Mercy Center

Posts Tagged ‘child sponsioship’

Although “sponsorship” of a child through the Pattaya Street Kids Support Project normally only involves  a nominalyearly payment of tuition – something satisfying enough on its own – there is a somewhat hidden benefit to being involved, and that is the gift of being able to actually MEET your students; something that is often the highlight of my visits to Thailand.  The Project’s “people on the ground” in Pattaya at Mercy Center do their best to accommodate sponsor visits, and it’s something I am very grateful for.

Today was my fourth visit with Tanakorn, one of the students sponsored by my family. Although he’s always been pleasant, polite and personable it’s been somewhat of a challenge to get Nuk (pronounced like the first syllable of “nuclear”) to smile much, but all that was to change this time.

Coming out of the larger building behind the raised “gazebo-type” covered area in his neatly pressed Boy Scout uniform, he spotted me inside the van as he approached and suddenly just burst into a big smile, the likes of which I don’t ever remember seeing before. It certainly made me feel like a million dollars, I’ll tell you.  He did the traditional respectful “wai” gesture for me, Liz and the others, naturally, and then clambered into the van.

He continued to do the shy, dipping of the head gesture he often does in uncertain situations, but he was genuinely a happy guy.  Liz leaned over to me and said she figures he’s met me often enough to understand that I’m actually going to be sticking around, which helps him be more comfortable with me.

As is usually my privilege when visiting the students the school and Nuk’s guardians (in this case his parents) allow a supervised lunch and shopping trip each visit, giving them a treat they never seem to expect but always appreciate, sometimes with an overwhelmed wide-eyed wonder the first few times.  It’s never been something they’ve ever taken for granted, and you can’t buy the happy feeling you get seeing a kid pushing a shopping cart full of basic food items out of a store with a look of satisfied pride, knowing they’re helping put food on the family table.  I can’t properly describe it so I won’t try further, but it’s something I heartily recommend trying yourself, if at all possible.

Liz was a bit apprehensive when we arrived at Nuk’s school because TWO women came out with him instead of one, but it turned out one of them only wanted a ride to the outlet store area where we were to go shopping. We’d arrived at 11:15, about 15 minutes late for his pick-up at the school and had to have him back by 1pm, so Sam asked him where he wanted to go eat, he told us, and off we went.  Chit-chat is always somewhat of a challenge via interpreter, but Sam did his usual admirable job and Nuk was bright and responsive while I peppered him with questions about his studies, his family, his current hobbies and the likes.

The woman who came along from the school to supervise was pleasant enough, but she did somewhat corral Nukaround, taking him by the hand and leading him along, putting a hand on his back and sort of pushing him, rather like one would with a five year old.  “He’s about a decade too old for that,” I thought to myself (Nuk is 15) but I kept my big mouth shut, other than to make that comment to Liz, who heartily agreed.

After we’d ordered our food I showed Nuk the bag of things I had brought for him: a 25-piece set of pens, mechanical pencils, erasers and hi-liters for school, a bag of chocolates and  treats from home, a “Billabong” T-shirt that just  MIGHT fit him in a couple of years, a few other things and a (belated) birthday card that played the “Star Wars” theme when you opened it.  Having never seen such a thing the card actually made him jump when it started, but that amused ME, if not him.

Trying to stay on schedule we went to the nearby sporting goods outlet store immediately after we’d finished eating, and Nuk made a bee-line for one of the walls of athletic shoes; NOT the big name brands, but one of the far lower-priced lines.  They didn’t have any that he liked in his size, and he looked a little disappointed and bewildered as the salesperson led him over to the Nike/Adidas area.  He was again shy about picking out a pair he liked because he knew they were more expensive, but he did ask about one specific shoe, and the salesperson went off to check for his size. His face lit up when he saw the salesperson emerging from the storeroom with the box. That first pair fit him perfectly, and he just beamed.  He looked up at me for approval from the bench where he’d sat to put them on, and when I gave him the “thumbs up” and said “Good job!” he grinned again.

He plays goalie for a team organized by some of his friends, so new they haven’t even named it yet.  They don’t belong to an actual league but play other local teams, more in hopes someone scouting from a “real” team will see their playing skills and perhaps give them an opportunity to play with them.  He allowed that he didn’t have shin guards, so of course those were added to the batch, along with a couple pair of knee high socks.

Now we were really running short on time, so it was a community effort inside of Tesco-Lotus (a large warehouse-type shopping center, somewhat like WalMart in the US), with all of us helping put food staples into the cart as we made an abbreviated shopping stop, picking up about 30Kg of rice, six boxed bundles of instant noodles, six bottles of cooking oil, seven or eight cans of  sardines in tomato sauce, three bottles of fish sauce, two bags of laundry powder, a large container of that “3-in-1″ instant coffee mix popular with some Thai, a small quantity of ground pork and chicken for cooking over the next day or two and a few other things that don’t come to mind now and the receipt’s in Thai, so no help, either!  We hustled the supplies out to the van and headed back to Nuk’s school.

When we were standing next to the van saying our goodbyes Nuk and I shook hands, but the woman gently scolded him, pushing him over to me to “make” him hug me. “Go hug the big sweaty farang (Westerner) , Tanakorn!” is what her command in Thai sounded like to me, and Nuk obeyed, but the poor kid looked up at me  right afterwards with a “this wasn’t MY idea” look and he blushed in embarrassment. A couple of his school friends could be heard commenting
about it within his earshot, which only deepened the pink in his cheeks.

“That is SUCH un-Thai behavior,” Liz said, and I had to agree.  As we turned to drive away from the school you could see Nuk walking back to class, his hand still being held by the woman.  As he turned to look back and wave he was still smiling.

Later that afternoon I had the new experience of going along to deliver our shopping bounty to his home – something I didn’t expect, but was most grateful to do.  The area around the “neighborhood” – really just a cluster of humble dwellings – is unpaved and I have no idea who it may belong to.  There’s a large, divided concrete road flyover nearly completion within 50 yards of their front door – something that can’t help but be noisy when it opens, I would think.

Despite Boonying’s care while driving in, the Mercy van rocked and lurched as we moved along what passed for aroadway under the unfinished flyover; the water from the previous night’s rain having turned the clay to a slick mud that parted under the van’s weight as we moved along, leaving deep ruts behind us in the wetter areas where water still stood.  The ground appeared dry in many areas, but there were also puddles and what looked to be small ponds of
earth-colored water around the area where the few simple dwellings were clumped together.

“There he is,” said Liz, motioning ahead, where a motor scooter was stopping in front of his family’s home; more than a lean-to, but less than a house.  Nuk, still in his neatly ironed Scout uniform hopped off the back of the scooter and went inside, emerging with his  mother as we pulled up in front of the house.  His father sat shirtless in long denim pants and rubber slippers on the traditional raised platform outside the front door, giving us a broad, welcoming smile  as we clambered carefully out of the van, avoiding puddles and mud. Nuk, his mother and younger brother Pavit all stood at the rear of the van as Boonying opened the back door and began handing them the plastic  bags of groceries from Tesco-Lotus.  Although they didn’t really want me to I finally managed to take a couple myself and help carry them inside, allowing me my first glimpse into their one-room home.

It was as cluttered as my own home and felt comfortable, if basic.  The heavy rains the previous night had caused more of a mess than usual, the water’s path possibly altered by the construction so close nearby and they’d had water actually coming through the house.  The tiled area where we were had been cleaned up, but under the raised “living” area and bedroom you could see water standing, waiting for mosquitoes to set up household.  There was a semi-enclosed room with a door ajar that I pointed to and pantomimed to Nuk “Is this where you sleep?” He smiled and nodded “yes,” and I again gestured to indicate a netted tent and said “I’m glad you have mosquito nets!” to which he nodded his head, soberly.

I took my camera out and we took a few family group shots after loading the groceries in, but didn’t have more than a very few minutes to visit as our travel van was on a schedule, so we said our goodbyes for this visit and I told Nuk I’d see him again in February if my plans to come there came to pass.  He nodded his head and again smiled when this was translated for him, giving me a final “wai” of thanks.

Overall, it was a magnificent visit, and well worth the wait to finally see him so at ease – and so happy.

Mark, California, USA