A REFUGE FROM THE STORM

And the rains continue…

It is now Wednesday night and it has been raining really had since Sunday night. That is following all of the flooding last Wednesday (that I missed out on because I was in Iloilo). When we finished meetings on Sunday evening we tried to leave the chapel and again I was thankful that I drive Boeing, an SUV. We would have never made it home. Others were stranded at the chapel until 0200 Monday morning. Monday that floods subsided a little bit and we made it to work, but by 1630 when we were leaving the rains had started their downpour once again.

Work was cancelled as we were literally walking out the door—thank goodness because it rained all day. The flood water around our house ebbed and flowed. It was always somewhere between ankle and knee deep. Half way through the day they cancelled work for Wednesday too. It was sobering to see all the photos on the news channels of people who lost their homes and stores to the floods. There is water everywhere.

Lady Hiva and I sat at home and kept ourselves busy doing all those things on the “to do” list that usually get pushed back because of more urgent matters. Our home was truly a refuge from the storm. We were safe and dry. We could not leave the house, but we have enough food and water to be alright. Thankfully we always keep a stock of both things for times like these.

I was on the phone most of the day trying to make sure people were alright. In the morning communicating with employees and in the evening with Church leaders to make sure we had found all the people who live in heavily flooded areas. Again, I was thankful for a refuge.

I could not help but think about the scriptural parable of having a home built on a solid foundation so when the floods and the rains come you are spared the heartache of loss.

As with the previous two nights, it was raining all night. I would wake up frequently look out the window to check on the water levels. When we woke up we found out that the drainage system for our row of houses had plugged and where we are the last home on the row all the water was gathering on the second floor patio like a swimming pool. The only place for the water to go was IN! We had to call in people to help get the water out and fix the drains. The carpets and some of the furniture are ruined—sad. Our refuge had leaked. Nothing compared to what others are experienced, but still had the damage (see the parable could be carried further about protecting our refuge.)

Nasty Black water coming in the house!

Yep, that is my butt! LOL! We are trying to get the water away from the house and down the drain

Taking out the soaked carpet

Today there were people that needed to get help so in the morning when there was no rain we decided to meet some people from Church to get food and clothing bags to give to those that lost everything. Sadly, the rain started again and the water rose quickly. We only got half way around the block and had to turn around because the water was too deep, even for Boeing.  

This is when we decided to turn around

Keeping trash out of the drain so it works...

We made our way back and the gates to our compound were sealed off and water was getting deeper by the minute. We were forced to drive in knee deep flood water around the block again to the front gate. The water was so deep their cars were just stopping in the road. We finally were able to inch our way around the cars to the gate and make it home….what an adventure! 

People stopping and going back (against traffic flow) just outside our house

And to think Boeing is on high ground!

So here we are again sitting in the house listening to the rain fall and water gush off of the roof and into the lake forming around the house.

The Day the White Man Walked Through the Village

Over the week I went with work to look for some people outside of Manila. It was exciting to get out of the city. Being in the province villages reminds me that we are in a developing country. Here in Manila we see the poor and destitute conditions of a developing country, but when you get out into the province you see exactly what the name means: DEVELOPING COUNTRY.  It also reminded me how simple life can be.

(Sorry no photos, I did not take my camera on the trip! So sad that I didn't)

As we drove the roads went from pavement to dirt and the city buildings turned into small villages. The scenery changed from cement and signs to open fields and rice patties dotted with homes. It was interesting to see the difference in housing. Most of the people actually have yards, some even with grass—something you do not see in Manila—many of the homes were large and painted bright neon colors or had faux rock façades and large picture windows displayed living rooms with cathedral ceilings. They must get money from family members working overseas. Others were still large but were cement grey with corrugated roofs that were burgundy from rust. Which I figured was noisy during a rain storm.

As we drove I was fascinated by the life in the province. Neighbors out talking story as children chased each other up and down the street, chickens pecked through the garbage waiting to be burned. Rice and peanuts were spread out on large tarps to bake and dry in the hot afternoon sun before they sell it at the market. Compared to Manila, life is so simple here.

As we drove the dirt roads became more and more narrow. At one point we crossed a bridge that looked like a wooden foot bridge. But it held up! People standing on their door steps were literally a foot from my car window, I could have rolled it down and given them all a high five as we drove by. At one point three kids started dancing as we waited to move forward. I thought to myself, “Oh great, they want money,” because in Manila people send their kids out on the street to dance for money. Then some adults came out to see what they were laughing at and again I thought., “Here we go…” But then the mother looked at herself in the reflection and started to comb her hair. It was then I realized they could not see me and were captivated by the tinted glass as a mirror! I had to laugh.

We were searching for people and with no street signs or numbers on houses, the only way to find things out was to ask the neighbors. We stopped at a village school that was one room and had small homemade desks filling it. As my colleague asked questions I looked around. The underside of the corrugated roof had insulation for the sound. The books and posters were all in English. I read two of the stories that the teacher had copied on large poster paper, one was about becoming a seafarer and the other about becoming a nurse. Two careers that Filipinos like because they can work in another country.

When we stopped at a house to talk to someone, nosey neighbors would come and join in the conversation as if we had gone to their house and wanted to talk with them. We politely listened to all of the gossip they thought we needed to know while we waited for the answers we actually wanted. Inside the spacious houses, again something you do not see in Manila, walls were covered with large posters of the Virgin Mary next to some American paraphernalia like NBA stars or WWF (I am hope Mary does not mind that Kobe or the Rock get the same station in hierarchy).

We looked for one person in a local cemetery and it was interesting to see how people buried their family. They had some “Stand alone plots” where the person is buried in a cement box looking like they covered the casket above ground with cement. Others were placed in a box along the perimeter walls of the cemetery that the custodian of the cemetery affectionately called “apartments.” I could see why, they were stacked 5 high each had a name plaque of some sort. Some were fancy, some were painted by hand. All of they had eerie burn marks and dripping wax stains on the white paint from past candles being lit in honor. Some people were buried side by side with their family members with a small fence designating their area. All of these were tiled and neatly swept. The most impressive, though, were the mausoleums. Most were two story and had rock façades like the homes outside the cemetery walls. I could not help but think that some of these people were buried in larger homes then their families they left behind live in.

At one point we could not drive anymore because the roads were too narrow. People were shocked to see a white guy walking through their village. Not realizing that I could understand their Tagalog would talk to each other across the road or from windows “Hey a foreigner is here.” Or , “Wonder what he wants.” Little kids were excited to walk with us. They would fearlessly shake hands and talk about whatever they could think of, the rain, their swim this morning, their sister’s work ... Unlike the children of Manila, these children just wanted attention and time with the American, they never once asked for money, something that children in Manila seem to be trained to do from the time they can talk.

One family we needed to visit lived on the edge of one of these small villages with a large river beside it. It turned out that the half of the family we needed to see lived on a small island downstream. So took a ride in a small Bangka driven by two young boys I guessed to be around 12 or 13. The hull was fiberglass and had a small 12-volt engine hooked to a propeller. There was a slow leak somewhere in the boat because as we traveled both boys were constantly scooping out water so the engine would not get wet—or so we did not sink! On the way back the engine would not start so those two boys earned their $.50 the manual way.

The island was more compact with homes but neatly cared for. As we walked down the small sidewalk through town, people came out and leaned on their colorfully decorated fences (the decoration of choice seemed to be cut up colored plastic bags) to watch us pass. Then gossip to each other about what they thought their neighbors had done to have a white man had come to their village. By the time we arrived at the house we were looking for, we had a trail of villagers as if we were the bridegroom party going to visit our bride’s family.  

Once inside, again I was amazed at how spacious the house was. As we entered the living room we saw the family sitting around a small laptop Skyping with their family in the States! Here we were in the middle of rice patty nowhere, had to walk, boat, drive, and question our way to their house  on an island and they were using Skype!

As we drove home I watched again as the simple life faded back into the concrete chaos of the city and I decided if I had only a small income I would rather live out here. Yes, it is far away and life is simple, but the neighbors are kind, you can grow your own vegetables, eat the chicken or pig in the yard, or fish from the stream. Days are spent repairing fences or relaxing under a coconut tree and nights are filled with fiestas and stories about the day the white man walked through the village.

Waterfalls and Underground Rivers

We woke up early today to take the long trip to the other side of the island. Everyone here is SO accommodating. They cook food around our schedule, they drive when we want to drive, anything we ask for they stop what they are doing and complete the task right away. It is a bit intimidating at times. The drive was beautiful. We were able to see more of the countryside. The road turned into dirt and holes of mud from the storm were plentiful. I was amazed at the colorful buses passing with hundreds of faces packed into the windows and people riding on top, the side and the back to get passage back to the city. Small motor bikes were common vehicles, I began to count to see how many people they fit, the most was 6 on a small dirt bike! They also take bikes and put a shell on it so from the front it looks similar to a Volkswagen beetle with only three wheels. They will pack stuff on top of the roof and stuff up to 8 people inside as they travel.

Basketball must be a sport of choice here because there are courts everywhere. Some are nice with actual cement courts, others are packed dirt out in a field. I was fascinated with all the courts that we passed. We made it to Sabang, a touristy beach town on the west side of Palawan. Some really classy resorts are interspersed with the typical huts and sari-sari stores we have been seeing. We walked around for a few hours in the shops and had fun watching people come and go.

We walked out to the waterfalls—a 2 mile walk along the beach. It was beautiful. We were the only people there. I think due to the fact you had to walk through a village to get there. If all the staring makes you nervous, it is not a comfortable walk. It was intriguing to see the boat makers shaping a ship with a machete or painting with a homemade brush. Or to see women around a large tub washing cloths and children playing in the stream or throwing rock in contest. They too wanted me to take all of their photos—maybe it is the large ‘professional’ looking camera. The only person I have to fight to take a photo sometimes is Hiva. But she actually volunteered for a photo with a carabao that we passed. I told her to get closer, but she was afraid it would bite! I had to laugh and tell it would not bite so she inched closer, then I added it won’t bit but it might kick!’ She decided she was close enough!

The waterfall was gorgeous. We cooled off in the water, Hiva wanted a photo of me in the fall, I obliged because I did not want to be hypocritical, but told her to hurry because the last time she and I were swimming in a waterfall—in Hawaii—I ended up with giardia! I could almost feel it swimming into me as she fumbled with the camera to get a shot! HURRY!

We boarded a boat that took us out across the limestone cliff edged bay into the deep blue water towards the underground river. The trip there alone was beautiful. God truly does amaze me with all of his creations.It is hard to describe the lush greens falling over the tops off grey limestone that cut into the water below. Neither photos nor words do it justice.

The underground river is a cave that is full of water. 9 and our guide of us got onto a boat that is supposed to be for 8. The waterline was really close and I had some second thoughts about going and the similarity to the day before we Hiva and I sunk a boat already. The difference being here the water was DEEPER and full of minerals from the cave and of course plenty of bat droppings!

We were able to see monkeys and huge moniter lizards on the trail to the river, and eventually saw a snake hanging from the trees. Wildlife so close and not in zoo cages, it was wonderful. 

People here are really resourceful and put a new meaning to recycling. We saw old tires used in so many ways: as signs, as stands, as patio furniture, as pots for plants. We rode in one of the tricycles and it was fun to see how they converted a motorcycle into  something for passengers. Although it was full with just Hiva and I, I cannot imagine what it is like with the 8 people I saw before!