Manila, Philippines

Manila is completely crazy. It is so different from the province I was originally staying. More than 12 million people live here and the strain in the city's infrastructure is clearly evident.

I first noticed that people don't really follow the traffic rules. An American coming here would get stressed out just on a simple drive to the grocery. Also while I have been staying in the "nicer" areas of the city, the poverty is still visible. Although the larger squatter settlements and shanties are kept out of site, some are still viewed from the road. You can see the pitiful living quarters lining heavily polluted streams, children covered with dirt and grime sleeping on the ground, and countless people begging or picking through the trash. If anyone can remain unmoved by these images...they can't be human.

People move by the masses to the major cities. They are pushed out from their land by natural disasters, deforestation, violence, and other damages to their land. The result in Manila is heartbreaking. They have come to the city by the promise of health care, clean sanitation, and work. These happy images of course a beamed into their homes through satellites to their TVs. Yet when you see them begging in the streets they have already given up hope. You can see in their eyes and their defeated posture they have accepted that they will live like this until they die.

Many have resorted to robbery to alleviate their dire situation. They break into homes and even hold up whole Jeepneys of people at a time. This only escalates the mistrust and judgment that is initially evoked from their dirty appearance. They go from dirty and homeless to savage and dangerous just by what a person can read or see in the news.

Did my family and friends...even Ryan really believe that I was going on this little trip, almost like a vacation, just to play around with some snakes or microscope slides? I couldn't have predicted the feelings that would come from simply glancing out the window and seeing two boys huddled together sleeping on the street. Did I really believe that I would come back to the U.S slightly more tanned and ready for graduate school? That I wouldn't be affected by these images? I certainly couldn't see my almost non-existent faith grow not from reading the Bible everyday as my mother urged me to do, but by seeing these people and reading essay after essay on the situation of Human Rights in these 3rd world countries.

There is no way, absolutely none, that I could go back to the U.S and be the same person I was. My conscience simply won't allow it. Of course this seed was planted in Liberation Theology by Dr. Holler - that crazy priest everyone makes fun of, yet still dream of doing what he taught us needs to be done.

I just don't understand yet how all my interests and passions in Conservation Biology, Epidemiology, Human Rights can fit all together in one profession...