Earlier this week I had an extraordinary glimpse into life on the Thai-Burma border. I was travelling alone to a large conference in a rural Karen village. Arriving in the border town of Mae Sot in the early morning, I found the right Songthaew (an adapted pick-up truck used as a public bus) in the busy central market area.
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| Songthaews waiting for passengers in Mae Sot's market |
With 7 passengers on board, we were soon winding our way through the chaotic, but cheerful, bustle of the town centre and out into the countryside. After just a few kilometres, however, the bus driver decided that he didn't want to go any further, and dropped me and the one other remaining passenger off at a small police check point by the side of the road.
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| Miles from anywhere - police check point |
As we waited for another bus to come by, I was beginning to feel quite annoyed at the bus driver. He had promised to take me to my destination - but now I was stuck here, under a makeshift shelter, miles from anywhere, on a hot and dusty Thai highway! However, the two friendly police officers soon cheered me up, asking me (inevitably) which football team I supported, and whether I knew David Beckham.
And it soon turned out that, while it certainly was remote, the check point was far from deserted. Within minutes of our arrival, my conversation with the police was interrupted by the arrival on foot of two ladies and a small girl. It transpired that one of the ladies was seriously ill, and after walking overnight from her village to the road, had just fainted. Tragically, her 12-day-old baby had died two nights ago, and her friend had escorted the grieving mother, with her two year old daughter, to seek medical attention. The police officers rushed into action, calling the hospital in Mae Sot to send an ambulance, and ushering the group into a shaded spot to wait for help.
Before the ambulance came, a man appeared, looking for his motorbike. It had been impounded, he explained a little sheepishly, after an incident at a local Muay Thai boxing match. With a mildly disapproving air, one of the police officers took down his details and handed him back his bike.
Then the ambulance arrived - which turned out to be an open-backed pick-up truck - to whisk the poorly lady and her daughter off to hospital. Soon after their departure, a second man approached the check point, asking for help: his son had gone missing several days ago, and he wanted to know how to report the incident, and what he could do to find him.
While this was being dealt with, a bus came past. One of the police officers helpfully hailed the bus for us, and we got on board, joining about 10 other passengers, along with a orange-clad monk sitting serenely in the passenger seat. As we pulled away from the small check point, I reflected how, in the normal course of things, I would never have spent those minutes sat by that roadside.
In fact, speeding past in a car, I probably would have barely noticed the existence of this little shelter. And yet, during my brief visit, I had glimpsed here something of the aching depth of human suffering, the simple beauty of human companionship, and the eloquent grace of human compassion.
And it struck me that, at Christmas time, we celebrate the fact that God didn't choose the easy, VIP route, speeding by on the highway. Instead, Jesus chose to enter into our suffering and messy humanity, to live, to work, to travel, to wait - and to serve people like those I met under that police shelter. This Christmas, He challenges me to do likewise.
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| Speeding by... missing out? |
