Tuesday, September 06, 2005

No news, good news?

There are no newspapers even here in Naval, the bustling commercial center of the this island. I don't seem to mind so much since the absence of news sources expiates my guilt for not being up on current events. Still, soundbytes have reached mine ear regarding Katrina and her destruction, as well as the impeding impeachement Gloria Macapagal Arroyo (current president of Philippines). But I know few details concering both.

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I stepped over a dead puppy covered with flies lying on the sidewalk on the way to the internet cafe. Last week a nineteen year old girl, an active member of the parish, died in a motorcylce accident. It caused little commotion. And couple of weeks ago the cousin (30 years old) of Apo, one of the "convent boys" died of some disease or other. I went to Apo's house for the wake, putting on a face of respectful mourning as I entered. Inside his relatives were drinking and playing cards next to the dead man's body.

I don't know, but sometimes it seems that life has a lesser value here than at home. Maybe it comes with the package of being poor. Maybe people here don't know how to "hold their feelings." Or perhaps death, with its hand that grasps every mother's son/daughter, is more easily accepted. I know not.

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Weekly update:

Although the piggies have been distributed, most families don't have the money to buy the feeds to make them fat. I'm currently writing a budget proposal to borrow money from the Social Action Center for the pigs feeds. Wish us luck!

We finished painting the convent last week. The upstairs is filled with bright 70's tones. Retro-trend. I fell off a table and covered myself in green (leaded?) enamel paint. It was awesome.

Our new task is transferring several years worth of garbage/waste to the front yard. About 50% is now a rich, dark, fertile loam while the other half is plastics and assorted junk. I've been sorting through this stuff for a couple days now, relishing for some reason the look of disgust of the high school girls passing by. Ah, the humble work of the stewards of the Earth!

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