ago, he and another housemate have cared for her like a mother in spite of his 6 day/wk job as an airline mechanic.  He walked me through a mall, out the back, into an apartment building and up to the 5th floor.  The tiny flat had become her prison-home since she was abandoned by her employers of 10 years without giving her back her passport. Fearful of harassment and arrest by Kuwaiti police, she stayed indoors where she earned money to send to her family by babysitting infants.

I found her in good spirits and well cared for without any skin breakdown at all.  Her speech was slurry but understandable. She was incontinent and could not sit alone or bear any weight for an attempt to transfer her to a chair. One of her meds is meant to keep her blood pressure & heart rate low...52 was a bit concerning! I requested her doctor be informed.  They made me a snack of rice muffins & tea and insisted I sit in the phone booth sized kitchen for refreshment before leaving. Through the window I could see many more such apartment buildings in close proximity.

Before leaving, Mueller & I walked to the pharmacy and priced a wheelchair which she would surely need. I gave him money from the Trash to Treasure cash bag to purchase it in case the Catholic church did not deliver one, which they did!

Ready to go?  Not so fast.  By the time we were ready, the doctor's consent had expired and Kuwaiti Airlines insisted she had to be hauled back to the hospital for another form.  The doctor never looked at her or checked her pulse as I'd requested, just signed the dotted line. They booked the tickets, with mine returning in ONE WEEK!  Whoa, alone in the Phlippines for a week, I don't think so.  Sadly, my friend Yolly who had desperately wanted to host me was off the island at the time.  I was re-booked for a rapid return.

May 23

I met the crew from the embassy around 9pm at the airport where they had Editha slung across the bench seat in the van like a bag of rice. I supervised her transfer and was then introduced to a frail but ambulatory man with a bandaged neck and asked if I could please look after him on the flights as well! Antonio spoke little English but gave me a toothy smile when I talked to him.  He has kidney failure and had just come from dialysis to the airport.  The daughter-like ladies who'd cared for him pulled out a lunch bag full of meds and asked if I'd mind to administer them.

All but one of the paper pushers left after getting us signed in and I grabbed a coffee for the long night ahead.  Sitting upright after being flat for 2 months proved to be the hardest part for Editha; by 11pm when they were still waiting to board, she dissolved into tears due to back pain....this was after I'd already given her ibuprofen. Fellow travelers stepped in to help and ordered anyone with a pillow to give it up!  This produced a pillow that we positioned to ease her discomfort until I persuaded the gate keeper to let us board.

The narrow isle of the airplane required we swing her onto yet a skinnier wheelchair where she still drooped beyond the doorframe, risking her elbows and floppy feet. With the kindness of the attendants, we managed to get her positioned in her business class (but economy service) seat where she would wiggle and squirm for the next 12 hours. Between repositioning her, massages, assisting with food, and all the medicines Antonio needed, I snatched only moments of sleep throughout the night. In her wakefullness, she told me about her 5 kids and broken marriage.  She told me about the typhoon that claimed the life of one of her daughters and 3 grandchildren last year; she lost her own house as well. Her kids were from the age of 10-20 when she left to work in Kuwait and she'd not seen them for 22 years.  Her oldest farmer-son would be the one to care for her.  I tried to imagine her life but found it very difficult to picture.

Flight attendants on the journey to Bankok were extremely nice and interesting to talk to.  One Filipino man was interested in the situation with domestic workers and told me how many of them were actually PROTESTING the governments initiative to require Gulf countries to pay a minimum wage to their exported workers.  I found this shocking that many would take whatever they could get just for a chance at any job.  Many of the staff expressed gratitude for the help I gave their citizens.  They are a very warm and gracious people.

Editha finally was hungry enough by our third meal that she overcame her fear of vomiting and gobbled down her food.  In order to keep her diaper dry, she drank a minimum of fluids.  Two hours after breakfast and her beta blocker, I reluctantly took her pulse (her lips were looking pretty dusky) and found it to be 49! I imagined ways to stimulate some adrenaline if need be...

It was 4:30pm and sunny in Manila as we came in low over large swaths of shanty town homes reminiscent of South Africa.  Green and palm trees as well as high rise offices were also visible on my ever-so-brief "tour" of the city.

Arrival in Manila was a blur of activity as uniformed porters scooped up my patient and raced toward immigration while I lagged behind with Antonio.  Their embassy staff met us and were very efficient at coordinating our entrance documents with the authorities. They sent a nurse who helped me to clean and change Editha in the back of a curtained ambulance outside arrivals before we went in search of the family greeting parties who had parked away from the airport.  In a crowded lot where brown shirtless boys also kicked a ball around, we stopped beside what is known as a "Jeepney Bus."  This very colorful open sided contraption is a staple in public transport in the Philippines.  I read that they became common after the US occupation when industrious Filipinos converted ex-US army jeeps into buses.

Editha's now 40 year old scrawny son climbed into the ambulance, his face etched with anxiety.  There were no hugs or tears, they just looked at each other.  I saw no recognition in their eyes as the intervening years had not treated either one kindly, I suspect.  I asked if she recognized him and she said "of course" but it didn't show at all. Grandchildren she had never met crowded around with big curious eyes as she was carried on a backboard into the folding lawn chair type cot that sat between the benches.  It looked like there was a cooler of food for the journey home. I sent the sheet I'd brought along with her to help in transferring her a bit more gently. A large man arrived and wished to speak to me about his "sister" and his ID tag read "MEDIA." He alone thanked me for my services and began questioning me.  I managed to quickly divert him to the local embassy representative to avoid giving information I shouldn't. I once more petitioned through an interpreter for her family to find a doctor to manage her care and medicines. I pleaded for physical therapy to be continued if if was available in the province. I wondered if the wheelchair would even have a smooth enough surface on which to roll to be of any use, along with the belt I'd made to tie her in...

By 6pm it was pouring rain and I was back at the airport waiting to check in for the 11pm return flight home via Bangkok. A last ditch effort to keep me there a few days longer failed when I could not reach Yolly by phone to coordinate a change of plans.  Alone in Manila for even a night was not something I was eager to try.  While waiting for the flight filled with Filipinos working in Kuwait, I was able to speak with two women who had been home for a visit and were returning to "sales lady" jobs they loved. Happily employed in Kuwait? Hamdulillah! (Praise be to God)

Thailand Part II: Ko Samet Island



Papaya Salad Extraordinaire



Soap Carving

Tuesday

We left Bankok  by private van which took us 1.5 hrs to the town known as "Sin City" in the guide books!  Pattaya is known for both it's gentle bay and  the "walking street" where sin is on sale. What surprised me is that the seedy side was not apparent to a casual observer but the warm welcome, great street food, and beachy feel of the place attracts all kinds of tourists.  The predominance of people we met seemed to be Russian or from Eastern European countries.   They all assumed we could speak their language! Pattaya also has a huge retirement community: this is why we paused there before heading to the island.  Tanya's paternal Canadian grandmother lives there in an appartment near the beach.  They settled there to be near her family and remained long after Tanya's parents moved away.  She welcomed us like family and we dumped our bags, coffeed up, then took her along with us to explore some of Tanya's recommended destinations.

Floating markets are popular places to shop and enjoy the culture, where merchants carry their wares on their boats and cook their spicy Thai dishes while you watch. The Pattaya Floating Market was a delight to experience.  We walked on bridges and platforms where we shopped for everything from fancy flip-flops to exotic soap carvings and jewelry.  We sampled fried banana, sweet potato, watermelon slush, delicious meats on sticks...wow yums! Alongside the river was a vendor selling "play time" in a huge clear plastic bubble and in a hampster type treadmill, both bobbing on the water surface.  Ethan took to the bubble and the girls pushed off in the cylinder where they flipped and floated into each other amid howls of laughter: both theirs and ours.

The other market adventure was our stop at the "Fish Spa" which was high on our list ot things to do in Thailand.  We had our feet bathed before sitting on benches surrounding big tanks of small fish.  We plunged our feet in to the kneees and giggled like children as hundreds of dead-skin-eating fish locked their lips on our toes in a massive feeding frenzy! In a fantastic exfoliation extraordinaire, the fish nibbled all the way to our knees while amused passer-bys laughed with us. Check. One more thing Tanya had told us about, experienced together. 

In a clumsy combination of "baht buses" (shared open truck taxis), one over-loaded ferry boat, and taxis, we AND our over-sized suitcases eventually made it to the island of Ko-Samet.  The final 45 minute boat ride was nerve wracking for me as I'd surveyed the life jackets on board as I saw the boat filling up with holiday supplies, a washing machine, motorbike, one truck full of ice cream, fish, more people...Lets just say there were not enough vests to go around!  I was so thankful to arrive safely at the port where we were met only by mosquitos!  It was dusk and we had no hotel on the eve of the big national holiday: Songkran Festival.  On the internet, it appeared there was no avilability but we took a chance on finding a place when we hit the ground.  The first place was way overpriced and had space only for one night.  Thankfully we loaded back into a taxi truck and tried a second hotel that turned out to be just perfect.  For around $60/room/nite, we got side by side rooms that were spacious, clean, and right on the beach!  By 8pm we were leaning back on cushions on the sand just a few feet from the water, having dinner by lantern light. The fish and fresh salads were tantalizing.  This was incredibly relaxing and enjoyable.

Wednesday

After a scrumptuous breakfast of pinapple pancakes, we hired our chair and umbrella for the day.  Hours passed lazily without the interruption of calls to prayer as we swam, read, walked, dozed and ate such wonderful creations as papaya salad, made fresh in front of us by the traveling food vendor. This sweet/sour/cruchy concoction is served with a pat of sticky rice and grilled chicken.  I've GOT to learn to make this! On a stroll through the little village, we encountered our first water toting revelers who happily soaked us with buckets of cold water as we passed by!

Thursday

Robert was determined that we take the kids snokeling, and I'm glad he insisted.  It was not the Great Barrier Reef, but it was incredibly cool. We had to book a boat tour to get to the good spots.  There were no docks, so the boat just came right up to the beach where we waded out and clamored on...really funny to watch. We zipped to another island where shades of blues  and turquoise fell in layers like an English Triffle up to the pale brown sugar sand beach.  As I surrendered to the warm water and heard my heavy breathing through the snorkel above me, I remembered why I loved the sacred sanctuary of the deep blue waters where coral live.  We were greeted by striped, dotted, pointynosed silverfish and even a cousin of The Rainbow Fish. The long needled sea urchins reminded us that this was not a contact sport but Emily and Robert came too close and suffered their wrath.  Robert even brought a tip home that is firmly installed in his toe.  We swam very "flat" and tried to hug the surface when the coral they were lodged on rose close to our bellies.

Teeth clamped around the salty mouthpiece, mask sealed around my eyes and nose, the freedom to explore and wonder at the sea city beneath me was exhilarating. The kids would pop up and yell for us to come view some cool fish or colorful coral and we kept each other pretty close.  Not sure if they heard my snorkel broadcast: me singing "How Great Thou Art" like a ventriloquist through my clenched teeth---it just couldn't be squelched!

After a swim at our second stop we had a nice rice and barbeque lunch with the ever present fresh fruit.  At the last stop, Emily got too dizzy to stay in the water as the waves were higher and we'd had a lot of sun. Before returning, we toured a fish farm where we walked on narrow boards between the sharks, sea turtle, leopard fish and others destined for dinner.  We were glad Emily had sufficiently recoverd her balance not to fall in.

For dinner, we let Tanya lead us on a progressive dinner through the streets! After having egg on a stick, chicken on a stick, and some amazing purple banana cooked in leaves, we had our main course at a "noodle stand" where we were able to sit down and order.  We all went into fits of sneezing and coughing as the chilis cooking in this outdoor kitchen were so strong we Westerers couldn't take it!  Everyone laughed at us:) When we could breath again, Tanya ordered our noodle soups WITHOUT chilis. (There were plenty in the air) She also mercifully got it without "blood cubes" which she insisted gives it such great flavor! The combination of fresh veg, beef balls, spices and thin noodles with bean sprouts was sooo delish. Fish sauce, hot sauce, vinegar and sugar completed the delicate balance of flavor that makes Thai food such a symphony on the tongue.  Our dessert was a tiny green pumpkin that had been cooked with custard inside.

Apart for our concern for Molly who was having her second round of painful injections for her migraines, I hardly had a thought of what was happening in the "real world." We hoped Gadaffi might have fallen from power while we played, but no such luck.

Friday

Last day on the beach; we had to do our traditional family sand sculpture.  We decided on a sea turtle and he turned out to be quite handsome! After a lovely morning of sand and swimming we showered and drug our embarrassingly big bags down the street to the boats.  As our flight home was not until 3am, we planned to let the kids experience another evening in Pattaya where the Songkran celebrations were in full swing. After stowing bags at Grandma Donna's (she and most sensible people were holed up inside and refused to come out) we jumped on a baht bus on the beach road into town.  Within minutes we were completely soaked to the bone with ice water, dumped and squirted on us by gleeful revelers!  Open buses were targets and the congested traffic made sure we got more than a shower.  We squeezed together and tried uselessly to dodge the streams. This yearly celebration is in theory a time to pay respect to their elders in which they are recognized by a ceremony of pouring water over their hands, and families get together. The water theme continues as all the neighborhood Buddahs get a bath from the worshippers. And of course, it's a time for everyone to cool off in the streets during their hottest month of summer.  After we stopped to eat noodle soup again, I "cheated" and made myself a trash bag dress to shield against the icy storms.  I could duck my head into the neck, turtle style, when we passed the most aggressive water warriers.  They also make a powder paste and smear it on heads and faces.  We felt pretty safe from this as we were riding on a bus---not so! At a stop light, a half dozen arms reached in from both sides of the open bus and smeared the goo on all but Ethan and I who were crouched down in the middle between the legs...One determined guy jumped into the back with us so he could paint Ethan so I alone escaped unslimed. The powder dried and crusted in their hair and ears and they looked fully initiated to Songkran. 

After one more shopping stop at an open air market, we hired a bus to take us back.  Only then did we pass the street known for it's prostitutes and sex tourists. I'd warned Ethan to avert his eyes if we found ourselves in awkward situations but thankfully, it was all contained in designated areas. The only massage parlours we saw were for "theraputic" massage.  It is a sad reality that the sex industry thrives in Thailand due to the economics and laws that look the other way.  Thank God for groups like International Justice Mission who have offices in Bangkok for the purpose of freeng victims of trafficing and giving them a means to an alternative livlihood.

Another "Christian" group is taking a different approach.  In the back of one of the buses was a sign warning of the judgement of God and pronouncing May 21, 2011 as the day we could expect it!  I picked up a flier and saw it was from a church in California--wow, leave it to those Americans; grrrrrr!

We were at the ultra modern Bangkok airport with 4 hours to spare (Robert likes "fluff time!") We were relieved to discover that the sandstorm had cleared enough for the Kuwati airport to have re-opened.  This may be the last time we fly "home" to Kuwait.

Thailand Part I

With the prospects of an early move away from Kuwait looming large, we quickly changed our plans for spring break to maximize the use of round trip tickets included in our benefits here. A 7 hour direct flight to Bangkok was the perfect excuse to visit a country that is home (part time) to our "adopted daughter" Tanya. I've always wanted to visit Thailand and when Tanya's parents agreed to let her go with us and be our guide, we jumped at the chance. Molly was sad to miss the trip but we obliged her by Emily making a "flat Molly" to tote around with us and include in fantastic photo ops which let her enjoy the experience vicariously while at college. Expats unanimously enjoy Thailand and by our first day there, I began to understand why. It's hard not to compare it to Kuwait in terms of friendliness, cleanliness, and orderliness! While many areas were far from modern or wealthy, they were mostly clean and well organized. The people are beautiful and gracious. Each time we came and went from our hotel we were greeted with the traditional palms pressed together at the chest like in prayer, with a tiny bow. I desperately wanted to learn a few greetings in Thai and was so thankful that I could learn to say "hello" due to the similarity of it's sound to "So what the crap/ca" depending on your sex. Imagine saying this with a big smile everywhere we went! No one took offense! "sa-wat-dii dhrap/kha was met with warm smiles sung back to us with genuine hospitality.

Saturday morning after we arrived via plane, train & taxi, we checked into our beautiful Windsor Suites Hotel adjoining rooms on the 15th floor looking out over the Sukumvit road in Bangkok. We each had sitting rooms, bath and bedroom for $48 per room/night and an enormous breakfast buffet of Western and local food to include rice & pork porridge, stir fried veg and noodles, and the ever present fresh and exotic fruits to savor. Our first destination was the weekend Chatuchak Market by way of the public train system. I once more enjoyed the thrill of clutching a map and walking off into a new city, new language, new sights & smells to explore yet another culture. Sri Lanka barely counted for our Asia exposure so I was delighted for this opportunity. With newly acquired "baht" in our pockets we negotiated the transportation system with Tanya's help and found the market to be sprawled out around a park for more distance than we could cover in a day. We sampled the street vendor's food as we went: first was some grilled pork balls with glass noodles and rice...delicious! Ethan had not changed out of his jeans and was soon hoppin' hot with sweat so we bought him some long baggy dragon shorts and flip flops which suited him well. The girls were enchanted by strings of colored ball lights that wound up inside a basket like a lamp so we toted these two fragile bags all throughout the rest of our trip. I shopped for interesting jewelry for Molly, but mostly we just enjoyed the browse. Tanya's food recommendations often seemed exotic but she never failed to suggest very tasty treats that we would have never tried without her. The one exception would be the fried scorpions, water bugs and other critters she offered us down in Pattaya!

We drew the line there! The corn and rice ice cream at the market was a hit with the kids and I drank in the watermelon to quench my thirst.

We are a bit embarrassed to admit that we had German food our first night in Thailand but the restaurant was right in front of our hotel and we knew we'd indulge in Thai food the rest of the week. This one exception was indeed a trip down memory lane as we enjoyed all our favorite German dishes, even warm pretzel rolls and butter! Seeing the Thai girls dressed in dirndls was a funny sight, but we loved every minute of the evening. Even played our traditional Dutch Blitz while we waited for it to come.

We were conveniently located only a few blocks down the road from the Evangelical Church of Bangkok, and what a joy to attend church on SUNDAY for a change! This large international church welcomed us and the pastor even knew our pastor in Kuwait. It was a vibrant congregation and the sermon was a fresh and fantastic take on Jesus raising Lazarus from the dead. It was soul food for which I was so grateful. Even the way the baby dedication and send off for seniors was comforting in it's familiarity. Through communion I encountered God today.

I'd planned a bike tour for the afternoon and was delighted that the threat of rain kept everyone but us away. Our guide seemed to be as entertained by our family as we were by her on this 3-4 hour private tour.  Onge took us in and out of busy streets to neighborhoods like shanty towns where hardworking Thai live. In conditions of what looked like extreme poverty we were still met by smiles and welcomed to take pictures of them and their houses. Our narrow path practically led right through their homes but these people never put a hand out and the children never begged. They only offered their products or fresh food cooked up between their door and the motorbikes but were never pushy or in our face. They had so much dignity though surrounded by tumbledown wooden/metal shacks build on foundations of rubbish. In every section there would be a Buddha statue and a spirit house be-decked with fresh flowers and offerings of fruit. Further on we entered a tropical forested area that was blooming with exotic flowers and fruit. 

Our path was an elevated meter wide trail on stilts with not sides to separate us from the green algae water below. This was rather threatening for Tanya who had not been on a bike in many years, but it was ETHAN who looked back on a turn and flipped his bike just as we got to the end! He managed to jump off, back onto the path as his bike landed upside down in the brush. Impressive! This lovely area was reached by taking a ferry across the Nam Chao River away from the buzz of the city. This jungle like terrain was divided into squares of land with canals for catching rainwater running between them. Our guide stopped for drinks and snacks and was prepared with mosquito spray, sunscreen, or first aid kit when Ethan got a little scrape. She was awesome but I can't believe we biked thru Bangkok with our kids and NO helmets! People actually looked out after us and smiled as we trailed like ducklings behind Onge. We were an oddity because locals mainly only travel by motorbike: up to 4-5 plus their shopping all piled happily on one bike! Both young and old raisin faces that hid smiling eyes wove in out of our caravan on their motorbikes, often with dinner swinging in a plastic bag like goldfish in water from Kmart.

After this 12km ride we were thrilled to take advantage of the cheap massage shop down the street from our hotel after a dinner of pineapple fried rice, mango with sticky rice and other yummy things I can't name. The ladies invited us all in and gave us a special one hour deal: feet, head, neck and arms for 60 mins finished off by tea=$6 each! We lined up on cots looking like we were all in a hospital recovery room (but visible from the street) and started by getting our street feet washed and dried. The ladies spoke no English but were very professional to my surprise. They used trigger point massage, wonderful oils, pressure sticks and we were all in heaven.

Monday was our day to see the Grand Palace where the all things Royal and Sacred are celebrated. We had a couple of scammy taxi rides and this was one who seemed to want to go the long way, but Robert insisted on the route he knew. I guess to get revenge, the driver dropped us off at yet another scam point: the gate that is not really an entrance.  At this spot, locals dressed to look "official" tell tourists the Palace is closed for a royal ceremony, then suggest they visit another nearby site until it re-opens. Conveniently located at the curb are tuc-tuc drivers ready to transport the unsuspecting tourist to the new location for a fee!  Fortunately, we'd been forewarned.  Next, we walked to the proper entrance and were singled out as inappropriately dressed because Ethan had on knee length shorts.  I thought this was also a scam to get us to buy clothes, but it was not.  We were just being harassed by the temple police who further on also insisted my capri pants were too short to enter, after having been admitted at the first gate.  For a deposit, they loaned Ethan some long pants to wear which were later peeled off away from the modesty police.  It was a joke because some people were being admitted with much less clothes than others.  Funny, it was worse than Kuwait at the temple!

The Temple of the Emerald Buddha is within this magnificent complex that was too large to cover on foot, especially since it started raining. The architecture and decor throughout were so detailed, colorful, and, well...so "Asian" it was a visual feast. The gardens were meticulously carved works of art and the buildings with their pointy layered roofs were beautiful. After stowing our shoes, we joined the tourists and worshippers in the temple where the relatively small green Buddha sat clothed in his summer robe (dressed by the King) high up on a pedestal. Devotees of Buddha knelt on the floor and bowed in prayer. Tanya modeled the proper way to sit with legs to one side and feet pointing away from Buddha. She was very reverent and prayerful as we enjoyed pausing in front of a fan. I had such a longing that all who were praying there could just know Jesus so I paced and prayed for his revelation to them, whispering his name as I went. while, we had a quite conversation with Tanya, wondering aloud if Siddhartha 
Gautama (known as Buddha after his enlightenment) ever thought that his teachings would produce a following of people who would pray to him and give such honor. I suspect he wanted people to be devoted to his teachings but not decorate statues of him with oil and flowers and 
prostrate themselves in prayer to him! We had to laugh at the parallels at the Church of the Holy Sepulchre in Jerusalem where Christian pilgrims did similar things at the site where Jesus may have been laid. While people kissed the stone and rubbed souvenirs over it, lit candles and other forms of ritual, we had the same feeling: this looks like a case in missing the point! It was very humbling to think how we too must frustrate God by our attempts at worship. Oh, that we could understand the meaning of a living sacrifice. "Smells and bells" are fine and have a place, but I suspect God longs for more relationship and less ritual. Tanya told me she thinks people mostly come to temple now to ask for a blessing or for help with a specific problem. Probably the same reason most Christians pray. Across all cultures there really does seem to be a common need to worship, even among the Buddhists who insist they do not follow a religion, just a way of life.

The UnJustice System

March 25, 2011

Behind The Gate

Women who love their families too much

in desperation, do desperate things

They say goodbye, believe the LIE

of jobs that pay them more than ever earned

But some instead are spurned

Vulnerable

Victims of the whim of their employer

Voiceless when unpaid,locked up,

accused of crimes not done

although NO evidence exists

They take the blow of fists

and don't resist

in hopes their kids can still be fed

When hope is dead, they flee

where safety is a roof and rice

It's nice to be among familiar faces but

there are no social graces

when the shower is shared by 5

and 300 vie for space to lay their head

The days stack up like cards

but rare an ace

Most wait for justice who

hardly ever shows her face.

I wrote this poem as a compilation of experiences from some of the maids I know. One explained how they all kept clean at the shelter with only 2 showers and 250+ ladies. Another brave young woman wrote out her story in beautiful English so I could share her journey through her employment, false accusation of theft (her madame's dog ran away and she got blamed) a horrific 4 months time in jail, court dates, release & being sold to another employer, and her escape in the middle of the night. She was helped by a bread delivery truck driver who dropped her at the makeshift shelter at the Philippine labor office where I go. Some don't fare so well on their run for freedom. Others are "lucky." My taxi driver told me just this week of picking up a frightened young woman with a small bag of clothes at 5am as she was attempting to flee an abusive employer. She laid down in the back seat and begged him to drive away fast. He got her food, gave her cash and took her to safety.

We are currently in a period of amnesty, granted by the Amir on the occasion of Kuwait's 50/20 Celebrations. Until June 30, domestic workers who are here illegally can leave the country without penalty. This seems to be benefiting many people; the exception is those with a legal case against them, such as my friend. Her baby was 18 months when she left, she is now 3 and her mommy is at the whim of evil & greed as to when she might be released to come home.

At the Proud To Be Kuwaiti expo, I was invited to show/sell the Trash To Treasure rugs in the area that highlights environmental programs. I used the platform to not only discuss the recycling we do (more accurately "upcycling" or "re-use") but to spread awareness of the plight of many domestic workers in this country. I was encouraged by the amount of interest & support I got from the local population. The fully covered Bidoons only wanted to barter and get a cheaper price (charity meant nothing) but others were delighted to purchase, knowing who they were helping. Many couldn't believe they were really "hand made" in Kuwait and loved the quality. One Kuwaiti man baited me: "how many of those women do you think were really abused and how many just didn't want to work?" I told him that honestly, I was sure there were some of both. He told me "they all lie" and steal, and can't be trusted. I didn't ask him why such people are trusted to raise their babies? I did assure him broken bones don't lie. Do they not see the lies in paying people half of what they are promised when they agree to come here? He felt certain it was only among uneducated area where maids were being mistreated. I valued the opportunity to have a discussion like this. I hope the seeds planted will yield a harvest of justice in the months & years to come.

"Housemaid Found Dead"

small print. Buried in with the "road victims" and "missing daughter" (she ran away to escape parental abuse.) No names..."A Kuwaiti man is being held for questioning after he admitted to beating his Asian housemaid to death." (Kuwait Times, Mar 3, 2011) First, he told police he found her unconscious outside the house. When confronted with the forensic evidence of the maids beating, her employer of two weeks "admitted to beating the maid after she failed to perform as he expected her to."

I wonder what his expectations were?
Work 20 hour days without rest?
Keep his undisciplined, self-centered children under control without any authority?
Provide services not in the contract?
Work for half the amount she agreed to on the contract she signed before coming here?

In the same paper, photos of Asian women & other expatriots were shown in a "caught red handed" pose; rounded up on a raid, guilty of prostitution (not likely what they thought they were being hired for)or doing drugs. Funny, isn't it that the Kuwaiti who murdered his maid is just "being held for questioning" and remains unnamed when these such mugshots are splattered through out the papers.

My spirit is boiling, heat rising, a crescendo of anger at the injustice I see. The fury spills down my cheeks unchecked. Perhaps these tears belong to God himself. On my own, I couldn't care this much. I'd probably rather just read the fashion pages & look the other way.

I'm thankful I could sell Trash To Treasure items today to pet lovers at the PAWS Dog Show. It was a lovely event for families. I'm glad this charity cares for animals who've been neglected or abused in this country; God knows there are plenty. However, hearing people tell of animals they'd rescued who were sad, dirty, hungry & injured left me grieved that so few seem to care about the plight of humans who suffer so much more while their families back home await the grocery money and tuition fees that never come. Meanwhile, mommy waits in jail, or in a shelter, forgotten by greedy employers hoping to get re-paid for the cost of their absconded maid. That is if they survived their job in the first place. Not all do.

Sri Lanka Trip

January 1, 2011

Just back from Sri Lanka & I hope it was not a wasted journey. I went seeking a taste of India & Asia and some good family time together. I also longed for a fresh perspective and a rest from life in Kuwait. My mind is never far from my mission here and I had to get away to free up some mental space. I also longed to celebrate Christmas in a special way...on that account, we failed.

Soon after arrival I realized God had not given me the compassion and generosity of spirit for these people as he has in Q8. The press of people, the smells, the honking horns & furtive eyes that accompanied the outstretched hands provoked the same reaction in me as as the touch-me-not weed our guide pointed out in the ancient city of Polonnaruwa. I did not like this about myself: I wanted to fold in on myself and hide. Young men would grab our bags to heft into the van then expect a tip. Throughout the week I felt like a walking ATM required to crank out rupees for anything from snapping a photo to using a smelly hole in the ground marked "toilet." I hated being seen as the rich American and having people see us as only a potential source of cash. Everyone wanted to sell us something and many just wanted a gift; rupees, Ethan's water bottle, candy, markers, a pen??? This fear of getting taken advantage of spilled over into each relationship. I swung from gratitude for our host and travel agent (are we paying him enough?) to "Oh my gosh, we were so gullible to pay him this much without knowing what kind of rooms he will book for us...this is extortion!" My Western propensity for comfort, cleanliness, and convenience was stalking me at every stop as well.

I've digressed. We left Q8 on Sri Lanka Air via Dubai. The beautiful carmel skinned flight attendant welcomed us with hands together as in prayer. They wore exquisite saris with peacock feather designs. Our seats were the most spacious and comfortable we've ever had. The Indian food was good and the wine was complimentary. This was the last of "comfort, clean and convenience" we would see for a week! We arrived around 5am and had to adjust our watches by two and ONE HALF hours! This was our first experience with "offset time zones" and it was very strange. After an eternity of waiting, Steven (he must have Westernized his name for us!) met us with a nice van and we spilled onto the curb with the masses. Traffic inched along at a snail's pace as he drove with his horn on the "wrong side of the road," weaving between buses, 3 wheel "tuk tuks," motor bikes, and the occasional cow herd. We were told SL is "India lite" and I was grateful we were not arriving in Delhi as we had earlier discussed.

From the airport, we drove to Kandy; the city in the mountainous heart of the island. This journey was allegedly 2.5 hours but with the drenching rain and stops, it took most of the day. Before the rain started we enjoyed stunning green vistas with every imaginable fruit, veg, and flower growing along side tumbledown shacks, where men in skirts (sarongs) and western shirts lounged under coconut palms enjoying the Christmas holiday. While passing a pineapple garden our host taught us the source of this luscious fruit. Roadside stands lined our journey as did the soaring Buddha statues. The "highway" to Kandy was never more than a winding road thru village after village. The road was edged with women in vibrant saris, barefoot children, vendors and even a few elephants. We saw a lot of the county as we proceeded up to the hills, then back down the the beaches in the south. The north part of the island is still to be avoided as the war there has only recently ended.

Out first adventure was a stop at an elephant reserve. For $30 each (gasp) we got to ride around the village barebacked on these gentle giants. Feeling the powerful movement of their muscles under my legs as she ambled along terraced rice paddys in the dripping rain was wet but wonderful. The kids rode together and our guide chased along with th camera under an umbrella as the rain picked up. We were fairly soaked so the kids bit on the offer to ride their guy into the river for a bath. They were the ones who got showered as he scooped and dumped water on them "smiling" all the while! We had to ask if we could have some warm tea and everyone seemed to find us a bit odd (imagine that!) This was the first time I felt the lack of hospitality I'd expected.

Our bed & breakfast in Kandy was charming for about 20 minutes. Pink mosquito nets hung over each bed and from out balcony there was a stunning view of the village below and the surrounding hills. The soggy weather brought out armies of mosquitoes that no amount of DEET could keep away from Molly. Their appetite for her fairly guaranteed our safety when we were traveling together. Our rooms were reasonably clean but the nets around us stunk as did the towels that refused to dry. When we discovered Ethan's jeans would take 2 days to get cleaned & dried we realized that no one owned driers; the sun was supposed to do that service. When we asked for new towels, you would think we'd just asked for wireless internet...seems the "standard" here is every other day. I couldn't help but think of the waste in Q8 as we were "indulged" with clean towels. So much of this trip reminded me of my time in St. Lucia...the way bed sheets in the hospital were recycled by turning them over instead of changing them every day. We often wondered how clean our sheets where but we had to be brave and assume the best.

In spite of the heat, we were severely admonished to lock our doors & windows at night. The local monkeys are known to be aggressive and very naughty to unsuspecting tourists, so we obliged. Soon, we encountered the troublemakers but were taken in by their cuteness as the many photos we took confirm.

Day 2 was spent exploring Kandy. The rain paused while we strolled through the botanical gardens and enjoyed the exotic trees and flowers there. Besides monkeys, the enormous bats that swooped then hung upside down in trees above us were fascinating. Bamboo and spice trees like cinnamon, nutmeg and cloves spread canopies for couples walking hand in hand. Even this was charming after months in Q8. Eager to explore on our own, we asked Steven to take us away from touristy areas into the local market area. We were soon smothered by people and felt like fresh meat in a bread line. Everyone wanted to show us something and help us locate what we wanted. Browsing unnoticed was impossible and we quickly looked for an escape route. Retreating to a local restaurant (it's all we could find, not a single recognizable franchise was around) we tried to be optimistic about the standards of the food we were ordering. Based on the amount of time Emily & Ethan spent on the pot that night, I fear we should have stuck with the bread from the bake shop. While people around us were quickly served, we waited 45 minutes for our food. This was to be repeated on other occasions and we never understood why.

At an evening cultural dance show we ran into a group of teachers from Emily & Ethan's school. This seems to be a favorite destination for them. The dancers were impressive in their masks and costumes. Their gymnastics abilities set to the thrumming beat of the drums was quite a spectacle. An old man peddled Cokes in bottles with straws for 70 rupees (less than .70 cents.) When our driver stopped at a local market we got 5 water bottles for $1.25; we soon realized there were two prices for everything, a locals price and a tourist price.

On Christmas Eve we drove north 3 hours to Dambula, on to the ancient city of Polonnaruwa, and back to the Blinkbonnie Hotel. In addition to all the sights along the way, this was our time to explore Buddhist temples and gain some insight to it's influence on the culture, "not a religion but a way of life." While Christians, Muslims, Hindi and Buddhists live together in relative harmony, there were clearly many more Buddhist shrines than churches, mosques, & Hindi temples. Only once did we hear the call to prayer and see signs like "Muslim Hotel." Imposing Buddhas towered above simple villages as they sat in a pose of meditation or stood up with the trees in a stance of teaching. These statutes dwarfed everything around them by their size. At the Dambula Caves the Buddha Museum looked like an amusement park with life size figures of the orange toga clad monks lined up to pay homage. After the slippery ascent to the caves that housed the ancient Buddhas carved into the rock, we were rewarded with a bright old gentleman guide who spoke fluent English. He was happy to answer our questions on this mysterious way of life; perhaps it was the hope of a good tip but he earned it! As a devotee knelt with her face to the floor beside us, we asked "if this is not a religion, why do the followers pray to Buddha?" He dismissively said that was how less inteligent folks responded who are not able to connect through meditation, but this was a lower form of practicing Buddhism. He explained that there is a holiday every full moon when the devotees bring offerings of food and flowers to the temples. Not to be partial, they also take off for Christian holidays and many areas were adorned with scrawny Christmas trees and creepy masked Santas (we figured this was because Santa couldn't have a dark face!) To enter the sacred caves or temple we had to take off our shoes. Seeing the feet around me made me queesy to walk barefoot in these public places. We were not allowed to have a photo made in front of Buddha because our backs would then be to the statue. (There went another possible Christmas card shot!) This felt very weird to me when it all felt so contrived anyway. Psalm 135:13-18 in the Message put this in perspective:

"The gods of godless nations are mere trinkets,

made for quick sale in the markets:

chiseled mouths that can't talk,

painted eyes that can't see,

carved ears that can't hear--

Dead wood! Cold metal!

Those who make and trust them

become like them."

Indeed, everywhere we turned there were people peddling carvings of Buddha.

Polonnaruwa was a highlight for Robert & Emily but I struggle to remember any of the history we learned. It was the capitol city from where kings ruled the country 1000 years ago and the ruins were still in remarkedly good condition. The scenes of island life and the good food along the way were just as interesting to me. Emily was very intent on seeing a monitor, a Sri Lankan lizard of crocodile proportions.. Ever the accomodating guide, Steven pulled off the road when he saw some of them on the bank. A local boy was feeding the creepy creatures fish to show off their snapping mouthful of teeth. As their bellies were full, Ethan & Emily accepted the invitation to join him behind the monitors for a photo. As Molly was snapping the pics, 2 more crawled out of the water behind them so that they were surrounded by the meter long guys...priceless expressions on Emily's face as she tiptoed out of the dragons den!

Our best meal was at a rest house along the way where locals (including our driver) ate the hot stuff in the back and the tourists had milder versions at a buffet up front. This also meant we couldn't see them mixing & eating their food with their fingers which made us squeemish at times. Forks were always available to us but rarely used by the locals. The array of unnamed vegetables & delicious sauces were a treat. It included the usual fish, chicken & beef currys, rice, dahl (lentils) and the yummy fried pompodoms. We were laughing at some French tourists who'd ordered cheese sandwiches...then again, maybe they were not doubled over with diarhhea in their hotels?

I would have loved to attend a Christmas eve service but after driving us for 12 hours that day it seemed too much to ask of Steven to take us out again at midnight in the rain.Another steamy, somewhat sleepless night spent wishing I was at home and praying.... Before going to bed, Ethan pretended to be disappointed that there would be no Christmas tricks, then went off to bed leaving some of his things, including his shoes in our room. Next morning, he looked excited to see some wrapped "gifts" outside his door. He called Emily & asked permission to unwrap them...we all howled with laughter when he discovered mom had brought wrapping paper along and wrapped up his dirty boots and deoderant! Score! He had his trick after all. Emily thought it was a trick when her hot water shut off just after she got soaped up in the shower but I couldn't take the credit for that.

Leaving Kandy we were driven by Basil, a Catholic man of quiet dependability. A rosery swung from his mirror, a symbol of where his loyalties lay. He safely drove us over horrible construction clogged roads down steep mountain slopes with never an incident. After the constant crashes in Kuwait it was shocking to see NOT ONE accident all week. Our long day of travel was broken up by a stop at a tea plantation. The Brits are credited with bring tea to "Ceylon" when their coffee crop failed. It is now a major export. Our tea tour was most enlightening. All tea, from green to black and even "silver tips" come from the same plant; the difference is all in the processing. The fermentation is what distinguishes caffeine from non-caffenated tea which I never knew. The factory was fragrant with tea and clean but horribly hot in spots. The backbreaking work was carried out mostly by women. The heavy grinders and blowers looked antiquated. WE wondered what pitiful wages these women recieved for ther labors. The tea we sampled was nothing short of incredible.

By afternoon we were in Nuella Ella known as "little England." The influence of Colonial times was very evident here when a golf course, race track and a plantation style Western hotel spread across the hilltop. Gingerbread trim edged faded white homes whose grandeur was now slipping away. For a taste of "home," we decided to have fish and chips for one Christmas lunch at the hotel coffee shop. Stepping inside we breathed a sigh of relief: a glittering tree, nativity and Christmas music greeted us. It was not the ticky tacky decor that we'd seen other places but rich symbols of home. The veneer turned out to be deceptive: the service and the food felt a long way from London buit it was fun to pretend!

No place seemed far from the reach of poverty in spite of the lush production of food, tea, and even rubber. The roads passed inches from open doors and the sparce homes were only a notch above the squatter camps of South Africa if that. The plight of the working poor was impressed on us when we arrived at our overnight destination in Ella. We'd read about the herbal spa treatments here and decided to give the kids a memorable massage for Christmas. By this time all three of them were sick with some variation of respiratory & GI bugs. I'd bought over the counter amoxicillin for Ethan, anti itch meds and tummy meds for the girls and decongestant for all. The scene at the local pharmacy where no one had any medical training was rather comic as bystanders advised us on what we should be taking! Fortunately, the herbal spa treatment was good medicine for Emily & Ethan, clearing their chest and helping them get a great night of sleep...Molly was troubled by the smells & spells cast by the green massage oils rubbed into her scalp & body. Emily was sure they'd be cooked in the "Hanzel & Gretel" oven where only their heads poked out of a casket like chamber with a cooker underneath but they found it pleasant. The 3 towel draped teens inside the sauna with spices all over the floor and Christmas lights strung around the door was a sight to see!

Emily managed a conversation with her therapist though her English was sparse. She learned the lady was leaving Sri Lanka in 6 months to come work in Kuwait. Her desire was to send her kids to school and pay for their education. Dam's broke behind my eyes when I heard this and I wanted to plead with her NOT to come. "What to do?" as they say with bobbing heads. These ladies were so sweet with the kids and so good at what they did...yet it was not enough. We tipped them all heartily and gave the Q8 bound lady our contact info in case things don't go well for her. Later, at our hotel, the manager spoke good English; he told us he spent 10 years in Q8 and saw how maids were treated. We got him to call the lady and try to dissuade her but she was determined to come.

Our B & B in Ella had to be quickly re-booked when Basil discovered a scheduling error. Our place was very basic (a notch above camping) with a bed, net, & a crappy bathroom. In the breakfast room we met a couple of travelers; she was American, he a British doctor, both between jobs and traveling across Asia. They joined us for a game of Apples to Apples and we swapped stories for awhile. I love connecting with people like this along the way.

We arrived at the beach near Tangala on the south coast of S.L. on Boxing Day, Dec. 26: Exactly 6 years after the tsunami that claimed 90 lives in the village where we stayed. It was eerie to listen to the sea outside our cottage which was resting on stilts a meter off the ground. It was touching to hear some of the stories of the survivors; one lady invited us to her house as they were having a big meal for family who gathered to remember the loss of her 2 year old grandson to the water. Our waiter shuddered at the memory when we asked if he'd been there. Many places along the coast looked like they never bothered to rebuild. It was apparent how vulnerable the population was there and sadly, probably still are.

To our delight the skies were blue and rain was scant for the 3 days at the beach. We built a super sand castle one day and an awesome Buddha modeled after Robert on the next. People came to view our creations and we enjoyed the interaction with the few other tourists and locals who seemed amused by us! We swam in the warm water and Robert, Emily & Ethan body surfed in on the waves. Once we were "attacked" by a school of mini fish: 1 inch long clear and thin fish that we were peeling off the skin under our swimsuits when we went to shower! It felt like being in a sand storm except we were under water when they hit. This creeped Molly out and she would not get in the water after that.

We all enjoyed time to read, rest & observe life on the beach of a small fishing village. Watching the teamwork of neighbor men hauling in the nets full of fish or pushing a fishing boat off the beach into the water was serene. Their reward appeared to be a fresh fish from the day's catch for their dinner. One night we walked up the beach where we'd put in our order for dinner at an Italian cafe. With only the moon & starts to guide us, we picked our way along holding onto the person in front of us hoping if anyone stepped in cowpies it would be Robert and we would be warned in time! The beach was pretty clean except for these delicacies that dotted the sand. After an hours wait our pasta was delivered and it was exceptionally good (or we were starved by then!)

Our last night we stayed near the airport in Nugumbo. This was a more tourist oriented place with shopping and restaurants all in walking distance. The girls & I took a Tuk-Tuk to the main street where they found the saris they'd been looking for. Blond girls in saris is funny but sweet. I found some tops made there for Marks & Spencer in England. Our rooms were spacious and nice after we did battle against the mosquitoes waiting to suck our blood. We even had TV for the first time. One final breakfast of toast & eggs and we were happily on our way to the airport.

It was a long flight with time to chat with the lovely flight attendant who shared her perspective on the ladies from SL who come to the Gulf countries to work as maids. She assured me they do know the dangers they face but the economics at home demand the risk and sacrifice. I was so grieved as she told me they (Sri Lankan Airlines) carried back the bodies of THREE maids from Q8 over the past ONE month. What can I say? Such a gorgeous place it could be the Garden of Eden, poisoned by corruption, greed and politics.

God, don't let me shrink from the suffering I see, inspire my kids to make a difference on a scale I never even dreamed possible. Let justice roll on like a river, and don't let experiences like this leave us unchanged.