Red Light District- Bangkok

As a kid, I was afraid of the dark. The dark brought fearsome things of the night. Shadows on the walls that moved, strange noises from creatures that grab you out of your bed at night . While I am (mostly) over my fear of the dark, and I realize that these childhood fears were figments of imagination, there is something about the dark that still today conjurs memories everything that goes bump in the night.

We had the opportunity a few days into our time in Thailand, to take a bus downtown late at night with an organization called Word Becomes Flesh that ministers to the kids who work alongside the prositutes in Bangkok's downtown red light district selling flowers, or gum in hopes of making some money off of Thailand's sex tourism. We had been warned by the team beforehand that some of the stuff we were about to see was dark. Evil, evil stuff. To prepare our hearts, we'd prayed that God would open our eyes to see this part of the world with His eyes. I believe that God sees even the darkest of places with hope- with love. As we walked down the streets, it was clear that Thailand was a completely different place at night. Prositutes, mostly Thai, sat, stood or danced along almost every sidewalk beckoning for men to come over. Mingling among the street vendors selling food, fake designer goods, and I LOVE THAILAND tshirts, these girls were everywhere. One of the most shocking sights of the night, was one particular street filled with bright neon lights, bars, bargirls, and men. As we walked down, everything screamed SEX. Viagra was being sold like vitamins on the street side. Young, beautiful thai girls held hands with old white men like young lovers. As we saw these things, something in my heart felt for these girls. Something in their eyes told me they were looking for love. Something in the way they smiled back at me told me there was still hope.

These men. Looking around I realized that you really couldn't stereotype a sex tourist. Some were old, some were young, some were white, some were asian. Some of them looked like loners, creeps, while others looked like fathers, grandfathers or husbands. It was too easy to look at them and feel scared, feel vulnerable, but most of all, to feel angry. Something about them though, drew me in. Maybe it was something I read on the MST project site- (www.mstproject.com) "Some of these men who come to Thailand looking for sex are hurting and in need and are trying to fill that need and hurt with love and intimacy".

I realized that these men are looking for LOVE but are just looking for it in all the wrong places. How many of us look for ways of filling NEED in our lives with the wrong things. Money, jobs, clothes, porn, SEX. These men suddenly didn't feel so different.

As we walked further along the street on our way to meet the other group that we had come with, we stopped to talk to a lady sitting on the side of the sidewalk. Her little girl about the age of seven lay sprawled across her lap as the woman held out a cup, hoping to get some spare change from passerbys. We sat there with her, pulling out some crayons and paper for her little girl to draw while our friend and translator, Jane, asked her some questions. We found out that she had come with her two children to Thailand from Cambodia looking for a better life. Every night she sits on the street begging hoping to make enough to pay her dues to the mafia as well as for food. Wait.. the mafia? Thailand also has another dark side- their mafia. On more than one instance we talked to beggars on the streets who were forced to pay dues in order to be allowed to sit there on the street. For this lady, it was 200 baht. Six dollars to sit on a public sidewalk.

When we eventually found the other group, they had been joined by two young children around the ages of seven and six who had been standing on the street selling gum. A little while later, we were joined by two more children who made money selling flowers to men for their prostitutes. It amazed me that while most parents back in North America wouldn't hesitate to shield their children from even hearing about the horrors of the red light district, these kids were forced on the streets every night by their parents in the heart of the seedy area. They are constantly witnesses to the the horrors of night. There is no need for a rampant imagination, reality is enough.

Kings Kids

Our first official Saturday in Thailand started early with a short sung tao ride (truck turned taxi) to a nearby slum with a ministry called Kings Kids. Even at nine in the morning and with puddles left behind from the previous night's rainfall, the sun was high and bright... and hot!

By the time we got to the parking lot near the slum, a small group of young boys had already started accumulating, greeting us as we stepped off the truck. Wide-toothed grins were matched with aimless chatter in Thai as we smiled back with a simple "Sawa-dee-kah"!

As we walked toward the slum to gather the rest of the kids, I couldn't help noticing the little boy on his way-too-big-for-him pink bike. Something about the way he pushed that bike around reminded me of the little boys we had met not long ago doing street kids ministry in the Philippines who greeted us with one giant rollerblade on one of his feet. There was something endearing about the sight that brought smiles to our faces.


Calling out "Pah!" or, "let's GO!" to the kids, we found them at their homes. Some were eating breakfast, others were sprawled out on the floor with their eyes glued to the television, and even a few ran out to greet us. Young and old mingled together like family. We mentioned early on in the Philippines about the presences of community within the slums. It was apparent that this was no different in Thailand. Doors were wide open everywhere and as we walked past each home, we were greeted by a friendly "Sawadi" and a smile.




Each home was sparsely furnished with raw wooden floorboards. Living rooms also served as kitchens, bedrooms, dining rooms, and everything-else rooms. Filthy water filled trenches surrounded the homes serving as some sort of drainage system for the homes. These trenches would often flood into their homes during rainy season, exposing the children to sewage and waste. Rainy season also forced holes into the homes, room for wild pythons and cobras to enter - a potential hazard for the kids. We found out later on that Kings Kids staff along with the YWAM team from Kona, Hawaii and Battambang, Cambodia were able to help fill those holes in order to prevent such incidents.


As the kids followed us out into a nearby park, we saw that they had a strange fascination with the puddles left on the ground by the rain. Whether they were just looking at it, jumping in it, or full on wading in it, it was clear the rain had brought a new source of amusement to the kids. You just couldn't keep them away!


That day's activities involved more than a few laughs as we watched the kids dance to songs and joke around with each other.Although we were incredibly glad to be there, we found ourselves frustrated with the lack of ability to communicate. So much did we want to be able to understand the kids-- not just because we wanted to be able to laugh at the funny things kids tend to say, but we wanted a way in, a way to connect with them.


At first the kids were shy around us, eventually though, we found that if we did something slight like put our arm around them or gently nudge them with a knee, they would respond instantly by leaning against you or sitting in your lap. It was like that simple movement towards them broke down any barriers and allowed them to meet us halfway.



After spending time with these kids- its difficult to imagine them being anything other than, well, kids! Its easy to forget that they have stories to tell; that despite their youth, most have already had their fair share of hardship and pain. One particular story, however, is one of hope and a great testament to the work Kings Kids does. As we talked to one of the leaders of the ministry, he told us the story of Boy*. Boy* grew up in a home where his mom would beat him with a bicycle chain every time he did something wrong. One day, his mom found his dad in their home having sex with another woman. His mom, enraged by what she saw took her anger out on her son, blaming him for his father's infidelity. Her son as a consequence was severely beaten by the bicycle chain. That week, bruised and battered, he went to a Kings Kids ministry where the leader saw what his mom had done to him. He decided to do something about it. He went with Boy* to his house and told his mom that if she ever beat him again, he would report her. She never beat Boy* again.

Thailand is full of these stories. Stories of broken families, poverty, and pain. But with ministries like Kings Kids, it is evident that there is hope for a revival.


*Name has been changed to protect the identity of the child

For more information on Kings Kids Ministry and how to support them, visit http://www.ywamthai.org/bangkok/kingskids.htm

Welcome to Thailand

I wish I could say coming into each country we visit that we arrive knowing exactly what to expect. The truth is, as it happens with most things in life, with each new country, and with each new experience, we always find ourselves with the unexpected.

Research on Thailand will reveal its famous beaches, its spicy cuisine, and its ancient temples. What it won't tell you is the fact that if a Thai tells you its only a little bit spicy, its still probably too spicy for our sensitive North American pallets. We find ourselves daily saying for restaurants to make the food "Mai ped, Mai ped" (Not spicy, not spicy). However, really and truly it is near impossible to find a dish that does not leave your mouth feeling at least a little warm. It also doesn't tell you about the millions of mosquitoes that prey on foreign blood, biting you when you sleep, when you walk, and even in the bathroom doing your "business". You won't find out until a few days into your stay that its not just the foreigners that have trouble with Thai names, just about everyone, including locals take more than one try to get someone's name right "Bing?" no, no "Ding"..."Jing?" no, no, "D-I-N-G".

Despite these small hiccups, Thailand is really and truly a beautiful place. A few days into Bangkok, and it was already stealing a peace of our hearts. Its easy to get comfortable here with a produce and food a market just an easy five minutes away walk. Meals for a dollar, fruit shakes for fifty cents, and delicious desserts made fresh from the Roti man on his cart., you really can't go wrong.

Like Manila, we came into Thailand not knowing what doors God would open for us. Since arriving at the Ywam base where we would be staying, it has been truly amazing seeing how day after day we continue to witness God's faithfulness to us. Two days into our stay, with no plan and absolutely no connections in the city, we were invited to a bimonthly missions meeting. Through this meeting, we were able to make connection after connection taking us to the slums, to the red light district, to the local university, and to Pattaya- one of the largest sex tourist destinations in the world. While some of these are things we've seen before in Manila, the stories we hear and the people we meet continue to break our hearts the way I hope, it will continue to break yours.

Stay tuned for more.

Sawadee ka!

Sawadee ka! (Except picture me saying that with my hands together, raised to my nose and bowing my head – the Thai greeting)

We’ve been in Thailand for about a week now. I can already say how much I like it here. It strongly reminds me of the Philippines, yet at the same time is entirely different from it. Poverty is a comm on problem, but perhaps not as seemingly obvious. Although there are no jeepneys, they have something similar called the “Song Thaew”. It’s a pick-up truck with a seated area and roof in the back. To get off, you just hit a buzzer! University students also have to wear uniforms, just like at SLSU. Street vendors sell delicious and inexpensive food. The thick blanket of humidity and heat feels all the same. The mosquitos still bite (just take a look at Rebecca's legs - poor girl). And the people are just as friendly and welcoming.

Despite these similarities, Thailand has got its own rich culture worth noting. There are things that Rebecca and I are still trying to get used to. Believe me, there’s quite a bit to remember! For one, there are specific ways to sit. When sitting, you must make sure you’re not pointing your feet at anyone else (The Thai people believe that the feet are the dirtiest part of the body, therefore it’s rude to point your feet at others). The most appropriate way to sit is cross-legged or to sit tucking your legs in. Your head, however, is the most sacred part of your body. If we are to touch someone’s head, we are to ask permission, and we should not pass anything over anyone's heads. Also, as a woman, I am not allowed to touch any of the monks! If I wish to speak to a monk, a man must do it for me.

This last cultural rule was put to the test during our temple tours on one of our first days here. As we took a boat to get to Wat Pho and Wat Arun, we rode with other tourists, locals and even a few monks! We had to especially remember to leave the monks lots of room, as we didn’t want to offend!

But you certainly don’t need to go to the temple tours to realize that the Thai people are predominantly Buddhist. Even in our walks from where we’re staying to the church a few blocks down, we can see some of the physical influences of Buddhism – gold structures, food offerings, Buddha idols. Getting to know some of the locals, the majority of them come from Buddhist backgrounds. And if you need to be blatantly reminded of its strong influence in the country, just visit one of the many temples. As crazy as it is to see these buildings devoted solely to gigantic Buddha statues, you really just can’t help but be in awe of the incredible architecture and artistic detail.

(Wat Arun - Temple of Dawn)

(Temple Guards at Wat Arun)

(Little me, big temple guard!)

(Lots of tourists at Wat Arun!)
(Wat Pho and the Reclining Buddha - that Buddha took up the entire building!)
(At Wat Pho - tourists dropping 1-satang coins in 108 bronze bowls -- corresponding to the 108 auspicious characteristics of the Buddha -- for good fortune)

Although many Filipinos are Roman Catholic, at the very least the idea of God and Jesus Christ are heard of. Bringing up Christianity there isn’t a far stretch, but Thailand’s a totally different situation because you really need to start from the beginning when explaining Christianity… “In the beginning, God created the heavens and the earth” (Genesis 1:1). What’s been really cool though is getting to know some of the locals and discussing this incredible concept of a creator God who loved us so much that he sent his son on the cross to die for us. You can just tell that they are so intrigued and thirsty to hear about it.

Some of the Thai people we’ve met here, although new Christians, have graciously invited us out to their different organizations they are involved in. (We couldn't help but be so encouraged to see that although they are new in faith, they're already doing what they can to serve God). So.. I'm excited to get writing about these places and to share with y'all the experiences, stories, and love that we've encountered!

C.R.I.B.S.

BABIES! Rebecca and I love babies. I’m sure a lot of you women can relate… every time we see a baby, our hearts melt with joy and the only word we can utter is, “Aww! Cute!” And believe me, Filipino babies are the epitome of cute. There’s something about their big brown eyes and tanned skin that forces a reaction where all you want to do is hold them.

During our last week in the Philippines, our desires of holding Filipino babies came to reality when we got to visit C.R.I.B.S. (Creative responsive infants By Sharing). I first heard of this organization two years ago when I interned for GCF. Some of the students told me that there was this neat orphanage where you volunteer to hold babies who had been neglected. It’s developmentally essential for babies to be held, and there were simply not enough staff to meet this need. On top of this, C.R.I.B.S. also has other programs for girls who have been sexually abused. [http://www.cribsfoundation.org/]

As soon as we entered the nursery, babies flocked to us. I immediately noticed that these kids were starving for attention and affection. This is not to be mistaken with how the staff treats them, because the staff is excellent. The biggest problem is that they are completely understaffed, so they can’t give the attention each child needs. We had to wash our hands before we could hold the babies, and already we could feel tiny hands touching our legs clamoring for attention.

For two hours, we would hold babies, pick them up, play with them, feed them, and watch them while the staff person would leave to get errands done. One of the babies that found her place in my heart was Flora. At about 1 year old, she had fair skin, curly locks, bright eyes and an unforgettable smile. She crawled her way and raised her arms at me, wanting me to hold her. I picked her up and circled around the room. After five minutes had passed, my arm started to get sore. I tried to sit down to place her in my lap, but every time, her face would make a frown and she would begin to cry. No matter what I tried (making funny faces, funny noises, shaking my legs up and down), she would continue to cry until I stood up and carried her in my arms again. It was like she thought I would let her go and never hold her again. Similarly, other babies would react the same. Momentarily, my heart sank wondering if these kids remembered the time their parents abandoned them and how many times they cried after visiting hours were over and volunteers had to leave the children.

As she sat in my arms in complete contentment smiling at me, my arms felt sore from holding her again. I pondered if she would ever let me put her down. To appease some of the babies, the staff member played some children’s music. Immediately, the babies would quiet as they listened. I attempted for the third time to let Flora down to give my arms a rest. Miraculously, she let me put her down. Still in my arms, she smiled at me and bounced in perfect beat to the music. Together, we danced to “Barney and Friends”. Holding her hands, she looked at me and she started to head bang to the music. Her whole body shook as she laughed. Her hair had come out of her ponytail, wildly resembling a baby Einstein. I couldn’t help but laugh, calling her my beautiful rock star dancer girl. The more I laughed, the more she would laugh and head bang.

Finally happy, she crawled away amused by one of the few toys the orphanage had. As if on cue, Cedric saw my free arms and crawled towards me wanting to be held. I smiled at his demeanor, always serious and rarely smiling. Like Flora, he would only be content if I carried him and would start to cry if I let him down. I let his head rest on me, his little eyes slowly closing. I had to interrupt his falling asleep to feed him oatmeal. I was lucky that Cedric wasn’t too messy, unlike another volunteer who had Flora. I watched her take a bite, shake her head, smile at me in mischief and spit out what she had just put in her mouth. Cedric would just bite and swallow. It was a relatively smooth process, except when another baby crawled towards us dipping his entire hand in Cedric’s oatmeal.

The other baby looked surprised, yet pleased with himself. He lifted his hand to his mouth to lick off the oatmeal, at the same time getting the oatmeal all over the place. I wonder how the staff can handle as many as eight babies at a time. I could barely handle two. Before I knew it, the two hours had gone by and we had to leave the babies. Strangely enough, it was like they all knew it was time for us to go. A sea of cries erupted. Although it was hard for us to leave, at least we knew we would be back the following day.

On day 2, I met CJ. I liked to call him the nutty professor. I loved watching him explore the nursery – the way he would shift his weight from foot to foot making him look like a miniature sumo wrestler (it didn’t help when his cloth diaper started to unravel to resemble a mawashi). There was always a look of curiosity on his face. He waddled to a baby swing. His look was priceless trying to figure out this device. He pushed and watched the seat swing. He smiled, amused. Likewise, I smiled, amused.

I felt someone start crawling over me. I looked down and saw the youngest baby there, smiling at me. I picked him up and he laid his head on my chest. I felt like a mother instantly bonded to this kid I hadn’t known existed even a week before. At least these kids had a home, food, a staff that cared for them, and volunteers that would come and hold them… I know this isn’t an ideal situation, but I wonder how many other babies are discarded, but with no one to love and support them.

College Kids

Being a recent university graduate, my memory’s fresh of the so-called “best four years of my life”. I had spent the majority of my undergraduate career in Beautiful BC. I’ll admit, those four years were pretty good. Most semesters I had arranged my schedule so that I wouldn’t have to wake up before 10:30 AM Monday to Friday. Even when my course load was heavy, my schedule allowed me to take naps in between classes. Exams, though stressful, were a time for comfort foods and drinking a copiously unhealthy amount of energy drinks. At times, we’d joke that we were living for the weekends. And sometimes, it was true, staying out until early hours of the next day: watching concerts, playing tree tag, bonfires, McDonald’s runs, Seattle day trips, sushi nights, and sometimes just hanging out doing nothing.

But last week, we had the privilege of going to Lucban, Quezon to get a little taste of what it’s like to be a university student in the Philippines. An old friend of my parents, Pastor (Kuya) Caloy took us outside of Manila to check out his campus ministry. (By the way, this guy is an incredible man of God. He reminded us of a modern Paul with the same burning passion to let people know about God, and to help the poor and needy.) After a five-hour bus ride and a one-hour jeepney ride with scenery of rice terraces and a giant volcano, he brought us to the Center across the street from SLSU (Southern Luzon State University). This is where some of the students gather to hang out, nap, do homework, and fellowship with one another.


Although we were only there for five days, we enjoyed bonding with them (and we miss them already!), as they taught us games like Beats 1-10, logic games, listening to them play worship music, and the stories and laughs we shared with each other. The more we got to know them, the more I admired them – not only for their diligence and discipline, but for the incredible amount of faith they had.

Many of the students we met take a full load of courses, with classes almost everyday except Sunday, and anywhere from the early hours of the morning to late hours of the night. They are also involved in clubs and programs at the school. But what truly sets these students apart from their classmates is the fact that school is not just about studies. While their goal is to do well in school, it’s all about spreading the love of God to their fellow peers. Kuya Caloy and Pastor Paul (the two pastors who front this campus ministry) have encouraged them to try and reach the un-reached freshmen. They really attempt to live up to this challenge, with such admirable boldness and courage. Sometimes, they hand out evangelistic tracts at the entrance of the university, invite students to come to the center, or simply befriend their classmates. This isn’t easy for them, either! A lot of them are new Christians who found out about the love of Christ through other students and pastors from the Center. Some of their friends and family have shunned them because they have chosen to follow Christ. Even so, they continue to express their faith anyway.

A number of hardships these students face are constantly present. Poverty is a long-running problem in the Philippines making it hard for students to afford university. To ease the costs, a government official had set up a scholarship fund. Unfortunately, this government figure passed away in a crash, leaving the students out of this much-needed fund. Some of the students we met would work weekends making barely enough to support their needs for the week. And if they didn’t have enough money for the day, they would simply skip a meal or two. Some of them felt a heavy blanket of guilt, debating whether or not they should continue school or go back home to work and support their struggling families. It occurred to me how different our lives were.

Rebecca and I had been busy throughout the week sharing our testimonies on what God had been doing in our lives, as well as leading a few bible studies with some of the students who stayed at the dorm. We focused on 1 John 3 – Love One Another.

As we discussed with the students what it meant to really love one another, I realized that despite our differences we could find common ground here. I know I’ve mentioned this before, but it continues to ring true. This kind of love that is talked about in 1 John 3 is the kind that crosses distance and differences. We saw this so clearly in Lucban with all the students we had met. Even though we may come from different places with different stories, that message remains just as relevant.

And so, “Dear children, let us not love in words or in tongue, but in actions and in truth.” – 1 John 3:18.

P.S. Thanks to our donors who made it possible for us to financially support Kuya Caloy’s campus ministry!