The Boy From Cabanatuan City

The Philippines forgotten children.

The mountains of north Luzon had been an incredible experience. After weeks of touring the island’s central highlands, I had now just arrived in the busy city of Cabanatuan. There were the usual street stalls selling various types of food I had no interest in eating, a few mangy-looking dogs, and the usual kaleidoscope of noise that makes up many southeast Asian towns.

I hoped I wouldn’t be here long. I climbed down off the top of the bus with stiff sunburned limbs to assess my surroundings. I was hungry, dehydrated and eager to secure a way to my next destination. I bought a seat on the next bus heading south, walked back outside and settled in until it was time to leave.

I wasn’t there long before I had visitors. Moving like a pack of wild dogs, they came in close for a moment as they looked me over, then they slowly pulled back as they took time to access if it was safe to come closer. Then one by one they approached.

I don’t think any of them could have been more than twelve years of age. Their skin in some places was permanently stained with dirt. Their clothes were yellowed and ragged. Their eyes were sharp and alert. These weren’t like any kids I’d ever seen before and I honestly didn’t know what to make of them.

Clearly, they had come looking for some sort of handout. They seemed more like wild animals than children. Everything about them said that their lives were filled with struggle. There were no smiles, no laughter or playing about. We all just looked at each other for a few moments.

This was new for me. I’d never seen children like these before. As the four of them stood around me one of them pointed at my pack and mumbled something in Tagalog. The others nodded and waited for me to respond.

It was my turn, I opened the top of my pack and pulled out a bag of mandarins and a package of biscuits. They quickly shuffled in to get their handout. Now I was able to get a closer look at them.

They looked feral. But they were children, perhaps maintaining their little group helped them get by out here.

The Philippines is notorious for its slums.

Now I was seeing firsthand one of the sadder products of this country's horribly imbalanced social structure. Where I come from children get to be children.

I started to feel a sense of guilt creep in as I watched these kids power through the food I’d given them. They stayed for a moment. I guess I wasn’t perceived as any sort of a threat, or maybe they were just hoping for more.

One of them seemed to hold a bit more weight than the others. Maybe he was the leader of their little group. He never took his eyes off of me. I tried to ask about their families and where they lived but due to the language barrier, it all fell flat.

The whole time none of them even once smiled. It made me think of looking into the eyes of hardened prison inmates. There was a light that was missing.

It was beyond my experience seeing children like this and to this day I sometimes look at my friend's kids and think about those boys and where they might be today.

They finished eating their snacks and any remains or wrappers were quickly thrown on the ground. They watched me again for a brief moment and upon realizing that there wouldn’t be any more they started to pull away. The one main boy was still watching me the whole time.

I felt as though he wanted to tell me something. He was slightly taller than the others and stared at me with dark frustrated eyes. I can’t begin to imagine what the lives of these kids must be like.

Having to grow up in such a difficult environment had clearly shaped them. We held each other's gaze for a moment longer, then he stepped back, turned and ran off with to catch up with the others.

As he reached the edge of the steel structure that made up part of the bus station he stopped and turned to look back at me again. He knew that I would get to leave here and go back to whatever easy country I came from, but he couldn’t.

He watched me for a moment longer, then turned, and was gone. That look has been forever etched in my mind. It makes me aware of the divide that separates my life from theirs.

Weeks later, exhausted and run down I made it back to Manila. I was ready to go home. This had not turned out to be the relaxing trip I had hoped for. The experiences I had riding through the islands' central highlands gave me a unique look into a way of life that is far removed from the outside world.

It’s an environment that is as beautiful as the people that are shaped by it. Given the lack of good roads and reliable infrastructure, I’m sure it will stay that way for many years to come. Though passing through some of the country's poorer cities was something I hadn’t been prepared for.

I still wonder about those kids from time to time. I hope they have found their way somehow. I also hope one day we can live in a world where all children are able to grow up in an environment that is free from poverty and struggle.

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