-Chiang Mai, Thailand The sex trade here is insidious. After you fill your belly on some tasty pad thai noodles and fresh coconut juice, and haggle for a hand-carved wall hanging, you can indulge in a foot massage in the many street chairs or shops. Thai women in their late teens to middle-age sit in front of small massage parlors from noon onward, reading magazines, filing nails, or watching TV. They are hoping for customers, especially men who are likely to tip better and perhaps want more. A man might buy a foot massage, then a back massage, and once inside, accept an offer to feed his sexual fantasy in a private room nearby.
This sticky August afternoon, I walk with Meagan, a red-headed intern from Colorado, and my teammate Lynne (pictured left) to a massage parlor just a block down Loh Kroi street. It's a small, clean shop with pale pink walls and four massage chairs in the front room. (Meagan has been a customer here before and one of the women has come to English class at the Garden of Hope.) A large ceiling to floor window allows us to view passersby.
Our aim is to get to know each woman who massages our feet and back, and soak her in prayer. The price is 100 baht (about $3) each for a 30 minute foot massage and 30 minute back massage. I have never paid for a prayer time before, but my feet are twitching in anticipation of the pleasure to come.
Pat (not her real name) introduces herself to me, and offers a small smile from her lightly freckled face framed by long black hair. I settle in for my foot massage, wanting to ask her questions but not wanting to be a prying American. Conversation is superficial, due to my non-existent Thai and Pat’s limited English. My calves and soles are nearly in heaven, but I try to focus on Pat’s brown eyes.
I succeed in learning that her hometown is about 3 ½ hours away, and she’s left her 10 year old son there. (Most women who work in the Red light district have children out of wedlock...and it's the need to support their children that bring them here.) Pat's eyes look sad and it’s clear she doesn’t want to say more. I tell her that my toddler, whom I’ve brought with me on this trip, likes Thailand, especially the fruit drinks and elephants. She smiles politely.
After the foot massage, we climb a narrow staircase to a dimly lit room lined with pink mattresses and pillows. Pat instructs me to lie face down on the pillow. Conversation is no longer possible.
Time to pray. She begins rubbing my feet, and legs, moving gradually upward. My instinct is to linquish all thoughts and relish this rare massage. But I am here to pray. “Jesus, help me focus and pray for Pat.” My body wants to wilt, but my spirit fights to pray. The 30 minutes fly by, but it’s the most difficult prayer experience I’ve had in a long time. I thank Pat and tell her how wonderful her massage was.
I’ll likely never know how God uses my prayers this side of heaven, but I trust that more purple-shirted volunteers will add to my prayers, planting seeds of hope in Pat and her colleagues, as others have before me.
Read my other posts from Chiang Mai on the Rez blog:
Five StarTraining
Children's Drop-in Center
Speak the Truth