To run is to hope.

The first time Mai fell in love with running was in the refugee camp she spent the majority of her childhood. The camp was in a desolate part of Chiang Kham, Thailand and its inhabitant's precarious conditions were enclosed by a tall bamboo fence. Outside communication was limited and very few could imagine a world beyond the rows of crowding shelters and ditches of dirty running water. Food was scarce and many hunger for hope.

Mai's friends convinced her that there were trees of ripe mangoes just outside the fence and if they watch each other's back, they could sneak outside the camp to steal the mango before the owner finds out. Getting caught would mean serious consequences. Many refugees who left the fence were reported missing, captured, or dead. Mai was around five years old and perhaps the fear of getting caught would have deterred most kids from stealing mangoes, but not for Mai. She grew up hearing about the War (Vietnam War), rape, and torture as normal conversation topics over repeated dinners of rationed rice and canned tuna from the United Nations. Growing up in fear means you forget you're living in it sometimes.

The bamboo fence was tied tightly and it was a challenge finding an opening big enough for malnourished kids to squeeze through. With a strong enough craving for a serving of fresh mangoes with dried chili peppers and fish sauce, Mai and her friends found an opening in the fence big enough for them to take turns squeezing to the other side of the fence. Once outside, their hunger was distracted and they found themselves paralyzed by the lush green surrounding and the deafening sound of calming birds and insects buzzing. The refugee camp was smelly, dirty, dried, and there were no plants or trees. Their eyes greedily feasted on this new view of shady groves, green grass, and the plethora of colors they could only dream about.


For a minute Mai was in Heaven. She did not comprehend the world outside those bamboo fences to be so beautiful, calm, and hopeful. Mai's daydream was interrupted by her friends agonizing scream and she turned to find a man beating him down with a stick and some ropes. Her other friends had already made their way toward the opening in the fence, and the man was making his way towards Mai.

Mai started running. She didn't know where she was going or what she was doing. But faster and harder she ran with her lungs burning and scrawny arms pumping through the air. She could hear his footsteps getting fainter and his angry breath easing off her shoulders until he finally turned back. She assumed he has gone home to get a gun or has planned something dreadful to punish her, a lowly refugee, for trespassing into his property. She hid behind the mango trees and after gauging her moment, eventually made a run for the fence. With every step of her bare feet pounding against the ground she could feel the spring of hope on the other side of that fence. She can do this. She must do this. Faster. Harder. Don't stop until you're free.