Visiting the Hurting in Bombed Bangkok IDP Camp

12 February 2025

Shan State, Burma

A woman hurried to meet me as I stepped out of the truck on the edge of what had been Bangkok IDP camp, a camp we’d visited two years before. When we visited two years ago the camp was nestled in tall, fragrant pine trees among rich, red-dirt fields, a community of displaced middle-class families, Karenni townspeople who had suffered attacks in their urban homes in the neighborhoods of Demoso and Loikaw, Karenni State. They had gone from modern homes, quality schools, and competitive sports and music programs, to camping in the forest, in tarp-walled homes. 

It had been the rainy season of June 2023 when our team arrived for a program, with more than 200 kids and parents sitting under a roofed, open-walled classroom. The roof kept us dry from the intermittent rain throughout the day, but, more importantly, hid our gathering from Burma Army aircraft that targeted groups of people for airstrikes. Our Ranger teams entertained and encouraged the families with songs and skits reminding them of the hope of Jesus to live abundantly in the present, despite constant threat of attack, and for the future that God would provide for them. 

During the program, we had honored a special mother and her young children who had lost their father, Angelo, a military leader in the Karenni resistance, only a month before. She had been strong and hopeful and gracious within her grief, hosting us at her house for tea and cookies. Her children were bright-eyed and engaging, yet matured – prematurely so, with the loss of their father and new realities of moving forward without him. Their deep expressions in prayer showed a dependence on God that was almost palpable. 

Just before the program ended, the sun broke through the clouds to give a stunning brightness to the colors around us, including the beautiful orange pumpkins being prepared for our lunch. I took a picture of that vivid scene. Later, I remember, as we were about to start our drive home, we accepted their offer to wash off and then found ourselves in a downpour to finish the job. It had been a good day

Today, February 11, 2025, was different. The camp was mostly deserted, the site of heavy Burma Army bombing. While I didn’t know the woman who hurried to meet us, she was eager to tell her story; her eyes welled up with tears as she shared her memories. She tugged my hand as she led me up a dark-red dirt path toward the scaffolding of a bamboo house. With fear accompanying the tears in her eyes, she pointed down at a layer of thick sandbags forming the roof of a six-foot-deep bunker next to the floor of the demolished house. She told her story: “I threw my four kids in there and we all survived. I plugged my ears. At 9pm on September 5, 2024, out of nowhere, came a thunderous jet fighter which dropped a 500lb bomb 30 feet from my home. I don’t know how we survived. A widow and four children down the hill in another house were hit by shrapnel and didn’t make it.” Most of the houses and some trees were leveled. After this strike, many left the camp, and made their third move to a new place. Some stayed but on November 18, another airstrike happened, destroying what was left of Bangkok IDP camp. Now, it was empty. This woman, named Anyae Say Bee, and a few others, had come over to see us from a nearby village to which they had relocated after the bombings.

Moving around the remains of the camp, we met one of the cooks who had prepared a delicious pumpkin curry. She pointed to what hurt her the most, the destruction of their church. What a devastating experience, to lose homes, possessions, and loved ones. This is felt by many around the world, as natural disasters have no selection process. But to be the target of a monstrous government hunting you down with villainous strength is something I never had in my childhood.

According to Anyae Say Bee, after the attacks the families had dispersed again to various homes in other camps and villages both near and far.  She and a few other families relocated to a home in the permanent neighborhood adjacent to the camp where their children attend school.  

We finished our visit with tears and smiles, and, gratefully, prayer and Jesus’ promise of hope and life beyond the evil in this world. We were grateful to be able to hold hands and together affirm that we are not alone in this life’s battle against sin, all around us, against us, and even within us, and that no matter what is lost, the most precious things are in God’s hands eternally. We look forward to seeing these friends again to remind them they are never alone in God’s care and never forgotten by so many who pray for them all around the world.

Thanks and God Bless You,

Karen, Family, and the Free Burma Rangers