Written: 1/6/15
I came to the Philippines for many reasons – some reasons academic, some adventure. Little did I know, however, that in some strange and cosmic way (if you believe in that type of thing) I came to the Philippines for a very specific reason – to oddly live out the wishes of my late grandfather.
A “jeepney”, our transportation for the day, in the capitol city.
Donald Cramer was a child of German immigrants, a child of the depression, of an urban upbringing in Brooklyn and a veteran of WWII. He saw his fair share of violence and hatred as a merchant marine on a ship in the Pacific theater of a war that defined his generation. I didn’t know him well, really I didn’t know him at all. He died only two years ago, but living across the country from a grandparent, that doesn’t talk much in general, didn’t lend itself to familial bonding between the two of us. What I knew of him was that he was kind, he was a proud veteran, a “good” Catholic, he worked two jobs to support his wife and eight children (Good Catholic family, I know) and that he dreamt of returning to the Philippines after being stationed there at one time in the war.
My grandfather saw horrific things in the war and before he passed he began to open up about the death, violence and atrocities he had witnessed as a mere 18 year old. PTSD delayed. Yet, there I learned that he always dreamt of returning – one day – to the country in which I find myself now. I don’t know what island, perhaps Manila? Perhaps somewhere in the Visayas? Even, Mindanao? I don’t know why – was it the amazing coastline dotted with coconut and palm trees? The clear blue water? The gentle and welcoming people that you meet here? Something about this country… something that may have been far beyond the stereotypical qualities I just listed above. A country that was plagued by the atrocities of war in the 1940’s– that meant something to him and I wish I could have known while he was alive.
And now. Here I am. My first day in Mindanao on an island that has a strange tie to my heritage and that continues to suffer from violence so many years later. Yet, while WWII began 70 years ago, it did come to an end with a clear and resounding armistice. Today in Mindanao, the violence here isn’t so transparent and the world’s political and military stage is entirely different. During these two weeks of field research I intend to immerse myself in the situation on the ground – soak up the violence latent, structural, cultural, historical, post-colonial or otherwise. It’s day one and my mind is full of preconceptions and is ready to be sculpted and filled with the knowledge of the people that live in this very foreign world. In further blog posts, I’ll write about these impressions, the take-aways and the people that stood out to me (for whatever the reason). But for today, I’ll reflect on my own history and fall asleep after a long and exciting first day.
