…but we were fortunate to be wearing boots, unlike the residents who
walk barefoot through their “home office.” Phil, our guide for the
morning and pastor at a local church, walked ahead of us through the
heaps of rotting garbage. We found ourselves in the middle of the Tando
dump, a large landfill on the edge of Manila Bay.
About
once a week, Allison and I seem to wind up on what we like to call our
“adventures.” We honestly never know what the Lord has in store for us
on these days. Today, one of our friends offered to take us with her to
a meeting with a woman who had a ministry in the dump. We agreed to go
without knowing any more information than that. We have learned that
when we clear our schedule, get rid of our agendas, and allow God’s
hand to move us, our days quickly become amazing. After an hour and a
half of riding in a car, subway, taxi, and another vehicle that
resembled a paddy wagon, we finally pulled into what looked to be an
abandoned warehouse. (We later found out that is exactly what it is.)
Allison and I looked at each other wide-eyed, and emerged from the back
of the paddy wagon with our friends right behind us.
We were
introduced to a British woman named Jane Walker, who immediately
started showing us around and introducing us to everyone we passed.
This abandoned warehouse is now a private Christian school, a beautiful
haven in the midst of mud and filth, which is reaching out to the
poorest of the poor in the dumps. The children come from families who
literally own nothing but other people’s trash. Focusing on improving
the lives of both the children and their families, Walker is giving
these children hope. She is showing them that they are valued and that
they have the ability to succeed—something that these precious little
ones rarely hear. This school is absolutely inspiring, but we wanted to
see where these children came from, what they have to go through day in
and day out.
After the tour of the school, Phil met us with a
pair of big rain boots for each of us to wear while we walked through
the dumps. In addition to the mounds of smoldering trash, the plentiful
paths are nothing more than thick, gooey mud. It would be impossible to
trek through in the flip flops and Chakos that we were wearing.
I
can honestly say that I have never seen anything even close to this in
my entire life. The poverty in this place is overwhelming and
completely indescribable. It hits all of your senses at once like an
atomic bomb. Young and old sift through fresh piles of waste that were
just unloaded, hoping to find a piece of plastic or a glass bottle.
Money is earned by being lucky enough to find items that can be
recycled. For every 2 pounds that they collect, they earn 1 peso (about
2 cents). Their average income is 100 pesos ($2.50) per day. Trash bags
from fast food restaurants are among the most valuable since they
provide families with food that was thrown away by someone better off
than them whose eyes were too big for his stomach at his last meal.
Everything that is stationary appears to be covered in many tiny black
polka dots. Strange, I thought. After taking a closer look, I realized
these were swarms of flies resting on anything that would not swat them
away. There must have been millions.
But
the people are beautiful. Their smiles are a stark contrast against the
filth and clutter. They welcomed us to their front porches, which were
usually nothing more than the frames of old upholstered chairs sitting
outside of their 6′ x 6′ shack. The children played with one another
and scurried around, helping their family by picking up small objects
that could be either reused or recycled. Because of the language
barrier, we weren’t able to have long conversations. But they knew why
we were there. They saw Jesus in us. They saw that He cares about them
and loves them as His precious children.
