Time goes strangely at Baan Yuu Suk shelter: I’ve only been living/working (lirking?) here for about seven weeks, but it feels more like months. At the same time, I’m shocked to find that it’s already the end of November! Wasn’t it September just the other day? This is probably the effect of having your workplace double as your living space, which makes for a rather unique experience. Yes, sometimes it can feel like you’re never entirely off the clock, as it can be difficult to find the line between work time and play time (having attended meetings in my pyjamas I don’t think I’ll ever wear formal gear again). More often than not, though, it’s like being part of a very large family; after all, it’s hard to remain purely professional with someone who’s seen you in your jimjams. So we function as every family does, each person carrying out their specific tasks to ensure the smooth running of the household. For me and my colleagues-come-roomies, these responsibilities involve things like keeping up to date on sponsorships, volunteers and outreach programmes, as well as organising the girls’ activities and schedule.
The girls themselves have a list of duties; they follow a hefty weekly chore rota on top of going to school and homework. It’s a long, busy week for them, and it’s little wonder that one of our jobs includes chasing them up on their tasks. There has been a crackdown in discipline recently, as the girls have received poor grades for their last semester, so the socks are now being pulled up. Mickey has steadily limited their access to computers, as they seem to spend most of their allotted time on Facebook or Youtube, leaving homework to the last minute. Typical teenage behaviour, of course, but the problem here is that while most households have one or two teenagers to slap on the wrist when they procrastinate, this one has twelve. It’s hard to keep track of them all. They are generally good girls, and do a hell of a lot more than I ever did at their age, but they occasionally need pushed. As Mickey keeps reminding us, we aren’t here to be the girls’ friends. We are, in fact, acting ‘in loco parentis’, as COSA holds temporary guardianship of the girls. This means that we are not only responsible for making sure they do their homework and attend school; we have to teach them the life skills that will help them become responsible, independent grown-ups.
This is especially important when it comes to the Baan Yuu Suk girls; getting them a good education and making sure they grow into adults with minds of their own is essential, because there is always the possibility that they could fall into the life that COSA works hard to keep them from. We try to give the girls as normal a life as possible; it’s one of the reasons that we don’t bring new girls into the shelter until the start of a new school year, to ease the transition. However, the fact remains that these girls are still viewed as ‘different’ by society at large. At school, many other students know them as the ‘shelter girls’; they also come from hilltribes, which brings with it its own stigma. To give an example of a predominant opinion of hilltribes and Northern girls, a well-known Thai businessman recently wrote this on his Facebook wall:
“I really don’t want to say this because it will seem like I look down on women… but the truth is… Northern girls who are uneducated or lazy and intellectually retarded will look for an easy job that normal women won’t do… Mainly it’s prostitution … Therefore, the Northern woman who is devoid of intelligence and extremely stupid yet thick-faced enough to take up the position, you should know what profession suits you.’
This comment drew a lot of attention from women’s rights groups in Thailand, and outrage in much of the north. However, it still represents a substantial chunk of the Thai public’s prejudices against those from hilltribes and the Northern region. It is an image that the Baan Yuu Suk girls may have to struggle against as they get older; after all it’s easier to do what is expected of you than fight against it, especially in Thailand, where you are taught never to question the status quo from day one at school. Add to this the fact that prostitution is still by far and away the fastest way for a poorer girl supporting her family to make money, and you can see how strong a temptation this lifestyle is for young women here.
And the danger of them slipping into prostitution is not just a problem when they grow up; there is a constant possibility that these girls could leave us at any moment. After all, they are only here through their family’s consent. We do not have the right to keep them here against their will. A while ago, COSA had a girl who had been rescued from trafficking and had been living at the shelter for some months. During this time, her sister was sent to work in a brothel down south. The sister phoned her parents begging to come home, so the father started smuggling drugs to pay off her debt to the brothel. He got caught, and was thrown in jail. The girl wanted to leave the shelter at this point in order to help support her family; Laura and Mickey begged her to stay and finish the last few months of the school year, but she was adamant to leave. If she had finished the year, it would have given her qualifications that would have allowed her to go on to vocational school; as it stands, she now has no qualifications that will get her an even half-decent job, and if she wants to go back to school she will have to start right back at a primary level, thanks to the rules of the Thai education system. The last COSA heard of this girl, she was down south with her sister, working at a ‘bar’. Many people and NGOs make the mistake of thinking that rescuing a child from trafficking solves the problem; it isn’t. It’s only the beginning of the road.
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