Paalam (goodbye)

This trip has been the most rewarding of my life: invaluable experiences, genuine, random interactions with locals, and great new friends. While I won’t be leaving the Philippines until April, the goodbyes are fast approaching.

There used to be more tears, but now goodbyes are a familiar scene for me. I travel, I move, I have friends in the military… these conditions have meant at least one permanent separation from a very close friend every year since I graduated from college in 2003. Sounds confusing, but point is: I've gotten good at this. That’s not counting all the many see-you-laters before my trips or the until-next-times after friendly visits. The last looks at airports, bus stops, train stations—I got used to them. And my friends’ similar lifestyles coupled with the communication technologies of cell phones and internet meant fewer tears all around.

This Baguio goodbye will be a little harder. I’ve made the usual “foreigner friends,” whom, large thanks to Facebook, will be easy to keep in touch with and hopefully meet somewhere and some-when again. But I’ve also become friends with Filipinos who don’t move or travel a lot. This allows for one reunion possibility: I come back… which is not unlikely, just uncertain.

And of course, the goodbye to the girls will be the biggest challenge to my farewell expertise. For three months we shared a house, our meals, our thoughts, our feelings—we’re “ates.” I love them very much, and they’ve made their mutual affections for me obvious. And in this shaky situation, I’ve lost my communication-age crutches: many of them don’t have email, or phones, or Facebook, and snail mail letters will be strained by language and changing addresses. I’m not sure I’ll be able to find them when I return if they’ve moved on to new homes, as is the ultimate goal of the program. So here I am facing my most loving (read: giving) connection to see it become the most severed. So as in the days before farewells were routine, I feel a lump in my throat and water filling my eyes. This one’s gonna be tough.

The Current Plan (explore the Philippines):
Mar. 17 – Sagada, Batod, Banaue (northern Luzon) with other foreign volunteer friends
Mar. 23 – San Carlos (Negros, Visayas) with the Honolulu Rotary club to help build a training center
Mar. 29 – Boracay (Panay, Visayas) with Aussie friend Becky to party as if it were my birthday… hey, wait…
Apr. 4 – Return to Honolulu, HI at 7:30PM, magically arriving a few hours before my departure from Manila. Silly international dateline.

Gratitude

There are few things as astonishing and humbling as the generosity of the poor. Last weekend, I went to rural parts of Naguilian with the Healthy Start program to deliver more formula to underweight babies. The subsistance lifestyle is increasingly difficult as more people move to the cities causing the farming communities to shrink. We met one woman with six children who makes 45 pesos a week--just over one dollar. Before we left from delivering the formula, she insisted that we take a full bag of sweet potatoes and another full bag of green beans. After visiting a half-dozen more families, we had enough fresh, organic vegetables to open a produce stand. It was a little difficult to take food from people who had so little, but it meant so much to them that they could thank us for coming out there that it would have been impossible to refuse.
Foreign volunteers in general sometimes face accusations of pity, superiority, imperialism, ignorant meddling, and declarations of "we can handle our own problems." These sentiments are not entirely unjustified, and therefore, difficult to refute. But all the foreign volunteers I've met here in Baguio have recieved nothing but sincere thanks and praise from Filipinos: "it's great there are people like you," "thank you for what you do," "you have such big hearts"... Obviously, this response makes the whole experience even more rewarding.

Thinking back, it's highly appropriate that the first word I learned (and used) in Tagalog was salamat. It means thank you.

Are You Hungry?

In some ways, Filipinos are like Hobbits: they’re generally content, not very tall, sing a lot, and eat at least five times a day. The word “merienda” means snack and at the Consuelo Home they’re served twice a day between the big meals: one in the morning and one in the afternoon. But the merienda is not unique to CFSPI; fast food restaurants serve merienda menu items which are slightly smaller than other meal deals.

I have stayed (mostly) vegetarian here. While still in Hawaii, I was starting to wean myself off fish; here, once I conceded that I do sometimes eat it, I have found it sitting on my plate at almost every meal: often fried and never de-boned.

The staff and the girls, conscious of my dietary restrictions, will often prepare separate food for me; sometimes too large to finish at one time, but I know that next time there will be a new plate just for me. Solution: eat more.

Not wanting to be an inconvenience at every meal and not preferring fried fish at 6am, I bought cereal, milk, and some other no-skill-required cuisine. However, even when I tell them not to make me food, I still find a full plate at my place. Being raised as I was, I always finish what’s in front of me; and now I have the added task of finishing my purchased food before it goes bad. Solution: (see above).

This past weekend I went on a day-trip with a staff member who was nervous about feeding a vegetarian. Figuring that vegetables were essential and being advised that "we" also eat bread, at merienda time she placed in front of me a pile of hamburger buns, a plate of two large, sliced cucumbers, a squeeze pack of Italian salad dressing, and a block of processed cheese that made Kraft singles seem refined. Honestly, her effort and concern was touching, and the cucumber burgers weren’t all that bad. In fact, the buns were so good, they became a test of my carb-addicted—the plethora of rice here is another issue—willpower to not devour the whole stack, which I, of course, was being encouraged to do.

On a totally separate topic, my clothes seem to be shrinking. It must be the weather or something in the water. If I am gaining weight, I will surely know since Filipinos have the uplifting proclivity towards casually informing others that they’re packing on pounds; so as Kelly (Peace Corps volunteer) put it: “There are two things you can’t get away from in the Philippines: eating and people telling you you’re getting fatter.”

"It's a shame you're only staying three months"

Today, the staff at the Consuelo Home met to discuss the program in general as well as specific girls' cases. I am in a unique position as a someone who is able (not bogged down by paperwork) to simply play games, talk and just spend time with the girls; plus, until this past weekend, I was at the house every single day for most, if not all, of the day--much more than any other staff person. Therefore, my input at these meetings about the girls, their progress, and their needs was particularly valuable. You may have noticed, but I tend to incessently ponder and work through potential improvements of... well, everything; so one can imagine how much the Consuelo Home and its girls have been dominating my thoughts. Today these ideas found their forum, and I offered my suggestions as well as how I specifically would help to implement them. It was in response to these proposals that one of the staff members started chuckling and shook her head: "it's a shame you're only staying three months." Wham! Right to the chest. I've heard this from almost everyone since I arrived, but this was the first time that I really felt its sincerity and gravity. I can see how into it I'm getting, how much I'm willing--needing--to put myself into this project, the deep connection I will inevitably form with these girls, and in just three months... scratch that... two months from now, I'll be gone. And now the staff see it too. I've already toyed with the idea of extending one month (shh, don't tell Danny) since I don't need to be back in Honolulu until mid May (family vacation--very important), but this was the first time I was thinking that maybe I'd come back to Baguio this summer. On the flip side, I should take into consideration that the head supervisor got back just this week from a six-month long leave. And it seems that if she hadn't left, my suggestions would be moot. While I still believe I have a lot to offer the program, perhaps the next two months will be enough time to establish and maintain needed improvements? It's possible, right?

In addition, it should be known that I have recently jump started my social life and set up specific hours that I'm expected to be at the Consuelo Home; so some days I have mornings free, other days I have evenings, and two full days are mine completely. This will be crucial since as I'm taking on more responsibilities, I will need more downtime to cope and unwind; and it will be good to establish some degree of professional distance if I am to be counseling the girls on a more regular basis. Even though I'll continue living in the house, I still feel like I'm "leaving" them (I'm also good with self-guilt) and fear I'm sacrificing my valuable unique perspective. I just need to keep repeating "if I burn out, I'm no good to anyone... especially my girls" --er, "the girls." Professional distance... right, got it. Hee hee