Going into the World Race Scott and I expected there to be some strain on our marriage. We didn’t think that living with about 50 people was going to be a piece of cake, and even when our teams were at their smallest (6 people),we knew that it was still going to be tough to get any time alone. I mean
really alone. I mean, having our own space without being able to hear the crunching of potato chips next to us, without being able to hear the clicking of the laptop keyboard on the other side of the door. You know what I mean.
It’s been rare, are really only when we’ve taken a night or two at a separate hotel (on our date fund bucks), that we’ve really experienced actual alone time. Going into our stay in the Phillippines, our new team (made up of Lynette Lee, Alissa Gibson, Leah Anderson (great last name! also my maiden name), Amy Morris, Josh Daniels, Rusty Jackson, and us) we were immediately coming alongside a contact that was made on a prior set up trip by other members of the Race. This ministry is called MMP, or Missions Ministry Phillippines.
In Bangkok, right before we left, the rest of our team drew straws to figure out smaller teams for the first week of our time with MMP. We were to be split up into teams of 2, 3, and 3, as we would be living in the slums of Manila with a local contact. It was fairly obvious that Scott and I would be the group of 2. The rest drew their straws to make the other 2 teams.
As we taxied to our terminal, Scott and I discussed how excited we were to be apart from all things World Race for 5 days. By World Race, I mean teammates… this would be our first ministry experience on our own of the entire year. We piled in a jeepny (WWII oversized jeeps, revamped, or “pimped out” as the younin’s would call it), drove to a Jollibee (Filipino fast food), and then on to our destinations. We dropped Josh, Amy, and Alissa off at their spot, noting that their contact’s shack had a few rooms, ours would probably look the same.
The next stop was about an hour away, and the Jeepny had trouble making it’s way down the crowded “street”. This street was merely just a walkway, or wide enough for two mopeds to pass. But they drove us to our door, or should I say, to our ladder.
Fortunately, we planned ahead and left many of our winter clothing and souvenirs in Bangkok (since we’ll be back), as we had to carry our packs up a ladder to get into our home for the next 5 days. Our pastor of the slum, DuDoy (sp?), introduced us to our hosts, Lito and his his wife Wilma, newlyweds x 4 months. We sat around the kitchen table under the one flourescent light, and talked for about an hour. Scott and I were already tired by the time we arrived, but managed to hold the conversation for a while.
Finally, we couldn’t even think anymore so we asked where we were supposed to sleep. So, they pulled the table against the wall and pointed to the floor. We can handle that, we’ve slept on the floor almost the whole year, we can do it again. They offered us sleeping mats, but we came prepared with our own. So, they took one of the mats and proceeded to lay it out on the floor about 3 feet away from us. With no wall in between, no sheet hanging for privacy. We were slightly stunned to find out that we’d be sharing the same sleeping quarters with our hosts.
But this didn’t seem to be disconcerting to them. After a few minutes, Scott asked, “where do we change?” So they got up, left the “house” and shut the door behind them. Once we changed we opened the door back up. That night there was a huge rainstorm, the drops falling hard on the aluminum roof… and I feel fast alseep immediately.
The next day we were up by 7, and out by 9, visiting the inhabitants of the slum. DuDoy brought us to the houses along a concrete wall, which is meant to hold back flood waters from a river. The squatters who live in the slum have knocked out holes in this wall and fixed their rickety scrap wood and metal homes to this wall. During typoon season (right now!), the river floods and they have to leave their homes for higher ground. Sickness is a big deal because the river is filled with trash and feces. This is the one place that I haven’t felt comfortable pulling out my camera (a sign of wealth) and taking snapshots.
This place is full of smiles and handshakes, and the church is growing. The living standards are just shocking. Last night I went to use the squattie potty (on the first floor… I think it’s shared with a few of the neighbors), and counted at least 20 cockroaches on the walls and floor. I wished I hadn’t brought my headlamp to that bathroom trip. And showering may not occur this week. From what I can tell, they do bucket showers… in their clothing, in public. There may be another option, but I’m not sure what it is.
Scott and I have learned at least one thing about Filipino culture (from orientation at MMP): Filipinos don’t have a very high regard for privacy. I can attest to this.
