I know I said I'd blog every day. But after such lengthy posts, I decided that my loyal readers needed some time to digest my posts. So I decided to wait for a little before continuing my stories from the Land of Brown.

That and my dsl line at home is down until tomorrow when the technician will come and fix it sometime between 12 and 4pm. Yeah. My ass. Chances are, they'll show up at 4:30. Neat.

I would like to take a quick second to display my joy and affection for my Bronx Bombers - all of those "Yankee Fans" who told me they sucked all year and that they wouldn't survive to the post-season can kiss it. I had no doubts. My boys play in October. Few things are more certain than that. In the meantime, I know I can at least enjoy another week of Yankee watching, one of my favorite pasttimes in the world.

Now. Lest I forget that I have a mission here, I shall regale you will more stories from the Philippines. Before I do, instead of posting one picture or several at a time, click on the link below to see pics of my homeland. You can also find these pics on a lick on the right.

PICTURES FROM THE PHILIPPINES


Without further ado:

SEPTEMBER 12, 2005 (US, MONDAY)
LOCATION: MANILA TRAFFIC
TIME: 1150 AM, MANILA; 11:50 PM, NEW YORK (SEPTEMBER 11)

I forgot about the traffic. But we've already covered this.

Today my mother, my uncle, my aunt, and I (and some other assorted random family members) have to go to the cemetary to make all of the arrangements.

As we drive along, I take stock of my surroundings.

Besides the traffic, I have forgotten about the poverty here. (Check the pictures link to see what I mean)

Well, I should be honest. It's difficult to forget. From the time I was three, the faces and eyes of countless Filipino men, women, and children have remained in my memory as they begged me on street corners, staring into our stopped car, staring at us with hands outstretched.

Driving along the way, I am struck by the shabby, corrugated cardboard, tin, and wood scraps making up the walls of shacks. Spaces are left between them for windows, stacked one on top of the others, clothes hung out to dry from wire between the windows, families sitting on top of their shacks on what looks to be a very thin tin.

I started thinking about my uncle's house that I was staying at. How big, how modern, how beautiful. And I'm seeing these people, living in filth, amongst rats and dire poverty. And I start to feel helpless.

I can't help but remember a thought I had when I was eight and I visited: "This is the face of poverty. So many of my friends would never believe this exists." I'm looking at the same sight - sitting smack across the street from mansions and businesses that have grown around them. Manila is easily the ugliest city in the Philippines - and because they haven't planned the city as nicely as they could have. I remember thinking then the same thing I'm thinking now: "There are people who live like this in the U.S. But so many Americans don't know. This is what we as a people are missing - the forgotten people who are forced to live like this." I don't feel any better.

They say things in the Philippines won't change for at least 20 years. Besides new buildings, I've noticed it has been the same since I remember coming.

Here, the rich get richer, the poor live in shacks but have cards and pirated flat-screens. The government is corrupt and there hasn't been anything really new since Marcos was in power. I see my homeland suffering from these consequences and the mindset and I am even more upset.

I can start to make comparisons now, but I'll wait until I return to the states and digest all of this first.

I can sum all of this up by saying and asking: The country of my family must rise anew before anything changes. And the country of my birth also needs to wake up. It seems that everyone has much work to do. But who will be the ones brave enough to take on that task? Where have all the leaders gone?