NEW YEARS IN THE PHILIPPINES

When I was young, a year seemed to take an eternity to complete. It was just like my first library card. It expired in four years, but to me at that youthful age, it felt like a lifetime. Still, here it is 2012, just a few hours before the beginning of a New Year, sitting in my sweat dampened t-shirt within this tropical sauna to jot a few lines about New Year in the Philippines.

Preparation for New Years in the Philippines is a bit different from New Years among the corn stubble of Northwest Iowa. A week ago, Diana started buying fruit. She began by bringing home apples, cantaloupe, and watermelon. Firework stands appeared overnight alongside the plaza selling an assortment of fuse ignited and gun powder laden pyrotechnics. As the annual day neared, the sound of fireworks filled the air while hoards of people came in from the mountain to buy the necessities to bring them good fortune during the witching hour. Yesterday, Diana brought from the market oranges and grapes to round out our collection of good luck along with other food fixin’s.

This morning, Diana (with the help of her children) has been cooking in preparation for the big feast. In the Philippines, there are several Filipino traditions which occur at midnight. One is the setting off of fireworks to scare away any and all evil spirits. Another is that one should carry coins in their pocket as a way to ensure prosperity for the next year. The table should be adorned with twelve fruits also as a sign of prosperity for the next twelve months. The family has a Thanksgiving Feast at midnight so that they will have plentiful food for the coming year. There are other traditions which are observed, determined by the part of the Philippines in which you reside.

In regard to my family; we had been cleaning inside and outside the house as well as around the yard all day. The throw rug was hung over the fence and beaten to within an inch of its fabric. The floor was thoroughly swept as the shoes and sandals were lined up in neat rows beneath the wooden bench. Dusting was done in each room….it is amazing the amount of dust that quickly (as well as silently) accumulates on any exposed surfaces. The laundry was washed as the many dishes were prepared on the stove or kitchen table. My task required a wire be hung over the south window and new curtain placed there. The important part of this celebration was the purchase of six – one liter bottles of Pepsi. Many will drink alcoholic beverages during this festive time while others will consume copious amounts of native coffee. In this house it is Pepsi and nothing else. For the most part, in the states, soda pop is made with corn sweeteners whereas in the Philippines, Pepsi is made with real sugar cane. There are no corn sweeteners used here, AND then they are only sold in glass bottles. The taste is truly satisfying and somewhat addictive. I had given up soda/pop in the states because the plastic or can varieties took something out of the flavor and taste. Fortunately, I rediscovered the long forgotten caffeine kick it provided and have never regretted it.

As to our midnight feast this year, we will be dining on Spaghetti, Chicken Curry, Fruit Salad and, of course, rice along with the “round fruit” which will be the centerpiece of our nocturnal meal. We will position ourselves on chairs just outside the compound gate a little after eleven p.m. and watch the beginning of the fireworks. Then after the barrage dies down sometime after midnight, the dishes will be set out and the eating will begin. I am not accustom to such a late hour, but remember as a child in Iowa when we would stay up on those frigid nights, eat pizza, watch movies, and then peak our heads out the back door to hear the many church bells tolling to bring in the New Year. It was a custom that I carried from my childhood through my children’s childhoods and now on to the Philippines where you do not have the worry of freezing to death as you watch the firework displays upon a star filled backdrop.

From my house, on the edge of the Sulu Sea, to your homes wherever that might be; may your New Year be filled with continued health, wealth, and God’s blessings. 

Daryl Cleveland
12-31-2012

SHARING GOOD FORTUNE WITH THOSE LESS FORTUNATE 2012

It has been several months since I have written anything meaningful.  Perhaps it is my lethargy at being in such a beautiful land with a group of fine children.  Maybe it is living in a two bedroom, four room house and am unable to collect my thoughts due to overactive young ones  (and their friends) skittering about.  In any event, I have written short segments for insertion into my blog, but for one reason or another, I have never completed the stories begun.  That is the problem with living where I do.  The lifestyle and culture becomes addictive.   In essence, I have become addicted to the Phillipine way of life.  Have I gone native….no, but have I adopted some of their habits, oh yes!  

Still, I know this is that time of the year to relate the good fortune we have all received and in the Philippines it always seems to be few and far between.   In my view, good fortune is not in necessarily in receiving, but I equate it to helping to relieve others the burden of surviving in a very inhumane environment.  It is to that end that I was blessed with the abilities to help a smattering of the millions struggling to feed their families.  

All year I had received clothing, shoes, dolls, and toys from my wife, Donarae, along with friends, Melanie Berte-Hickey, and Lorene Glant.  I had stored all the items in a box and as Christmas approached this month, like Old Santa with his bag, I transferred goods from the box to plastic bags and  (with the kids and their mother in tow) was on my way.  

In the Philippines it isn’t hard to find those families experiencing rough times.  People will venture in from the mountains with their primitive musical instruments to sing Christmas Carols and supplement their already meager income.  One day, a woman (with babe in arms) along with her two young siblings came to my house and started to sing.  We invited the young family inside, provided her and the children with a festive meal, gave them clothing and candy….along with a few pesos.  She offered to do the dishes, but we told her it wasn’t necessary.  She and the siblings were so thin, it would have been criminal to deny them some relief from their unending plight.  

On December 13, Charissa Mae’s Kindergarten Class had a Christmas Party.   Presents were collected to give to needy families within Himamaylan City.  For that event, I had collected cans of sardines, packages of pancit (spicy form of dried noodles), ten kilos of rice and then brought along shoes, dolls, clothing, and lots of tootsie rolls.  I will be the first to admit that others provided rice and wrapped packages, but it seemed we had the clothing, doll, and footwear department plus a monopoly on tootsie rolls. 

Many of the children were brought to the function by their mothers or grandmothers and were dressed as nicely as they could be for the function, but you could still see that their diet was inadequate and for many of the younger children, they did not have a real clue as to what was transpiring.  Although the girls were shy when receiving their dolls, they held onto them all the same.  The unfortunate aspect of the doll giving was the number of mothers/grandmothers who asked if we had any more to hand out, but had to confess we brought all we had…which seemed to never be enough.  The shoes were greatly prized by the parents of those young children and if the shoes given didn’t fit, akin to a Cinderella Fantasy, they were passed around until the right feet were found.   It filled my heart with joy and a lump seemingly swelled within my throat as the youngsters stood upon the stage with their presents.  Gifts that they (as well as most Filipino children) would not have gotten otherwise.  

In much of the modern World, we take the holidays (as well as birthdays) for granted.   We all expect our presents with those celebrations, but in the Philippines (as with much of the third World countries), most children have no idea as to what a birthday or Christmas present is.  Abject poverty clearly defines ones reality.  And, it is even harder to pull one’s self out of that continuing cycle.     

The past couple of days we walked the roads past the squatter huts and passed out candy and clothes.  For the most part, the children were hesitant at taking the tootsie rolls, but others huddled around the candy givers like piranha devouring a fresh carcass.  We had mostly adult clothing this trip and were easily able to find worthy recipients of my benefactors good will.  The highlight of the day was when we supplied candy and clothing to three generations of laborers in a sugar cane field.  It truly saddened my heart at watching young children doing hard labor alongside their mother and grandmother.  Yet, at the same time, it was filled with joy as Santiago passed out the candy first and then the clothing to those surprised, yet grateful, recipients.  

As we finished our rectangular path back home, I almost felt like a Santa as the candy sacks had run dry and clothing been exhausted.  I truly wish that I could do that every day somewhere in my area, but I just don’t have the resources and material to accomplish that task.  However, I do know that my family was able to help so many others enjoy the season a little more through the generosity of those in the states who made this all possible. 

As Christmas Day approaches, take some time to think of all the good things you experienced or accomplished this past year.  For many of us, it is so easy to get bogged down by dwelling on the misfortunes we experienced.  Still, try to take some time to ponder, to savor, and fill your heart with warmth of the good events of this past year.  No matter what some may think, we all have good moments….even if they are fleeting or illusive at times.  

For me, it is just the knowledge that I have a great family on both sides of this living globe and the many friends who take the time to read my blogs and communicate with me.  

MERRY  CHRISTMAS  FROM  THE  TROPICS  OF THE  PHILIPPINES  TO  MY FRIENDS,  RELATIVES,  AND  FAMILY  AROUND  THE  WORLD

Daryl Cleveland

12/25/2012

A WALK IN THE PLAZA AND RAIN RULES ON THE ISLAND OF NEGROS

This was written prior to the kids arriving and although not very current, I still thought it worthy of posting.  Daryl…

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It has been raining for the past three days here on Negros Island. The mornings will start out partly to mostly cloudy and if you have errands to run, that is the time to do them, but by noon, the clouds darken and the rain returns.  Yesterday, it rained throughout the night and this afternoon, it was raining elephants and giraffes.  I actually had to shut the windows to protect my television and computer from getting bathed in the sheets of rain that was determined to cleanse anything exposed to its windswept deluge.  It is usually dry this time of year and the rainy (wet) season doesn’t begin until late May, but what we are being blessed with is a very slow moving tropical disturbance to our south.  What makes this weather more exciting is that there is another tropical disturbance to the east just waiting to take disturbance number one’s place.  Such is life in the Philippines.  A few days ago, the nights were quiet (if you discounted the dogs and roosters), but last night the air was filled with the croaking of THOUSANDS of frogs, all eager and ready to procreate. 

I know it has been awhile since I have posted anything.  It’s not that I haven’t had anything to submit, it is just the fact that I have been procrastinating.  The adopted kids are coming here in a few days and I have been busy preparing for their arrival.  I have purchased a huge bunk bed, a cabinet for clothes, storage containers for more clothes to shove under the bed, pillows and fabric for the cushions for the couch and chair being made.   Still, I need to purchase a few more pots and pans, more dinnerware (two plates won’t work with six people), and bowls.  In some ways I am very nervous.  It has been approximately nine months of solitude in my two bedroom sanctuary, but in a few short days, it will be overcrowded with a handful of kids running around…not to mention eating me out of house and home.  There are moments when I ponder the noise and needed attention they will require, yet I also know their quality of life will vastly improve from now on.   I have been waiting months for this to transpire and, in a way, I am very excited. Clarisse (the oldest one) texts me every day to tell me how many days remain until they come here and was overjoyed to read I was going to meet them at the ferry in San Carlos.  When that day comes, I will put pictures in the blog for everyone to see. 

 

There is a festival starting in Himamaylan.  I don’t know the name of it yet as it really doesn’t start for another two weeks, but the plaza has been busy with games of chance, food concessions, and vendors along the street selling assorted items. Each evening there are basketball tournaments and it is interesting to see how many men in their 40’s and 50’s were out there bouncing the ball across the court.  

I have to the festival three times since it began taking pictures, then sitting back and watching the activity.  I get quite a few stares from the many browsers or spectators.  Even had one lady in her thirties stop (with young child in hand) to ask if I was married and gave me a disappointed expression when I told her I was.   

It was too dark my first night visiting, so a couple of nights later I decided to attempt pictures before it got too dark. On my way there, I passed a couple elementary school children.  The girl called me “Lolo”, which meant Grandpa.  I took their picture, waved, then moved on toward my photo assignment.   I walked past the vending stands, taking pics as I strolled, then it was into the plaza itself.  It was still rather early and the gaming activity was very light, but still I got some photos of them and also the several food stands that lined the walkways.  A basketball game was in progress and I got a few photos of them as well as some of the spectators at courtside.  I purchased a hotcake (nothing remotely similar to the states) and finding a bench, I sat and again watched the people pass or visit as the youngsters ran between feet and around the plaza enjoying the festive freedom of the evening.  

As the twilight was transformed into darkness, I finished my “snack” and decided to head home. I walked up the steps out of the plaza and started walking past the vendors when I heard a little voice call out, “Daddy Cano!  Daddy Cano!”  along with the pitter patter of running feet.  Suddenly a tiny pair of arms wrapped themselves tightly around my legs as an excited girl thought she had found her papa.  I laughed, bent over and gave her a little hug back as mama grabbed her by the arm and pulled her away.  I got out my camera and took a picture of her.  She had a toy camera and took a pretend picture of me too.   I waved good-bye to the little preschooler as her mama walked her up the street.  It’s funny how a little episode such as that can melt your heart. I never did find out her name.  But that wasn’t the end.  As I walked down a quiet side street, I passed a group watching their father or brother or someone working on a trike when again, a four year old girl called me “Tatay” (papa in Illongo).  I smiled, took her picture, and moved quickly on.  I was now getting gun shy with all those “fatherly” names.  I would like to make it clear that I had never met any of those kids or parent (s) before that evening.   Except for a week’s visit to Negros in February 2011, I had never been to Negros before and Donarae will attest to the fact that I am incapable of bearing children anymore. 

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The other morning I was heading to Bacolod on the motorbike to get groceries.  The air was refreshingly cool, albeit humid and that tepid chill as well as muggy conditions, combined with diesel exhaust hanging in the air triggered memories of my childhood and one occasion as a young adult.  As a youngster, in the early spring mornings the aroma would assault my nostrils.  It wasn’t unpleasant, but noticeable all the same.  On another occasion along the coastline of Virginia in early spring (as a young adult), I breathed in that unique air once again.  Years ago I couldn’t pinpoint the source of the odor, but now in Philippines, I concluded it had to do with the temperature, humidity, and amount of diesel exhaust in the air.  It was a mixture of sweet and yet sour fragrances.  To think it took over forty years to experience that smell again just went to show at how something that may have been insignificant to me at the time, was noted and filed in my brain.  There was nothing particularly memorable about those sniffings decades ago, but the aroma memory still lingered.  Let’s face it, the human brain is a fascinating computer.

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The next blog will be about the kids coming and then how it has changed my life….and it has.  By the way, for the better.

MY MANY TITLES IN THE PHILIPPINES

Ever since I came to the Philippines I have acquired a few titles.  In the beginning it was “Hey Joe”.   Everywhere I went, adults as well as youngsters were always yelling that epithet. I found that they had actually been taught that in elementary school.  The humorous thing was they yelled that to anyone who was Caucasian or Black.  It didn’t matter what country they came from, it was just that those “foreigners” were not Filipinos and thus identified with that catch-all phrase.  

When I returned here in 2010 and settled in Balamban, Cebu, the youth (and yes, the adults too) would still yell “Hey Joe.”  Let’s face it, what else would they say, which gave me an idea.  I was curious if the kids even bothered to remember one foreigner from the next and thus I devised a plan.  With the help of Diana (my housekeeper), she told me if they yelled out “Hey Joe!” I should reply with, “Dili ako si Joe.  Ako si George.” (No, my name is not Joe.  My name is George).  It was a steamy afternoon as I walked toward the town market when three boys called out, “Hey Joe!”  Well, I tried that phrase on the trio, and they all laughed and then yelled, “Hey George!”  We waved to each other as I continued along the busy roadway toward downtown.  

I had only done that a few times but suddenly all kinds of kids started calling me “George.”  I had seen other foreigners pass and some of the youth would say “Hey Joe,” to them while with others they would say nothing. For some unknown reason though, those children seemed to like me and whenever I would stroll by, they would all call out, “HEY  GEORGE!”  Then they would laugh and wave as I continued walking.   As time went on, there was the occasional “Hey Joe”, but most times it was George that came from their lips. 

Taw Taw (left) with Coy Coy & his tootsie roll

In Negros, the children were different in some way.  They acted like the kids in Cebu, but for me they had TITLES.   When I would walk to Julius’ house, the kids would say “hi”, but not much else.  Later I found out they were talking about how big and tall I was.  Then there was the little two year old neighbor boy named Coy Coy.  When he first saw me he started to scream, “MOO MOO!” (Monster) and would run into his Grandmother’s house.  He would never come out when I was visiting and no matter how hard they tried to verbally or physically coax him, the harder he resisted.  After seven months, he would finally take tootsie rolls from me, but he would not stay and still had to be pulled over to their house to receive his treats.  

 Three waiting for their treats on the road to Julius'

Since I had given out so many treats to so many kids in the “neighborhood”, most just called me “Cano” (American) and a few close neighbors would call me “Tito Daryl” (Uncle Daryl).  If I was walking with my little black candy bag (OK, I didn’t choose the color, it was convenient, available and it holds a lot of tootsie rolls), I would hear the term “Cano” being called out to the other kids before I ever got close. Then there would be youngsters all lined up along the road waiting for their chewy morsel.  I don’t know why, but I never did teach them about George…yet.

Actually in Negros, I got called George by adults more than kids.  It’s probably because I said it more to them.  One fish vendor (of which I have yet to learn his real name) would see me and call out “Maayong Aga George,” (good morning George) and I would reply, “Maayong Aga Joe!”  We would both wave and laugh as I continued on my Cano way.

Tootsie Rolls weren't on her mind when I took a picture

I suppose I should talk about the term, “neighborhood”.  The boundary areas of a neighborhood can vary.  In Owak, where Diana lives, it would be a geographical settlement of houses (about twenty) with marshland on three sides and the Visayan sea on the fourth.  There was one path which went through the marsh to the bamboo hamlet, or one could take the highway to the beach, climb over the wall (or under it at low tide) and take the scenic route. The boundaries of MY DEFINED NEIGHBORHOOD in Negros would be the compound in which I live and I consider the neighbors around Julius’ house as part of it too. I think a neighborhood is as big as you desire. Some are bigger in size than others, but they are a close knit group of families sharing life (and sometimes Tanduay (rum) with one another.

 Feline taking catnap outside the Restaruant

One evening I was walking back from the plaza (it was too dark to really see the traffic on the highway clearly), and as I was walking down a quiet residential street I suddenly heard a three year old boy yell, “Higanti! Higanti!”  He then ran to the protective arms of his papa. There was a group of adults sitting and chatting as I passed by.  The pre-schooler kept saying “Higanti,” quietly to his papa which only brought a roar of laughter from the crowd.  His grandpa (lolo) told me that Higanti meant GIANT.  Since I was so tall and much taller than the group seated there, I must have really been tall to that sprout of a boy.  From then on, whenever I passed the little child’s house, if the parents, or housekeeper saw me, they would tell the young tyke that the “giant” was walking past. 

I am sure that I will have other titles added to my name in the coming years, but the one I have enjoyed the most is “Senior Citizen”.  I  JUST  LOVE  THAT  CARD and also the many looks when I hand it to them for my discount. 

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I have dined at the Oasis quite a bit since my arrival in Himamaylan City.  It is an open air restaurant along the national highway.  Their menu offers a selection of several filling Filipino dishes with a Mango Shake included for only $2.50, thus if I get lazy (which is probably far more than I would like to admit), I eat there.  I always knew there was a basement underneath the structure, but never bothered to investigate.  However one day there was a racket going on by the steps and I thought I would sneak a peek to see what was down there. In the states, you would have the water heater, water softener, furnace and assorted boxes, but at this nice eatery they had a basement full of Tilapia fish.  Now, I don’t mean giant fish tanks full of them, but literally the entire basement area.  Scores of fish leisurely swam around in approximately nine inches of fresh water.  I had never seen them on the menu and asked the owner what they did with them.  She replied that they sold them locally.  As far as I was concerned, it was the largest indoor fish farm I had ever seen.  Somehow, in the states, there would have been some food safety issues with that.