Tick Tock

Similar to U of M’s “Michigan Time”, Filipinos have their own differential concept of time. For those unfamiliar with “Michigan Time”, at Michigan every class, most meetings and events, begin ten minutes after they say they will. If you’re class is at 9 (that sucks), then it’s really begins at 9:10…if you arrive before that there’s a good chance that the professor will not be there at that time.

But here in the Philippines, time isn’t even that regimented. Things start when they start, regardless of a pre-determined ‘start’ time. The lack of time control is not due to an ignorance towards time management or a concept of time, but rather a more glass half-full approach. An event will start when its participants are ready, simple as that. If you’re supposed to meet a friend at 2, but something comes up, oh well, you’ll meet eventually. There are more important things to worry about, if at all. Obsessing about time management can be seen as an unnecessary worry here. As long as whats supposed to get done gets done, that’s all that matters.

At the construction site I work at two days a week, the building is really coming along, but if you had witnessed our daily progress, you might doubt that it would ever be completed. Breaks occur when someone gets tired or needs a rest, not when the boss says so. If something comes up and you have to leave for half the day, so be it, just return tomorrow. But if you really need something done, people will make sure it gets done.

Not to mention the fact that almost no one here has the same time on their watch or cellphone. Within a group of five ask for the time and you’ll get five different answers without a doubt. And usually the time difference two people have is substantial…there’s always at least one person who has a watch a half an hour early or vice virsa. So basically, time is always flexible in the Philippines.

Yet again I believe we all have something to learn from Filipinos…time only matters when we say it matters. As long as something gets done in the end, why does it matter how long it took or when it gets done? Isn’t the end result the more important factor? Added stress and anxiety over time seems irrelevant now. I myself used to be guilty of time-obsessiveness, without a doubt. I hated being late to a party or a meeting, and couldn’t stand when others made me late as well. Looking back, obsessing about promptness only made the situation worse, moods would lower and tempers began to flare, all because of a silly thing called time.

Halfway There...ish

“Whooooaaaa we’re halfway there, ohhh livin’ on a prayer” (I never thought I’d quote Bon Jovi…ever.)

The time has come for a progress report, so here it goes:

I’ve already been here for five weeks and I can’t believe it! While I feel completely at home here, comfortable in my environment and settled in, at the same time I feel like I’ve just arrived. Although not what I expected or planned for, my time here in the Philippines has been well used and most enjoyed. Upon arrival I began working at the SPED Santo Nino Elementary School in downtown Tacloban, but I quickly realized that working with elementary-aged children was not my forte…nor was the oral oriented education, something that has always struck me as wrong. My students were taught to use their voices, taught by a teacher who barely knew sign language or how to effectively communicate, and she wanted me to do the same. I couldn’t and I wouldn’t, and I will never practice oral based education with the Deaf. All around the world the Deaf have their own unique language, so why not use it?

Luckily, the mindset of many, is flexible and easy-going, and I received a transfer to another volunteer placement. I am now currently working at Leyte National High School, which is also in downtown Tacloban. Downtown is about 4 km away from Bliss (my home) and I walk everyday. Along the way I’ve made friends who I talk to daily. People seem to remember the lone white girl who walks along Real Street twice a day, everyday, and that doesn’t bother me. I have the privildge of meeting and conversing with great minds whom you might never give a second look.

At Leyte High, my work is both fulfilling and frustrating. Mondays through Wednesdays I interpret for third year hearing impaired high school students. But ‘interpret’ also means teach in my case. Often times my students do not understand what their teachers are saying, the words they use, or the formulas they expect the students to already know. Therefore, I spend a majority of my time re-teaching my students what their teachers have said and I tend to spend more time explaining words and ideas, something their teachers won’t do. I’ve noticed a trend within the class and not just with my students, cheating is ‘allowed’ and passing is almost a given. A majority of my class cheats blatantly and the teachers do nothing. After a quiz or test the teacher may sometimes read out all of the students scores (which I think could be a bit humiliating) and having a student get more than a 50% is rare and almost never happens. Yet, most of the students move on to the next grade…the public education system here needs work. My task becomes more difficult when there is a lack of books or studying material. When a student here goes to public school, it means anything besides the school building is not a given. Families pay for uniforms, shoes, paper, pens, teacher fees, transportation to and from school, and xerox copies of the books they should have. School is expensive and a privilege here, not a right, like it should be.

Despite the disadvantages with the given environment/system, I love my placement. To see students get excited to learn is so fulfilling. When they figure something out, its like Christmas, and I’m one of Santa’s elves. My students and I have even become friends, allowing me access to the Deaf world here in Leyte, which is more than I could have asked for. As something I’ll reflect on later, the Deaf community here is not much different than my own back in the US. I’ve found a place here and I know I’m ready to visit again, God willing.

However, my time here in the Philippines is not just spent at my placement, I also have the privilege of living within the Filipino community, in a homestay within a neighborhood called Bliss. And blissful it is. I love my family and I love my neighbors. I’ve become close with my family here as well as the extended family and all of the friends I’ve made. Having such comfort like that makes living halfway around the world that much easier. Life here is different, but not in a bad way. I’ve learned that what we consider ‘necesities’ in the US are actually just wants, machines and inventions we use to make our lives easier but are not necessary. Something else I’ve learned already is that having money here is only important for survival, and for nothing else. When money is sparse, friends and family are bountiful, and that’s all that one needs. People here have taken care of me like I am one of their own. The world could learn a lot from Filipino people.

Family Matters

A family is not just who you have to live with or visit on holidays or feel obliged to say you “love them” in a birthday card or even face to face, it’s more than that. One’s family shouldn’t be limited to who they are related to by blood or by marriage; family is who loves you and who you surround yourself with, physically or mentally. Family helps one another, no matter what, through thick and thin, your family is there for you. A family goes through tragedy together and comes out even stronger, ready to face the next challenge. It is only the person themselves who decides who is their family, not anyone else…at least that’s how it is in the Philippines. Bayanihan, which means the notion to help others, drives the Filipino people daily. If you ask, you shall receive, and if you don’t ask, someone is still going to help you.

I’ve encountered many examples of this never-ending family ideal everywhere I’ve gone here, it may not always be perfect, but it works. A family can be made up simply neighbors who help each other with things like meals, house repairs, or watching each other’s children. Never is one expected to receive some sort of payment, whether that be money or something otherwise. When you help your family, you do it because they need your help and you’re there, so why not? Even mere strangers can be adopted into one’s family, especially if they don’t have their own.

Of course families have quarrels and moments of bitterness, but here, it seems like families get over everything much quicker. There’s no time to waste fighting and holding grudges, life is too short. Living here for the past month and observing family life in its rawest form has made me realize that my own perceptions of family have been distorted in the past. I’ve spent far too much time obsessing about why my family (extended and all) wasn’t perfect or just plain crazy, or complaining when my family wouldn’t meet my expectations. There are times when I’ve felt unloved, disregarded or just plain ignored by my family, but I was wrong. At the same time as my “blood family” wasn’t there for me, my close friends who I love, were. Especially my housemates who I consider my family away from family have been there for me no matter what. And if I have that, then what more do I need? Just because a family tree says persons A, B and C are my family doesn’t mean that I can’t add to the tree, or even construct my own tree (with a tree house of course).

Filipinos continue to teach me new things every day, which is one of the things I am most grateful for. It’s amazing how much one can learn from others when all other grasps on reality are taken away.

"Celebrating the faith that binds {them}"

en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Santo_Niño_de_Cebu

Every year during the last week of June, Tacloban City (including the rest of Leyte and most of Samar) celebrates Fiesta. Fiesta is composed of multiple parades (like Pintados and Sangyaw), dancing competitions, mass, and plenty other activities as well. Although it is mostly a fun event, its purpose is not solely entertainment, but rather faith. All over the city banners proudly proclaim fiesta is for "celebrating the faith that binds us"... a phrase that has stuck with me for the past couple of weeks. Tacloban and all its' barangays are bound by the Catholic faith and their devotion to Santo Nino, a saint known for saving the province. The bond between the people is not the stereotypical, Hollywood cult-like, religious bond you may be thinking of, it’s actually a bond that is beautiful and deserves to be admired, perhaps even followed.

Normally strong religious influence over a group of people scares me. The idea of people coming together to worship a similar deity, who follow the same routine practices, who appear to be almost possessed by their "god(s)" and claim to have more or less perfect, ideal morals is what I would call, a certified nightmare. It just creeps me out. All over the US and parts of Europe I've seen people transfixed by their religious routines and so-called faith. They listen dutifully to a higher human power in charge of their church, standing and sitting, singing and praying, and of course donating when told to. These are what I called possessed sacrosanct robots bound not by faith but by practice. This is not to say all church or temple or mosque go-ers in the West are blinded by practice, but many are, and that’s what scares me. It’s almost like summer bible camp 1984 style.

But here, in the Philippines, I have yet to be bothered by my Western religiosity phobia...it’s actually the opposite. It’s been a month since I landed in Tacloban, a month where I've been surrounded by Catholicism, church go-ers who proudly display their faith, and familial practices grounded in religiosity. Yet, I sense not a drop of fear in my body, only comfort. People outwardly reveal their faith without shoving it on you. It’s not the religious practices mandated by the Catholic church that guide these people, it’s their belief in god, family and honesty that exposes their faith. They care more about respecting God and their family more than what the Catholic church says about this rule or that rule. They live their lives how they want, not how the pope wants. Yet they are still some of the most religious people I've seen. A day does not go by without the mention of faith.

"Celebrating the faith that binds us"...Filipinos are unified, on the same level, different yet the same, together as a group and separate as individuals...because of faith, because of their belief in a higher power which translates into how they live their lives, how they treat others and care for each other. It is not until this moment that I have discovered the power of faith and the beauty it can have on a group of people. And Fiesta is a culmination of that beauty. Residents spend all year preparing for the Fiesta activities; learning dances, making costumes, preparing travel plans and of course menus, all for a few days dedicated to Santo Nino and "the faith that binds" them.

Perhaps my experience here will lessen my fear of American churches and the Sunday madness down Washtenaw, but there’s no guarantee. Remember, the above statement is just one opinion out of millions and it by no means should be taken by anything more than a grain of salt, or sugar, whatever floats your boat.

You Got A Friend In Me

Envision yourself in a foreign country where the native tongue is a mystery and your location is undetermined and you're lost. Then some random stranger who is overly kind and helpful, leads you to your destination purely out of the kindness of their heart...not to receive money or to harm you, they help just because they want to help. Or perchance you and your neighbors live an impoverished life when a natural disaster strikes...the neighbor's situation is just bad as yours, but instead of taking care of their own house first, they help you and your family first. And in turn, the community all helps each other until normal life is restored. That, is what Filipinos do. Kindness and soft-hearts are consistent and well-known traits of the Filipino people.

In fact, ever since I've been in the Philippines there hasn't been a day thats passed where I've haven't been assisted in some way by a Filipino I know, or just some random stranger. Similar to the Thai and Cambodian people, Filipinos are there to help, but even more so. In the other countries I've visited during this trip (besides Vietnam), I've felt relatively safe; but here, I feel the safest and the most welcome. During a trip this weekend to Biliran Island, my fellow volunteers and I were showered with unexpected (kindness). After eating a delicious meal of lechon manok (roasted chicken), the owner of the restaurant began talking to us. Shortly after he learned of our hopes for visiting the nearby waterfalls and caves, he quickly formulated a plan for us to do just that. He let us use his pickup truck, driver, and even his nephew offered to act as our guide for the day, all for half the price we were quoted earlier by someone else. The day was perfect, and it was all a result of pure kindness, plain and simple.

Not only do Filipinos help each other regardless of what their own life is like, they also treat guests as their number one priority. Its important to them to make sure their guest has plenty of food and drink, is comfortable, and has their needs attended to. It can even be a bit awkward at times. I'm not used to the treatment I get here sometimes. As nice as it is, I long for the day where I am no longer a guest, but just a friend. But then I wonder, even then would the overt kindness end? Probably not.

The Bucket Challenge

Do you ever think about how much water we waste by simply taking showers? Not to mention those long hot showers taken either after a cold day outside, practice, or just cause; pleasure showers especially, waste a lot of water. And we can’t forget about how much water is wasted while allowing the shower to warm up to a suitable temperature. Basically, showers are a (waste). I’m not saying that we should all abandon the shower-taking practice and just go “natural”, I like to smell good just as much as the next person. And pungent body odors aren’t necessarily my favorite form of perfume. But what I am proposing is that we think about how much water we really are wasting and if its really necessary.

Here in the Philippines a large percentage of the population doesn’t have a shower or even running water. How then, do we bathe, you ask. Simple. The bucket method. In my neighborhood running water is a luxury. Instead we have to retreive water via a local water pump, bucket by bucket. Sometimes if we’re lucky, the water may occasionally trickle out of an ancient faucet in the CR (bathroom). Carrying buckets of water isn’t too difficult (its actually a pretty good workout) but when its a family of 5 plus two volunteers and fresh water is needed for cooking, cleaning, the toilet and the shower, that’s a lot of trips to the pump.

Back to the shower: Imagine a regular sized bucket, you know, the bucket you may use to mop the floors, wash your car with or even vomit in, that kind of bucket. Now fill it with water and don’t forget to acquire a little pale to use for dumping the cold water on your body. What? You didn’t think there was hot or even warm water available, did you? Once you’ve got your bucket and pale you are set, bathe! You’ll soon find out that carelessly dumping water on your body will result in an empty bucket before you are completely clean. It takes strategic pours of the pale to achieve the desired results. Can you do it? Now imagine using even less water, that’s a challenge.

The next time you preheat your shower, hop in, and have a leisurely bathing session, think twice, okay? The water you’re wasting could go a long long way in a place not your own.

"Education"

Many people assume that a person who goes to school, learns. Some more than others, but in an overall sense, all students are learners to some degree. But can a student really learn when their teacher doesn't even speak a language they can understand? Sometimes we run into this problem when we have a GSI or a professor who speaks limited English, but what I'm referring to is worse. Or what if you, yourself, barely knew your own language because it required lots of money and extra-effort by those around you to learn?

During my first week here I was assigned to work at the SPED center at the Santo Nino elementary school in Tacloban City. After a frustrating first day of chasing little Deaf kids around the yard instead of actually teaching, I figured things would get better. They didn't. I soon discovered that my class of first and second graders weren't in school, but rather daycare. The teacher in charge hardly knows any sign and basically shouts at the students when they don't listen...well no shit lady, they're Deaf. Banging on the podium isn't going to get their attention. The entire process is just one giant miscommunication. The teacher doesn't know sign language and the little sign that my students know made my attempts at communicating near ineffective. The parents of these students are paying a lot of money for a babysitter. Sure, the teacher goes about her lesson teaching basic math skills and English rules, but the absorption rate with the students has to be slim to none. What are these kids supposed to do?

The entire week last week I felt nothing but frustration and sadness. After speaking with several volunteer coordinators in the area, I discovered that this is just how it is here. Some of the wealthy kids can get tutors to enhance their learning, but the percentage of wealth here is very small. School isn't cheap. The families have to pay for the teacher, school supplies, uniforms and any other fees that may arise. Suffice it to say that I am now working at a high school with Deaf students that somehow made it past the rough elementary education I am sure they had to face. I found out that most of the Deaf population here have received no education at all, preventing them from fulfilling their potential.

Be grateful for the education you have received.