Rajul and Nuuk, with their children.







today, my thoughts go out to Rajul and Nuuk and their two children in the village of Yokam, Thailand.
This morning Nuuk called us up, ridden with tears, she explained that Rajul had been serious injured working in the champingon-hothouses just outside the village.
Working in these hothouses, which are basically tents made of plastic, the temperature often rises to around 60 degrees celcious. More over, the fertilisers used to produce the chamopignon makes the air - with the heat- in tent, somewhat of a deathtrap. And that for a daily salary of approximately 6 danish kroner.
Rajul had somehow fallen in the tent, and ripped his thigh open and are now hospitalised in nearby Nong Bun Mak, where I also recieved treatment for my wounds after the elephant thrashed me in early june. Being a rich white dude, I was pushed in front of every line, because paying the few houndred kroner to get absolutely perfect treatment was no problem to me.

Rajul on the other hand has migrated to Thailand from Bangladesh, and fell in love with Nuuk selling rotis at Bangkok Central Railway Station, Hualampong.
Being a working migrant in Thailand, or being a working migrant in general in the ladder part of the third world, often means that you are persona non grata, wanted, but not officially existing. And with social security in Thailand still has a long way to go, Rajul is now hospitalized having to pay at least 1000 thai-baht a day, which is absolutely devasting for a family unit. You do the math.

And no, they are not pulling us a trick, we lived with them for a month, and I consider them some of the most humble and non demanding people I have ever spend time with.

Tonite we send enough money to pay the hopsital bill. If there is anybody out there wanting to help, you are more than welcome to contact me at mortenalsinger@hotmail.com, call me at +452892 2293, or leave a comment if you want to reach out.

I know, the world is fucked up, but sometimes, you just help where you can help.