the cemetery

went to visit Rhonda (a friend of Hilary and David's) today at her workshop. she started a business here that makes bags from discarded juice boxes - they're actually very cool. their tag line is "one person's trash (basura) is anothers' treasure (bahandi)". the business is called Bahandi Gifts and she hires people both to collect and clean the juice boxes, and to sew them into many different types of bags - using ancient sewing machines! I am now the proud owner of a "lunch bag" made of mango nectar juice boxes (it only seemed appropriate since I basically live off of the mangoes here :) very cool to make something out of the abundant trash strewn around the streets and in the rivers (if you can call them that, they hardly flow in the city... they are stagnant, grey water with piles of semi-decomposed garbage creating islands and lining the bank... the smell is putrid and i would associate them more with exposed sewers than streams).
not to mention the resource that the dump site offers for someone scavaging for juice boxes...

unfortunately, according to today's paper, the Barangay Inayawan landfill (where we went with Father Heinz to treat the sick children), is currently on fire, so I'm not sure if it's such a great time to be collecting discarded juice boxes for making bags. not that random fires are usual here - it's hard to go a day without seeing trash burning unattended on the side of the road. apparently the city has declared a "state of calamity" due to the continuous burning fueled by the methane gas emissions, which are released from the decomposing trash. the city's plan is to install ventilation pipes to release the gas properly and prevent future fires (that will never happen), and for now they're just trying to deal with relocating the people suffering from severe respiratory ailments from the smoke (as if the dumpsite is normally such a clean place... the debris and dirt and toxins in the air made all of my pictures look speckled when we were there!)... the newspaper also pointed out that the landfill violates the Clean Air Act and the Solid Waste Management Act (thank you captain obvious)... there was no mention of the hundreds, even thousands of people who make their permanent home on the compacted - and presently burning - trash...

A landfill seemed like an awful place to build a home (to specify, home = shack built of discarded wood, tin and torn linens), but today we visited a community located in a place that made me think I wouldn't really mind living at the dump afterall... we went to the cemetary. I was very excited for this visit... I really like cemetaries (that may seem odd, but I think they're beautiful and make for great photos... also, working with cadavers has made me feel very comfortable around the deceased). anyway, we're in a poor neighborhood just like any other in Cebu - laundry hung from everywhere, stray dogs and cats wandering the streets, roosters tied up randomly, people staring, food stands stinking of meat... the usual. and we start our walk as we do in most of the poor areas we visit, heading down a narrow alley between houses, trying to keep up with whoever is leading us while watching where we step (puddles of unidentified liquids are plentiful and must always be avoided!). the communities are a mosaic of shanty houses, many surrounded by large walls - for security, not privacy, none have yards. they build up if they add on to their tiny lots, and I feel I would be uncomfortable visiting the upper story, or lower level for that matter, of most of the houses we pass.

soon we have gathered a parade of followers. most of them are children in typical drab rags - holes and stains and wrong sizes - though some of the children aren't wearing clothes at all (maybe due to the heat? or perhaps it is laundry day? more likely due to the cost). Hilary and Rhonda know some of the women there, and we say hi to twins (Brandon and Brendan - really? that mom was just setting herself up for confusion), that were delivered at the clinic four years ago. No graves yet but we have found a basketball court (that and volleyball seem to be the favored sports here... and flying kites, is that considered a sport?). we wander deeper into the maze of houses and eventually come to a small opening... we've found the graves. They are large cement tombs that sit haphazardly on the ground. they are not in even rows, none are level with the others, and most have garbage piled up around them. I see a cement coffin covered in goat poop (whatever happened to respecting the dead?). there are only a few coffins at first, many of which are partially obscured by the laundry hanging over them... a little further and we reach a big opening, graves everywhere, houses interspersed. there are no trends in how the cements tombs are placed... some are stacked, others surrounded by gates, all are in a state of disarray. there are a few cement sculptures, but most of the coffins are plain with a simple engraving at the end. the only similarity between the mismatched and chaotically placed tombs is that they're labeled. each coffin has a black number/letter combo painted sloppily on it... their way of monitoring how long the body has been occupying the coffin I would assume. 5 years after burial (though that isn't exactly the right term because everything is above ground), you must either pay to rent for another 5 years, or figure out if you want the bones cleaned to take home or discarded - fun decisions to make a mere 5 years after the loss of a loved one.

on our drive back to the clinic i was staring out the window (there is always so much to see, it never gets old), and I noticed with the sun so low in the sky it was lighting up the kites flying over the city. it was incredible! there must've been 50 kites (a kite can be anything from an intricate bird sold by street vendors, to a plastic bag tied to a string)... the ocean breeze makes for an ideal kite flying environment at any time of day and thus, you see kids flying kites at every time of day. this was particularly cool because i was looking inland and had a view of the flats - where most people live - with the mountains behind, and there were kites speckling the horizon. by the looks of it, we're going to have another 5 alarm sunset as well tonight... the clouds here, in combination with the pollution, make for incredible sunsets almost every night!

we learned about the sea gypsy population briefly on the ride home. they are the people who live on the water (or near the edge) in stilt houses... apparently they don't own the land, and are forced to be continually moving. Hilary says they have their own language and culture and everything... and on occasion, when one comes to the clinic for a pregnancy, she is always very difficult to deal with because they have their own way of doing everything.

today we also learned a little about the whitening creams you so commonly find here in the Philippines. I have mentioned everyone's obsession with having pale skin (similar and yet opposite to America's obsession with maintaining that perfect bronze), and the abundance of whitening creams at the store. Hilary learned the hard way that you have to carefully read the label of the soaps and lotions you purchase. years ago she bought a whitening lotion by accident... went to the doctor because she was getting these white spot on her skin and the doctor explained in was from whitening cream. sure enough she had accidentally been using a whitening product. you might be wondering... how does it work? answer: fungus! eats away at your pigment! sick!! but really, is a tanning bed any better? fungus... skin cancer... fungus... skin cancer. no comment.

i find the whitening creams very odd... i also have trouble with the cheese flavored ice cream that i keep mistaking for mango flavor. good thing Lo has so far reminded me that no, those are not squares of mango in the picture on the wrapper, but in fact cubes of cheese. then again, maybe ill try it just to see what it's like.... I've found that you can get accustomed to pretty much anything here. Adjusting to the constant random crowing of the roosters, however, did take a while. especially since they are often the loudest late at night and early in the morning (or maybe that's just when they drive you the most crazy)... the other sound that I'm not sure I'm used to yet is the squeaking of the tricycle breaks as the drivers ease their way down the slight incline of the street in front of the clinic. it is often ear piercing enough to stop clinic meetings and force everyone to physically plug their ears while making pained faces and huffing in exasperation at the annoyance. oddly enough i think it is one of those sounds I'll grow to miss by the end of the trip... just part of the experience here.... then again, maybe not :)