At first glance this place is a vibrant tourist attraction. The smells of street food, beer, and sweat permeate the air. The walking street is lined with bars and stalls where shopkeepers sell everything from elephant pants to leather bracelets and bags. You can find anything here. Neon lights outshine the streetlamps illuminating the darkness of this place. Men and women carry around menus of sexual favors they will perform for a price. Justin Bieber and Kesha mingle together as they pour from the the loud speakers of every bar.
In the middle of it all stands a woman. Her back is hunched over. Her cane replaces her eyes, which no longer work, tracing the crack of this Bangkok street. Back and forth she walks the half mile of this walking street, invisible. The basket connected to her cane sits empty as people walk past her. This is not the first time I have found myself watching her. In fact, I have seen her here the last two nights walking the same line, guided by a crack running the full length down the center of the road. The occasional passerby stops to drop a few baht in her basket.
The group of us take notice of her tonight and we feel the Holy Spirit prompting us to do something. We can’t communicate with her because of a seemingly impenetrable language barrier. We pray that God will send us a translator to help bridge the gap. We want this woman to know that she is loved and she is seen.
We see a woman sitting on the side of the street in front of a shop and ask for her assistance. Promptly, she turns us down with a harsh “no”. We follow the walking woman from a distance continuing to watch as the crowds move in a fluidic way around her. We ask another woman for help to translate and again we get rejected. I don’t understand, what is it about this woman? Why will nobody talk to her?
We stop to pray again and we pray over her and ask again that God will highlight somebody, anybody, to translate for us. As we walk along the road, we see an ambulance working its way through the crowds. The woman, unable to see the car, continues to walk her path. Then a shopkeeper comes out and leads her out of the way of the ambulance. This is the first person to acknowledge her presence. We quickly go to the shopkeeper and ask her to translate for us and begin asking questions about the woman.
In the end she did not end up translating for us, but she did take the time to talk to us and explain. The woman comes every night and walks back and forth for hours and hours until well after midnight. She talks to nobody and nobody talks to her. She is a Cambodian and she came to Thailand in hopes of having a better life. She relies on the little bit of money that gets dropped in her basket to feed her family. The Thai government is not fond of these immigrants. They come and beg on the streets because there are no programs to help them get jobs or money. If they get caught, the government removes them and sends them back to their country with nothing.
We pray for her and drop some money in her basket. As we leave I put my hand on her shoulder and tell her that Jesus loves her and sees her, though I know that she can’t understand. As we walk back to our hostel my mind traces over each step we walked that night. My heart breaks for this woman who comes to the same street every night and walks the same steps again and again. She tells nobody her name out of fear of being caught. What a lonely life. She walks alone, unnoticed by all the busy shoppers and partiers that fill the streets. But seen by a God who feels her hurt and wants her to know him. Jesus gave me his eyes for her that night, I felt his heart for her. And obedience opened the doors of my heart to be his hands and feet for the woman with no name.
