February 6 - EIP

I've just returned from a week of volunteering at the English Immersion Program (EIP) at Umphiem, a refugee camp on the Thai/Burmese border.
EIP is a two-year program that trains young refugee adults from Burma (most in their early 20s) in sustainable development, project management, leadership, community development, conflict resolution, and other skills. During the first year, the students learn these skills in an all-English environment. During the second year, they do internships at NGOs (non-governmental organizations) or CBOs (community based organizations) in Mae Sot, Thailand (which is home to thousands of undocumented Burmese migrants), Umphiem, or at any of the other eight camps that collectively shelter the more than 140,000 Burmese who have fled civil war and ethnic cleansing in Burma. When the students complete the program, they work for NGOs, CBOs, schools, or any other organization dedicated to improving conditions for people living in the camps or elsewhere on the Thai/Burmese border.
Although the circumstances that brought the majority of EIP's 24 students to Umphiem are dire to say the least, the atmosphere around EIP is anything but somber. One reason why is because the students are too busy to let themselves get down. In addition to their classes and homework, they are expected to lead and facilitate development projects in areas near their school, and volunteer as Big Brothers/Big Sisters for local children (many of them orphans) who need positive role models. On top of all this, they're also responsible for taking care of their daily living needs: each day one team of students is responsible for cooking breakfast and dinner for the school (all EIP students live in dorms), another for doing the shopping, another for cleaning, etc.
Perhaps a bit surprisingly, all of this work doesn't put a damper on their moods. The students at EIP are among the loosest, cheeriest, funnest students I've ever been around. After their classes, their time is split between doing homework and writing project proposals and horsing around, and the vibe is generally somewhere between summer camp and graduate school. It's a fun vibe to be around.
For me, staying in a refugee camp--even for a few days--is an eye-opening experience. Life in Umphiem is rustic. There is little electricity, all cooking is done from scratch, and all household chores are very labor intensive. Almost every building is made of bamboo with a thatch roof, and the whole camp is densely populated. Wherever there is a free spot of land, people have started gardens, there are goats and chickens everywhere, and the smells of burning garbage are never far away. You're awoken every morning before dawn first by the Muslim call to prayer (in addition to a large Muslim population, there are also thousands of Christians and Buddhists) and then by thousands of roosters. At night when things quiet down, the silence is total.
I was able to spend some time at Umphiem because the university where I work in Tokyo was generous enough to let me tack on an extra week in Thailand to work at EIP after attending an English teachers conference in Bangkok.
While there, I mostly worked with the two World Education teachers who work with the students and live with them during the week. We spent most of the week helping the students develop job hunting skills like writing cover letters, making resumes, and interviewing. By the way, I call them teachers, but theirs are not typical teaching jobs. A more accurate description would be that they are "teachers/mentors/trainers/co-workers/counselors/older siblings/friends," and the job continues around the clock. Like the students they work with, both of these teachers are immensely talented, energetic, dedicated and practical, and it was a privilege to work with them.
For me, this was my sixth time working with refugees from Burma. The first time I came here was four years ago when I did my graduate school internship at Mae La, another refugee camp in the area. Since then, I've come back as often as possible, mostly because I really enjoy the work, the students, and the other teachers. Plus, at the risk of sounding totally wanky, it's inspiring. Anyone who knows anything about the last several decades of Burmese history is aware of the fact that the Burmese people have been dealt an extraordinarily bad hand of cards. Rather than going into it right now, suffice it to say that anyone living in Umphiem or any of the other refugee camps on the border would be well within their rights to be bitter, sullen, and hopeless; however, that's not what I saw at EIP. The focus there is not on what brought them there, but on what they're going to do now and in the future. For a number of reasons, most of the people in Umphiem and the other camps won't be leaving anytime in the near future. Therefore, the goal is to make life there as positive and livable as possible.
During my time there, the atrocities back in Burma were hardly mentioned; however, at times Burma made its presence known through darkly absurd classroom moments you couldn't imagine happening anywhere else: During a resume writing activity, one student who had been conscripted into forced labor by the Burmese army for several of his years living in Burma wondered if this work was something that could be put on his resume. We figured why not.
What really had an impact on me this past week was the sense of community that permeates the camp. One evening after dinner, I went with three students to check out a student dormitory where they were looking to do a project. Coming from a Western perspective, the word dormitory conjures up images of study lounges with big screen TVs and comfortable bedrooms with beds, phones, and computers--or at the very least, rooms with walls and lights. Not so with this dorm where there were not enough blankets to go around and barely enough food. What's more, the closest thing they had to adult supervision was older high school students who took care of the younger ones by cooking breakfast every morning and dinner every evening. Both meals consisted of little more than the rice and yellow beans that are part of every Umphiem resident's monthly rations. The students at this dorm ate theirs squatting in a lean-to that acted as their kitchen. There were no tables or chairs.
It's easy to see scenes like that and wonder how they were possible, to wonder how there wasn't somebody, some group, some organization taking care of it, but there are lots of needs that go unmet there. People do the best they can with what they have, but in a lot of cases there just aren't enough resources.
The EIP students are hoping to rectify this particular situation, or at least ameliorate it a bit. Their proposed project is to provide money for blankets and additional kitchen utensils, as well as the means for the students to become more self sufficient by starting their own garden and raising animals.
I won't nag you with Sally Struthers figures about how big a difference a little pocket change can make. Instead, I'll try to express how impressed I was at the extent to which people at Umphiem help themselves and others. These are not people who are waiting for a handout. These are immensely resourceful people who are stepping up to take care of themselves.
The students of EIP enroll in the program with the understanding that they are expected to stay in the camps or the border area to serve the refugee/migrant community for at least a year upon completion of the program. EIP was founded seven years ago and now has an alumni base of more than 100 graduates actively working in the camps and outlying areas. The community is fortunate to have them.
In a perfect world, the military regime that has spent the last several decades running a once thriving Burma into the ground would step down and let people like the students I worked with this past week get started with the rebuilding process. Until that happens--and it's probably going to be a long time before it does--the future of Umphiem and the other camps is that much brighter because of the students of EIP.