Earliest Memories #09: Squatters Area

As an only child who did not have a father and had a mother who spent a lot of her time working to support the child her husband left behind, I spent a lot of my younger years in the hands of people outside the family. My mother was very busy trying to provide for a child by herself. I can imagine it being very difficult. She did her best and I thank her for it. Though I have spent a lot of time in the company of other people that I can only describe as neighbors and landlords, I don't hold anything against it. In fact, I feel like it shaped me well as a kid and it is a part of my life that I am proud to have. Not because I did not have a father, but because I feel like I grew up just fine even if I didn't have one.

I remember those times during my childhood when I'd be surrounded by people I didn't really know but I recognized as familiar faces that I felt like I could trust. By no means were they bad people nor were they terrible influences. The majority of them were just regular people, normal families. Though the memories may not be as crystal clear nor vivid, I can still recall enough of them to document today. I'm not exactly sure how I'll proceed with this specific memory I would like to write down tonight. But I suppose all I can really do is sit here and think back.

(An example of what a 'Squatters Area' looks like)

I would like to focus on memories that involved a very real place in the Philippines. My best guess is even after all these years that passed since I had to deal or possess any form of association to such a place or state of living, the sad and depressing locations like it still exist. And chances are, they are even worse nowadays. A very disgusting place to most people, but to those that lived in such harsh and less-than-pleasant locations were most likely less concerned about where they were living and more about just being able to eat everyday. It's difficult for me to even imagine how frustrating and depressing it might be to be in such a situation and I feel sorry that these people even have to be in such a state of living. And the sadder part is that I don't really know what I can do to help.

Once I remember sitting behind the steel door. The light rain has just ceased and the chill in the air was colder than usual. It was cold and I had that feeling I've always had back then during the transition between evening and night. I remember the dim skies and gray clouds. Puddles of water littered the streets. I don't really remember where it was exactly. But I remember living with a Chinese family. We were given a small room where my mom and I lived. They looked after me when my mom was away. Though, I don't really remember much of what they've done for me. All I really remember was the loneliness and just being with myself. But I do have memories of being with this family and being around their children. They welcomed us and I'm thankful for that.

(This is the steel door. I remember it up to this day.)

Anyway, I remember sitting behind the steel door, in tears. Outside were children from the squatters area nearby, I did not know them at all. They were playing and sort of gambling on the parts of my Popeye figure that my mom gave them. I cried because she took away my toy, broke them in pieces and gave them away to the kids outside. It seems cruel, but I do remember being a pain in the ass about getting the other figures. I suppose I pissed off my mother about my constant bugging about the toys and she just lost it. I can understand the disciplinary aspect of her actions, but I don't think I can do that to my child. Specially now that I know a memory like that is something a child can really remember and won't ever forget. And if there's a memory of me that I want my child to remember, then I want them to be of when I read them bed time stories, made them lunch, brought them to the park or when I got them a puppy.

That steel door is something I remember so clearly. Once you enter it, just to the left is the room that the Chinese family let us use. And so I had easy access to this door. I could go there and watch things and people outside. In the above picture, one of the children I lived with is sitting from the inside while I was outside. His name is Allen. He had a bigger brother named Aldrin, an older sister whose name eludes me and a younger sister.

Another memory was from an earlier time of my life. Meaning, I was younger than when this photo was taken. Or maybe older. I can't really remember it well. But I do have a recollection of being taken along by the daughter of the family my mom and I lived with yet once again. I don't remember how she looked like and I don't remember exactly where we went. I'm not even sure if it was her in this memory or if it was my nanny. Wait, I think it was my nanny. Because my nanny was supposedly from the squatters area. Okay, yeah, it might be her. Anyway, I remember being taken along to go to her place and she couldn't leave me alone at home. I remember walking along the narrow passages in the area. Houses were so tightly built beside each other and things just seemed dirty. Maybe it is dirty to me now, but back then all I really thought about it was that the houses seemed really poorly built and that it was just really tight. I remember a long wooden staircase that served as a passage to a wooden house on top of another. I don't even think the houses had floors. I remember seeing some of the homes having no sort of flooring at all or whatsoever. They essentially had the ground beneath their feet. I don't think anyone can consider such a living acceptable. But to those that lived in such conditions, it's just another day in their regular lives. It's quite amazing how some of us can say they're 'starving' but in another part of the world, there are those that are legitimately starving and not just hungry.

I also remember canals. Drainage systems that were polluted and just downright littered with garbage. The narrow passages that separated the houses into irregular blocks were not even big enough to be entered by tricycles. And if they were big enough, I don't think the construction of them would allow for a smooth driving. Blocks of cement that appeared to be part of a concrete establishment that used to be there were around the area including the pathways I have mentioned.

It seemed like a totally different world from the one I lived in at the time. And it got me curious. I was too young to form any sort of judgmental opinions towards those that lived there and the place they called home. I was not aware of the technicalities behind their lifestyle and conditions of living, and even today, I can't really claim to know everything about them either. I suppose this world just can't be too perfect. There will be those that live almost like kings. And there will be those that slither on the ground living their lives and hoping that they'd get to eat for the day.

The things I've seen may not compare to those of other people. But I'm proud to have lived my life the way it transpired. I have seen some things that not a lot of people could claim to have experienced. We all go through a lot of things in our lives from birth to today, and it just so happens that I have experienced a handful of things that some can only dream of encountering or perhaps not even wish to really see at all.