In Thailand, a resort for the greater good,and Sex industry

By Jeff Greenwald

 

Alexa Pham's Chai Lai Orchid features typical activities such as hiking and elephant rides but is also a way for girls to avoid falling prey to the sex industry.

MAE WANG, Thailand — As we sat together on a long, narrow raft of bamboo, Alexa Pham dipped her hand into the quickly moving river. "It's the really simple things," she said with a long breath, "that make it beautiful here in Mae Wang."

Two wiry boatmen, steering with long poles, navigated the raft beneath the branches of overhanging trees, around boulders and through bars of late-afternoon sunlight. The men are part of Pham's staff, hired from the hill tribes and Burmese refugee communities of northern Thailand. Though they knew the river, they greeted every bend and rapid with shouts of glee and panic.

Despite their soundtrack, it was a blissful moment. I didn't want it to end, even though the 40-minute ride soon took us back to the riverbank in front of the Chai Lai Orchid, Pham's newly opened resort.

As idyllic as the scene appeared, Pham's work in this hilly, wooded area (an hour's taxi drive south and west of Chiang Mai, Thailand's second-largest city) is anything but simple. Pham, a professional photographer, opened the Chai Lai Orchid in December to help address one of the region's crises: the trafficking of girls and young mothers into Thailand's sex industry.

Pham, 30, divides her time between Asia and Manhattan, where she lives with her husband. She was born in upstate New York and, at 16, ran away from home, crossed the Atlantic and worked, undocumented, in Germany. She earned enough money to return to the U.S. and attend film school in Florida. That career path didn't take.

"I found my passion is more in doing work than documenting it," she said with a shrug.

In 2006, what was meant to be a brief vacation in the hills of Chiang Mai changed her life.

"I came here during the rainy season and saw the way the mist looked on the mountains," she said. "I fell in love with it." Pham already had experience working with at-risk girls in Nepal through the nonprofit Daughters Rising (www.daughtersrising.org). Bringing her values to Thailand seemed an imperative next step.

The Chai Lai Orchid is one of the more unusual resorts in this overgrown part of northern Thailand. Pham and her high-spirited local partner, Puang (foreigners can't own land or businesses alone), have created a small but welcoming retreat that feels more like a home stay than a hotel.

Though it lacks the polish of a high-end resort, its rooms (and traditional thatch-roof "eco-huts") are clean and cozy, with fans, mini-refrigerators and mosquito nets. The Chai Lai features all the signature activities of this popular area: rafting, hiking to hill tribe villages, raft rides and bareback elephant trekking (a full-body tactile experience not to be missed). For about $100, visitors can adopt an elephant and its mahout, or tender, for a full day — learning how to feed, steer and bathe their beast.

But the Chai Lai is a resort with a purpose. It was created to offer hospitality training to local girls, drawn mainly from the refugee communities along this part of the Thailand-Myanmar border, who are at risk of being sold or traded into sex slavery.

Even basic skills such as cooking, waitressing or housekeeping, Pham has seen, can be the difference between work in a legitimate tourist hotel or a brothel.

"Sex trafficking is a huge problem in Thailand, a problem that a lot of Western visitors contribute to," she said. "Many girls who cross the border from Burma [Myanmar] dream of getting jobs in hotels and end up being tricked and trafficked instead. Here at the Chai Lai Orchid, we're giving some of those girls that dream for real."

One highlight of my stay was participating in the evening English classes, which Pham offers at no cost to children from nearby villages. They arrived in their best clothes, on foot or by local transport, and filled the tables at the resort's terrace cafe. Pham (and other recruits, myself included) helped the arrivals with workbook drills and engaged them in basic conversation.

After one class, the mother of a bright young student presented Pham with bananas from her garden. "People give what they can, when they can," she said, as delighted as if she'd been given a case of fine wine.

When I visited, three at-risk women were training at the Chai Lai. Pham's goal is to hire 14. Before one class, I met two of them. Each shared a similar story.

Ann, 23, has a serene, almost Buddha-like nature. Her mother smuggled her from Myanmar into a Thai refugee camp at 6 months old; she now has three children of her own. Lin, 15, is being trained as a cook. Though she looks like a typical teenage girl — with braces that display a tiny pink heart over each tooth — she had a baby recently and barely survived the ordeal.

"Ann and Lin are especially vulnerable because, if they're in a brothel, the owners can threaten to harm their children if they try to leave," Pham said. "So being a young mother is one criteria for accepting girls into our programs." Others include not having access to education, or being an ethnic minority or a refugee without documents.

"I'm not from Burma," Pham continued. "But at 16 I worked as a maid, in a foreign country, without papers. So I can talk with these women even though there's a language barrier. I can understand their struggle with learning a new language, in a new culture, and feeling alone."

As devoted as Pham is to her work, she never brings you down. Her delight with the area is contagious, and staying at the Chai Lai is an uncomplicated pleasure. Visitors are welcome to engage with her work or enjoy the hills, river and jungle on their own terms.

And there's a great deal to enjoy. The morning trumpeting of elephants punctuated the rush of the Mae Wang River, and evening brought the cries of exotic birds and the croaking of river frogs. In between, water-loving guests can join Pham and the mahouts for the afternoon elephant bath — a ritual that inevitably devolves into a gleeful, shrieking splash fight staged on the slippery backs of the well-loved beasts.

Despite the hardships that motivated its creation — or more likely because of them — the Chai Lai is an uplifting destination. Here, the simple things are beautiful — and the complexities lead to rewards of their own.

travel@latimes.com

Burmese refugees flock to Iowa meatpacking town

The first Chin Burmese student arrived at Wilma Sime Roundy Elementary School three years ago, a smiling preschooler whose father often checked on his progress.

 

Associated Press

COLUMBUS JUNCTION Iowa

 

The school had long been accustomed to educating the children of the Mexicans, Hondurans and El Salvadorans who came to work at the sprawling Tyson Foods pork processing plant that sits outside this town of 2,000. But then, principal Shane Rosenberg recalled, Tyson informed school leaders that a new group of workers was coming — the Chin, a largely Christian ethnic minority who were fleeing their homeland in western Myanmar to avoid persecution.

A trickle of Chin students turned into dozens. Frustrated educators struggled to communicate, often having to call the pastor of the Chin church to interpret. Rosenberg intervened to ease the way, using grant money to hire one of the Chin to translate to and from the Hakha language. And he invited Chin parents for a welcoming ceremony and tour of the school.

"It was an awe-inspiring moment, for them to see the opportunities their children were going to have by being here in school," he said.

All told, about 400 refugees have descended on the town, and more are arriving by the week to reunite with friends and relatives and work grueling jobs for Tyson. Like other waves of immigrants, they were drawn to this poor, sparsely populated region of southeastern Iowa by the promise of jobs, good schools and welcoming people.

And as was the case with other waves of immigrants, there have been bumps along the way.

"We've had a lot of experience with Hispanic cultures, but for all of us, the Burmese thing is new. There's no one around that is an expert in that area or knows the language or this and that. That whole transition has been interesting," said Mayor Dan Wilson, a businessman who grew up on a farm outside town. He said the influx has been more easily noticed in Columbus Junction than elsewhere: "It's more obvious in a small town when you've got 200 new people coming in. You're not going to blend in here. You're going to stick out."

But Columbus Junction is working it out, and has been transformed in many ways by these newcomers, who have brought an energy and optimism that longtime residents call remarkable.

A Chin grocery store has opened downtown, on a block dominated by Mexican businesses, selling huge bags of the rice that is a staple in their diet. Not long ago, its owner was living in the Malaysian jungle after fleeing Myanmar. The Iowa Chin Baptist Church holds Sunday services for more than 300 members at a Methodist church that agreed to share its space. A community college is adding a building to expand the availability of ESL classes, which are in high demand.

"In any small town, you're always looking at: what is the future of this town going to be? And having a large group of people with young children, saying 'we'd like to live here and open some businesses,' that's very reassuring," said city community development director Mallory Smith, who helped residents open the first Chin store and restaurant and rent space for a community garden. "We're a young, growing town, which is very nice."

Biak Thang, 28, left his job working 10-hour days at Tyson to work as the school interpreter, which he calls a "big, big, big job" even if he took a pay cut.

"I feel that this is a good privilege that I get. I have a chance to help the kids and the parents in a time of need," he said.

He fled Myanmar to Malyasia in 2005 to avoid religious persecution and military rule that prevented gathering after 9 p.m. After being accepted to resettle in the United States, he left for North Carolina in 2008, where he worked at a furniture factory. He was reunited there with his wife, who had been jailed for six months after illegally entering Thailand.

"When I got here, I felt relief. Everything is new for me. It's a new beginning of life," Thang says.

The couple moved to Columbus Junction in 2011 and are raising two children. Thang looks forward to becoming a U.S. citizen: "It's a freedom country. I can be whatever I want."

Tyson and other meatpacking companies have increasingly recruited non-Latino workers in recent years, including Burmese, Sudanese and others, said Mark Grey, director of the Iowa Center for Immigrant Leadership and Integration at University of Northern Iowa. Since a 2008 raid of a Postville, Iowa, slaughterhouse, where 389 immigrants were arrested, companies have become more careful to avoid hiring employees who may have entered the country illegally, he said.

Refugees are in the country legally and may apply for citizenship within five years.

Tyson spokesman Gary Mickelson denied the company was favoring refugees over others, saying the industry has long attracted immigrants for entry-level jobs that do not require experience or English skills. The makeup of its workforce shifts as new immigrant groups come to the U.S., he said.

But in town, both the Chin and Spanish-speaking communities feel that more Chin are being hired at the expense of Latinos, which has caused some friction, said Cristina Ortiz, a doctoral student in anthropology who moved to Columbus Junction four years ago to study the town.

"Latinos and Chin people recognize they both have the same goals in life," she says. "That is to make their lives better and provide for their families and live a tranquil life. But in a certain sense, they are in competition with each other. They are applying for the same jobs. They have the same skills. And that's tricky. Obviously there is some tension there."

At a recent conference at the University of Iowa, Rick Rustad, a workplace chaplain at the Tyson plant in Waterloo, about 100 miles away, recalled serving as the plant's "mobile recruit" for Burmese refugees. He drove a passenger bus to meet with Burmese who had settled in different parts of Illinois, where he offered jobs and brought 30 back to Iowa at a time.

They lived in the Day's Inn for a week while Tyson employees helped them find housing, get identification cards and open bank accounts. By the weekend, they'd move into their apartments and report to work Monday.

The refugees needed a paycheck — and fast. Cuts in federal benefits for refugees mean there is little safety net in the way of food, medical or housing assistance. Tyson pays workers at least $13 per hour and provides health insurance.

"They can make more in one week at Tyson Fresh Meats than they would make in one year back home," Rustad said.

In Columbus Junction, Mickelson said, the first five Burmese workers were hired as part of a recruitment effort in Illinois and later encouraged friends and relatives to apply. Burmese started arriving from Indiana, Texas, Florida and other states where they say jobs were harder to come by.

"The Tyson company is very good. That's why we are here," said Ngun Za Bik, 33, who borrowed from a friend to open the Chin grocery store in a vacant pizza place two years ago.

Bik arrived in Indianapolis in 2008 after living in the Malaysian jungle for 14 years. He struggled to make a living, working part-time at a warehouse. He relocated to Columbus Junction, where his brother was already working at Tyson, to open the store.

He sells on credit, keeping notebooks showing how much customers owe him. They pay when they get their Tyson paychecks on Fridays or Saturdays.

City officials say some of the first arrivals abused alcohol, which had previously not been as cheap or available to them. Public urination and intoxication and drunken driving were common. But the police chief and other officials warned community leaders about their expectations, and as more women and children arrived, the problems have dissipated.

Two refugees have committed suicide and a third was found drowned in a river near the Tyson plant, said police Chief Donnie Orr. A shortage of mental health and substance abuse treatment is a problem, Ortiz said.

But refugees and city leaders agree the biggest challenge now is finding housing for the newcomers. City officials say there are hardly any available rental apartments, which go for about $450 a month for three bedrooms.

Some extended families cram into small, unclean apartments and live a "barracks-style lifestyle," said city attorney Tim Wink, who owns three downtown buildings and rents apartments to two Chin families. The city is worried about safety and sanitation issues, including fire risks, and is drawing up its first-ever rental housing code.

Wink said the newcomers were "not a whole lot different" than their Hispanic and Latino predecessors.

"They want the drain to work. They want the water to work," he said. "They don't want bugs. They have the same concerns that everybody else has. It's not much different. They have a language issue, and that's going to take some time."

They've had some success. The community recently celebrated the swearing in of its first U.S. citizen. One or two families have been able to buy houses. And this month, three Chin students are expected to become the first to graduate from high school.

Tial Nawn, 27, arrived in Columbus Junction in July 2012 from a refugee camp in Malaysia to rejoin her husband, a pastor who leads the Iowa Chin Baptist Church. On a recent evening, Nawn joined others in a high school classroom for ESL class, where they practiced verbs and sentences.

"Students!" Nawn called out, when the teacher asked the class to finish a sentence: "We are ..."

Nawn said she hopes to learn English in the next year so she can work and make more friends. She is already planning to move to Iowa City, 40 miles away, where she hopes to buy a house, have children and find a job.

"Everybody is so nice here," she said. "But the only work is at Tyson."

Former refugees eager to build life, raise family

By Annysa Johnson of the Journal Sentinel

After 5 years apart, couple from Myanmar reunites in Milwaukee

Lian Mung Naulak hugs his wife, Zam Lian Sang, at Mitchell International Airport in Milwaukee on Thursday, after not seeing her since 2008.

The last time Lian Mung Naulak held his wife in his arms, it was to say goodbye. The couple had been married just five months when he was forced to flee their village in western Myanmar, formerly known as Burma, for a refugee camp in Malaysia.

This time, after five years apart, they held one another to say hello.

Naulak clutched his wife in a tearful embrace during an emotional reunion at Mitchell International Airport on Thursday, and she buried her face in his arms.

"I'm very excited. I cannot sleep for two days," Naulak said at his modest south-side apartment the evening before her arrival. "Last night, I'm crying," he said, wiping his tears with the hem of his T-shirt.

Naulak's success in Milwaukee and the couple's reunion have been an uplifting experience for staff and volunteers at Lutheran Social Services' refugee resettlement office.

"He really illustrates what refugee resettlement is all about," said Mary Flynn, who directs the resettlement team. "That if you give someone a chance, they'll work hard and give back."

Naulak, 42, and 30-year-old Zam Lian Sang are Chin Burmese, among the most persecuted minorities in Myanmar, according to Human Rights Watch. Abuses of the primarily Christian Chin by the Burmese army and government include forced labor, arbitrary arrests and detention, torture, religious repression and other restrictions on fundamental freedoms, it said.

Zam Lian Sang's journey to Milwaukee began, much like her husband's, with a dangerous trek into a neighboring land.

Naulak had fled to a refugee camp in Malaysia in January of 2008, he said, after government forces beat him and threatened to imprison him for refusing to tell them the whereabouts of his younger sister, who had escaped from a detention camp.

Sang stayed for awhile, living with family on the meager sums Naulak could send from his job selling mattresses in Malaysia. But she fled in 2011 to India at the urging of her husband.

Naulak had arrived in snow-covered Milwaukee five months earlier and had been laying the groundwork for her to join him from the beginning.

"After I arrived, the next day, I went to Mary's office and said, 'I need your help. I need to call my wife,' " said Naulak

Naulak found work at a hotel, settled into a small apartment and began tracking down the documents - a birth certificate, marriage license, a recent photograph and more - needed to secure a visa.

On one of their visits to the filing agency, Flynn said she asked Naulak what he liked best about Milwaukee.

"He said not being beaten on his way to work. We take so much for granted," said Flynn, "until you hear something like that."

Naulak and Sang began their new life in Wisconsin on Thursday.

Their relationship these five years has subsisted of sporadic phone calls, and photographs exchanged via email. In the weeks leading up to Sang's arrival, they've dared to dream of something more.

They talked of "walking together peacefully," something so simple, yet impossible in their former life. And already, they hope for two children, a boy and a girl, perhaps, who will be raised with access to education and the opportunities they never had.

"My wife says, if our first child is a girl, she will be a doctor," said Naulak, laughing."If it is a boy, I say he will be a lawyer."

"In Myanmar, we do not have the rule of law," said Naulak. "I would want my son to study law."

Heartlands Refugee Art Prize a showcase of creativity

Adam Baxter helped establish the Heartlands Refugee Art Prize. Picture: Kris Reichl. Leader

 

WEST FOOTSCRAY'S Adam Baxter was never going to let other refugee artists struggle the way his father did. 

 Cedric arrived in Australia in 1946 from Burma.

"He was half Burmese and half English and when the trouble broke in Burma the message the family got was that they were not wanted," he said.

The family moved to Western Australia, but Mr Baxter said his father struggled to find anyone who would support his artwork.

"It was hard for people who weren't English to be able to find ways to get art galleries to support them and find any space to work," he said.

"I watched my father for several years trying to get a foothold where people would take him and his art very seriously."

Mr Baxter said his father would go on to win a Walkley Award for a cartoon published in the West Australian.

It was his father's plight that inspired Mr Baxter to help create the Heartlands Refugee Art Prize in 2010.

"The art prize is an opportunity for refugees to identify art as a potential career pathway and to show the contributions they made to the community," he said.

Entries for the prize close on Friday. Details: 9188 3681 or multiculturalarts.com.au