For young Europeans of my generation who have grown up in a continent without boundaries, the border has always represented an abstract concept rather than an obstacle or concrete physical limits. With our roots firmly anchored and grounded far beyond our national borders, we’ve travelled, worked and also loved crossing freely those faded lines on the maps.  

We’ve developed a sense of unity, the awareness of being part of something larger than our little selves and, quoting a well-known figure, that “the earth is but one country, and mankind its citizens”.

At least in Europe, the only boundaries that we have always had to deal with were those generated by our minds, the boundaries that we ourselves have drawn.

It has always been a matter of lines: the lines that separated us from achieving our goals, the intangible lines that we have drawn to separate us from the people who surround us, that, as time passed by, we’ve turned into barriers hoping that nobody overcomes them.

And while the European Union is now busy restoring borders and boundaries through walls and kilometers of barbed wire, young people of my generation feel suffocated by these lines.

Just when you try to put your head above the parapet and have a look beyond the border that you feel that sense of emptiness. A mixture of fear and desire that push the most adventurous of us to pack up and take a chance, crossing borders, driven by the desire to discover what lies on the other side.

For all these reasons, I decided to spend almost one year of my life in Ranong, a border town between Thailand and Myanmar. Ranong is one of those places on Earth where the border can be so slight and, at the same time, heavier than any other barrier.

Because of their experience of oppression, poverty, and lack of work opportunities in their own country, many people from Myanmar decide to cross the border and come here in Thailand searching for a better future for themselves and their families, but most of the time what they find is a hard life full of tremendous challenges: fraud and abuse; lack of access to healthcare, educational opportunities and other resources due to the nature of their migration status.

Here along the Thai-Myanmar border, where the Marist Asia Foundation serves the poorest Burmese migrants through education and health programs, I was surrounded by these amazing people who have shaped my life over the last year. Thanks to them I’m not only another year older but another year wiser.

Even if I was supposed to be the teacher for the students of the Burmese Migrant Secondary Programme I think that inside those classes I’m the one who learnt most.

At the beginning, the students were so shy and silent, but their big smiles made me feel immediately at ease. And this is how it started.

As time passed, they became less shy and more talkative and they started sharing with me their life and their experiences, despite language difficulties. I’ve discovered how hard their life can be, but wonderfully their smiles have never changed.

From this experience, I’ve learned that life can be extremely hard at times, but you never have to get tired of smiling.

I’ve learned the power of acceptance, that doesn’t mean resignation, but simply do not spend your energies focusing on what cannot be changed, ruining the serenity of your day.

I’ve learned that happiness doesn’t come as a result of getting something that you don’t have, but of being thankful for all you have. 

Three simple life lessons that I hope I’ll never forget!

Marist Asia Foundation is thankful to Caritas Italiana for sending young Italian Volunteers to support the Health and Education Programmes over the past several years. Their presence and support has reminded our Burmese Migrant Children and families of the love and support of so many people from around the world

Mike and I have just spent five weeks here at the Marist Mission in Ranong (MMR). It has been an unforgettable experience for us both. We knew it would be a challenge before we arrived and yet we find ourselves constantly processing what we have seen here, sometimes it is the unexpected that really impacts you.

I am a teacher at Marist College, a Catholic school for girls in Auckland, New Zealand. Mike was originally a primary teacher but he has been working in air transport for the past 30 years. Mike is also a keen amateur photographer.

While here we have taught two Year 1 English classes and taught the ACU Online Diploma Programme and the Bridging Programme. We have been out with the Health team, visited learning centres and also some of the factories that students and their families work and live in. Mike has taken hundreds of photos for the team here to use.

What has all this been like? Well, Ranong is not pretty Thailand, more like gritty Thailand. Life here for many of the Burmese migrants is pretty basic and for some it is horrific. We cannot un-see the children in the charcoal factory, their bodies covered in charcoal dust, their living quarters dark and hot, they and their parents working for next to nothing. It is 3D work, dirty, dangerous and difficult.

We will not forget the HIV patients we visited, particularly the mother who has just given birth to her 3rd child. The sad eyes of children who are not able to attend school, farewelling those on the bus fortunate enough to be coming to MMR. We are in awe of the on-line students who have a steely determination to make a better life for themselves and their families.

What we have learnt from these visits is that school is a place where students are safe and cared for. MMR isn’t just about getting students through their education, it’s about their whole person being cared for and their dignity being restored in whatever way possible. Mike photographed the graduation ceremony for the pre-school and kindergarten students and came away deeply impressed with the commitment of the parents who want a better life for their children.

I am impressed with the ACU on-line students and their ability to discuss 21st century learning theories and yet some live in dwellings with no running water and no toilet. We saw the demeanour of one student change when at their factory-home, at school this is confident and happy learner, at the factory the posture of this student changed completely and we saw a cautious and sad young person.

There is no question about it, we have gained more than we have given. Yes, we were able to fill gaps so the Marist Fathers in the Asia region could meet and then have a break together. Yes, Mike has left behind a bank of amazing photos. Yes, I am an experienced teacher and I was able to work with ACU on-line students on their paper on 21st Century Learning but we will leave and most people will forget we were here but we will never forget the people we have meet. Our admiration is for those volunteers who are able to commit to a long term stay, life here is not for the faint of heart.

We are deeply moved by the Marist Fathers and their humble, feet on the ground approach to helping the Burmese people in Ranong. In Matthew’s Gospel 25:35-40 we are told that we will be judged by our actions, “ For I was hungry and you gave me something to eat, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you invited me in, I needed clothes and you clothed me, I was sick and you looked after me, I was in prison and you came to visit me.’ “Then the righteous will answer him, ‘Lord, when did we see you hungry and feed you, or thirsty and give you something to drink? When did we see you a stranger and invite you in, or needing clothes and clothe you? When did we see you sick or in prison and go to visit you?’ “The King will reply, ‘Truly I tell you, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me.’ “

The Burmese are the ‘least’ in the eyes of many here but in the eyes of the MMR team and particularly in the eyes of the Marist Fathers and the RNDM Sisters who also work here, they are brothers and sisters.