via chicago

I was elated driving the motorcycle by myself for the first time to Mapuyo, our farthest barangay, located about 30 minutes north of town. The road going north is rough, unpaved, and full of treachery but no problem-O. Nothing but coconut trees, sunshine, and the sweet taste of freedom.

The next day I tried using it again to follow up on our pig recipients, and I ended up driving straight into the canal of our neighbor. Awesome. I remember the oh crap sensation a split second before disaster, and the pain of my head hitting the palm tree, but I walked away with nothing more than a squashed pinky finger. Salamat sa Diyos. One of those moments when it’s hard not to believe that someone is watching out for me…

This week Na Bebie and I took Na Flora (the laundry lady) to the hospital. Na Bebie usually takes the assistant role as the faithful side-kick of Na Betty, the pastoral worker who’s been doing her job here since she was 18 (for over 30 years!). But this was the first time I saw Babes take the reigns, navigating us through the convoluted Philippine public healthcare system. I was quite impressed. There’s money from the municipio we can tap if we get the right referral, there’s a nurse from our town working at the hospital who can keep a special eye on Na Flora, there’s an eatery across the street where we can borrow a plate and utensils for her food. We finally got Na Flora admitted. A cot with a piece of plywood to lie on, in a ward full of tropical sickness. Lying on the plywood next to her was Clarissa, a stern-faced neighbor from Kawayan, laid up with a bad case of tetanus.

Na Flora was diagnosed with typhoid and sent home after a couple days with a prescription for antibiotics, which cost about $2 a pill. Almost 60% of the households here in Kawayan earn less than $1 per day, and I know for sure Na Flora earns even less than that. She has PhilHealth, health insurance for the indigent, the equivalent of Americaid, but the problem is that PhilHealth only reimburses medical expenses, and partially at that. You still need cash up front to pay for hospitalization and medicines and I don’t think many people like Na Flora are lucky enough to have someone who’s willing and able to front the cash for them. Hopefully we can get the ball rolling with the Diocese Social Action Center to start a parish pharmacy to offer cheaper meds to our folks—a small bandage on a gashing wound, but at least its something...

Later on in the day, sitting in Berto's hammock, listening to Chicago's Greatest Hits, pouring coconut wine from a gallon jug of Castrol GTX Synthetic Oil, and watching daylight fade until our only light emminates from the slits in his bamboo hut. Edgar, overweight and the jolliest of fellows dances the "otso-otso" for us and all is laughter. And even if Berto's 101 chickens he's been faithfully guarding and tending for the past month and a half, his only source of livelihood at the moment, will only turn over a $25 profit (much lower than hoped for), I get the feeling that it doesn't really matter that much.

And so it goes in this chaotic and simple land with a future so bleak. But at least here neighbors still know each other, help each other, and have time to sit around and laugh with each other. Maybe this reality is much deeper than it would seem.

P.S. Regarding the landslide, I'm fine. Thank you all for your concern. St. Bernard is on the next island over but it's quite far from here. A PeaceCorps friend of mine is assigned there but I recently got a txt message from him that he's fine, and joining the relief effort.

P.S.S. I added some more pics from January if you care to take a peek