Sunday - Camillian Social Centre,

Fr Peter Pakhavi 

Another tradition is for our small party to visit the Camillian Social Centre in Rayong on the Sunday of our visit, to attend Mass with the children and usually to go on to the Garden of Eden project in the afternoon.  Mass at the Camillian Social Centre is always a memorable experience.  The children are fully involved with the service as altar boys, readers, and most importantly as the choir.  The singing is always deeply moving, filled with joy, hope and purpose, like the Centre itself.  Of course there are questions asked about bringing these children up as Catholics.  I am not a Catholic, nor am I any sort of evangelical, but I understand why the children share the faith.  When Fr Giovanni started his work, the children came with HIV infected parents.  Invariably the parents died, and Fr Giovanni was left with sole responsibility for the child.  Inevitably the child would also die, and Fr Giovanni would be beside them in their last moments.  He shared his faith with his children because it would bring them - and him - comfort in their last moments.

Now there is the miracle of affordable anti-retroviral drugs, so death is no longer inevitable.  But the ethos of the Centre had been established and continues, it is one huge Catholic family.  Whilst death may not be inevitable, it is by no means unknown.  Three days before our visit, New 2 let slip her frail grip on life aged just 11.  'It often happens', said Paul Baird, a volunteer from Manchester who has worked with the Centre for several years.  'The children sometimes arrive too late.  They seem to get better when they get treatment, but then suddenly the virus fights back, and they have no strength to beat it.  They need to be here two years before we know they are safe.'  New 2 had been at the Centre just a year.

So the Mass and the children's upbeat singing had a special poignancy for them this Sunday.  There cannot have  been any one of them who had not thought 'that could so easily have been me'.  But this close family has born the loss of New 2 with great fortitude thanks to its shared faith and the confidence and strength which flow from Fr Peter and Fr Pridha, the two priests who now lead the Camillian Centre.

I was pulled to the front by Fr Peter, the priest who now heads the medical and social care projects, who explained that the children wanted to give me a present.  They sang me a song.  What better present could there be in this place where music is so important.  I was very touched, and very grateful.  This was a special Sunday which I will remember for many years.  Although the children were bright and cheerful, I think all our party were prick-eyed at points.

The Mass is followed by a chance to meet old friends like Khun Jintana (who I now discover is known to her friends as Khun Coy) who works so hard on sponsorship matters.  Then lunch, with Fr Peter and Fr Pridha, the new Superior, and all the children from the Centre and from Independent Living.  A chance to meet old friends and make some new.  Then off to the Garden of Eden to revisit the house which we saw opened just one year ago.

This was a great moment.  The house is now home to 11 orphans, children whose lives have been massively changed by HIV although they are not themselves HIV+.  A happy group, in the care of Miss Phongphan Phayupa, a dynamo lady who is always busy.  Those people who kindly made donations for this house can be proud of how their money has been used.  The house is sparkling clean, tidy, well organised.  The children have a full rota of duties and homework from waking at 6 a.m. to bed again at 8 p.m..  They have their own kitchen garden, and help with the cleaning, washing, feeding the fish and feeding the frogs.  It is a busy life.  They attend a local school, and the small group take care of each other.  The newest recruit, a young man of about ten, was asked whether he was happy in his new home. 'Yes', he replied.  'What do you like best about it?'  'My friends.' he said.  'Who are your friends'.  Without a pause he started reeling off names, and then stopped dead and looked straight at us. 'All of them', he said.