My feet back on the ground..

Yesterday at breakfast I met the most intriguing fellow. We were the only two dining in the place, and soon got to talking. An American student of public health and a somewhat humble photojournalist, Matt was in Mae Sot attempting to do a story on what he called ‘no mans land’: the area on the Moei river that doesn’t exist during the rainy season, and sits somewhere between Thailand and Burma. We spent a good couple of hours sharing stories of our diverse travel adventures, and even though I only met him that morning, within twenty minutes he felt like an old friend I’d just reconnected with. Having woken up with no plans and still little local knowledge, I enthusiastically accepted his offer to join him on his last day in Mae Sot. He was heading to the local garbage dump, where he told me a large group of Burmese workers have made their homes.

The photos of the mornings visit hardly do justice to the gigantic mountains of garbage in which roughly 130 Burmese families live. Not so much high, but huge for the fact that the area was initially a large pit, and because the undulating hills stretched on for hundreds of meters. The smell of trash baking in the afternoon sun evoked fetid over-sweet pineapples and week old yoghurt, but more striking to me was the sound. The relentless sound of millions upon millions of flies investigating every crease and crevasse. Life is tough here, but children always find a way to make the best of things. I watched as some of dumpster kids made kites out of the scraps beneath their feet and flew them from the tops of these garbage hills. Another bunch of youngsters jumped gleefully into the neighbouring lake- I cringed as a local man had shown me how the runoff from the dump drains straight into it- but ignorance is bliss, and who was I to turn sour their joyful respite from the harsh afternoon sun?

Perhaps one of the most confronting sights that afternoon, was one we stumbled upon quite casually as we were walking from lunch to our motorbike taxis. Passing the local police station- which is only minutes from my hotel- Matt pointed out the ‘holding centre’ for a handful of Burmese illegal workers unfortunate enough to run in with the law. Within sight of the street was quite literally a human-sized cage, fitted in to the bottom floor of a building. About 10 by 20 meters wide, three Burmese were sitting around, waiting. Simply waiting. I don’t know if I’m ready to process yet what for.

Later that afternoon Matt and I headed back down to the friendship bridge where- lo and behold!- my friend Mah turned out to be Matt’s local go-to guy. It was 4pm and with hints of dusk on the horizon, Matt introduced me to ‘no mans land’. The tone of the afternoon was set almost instantly, when we walked into the midst of a brawl between illegal stall holders. Apparently someone had stolen someone elses usual spot- this I learnt courtesy of Mah’s quick translation. Undeterred, Matt whipped out his camera and eagerly tried to document the angry faces, an all too frequent sight around these parts. I learnt that no mans land is rumoured to be home to the dodgiest of characters, from drug smugglers and dealers to human traffickers. Within minutes some young boys eagerly approached us to show off one of their latest finds, an empty bullet cartridge they found underneath the friendship bridge. A shooting took place on the Burmese side just a couple of nights ago.

As we strolled further along the footpath which defined the Thai border, we passed a group of men arguing loudly over a few beers, Matt explained that he’d seen one of the fellows pull a knife on someone just the night before. As if on cue, the guy in question stumbled past us and the somewhat amused Thai authorities, obviously roaringly drunk, he jumped down to no mans land and proceeded to gesticulate wildly with his machete, pointing at Matt and I with our cameras and screaming ‘no photo!’. Walking further still, back to where I’d been that first afternoon, we witnessed a fight between a dealer and his girlfriend, which had Matt and I both cringing as he threw her around and smashed her phone against the concrete. Itching to try and stop the fight, but realising we were way over our heads, we kept a respectful distance but a watchful eye, hoping that he wouldn’t push it too far. As she was doing her fair share of yelling and hitting, and wasn’t trying too hard to get away from him, we figured it best not to get involved.

We finished off the afternoon sitting by the water watching the tubes ferry people to and fro. I’d learnt my first few Burmese words the day before, and had a lot of fun welcoming those into Thailand with a friendly ‘Mingalaba!’. Mah on request taught me that goodbye is ‘Gwah doh meeh!’, so it wasn’t long until I was a one woman cacophony of hello, goodbye, a little bit of thank you thrown in for good measure (‘Kjay zu jen ba jei’), and of course for all those deliciously curious children clamped to their mothers shoulders wide-eyed and staring at the crazy farang girl, I learnt how to coo ‘Lah deh!’, which means beautiful.

And all this in just one day! After a most welcome shower and donning some clean clothes, I met Matt for his final meal in Mae Sot (a very untraditional cheese burger matched with a banana smoothie) and we reflected on our days exploit. He was somewhat apologetic to expose me to so much in a single afternoon, but I really appreciated the punchy low down and of course had a lot of fun playing around with my camera. A couple of Chang later and I wished my new friend Matt a warm farewell, sure that our paths will cross again.

For anyone interested, Matt is a brilliant photographer with a enviable eye, while his recent Mae Sot photos aren’t online yet, some of his old work can be found at: http://matthewvansaunphotography.com/Journalism/Smugglers-Gate-The-Invisable/9277405_tQHwz#620826926_gxyiu