Greetings blog-followers! (I would attempt to use the Filipino phrase for good morning, but a) I have no idea how to spell it, only to speak it, and b) I always get it confused with the phrase for good evening. Those 2 phrases are out of approximately 8 that I have learned/use during my time here. I think “salamat” (thank you) is the only one that I actually use without really thinking hard about it. I should also tell you that April (4, one of the kids who lives at PJM) will ask me at least once a day, “Ate Nicoooole – do you know Tagalog of ‘tree’?” To which I will ALWAYS reply, “No! Can you tell me?” I don’t think she quite grasps the fact that I don’t actually know any of her language, that I only know my language. After one of my first days here, when I pronounced the word for “girl” incorrectly and inadvertently said a bad word instead, I have been more hesistant to “learn” words from her :)

This week, apart from the car accident (see earlier blog post), has been pretty low-key. I’ve been doing some office/administrative work, which makes for really really boring blog posts. But, PJM currently has no administrator, which means that Joke and Lorrie (directors) end up doing most of it. The fact that I’m technologically proficient (at least here they think I am) and can interact with Joke and Lorrie in a first language (they’re originally Canadians) allows us to get things done pretty efficiently. Lorrie joked with me that the fact that I wasn’t writing down the job she was giving me and that she didn’t have to come up with a bunch of different ways to explain the same thing was such a nice change (their staff is entirely Filipino, so L has to explain in tagalog (which she speaks well, but is still her second language), or in English (the staff’s second or third language). Having worked in an office environment (and, moreover, having worked at the Ministry of Health, and thus having a bit of a handle on that world too – PJM does a lot of work that’s geared towards health care) means that I can really be of help here.

I’m starting to get a handle on a few of the services nearby that I will need to be using – it seems simple enough, but for those of you who can imagine a large city in a third world country, nothing is really simple. Jobs/errands like getting photos printed, getting photocopies, sending faxes, buying blank cd’s etc. all become much more complicated when you’re new to the city, you don’t speak the local language, and you’re learning where everything is. That said, I have managed to do all those jobs above this week by myself! Yay for self-reliance! I’ve been doing a lot of the work at Philcoa, which is a mish-mash of a market, stores, internet cafes, and a bunch of other randomness that is a tricycle ride away (more on that later), so it’s been good to stretch my proverbial wings a bit and get those jobs done.

(Sidenote: save walking, there are basically 2 ways to get around here. 1, a tricycle. I think the best way to explain it is basically as a motorbike with a sidecar attached. (see photos) Michael and I are having a contest to see the most number of people we see on a tricycle. Since we started counting, I’ve seen 6; Michael swears he saw 8 before we started keeping track.

(Victorious self-portrait after first solo trip to Philcoa.)

(View from the inside of the side-car-thing on a tricycle. There's a tricycle in front of us too, to give you an idea.)

The 2nd option is a jeepney. Again, kind of tricky to explain, but if you think about a 12 passenger van, keep the driver and front passenger seats, take out all the bench seats and put in 2 long benches running the length of the vehicle. But then, of course, you’d have to developing-country-ify it, which is something that is nearly impossible to imagine until you’ve seen it. (try this: http://www.travel-images.com/phil41.jpg) Best part? Today, we were riding one to church. I felt something kind of clunk around under my feet, looked around to see if anyone else had heard (or, more likely, if anyone else cared – this is generally my tactic, checking if anyone else thinks it’s worth caring about). No one reacted, so I thought nothing of it. A few blocks later, something clunked onto the road from underneath the vehicle and started scraping along the pavement. The driver pulled over, gave us back some coins for the part of our fare we hadn’t ridden, we climbed out and climbed into another jeepney, gave him the rest of our fare, and continued on our way. I was laughing pretty much the whole time, because I thought it was absolutely hilarious – the whole thing happened without anyone batting an eye, completely normal, I suppose.)

This Saturday, we started Ang Tulay (“ahng-two-lie”), which is a program/journey designed by PJM in conjunction with UNICEF to help children process significant grief/loss/transition (see earlier posts for more details). We are offering it on a series of Saturdays over the next two months for the families that PJM works with on a regular basis, all from local squatter communities (which, I gather, is the acceptable terminology – but, from what I understand, they are effectively the slums of Manila). It is a small group (30? AT has been offered for up to 100, but it functions based on small group sessions, so it’s crucial to have a good volunteer-participant ratio).

I’ve been assigned to nursery care, which is less program and more keep-the-little-ones-busy (part of which is allowing the adults that are participating to have some rest from their children and pay attention to themselves and their own journey). So, I’m not exactly on the battleground in terms of working directly with these families (the whole thing is in Tagalog, at any rate), but I’m happy to be involved in any way. AT is a really incredible tool, and it’s so desperately needed in a place where loss of family members to disease (TB, HIV/AIDS) and the reality of abuse, domestic violence, and daily struggles of hunger and loneliness for children are all a too-familiar reality.

(I am still getting over the fact that I’ve been given this job, and I don’t know a thing about taking care of babies – just what I’ve observed, which is incredibly minimal, over the years – why would I know how to take care of babies?! I haven’t had one, I don’t have young siblings. I know it’s not rocket science, but I’m desperately trying not to muck it up (not to mention trying to be culturally appropriate!), especially in front of the mothers, who I can’t help but think are petrified to hand their child over to a young, incompetent white girl who doesn’t speak their language. Sigh. Esther (a PJM staffer) is with me, though, so that’s good.)

On Saturday I primarily took care of CJ, a 7 month old boy. I was instructed by Lorrie, once I had gotten him to sleep and was rocking him in the rocking chair (tried to put him in the crib when he was sleeping, woke up immediately. Lesson learned – if something’s working, don’t mess with it) – to just “soak this child in prayer.” She didn’t give me any further instructions – what to pray for, what kind of situation he is coming from etc. – so I sat there with him sleeping on my chest and pondered it all.

It was a bit of a struggle for me, to be honest. Perhaps I was just in a depressed head-space, but I couldn’t help but think about the odds of this child: the odds of him having enough proper nutrition to have and keep all his teeth, for example. The odds of him being the victim of some kind of abuse, of growing up without a male figure, of not being able to go to school (or, perhaps for a while, but then not past grade 3 or whatever), of falling asleep desperately hungry, of contracting HIV (if he’s not already positive from birth). All that stuff just whirled around in my head, and I couldn’t help but think about how my gut reaction is how unfair it all is – that I did absolutely NOTHING to deserve the privilege I was raised with, to deserve a happy childhood, an amazing family, the privilege of education, etc etc. And, then, the corollary, of course – that this child did absolutely nothing to deserve the life of struggle that he will undoubtedly face.

I was reminded of something that came up while I was in Los Angeles this past year: during the graduation ceremony of the Teen Challenge Southgate class (TC is, basically, a 1 year discipleship program to get youth and adults off drugs and alcohol), one of the guys I had gotten to know was the valedictorian. He said that he had faced such intense frustration and anguish, because no one had ever asked him if he wanted to be born. He didn’t get a say in the matter, he just arrived in the world. He spoke with such passion about it, that he was so frustrated for so long because he had no choice in the matter, was stuck in a situation that, in many ways, did irreparable harm, through no fault or responsibility of his own.

It becomes difficult to pray, after all that thinking. I did, to the best of my ability, but it was a struggle, for whatever reason. If you’re the praying type, anything you can offer up for CJ would be invaluable.

That's it for now - missing you all!