BREF – Living in a Refugee Camp

First Visit to a Refugee Camp

On a very hot day in January of 1992, Tom and Liz Brackett, first entered Gray Hta, a small Karen refugee camp just a short walk from the Moie river which separates Thailand from Burma. In those early days, before Burma began to attack the refugees in Thailand, the camps were not unlike small mountain villages. Led by our hostess, the people were very hospitable to us, going so far as to build our very own bamboo house, with our own kitchen, sleeping and toilet rooms, and a large class room for our work teaching English to the teachers of St. John's School. We were invited to attend weddings and funerals of both Christian and Buddhist followers and had many talks with animist teachers.
On a very hot day in January of 1992, Tom and Liz Brackett, first entered Gray Hta, a small Karen refugee camp just a short walk from the Moie river which separates Thailand from Burma. In those early days, before Burma began to attack the refugees in Thailand, the camps were not unlike small mountain villages. Led by our hostess, the people were very hospitable to us, going so far as to build our very own bamboo house, with our own kitchen, sleeping and toilet rooms, and a large class room for our work teaching English to the teachers of St. John's School. We were invited to attend weddings and funerals of both Christian and Buddhist followers and had many talks with animist teachers.
On a very hot day in January of 1992, Tom and Liz Brackett, first entered Gray Hta, a small Karen refugee camp just a short walk from the Moie river which separates Thailand from Burma. In those early days, before Burma began to attack the refugees in Thailand, the camps were not unlike small mountain villages. Led by our hostess, the people were very hospitable to us, going so far as to build our very own bamboo house, with our own kitchen, sleeping and toilet rooms, and a large class room for our work teaching English to the teachers of St. John's School. We were invited to attend weddings and funerals of both Christian and Buddhist followers and had many talks with animist teachers.
After a month or so when we had settled into our new home and had gotten to know our new friends fairly well, they began to tell us their stories of suffering, abuse, and escape. To hear such tragic tails coming from the mouths of those we thought we knew, gave us deep insight into the true ravages of war, and gave us new respect for these decent and courageous people. As our six month stay neared its end, people came to visit and say their goodbyes. On the last day we were escorted along the trail from the camp by over one hundred people. They thanked us for coming and wished us well. We told them we would return and we did return, every year from then until now.
After a month or so when we had settled into our new home and had gotten to know our new friends fairly well, they began to tell us their stories of suffering, abuse, and escape. To hear such tragic tails coming from the mouths of those we thought we knew, gave us deep insight into the true ravages of war, and gave us new respect for these decent and courageous people. As our six month stay neared its end, people came to visit and say their goodbyes. On the last day we were escorted along the trail from the camp by over one hundred people. They thanked us for coming and wished us well. We told them we would return and we did return, every year from then until now.
After a month or so when we had settled into our new home and had gotten to know our new friends fairly well, they began to tell us their stories of suffering, abuse, and escape. To hear such tragic tails coming from the mouths of those we thought we knew, gave us deep insight into the true ravages of war, and gave us new respect for these decent and courageous people. As our six month stay neared its end, people came to visit and say their goodbyes. On the last day we were escorted along the trail from the camp by over one hundred people. They thanked us for coming and wished us well. We told them we would return and we did return, every year from then until now.

On a very hot day in January of 1992, Tom and Liz Brackett, first entered Gray Hta, a small Karen refugee camp just a short walk from the Moie river which separates Thailand from Burma. In those early days, before Burma began to attack the refugees in Thailand, the camps were not unlike small mountain villages.

Led by our hostess, the people were very hospitable to us, going so far as to build our very own bamboo house, with our own kitchen, sleeping and toilet rooms, and a large class room for our work teaching English to the teachers of St. John's School.

We were invited to attend weddings and funerals of both Christian and Buddhist followers and had many talks with animist teachers.

After a month or so when we had settled into our new home and had gotten to know our new friends fairly well, they began to tell us their stories of suffering, abuse, and escape. To hear such tragic tails coming from the mouths of those we thought we knew, gave us deep insight into the true ravages of war, and gave us new respect for these decent and courageous people.

As our six month stay neared its end, people came to visit and say their goodbyes. On the last day we were escorted along the trail from the camp by over one hundred people. They thanked us for coming and wished us well. We told them we would return and we did return, every year from then until now.