I thought that I would never have the opportunity to visit the Philippines. When I went away, it was like erasing the thought all together. Home was far away now; how much more the thought of visiting that country. I wanted to go there because I have heard much from people who have been there. Everybody who saw life there somehow felt it's pathetic state and their blessings. I wanted to experiance that deeply.
I did not get much time there to get a taste of life... so maybe I should go again one day for the whole thing..
But at least here are a few memories and pictures I took with me:
The street child- three small children, frighten bones in oversized clothes, sliming aganst the wall across from where I sat eating my breakfast in the city of San Jose. Nobody saw them because nobody wanted to. It was just another part of life we never intended on having. Quietly, the barefooted ones made their way up and down, the uncovered parts of their boies and their hairs were covered with the dust. I imagine them walking along the Philippines road. What were they looking for? food? water? then the sat aginst the wall, the younger clutching firmly his brother's hand. was he afraid? We approached them. In Tagalogue. But they hid unde rhteir over sized clothes. They did not ask for money or food. They just kept dreadful silence. What would you want? Was it not just a passing moment. I thought of snatching out my camera. I stop. At least I would not still their dignity- or maybe it was already gone. But they were not artifacts of Philippines. They were her bane. And yet they never asked to be. I sat on the bench and rested my head on its metal bar. After a while I realized that someone was sitting to my left on the side walk. I turn, there was a boy, a street child, to be exact, he was playing with the sand. Here and there pushing the sand in and out. I looked at him and he did not seem to mind my staring. Seems as if he was oblivious. For a long time he sat there just doing what he was doing. I put myself in his shoes and could he be bored. Maybe pity was not what they want? Maybe this was their life? How could I demean it? But I could see outside, was there not so much more to it. Would that so much mor emake one happy? maybe good food and a shower would for a season- was htat not what humans did? I turn and asked the lady, why? how do they survive? She said "irresponsible people." and "only the best survive". A chill ran down my spine. It sounded all too familiar.
When we traveled the dusty roads of Philippines, someone inevitably had to bring out in comparison to Singapore. I really felt we could enjoy it with out that comparisons. So we all look out of the van's window decided we would open the windows. It was so dusty. The padi fields were vacant, drenched in water, I suspect the recent typhoon there in Manila. Nobody was sighted in the fields. It was desolate. Once upon a time, I could tell it was the hope, life and dream of a man and his family. Now it was a curse. Their sorrow. And empty stomachs. Then when we traveled throught the busy town roads. The choas. It felt redeeming to me at first. It was everybody gone mad. Insanity was a quality. Dusty and Humid, we toiled like a snail. Horns blaring in every direction everywhere was a four way traffic. I would love to take driving lessons there because it is frivolous. I sat on the jeepney and tricycle. The tricycle was exhilarating, snaking its way. And they were all over. all of them finding the nitch at every portion like a jigsaw puzzle changing its pattern before you or those shape-games. triangle and square and one unknoe shape- maybe hexagon. I felt like children's play on the real roads. Lawless society. The jeepney was their bus and everyone of them had their name. Tortises on the road. I had fun sitting on them!! But I would never imagine that everyday. I cme back to the place we resided weary from all the hassle!
