A visit to Quneitra.

Located at the southern end of the Anti-Lebanon Mountains lies the Golan Heights, an area surrounded by four countries: Syria, Lebanon, Jordan, and Israel. With its fertile soil and abundance of water, the rocky plateau has been a scene of battles between regional powers for several centuries over who controls the land.

Originally part of Syria, the land was lost to Israel on June 10th, 1967, the last day of the June War (for Arabs) or the Six-Day War (for Israelis). It was briefly recaptured in 1973 during the Ramadan War/October War (for Arabs), or the Yom Kippur War (for Israelis), when Egypt and Syria launched simultaneous attacks on Israeli-controlled Sinai and Golan Heights, but Israel regained control in its subsequent counter-offensive. It was only in the negotiations following a ceasefire that Syria was able to regain some 450 square kilometers, a demilitarized United Nations Disengagement Observer Force (UNDOF) zone a couple of kilometers from the 'de facto' border between the two countries. At the eastern edge of the zone lies Quneitra, a city which was completely destroyed when Israeli troops withdrew in 1974. For many reasons, Syria has left the city almost exactly as the Israelis left it.

When I visited Syria at the end of February, Quneitra was the first place I visited. Although situated only 60 kilometers southwest of Damascus, I hired a driver because public transportation to the area doesn't come with frequency and would have required changing microbuses at Garage Sumariyah in Damascus and then a change to a service taxi (shared taxi) from the town of Khan Arnabeh, plus I had also heard recent rumors that you couldn't enter the U.N.-supervised zone unless you have your own transport. The road that heads down to Quneitra is picturesque, going through fields and farms, many of them producing vegetables, especially the olive, which is a specialty of Syria. When the snow-covered Mount Hermon of the Anti-Lebanon Mountains started appearing on the right, it was a sign that we were getting near, and soon we could start seeing some vehicles with 'U.N.' stickers.

Since Quneitra is part of the UNDOF zone, there was a gate, where Syrian officials stopped our car to check my passport and permit, which I had arranged in advance at the Ministry of Interior in downtown Damascus. It was a mere five minutes until they gave me back my passport and a Syrian officer hopped on the car to guide us around the demolished city. As we went on, houses with roofs lying on the ground and walls completely knocked or torn down started to appear on both sides of the street. We went through sites where there used to be shops, a mosque, a church, a school, and also a hospital, but obviously, all were vacated. The government does not encourage former residents to come back, and the few who still remain in town cater for the U.N. troops and visitors.

At the western edge of the battered city were barbed wires, which mark the 'de facto' border, beyond which is effectively Israeli-occupied land. There is an unofficial border crossing that primarily allows Syrian Druze from the Golan Heights to cross one way through the passage to study, work and live in the rest of Syria. Only those who receive special permission are allowed to cross the border and come back for the Habil pilgrimage. More recently, apples produced in the Golan have been shipped across the border into Syria. However, no way is the crossing open to anybody else, obviously, as the two nations are officially still at war.

It truly was a ghost town with an eerie atmosphere, but it's not as simple as that. We were able to get off the car and walk around in some places, but could hear nothing. Just voices of us and the sound of our footsteps, plus the occasional wind. On the walls of some buildings, we could see Arabic inscriptions as well as those written in Hebrew, probably left by the Israeli soldiers. The Arab-Israeli conflict is one that is extremely delicate and has been complicated by the powers influencing the nations in a tangled web of relations. Israel was heavily criticized by the United Nations for the city's destruction, while Israel has criticized Syria for leaving the city as it is and claimed the Syrians added further damage to exaggerate. However, we have to remember that it's the locals who are the most affected. Their houses were burnt down by the Israelis, and now Syria is telling them they can't go home. The entire population is now scattered around the country.

On the way out of the area, we saw two groups, probably families, picnicking on grassland near the crushed buildings. Syrians like picnicking, and perhaps those were just some people longing for their peaceful return to their motherland.

Mae Sot and Route 105.

In the northwest of Thailand on the Moei River border with Burma lies the small town of Mae Sot, the westernmost town of Tak province. The town is not only interesting for being a trade post between Burma and Thailand, but also for its diverse ethnicity: Thai, Burmese, Karen, Rohingya, Karreni, Mon, Kachin, and many other minority groups from across the river. Take a stroll in the market and you will notice that Thai is not necessary the major language spoken here. Due to the ongoing conflict between the Burmese military junta and the many ethnic minorities that inhabit the land along the border with Thailand, thousands have crossed the river and settled in villages and refugee camps along the border near Mae Sot.

A Muslim community is also present in Mae Sot, together with a mosque. One of my good old Thai friends lives in Mae Sot and she and her husband took me to a small cafe on a corner near the mosque. They make rot-tii-oo and tea at this place which seems to have become a pleasant get-together place for the locals to chit-chat during the early hours. Rarely will people be able to find any rot-tii-oo left after 10AM.

As of 2006, Tak province is home to 480,000, of which 150,000 are originally from outside the nation. And of that, approximately 80,000 are refugees that have either been registered or in the process of being so. Those who have managed to cross the border, most of whom are undocumented, have found shelter in border villages and refugee camps set up by the UN or other NGOs. And many of those who are not registered as a refugee work in the many factories near Mae Sot on a very low pay scale, though much better than in the land they came from. Meanwhile, Burma's population stands at around 47 million, of which Karens account for 7 million, the largest 'minority' group. Well over 600,000 have been displaced in camps within their country.

Naturally, Mae Sot is also the 'hub' for the many NGOs that work along the border to assist the endless number of refugees. Among them is a health care post called Mae Tao Clinic (MTC). Set up in 1989 by Dr. Cynthia Maung, herself a Karen who fled from Burma after the crushing of the '8888 Uprising' by the military regime, the clinic caters for those who travel across the border in seek of medical assistance, since there is none, if any, accessible, affordable health care available in Karen state (around 0.5% of the GDP is spent on health care), and for those who have already settled on the Thai side, but could not access health care because they are undocumented immigrants or simply for the lack of money. I met a lady who had walked for over a month from near Yangon, where she lost all of her family members in the deadly cyclone Nargis. She was suffering from PTSD (post-traumatic stress disorder).

Staffed with 530, of which 260 are health care professionals, and many of whom themselves are originally from across the border, the clinic is visited by approximately 400 every day, totaling over 120,000 patients per year. Although now well-known and attracting donations from all over the globe, the budget still remains extremely tight with an ever-increasing number of patients and a lot of issues have yet to be solved. Its in-patient facilities are still infection-prone, especially to the likes of tuberculosis, and more and more refugees give birth here, meaning more and more stateless children.

About 90 kilometers north of Mae Sot on Route 105 lies the refugee camp of Mae La, the largest of them all, housing 37,000 registered refugees and no less than another 30,000 unregistered ones. Because Thailand is not a member of UN's Convention Relating to the Status of Refugees, a person who wishes to be registered needs to be approved by both the UNHCR (UN Refugee Agency) and the Thai Ministry of Interior. With temples, churches, mosques, graveyards, schools, libraries, markets, and even a university, Mae La is like a huge refugee 'city', and so surprisingly, life here is not the worst for those who are registered, since they are eligible to receive food aid as well as space for housing, at no cost. Bored with nothing to do but unable to leave the camp nor return to their mother land, many couples fill the time to make babies, and family planning has become a seriously important topic. Others apply to live in a third country, while a handful work for the NGOs within the camp.

I visited one of Shanti Volunteer Association's (SVA) libraries, where children were forgetting their darker days and enjoying the time for learning. However, a boy who seemed unable to join the flock caught my attention. According to the staff, he had only arrived a couple of weeks ago, but just received the news that his father, who was also on the way, was killed in a fighting between Burmese government troops, the Democratic Karen Buddhist Army (DKBA), and the Karen National Liberation Army (KNLA), the military arm of the Karen National Union (KNU), which has been fighting for independence of the Karen state (in their words Kawthoolei). Whether or not that news was true is unsure, however, the extensive 'underground' information network of the people cannot be underestimated. And, the Thai cellphone can be used near the border even if it's on the Burmese side, as well.

Those who have been caught by the Burmese military or the DKBA have reportedly been forced to hard labor or simply 'used' as human walls in the event of fighting. In June, DKBA troops raided a Karen school, forcing students to flee to the jungle. 89 of them managed to reach Thai soil, however, nine of them caught malaria on the way in this naturally high-risk area for this fatal mosquito-borne disease. In the same month, near the Thai village of Mae Salit Luang landed four mortar shells launched from the Burmese side, prompting the Thais to increase border security. On June 15, the KNLA headquarters in Manerplaw fell to the Burmese army, and in May-June alone, no less than another 4,000 crossed the border.

'Chronic emergency' is the term many use to describe this region's volatile situation, which has not improved, or only deteriorated, since the conflict broke out in 1949.