Mabuhay!

In 1977 and 1978, I lived and worked in the Republic of the Philippines while stationed at the U.S. Naval Communications Station in the San Miguel barangay (barrio) of San Antonio, Zambales Province, on the island of Luzon. For 33 days in late July and August 1978 it rained continuously, literally, never stopping for longer than 45 minutes. No typhoons; just monsoonal rains that dumped over 100 inches in those 33 days. Mountains began to give way, one of which killed a couple dozen people when it flowed over a crowded highway near where we lived.

As I watch the tragedy now unfolding in Guinsaugon on Leyte Island, where as many as 1,500 – 1,800 may have died in a rain-induced mountain slide, I’m quickly drawn back to my feelings for the warm and gentle people in that country. The pictures of them in pain and sadness, suffering the loss of loved ones, including hundreds of children, reminds me of how much I loved the Filipinos when I lived there. The two years I spent in their country was one of the most rewarding experiences of my life. They taught me about being happy. Being sad, as they are now in Leyte, does not come naturally to most Filipinos.

The Filipinos I encountered were happy, good-natured people, almost without exception. They appeared to love life no matter what life brought them. It seemed to take so little to bring joy into their daily living. Many around our base were poor; subsistence living through growing rice or fishing in the South China Sea was common. Many lived in nipa huts or in sparse homes no larger than the huts they replaced. Almost anything approaching a modern convenience was nonexistent in the provinces that weren’t near the cities. And, yet, these good people smiled constantly; laughed easily; sang and danced at any occasion; told jokes without inhibition; were hospitable without exception. They focused on family and community. They enjoyed each other; they enjoyed life. They had so little; but they acted like they had everything. Those are lessons worth learning.

They would cook their last chicken if we were going to be guests in their homes. Their children still ran to the side of the roadway and flashed the “V” for victory sign to passing GIs. They called all of us “Joe” and laughed heartily after doing so. All it took to kick off a barrio celebration was to find an American who was willing to eat a balut, or an adobo allegedly made with dog or monkey meat, or to join in a traditional bamboo dance.

I have a thousand fond memories washing over me; I feel important lessons being rekindled by a natural disaster that will not be able to bury the good nature of the people it struck. Before long, the Filipinos in Leyte Province will be smiling and laughing and finding joy with one another; finding joy in a life that has brought them pain and sadness. They will once again be teaching visitors a few things about how to be happy.

Mabuhay – to life!