Zaw was a small, bright-eyed 5-year-old with a mop of dark hair, living in a makeshift refugee camp on the edge of a landfill in Mae Sot, Thailand. The camp, a sprawling patchwork of tarp shelters and scavenged materials, was home to thousands of Burmese families who had fled the civil war tearing through their homeland. Zaw’s days were spent sifting through the landfill with his mother, searching for scraps to sell, while the sounds of laughter and play seemed like distant dreams.

One humid morning, as Zaw clutched a tattered plastic toy he’d found among the rubbish, a group of aid workers arrived at the camp. Speaking in Thai and broken Burmese. Zaw’s mother, Aye, watched them warily, but her curiosity grew when she heard the word "school." The workers explained that a local school, supported by an international charity, was opening its doors to refugee children, offering not just a place to learn but a full education—books, uniforms, meals, and a promise to support them through high school.

Zaw was one of the first chosen. His wide, curious eyes and quick smile had caught the attention of an aid worker named Ms. Lin, who saw potential in the boy despite his ragged clothes and bare feet. Aye hesitated—school meant Zaw couldn’t help her scavenge, and the family barely scraped by. But Ms. Lin knelt beside her, promising that the program would provide food and supplies to ease the burden. “He deserves a future,” she said softly. Aye looked at Zaw, who was tracing shapes in the dirt with a stick, and nodded, tears in her eyes.

The first day of school was a whirlwind of excitement for Zaw. Dressed in a crisp blue uniform that felt strange against his skin, he clutched a small backpack donated by the charity. The school was a modest building with colorful murals on the walls, a stark contrast to the gray-brown expanse of the landfill. Zaw’s teacher, Mrs. Somsak, greeted him with a warm smile, guiding him to a desk where a notebook and pencil waited. He’d never held a pencil before, but his tiny fingers gripped it tightly, determined to learn.

The days turned into weeks, and Zaw thrived. He learned to write his name, first in shaky lines, then with confidence. He counted to ten in Thai, sang songs with his classmates, and savored the warm meals provided at lunch—his first taste of stability. At the camp, he’d often gone to bed hungry, but now his belly was full, and his mind buzzed with new words and ideas. Aye watched her son change, his laughter filling their small shelter as he recounted his day, showing her the drawings he’d made of the landfill, now dotted with imaginary flowers.

The charity’s commitment to Zaw’s education gave Aye hope. They promised to support him through primary school and beyond, ensuring he’d have the chance to finish high school and maybe even go further. Ms. Lin visits often, bringing extra books and checking on Zaw’s progress. She told Aye that she noticed Zaw is a natural leader, always helping his classmates, and that he dreamed of becoming a teacher one day to help other kids like him.

The details & names have been changed to protect the identity of all involved.  If you would like to meet to real heroes, encourage these children, and have first hand experience, join us on one of our future trips.

Click Here to Join Future Trips