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We were sent out on
a 9-day immersion trip to the small town of Navotas, about an hour and
a half away from the Ateneo de Manila University by Jeepnies (cheapest
way to get around on converted jeeps that can hold up to 20 people in
the back). Navotas is known for its shantytown where squatters have
built their homes on stilts along the beach and river at the edge of
town. These little wooden shacks (no bigger than a small bedroom) are
pieced together with scraps of wood, rusty tin roof or whatever can be
found, perching precariously on bamboo stilts over waters that are
littered with trash and refuse from the city. The living conditions
are that of dire poverty and unimaginable filth. There are no
electricity or running water, and people get around that by hot-wiring
(a.k.a. stealing) electricity from the nearby utility lines and fetch
water by hand on a daily basis. People do their best to etch out a
meager existence, which is practically a day-to-day living.
It was amazing how
people could actually live in such destitute conditions! Yet, I saw so
much life, love, and gentleness in the midst of such poverty and
suffering. Somehow, the human spirit and faith refuse to give up in
the face of despair and hopelessness.
I stayed a few
days in the home of the Verano family—a family of five even though the
husband and the youngest and only son living and working at a fish
pond about one and a half hour away. They come back only a couple of
times a month to visit. The family offered me their only wooden bed
(I refused but they would not have it any other way), and everyone
else slept on the floor of the living room, with a small space in the
back for cooking and toilet.
Every small space
was used, though there was not much to begin with. I often felt as if
I was living in a tree or toy house. And whose front door was always
open. Kids from nearby homes hung around to play and to watch us
eat. We ate simply: rice with fish or soup, sometimes a bit of
chicken. The mom sometimes gave food to the poorer hungry neighboring
kids. At night, the family and neighbors cramped around the TV to
watch Filipinos soaps in the living room. Everyone packed into the
tight space to the point of suffocating, but it did not matter. The
sense of welcoming and communal sharing mattered. It was sad to see
people living and raising their children in such unimaginable living
conditions. Yet, at the same time, I found myself deeply moved by
their care and compassion for one another. They did not have anything
except each other. There was a genuine care and gentleness in the
people I encountered. I found myself in deep solidarity and very much
at home there. (Oh, by the way, the rats were bigger than the cats,
and the inhabitants were definitely not afraid of the rats!)
I had fallen in
love with the kids—these kids were among the poorest and were most
likely destined to grow up in a life of abject poverty and
misery. Their clothes were dirty and smelly. They wore slippers but
often played barefoot in the mud and garbage. They lacked proper
nutrition and food. Disease often took a serious toll on their frail,
malnourished bodies. Yet, despite it all, nothing could take away
their cheerful innocence and youth. They were like any normal kids
growing up, undaunted by how much suffering life had in store for
them. They only wore beautiful smiles and shared genuine laughter.
They hung around me a lot because I was a stranger who could not speak
their language but took their pictures and played with them. They
were great teachers, patiently teaching me how to play and showing me
around. Children are so resilient and great at finding ways to have
fun, even in the trash and mud. They were my little friends who
taught me much about hope and laughter in the midst of great suffering
and misery.
Christ was very
much present in Navotas—in the poverty and suffering, in the people I
met, especially the kids. What a profound and graced experience as I
encountered God’s little ones! Blessed are the poor... for the
kingdom of heaven is theirs...(see attached pictures).
I have caught
some sort of an infection since I got back and am coughing up stuff,
but I am still alive. We have been doing a lot of processing and
reflection on our experience these past few days. In the next 2
weeks, we are preparing for our 30-day retreat which will begin at the
end of this month. I am doing well and enjoying it immensely.
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