Bonding and braiding: Thai games

Every day as we neared 4:00 pm and began wrapping up work for the day, our team would begin looking for the kids to arrive home from school. As soon as we saw them it became quitting time, because they were so eager to play games with us. Each evening we played volleyball, soccer, frisbee, basketball, tag, jumped on the trampoline, and more — typical children’s games. No matter how tired, we always found energy to play for an hour or two before dinner. Laughter rang throughout campus and the neighboring mountains during that time; it was nothing but joy.

The longest amount of time we had to bond with the children came the final Saturday, which had been reserved for Thai games. Our team wasn’t exactly sure what we were getting into that day and were simply told to show up in our athletic gear. When we arrived at campus that morning, the kids were full of joy and yet busy planning. After another hearty breakfast, the children began showing up beaming, eager to get started.

Each of our teammates were given a GROW jersey, something we had been admiring all week and asked to purchase from the mission. We were split in two teams – orange and yellow/pink – and each were given a jersey of that shade. Shortly, we learned that Thai sizes and American sizes differ greatly. Even though they sized up two sizes from the American t-shirt sizes we had given them a few days earlier, they were incredibly tight – skintight – but our team gleefully wore them anyway to participate.

We started off the morning with stretching and some dancing as a large group, and then moved to the team sports. At 9:00 a.m., it was already 85 degrees and quickly getting hotter. The teams lined up for our first game: an underwear relay. Each member had to put on a pair of underwear and shower cap, and then run around the base and back. Both the kids and I found this game hilarious. There is just something about underwear that makes kids laugh, and their joy radiated. Our teammates’ competitive nature came out during this time too.

While we were standing in line with the kids laughing and cheering on our team, it was then that I truly felt like I got to know them more. I was determined to learn all 14 kids’ names on my team. We couldn’t communicate in English, but as each one went up to put on the underwear, I’d ask their friends for their name and then yell it the whole time while they were running. You could see the excitement on the kids’ faces – I knew them. It then became a game they enjoyed for the rest of the day. Could I remember each of them? It was difficult, but I would go down the line and say each of their names. They would each blush and their eyes and smile would grow wider. And when I messed up, I’d make a joke of it by making some silly expressions on my face, and we’d try again. A few of the older girls clung onto it and became my buddies for the rest of the games and that evening at the night market.

After the underwear relay came a game our team was accustomed to at home: potato sack races, or so it looked. In Thailand, they were rice sack races. I again went down the line and repeated each kids’ name during this event to their amusement. As we were competing in this relay, it struck me. Kids are kids. Their games were like ours in America. We couldn’t speak, but we could play together, and that is an important language for children. Someone looking in that day would never be able to guess the trauma these kids had experienced. They were happy. Truly happy. And yes, they had some scars, but they had been given the resources needed to process that trauma and overcome it. Some were at different stages than others, but to be able to share testimonies and games and laughter with me, a total stranger, spoke tremendously to the effort poured forth by the GROW staff. These children were still children. Halleluiah!

After the relays and a short break from the sun, the children were ready to introduce us to the traditional Thai game. This game was unlike any game we had experienced in America, and we started with only four participants. The game began by dunking your head in a bowl of water, then blowing flour off a plate to search for a coin. At this point, our teammates’ faces were covered with flour (to my and the kids’ excitement). The next three stations consisted of food – a whole orange, cookies, Jello, donuts, and more. After watching William crush an entire orange in one bite, I didn’t think it could get much better, but I proceeded to watch many of our team members and the kids move through the relay (the kids quicker than our team). The giggles and squeals that erupted from the basketball court that day were music to my ears. It made the exhaustion of the sun and every brick I laid that week disappear. I laughed hard for the first time in many months, to the point of tears. I found healing in the laughter that game brought to me, and throughout this trip. I had a hard year coming into the trip and wasn’t sure I was going to be able to experience this with my teammates. I had a lot of valleys, moments of anxiety and fear. But here I was in Thailand, crying laughing at this crazy game, and my heart was fuller than I could remember in quite some time.

After that game, a portion of the group moved to play soccer and a portion sat in the shade watching and listening to music. Hearing the kids sing and dance to a Thai song they so clearly loved warmed my heart. It was an opportunity to see their culture shine. That song is often the soundtrack that plays in my head when I think of Thailand, and I’ve watched the video too many times to count since returning.

During that time, I also had the opportunity to braid a few girls’ hair, something I had grown fond of doing when I had a little girl in my home and that I often do with my nieces. It was a way of bonding. I had fond memories of my big sister braiding my hair as a child. Even if no words were spoken, it was a way to show care and spend time together. As girl after girl lined up, they looked at me with big, sensitive eyes. I believe they too realized it was more than just braiding hair.

I first got the idea when I walked past Thatsani, whose hair was down and a bit awry. Every other girl’s hair had been perfectly braided in unique ways every day we were there, but I had noticed that Thatsani’s had not been most days – either put in a ponytail or left down and untidy (something I could relate to). But this specifically struck me because I had also noticed her the very first moment we arrived through the mission gates. Every child’s eyes sparkled as they welcomed us, but hers were more timid. She sat in the background and smiled, but not fully. As I understood more of Thatsani’s background at this point from our trip to the village and had laughed with her earlier that day as I tried to learn each of the kids’ names, I felt called to go up to her. I approached her and her friends at the table and exclaimed how beautiful her hair was: “Suay!” Her little eyes grew bigger. I motioned to braid, and she agreed. Now, most of the girls’ hair at the mission was in double braids, but I decided to braid Thatsani’s in one large braid down the middle. After we were finished, a few of the girls noticed and pointed at her hair with glee. Thatsani, too, was gleeful. She thanked me and smiled, and I had the pleasure of watching as her hands moved up to her hair a few times throughout the next hour to feel the braid. I hoped in that moment that she felt a little extra love.

After lunch, our team went to work on some side-projects for the mission, and then regathered with the children that evening for the night market. All the other girls whose hair I braided had been refixed already, but not Thatsani’s. She came up to me and motioned to her hair with a giant grin on her face. To no surprise, my grin matched hers. Praise God for little moments like this one. Praise God for ways to communicate without speaking to show love. I felt her love that day and witnessed perhaps a very, very small part of her healing. Praise God!