Introduction
I feel it important to provide a certain
disclaimer to the story I am about to tell. The necessity of this came
from a realization that came to me after I returned from this journey.
As you can imagine, countless individuals asked about our experiences in
the Philippines. Unfortunately none of us were able to provide an
answer that was satisfying to us or the conversant. The individual, more
than often, was being cordial and didn’t necessarily want all the
details--which created a very difficult expectation. How is it even
possible to encapsulate all the diverse feelings, thoughts, sights,
smells, sounds, and physical experiences that we went through in a
summarized sentence? I’d either deflect their question with “It was
pretty crazy,” or I would ramble off for fifteen more minutes than they
wanted trying to express something incomprehensible by any who had not
been through something similar. This is no one’s fault, because there
really is no reference point for those whose home is in America.
The
Philippines is an entirely different world in and of itself, rich with
culture, diverse in mannerisms, food, traditions, language, and
attitudes. It is comparable to walking through a portal into a parallel
world where you become a giant, the people are kind, loving, giving, and
prioritize family over any temporal necessity. The vegetation is a
tropical jungle and the fruits look alien. Transportation is primarily
motorcycles with side-carts as well as renovated World War 2 jeeps that
have been stretched into buses. Houses are made of concrete and wood
with tin sheets covering them. These parallel beings have found a way to
steal away into our world’s wardrobe. Despite their language sounding
nothing like our Latin based ones, they wear t-shirts broadcasting all
sorts of random excerpts from our culture: from movies, sports, and even
profane expressions that they likely don’t understand. You certainly
would feel like a foreigner there. 
See? There I go rambling
trying to describe something that just can’t be grasped without
experiencing it for one’s self. How would you explain what swimming is
like to someone who has only seen water in a glass? Try describing the
color green to someone who can only see red. Convey love using words.
The
problem is words are symbols used to relate an idea to gain a mutual
understanding of something. For example, when I say “dog” what is the
first image that comes to mind? Some may imagine a poodle, some a husky,
but for me I imagine a beagle. If you had never seen a beagle, I could
try and explain what it looks like. “It’s a medium-small sized dog, with
brown, black and white over its body.” However, this does not even
begin to cause you to understand the nature of this animal, its
mannerisms, its behavior, nor the feelings of companionship, loyalty,
and friendship accompanied with my image of a dog.
So it is with what you are about to read, but on a much larger and deeper scale.
If
you truly want to connect with the events that transpired, I would
encourage you to not read the following entry as if it were a novel.
Rather, you should pause often, envision the descriptions that you read
in your mind’s eye. Try to feel what was being felt instead of simply
digesting information. I assure you that as you engage this story will
cause you to feel a portion of what we felt as well as the feelings of
those we helped. I also know that as you begin to connect with this
story you will understand more fully the lessons we learned that has
forever changed our character. You too can be effected to live life more
fully, with gratitude, and to live like the Philippino--which is to be
happy and willing to give of everything you have without expecting
anything in return.
Our Beginning
My name is Charles
Mace. I am 23. I am a full time student in my third year of college. I
have a scholarship through the CAL Leadership program at my university
which requires my representing the school as an Ambassador. I am an
owner of a vehicle detailing business I started with my best friend in
April of this year. I am also a teacher at the Missionary Training
Center for the LDS church. I teach Tagalog there. I’m not trying to
impress you in any way, but it is important to understand that my time
is constantly occupied with obligations and responsibilities that need
attending. I learned Tagalog over four years ago when I was called to
serve a two year sabbatical in
the Philippines San Pablo Mission. I have
always wanted to go back and visit those people I grew to love. My life
was changed by the Philippinos. They are the most kind, giving,
humorous, light-hearted, grateful, family oriented, friendly, and caring
people that I have ever met. They are part of a culture that is willing
to help one another. There is more
humanity found on those small
islands then all the other places I’ve been to combined. They helped me
see that nothing material in this world is of value when compared to the
treasured feelings that accompany connecting with loved ones or helping
others. They unknowingly hold the key to happiness--the same coveted
conquest of the wealthy, the famous, the affluent, and the powerful. The
Philippino people taught me by example the secret to happiness. They
once more taught me that key to happiness as I carried their dead
friends and family through the streets of their flattened city to the
mass graves hidden behind the city hall.
I want you to pause and think
about that for a brief moment. Imagine the Philippino people I just
described combined with the description I just gave. Imagine yourself
exemplifying the secret to happiness to a stranger as they carry your
brother to his burial place. I didn’t understand it either, I still
don’t, but I can promise you that their story will help you realize
where this happiness can be found.
I remember reading a post on
Facebook from David Holland (a friend from my sabbatical) that showed a
large hurricane forming outside of the Philippines. I reposted this link
on my profile with sentiments and prayers extended towards my friends
out there. A few days later I received a call from a family member
asking me if I had heard what had happened to the Philippines. I went
online to discover that the largest typhoon in the history of this world
made landfall on the East islands of the Philippines.
I immediately
tried to get in touch with my friends from my mission which was just
north of where the super storm had hit. Communication was down and no
one was responding. Post after post reported wind gusts of up to 235mph
winds, 15ft storm surges, and utter destruction among the areas caught
in its path. I was deeply affected by the images shown on the news and
rather disgusted; though the media was there, no one was being helped.
Day after day passed and all the reporters could say is “Where is the
Philippines President? Thousands are dead, and hundreds of thousands are
homeless without food and water.” Graphic stories of violence, looting,
and suffering were broadcasted on local and global news stations. I was
filled with strong emotions of worry, sympathy, sadness, grief, and
pain, but at the same time I also felt an enablement, a desire to act,
and a fire began to burn within me. As the days passed my frustration
with humanitarian and government inaction intensified. I wanted to help
more than anything else, especially because it appeared as if no one was
moving quickly enough. I was not financially in a situation to do so,
and even if I was, I wondered if donating the money I would have spent
on a plane ticket would have a greater effect than if I went. Another
day went by and the situation continued to grow worse. Tacloban, the
largest city, had finally received some help from governments and
humanitarian groups, but the outlying cities were still being neglected.
Thousands of people were left without food and clean water. I felt the
urgency increase and I decided to begin to act. I started calling
everyone
I could get in contact with. I called my Mission President, my friends
in the Philippines who had restored cell phone service, the church
humanitarian organization, leaders of other organizations, and it
continued. In the following few days I invested about 20 hours gathering
information and creating a plan to test the feasibility of actually
getting to the devastated island of Leyte. I had discovered through my
research that there existed an overwhelming abundance of relief goods,
but that there was not enough man power to get the goods to all the
people. My mind was made up, I committed myself to doing everything in
my power to get there to help. I didn’t really know what I was going to
do when I got there. I don’t have medical training, search and rescue
skills, I don’t even really know how to tie knots. But what I did know
was the common dialect and I knew that I was a strong and capable
leader.
As I continued gathering information I formulated a plan to get
to Cebu (the neighboring island) with relief goods. I had a friend named
Walter who had served his two year sabbatical in Tacloban who was
willing to accompany me and speak the other dialects of Waray-Waray and
Cebuano. He knew his way around the island. I also got in touch with
some of the church authorities in Cebu who were beginning to co-ordinate
efforts which could serve as a base for us to work through. I presented
this information and plan to multiple friends and family members
pleading for assistance to help me get to the Philippines to help. Most
were sympathetic to my cause but insisted that it was too dangerous and
that it was impotent recklessness to go. I considered their words but
knew that I could persuade soldiers or other church members to accompany
us to ensure safety. I knew the Philippino people, and I knew that if
they saw that we were there to help then they would welcome and assist
us. Everything inside of me felt that this was the right thing to do.
About
five days after the storm had passed and all this was going on, I went
to Preston Trebas’ home who I had also met on my sabbatical. He and his
wife Becky had both served in the Philippines with me, so I was anxious
to see their reaction to what I was planning on doing. Chantel Ockerman,
a close friend of Becky and I’s, had joined us that evening to hang
out. Towards the end of the night, I told the group of my plan. When I
had finished sharing the urgency of the situation Chantel, who has no
affiliation with the Philippines, asked bluntly, “Can I go?” I was taken
aback by her offer.
Millions of reasons why it wasn’t a good idea
flashed through my head. “She doesn’t know what she’s getting herself
into, has she seen the disturbing images? We will be running on hardly
any sleep, scarce food, little water, sleeping on dirt or cement floors,
it could be dangerous, what about the acclimation and jet lag? Can she
handle the culture shock? Will this be too traumatic an experience for
her? Will she need constant attention? What if she gets sick? She is
probably going to get sick… Why does she want to go? Do I want her to
go?” All these and many more thoughts passed through my analytical mind
in a moment; but as I looked into her eyes I perceived a much deeper
meaning behind all of this. My mind was cleared but an eyebrow of
skepticism raised regardless and I asked, “Are you serious about this?”
Her eyes widened with a type of excitement. Her chin lifted slightly and
she radiated a confident certainty. She responded with a direct “yes”
and nodded her head in a way to reassure me that she was willing to act
on what she had said. I believed her.
I knew in that moment that if this
were to actually happen that she was going to play a valuable and
important part in all of this. I did not need to worry about anything
that had passed through my mind. So I didn’t. It’s ironic because she
ended up voicing these concerns to me multiple times before and on our
trip. She actually sent me an e-mail saying that she didn’t want to hold
me back or be a burden during our rescue efforts. I knew what I knew. I
then comforted her by expressing that I knew she would be a great
benefit and help to me and the Philippino people. She said that she felt
much better about going.
David Holland, from before, had reacted
very quickly to the call for help. He opened his PayPal account and
began to gather donations to be sent over to the Philippines. I got in
touch with him and told him to wait just a day or two more to send the
money, explaining that I would be able to give a direct accounting of
donations along with getting the relief goods to Tacloban faster than
any other organization could at that time. He was willing to wait. The
following hours were spent in school, at work, and every other life
obligation. Any spare moment had was spent on creating a plan of action
and an anticipated list of expenses. I presented this plan to Chantel
who approved it. I wanted her to feel more comfortable with what we were
about to do instead of just flying out there without any sort of plan.
She was impressed with what I had come up with and in a silly ironic way
deemed me the trip’s junior accountant (she has a degree in accounting
and was planning on taking her CPA test once getting home). It’s funny,
because though we had this plan that I had created, as you will see, it
didn’t happen at all like we were expecting.
Our donations began coming
in, our plan was set, and all we needed to do to commit fully was to
purchase our plane tickets. It is difficult to describe the anxiety and
urgency I felt at this moment. I had everything in place, our plan was
set, but this would pull the trigger. I was planning to go for 18 days
while Chantel was planning on staying for about a week. Her best friend
Leslie was getting married and she was to be the Maid of Honor. They are
as close of friends as friends can get. They are family and so it was
completely understandable for Chantel to return home sooner than I.
Chantel and I talked on the phone, finalized our plans, and purchased
our plane tickets a little after midnight. We had under 36 hours to get
everything ready for our journey. I announced it on Facebook before
trying to catch a few hours of sleep. I had school and work the next day
which would take up about 12 hours, leaving only the night before our
flight to pack, get donations finalized, and purchase all the survival
and medical gear that we would need. I made it known to all of my
associations, friends, and family. I messaged David Holland to let him
know that I was going. He shared the PayPal account information and
announced it on his event page that he had started. I contacted almost
everyone I knew and they all responded generously. Fellow students were
donating from a couple bucks up to $100 which floored me. I was amazed
at the immediate response and willingness people had to donate. It also
bred within me a desire to protect these sacred donations and to utilize
them strictly for those effected by the typhoon. I worried about how we
were going to pay for our own personal travel, food, and other
necessities within the country. These worries soon left as my immediate
family responded with funds that they vocalized were intended to sustain
ourselves. It was a very generous amount. I want to take a moment to
salute you, any of you, who have, would have, and are willing to respond
to help in any way that you can. Thank you.
A companion of mine
from when I served in the Philippines named Preston Olsen responded to
my Facebook posting asking the details of my trip. After I responded, he
said he was going to purchase a plane ticket and that he would see me
over there. I was amazed at his willingness to go into this even more
blindly then we were! He was seriously just throwing himself into the
situation with a strong belief that he would be utilized. His faith is
remarkable. I told him I would be extremely grateful for his company and
assistance in this endeavor. He is an advanced EMT, has a few years
experience in construction, and the both of us together had actually
served a city devastated by typhoon Undoy a few years prior. I got
chills when I realized for the first time that I did have experience
with this sort of situation--and with Olsen too! We had spent six weeks together distributing relief goods, building houses, and helping
survivors. It was obviously a much less catastrophic situation when
compared to Haiyan’s destruction.
I could barely believe that of all the
people in the world that would be chosen to accompany us on this
journey it would be the man I would want to bring with me the most. God
is good that way. I don’t believe in coincidences.
That next
morning at school, I talked to all of my professors asking for their
mercy and forgiveness for leaving for 18 days to help with the
relief efforts. All of them were willing to accommodate me, make
adjustments, move deadlines, extend tests, etc. I was very grateful for
their willingness to let me serve. If they hadn’t, they would have had
no soul, but I am still grateful nonetheless. Interestingly enough, the
question I got asked the absolute most was, “Your professors are ok with
you going? How can you do this with school?” I didn’t know what to
expect; I thought maybe people would ask me more about how I was going
to live on an island that had no clean water or food for a week but
instead people were with dire concern about my classes. This also
reflects what I mentioned in the introduction. People in general can
only relate to what they can refer to. Most people I talked to are in
school or have attended school, so I suppose that was the most
incomprehensible aspect of me leaving. Upon getting home, apart from,
“How was your trip?” that same question was easily the most asked. It
was interesting.
I went to work at the MTC and talked to my
training coordinator about my decision to leave. By this point I was
willing to do whatever it took to go. Obviously, we had plane tickets.
However, my worries about taking work off were misplaced. Jenny Webre
was more than willing to allow me the time off. She also served her
sabbatical in the Philippines and she expressed sentiments wishing that
she could go serve as well. I am grateful for her support.
I said
goodbye to my missionaries (who were quite upset that I was going to the
Philippines before them) and headed home to begin packing. Chantel had
been dutifully purchasing and gathering the required equipment and
necessities for our trip. She met up at my apartment with Preston
Trebas. In my faith we practice a specific prayer called a blessing
where the authority of God is exercised in order to heal the sick,
provide counsel, or (in our case) for protection and guidance. Chantel
received her blessing first. These blessings are sacred in nature so
specifics will be avoided. Her blessing spoke of being able to connect
with and heal the hearts of the Philippino people while experiencing a
healing of her own that would deepen her understanding of Jesus
Christ’s
love. I also received a blessing which spoke of my love for these
people, my path that had prepared me for this journey, and about how I
will help and serve in the Philippines now and in the future. We all
reflected for a moment and felt a great significance emerge in our
hearts and minds. Trebas and Chantel left soon after. Our pause in
preparation was short as we still had much to do.
I began to
tackle all the tasks ahead. I finished packing first then dove into all
the homework I had to complete and submit before my departure. This
included about seven assignments. Five of those were for my scholarship.
I had to finish those that night so I dove in and started cranking them
out. I remember six am rolling around and thinking that this was
insane. I couldn’t believe what I was doing. I finally finished and made
some more phone calls to Walter and others.
I remember receiving an
e-mail from my loving and wonderful mother. She had expressed strongly
her opposition to me leaving as a good mother would. She was concerned
for my safety and felt that my decision was hasty and that it would be
ignorant to deny the prevalent dangers I was subjecting myself and
Chantel to. She strongly voiced her opposition towards our decision to
go. In addition to this, my older sister Jessica called me. She was
holding back tears as she plead with me not to go. As her emotion
carried through the phone I started to hurt at the idea that I was
causing my sister this kind of pain. She began to cry and repeated a few
times, “Charles, please, don’t go to Tacloban. I’m pleading with you.
Don’t go to Tacloban.” I tried to reassure my sister that Tacloban was
not where we were going, rather, we were headed to outlying villages
that hadn’t received help yet. She was hardly comforted. She expressed
love and worry for me, about my mental and emotional welfare, and coping
with the potentially gruesome and haunting things we would see. When I
got off the phone I sat back and self-evaluated reflecting on whether
this really was the right thing to do. I would not be so proud to
prevent calling off an expedition such as this if our reasonable safety
or welfare would be compromised. I pondered deeply, meditated, and asked
myself if this trip was right. I asked myself why I was going. I
checked my motivations. I am definitely an adventurer by nature, I get
stir-crazy easily, and the idea of taking flight in order to help and
assist others is a heroic and romantic notion that I would likely engage
in. Was I doing this for me? To escape the monotony of the day-to-day? I
answered myself reasoning that though this is something I do enjoy
participating in, this is not an escape trip for me like previous
escapades to Vegas, California, and the like. I was filled again with
that anxiousness immediately accompanied with that gut feeling of
urgency. I knew in that moment that everything had worked so well to
make this trip even possible that it had to be the will of God. I wanted
to help and God needed hands to help. So, because we were willing to
sacrifice what we had and we were in the right circumstances He would
send us. I resolved then with complete confidence that we were going to
Leyte and that everything was going to happen in its proper order.
As
I was finishing up my papers and packing Chantel and her friend Julie
arrived to take us to the airport. We arranged our things and set out to
SLC International. We were on our way with what appeared to be an
uncertain leap of faith. We were not sanctioned by any organization. We
were discouraged by the vast majority of people we knew to not go. Our
plan was to travel to an island of an uncertain status, buy relief
goods, find a boat, and get to a separate devastated island that had no
phones, no electricity, and hundreds of thousands of hungry people.
Despite the uncertainty of our expedition, I did not doubt for a moment
that we were not supposed to go nor that we were not going to be able to
help. As this story continues you will see for yourself what I
discovered; if God wants something done He will get it done. He will
sustain those He works through.
---
We arrived at the Airport
No comments:
Post a Comment