Beautiful Baguio

Tuesday, Brett (another short-termer) and I boarded a Deluxe bus headed for Baguio city, Philippines. For the next 4 1/2 hours I sat mesmerized, squinting my eyes against the too-bright sun. I was so tired but every time I managed to pull my eyes away from the window and close them for a moment, I couldn't resist popping them back open, kind of like a jack-in-the-box from my childhood that would pop out whenever I tried to secure it under its lid. I watched as we drove by rice fields being plowed by water buffalo, through small villages where the haphazard shacks of a house met the two-lane road. I, as a rider, could peak inside to see a Filipina taking a siesta in a hammock. Another appeared to be checking her sister's hair for lice. Little boys were playing basketball on the hard-packed mud floor of a nearby lot, and when one glimpsed a white woman through the window of the bus, he got a huge grin on his face and motioned to his friends.

I am beginning to realize that I am experiencing what it is like to be a celebrity for the first and last time of my life. Filipinos love the West and they love Americans. They believe that the epitomy of beauty is having white skin. I had to laugh when I went to the cosmetic aisle of the department store and witnessed row and row of skin-whitening soap and lotion. Quite the opposite of our Neutrogena "Natural Glow" skin bronzers! This desire to be white is also what drives Filipinas to bring along an umbrella whenever they head out of doors.

Filipinos also love Americans becuase they think that we are rich. When I went to the open-air market today I was constantly reminded of this as the vendors specifically targeted me. "Shoes, ma'am?" "Vegetables, ma'am?" Then there were old beggar women who would shuffle up to me and tug on my arm asking for pesos. Sometimes they were rather insistent and would follow me for a while. The problem is that often these women are part of a syndicate. The money that they earn does not even go to them but to those who have hired them.

I have never been around so much need. The people here are so very poor and it is heartbreaking to try and decide who to give money to and who to refuse. Amy took us to governmental hospital here in Baguio to see thirteen- year-old Jose who has cancer. He and his mother and younger sister were waiting to find out if he would be allowed to receive his next chemo treatment. His family is very poor and they do not have the money for the treatments. During one of the first treatments, a nurse pulled out Jose's IV and dripped chemo fluid onto his arm. It burned his so badly they thought they would have to operate. Becuase the doctor was afraid of a potential lawsuit, she agreed to let Jose receive the treatment on debt. After several treatments his family is in more debt than they may ever be able to pay off and they are just waiting to be refused more treatments.

So there we were sitting outside on plastic chairs in the hallway waiting for the doctor's response regarding this next treatment. After waiting an inordinate amount of time during which the doctor appeared to simply be taking a break, Jose's mother was called into the makeshift office and was told that Jose would not be receiving any more chemo treatments unless they could pay for them. Jose's mother came back into the hallway. She related the news to Amy in Tagolog but I could tell from her facial expression what the response had been. Amy asked if they would agree to give the treatment if she had 1000 pesos ( a little over $50). The doctor agreed! Brett, Amy, and I pooled together our pesos and ended up with 2000 pesos to give her. She was embarassed and so happy at the same time. The walk back from the hospital to Amy's house was silent as we all tried to take in what we had just experienced. I wish I could give more! I think I'm going to try and give any leftover money to his family at the end of my trip.