DSC_0761“It’s early morning, following a night of rain on the border between Thailand and Myanmar. Our breakfast consists of a hard-boiled egg and coffee. It’s the beginning of our adventure: four days in Mae Sot with a priest who works for refugees, the least of the least, the ones who don’t get into the official United Nations camps, the ones nobody cares for and who are often unpaid by those for whom they do a week’s work. They’re undocumented and don’ts have the power to protest, because nobody will defend them. Many of them have spent many years in the forests, and finally they can come out. Living amongst the walls and tunnels of factories and makeshift huts, it’s a miracle they’re still alive. Nobody talks about them, and nobody knows about their situation, but everyone knows that they’re worth their weight in gold, a low-cost work force of people ready to work for small salaries, just enough to live on. It’s why Mae-Sot will become such a special economic zone with many industries.

We want to be here for at least a few of them. We’ve begun a project that helps the children in a school that didn’t exist too long ago, if not in the dreams of the children of Latina, Italy, and the refugee peers in Mae-Sot.

20151013-02Now, the school does exist and it’s named is “Drop by Drop”. It’s an unlikely pairing between Latina and the mire of Mae-Sot: injustice, illness, rape, abuse, and so on. Some do well, and some thank God that they are still alive in the morning. . . and at night! Like one of the children at the school. I ask his mother: “What is your son’s name?” “Chit Yin Htoo,” she tells me. It means: “If you love me answer me.” “Did you give him the name when he was born?” I ask. “Maybe 3 or 4 years ago, maybe 5 or 6.” At this point I stop and am unable to go on writing. I can only pray that I don’t cry in front of this mother. How can this be?

This project was a “loving folly“’ that only the mind of a child could dream up. And that’s what love is, it makes the desert flower, it spurs you to do the impossible, and it makes you glad! We adults follow these children with fear and trembling and respect, I would say: “Their angels gaze upon the Father in Heaven.” When I’m with “If you love me, answer me” I find it hard to make him smile. He’s shy and reserved. Only after much time am I able to take him in my arms: 6 years old, or perhaps 5. . . nobody is really sure . . . fragile and light as a feather. What have his small eyes seen? With a faint voice he’s just able to whisper a message. We distribute food, milk and especially puppets and toys: lanterns, then clothes that make everyone happy. “We don’t have enough for everyone, but let’s ask for a miracle,” I suggest. Let’s try to love one another and take care of each other as we do of ourselves.” Their eyes brighten when they see the football and football uniforms that have been given by a Football Academy of Priverno, Italy. So much love arrives, and the children are gladdened because they feel the love. It changes their sad eyes.

20151013-01The school doesn’t have actual walls: slightly damaged blackboards. The teachers are volunteers who are only able to be paid a monthly salary of 50 €. Then there is the net and the toilets. . . I feel that I am inside a sanctuary of love, the kind of cathedral that Pope Francis would like. Years ago, I made a vow – that this would be my people and I would never abandon them. In front of this school, this “Drop of love” in the ocean of evil that surrounds us, I renew that vow.”
Luigi Butori

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