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TRIP OVER THE BORDER INTO A SHAN REFUGEE CAMP

Poppy Copeland
January, 2003

"We are not going to survive by bullets, only by educating our children." These words sent chills up my spine. The speaker was the commander of the Shan Revolutionary Army. The Shan, one of Burma's ethnic minorities is being systematically eradicated by the ruling military regime. The first steps had been the closure of schools and universities, closure of minority businesses, and the reduction in human services. The next step was a campaign of terror and intimidation- shooting villagers and burning homes, raping women and finally mining the surrounding countryside.

The Shan, along with some of the indigenous tribal groups such as the Akah, Lisu, Lahu, and Palaung, fled to neighboring Thailand hoping to reach safety. Early on some refugees were admitted into Thailand. Recently, however, the Thai government has clamped down on immigration forcing refugees to erect temporary dwellings on the tops of high jungle mountains serving as the border between the two countries. From our high mountain perch we could look over at the Burmese army's artillery glinting in the sun. On the other side was the Thai check station and border control with their AK47s ready to stop any refugees from entering their country.

I met the commander in front of a makeshift bamboo building serving as a school for almost 200 children between the age of four and eighteen. The school had been built by funds from Burma Lifeline, a Boulder group committed to supporting indigenous peoples at that border. The Shan Army was there to protect the precious school and the small temporary dwellings of the fleeing families. I was struck by the courage of adults and children alike who tried to maintain some semblance of a productive life while not knowing if they were going to be alive the next day. The children were dressed in bright ethnic costumes. With the echo of far away gunshots they recited the alphabet or sang songs. Every child had a notebook and pencil. There were no textbooks, however, and history is taught through the tales of their elders. In fact, one copy of Inge Sargent's (Tusande's) account of her life with the Shan head of state served as the history text. When I spoke with the head teacher she told me that her own education had been interrupted when the Universities had been closed. She had to leave her home and her husband was off somewhere fighting. She lived in the camp with twelve adopted Shan orphans.

You might wonder how I got there? I am a member of Burma Lifeline and had asked to visit one of the programs we were supporting. While most of the refugee camps are on the Thai side of the border, the one I visited was on the Burmese side. The people residing in that camp are in a particularly precarious situation. Not being legal refugees they can not receive aid from most NGO's and they have to rely on the generosity of groups like Burma Lifeline and local Buddhist monks. Since I did not have a Burmese visa, I was also "an illegal." I was smuggled over the border on the back of a motor scooter dressed as a Burmese woman.

Also, in the small complex was a bamboo building that I was told was the medical clinic. It was staffed by a medic who served three distant camps along the border. This selfless humanitarian had to treat people with lung infections, AIDS, TB, parasites, malaria, snakebites and horrific wounds from stepping on mines. He told me that his biggest worry was the births that took place in the same small room where victims were treated for infectious diseases. Although there was an attempt to maintain hygiene, water was scarce for sterilizing instruments and washing sheets. Further, there was no electricity and the midwife had to assist in births using a flashlight. Like the commander he felt that the future was in the hands of the children and that they had to survive. While we spoke a child stricken with malaria groaned in his cot.

Humbling is an inadequate word for describing this experience. The Burmese minorities live from day to day, never knowing if they will be uprooted at best or killed. If they can, they sneak over the border to work in the Thai tea plantations or rice fields. They are referred to as "migrants." I was told that pretty young girls and boys are shipped across the border to become "migrant sex workers." Not having passports or visas they cannot remain in Thailand after being infected with AIDS and are returned to the camps to die. I saw a few of these poor souls lying on mats with horrible lesions and deep coughs. The medic said that although they need antibiotics that sometimes out of ignorance, they are misused and the patients die.

I was not the only visitor that day. A truck drove up full of Buddhist monks in their saffron robes. The monks brought containers of water, food, clothes and other necessities. Though the two countries (Burma and Thailand) have been ancestral enemies, they share their belief in Theravada Buddhism. Thus, compassion is offered across borders.

Riding back to safety on the back of the motorbike, I mused on the changes that had occurred since I had last been there in 1970. At that time there were no roads into the impenetrable jungles-only footpaths. The tribal people moved freely across borders, which only existed, on paper. They were distinctive in their dress, jewelry and carriage. The Shan maintained a reform state, which supported ethnic diversity and integrity. I wondered what motivated the military junta who took over in the early '60s to trample on basic human rights in this devastating way. Ignored by the rest of the world, Burma has the worst human rights record in existence today.

Poppy Copeland lives in Boulder, Colorado and is a Board of Director on Burma Lifeline.