"Mai" Means "Mai"

More than halfway through my volunteer adventure in Thailand!

The past three weeks have been spent as a volunteer at a childcare center called the Temple Kids project. It's essentially a day care center for children age 2-4 that is offered for free by the monks of this particular temple in a small village outside of the town of Surin, where I've been staying. The children are at the temple from about 8 AM until about 3 PM, they're fed a relatively healthy lunch and afternoon snack, given milk twice a day, have play time and simple lessons to prepare them for school and a base knowledge of English, and the only fee the families have to pay is for transportation to and from the temple each day. The transportation fee is only 100 baht per month (approximately $3.50), but there are still families who can't afford to pay this every month so although there are about 60 children on the register, there are rarely more than 27-30 children present on any given day.

In many ways, my experience in the township outside of Cape Town four months ago was helpful as preparation for this project. After all, it's a volunteer position with preschool age children in a poor area of a developing country. However, there were far more differences than similarities. For example, the things that were the same were the ages of the children, the language barrier, the lack of emphasis on constant supervision, health, safety, and hygiene, and the boundary-testing behavior of the children with the volunteers. The things that were different, though, essentially revolved around the level of support at the project. First of all, I was one of three to five volunteers present on any given day, whereas in Cape Town, I was on my own. Second, every day at the childcare center we had a coordinator with us who could explain things and, more importantly, be our translator between us and the children as well as us and the teachers. Which leads me to the next difference: the teachers. Although they often let the children run wild with us, the teachers here were far more engaged and interactive with the children than the staff in Cape Town. There were three of them, they worked in shifts (one cooking, one leading the lessons and activities, and one assisting with supervising the children), and there was far more structure in these children's day. Really, the only time when things weren't organized was during the children's free play time in the middle of the morning while lunch was being prepared. Even then, though, there was often something specific for them to do such as play with blocks and Legos and playdough or color, or some other activity. In Cape Town, I usually felt like every day was a bit of a toss up, all thrown together on the fly throughout the day. The other difference was in their level of comfort and understanding of the little English they've been taught. Whereas the children in Cape Town could correctly sing through the majority of the alphabet song, if you showed them the letter "A," they wouldn't know what it was. These children, however, are just beginning to learn the song, but if you show them the letter "A," a good portion of the older children will call out what it is without difficulty.

The outcome of these similarities and differences? When it comes down to it, although the extra support has been wonderful and made my volunteer placement much less stressful, it's also made me feel less needed and more of a superfluous addition than a necessary aid. Every single day at Siyazama Preschool was a struggle, but in the end, it was one of the most rewarding things I've ever done when, by the end of it, there were children who were school-bound soon who would have more of a head start, children who had gained social skills, and I had achieved things I'd had to work my volunteer BUTT off to achieve. The Temple Kids project has been, for the most part, a wonderfully enjoyable experience for me, but I know that I'll leave here not having made much of a mark on these children in the long run. I did paint the walls, though! Mark left!

Less rewarding than Cape Town or no, however, I will cherish my time with these children. Like most of the kids I've come into contact with in my volunteering positions, these come with the saddest of stories and more baggage than they deserve in their short lives. A day care center like the Temple Kids project is necessary because many parents must either leave Surin to find work in Bangkok to support their families, leaving the children with their grandparents, or, even worse, the parents of these children just honestly don't give a shit. I know that sounds harsh, and I wish I could say it was just me being overly judgemental, but unfortunately it's just the honest to goodness truth. These children frequently show up to school in dirty clothes, unbathed, sick, and underfed. Some of this can be attributed to a lack of resources, but some to what could only be classified as neglect back home.

One little boy, Kio, was brought to our attention before our first day at the childcare center. We were told by every coordinator that he was a trouble child and that we had to watch out for him because he was always misbehaving. Honestly, they made this kid sound like the very spawn of Satan. However, after a week at the project, not only had we not really noticed Kio being particularly naughty, we hadn't really noticed him at all. He was very shy, almost wary around us. Sure, he did some things that were inappropriate every once in a while, but so did every child there. as our second week came to a close, I and the other volunteers were in agreement: Kio wasn't a bad kid. He was a kid who'd maybe done something really outrageous once and has been unfairly labeled ever since. Honestly, this kid can't sneeze without the teachers whipping around and scolding him. Another kid bites his friend on the face, though . . . and they pretend they didn't see it. It was my second Thursday there that I realized that Kio was never touched by any of the adults at the center. The teachers and our coordinators were all conviced he was the devil child and, due to their warnings, we volunteers had avoided him, too. I'd learned that day that Kio stayed with his alcoholic grandmother, so I was all but certain that he wasn't being cuddled at home either. When it came to nap time, I was determined to break through to him, even if he was half asleep at the time, and show him some affection. Often, when the kids can't fall asleep, we or the teachers will sit or lie next to them and either rock them back and forth or rub their backs until their asleep. I noticed that Kio was having a hard time getting sleepy so, slowly, deliberately, I sat down next to him. When he didn't indicate that he was upset with me or that it bothered him, I inched closer. When he remained relaxed after that, I gently placed a hand on his back and started rubbing his back in small circles. About 20 minutes later, he was asleep and I was overjoyed. The following week, we watched him continue to slowly come out of his shell around us: openly laughing, letting us chase and tickle him, even accepting a hug every once in a while. Baby steps, but a victory nonetheless.

There was another child who I would have been much more inclined to award the "Spawn of Satan" title: Kieren (or Kevin). No, that's not his real name. Rather, it's just a name that one of the former volunteers called him because he looked like a Kieren to her, and it just stuck. Even the teachers call him that now! Anyway, he's almost every volunteer's favorite (or at least in their top three). He's not mine. This kid is the most misbehaved child I've EVER seen and I seem to be the only one not completely fooled by his cute exterior. I've watched this barely three-year-old full on deck a girl in the face for no apparent reason. I've seen him have all out meltdowns over being told "mai" (the Thai word for "no,"). But more than all of this, I and other adults have been the victims of this kid's all out violence and disrespect.

Exhibit A: I had a child sitting in front of me on the floor and we were playing with Legos. Kieren approaches and snatches the child's Legos away. I gently pry them from his hand, tell him "mai" firmly, and return to playing with the first child. Kieren immediately lashes out. He begins by hitting the kid on the floor in the head. I pull him back gently and again tell him "mai." He goes in a second time. This time, when I pull him back, he comes after me, managing to strike me twice in the head and get away before I can get a solid grip on his arm. He runs off. I thought that perhaps that meant that the altercation was over. WRONG. I feel something hard and plastic hit me in the back. I turn around just in time to watch Kieren hurl another disjoined baby doll leg in my direction. "That's it," I exclaim. I pull myself up to my feet and march toward Kieren. He either knows what he's done or knows what could be coming, so he tries, unsuccessfully, to escape. Now, between a language barrier and this kid's obvious lack of respect for me, telling him to sit in "time out" would be, in a word, ineffective. Instead, I haul his squirming body up and place him on my lap while I sit facing the corner. Kieren struggles and yells the entire 5 minutes we're there. All the while, the other volunteers hear me saying things like, "I know. This is just awful, isn't it?" and, "I'll bet you wouldn't want to do this again," and, "Hit me again, kid, and then see what happens."

Well, I can't say we saw much of a noticeable improvement in Kieren's behavior. And, unfortunately, I can also predict that we aren't likely to so long as he is the chosen one among the volunteer staff. However, we learned something about Kieren last week that, if nothing else, explains a lot about why he is the way he is. Kieren's mother is 17 years old. This means that she was 14 when she became pregnant. Kieren explained.

Finally, the two girls that I will miss most are Cafe and Fia. They are sisters, ages 2 and 3 years old and the most adorable, sweet, endearing little girls you have ever seen. They don't always have to be together, but they often choose to be together, particularly at nap time. It's also incredibly sweet to watch how careful and caring Cafe is to her little sister. For example, one day during their nap, both girls had accidents in their sleep. There were no adults readily available as we were all outside painting and the teachers had fallen asleep. Well, rather than freak out or wake one of the adults, little Cafe gingerly got her sister and herself out of their wet clothes, placed them in a pile with the wet sleeping mat, and got out a fresh, dry mat on which they could finish their nap. What 10-year-old is that caring and attentive, let alone a 3-year-old?!

Now, you would think that any mother would feel more than blessed to have such loving children, but, apparently, their mother is one of those who falls into the category of "just doesn't give a shit." This was not immediately obvious from looking at the girls most days. Compared to others, they were relatively clean, seemed pretty healthy, and since they were so sweet, you figured they had a supportive family. Unfortunately, though, they are the way they are in spite of their environment, rather than because of it. We started paying more attention to these girls after hearing more about their home situation. That was when we noticed how many cuts and scabs they had that were infected and wouldn't heal. The older girl, Cafe, in particular was absolutely covered head-to-toe with infected sores, some of which had even started to acquire scar tissue. The younger sister, Fia, however, had the most serious injury. I'd noticed a cut on the bottom of her big toe on the last day of my second week. These kids spend just about their entire lives barefoot, so it was no surprise at how dirty the cut was. However, when I asked about a First Aid kit or supplies to clean it with, I was bascially ignored. The next week, I decided to give it a closer look and I was absolutely appalled by what I saw. What had seemed like a small cut was actually a gash about a half a centimeter deep going all the way along the crease at the base of her big toe. It looked like the cut had come close to the bone, but that it had started to heal with the skin apart instead of fusing back together. There were little infected scabs, some discoloration, and obvious pain on top of the main gash itself. I was so horrified that I almost started crying right then and there. The very next day, I brought my own first aid kit and spent close to a combined hour cleaning, bandaging, and rebandaging the sister's wounds. Thanks to a very wonderful suggestion from my Aunt Patti and Uncle Stephen (MDs), we decided that since it was not likely these sisters would be taken to a doctor, that I could Super Glue the cut together, after a thorough cleaning, to keep it clean and encourage it to heal properly. Thankfully, the next day during our little "procedure," little Fia was asleep when we started and stayed asleep the entire time! Both of those girls were fantastic patients and I sincerely hope they get better soon.


People joke all the time about wanting to scoop these children up and carry them home to their developed Western world in their backpacks. At times, I can include myself in that category. However, with these sisters, for the first time, I almost wanted it to be real. It was the day I first cleaned and bandaged them up. After they were all disinfected and Band-Aided, it was past time for their naps. They were a little wound up because they'd had to be woken up at one point already and all the medical attention and they were just NOT falling asleep. For those of you who have sisters, think of a time when you were both very little when, for some reason, you had to share a bed. It was time for lights out . . . you knew that you were supposed to be falling asleep . . . but for some reason or another, you and your sister just couldn't stop laughing! Then, of course, you know that you're bound to get in trouble for laughing too loudly, but that only makes it worse and you laugh more! These little girls would get started on something silly and just couldn't stop. It was so adorable that it actually broke my heart. I remember lying next to them on the floor, rubbing their backs, pulling their hair out of their eyes, seeing them look up at me with their big, smiling brown eyes and sincerely wishing I could take them home and away from a life they didn't deserve. I'll be able to stay up-to-date on their healing progress for at least the next month or so as there will still be volunteers at the project who I know, but it really scared me not to know what would happen to them after that. I'll miss you girls. Take care of yourselves. Take care of each other . . .


In sum, my time at the Temple Kids project was full of snotty noses, age-inappropriate Thai music videos, lots of hitting, having the word "mai" mockingly repeated back to me by 3-year-olds, grubby feet, paint EVERYWHERE, lots of crying, playing games, tickling and tossing children around the room, teaching the alphabet, numbers, and colors in English, deliciously authentic Thai lunches, donuts from the monk, and the hysterical antics of children who have not yet been socialized to be embarrassed of themselves yet. I'll miss all of those things . . . except the hitting. And the snotty noses.


As of tomorrow, I'm off to two weeks of elephant volunteering! This should be absolutely fantastic, if a little nerve-racking! Looking forward to it and to soaking up my last two weeks in Thailand!