Manila …


Taking the first steps outside of the aircraft and into the air, the heat and humidity lunged with full force into my body and lungs. A strange feeling of a pressurised osmosis raises my temperature within moments until there is simply clammy skin and a few damp tendrils of hair on my neck and a slightly unpleasant feeling of losing a little control.

For a day we walked around the city of extremes. The poverty was to be expected and yet when it is lying in front of you on the roads there is of course the instinctive want to put the world right, to scoop up the filthy naked babies and their parents from where they lie and give them some of what I, and so many of us, have.

There are families living in the dirt beside the crazy traffic, the men cooking over tiny fires whilst the women scrub at clothes in dirty buckets of water. A baby sleeps, her naked sister squats and urinates a short distance away whilst the boy plays in the dust with one broken toy. And what do I think? I think of my son’s old scooter left outside our house for the dustbin men to take away, just last week, in a sorting out of old toys and clothes. I think of the carelessness, the frivolity of our society, the excessive food, clothes and the throwaway mentality.

I see the stray dogs and cats; old, young, desperately thin and more often than not, injured. I think of the shameful cost of buying the latest most fashionable breed of dog in England. I see filth and chaos, the high rise buildings alongside the shacks, I smell the drains competing with the sweetness of frangipani, and whilst the senses are being attacked from every angle, I see two tiny barefoot women under a makeshift covering talking together.

The older one has her eyes half closed as she lies sprawled on the cracked concrete. The younger one fans her and as I pass, she looks up at me and grins widely, her lined face lighting up. “Welcome to Manila” she beams and waves a bony hand, never pausing from her fanning. I smile back at her, pause beside her, unsure, wanting to help, not wanting to offend, but she waves me on, the moment has passed and she is already chatting again to the woman, fanning away the flies from her face and making her more comfortable by creating the lightest of breezes on her skin.

And what do I wish for? I wish that in the future, in the dark days, I remember her; her smile, her dry, dusty, thin skin stretched taut over her fragile bones and I remember that my life is so very easy and sometimes it’s good just to keep a little perspective.

Katie xx

18 thoughts on “Manila …”

  1. I was fortunate enough to come from a well-off Filipino family. I remember by grandmother saving leftover food for slops that a boy would pick up every day for their pigs. But yes, the poverty there is incredibly depressing.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. WOW! So very sad. I could picture these people in this devastating environment you described them so well. In what way did this vision change you? Did you take some action to help these people. I am just curious I am not trying to be offensive but I am sure after seeing this that you are a changed person.

    Liked by 1 person

      1. Sorry only answered half your question … we did the somewhat predictable act of giving money. With one day only it’s hard to know what best to do. How to help without causing offence?


    1. Thank you … As for Betty (who is my depression and anxiety demon, just to be clear!) she has withered and faded by a multi-pronged attack. On a scale of 1-10 at my worst I was probably at about a 7 out of 10 so not as bad as many. I have used medication, exercise, yoga, breathing, food and routine and structure, plus giving up alcohol which was getting pretty problematic. Also, I’m not talking about a little of each from time to time, I tend to be fairly extreme when I do things, so I’d exercise for two hours four times a week (tennis with both men and women so not just a jog in the park) for example plus dog walking every day for light exercise and actually getting sunlight … etc etc. Betty will always I personally believe, be a part of me, but I metaphorically keep her locked up in the outside shed. She tries to creep back in from time to time, but I’ve found that if I work really hard at all the above, I can function perfectly well. I have to watch out for triggers and be very aware of myself and look after myself … all very dull, but hell, it works for me thank goodness! I wish I’d have done it years ago. Sorry for the long winded answer! X

      Liked by 1 person

      1. Like a long winded answer… more thorough 😉 ah… I understand now.. great site title. I have been in the doldrums but just forced myself out with a friend and went to a couple of garden centres… now in summer skirt and vest and on a very British manner, shall garden whilst freezing. All in the name of ‘cheering the f**k up’.

        Liked by 1 person

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