I remember when my mom and I boarded the TWA jet at the airport in Manila back in the 70s, when I was on the threshold of leaving the Philippines forever as a citizen. I was just 7 years old. After Dad had saved up enough money to send for us (and eventually send for all my siblings), Nanay and I would be the first ones in the family to finally see America. We were going to Chicago, where Dad was. He was our ticket out of that part of the world where the story in the BBC documentary above is told.
I was a kid then. Before he set out and left for America my dad was a mechanical engineer working for the city of Manila and thus earned enough money to afford a townhouse on Taal Street. He was the first one and the only one in his family to go to university and get a degree. Our house had a concrete front yard. We even had a pet monkey but he never let anyone touch him, only Nanay. I had a pet rooster. We had a dog too, but I barely remember it. We used to "summer" at my grandparents' in the jungles of Sibuyan, which was a long trip by boat from city.
I was a kid then. Before he set out and left for America my dad was a mechanical engineer working for the city of Manila and thus earned enough money to afford a townhouse on Taal Street. He was the first one and the only one in his family to go to university and get a degree. Our house had a concrete front yard. We even had a pet monkey but he never let anyone touch him, only Nanay. I had a pet rooster. We had a dog too, but I barely remember it. We used to "summer" at my grandparents' in the jungles of Sibuyan, which was a long trip by boat from city.
I remember my middle older sister B taking me to the markets in metro Manila to go shopping with her. Where we lived there were regular floods during the rainy season, and often times the garbage from the nearby dump would float by. There was nothing we could about it but stand on the furniture and wait til the water went down.
But thanks to Dad and his university degree we were better off than many, many other families in all of the Philippines. Those unfortunates were poverty stricken their entire lives. Even then they always relied on God for comfort, at least some tiny amount of buffer between what little scraps of happiness they could find and the decrepit infestation of a corrupt government, severely scant social programs, and lack of substantial education because of the perpetually poor economy.
That was back in the 70s.
But thanks to Dad and his university degree we were better off than many, many other families in all of the Philippines. Those unfortunates were poverty stricken their entire lives. Even then they always relied on God for comfort, at least some tiny amount of buffer between what little scraps of happiness they could find and the decrepit infestation of a corrupt government, severely scant social programs, and lack of substantial education because of the perpetually poor economy.
That was back in the 70s.
> A typical squatter's neighbourhood in Manila today.We went back in 2001 to celebrate our parents' 50th wedding anniversary. The party was at the luxurious Shangrila Hotel in Makati City. As we drove through Manila on our outings I stared out the window of the car, at many of the people, at the little kids wearing dirty clothes and sometimes running the streets barefoot. I knew there were so many mothers with five, six, nine, ten or more kids because they were never taught family planning and were never given free condoms or other kinds of contraceptives.
So all these poverty stricken Filipinos continue to breed like rabbits. And yet they also continue to go to church and pray. And the priests in their robes and their authority continue to tell them that using contraceptives is going against God. And I have to wonder, if God is supposed to be good and kind and loving, why hasn't He done anything to help these people? They've done nothing wrong. In fact, they pray to Him regularly. The mothers struggle every single day to try to feed her kids, even going hungry herself so that they can have more to eat.
A lot can happen between the 70s, when I left that world for good, and 2001 when I returned for a visit. And a lot did happen, to me, for me, around me. Good things happened for my family, in large part because we were in a place where it was possible.
It's now 2010. It's been decades since I left the Philippines. Once in a while I catch news of goings on there - an election, extremist activity from Muslim terrorists, a recent massacre by a desperate man who lost his job and picked up a gun. But other than those nothing has really changed in that country that I used to know as home.
From 1972 to 2010. Nothing has changed in the Philippines. Nothing. Even if I wanted to go back there to live, what would I go back to that praying to a Catholic God could offer?
It's now 2010. It's been decades since I left the Philippines. Once in a while I catch news of goings on there - an election, extremist activity from Muslim terrorists, a recent massacre by a desperate man who lost his job and picked up a gun. But other than those nothing has really changed in that country that I used to know as home.
From 1972 to 2010. Nothing has changed in the Philippines. Nothing. Even if I wanted to go back there to live, what would I go back to that praying to a Catholic God could offer?
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