Hanging Rice

Last week I went to Lorega, a district of town known for it's pig slaughter house, drugs, and some of the most extreme poverty in the city. I went with a church ministry from the area that visits families there weekly. We walked down the road, and turned into a pathway that was only about a foot wide and whose walls were stained with every imaginable toxic substance. This path looked like it might lead to a sewer or an outhouse. Instead, it took us to a small community of homes that were situated in and around a cemetery.

One of the women we talked to said she had been living in this community since she was born, 35 years ago, and her mother had lived there before that. The homes were literally stacked on top of and all around above-ground grave sites. People were sitting on top of graves as if they were park benches, smoking cigarettes and laughing at each others jokes. Children playing with handmade toys in front of the deceased whose living relations had long since forgotten about them.

This may seem kind of weird for Americans, but the weirdest thing to me is this: Filipinos are terrified of cemeteries and typically avoid them at all cost. A local Pastor who was coming along on this trip for the first time was amazed, and said he'd never seen anything like it. But it's survival of the fittest in these parts, desperate times call for desperate measures, and (insert survival cliche here).

The same woman who has lived in this cemetery her entire life was working intently at weaving with her mother. They were weaving little pods that are used to cook rice in, and it makes individual servings. It is called "Puyo" or Hanging Rice, because when it is sold, the Rice is hung up for people to buy from the vender. The two women sit on the graves for around 5 hours a day, making these little pods. Together, they can construct about 300 of them in that amount of time. Later they will sell all 300 for 21 pesos. 21 pesos a day is the entire income for this family. $0.46 American cents.

As you can imagine, this area is also known for trafficking. Some families would rather try to sell their children than spend five hours weaving for a almost no profit. It doesn't make it right, obviously, but it's the reality.

(finished product: multiple cooked Puyo in a bowl, ready to break open and eat)

It's important for us to see where the clients are coming from. It's important to know what is driving them and their families towards decisions that seem unthinkable and outrageous. It's important to know what we are up against. We can't save all of Lorega. But we can make a difference for some. One life at a time.

Another goodbye

I've been saying good bye to friends a lot lately. Part of living in an international community means people come and go quite frequently. I'm not a huge fan of good byes. Most people aren't, I guess, but we make plans that may or may not ever happen to meet up again, somewhere in the world, and they seem a little more bearable.

Two weeks ago, I had to say a different kind of goodbye. A kind of goodbye that, no matter how good of a planner I am, I cannot hope to meet up again, in this world.

When I began working for IJM, Charito (or Ate Cha-- Older sister Cha) sat next to me in the social work section of the office. Ate Cha had an incredible ability to make people feel loved within seconds of meeting them. She was the first to reach out to me and take me under her wing. She translated for me when I could not understand the conversation, she filled me in on background information and inside jokes, she laughed and sang and joked and hugged and shared food with everyone around, most of the day. There wasn't anyone who didn't feel loved by this amazing woman.

Ate Cha had been battling cancer for 5 years. Her husband is a pastor in a village on another island, but she was so dedicated to the work of IJM that none of these things mattered. She poured her heart and soul into her interactions with clients, and many of them loved her like the mother they never had. When I would go on visits with her, I would watch their faces light up when she walked in the room; they also knew what it meant to experience the love of this amazing woman.

A few months ago, Ate Cha left IJM in order to take care of her health. But she didn't really stop working. She volunteered at different organizations and worked in her husbands church. Even though we knew she had cancer, no one really believed she was sick... she just never stopped giving.

However, the cancer that was in her lymph nodes spread to her bone marrow, and although she tried chemo again, her body just couldn't take anymore. She left the world peacefully, just closed her eyes and passed on. A fight well fought.

Please pray for Ate Cha's husband, 3 children, one grandson, and countless friends, as they transition into a life without their loved one.

And may we all fight a fight worth fighting for, and be able to rest peacefully for a job well done.