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Thailand's Lost Children By Janna Graber It’s almost 9 p.m. and Chiang Rai’s Night Bazaar is still swarming with people. A group of young girls perform a traditional Thai dance in the market square, their lithe arms swirling in graceful chorus. Most locals don’t bother to watch, too busy with friends and catching up on the weekly gossip.
Ten-year old Kirstin doesn’t seem to notice the newness, the strangeness of it all. She giggles with excitement, holding tight to my hand while she marches ahead, as if in search of some great treasure. Here in this tiny square of Northern Thailand, our lives in Colorado seem distant, opaque. In the warm night air, I sense something I can’t quite identify. A slower pace of life, perhaps? A feeling of safety? Whatever it is, I am starting to relax, intrigued with the world around me. I can nearly forget that this is not just a simple
vacation; ignore the fact that I have come here to write about the sex trade.
“Come on!” Kirstin says, pulling me toward the rich smell of spicy food, The colorful dishes, neatly displayed, all look so appetizing, except for the plates of grilled crickets, beetles and grasshoppers. “Wanna try some, mom?” my oldest daughter asks, a mischievous tone in her voice. “Maybe later,” I say. “Right now, I can’t stand the thought of eating bug legs.” There are limits, after all, to one’s adventurous spirit. Kirstin and I are obviously outsiders, the only blonds in the market. But the Thai are kind and welcoming, and Kirstin mirrors their pleasant grins. We stop at a jewelry stand where I look over several gold necklaces. “It’s so cheap,” Kirstin exclaims, after asking the prices. The American dollar is strong here, making our purchases quite affordable. And while all economic strata are found here in Thailand, the majority of people live comfortable, simple lives. While I pore over the necklaces, the middle-age saleswoman smiles and admires Kirstin’s golden locks. We don’t understand her words, but the stroking of the hair and friendly pat on the head is universal. A complimentary child’s bracelet is tossed in on top of our purchase. Kirstin hugs it to her body as we walk away. “The Thai seem to like children,” I remark to my friend, Nancy, who joins us later at the market. “Of course,” she replies. “The Thai love their children and the children of others as well; kids are something to be treasured here.” I nod my head, deferring to Nancy’s wisdom. She has, after all, lived in Thailand for several years, raising two sons with her husband. Still, I am confused. Her take on Thailand’s purported adoration of children seems at odds with its thriving child prostitution. I open my mouth to ask about this paradox, but Nancy turns down another aisle.
The women speak to each other and Nancy in clipped sounds foreign to my ears, quite different from the Thai language. “They are Akha,” Nancy says. Instantly, I’m intrigued. The Akha are one of six distinct hill tribes living in the
nearby hills of Northern Thailand. Each of the tribes has its own language and
culture. Considered outsiders in their own country, the tribes lead remote,
primitive lives. Village homes are often made of bamboo and thatched roofs, most
without electricity or running water. Rejected by the Thai, many of the 540,000 tribal people do not possess Thai citizenship, as documenting births in grass huts, far from modern hospitals is difficult. Lack of official status denies the villages fundamental rights, like education, voting and land ownership. As an agrarian society, the inability to own land is problematic for the Hill tribes. As soil is depleted, tribes migrate between the steep hills of Thailand and neighboring countries. Recent government mandates force those who stay in Thailand to cultivate the same plot of land over and over, a distinct change from former ways. The pressures of modernization have intensified hardships for the Akha, the level of poverty making the villagers more susceptible to the social ills of civilized cultures. The least educated and poorest of the Hill Tribes, the Akha maintain the highest rate of drug addiction and infant mortality in Thailand. Opium addition, and sadly, child prostitution are huge issues for the Hill Tribe. *** |
Dozens
of vendors line the walkways, hawking everything from iron cookware to
traditional Thai clothing. They raise hopeful eyes to my daughter, Kirstin, and
me, as we worm our way through the market’s narrow aisles. The melodic tones of
the Thai language are an unintelligible, yet soothing buzz in my ears, and for a
moment, the English thoughts running through my head seem foreign. 
When
I reach her, she is speaking with four young women resting on a blanket, their
handcrafts in neat rows in front of them. They are wearing dresses covered in
intricate beadwork, and vibrant headdresses adorned with coins and beads sit
atop their heads. Shy smiles reveal red gums and teeth from chewing betel nut
leaves, a popular habit. 