Monday, February 3, 2014

A Living Wage

Rice and fish are the lifeblood of Leytenons, or the proud people from the island of Leyte, Philippines.  Groups of thin, sun-dried men and women stand in muddy fields all day, pulling single stalks of rice from wet clumps, replanting them at sufficient intervals to ensure a hearty return on their toil.  Or, fishermen mend nets in the sand, under hot sun, and endlessly ready their boats for daily fishing, trusting the ocean to give them another sufficient helping of fish, prawns and fat shells to keep their families fed and pockets jingling.  These staples keep bellies full and muscles lean with sinew.  All the while, shade is provided by tall gangly coconut trees, and a backdrop of mountains full of the fruit trees is always on the horizon. 

I speak with a village captain who
just wants to know how he can help his
community get better after the storm's wrath

Recently, however, with the devastating wind and rain of typhoon Haiyan, wind tore at leaves and flicked the tall trees down upon the steep slopes of Leyte mountains.  So shade gave way to sunlight and the thick green backdrop became a scattered mess of brown leaves, broken coconuts, and strewn trunks of downed trees.  In some areas, every coconut tree for miles is barren or has fallen to the ground.  Men and women who would have been gathering mature coconuts for the copra industry to be converted into coconut oil now sit on stoops and have  no livelihood, no way to achieve new skills.  The coconuts are gone, fields have been washed clean of tender rice stalks, and fishermen fear the ocean since the bodies of so many loved ones still lie upon its sandy bottom.

A dangerous and slow process, men
cut lumber with large, unwieldy chain saws

Men stock their shelves with
coco lumber from recently fallen trees     
This is the story behind the typhoon relief effort.  Short-term food relief and housing is difficult, but simple to achieve.  However, long term recovery, including relief from psychological trauma or a return to the livelihoods that so many have known, is not a future reality, but a distant hope.  Coconut trees take between 7 and 10 years to mature, and even in those areas where the trees still grow, collection of their fruit is futile since mills and refineries lay in ruin along the tropical highway.  Some villagers have taken to make the best of the situation, and cut the trees into lumber for new houses.  However, with 1 chainsaw usually shared between hundreds of families, the strong trees rot on damp soil before they’re cut. 


A municipal employee calls off names
 of recipient families who will each get
 a 50-kilo sack of rice, donated through a
 Norwegian organization
Most of the coastal communities visited by Brethren Disaster Ministries reported that it would be about 5 months until they felt safe to go fishing again.  These people would rather starve than desecrate the bodies of their countrymen that may still lie on the 0cean floor. 
"Please don't throw trash here" reads a sign in town.
A feeble attempt to curb illegal dumping of the
 copious amounts of waste from the storm.












There are other crops, and other waters where these people could work.  Coffee and cacao will bear fruit in the same soils as rice and coconut.  Seaweed and cargo vessels are carried on the same currents as Tilapia and Mud Crabs.  But, here, to tell a copra farmer to sow coffee, or a fisherman to grow seaweed is like asking a banker to bind books, or a teacher to raise cattle.  Generations have carried these traditions and skills, and change is hard.  Without a home, or the money for education, helping Leyenons to change their way of life in Haiyan’s wake will be difficult.  Time will clean the waters here, and replace brown hilltops with lush green, but in the meantime, help is necessary, vital, help is everything.  










Sunday, February 2, 2014

Pictures of Philippine Typhoon Recovery, 10 weeks later

This past Friday, I returned from 2 weeks back in Leyte, Philippines, visiting with the Church of the Brethren Disaster Ministries to determine good partner organizations to work with in order to implement funds donated by church members and friends.  The pictures below are just a few of those we took of the destruction in Yolanda's wake.  Every picture is a story in and of itself, from the people we met cleaning around the stranded cargo ships, to the children jumping a rope next to shallow graves of family and friends.  





The man in the center of this picture is Roy Winter, director of Disaster Ministries, who was my traveling companion and is in charge of where all of the funds will go.  Roy is a really good guy, dedicated to helping as many people as possible, efficiently implementing every cent of those funds that friends have generously given to the effort.  In this picture, Roy survey's the damage in the coastal village of Magcasuang, Babangon, with a cohort of the cutest security guards around.



These are pictures of Grace Ann and Roussini, the cousins who braved the storm together and are featured in a recent post.





Below, you can see the tent city in the interior of the running track at Tanauan National High School, a site of some of the more severe destruction I saw while in Leyte.





Department of Labor and Employment personnel like those shown below are working to determine how to put people to work now that livelihoods like coconut gathering and fishing have been greatly diminished by the fierce storm surge and wind from the typhoon.



























Saturday, February 1, 2014

Cross-Cultural Sharing on the Back of a Jeepney

“Hello”
“Maupay”
“And who are you, edoi?”
“My name is Peter.  I like your place.  Babatngon is very beautiful.”
“Ay, Salamat.  Are you German?”
“No, Americano ako.  I lived here for two years, and just came back.”
“You married Filipina? What is your work?”
“No.  I was a Peace Corps volunteer.  I came back with the Church of the Brethren Disaster ministries.  A relief organization.”
“Oy, you’re military.”
“No, Peace Corps is not military.”
“You carry gun?”
“Yes, big gun.”
“Are you catholic?”
“No, the Church of the Brethren is a protestant denomination.”
“Ay, you are Mormon.”
“No, iba (different) church.”
“Ay, many foreigners like you come to marry Filipinas.  They are very good caregivers, as you know.”
“No, I said I didn’t marry a Filipina and I’m here for a different reason.”
“Ha, ha, oy!”
“Okay.”
“Did your church build the simbahan there across the road?”

“Yes, my Filipina wife and I built the Catholic Church there across the road.  We put many guns there.”

“Ay, Salamat.”
“You’re welcome.”



Friday, January 31, 2014

Starting Life Over


Grace Anne stood on a colorful tiled foundation, the only indication that a house once stood were a few broken cinderblocks with jagged rebar emanating, and my memories of standing within these walls, sleeping, eating with this wonderful family as they hosted me just a few years ago. 


"Ha!, we are rico na!" Grace Anne's mother, Tita Grace had said to me one day, as she proudly showed me her newly tiled floor, designed off of pictures she had seen in a re-gifted Good Housekeeping magazine.  She stood with a large smile, pointing at the fragments of tile and drying grout in between.  Without funds to buy proper tile, she had found a pallet of broken shards in town, so the floor was a colorful mix of blues, reds, greens, and all mixes in between.  In many ways, it looked better than if she had just gotten a standard set of tile, all alike, with similar patterns and shapes. 


When we first drove through the little village of Cabuynan, Tanauan, Leyte,  on January 22, I recognized only the big Copra Mill where sweating bodies had milled coconut oil, all of the huge containers overturned and leaking sludge.  Everything else was a burned, spoiled palette of the town and houses that had once been.  We drove by the house the first time, since I was looking for the sturdy little home that I had known, but then we lurched the creaking jeepney to a stop and turned around, slowly creeping along the National Highway, and finally, we saw a bright tiled floor out in the open, and chain-link remnants of the fence that once guarded the hacienda.   Roy and I exited the jeep and walked across the road carrying a few new folding chairs and provisional clothes as Grace Anne stood in a light drizzle in front of her makeshift home of donated plywood, paper-thin roofing, and a soiled Unicef tent. 
Her smile was huge, and as she talked, Grace Anne's pride shone through a strong composure.  Only when asked of her experience during those minutes and hours of Typhoon Haiyan's fierce winds and surge did the corners of her beautiful big eyes puddle with anguish.   


Grace Anne, her cousin Roussini, her mother and father, and her grandmother were all at her house when they began to hear the first rains from Yolanda hit the metal roof of their home during the evening of November 8, 2013. 

Within an hour, winds were deafening, and their coastal community knew that this storm was unlike the others they had known.  The first salty pacific wave shattered through a thin wall of cinderblocks and mortar, and tore away the thin metal roof, and, at about 5 o'clock PM, Grace Anne held onto Roussini as they were carried on a wave, white and ferocious, some 50-feet high over to the steep mountain that flanks their little town.  The other family members were unable to stay with them, and were forced in other directions.   Grace Anne pointed to the places where she and Roussini clung for about 3 hours as wave after wave of storm surge wiped away homes and lives and futures of so many.  A boulder outcrop jutting out from the mountain where they found shelter at last stands as memorial to their horrible experience.


As they told their story, we stood under a tarp in the small cooking area listening intently, incredulously, to their memories of that night.  Finally I asked about her mother, the woman I had known as Tita Grace.  Before Grace Anne could answer, we heard a motor slow outside, and Terry, Grace Anne’s father came around the corner, much leaner than I remember, with a large smile on his face, outstretched arms. 


Rain subsided and we walked on the colorful tile floor in hot Philippine sun as Terry recounted his experience during the storm.  Despite some new scars on his upper arms, and a tighter gait to protect some broken ribs, he was the same Terry as always.  His voice was tired though, and one can only imagine the pain that he had experienced in the past couple months since the storm.  That morning, as waves had swept them towards the same steep slope where Grace Anne and Roussini were clinging for their lives, Terry and Grace held onto each other, grasping for tree tops as the torrent tossed them around.  Finally, Terry said they lost their grasp on each other and he clung to a tall coconut tree as floating debris battered his arms and back.  A giant white swell carried Tita Grace away into the early morning

Students in Tanauan jump rope and live next to the shallow graves of many friends and family





darkness. 


Friends meeting to help decide where to put local funds in Babatngon
The day after the Typhoon, light drizzle fell as Grace Anne, Roussini and Terry were reunited.  Their home was gone, and all that remained were some pieces of rubble and bright tile, washed by ferocious winds and rain.  They would find Tita Grace’s torn body a half mile away amongst fallen Mahogany branches and a bramble of Balukawi vines, and eventually discover Tita Grace’s mother, a cousin, Terry’s mother and father, and many friends who had been lost to the Typhoon as well. 

All the Soggy Books that remain for the nearby Tanauan National High School that services 1600 students, where 52 of 58 school buildings were completely obliterated
For one family to feel this kind of pain is devastating, but unfortunately, it is similar to tens of thousands of stories of families in this jovial, welcoming corner of the world called Leyte, Philippines.



Grace Anne told me of her struggle to stay afloat, and her reliance on leaves and wood in those 3 hours.  Neither she nor Roussini could swim, adding to their panic.  She stretched her arms wide to show me the size of the snakes and lizards that floated in the white froth with her, and, when I asked her how, despite the waters and odds against them, she had managed to remain alive, Roussini and her clutched one another again, as I imagine they had that evening, and Grace Anne shook her head, motioning to the sky.  

Monday, January 13, 2014

That Idyllic MCHM Sheen


 The Elk River is a scenic water body that flows East to West, past the famous Snowshoe Resort near Cass Scenic railroad and railtrail, gorgeous mountains, through pristine valleys, and through the city of Charleston, West Virginia.  The river is known for great flyfishing and fat smallmouth, and a byway has been proposed in order to give more tourists access to this wonderful attraction. 



Last week, Freedom Industries, a coal mining company, spilled over 7500 gallons of 4-Methylcyclohexanemethanol(MCHM) into the Elk River.  .  "What exactly is MCHM?", I've been wondering, so, I did a little research. This chemical is a foaming agent, used to clean up coal after it is pulled from the seams that run deep through the Appalachian Mountains.  Rich dirt clods and clay clumps bind to MCHM foam and fall away from the dark rock, and, since MCHM is a byproduct of other chemical processes, it is used as a foaming agent instead of other safer, more expensive alternatives.  That's not really a big deal, and it's not even really corroborated, because the chemical has never been fully tested by our Federal government.  "Why?" you might ask.  Well, it comes down to the Toxic Substances Control Act and how it's not really been enforced.  

The Toxic Substances Control Act was enacted by congress in 1976 to set clear guidelines for testing all chemicals that are used by industry.  However, we don't have the money or political will to carry out that charge.  I could go on and on about TSCA, why it is a good idea that hasn't been fully implemented for political reasons and special interests, but you can read all about that on the EPA website or just go to Wikipedia.  A list of chemicals that have been tested by the EPA under the TSCA will display names of about 150 chemicals and their results.  There are over 85,000 existing chemicals, so this constitutes about 0.1% completion.  In short, comprehensive testing of synthetic industrial chemicals is not going to happen any time soon.   

Unfortunately, over 300,000 people were affected by a ban on drinking water in the wake of this spill, but I would like to connect some dots and ask a question.  What if, in a heavily populated area where natural gas, oil, and coal extraction is taking place, a similar leak had happened, with similarly unknown chemicals? 

Pennsylvania, for example, is saturated with natural gas wells along the Marcellus/Devonian/Utica shale plays, deposits that run right under Pittsburgh and other big cities.  Imagine a spill that affects Pittsburgh and the 9 counties that surround it.  Now we're talking over 1 million individuals.  Philadelphia and surrounding areas? Almost 6.5 million.  With fracking, as well as other minerals extraction, lots of chemicals are involved in getting those resources out of the ground.   And, as you can imagine, those chemicals go largely untested. 

We still don't know entirely what MCHM does to our bodies and those of our families, and we probably won't understand the ramifications of this spill for a long time.  We're just worried about people right now, and for good reason, but who knows what this spill did to the environment of this gorgeous West Virginia river?  

 Now, I am not into kicking private businesses, and I don't want to discourage support of private industry, but when you are affecting the environment, rivers, mountains, resources that affect hundreds of thousands of people, stakes are really high, and those organizations that are working around our shared environments, manipulating the 'commons', are under, and should be under incredible scrutiny.  Besides, I'm a fly fisherman, so there.  :) 


So, let's just get to work testing everything and controlling the worst chemicals, right?  Right.  It's just that people need to speak up, and stay motivated to hold industry accountable for their actions.  Reckless containment and loud pontifications about de-regulation of Federal laws aren't helping.  If you hear people questioning the role of regulators and the government, speak up, because, with diminishing fossil and energy resources and the largest shale and coal deposits in our backyards here in the Northeast, time's a wasting and there's never been a better time to be an environmental activist than right now.