I had been invited to go and visit some friends of junior who were now residing in Quezon city jail, feeling brave after escaping the juvenile prison and still having all my limbs. I thought how hard could it be? I was not prepared for what i saw that day.
We road a jeep away from empire hill the part of Payatas B we were currently staying. We crammed ourselves into a jeep that would just get us as far as the highway. Passing all the Junk shops overflowing with rotting garbage and the dirty faces that worked inside them occasionally pulling my t shirt over my nose when the smell got too foul. The everyday trip made to get out of the place not even the police will venture into and that i proudly call home. A long hot bus ride sitting between an old lady with incredibly bony elbows and a man with live fowl in his lap took us outside a police station. Jumping off myself and junior met the Tito nick and his daughter a friend of mine who were there to visit juniors cousin. We all entered together junior giving descriptions of what to write in the book and had already instructed to bring nothing but enough money to get there and back. So with empty pockets i was searched and patted down three times by three separate men all with mean scowls. Stamped and laughed at they jeered me up a set of stairs until i was in a cage looking down on a large basketball court covered with tattooed bodies some with wife-beaters some just shirtless. Junior led with Tito nick close behind me and his daughter between us all stepping carefully down a caged set of stairs i had to duck to get through the bars at the bottom and as my foot hit the hot concrete of that basketball court i knew i wasn't in Kansas anymore. Every eye was on me as i took the long walk inside. Quezon city jail is made up of five sections each with 1000 convicts each of these sections is like one big fraternity any man steps outside of his section he is dead. I rapidly noticed there were no guards anymore, we had left the last one at the foot of the barred staircase. We entered the section of which all of our friends were staying, it was tiny, the rooms were all open and i brushed shoulders with rapists murders and drug lords all giving me toothless grins from there painted faces. We sat on a bench in the middle i could see into every room and every man in here was just stacked on top of the other, just like in the graveyard. The boys came out and after a lot of hugs and handshaking, we sat surrounded by inmates. They spoke for hours i listened intently nervously looking around me but trying hard not to make eye contact with anyone. They told stories from being inside and of the outside lives that got them there. I could do nothing but to cling to the edge of the bench dumbfounded and listen. After the boys had there catching up and were told how everyone was back home they invited us to see there room. nodding and following too scared to do anything else we went to the end squeezed down through a narrow alley of bunk beds and their in inhabitants until we entered a small room ducking to get in there was one bed a small cooker a clatter of few personal possession that were deemed allowed and posters of ladies advertising cheap rum with no clothes on. It was barely the size of a cupboard and yet i was told five persons slept in there and they pointed to various areas where everyone slept i tried hard to use my imagination to deem it even remotely possible but my imagination failed me. The boys began to banter and after two hours of being inside i finally began to relax mostly because i was still alive. We stepped back out to the larger area of the boys section full of bodies we sat back on our bench to say the goodbyes. A huge guy walked passed his shaven head gleaming and a big gold necklace sitting pretty around his neck, my friend squealed excitedly she recognized him and asked her brother if he was who she thought he was. He was a famous Filipino rapper who was now serving time for three accounts of murder, "he is my idol" she whispered I laughed saying "there is seriously something wrong with you did you not hear your brother say what he is here for" she looked at me coyly saying "I know" we laughed but it was soon stopped by stern disapproving looks and i went back to staring at the floor not making eye contact. As we left back through the caged maze having said our goodbyes we got back to the main entrance the guards at the door looked at each other and laughed as one passed 20 pesos to the other "he made it out alive" one guard said and they both laughed. I was glad to know the people who were being payed to protect me were doing such a sterling job but was not disgruntled and left smiling at the adrenaline buzz of surving a visit to 5000 murders, rapists and what became more apparent people with no money or home who the government deemed easier to deal with inside a jail they had no control over. I have no delusion that i was lucky to be in one piece and all i can say is Quezon city jail makes wormwood scrubs look like a nursery.
Thursday 26 November 2009
Sunday 22 November 2009
The Old Chicken Boys
There are a group of old boys who all hang around outside the tejol's tending to there chickens and fighting cocks. They have tattoo's of cockerels on their arms and come home with a tidy wad of cash when they ave struck luck at the fights. When they are not tending to their chickens or off making them fight, they are at the tejol's. They sit around and watch pirated dvd's of the eagles and sing loudly. I always knew when they were having a get together, you can hear them before anything else. They sit around and fill the house with smoke and drink big slugs of cheap whiskey. This all goes on like clockwork every couple of weeks and always ends with them stumbling back to their houses and been well asleep by 4 in the afternoon. I am often invited to join but decline with the feeling i could never keep up. Heavy drinking is a part of poverty, its not a happy matter and there is no such thing as a quiet social drink. It is always heavy. It is an escape, we all know that alcohol can make you forget problems, but in this case it only creates more. Alcohol is the fuel of fights on bank holidays and the distinct lack of money that can make families go hungry at times. It has the same danger and forbidden quality that intrigues the youth world over, but it is and escape that takes them no where but to hang around with the wrong crowds. It sounds like the kind of thing your parents say to scare you, but here its real. The old chicken boy's mean no harm they sit and they smoke, they give banter and sing loudly to the eagles. They are just a percentage caught up in a forgotten world.
Friday 20 November 2009
All Souls Day
The first of November is all souls day, it is a Filipino tradition to go and spend this day with there family who are no longer on he earth. I had been invited by Juniors family to go with them, back to the grave i had carefully painted and made presentable a few days before. I accepted the cemetery had intrigued me, ironically it had been full of so much life and carried so many stories. Also this was an honour, making me feel even more like i had been brought into the family. It was the hottest day i had felt in a long time, and i struggled as we walked up the hill to catch a jeep. I went with the first wave of Tejol's, this would be the first of many, they are a catholic family after all. I went with Juniors brother, his cousin and there mothers. It was the same trip only this time the streets of the small town we jumped off to were heaving with people. The walked carrying bags, umbrellas, tents and blankets, it felt more like i was on my way to a festival, but then in a way i guess i was.
We walked down the same familiar road, still lined with the women and children selling their candles, this time joined by more selling flowers. Surrounded by families all walking with the same purpose, we reached the basketball court that before had seemed so vast and empty this time full of stalls selling food and drink. Stalls filled with cheap plastic toys to keep the children entertained, the air full of the smells of a hundred different foods. We reached the cemetery that days before had seemed so solemn and peaceful, was now full of laughter and music. There were not hundreds of families all come to weep and mourn, they had come to celebrate to commemorate the hundreds of lives lost. The passageways that had seemed vast and lonely, were now full of people crouched on the floor, some now two narrow to walk down with out stepping on people. Vendors wandered making business with the hordes, selling single cigarettes, sweets and ice cream. We found ourselves at the Tejol camp, the family already setting up a table of food inches away from other large families here to do the same. No one carried a frown everyone was smiling, we ate and drank as one by one the sons lit the candles for their father. It was the same all over the cemetery i wandered again this time welcomed by what felt like a thousand smiles and curious looks. What was the white guy doing in the poor peoples cemetery? This question was not hostile but curiously excited. As i sat with the family and they joked with a guitar being passed around and songs sung, my eyes wandered to stones that didn't have the same white gleam of the walls i was confined too, they towered higher over the maze i was at the heart of. I set off intrigued and trying to find where they lay, i walked to the far wall. Finding no route to them other than up, i walked back slightly disappointed, not willing to feel the wrath of the caretakers broom. I came back joining the family again, perching on a small stool that might as well of had me sitting on the ground. My eyes were fixed on those old overgrown stones, wanting for no real reason that made sense, too see what they were. By pure coincidence junior then came and asked if i wished to see the old cemetery, suddenly it made sense, and i jumped up a little too eagerly than one should, when visiting a place where people are laid to rest.
The old cemetery didn't have the same neat rows and columns, but piles of stones all precariously built up much higher and not painted a crisp white but wearing the old weathered stone they had been placed with. The passageways were even narrower here some so narrow it would be an impossible task to squeeze through. It was like a lost world, i struggle to find the words to describe it. It was a maze more complex then the newer cemetery. You could easily get lost for days within its crumbling walls. We passed empty mausoleums cramped and some which looked very much abandoned and forgotten, all surrounded by the towers that seemed to stretch for miles towards the skies, the bodies all piled on top of each other.
We went back to the safety of the new cemetery, where we sat around talking until the sun fell deep in the sky, and it began to get dark. We left by the candlelight of hundreds of memorials, we left the party of the souls. When we returned to Payatas the sun was fully set, as we walked back down weary from a long day in the sun. Each house had a candle in the door way i looked on curiously this was soon explained, they were there too keep the bad spirits out of the house. The streets had an eerie flickering orange glow, thousands of candles lined the outside of the houses all down the streets. I walked back to the house saying my goodbyes to the family, guided by the orange glow. I lit a candle and placed it at my door way just in case.
We walked down the same familiar road, still lined with the women and children selling their candles, this time joined by more selling flowers. Surrounded by families all walking with the same purpose, we reached the basketball court that before had seemed so vast and empty this time full of stalls selling food and drink. Stalls filled with cheap plastic toys to keep the children entertained, the air full of the smells of a hundred different foods. We reached the cemetery that days before had seemed so solemn and peaceful, was now full of laughter and music. There were not hundreds of families all come to weep and mourn, they had come to celebrate to commemorate the hundreds of lives lost. The passageways that had seemed vast and lonely, were now full of people crouched on the floor, some now two narrow to walk down with out stepping on people. Vendors wandered making business with the hordes, selling single cigarettes, sweets and ice cream. We found ourselves at the Tejol camp, the family already setting up a table of food inches away from other large families here to do the same. No one carried a frown everyone was smiling, we ate and drank as one by one the sons lit the candles for their father. It was the same all over the cemetery i wandered again this time welcomed by what felt like a thousand smiles and curious looks. What was the white guy doing in the poor peoples cemetery? This question was not hostile but curiously excited. As i sat with the family and they joked with a guitar being passed around and songs sung, my eyes wandered to stones that didn't have the same white gleam of the walls i was confined too, they towered higher over the maze i was at the heart of. I set off intrigued and trying to find where they lay, i walked to the far wall. Finding no route to them other than up, i walked back slightly disappointed, not willing to feel the wrath of the caretakers broom. I came back joining the family again, perching on a small stool that might as well of had me sitting on the ground. My eyes were fixed on those old overgrown stones, wanting for no real reason that made sense, too see what they were. By pure coincidence junior then came and asked if i wished to see the old cemetery, suddenly it made sense, and i jumped up a little too eagerly than one should, when visiting a place where people are laid to rest.
The old cemetery didn't have the same neat rows and columns, but piles of stones all precariously built up much higher and not painted a crisp white but wearing the old weathered stone they had been placed with. The passageways were even narrower here some so narrow it would be an impossible task to squeeze through. It was like a lost world, i struggle to find the words to describe it. It was a maze more complex then the newer cemetery. You could easily get lost for days within its crumbling walls. We passed empty mausoleums cramped and some which looked very much abandoned and forgotten, all surrounded by the towers that seemed to stretch for miles towards the skies, the bodies all piled on top of each other.
We went back to the safety of the new cemetery, where we sat around talking until the sun fell deep in the sky, and it began to get dark. We left by the candlelight of hundreds of memorials, we left the party of the souls. When we returned to Payatas the sun was fully set, as we walked back down weary from a long day in the sun. Each house had a candle in the door way i looked on curiously this was soon explained, they were there too keep the bad spirits out of the house. The streets had an eerie flickering orange glow, thousands of candles lined the outside of the houses all down the streets. I walked back to the house saying my goodbyes to the family, guided by the orange glow. I lit a candle and placed it at my door way just in case.
Thursday 19 November 2009
Painting Graves
We awoke early on a Thursday morning, the Payatas air thick and stifled as ever, filled with the sound of the vendors calling there calls. I sat on my stoop and watched the customers be enticed from there beds, to buy fresh hot bread or balut. I sat and watched through half open weary eyes, clinging to my cup of coffee from a packet, in fear that without it i slump backwards back to slumber. My body disliked being up so early but the vendors left me no choice. Jnr slipped passed me, i was too tired to ask where he was going, so just sat and waited searching for the bottom of my mug. He returned To find me still sat in the same position, he carried two small tins of paint and a brush, I looked on curiously. He asked if i "wanted to go with him" which just made me more puzzled, "where?" i asked. He responded and so we set off, this Thursday would be the day we would go to paint the gold on his fathers gravestone.
It would be me and two of juniors cousins, the two of which i am good friends with, both have a wicked sense of humor, which gave me the feeling this would not be a completely solemn day. We were also joined by our roommate who went to paint a friends grave. So we rode stuffed into a jeepny it was 20 minutes to a town i had never ventured to before, I rode with wide eyed excitement, the same excitement i get from seeing a new place. We jumped off and walked the streets in the heat of the morning, I followed staring into the obscure shops and old fashioned barbers. They soon ran out as we turned off, slowly nearing the white slabs in the distance, we passed women and children selling candles laid out on blankets on the roadside. Carefully crossing a basket ball game, i found my self in the perimeters of the cemetery, walking through narrow passageways the walls of which all four souls high. Four Plaques ran in neat columns all along the walls until it twisted off into a maze, the names of mothers, brothers, sons and daughters. As we walked i scanned the 9ft Rows staring at the names and dates, So many children, So many graves for those who had hardly had a chance to live. We abruptly arrived at a cross road within the maze and off to one side I saw the name a blaze upon marble "Rafael Tejol." We stood and stared up he lay in the third storey , I crouched as Jnr pulled out sand paper struggling to reach high enough to clean down the stone, I came and took his place having enough reach to manage although not by much. I was soon relieved as Mak Juniors cousin, arrived with what can only be described as a ladder, though as ever far from conventional.
We took it in turns to carefully line the engraved name and motif with gold paint. When one person was not painting, the rest of us sat perched on the edge of empty tombs. We spoke for the hours we there, they shared stories of juniors father and joked smiling not mourning but remembering the good times. Occasionally i wonder through the maze and stare at more names, My attention is broken, when i see kids scramble up on top of the 9ft labyrinth, they run and jump the gaps as if the graveyard were a playground. A man of 75 appears shouting for them to get down, he carries a large broom which he waves menacingly, the children just giggle and continue to sprint and jump. Then this elderly man walks to the front of the memorial and with the dexterity only seen from the early morning showings of childhood cartoons, scales the wall and begins a chase, broom at the ready. I presume he is the caretaker and that these little chases, run routine for everyday life, they both looked much too experienced for it not to be.
As I ventured back through the maze, to try and find the boys. I found a family gathered, all looking towards the same plaque. I bowed my head in respect, but I couldn't help but look towards it too. I wish i hadn't, He had only died a couple of weeks ago, and he was only five. My heart sank and sat heavy in my stomach, I found it hard to breathe. I walked back in a daze, I was not concentrating on where i was going, I was just walking. I looked to the people I passed noticing them more, so many mothers walked with their children trailing behind them. Children that are growing up without a father, and it was at this point i completely realised how much i took my parents for granted. Being here has shown me, what its like to be without them, Even though they are still on the earth. I owe them too much, suddenly i felt like that child being dragged behind his mother. To stand in front a wall that represented his past, held the memories of security and safety.
I found the boys again, I answered the questions of my disappearance with "I went for a walk." I smiled and climbed up the ladder next to Mak and took my turn painting the gold around the name of the man, that junior had lost and with losing him lost the security. I had become ever closer to junior he was my brother now, it did not feel strange to be there, of course it was still a complete honour, but i didn't feel out of place. I had been let in as part of the family. It took at least four hours, before we left proud of ourselves and smiling. The conversations, painting and laughter drew us all closer. As we walked out across the vast now empty basketball court and back down the narrow road, Junior turned with a smile and said "He would of been happy with this." I could feel we were all content in the fact we had won juniors fathers approval, even if he was no longer here to say it himself.
It would be me and two of juniors cousins, the two of which i am good friends with, both have a wicked sense of humor, which gave me the feeling this would not be a completely solemn day. We were also joined by our roommate who went to paint a friends grave. So we rode stuffed into a jeepny it was 20 minutes to a town i had never ventured to before, I rode with wide eyed excitement, the same excitement i get from seeing a new place. We jumped off and walked the streets in the heat of the morning, I followed staring into the obscure shops and old fashioned barbers. They soon ran out as we turned off, slowly nearing the white slabs in the distance, we passed women and children selling candles laid out on blankets on the roadside. Carefully crossing a basket ball game, i found my self in the perimeters of the cemetery, walking through narrow passageways the walls of which all four souls high. Four Plaques ran in neat columns all along the walls until it twisted off into a maze, the names of mothers, brothers, sons and daughters. As we walked i scanned the 9ft Rows staring at the names and dates, So many children, So many graves for those who had hardly had a chance to live. We abruptly arrived at a cross road within the maze and off to one side I saw the name a blaze upon marble "Rafael Tejol." We stood and stared up he lay in the third storey , I crouched as Jnr pulled out sand paper struggling to reach high enough to clean down the stone, I came and took his place having enough reach to manage although not by much. I was soon relieved as Mak Juniors cousin, arrived with what can only be described as a ladder, though as ever far from conventional.
We took it in turns to carefully line the engraved name and motif with gold paint. When one person was not painting, the rest of us sat perched on the edge of empty tombs. We spoke for the hours we there, they shared stories of juniors father and joked smiling not mourning but remembering the good times. Occasionally i wonder through the maze and stare at more names, My attention is broken, when i see kids scramble up on top of the 9ft labyrinth, they run and jump the gaps as if the graveyard were a playground. A man of 75 appears shouting for them to get down, he carries a large broom which he waves menacingly, the children just giggle and continue to sprint and jump. Then this elderly man walks to the front of the memorial and with the dexterity only seen from the early morning showings of childhood cartoons, scales the wall and begins a chase, broom at the ready. I presume he is the caretaker and that these little chases, run routine for everyday life, they both looked much too experienced for it not to be.
As I ventured back through the maze, to try and find the boys. I found a family gathered, all looking towards the same plaque. I bowed my head in respect, but I couldn't help but look towards it too. I wish i hadn't, He had only died a couple of weeks ago, and he was only five. My heart sank and sat heavy in my stomach, I found it hard to breathe. I walked back in a daze, I was not concentrating on where i was going, I was just walking. I looked to the people I passed noticing them more, so many mothers walked with their children trailing behind them. Children that are growing up without a father, and it was at this point i completely realised how much i took my parents for granted. Being here has shown me, what its like to be without them, Even though they are still on the earth. I owe them too much, suddenly i felt like that child being dragged behind his mother. To stand in front a wall that represented his past, held the memories of security and safety.
I found the boys again, I answered the questions of my disappearance with "I went for a walk." I smiled and climbed up the ladder next to Mak and took my turn painting the gold around the name of the man, that junior had lost and with losing him lost the security. I had become ever closer to junior he was my brother now, it did not feel strange to be there, of course it was still a complete honour, but i didn't feel out of place. I had been let in as part of the family. It took at least four hours, before we left proud of ourselves and smiling. The conversations, painting and laughter drew us all closer. As we walked out across the vast now empty basketball court and back down the narrow road, Junior turned with a smile and said "He would of been happy with this." I could feel we were all content in the fact we had won juniors fathers approval, even if he was no longer here to say it himself.
Monday 16 November 2009
Police and Theives
Christmas came early, I got a parcel from home, mostly more letter clothes but also my Christmas present. It was a video camera as i had asked for one because there had already been too many times I had wanted permanently documented in history. The camera arrived full of home videos which I sat watching with a smile this being the closest i had been to my parents in months. I showed it to junior pointed out my dog, the place I used to work, and were we used to drink. After this i went and stashed the camera in my bag i had left a lot of valuable things back at the house in Negros, for fear they might up and leave. So i wrapped it in clothes and stashed it at the bottom of my bag. A week passed when i returned to it, it was juniors birthday and i thought this a perfect opportunity to take some videos so that he could remember becoming an old man forever. For an hour we took every item of clothing out of my bag moved everything in the house until i had to bitterly admit it had been stolen. I wouldn't admit it for ages determined it had been my own stupidity but there was no way. I had put it in my bag and not touched it since but someone else had. Its Not impossible to break into our house the windows are made of wood and locked each with a single nail into the window sill. The door is often left open during the day its too hot to keep it shut let alone too dark. Although there is always someone in the house often they will be sleeping when we are out the door is locked with a padlock so common it probably isn't much of a mission to find a key similar.
Everyone took it really hard, harder than me in fact, But i felt determined not to ruin juniors birthday and reassure everyone there was nothing more that could be done today. No one took it harder than junior i felt so guilty like i had ruined his birthday. I took all our friends (19 in total) out for lunch to a restaurant thats a personal favorite of junior, Mang Inaasal we often take trips there and he is always convinced that everyone wants to go there for there birthday. So i took the hint and we ate barbeque chicken and had a rice eating comp. I should probably mention the reason Mang Inaasal is such a favorite is because it offer unlimited rice. Which to Filipinos is like a religious sacrament, so i had 20 happy fillipino's as we had a few more join all for just over 20 pound.
We got back home and after what I like to call "rice belly comatose" i woke up refreshed and made an attempt at the police station. I wont describe the situation it was too frustrating but lets just say the police were about as useful as a hooker in a monestry. It was fairly safe to assume i wouldn't be seeing my camera again, at least not with there help.
The evening rolled in I felt bitter but did my best not to show it, I kept a brave face for junior. I knew he was wearing one too. Though it didn't stop the festivities usually i don't encourage juniors drinking like a beer or two but nothing heavy. This time though Tito nick invited us to his to celebrate the birthday of his nephew at his house. This seemed to consist of Karaoke, the boys, nuts and cheap whiskey with a tang juice chaser. I stopped early on to try and remain some composure and not be thrown into the rumor mill head first. Drinking problems are rife I encounter drunks almost everyday here and usually its not there birthday, i began to feel concerned junior might of drunk to much. though in hindsight he was nothing compared to some of the levels i had been in the past he didn't drink regularly and i wanted to keep it that way. We staggered home laughing, but as soon as we got to the house his mood changed. We had not been inside 5 minutes when he started to cry, i knew why. He sat crying into my leg hair as i soothed him gently telling him there was nothing he could of done. He sobbed and turned to me saying "i made a promise to your mother i would protect you. I shouldn't of let this happen." to which i solemnly replied "but im still here im not dead it was only a camera" "if i found who done this i will punch them" he said it so fiercely and it was a side of my brother i had never seen before. I made him a cup of coffee while he paced the room whilst he said he hurt me. I replied with more soothing tones my father had taught me and did my best to calm him. we sat on the floor him still crying quietly. Out of no where He began punching the wall next us i grabbed his arm and struggled with his strength but kept him restrained he turned his face to me and i smiled "you silly bugger" where all the words i could think to conjour "dont do that mate it really hurts in the morning."
It did He woke up the next day very sheepishly, he had redecorated the toilet bowl a few times in the night. He came and quietly apologized i laughed and threw my arm around him saying "i think we should stick to a couple beers from no on. Happy birthday brother" he smiled nervously. I did my best to not make him feel embarrassed, we spoke soberly bout how there was nothing either of us could of done. Once he finally seemed content we sat and had a coffee and vowed not to bring the night of his 24th birthday up. At least not for a little while.
Everyone took it really hard, harder than me in fact, But i felt determined not to ruin juniors birthday and reassure everyone there was nothing more that could be done today. No one took it harder than junior i felt so guilty like i had ruined his birthday. I took all our friends (19 in total) out for lunch to a restaurant thats a personal favorite of junior, Mang Inaasal we often take trips there and he is always convinced that everyone wants to go there for there birthday. So i took the hint and we ate barbeque chicken and had a rice eating comp. I should probably mention the reason Mang Inaasal is such a favorite is because it offer unlimited rice. Which to Filipinos is like a religious sacrament, so i had 20 happy fillipino's as we had a few more join all for just over 20 pound.
We got back home and after what I like to call "rice belly comatose" i woke up refreshed and made an attempt at the police station. I wont describe the situation it was too frustrating but lets just say the police were about as useful as a hooker in a monestry. It was fairly safe to assume i wouldn't be seeing my camera again, at least not with there help.
The evening rolled in I felt bitter but did my best not to show it, I kept a brave face for junior. I knew he was wearing one too. Though it didn't stop the festivities usually i don't encourage juniors drinking like a beer or two but nothing heavy. This time though Tito nick invited us to his to celebrate the birthday of his nephew at his house. This seemed to consist of Karaoke, the boys, nuts and cheap whiskey with a tang juice chaser. I stopped early on to try and remain some composure and not be thrown into the rumor mill head first. Drinking problems are rife I encounter drunks almost everyday here and usually its not there birthday, i began to feel concerned junior might of drunk to much. though in hindsight he was nothing compared to some of the levels i had been in the past he didn't drink regularly and i wanted to keep it that way. We staggered home laughing, but as soon as we got to the house his mood changed. We had not been inside 5 minutes when he started to cry, i knew why. He sat crying into my leg hair as i soothed him gently telling him there was nothing he could of done. He sobbed and turned to me saying "i made a promise to your mother i would protect you. I shouldn't of let this happen." to which i solemnly replied "but im still here im not dead it was only a camera" "if i found who done this i will punch them" he said it so fiercely and it was a side of my brother i had never seen before. I made him a cup of coffee while he paced the room whilst he said he hurt me. I replied with more soothing tones my father had taught me and did my best to calm him. we sat on the floor him still crying quietly. Out of no where He began punching the wall next us i grabbed his arm and struggled with his strength but kept him restrained he turned his face to me and i smiled "you silly bugger" where all the words i could think to conjour "dont do that mate it really hurts in the morning."
It did He woke up the next day very sheepishly, he had redecorated the toilet bowl a few times in the night. He came and quietly apologized i laughed and threw my arm around him saying "i think we should stick to a couple beers from no on. Happy birthday brother" he smiled nervously. I did my best to not make him feel embarrassed, we spoke soberly bout how there was nothing either of us could of done. Once he finally seemed content we sat and had a coffee and vowed not to bring the night of his 24th birthday up. At least not for a little while.
Hey Joe Pt 2
So im starting to get pretty used to people stopping and staring at me. To the guys who shout things out or the fact that every time someone asks my age the conversation goes like this "how old are you joe?" "18" "18?! but your so big!" "no im lying im really 47 and a half" which usually leaves them with a confused expression and me a clean get away. While i was staying in Payatas I used to take this long walk to urban which is kind of the place go for the market, barbers, to bid on live animals or avoid a dodgey looking resto-bar. The walk iss only made longer by two mammoth hills and the fact you have to keep changing sides where the path disappears into nothingness. You rarely see cars come down here even though technically it is a road although you will pretty much definitely need new suspension once you make it to your destination. Sometimes there will be a brave guy on a scooter who carefully makes his way past you at a speed so slow he might of well just walked you can guarantee this guy said his prayers before he left the house.
I always meet the same interesting characters on this walk and we always have the same conversation. there is the guy who always shouts "hey joe whats your name?" to which i reply of course my real name josh yet i always get the response "hey Joe" perhaps my mother gave me the wrong name i really am starting to wonder. Several other 'Cano' comments shouted at me I walk up to my last regular face. He is an old boy who sits outside his store and always gets up when he see's me coming. He shakes my hand saying "Come in joe how's life in japan" to which i was kindly decline and say "i have places to be but next time." So every time we play this scene as if it was the first. I have no clue why he thinks im Japanese unless he thinks he is living in Japan right now. Either way its fairly safe to say he is not all there, when we play our scene but i always leave him laughing away.
I got to urban for a haircut my grand-pops would of been proud of. For 35pence i got a "smart" haircut cut-throat razor shave finished by a nice shoulder massage. It was like a gentleman's barber from 1960's east London. To complete the full effect the sweet sounds of 'knock on wood by Sam and Dave' played out in the background. I left this time portal and went to fetch dinner from the market to take back to the house and use my culinary skills over a gas cooker.
A slice of everyday life for me here. Beyond all the horror stories there are a lot of quirky days off like this too.
I always meet the same interesting characters on this walk and we always have the same conversation. there is the guy who always shouts "hey joe whats your name?" to which i reply of course my real name josh yet i always get the response "hey Joe" perhaps my mother gave me the wrong name i really am starting to wonder. Several other 'Cano' comments shouted at me I walk up to my last regular face. He is an old boy who sits outside his store and always gets up when he see's me coming. He shakes my hand saying "Come in joe how's life in japan" to which i was kindly decline and say "i have places to be but next time." So every time we play this scene as if it was the first. I have no clue why he thinks im Japanese unless he thinks he is living in Japan right now. Either way its fairly safe to say he is not all there, when we play our scene but i always leave him laughing away.
I got to urban for a haircut my grand-pops would of been proud of. For 35pence i got a "smart" haircut cut-throat razor shave finished by a nice shoulder massage. It was like a gentleman's barber from 1960's east London. To complete the full effect the sweet sounds of 'knock on wood by Sam and Dave' played out in the background. I left this time portal and went to fetch dinner from the market to take back to the house and use my culinary skills over a gas cooker.
A slice of everyday life for me here. Beyond all the horror stories there are a lot of quirky days off like this too.
Saturday 14 November 2009
Giving
Today was the day I met a woman who has 7 children and lives in an underpass. Today i gave smiles to 23 children as well as onlooking mothers, brothers, uncles and grandmothers. when all there smiles had been washed away. I met a woman who was desperate for money but settled for juice and crackers.
I had been given the task along with 20 other friends from Payatas to go out and give back to the people. Do something for someone who really needed it for people we didn't know but were struggling. The daunting task of going out and meeting people who didn't share the same language struck. I would have to mumble my way through the little Tagalog i did know and hand gesture the rest. Thankfully the girls saved me they had become like sisters to me. They were the only 6 girls of the team set up to give back to the community. Though they all in one of the poorest slums they were all giving back.
We had no real plan but i suggested we get some juice, sweets, crackers etc and find street kids. Eager at this idea we stormed round a convenience store each of us leaving with a sack of juice and foods. As we went looking for people to share our time with the thought occurred that even though i had only been here for a couple months i had already got used to passing so many people with desperation in there eyes. It didn't take long before we met a woman whose clothes were torn beyond repair and looked like her only. We gave her crackers but she was unsatisfied and asked for money. She soon realized we weren't giving cash handouts and her eyes met the box in my hand. If She couldn't have money she would settle for juice so i gave here three cartons and she stormed off barely giving me time to give her a straw. I watched her leave with a smile a wild look in her eye and an apparent thirst for juice. We carried on walking down the road we found ourselves on without any real direction. We soon found ourselves at a bus stop instantly i noticed a woman who stood holding a baby in front of a box full of single cigarettes and mints. Customers would come and go throwing the correct change for there item in the box as she rocked the baby back and forth. She had the face of someone who had been aged by rough nights sleep and sickness. The girls had seen her too and we moved towards her as they started conversation i got translation for the words i didn't pick up. As we talked me through eager translation we gave her juice and occasionally some more foods. One of the girls took the baby and gave the mother a rest if only for a little while. She told us she had seven children and lived down in the underpass around the corner. At this moment all the air left my body i stood shocked realizing that all the juice jelly sweets and crackers in the world could not help this woman. all the horrible things she must have seen and lived in order to have seven children living in a tunnel. The men that must of been her life made me feel ashamed to be one of the same gender. Though she stood and seemed content in the fact we had shared our time with her. Though it was short and soon i found myself following the girls in a daze they told me she had no husband and she came her from the province for a better life. It was a story similar to many others bright lights big city. But for this lady fear nights in dark tunnels.
i felt determined now to keep going continuing along the same road we got to a bridge. I could see from a distance the houses built underneath they were precariously built up wards made of scrap metal and wood some baring large banners serving as a fourth wall flying the flag of battered corporate advertisements that no longer served there original purpose. As we neared closer to the start of the bridge we passed a young man sitting on the verge we maneuvered around him trying not to be ploughed by three lanes of fast traffic. He was the kind of young man i feared i didn't wish to make eye contact so only glanced at him long enough to see the familiar large white rubbish collecting bags. I set foot on the bridge and peered over the edge for sign of life. I saw rubble. Carnage left by mother nature a few weeks before. Worn down river banks and murky brown waters. We made it clear why we were there and soon children appeared and took the sweets and juice. The grubby faces shining with smiles far from white. Once i had successfully surrounded my self with grateful children and mothers onlooking with pleased curiosity. i looked back the way we had come to see the girls had gone back to the young man whom i avoided for fear of probably in my own irrational mind being shot.
When i came closer it became apparent he was much younger than i had thought. He could only of been about 14 and as he saw me approach he did not pull out a gun and blow me away. He smiled, i felt stupid i sat punching a juice with a straw and handed it to him. We shook hands as the girls introduced me to him and then another kid who must of been a couple years younger. They were from Litex the part of payatas that sorts all the rubbish before it makes its way to the dump. They were out collecting but had taken the afternoon off to go swimming. To go swimming in the same murky waters i had just peered into and known the chance of seeing my reflection was pretty slim. I probably would have been lucky to leave those waters alive but this is where they would spend there free time.
More Kids began to appear word had traveled fast soon we had 23 congregated on the grassy verge of the road. This left us standing infront of them our ankles victim to the manila traffic. We had them singing songs and playing little games the space would allow us the singing grew louder and louder as they grew more excited. It took a good 45 minutes before the juice and candy ran out and the songs stopped. one by one they came and said thank you as they ran back and disappeared under the bridge. We were no longer The spectacle and entertainment for those who were stopped in traffic at our little roadside show.
We walked back smiling more than the kids which was an achievement in its self. we had reached out to the children of Ondoy and though the weeks have passed the destruction hasn't it still sits heavy under that bridge. I leave that bridge content that at least we were the highlight of the day. We brought back the smiles that had been washed away and gave hope to the ones who were passed and forgotten.
I had been given the task along with 20 other friends from Payatas to go out and give back to the people. Do something for someone who really needed it for people we didn't know but were struggling. The daunting task of going out and meeting people who didn't share the same language struck. I would have to mumble my way through the little Tagalog i did know and hand gesture the rest. Thankfully the girls saved me they had become like sisters to me. They were the only 6 girls of the team set up to give back to the community. Though they all in one of the poorest slums they were all giving back.
We had no real plan but i suggested we get some juice, sweets, crackers etc and find street kids. Eager at this idea we stormed round a convenience store each of us leaving with a sack of juice and foods. As we went looking for people to share our time with the thought occurred that even though i had only been here for a couple months i had already got used to passing so many people with desperation in there eyes. It didn't take long before we met a woman whose clothes were torn beyond repair and looked like her only. We gave her crackers but she was unsatisfied and asked for money. She soon realized we weren't giving cash handouts and her eyes met the box in my hand. If She couldn't have money she would settle for juice so i gave here three cartons and she stormed off barely giving me time to give her a straw. I watched her leave with a smile a wild look in her eye and an apparent thirst for juice. We carried on walking down the road we found ourselves on without any real direction. We soon found ourselves at a bus stop instantly i noticed a woman who stood holding a baby in front of a box full of single cigarettes and mints. Customers would come and go throwing the correct change for there item in the box as she rocked the baby back and forth. She had the face of someone who had been aged by rough nights sleep and sickness. The girls had seen her too and we moved towards her as they started conversation i got translation for the words i didn't pick up. As we talked me through eager translation we gave her juice and occasionally some more foods. One of the girls took the baby and gave the mother a rest if only for a little while. She told us she had seven children and lived down in the underpass around the corner. At this moment all the air left my body i stood shocked realizing that all the juice jelly sweets and crackers in the world could not help this woman. all the horrible things she must have seen and lived in order to have seven children living in a tunnel. The men that must of been her life made me feel ashamed to be one of the same gender. Though she stood and seemed content in the fact we had shared our time with her. Though it was short and soon i found myself following the girls in a daze they told me she had no husband and she came her from the province for a better life. It was a story similar to many others bright lights big city. But for this lady fear nights in dark tunnels.
i felt determined now to keep going continuing along the same road we got to a bridge. I could see from a distance the houses built underneath they were precariously built up wards made of scrap metal and wood some baring large banners serving as a fourth wall flying the flag of battered corporate advertisements that no longer served there original purpose. As we neared closer to the start of the bridge we passed a young man sitting on the verge we maneuvered around him trying not to be ploughed by three lanes of fast traffic. He was the kind of young man i feared i didn't wish to make eye contact so only glanced at him long enough to see the familiar large white rubbish collecting bags. I set foot on the bridge and peered over the edge for sign of life. I saw rubble. Carnage left by mother nature a few weeks before. Worn down river banks and murky brown waters. We made it clear why we were there and soon children appeared and took the sweets and juice. The grubby faces shining with smiles far from white. Once i had successfully surrounded my self with grateful children and mothers onlooking with pleased curiosity. i looked back the way we had come to see the girls had gone back to the young man whom i avoided for fear of probably in my own irrational mind being shot.
When i came closer it became apparent he was much younger than i had thought. He could only of been about 14 and as he saw me approach he did not pull out a gun and blow me away. He smiled, i felt stupid i sat punching a juice with a straw and handed it to him. We shook hands as the girls introduced me to him and then another kid who must of been a couple years younger. They were from Litex the part of payatas that sorts all the rubbish before it makes its way to the dump. They were out collecting but had taken the afternoon off to go swimming. To go swimming in the same murky waters i had just peered into and known the chance of seeing my reflection was pretty slim. I probably would have been lucky to leave those waters alive but this is where they would spend there free time.
More Kids began to appear word had traveled fast soon we had 23 congregated on the grassy verge of the road. This left us standing infront of them our ankles victim to the manila traffic. We had them singing songs and playing little games the space would allow us the singing grew louder and louder as they grew more excited. It took a good 45 minutes before the juice and candy ran out and the songs stopped. one by one they came and said thank you as they ran back and disappeared under the bridge. We were no longer The spectacle and entertainment for those who were stopped in traffic at our little roadside show.
We walked back smiling more than the kids which was an achievement in its self. we had reached out to the children of Ondoy and though the weeks have passed the destruction hasn't it still sits heavy under that bridge. I leave that bridge content that at least we were the highlight of the day. We brought back the smiles that had been washed away and gave hope to the ones who were passed and forgotten.
Conversations With My Father
The only times I could ever properly speak with my pops would be when i couldn't handle things on my own anymore. He would always know when this time was and gently but assertively ask the questions he needed to know for me to open up. This would often take place when the house was empty and with me sitting at the top of the stairs peering through the banister at him in a chair below. He would pass on his wise learnings and tell me stories that always seem to make the most sense. For those hours i would sit talking on the stairs i would always think how foolish i had been not to take my place on the third stair from the top and start this conversation before things got to where they were. Even On my first travels east when i was just out of school my father took the opportunity for these talks this was when i needed them most. Beyond the work i did at only 16 the immersion amongst the poor and the learning from a different culture i also learnt a lot from my father. He gave me a level head and gave explanation to all my confusions or concerns.
Now Without my father here to guide me through my rants, concerns and confusions. Without him here to assure me my doubts of faith are rational and without him here to teach me how to turn those doubts into positive actions. With the man Who i thought could never say a wrong word when it came to these talks on the other side of the world. It is with me to find the answers for myself to grow up and begin to learn all the things my father had already learnt. To become an adult In the hope tat one day i could then teach my own troubled thoughtful children. To understand myself i must understand other people.
The concept scares me beyond my wits but fear is but another concept i must learn from and control. Whilst still appearing fearless to those who look to me for warmth and protection. I am far from being a father yet but i have already met kids with no dads no fearless warrior to wipe there tears and plaster there scraped knees. Kids who long for someone to give them hope and already they are looking to me. Without realizing it i have become my father not in every sense im still young and reckless but the more I learn the more this is controlled too. i am not yet a father. I am a Kuya to many but still protected by most i am looked upon for comfort and it is comfort i have been willing to give. In turn i learn more how to control my own qualms.
My father passed on his knowledge of life and now im sharing what ever i can with the people who need me. At times it seems to many but others it seems not enough when they give back in love and protection or a knowing smile that sets me to sleep.
This coming year has already put me at my lowest but without the wise advice my father taught me and taught me to learn for myself i wouldn't be able to pick myself up and take tomorrow as another day.
Now Without my father here to guide me through my rants, concerns and confusions. Without him here to assure me my doubts of faith are rational and without him here to teach me how to turn those doubts into positive actions. With the man Who i thought could never say a wrong word when it came to these talks on the other side of the world. It is with me to find the answers for myself to grow up and begin to learn all the things my father had already learnt. To become an adult In the hope tat one day i could then teach my own troubled thoughtful children. To understand myself i must understand other people.
The concept scares me beyond my wits but fear is but another concept i must learn from and control. Whilst still appearing fearless to those who look to me for warmth and protection. I am far from being a father yet but i have already met kids with no dads no fearless warrior to wipe there tears and plaster there scraped knees. Kids who long for someone to give them hope and already they are looking to me. Without realizing it i have become my father not in every sense im still young and reckless but the more I learn the more this is controlled too. i am not yet a father. I am a Kuya to many but still protected by most i am looked upon for comfort and it is comfort i have been willing to give. In turn i learn more how to control my own qualms.
My father passed on his knowledge of life and now im sharing what ever i can with the people who need me. At times it seems to many but others it seems not enough when they give back in love and protection or a knowing smile that sets me to sleep.
This coming year has already put me at my lowest but without the wise advice my father taught me and taught me to learn for myself i wouldn't be able to pick myself up and take tomorrow as another day.
Wednesday 11 November 2009
baby vandals
I was woken up by a text at half 6 in the morning telling me to get up dressed in long trousers and to come to the youth center. I grumbled and swore dragging my self under the mosquito net and crawling to the small wardrobe like washroom readied my self for my freezing cold bath from a bucket. I left the sleeping Kuya's and trudged up to the youth center to be met by absolutely no one. I swore again and walked back down the hill carrying the same air and grace i usually have at this time of the morning. I got half way down the hill before i had a phone call explaining what was going on. This was the morning I spent in the Quezon city juvenile detention center.
I sat sweating in my long trousers longing to be in shorts as i was crammed in for two long jeepny rides. The thing about jeepnys is they take the amount of people you should have as a limit and then throw in an extra four so you get the pleasure of sitting on some old dears lap for part of the journey or stuck under someones arm pit. Though this didn't bother me too much my mind was busy panicking that i was going to be eaten alive by 15 year old murders. I was absolutely terrified this made that trip to the fair seem harmless i had never been to a prison let alone a prison in a city where poverty and over population is at phenomenal as is the rate of crime. I walked silently down a long road after we jumped off the jeep and followed the group nervously.
We arrived at a building amongst others the downstairs was some kind of child welfare office and then there was a set of stairs with bars over them i presumed this was the place unless the child welfare office had a lot of problems with people stealing there staplers. The stairs took us to a narrow corridor where we were instantly frisked and had our personal belongings taken (by the guards not the inmates.) then one by one were sent through another barred door Into a large room full of youths the walls where made up of communal cells which looked unbelievably over crowded. The room we were in was kind of a multi purpose it had nothing in it but a black board and some wooden benches although it felt cluttered by the presence of young toothless tattooed faces through bars. There were 25 young men who had been allowed to take part in the workshop. I felt guilty as we met them and i nervously shook there hands constantly being watched by the faces behind the bars.
Once i started to relax i started to realize that behind the missing teeth scarred faces and gang tattoo's these were lost 15 year old boys who had no other escape but gang lifestyle. during our sharing they spoke of there love for there mothers and how they were given no other options when it came to gang life. There family's would be starving and often they had no real father figure so they fell into the trap of gangs as a way to make money and have an escape. We played games with them and i wished i could of had one of those outer body experiences when you step out and look at what our doing . Playing silly games with young convicts who in some cases had killed people.
Once the games and the sharing had finished the time had passed and our visiting time was up. I shook nearly every hand as it eagerly flew in my direction. I learnt a lot form these boys but i felt sorry for them they had no chance at life and most of them were lost and scared. I was glad at least they would be safe there but my thoughts will always go to there families as there struggles continue but now without a son.
I sat sweating in my long trousers longing to be in shorts as i was crammed in for two long jeepny rides. The thing about jeepnys is they take the amount of people you should have as a limit and then throw in an extra four so you get the pleasure of sitting on some old dears lap for part of the journey or stuck under someones arm pit. Though this didn't bother me too much my mind was busy panicking that i was going to be eaten alive by 15 year old murders. I was absolutely terrified this made that trip to the fair seem harmless i had never been to a prison let alone a prison in a city where poverty and over population is at phenomenal as is the rate of crime. I walked silently down a long road after we jumped off the jeep and followed the group nervously.
We arrived at a building amongst others the downstairs was some kind of child welfare office and then there was a set of stairs with bars over them i presumed this was the place unless the child welfare office had a lot of problems with people stealing there staplers. The stairs took us to a narrow corridor where we were instantly frisked and had our personal belongings taken (by the guards not the inmates.) then one by one were sent through another barred door Into a large room full of youths the walls where made up of communal cells which looked unbelievably over crowded. The room we were in was kind of a multi purpose it had nothing in it but a black board and some wooden benches although it felt cluttered by the presence of young toothless tattooed faces through bars. There were 25 young men who had been allowed to take part in the workshop. I felt guilty as we met them and i nervously shook there hands constantly being watched by the faces behind the bars.
Once i started to relax i started to realize that behind the missing teeth scarred faces and gang tattoo's these were lost 15 year old boys who had no other escape but gang lifestyle. during our sharing they spoke of there love for there mothers and how they were given no other options when it came to gang life. There family's would be starving and often they had no real father figure so they fell into the trap of gangs as a way to make money and have an escape. We played games with them and i wished i could of had one of those outer body experiences when you step out and look at what our doing . Playing silly games with young convicts who in some cases had killed people.
Once the games and the sharing had finished the time had passed and our visiting time was up. I shook nearly every hand as it eagerly flew in my direction. I learnt a lot form these boys but i felt sorry for them they had no chance at life and most of them were lost and scared. I was glad at least they would be safe there but my thoughts will always go to there families as there struggles continue but now without a son.
I have a whole lot of catching up to do
so over the next couple days ill be transferring all the stuff i have on paper up here
i hadnt really had the energy to di it since i got back from manila but ill start to make a crack at it.
i hadnt really had the energy to di it since i got back from manila but ill start to make a crack at it.
Sunday 18 October 2009
Killers Humanity
I was humbled the other day to say the least.
It had Been a long morning of meetings preparations, In the break I had been invited to go and watch a film at the Tejols. Not that i particularly needed an invitation, as i have been spending most of my free time there anyway. Still it was nice to of been asked and so i settled on the cane sofa surrounded by various relatives of friends who all seemed to be connected in some way, my knees brushed by the heads of excitable children. 28 weeks later played out to a audience young but unfazed by its gore, I sat smiling listening to the shrill shrieks followed by laughter. Half way through the film Tito stumbled through the door way the various children who were scattered over the floor parted to allow him a place to collapse in font of the fan where he passed out and snored out long breaths reaking of rum. It was only the afternoon and the children looked around at each other with a knowing smile the odd eye roll but no one too bothered and so we set back down to the film Tito grunting through his slumber on the cold concrete.
Close to the end of the film there was a shrieking from outside the window. With confused looks we soon found out what the cause was and in came Jnr's cousin the same who tucked a pistol in the back of his shorts carrying his daughter her once white t shirt soaked in blood a look of concern crossed his once hard man face and he sound "ma." Tita Emmy rushed to see where all the noise was coming from too which there was a lot. Emmy was a training nurse and seemed to have the perfect motherly medical way about her when she would regularly check over my bits and lay her hand over my forehead in case i had suddenly gained a fever. She shooed children out the way and made space on the sofa of which i was sitting she sat with the girl in her arms the back of her head pouring blood reminicant of that in the film we had been so close to finishing. She tried to remove the blood stained clothes but this was only responded to by louder cries. I sat next to the girl holind her tiny hand and trying to get her to take a gulkp of coke from my glass remebering somthing about the sugar being good for bloodloss. She was silent but only for a moment as she took a long gulp the screams returned tita sat bandaging the head of the small girl the best she could through the wriggling, jnrs cousin stood in the corner completely pale and speechless a man i had once feared now reduced to a worried father it was now i realised he was still only human he still had the same concerns and fears for his children and he still was capable of compassion. As for tito he still layed spread eagle on the floor snoring solidly as nothing had happened which to him and what he remebered of the day the next morning nothing had happened.
NB
this was a total internet cafe rush ill edit it next time i come in please bare with it
It had Been a long morning of meetings preparations, In the break I had been invited to go and watch a film at the Tejols. Not that i particularly needed an invitation, as i have been spending most of my free time there anyway. Still it was nice to of been asked and so i settled on the cane sofa surrounded by various relatives of friends who all seemed to be connected in some way, my knees brushed by the heads of excitable children. 28 weeks later played out to a audience young but unfazed by its gore, I sat smiling listening to the shrill shrieks followed by laughter. Half way through the film Tito stumbled through the door way the various children who were scattered over the floor parted to allow him a place to collapse in font of the fan where he passed out and snored out long breaths reaking of rum. It was only the afternoon and the children looked around at each other with a knowing smile the odd eye roll but no one too bothered and so we set back down to the film Tito grunting through his slumber on the cold concrete.
Close to the end of the film there was a shrieking from outside the window. With confused looks we soon found out what the cause was and in came Jnr's cousin the same who tucked a pistol in the back of his shorts carrying his daughter her once white t shirt soaked in blood a look of concern crossed his once hard man face and he sound "ma." Tita Emmy rushed to see where all the noise was coming from too which there was a lot. Emmy was a training nurse and seemed to have the perfect motherly medical way about her when she would regularly check over my bits and lay her hand over my forehead in case i had suddenly gained a fever. She shooed children out the way and made space on the sofa of which i was sitting she sat with the girl in her arms the back of her head pouring blood reminicant of that in the film we had been so close to finishing. She tried to remove the blood stained clothes but this was only responded to by louder cries. I sat next to the girl holind her tiny hand and trying to get her to take a gulkp of coke from my glass remebering somthing about the sugar being good for bloodloss. She was silent but only for a moment as she took a long gulp the screams returned tita sat bandaging the head of the small girl the best she could through the wriggling, jnrs cousin stood in the corner completely pale and speechless a man i had once feared now reduced to a worried father it was now i realised he was still only human he still had the same concerns and fears for his children and he still was capable of compassion. As for tito he still layed spread eagle on the floor snoring solidly as nothing had happened which to him and what he remebered of the day the next morning nothing had happened.
NB
this was a total internet cafe rush ill edit it next time i come in please bare with it
Wednesday 14 October 2009
home in heart
We landed in manila at about 12:30 got our bags and took the long walk to the main road to find a taxi refuse to be robbed blind by the airport taxi services. We being the man i now call "kuya" brother for those who don't speak Tagalog. We were hunted down by a taxi whose driver was more than keen to get our bags in the the boot he asked where we were going. We replied Payatas he blinked he said it will be extra. Taxi's rarely drive to Payatas its the dump site of manila housing well over thousands and the place i felt so at home. I had thus far never experienced anything but welcoming smiles and safety in Payatas the youth being some of the most strong willed individuals i had ever met. I only knew vaguely from off the cuff warnings of gangs of the danger in Payatas, never really experiencing it. After haggling with the driver he got the fare to a set 450 pesos. Which actually was a lot cheaper than an airport taxi who were asking double. The taxi driver was eager to make conversation much like most other people i have met here. He began to tell me of a friend he has from England and he said they gave him a gift that i would be interested in. This puzzled me but i politely smiled and waited while he veered through three lines of traffic at 40mph, to dig out a small coin from his wallet. He passed it back and for the first time i felt a wave of patriotic pride mixed with home sickness. There on a round clump of metal sat the queens head, it was a pound coin. I smiled If what slightly nervously, as we barely missed the bumper of the car in front, sailing through a puddle drenching three girls walking too close to the road. He responded to my looks with a hearty chuckle and with a faux American accent, stated "crazy driving maaaaan!" which pretty much summed up the traffic here perfectly.
Before we knew it we pulled up to the top of the hill ready for the long walk down to our manila Bachelor pad. Struggling with suitcases over the very rough terrain we walked down stopping at the youth center hearing familiar voices of friends long missed. We said our hellos then carried our things down to the house it was close to Jnr's house, where i had stayed before so i knew i was close to familiar faces again. I walked into a room old and stark with breeze block walls patched occasionally with wood. I was welcomed with "how do you like your knew home?" it was from someone I later found out to be kuya Cocoi; a Filipino volunteer who stayed here until the weekend when he went back to his family. He was thin and tall almost ghostly but with the same pleasant smile that graced his fellow countrymen. We spoke small talk while 'Nyor went to see his family and assert himself as the the man of the house again. As i sat in the middle of the room the one and only room, except the partitioned on sweet bathroom, consisting of a toilet bowl and a bucket full of water (Payatas shower.) As we sat talking i felt we weren't alone as i watched rats and roaches quickly scurry over the walls soon to disappear into gaps. I quickly reassured myself and forced myself to adjust. I would now be sharing a small concrete house with three guys, rats and roaches.
Junior reappeared later and asked if we waned to go ate Lourdes's, I willingly agreed it had been a while since I had seen her and it was always guaranteed entertainment. Sure enough it was it was like we had barely been away, Lourdes started her motherly way which i always told her not too although she did anyway and i didn't mind. The hours passed with the same familiar but well loved jokes and soon it was time to make the walk back home. It was dark And i felt nervous at the prospect of walking through Payatas at night. Although reassuring looks from junior reminded me he would look after me. We talked the whole way home excited at the prospect of being home. I saw men with large pump action shoguns siting on the corner. I looked to junior asking if they were security. He started talking on a completely different subject mishearing my accent and getting confused. Once we were finally having the same conversation again he told me that they were there, but would never be in the right place.
We were only two minutes from the house, when a man came out from a house we were now parallel with this stopped our conversation cold, there was a strange feeling in the air. The man stooped low and picked up a large rock my heart beating faster and faster, he turned to the house he had come from throwing the rock I heard a window smash. A woman appeared at the door way shouting "oh talaga?" which simply meant "oh really?" We quickly rushed into the house although with no real urgency. Junior turned on the light as it was the weekend it was only us tonight, the other two volunteers went home to visit family at the weekend. Junior quickly began setting up the bed on the floor; a simple beach mat and several blankets, avoiding eye contact with me. I hadn't realized but I was standing in the door way stock still, he looked at me and said "are you scared?" softly and in a brotherly way as if ready to comfort. I responded no quickly which i wasn't i was just in shock. We then sat on our bed on the concrete floor and he began telling me all his stories of growing up surrounded by violence. Gun shots rang outside not close but not far away either, between shots 'Nyor told me not ever to be afraid that there was a lot of people here to keep me safe and he was the first. This reassured me and no words ever spoken to me ever felt so true. We sat into the early hours unable to sleep as junior told me stories of the fraternities. When the gangs had asked him to join but he refused because he was the man of his family, he would not put them at risk, the way his father had. Saying that as much as he loved his faher and although he was young he could never understand his fathers need for drink and violence. I sat silent through all his stories tear in my eyes not upset but inspired.
When we got to sleep it was an uncomfortable one with no mosquito net, I was bitten by my non human room mates. My bones pushed harshly on the solid concrete, I woke up with a smile and only more determined to do what i came to do. The next day was he Gk expo which was a long hot day that seemed to last forever, but was as to be expected full of inspiring messages. This was my first chance to be back with the youth that showed me so much about myself. They were one of the reasons i made the choice to spend this year here. The day finished late and it was gone midnight when i arrived at the bachelor pad. I crawled under a borrowed mosquito net which i hoped would keep my room mates at bay.
The last few days have been filled with basketball games at the youth center in which the boys ran rings around me, but were always very gracious and eager that i was involved. When i wasn't getting schooled in basketball, I was playing music with the youth in the centre and being part of the usual Tagalish jokes. When i leave the center i have taken to sitting on the stoop and watching all the people pass. It is the place where i have done the most thinking and seen the most bizarre but familiar things. Peddlers and children fill the streets until late at night the music from the houses clash and fill he night air. I could sit and watch and listen to them for hours. The last few days i have been spending time at Tita Emmy's, the aunt of junior and mother of a friend of mine. I mostly go there for the TV but also for the company. Junior's uncle who is particular i only refer to him as Tito, invited me in the other day to watch the boxing. It didn't take much persuading and I took my place on the bamboo sofa, to watch a DVD of the greatest Pacquiao fights. Particularly the one where Ricky Hatton was knocked out cold in the second round. We watched this fight twice much to my displeasure, There was only so many times i could watch the closest hing to home at that second get totally pummeled. Although i knew the teasing was all in good heart. My friend arrived in the door way and rolled her eyes at her father and me sitting on the sofa getting far too into the boxing. She sat down next to me and joined in the teasing about the Hatton fight. The boxing came to an end and Tito left she sat and told me he went to visit her step brother in jail. There was an awkward silence which she broke with nervous laughter. She began explaining that her step brother's were the bad boys in Payatas a phrase i cringed at but knew she had picked it up only from he American TV that dominates the box. The brother who was in jail had been imprisoned for gang rape and the other I met shortly after. He walked through the room smoking a Marlboro. He stopped and said "hey Joe whats up" i felt nervous to reply but she nudged me the ribs implying it was okay. I said i was okay and how was he. I didn't really get a response clearly using up his main English vocabulary. As he passed through the room and his back was turned to me i saw the bulge at the back of his shorts, the handle of a pistol visible through his baggy white t shirt. I swallowed hard and sat nervously silent, he left as quickly as he came with a fleeting "bye Joe" as he left. This was my first experience With Juniors step cousin. The next was just if not more awkward as he had come to the house only to argue with his father as we sat in front of the TV. I could see the vulnerable sweet little girl feared her step brother. She was nearly sixteen but still had the innocence and looks of a girl much younger i squeezed her hand reassuringly not knowing what else to do.
Junior and his cousin had been the main ones to share there experiences of gang life and growing up surrounded by violence as children. Occasionally i get texts waning of "riots" or "gang wars" and what areas to stay out of. Although they are are rare it would seem my first week had landed me in a minor war zone that resolved itself quickly. I still feared for my vulnerable friends if anything more than myself. I knew I could handle myself more than some of them. Knowing there was gang rapists here made me feel sick but incredibly protective over my friends here knowing they were so vulnerable. Although the thought came while sitting on the stoop, they had dealt with it a lot longer than me. This thought sobered my anger and extinguished my protectiveness slightly. Still i worry for them, but then i have always been a worrier.
These dangers and concerns aside, the last few days I have been shown the warmth and hospitality that reminded me why i loved this place so much. It encouraged me to give back now as they had already given me too much without even realizing.
Before we knew it we pulled up to the top of the hill ready for the long walk down to our manila Bachelor pad. Struggling with suitcases over the very rough terrain we walked down stopping at the youth center hearing familiar voices of friends long missed. We said our hellos then carried our things down to the house it was close to Jnr's house, where i had stayed before so i knew i was close to familiar faces again. I walked into a room old and stark with breeze block walls patched occasionally with wood. I was welcomed with "how do you like your knew home?" it was from someone I later found out to be kuya Cocoi; a Filipino volunteer who stayed here until the weekend when he went back to his family. He was thin and tall almost ghostly but with the same pleasant smile that graced his fellow countrymen. We spoke small talk while 'Nyor went to see his family and assert himself as the the man of the house again. As i sat in the middle of the room the one and only room, except the partitioned on sweet bathroom, consisting of a toilet bowl and a bucket full of water (Payatas shower.) As we sat talking i felt we weren't alone as i watched rats and roaches quickly scurry over the walls soon to disappear into gaps. I quickly reassured myself and forced myself to adjust. I would now be sharing a small concrete house with three guys, rats and roaches.
Junior reappeared later and asked if we waned to go ate Lourdes's, I willingly agreed it had been a while since I had seen her and it was always guaranteed entertainment. Sure enough it was it was like we had barely been away, Lourdes started her motherly way which i always told her not too although she did anyway and i didn't mind. The hours passed with the same familiar but well loved jokes and soon it was time to make the walk back home. It was dark And i felt nervous at the prospect of walking through Payatas at night. Although reassuring looks from junior reminded me he would look after me. We talked the whole way home excited at the prospect of being home. I saw men with large pump action shoguns siting on the corner. I looked to junior asking if they were security. He started talking on a completely different subject mishearing my accent and getting confused. Once we were finally having the same conversation again he told me that they were there, but would never be in the right place.
We were only two minutes from the house, when a man came out from a house we were now parallel with this stopped our conversation cold, there was a strange feeling in the air. The man stooped low and picked up a large rock my heart beating faster and faster, he turned to the house he had come from throwing the rock I heard a window smash. A woman appeared at the door way shouting "oh talaga?" which simply meant "oh really?" We quickly rushed into the house although with no real urgency. Junior turned on the light as it was the weekend it was only us tonight, the other two volunteers went home to visit family at the weekend. Junior quickly began setting up the bed on the floor; a simple beach mat and several blankets, avoiding eye contact with me. I hadn't realized but I was standing in the door way stock still, he looked at me and said "are you scared?" softly and in a brotherly way as if ready to comfort. I responded no quickly which i wasn't i was just in shock. We then sat on our bed on the concrete floor and he began telling me all his stories of growing up surrounded by violence. Gun shots rang outside not close but not far away either, between shots 'Nyor told me not ever to be afraid that there was a lot of people here to keep me safe and he was the first. This reassured me and no words ever spoken to me ever felt so true. We sat into the early hours unable to sleep as junior told me stories of the fraternities. When the gangs had asked him to join but he refused because he was the man of his family, he would not put them at risk, the way his father had. Saying that as much as he loved his faher and although he was young he could never understand his fathers need for drink and violence. I sat silent through all his stories tear in my eyes not upset but inspired.
When we got to sleep it was an uncomfortable one with no mosquito net, I was bitten by my non human room mates. My bones pushed harshly on the solid concrete, I woke up with a smile and only more determined to do what i came to do. The next day was he Gk expo which was a long hot day that seemed to last forever, but was as to be expected full of inspiring messages. This was my first chance to be back with the youth that showed me so much about myself. They were one of the reasons i made the choice to spend this year here. The day finished late and it was gone midnight when i arrived at the bachelor pad. I crawled under a borrowed mosquito net which i hoped would keep my room mates at bay.
The last few days have been filled with basketball games at the youth center in which the boys ran rings around me, but were always very gracious and eager that i was involved. When i wasn't getting schooled in basketball, I was playing music with the youth in the centre and being part of the usual Tagalish jokes. When i leave the center i have taken to sitting on the stoop and watching all the people pass. It is the place where i have done the most thinking and seen the most bizarre but familiar things. Peddlers and children fill the streets until late at night the music from the houses clash and fill he night air. I could sit and watch and listen to them for hours. The last few days i have been spending time at Tita Emmy's, the aunt of junior and mother of a friend of mine. I mostly go there for the TV but also for the company. Junior's uncle who is particular i only refer to him as Tito, invited me in the other day to watch the boxing. It didn't take much persuading and I took my place on the bamboo sofa, to watch a DVD of the greatest Pacquiao fights. Particularly the one where Ricky Hatton was knocked out cold in the second round. We watched this fight twice much to my displeasure, There was only so many times i could watch the closest hing to home at that second get totally pummeled. Although i knew the teasing was all in good heart. My friend arrived in the door way and rolled her eyes at her father and me sitting on the sofa getting far too into the boxing. She sat down next to me and joined in the teasing about the Hatton fight. The boxing came to an end and Tito left she sat and told me he went to visit her step brother in jail. There was an awkward silence which she broke with nervous laughter. She began explaining that her step brother's were the bad boys in Payatas a phrase i cringed at but knew she had picked it up only from he American TV that dominates the box. The brother who was in jail had been imprisoned for gang rape and the other I met shortly after. He walked through the room smoking a Marlboro. He stopped and said "hey Joe whats up" i felt nervous to reply but she nudged me the ribs implying it was okay. I said i was okay and how was he. I didn't really get a response clearly using up his main English vocabulary. As he passed through the room and his back was turned to me i saw the bulge at the back of his shorts, the handle of a pistol visible through his baggy white t shirt. I swallowed hard and sat nervously silent, he left as quickly as he came with a fleeting "bye Joe" as he left. This was my first experience With Juniors step cousin. The next was just if not more awkward as he had come to the house only to argue with his father as we sat in front of the TV. I could see the vulnerable sweet little girl feared her step brother. She was nearly sixteen but still had the innocence and looks of a girl much younger i squeezed her hand reassuringly not knowing what else to do.
Junior and his cousin had been the main ones to share there experiences of gang life and growing up surrounded by violence as children. Occasionally i get texts waning of "riots" or "gang wars" and what areas to stay out of. Although they are are rare it would seem my first week had landed me in a minor war zone that resolved itself quickly. I still feared for my vulnerable friends if anything more than myself. I knew I could handle myself more than some of them. Knowing there was gang rapists here made me feel sick but incredibly protective over my friends here knowing they were so vulnerable. Although the thought came while sitting on the stoop, they had dealt with it a lot longer than me. This thought sobered my anger and extinguished my protectiveness slightly. Still i worry for them, but then i have always been a worrier.
These dangers and concerns aside, the last few days I have been shown the warmth and hospitality that reminded me why i loved this place so much. It encouraged me to give back now as they had already given me too much without even realizing.
Thursday 8 October 2009
four arranged marriages at a funeral
Emma has recently employed a driver mostly to take the girls to and from school while she is else where. His name is Rodel the same one who killed the dog on the way back from dumagety. So Rodel "the dog killer" is actually a really nice guy. Although from the way i have seen him handle a machete i wouldn't want to be on the wrong side of him. Regardless i have had a lot of fun when he has been around. He always tries his best to get through a conversation with me even though he struggles with English. He has been the only one i have been able to have blokey conversations with while im here, the usual women and beer mostly.
I found out a few days ago his brother had died and last night he invited me to go to the wake. I felt honored to be invited but scared of what i was meant to do having never been to a wake before let alone one the other side of the world. I didn't know what to wear but i settled finally on the classic smart causal as we left and i saw Rodel in just a white vest and camo trousers i felt a little over dressed but didn't feel it would matter. We arrived outside a building with a sign that said memorial chapel i followed rodel mel and Jnr inside standing sheepishly behind.
We entered a partitioned room with a coffin at one end with candles either side. Solid wooden pews lined the way down. I passed people, nervous to look at there faces with my head down i followed them to the coffin. It was a open casket and as i stared into the face of rodels dead brother my whole body went numb. I had never seen a dead person before and for a split second i cherished life more than i ever had before. I felt strange dizzy and sick not because of the body but at the concept of death. As i turned round to look at the room i saw the faces of the people. They were not weeping or sobbing, there was no veiled widow. They were all laughing and joking there was a game of cards going on in the back corner. I instantly felt stupid for feeling emotional when i had never even met this man before in my life. I was introduced to his family one by one his wife sat reading a newspaper and was eager to strike up a conversation with me. I sat with the boys as Rodel brought me a coffee in a polystyrene cup. It only took minutes for reality to hit again and the conversation was the normal boyish humor i enjoyed to watch.
There were a few girls towards the front who had been looking around at me and giggling. I had become used to this kind of attention and I smiled. Rodel caught me smiling and instantly introduced me as "josh from england single" this was responded by a lot of girly giggling in approval. I didn't know what to say so hung my head embarrassed. I was shocked i couldn't believe i was being set up at a funeral, but rodel was convinced I should find a wife, as it would save me money at immigrationwith him. A notion i found amusing as a wife would probably be a lot more expensive in the long run. I was pleased when the conversation changed away from me, although it didnt take long before the girls came over to talk to us. Jnr began to talk to them and I half listened to words i understood my eyes still fixed on the coffin in front of me, unable to forget the face of rodels brother. Hours passed and it was getting late we had been talking and laughing with occassional games of chess. Rodel had dissapered and when he reappeard he carried four large bottle of red horse, the beer so strong that it doesnt even have the percentage on the bottle. We sat and drank and talked freely. As bizzare as it felt i was willing to meet this tradition, as Rodel and Jnr explained that in the philippines a wake was a chance to commerate all the good memories instead of sitting around crying. We shared cultural diffrences and laughed as more beer was poured. Two of the girls came and we spoke small talk the beer and talking continued until the next thing i knew it was half eleven and i had been asked for my number. This was a new experience to me i had never had someone ask ME for my number, the situation scared me. As far as i could work out i had just been approached and flirted at by the daughter of the man that lay in a white coffin. I felt like i had been disrespectful to give my number but still had the excited smile of flattery. We left soon after and took the wet journey back home smiling and laughing at what should of been a morbid evening.
I didnt know the man that i had gone to pay respects to, but from the people i met that night he must of had a good life with some very kind people around him. Sitting on wooden pews and playing chess my mind rife with thoughts of death soon made hazy by laughter and beer. I realized life is to be enjoyed and to seize every opportunity, there is no point sitting and thinking about how good it all could of been. When you are wasting the days that it can be. I felt asif i was living out all of his favorite things that night and although i had never met him i had been a part of his life if only for one night.
I found out a few days ago his brother had died and last night he invited me to go to the wake. I felt honored to be invited but scared of what i was meant to do having never been to a wake before let alone one the other side of the world. I didn't know what to wear but i settled finally on the classic smart causal as we left and i saw Rodel in just a white vest and camo trousers i felt a little over dressed but didn't feel it would matter. We arrived outside a building with a sign that said memorial chapel i followed rodel mel and Jnr inside standing sheepishly behind.
We entered a partitioned room with a coffin at one end with candles either side. Solid wooden pews lined the way down. I passed people, nervous to look at there faces with my head down i followed them to the coffin. It was a open casket and as i stared into the face of rodels dead brother my whole body went numb. I had never seen a dead person before and for a split second i cherished life more than i ever had before. I felt strange dizzy and sick not because of the body but at the concept of death. As i turned round to look at the room i saw the faces of the people. They were not weeping or sobbing, there was no veiled widow. They were all laughing and joking there was a game of cards going on in the back corner. I instantly felt stupid for feeling emotional when i had never even met this man before in my life. I was introduced to his family one by one his wife sat reading a newspaper and was eager to strike up a conversation with me. I sat with the boys as Rodel brought me a coffee in a polystyrene cup. It only took minutes for reality to hit again and the conversation was the normal boyish humor i enjoyed to watch.
There were a few girls towards the front who had been looking around at me and giggling. I had become used to this kind of attention and I smiled. Rodel caught me smiling and instantly introduced me as "josh from england single" this was responded by a lot of girly giggling in approval. I didn't know what to say so hung my head embarrassed. I was shocked i couldn't believe i was being set up at a funeral, but rodel was convinced I should find a wife, as it would save me money at immigrationwith him. A notion i found amusing as a wife would probably be a lot more expensive in the long run. I was pleased when the conversation changed away from me, although it didnt take long before the girls came over to talk to us. Jnr began to talk to them and I half listened to words i understood my eyes still fixed on the coffin in front of me, unable to forget the face of rodels brother. Hours passed and it was getting late we had been talking and laughing with occassional games of chess. Rodel had dissapered and when he reappeard he carried four large bottle of red horse, the beer so strong that it doesnt even have the percentage on the bottle. We sat and drank and talked freely. As bizzare as it felt i was willing to meet this tradition, as Rodel and Jnr explained that in the philippines a wake was a chance to commerate all the good memories instead of sitting around crying. We shared cultural diffrences and laughed as more beer was poured. Two of the girls came and we spoke small talk the beer and talking continued until the next thing i knew it was half eleven and i had been asked for my number. This was a new experience to me i had never had someone ask ME for my number, the situation scared me. As far as i could work out i had just been approached and flirted at by the daughter of the man that lay in a white coffin. I felt like i had been disrespectful to give my number but still had the excited smile of flattery. We left soon after and took the wet journey back home smiling and laughing at what should of been a morbid evening.
I didnt know the man that i had gone to pay respects to, but from the people i met that night he must of had a good life with some very kind people around him. Sitting on wooden pews and playing chess my mind rife with thoughts of death soon made hazy by laughter and beer. I realized life is to be enjoyed and to seize every opportunity, there is no point sitting and thinking about how good it all could of been. When you are wasting the days that it can be. I felt asif i was living out all of his favorite things that night and although i had never met him i had been a part of his life if only for one night.
Wednesday 7 October 2009
work hard play harder.
and so it was: the last day of work at joyland. The day started later than usual i after the two days work there before my body was hurting and my mind tired and run down. Although i woke up with a new positivity for the day convinced it would be finished on this day and so it was.
We finished our hands cut but the ground cleared, blisters on my blisters but hard work no longer feared.
We finished with happy faces as we walked back over all the piles of grass and rain forest. We had worked so hard at with machetes and bare hands over the previous weeks. We laughed and smiled all the way back to the van my hands shaking red raw. We piled back in i took the front with mel, we joked the way we always do mostly using gestures and noises. Laughing as we watched the boys be thrown about in the back as we sailed over rough terrain. A knock at the window signaled the boys wanted to stop we looked round with puzzled faces. They ran out of the back i looked through the tiny 5x5 window until they came back into view. They were carrying three huge sticks of sugar cane each easily as tall as me. They threw them back in the cab as well as themselves and we set off back down the less traveled road. The boys set to work with the machetes stripping down the cane in the back. When we got back onto the main road and there was a knock at the window i looked into the back. They signaled for me to too reach round and get some they had stripped for me. So there i was leaning half my body out the side window and grabbing sugar cane from the back of the jeep. I sat the whole way back to daccutan Biting large chunks out of it and chewing it with a big smile. When we got back to daccutan a couple of the boys were waiting for the 6 of us. They had clams and fish they had caught that morning. Two of the biggest plates of rice i had ever seen in my life (and thats saying something) sat on the table. So we ate and joked all weary from the morning, but the food brought back the colour to faces and kept the smiles solidly where they were. Indang put two chillies on my plate, I smiled liking chili and thinking they wouldn't be too hot if she was offering them too me. Convinced i could handle chilies anyway. Well apparently i couldn't and from Indangs wicked laughter she knew i wouldn't either, as she placed three in her mouth and chewed them completely unphased. I knew then i was no match in this iron mouth comp and shoved as much rice in my mouth as i could to dull the heat.
Once the food had settled and the boys were washed i invited them back to the subdivision to have some driving lessons from mel. They were more than eager and so we said our goodbyes to Indang and several of the kids who had been hanging around. Gathered ourselves and headed home.
Once i was showered i watched the boys shakily set behind the wheel nervously chugging down the road outside the house. I watched the face of fear from mel as he sat along side them one by one. Fortunately the cab didn't end up in a ditch or wrapped around a tree. I think they stopped before this luck ran out knowing it was only a matter of time and asked if we could play basketball. I replied ofcourse and said i would pay for the court at the clubhouse. They refused deciding it would probably be too expensive so they wandered off, they came back with various bits of wood and some old hoop that they borrowed from over the road. Half an hour later they are up in a tree nailing in the basketball hoop they just made. Brace, backboard the lot. That was probablly the most rewarding basketball game of my life, even if it was stopped by rain. It just shows how they have learnt to be so resourceful and that you don't need money when you can find a few bits of wood and a hammer.
I wish i could be even half as fearless as they are hanging out of trees with ease. It reminds me of a couple weeks ago, when someone had left the screen door open. A snake had crawled in i hadn't noticed it, but the next thing i know i turn round to see mel with a flip flop in his hand and batting a snake on the head. He then carried this ex venomous reptile around the house for the next half an hour as a trophy. It doesn't get much more fearless and resourceful than that!
it has been a rewarding day and a perfect balance of work and play. One that will send me to sleep happy.
We finished our hands cut but the ground cleared, blisters on my blisters but hard work no longer feared.
We finished with happy faces as we walked back over all the piles of grass and rain forest. We had worked so hard at with machetes and bare hands over the previous weeks. We laughed and smiled all the way back to the van my hands shaking red raw. We piled back in i took the front with mel, we joked the way we always do mostly using gestures and noises. Laughing as we watched the boys be thrown about in the back as we sailed over rough terrain. A knock at the window signaled the boys wanted to stop we looked round with puzzled faces. They ran out of the back i looked through the tiny 5x5 window until they came back into view. They were carrying three huge sticks of sugar cane each easily as tall as me. They threw them back in the cab as well as themselves and we set off back down the less traveled road. The boys set to work with the machetes stripping down the cane in the back. When we got back onto the main road and there was a knock at the window i looked into the back. They signaled for me to too reach round and get some they had stripped for me. So there i was leaning half my body out the side window and grabbing sugar cane from the back of the jeep. I sat the whole way back to daccutan Biting large chunks out of it and chewing it with a big smile. When we got back to daccutan a couple of the boys were waiting for the 6 of us. They had clams and fish they had caught that morning. Two of the biggest plates of rice i had ever seen in my life (and thats saying something) sat on the table. So we ate and joked all weary from the morning, but the food brought back the colour to faces and kept the smiles solidly where they were. Indang put two chillies on my plate, I smiled liking chili and thinking they wouldn't be too hot if she was offering them too me. Convinced i could handle chilies anyway. Well apparently i couldn't and from Indangs wicked laughter she knew i wouldn't either, as she placed three in her mouth and chewed them completely unphased. I knew then i was no match in this iron mouth comp and shoved as much rice in my mouth as i could to dull the heat.
Once the food had settled and the boys were washed i invited them back to the subdivision to have some driving lessons from mel. They were more than eager and so we said our goodbyes to Indang and several of the kids who had been hanging around. Gathered ourselves and headed home.
Once i was showered i watched the boys shakily set behind the wheel nervously chugging down the road outside the house. I watched the face of fear from mel as he sat along side them one by one. Fortunately the cab didn't end up in a ditch or wrapped around a tree. I think they stopped before this luck ran out knowing it was only a matter of time and asked if we could play basketball. I replied ofcourse and said i would pay for the court at the clubhouse. They refused deciding it would probably be too expensive so they wandered off, they came back with various bits of wood and some old hoop that they borrowed from over the road. Half an hour later they are up in a tree nailing in the basketball hoop they just made. Brace, backboard the lot. That was probablly the most rewarding basketball game of my life, even if it was stopped by rain. It just shows how they have learnt to be so resourceful and that you don't need money when you can find a few bits of wood and a hammer.
I wish i could be even half as fearless as they are hanging out of trees with ease. It reminds me of a couple weeks ago, when someone had left the screen door open. A snake had crawled in i hadn't noticed it, but the next thing i know i turn round to see mel with a flip flop in his hand and batting a snake on the head. He then carried this ex venomous reptile around the house for the next half an hour as a trophy. It doesn't get much more fearless and resourceful than that!
it has been a rewarding day and a perfect balance of work and play. One that will send me to sleep happy.
Monday 5 October 2009
All the Fear Of The Fair
Its the start of maskkara which like any festival here is a huge deal. It lasts pretty much the whole month and already the streets are filled with the brightly colored masks that baccolod is famed for. The roads are blocked with markets, eateries and small half bamboo have cola banner bars spill out onto the tarmac. The bars advertise cocktails that you can pretty much guarantee will make you go blind this isn't part of the advertisement just experience talking. Sound systems blare out all the over played chart songs that the residents never seem to tire of. Its a vibrant time to be living in Baccolod.
As a part of any festival or fiesta or vague inkling of a party comes the traveling fair. It is set up in an abandoned strip of land of which there are plenty and so goes up the rickety ferris wheels and spinning spiders. I had taken my cousins and a few friends to the SM mall. Any time i go to these big Americanized corporate mega malls i come out feeling like i have had a prostate exam dirty and violated. I am thirsty for real culture and grittiness. It doesn't get much grittier than a fair where all the rides are run by a 50cc motorbike engine and make of scrap metal. I am convinced that i wont die through wry smiles of eager Filipino friends. Agreeing reluctantly we go in and i decide that if i were to die it would probably be quite an entertaining way to go and if i live it would be a story to write home about. So as you can see i am not one of the people who write there obituary in advance this is not a suicide note i did go to a fillipino gypsy fair and i did survive. Admittedly there was only one ride that lifted of the ground that i deemed vaguely sturdy enough not to be my demise and even the the whole way round i was cursing and swearing blind. I don't usually get scared on rides no more than the adrenaline fear that makes you shout with excitement. although the girlish screams heard on that day were my own and genuinely fearing for my life there was no adrenaline about it and if there was i think it ended up in my pants. after finding myself feeling more religious than when i got on i decided to stay on the ground while the others went of on ferris wheels and the such. i found myself attracted to a stall where you had to shoot rubber ducks of a shelf with a BB gun with a ridiculously wonky aim. I won a packet of peanuts big prizes at this fair as you can see. i wondered the fair taking in the sights and sounds watching the adults belt out karaoke on the machine while there kids played in among the madness.
Despite all the near death feeling and swearing to kill all of them for convincing me to come in here.
i did actually have fun and felt a feeling of genuine innocent enjoyment that had become so lost in all the angst of growing up and fitting in.
each day i feel more and more at home.
As a part of any festival or fiesta or vague inkling of a party comes the traveling fair. It is set up in an abandoned strip of land of which there are plenty and so goes up the rickety ferris wheels and spinning spiders. I had taken my cousins and a few friends to the SM mall. Any time i go to these big Americanized corporate mega malls i come out feeling like i have had a prostate exam dirty and violated. I am thirsty for real culture and grittiness. It doesn't get much grittier than a fair where all the rides are run by a 50cc motorbike engine and make of scrap metal. I am convinced that i wont die through wry smiles of eager Filipino friends. Agreeing reluctantly we go in and i decide that if i were to die it would probably be quite an entertaining way to go and if i live it would be a story to write home about. So as you can see i am not one of the people who write there obituary in advance this is not a suicide note i did go to a fillipino gypsy fair and i did survive. Admittedly there was only one ride that lifted of the ground that i deemed vaguely sturdy enough not to be my demise and even the the whole way round i was cursing and swearing blind. I don't usually get scared on rides no more than the adrenaline fear that makes you shout with excitement. although the girlish screams heard on that day were my own and genuinely fearing for my life there was no adrenaline about it and if there was i think it ended up in my pants. after finding myself feeling more religious than when i got on i decided to stay on the ground while the others went of on ferris wheels and the such. i found myself attracted to a stall where you had to shoot rubber ducks of a shelf with a BB gun with a ridiculously wonky aim. I won a packet of peanuts big prizes at this fair as you can see. i wondered the fair taking in the sights and sounds watching the adults belt out karaoke on the machine while there kids played in among the madness.
Despite all the near death feeling and swearing to kill all of them for convincing me to come in here.
i did actually have fun and felt a feeling of genuine innocent enjoyment that had become so lost in all the angst of growing up and fitting in.
each day i feel more and more at home.
The Exorcism of a Merman
I had begun to get adjusted to the folklores and beliefs of monsters. Small villages where old habits and old stories died hard. I enjoyed them recounting stories as we sat in the bamboo house of there experiences with monsters and spirits most of which came down to rustling in bushes. Although none of these stories could prepare me for what i saw last Sunday.
Another trip to the market slightly later this time so as we walked in the dark to the other side of the village i ducked and weaved my way through low tree branches and even lower iron roofs. Being careful not too be garroted by washing lines that all the other youth sailed under easily completely unscathed. I wander at the back slowed by my darting eyes watching for obstacles waiting to give me a concussion. It wasn't until i walked into the back of eman that i realized we had stopped there was at least 30 people all peering around and through the gaps of a house this was fairly easy as the front was made of only about 5 bits of bamboo. I presumed everyone had gathered for the boxing or cockfight or horse fight or what ever other national sport it was to be indulged in tonight. The house flickered orange and the air was completely still no one made a sound. We had all stopped so i stood towards the back seeing over with ease straining my eyes to see inside. It took me a while to work out what i was looking at; there was a girl kneeling on the floor she looked straight forward as an elderly woman walked around her. Now if you were to think Filipino voodoo witch doctor this lady fit that stereotype (if there is one) perfectly. She muttered something inaudible to all but herself. She began talking very loudly in ilongo i couldn't hear a single word i recognized. Everyone was still completely silent. The boys obviously seeing my look of fear and bewilderment ushered me to carry on and as soon as we were out of earshot. Not able to interrupt the eerie silence we had left i muttered "what the hell was that" they laughed simply saying "exorcism" and began walking again.
I stood standing for a minute completely confused and speechless i caught up eager for a better explanation. they all began to excitedly explain at once as we walked up the dirt road. all in broken English and with different starting points. The best explanation i could get was that the girl had been acting strangely had superhuman strength and a large appetite a few other things i think the boys through in just to paint a more exciting picture. Alas true or not it all came down to the fact she had been possessed by a merman. Of course this was the only logical explanation and i was foolish to think it anything else i felt like laughing but didn't feel it was appropriate. I knew that as much as the boys enjoyed joking and telling the stories of monsters this folklore was still a part of there culture. A part of me thinks they still carry the fears of their grandfathers and all the creatures that whisper up from the sea next to the place they call "home."
Another trip to the market slightly later this time so as we walked in the dark to the other side of the village i ducked and weaved my way through low tree branches and even lower iron roofs. Being careful not too be garroted by washing lines that all the other youth sailed under easily completely unscathed. I wander at the back slowed by my darting eyes watching for obstacles waiting to give me a concussion. It wasn't until i walked into the back of eman that i realized we had stopped there was at least 30 people all peering around and through the gaps of a house this was fairly easy as the front was made of only about 5 bits of bamboo. I presumed everyone had gathered for the boxing or cockfight or horse fight or what ever other national sport it was to be indulged in tonight. The house flickered orange and the air was completely still no one made a sound. We had all stopped so i stood towards the back seeing over with ease straining my eyes to see inside. It took me a while to work out what i was looking at; there was a girl kneeling on the floor she looked straight forward as an elderly woman walked around her. Now if you were to think Filipino voodoo witch doctor this lady fit that stereotype (if there is one) perfectly. She muttered something inaudible to all but herself. She began talking very loudly in ilongo i couldn't hear a single word i recognized. Everyone was still completely silent. The boys obviously seeing my look of fear and bewilderment ushered me to carry on and as soon as we were out of earshot. Not able to interrupt the eerie silence we had left i muttered "what the hell was that" they laughed simply saying "exorcism" and began walking again.
I stood standing for a minute completely confused and speechless i caught up eager for a better explanation. they all began to excitedly explain at once as we walked up the dirt road. all in broken English and with different starting points. The best explanation i could get was that the girl had been acting strangely had superhuman strength and a large appetite a few other things i think the boys through in just to paint a more exciting picture. Alas true or not it all came down to the fact she had been possessed by a merman. Of course this was the only logical explanation and i was foolish to think it anything else i felt like laughing but didn't feel it was appropriate. I knew that as much as the boys enjoyed joking and telling the stories of monsters this folklore was still a part of there culture. A part of me thinks they still carry the fears of their grandfathers and all the creatures that whisper up from the sea next to the place they call "home."
Monday 28 September 2009
typhoon
Its been a sad couple of days for the country im now calling home.
The TV screens that fill department stores and homes over the 4000 inhabited islands have been flashing with the images of family's torn apart by flowing waters. Red bleary eyes pleading to be reunited with there lost children. Texts filled my Inbox from friends saying that the dump site had flooded 100's of friends and family have lost there homes. They are living in the school and have no food with only the clothes they are standing in. The reality of the news struck home 95 dead thankfully none of the people who had already touched my life but still a waste of human life in country already struggling with hope for the future. I felt useless on a an island who although had suffered from the typhoon no where near to the extent of that in manila. Today i organized to split some money to send to Payatas mostly for food but also for any other relief it could give the total was 10000 pesos which just short of 100 pounds which doesn't sound a lot but in these terms it is and hopefully it brings some kind of relief.
My experience during this typhoon was scary enough. Residing in Negros we were only at the tail of the tornado and what started as just a storm slowly came the reality of what was really happening. The rain fell heavy for most of the day the wind howling it had blown over sugar cane trucks which gave the impression this was not just a part of the "rainy season." The power went out at eleven we stayed in the house a day of peering out the window watching the rain hit glass with nothing else to do i filled the house with the sound of my guitar. We made the decision that daccutan were probably having a bit of a rough time being so close to the sea so went down to the spend the night and give support. The power was still out when we left at 8:30 pm we piled into the back of the cab as i sat with my legs dangling out the back we drove the dark streets. We passed house after house and store after store filled only with the orange glow of candle light for two towns the power was out. We got down to daccutan and it was practically pitch black the rain had eased off we wondered the village looking for friends with nothing but the dim lights on our phones. We got to the small bamboo nipa hut that was kind of a headquarters for the youth. We set a single candle in there and gathered bed clothes as there was still no power we decided it would be cooler to sleep in the hut. instead of the safe concrete youth center which usually powered electric fans. We lay on lumpy mattresses joking for hours as the wind started to whip the trees out side until it began to build into a really strong force it blew out our candle and we sat in the dark nervous giggles circulated. Deciding to see this as the time to sleep i set my head down too hot to sleep and slowly being bitten to death.
I woke up to rain lashing my face hard a terrifying sound of wind smashing against tree's. I looked around at the worried face all with sleepy eyes. They slowly began to rest there head back down moving around to be out of the line of fire and covered there faces with the sheets they were balled in the sound haunted me and i struggled to get back to sleep and from the distinct lack of snoring as to before i could tell it was haunting them too.
Everyone was up early the rain still fell hard butt he power was back now and so came the harsh reality of the disasters to strike manila. We all thought our selves lucky to only of had a bad nights sleep and nothing more we all went on hesitantly with the days plans waiting to hear back from friends in manila to be reassured of there safety and situation.
a bad couple of days for the place im now calling home and truly a test to my will of wanting to help people even in the most devastating conditions. These last couple of days although incredibly hard to swallow have only made my will stronger tenfold.
The TV screens that fill department stores and homes over the 4000 inhabited islands have been flashing with the images of family's torn apart by flowing waters. Red bleary eyes pleading to be reunited with there lost children. Texts filled my Inbox from friends saying that the dump site had flooded 100's of friends and family have lost there homes. They are living in the school and have no food with only the clothes they are standing in. The reality of the news struck home 95 dead thankfully none of the people who had already touched my life but still a waste of human life in country already struggling with hope for the future. I felt useless on a an island who although had suffered from the typhoon no where near to the extent of that in manila. Today i organized to split some money to send to Payatas mostly for food but also for any other relief it could give the total was 10000 pesos which just short of 100 pounds which doesn't sound a lot but in these terms it is and hopefully it brings some kind of relief.
My experience during this typhoon was scary enough. Residing in Negros we were only at the tail of the tornado and what started as just a storm slowly came the reality of what was really happening. The rain fell heavy for most of the day the wind howling it had blown over sugar cane trucks which gave the impression this was not just a part of the "rainy season." The power went out at eleven we stayed in the house a day of peering out the window watching the rain hit glass with nothing else to do i filled the house with the sound of my guitar. We made the decision that daccutan were probably having a bit of a rough time being so close to the sea so went down to the spend the night and give support. The power was still out when we left at 8:30 pm we piled into the back of the cab as i sat with my legs dangling out the back we drove the dark streets. We passed house after house and store after store filled only with the orange glow of candle light for two towns the power was out. We got down to daccutan and it was practically pitch black the rain had eased off we wondered the village looking for friends with nothing but the dim lights on our phones. We got to the small bamboo nipa hut that was kind of a headquarters for the youth. We set a single candle in there and gathered bed clothes as there was still no power we decided it would be cooler to sleep in the hut. instead of the safe concrete youth center which usually powered electric fans. We lay on lumpy mattresses joking for hours as the wind started to whip the trees out side until it began to build into a really strong force it blew out our candle and we sat in the dark nervous giggles circulated. Deciding to see this as the time to sleep i set my head down too hot to sleep and slowly being bitten to death.
I woke up to rain lashing my face hard a terrifying sound of wind smashing against tree's. I looked around at the worried face all with sleepy eyes. They slowly began to rest there head back down moving around to be out of the line of fire and covered there faces with the sheets they were balled in the sound haunted me and i struggled to get back to sleep and from the distinct lack of snoring as to before i could tell it was haunting them too.
Everyone was up early the rain still fell hard butt he power was back now and so came the harsh reality of the disasters to strike manila. We all thought our selves lucky to only of had a bad nights sleep and nothing more we all went on hesitantly with the days plans waiting to hear back from friends in manila to be reassured of there safety and situation.
a bad couple of days for the place im now calling home and truly a test to my will of wanting to help people even in the most devastating conditions. These last couple of days although incredibly hard to swallow have only made my will stronger tenfold.
Friday 25 September 2009
doctoro...
I spoke on the phone the other day with close friend of mine from manila. I knew she had not been well for weeks but s ever was too proud to say or go into more money. I told her to go to the doctors not thinking, she replied that she couldn't she did not have the money; it was the equivalent of 10pounds for a check up and most of the medicine she needed. She said she would just leave it and let it down to prayer, this worried me more than anything. Although i respected her faith and knew a lot of the time faith was all she had and the only thing to keep her positive. I knew that faith wouldn't be enough and she was getting seriously ill. So i sent the 1000 pesos and told her to go to the courier and pick it up, i wouldn't take no for an answer. Although sheepish she did and went for her check up. it was later in the evening that i had a phone call full of thankyou's and an explanation it was quite a nasty stomach ulcer. Which i knew would only of got worse if she left it. We spoke abut how it was probably from stress. She has a big heart and takes every opportunity to support her family as well as the whole community with little money but an amazing spirit. It was as we were nearing the end of our conversation i heard shouting in the background and her responding. She explained it was her parents asking her for money, she said she had none they responded "yes you do but you just wasted it at the doctors". I felt my stomach sink her parents were thinking bout the money over there daughters health and although i could understand the needs of poverty, this was truly heart wrenching. She burst into tears and continuesly apologized for crying i told her that "i would be worried if you weren't crying your only human the smile has to fade sometimes." I felt completely in over my head but at the same time completely in control. As i spoke her through how she gives so much back but sometimes needs to think of herself. I reminded her of all the peoples lives she had touched and enriched.
The thank you i had in a reply was the most honest thank you i have ever heard to this day.
The thank you i had in a reply was the most honest thank you i have ever heard to this day.
Thursday 24 September 2009
this week..
its been an eventful week to say the least last wednesday we had another early start being up t five in the morning stumbling beneath a cold shower and into clothes. The sun was barely up so i sat in the car and waited to head to pick up the boys we got to Daccutan. i didn't have the energy to get out the car so i sat and waited and junior ran in as had become the regular of this early mornings him dealing with them better than me i sat and waited watching the village wake up children the the trip to the water pump and furiously fill up buckets. cockerels called out the morning as i sat waiting eventually junior reappeared but not with the boys with Tita Indang i knew what was coming she appeared at the window i said it before she could "eat?" she smiled and opened the door ushering me out in a stern motherly way but with a smile i didn't know how well i would stomach fish and rice so early in the morning but knew i couldn't refuse i came into there house which is too bizarre to describe a collaboration of breeze blocks bamboo and handless statues of jesus. Still with enough homely touches to make it inviting a distinct lack of light bulbs made everywhere dark i was welcomed by the boys a group of 5 boys from the village ll from 18 to early 20's we had started to get on really well with them after a lot of knuckle brushing and back patting a plate was pushed into my hands and then filled with noodles egg and rice. For the first time a meal without fish but my belly still struggled to accept food so early and watching the boys plow through a large pile i looked down at my significantly smaller pile and smiled with a sigh. Tito boy appeared at the doorway smiling his toothless grin and said "hello juus" i smiled and saluted he laughed and looked at my plate and how much i was struggle "pusog?" he asked knowingly i smiled and nodded this was one of the words i used the most when in daccutan always loosing the eating contest that was meal time in daccutan it meant full. Tito boy has become a real character in my life along with his wife indang they have one of the lowest incomes in the village boy not being a fisherman but they give the most back they are looked up too and respected by the youth and i was beginning to understand more and more why now. Boy had the ability to keep all the kids laughing for hours as well as us he spoke little English but was hilariously animated but then at the same time if you had misbehaved you knew about it and you wouldn't do it again at least not while boy was around. They were both unlikely role models but incredibly good parents they would sit and drink cheap rum when the kids had gone to bed and tell jokes while boy puffed smoke through his gums they were good people who had nothing and could easily of fallen into the traps of poverty but instead gave back to there community and its future.
After the food was down and the teasing of how little rice the English could eat had stopped we collected the machetes and the large tank of purified water we piled into the cab and head off to joyland for more back breaking hard work. We worked for three hours hacking grass that came above my waist with machete this was my fifth day working with boys and we had got a lot done it was starting to get satisfying to look backwards and see all the work we had done. We took our lunch on the river bank which was a small scramble down from where we were working the jokes flew and filled the air with laughter i sat and watched all the locals come down to wash their clothes in the river perched on rocks in the middle of the flowing water while children ran down and bathed. We did another hours work before giving up to the mid-day sun hot and exhausted we piled back into the cab smiling at a hard days work. we dropped the boys off and headed home for a well needed shower and rest junior smiles at my looks of sheer exhaustion and pipes out his soon to be catch phrase "tomorrow is another day"
tomorrow was another day and what junior aptly left out it was a day off although not really we had a lie in and were up by ten (yes that is now what is considered a day off) we were to go back to daccutan for a meeting on a new idea we had. We sat in the little nipa hut next to the youth centre and waited as the youth gradually arrived plying on battered guitars while the boys talked in ilongo and tugalog there wild laughter crried across and gave me a smile they could see my eager eyes willing to be a part of the jokes and struggled but translated the best they could really wanting me to be a part of there jokes and i made my own and we all laughed even when the meeting had started the laughing didn't die down and everything was finally comfortable after the weeks of trying to make a relationship i finally felt accepted and let in the meeting was about making up a rag and bone man type recycling service to make money from cans and bottles etc the boys seemed excited and loved any opportunity to feel like they had some sort of business "if you have a business then you don't work for anyone and they don't treat you badly" this was just another off the cuff insight to there life. When the meeting was fairly wrapped up the boys looked at us and said "do you want to go get shells" they meant shellfish and we walked out the low tide with a bucket and they taught me all the ways to find these mussels and clams and other shelled creatures i had never heard of we were out for a good hour and then wondered back muddy but with a bucket full all sorts of "shells" i went to the water pump and cleaned smiling t the thought of having to take long jeepny ride home muddy and smelling of the sea "now we eat them" said jomel the son of boy and indang and kind of the leader or at least most organized of the boys. i was slightly confused by this but more than willing and as the sun set we boiled a large pot of shellfish and sat eating laughing and drinking cheap beer until it was completely dark. We then said our farewells and crammed into a jeepny with smiles on our faces at a satisfying day.
another early start and body kicked back in disagreement it was still far from adjusted and the sequence followed as it had done before right down to indang appearing at the car window again the work continued and we inched closer to completion. I was tired my body hurting but i was happy and felt accomplished i got home and threw myself under the cold shower and crawled into bed i feel asleep for couple hour awaking to sheepish friends from manila who had flown in this afternoon i jumped up to say hello they apologized for waking me i said it was fine as i flattened down my hair which was screaming bed. i hugged them exclaiming what a nice surprise it was i wandered into the lounge to worried looks it was a busy weekend and there wasn't enough space for everyone to sleep Emma needed space this weekend for personal reasons so we all decided to move to daccutan for the weekend this plan all formed in about half an hour the next thing i knew i was perched in the back of the cab holding bag of clothes a lumpy red mattress and a small electric fan.
we arrived in daccutan my home for the next 4 days and were welcomed by the boys and jinky, jinky being the lone female member of Siga who was relieved to see our two female friends from manila had returned to save her from the male dominated youth we sat perched next to the river talking late into the night once there was room swapping finally giving up the proper beds to the girls to do the gentlemanly thing also realized i had given up the room with a light bulb i set my mattress on the floor plugged in the fan and set off for sleep.
the next morning i realized the village woke up early and was awoken by all the sounds of the scene i had sat and watched a few days previous dogs howled and cockerels called there calls and i felt like ringing there necks knowing the skills the boys liked to teach me there was probably chance i would at some point.
i was welcomed by an instant coffee in a glass and smiles from sleepy looking faces i was glad i wasn't the only one. we spent the morning sitting at Lolas shop Lola a woman in her late 70's who kept forcing exotic fruit into my hand and when i tried to give her the money she refused and said it was a gift i was touched and sat on the bamboo stool at the store and watched the tide come crashing in and all the kids diving in.
the afternoon drew in and after lunch we made our way to baccolod 10 of us crammed ourselves in for two jeepny rides and we were going to the cinema. They all seemed really excited at the prospect and it was a treat i was more than willing to give at 50 pence a ticket.
it was dark by the time we got back and the food was waiting we ate and then felt really tired and went to bed soon after.
Sunday was a day with the sagip which meant lots of games and laughter the kids had started to take to me now and i could hardly walk through the multi purpose without being rushed by kids shouting "kuya juus" and clinging to every limb possible it was a day of mayhem and laughter games like picking m n ms out of a bowl of flour and batting a duck feather across the floor it was organized by us and the siga we had as much fun as the kids watching them slap the floor trying to chase a feather. when the games finished and the kids wandered t there houses i didn't think it was possible but we finally seemed to wear them out we all went to the local market to get dinner
this was in walking distance and we walked in my senses were attacked from all angles i saw meat hanging from hooks out in the open air the sound of shouts like any market pushing there produce over anyone elses i could smell all the different fish laid out on ice so close to the gutted pigs . it was bizzare but i wandered with a stupid smile on my face we left with eggplant eggs rice and fish and i was then told jomel was going to teach me to cook i said i could cook and they all laughed and said "not like this".
they were right i was cooking on a small coal burner following Jomels instructions closely and suffered from the smoke that would flood my eyes and the burning at the end of my fingers as i peeled roasted eggplant they were right i had never cooked like that but it was an experience i will take to the grave. It was late by the time we got to watching a film but as we put it on the room slowly filled with more and more people until the air became thick with everyone else breath it was a bizzare experience we sat in room full of people with a fillipino horror blaring loudly from a 12 inch screen it was sheer entertainment in its finest form the reactions from the nearing 25 fellow spectators made everything worth it. we stayed up and talked in a circle late until the bed became a better prospect.
i was nearing my last night in the village and i spent the day sitting at Lola's shop eating strange fruits and plying stranger games with the kids it was the perfect end to the weekend
and although it had been hard and has now taken me nearly three days to recover i wouldn't of had anywhere near as good a time staying at the house and i revelled in the feeling of being an equal and not the white guy who had money it was a good feeling even if it meant uncomfortable sleeps being bitten to death with emotional turmoil a given but i left the weekend with a huge smile having learnt alot and been fully allowed into a life style and lapped it up i just realized how long this was and that was leaving out quite a few details but i felt like it had to be written down and a mere 5 days out of the 365 to come
After the food was down and the teasing of how little rice the English could eat had stopped we collected the machetes and the large tank of purified water we piled into the cab and head off to joyland for more back breaking hard work. We worked for three hours hacking grass that came above my waist with machete this was my fifth day working with boys and we had got a lot done it was starting to get satisfying to look backwards and see all the work we had done. We took our lunch on the river bank which was a small scramble down from where we were working the jokes flew and filled the air with laughter i sat and watched all the locals come down to wash their clothes in the river perched on rocks in the middle of the flowing water while children ran down and bathed. We did another hours work before giving up to the mid-day sun hot and exhausted we piled back into the cab smiling at a hard days work. we dropped the boys off and headed home for a well needed shower and rest junior smiles at my looks of sheer exhaustion and pipes out his soon to be catch phrase "tomorrow is another day"
tomorrow was another day and what junior aptly left out it was a day off although not really we had a lie in and were up by ten (yes that is now what is considered a day off) we were to go back to daccutan for a meeting on a new idea we had. We sat in the little nipa hut next to the youth centre and waited as the youth gradually arrived plying on battered guitars while the boys talked in ilongo and tugalog there wild laughter crried across and gave me a smile they could see my eager eyes willing to be a part of the jokes and struggled but translated the best they could really wanting me to be a part of there jokes and i made my own and we all laughed even when the meeting had started the laughing didn't die down and everything was finally comfortable after the weeks of trying to make a relationship i finally felt accepted and let in the meeting was about making up a rag and bone man type recycling service to make money from cans and bottles etc the boys seemed excited and loved any opportunity to feel like they had some sort of business "if you have a business then you don't work for anyone and they don't treat you badly" this was just another off the cuff insight to there life. When the meeting was fairly wrapped up the boys looked at us and said "do you want to go get shells" they meant shellfish and we walked out the low tide with a bucket and they taught me all the ways to find these mussels and clams and other shelled creatures i had never heard of we were out for a good hour and then wondered back muddy but with a bucket full all sorts of "shells" i went to the water pump and cleaned smiling t the thought of having to take long jeepny ride home muddy and smelling of the sea "now we eat them" said jomel the son of boy and indang and kind of the leader or at least most organized of the boys. i was slightly confused by this but more than willing and as the sun set we boiled a large pot of shellfish and sat eating laughing and drinking cheap beer until it was completely dark. We then said our farewells and crammed into a jeepny with smiles on our faces at a satisfying day.
another early start and body kicked back in disagreement it was still far from adjusted and the sequence followed as it had done before right down to indang appearing at the car window again the work continued and we inched closer to completion. I was tired my body hurting but i was happy and felt accomplished i got home and threw myself under the cold shower and crawled into bed i feel asleep for couple hour awaking to sheepish friends from manila who had flown in this afternoon i jumped up to say hello they apologized for waking me i said it was fine as i flattened down my hair which was screaming bed. i hugged them exclaiming what a nice surprise it was i wandered into the lounge to worried looks it was a busy weekend and there wasn't enough space for everyone to sleep Emma needed space this weekend for personal reasons so we all decided to move to daccutan for the weekend this plan all formed in about half an hour the next thing i knew i was perched in the back of the cab holding bag of clothes a lumpy red mattress and a small electric fan.
we arrived in daccutan my home for the next 4 days and were welcomed by the boys and jinky, jinky being the lone female member of Siga who was relieved to see our two female friends from manila had returned to save her from the male dominated youth we sat perched next to the river talking late into the night once there was room swapping finally giving up the proper beds to the girls to do the gentlemanly thing also realized i had given up the room with a light bulb i set my mattress on the floor plugged in the fan and set off for sleep.
the next morning i realized the village woke up early and was awoken by all the sounds of the scene i had sat and watched a few days previous dogs howled and cockerels called there calls and i felt like ringing there necks knowing the skills the boys liked to teach me there was probably chance i would at some point.
i was welcomed by an instant coffee in a glass and smiles from sleepy looking faces i was glad i wasn't the only one. we spent the morning sitting at Lolas shop Lola a woman in her late 70's who kept forcing exotic fruit into my hand and when i tried to give her the money she refused and said it was a gift i was touched and sat on the bamboo stool at the store and watched the tide come crashing in and all the kids diving in.
the afternoon drew in and after lunch we made our way to baccolod 10 of us crammed ourselves in for two jeepny rides and we were going to the cinema. They all seemed really excited at the prospect and it was a treat i was more than willing to give at 50 pence a ticket.
it was dark by the time we got back and the food was waiting we ate and then felt really tired and went to bed soon after.
Sunday was a day with the sagip which meant lots of games and laughter the kids had started to take to me now and i could hardly walk through the multi purpose without being rushed by kids shouting "kuya juus" and clinging to every limb possible it was a day of mayhem and laughter games like picking m n ms out of a bowl of flour and batting a duck feather across the floor it was organized by us and the siga we had as much fun as the kids watching them slap the floor trying to chase a feather. when the games finished and the kids wandered t there houses i didn't think it was possible but we finally seemed to wear them out we all went to the local market to get dinner
this was in walking distance and we walked in my senses were attacked from all angles i saw meat hanging from hooks out in the open air the sound of shouts like any market pushing there produce over anyone elses i could smell all the different fish laid out on ice so close to the gutted pigs . it was bizzare but i wandered with a stupid smile on my face we left with eggplant eggs rice and fish and i was then told jomel was going to teach me to cook i said i could cook and they all laughed and said "not like this".
they were right i was cooking on a small coal burner following Jomels instructions closely and suffered from the smoke that would flood my eyes and the burning at the end of my fingers as i peeled roasted eggplant they were right i had never cooked like that but it was an experience i will take to the grave. It was late by the time we got to watching a film but as we put it on the room slowly filled with more and more people until the air became thick with everyone else breath it was a bizzare experience we sat in room full of people with a fillipino horror blaring loudly from a 12 inch screen it was sheer entertainment in its finest form the reactions from the nearing 25 fellow spectators made everything worth it. we stayed up and talked in a circle late until the bed became a better prospect.
i was nearing my last night in the village and i spent the day sitting at Lola's shop eating strange fruits and plying stranger games with the kids it was the perfect end to the weekend
and although it had been hard and has now taken me nearly three days to recover i wouldn't of had anywhere near as good a time staying at the house and i revelled in the feeling of being an equal and not the white guy who had money it was a good feeling even if it meant uncomfortable sleeps being bitten to death with emotional turmoil a given but i left the weekend with a huge smile having learnt alot and been fully allowed into a life style and lapped it up i just realized how long this was and that was leaving out quite a few details but i felt like it had to be written down and a mere 5 days out of the 365 to come
Tuesday 15 September 2009
i came here to make a difference i have always felt guilty that although we have never been rich back home we have still had a lot more money and opportunities than parts of the world that are so easily overlooked i felt guilty because there have been times when i have taken those opportunities for granted and wasted them when so many other people never even had a chance at them. i came here to give hope and give back all that i wasted not to take anything for granted but give new opportunities to people who have never seen them. the sad thing is for some of the youth here that could be as little as swimming in a swimming pool or going to the cinema. so i came not only to build houses and work on projects to improve where people live. but i came to be a part of the way they live and give to that how ever i can. to inspire them the way they inspired me. its funny how if you think about it so many people undeserving get everything but for the people with the most spirit and the most soul have to live there life with nothing when we throw it away so easily if everyone gave back just a little of what they had im not saying to completely throw yourself into poverty to make a difference in someones life. Sometimes just being there and understanding someone that isn't your self makes a big difference. Dont be afraid to share a smile with strangers it could be the one thing they needed to pick back up there day even if it doesn't affect your own life be happy in the fact you could of improved someone else's
i have been putting off updating this at fear of having to sit down and think
but today has been one of those days i have hit a wall
i have been working with the youth in daccutan the little ones on a Saturday the older ones on a sunday we have begun to build up a relationship even through the langauge barrier
and been working at joyland the Australian filipino run orphanage doing ground clearence landscaping stuff
which has been both a good chance for hard work that will make a diffrence and some well needed male bonding within a small portion of the youth in the village
i forget that by this point i have said goodbye to home and felt at my lowest but started to be picked back up by perseverance and willingness to just plow straight through and not stop to think
alas today i hit the wall as i said the work at joyland had to be canceled
our means of transport was broken which left me to sit at home feeling pretty hopeless and in need
of doing somthing
instead i began to think and reflect in hindsight it was unhealthy not to reflect until now
but it seemed to difficult to deal with the concept of saying goodbye to parents still having the guilt of leaving a loved one and dealing working with a village who practically had no youth left due to drugs and crime
the few we do have have been very inspiring and it has felt good to help them have a direction again
but frustrating in the knowledge that when we were here before there were three times the amount here willing to help and inspire as there are now
it also begs my moral conscience to want to help shape the younger kids not to fall into the life of there brothers and sisters but how does an eighteen year old even begin to think about somthing like that
with faith
faith in that not every human should be willing to throw themselves in the gutter and that it is human nature to want what is best for ones self in your life
but sometimes that gets completely deluded
a lot of the time people think they are doing whats best because they are getting money
in the case of england it leaves them with no soul or personality
here it leaves them in jail
in england drugs are what people do to be cool and escape to fit in for whatever reason the subculture demands to feel free and different but in so many many ways exactly the same only with your worst attributes heightened
here in the Philippines drugs alcohol and crime are an escape they give a sense of belonging and money that they have never had before a way of escaping all the bad parts and becoming who ever they want to be in there life. but it seems this is nothing but deluded dreams another off cut of American culture that has led the Filipinos astray in reality it leads to rape and loneliness jail and torn family's
i will use the example of a girl i used to know from daccutan i met her two years ago when i first came and she was a sweet girl not too bright not through nay fault of her own forgotten by the system not registered at birth so as far as the world was concerned not even a real person no birth certificate no school but still always a smile i was told a couple weeks ago that she had met someone and had moved out of the village i was pleased a summing that she had managed to find a new life a better life but the bitter reality of it was she had fallen to the charms of a older man who was using her to peddle drugs and do anything he wishes she is now serving 25 years in prison at the age of 15 with a charge of possession and accomplice to the murder of a police man.
if you would of have met this girl you would of thought there was no way but this is the harsh life of poverty and the same escapes people in england use to look cool. that tears apart the life of a 15 year old girl and her family.
i have been traveling with a good friend from one of manilas known slums he has lived in poverty his whole life and for what i saw and stayed with the conditions of his living were enough for me to think it was no way to live but when he told me his story i was lost for words completely
he told me how his father had died when he was 15 of alcohol and smoking was how he put it and that it became even harder to live which to mean was a phenomenal to get my head around it would be hard enough to live in Payatas as it is but without a father and a mother who was grieving with 4 children to feed he told me how he went to find work the temptation of gangs and drugs had always been around him but he didn't fall i not it because he has pride and its a pride that has inspired me so much already and so he went to the jeepny stops and asked the drivers if he could be a conductor in a part of manila which is certainly not for holiday takers the age of 15 he would ride the jeepnys collecting money bare in mind everyone takes the jeepny even the characters you would want to avoid at all costs and its very prone to robbery at gunpoint perticuarly the one holding all the money ie the conductor but he went on doing it to be able to provide for his family in whatever way he can he told me of his hope and his struggle and that now in the knowledge that he has survived 24 years of that struggle he can give the same hope to other people and thats why he was so pleased to be able to come and help me work with the youth and he has led me as well as leading them in a way that will change my life forever.
but today has been one of those days i have hit a wall
i have been working with the youth in daccutan the little ones on a Saturday the older ones on a sunday we have begun to build up a relationship even through the langauge barrier
and been working at joyland the Australian filipino run orphanage doing ground clearence landscaping stuff
which has been both a good chance for hard work that will make a diffrence and some well needed male bonding within a small portion of the youth in the village
i forget that by this point i have said goodbye to home and felt at my lowest but started to be picked back up by perseverance and willingness to just plow straight through and not stop to think
alas today i hit the wall as i said the work at joyland had to be canceled
our means of transport was broken which left me to sit at home feeling pretty hopeless and in need
of doing somthing
instead i began to think and reflect in hindsight it was unhealthy not to reflect until now
but it seemed to difficult to deal with the concept of saying goodbye to parents still having the guilt of leaving a loved one and dealing working with a village who practically had no youth left due to drugs and crime
the few we do have have been very inspiring and it has felt good to help them have a direction again
but frustrating in the knowledge that when we were here before there were three times the amount here willing to help and inspire as there are now
it also begs my moral conscience to want to help shape the younger kids not to fall into the life of there brothers and sisters but how does an eighteen year old even begin to think about somthing like that
with faith
faith in that not every human should be willing to throw themselves in the gutter and that it is human nature to want what is best for ones self in your life
but sometimes that gets completely deluded
a lot of the time people think they are doing whats best because they are getting money
in the case of england it leaves them with no soul or personality
here it leaves them in jail
in england drugs are what people do to be cool and escape to fit in for whatever reason the subculture demands to feel free and different but in so many many ways exactly the same only with your worst attributes heightened
here in the Philippines drugs alcohol and crime are an escape they give a sense of belonging and money that they have never had before a way of escaping all the bad parts and becoming who ever they want to be in there life. but it seems this is nothing but deluded dreams another off cut of American culture that has led the Filipinos astray in reality it leads to rape and loneliness jail and torn family's
i will use the example of a girl i used to know from daccutan i met her two years ago when i first came and she was a sweet girl not too bright not through nay fault of her own forgotten by the system not registered at birth so as far as the world was concerned not even a real person no birth certificate no school but still always a smile i was told a couple weeks ago that she had met someone and had moved out of the village i was pleased a summing that she had managed to find a new life a better life but the bitter reality of it was she had fallen to the charms of a older man who was using her to peddle drugs and do anything he wishes she is now serving 25 years in prison at the age of 15 with a charge of possession and accomplice to the murder of a police man.
if you would of have met this girl you would of thought there was no way but this is the harsh life of poverty and the same escapes people in england use to look cool. that tears apart the life of a 15 year old girl and her family.
i have been traveling with a good friend from one of manilas known slums he has lived in poverty his whole life and for what i saw and stayed with the conditions of his living were enough for me to think it was no way to live but when he told me his story i was lost for words completely
he told me how his father had died when he was 15 of alcohol and smoking was how he put it and that it became even harder to live which to mean was a phenomenal to get my head around it would be hard enough to live in Payatas as it is but without a father and a mother who was grieving with 4 children to feed he told me how he went to find work the temptation of gangs and drugs had always been around him but he didn't fall i not it because he has pride and its a pride that has inspired me so much already and so he went to the jeepny stops and asked the drivers if he could be a conductor in a part of manila which is certainly not for holiday takers the age of 15 he would ride the jeepnys collecting money bare in mind everyone takes the jeepny even the characters you would want to avoid at all costs and its very prone to robbery at gunpoint perticuarly the one holding all the money ie the conductor but he went on doing it to be able to provide for his family in whatever way he can he told me of his hope and his struggle and that now in the knowledge that he has survived 24 years of that struggle he can give the same hope to other people and thats why he was so pleased to be able to come and help me work with the youth and he has led me as well as leading them in a way that will change my life forever.
Wednesday 2 September 2009
man ive got some caatching up too do
so here it goes we traveled back from dumagety after all the diving and swimming and lazing around being a bum
my first chance of holiday before the big fat adventure of a year ahead
and what had felt like a ridiculously long journey it was nothing compared to the way back
rain forced us off the beaten track and then more rain forced off the off beaten track and onto even more off beaten track
catch my dirft
basically all i can say for the first three hours of that journey
is thank god for four wheel drive
i bounced more times than a determined fat kid on a trampoline trying to get to the top shelf cookie jar
so yeah 9 hours travelling through villages set into the mountains full of kids playing and small sari sari stores out into the road with stalls selling everything from old shoes to dried fish
the kids would stop and watch the cars go passed amazed by a white face and as i looked back into the wing mirror i could see there frantic waves and excitement
9 hours led us too a town where we could stop for food only an hour and a half away from baccolod the place i am now calling home.
we ate then set off all holding our butt cheeks trying to prepare them for yet more sitting down
we set off and it was dark by now and the Philippines really comes to life at night there was people spilling onto the streets wandering through the roadside stalls and shops. dogs darted around and one darted towards the car growling wildly and our driver just ploughed straight through it which left me open mouthed and my pants slightly soiled he looked round and me aand laughed seeing how shaken i was bee this and simply said "its okay he was like gnarrrrr" at this point he made hand movements and pretended to be a rabid dog i smiled and said okay my heart still beating fast and not being able to look at the driver in the same way for the next hour and a half
finally we made it back to baccolod and set into hour hotel rested for the week ahead and what a week it will be
my first chance of holiday before the big fat adventure of a year ahead
and what had felt like a ridiculously long journey it was nothing compared to the way back
rain forced us off the beaten track and then more rain forced off the off beaten track and onto even more off beaten track
catch my dirft
basically all i can say for the first three hours of that journey
is thank god for four wheel drive
i bounced more times than a determined fat kid on a trampoline trying to get to the top shelf cookie jar
so yeah 9 hours travelling through villages set into the mountains full of kids playing and small sari sari stores out into the road with stalls selling everything from old shoes to dried fish
the kids would stop and watch the cars go passed amazed by a white face and as i looked back into the wing mirror i could see there frantic waves and excitement
9 hours led us too a town where we could stop for food only an hour and a half away from baccolod the place i am now calling home.
we ate then set off all holding our butt cheeks trying to prepare them for yet more sitting down
we set off and it was dark by now and the Philippines really comes to life at night there was people spilling onto the streets wandering through the roadside stalls and shops. dogs darted around and one darted towards the car growling wildly and our driver just ploughed straight through it which left me open mouthed and my pants slightly soiled he looked round and me aand laughed seeing how shaken i was bee this and simply said "its okay he was like gnarrrrr" at this point he made hand movements and pretended to be a rabid dog i smiled and said okay my heart still beating fast and not being able to look at the driver in the same way for the next hour and a half
finally we made it back to baccolod and set into hour hotel rested for the week ahead and what a week it will be
Friday 21 August 2009
THE ORIGINS OF HEY JOE
just thought this is something i should explain.
every Filipino without fail when seeing out white skin will either smile wave or shout "hey Joe"
at first the concept of them being astounded by the fact i was white and waving at me just because of the colour of my skin was bizzare enough. But then they were calling me a name which is just short of my own was beyond odd. i still find it strange that when so many other countries including our own shunt out anyone with a diffrent colour skin and will mutter ruse things under there breath Filipino's are always more than obliged to wave and smile and seem happy to see us and for all i have found so far for completely innocent reasons and have not tried to steal my money kidnap me or rape and declare war so maybe someone should tell nick griffin that there other races are kinder warmer and more welcoming than our own. British haven't quite worked it all out yet instead we are still mostly ignorant lazy and easy to complain and not that shy of war.
Which leads me on nicely to the origin of hey joe
back in the second world war the Americans settled here in order to fight the Japanese off the coast so there were soldiers everywhere and apparently the Filipinos used to call them all G.I Joe and the Americans finding it funny encouraged it and so it stuck and now every time they see a white face they associate it with that and say "hey joe"
this is just one story i have been told but i think it is kind of all those lines
this is not a great historical essay but parts of it kind of must be true
dont believe me then go ask the old guy i got talking to on Apo island called Tito boy
and see if you can get a clearer story
every Filipino without fail when seeing out white skin will either smile wave or shout "hey Joe"
at first the concept of them being astounded by the fact i was white and waving at me just because of the colour of my skin was bizzare enough. But then they were calling me a name which is just short of my own was beyond odd. i still find it strange that when so many other countries including our own shunt out anyone with a diffrent colour skin and will mutter ruse things under there breath Filipino's are always more than obliged to wave and smile and seem happy to see us and for all i have found so far for completely innocent reasons and have not tried to steal my money kidnap me or rape and declare war so maybe someone should tell nick griffin that there other races are kinder warmer and more welcoming than our own. British haven't quite worked it all out yet instead we are still mostly ignorant lazy and easy to complain and not that shy of war.
Which leads me on nicely to the origin of hey joe
back in the second world war the Americans settled here in order to fight the Japanese off the coast so there were soldiers everywhere and apparently the Filipinos used to call them all G.I Joe and the Americans finding it funny encouraged it and so it stuck and now every time they see a white face they associate it with that and say "hey joe"
this is just one story i have been told but i think it is kind of all those lines
this is not a great historical essay but parts of it kind of must be true
dont believe me then go ask the old guy i got talking to on Apo island called Tito boy
and see if you can get a clearer story
Thursday 20 August 2009
the last few days down by the sea have almost become a blur but as my week of relaxation comes to a close i have time to reflect and although this was meant to be a time without hard work and harder situations that would make me question every fibre of humanity it has still brought some questions into my head particularly the story of the young man on the scooter
As we drove the final stretch to the well needed beach resort after 9 hours stuck in the back of a sweaty and very cramped van we were close although not completely certain as to were we were actually going we were still close we got along the final stretch too our thoughts too far along the final stretch so we signaled to the other cab that was loaded full of our luggage and two adolescent relatives to turn round and we could look along this road again sure we had already passed it tempers were beginning to be tested and boundaries of how long we could all stay crushed together so closely we being crossed. making for some very irritable travelers me and my father being to in particular but always have been like father like son. it was as we were turning i looked out the back window completely by chance and watched the other cab turn closely on our tail when out of no where comes a huge thud and the for a good 100 feet down the road there was sparks and all in one moment having seen this i heard the thud the sound of crushing metal and the scrape mixed with a 125 engine. I looked round to everyone and said "shit that guy just came of his scooter....and hard" there was a flurry in the back of the van and for the first time in the last four hours of the journey some movement and interest "he hit the mini cab" "he came out of no where no lights no nothing"
some of the phrases past around declaring the situation and everyone feeling they want to be part of it "thats slightly irrelevant should we not be worrying if he is okay he seems to be standing up"
the doctor who is studying and traveling with us gets out and grabs his bag for his first aid kit
he and Emma rush down to check whats going on as this happens they are met by 14 or so Filipino guys who run down and are claiming him as there friend sitting him down on the back of the mini cab they look to see his head is busted as is his knee and ankle also there is a strong smell of rum about him which could partly be the reason he wasn't screaming in agony about the fact his bare arms head and legs just ate a 100 foot of tarmac. His friends dont seem dangerous but you would not want to mess with them and they begin to get frustrated not sure what happened and making there own stories to protect there friend. my father and i go out to see if they need any help and to keep the angry friends at bay everyone then seems to wander out of the van which for some reason which is still a blur annoys them more. no more harm is done and eventually all parties agree to get him to the hospital we take thee luggage out the back of the mini cab and help him in. I usher the kids and my mum and cousins back into the van with the luggage crammed inside with them leaving my dad and uncle the doctor with the driver to wait for the guys family and take him to the hospital. one image that will stay in head and make me think this the hardest bastard i have seen in a while is the fact even though all of which just happened to this bloke he was just sitting in the cab perfectly silent texting with a slight smirk and whispered "hey joe."
we got to the hotel and they got him to the hospital which they said was fine and the general verdict that he was a legit tough guy. there was fear that he would try and milk us but pops said he was more than happy they had got him to the hospital feeling aware that his family may not be able to cover it they paid the hospital bill and left it at that which everyone seemed happy with.
they came back to the hotel within a time that would of put southend a&e to shame and so began our week of sun and swim.
with the most amazing two days of diving and my first two which are beyond words
but if i had to put it into 2
"windows screen-saver"
its been a surreal week of tarmac eating lion fish diving boat journeys along side turtles
and and a guy that came up to us on the street asking if we wanted to change money he pulled out a massive wad of peso's and showed a good conversion rate so very curious we agreed it went fine accept that he wouldn't accept a 20 pound note because the corner was ripped !
at fear that we were ripping him off
confused yeah
well i think this week has been only just the start of the bizzare stories to fill this page
and spill from my brain
now for my last night here at the beach then back to Baccolod
(with a 7 hour journey in between)
my one final thought
...........always use protection
As we drove the final stretch to the well needed beach resort after 9 hours stuck in the back of a sweaty and very cramped van we were close although not completely certain as to were we were actually going we were still close we got along the final stretch too our thoughts too far along the final stretch so we signaled to the other cab that was loaded full of our luggage and two adolescent relatives to turn round and we could look along this road again sure we had already passed it tempers were beginning to be tested and boundaries of how long we could all stay crushed together so closely we being crossed. making for some very irritable travelers me and my father being to in particular but always have been like father like son. it was as we were turning i looked out the back window completely by chance and watched the other cab turn closely on our tail when out of no where comes a huge thud and the for a good 100 feet down the road there was sparks and all in one moment having seen this i heard the thud the sound of crushing metal and the scrape mixed with a 125 engine. I looked round to everyone and said "shit that guy just came of his scooter....and hard" there was a flurry in the back of the van and for the first time in the last four hours of the journey some movement and interest "he hit the mini cab" "he came out of no where no lights no nothing"
some of the phrases past around declaring the situation and everyone feeling they want to be part of it "thats slightly irrelevant should we not be worrying if he is okay he seems to be standing up"
the doctor who is studying and traveling with us gets out and grabs his bag for his first aid kit
he and Emma rush down to check whats going on as this happens they are met by 14 or so Filipino guys who run down and are claiming him as there friend sitting him down on the back of the mini cab they look to see his head is busted as is his knee and ankle also there is a strong smell of rum about him which could partly be the reason he wasn't screaming in agony about the fact his bare arms head and legs just ate a 100 foot of tarmac. His friends dont seem dangerous but you would not want to mess with them and they begin to get frustrated not sure what happened and making there own stories to protect there friend. my father and i go out to see if they need any help and to keep the angry friends at bay everyone then seems to wander out of the van which for some reason which is still a blur annoys them more. no more harm is done and eventually all parties agree to get him to the hospital we take thee luggage out the back of the mini cab and help him in. I usher the kids and my mum and cousins back into the van with the luggage crammed inside with them leaving my dad and uncle the doctor with the driver to wait for the guys family and take him to the hospital. one image that will stay in head and make me think this the hardest bastard i have seen in a while is the fact even though all of which just happened to this bloke he was just sitting in the cab perfectly silent texting with a slight smirk and whispered "hey joe."
we got to the hotel and they got him to the hospital which they said was fine and the general verdict that he was a legit tough guy. there was fear that he would try and milk us but pops said he was more than happy they had got him to the hospital feeling aware that his family may not be able to cover it they paid the hospital bill and left it at that which everyone seemed happy with.
they came back to the hotel within a time that would of put southend a&e to shame and so began our week of sun and swim.
with the most amazing two days of diving and my first two which are beyond words
but if i had to put it into 2
"windows screen-saver"
its been a surreal week of tarmac eating lion fish diving boat journeys along side turtles
and and a guy that came up to us on the street asking if we wanted to change money he pulled out a massive wad of peso's and showed a good conversion rate so very curious we agreed it went fine accept that he wouldn't accept a 20 pound note because the corner was ripped !
at fear that we were ripping him off
confused yeah
well i think this week has been only just the start of the bizzare stories to fill this page
and spill from my brain
now for my last night here at the beach then back to Baccolod
(with a 7 hour journey in between)
my one final thought
...........always use protection
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