I Get Lost in the Darkness of Their Eyes"Filipinos don't care if a gift is the right color or if it fits, so long as it is heartily given!" My Visayan friend, Sheena, intoned the words "heartily given" with a healthy amount of her jovial accent. Her cheerful reception winnowed away the embarrassment I was feeling after giving her a new pair of sandals that were too small. It was my first time in the Philippines. Twice daily baths taken with a bucket and ladle helped to quell the April heat. Mosquito consuming geckos crept across and hid in loosely constructed walls, never inciting their status as welcome guests. Outside, roosters crowed before dawn. Hand washed clothes dried in sunshine and the cleanliness of the humble outdoor latrine would put some first world lavatories to shame. The warmth of the Philippines is not in the setting, however, but in the people. The hospitality, helpfulness and cleverness of the Filipino people make their charm as magnetic as the jet of their eyes.
The spirit of Polynesian hospitality touched me long before I entered a Filipino home. As my plane touched down on a balmy night in Manila, I saw the word mabuhay illuminated in huge red letters. Translated roughly as "long live," it was poised permanently onto the airport! That welcome was echoed throughout my vacation by every Filipino I met. For instance Sheena, my pen-pal, had invited me to stay at her home for as long as I wanted. Shattering my idea that I would sleep on the floor, I was given an entire room. Sheena's father slept on the floor and her mother slept with her and her sister. They denied that they had sacrificed their own room. Monetary compensation for food was denied. Treated as a family member, I was called kuya (big brother) by Sheena and her sister.
Filipinos are helpful. Imagine arriving at an airport and finding yourself surrounded by a rapidly spoken foreign language. When I arrived in Ninoy Aquino International Airport, however, I was not stricken with culture shock. Even the busiest Filipinos took time to help me. In Western airports, conversely, I have been lost to the point of having to spend the night, simply due to the uncaring attitudes of all whom I implored. Most of my arrangements within Manila were made for me by a local woman, the sponsorship coordinator to the charity through which I sponsored a little girl (Michelle). Following my visit with Michelle, I was treated to a tour of Manila and several communities. The woman went far outside the duties of her job and not a single peso was expected from me. When I arrived on Sheena's island, looking lost, a police man offered the use of his cell-phone. My travel anxiety was cured.
Perhaps the cleverness of the Filipino people is in their education. Education is very important to them. Most Visayans I met spoke three languages fluently; Sheena spoke four as a child. I was often the lowest scoring contestant when playing the word game Scrabble–it was an English version! When the topic of hydrocephalus made its way into a conversation, I was astonished to not only encounter familiarity with the term, but understanding. Musical proficiency was also well endowed upon many inhabitants of the island. Possibly owing to some brilliant engineering feat, thousands of mangos were meticulously wrapped in newspaper as they grew on tall trees–not a single mango was overlooked! The coconut bread I was given was more delicious than any other bread I have tasted in Europe or San Francisco, yet it was baked on an open flame.
Following my departure from the Philippines, I wrote these verses in a poem: "At dawn silence is broken by song. I get lost in the darkness of their eyes. . . . " My poem is short, heartily written and bound by the gravity of indomitable Filipino charm.
From a gentlman who met his pen pal and her family in the Phil recently....
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