Why are you here?

Once upon a time in the jungles of western Thailand, in the imaginary small border town of Khao Dung, a huge air-conditioned touring coach arrived to clumsily navigate its sleepy streets and dirt tracks. It drove right past the old market, where ethnic Mon and Karen people sold wares that had been smuggled over the Burmese border. Then past small shacks built of wood, bamboo mats and rusty steel plates, where the Burmese refugees lived out their days in poverty. Most were invisible to the bus passengers, they slept in the hammocks inside their huts. The temperature was already soaring over 35 degrees and to spend too much time out on the street was self-torture. Past the shiny golden temple of Wat Wang Wiwekanam, where serene Buddha statues and golden prangs (stupas) lined the horizon, the coach drove. Even past the bus station of the town, and on along the road leading to the tourist resorts. These formed a relatively new addition to town, built to accommodate Thai domestic tourists who spent the weekends away from the noise and smog of the big city. At night they created... more noise, of an abysmal art-form known as Thai pop music, played loudly at tent parties. They would be gone as soon as the rains started in May. The rain would then create mud pools on the road and the mosquitoes would become a plague, bringing Malaria and Dengue fever with them. The whole village seemed to suffer from these diseases annually.

So far, nothing special. Yet this bus stopped in the cheap resort where I was sitting on the veranda with a fellow wannabe teacher, an old Vietnam veteran who ran a local bar (not to a profit, due to the fact that he was himself responsible for most of the bar's rum consumption) and an Australian social worker who had worked in the town for a year, as a volunteer among the refugees. The only reason she did never suffer from Dengue fever was that she used a mosquito net at night. These mind-shattering insights in medical progress or the lack of it can still totally baffle me.

We saw the bus stop in front of the reception and took notice of the logo of 'Sea Horse Volunteers'. The lady hopped out first, self-confident smirk and all. She was in her late twenties, and judging by her style she pretended to be a next Lara Croft. She was also the oldest person in the bus, because a seemingly endless flow of western teenagers popped out, at least thirty of them. If anything, they did not at all look up to working in a place like Khao Dung. After all, what special skills do western teenagers have that can be handy in such a place? I can see how a qualified social worker can help the refugees of Burma's terrible ethnic civil wars, but none of these kids possessed such skills. A qualified western teacher can make a huge difference to the children of refugees and locals alike, but these volunteers looked so young they seemed to still need proper teachers themselves.

What effect would the presence of such a big group have on local resources and the local economy? My fellow teacher put it this way: 'Where are the volunteers necessary to support these volunteers?' Because of the language barrier and their unfamiliarity with local food, these western volunteers (like most western tourists) would not spend much money in the local shops and market - it is the rich Thai businessman who owned the resort (and its restaurant) in whose pockets their money would flow. The Australian wondered why they did not simply go to Ko Samui and have a nice beach holiday instead - it would be easier and more comfortable, and the result would be the same.

Thailand is a developed country and does not realistically need any unqualified western volunteers, but still the flocks keep flowing in every year. After all, the idea of volunteering in Thailand sounds like doing something good for the world and a holiday in a tropical paradise, all in one. This led to the strange situation in which the demand for working as a volunteer exceeds the need for volunteers by far. With the strange result that these young western teenagers actually PAY to work in Thailand. Not small money: companies like Sea Horse start at 800 dollars per person for a 'volunteer position'. The effect of the work will be very limited, simply because there is little need for it. At least the barman, or Leonardo di Caprio and his film crew, once made money in Thailand.

The inflow of free young labourers is of course the delight of shady organisations like Sea Horse, who are not interested in charity but run colourful websites luring naive western school kids to work for them. They rent a cheap dormitory in the resort, where the heat is intense in the absence of air-conditioning. The volunteers have to buy their own food, which they do at the restaurant in the resort. Typically, they will build an orphanage. Not that orphanages are necessary - Thailand has enough, but hey - there are plenty of kids in the village that like to learn a little bit of English and earn a couple of baht by acting as the 'orphans'. Then the next year, some of the new volunteers will 'teach English to refugee camp orphans'. Something good may even come of it. Refugee kids will live in a world of petty criminality or child labour (and sadly, prostitution). Some knowledge of the English language may help them in or out of this world. Besides, some of the western kids may be aware they are being ripped-off, but don't care. After all, 'volunteer work in Thailand' looks good on your CV back home.

So why do I care about ms Croft and Sea Horse? Well, I guess I just don't like the general mentality it creates. The idea that western people are collectively out of their mind has rooted among some Thai. Westerners are considered very rich (they must be, because they are so easy to rip off) and they even pay to do inferior work. If you look for a job in Thailand, such prejudices do not work in your advantage.