It would seem I've fallen a bit behind on journaling my trip to Malaysia. I'm going to consider it a positive that I was too busy actually doing things to write about them in a timely fashion, and just forge ahead as if I'm not a month behind. I'm not big on end of year retrospectives or new year's resolutions, anyway.

December 6th started with breakfast with Simon's wife - Simon was the coordinator at the CRC last year who I'd spent so much time with, and who's now in Australia. Last year I had ijagwe and coffee with him every morning, so the plan was to call him so we could chat over breakfast again. Unfortunately, his new job on a farm somewhere around Adelaide pre-empted our conversation.

After breakfast Goi and I went to visit the Chin Women's Organization. They have a set of flats on the other side of the city and run their own projects, providing a safe house for women and children when necessary, running a few classes taught by foreign volunteers for women and children, and a new handicraft project. When we arrived, Zi, the director, led us up to the second flat, where she lives with her husband, and where they had a table set up with their handicraft products so I could look through them and pick some to bring back with me. There was also a teenage boy and an older man sitting quietly against the opposite wall - I've gotten used to there always being random people about, so I don't really pay much attention.

After some general pleasantries, Zi starts to tell me something about a village headman in Chin State and a general demanding chickens. I didn't quite catch all of the story, which was unfortunately probably due more to my lack of careful attention than her imperfect English skills. The truth was I just didn't know why she was telling me this story. Another woman in the room hands her two photos, and she passes one to me. My outstretched hand freezes with the photo half-turned - just enough to see what the image on it is. I have an instant where I feel like time has screeched to a halt and hit me in the chest, as I make out the image of a man's upper body, his head wrapped in a bloody rag, and a few gaping holes in his right side and arm. I quickly avert my eyes, and see everyone in the room staring at me more intently and seriously than I think I have ever seen anyone here look at me, and I suddenly realize the point of Zi's story. The boy in the corner was the son of the man in the photo - the village headman who'd been shot because he refused to hand over a chicken.

I hand the photo back to Zi without ever bringing it closer to my own face, before she can hand me the second one to look at. She tells me that this is what they have to deal with, and I agree that it's terrible, but again feel at a loss for words. She casually hands the photos off to the boy, who seems to pale imperceptibly as he looks at them himself, and we soon go on to other topics of conversation.

We discuss the CWO's current projects and their volunteers - Zi jokes that the CRC has the executive committee, but the CWO has an international board of advisers. They have several volunteers from several different countries teaching their classes and assisting them with their handicraft project. I'm amazed to hear they have over 20 ex-pat volunteers teaching their classes, while the Chin Student's Organization only has 10 Chin teachers struggling to teach their 300 students. I'm not even sure where these volunteers have come from, but I assume they are referred by the UNHCR or other NGOs.

Zi tells me more about the patterns in the Chin textiles they have, as she shows me everything they've made. They have a few women who weave, but the process is time consuming, and they have a hard time finding good quality threads in Malaysia. Some of the textiles they have there had actually come from Chin women in Rangoon. Downstairs, Jane is using a back-strap loom to weave the red cloth that belongs to the Hakha Chin, red with little diamond patterns formed by four squares with crosses between them. Legend has it that this design was stolen from the fairies. This one takes the longest to make, and when I saw Jane again several days later, she looks exactly as I'd left her - perhaps a few more inches along on the pattern.

Zi tells me how important it will be to preserve the traditional Chin designs now that the Chin people are moving to all corners of the world - so that they will always be able to recognize one another by the design on their bags and come together again one day.

We unfortunately had to leave before lunch, as I managed to get double-booked and had agreed to visit the Arakan Refugee Relief Committee that afternoon. I felt terrible that Zi had gone through the trouble of taking the day off work at the hospital, but didn't really know what to do, and I worried the guys at the ARRC may have also rearranged their schedules to meet with me. I promised her I would come by another evening to eat dinner and stay the night, but it didn't make me feel less guilty for leaving early.

To be continued...