02 Nov 2011 Bogo, Cebu, Philippines

Yesterday we visited the cemetery of my family in Kinawahan.  The custom in the Philippines is to visit deceased relatives on the 1^st and 2^nd of November.  There are many family cemetaries here.  They are beautifully kept - cleaned, painted, bedecked with flowers and gifts. Some families stay in the crypt for the two days and even sleep there.  We only stayed the evening and had a barbecue.  The Bandolon family cemetary has a kitchen and bathroom.

On top of the burial chambers (there are four, with one occupied) is a line of skulls.  I asked my mother who they were and she pointed them out.  On the far right is her mother - my grandmother - and next to Grandmother is Grandfather.  My Auntie Neneng came to stand beside us and we held each other while we cried – for them, for us, for me; for I am too many years too late to know my mother’s parents.

My mother took me to the place where she was born and raised.  Her mother’s house is long gone, but her brother still has a house there.  There is a small bay with a rocky beach, and it’s very quiet.  I thought I understood the poverty my mother was raised in, but now I have truly seen it for myself.  To think that she clawed her way up from a nipa hut by the sea, with no electricity, running water or money, to what she is today is amazing.  What a role model!  My mother is an honourable woman and has accomplished incredible things in her career.  Respect, Mom.  You’ve earned it, and more.  

Since coming to S.E. Asia I have begun to see that the trap that I so neatly avoided by being born in the privileged West is more than not having money.   It’s the understanding of self worth, and about wanting to be more than one is and seizing the opportunity to upgrade.  I know that I have an ego and an attitude that has cost me dearly in the past, but I am too stubborn to change my ways.  I am independent, decidedly so, and have always made it a point to carry more than my fair share of the breadwinning and bacon home-bringing.  I have made my own decisions, for good or bad, and somehow lived with them.  I have met demons and gone toe to toe with them – winning more often than losing, I might add.   I always assume I'm going to succeed at whatever I attempt.  I never plan for failures.  Would I have had the strength to do these things had I been born without hope or the opportunities given me by my excellent education?  Would I have still been the same fearless, mule-headed me inside?

In the Philippines education is expensive.  If there is no one to help pay for secondary school then one doesn’t go.  One has to find a job.  In an economy that has been crippled by exodus of the US military there aren’t a lot of good paying jobs here, not that there were massive amounts to choose from before.  There are many women that have no other choice but to become “masseuses” in hotels etc.  These girls are young, uneducated and have very little chance to change that.  Their employers expect them to perform as required, and this job can be taken away for as little as no reason at all.  Their only hopes are to find someone that will support them, or to steal enough to not have to work for a while, at least.  There are a lot of massage parlours in the Philippines.

Of course, there is always field work, or laundry (scrubbing done by hand, crouched over a wash bowl).  A lady can make 120 pesos a day, working from dawn to dusk.  This is "good" money.  In terms of economy, a kilo of rice (the cheap stuff) is 35 pesos.  Mangos are 10-15 pesos each.  Fish can be as cheap as 10 pesos, but can be quite a bit dearer, depending on the size and type.  A kilo of ground pork is 165 pesos.   A litre of petrol is 43 – 44 pesos.  A new Mitsubishi half-ton truck is 1.2 million pesos.  Forty-two pesos equals one US dollar.

I know a couple that work very hard for what they earn.  They have seven kids (!!!) and live in a nipa hut that is leaning to the left in a bad way.  The ground around and under their hut is muddy, as is the trail one has to walk down to get to their house.  The walls are made of bamboo strips and woven coconut leaf mats supplemented by discarded advertising signs (the banner type), and don't quite meet the tin roof.  Their youngest child, a boy, wears nothing but a t-shirt - there are no diapers for him.  When he soils himself he's easy to clean, at least.  There is no running water, no loo, no electricity.   My mother is lending them ten thousand pesos ($250-ish) to build a new house, and she knows damn well she's not going to get the money back for a very long time, if ever.  It's amazing what $250 can achieve, in the right hands.