Today we went to a barrio called San Julian. It is about 30 minutes away and it is the barrio that Sister Minerva is from. We brought the people living there rice, sugar and pasta and we also served them lunch. We have been preparing for this mission for a few days, buying the food and packaging it up, making the lunch and so on. We served about 300 people.
I've seen television commercials and shows that depict hungry people being fed, reaching out, surrounding the person giving them food from all sides so it seems all that can be seen are hands, tons of them, hoping theirs are the ones that will be filled with food. Well, it is no exaggeration!! We got to San Julio around 9:30 in the morning and we got all set up with the food bags to be given away and the lunch preparation underway. The people were all sitting around this big open area anxiously waiting for us. The sisters started the day with a prayer and a song that had movements and they encouraged everyone there to join along. After the song, the eating frenzy began.
I passed out juice boxes to everyone. At one point, all I could see was a sea of hands, reaching out to me. I couldn't pass them out fast enough. Someone was behind me handing me refills of the juice boxes and I just blindly shoved them into people's hands. That wasn't exactly how I pictured it! I thought I would hand out one at a time, looking into the eyes of each person I gave it to, saying a little prayer to myself for each one... nope!! It was a total food frenzy!! When everyone had their food, Sister Minerva began calling out names of people to come and get their food packages. At that time, Sister Clarissa and I took a walk around the village.
It never ceases to amaze me to see the homes that these poor people live in. In Africa it was clay huts with a thatched roof, in Peru it was teeny houses made of straw and homemade cement. In the Philippines, it is sticks and leaves of the coconut tree. I think before the two typhoons, the people had sturdier homes, but those were swiped away by flooding waters and brutal winds. It is even difficult for me to call these places homes, for they do not resemble any home I ever saw, just a few "walls", a floor and some had a ceiling, but many did not. We visited one home, and to reach it we had to walk on this homemade wooden bridge that bowed under my weight and made me sound like Olive Oil as I crossed it... "oooooohhhhh....oohhhhhhhhh...oohhohooohooohh!!!" Sr. Clarissa was sort of making fun of me as she walked ahead of me singing, "Be not afraid, I go before you always...." Har-har... It was a pretty long drop too. But the "fun" ended when I arrived at the house, a little more sweaty from fear instead of the heat for once, and I saw these 7 children sitting around a table eating the food we served. There were no walls really, just a few beams attaching the floor with the ceiling. There was one big room other than the one the kids were eating in that had an open fire pit but no refrigerator or cupboards, and then a side room that held a pig. The house was held up by tree stumps right over the water. I was told that when people cannot afford land, they just build their homes over the water. Unfortunately, those homes are the first sacrificed in the torrid winds of a Filipino typhoon. The kids were happily eating their food and glad to have visitors... but imagine... no furniture, no pictures, no walls, no games, no books, no safety from the elements or from thieves, not that there is anything to steal there, but even so... and no privacy. I have had my mind and heart opened a lot over the past year and a half. I have come to embrace many things about living a humble and simple life - for real, not an Americanized version of living a simple life by getting rid of a few unnecessary things, but a real humble life of poverty. This, however, simply was too much for me to accept. Home for me, whether made from bricks or from clay or from sticks, is somewhere comforting and loving, somewhere to feel safe and protected, somewhere you can really relax in, breathe deeply and sleep soundly in. None of that seemed at all possible in these poor dwellings. I feel I am being harshly critical and judgmental... these children could just live out on the street with no place to call their own at all. I just want to feel something other than sick at heart and deeply saddened when visiting and viewing the poor homes here. I want to be happy for the people living there and rejoice as they do that God blessed them with a home. How do you do that???
So, we went back to where the people were still receiving their bags of food and Sr. Clarissa took over reading names out. I went over to where the rest of the Oikos team was standing and quickly became surrounded by little village children curious to see what white skin felt like. At first there was just a few of them, but soon many children came and began surreptitiously, or so they thought, touching my skin when they thought I wasn't looking. So, I asked their names and told them mine. They began speaking to me in Waray, but I couldn't understand them so I told them the only words I know so far. (I am being tutored in Waraywaray by one of the Oikos scholars, Jomar, but so far I only know about 30 words.) However, realizing that many of the words I know are body parts, I began a game of "Sarah Says", aka "Simon Says". At the end of it, they all wanted to give me high fives, but I taught them how to fist pump!!! Then the girls sang a song from "Frozen" for me... really!! How, oh please tell me, how is it possible that these kids live so far from the United States that it seems I am in an entirely different world, but they know the movie "Frozen" and have memorized the songs from it just like American kids??? Weird. Anyways, we started telling each other how beautiful the other was and then the kids sang a few more songs for me. It really was a great time!! When it was time to go, we gave each other high fives and the kids all sang out "Bye, Sarah!! Good bye, Sarah!!" It was sooooo sweet!
It was quite an emotional day. There seems to be no way to reconcile the roller coaster of emotions I felt throughout the day and it seems strange that I was crying one moment at the state of reality in San Julio and rejoicing with laughter a little while later. Suffice it to say I had an upset stomach and a headache for the remainder of the day... and this was all before 11am!! We still had work to do! I don't know how the sisters do it!!!
By the way, nearly every day, at least one person, but usually 2 or 3, point out to me that I am sweating. Now, I have been here for 3 weeks and there hasn't been a day yet that I wasn't sweating. Here in the Philippines, people don't really sweat unless playing sports or doing a lot of cooking or something like that. 2 minutes away from a fan whether walking, standing or sitting, and I am streaming sweat like there is a running hose under my skin! And it is always said like they are just noticing it for the first time... "Oh... You are sweating!!" Yes. I sweat. A lot. So far, I have just smiled and said something like, Yep...that's the way I am, or that's the way God made me. I think I'm going to start saying, I am?? I had no idea!! This pointing out the obvious and making me feel more out of place is a little grating!! Just a little venting session. I'm done!!!! xxoo
