Category: News

The Orphanage – Part 2
By: Charles R. Vaught Jr.
(Written recently but the story is from 2010 and much has gotten better)

From the dormitory I followed Stu to where the children bathed, an outdoor area devoid of privacy.
“Over there,” Stu gestured to a low rectangular concrete water basin encased in dark green mildew. “That’s where the kids wash their plates and dishes.”
Examining the dingy dish wash station, I asked. “Do they use hot water?”
“No, the water is tepid at best and that goes for their bathing water as well. Directing my gaze to a concrete trough, in front of which was a poorly constructed sheet metal wall, Stu informed me. “That’s the urinal. And this right here,” he pointed to a square tub made from concrete, also coated in green fungus, “that’s where the boys bathe.”
“Seems pretty disgusting that all the boys have to bathe in one bathtub.”

“No, no it’s not like that”, Stu corrected me, “they use buckets to dip into the water and give themselves little bird baths. Come on”, he said, “let’s go check out the kitchen.”
Along the way the children were at recess. In the dry dirt field boys played soccer, they played tag, they shot each other with finger guns the way boys do. The girls laughed and danced, while others played jump rope. They all looked so happy, as if they were unaware of the dire straits they were living in. I couldn’t see a hint of sadness or disappointment.

Crossing the field we came to an open-faced pole building: one wall, a roof, no doors, no windows. “This is where all their meals get prepared,” Stu explained. Under the roof was a waist high wooden table stained from the countless meals that had been prepared on it. Stu hit the table top with a flat hand, “And this is what we cut on.” A few feet away were two propane burners and four rough-looking economy-sized rice cookers. At the end of the rice cookers stood an electric fan, motionless. It was hard to tell its original color for the thousands of black flies that covered it. In a saddened tone he went on, “This is life for the kids.”
I imagined eating meals that had been prepared under such unsanitary conditions and my stomach began to curdle.

“What’s a usual meal for the kids?”
Like every other aspect of the tour Stu did not hold back in his response. “Every meal is rice, and depending on the donations they receive from the head abbot—people will come to see him—and if they bring fish, the kids eat fish that day, if they bring pork, the kids eat pork that day, chicken, chicken. But there are always vegetables, and there are always noodles so the kids always have plenty to eat, there’s just not always plenty of protein to give them. So that’s one of the things I’m always working on. How I can get them more protein in their diets, because when they get sick they don’t get the vitamins that they need to get better quicker. If they get a cold or a sore throat it stays for weeks, sometimes months.”
At that moment, given the opportunity, I would have adopted every single child there.
Heading back to his parked motorbike Stu relayed the following story to me.

“There is actually one girl who is really good in track”, he paused as he greeted two orange-robed monks we passed. Quickly he put his hands in a prayer position, bowed his head, and gave the traditional Thai greeting of sawasdee krab. “Anyways, like I was saying, we have a girl here who is a real star in track. I mean she’s won a bunch of awards and if they can get her enough money there is a big school in Bangkok that they want her to go run track at. If I can help get her there, I’m going to get her there. I mean, it would definitely change her life.”

As we reached the area where his motorbike was parked I noticed the words ‘We love’ scrawled on the wall in big blocky charcoal letters. I pointed towards it.

“You know”, Stu said, a glimmer of hope in his voice, “that’s one of the things I like about this place, is that even though it’s graffiti, it says, ‘We love.’ Through all the bad stuff that happens here, there is still love and compassion and fun. It’s a great attitude.”

Stu was right, there were things that I saw that made me want to weep like a baby, just as there were beautiful things as well.

A half hour later found us riding back to Chiang Mai. The humidity had increased tenfold, going from aggressive to overwhelmingly oppressive. In the course of our tour the sun had turned my pale flesh to bubblegum pink. As I sat on the back of his motorbike, hot, sticky wind blowing on my burnt face, we passed through rice groves and I reflected on all that I had seen. Here was my friend, a personal chef to the stars back in Los Angeles, who had given up everything¬–money, cars, privilege–to come to Thailand and spend his life helping those kids. His actions made me reflect on my own reasons for coming to Thailand: to adventure, and redefine myself. Suddenly, my noble intentions became glaringly selfish.
By: Charles R. Vaught Jr.

First, I would like to give a huge thank you to Charles for taking the time to write this story, it means a lot to me to have other ways of showing you what it was/has been like here. Again this is Charles story, how he felt and how he saw things. I do have to agree with him on much of what he said. That said out of respect for all of the people involved and the kids, I will only post some of the pictures and talk about some of the things.

I have been at the Wat for 6 years and I have seen many, many things. I have laughed a lot but I have also cried myself to sleep plenty too but not so much anymore. As I said at the end of Charles first part of his story that they do some really great things for the kids here but things can always be better. I am so grateful to Jemma, the woman that introduced me to the Wat, I am also thankful to all of the people that have helped me here in Chiang Mai to pave the way here and for Stu and The Kids.

Even thought there are some sad things in the story, we are making a difference and I truly believe that. The Wat is not so “hot” on having volunteers and I have seen them come and go but they let me stay so that must mean something. Stu and The Kids is doing our best to help as many kids as we can to continue their education. To date we have 2 boys that graduated and are working in their field of study, electronics. Surisit lives in town and Thammasak studied Korean language and moved to Korea. We now have 5 kids in university, 2 studying accounting, 1 studying Business-English and 2 studying computer-business. We are so unbelievably proud of them!

On my last trip to the states we had our best year ever as far as fundraising goes but this said we could always use more. The more we raise, the more kids we can help. We have enough funds for 4 kids and nearly enough for one more so if this story, strikes a cord with you and you would like to help us, help more kids, please feel free to click on the donate bottom and do what you can. A one time contribution, monthly, everything helps. And if you have any questions just send me a message and I will get back to you as soon as I can. Thank you for taking the time to stop by www.stuandthekids.org.
Peace, -Stu

(Written recently but the story is from 2010 and much has gotten better)

“Are you ready?” Stu asked, handing me a helmet.
“I was born ready” I replied, planting the helmet onto my head and pulling the chinstrap tight.
“Climb on then, let’s go.”
I threw my leg over the large seat of the motorbike and placed my hands on my thighs to steady myself.
“You good?”
“For sure.”
“Cool.” Stu glanced over his shoulder while simultaneously throttling the bike. We were off. We sped through Chiang Mai traffic. Passing along the banks of the outer moat, the city flew by in a blur of sensations. Thick grey smoke from coffee beans being pan-roasted in an alley faded into the overwhelming scent of burning incense from a wat (Buddhist Temple), which gave way to the stink of raw sewage—all of which were infused with the raw exhaust of all the various vehicles in traffic. We passed a foreigner arguing with a tuk-tuk driver, while a pretty Thai woman frantically translated between the two parties. An orange-robed monk walked the streets seeking his morning alms. Children dressed in their crisp, clean uniforms happily strolled to school. It was half past seven in the morning and I was already sopping with sweat. This was partly due to the hot Thai sun, but it was mainly due to the humidity. The kind of humidity that wraps around a body as tight and restricting as moist cellophane; the kind of humidity that is indicative of countries located close to the equator.

The man driving me on the back of his motorbike through the early morning streets of Chiang Mai, Thailand was Stuart Skversky. I had met him nine months prior at one of his fundraisers in Los Angeles. He was a man of girth: ginger bearded, earrings, shaved baldhead, a sleeve tattoo, a dragon tattoo on the side of his skull and an ever-present smile. He was the exact opposite of what I imagined a person going abroad to volunteer would look like. When we met I had stuck my hand out for a handshake, he pulled me in for a hug and said, “What’s up homie?” We were instant friends.
Up ahead a traffic light turned from yellow to red.
Rolling to a stop Stu asked, “You ready for this?”
I wiped the steamy perspiration from my cheeks. “I am. I know it won’t be easy, but I’m ready.”
“Just remember what I told you”, he reiterated, “You’re gonna see some things that are downright beautiful and some things that are gonna make you want to weep like a baby.”

The light turned from red to green. Fifteen minutes later Stu steered the motorbike down an unpaved road. Gravel crunched and popped under the weight of the bike. Slowly we crept through the gates of the orphanage he volunteered at, Wat Don Chan. He stopped the motorbike in front of a nondescript concrete building. A flock of smiling kids, I judged to be about six to eight years old, were playing outside in the heat. When the children saw Stu they stopped playing their games and immediately swarmed him. They hugged Stu and tugged on his shirt for attention. One boy swiftly crawled onto his back and hung his arms around his neck. Stu toted the boy around while happily acknowledging every child in his presence. He introduced me to his fans one by one. He told me their English names, names like Bob, and Apple, and Soda—names they had picked out themselves. With those names came the story of each child, and the horrific circumstances that brought them to the orphanage. I heard stories of abandonment, family death, and of parents too destitute to care for their children. Yet in each of their dark tan faces I saw light. I saw love. I saw hope.

We walked past an elaborate wat decked out with ornate carvings, numerous tapestries, and multiple Buddha effigies. Outside the wat were massive statues of Buddha, Ganesh and another deity I was not familiar with. Each statue was painted in garish tones of gold and red, and on each statue laid multiple strands of bright flower necklaces. As the throng of children dissipated into various classrooms Stu led me further through the grounds of the orphanage. He first showed me the school building, the newest building on the premises. The classrooms were similar in size and shape to other classrooms I had been inside of in America, the real difference was that the children were alert and attentive, hanging onto every word spoken by their teachers. They drank in their lessons the way a dehydrated man gulps down water at an oasis. The computer lab was outdated and the building was absent of air conditioning, but that did not deter them. The children were there for a purpose and they did not squander the opportunity.

Our next stop was the boy’s dormitory. A beige building that had seen better days, it was a three-story affair with scarred walls, chipped plaster, and screen-less windows. The first floor housed the young boys, boys from the ages of three to nine. It was lined on both sides with bunk beds, leaving a narrow space in the middle to walk through. Each bed was worse than the next, with mattresses that were either so rotten their rusted springs peaked through, or mattresses that were cardboard thin and looked to be held together by prayer alone. The boys lived in squalor. Piles of trash and dust and soiled clothes were littered throughout. The worst thing about this dormitory, however, was its smell. The putrid stink of stale, musty urine hung heavy in the air.

“Why is this place so trashed?” I asked, my heart burdened with concern.
Stu sighed. “Yeah, it’s pretty disgusting, right? There just are not enough monks to take care of everything and pick up after these little guys. They make each floor responsible for themselves and the sad part is these boys just are not old enough to take care of themselves. Lice is a big problem down here, too, that’s why you’ll notice all of the young boys have their heads shaved.”
“How many kids are there? How many monks are there?” My questions came out in rapidfire succession.
“There are about seven hundred and forty kids and only seventeen monks, and me, and a couple other volunteers.” As I looked around at the filthy conditions I could not fathom having to fend for myself at their age. The harsh reality of their lives became very real.

The second floor was in a slightly better condition. I was told that the boys on that floor ranged between ten and fourteen. There was less visible garbage. There were still no screens on the windows and despite some of the beds having mosquito nets, the huge, fist-sized holes in the netting them made them utterly useless. The smell was slightly less obnoxious as the boys that lived on this floor were able to look after themselves better than the younger ones. That floor, too, was lined with bunk beds, and the mattresses, if you can call them that, were also in a state of disaster. Some mattresses sagged so low they bent like a bow. Some beds had mattresses that looked as if you would need a tetanus shot just to get a good night’s sleep. And some bunks did not even have mattresses at all, merely a blanket laid on the chain-link-like bed frames.

“How do these kids sleep like this?”
“My guess is”, Stu said, his tone low and solemn, “they don’t, and if they do, they don’t sleep very much. That’s one of the projects I’m working on right now is getting donations for mattresses. My goal is to get a new mattress for every single one of them.”
The third floor of the boy’s dormitory was the best floor. It housed boys aged fifteen to eighteen and it was remarkably clean. Only occasionally would a waft of foul-smelling air come up the stairwell from the lower levels. Again, the floor was full of by bunk beds, but some of those beds did have new mattresses. That was a slight relief.

The Orphanage – Part 1, By: Charles R. Vaught Jr.

OK so my buddy Charles is a writer, fisherman, fire fighter, student and all around good dude. I asked him to write a 2 part story about this experience from his first trip to the Wat. He lived here for a couple of years and I am sure that his feelings may have changed since writing this, I know mine have.

You see culturally Thailand is a very different place than the United States and I am sure many other countries too. When I got here to Chiang Mai and moved in to the Wat, which I lived in for 2 years, I was like WOW! Now that I have lived here for 6 years and been to many Hill Tribe villages, temples, orphanages, etc., I see things differently. Although sometimes I do not agree with everything that I see at the Wat, I at least understand why things are done the way they are. Above is part 1 of Charles story, stay tuned for part 2, coming soon.

The picture above is of Charles and myself with some super happy kids from a Karen Hill Tribe village, a 5 hour drive from the city. We spent the day giving out things that were donated to us including frisbees from the Long Beach State Frisbee team and played games with all of the kids, it was a blast.

Well, what can I say……………

We had such an amazing group of chefs and so many wonderful people helping, donating and volunteering their time and products. We had wine, Thai beer, local micro-brewed beer, Thai iced tea, fresh coconuts and even a Thai, Lime Leaf style vodka gimlet, super tasty. The food, omg, the food was so amazing. All of the chefs did a Thai-style twist on the food that they normally make, it was really cool. Also it felt like all of the chefs were on their AAA games and everything was so good, check out all of the pictures at: https://www.facebook.com/stuart.skversky/media_set?set=a.10206418978125951.1073741884.1013502810&type=3

This year we had 3 X’s the amount of people in attendance and 3 X’s the amount of funds raised! We raised just over $26,000, this is so EXCITING! I think we did a really good job putting this together and learned so much that we can use to do even better next year.

I need to thank everyone involved including the BEST board members, web designer, friends, family, chefs and all of the people that came to celebrate with us. I also need to thank the Kids! The Kids are so amazing and why we do this so I thank them for being hungry to learn and to have a better life for themselves and the people in their extended families and villages. They really want to help others once they finish getting their university eduction.

I say celebrate because the board members along with myself worked very had to get our 501c3 status this year and to plan several great fundraisers. So, we had our biggest fundraiser ever and it felt like a huge family reunion with this really great vibe in the air. We spoke about the Kids, our plans for Stu and The Kids in the future and we are all looking forward to next years fund-raising “tour”.

Another thing that I am very much looking forward to is getting back to Chiang Mai. I have been in the states for just over 4 months and really want to get back to the Kids, I miss them. I am so excited to tell the Kids that we will be helping this coming year how well we did.

If you missed the fundraiser this year, keep an eye on us for next year. The “tour” will start in Philly then Jersey, Boston, Vermont, Montreal and LA. You know there will be a lot of great food, beverages, silent auctions, raffles and of course FUNraising.