My second blog post about KBKN, written when I went back to the Philippines with family in December:

Processing after KBKN, Part II

“Today, there was a Lolo, or grandfather, sitting on the ground holding his hand out for money on the foot bridge near my aunt’s house. My mom and I, along with ate Marie, were on our way to the mall so my mom could deposit money and buy some Christmas gifts for our family.

As soon as I saw him, I stopped and reached into my bag and pulled out my wallet to see if I had any money I could give him. And I was immediately scolded by both of them not to take out my wallet in such a place. So we kept walking but my mom told me I could go back later to give him some money.

I actually did go back to the bridge after we crossed it. We had to walk to another building but we passed the bridge again and my mom waited while I crossed to the other side so I could give him some pesos.

As I put the money into his hand, we made eye contact and I saw his mouth move and form the word “Salamat” though most of his voice was lost in the din of traffic. I could tell he probably didn’t have teeth and my heart broke all over again. I smiled, probably a bit sadly, and walked back to rejoin my mom so we could continue our errands.

Walking into that mall and seeing all the trappings of wealth after interacting with that man made me feel sick. I was so very unprepared for the disgust I felt at all the clothes and food and spa services and the existence of this mall in this culture of materialism and excess that I was also a part of. Suddenly I was disgusted at all my clothes that were sitting at home and all the extraneous things in my life that I had spent money on while he was out there begging for spare change.

I was, and still am, so upset. It breaks my heart when I see old people begging on the streets. Seeing everyone rush past his outstretched hand and thin, too thin, arm without even acknowledging his existence brings tears to my eyes and a heaviness in my chest.

Even now, I wish that I could have done more. Given him more. I wished I had asked him for his name and story and bought him food. Everyone has a story and deserves to be heard and seen. And for an old man to be sitting on a sidewalk for most of a day begging to survive, well I just can’t stand it.

One of the most difficult things we had to learn while on our KBKN trip was how hard it was to NOT give money to people we saw begging on the streets. Not only so we wouldn’t be targeted by scammers, but also to ensure that money would go towards long-term community relief and development.

I think a quote from one of the kasamas sums it up pretty well, “It’s hard because they have immediate needs, like food and jobs, but we’re also working towards a long-term goal.” That being to eliminate the forces in society that make it so people have to beg because they have no other option. Working towards a society where people are no longer trodden down and instead have the opportunity to support themselves and their families fairly.

And you hear the stories every day, in a thousand different ways when you’re here in the Philippines:

One of the technicians who was faced away from me when he said “Oh but in the States, your job prospects are much better than here.”

My grandmother warning me of the dangers of pickpockets and recalling how someone she knew was pickpocketed in a market, “and it’s so sad because she already doesn’t have much.”

One of the father’s from the families we stayed with this summer, asking us if we could find him a job in the States so he can support his family. He added that he knows how to cook and has worked as a cook in a Chinese restaurant before.

My cousin working at a call center instead of teaching children like she wanted because working at the call center pays more.

My cousin’s boyfriend telling me you need a college degree just to work at Jollibee, a fast-food restaurant, and me thinking ‘and what about all the families who can’t afford a college education?’

And all of it, all of the stories are a continuation of the poverty and the corruption and desperation and a lack of social mobility that pervades the Philippines as people try to survive and all of it cracks my heart open every time I see, hear or remember. Because it shouldn’t be this way.

Spending time with the masses in the Philippines hammered in that conviction even stronger than before. It shouldn’t be this way. They deserve the chance to support themselves and their families and to succeed. They deserve the opportunity to find a good job and to be able to afford food. We deserve that. All of the people in the world deserve that.

And sometimes I have a hard time breathing from the unfairness of it all. I hate seeing how corruption is so prevalent that people have given up hope for a just government. I hate seeing the people living in slums while the stories of how political leaders have embezzled funds from the communities rings in my ears. I hate seeing how the Philippine economy is floundering even though we have the resources to be a wealthy, successful, developed nation. I hate that there are people starving while the US dumps it’s unwanted agricultural products into the Philippines and I hate how they can outcompete Philippine farms and put farmers out of business. I hate that it’s normal to see children and mothers and grandfather and grandmothers begging in the streets. It makes be breathless with rage and disappointment and hurt and sadness because I can point to all the external sources that have shaped the Philippines to what it is today and that, that is one of the saddest things I can think of: that imperialism and corruption and colonialism and capitalism have derailed this beautiful, vibrant part of the world and turned it into something that suffocates its own people under the burden of trying to live.

This is what I’ve seen with my eyes and experiences and lived just a taste of it over this summer. This is about the little deaths people die everyday. This is about how hard it is for some people to survive.

I will be the first to admit that I have lived, and continue to live, a privileged life.

But I promise that I will dedicate my life to changing this reality. I will continue to grow and work with the people who see what the world should be like and are willing to fight for it. Because we care and feel too much to cast that truth aside.

I will continue to give what I can, both in the short-term and in the long-term, so that we can work towards a better life for everyone. And I will continue to work towards that goal that someday in the future, people will no longer have to struggle so hard to survive.”

One of the kasamas asked me for my reflections on the KBKN mission I was a part of in 2015 and I remembered some blog posts I had written on my next return to the Philippines. I wanted to post some parts of the posts here as I reread them.

--

Processing After KBKN, Part I 

“For me, this trip was the first of what I hope will be many paying witness to and struggling with the masses against the large injustices foisted on the Pilipinx people because of the corrupt government, the greedy corporations and the horrific conditions created by a capitalistic society that ignores the needs of its people.

I spent a couple weeks seeing parts of the Philippines I’ve never been to. We traveled to Central Luzon, where we witnessed how fishing villages suffered from mining corporations invading the area, to the Visayas, where we heard firsthand the accounts of the people who survived a Typhoon Haiyan and still bear the marks two years afterward.

During that time, I had to step far out my comfort zone but it was also so, so worth it to be able to experience what life is truly like for the people who live each day as a struggle to survive against being displaced from their ancestral lands, to fight for their right to continue to farm, to fend for themselves, to support their family. And it was also worth it to be a part of such a huge movement, to open myself to be part of such a wonderful collective and to grow close with everyone in their struggles.

[...]

“When I returned to the US, it was a shock. Not as great of a shock as it probably was for some of the missioners since I had had time to readjust while I stayed at my aunt’s place before I returned to LA.

Still, it was hard. I knew it was coming since other missioners had warned me about it, but I was still so unprepared for the rush of memories that would sometimes overtake me during seemingly innocuous moments.

There was one story that had been recounted to me of a missioner who cried when their parents took them to a buffet after the mission trip because of how much food there was. I had a similar moment when my aunt took my grandmother and me to a buffet. Halfway through eating, it just hit me really hard how some of the people we had met and shared stories and food and shelter with couldn’t even afford to feed their families three times a day and yet, here in America, there’s so much waste.

Another time was when one of our guides posted on my Facebook, asking where I had taken my profile picture. I was with my partner and his family at the time and I was just crushed at having to respond to him.

It was at a resort I went to with my family and the entry fee was just a little less than what he lived on for a month. I was so upset because it just seemed so frivolous that we had probably spent more money on that trip than many people have to live off of for a month. But I also desperately wished that I could have brought him with us because I thought that he deserves more than most people to be able go somewhere nice and enjoy himself. At the same time, I felt conflicted because there was such excess at that resort, I wondered if he could even enjoy it.

[...]

“It doesn’t really go away, the changes that happen when you see and hear the stories of the people who are fighting for their lives and their livelihoods. And I don’t want them to because it’s that much more important to me that I’ve made bonds with these courageous, inspiring people who face persecution and death for standing up for themselves and others.

It manifests in a lot of ways: a greater dedication to the cause and greater clarity for whom we’re fighting for, trying not to support corporations and business owners who contribute to people’s suffering, being more aware of how people live their lives and being grateful to be an American citizen, where I can speak about our government without fearing putting my family and me as risk for doing so. It also manifests in smaller ways: appreciating and being more aware of wasting food, not wanting to go out and buy more things if I can use and reuse the things I have at home, having a newfound appreciation for warm water and flushing toilets, being more understanding of some of the things my family does (like save all the extra sauce packets and napkins from restaurants) because I can understand more what it must have been like for them to live in poverty in the Philippines.

Even now, I’m hit hard when I notice certain fruits because they remind me of the time I spent with some of the farmers in Leyte. Hearing certain names reminds me of the stories I heard from the people who are fighting against the land-grabbing and intimidation tactics used by powerful political families. Seeing certain brands remind me of the terror and fear sewn by those corporations in order to get their products to a market.

I see so much more now, knowing how imperialism has worked to deprive the Philippines of its own independent industries, seeing more American or other imported fruits out-competing fruits grown by local farmers, listening to how people talk about their lives and seeing all the forces that make it difficult for people to eke out a living in one of the richest countries.

I can’t not see the contradictions and the injustices but I wouldn’t want to. What I learned this past summer makes it so worth it to feel uncomfortable because outside my comfort zone, I learned so much about what’s wrong. And I want to do my very best to fight it, at every level I can muster, together, fighting, with the people and kasamas I’ve met and admire from the deepest part of my being.”

"For the Aeta, a group of indigenous people from the Luzon region of the Philippines, land is a source of food, water and income. But the activities of mining companies in Zambales province, which have destroyed forestry and disrupted the local ecosystem, threaten to change the traditional way of life permanently. Now the Aeta are turning to the law to support their cause – with women at the forefront of negotiations - with support from Christian Aid partner Alyansa Tigil Mina"