We walk into our hotel room. We have two full beds, a large and luxurious shower head and a Western-style toilet. It’s a very comfortable and suitable room for the next two nights. The lack of wifi in the room is really frustrating, however. My roommate and I walk toward the window, wondering what kind of view that we get to enjoy. We open the light brown curtain and we see tin roofs— intermittently rusted and discolored tin roofs.Growing in between the tin roofs are large and luscious green foliage and trees. A mountain range creates a border in the distance. The sun is setting. The multi-colored pastel sky cannot be captured in a picture. We are so lucky to be here. We look to the left. There is a four-story concrete building that appears to be under construction. Sitting at the bottom of the job site is a security guard with a rifle. We see various shirtless men looking in our direction; we’re looking in theirs. We continue to look at the partially built structure. Through holes that must be functioning as windows, we see a woman hanging laundry. We wondered if we were still looking at a construction site. People were living there. We continued to look in other holes; some people were putting on clothes, others were lounging. That partially built structure is their home.
The next morning we woke up to a louder than normal air conditioning system. I look out the window, as I usually do in the morning, to find what I thought was a loud air conditioner was actually the sound of pouring down rain onto the tin roofs. The partially built building, with it’s pseudo-windows, must be getting soaked inside. There is nothing separating the inside of the building and the outside environment. A man stool outside of the crumbling structure. He had a bucket with him. He was lathering his hair with shampoo. He was showering in the pouring the rain.
Moments like this are what puts my life into perspective. As a student in Monterey, I have the privilege to learn about other people’s lives before returning to mine. It makes it clear that I have a responsibility to convey these stories of Mindanao in the most accurate way possible. It reminds me that when I go back to Santa Cruz to work that I have to keep in mind that different people have different experiences that I will never be able to understand and thus I have a responsibility to show everyone I encounter with the upmost respect. I look forward to continuing to work with underserved populations, populations that may have been forced to use a thunderstorm as a shower head. Although this experience is nothing I will be able to understand or encounter personally, through this experience in Mindanao, I have developed a greater respect for those that have.