Karma

by Marsha Woodby

Marsha Woodby, a friend of Ken and Visakha Kawasaki, agreed to write about her recent travels in Thailand with the Kawasakis. Marsha, a liberal Christian, is a member of Woodside Church in Flint, Michigan. She made the trip to Bangkok laden with gifts donated by her friends at church for the refugees she would be seeing.

I sat in Ken and Visakha's hotel room in Mae Sot, Thailand, on the evening of January 16, 2003, ready to see a startled look after my confession. I told them that earlier in the day, I had seen three people I was absolutely,' positively sure I knew as friends. How could that be? I'd never set foot on that continent before that week.

Marsha in Mae Sot

To my surprise I got very little reaction, which puzzled me even more. I learned then that in that culture, in Buddhism, the phenomenon was easily explained. I shouldn't worry about that, Visakha said: I had probably been friends with these people in former lives. I would find people from time to time that I immediately disliked, or had other definite reactions to. We all continue to reap the results of actions and of lessons learned long ago, for good and for ill. Karma. Big subject.

Donating school supplies in Mae La Camp

Are human beings really so intercon-nected? Are our spiritual natures recycled, and are they on collision courses with each other? Are we brushing up against our pasts and our futures all the time, unaware?

Two Shan monks who traveled with us, with Umpien Mai Camp in the background.

Born in 1947, I am part of the idealistic generation of Americans who tried their best to change the world, that questioned authority. They were quick to identify social and political issues in dire need of redress: Civil Rights, Feminism, Viet Nam. Many were bold enough to join the Peace Corps or to give of their energy and talents all over the world. Both Ken and Visakha belong in this category.

I, however, had other important things to accomplish in my college years, and after. Then, I never quite recognized the disastrous implications of institutionalized racism in American culture. I missed my opportunities to march with my peers during the Viet Nam War years. I felt powerless in the face of rampant Sexism, both at work and in my own home.

Pagoda in Mae La

I became an expatriate. I spent several years in Europe, had a family, and returned home to Flint in 1986 with my two young children. My hometown in Michigan was, at least, safe for my children, and we were close to my family. The children and I lived with my parents for the next sixteen months, before I remarried.

After another four years, we built a house next door to my parents, in an extra lot beside their house and next to a house formerly owned by the Decker family. The Deckers, Sally (Sara) and Al, produced two remarkably intelligent children, Christine and Mark. After the children were gone and the death of her husband in 1971, Sally had moved away from the neighborhood. Their house belonged to another family.

Mae La Camp

Years ago, I remember my mother telling me that Christine was living on an island in the Pacific Ocean with her husband. What a girl! Wouldn't you just know she'd do something like that?

And I heard years later that Mark Decker had died. Mark was only one year older than I. We had played together for years. I was shocked.

Weaving longyis in Mae La

About that same time, I began attending Woodside Church, well-known in the area for taking public stands on human rights issues. Many longtime members marched with Civil Rights leaders in the South in the early 1960s. A decade before that, McCarthyists blacklisted Woodside's minister and others there for courageously speaking out against injustices of that era. I was initially attracted to the liberal theology I found there, but then completely engrossed in their tradition of social activism. Before long, I was chair of the Outreach and Social Action Committee.

Marsha wearing tamein in Mae La

It was through the activities of that committee that I came to contact Ken Kawasaki, attempting to arrange a date for Dr. Kyaw Thet Oo to speak on the situation in Burma. Dates sometimes aren't easily arranged for these informational meetings, and one wasn't firmly established during my entire three-year tenure as chairperson.

Nevertheless, the Kawasakis and I were on a collision course.

A Shan child intent on his studies

Sometimes the Kawasakis were gone formonths out the year, and those months coincided with the months I was doing the scheduling! One time I called and spoke to Visakha Kawasaki, canceling a tentative date because a conflicting activity had come up. She seemed so gracious, so pleasant and understanding.

I first learned that there were Burmese refugees in the area from an article in The Flint Journal, written by religion writer, Betty Brenner, who coincidentally is a member of Woodside Church, too. The article was sensitively written, and the printed photographs were wonderful. I cut out the article and folded it up to fit into the inside pocket of the giant white binder of committee records and information. It was intriguing to me that there was a Buddhist community nearby.

Don dance in Umpien Mai

Before a date for Dr. Oo could be arranged, I received a small bundle of Relief Notes 2000. What a surprise I had upon opening the newsletter - there was a portrait of the lady next door while I was growing up, Christine and Mark's Mom! I was sad to learn of her death, but at the same time blown over by the coincidence. "Visakha" was "Christine." The photographs in the newsletter confirmed that. Forty-some years had passed, but I would have recognized her anywhere. So. . .she had made it back from her island in the South Seas! I had made it back from Europe, too!

Creating a traditional Shan design

The moment of impact was approaching. I knew it. . .but she didn't. What fun!

Novices having lunch in Mae La

In May of 2002, the fated meeting occurred. I was thrilled to see her again and to finally meet Ken. To my mind, Ken was the husband who swept my neighbor to Asia to live in a thatched hut. (There was a small, distorted grain of truth to that!)

I came to know them both very quickly and at depth. I truly felt from the first words out of my mouth that day I had known them both forever. In some sense, I had.

I was a link to Visakha's childhood. I had known Mark. I had watched TV on her living room floor before my family bought a TV in 1953. I remembered her Dad and Mom, as well as her dog and her horse. When the dog came up in conversation, Ken supplied the name that I had forgotten, "Copper." How did he know that name?

Shan school begins with meditation

The friendship and sharing came so naturally, and deepened with time. There is an understanding and trust there. They must have felt the same about me because they asked me to take a big step this year, to trust them as guides, and more importantly as the filter through which I would see some terrible things, and some wonderful things.

Sometime during the summer of 2002, the Kawasakis asked me to meet them in Bangkok and travel with them for part of their winter trip to Thailand. Maybe for two weeks. They promised me the time of my life.

A Karen girl in Mae La
We would visit several Burmese refugee camps along the border in the western mountains of Thailand. We would call on some of the monasteries, schools and clinics, and an orphanage that they have supported for years. We'd visit a Burmese prison museum in Mae Sot and meet former Burmese prisoners.

Prison Museum of Assistance Association for Political Prisoners (Burma) in Mae Sot
One of our stops would be at a new camp on the grounds of a northern monastery. More than 300 unfortunate people from villages in nearby Burma's Shan State arrived there in April 2002, fleeing ahead of army troops, desperate for shelter. High in the mountains where everything stays damp and nights are cold, they were still living under plastic. Back home, anything of value had been appropriated by the troops and their farms and fruit orchards, shops, schools and homes had been destroyed. Still there was talk by the Thai authorities of forcing them back into Burma.

Living under blue plastic
Thong, their driver of 10 years, would take us in his comfortable12-passenger Toyota van. I could dine with many of their friends that they speak of and write about regularly. And Thai food is another topic entirely!

I said yes to the Kawasakis, not really knowing from where my expense money would come. However, I would have the honor of learning about international human rights activism and relief work from seasoned experts. I could not pass up this opportunity to become involved.

Clothing for refugees in Piang Luang
My gut feeling was that I had been preparing for this trip for several years. Months before the invitation was offered, I lost some weight for health reasons and joined a gym to tone up. (I had a physically challenging trip coming up on my schedule, although I didn't know it yet.) Five years ago, I became vegetarian for health reasons. Ken and Visakha are also vegetarians. Sharing wonderful vegetarian food remains central to our friendship. We had such fun in Thailand. . .eating! Looking back, it all makes sense now.

Literacy is empowerment, Shan school in Fang
I had enough time to talk to friends at church about my plans. At some point I was given an idea to take sewing scissors to the refugee women. A new supply of sharp sewing scissors could keep them busy in the camp, making money for their families, a perfect gesture of faith in their ability to carry on.

Sayadaw at the monastery in Umpien Mai

Things easily fell into place after that. I appealed to the generosity of my friends at Woodside, and received dozens of pairs of sewing scissors in all shapes and sizes. I asked for new and used cotton shirts to be donated. I figured I could take about 70 pounds of clothing, and I in the end I received almost exactly 70 pounds. I asked for basic school supplies. I also had some friends who knew that money for various unforeseen items that could be bought there would come in handy, and I took another $115 with me for distribution as I saw fit.

I was happy to arrive in Bangkok, on January 11th, with both pieces of checked luggage filled to the maximum weight, in addition to the heaviest carry-on bag in the history of mankind. I was a participating member of the party, not just tagging along.

Buying lunch for the monks at the market in Mae Sot
The school supplies were split four ways. The money was directed various ways: for example, part of it went to finance a secret excursion into Burma with school supplies for schools still trying to carry on in the most desperate circumstances; another part of it went to pay for a truck delivering firewood for two months. Mary Poharn, proprietor of the orphanage in Piang Luang, selected several pairs of the finest scissors with the promise to teach her young charges new arts. The others scissors were distributed to women's projects all along the border. The clothing was all donated to the people living under plastic in the north.

Mary chose scissors for tailoring training
The Kawasakis' friend from Japan, Keiko, had brought in donated medical supplies for us to deliver to the northern clinic serving illegal migrant workers. Margot, a Swiss national and longtime worker in the area, finally met the Kawasakis this year, after missing them time and again. She had been responsible for covering the cost of the water tanks at the border hospital run by Dr. Kyaw Thet Oo years ago. Margot had seen the doctor's son, Doh Htoo, now nine years old and a student at Flint's Potter School, soon after his birth at that hospital. She was happy to see the photographs I had brought of the doctor, his wife, and his family in their new house in Flint.

Visakha and Margot in Chiang Mai
Of course, we did all of the things in Thailand that they said we'd do, and much more. My dozens of photographs serve as visual reminders of the beautiful temples, flowers, landscapes, and people. My memory alone holds on to the sounds of the students' singing in the refugee camp school at Umpien Mai and the chanting of the monks and novices, in a perfect octave, at the monastery in Fang.

Delivering medical supplies
One day Ken asked me what impressed me the most. After much thought, I said the resilience of the refugee people. In fact, I hadn't seen what I thought I would: defeat in the face of great odds. Buddhist teachings of mindfulness, loving-kindness, and patience clearly support them in their daily lives. And Karma.

Shan school in Fang
And I've experienced an initiation of sorts, although I remain a liberal Christian. Since meeting the Kawasakis, I have been re-introduced to my own past and allowed to reconnect with undeveloped threads of my own character. This whole experience, including the friendship, has taught me lessons that I am still dealing with daily. I'm certain that I'm bound up in a pattern of growth, and the results will surprise even me.

Maternity ward of Mae Tao Clinic, Mae Sot
Buddhist Relief Mission Website
Burmese Relief Center--USA Website