Englewood Cliffs, New Jersey

I've been avoiding writing about the day to day events between Josephine and me because nothing has been stable in our relationship. My feelings on one day would be totally different on another day. In principle, I suppose, I should just put down what happens at any given time at the time it happens, because those are the facts of that particular time, but everyone knows that's not the way history works, whether it's world history, national history, or personal history.

If I write something one day that I completely do not feel another day, I do not want it written down. If a feeling or observation isn't permanent, I wouldn't want to make it permanent by recording it in my personal history. History does not become history just because it happens. It only becomes history when it is reconciled and comes to terms with itself. That's why entries here have been so sparse the past few months.

But here at year's end, I feel should assess and recap what this past semester has been with Josephine. Especially since a phase of our relationship ended on December 15. Actually, the relationship came to an end, only to be revived...well, it's going to be revived. It is intended to be revived when I go back to San Francisco?

I have very little good to say about this relationship. Overall, it's been a terrible relationship, and I don't know why I'm sticking with it; giving it another chance. There have been so many chances where all I had to do was let her walk away. Instead, I've always pulled her back or let her come back. This last time it would have been so easy; she had already found another place and paid the first months rent. I would have been here in New Jersey when she moved out. I wouldn't even have to deal with the separation. So easy.

I could have returned to San Francisco a free man; free from the fear, free from the pressure; free to be myself and do what I want to do. Sure it would have been hard, sure it would have been sad, but I would have gotten over it like I've done so many times before.

Instead, after a nice day together in New York as friends, I drove her to the family’s house with whom she was staying, and at the last moment she broke down and said she didn't want to move out. I felt for her so strongly and responded telling her not to then. And I'm glad about it. It was a relief. There must be something in the relationship that is worth it. But once I start thinking about it, I realize that I'm walking right back into a violent relationship, right back into the cycle of violence.

We've gone through this before, I have no reason to believe that things will be different or that she is going to change. I told her about the cycle of violence and she sees it and agrees that we have to get out of it. I think in her mind, maybe she is thinking that if we get back together, she won't be violent anymore and we are out of the cycle. For me, the fact that I'm going back into the relationship is re-affirming the cycle. We're just fulfilling the kiss and make-up phase of the cycle. The fact remains that the longest period of time we went without violence was 17 days. I do not believe anything is really going to change. There is going to be violence again in the month of January.

We had our rough times in Thailand, but they never ended in violence. It was just walk away until we made up. Then when we got back to San Francisco, we still had rough times, and it was the same deal, walk away until one of us made a move to make up. Then we moved in with each other and that's when the violence started.

It was hard from the very start. We had problems the day she moved in. After that, the cycle started, the suspicions, the hurt feelings, the lashing out, the accusations. None of it well-founded, none of it based on fact, none of it overshadowed by something to make the relationship worth my while.

Eventually the door slamming, the nasty words, the meanness, the throwing things, breaking things. Finally there was an actual physical assault, which isn't as bad as it sounds. I don't care so much about being hit, and female on male personal physical violence is not as serious a problem as the reverse. What it expressed, though, was not wasted or forgotten, nor the expression behind the sheer rage of her wrecking things in her room. All of it was me being thrown against the wall, shattering, scattering, breaking. The occasion of her screaming "I hate you" out her window at me for all the world to hear is a sound that still echoes in my ears. It was a public proclamation.

It's been an awful relationship. I remember all the fights and can't believe that we made up and continued with it so many times. The fights interspersed with good times that floated on a sea of fear, trying not to hurt her feelings, trying to keep her happy, worrying about the next time she reached the bottom of her manic depression's sine wave.

I had almost no private time to myself because I was afraid of leaving her alone, afraid of what was emotionally developing that I wasn't aware of, wasn't prepared for. Occasionally, she had her moments of clarity and would be aware of the problems, and she would encourage me to do what I wanted to do and not worry about her, but always, her actions would belie her words and I couldn't trust any of her words.

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It occurs to me only now that this whole story should be completely in the past tense. There should be no future. Josephine should just be another number in a string of girlfriends.

Only the relationship with Joy was worse. Liz, too, but I don’t count it because that period of my life is so surreal; a most tumultuous period of my life. The relationship with Liz wasn't bad because it was a bad relationship. It was bad because I was really, really screwed up. That relationship just isn't subject to comparison because it was doomed to fail. In the end, we're still friends and there is no hint that we used to go out.

Joy was just a painfully bland-nothing-boring-relationship. Everything got set into a mold which got repeated ad nauseam. Everything was predictable and boring and for months the only reason why I didn't break up with her was because I didn't feel like going through with a breakup. In the end it was rather harmless. A discussion for several hours in Golden Gate Park, a few tears shed, dropped her off at a BART station. Even with the violence, Josephine was better. Josephine is a ball of fun at her best and a great companion.

When things were good with Josephine, they were great, but great times don't overshadow violence. It's sick to put up with violence just because other times are good. Josephine has to learn that there are things that you just don't do and just don't say to the one you love. She has to take responsibility for what she throws out into the world around her.

Amina and Shiho are still the undeniable best relationships I had, even though they both ended in betrayal. Disgust and betrayal with Amina. A complete loss of respect for Shiho. But while they were happening, they were great and the feeling from those relationships is what I still strive for.

In the middle are Sakuko, Hiromi, and Luyen. Sakuko and I broke up because of my personal problems. If we started going out now, I think I could fulfill my part to make it work. She really loved me and wanted things to work and tried to make things work. If Josephine put that sort of effort into our relationship, it would be a breeze.

The relationship with Hiromi was the sweetest out of the three, but also the most detached. I never felt we really connected through the hours and hours of intimacy we had in the semester we were together. When the relationship started slipping away, there was nothing for me to hold onto to keep it from slipping away, even if I wanted to.

I don't even have any recollection of how it broke off. It just suddenly wasn't there anymore. We had problems and they just didn't get addressed. We didn't try to work it out. The semester ended and we weren't in each others' plans. We both ended up staying in Oberlin, but not together. We were apart and that set the stage for our walking our separate ways. I really don't remember.

The relationship with Luyen was as tortured as this with Josephine. She was working her way through emotional and mental problems and we argued and fought a lot, but a lot of it was positive fighting and there was no violence. By "positive", I don't mean that any of the fighting was good, but there was a point to it all. Our fights were substantive and we were trying to work things out, personally and together. It wasn't self-indulgent or petty fighting. But I'm not sure I'm remembering that quite right, either.

That's funny. There is no comparison between Josephine and either Shiho or Amina, but there is some element in each Hiromi, Luyen, and Sakuko in this relationship with Josephine. And I left Hiromi, Luyen, and Sakuko. I didn't leave Amina or Shiho.

So the order I put the relationships in is: Amina, Shiho, Sakuko, Luyen, Hiromi, Josephine, Liz, Joy. It's a steep drop between Shiho and Sakuko. I had a lot in common with both Amina and Shiho, although I'm not sure they'd say the same thing about me. They both were into the music they liked and there was plenty of overlap with my musical tastes.

I have little recollection of what music was shared with the others. With Josephine, Liz, and Joy, music was not even an important part of their lives by my standards. Amina and Shiho appreciated the music they listened to, and that was really important to me. It's not the music itself, but rather their attitude towards the music that moved them. That's the connection.

With Sakuko, Luyen, and Hiromi, it's odd because they were all musicians. Sakuko and Luyen played piano and Hiromi sang. And Hiromi appreciated her music. The connection just wasn't there.

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So why am I getting back with Josephine? Why do I love her enough to give her yet another chance, even though I know that this relationship will fail.

Part of it may be because of my own maturity that has come with age. When things don't work, you don't just walk away from it. If you commit to someone, you try to work it out. If someone asks for forgiveness, you give it. Is there hope that we will get out of the cycle of violence? Yes, there is hope that eventually we will get out. Whether it's soon enough is another question.

She's also cute as hell. And her laugh and her smile are to die for. Her happiness is infectious and fills the room.

And just maybe she needs me. She's trying. I'm not about to abandon her. That certainly puts me at risk. She can walk away, and when she does I'll let her go no problem. But I'll keep coming back to her despite the abuse and violence.

I guess I'll just have to wait and see when I return to San Francisco. I have no idea how I'll feel once I'm there; once I see her. It won't be easy. The memory of her expressions of hatred stands firmly next to the memory of the expressions of her love.

Englewood Cliffs, New Jersey

I dreamed I was in a room with Josephine. Something about the room, the light, made it perfect for taking pictures of her nude. I don't specifically recall asking her if I could shoot her, but I felt an implicit assent. Someone else walked in and said they needed the room. I told him that I just needed five minutes and he finally assented. I closed the door and locked it.

Josephine started undressing and I opened the shades to see how the background was. I noted that there were only about eight frames left on the roll. I was limited in frames and in time, and it took about three minutes for Josephine to undress. I shot two or three frames, and in the dream I was able to see the final product - she was clothed and very small in the frame. I felt that I had just wasted those frames.

I shot the rest of the roll in the remaining time and Josephine shrunk in size until she gradually disappeared. There seemed to be nothing unusual about that. After the roll was finished, I called to her to appear again, to grow in size. She didn't appear and I continued to look for her close to the ground where I had last seen her. She never appeared again and I felt that I had lost her for good.

Series VII, Roll 6 (Nikon 6006, Tri-X):

Central Park with Josephine: We had broken up for good in San Francisco, but her family had friends in New York or something, and she went there for the holidays. How conveeenient. As if I couldn't figure out what would happen or what that was about. That was a fucking hard relationship. Never again.


Frame 7

Series VII, Roll 5 (Pentax K2, T-Max 400)

Oberlin, OH: As long as I was driving across the country, I decided to stop off in Oberlin. Unfortunately, it was after exams and no one was there, nothing going on. I think I checked to see how much a room was at the Oberlin Inn, but it was too expensive, so I pushed on to New Jersey. Eight or nine hours.


Frame 11 - Outside King with the Conservatory in the background. I flip my negatives, so anyone who knows Oberlin might think that this is a shot outside the Conservatory with King in the background. Amazing symmetry. The architecture of the two buildings are almost identical. The same guy who designed the World Trade Center in New York.

Series VII, Roll 4 (Pentax K2, Tri-X):

Roadtrip: Josephine and I had planned on driving across the country together, but we got into a fight right before we were supposed to leave. Not just a fight, we broke up. Bitterly, probably. I remember talking to my landlord/housemate about whether I should go anyway or not. It was pretty spontaneous when I decided to go. I remember leaving at night, so it must have been the night of the 16th that I left.


Frame 20 - First gas stop off I-5, I think. It must have been really early in the morning. And I must have stopped somewhere to sleep for a few hours during the night, or else I wouldn't have still been on I-5 at daybreak.


Frame 21 - I have no recollection of where these tracks were. Obviously off the freeway. Obviously a miserable foggy or overcast day.


Frame 26 - In Arizona, I saw signs for the Historic Route 66 and decided I was in no rush, so decided to take it. It was pretty desolate and abandoned. My kind of place.


Frame 27 - Historic Route 66

198 Shakespeare St., San Francisco

The edifice of the relationship between Josephine and me is a town, and buildings have been toppling regularly over the course of the past few months. None of it worth mentioning. Really. Neither the good or the bad parts of it. We're at a crossroads now. She has decided to go into therapy at my urging. Either we start building something real, or the whole thing slides, because I am no longer willing to hold onto this relationship which has become unpredictable and abusive.

It's not like I'm holding onto pride expressing doubts about the future of our relationship. I've been regularly pleading for her to return to the relationship every time. I've been pushed beyond the edge and I've still been holding on. I've tolerated what I had never tolerated before.

So now, we're outside of a relationship and we're going to have to work to put it together again. Everything is going to have to change.

Coastal shooting

Series VII, Roll 4 (Pentax K2, Tri-X):


Frame 7 - Seacliff. I have other shots of this structure from the outside. I don't know where it came from, what it was before, or what it was doing there.


Frame 8 - Now this was a curiosity. Baker Beach, a well-known nude beach was maybe a mile to the east. These two couples seemed completely unfazed. I considered them fair game.

Ocean Beach from Sutro Heights:

Frame 12


Frame 17 - apparently a warm day from the number of people.

Tennis Pooh

Series VII, Roll 4 (Pentax K2, Tri-X):


Frame 2 - Shooting in artsy mode.


Frame 3 - Poh, pronounced 'pooh'. As in Winnie, not poo.

Series VII, Roll 3 (Pentax K2, Tri-X):

Sutro Baths, Seacliff:


Frame 15

Josephine braving the wind on top of Twin Peaks:


Frame 26

SFMoma

Series VII, Roll 2 (Pentax IQZoom 115, Tri-X):


Frame 8 - Mem and Pooh


Frame 9 - Poh and shadows on the top floor bridge.

198 Shakespeare St., San Francisco

I ponder the Christian concept of original sin, that we are all sinners by our very existence, by the way we came about existing. Take away the Euro-moralistic tones inherent in the word "sin", and I think there is something also found in Buddhism.

Our being here on earth, our existence, is a "sin" - not to denote immorality, but rather imperfection. It's not because of being bad or doing wrong. But rather any stage of physical human existence is imperfect. Perfection being a state where physical being and attachments are transcended. It's not moral, it's an objective concept of perfection. Christians, due to whatever culture the concept was born in, called it "sin", but in Buddhism it merely denotes an imperfect state of being; and any state of physical being is "imperfect". That's not "bad", it's just fact.

If being in this world, conceiving this world, acting and interacting in this world, and affecting the world to be what it is on a micro and macro level, if all that is the result of our imperfection, then meditation and monks make a whole lot of sense.

Meditation, cessation of thought and emotion, concentration, discipline - it's all to some extent removal from our physical surroundings, trying to understand it for what it really is, rather than just accepting it and being a product of it and an actor within it; being pushed and pulled by the tides and eddies of human desire, impulse, and drive.

It moves us farther from the imperfection, and either literally or symbolically, actually or metaphorically, it moves us closer to "perfection" - the state that transcends this reality. And if nothing else, it will help us in our next life, for those who believe, to start off closer to perfection, or with a clearer idea of what perfection is.

Perfection is simply an objective fact, some condition found out there or within us, that is perfect only because we know it is perfect. It's not something that can be imposed on anyone else. It's not necessarily something that can be striven for (I'm not sure what I mean by that).

Supplemental - Taipei, Taiwan

Yai and Yui picked me up at the hotel this morning and took me to the airport. Neng was there, Jiu, and Ja, I think. Kuk couldn't make it but she called. We had some food at the airport and then I went through the gate that I had already seen so many of the summer participants go through, then it was me and I was gone, too.


Series VI, Roll 8, Frame 35 (Pentax K2, Ilford XP2)

Josephine met me at the airport in Taipei. She came running to greet me once I cleared the Customs doors. She looked so happy to see me and it felt so much like home to see her. Everything was going to be just fine. I love Josephine. She loves me. The weather was gorgeous! Taipei, near the peak of summer was wonderful after Bangkok's heat. It was late in the afternoon. We drove 30 or 40 minutes into Taipei and she took me to the Taipei YMCA where she had reserved a room for me. The room was dinky compared to the Y in Bangkok. But to be with Josephine again. Alone. I didn't care about anything else.

Bangkok, Thailand

My last full day in Bangkok. I had a few things to do and went about it, trying to appreciate the surroundings that would soon fade into memory. I took in the atmosphere, the people, the activity; Bangkok. Bangkok, capital city of Thailand. Industrial city, developing, construction everywhere, choked in traffic.

I set out in the morning and looked for and found the office of the NGO that publishes a newsletter called "Burma Issues". My travels made me change the topic of my paper for Professor Sompong's class. Instead of writing about the Southeast Asian Nuclear Weapon Free Zone, I decided to write about Burma and its membership into ASEAN.

I had some copies of Burma Issues from Madoka, and I saw that the address was in the neighborhood of the YMCA. So on such short notice, I had to scrounge for whatever resources I could get my hands onto regarding Burma and ASEAN. There were English speaking people at the Burma Issues office, and they gave me copies of the monthly newsletter going back to 1995. I walked out with quite a pile.

It was an overcast day, looked like rain. I went to pick up laundry that I had dropped off yesterday after Madoka left. I was going to meet Yai and Yui later that day for dinner. We were going to meet at the Chulalongkorn library, but there was a bit of a mix up as to which library. We eventually met up, they all conveniently carrying cell phones. They took me to the same restaurant that Kuk had taken me, Rey, and Philip the day after I arrived in Bangkok! I didn't recognize it at first because we came in a different entrance. I thought back to that first time, when Bangkok was new and unfamiliar, and these people I’ve grown to know were complete strangers.

I showed Yai and Yui the photographs of the camps. They took me back to the hotel and I went to Silom for the last time to wander about the night market. Until then I had pretty adamantly refused to patronize the night market because it also hosted and fed a rather seedy red light district, but I figured what the hell. No one else was around, I had nothing to do, and it made no difference if I went or not.

Bangkok, Thailand

The train ride took about eleven hours, then we were back in Bangkok at the same train station from which Josephine and I went to Ayuthaya. I think it was just past six in the morning when we stumbled off the train and found a phone. Madoka called the Kawasaki's who were staying at a hotel in Chinatown, the Burapa. I think we woke them up, but they told us to hop a cab over nonetheless.

We got to the Burapa Hotel and made our way up to their room. It looked like they had moved in; their stuff cluttered the room and I couldn't even figure out where to sit. I settled for a spot on the floor. The Burmese doctor that Madoka and I had met at the Burmese Lawyers Council was there, apparently staying with them. While Madoka and I were up at the ABSDF camp, the Kawasaki's were visiting another refugee camp further south. The clutter in their room was merchandise they had bought cheap in Thailand and were going to sell in Japan for a whopping profit, much of it returning to Thailand in the form of aid to the refugees.

We spent the morning hanging out in the hotel room, waiting for some other contacts that the Kawasaki's had. I forget who they were exactly, one of them was attending the same environmental conference that Madoka had to return to Bangkok for. We spent the time discussing our respective adventures and experiences. We also went to get Madoka's film developed, and after we got the pictures back we headed out to a Buddhist temple that the Kawasaki's worshiped at whenever they came to Thailand, and then we went for brunch back near the train station.


Series VI, Roll 8, Frame 28 (Pentax K2, Ilford XP2)


Frame 29


Frame 30


Frame 32

This was the last day that Madoka and I would be together. She was going that day to the hotel near the airport where she was supposed to translate for two Japanese lawyers who were attending the environmental conference. I wouldn't get a chance to see her again before I left. After brunch, I bid farewell to the Kawasaki's, and Madoka and I and the person who was also attending the conference went back to the YMCA.

I had a travel guitar that I had bought for the trip to Thailand, but after visiting the refugee camp and experiencing how important music was to them, I decided to send it up to them via the Kawasaki's since they were headed up in that direction. I got housekeeping to open Brenda's room where I had left the guitar and gave it to Madoka to give to the Kawasaki's. I walked them to the main road to catch a cab. We bid our farewells and that was that. I was alone in Bangkok.

I walked back to the hotel and got a new room at the same discount rate, and I stopped. It was over. I finally had privacy. If it wasn't Josephine, it was everyone else. All summer. Then traveling with Madoka for a week. I could finally stop.

Supplemental - En route to Bangkok, Thailand

Today was ours. No meetings, nothing of a work nature. We met up with some friends of Madoka and hung with them all day, one of whom had a car. We went to the Chiang Mai University area and had some food and dessert. Talked for several hours. We also went to a craft shop that I had found in the guidebook and bought some more there. Then we went to one final riverside restaurant for dinner before Madoka and I had to catch the all-night train back to Bangkok.


Series VI, Roll 8, Frame 23 (Pentax K2, Ilford XP2)

Chiang Mai, Thailand

We arrived at Chiang Mai early in the morning, before daybreak. We were so tired that we just grabbed any tuk-tuk and let him take us to any guesthouse that he had a contract with. It wasn't bad, I think we got lucky. We got to our room and got a bit of a second wind. Madoka took a shower while I went in search of a 7-11 for donuts and water. Then I took a shower and Madoka was asleep before I was finished. The journey was over.

We woke up before noon, somewhat refreshed. We still had to make Madoka's meeting. I decided to go with her. The prominent feature of Chiang Mai is a square moat encircling the older part of the city. The circumference of the moat is maybe three miles, everything within being within walking distance of everything else. Chiang Mai outside of the moat sprawls out. Chiang Mai is the second largest city in Thailand, but is nevertheless dwarfed by Bangkok.

The guesthouse was a short walk from the moat, and we caught a tuk-tuk to Madoka's meeting. I just tagged along and didn't pay much attention to Madoka's business. I think by then we were just being cordial to each other and tolerating each others' presence. We were just pretty drained.

After the meeting, Madoka wanted to visit the office of an NGO she had visited on her prior visit to Thailand. It was on the other side of Chiang Mai, but we decided to walk. It wasn't terribly far, I wasn't paying attention to time. Again I was just tagging along. Eventually, I decided to head back to the guesthouse alone and let her hang out with her friends. I walked all the way back to the guesthouse on the other side of the city. Again, not terribly far. I didn't take any photographs; I don't know why.

After Madoka got back to the guesthouse, we decided to go for dinner and do some shopping at the night market. It wasn't raining and it was cool, and it was pleasant to finally be able to relax with Madoka. We went to a vegetarian restaurant. The ambience was nice and relaxing, so different from the camps. I reflected on how a day ago we were in a refugee camp in the middle of the jungle with people scraping a living, exiled from their homes. I suppose what makes Madoka special is that we can share such disparate experiences.

After dinner we went shopping and I bought a bunch of gifts stuff. We retired relatively early that night.

Supplemental - en route to Chiang Mai, Thailand

Color archive, Summer 1997, Roll 2, Frame 36 - She was a human rights worker from Australia who was staying at the camp for several months.

It rained all night and it was raining when we woke up. Occasionally the sun would break through, but not for long. We had serious concerns about our return to Mae Sariang, but the Burmese assured us that one way or another we would get back.


Frame 34

The problem was that during the rainy season, the river fills and the truck can't get through. All we could do was wait to see if the truck made it through. They had radio contact with the ABSDF office in Mae Sariang and they said the truck would definitely try to get through. Of course, Madoka and I were paying for the driver and his truck, which meant that our visit was two free supply runs to the camp. Supply runs can never be taken for granted, so it was important for them, too, that the truck get through.

We sat on a choice for a while, whether to stay at camp and wait for the truck, not being absolutely sure that it would make it through, or walk for three hours to a small "town" where the truck could pick us up because it wouldn't have to cross the river. It didn't take us too long to decide to start walking. We had to get to Chiang Mai by morning because Madoka had to meet some people. We started walking to give ourselves some assurance that we would get to Mae Sariang that day.

Once again, that walk was indescribable. It was three hours, but time was simply not a concern. The river was waist-high for me at times (higher for Madoka), and the current was dangerously strong at several points. I lost count how many times we crossed the river. It was just crossing after crossing, sometimes harder, sometimes easier, sometimes feeling it would never end. All the while we were trying to keep our cameras from getting wet. Finally after about three hours, at just about the last time we had to cross the river, the truck finally came into view on its way to the camp.

We were just glad to see them and to see that they were going to make it through. The truck had a modified exhaust system that would allow it to go through higher water. The Burmese who were guiding us got on the truck to go back to camp, and two people who came on the truck continued with Madoka and me to the small town where we were going to wait for the truck on its return after dropping off the supplies. Where we met the truck was the only point during the journey that I managed to get my camera out and take a single shot of the river. It was impossible to have taken pictures during the journey.


Series VI, Roll 8, Frame 19

It was at someone's home that we waited. It was getting dark, Madoka and I just stopped and rested. It took a couple of hours for the truck to return, by which time it was just about dark. This time, both Madoka and I were able to sit up front. The drive out was quite a different experience due to the rain that had fallen since our arrival. The mountain roads were treacherous and mud was piled along the side of the road the way snow is in Winter.

Our journey was delayed by a cattle truck that had gotten stuck in the mud. At first it was completely blocking the road. Our driver tried to help them out, but it was in vain. Numerous attempts were made to get it moving, including letting the cattle off of the truck. After over an hour, the cattle truck had almost fallen off the road and down into a valley, but it was out of our way. We had to go. I didn't notice if we gave the truck driver a ride. We might have.

We arrived in Mae Sariang close to 11:30 at night. There was a bus leaving for Chiang Mai at midnight. We unloaded the Burmese students at the ABSDF office, grabbed our bags, said goodbye to them and the driver drove us to the bus station, just in time to catch the crowded bus. We didn't care if it was crowded, we took what seats we could. I smelled so bad that I could barely stand it and felt sorry for the person sitting next to me. After the first stop, I managed to change my shirt and slept the rest of the way to Chiang Mai.

Supplemental - ABSDF refugee camp headquarters, Thailand

Most of the living huts have fire-pits that get lit every night for warmth and light. The guesthouse didn't really have a fire-pit, so they had to build a fire right on the floor and it smoldered through the night. The smoke also helps keep the mosquitoes away. After waking up, the students fed us and Madoka had arranged for us to be taken to another larger refugee camp.


Color archive, Summer 1997, Roll 2, Frame 37 (July 24, 1997)

The camp was about thirty minutes away on foot. Thirty minutes should have taken us pretty close to the river that marks the border between Burma and Thailand, but we didn't see it. The camp was certainly larger, holding about three thousand people, as opposed to eighty at the ABSDF camp. The structures were also larger and more worn down, and there were a lot more children and teenagers. The ABSDF camp was a refugee camp, but it was also a political headquarter for a movement comprised of ethnic Burman. This camp was a refugee camp of Karen who left Burma to escape persecution by the Burmese military.

Our contact at the camp was a woman who appeared to be in her fifties, but was probably in her forties, and spoke English pretty well. We went to her home where she fed us and where she gave us an interview that Madoka videotaped. The interview was about her experiences and how she got to camp and what she did prior. She also translated the stories of several other people including her sister who had recently arrived from Burma.

After the interviews, during which a Thai soldier, who was apparently sympathetic and friendly, dropped in, the woman took us around the camp. We visited the school, the chapel, and the hospital. The camp was composed of Christian Karen, thus the chapel. The last thing the woman told us before we left was to not forget about them.


Frame 29


Frame 30


Frame 31


Frame 32

Madoka and I walked back to the ABSDF camp with our guides. We were tired and dirty. I tried bathing in the river with the students and made the most of it. It had started raining the night before and it rained intermittently through the day, and apparently the increase of water flow makes the river muddy. I only had one shirt which was getting pretty ripe, but it felt good to feel water and run soap over myself.


Frame 33

They fed us and the students came over again at night to play music. Madoka and I both recorded the session and were glad to have remembered to do so, even though the second night wasn't quite as good as the first. They were all so good and they played together so well that it was uncanny, but I guess after nine years in the jungle with no other entertainment, they're going to get good and be able to play together really well. Five guitars would be playing at once and it still worked. One person would plunk out a bass line while one would riff out a lead part and they would just jam.

There was one refugee named Moren who had a great voice and was into music more than the others. The others were really good, but they weren't as focused on it as he was. I think that if they were all back in Rangoon, the others may or may not be doing music - at most it would be just a diversion or a hobby. Moren, I think would be doing music seriously.

Supplemental - ABSDF refugee camp headquarters, Thailand

Madoka and I checked out early in the morning following breakfast. The Japanese traveler was still there. We weren't sure if he'd be there because he thought he might leave before sunrise, but he ran into a money problem - he was running low and couldn't get any from the bank because of the holiday. We chatted a while longer, but we were cut off when some Burmese students on motorcycles arrived to take us to the ABSDF office.

This is what we were there for. It was overcast and dreary. Once we got to the office, we talked with some of the students there to show our interest and familiarize ourselves with some of the issues. After a couple hours, the truck that was to take us to the refugee camp arrived, and they started loading the truck up with supplies. They covered the supplies with tarp, and I rode on top with a bunch of students heading back to the camp. Madoka was able to ride up front in the pick-up's cabin.

Series VI, Roll 8 (Pentax K2, Ilford XP2):

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The experience of driving the four hours to camp was . . . indescribable. Driving out of Mae Sariang was beautiful, even on an overcast day at the beginning of the rainy season. The tropical greens were lush and the scenery was nevertheless interesting; life in the Thai countryside, so different than Bangkok; borderland areas which could have been something else other than Thai, had history's line-drawing in this region taken a different course.

Once we hit the first official Thai checkpoint, we were on mountain roads and that is what was indescribable. Six or seven of us clinging onto the ropes that were holding down the supplies, clinging on for dear life trying not to get thrown off into the mud. This went on for three hours, up and down mountains. At one point my hat got knocked off by a low-hanging branch and one of the Burmese banged on the cabin to signal the driver to stop. He ran off to retrieve my hat, even though it would have been fine with me if we had continued on. It was the Beans hat I got from Amina. The trek was an experience that I could not impart through words.

We were fortunate because even though the rainy season had started, it hadn't rained much and the creek that we had to cross maybe 15 times was still shallow and the truck had no trouble getting through. When we got close to the camp after hours of rattled bones and dusty mountain roads, we got off and walked the rest of the way. The Burmese were well familiar with the area, having made the trip enough times. The walk to the camp wasn't far. We crossed a very impressive footbridge that they had constructed out of bamboo, and walked up a small hill to where the camp was.


Frame 14 (July 23, 1997) - I shot this later, but this is the bridge.

The camp was situated squarely within jungle. Again, not something I can describe in words. I have photographs for that, but even photographs couldn't describe the feeling in being in a place where they shouldn't have been in at all, but were there because of the political turmoil in their country and their ongoing struggle against the military government.

There was a sense of community and purpose there. The refugees were eager to speak with us about Burma and their struggle. I think they felt that every visitor is a line thrown out to the outside world informing it about what is going on. This was a headquarters camp of the ABSDF, so many of the refugees had been students and most of them fled Burma after their participation in the democracy demonstrations that culminated in the military crackdown on August 8, 1988. Hundreds or thousands of students were massacred in a precursor to what would happen in Beijing less than a year later. Burma, being economically insignificant to the U.S., didn't get the media coverage that Beijing did. These students at the headquarters camp were young, intelligent, and knew the value of informing all outsiders of what was happening.

Soon after we got there, we got a tour and went around meeting families and seeing what facilities they've eked out of the jungle. They fed us and there was a "guest hut" with six bamboo platforms in which Madoka and I stayed. Madoka had some business of her own to take care of, sort of a fact-finding mission for her friends, the Kawasaki's, who are deeply involved in the refugee crisis and contribute and influence what goes on. So there were times where I had nothing to do but pace back and forth. It was a miserable situation to be forced into, and many students attested to the hardships they endured when they first left Burma.


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Frame 9 - my records say the rest of these shots were taken on July 23, but I think they were all from July 22, including the one of the bridge. The person in Frame 8 is the same as this person.


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Nine years they've been in the jungle, fighting and sending propaganda about the military government. One day you're a student taking classes, but then a movement starts and you believe in what is being promulgated, so you join the crowds. You support democracy and the feeling is good. You are on the side of righteousness and there is optimism in the prospects of change. Then the military shows up and they shoot at you and you run, and you run and run. You leave the city, your school, your classes, your family. Maybe you travel alone, maybe in a group. You just know you can't go back. The next few weeks you run and hide until you reach the border. Maybe you've heard of where you need to go to get out of the country, maybe there is a network to help you and point the way. You cross the border, you leave your country, your home, you have nothing. The reality sets in. A week ago you were just a student. Where do you go in another country?

After dark, there is little to do in the jungle. Some people have flashlights, but for longer periods of time, people use candles. For entertainment, there are a bunch of guitars floating around. Over the years, they learned songs and played together and picked out parts. That night, a bunch of the refugees came to the guest hut and played for hours, well into the timeless night. They knew some folk songs from the '60's and '70's. Most of the songs were Burmese folk songs, and there were some foreign songs that were translated into Burmese.

It was so very alive. Madoka appreciated it and thought it was wonderful, but...I don't know. There was a tension between us for some reason. It never got out of hand, but it also very rarely went completely away. Part of me wonders if Josephine had anything to do with it, but I have no evidence to support that. There were times that I felt a tiny bit critical of Madoka because she would so single-mindedly concentrate on the work; the plight of the refugees, and finding ways to solve problems. I felt that most during the guitar playing because I felt that she couldn't just relax and enjoy the moment, being surrounded by good people, playing really good music, being really into it, because music isn't helping the Cause.

We had to sleep under mosquito nets. The mosquitoes in the jungle are malarial and extremely aggressive. To me, it would have been unbearable. They made existence miserable and they were the leading factor which made me think ahead to our departure.


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Color archive, Summer 1997, Roll 2

Mae Sariang, Thailand

Madoka had to go back to her friend's house this morning to give her a gift that she forgot to bring yesterday. I didn't go with her. We parted ways after breakfast and I wandered about Mae Hong Song taking photographs. Tiny city, two hours was more than enough to cover anything interesting. I just wandered along anything that looked like a major road. I went part way up a mountain to a temple and around a small lake I found.

Series VI, Roll 7 (Pentax K2, Ilford HP5): Mae Hong Song

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Frame 27 - the small lake

Frames 28, 29 - the temple up on the hillside:




We met up at the guesthouse and headed over to the bus station to catch the bus to Mae Sariang. Mae Sariang is even smaller and more deserted than Mae Hong Song. Less interesting. But we weren’t there to see the town. It was the site of the ABSDF (All Burma Student Democratic Front) office, and our take off point for the camp.


Frame 30 - Madoka got back to the guesthouse before I did. I snapped this as I walked up.

Once we got there, we had to find a place to stay. I saw a guesthouse in the guidebook that looked decent, but the proprietor of another guesthouse met us when we got off the bus, and en route to the guesthouse that I had chosen, Madoka decided that the person was really nice and we decided to go to his guesthouse.

We found the guesthouse, and I rested while Madoka went out to find a phone. I appreciated the time alone. It was late in the afternoon and it was overcast. Madoka wasn’t gone for long and after she returned, we set out together to buy some stuff to bring to the refugee camp. We retraced our steps back into town along a dirt road and a bridge that crossed over a river into town. There were some shops open. Madoka had to make another phone call, and then we found that the market was closed for holiday. We managed to buy some fruit, vegetables, and milk to bring to the camp.

Around the guesthouse:


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Frame 32, 35 - These were chess tables on the guesthouse property. I'm sure they get used during the tourist season.





Frame 33 - The area around the guesthouse didn't look like much, but the rainy season had started.


Frame 34 - This river ran by the guesthouse. I think I was shooting while Madoka was out.

The evening was...serene. We had dinner at the guesthouse. It not being peak tourist season, there was no one else there aside from the proprietor and a lone Japanese traveler. Dinner evolved into a conversation between the four of us and we spoke on various topics. The traveler knew some English, as did the proprietor who said he picked it up from tourists. We talked for several hours. It was an interesting little conversation on an interesting little evening in an interesting little guesthouse.

The guesthouse was on the outskirts of town and there was no one else around. The proprietor did the cooking himself. He had a scrapbook filled with postcards from people who had stayed at his guesthouse and wrote him after returning home. Finally, the proprietor decided to call it a night and went home to his family. The three of us talked a little longer and then Madoka and I retired as well. Serene evening.