We have friends!
Ok, maybe not real friends, but we have kids who come over and call us Tita (aunt) Erin and Tito (uncle) Scott. That is close enough to friends to make me happier than I’ve been in a while here. Since we arrived in the Philippines, it seems we have been in constant transition: from orientation, to training, to host family, to site, to new host family, and finally to our house. All of this moving combined with the cultural and language barriers have made it difficult to build relationships. In picturing Peace Corps before we began, I imagined living in a tight knit community with friends and neighbors always in and out of the house, a flow of children to read to and play with and meals shared between friends. I guess I pictured my Peace Corps experience to be like Mission Year in Oakland was, only this time, international. Well, so far, this has not been the case. Meeting people seems full of barriers sometimes. . .

-Kids and adults are shy around us because we are foreign.
-Kids and adults are intimidated because we can speak English.
-More often than not, children run and hide when we’re around (they aren’t exactly lining up to play with us)
-People prefer to yell “Hey, Joe!” rather than learn our names. (read Scott’s last post about THAT one)
-Conversations tend to be superficial when we are speaking a foreign language. (What’s your name? How old are you? Where are you from? Where are you going? Do you have children? Why not? What’s wrong with you? Etc.etc.)
-Instead of getting to know people, we are often having the same conversations over and over again. (What’s your name? How old are you? Where are you from? Where are you going? Do you have children? Why not? What’s wrong with you? Etc.etc.)

I was beginning to let go of my picture of our ideal little Peace Corps community – I figured it just wasn’t going to happen. Thankfully, I may have given up too soon. There is hope of community on the horizon!
It all started one regular morning last week. I was waiting at the corner near our house for a tricycle to go to the market. In our new barangay the wait for a trike to town can vary from 5 minutes to 45 minutes, depending on the time of day. This time it was about 20 minutes—Just long enough to have one of my regular conversations with some new faces from our barangay. I launched into my spiel, the same spiel I give everyone and to most people more than once. While I only know so many sentences, other people seem to only know so many questions, so my half of the conversation almost always sounds like this.
“Ako si Erin. Taga USA ako. Peace Corps volunteer ako. Nagaobra ko sa NGO nga Save the Children. Oud, may bana ron ko, ngaran tana si Scott. Indi Pinoy tana, kano man. Wara pa ti bata kami. Nagaistar kami jan sa Dalipe.”
(My name is Erin, I am from the US. I am a volunteer working with Save the Children. Yes, I have a husband, his name is Scott. No, he’s not Filipino, he’s American too. No, we don’t have any children yet. We live here in Barangay Dalipe).
Then, I asked my usual questions of the one adult and 7 kids standing around staring at me while I waited on the corner. The difference this time was, THEY ANSWERED. No one ran and hid. It was amazing! The kids told me their names and ages and grades in school. YAY! They can speak. Just when my spirits started to soar, a trike rolled up, and away I went. I thought that was probably the end of that, but I was happy. I had a two-way conversation with people in our neighborhood. Exciting! (we go for the little victories here)
Well, thankfully, I was wrong again – that was not the end of that, but just the beginning. The next morning, the kids stopped in front of our gate and yelled my name. I thought I was hearing things – there was no way Filipino children were actually yelling my name. But it was real. There they were standing at the fence. They were gathering firewood along the road for their families to use for cooking. I told them to come on in and together we gathered up all the wood in our big yard. Our yard was full of branches and brush we had been meaning to burn, but since Scott and I cook with gas, we didn’t need it. The kids were overjoyed at their find and I was overjoyed to have people at our house. After all the wood was gathered they offered to clean up the yard for me, because they didn’t have any work or school that day. I said “Sure,” and they swept and burned all our leaves and debris while I washed clothes. After their hard work, I invited all 6 kids inside for juice and paid them each 5 pesos, a pencil and some USA stickers. They were so happy! I was so happy!
So, truth be told, yes, I bought our new friends. I am not ashamed. They are poor and I am desperate for companionship. So, I bought them for some firewood, 5 pesos and some American trinkets. In total, I paid them each 10 US cents to hang out with me for the day. It was well worth it. And most importantly, they have been coming back every evening after school to read and play . . .for free!