Perspective

As a child growing up in the barrio in the outskirts of Manila, my world evolved around our modest home, the street where we lived and the immediate neighborhood - an area about half a mile wide and deep - but at that time, it was the whole world to me. The road was unpaved, and the neighborhood kids played in the middle of the street. There were hardly any vehicles that pass through except for the carts pulled by carabaos (water-buffaloes) when they come home with their masters at dusk - and so the street was ours. We would play until our respective mothers called us or when we got hungry or somebody got hurt and all of us ran home so that we won't get blamed. Those were wonderful times. Everything was where they should be and I was home.

Then one day, I wandered about 100 feet away from my world. I chanced upon the main street that was called "Calle Real" and I was enthralled by the many activities that were going on - the people rushing and hailing jeepneys and buses to go somewhere, the headlights from the seemingly countless vehicles that were wheezing by. The energy that I experienced both scared and excited my even then healthy curiosity. I discovered there was a whole new world outside my home. That was the first time my perspective changed.

Since then, I had been filled with awe at new places, situations, people and things that came my way.

In 1975, I was priviledged to have taken part in a scholarship program that gave me the chance to travel to Canada. I remember writing everything that happened in my letters to my mother. I described to her the amazingly beautiful places, the trees, the lake, the camp, the Stoney Indians, the French and Anglo Canadians, the horses, the mountains, the snow on top of the Alberta rockies, the flowers, the canoes, the cold, the parka jackets, the long johns, the sleeping bags, the communal shower, the big cities, the woman bus driver, the Hungarian Jewish family who hosted us one evening and told us of their journey from persecution, and many things that were new to me at the time. And my perspective kept on changing and widening.

Upon my return from Canada, I was given the opportunity to work with out-of-school youth and got to know how lucky I had been - despite our own poverty - because I found out that a lot of people were even poorer, not only in their temporal needs, but moreso in their emotional and spiritual necessities.

As Mrs. H., my mentor and benefactor, ( I will write about her separately) trusted me with more responsibilities, my perspective continued to grow even more. We travelled the whole province of Rizal building hope for the young, engaging prominent citizens and politicians to create organizations that took care of the welfare of the youth in their respective communities. We scoured the fields and mountains and the lakes to find young people to give opportunities to, to give hope to, to give life to. And I saw hope in hopelessness. I saw promise where there was once none.

Then working with the refugees of Southeast Asia gave me yet another perspective. In the mountains of Bataan was a transient community of Americans, Filipinos, Australians, Norwegians, Japanese and a sprinkling of other nationalities all working together and helping the victims of the Vietnam war and Pol Pot's wrath in Cambodia. PRPC (Philippine Refugee Processing Center) or the camp as we called it was a community of between 30,000 and 40,000 Vietnamese, Cambodians, Laotians and Hmongs - men, women and children - all refugees - all looking and hoping for a new life.

We lived there and we worked there and together we created a transient culture - one that accepted, respected, valued and integrated the many different cultures intermingling together. It is gone now, but the memories, the people, the stories, the faces and the feelings are still very much on my mind and in my heart.

Even now as I have settled here in Los Angeles, I keep myself open to different perspectives that come my way. I savor my trips to the ethnic stores and take pleasure in observing what they sell, what people buy, how people look and poke and talk; on what people eat and why; on the differences and similarities; on the abundance and richness of what each person, culture and race brings and how all these come together in this generous country of immigrants.

With these acquired perspectives, I have learned to talk, to soothe, to comfort, to confront, to argue and to deal with peoples. I have learned to truly appreciate our differences, empathize with their situations and understand where they are coming from - and when I do not understand, I respect and accept.

It is my hope that we all continue to look for and discover different and wider perspectives and thereby enrich our lives even more.