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meagancrosby's Journal  Habakkuk 1 2-4 How long, o lord, must I call for help, but you do not listen? Or cry out to you, "Violence!" but you do not save? Why do you make me look at injustice? Why do you tolerate wrong? Destruction and violence are before me; there is strife, and conflict abounds. The law is paralyzed, and justice never prevails… I knelt on the ground and lit my candle from the others surrounding the cross scattered with the names of passionate and committed people who had been silenced for speaking the truth, for seeing what we are supposed to ignore. The light and heat of so many flames was a strong symbol that even though we were knelt in memory of UCCP pastors and members killed, the light of their purpose and belief and our conviction to solidarity and justice remains unwavering. Since the resolution and advisory of the General Assembly, 2 more activists have been killed, bringing the total number of unarmed civilians assassinated from all sectors of society to 686 (including 33 children) since 2001! As well more church workers have recieved threats and comtinue to face harrasment even within their own communities, It is madness that in this country, to speak of peace, to fight for the rights of the poor and oppressed, of those marginalized and displaced or to advocate on behalf of an environment threatened, is to be harassed, maligned and even killed... It is so hard to hear the news and to feel the frustration of not being able to change things! I reach into my bag, take out the black ribbon we wore to the death anniversary of Rev Edison Lapuz and weep as I pin it over my heart. I weep in anger and helplessness because wearing a ribbon and telling the stories of the innocent and those who everyday get up with conviction and walk in the way we are all called to walk is all I have the power to do here. I battle constantly with our responsibility as an international community in advocating that this NOT continue that the root causes of these violations be actively sought out and STOPPED! I call once again to all those who feel able to respond to the action on the United church of Canada website and write letters to our own government and that of the Philippines responding to the blatant targeting of church workers, human rights advocates, journalists, lawyers, workers, farmers, fisher folk, Moro and Indigenous communities among countless others. In the meantime, because of the honour I have been given of being present in this country, I will remain a witness and pray that I have even an ounce of the courage of those who have gone before and those who are working and living through the fear with conviction, passion and a deep and vibrant faith. I ask for your continued prayers and support for the people of the Philippines. God Bless In Peace, Meagan Crosby *stats from Karapatan Children begging on the streets at night Knocking on cars in the morning light People standing in line for a kilo of rice Welcome to the dark ages, the era of lies Dreams of progress of visions gone mad Mediola still drenched with innocent blood Demolition men rumble through Smokey mountain homes Justice drenched in gloom But I go not gently into the night Rage Against the dying of the light Sing the song about this terrible sight Rage Until the lightning strikes Go not gently, Go not gently Go not gently and rage with me The names and the faces of the tyrants change But poverty, pain and murder remain The voices of truth are locked up in chains Darkness remains, Freedom in flames But I go not gently into the night RAGE! Against the dying of the light Sing the song about this terrible sight RAGE! Until the lightning strikes Go not gently, Go not gently Go not gently and rage with me! (The Jerks: Local band of the Philippines) General Assembly Public Advisory The UCCP General Assembly, the highest decision-making body of the Church, has adopted a Resolution and Statement of Great Concern Regarding the Current Explosive Breakout in Human Rights Violations. Ironically, and tragically, the Resolution was submitted by the National Committee on Conflict Resolution Chair Attorney Emilio C. Capulong, Jr.; Atty Capulong is the older brother of the latest UCCP member slain, Mr. Noli Capulong. Only hours before Noli Capulong was gunned down in Calamba, Laguna around 6 pm on May 27, the 8th Quadrennial General Assembly adopted the Resolution of Great Concern by a resounding majority. We can hardly contain our grief and outrage for what is happening to our Church people. In the last three weeks alone, we have had FOUR church workers and members slain by assassins, and TWO frustrated murders: 1. Rev. Jemias Tinambacan, 49 years old, Pastor of UCCP Calaran, Calamba, Misamis Occidental, gunned down on May 9, 2006 at 5:30 pm. He was driving in a private van with the wife Rev. Malou Tinambacan. Four armed assailants, riding two motorcycles, suddenly shot to death Rev. Jemias Tinambacan. The car crashed and Rev. Malou Tinambacan heard them say “Buhi pa ang Baye” (the woman is still alive), she scrambled to the floor beside her husband’s dead body and heard three more shots fired in her direction. She has identified one assailant as a certain Mamay Guimalan. Rev. Malou Tinambacan sustained injuries but has survived the assassination attempt. Rev. Jemias Tinambacan was an active member of Kapatirang Simbahan para sa Bayan (Kasimbayan), Promotion of Church People’s Response (PCPR), Gloria Step Down Movement-Misamis Occidental, Provincial Chairman of Bayan Muna-Misamis Occidental, and Executive Director of Mission for Indigenous People and Self-Reliance People’s Assistance. 2. Mr. Jose Doton, 62 year old, Member of UCCP San Nicolas, Pangasinan, gunned down around 10:30am on May 16, 2006. Jose and his brother, Cancio Doton (also a UCCP member), were riding their motorcycle when a second motorcycle with two men sped up behind them firing three shots; the assassins’ motorcycle fired twice more as they overtook the Doton brothers’ motorcycle. When the Doton motorcycle had fallen on the road, one of the assassins alighted from their motorcycle, shot Jose in the head at close range, jumped back on the waiting bike and sped off. Cancio Doton survived the incident with two bullet wounds (one probably hitting him after piercing through Jose). Mr. Jose Doton was Secretary General of Bayan Muna-Pagasinan and President of Tignayan dagiti Mannalon A Mangwayawaya (TIMMAWA). 3. Pastor Andy Pawikan, 30 years old, Licenciate Pastor of UCCP Pantabangan, Nueva Ecija, forcibly taken, tortured and believed killed around 4pm when a gunshot was heard, on May 21, 2006. His body was recovered at 8am the following morning. Pastor Andy was on his way home from Sunday Worship with his wife, children and other women. He was forcibly taken away by the 48th Infantry Battalion-AFP. It is alleged that the motivation of the 48th Infantry was to extract information on a recent encounter of the AFP and the NPA; insurgents were alleged to have hidden somewhere near the area. Two other persons are also still missing (both were companions of Pastor Andy Pawikan in resolving the “Kaingin” issue against possible landowners). PNP-San Jose City reported a legitimate encounter as the cause of Pastor Pawikan’s death; the absurdity of this claim is not only backed by eye-witness but the reality that Pastor Pawikan was killed in his “Barong Tagalog.” Furthermore, the municipality of Pantabangan refused the UCCP-Fact Finding Team entrance to the area. 4. Mr. Noel (Noli) Capulong, 51 years old, Member of UCCP Calamba, Laguna and Chairperson of the Christian Witness and Service of UCCP Northeast Southern Tagalog Conference, gunned down around 6pm, May 27, 2006. Noli Capulong left a meeting with a Barangay Captain at Barangay Paraian, Calamba, to attend a prayer meeting for his ill siblings. He was driving a private jeep. He was gunned down by two men on a motorcycle wearing bonnets. He sustained four gunshot wounds and was declared dead on arrival when taken to a hospital only 50 meters away. Mr. Noli Capulong was Deputy Secretary General of Bayan Muna TK, regional staff of Bagong Alianza Makabayan, and spokesperson for the Southern Tagalog Environmental Advocacy Movement (STEAM). We are aghast that these killings are happening with such obvious connection and direction. We must speak the truth and name them appropriately as assassinations/extra-judicial killings. Many of our members strongly believe that these killings are being perpetrated by elements of the Philippine National Police and/or Armed Forces of the Philippines. Regardless, we call on President Gloria Macapagal Arroyo to address this undeniable pattern and put an end to these crimes. The fabric of our society is being torn apart by these immoral acts against the civilians of our beloved country, and our Church is in mourning for our murdered workers and members. The United Church of Christ in the Philippines will not stop proclaiming good news for the poor, sight for the blind, justice for the hungry, freedom for the captives and liberation for the oppressed. We will continue to work for justice. These martyrs strongly serve as testament of our resolve for a world of peace based on justice. We pray that President Gloria Macapagal Arroyo, the whole of her administration, and all of the people of the Philippines will restore the dignity of all human life and uphold civil liberties. These extra-judicial killings must be stopped! Reference: Bishop Elmer M. Bolocon General Secretary May 29, 2006 8th Quadrennial Assembly Digos, Davao del Sur RESOLUTION AND STATEMENT OF GREAT CONCERN REGARDING THE CURRENT EXPLOSIVE BREAKOUT IN HUMAN RIGHTS VIOLATIONS WHEREAS, reports have lately piled up about the increasing number of militants who had been liquidated under circumstances that seemingly point to the military as responsible. A number of church members and leaders of the UCCP, perceived by the government to be activists or left-leaning, have been among the victims. WHEREAS, in the face of these awful depredations, government authorities have not made any serious and painstaking investigation. Passivity and silence, evasions and denials, distortions and prevarications, characterize the stale responses of the establishment, including those coming from the Office of no less than the Commander-in-Chief. WHEREAS, it behooves the present government, which is supposed to uphold the ways of justice, the imperatives of due process, and the tenets of Christian decency and morality, including the military leadership, under the command and direction of President Gloria Macapagal Arroyo, to resolutely and uncompromisingly ferret out from our midst these thugs and assassins who now reign havoc on the lives and basic rights of those of our people who are afflicted, and to immediately stop the violent and wanton onslaughts. WHEREAS, as a church body charged with the prophetic role and mission for its people, the United Church of Christ in the Philippines is thereby called upon to denounce this continuing viciousness and iniquity, and to proceed to render comfort and support to the victims. WHEREFORE, it is hereby RESOLVED by the delegates of the General Assembly of the United Church of Christ in the Philippines in plenary session – a) to strongly decry and denounce the ongoing unmitigated killings of militants and activists in our society, and hereby call upon the military leadership, especially the Commander-in-Chief, President Gloria Macapagal Arroyo, to immediately cause the stopping of these extra-judicial executions, and to employ all means to bring to justice, without delay, all those responsible in the commission of the crimes; b) to urge all the local churches to organize and mobilize so as to address effectively this particular upsurge in human rights violations; and c) to encourage and support lawyer-members of the Church, in all the jurisdictions, with regard to their need and desire to formally organize and be presently linked together on a nationwide basis, with the assistance of friends and partners of the Church, for the purpose of defending, under our laws and democratic system, those of our church members, and others in the community, who are victims of gross and flagrant violations of human rights. Adopted by the 8th Quadrennial General Assembly in Session, May 27, 2006, Digos City, Davao Del Sur. As I raced from the church to the waiting tricycle, the midwife turned to me and said, “Tonight you will see the power and beauty of a woman.” Her words came back to me later that evening as I watched the young mother pace the small room, her footsteps measuring the minutes and then hours of the night. In the beginning, there was laughter and the exchange of birth stories. She could smile even as she winced through the lengthening contractions. As the night deepened her steps began to falter and her breath shorten as her body was wrenched with the babies’ ceaseless demand for the world outside. Instead of laughter now there were words of quiet encouragement and strength. Gentle hands from the circle of women surrounding her reached out to massage, comfort and finally to lower her lovingly to the mat that had been prepared on the floor. There were no barriers of language or culture or skin color in the final moments before the first indignant cries of new life were heard. As she moved beyond exhaustion and through pain, she reached out to grasp my hand so that I might lend my strength to hers. After the birth and tears and exhilarated exclamations of the wished for baby boy, we stayed linked for a moment. It seemed that there was a natural rightness that this miracle of creation had occurred here, in the tiny home of this new family and embraced within the shared history and care of the women that encircled them. The birth of Zyrus, my Godson was one of the bright spots in my exposure to the health reality of the Philippines. As a Nurse I have struggled to come to terms with the outrage and downright horror that clouds some of the stories of health care delivery here. I spent my first phase in a private hospital rotating through the different units and learning to adjust to the reality of charging patients for everything from the gauze to the IV fluids and, of course the procedures. Coming from our (currently threatened) universal health care model in Canada, it took some time to adjust to a ‘fee for service’ set up and it certainly made me question how much this private model impacts patient care, I wonder how many services such as lab tests, ultrasounds, c-sections or ct scans get ordered based on need or if profit factors in. The advantages of the private hospital were readily apparent. They had access to better quality and more advanced technology as well as the simple availability of medications and supplies and it of course attracted some of the higher trained staff. It was also very efficient. Providing that you could pay, you could have any number of tests preformed and have the results back the next day! The hospital also has several outreach programs including an indigenous clinic providing free medical checkups and some limited medications. They also are committed to providing several medical missions to rural areas once or twice a year. All of these are admirable. What I struggle with is the reality that not all can afford the services and even the limited charity services are not nearly adequate for the enormous need in this country. In the ER patients that should have been in the ICU were being handled with few resources due to the cost of staying in the ICU. Those family members who made the choice to have their loved one undergo the expensive medication, surgery, room, or specialist, had to then spend months trying to raise money or hoping that they qualified for the strict regulations of the social services department. While these stories were difficult to deal with, they were just a shadow of what I was to experience in the government hospital. The medical interns at the private hospital used to joke about the government facility saying, “you lie there, you die there.” It seemed extreme at the time but as I visited one of the victims of the recent massacre I found him lying in the hall, his leg that had been hit by shrapnel bandaged but cutting off the circulation to his foot. The bandage was soaked with blood and purulent drainage and when I inquired when it would be changed the answer was when the family could afford to get the supplies and when a nurse would be available. The estimate was 4 days. While he needed IV antibiotics he was on oral medications that were less expensive but ultimately less effective for his condition. The scant allocation for health care in the federal budget here means that more and more services at the government hospitals are cut. This lack of funding to provide adequate resources leaves the patient as the victim. Another pastor wept as she explained to me that one of her congregation had been dying of cancer. She was 7 mths pregnant and they managed to save the baby before the mother passed away. Unfortunately being premature, the baby needed an incubator and there was none available at the government hospital and there was no money to be found to transfer the baby to the private hospital. Heat lamps were used, but the baby died one week later. These are just two stories of the hundreds of others I have heard and include only those who are ‘lucky’ enough to make it to hospital. The estimate is that 4 of every 10 Filipinos will die without ever seeing a doctor. The remote and rural areas have no access to medical personnel (the estimated ratio being 1 Nurse to 16,170, 1 Doctor to 26,353 and 1 Dentist to 39,798 Filipinos.) These areas rely on local remedies and in some cases people who have been able to get a few workshops on simple health skills. Other communities turn to faith healers or traditional practices. My exploration of health within the rural context, took me from the city of Tacloban to the municipality of Carigara where I was teamed with a registered midwife who has worked in the field for over 20 years. I have participated in mass immunization/vit A clinics, prenatal visits, family planning sessions as well as home delivery, circumcision (of 6-9 yr old boys!) and medical missions. These opportunities gave me a more in depth experience of the challenges faced by health workers outside the private sector. Each month immunization clinics are based on whatever vaccines the government has left to trickle down to the rural area. It also depends on if there are available supplies; alcohol, syringes, needles etc... This month there was no hepatitis vaccine and the oral polio had been delayed. The mothers who had managed to bring their children to the clinic were told that they would have to try back another month and hope it had arrived. The lack of funding also impacts the ability to follow through with health promotion programs around women’s health and family planning services that emphasize healthy child spacing and provide birth control information and supplies. The other theme emerging from this context has been the degree of malnutrition in the children. Of the 76.5 million people in the Philippines, 15% go hungry each day, 27 million do not eat 3 meals a day and 15 million eat only eat once per day. The number of very young families without sustainable income or employment, the large number of children per family and the influence of formula feeding seem to all contribute to this disturbing trend. While the midwife is consistent in encouraging parents in reasonable local foods to help bring the weight back within expected levels, she is also realistic about the level of poverty in the region, the conflict in teaching regarding birth control between the Catholic church and the health education system and lack of effective government programs to help struggling families especially in the rural and remote areas. Despite these obvious challenges, there are some amazing capacity building programs being initiated by organizations such as the UCCP, Leyte Center for Development and Makapawa. Makapawa is a NGO (I will be working more closely with them in June) that is committed to teaching traditional and herbal medicine in areas that have no access to health workers. They have 32 week sessions that they run in remote regions of Leyte. They usually focus on mothers or other interested people in the barungay and train them to be community health workers. Among other techniques, they learn acupuncture, acupressure, reflexology, massage and basic heath assessment skills as well as how to identify and use herbal medicine in there areas. Their belief and action in the potential of each community is inspiring and a very vivid example of community empowerment and capacity! As I continue to live and work with the people of the Philippines I realize how blessed we are in this one aspect with our comparatively easy access to health care and even the basic human rights of food and shelter and a clean source of water. I pray that I will be able to continue to bear witness to the strength and tenacity of the families who are faced with these incredible challenges and to the organizations and advocates who are committed to bringing awareness and tangible resources to these situations. At approximately 1000am on February 17 2006 the village of Guinsagon, Southern Leyte was reclaimed by the mountain whose shadow they had lived under all their lives. In less than 5 minutes the lives of people around the world would change but none so drastically as for those who had lost everything that day. Family. Homes. 128 were confirmed dead, 19 injured and 959 missing... buried in mud. 7 evacuation centers were set up in and around St. Bernard including the UCCP church and two schools we visited. The Philippines Red Cross estimated a total of 4,211 people living in the centers including those who had lived in Guinsaugon, two of the villages affected by the original landslides, and those evacuated from neighboring villages. I had expected horror, had prepared myself for it, but instead encounter peace. It was a moment that I would be able to call on in the days that were to come. We pulled up to the site and I climbed slowly down from the motorcycle I had been clinging to. In front of us lay what was once a community. Now it was hard to believe that anything had ever existed at all. Giant rocks and grey rumble contrasted sharply against the vibrant green of the surrounding rice fields. There was no sign of the school or church or even a roof left jutting out to symbolize that here people had once made their homes there… But as I looked out over the devastation and felt the weight of the loss press in upon me, the late afternoon sun reached the top of the mountain pouring twin rays of light as if in benediction over the valley below. It was this fragile and sacred moment of peace that would help to heal some of the wounds inflicted by the pictures and stories burned in vivid detail into my heart and mind. There is no way to comprehend or convey in words the magnitude of such a tragedy… It was somewhat easier to distance myself when the medical mission started…as we worked in the tents doing quick assessments and vitals on the evacuees before sending them down the line to the physician, pharmacist and then to the supplies of water, a pot, some toothpaste maybe a bucket for washing… But then I would catch the weary eyes of a mother who would not let her child leave her arms even for as long as it would take to do a blood pressure and learn she had lost her other two children and husband. Later at one of the evacuation centers two of the doctors rushed to help a woman who had collapsed. She had returned from abroad to find out she had lost not one family member but generations. Her husband, children and grandchildren and home gone in the minutes it had taken to cover the community in layers of mud. We listened with tears of helplessness and sorrow to the grief and rage and questions of a mother whose son and pastor of the uccp church and his 6th mth old baby who had been in the sanctuary were never recovered and how on hearing the news her husband had suffered a heart attack and could not be saved. At night in my dreams the images the military had shared with me that day would haunt me..…babies buried in mud, the fragile outline of bodies against a wasteland of destruction…faces in aungish, a rescuer racing down the hill with a child in his arms.. and yet in the days to come I would also see reflections of the peace that I had felt those first moments. The response from people both in the Philippines and abroad to embrace the community of survivors, the children who continued to play basketball and laugh as they ran in circles round the center, the acceptance that came as the area was declared sacred space and people could come to say goodbye, leaving behind the agony of hope and moving forward to rebuild lives in any way they can. Again, none of what I have written does justice to what it was like to be there and to see the faces of the people and to realize that it wasn’t just the lives lost but homes, jobs, treasured possessions, loved pets, a way of life and history that can never be reclaimed by a relocation site but I know too that there was hope still alive and a commitment to move forward and to survive… 4am. I am awakened to the sound of bells echoing through the warm December stillness. I can picture the churches as they begin to fill with those still drowsy with sleep and others moving with eager purpose from the dark into the Christmas lit churches. The bells are the call to the Simbangabi service that occurs from December 16th onward. It is the Christmas watch, a symbolic way of stilling the body, mind and soul and preparing the way for the birth of Christ in our midst again. This is just one of the many signs that Christmas has arrived to the province of Leyte in the Philippines. It began with a trickle, decorations and carols in the stores in early September, and by October the wishes of Merry Christmas were being sincerely given. By the time December has arrived, the anticipation and excitement has reached a crescendo! The children sing carols on every street. They are anticipating Christmas day when they will receive pesos and candy as their families go from house to house meeting distant relatives and sharing meals and laughter. All around are lanterns, lights, and vendors adding color and festivity to the almost carnival like atmosphere. At Bethany hospital where I have been situated, each department has decorated in the theme of different countries of the world and so it is not unusual for a patient to wander from Mexico or Japan to Egypt or India for treatment! Yet this Joy and carefree innocence is only part of the picture. It is impossible to have the miracle of the Christmas birth without the struggle, without the discomfort of the journey and the pain of labor. It would be unfair to talk only of the beautiful baby and the promise he brings without recognizing the uncertainty and fear that is also a part of the Christmas story. In the short time I have been in the Philippines I have come to realize that you cannot begin to understand the true reality of this country if you do not listen to the voices of the people, of those who live and walk the steps of Jesus and whose lives are a testament to faith in action. I have been humbled by the pastors giving the Christmas message this year that live on the equivalent of twelve Canadian dollars a month and yet whose dedication to their work is unwavering. I have listened to church and community workers who have been harassed, their families and lives threatened, who face persecution both from within and without the church but who remain strong in their passionate conviction to walk with the poor and to speak out against the ongoing violations of lives and rights. I have seen first hand the conditions of patients existing in a government hospital without access to medication or adequate care and who will be discharged without recovery due to their inability to pay. Coming from Canada a land of relative wealth and privilege, I cannot pretend to understand the full depth and complexity of the struggle of the people here, but I can say that I have been irrevocably changed by the gift of the stories shared with me. I have wept in anger and helplessness as I spoke with survivors of the Palo massacre. The lives of an infant, a mother, a grandmother, husbands and friends taken as they had gathered to plant the rich earth that had been given back to them. Not only killed but falsely branded as part of the new peoples army and the survivors imprisoned. I have been heartbroken as I heard the four year old daughter of the late Attorney Dacut point to her father’s picture and say Papa! and her mother ask in aguish how she will tell her child that there is still not even justice for her father. I have experienced only a taste of that same fear that must haunt the families and loved ones of those that work for justice and peace as I have prayed every day for the continued safety of those who have touched my life with their witness. Yet into the darkness, hope is born. It would not be Christmas without the miracle of birth and promise and even when it is obscured by tears or hidden from sight, hope is strong here. It is in the voices of the children as they sing, silhouetted against the decorations and spinning lanterns. I have seen it in the proud upturned face of the daughter of Emma and the late Pastor Edison as she held her torch up high at the recent human rights memoriam. It is there in the tangible and visible commitment to partnership by the United Church of Canada and its members in helping the human rights situation in regions such as Eastern Visayas as well as in the advocacy and urgent appeals. I have seen the promise of new birth in farmers who are joining together to find alternate ways to sustain their communities and have seen the Christmas message lived out as church workers come together to openly condemn the ongoing and increased human rights violations and environmental degradation in the Visayas region. But most of all it is here in the commitment by the people to creating a country where the advent candles of peace, hope, joy and love are not merely symbolic but a reality. With hope I go forward on this journey of learning from and walking with the people of the Philippines, thank you for your prayers and support and best wishes for the New Year and the promise that it holds. God Bless and Maupay nga Pasko! (Merry Christmas!) Meagan Crosby Our final immersion this orientation took us to the Rizal province in Southern Luzon. We were introduced to several small communities of the Katatubong, Dumagat people guided by Julie and our amazing companion Tatay Aynong. The journey to get there was unforgettable. It started with us hurtling at top speed (in a very rickety Jeepney) over broken roads, potholes and a variety of lanes, scattering animals and tricycles before us with the blaring of the horn. Loosening my death grip on the overhead bar, I could duck down and glimpse through the windows the lush greenness that had been creeping up the countryside as we left the sprawl of Manila behind. As we started to climb, I could see the rounded tops of mountains dotted with coconut trees emerge and somewhere beyond the mist was the outline of the sea. We left the main road just as dusk began to obscure our view. The road we turned onto was a typical dirt path reminding me strongly of the Bamfield rd! However just as we were adjusting to the new pattern of jolts it began to disintegrate at a rapid pace. At times we were literally dodging boulders, climbing up the edges of broken bridges and being pushed out of mud flooded ditches. Every once in awhile a horse or other animal would appear out of the darkness and we would catch a glimpse of its startled eyes before we plunged once more into the bone jarring dark. The most terrifying and exhilarating part came as we began to ford 10 rivers! Several times as I watched the current swirl around the jeep I was sure we were not going to make it across. As we reached the second to last river, it seemed my fears would be realized. We were across a particularly deep section and picking up speed to make it up the slippery bank on the other side when part way up we got stuck. We were angled upward and while trying not to fall backward, we could only watch in delighted horror the rising water that seemed impatient to enter. Gripping the bar to keep from slipping, we waited as the engine valiantly tried to get us out. I’m sure we were all envisioning the huge Jeep tipping back and tossing us all into the river ;) After a few minutes of digging by our driver and guides, we continued on and arrived at our destination with our bodies screaming and the engine steaming. We were guided up the twilight colored mountainside to a small home and there ate bread and canned meat by candlelight. We settled onto the floor in our malongs and slept. We awoke with the roosters and savored the amazing view of the mountains and morning sun that filtered cool light through the trees and onto the rice fields below. Outside the door the family was pounding the husks from the breakfast rice and then sifting it by shaking it up into the air from a wide flat basket. When we gathered around to eat, it was wonderful! Made all the better because we had seen the work that had gone into us being able to eat! After drinking in the beauty of the morning, we learned some of the very real challenges facing the indigenous people of this region. Julie, one of our guides, spoke passionately of her work with the ‘integrated development program for indigenous people.’ With tears streaming down her face, she told us of the 2007 Zaiban dam project, which is a multinational project, aimed at providing more drinking water for metro Manila. If it is carried out it will displace more than 10,000 indigenous families, cause untold environmental damage and just like in Santa Clara, even if relocation were offered, they would be without the traditional ways of living. Without the means of growing the own food or sustaining what is left of their language, spirituality and culture. We listened and heard of seeds that have been passed down from generation to generation, saving some from each harvest to plant again. This legacy, as has happened in our own countries and countries around the world, is once more threatened. The risk of destroying a people and way of life once more endangered in the name of profit. The next day after bathing in the river, we headed on a two-hour hike into the rice fields of the mountains. Having slept 6 to a bamboo frame and alternating between trying to find a comfortable position for my bones and a warm place for my body, (being unprepared for the cooler mountain air!) I don’t think I was as prepared as I had hoped for the climb! Especially when I learned it would all be strait up! By the time we reached the Nipa hut at the top of one of the rises, I had never seen anything closer to heaven in my life! By this I mean both because the need to rest had become overwhelming, (which is particularly shameful as there are 15 yr old boys who run up and down with rice sacks on there heads!) and because the bamboo home was perched on the edge of a mountain and as far as you could see was incredible beauty. The slopes of the opposite hills were varying shades of green and some were lit with the incredible late morning sun while others were mere silhouettes. Once we had recovered, we carried on up the side of another rise to the home of Nanay Koyoy and Tatay Cuelo. We were shown in such wonderful generosity and simplicity the way that the Katatubong people live from the life sustaining land. Lunch consisted of kasava and gabi grown on the mountainside. The roots were dug up washed at a stream and boiled along with rice that had been planted, harvested, ground and served from the fields around us. After lunch we were shown how to pick the rice that was ready. Because I had been expecting the green soaked rice fields of Vietnam, when we were taken up onto the mountainside what I had mistaken for long grass on closer inspection was heavy with rice. We had been walking past it for the last part of our journey but it wasn’t until our eyes were opened by our hosts that I was able to recognize it and see it all around me! It seemed an apt metaphor for our trip thus far! Once we moved far enough up the slope, we were guided in separating the green from the golden stalks and the learned the correct way to break it off without losing it all. We only worked for a little while before we were called away to yet another feast. As we ate, we watched as several of the boys danced on the stalks to shake out the rice. The process then began again, of pounding, sifting and gathering it to cook for their evening meal. It was incredible to sit amidst the community and listen as they spoke of the generations that have lived and worked on the mountain. There hope for fruit trees that they can plant to create an even more self-sustaining existence, to live a life without fear of military reprisal if they fight for their ancestral land and simply for respect and the right to be treated as humans. The way down was much easier and we were able to relax our sore muscles and tensions of the past weeks the next day in a beautiful waterfall. We were guided there by Mimay and Carmelin, two beautiful girls who inspired me to follow their lead and climb up onto the slippery rock surface and letting go of all fear slide down on the white water into the pool below! It was a day that we had long needed and we savored the chance to rest and play in the water letting it renew us. Our lunch was made once more from the bounty of creation around us. The coconut milk used was made by Aynong scraping the coconut from its shell and squeezing it with the water that trickled down the rocks. There could not have been a better way to show us the impact the Dam will have than to have us fall in love with the very land that would be destroyed by its implementation. By being invited into the lives and struggles of the Katatubong people I have see the immense strength and beauty in their lives and the balanced connection hey have to the land. I have been once more gifted by a deeper awareness and appreciation of the environment that surrounds us all and have certainly found new meaning in our call to “live with respect in creation”! The way home was as much of an adventure as our way there but this time there were no less than 38 people and 1 turkey crammed into the inside of the jeepney! This was not all though, sitting on the roof and clinging to every imaginable surface (hood, rails, side) was at least 20 more people and another turkey!!! ;) Yet another memory I won’t soon forget ;) Hello to all! I know it has been too long since I last updated this journal! It has been due in part to the intense orientation schedule as well as the fact that I have been finding it very to hard to figure out what I think and feel about everything, let alone trying to communicate the diversity of experiences and emotions to you back home. Our 2-mth orientation has come to end, and now I will try to relay some of our experiences since I last wrote. I will try to capture the highlights of our immersions but as it may not be in the same depth please feel free to email me with any additional questions or reflections! There are also too many stories to do adequate justice to in this format and so I hope that I will be able to share more fully when I return! * * * * * “If you want to really understand us, listen to what it is we are not allowed to say” Nestle striker We came home after Tondo to rest and suddenly found the tiny house we had all thought so cramped and small now fit us all with ease and thankfulness! As I still had not discovered the art of floor sleeping my bunk with its small foam seemed like a luxurious sanctuary! After another session of Tagalog with our Ate’s, we were off again to our semi urban/industrial immersion. This immersion was hosted by the center for trade unions and human rights and a pastor of the Methodist church also accompanied us. It would prove to be one of the most overwhelming immersions of the orientation. We arrived in Aplia in the late evening after being driven through the export-processing zone. It was a different community than had been planned due to flooding and we once more experienced the hospitality of a people who would take us in and feed us first and then ask who we were and why were there later! The evening held a surreal quality for me. Into the night we sat and listened, huddled in a small house surrounded by the sound of fish spitting on the fire, the children and animals running and playing around us and long periods of tagalog so filled with passion it hardly needed translation. From time to time more people came bringing food or adding their stories and voices to the rain pounding down on the tin roof. Around us, smoke from the cooking fire and cigarettes swirled, deepening the shadows as we ate with our fingers fish and rice from a long banana leaf that covered the floor. Despite the feeling of unreality our setting incurred, there was nothing surreal about the message. The community is facing displacement as the government has deeded away their land to private companies and in particular, one resort. This decision comes despite the fact that the marker that designates it as public land extends far beyond the church. They are facing the demolition of not only their community but also their livelihood. As primarily fisher people even if there was a relocation plan, it would take them away from the sea and the way they have lived their lives for generations. The next day we walked through the flooded streets to see the fence that the company had put up to claim it as their own. One of the hardest moments came as an elderly woman approached and asked not for herself but that we save their children so that they would have a future. This start to the day heralded a weekend overwhelming in the stories of pain and futility; but yet example after example of the courage of those who continue to work and pray and fight for change. The struggle was demonstrated vividly as we visited 4 picket lines: Max Glory, RFM, Asia Brewery and Nestle. When asked why they were protesting at Max glory, the response we received was not some outrageous demand or wish for extravagant benefits, but that they be given minimum wage. The women who worked there, sewing the clothes for such companies as Ralph Lauren, Tommy Hilfiger and American Eagle, make less than 75% of the wage of the minimum wage which is not anywhere near sufficient to support their families. We heard similar stories every place we went. We were told the reality of the suppression of union formation through the closing of factories or firing union reps, of unhealthy work environments, harassment, violent dispersal of peaceful pickets, abuse and the breaking of agreements. At one of the pickets a man wept as he spoke of the toll on the lives of his family and those of his workers it has taken to stay true to their call for equitable treatment, for fairness and simply for justice. What was also heartbreaking was that the union and community organizers that work with them and support them are branded as communists, and at worst, terrorists. Because they speak for those who have been silenced they are labeled and discriminated against along with the workers and (it seems) every other human rights group or grassroots organization that has the courage to speak against oppression and injustice. After spending the night on the Nestle picket line we headed to Santa Clara and saw the conversion of rice fields into industrial land. We listened again as a community who has lived on the ocean since before Spanish colonization is under threat of demolition, making room for a new port funded by multinational companies. Similar to the last community they shared that the sea is connected to all aspects of there life and even if they were relocated (although there is currently not even relocation being offered) their culture and history and livelihood, as a community would be stripped from them. Once more we were asked, “what are you going to do?”… Once more my answer of raising awareness, through sharing the experiences and stories of the people to those at home seemed so inadequate so absolutely inconsequential when compared with the enormity of entire communities facing demolition, of workers rights ignored and abused, of human rights advocates and pastors killed! And yet almost in answer to my then silent cry, one of the workers later shared that “more powerful than campaigns or slogans is the sharing of peoples lives. It is listening and standing in solidarity and telling the stories.” While this brought some measure of peace, I recognize that this is only a part of the answer. In this moment it is being here, listening and sharing what I learn that is in my power to do, but it also calls me to change, to examine the way I live and be conscious of the decisions that I make everyday in the products I buy or the companies I support or to see the impact of my lifestyle on the earth and on people around the world. I pray that I can do justice to the gift of the stories I have heard not only in the sharing of them but also in the power of being open to being transformed by them! That night we were once more in Cabuyao, Laguna at the Nestle picket line hearing from Fort (Diosdado Fortuna president of the Nestle workers union) and other community organizers and workers, the themes of struggle, of violent dispersals, harassment and the refusal to acknowledge the valid claims of the workers. In this case there was even a Supreme Court ruling in the favor of the Nestle workers in '91 but the management defied the ruling. 2002 began the strike of more than 600 workers. Once more the court of appeals confirmed the Supreme Court decision but the fight for justice continues. Later that night we were able to join in the solidarity night. It was wonderful to hear the workers come together to support one another and to lift their voices in the powerful songs of hope and strength! * * * * * Our third immersion took us from the traffic and pollution into the blessed stillness and fresh air of our rural immersion in Macalamcam. Here I was touched by the natural beauty of the life around me and by both the unexpected horror and gentle inevitability of death. Shortly after our arrival we were brought on walk to enjoy some of the wonderful air while the community gathered. On our way we were invited into the home of an elderly woman who lay sick in bed. Her family asked us to pray for her and so we gathered into the small rm and I prayed. Later that evening as we visited with some of the community members, I was summoned back to the house we had visited earlier. Word that I was a nurse had spread and the family believed that she had just died and they wanted me to confirm it as there was no medical personnel in the village. As I entered her eyes that had watched so patiently as I had prayed were closed. Her hand was cold as I bent to touch it and there was no pulse. After checking and rechecking all I could do was shake my head no. I felt so unsure of what to do, I wasn’t aware of what cultural practices surrounded the death there or what more I should do. I stepped back though and closed my eyes and was just there with them as the sister wept and the pastor prayed. It is a moment I will never forget. The difference with this immersion was that we were actually placed individually with a family for the whole time. My hosts were the Magalong family. My host Nanay (Mother) was Estilita and my host Tatay was Renato. They have 7 children though one is married and all live together in a small Nipa hut, which is a raised house, made primarily of bamboo. It was beautiful! The walls were woven and I could see the chickens and pigs through the slats of the floor when I woke in the morning. My family greeted me shyly when I got in that night. I was fed rice and coffee and then sent to bed. The reason for the early night's sleep became apparent to me the next morning when I woke at 4am to the sound of the two youngest getting ready for school. They left while it was still dark as the school day began for them around 6! The older children, unable to attend school due to the expense, were up not much later and already sweeping the leaves from the ground, feeding the animals or helping with breakfast. While hesitant at first with the language difficulties and the fact that I was a white foreigner, the family soon adopted me as their own and I was able to participate in the days activities. Both of the parents have been unable to find work and are now only find the odd day during harvest time at a neighboring farm or though selling ice. They are also trying to raise pigs. The main burden of supporting the family falls on their oldest daughter Luningning. She takes this responsibility very seriously and works any hours she can as a secretary at a local law office. She is an amazing 22 yr old woman who shared with me how much she wants to be able to make enough to send her other siblings to school and to find permanent work so that she doesn’t have to leave the country to find employment overseas as many Filipinas before her have been forced to. The whole weekend I was treated as one of the family and even managed to convince them to allow me help with the meal preparations! I was so blessed by the openness that they shared their life and family and the doors that had been opened by two cultures meeting and learning from the other! That night the outside world intruded painfully into the peace of living with my family. I heard in horrified disbelief that Fort, the Nestle union leader and advocate that we had stayed with on the picket line 3 days earlier had been assassinated on the way home to check on his grandson. Having just eaten, sang and been inspired by his leadership of passionate conviction and humble service, it was impossible to believe he had been killed. It brought home with stunning reality the situation this country faces. It is a time when to stand for reform, for justice for an end to oppression is to run the risk of being silenced... I can never fully describe what it was like to stand at the wake on our return to Manila and see the hundreds of faces who instead of being silenced by his death were unified in their continued struggle. Or to tell how it feels to hear a relative of one of the pastors describe their fear and sadness. It is hard to understand coming from a country in which justice is usually upheld that for the people of this country, until something changes there will not be justice or the freedom to speak out. In response to the ongoing struggle of human rights workers and church people the UCC has posted an urgent action on their website. If anyone is interested in sending a letter to our own government, any support helps by adding international awareness to the situation here! http://www.united-church.ca/action/phil (I should also stress at this point that as a group of interns we are not and have never been in any danger. Both the color of our skin and countries of birth afford us much protection but even without that, the UCCP has made our security a priority and we are always very well taken care of!) I promise the next entry will be a bit lighter and not nearly so long in coming! I hope that you are all well and enjoying the beauty of fall! I hold each of you in my thoughts and prayers! These descriptions and reflections are not to romanticize what I have seen and experienced or to downplay or minimize the circumstances that other than a select few, the majority of Filipinos live because NO human should ever have to live in the places or do the things that these people have resorted to in order to survive. However, until I can figure out where in this cycle of corruption, globalization and simple blindness the chain can be broken and healing can begin in our world, I can only for now write what I see and feel. Hopefully soon this will translate into a life of action based on new understandings but for now all I can do is to be open... We have arrived home from our first immersion into the area of UCCP Tondo. It has left us with a much deeper understanding of our own privilege and wealth as well as a realization of how much we have here even with all of us sharing our small space and how blessed we are to have a bed to sleep in and ready access to food. Our immersion was to be 2 nights staying in the urban poor community but when we arrived, we soon found out that our hosts were very reluctant to allow us to do this. They were afraid not only for our safety and for whether we would be able to cope physically but for the burden we would put on families who would feel the need to spend money they didn’t have in order to make us feel comfortable. The first night therefore we spent altogether on the floor of one of the classrooms. We were taught the correct way to eat with our hands and sampled some of the rice and tiny fish that are the main source of food for the poor of this community. In the morning we had our first experience with the extent and startling example of economic poverty within Manila. The first place we went was home to thousands of families who the government terms 'squatters' but who are called by the people as the urban poor. They have found space along the edge of the railway tracks and have built tin and wood houses that stretch upwards with as many families as possible living on top of the other. In talking to some, the story echoes those of many we would meet over the next days: They come to Manila in search of employment and to escape the extreme poverty of the provinces. For reasons such as land displacement, having to grow cash crops instead of food that could sustain their families or for a multitude of other reasons they have come here and are faced with the reality of being once more without employment, housing or food. Once here many identified that even if they wanted to return to the provinces they do not have the money or resources to do so. Throughout the day we saw example after example of a depth and complexity of economic poverty and land degradation that is completely foreign to our wealth in Canada and so utterly soul wrenching. We walked through the major cemetery in Manila where we truly experienced the living among the dead. More than a thousand families live out there day to day existence among the gravestones and within the covered tombs. Clothes hang from aged crosses and a new born baby swings in a woven basket between two stone caskets. We talked with one of the oldest residents who has been there since the end of the Second World War and explains that most survive making a meager living through selling flowers or engraving plaques or even cleaning family grave sites. Leaving there we traveled to what was known as Smokey Mountain. This was once a community who literally lived on and within a mountain of garbage. In an effort to address the problem, the government closed the mountain and built housing below the site for minimal rent. Unfortunately while this has given the very important provision of shelter,(to those who have that minimal rent) it took away the only source of income which came from sifting and sorting the refuse into that which could be used or sold again. The effectiveness of this strategy of relocation was shown strongly as we passed the new garbage dump. There at the base of the mound of trash a new community is forming, making there homes out of tin and cardboard. There, both children and adults are once more sifting the garbage finding a way to live. This reality certainly brought home to me the impact of quick fix solutions that do not address the underlying causes or the long term impact of such decisions. Despite the obvious enormity of the pollution, volume of people without land or home and lack of health access of education support, I have also witnessed the amazing resourcefulness of the people. Any available land or space is used to create homes and any means of employment is utilized. I have seen very little begging and instead people sell or collect anything possible or create jobs or services to support themselves!! There is a definite sense of the feeling of needing to rely on themselves or on the communities they have created in order to live instead on a reliance on government or social services that are either too taxed by the debt load or unable to work effectively for other reasons that I’m sure I will learn more about in the future!. On our return to our hosts and after much assurances of our desire to stay with a family within the community, we were paired with youth from Tondo and led to different houses. I had the privilege of staying with Jazmine and her family. On entering the house from the street I was led down an unlit dirt path into the low roofed common area which is used by the 10 families that share this tiered house. Children ran around us trying out English and chasing the animals that wandered through the water streaming down the floor for washing. I was led to a room where I would stay with the family. It is about the size of a Canadian bedroom and is used for their living and sleeping while the shared eating and washing area is within the common ‘hallway’ that runs the length of the area. I was given their bed space and the family moved to sleep in the living area and after much protesting was made to understand that this was what was to be expected. They communicated being so embarrassed of what they had and sorry that they did not have more to offer me. They had pooled resources to provide us with a feast of fish and rice and okra and later spent money to find us halo halo (a special desert) I was continually awed and humbled by their amazing generosity and care. As much as I tried to communicate that I did not want them to treat me any differently I recognized the value and the pride that was placed on taking care of a guest. It made me so aware how much I have had and how easy it is to forget to give and the contrast of these families and the love with which they gave all they had to offer!! They were also very clear to say that they were much better off that some and wanted us to realize that even though they did not have much that they were blessed with what they did have. The most amazing moment for me was in the morning the husband in tagalog expressed how happy both he and his wife were that I had come to stay with them. It was so incredible when in reality they had given me the gift and the chance to see the reality of the people not just the outside expression of poverty. In relation to the gifts that the people gave to us in hospitality, care and a genuine wish for our safety and comfort, it is our own countries with all our wealth that can seem at times 'poor' in this incredible loving spirit. There are so many more examples of the amazing experiences here! Of churches cracked and broken but inside the most incredible youth ministry and potential, human rights workers continually advocating despite exhaustion and a reality of oppression that touches all areas of the land. There is so much to learn, see, experience and try to make sense of not only in the context of this county but as far as it pertains to our global and local responsibilities at home! |
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