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"A flower garland? Would you please buy one?" A blurred dialect and unclear voice, but people in Chiang Mai understood and were familiar with the image. Some pitifully handed her money, others, irritated and annoyed, shouted her away. The girl continued walking, selling her garlands. Though the thin old skirt and stinking coat could not protect her from the cold, her two small feet continued walking. Many other boys and girls had a similar life, some were selling flowers, some drifting to heaven conjured up by some drug or making out with someone willing to pay after the sexual task. At least 300 homeless children live in Chiang Mai, half are from the city and rural areas and half from various hilltribes throughout the north and even Burma. Just about any unclaimed space could be their home, from the sidewalk to a deserted building, from a newstand to a tunnel. Sometimes one small hole of a room could have up to three families living in it. |
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Asked why she came down to the city, an elderly tribeswoman responded , "Can't live there [in the mountains]. Nothing we planted would sell. Not enough money for expenses and the rains and skies aren't the same. Before, we didn't need much money. Now we can't live like that. Many have come down to work." "My dad's arrested," says nine-year-old Mee-po, "how many times I lost count. I live with my brother, the one sniffing glue over there. I sell flowers, my brother sells flowers. Brother goes out with guests too." "I don't love him," is the blunt response from a seven-year-old girl when asked about her father. "He's not nice; he likes to hit me...sometimes he touches me. I'm scared." "I can't help it," is the explanation from a father. "I go into the bar every day to sell flowers and see the farangs [Westerners] holding, kissing each other every day. My wife's in jail. Where else can I vent?" "The outside world and mine are different. . . Nobody would understand. Dirt and mud you can wash off, but words like jailbird or junkie don't go away even if you wash a thousand times. Why punish us? We left home because of problems. When we want to be good, society calls us jailbird, junkie. Why would we want to be good?" "If I could choose, I'd like to live this way. If living on the outside means pretending to be good with no sincerity, wearing masks to each other, I won't wear one. It burdens my face." |
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