January-February 2017

Update on Pakistani Catholics

My wife and I have visited Michael and his family (Pakistani asylum-seekers who have fled to Thailand and were the subject of my article “A Witness in Bangkok,” Dec.) several times since they entered the International Detention Center, bringing them food and other necessities. The scene at the IDC is hectic and overwhelming. Visitors are separated from detainees by a seven-foot-high fence, with a short, one-yard space in between for guards to stroll and pass money or paperwork back and forth. Officials let in as many as 60 visitors at a time, which makes conversations difficult, with over 100 people shouting out their various requests and updates.

Our most recent visit was providentially timed to align with that of Michael’s most generous sponsor in Bangkok, a Filipina woman (and devout Catholic). Michael, his wife, and their 13-year-old daughter updated us on all news regarding their internment, including his daughter’s eye infection, their poor sleeping conditions, and the graft that defines their daily existence. Michael, now sporting a bushy haji beard, told us that guards do not allow razors in the IDC, but “graciously” charge a $15 fee to shave any willing men.

Michael’s wife began sharing details of their many struggles, but broke down, crying. Their Filipina friend exhorted them to trust in Christ, unite their sufferings to the Cross, and entrust all their needs to “Mama Maria.” She led them in prayer and several hymns, their voices momentarily raised above the shouting of six-score inmates and their dutiful friends. The smile of Michael’s daughter was indelible during this entire exchange, her innocent hazel eyes serving as their own testament to an unwavering faith and courage that no hardship seems capable of dispelling.

As I tried my best to maintain my composure, I could not help but notice a back room — entirely visible with its see-through glass walls — directly beyond the detainees. A Thai police officer was seated at his computer, his back to me, playing the popular, if notoriously mundane, game Candy Crush. Could the discrepancy between these two realities, separated by only a few yards, be more palpable?

It would be easy to mark this as demonstrative of the corruption and detachment that defines not only the local police but our broader hyper-technological world, where “tweets” condemning Boko Haram or safari hunters suffice to salve our wayward consciences. Yet I could not help but recall my own diverse and sundry versions of Candy Crush — all the mindless foolishness I allow to distract me from the incomprehensible and seemingly limitless pain I encounter daily. For many of us, that pain begins early every morning, as soon as the newspaper arrives at our doorstep or in our e-mail inbox. Pick your poison.

As I write this, and likely when you read this, an intelligent, hardworking, pious Catholic man, his wife, and their three children will be holed up inside a prison in Bangkok. They’ve done nothing wrong to merit their circumstances, apart from their indissoluble refusal to reverse their devotion to their Lord Jesus, coupled with an almost transcendent will to survive. As our visit concluded, their Filipina sponsor asserted through the metal wiring, “Think how many souls you are saving with your suffering!” Even more amazing — or insane? — than this claim was the simple, unflappable firmness with which it was met. These Pakistanis are tough stuff.

If you can, please pray for Michael, and pray for his family. Moreover, let his life be a testament that there is a courage and strength that can break through the cynicism and cheap sensuality that distracts us from who, and what, we are called to be. Contrary to everything our culture tells us, no suffering need be pointless. Let us petition God that not a single drop of ours be spent without profit.

Casey Chalk

Bangkok

Thailand