The first few days in Phuket began on the east side of the island. We stayed in a hostel while we researched and got in contact with churches and ministries, in search of connections. During those first couple of days we made friends with a man in our hostel. As he was telling us about the island, he told us that the Patong area was just like hell. Though I believe his intentions with that information was to steer us away from going there .. after prayerfully considering where to go next, we decided we should move across to the west side and into the heart of Patong. No, I didn’t know why he compared Patong Beach to hell, but I thought in my head that if it was at all like hell, then it needed Jesus all the more. So across the island we went.
After settling into our new hostel, we went out to explore the area and have dinner. We were previously warned by another missionary about a place called Bangla Road near the beach. So as we walked around the city while the sun was going down, we kept our eyes open for the road, not wanting to walk down it unaware. We sat down for dinner and as we looked across the street, we realized that we were looking right into the heart of Bangla. As we ate, I watched taxi’s and tuk-tuk’s drive by, unloading barely dressed women and curious tourists to enter into the flashing lights and ground vibrating club music. The street was lined with bars upon bars and clubs upon clubs. Though Bangla appears uneventful during the day, as soon as the sun goes down the street falls into a wild chaos. After we ate, we decided together to walk down the street and cover it in prayer.
Entering Bangla immediately caused my whole body to shutter from the inside out. Before I could even look around I was bombarded with a blockade of people shoving pornographic ads in my face advertising sex shows. The street was swarming with foreigners – excited, ignorant, drunken, prowling people in search of something to satisfy them. I saw the selfish parents drag their children along as they checked out the bars, while stealing their innocence away from them. I saw the prostitutes line the streets with misery and obligation in their eyes. I saw the women doing their makeup in front of the disguised “massage parlors” waiting for customers. I saw the desperation in the pushy people trying to sell expensive alcohol to cover the costs of the “free” sex shows they offered. I saw the lonely men sitting by themselves in restaurants waiting for offers and I saw the girls that approached them. I know what’s going on behind the scenes. I know about the women kept in cages waiting to be sold. I know about how they are drugged and have the life literally drained out of them so that they feel nothing at all. I know how they are abused and forced into slavery. I know that they think they have no other choice. I want to understand the heartlessness. I want to understand the blindness. I want to understand the ignorance. I will be honest with you when I say that I was angry in my heart. Though it soon was replaced with bitter tears. Not only does my heart ache deeply for these women, but my heart hurts for the people who come flocking to this street searching for something to fill their emptiness. Now I understand why this place was referred to as hell. There is such despair and heaviness that burdens not only this street, this town, these people, but this whole country. I know that there must be light somewhere, but it’s hidden under darkness and I’m struggling to see it.
This was only our first visit to Bangla road, but I don’t think it will be our last. I know that so many of you have been covering my team with prayer as we have been on this journey. Thank you. Thank you from the bottom of my heart for interceding for us. I am sharing this early on in hopes that it gives you a glimpse and maybe a better idea of how to be praying. Please cover us during this month, all the more.
