Mae Sot:
An all-day journey on a large songthaew with few other passengers was required for
the longer leg further southwards from Mae Sariang on the recently opened road alongside the border
through flat countryside with isolated villages and several police checkpoints to the major town of Mae Sot. On one stage I had the company of a tough-looking Thai
army ranger complete with M-16 machine carbine.
A real frontier atmosphere pervades the congested, vibrant streets of Mae Sot with its
interesting mix of ethnicities;- Burmese men in their longyis, bearded Indo-Burmese
engaged in the local gems trade, Hmong and Karen women in traditional tribal dress.
Shop signs are in Thai, Burmese, Chinese and English.
In the rambling municipal market I met Rudneh and Moyek, two friendly young
Burmese refugees keen to practise their English. They earned 20 Baht ( approx. 30p )
per day for transporting fruit and vegetables on their bicycle wheelbarrows.
Rim Moei:
Seven kilometres out of town lies the border along the Moei River ( a tributary of the
Salawin River ) where a new road-bridge is under construction - a link in Asia Route
1 - the planned Pan Asian Highway linking Istanbul to Singapore.
Waving my camera at the Immigration and Customs checkpoint I was allowed
through to the riverbank where a small ferry was busy shuttling a constant stream of
passengers and trade goods across the narrow stretch of sluggish water. Burmese boys
touted cartons of cheap Chinese cigarettes.
On the far side was the village of Myawaddy, the eastern outpost of Burma, with a
fenced compound of thatched-roofed houses. Unfortunately it was out of bounds for
tourists. Lining the Thai side of the river however was an extensive array of stalls
selling Burmese handicrafts:- jade, jewellery, lacquerware, teak carvings.
Waley:
In the company of villagers returning from shopping in the market at Mae Sot I
travelled by songthaew further south on good roads through extensive rice fields,
lined with palm trees, to Phap Phra before changing to another songthaew and
continuing on a dusty, dirt road to the small cluster of wooden buildings at Waley. A
rough track led down through forest and past an un-manned guardpost to the
tumble-down footbridge spanning the Nam Moei - the headwaters of the River Moei
and no more than a stream - the frontier with Burma.
Three men, bare-chested and bare-foot, clad only in longyis, appeared on the far side
and came across the bridge. Getting only smiles in response to my questions in
English I resorted to my rudimentary Thai:- "Sawat dii khrap" ( Greetings ). " Mai
mee pan hah?", ( No problem? ) I asked gesturing if I could cross.
"Mai mee pan hah", replied one. Indicating that I should follow he led me over the
bridge and pointed to a path through the jungle before returning to his friends.
With some trepidation, feeling like a small boy trespassing in an orchard, I proceeded
cautiously along the path to emerge into a large clearing. On the far side were the
few, primitive huts of the Burmese village of Phalu. Apart from one man lying asleep
there was no sign of life.
Expecting at any moment to be challenged by a squad of armed soldiers bursting
from the jungle I hurriedly took a couple of photos before retreating to the Thai side
of the bridge - but satisfied at having set foot on Burmese territory.
Returning through Waley I noticed a huge lumberyard stacked with teak logs - black
market trade from across the border.
Mawker Refugee Camp:
Waiting at the bus stop were four young men. Unkempt and roughly dressed they
might have been extras as pirates or brigands in a movie.
"Pai nai?", ( Where do you go? ) asked one. "Mae Sot", I replied.
Shortly a pick-up arrived. Ushering me into the priviledged seat in the cab beside the
driver they clambered into the back. A different route from my outward journey was
now taken over a badly-rutted track on hard-baked earth through desolate,
sparsely-vegetated countryside.Suddenly, on rounding a bend, a vast array of
close-packed, thatched-roofed huts appeared - the Mawker Camp for Karen refugees
from the fighting in Burma. A gatehouse and barrier blocked the way. My benefactor
stuck his head through the window.
"Pai nai?", he asked again. "Mae Sot", I again replied. He indicated that I should
change over into a songthaew waiting at the gatehouse. As they drove off into the
camp I returned their waves, gave a thumb's up and shouted, "khawp khun khrap (
thank you ), chok dee ( good luck ) ".
Only once I was sitting aboard the songthaew did I realize that he had been offering
me the opportunity of accompanying them into the camp - one of the many hidden
along the border and unpublicised by the Thai government to avoid attracting the
unwelcome attentions of international aid agencies.
Tak:
A somewhat hair-raising, high-speed ride by mini-bus down the mountain road from
Mae Sot through forested hills brought me back to familiar surroundings in the small,
provincial capital of Tak on the main highway from Chiang Mai to Bangkok to
terminate my tour of the wild North-West frontier of Thailand.
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