Cureless

Last Sunday, I just got home from the 2-day immersion program by our school’s Office of Social Concern and Involvement. Like any other immersee, I was expecting a shift from my daily living. But for me, the change in the environment wasn’t that far from my expectation - that I would feel intense emotions after the period of being with the people at the orphanage.

I am used to that kind of situation. I have been to Bantay-Bata (an institution for abused children) during my freshman year and that was when I felt this certain awe for them. Just imagine if I were in that kind of situation… I don’t think I could be as strong as those kids - violated and had experienced harsh treatments. But as I said, the questions popping out of my mind weren’t so many as during our praxis at Bantay-Bata.

The Virlanie Foundation in La Paz, Makati, basically has at least 8 houses to accomodate the less fortunate and abandoned children aging from birth to 22 years of age, including young mothers. Angel (another imersee) and I were lucky to be with Jules (our formator) under same house, Marco Polo. As expected, we seemed to be the less burdened group among the others who went to other houses since there were only 16 kids in the house (compared to 33 in some), the house was bigger and more ventilated, we got to sleep in the staff room, the comfort room gave us enough comfort, and our kids were more disciplined, as Jules said.

I got close to some of the kids at Marco Polo. During our first night at the house, Jules played Hercules on the vcd and one of the girls, Jovelyn kept bugging me about God, Mary and Jesus (seeing Zeus, the mother, Hercules). She insistently asked candies from me when I gave her some. There’s also the chubby boy, Jordan who cannot operate his wire-controlled car because he doesn’t have a battery. I lent him mine from my camera then took them back later. But he’s again very persistent at borrowing the batts.

One of the duties scheduled for us by the social worker was supervision of the kids during siesta time (afternoon nap). Last Saturday, when more than half of the kids went to the noon-time tv variety show MTB, we slept with the kids in the girls bedroom in the afternoon.

I noticed Usha, another one of those kids, has a very different behavior. Earlier that day, during bath and grooming time, she was very adept at fixing herself, very independent. I remember myself at that age, my yaya, Lola Undit dresses me up, etc. The child wasn’t even at ease having someone dress her up. That afternoon, she had a little fight with one of the frivoulous girls in the house, Jovelyn. Of course, we had to stop her, then she began hitting on Angel, who’s backed up by Jovelyn. I warned the kid that her Mommy Lorie would get mad at her. Then she shouted, “Hindi ko nga mommy si Mommy Lorie!” (She’s not my mom!) Afterwards, I saw her sobbing in her bed. It’s quite peculiar seeing a child sobbing silently. When I was a kid, I would cry out loud, as in, my grandparents would punish me again for that. She eventually stopped and noticed the cellphone on my pocket. She knows her mother’s number, she said and began touching the keypads of the phone. I never believed she was serious. But that wasn’t the point. The fact that she remembers her mother and her will to contact her implies something. I was quite disturbed when another kid blurted out that it’s impossible for Usha to contact her mother since her family members are all gone because of a fire. I never verified that true ’cause I didn’t bother to ask the social worker. That may explain her behavior.

I knew from the start that I wouldn’t feel such attachment with the kids since I thought I’ve experienced enough. True. During the processing, Sunday morning. I didn’t have to explain a thing. But when I got back for the goodbye, kids were coming to us and telling us not to leave. In a sense, I was touched. If I could go back to the place (and if I mastered the route going there), I’d surely do. I promised to call them.

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I didn’t cry… Hehe… I’m already detached but I would keep my promise. We were heartwarmingly welcomed by the kids. What’s a phone call anyway?