Blessed and Broken

“He speaks English well and is extremely confident and gutsy. He willingly embraced new ideas and gave things a red hot go.“

In a previous post, this is how I described Misdari, a young Badjao man I met in May 2019. He came to some training days held in the convent in Surigao. He was about fifteen at the time. That would put him around nineteen now.

Sadly, he will be forever nineteen. He died on 2nd April. As you can imagine his family are devastated, as am I. He was sick for a time before his death. On my recent trip, I learnt he had been in hospital for quite a while, but was home in the community when I arrived. I saw photos and he was unbelievably thin and I knew that he was very weak. So on my first visit, Sr Cathy and I went to visit him. We went to his family home, but he wasn’t there. He was staying at one of the community healer’s house, which was further away from the shoreline. He was so weak, he was unable to walk and consequently couldn’t come to his house. The young woman who led us to his house didn’t feel safe walking out to where he was staying and therefore consequently neither did we. We spent some time with his grandmother and mother and asked to be remembered to him. In the weeks that followed, we regularly saw his grandmother in the city as she sat on the ground near one of the fast food outlets and begged. I wonder now if she was begging for money for further care for Misdari. Sadly, I never got to see him again, something I regret.

Sometimes it takes a while to process news and Misdari’s death is one of them. The thought of no one ever hearing his laugh again, being charmed by his confidence and effervescent personality or him not achieving his dreams is hard to imagine and reconcile with reality. I don’t know the exact details surrounding his death but I suspect that had he lived in a different place, with access to better financial means and regular heathy meals, he would still be alive today. Malnutrition was a contributing factor in his death. The reasons for it as I understand, may have been avoided but that is not for me to decide. In 2019, I wrote two posts where I introduced you to him and shared some of his story – the small fragments I am privileged enough to know. You can find them here: Misdari and I Wonder Why

In I Wonder Why, I was grappling with some of life’s bigger questions around inequality, injustice, food scarcity, corruption and my place in it all. Nothing much has changed, except now I probably have more questions than ever before. Asking the questions won’t bring Misdari back to his distraught and grief-stricken family and friends, but they may make a difference in the life of his soon-to-be-born niece or nephew, child of his fifteen year-old sister. They may also make a difference in the life of his mother, grandmother, his pregnant sister, his other siblings and the wider Badjao community. It makes the work in the community all the more crucial. It might not change the world but it might change the world for some.

As I’ve continued to grapple with Misdari’s death and life’s big questions, I was particularly touched by the words of a hymn by Erica Marshall at Mass yesterday morning.

Sorrow will come as we travel our journey,

Broken, yet blessed in the breaking we are.

Sorrow has certainly come and yes many are feeling broken by the reality of Misdari’s death, myself included. However, I am blessed. Blessed because I met him and walked with him for a very short period of time. Perhaps it is in the breaking that I have realised how blessed.

May you rest in peace Misdari xo

Worlds Apart

We all live in the same world, but our world’s are very different. As I spoke these words, I was struck by how true they really are. Tonight, I’m winging my way back across the ocean that separates the Philippines and Australia and as I wait in the airport, I’m reflecting on these words.

We sleep under the same great dome, we see the same sun rise and set each day, our tides are governed by the same moon, yet the realities of all who live in these countries is vastly different. Within the same country there are of course differences, but I think the greater divide exists across countries. There’s the out and out obvious differences – seasons, transport, population to name a few. 

Then upon closer inspection other differences emerge. The education systems for example are different.  Education is compulsory in both places and students still attend school at similar ages, but class sizes, teaching practices and the hours of school vary. Our political systems are different –  a republic and a monarchy, led by a President in one instance and a Prime Minister in the other. In both cases decided by the people through a vote.  The health systems and their delivery methods vary, yet the purpose is the same.

I’m finding it really hard difficult to articulate the greatest differences.  Is it the people, their attitudes, their expectations of each other and society in general or is it the way of life?  What I do know is that this trip there has been a continual game of tug-o-war taking place.  A struggle between the disparity of the rich and the poor, what is the norm for me in Australia and what became the norm for me in the Philippines and a struggle between what I really wanted and what I really needed.  We all need food, clothing, shelter and we have a right to each of these and the right to human dignity, education and safety.  I was granted all of this here, but not everyone I encountered did or does.  This is where our worlds, although one are clearly so different. 

I sit in a place of privilege and it is really comfortable, perhaps even expected but it’s also really uncomfortable.  To watch people beg for their next meal, to hear of parents stoop to sell photos of their children for the sexual pleasure of others, to know that basic sanitation is not available for so many and to encounter people who don’t know how old they are, makes my comfortable, uncomfortable – extremely uncomfortable. I share this not for you to have pity for people because I don’t think that’s the answer and I don’t think people want pity.  What they want is to be seen, to be heard and to be treated with dignity and respect. 

My hope in sharing this is that if you aren’t aware of what is happening in our world, then maybe this will stir in you a curiosity to know more. It might make your comfortable uncomfortable, but speaking from experience, I can tell you. It’s worth it.

Noticing

Whilst this may not be my last post on this trip to the Philippines, it will be close. My two months draw to a close in just two days. I want to share some things I have noticed this past week. They are in no particular order.

I noticed:

• The drum of heavy raindrops as they fell on the windscreen of the car.
• The Big Brother Philippine house.
• Men with handtowels on their heads to keep the rain off.
• A young woman with a face mask standing by the side of the road in the dark. Illuminated only by the headlights of our car and wondered how safe she was.
• Another woman driving a tricycle at night.
• Conversations all around me. The words washing over me as I was unaware of what was being said.
• The rich colours of the bourganvilla in bloom.
• The black SUV that pulled out in front of us, causing Joe to slam on the breaks
• The late afternoon sky looking like the Japanese flag, only the colours were different.
• The orange ball of fire that played hide-n-seek as the clouds were carried on the wind.
• Traffic
• Towns and cities sharing names of countries and cities around the world, Venazuela, Mexico, San Hose.
• The importance of pasalobong (gifts when you arrive at someone’s place).
• the balming effect of long breakfast conversations that resulted in tears and laughter.
• Patience being tested – mine and others.
• Myself trying to be curious.
• The constant presence of roosters
• A glorious sunrise.
• A room full of people relax and laugh when they were asked to draw an elephant.
• Geckos
• Water in a bucket that was my shower.
• The fear of not being prepared enough or good enough.
• Learning dawning.
• There are many ways to draw an elephant.
• A young man being unwilling to budge and an older gentleman soaking up new learning and experiences.
• How cultures differ.
• A man hefting a 20kg bag of rice onto his head to carry it home.
• The ability of others to sleep anywhere, and I mean anywhere!
• A ripening rice crop
• Rice and corn drying on the side of the road.
• Palm Sunday being celebrated differently.
• Roadside fruit and vegetable stalls.
• Fathers and their children out on tricycles.
• A woman determined to beat breast cancer.
• The strength and determination of a woman.
• Tears
• We all live in the same world but our world’s are different.

Sunrise

Embracing change

Telling the story of the Ten Commandments

Puzzling it out

The roadside fruit and veg stall

Palm Sunday

My palm

Rice drying on the side of the road.

Cement blocks should

Happy Birthday to You

The classrooms are wedged in between neighbouring fences. The view from each window is concrete. Some of these concrete walls are brightly decorated, some a reminder of the alphabet or a counting sequence and others are plain. Inside each classroom learners as individual as you and I often struggle to make sense of the world around them. I struggle to make sense of their world and the way they are often treated, not by the school or their teachers but by society. They hold a special place in my heart. The countless children who have entered these rooms always have, only there were fewer rooms when I first went to the Marigondon Elementary School Special Education Depeartment.

When I first visited here many years ago, there were three teachers in classrooms in desperate need of repair. Each had large classes. Recently, I visited and I am pleased to say that there are now eight classrooms (and teachers) and each teacher has only five students per session. Days are divided into three sessions. 7:30 – 9:30am, 9:30 – 11:30am and 1 – 3 pm. This equates to the students spending only ten hours of school per week. The remaining 5886 students in the school get to much spend so much more. Why should those who struggle the most receive the least?

Most of us know that school is a drag for many. Some experienced it. It is often bemoaned and many flat out don’t like it. However, like it or not, it opens doors to pursue dreams. It enables us to read and write, to get a job, to be able to make informed decisions and to allow others not to take advantage of us. Some are deprieved of these opportunities, not because they choose to be, but because of their abilities. Many of the students who pass through these walls are those very people who receive less because of who they are. And that’s not fair.

I admire the amazing teachers, led by Eleanor, who continually advocate for these learners. They spend hours of their own time making resources from whatever they can find, or spend their small incomes buying resources needed to teach a particular concept. They are loving and caring and they are simply amazing! I am honoured to have met these amazing people who are doing their best to make a difference in the lives of the young people before them.

As a way to particularly honour these students and their teachers, I called on friends to help out. I asked if anyone way willing to make some birthday cards so that come each child’s birthday, they are remembered and honoured by someone they don’t know. I’ve asked for assistance a few times now. When I arrived at the school earlier this week, with my bag full of cards, I was told they only had a few left. The timing couldn’t have been more perfect. After leaving the school, I received a message and photo from Eleanor telling me that all the new ones wouldn’t fit in their box!

The box before the new cards were added

After!

So to Annette, Helen, Janelle and friends, Julia, Fiona, Liz and Ruth, Anna, Julia and Janessa, The Year 3 students at St Saviour’s Primary and Anne and Amy from the bottom of my heart – thank you. Thank you for making the lives of these children special. My heart is full.

Switching Gears

We sat in silence. Children were at the centre of what we were doing, but there was not a child in sight, nor could we hear any. I smiled to myself. It was in direct contrast to what I was experiencing last week, with children practically bouncing off the walls. They were certainly making themselves heard then and most of the adults in the room were busily and excitedly chatting too.

My day began also in direct contrast to recent weeks. I went for a 5km walk. My first real walk of any distance in the past month. Gosh, I’ve missed it. It was wonderful. The view was pretty spectacular too. Plastic still littered every surface and there is much to be done on that front but seeing the sun rise over the ocean allowed me to marvel at natural world once again and be in one of my happy places.

I have arrived in Cordova for a couple of days. I’m helping to re-establish a school library for a Kinder school – OLSHIS (Our Lady of the Sacred Heart Integrated School). The children are still switching between at home and at school learning. These past two days have been at home days, hence not being able to hear them.

I still marvelled. At one point, there were five women in the room and no chatter. They were a bit scared of me and they were shy, that’s what they told me at lunchtime, yesterday. I don’t usually scare people, but I’ve had a habit of doing that over here. I think it is mostly related to people not feeling comfortable speaking in English. My Visayan and Tagalog are terrible (read practically non-existent), so they really have nothing to be worried about. They are miles ahead of me.

I’ve never worked in a library. I’ve got plenty of friends who do or who have and I am ever so grateful for that. I had a crash course via Zoom last Monday with Helen, who helped to set this library up in the first place. Yesterday, I messaged her back and forth with my thousand questions and another teacher librarian friend was on standby in case I couldn’t contact Helen. I had lots of support and encouragement. We managed to reshelve all the existing books, do a stocktake of the current books and accession, cover and shelve around 100 new books. It was a team effort.

Today was quieter still. Just me and a few hundred books to keep me company. It’s all just about done. About thirty books to cover and shelve then, it will be time to let the children loose amongst all the adventures that await between the covers.

Usual or Not?

I’ve written a few times on this trip about expecting the unexpected and the various things that have surprised me during these past six weeks. Today, I thought I’d share with you things that I found surprising this past week, but that may just be quite ordinary everyday things here.

1. Bathing your dog on a chair and she stays when you walk away.
2. After bathing the said dog on a rather hot day, she shivers uncontrollably, hence the towel as a blanket.

3. Carrying items such as ironing boards in the local transport. After all, most people don’t have cars.

4. Weekday Masses having all the bells and smells. Women are only allowed to read, no Eucharistic Ministers, unless you are religious. (For those who know me well, know that this upsets me greatly)

5. Personal viewing towers on your property when you can overlook your worksite, Cebu City and beautiful sunsets.

6. Karaoke nights with Priests and Sisters

7. Listening to a radio program being recorded whilst completing an inventory of resources. The two hosts forgot that they actually said goodbye to me on their last pre-recorded session and almost included me in their conversations.

8. Dancing wearing my gift made by the Badjao women.

9. Catching-up with Bert, the owner of a fabric and haberdashery shop I met a few years ago when he came with us to visit the Badjao community.

So now, from Surigao, it’s time to say goodbye.

Graduation Day

There were rules. Everyone used the same sewing machine every day. Everyone had their own kit, which meant going back to their machine every time they needed to pin something new. At the end of the day, individuals had to put their kit back together and put it in their sewing machine draw. If I caught anyone using another person’s machine, I would ask, “Is that your machine?” Invariably, this was met with a smile, a laugh, a “Sorry, Miss Catherine.” and they waited until their machine was free if they were sharing it with someone. For the most part, the rules worked. I had to laugh one day, some one not in the class asked if they could use one of the women’s sewing machines, a clear emphatic no echoed through the room!

I hope the rules live on and the practice of sewing. Today, we rounded out our three weeks of lessons (3 x per week) with a small graduation ceremony. The women might have been two hours late on their first day of class, but today, they were half an hour early! They were so excited.

I’ll confess there were times I didn’t think that what we had set out to do would actually happen. But it did. I am super proud to say that over the course of this time, most of the women made:

• A drawstring bag (their kit bags)
• 1 or 2 reversible handbags
• A cross-body handbag
• A zippered pouch
• 1, 2, 3 or 4 scrunchies
• A Modular Me Top (Thanks Julie and Maurice for a great pattern – http://www.modularme.com)

I hadn’t expected them to make so many things. I had about three things planned, but they whizzed through their projects and wanted more. The first day, we began sewing straight (?) lines on paper. The progress that was made was massive. Each finished project was a testament to that.

I wasn’t prepared to make an ‘inspirational’ speech when Sr Cathy asked me to speak right at the beginning of the ceremony. I figured I would have to say something at some point, but I thought I’d have some time to pull it together after we had presented their certificates. I also wasn’t prepared for the inability to speak. These seven beautiful women, whose lives are so far removed from my own in many ways, achieved something they didn’t think was possible. Despite having sick children, breastfeeding whilst sewing and/or ironing, children running everywhere, random one-hour daycare classes to attend, a meeting to collect school uniforms, language barriers, fears, frustrations and feelings of not-good-enough, they achieved so much. How could I not be moved to tears? For some, the certificate we created is their first ever! Their faces lit up when we read out what was on each one. There was no wiping the smile off their faces and some literally jumped up and down. I’m glad I could make their day.

On Day 1, three weeks ago, after she found out I was from Australia, one of the women asked Sr Cathy why I came to the Philiipines. Sr Cathy told her to help you with your sewing. She kept asking, she came just for us? Today, she reiterated those words when she thanked me at our gathering. I was moved to tears – again!

After our formalities and photos, they and their children danced their traditional dance for me and then presented me with a pair of pants that they made. They are what they traditionally wear.

It would be remiss of me not to thank some people who have helped make these past three weeks possible. Firstly, there are financial contributors from all walks of life, family and friends – thank you! WRA (World Relief Australia), who do so much behind the scenes . A special thanks to Annette, your extra donation it provided all the material for the women to make their sewing collection. Oh, and also the enduring legacy of an ironing board! Thanks to Julie and Maurice from Ministry of Handmade, the makers of the Modular Me Pattern. #ModularMe Thanks to Sr Sally, for your baby-sitting services and all-round help. Finally, thank you Sr Cathy – translator extraordinaire, partner in frustrations and joy, provider of meals and amazing human! These three weeks would not have been possible without any of these people. (I hope I haven’t forgotten anyone – in case I did – sorry and thank you!)

So now, from here, my heart is full, I hope these pictures fill yours, too.

Bye for now to the Badjao Community

I Think I Can. I Think I Can

I clutched onto his shoulders. They were strong yet relaxed, unlike mine. The road ahead was steep and rough and he needed to keep his wits about him.

I think I can.

I think I can.

I know I can.

I know I can.

The words from a childhood book called The Little Red Caboose reverberated in my brain. Laughter bubbled up inside and I had to do everything I could to contain it. Partly because this was an hilarious and out-of-the-box way to spend the afternoon and partly because Sr Cathy had her eyes squeezed shut and looked like she was definitely not enjoying the experience. Laughing at another’s fear is not encouraged. I could totally understand her fear. This was not the safest thing to be doing. (Sorry Mum and Dad! Better to tell you after the fact than before!)

At breakfast this morning, Sr Cathy quite inoccently said, “I wonder what adventures today will bring?” I don’t think riding a skylove was something she had in mind after all; we were to spend the day sewing with the Badjao women. And we did, just not all day.

When I leave Surigao, the women will no longer have a sewing teacher. Prior to Odette, the typhoon from 2021, Sr Cathy had made contact with a lady who was eager to teach the women sewing. Odette happened, contact was lost and there were a few other priorities. I arrived and began asking if we could plan for the future. So Sr Cathy got to contacting the lady, Evelyn, only to have messages unopened and phone calls left asking her to check the number and try again. In the end, she contacted another lady, Emily, who knew her. She told her that she was willing to make contact with Evelyn as she also knew where she lived. Fast forward to 11 am today. The suggestion was that we would visit. We didn’t know if she’d be home, but sure, why not? That sounds like a great plan.

So, we closed the Centre early, telling the women that we were searching for their next sewing teacher. We caught one tricycle to the waterfront and then another heading in the direction of the town we needed to go to. Along the way, we picked up Emily from work. The tricycle ride had us going through the rice fields and a much less densely populated area. The wind whipping around us on the tricycle was like a salve from the intensity of the mid-afternoon sun. (Yes, we’ve had sun for the past two days!). We began to climb on the tricycle and we could certainly see the mountains to our right rising majestically to demand attention.

We pulled into the ‘terminal’. A simple lean to structure with mostly men, although there was one woman; resting on their skyloves. Conversations which I couldn’t follow due to my non-existent ability to learn another language were had, and we decided to go for it! A skylove is a motor bike (Called here a single motor), with wooden planks on either side on which passengers sit, with their legs outstretched before them. Seatbelts? I hear you ask. Um… no. Helmets? Um… no. Any safety equipment? Um… still no.

I climbed on behind the driver, hence my hands resting on his shoulders and after counting to three, Sr Cathy and Emily sat on at the same time. We were off. At first, it was smooth, at least on the main road. We turned off and the road deteriorated. It was rocky, but the driver was skilled. This was his occupation, after all. We bumped our way up for about half an hour. At times, it was very steep, the motorbike revved loudly and I felt the need to lean forward to ease its labouring.

Upon arrival at the town on top (of the world), we disembarked and asked the driver to wait. I felt every part of my body still feeling the vibrations of the motorbike. We asked a young women sitting outside her house, if she knew where Evelyn lived. She did. We walked the short distance by foot. When we arrived Evelyn was praying, so we waited. We were graciously greeted and she and Sr Cathy spent some time catching up and finding out how Evelyn fared after Odette and checking if her contact details had changed – they had. That would explain no response from her.

These were taken at the top before we began our descent. I was actually behind the driver, although I did ride like this from Emily’s house to the motorcab terminal.

The conversation got down to business and by the end of our short visit, next steps were put in place. The original plan of her coming to teach can not be implemented, but there is still a chance she can help us through the organisation she is now working with. So all is not lost and the ride was worth it. Mind you, we still had to come down that very steep mountain.

We bid Evelyn farewell, outside her small modest home where the air was much cooler and a beautiful breeze was blowing and returned to the skylove driver. Sr Cathy gave the driver strict instructions to go slow on the way down. Her eyes remained opened this time, and she was far more comfortable. The driver obliged and we slowly made our way down the mountain with the motorbike backfiring most of the way. This time, we all laughed.

This was not the adventure either of us had envisaged this morning at breakfast, but then again, this trip, I’ve been expecting the unexpected and today it delivered… again!

H2O – Yes And

I awoke early. It was still dark. In the distance, I could hear singing, no, I think it was more like chanting. It’s Sunday, and here in the Philippines, definitely, a quieter day. A day for worship, for catching up and for resting. I lay in bed enjoying the slow beginning of a new day.

The sun emerged from its day(s) of rest and is now high in the bright blue sky. I’m not sure if it’s because of this or just because this morning we aren’t rushing off anywhere, but I can hear more. More birds, roosters crowing (there’s always roosters crowing), dogs barking, music and the roar or purr of motorbikes.

According to the forecast, the sun is to disappear later in the day.  It’s not the wet season, but it sure feels like it. I think it has rained every day, I’ve been in Suriago and most days I was in Butuan.  Everything feels wet, me included.  I think that’s why the sun feels so great this morning. 

I’ve been thinking about water a lot since being here. Who could blame me, given its frequency? It is as Annie F Downs (#anniefdowns) would say, a yes and combination. Yes, it is the source of life that brings great joy and at times, it can bring great sorrow and it can take life. It can do that literally or figuratively. It can sometimes zap the life out of you when it is so continuous. I’ve seen examples of both since coming here.

In a previous post, I shared my experiences of Sabang Hibong and the way that flooding has led their community to adapt their way of life to now float upon the water, rather than to have it continually inundate their homes and destroy their spirits.  Whilst this isn’t the ideal, they have used the water to give life rather than to take it. 

I think of the Badjao community I am currently working with.  They are sea people.  They live out over the water, as you can see, in what might be considered unstable or impermanent homes.  (Their current housing situation is a whole other story.) In December 2021, their then homes, were completed annihilated by Odette, a typhoon.  The only parts left standing were the bamboo footings into the sea and some of the floors.  We have another of the yes and.  Yes, wild weather including rain destroyed their homes and at the same time water is the basis of their livelihoods.

The community are amazing at navigating the boardwalks that connect their community to land.  I’m amazed you don’t see or hear of children and young babies falling in and/or drowning.  The children run and play on those boards, often only 20 – 30 cm wide, with water all around them, yet in weather like we had yesterday (See Just a Saturday Morning), they often don’t show up.  Things are cancelled because of the rain.  It’s like the yin and the yang, the yes and the and.

Despite saying that they don’t often show up, yesterday, around lunch time about fourteen children arrived at the centre.  A tutorial was to be held at 1pm.  Now, I can’t be certain if the children came for the tutorial or if they came to get out of the rain but they came.  I’m so glad they see the Centre as a place to come, a safe haven even if just from the rain. They were in high spirits.  While they waited for the tutors and the tutorial to begin (The tutors actually didn’t come because of the rain!) they had a lovely time and I was enthralled watching them play.  They had brought nothing with them.  But for an hour to an hour and a half they played games using only their bodies.  They ran, jumped, competed, argued, fought and laughed.  It was a joy to watch.  No rain was going to dampen their spirits!

In the end, Sr Cathy took the tutorial which was a series of games that the children played.  I don’t think many of them knew that they were learning or even having a tutorial.  To them, I suspect, it looked like more games.  At one point, I joined in and taught them a song: Johnny Works with One Hammer.  I don’t know if you know it, but they loved it.  So much so, that we did it four or five times throughout the afternoon.  English would be their third language and whilst most of them didn’t get the words, they loved the actions and they laughed and laughed each time we sang it.

There was a moment at the end of the day that has really stayed with me. Sr Cathy had given them Paddle Pop sticks (Sometimes known as popsicle sticks) and they were making shapes using only a certain number of sticks. The last thing she asked them to do was build their dream house. I’ll let the pictures do the talking.

Just a Saturday Morning

I awoke in the early hours of the day to torrential rain. The type that makes you want to roll over and go back to sleep or to pick up a book and get lost in the adventures of another, whether they are real or fictitious. That was not what I did. By the time breakfast rolled around, thunder and lightening were on the menu. I had hoped that by the time we needed to leave the house at 8:30 am, the storm would be gone and that the rain at least would have let up. I got one wish, no storm. The rain continued. We, Sr Sally, Sr Cathy and I, held our bags close, popped up our umbrellas and set off. Before, we were at the end of the street, my umbrella was practically on top of my head to try and stop the water soaking me through, the front of my shorts were wet and it didn’t look like my shoes were going to stay dry long.

It is between a five to ten minute walk to the main road where we usually hail a tricycle for our ride to the Centre. Sometimes, someone is being dropped off in the subdivision, so, we are sometimes able to get a tricycle before we get to the main road. No such luck today!

I confess, my mood matched the weather. I was grumpy, partly due to the weather and partly because I hadn’t slept well. We approached a section of the road that is covered with water on a day without torrential rain. Normally, there is a path along the footpath that isn’t actually used as a footpath. (The road is actually more serviceable), Today, it was a puddle, just like the street. Dry shoes became semi-wet shoes. I was still grumpy.

There is nothing anyone can do about the weather and I knew that. There was another puddle across the road and this time no footpath at all.  I turned around looked at Sr Cathy and playfully stomped my way right through the centre, laughing hysterically as I did.  Semi-wet shoes now saturated shoes. My grumps were gone. 

We walked on, shelter in sight and hopefully a tricycle not too far away.  We arrived at the subdivision entrance, where the guard sits.  There is a shelter there, but it really isn’t all that big.  Certainly not big enough for the three of us, the two people already there and the guard..  I stood outside the shelter with the underside of the umbrella pulling random strands of hair, it was that close to my head.  The guard laughed at the size of my umbrella.  I’m pleased he got a laugh today. It seems everyone else was more worried about my wet shoes than I was. They would (and will) eventually dry.

As we stood waiting for a tricycle and trying to communicate with another Sister who lives nearby, the rain continued to fall.  As it did, the water level on the main road continued to rise.  The gutters here cannot take this amount of rain, in part due to the litter that is in the drains and partly because well they just can’t take that much rain.  I was conscious that unless there was a tricycle on our side of the road who was willing to stop for us and then turn around, we needed to cross the road and the puddle kept getting bigger and bigger. In the end, we didn’t need a tricycle, because the other Sister we were meeting ended up getting a ride in a car and on their way past they saw us, so they stopped.  You guessed it… on the other side of the street!  So we walked up the street a little further, where the puddle wasn’t quite so big and the water was ‘clean’ and we crossed, in true Philippine style with traffic coming in both directions, a hand was held up to get us safely to the other side.  In the car, six people sat in the five seats!

It was only 9 am.