When I was first in Bugasong, I was all alone, though I never had privacy or solitude. By September I had many friends, and a perfect blend of privacy and solitude.

When I  moved into my own nipa house, I remained close to the Rivero family, but also became much more accessible to the rest of the community. I could feel people opening up to me and dropping by my house. And now I had a second family, the Condez family, where I rented the nipa house. In addition, having more private time allowed me time to reflct and write more. The chores of survival also added to my well-being, giving me regular activity like doing laundry, pumping water, cooking, sweeping, and polishing bamboo floors. It was a wise choice and a fundamental transition that opened me up to further growth.

Home?
The heat in my head calls me
to sleep that doesn’t replenish
a body wants to somewhere home
last year still didn’t know I had
that place where I have grown

Day-to-Day Life

Though the first of September was filled with ordinary activities, including Mothers’ Classes , hanging out with the barrio people, and a game of song-ka with my host sister Nene in the evening, on the second of the month I woke at 3 a.m. with fever and flu. It seems I’m never well. I stayed in bed all day with passing thoughts of fleeing the scene. The following day I was relieved that Mothers’ Classes were cancelled and I was free to go home, return to bed, and sleep all day. I was determined to shed the cough, fever, and incredible muscle aches. Suling brought me soup twice and Inday was good too. Then I spent another day recuperating, only going to the clinic for a few minutes.

By the weekend I was still feeling a bit under the weather, but doing better so I trekked off to Iloilo to shop for supplies for setting up my new house. On Sunday morning I caught an incredibly fast trip back to Bugasong, only 3½ hours, instead of all day. When I got back, I realized how much I missed Inday who has moved to San Jose. Inday is the host sister who is my age. We chat a lot.

The work week was busy with Mother’s Classes Commencement attended by provincial health officials. They seemed somewhat removed from the barrio women in the class, a little high and mighty acting. I hope I never get that way. I also attended the Applied Nutrition Seminar at Central Elementary School and loved watching the first graders who politely received their free snacks. Doctora Rivero asked me to skip most of the seminar in order to help with Operation Timbang at the clinic. It was a busy work week because there is ann upcoming deadline for turing in the data. I kept busy and took several pieces of work home to work on for the next days. I actually enjoyed being busy.

The second week of September we began surveying in Guija, a beach barrio. My colleague Celsa went with me becasue it’s her home barrio. I always like being with Celsa. The people in Guija seem unpretentious and content. Though poor in material wealth, they have a sea to swim in and plenty of fish to eat. The second morning I walked early to Guija, but Celsa never showed. Instead, Susan Sanchez came by and took me to her home. It was great to communicate with a stranger in the dialect. Susan even went surveying with me and will come again tomorrow. GREAT. Susan and I got a lot of surveying completed and then I had lunch at her place. I enjoyed being there alone in the barrio with a friend I met on my own. And going house to house gets tedious but is a great way of meeting people. We also held clinic in Guija. I met with the priest to get donated medicines for the barrio clinic. The rest of the week was filled with running errands, like going to the post office in San Jose to mail Christmas presents home. The inspector made me unwrap everything, both the outer boxes and the Christmas wrapping on the presents. Fortunately, they rewrapped things for me, probably more strongly than I had originally wrapped them. I hope all arrives on time.  When I returned from San Jose, I carried out the last details of preparing for the Mothers’ Class in Guija. In this slow paced culture I do seem to be doing quite a bit of rushing lately. Went to Guija in the afternoon to deliver the invitations for the Mothers’ Class. Then went for a visit to the Riveros. Like to keep thinking of them as family and vica versa. And I want to keep close to the children, and adults, so I won’t have to ever feel awkward there. Was pretty tired, with laundry and all from the week-end.

There can be no separation
between working with the people
and working for the people.
And working with the people
means living with,
or living as the people.

I am muchly healthier lately and do propose to remain so.

---

 

A House Warming 

I went to Iloilo and shopped to set up my new house. I spent between 300 and 400 pesos on a stove, lantern, pots and pans, dishes, glasses, silverware, buckets, basics, containers for drinking water, a knife, thermos, mosquito net, and pillow. There wasn’t much money left for food for the rest of the month. After I pay rent, I’ll have about 10 pesos for food for 3 weeks. It can be done.

On the afternoon of September 10th I moved into my new nipa house with a lot of unexpected help, including Inday. The first morning in my house, I was visited by Celsa, Manang Rosit, Manang Flori, and Mrs. Songko (Odang). We chatted and Manang Rosit swept. In the afternoon I’d settled in and walked back to the Riveros for a visit. They gave me Bocayo and bananas. I played with Peachie and Cherrie. So far I feel very welcome with no hard feelings.

 

On the second evening in my new house, I had trouble with my Petromax. The Condez family helped. The Condez were the family whose compound I moved into. They formerly lived in the house I was renting, the parents and nine children I think….or perhaps 9 including the parents and a nephew who lived with them, though I think there were 11 altogether. When the dad received his lump sum pension from the U.S., for being in the military during WWII, they had a cement house built and lived in it now, just across the yard from my house. Two days after I had moved in to the house, the Condez family began making repairs on the house. The father told me that I would always be safe there. He said it with utter commitment, then he told me a story of World War II, when he was thrown in a ditch by the Japanese during a forced march. He was weak and was dropped there to die. But an American GI, also a prisoner, reached down, grabbed Mr. Condez by the arm, lifted him up and carried him on the march, saving his life. The memory of the war was so vivid here.

Perhaps it was the chronic amoebiasis, but on the Sunday before I moved in to my house, and then on the first day, I had diarrhea again. Fortunately, I didn’t have to cook because when I went to work at the clinic, Evelyn and Haydee took me for snacks and later Manag Rosit gave me rice and ibas. Then the Condez family brought calamansi and papaya. People are being very thoughtful and making my adjustment comfortably easy.

When I was all moved in to my new balay (=house, pronounced buhŸlī’), I really cleaned the place up—swept out the bugs and cobwebs, waxed the bamboo floors, and polished the floors with a coconut husk. I hung a shell mobile and green and maroon batik fabric in the front room. I put out colored matts and other local crafts and set up a make-shift cardboard bookcase covered in gold paper. I put a map of the Philippines on the wall. The landlords lent me two chairs and an end table. They’re actually more than landlords; it seems I’ve inherited another family. A nice one at that. They also lent me a spring bed, without mattress. I placed my mat on it and hung my mosquito net from the ceiling. I don’t like to sleep on the floor because of insects. So the place is looking nice—and comfortable. I’ve got a kerosene lantern and a one burner kerosene stove like a little Coleman camp stove, but it isn’t Coleman, it’s Red Chinese. Between pumping the lantern and the water, hauling water, doing the coconut shell dance to polish the floor, and regular swimming, my arms should be strengthening. But I’m afraid I’m losing my hiker’s legs because all the walking here is relatively flat, not like Seattle.

I thoroughly enjoyed the new house and began finding time and personal space to write letters, listen to music, journal, reflect, and try to learn about myself. Unfortunately however, there was a glitch. One evening during the first days in my new house, someone continuously attempted to break into my new, happy house. The man finally left in his jeep after curfew (4:30 A.M.) and I slept an hour or 2 before work. My relative calm amazed me, as I contrived escapes in my head. Judging by the color of the jeep, I was certain that it ws the man who had driven me into the rice field and pulled out a gun some months earlier. For some extended time Mrs. Condez came regularly to my house in the evening to sleep and protect me from the mysterious late night visitor. We let everyone in the barrio know that she slept there, though after a while, she would come over and then sneak back to her house in the dark. We often chatted and played cards. I really enjoyed her and considered her a friend. Her kindness was such a comfort to me. One night I spent most of the evening preparing deviled eggs for a party while Mrs. Condez talked with me. I really do like her company; not to mention, I feel safer.

On Sundays after moving into my own house, I made it a habit to go marketing with Nene and Peachie Rivero , which I always enjoyed. I usually stayed at the Riveros for lunch. I enjoy the friendship and family connection.

No love
or friendship
can ever cross
our path
without affecting us
in some way
forever.

Time with Westerners

I went to Iloilo for James’ birthday and took him to the Sinkil for a fancy steak birthday.  At the restaurant a 30 year old American navy guy named Randy pulls up a chair and says, “Hey, aren’t you round eyes Americans?” We say yeah. He says, “Excuse my dress. Just finished a basketball game.” (He’s wearing sweatshirt, old jeans, and tennis shoes.) His whole team then passes and says they’re going back to the ship. He’s the only non-black. He says tonight was his first night playing. Then he tells us he really doesn’t know many of the guys on the ship because he’s a helicopter pilot and there are only a couple of them; tells us all about what our provinces look like from the air. He was really interested in the Peace Corps experience and Philippine culture as we saw it, as opposed to how a sailor sees it. He didn’t seem like military, more like a bum traveling around the world. But he went to Annapolis in 1963. Really intelligent guy. Says if he would’ve known more about it, he might’ve picked the Peace Corps instead of the Navy, like a friend of his who went to Africa. But now he’ll just stay in the Navy, keep traveling, and retire at 43. There’s a definite logic there (to retiring I mean). He joined us and we had a great time. He was the best dancer I ever met before or after. When I danced with him I felt like I was good, like I was floating. He was also an interesting conversationalist. Somehow its easy to meet expats when you’re living in another country. The usual stranger barriers are dismantled.

One weekend, I traveled to Aklan on a long bus ride crossing rivers and enjoying the beautiful terrain. Neal was having a gathering that would become Bob’s farewell. Unfortunately I was the only female volunteer attending and several of the guys seemed a bit antagonistic and one was making persistent unwanted physical advances, so that I couldn’t sleep in peace. James was sweet and slept near to me so that the other male volunteer would leave me alone, though it only made things a little better. The other volunteer still tried to climb on me repeatedly, but now James was involved as well. I don’t think any of us got sleep or were happy. Finally, on Sunday, Mike McQuestion and Pat Curley showed up from Capiz—Fantastic. Love those two. I’ll have to go to Capiz soon and see McQuestion’s new house. He’s gone through a lot of experiences similar to mine. It’s so good to talk to someone who really just accepts me.

Companionship misdirected
unduly antogonistic
couched in defensiveness
loud attempts at seeming happy
allies much too gentle
seeing only a loving nature
one was merely honest
saying little but accepting
he alone was helpful

When I ran errands in San Jose, I met John and Dave for lunch and then roamed around with Dave. I certainly love his personality and felt good about myself when I was around him. He too is bitter about the relationship with a certain other volunteer, so I guess I’m not alone in feeling put down.

One Saturday I made deviled eggs and took them with me to Belison for an informal meeting/picnic/swim with Dutch workers and American Volunteers. There were  4 Dutch workers + 2 Dutch visitors + 3 American volunteers + Brother Roy, also American.We had a great day of talk and picnicking. The Dutch are fun but seem a little stiffer than we Americans. I stayed overnight and had a night swim with Dave and a friend of his. It was soooo refreshing. Dave commented that I’ve overcome my fear of swimming far away from shore. It’s true and I felt good about it. I’m beginning to feel good in general about two years here.

I met two French tourists passing through town. They’re traveling indefinitely.They’ve been on the road for 19 months. They think it’s a paradise here. But of course, they see the beaches and go snorkeling, they don’t work in health care in the barrios.

One Sunday I spent all day out in “Brother Roy’s” boat. Brother Roy is an American mechanic for the archdiocese. Brother Roy and two other guys were spear fishing but I just swam and snorkeled and read and got a terrific sunburn. I look good and healthy, though I’m sure that my anemic white color will reappear in 8 – 15 days.  The guys caught 50 fish. Brother Roy brought us in too late for me to catch a ride back to Bugasong, so I spent the night in San Jose at the house of the host family of a  Peace Corps volunteer from Tennessee. The volunteer reminds me of the sort that was manager of the basketball team his senior year in high school, letterman’s jacket and all. Now he works in “Development Planning” and would like to think of himself as a “bureaucrat”. Anyway he goes out spear fishing every week; and every week his Dramamine wears off at 1 P.M. and he starts puking. He doesn’t usually catch anything either. Well, I had fun though John was sick when we got back to his place. His place is very unlike my rustic nipa hut in Bugasong. His host family has electricity and television. I luxuriated in a room to myself, sleeping in double bed with a mattress, air conditioner, electric light to read by, and a flush toilet nearby.

I got a book in the mail about friendship from a really neat volunteer in Mindanao, the one who wants to become a monk. All through the book there were slips of paper with personal notes about the poem on that page and how it perhaps reminded Joe of me. I began to see myself and my frustrations more clearly. I have hope now that things will be improving. What a gift. I know some pretty rare people.

Changing

Changes keep life happily moving
flowering growing newly worth knowing
Smiles laughter anger inner screaming
awake past exhaustion for no good reason
it’s good to stay alive by changing

Just finished listening to a tape from my sister and friends in the states. I couldn’t believe how real everyone sounded. I realized how far away I am and how differently I live; how far I am from the humor I was used to.  I guess I’ve learned the meaning of “home” over here. “Home” in an abstract sense. Not to sound gushy or anything….but now I can relate to music like “Homeward Bound” (S & G) (Simon & Garfunkel), “Home Again” (J.D.) (John Denver), and “So Far Away” (Carol King) whereas before I kinda preferred things along the lines of “The Happy Wanderer”. Of course, at the end of the audiotape, many of the stories and frustrations seemed similar to my world here.

It’s great to know the next 60 years won’t be boring because we’ve still got plenty of shit to learn.

Time seems to be flying here. After my vacation, and getting healthy, and swimming a bunch, moving, thinking, etc., life is really neat lately. I guess it was bound to get better. It takes time to sort out all the stimuli a person gets bombarded with when they make a drastic change in life style.  I’ve been pretty busy; or at least time has been slipping away. I guess moving took some time; and then cooking, cleaning, marketing, pumping and carrying water, etc. My job has been pretty active lately too. And then people. I spend time with new friends in the barrio, friends from the clinic and my two famiiles here, other peace corps volunteers and westerners. There is less time set aside for letter writing.

Just when there came a rattling in my brain
I swept away the pieces of someone
to be sorted out another time
was it merely distance separating us
and the universe of matters
I’m trying to understand
desperately melting now
into mysterious answers
sent by ordinary mail
with love and thoughts to ease that burden
which magic communicated
as only caring in simplicity can do