We are currently staying at the Green Guesthouse in Mae Sot, which is unfortunately located just feet from the holding cell where the police take illegals in Mae Sot. This is quite likely the most unfortunate location in Mae Sot, and really just opened our eyes to what is most likely the most depressing part of being here.
We’ve had to watch illegal Burmese, Karen, etc. led into the holding cells. We’ve watched truckloads of illegals being taken back to the border, where they will either a) escape into the jungle, at best b) be taken as porters or c) if ever involved heavily in resistance, they will face harsh torture most likely leading to death.
I was processing through this yesterday. It’s difficult to be among the hurting, and go on to eat lunch and look for a motorbike to purchase. It feels selfish and extravagant to do most anything: eat, sleep inside, rent a place to live, drive a motorbike, get ice cream at the 7-11. It’s hard to live among the hurting everyday. But as I think about this, it’s because then you cannot forget. It’s easier to forget and move on to eat my meal, drive our new motorbike, and find a fridge for our new house. But I shouldn’t forget: I suppose that’s the point.