The Holy Day Redefined

Other than the day I married Frieda, I cant think of a better day than last Sunday. We had left the Prevention programs we visited in Cambodia and returned to Thailand, this time traveling to northern Thailand. We went to visit a Love 146 partner safe home that specializes in Aftercare. A place of safe shelter and healing for about 30 girls ranging in age from 5 (thats right 5) to 19 or 20. Girls liberated from trafficking are referred to this place and stay here for as long as it takes to heal (as much as is possible) from the trauma of what they have experienced. Ideally the girls will be reunited with their families and or leave as adults to start some semblance of a normal life.

Its is a quiet rural setting. There are four separate homes all lovely, on the property built for this purpose. Girls for each home are divided by age group. The property is walled and gated. Guards are posted at the gates every night. This place feels serene and quiet and safe, a far far cry from the Vietnamese slums of Phnom Penh and the bustling red light district of Bangkok. Indeed several of the girls here came from illegal brothels in Bangkok.

The european woman who founded this place 15 years ago and is the Director today is in her sixties (guessing) a soft spoken and peaceful women. Her staff are all local people. Again the westerners I have met here are all absolutely committed to raising local leaders to ultimately replace them. The west can provide leaders and money and support and address demand in their own countries, but the cultural shift that will have to accompany these things to make real change happen can only come from within each country and culture. This should make sense to those of us engaged with the missional church.

I ask her how many girls she has served and she says she does not know and never bothered to count. I ask her what percentage of the girls who come through this program will fall back into dangerous situations after they leave. She tells me she cannot think of one who has (they keep track of the girls after they leave). She also tells us that in 15 years of working with all these girls, she has never had to raise her voice … not ever. This would seem amazing if not for the incredible presence of this woman. I am really impressed by the discernment Love 146 seems to show in selecting its partners.

The plan is to take the girls to lunch (all of them) and then go hiking to a local waterfall for a swim. The girls are shy and we all ride separately to the resort for a huge buffet lunch, our team in our air conditioned van and the girls in a convoy of pick up trucks with benches along the sides of the bed, a tent like top with open sides. Arriving at the resort we are introduced to the girls. We each tell them our name and in chorus the girls repeat our names as we go around. We go inside for a buffet lunch. Our team is inclined to mix up the seating and sit with the girls but are told they are shy and not ready for that. So we sit together at several tables with the safe home staff. The staff encourage the girls to come say “hi” to us and slowly they start to approach us at our table starting with the youngest. They are very shy and this is hard for them and it is hard for us too. Beyond the language barrier there is the constant knowledge that these girls were abused by men who look just like me. The sense of their discomfort is palpable. Kathy suggests wisely that I show them a picture of Frieda. I take out my iphone and introduce the girls to Frieda … the have very little english but each girl I show the picture to says “beautiful” and smiles. I hand around the iphone and am grateful to have it as an ice breaker.

After lunch we load up to drive for the forty minute drive to the hike and waterfall. As we head for the van the Safe Home director starts to mix us up. She looks at me and asks if I want to ride in one of the trucks and the answer is “no!” … forty minutes in a pickup truck with young girls … no shared language and me resembling their abusers … it seems like a recipe for extreme discomfort. But she is blocking my path into the comfort of air conditioning and english speaking people who like me and I head reluctantly for one of the pickups hoping to find a staffer to ride along with me. There is no staffer to ride in the back with me and so standing at the tailgate I ask permission to climb in … and they all shake their heads in the negative. I smile and say please and what seems to be an eternity goes by and finally a couple girls have mercy and they skootch over and make a space for me. We stare at each other silently as the convoy rolls away. These girls appear to me to be 12 or 13 but actually turn out to be mostly 14-16. We are off to a rocky start so I go back to the one tactic that has been working for me … my iphone photo of Frieda. I pat myself on the chest and say “my wife” … and smile as happily and proudly as I can. It works. They light up … “beautiful” they say! I introduce myself again and they all repeat my name … “Matchew”. Then we go around and they introduce themselves and I repeat their names back one at a time. Some Thai names are easy and some are really hard and it gives them great pleasure to watch me struggle. We go around once and then they test me to see if I can remember all the names and I fail badly. There are people at Terra Nova who’s names I can’t remember after 3 years … this is a bad game for me. We fall back into silence. One of the girls … the most bold of the group looks at me and says in english “watermelon”. I repeat back “watermelon?”. She points to my belly and says again “watermelon” and smiles. This is a test and all the girls know it. They stare at me and await for a response. No one knows how to go for the jugular like a 14 year old. I feel my face going red. In 10 minutes flat she has figured out the single thing I am most sensitive about. I sense that my response is important …. maybe critical. I make a muscle with my right arm, point to my bicep and say “watermelon” … I make a muscle with my left arm, point to my bicep and say “watermelon”. I make a muscle with both arms arms at the same time stare defiantly back at my adversaries and repeat again … “watermelon”. They laugh with delight … I have passed the test. My new friends give me the thumbs up and say “Matchew ok!”

As we continue to bounce along toward our destination we try to work through the language barrier by pointing to common things … “english Matchew?” I give them the english word and they repeat back to me. I ask “Thai?” They give me the Thai word and laugh as I struggle with the hard ones but then affirm me when I get it right. When we run out of common things to name we fall into silence for a little while … and then my bold friend says “sing Matchew?” … Ugh! There will be no declining this … I break out into an “a cappella” version of “Leaving on a Jet Plane” … first with eyes closed from embarrassment and then as I sing and I realize Im not being laughed at … make eye contact and try to sing it to them. Its a passible rendition and I think it would please my mother who taught me the song when I was little. Their turn … and they break into a Thai worship song complete with hand motions. “Ok you Matchew” … I try to teach them “Pilgrim Song” (they didn’t know it already?) and fail miserable largely because I cant remember anything but the chorus. I try to think of one everyone knows … “Amazing Grace” … I try it and find they know it but only in Thai. I sing the first verse and they repeat in Thai … I sing another verse … They repeat in Thai … I cant remember any more verses but they can. After each song there is applause.

We arrive at the parking area for the hike to the falls. It seems to be a popular Sunday place, Thai families having picnics all around. The hike into the falls is probably just a mile but it is very hot and much of the hike is steep. I hike with a few of the girls from my truck and soon it is clear that this is a competition. We walk quickly … breaking into short runs … I use my arms to block the trail to keep from being passed. The “watermelon” is anxious to be redeemed by being the first of my group to the top. I am and as the girls arrive at the top one by one we stand sweating, huffing and puffing, hands on hips. There are high fives all around. One of the girls points at me and and says “Spiderman Matchew”. I make muscles and taunt them with “watermelons” …this time they call me “Superman Matchew!” I am living large with the affirmation of 14 year old girls.

We pick our way down a steep rocky bank to a 200 foot waterfall and the pool that rests below. I’m not sure how to proceed with swimming. I wonder about disrobing around girls who have been exploited … I wonder if frolicking in the water is really appropriate. I wait and watch. The girls go in the water in shorts and t shirts and in fact most of the Thais are wearing shirts in the water which solves one problem. As if to answer my questions about the propriety of playing in the water with exploited girls they turn back for me with looks of “what’s your problem?” I ditch my cap,belt, and shoes and walk into the water to an assault of splashing. We play for an hour in the sun and water … standing under the spray … me ferrying the girls back and forth under the heavy pounding water of the falls to peer out from behind the water … they love it. Soon we are shivering but no one seems to want to get out.

Sitting behind the falling water with the girls, watching the sunlight on the spray and mist I’m suddenly again aware of a sense of comfort in the water. The day before at Toul Sleng it was only in the rain that was there a small measure of the presence of God in the most horrible of places. Today here it is again … but this time a cacophony of pure joy. I pray it can wash away at least a little of the ugliness these girls have experienced … I pray it can wash away the guilt that has overwhelmed me since I arrived here. Guilt for being an American and knowing that some of the horror I have experienced is the result of the chess game we have played with the rest of the world. Guilty for being rich and comfortable in the face of so much suffering … for not doing enough. Guilty for being a man … my scumbag brothers under Adam capable of destroying the life of a child for what? … Pleasure? While we laughed and sang in the pick up there was one girl on my side a few seats down. She pulled her hoodie over her head on a hot day and turned her back on me … the whole way there and the whole way home again. Am I a little too representative of the one … or ones who hurt her? It makes me sick. But in this place with the water and the sun and the laughter and my new friends I am filled with the presence of the God of love. I am forgiven. I am forgiven of my sins of omission and commission. I am washed and released by Christ into what His joy sounds like … the laughter of children who call me “Matchew”.

(I cant get that scene from “The Mission” out of my head when Robert DeNiro climbs to the top of the falls…)

On the hike out the girls pick the ends of fern leaves for me and I put them behind my ears. The ride back is more quiet. I take out my Bible and very deliberately take the ferns from my hair and press them between the pages. I look up and the girls are smiling … clearly pleased. After a while they ask me to sing again so I teach them “Country Roads” … they pick it up quickly … I sing a line and they repeat this time trying in English … line by line. When we finish they clap and say “again Matchew” … and we go again … this time I teach them to put more emphasis on “West Virginina” in the chorus. “again Matchew?” By the time we reach the safe home we have sung it together about 8 times and they can sing it with only a little of my help. I hope John Denver is smiling somewhere.

Its been an amazing day. As we tour the grounds of the safe home we see a small house for the older girls … 18-20 preparing to leave the home and attempt to resume a normal life. It seems relatively new. Two share a bedroom and there are three bedrooms … there is a common area and an open air kitchen … It is very nice. After clarifying when Terra Nova started supporting Love 146 (2007) Kathy tells me that the money we raised in the first Abolition Week event would have been directed here. It feels great … the perfect way to end this day. I ask and am granted permission to take a photo for you.

Here it is Terra Nova … you helped do this … enjoy.

Matthew Miller

PS: For future notice and your own well being … There are six people in the world who have earned the right to call me “watermelon” and they all live in Thailand