July 26-30 ha Babatngon, Leyte

This week started with my arrival to work on Monday, where I met officer Ventura carrying this chicken. The chicken was then tied to a post beside the jail, to be butchered and served as the entree for lunch in the afternoon. I wanted to include this picture because officer Ventura seemed so proud of his handsome chicken as he carried it around monday morning.

I have been working with the local Catholic High School to create a sustainability and 'care for creation' lecture series that will be piloted here, and then shared with other catholic schools in the future. Now Grace, my counterpart, and I are planning lessons and topics to be discussed in our 18 weeks of 4-hour lectures. Usually, it is hard to convince my coworkers here to plan for projects like this one, but with the support of the priest, who is very infuential in a 99%-catholic area, convincing others of the need to plan and continue building the project has been easier..so far. We're currently meeting with 70-3rd year high schoolers to lecture on Coastal Resource Management, Solid Waste Management, Global Warming, The Food Chain, etc. I hope the program is a success, but for now, the jury's still out.

I also got invited to the Priest's house this week when some dignitaries were there. The vice governor, the lady in the middle of us in the first picture, was there. A very educated and friendly person, she explained to me some of the duties of a vice Governor in the Philippines which were interesting, such as making referendums to be voted upon by congress, and other regional duties as well.

I continue to work on other projects, such as reorganization of a local People's organization and project development, planning, implementation, and disseminating books to other local high schools. My science class of 57 1st year students at Selena's school continues to improve. Since they are bombarded with English from both of us every day, their comprehension is increasing markedly more than with students in some of the other classes. Since science is taught in English, it seems that much of the content is lost on students not because they don't want to learn, or don't understand the subject matter, but because they lack a fundamental english understanding.

Philippines, Week 48

This week, I continued to get to know the people and places with whom I live in Babatngon. Sunday I went fishing with Jorge Pontillas, better known as Don Don. We hopped in a neighbor's boat, boat a liter coke bottle full of diesel, and set out with 2 pesos of hooks, 10 pesos of fishing line, and one squid. We didn't have much luck, but I'm getting better at finding rocks concave in the middle and thick on the ends to use as weights, and I'm learning how to keep throw my line with the flick of a wrist to make a cast of more than 10 feet, (they don't use fishing poles, just the line in your hand) I asked Don Don what would happen if I hooked a big fish, wouldn't it hurt my hands, the line tearing at flesh? Don Don replied, "Oo, bangin mga samad." (Yes, maybe multiple cuts." Well, I didn't get any cuts, we didn't have much luck at all except for my one fish, the most beautiful rainbow colored fish I've ever seen, the name of which I still don't know.

On Monday, I spent most of my time at the municipal office in the morning, before going to teach my science class at Juan S. Tismo National High School, the 'Orchid' section of 57 first-year high schoolers, hungry to learn. Although I like a lot of things about the work here, the class has to be the single most inspiring part of my day. There is always a smiling face, a furrowed brow trying to understand the mumbling gringo in front, someone squinting to understand my horrible handwriting on the board.

Tuesday, I went with a fellow volunteer and visitor from California back to Sohoton park. Only this time, we had time to go further past the cave, the the natural bridge, the likes of which I have never seen. It is incredible, and although I am a loyal Virginian, proud of our handsome Valleys and ancient forests, Natural Bridge south of Lexington doesn't hold a candle to this one. We swam in clear water, under the bridge of gnarled stalagtites and cave sparrow nests, the only three people there. It was truly a religious experience.

Wednesday started at 6:00 with my first noticible earthquake. It shook the house, cabinet doors opened, creaked, people downstairs shouted at the abruptness of it. It was really different from what I have ever felt before. After it was over, no one asked the specific magnitude, no one looked for structural damage, no one called family to check on their safety, they just went on about their day. It surprised me how little it affected others. I asked if they felt the earthquake, and some would look puzzled, try to remember, and say, "Oh, yes! I remember that!" Later on in the day, I took an impromptu hike with the municipal environmental planner to the mountain to look at a proposed site for a new mountain trail, funded by the German Technical Cooperation. We went through a few low-lying rice paddys, terraced on the low slopes, then through a banana plantation, sewn with pineapples underneath, walked past Guava and Santol trees, and then started up into the jungle, or the closest thing to it that I have ever seen. we walked past families harvesting coconuts and avocados, Santol fruit, and wood for cooking. The foliage was so thick that our leader, a local, no shoes or shirt, just jean shorts with Machete tied around his waist, would hoop! like an owl, and in the distance, we would hear a like reply, and round a bend to see a companion of his harvesting something else, for some other reason. At one point, it began to rain, soaking all of us through. In time to get back to my science class in the afternoon, I let our leader know that I would have to turn back, and he let out a hoop, and friends of his emerged from the foliage 20 yards away, and would be my escorts back down the mountain. One of the men, the one in front, carried an ancient .22 caliber, for harvesting salamanders, snakes, whatever else they could on their travels. The barrel was old as the hills, every bit of 50 years old, with a stock of familiar oak grain, (I have come to miss the tight weave of oak) and on the barrel, it said Fargo, North Dakota. We continued down, met a friend of his who had gotten stung several times while harvesting honey from wild bees, and I realized again, that there is much more to the Philippines than I have learned thus far.

Thursday was a somewhat normal day, except for the fact that, at the end of the day, I went searching for a barber, and asked for a recommendation from Mano Ted, the father downstairs at our rented residence. He referred me to a friend of his whom had obviously never dealt with facial hair before (filipinos don't have facial hair for the most part, and those who do, never have full beards), so the first move he made was to cut my sideburns, a clean shave down to my jaw. Now, this would not be an issue if I did not have a beard. So to make a long story short, I am sitting here in tacloban, writing this blog, with an odd mess of facial hair, my beard full except for between my jaws and top of my ear, nobody seems to care, since it looks no more odd to them than does a beard in the first place.

Friday, I conducted educational games with students from rural barangays, delivered some textbooks to another high school, and talked with the Parish priest about future projects with his Catholic High School. He says that although I am a protestant, he will still work with me...just as long as I don't support divorce. I thought that was fair.
I'm attaching some pictures of the week, hopefully they fill in some of the gaps where my explanation falls short.

Bottling Joy

Nobi is the Smallest Girl, Waving

Here I am, last week, helping carry rice seed to be planted during rainy season

During our daily routines of going to our respective Philipino offices, talking to our respective coworkers, doing our respective tasks at work, it is easy to forget the big picture ideas, why we came, what we are doing, who we represent. In order to keep doing productive work, making necessary changes, helping those most in need, we have to constantly be willing to change what we are doing, with whom we are working, and projects to pursue because afterall, nothing stays the same, some projects will fail, and people, just by their nature, are often fickle. It’s easy to take stuff personally, and to lose perspective on a situation like this one.

And for every yin, there’s a yang. My bike tire might be losing air again as I plead at my bike petals in the morning, sweatily going to work, but there is little Nobi, living downstairs, cute as a button, to see me off to work. As soon as she hears my kickstand snap up and the tires on gravel, she is there to run outside, and from the doorstep yell “Bye bye, eeetaahh! Bye bye,” over and over again, long after I am out of sight. Little Aldrich curious and precocious, follows me, asking where I am going (“Ngain ka?” in Waray Waray), although every day the reply is the same as before.

Although I will be one of the first to the ag office in the morning, doors locked and my papers scattered, there is always Mano Butch, sweeping early, a big smile, and a greeting, willing to stop and talk about anything. And when I’m on a Jeepney, soaked with sweat, sitting on a two-by-four surrounded by 45 filipinos inhaling diesel and fish smells, there will always be a young mother, tropical complexion, swollen breast nursing a beautiful baby, or an old man, weathered from years of rice sacks and sunny island days, still with a smile that exaggerates a thousand deep wrinkles. Don’t let anyone fool you, Philippinos don’t have unconditional love, or honesty, but there is an unconditional joy here that I have never known. In a place that has been colonized, and assimilated, the land pillaged and money stolen, people are defiant in their willingness to love life and enjoy every day of it. It is a testament to what we need (or don’t need) in life to be happy. Since I have been here, I have seen that you definitely don’t need money, lots of friends, or a host of other things to be happy. All you need is a willingness to love life, to be open to joy. It has become cliché, but seriously, you really don’t need all that stuff. I am somewhat concerned that by creating a stronger economy, a higher standard for learning, more efficient transportation, the modern world is doing away with this culture of joy. I understand that for a global economy and sustained environment this is necessary, but culture is not something that you can keep a piece of. You can’t keep a little bit of the culture in a bottle in a repository someplace like DNA of an extinct animal. Once it goes, it goes forever.

Two years is surely a long time to spend in another culture, but I think it will take at least that long to understand how the Filipinos have so much joy. I honestly don’t understand it, it is almost a hedonistic love for life. I don’t understand it, but hope to someday.

The Kayak (kindof)

Ever since I took a walk to the mangrove area behind the house where we live, I’ve wanted to have a kayak to explore it. Since kayaks are pretty much non-existant here in Babatngon, except for a tourist area about 10 miles away, my options were either to buy one of the boats with outriggers that I see everywhere, be branded rich and extravagant by the locals, or try to build my own kayak, since I have the time, be branded ‘not so rich and extravagant, but definitely wealthy, and a little bit crazy’ by the locals, and have a good time with it.
So, after questioning some of my coworkers and friends here about durable native materials, and where to buy them, I set about on my journey to make a kayak from native vines, bamboo, a tarp (sent by Merv, Selena’s dad, (gotta give credit where credit’s due)), all tied and woven together with a native vine for making rope. Just so that everyone is caught up, I engage in projects like this one all the time. I was caught by dad when I was little, making a fishing pole from sumac poles, gourd slices for eyelits, and 12 lb test, and he warned me against reinventing the wheel. I think that most of my endeavors since then have been stubborn rebuttals to that. (Oh, and no, the fishing pole didn’t go well, I think I caught a red eye in Dry River, snagged by the dorsal fin)
Just my luck, the suppliers of bamboo mats and vines from the mountains live in the next village, about 3 miles away, a place called Barangay San Ricardo. I went there on April 30, and asked around about where to get Balukawi vine, a native vine that I had been told is the most durable in the whole island. Unfortunately, they did not have any available, since it is seldom used, but a middle aged man, about 5’5’’ and proud, came forward and offered to go to the mountains and get it. He didn’t know English, but explained that he would spend the day walking and climbing, get me 13 meters of vine (the amount I had determined I would need) and have it the next afternoon for 400 pesos (about $8.50.) I agreed, we shook on it, and the next day I returned, twice that amount lying in front of the man’s small nipa hut, enough for me to choose pieces from that matched my needs. I picked my pieces, payed the man who was visibly happy to have the work and threw them on top of the next jeepney to come lumbering by. I waved as the man’s neighbors tried to sell me their goods as well, thinking that they might take advantage of the American buying vines.
For the next week, I bent and tied and squirmed with the vines to make them into loops, to be joined together by bamboo slats and tied of with mangrove reeds called Uway (oo-wigh.) I was able to buy the bamboo slats for 20 pesos apiece from the man next door to my friend before, and the Uway reeds for tying I bought near the market in town. After all of the hoops were tied and slats were in place, the kayak started to take shape and seep like something that might just work.
Next was the tarp, the material that I’d use to keep water out and keep the boat displacing enough water to keep me buoyant, (if not just long enough for a photo op and some paddling in the mangroves.) The kayak didn’t look quite as good with the tarp on, but was gaining functionality by the day.
Finally, towards the end of June, I returned back to San Ricardo, and asked the maker of Amacan Mats (Mats made of bamboo, tacked up on the sides of nipa huts for walls) to make me two mats, 4 feet by 8 feet to protect the tarp from punctures, roots and mangrove limbs that could damage it. Two days later, I returned to her hut, got my mats, and piled them onto a motorcycle trike and rode away. Since the mats are made of inflexible bamboo, I had to fill up the buckets here with water and drench the mats, tie them, and warp them, little by little in the sun. After putting mats around the entire boat a week later, I was left with a boat that could float, tarp protected through the mangroves, not exactly beautiful, but functional nonetheless.
Finally, I needed a pole or something to propel me through the water, ofcourse a kayak paddle would be nice, but that’s not an option, so the brother of our host family helped me out. He took me down into the jungle a ways and we found a good tall piece of bamboo and cut it down. I kept telling him that all I needed was about 8 feet, but for some reason, we returned to the house, dragging two segments of a 40-foot bamboo shoot.
On June 30, 2010, NoyNoy Aquino was inaugurated as president of the Philippines, first to be elected by means of computerized votes. Also, on that day, Peter H. Barlow set sail in his kayak, made from vines, bamboo, and a tarp, and he did not drown. Yes dad, I reinvented the wheel, and it was fun.

No Tape For You!

Yesterday,like some of the days here, I sat at my office desk at the Municipal Agriculture Office, reading, entering in the journal, waiting for something to happen. I finally got bored, and decided to get on the computer, plug in my wireless modem, try my luck at service, and pull in my email net and see if I had caught anything. I pulled up to the desk, and plugged the computer in, when nothing occurred. The outlet fell out of the wall, having been disconnected after it was chewed by a rat. Knowing now where the extension cord is, I plugged it in, and rolled it in from the adjacent room and the one outlet in the office that works.
After plugging the computer in, it hummed and purred as it turned on and did what computers do. After successfully booted, I jiggled the mouse to scroll to the internet option, but nothing happened, the movement of the mouse didn’t register, so I assumed that the mouse was unplugged, and checked the back of the computer, just to see that everything was as it should be, the mouse firmly plugged in. However when I then picked the mouse up to check under it for an obstructed wheel, I saw that the cord of the mouse was cut clean, several bite marks around the cut, all indicating that yet another rat had done it’s work overnight. I got to work, cutting wires, twisting the whites with whites, the greens with greens, the reds with reds, and had established all of the connections, but, being the safety conscious American I am, I had to dress the wounds with electrical tape, which led me on a journey throughout the municipal offices to find someone with 6 inches of electrical tape to lend. I went first to the engineers office, no tape, then to the municipal planning office: no tape, then to the Assessor’s office: no tape, then to the accountants office: no tape, then to the barangay officials office: no tape, then to the police station: no tape, and finally, I saw a man who looked resourceful walking around the parking lot and asked him, and he said that the municipal budget officer had electrical tape. I went to the budget office, and asked the first person I saw if there was electrical tape available. Without looking, he said no, that there was no electrical tape, while a kind woman walked from behind, a small roll of black electrical tape in tow a friendly smile on her face.
So, I taped the spliced wires like the cautious person I am, and got on the internet, scrolled around a little more than usual, making full use of a mouse that I had previously taken for granted.
Then last night, I attended the mayor’s inauguration, an event that was scheduled for six p.m., but that started at around 8, after an hour long mass that started at 7:00. There were over a thousand plastic chairs set out, and a stage for the speeches, dances, and oath taking in front of the municipal hall. The stage, made from coconut lumber and marine plywood, was adorned with a 8 x 12 foot banner with the Mayor's face in one corner, the waterfall here, that has been dry from El Nino for some time in the other, and the words the words "Inaugural Celebration" in big, formal letters. I sat with selena by the big statue of Jose Rizal, national hero, behind me was about 50-2 liter bottles full of tuba, and 30 or 40 cases of san mig beer. Behind the cases set a monk-looking man in slippers and his Sunday finest sitting as guard of the tuba, since this is the stash most likely to be stolen at such events. Then came the food, 200 kilos of karabao, 10 roast pigs, and 200 halves of chicken, along with coconut salads, reef cake which is a concoction of mango, jello, pineapple, papaya, and nestle cream, and some other desserts, none of which I had room for.
All of the food was really good, I didn’t have much of the karabao, since the municipal treasurer came up early in the evening and showed me her aching arm from where she had repeatedly cut the 500 pounds of karabao into eatable pieces with a big paper cutter from the office, you know those big cleaver-type paper cutters in libraries, yeah that. Anyways, since I trust roast pig the most here, (and it's delicious), I got as much of that as I could. Selena and I stayed through the mass, the many speeches, the dances, new York new York was one of these, complete with umbrellas and hats and all, and we finally left after a few glasses of tuba and the inaugural address at 10;30 by the mayor. We left as discreetly as possible out the back, but two white people lumbering about the thousand Filipinos, well, you get the idea. Since there were no jeeps or trikes at 10:30 at night, selena and I walked the 3 kilometers back home in the dark, the trees, houses, lizards and frogs obscured by the night, and we were left with universal stars, darkness, and silence, the great equalizers. The walk was beautifully serene.
This morning, I came into work, looked around, and saw no one. I then stopped and heard a faint repeating hum. Looking over the side of my supervisor’s desk, I found mano butch, lying across three chairs, sleeping soundly, still in the same cincinatti Bengals hat and Abercrombie shirt as last night. Understanding the pain he would be feeling in a little bit, I walked to the bakery down the street and bought the best looking 5-peso roll, and filled up a Tupperware with clean water.
I’m able to tell everybody about this, because of the working outlet, which is attached to the extension cord, which is attached to the computer, with the wireless modem, and the working mouse….and the electrical tape.