Little Faces Playing to the Heart

Our luxuries are bountiful. So innumerable are our fortunes that they are inevitably taken for granted. Before we leave our beds in the morning, we have most likely already overlooked several riches. Above our heads are roofs that don’t leak and under them are soft pillows. But we are not to blame. Without a stark comparison, it is easy to forget our blessings when they are veiled by daily strife and routines.

Recently, I was afforded an opportunity to see my affluence reflected by the faces of children who lacked it. And yet, they smiled and laughed all the same.

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The first time I visited Tanarak Village, an impoverished suburban community of Bangkok, the day was sweltering. The night before, torrential rains fell on the woodstove of the sauna that was the outdoors. My eyes drank eagerly from the windows of the van as we passed abandoned shacks and food carts succumbing to the elements. Roofs were caving in. Parts were missing. Stray dogs slept and crept listlessly in the shade, into shadows hiding all but the floating swarthy faces of the locals.

The van stopped. Coworkers and I loaded with bags of donations made our way through the walkways leading to the meeting area. Along the way, an array of rusted aluminum panels, nails, and scents of frying meats jutted out. Children played along the train tracks. Garbage—like wild foliage—seemed to be growing and thriving off the land. It swam in the water and underneath houses like and with the fish. An orchestra of televisions and laughter from the kids reverberated through the walkway, only to be interrupted by motorcycles whizzing by the line of outsiders.

Prior to my arrival, the office had been working closely with the community (what might be harshly called the ‘slums’ is referred to here as the community) for several months. Meetings occurred where ABAC Poll members and community leaders discussed how to start to improve the quality of life: removing the fish that aren’t fish; renovations that would permit only the frying meat scents to jut out; and providing the children with additional educational outlets and areas to encourage more violins of laughter and less TV conductors.

Initially, the altruism of our purpose unsettled me more than the environment; no background knowledge of the area, the people, or our goals had been made available to me. Even more unnerving was the overwhelming sense of responsibility. But soon after, my doubts and jitters were assuaged when I saw how thirsty these children were for learning. They were my eyes and their windows were my words. In them, I would like to think they saw a way to help their people. In them, I would like to think I saw that possibility.

I have taught there twice now. Each time, we all learn a little more, not only about language, but about life. I cannot speak on behalf of the ABAC Poll staff. Perhaps I would do myself a service to ask them if they are learning anything from this experience or if only I and the children are learning new ways of life. I can say the children are realizing they can teach the teacher Thai, and I am redefining the importance of being a child. Knowledge can open the heart to the youth it has forgotten with time and tragedy.