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.
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