The BRC, My Antidepressant

The BRC, My Anitdepressant
BRC - Bangkok Refugee Center
24 Sept. 2009
By JB Hubbell

Have been feeling low & slightly depressed.
Having a little pity party for myself
No new apartment yet, stressed over teaching & births & just my chronic feeling of inadequecy.
Missing autumn in the US, feeling so far from family & friends as always.
Last week I even missed my day at the BRC, something I promised myself I wouldn't do.
Am I feeling lonely, unneeded, unsettled? Not sure!

Today is Thursday, my BRC day.
I don't really do much there, just help fill prescriptions & file charts, but I love talking to the young people who also work there.
Everyone knows my interest in birthing & teaching, but any effort to organize a class or support group has been unsuccessful.
I decided to take a, "just let it evolve" approach, just let them know I'm here & available.
Today I spoke with 2 pregnant women & was assigned an office for my "pregnant" work.
One woman, from The Congo, I've heard about from the lawyers who help these folks apply for refugee status & the social worker - they told me she's pregnant from rape by Rwandan soldiers.
I don't ask her her story, we have a male interperter, she speaks French & Swahili.
I just ask her if she has questions about her pregnancy or if she needs anything.
We talk about exercises & how she's feeling.
She tells me she needs larger maternity clothes & some shoes, if that is possible.
I let her know I can be here for her for support & questions.
She asks if we can meet again next week, I'm surprised but happy.

Today was slow in the clinic, so I share stories with the young people (teens & 20's)
A Somalian woman is the oldest child in her family, her father dead, her mother used all their money to send this daughter for a better life, to save the family.
They were told she would go to America, but was left in Thailand & here she waits.
We call her Mona Lisa, because of her wonderful smile.
The Vietnamese man, whose parents helped the CIA during the war, has been here for 5 years.
The US has rejected their request for resettlement, he is always smiling & positive.
There is the Sri Lankan teen who wants me to bring her science books so she will not be so far behind in school when she gets to America to continue her education & become a scientist.
She always greets me with a big hug & welcoming smile.
The young man from Laos whose mom stopped by to ask him to wait for his sister to walk her home from the BRC school.
He explained that after his brothers were beaten up by a Thai gang, his mother worries about the children being safe.
Many Thai people resent the presence of these refugees, many come to the clinic beaten & battered.
He still always has a smile & kind word for everyone, he is gentle & humble.
There are others, all with smiles, all joking & appear to be happy.
Any feelings of sadness or self-pity melt away in this rustic, but welcoming place.
I feel at home, they accept me, they have no expectations of me.
Their smiles make me happy & I realize I need this place much more then they need me.

4 Oct
It's been a week since I wrote the above.
I returned last Thursday for the meeting with the pregnant Congolese woman.
I had put out a plea to the young moms I know here through my birthing group for clothes.
I got 4 bags of maternity & baby clothing, women were happy to help.
My French friend came with me this week to interpret, she was happy to be of service.
The pregnant woman was glad to have a woman interpreter, she smiled & leaned towards us.
She told my friend her story without being asked, she seemed to want to share, to tell someone who spoke her language.
It was a good meeting & made me again feel like I could make a difference, if just to put these 2 people together to talk & listen.
I have a doula friend who speaks Swahili & said she will meet with this woman also.
This makes me so happy, to connect people who are in need with those who wish to help.
I'm feeling happy & confident again - I know I need to spend my time at the BRC, it is my therapy, my antidepressant.

The Long Wait

The Long Wait
14 Sept. 2009
by JB Hubbell

I wait an hour to visit a Somalian family at the Immigration Detention Center in Bangkok.
An hour of waiting seems like a long wait to me, taken out of my busy life.
But what do I campare my wait to?
The Somalian family who has escaped their wartorn land,
To wait in an inhospitable country; searching for a better life, a dream, hope?
To have come so far and then to be captured and arrested, put away to wait again.
Waiting with a newborn & 2 year old son, sleeping on towels, eating only rice & soup.
Waiting each week for a one hour visit, the only time they can all be together, to be a family if only for an hour.
Waiting for release to parts unknown, waiting in this prison maybe for years.
How do I compare their wait to mine? Their lives to mine? I can't!
It is the fate of birth, of circumstance, of good fortune.
Our so different lives have crossed, I help them with small items to soften the wait - water, diapers, milk, fruit.
They help me with their wonderful smiles, to recongnize the resilience of hope and the dream of freedom, and to appreciate my blessings.
My wait is nearly over now, their wait goes on.
One day I hope to be told they are no longer here, I hope for their freedom, for an end to their long wait for a better life.
I am thankful for my "busy life", my hour no longer seems so long.