The Philippines: A Land Of Stark Contrasts

Sunday February 16, 2003

One of the things that struck me most from the day I arrived in the Philippines was the many signs of poverty all around me. Every day that I ventured out of my modest apartment, I saw dwellings that were far less inviting looking than my concrete block living quarters with no window screens -- until the guys built some.

Those of you who have visited other third world countries have seen similar sights, but for me it was a new experience, seeing row after row of ramshackle shacks (there’s no other word for it) that didn’t look like they could survive the next typhoon. The dwellings of the poor were cobbled together out of scrap lumber, rough-laid concrete blocks, pieces of rusty corrugated iron for walls or roofs, with many of the window openings just that – open to whatever the day’s weather, being closed at night with hinged wooden coverings.

Yards were bare dirt, with maybe a few chickens and a sorry-looking dog hanging about, and children – lots of them.

Yet every time I passed these homes, I could see laundry hanging in the sunshine, and a mother or grandmother sweeping in front of the open doorway. Cheerful curtains fluttered in and out of the window openings, and, in my own neighborhood, smiles and greetings were always offered.

My American guide preached against taking “National Geographic photos” and I could see the sense of that. It would have been one-sided to show you only the third-worldliness of my host country. But those of you who have visited my Web site have seen the photos of nearly palatial homes at Camp John Hay in Baguio City, modern stores and shopping malls, and other signs of affluence that portray a developing economy.

Yet 40 per cent of Filipinos live BELOW the poverty level, according to an editorial I read in the Nov. 25 Manila Bulletin. When I asked what the minimum wage is in the Philippines, I was told 333 pesos a day, about $6. Is it any wonder every single Filipino I met expressed a longing to come to the U.S., if only for a visit to the land of opportunity?

The week that editorial appeared was Population and Development Week, and the editorial called attention to the critical issues of economics, education and health that are threatened by population that has gone from six million in 1903 to 75 million in 2000. The writer pointed out one telltale sign of the overpopulation problem – that at least 2 million squatters live in Metro Manila. Many of the dwellings I saw were just that – homes that house people who have no place of their own, so they find an empty spot anywhere, most often on the river, and settle there. My friend Joseph kept saying the preferable term is “informal settlers,” but apparently the media has not yet arrived at that politically preferable choice of labels.

Whatever you call them, the neediest of the country’s citizens were among the most visible – whether riding a bicycle piled high with colorful plastic household goods to peddle, or going to the central markets at 3 a.m. to buy their stock for the day to sell in their own neighborhood business, or just sitting in the shade of a building, holding out a hand to passersby. Beside the occasional sidewalk beggar would be a whole row of entrepreneurs, blankets or baskets spread to display their wares. I was constantly impressed by how industrious most Filipinos seemed to be, working long hours at the most basic level of enterprise, to take home a few pesos each day.

Those without structures to house them set up housekeeping wherever they could. I saw one man, sound asleep on his bare mattress in broad daylight, on the dirt that filled in the 3-foot concrete median, traffic whizzing by on both sides. Sometimes whole families seemed to be camping by the bay or in the city park.

I was told before I went to the Philippines that many parents , burdened with too many mouths to feed, will offer their children up for adoption, and on two occasions, people did just that. One father said, “take my youngest son home with you,” another offered me the younger of his two daughters. They were more than a little serious, yet both were engaged in making a living, one as a jeepney owner and driver, the other as my neighborhood tailor. I’d have been glad to have both children, in another life. The little guy, though shy, always seemed willing to spend time with me, and the little girl always wanted a hug and a kiss.

Yesterday I went grocery shopping for the first time since coming home, and because my larder was nearly empty and I was expecting guests, I spent enough to have fed me for several weeks in the Philippines. And next weekend, I will go hungry – as I participate, for the first time, in World Vision’s 30-Hour Famine, along with the young people of my church and other adults who have been challenged to experience what it feels like to be really hungry. The money we raise will make a difference, at least for a little while, to some of the world’s least citizens. I’m reminded of the words of Jesus Christ to his disciples, “inasmuch as ye have done it to one of the least of these, ye have done it unto me.”

Sandy Weil is a freelance columnist who writes regularly for the Plainsman. She can be reached at home in Huron, S.D., or by e-mail at dakotawoman@santel.net

You can see Barry Doolittle's web page by Clicking here.
contact Barry Doolittle by email at: barry@doolittle.ph