Refugee Tent City

After 4 months, why are there still so many refugee tents everywhere?... and i mean everywhere...  It’s a hard scene to see... to some extent, life has gone back to normal. Kids are going to school. It’s just that they come back to the refugee tent to sleep in every night.

blurred view of the roadside as we drove. same view filled with 
tents and tarps and down trees and destroyed homes stretching for miles.

 

kids we met in one tent community

just outside the tents and tarps a note written on a plank posted on a tree:
"to all the donor thank you for your overwhelming support"

University is back in session!

We will be partnering with a local university to teach construction skills so that these young people from these communities can begin rebuilding their lives, their communities, their homes, their community buildings.  The university had been destroyed but some structures still stood. In a classroom, we found students who lived through the typhoon, ready to engage their minds. We spoke to them – you would never have known what they had to live through.  Some students were still missing... almost 4 months later.

Faculty offices had been destroyed, so, they simply moved their offices where natural sunlight would shine in – simple enough, that just meant moving their desks a little closer to where a wall once stood.  5 months later... still no electricity.  A generator was being used to supply electricity to their laptops and phones.

Books and papers lay on bushes and trees, still drying them out in hopes they could be used again.

The head of the school, still emotional about all that had happened.  She shared that in her heart she didn’t think they could restart the school. Looking at the destroyed campus, not knowing where all of the students were, it was too difficult... too heart wrenching... but when she saw students start coming back, she knew, if the kids came, then we must rebuild. We must go on. We must.  But you could see the emotion in her eyes just how hard it was... it is... So, classes will official begin in a few short months.

Sacred Ground

The scene of down trees, refugee tents, etc., for miles on end as we drove lulled me to sleep I suppose, although it didn’t take much given that I was already so exhausted from the early morning flight.  I must have been snoozing when the folks in my car shared what this first stop was going to be.  So we arrive at what looks like an open field.  I get out of the car and walk. The soil beneath my feet was sandy, as if they had just planted new grass or just put a new layer of dirt on top of the ground. I assumed they were getting ready to construct something or I don’t know.  To our right was what looked like a basketball court covered with a big white tent labeled UNICEF with lots of people from the community sitting there listening to something. We walk over to what seems like a bandstand/stage of some sort.

We stop there to talk.  The staff tell me that on this plot of land, we are partnering with the local government to build a memorial to people who lost their lives in the typhoon.  Then they tell me, hundreds of people whose bodies were not claimed are buried under this ground.  Unclaimed most likely because entire families were killed.  Children, women, men, all. The typhoon did not discriminate, although more men were killed because many stayed back to guard their homes while moms and kids fled to safety.  That ground I stood on... fresh dirt... because bodies had been buried underneath and dirt thrown overtop.  I felt sick to my stomach. Sad. Broken. God. Why.

Stop the hand-outs and give a hand-up

After landing in Tacloban, we jumped in the vehicle for the long drive – roads mangled, trees down, livelihoods gone, homes destroyed... destruction everywhere... refugee tents lining the road.. for miles and miles. Almost four months have passed and it looks like nothing has happened.  The devastation was that bad, and the response has been too slow.

my little friend, the daughter of
our staff, showed me around
their destroyed home.

tombs uprooted and tossed by the typhoon.

this barge, after 4 months, still flipped
 on its side by the typhoon

As we met with government officials to discuss our partnership to help them re-develop the communities there, he shared that one of the major problems is simply the handouts.  Yes, there was a time when hand outs and relief were necessary... but that time has come and gone.  Foreigners like us want to help out, so we dish money over to NGOs who give, give, give... but the giving has gone on so long that the people have become accustomed to it. The able-bodied people need to get on their feet. They need to use their hands and minds. They are capable, very capable. It’s time to work. These foreign NGOs – they’re already starting to leave the country, so now what?  It’s time to work. It’s time to develop and motivate and equip the local people to work. 

We’ll be meeting with some international NGOs in the next day or two to discuss how we can help the communities they’re working in as they exit out of the country.  We’re going to be partnering with a local university here to start a vocational training program, teaching construction skills so that the people can build their own homes and rebuild the community.

a local church flooded and roof
destroyed but still standing. the
pastor and his family have
temporarily been living
in a tent inside the church as
they help  rebuild their
community

Handouts make donors feel good... but there is a time for it and once you go past that time... it creates a dependency that’s hard to break.

many still living in refugee tents.
despite that, a thankful people.

tents and tarps branded by countries
 and NGO logos lined the roads

Destruction everywhere

pedicure by flashlight

I went out to the Visayas region, to one of the areas that was hit by the recent typhoon.  Words, pictures, nor videos can describe the scene.  It's like a warzone, only there was no war. Homes that were once there are either flattened, barely standing, or have simply disappeared. Schools destroyed. Businesses, gone. You would not dare stay past dusk since electricity is shot.  We took the hard working local staff, who they themselves were personally affected greatly, yet reported to work the day after the typhoon to search for the community members they work with, out for dinner. Very few options available. Rotisserie chicken, turned by hand.  One loud generator, probably for cooking the rice or something, because a meal without rice in the Philippines is not a meal. We could barely hear each other over the loud generator. Inside a small store was a boy doing homework or work of some sorts using a candle light.  The salon next door to our office there was open - a lady was getting a pedicure with the help of someone holding a flashlight.  Amazing.

As difficult as it was to see what had happened, I could not help but be so encouraged by the positive and enterprising spirit of the Filipinos.  They typhoon just came through, but they are back at work, trying to rebuild and get their lives back together. That spirit that's been in the news is real. Hot businesses right now: "charging stations."

 

But the most encouraging glimpse God gave me was this sight below.  It was even more amazing in person. As the darkness was settling in and sun going down, the bright sun shone through that darkness, past the destroyed buildings, downed trees and hanging electrical wires. God is reigning there. His light is and will shine even more brightly there. Grasp onto that hope that He is coming back again to bring true light and life to the broken and dark world below.  It will be ok... more than ok.

Smiles amidst the rubble

An article I wrote for another blog...

I’ve been in the Philippines working with our partner here, the Center for Community Transformation for the past couple of months. The head of CCT had asked if we could help CCT in building its 2016-2020 strategic vision and plan, so I’ve been here meeting with the leaders and staff and facilitating planning sessions.  I was in Manila when typhoon Haiyan struck the Philippines, devastating many of the communities that CCT works in.  After the typhoon, all staff were ‘all hands on deck’, including me, jumping to help in the relief and recovery efforts.  I visited some of our community members last week.

On our visit to deliver relief goods and check on some community partners in a small village in Estancia, a fishing town destroyed by the typhoon, in the midst of piles of metal sheets, piles of snapped branches and fallen trees, housing materials scattered, and even cinderblocks shattered and knocked down, we found a community of people with huge smiles, excitement, and determination to move on and rebuild their lives. The innocence of children who had just experienced a traumatic storm, survived, but now homeless, just being children, enjoying the company of other children, posing with huge smiles, begging for photos to be taken of them. First 2 children, then 3…4… 5… the next thing we knew, all the children in that little village were running over to greet us with their huge smiles. Their joy was contagious.

CCT is committed to the long-term rehabilitation of the areas affected by the typhoon. In just helping our staff and community partners put a basic roof over their heads and re-start destroyed businesses, the costs are estimated to cost over $2 million US. Please continue to keep the Philippines and CCT in your prayers, and please invite your friends to join us.

lost in translation... not santa's elves...

filipino english and american english are different.  words that they use for things, we don't use.  for example, whenever i arrive in the philippines, i am always informed that so-and-so will come "fetch" you.  or the word "avail" is used quite regularly.  so whenever i am there, i take a cautious approach, not to offend anyone by my facial reaction or verbal response to something they say that sounds weird.  umm... in american english, only dogs fetch things...

so here i am, i've just landed at iloilo airport in visayas.  we stop to get some jollibee for breakfast before hitting the road for our several hour journey to eastern samar and estancia where we have community members and staff who were affected by the typhoon.  the pastor, his wife who is also a teacher at the pre-school there are sharing with me their experiences the past couple of weeks since the typhoon hit and the challenges and all.  then the pastor says "if only we had an elph. that would help us so much."  So i want to smile but they are serious, so i stay serious... maybe an "elf" is a term filipinos use to describe hard working people, willing to roll up their sleeves and work hard... like santa's elves do when the christmas season comes around.  so i say, very seriously and sympathetically, "oh yes, some elves would probably be very helpful."  they look at each other, smile and start laughing... because an "elph" is actually the name of a pick-up truck type vehicle... it would be helpful so they can drive over all the broken branches on the ground and help with the clean up...  we had a good laugh about that.  i dunno... i didn't want to come across culturally insensitive...

saying goodbye to gramps

India was good but challenging, as always.  God was and is so good.  It was challenging this year for a different reason.  A very personal reason.  While I was in India, I learned my grandpa was in the hospital.  At first, I was told he was doing fine, and that I should pray for my gma who was also admitted for another reason, but to a different hospital.  Then, a couple days later, another email... a string of emails that I struggled to understand and had to read carefully the timestamps.  He's gone.

So here I am, attempting to lead this team, dealing with the death of my grandfather, and not sure what is going on inside my head.  Why does my heart feel like a rock?  I should be upset.  Am I failing to realize what has happened?  Am I in denial that my grandpa has just died and my grandmother is devastated and my mom and her siblings are mourning and stressed with taking care of 'business'?  I had flashbacks to when my other grandpa passed away a few years back.  I was always closer to that grandfather and when I found out, I was at work - I sort of kept it together, but that hit me hard.  Why wasn't I as affected by this news of my other gpa's death?  What was going on? I remember feeling guilty for not feeling sad.  Perhaps I just covered up the emotions with the work that needed to get done ahead of us.  Perhaps, and I think the bigger thing... distance really made a difference. Being far away made it almost seem like nothing had happened.  Okay, I guess I was in denial after all.

Fast forward.  I was so thankful that God allowed me to attend my gpa's funeral, be with my family, and celebrate his life together.  He died early in my trip to India. The funeral was not until a few weeks later, not because of me but for other reasons.  It was quite an interesting experience...the whole funeral process in Taiwan.  I mean, I’m not an expert on how funerals work. I’ve only really been more closely involved when my other gpa passed away, but that was in the US and he was buried as opposed to being cremated.  so many things... 

I learned more about my gpa and his military feats.  I knew he was senior in the military but it was neat to hear and see the respect he was given by the military there. I was fascinated and horrified all at the same time with the cremation process.  I mean, literally, from celebrating his life, we wheel my gpa right into the crematorium where we see his coffin go into the vault where all that stuff happens.  then we wait upstairs in this cafeteria like place, drink some coffee/sodas, eat some snacks as if nothing is happening just below... we wait there until they call our name.  we are led into a small room where... in order of age, we are to each pick up one of the many smashed larger bone of my gpa with these super long and large chopsticks from the metal tray and place it in the urn where his ashes are.  As of just being this close to the bones and ashes of my gpa was not traumatizing enough... as I wait my turn in the family line-up, I am stressed knowing that my chopsticks skills are awful... God please help me.  we all participate, then my cousin, the oldest male Ku must carry the urn to a counter where we do some ceremonial thing, and then the next day we took my gpa's urn up to this mountain where veterans are buried, like an Arlington of sorts.  Because Taipei lacks space, all bodies are cremated. 

At this beautiful site on the mountain, first of all the van taking us up the mountain gets hit by a car... so we have to wait for a new car to come... finally we get up there. we bring my gpa up to his 'cubby' - looks almost like a library with rows and rows and stacks and stacks of what looks almost like lockers where the urn is kept.  After all that... we head back down the mountain, have a meal together... comfort my gma... that is always the hardest and continues to be so... pray for my gma, for my aunts and uncles. pray for salvation for my uncles especially. God bring this family together.  

My gpa was anti-church and Christianity for most of his life.  We would drag him there but it was always nap time for him.  But a couple years ago, when his legs were being amputated and his health declining, God opened His heart and He accepted Christ into his life and was baptized on the hospital bed. I thank God for that assurance of his faith.  As much as it stinks to lose people, knowing especially that He was suffering so much and was just miserable these past couple years, I know He is in a much better place now and I thank God for that. I hope my gma can find peace in that but she's struggling still. 

the day after the funeral and burial, my gma's 90+ year old cousin stayed for a few days with her - a girls sleepover - to comfort her and be with her.  Oh man I was scared for the helper lady... I mean I have to admit it was really cute that she would come to stay. when my gma's cousin's father passed away, my gma went to stay with her cousin to comfort her. My gma was 16 then and her cousin 20.  Now, my gma is 87 and her 91 year old cousin insisted she must come and stay with her to comfort. it was cute to see them chatting, having lunch, taking a nap, reminiscing their childhood and war times, and have a sleepover together. It was sweet to see a smile on my Gma's face and to witness these 2 girlfriends physically frail, emotionally connected, enjoying each other's company. 

The gift of blue nail polish

I got a mani/pedi this weekend when my friend was visiting.  I struggled long and hard on what to color my fingernails.  Here’s the thing – I’m not a big finger nail polish kind of girl.  I love polish on my toes but on my fingers, I personally don’t like ‘flash’ on my hands.  I don’t like to call attention to me and I tend to speak with my hands at times and then get all self conscious and what not if colors on my fingers flash before my eyes.  BUT, at this one mani/pedi place, they have a deal where you can pay $5 more and you get a mani on top of your pedi... and me being cheap... I can’t say no to that... so I usually get some boring or light or simple light pink color.

Yesterday I got blue.  I haven’t had blue finger nails since I was in high school... and that was probably to get pumped and psyched for our state soccer playoff game – our school colors were blue and white...   I do love blue so my eyes naturally go to that on the wall of polish but to have it on my fingers would stand out way too much... but my friend and I had to wait awhile – busy day I guess... so I kept getting up to change my nail polish color... and finally I landed on blue.

Even afterwards, I was somewhat regretting this decision but I thought.. whatever I leave for india in a few days.. let’s just go all out for the next few days. It’s a fun color.  So today, I go to visit my gma... I walk into her house... I sit down, she sits down and she shows me her hands.... her nails... and she starts telling me about her new blue nail polish that she wants to give to me... and then I flash her my hands!  She was so excited!  It was quite funny actually... I appreciated it and got a fun kick out of it.  Anyways it just made me think about how God even cares about these small things... like our blue nail polish.. that He would humor us and allow us to find enjoyment in even such small and silly things but that bring great joy to each other.  Praise God for blue nails...  why do I doubt his ways?  Even in this, another story of how he knows exactly what he’s doing... and even in my nail polish I shoud ask God what color..  because he has a plan beyond what my pea sized imagination could comprehend.  Blue for a glimmer of joy in my gma?  Awesome.