Mae Ra Moe

It's raining like crazy. In front of us only deep clay. Surrounded by jungle. Oh, it's the road. The driver is optimistic. Faith can move mountains. Faith can digg a way with it's own hands into the refugee camp. Faith never gives up. We are wet into the bones. The ass hurts. But who cares, we are there. A lot of people. Happy people. I wonder what stories that are hiding behind the smiling eyes. We cross the river. Finally we can sit down on the bamboo floor. The smoke is intens, but it keeps away the huge crowds of mosquito. It's dark in the house made of bamboo, but we have some candles. The rain still falls on the roof made of leaves. He tells me his name. He is the same age as me. He used to live with his family in Karen state in Burma. He worked on the ricefields. But the Burmeese came. They burned down their village. They raped the girls. They killed his friends while he was watching. He speaks slowly. He and his family ran out in the jungle. They stayed there, hiding, for one year. They got sick. His sister died. They did'n have much food. They lived in fear. His smiling eyes covers the pain. It's ten years ago now. The rafugee camp has become his home. I can never understand. I can't even try to imagine the depth of the suffering that sorrounds me. But I can listen to this boy in front of me. I can cry some of his tears, and I can pray God to heal his broken heart.