Nampo Garcia- A Street Kid Story

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October 9, 2024, Manila- (Any connection between the characters in this tale and real people is purely coincidental.)

I felt the blade at my back,as I retrieved the cash from the ATM. “Now, you will give me the due that you refused, back at the Light Rail station!”, snarled a voice at the other end of the knife. “Will I, now?”, I responded, in my best fake Irish brogue. I looked at the wad of bills, then glanced over at the small pair of hands to my right, cupped and ready.

I tossed the folded bills to a chuckling, triumphant street boy. The hapless beggar took off after Nampo, dropping his knife and momentarily forgetting about me. The boy, little more than 3’8” and 50 pounds soaking wet, ran around the floral planter that graced the front of my hostel, all the while holding the cash, in a teasing manner, as the half-addled thief continued to pursue him, like a cat chasing its own tail.

Nampo knew the drill. He ran up to the hostel’s security guard and stood still, until I came up the steps. His meal depended on not running afoul of Steven Morales, who had often graciously provided the boy, and his little sister, with one of the hostel restaurant’s signature burgers or at least one of its ample rice bowls. Tonight, though, as Steven handcuffed the foolish beggar, I took Nampo inside the cafe, and for once, the Chinese owner did not wince and start fussing in Mandarin, about “a mouse being in the house”. Nampo had a full meal and was allowed to take an order to go, for his sister, who was waiting at their makeshift cardboard and plywood hut, off Dominga Street.

“Uncle Rama”, Nampo queried, as we ate, “do you have a friend like me, back in Bengaluru?” “Actually, I have several such friends, Nampo”, I responded. “You see, not so long ago, I too was sleeping under rattan and cardboard, frequently crying myself to sleep and keeping one eye open. The street bandits back in India are not so easy to elude, as the drugged up fiends here in Manila.”

“Not all the thieves here are drugged up”, answered Nampo, “in fact, the only reason I can leave Shakira alone is because we have Auntie Jinja looking after us. Her son, Raul, is also here, visiting his mother and taking her to see a doctor, for her diabetes. Raul said that if he needs to take his mother back to his house in Sucot, we will go with them-and he will make sure we go to school every day.”

I felt relieved at this news and as I walked Nampo back to his encampment, thought of how lucky this resourceful little boy was, to have found Jinja, and by extension, Raul, in the first place. Then again, it was Nampo’s heart energy, taking care of little Shakira, and his pluckiness at cultivating a security guard and a tourist as his friends, that most appealed to my own heart. As it happened, Raul had gone to the hardware, on P. Ocampo, and purchased a few folding chairs. His mother was sitting in one, and he, in another. The dutiful son beckoned me to sit for a while. “Would you care for a cup of iced tea?” “That would be heavenly”, I replied, taking the last empty chair, as Nampo sat down on a bean bag seat, which Raul had also purchased. Shakira was asleep on a small cot, covered with a clean sheet, again provided by the dutiful son.

This night would pass safely for the makeshift family, and soon the four of them would head past the Ninoy Aquino International Airport, through Paranaque to the seaside community of Sucot. I would be heading home to Karnataka, in a few days, and thought that I would make more of an effort to help the urchins in my home city, in honour of Nampo and Shakira.

(The street children of Manila are definitely winsome and engaging. It is their sheer number that prevents meaningful individual assistance, but there are a number of organizations, such as Children International, which I use as a vehicle to help two families, and Save the Children, that can provide assistance to destitute children and their families. Nampo and Shakira are fictional characters, but there are people who fit their description all over the streets of Metro Manila-and other Philippine cities.)

They Who Shortchange….

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October 8, 2024, Manila-The grifter was insistent, even as I made it clear that I had his/her number, after being asked twice within twenty seconds, how I was doing today. (That is one of the brightest red flags, for an online scam artist.) The other one, of course, is being asked, on a social media site, where I’m from. Anyone with a pulse can tell where I live, by looking at my home page. AI, for some reason, hasn’t developed that capability, as yet-and part of me hopes it never does. I know to press the “delete” and “block” buttons. It was made all the easier this time, as the scammer had chosen to impersonate a well-regarded financial adviser, who lives in London. He/she claimed to be living in Dallas, and to have two small children. Said investment guru has two grown children. The red flags piling up, I silently thanked the Divine for having a solid friend and family circle of those savvy in finance-and deleted the conversation.

Those who attempt to shortchange another, especially if that other is my age and of sound mind, are only shortchanging themselves. Beggars on the street stand more of a chance of my sharing money with them, and I don’t give to beggars on the street.

I thought of these things today, as K was working on some figures, and I was sitting nearby, reading a book on the influence of geography on the history of various nations. Everyone who tries to scam others, be it financially, politically or socially, will eventually be found out, disgraced and cast out. Sometimes, that doesn’t happen until the scammer has died, but to me, posthumous reputation and good name matter as much how one is overtly regarded while still alive.

They who shortchange, only end up ripping off themselves.

Navigating

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October 6,2024, Manila- The day started and ended with rain. Thus, the nice picnic devotional we had planned for late morning became an indoor affair. I brought chicken fillets, topped with dinakdakan sauce. Kathy and her male cousin contributed a rather good pizza. Others brought a regional variation on pancit- a generic Tagalog name for noodles. There was also a seaweed dish, brought by one of the young men. I have been a fan of seaweed since the days we lived in Jeju, Korea. It is a powerhouse of nutrients. I will describe dinakdakan, which I find tasty, upon request. (No, it is not made from insects).

The afternoon was spent in study of aspects of Huquq’u’llah, which I have discussed in earlier posts (see especially Sept. 16, 2024). It was not dry and intense-no Filipino would sit through such boredom for long, but it was done with attention and focus. Kathy knows what she’s doing, especially when it comes to academic presentation of financial matters. I was honoured to sit at her right-hand side and contribute a fair amount to the discussion. Much of it was in Tagalog, but I had everyone’s attention when offering thoughts in English.

Towards the end of the meeting, K’s cousin pressed me to extend my stay- “permanently”. She and I exchanged knowing glances, smiled and I said I would need to go back to the U.S., for six months. There are several things needing attention at Home Base, in Carson City and back East-not excluding the possibility of time in the Southeast, given this year’s sudden explosion of hurricane energy-shades of 2005. Brief visits to San Diego and Jalisco are likely in February, and I will want to get to Massachusetts and Pennsylvania, in April.

So, we have pretty much agreed on a May return. How “permanent” will be influenced by things like the birth of one or more grandchildren-still to be determined, BTW. Today, though, I learned that any mixed signals I may have sensed, over the past day or so, were mainly in my mind. This beautiful, compassionate, intelligent woman, whose friendship I am so privileged to secure, is for real.

Baccarat

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October 5, 2024, Manila- What I was told, about yesterday’s travails, more than tugged at my heartstrings. I said as much, and sincerely want to be there, when life goes off the rails for one who has had to struggle on her own, for far too long. I said that, too.

Maybe because she has a need to do things on her own, to struggle and see things through, my comments were met with a shrug. It’s hard to say; after all, I can only be here, this time, for three more weeks. Then I have to return to North America, to at the very least meet obligations, and at the very most finish up what I started, before I met her. While I am back at Home Base, and elsewhere on the continent where I have spent most of my life, K will be here, carrying on and relying on her own abilities and talents. I will be offering moral support, from a distance, and that’s all.

In the game of Baccarat, a player holds two hands and a dealer, one. The player may bet for or against either hand, or against the dealer’s. In life, one can show confidence in the figurative hand one has been dealt or plan against it-or may challenge the hand held by the person in control.

So, I can move forward with confidence, make plans to return here next May, with or without any guarantee that I will initially be welcomed again. I can “bet against my own hand”, put it down and stay put in Home Base, being thankful for even having had time with K, at all. I can bet against the dictates of conventional wisdom, and come here with a greater purpose: To do, in the Philippines and southeast Asia what a core group are doing in the Phoenix area. None of these options depends on the strength of a relationship with a specific person-and that is most likely what would actually save it. Independence reassures-and draws people in.

It’s easy, in some ways, to get young people here involved in the building of an equitable society. They are more likely to bring their friends along to a gathering and to take leadership roles, without being prodded. There is no residue of “Children should be seen and not heard”; no noxious after-scent from the Victorian Era. For their part, youth are more prone to thinking before acting or speaking. A good part of that has to do with numbers: People under the age of 30 constituted 60 % of the Philippine population, in the 2020 Census. The percentage of youth in the United States population, according to the same census, is 28.6 %.

Youth in developing nations, like the Philippines, are more likely to be in the driver’s seat, so to speak than their peers are in the developed countries, whose populations are both aging out and much more in a state of time consciousness. There is much that we can learn from countries like the Philippines, in terms of youth engagement.

I hope, thus, to pick up some of those lessons, in the next three weeks-and trust that the right course of action in 2025 will make itself known.

More Transition

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October 4,2024, Manila- She was long a champion of civil rights, for racial minorities and women. “Sexual minorities” were a bit harder for her, but she was trying to understand. Michele was, nonetheless, a compassionate friend of 35 years.

It was she, and her late husband, Tom, who talked me into taking a road trip to San Francisco-Oakland, in 2012; of course, swinging by their then-home in Reno and caravanning to the Bay Area. From there, I headed north, after three days of commemorating ‘Abdu’l-Baha’s 1912 visit to that area. After Tom passed away, in 2013, I continued to visit Michele and her family, which I came to regard as an extension of my own. Her eldest granddaughter became a surrogate grand-niece, followed, seven years later, by her little brother.

Sis has been getting weaker, these past few years, though she did not lose any of her feistiness. On my last visit, three months ago, she stood strongly against what she regarded as a general moral laxity. She cautioned me, on a different note, against up and leaving the United States, for what she regarded as a pipe dream of living abroad again. I think she felt the hourglass was running out. Last night, it did. Michele Le Boutellier Smith passed away, at the age of 75.

Michele may yet turn out to have been right. I have pretty much hit a plateau, in several aspects, as to what I can accomplish in Manila, and after giving it a few more days, will likely move on to the provinces for a couple of weeks. It is encouraging to me, though, that a well-educated, savvy gentleman is stepping up as a moving and shaking force for the Baha’i Faith in the capital area. Today, at lunch, he articulated some solid practical ideas for making the Regional Baha’i Center a true locus for the betterment of the community. It is the local residents who must achieve the true greatness of a place. Visitors like me, no matter how loving or well-intentioned, wear out our welcomes after so many days.

Transitions have been at flood tide, in a number of respects, in this Eight Universal Year, which always seems to bring about drastic change. The number of close family and friends who have left my life, either through death or attrition in the past nine months, is jarring. It is also not entirely unexpected. The year is not over yet, by a long shot, so I hang on and continue to work for the best.

Somewhere, in the great energy field to which we all go, at some point, all my relations and extended family of friends are sending the energy that will guide me aright, as long as I pay attention. I will probably be walking that path largely alone, but that is okay. I can do this.

Notes On The Filipino Road-and Other Elements

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October 3, 2024, Manila- Today was one of those days when the executive dysfunction of some friends led to long periods of sitting around, waiting for things to happen. K was doing a lot, as was the renovation crew who are working on the Baha’i Center. She, and they, were doing fine without me, so I offered to help another friend, and waited, and waited. In the end, the day went by with plans unfulfilled-for several reasons.

While waiting, though, my mind went over several things I’ve noticed have changed about Philippine traffic, since last year: 1.There are, for pedestrians, a signal that tells both how long until they may cross again (red numbers) and how long they have to cross (green numbers). There is still, for unregulated intersections, the tradition of crossing when traffic slows down. 2. There are several more directional signs for outlying areas than I recall from last year. 3. Directions for places of interest are more commonly posted, both in Metro Manila and in the smaller cities. 4. Cautionary signs, regarding speeding and littering, are more common-especially in smaller neighbourhoods. 5. I have seen fewer instances of gridlock than I saw last year.

Coffee shops and juice bars have sprung up in areas where they were lacking-always a sign of a trend towards a more peaceful camaraderie and health consciousness.

There aren’t as many beggars, and there is markedly less trash on the streets, even in more “rundown” neighbourhoods. (There are many more wheeled trash bins around.) More kids are in school than are wandering the streets. I see more people who look like they are on a mission. I see more couples showing affection, though rarely in an unseemly manner. Life in “the Phils”, to my eyes, seems to be getting better.

My relative downtime gave me a chance to completely catch up on things that had accumulated, so now I can focus on remaining goals, over the next 3.5 weeks. I am keeping abreast of events in the U.S. and in western Asia. Hurricane Helene was the worst cyclone in my homeland since Katrina. There are no words to describe my sorrow at the devastation in places like Perry (FL), Asheville, Boone, Aiken, Greenville (SC), Tryon, Valdosta, Damascus and Newport (TN). I have been to most of those places and have friends in several of them. Claytor Lake State Park, in southwest Virginia, was a place of refuge for me, in August, 2011, when I was at the lowest ebb, emotionally. It is now at its lowest ebb, physically, and will do well by the Federal aid that has been secured for several states in the southeast. Remember our small towns. They will live on and largely recover, but right now, many are in agony.

Metro Manila, Day 8: Branching Out

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September 18, 2024, Manila- Remembering the old saw that goes: “You can’t tell if someone is disabled, just by looking at him”, I nonetheless walked past the muscular young man who was sitting on the sidewalk, holding out a paper cup. I don’t, as a matter of course, reward begging. There are cases where I will purchase snacks, especially packaged ones, from street vendors. That constitutes reward for some kind of work. Sorry, not sorry, but begging is not work.

I decided to give my friends at the Baha’i Center some space today, and opted to walk about 5 kilometers total, from Ola! Hostel to the light rail station at Vito Cruz, and from Gil Puyat station to Libertad, which took me past the Metro Manila World Trade Center. From Libertad, I took the light rail back to Vito Cruz, then walked to Ola!

World Trade Center, north of Ninoy Aquino International Airport (above and below)

Most people were just going about their business, and did not pay me any mind. A little girl asked if I needed any help, when I stopped to put my camera back in its sleeve. It was kind of her, but I was making myself feel useful and capable, so I continued on-and she went back to wherever she had been people watching.

After doing my laundry, in advance of tomorrow’s bus ride to Baguio, I sent a message to Kathy, touching base about the arrangements she had made for said ride. The answer came back that the information would be at the Baha’i Center, so I went there after all, in the evening. She brought the paperwork, after a fashion, and I saw the work that had kept her busy, these past few days: A thick binder of documents. This woman is nothing, if not dedicated and the work was largely done. I sat with her and several others, a conversation dovetailing between English and Tagalog ( the latter of which I could only understand a smidgen). Were it not for tomorrow’s activities, which start with an early morning Zoom call, I could have sat and talked for hours. It was, at least an hour well-spent, talking about the Baha’is of the United States, and our schools/institutes.

Bend a little, and get a lot in return. Show independence, and get support.

Metro Manila, Day 7: The Envelope Girl

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September 17, 2024, Manila- The little girl clutched her assigned supply of envelopes and note cards with one hand and held onto my arm with the other. She desperately wanted to get some pocket change, which I could have spared-but for the fact that a boy appeared, also carrying envelopes and note cards-and it is pretty much guaranteed that ten more “vendors”, along with a few pickpockets, would have surfaced, in short order. I walked along, with a platonic friend who is like a sister to me, and the little angel still clinging to my arm. No one got anything from me, and after I said “Palaam” (goodbye), at the corner, the pair hung back, looking surprised, but resigned.

Many of us, in the course of our lives, are like the Envelope Girl and her partner in grift. We hope for something from another person-whether it is commerce, approval, friendship or even some level of romance. Sometimes-oftentimes, we can get what we want. On other occasions, the answer is “No”, or “Maybe, just not right now”.

I have been both seeker and sought, plenty of times. Growing up, I was a well-liked, but never loved, adolescent-a permanent resident of what is nowadays called “The Friend Zone”.

There is no Friend “Zone”. There are only friends, those towards whom one feels fondly, with whom one is glad to share good times, thoughts and experiences. There are levels of friendship, from “acquaintance” (whatever that is) to a marital bond-and many levels in between. I can’t, however, recall any person in my life who has been consigned to a limited, stifling place in my world. There have been false friends, whose design was either transactional (like the street urchins above) or vengeful(their whole shtick being to teach me a lesson). Those have been let go, blocked/deleted. There have been those who have been physically attracted to me, but the converse has not been true-and we have managed to build solid, platonic/fraternal bonds. The same is true of many to whom I have been drawn-and the converse has also been true.

At the top of the scale, there are two: Penny, my departed wife, and a person to whom I have made several references, of late. Penny was, when we first met, immediately in full-on attraction mode, (as was I, to her). That settled into a period of retraction, during which she had space to deal with residual feelings towards former beaux, a dalliance with a more dashing suitor and sorting out all manner of conflict between making a commitment and having “freedom”. My feelings never went away, but I stayed in the background, as long as she needed me to. After 18 months, we were married, had a solid, if sometimes stormy, wedlock and I was by her side through it all-including thirteen years of physical and cognitive decline, as I have described in earlier posts.

I met K last year, and had the same immediate attraction. Time will tell, if the friendship will approach the level that Penny and I reached. There are many variables, and all I can say is that my feelings aren’t going away, even as my person gives her the space that I gave Penny. A beloved soul deserves no less. Our lives will continue, will remain full and our goals-both mutual and separate-will be achieved. No two people, no matter how drawn to one another, can possibly meld into a unit where one is indistinguishable from the other. “Between them is a barrier that they overpass not.”-Baha’u’llah.

It has been a wonderful ride, to this point. I’m here, if she needs me.

Metro Manila, Day 6: Transcending Limits

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September 16, 2024- “Every exit is an entrance to someplace else”-Sign in the Rooftop Restaurant, at Ola! Hostel. I am nearing the end of the first Manila phase of my visit here. It’s just as well. My friend needs to get on with her day job, and I have promises to fulfill, in the outlying areas. After hopefully helping one of the other Manila friends with filing a claim, tomorrow, I will try to get to Corregidor on Wednesday and head for Baguio, in central Luzon, from Thursday to Sunday. The first few days of next week are uncertain, especially given my dearest friend’s work schedule, but I will head to Palawan, for five days, on Sept. 26. Visits to Mindoro and the Bicol region may follow, as October gets underway.

Every trial, every effort one makes, comes with a valuable lesson. Those lessons are what allow for transcendence. One such lesson was with respect to the One SIM card I tried using. It cannot receive text messages from the United States, so it ended up being useless and I have gone back to my regular number. The other thing about trials is that they call me out on whether I mean what I say. I do, but there is always a need to prove that to those who are important to me, but don’t know me all that well.

A long day has come to a close. My intuition, with regard to K, is ever spot on and I will continue to be her rock. The woman has so much to offer this world. That’s all I can say.

Metro Manila, Day 4: Peekaboo with a Volcano

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September 14, 2024, Manila- Taal Volcano was once a destination for boaters and horseback riders. Not that long ago, another Baha’i who is fairly prominent, and who I met once or twice at gatherings,, came to Manila. Kathy took him to see Taal and there was at the time a horseback ride to the crater. The mountain has, since last year, been consistently in eruption mode, and so the horses and boat landings are in abeyance.

Our little group of six headed towards the city of Tagaytay, 59.3 kilometers (36.8 miles) southwest of Manila, early this morning. We found our first stop Lake Hotel, enveloped in fog and low cloud cover. Kathy told me that this establishment was the scene of a triple homicide, a few weeks after she and her sons came here for a mini-holiday. Jack Torrance, Lloyd the Barkeep and the crazy Englishman, from “The Shining” were nowhere in sight, so we had nothing to worry about. (The actual killer is in custody, and faces trial soon).

What is often a prime spot for viewing Taal Volcano was barely a good vantage point for seeing the surrounding lake. Nonetheless, the intervening forest was itself a worthy subject for photography. So, as always, were K and her friends.

View of rainforest between Lake Hotel, Tagaytay and Lake Taal. (above and below)
Lake Taal and its boat wharves, from Lake Hotel.
Presenting Taal Volcano, (in the background)

Our next venue was closer to the mountain: Island Dreams Resort, which offers a lovely, spacious courtyard, boat rides around the lake (but no island stopover, or horseback ride to the caldera, as were formerly on the bill of fare) and grace for those who add to their purchased meals with food of their own. That was us, as we had planned on a picnic-at Picnic Grove Park, above the Lake, but were guided to this venue, by a cordial tout who was drumming up business, at Picnic Grove’s gate. We walked through a cloudburst, with umbrellas lent us by the hopeful Island Dreams boat concessionaires. The ladies turned down the ride, though, and I stood by them-as who wants to ride in an open boat in a downpour? We did enjoy the beef shank soup and a plate of fried bancus fish. Bancus are only found in Lake Taal, though they resemble smelts, which are a delicacy from the North Atlantic, and a few other species of unscaled fish.

Taal Volcano, from the boat dock at Island Dreams Resort
Island Dreams Resort, lower Tagaytay.

Our delectable hybrid meal finished, we the sextet headed off on a few more of K’s places of interest. Fantasy World, a would-be replica of Disneyland’s Fantasy Land, was built and never opened, we discovered. The family of roadside vendors who manned the gated entrance told us it was to finally open to the public in December. We bought snacks from them and posed for photos-a staple of the day, and of any trip involving K and her lady friends. As you can guess, I never tire of that practice.

The once and future Fantasy World, Lemery, Batangas.
The Easy-to-Please Six were not bothered by the venue being closed.
The view of Lake Taal, from the south, was as stunning as that from Island Dreams. The ladies each identified their “dream house”. Some things are universal.

Our last successful stop of the day was at Sonya’s Secret Garden. I sensed this was especially important to K, and so kept an eye out for the sign, getting the driver to do a u-turn, shortly after he overshot the access road. This lovely series of mini-gardens and wellness-related shops kept us enthralled for an hour. Kathy engaged a tour guide, who explained the workings of each garden and the different wellness operations, which include an acupuncture clinic. None of us needed to be pincushions today, but one never knows. Here are a few flower and leaf photos:

Red-leafed bushes make fragrant ground cover.
Morning glories are everywhere, and lend their name to Sonya’s restaurant.
Hera is holding up the world-quite a switch from Atlas-but she had plenty of fortitude, also.
New Guinea Creepers are among Sonya Garcia’s favourite flowers.
Even the archways are floral.
The cabana is cozy place.
This steed is taking no one anywhere!

It was a masterwork of planning by a loving and talented lady, along with what must have been an exhausting day of driving for our friend, Jerry. We missed out on only one venue: The People’s Park in the Sky. We reached the entrance at nightfall, and learned that there were no lights on the premises. Flashlight tag was not among our plans, so back to Manila we went.

I am in awe at the commitment and fortitude of my Filipino friends. The next 4.5 weeks will be equally energizing, I’m certain.