Homecoming

by: Neil Ryan Marcos

It was three o’clock in the morning and I only had a few hours left to pack my things. But amidst the time constraints and the cycle of entropy in my room, I was staring into space. I kept thinking if I was really ready to go back, and the challenges that await us. Then I remembered the thing I said when we left unexpectedly. I was very determined to go back. I wanted to prove to the people we were really there to help them and we meant what we said. But at that moment, all I could think of was if I could do it all over again. Going back to the community needs a lot of strength-emotionally, physically, spiritually. I didn’t know if I had such strength.

My mind races back to remember our first community exposure. The first thing that popped into my mind was walking several kilometers under the heat of the sun to buy potable water. The second was of our kind neighbors, who would always help us with a smile. Even strangers would occasionally extend a helping hand when the need arises. The people made our stay very comfortable. We may have considered them strangers at first, but looking back now, they never did the same to us. With this realization, I remembered how I was able to walk several kilometers under the heat of the sun, climbed mountains without any proper training or gear, ate the only available food, speak an unfamiliar dialect, and most of all-be away from my life and my loved ones. But despite all these, I’ve always felt right at home. It was because of the kind people who treated strangers like us, as their own. It was because of their heartfelt response-“Daghang Salamat” which made every wound, sunburn, and homesickness bearable. The feeling of being able to touch the lives of so many is indescribable. It fills you up with warmth and joy by being able to change the world, which you may have lost faith in, for the better. It gives you the hope that it really is possible. We could really do this if we try.

With a rekindled passion, I finished packing my things. After a few hours, we were on our way. But being cynical as I am, I kept thinking if they still remember us, and if they would still treat us like before.

On our way back to Mirangan. 

Feels great to be back! 

When we arrived, I really felt nostalgic. I felt like every corner, chair, and store has a story of us in it. We started settling in and unpacked our luggage. After a few days, people heard we have returned and they started sending us little gifts at our house. We instantly felt welcomed and happy. But the kind act that struck me the most was the speech of the Deacon during the mass of the 7 last words.

During the mass he said:
“We thank the good Lord for the presence of the medical students. We are very grateful for their help. We would want to appeal to the members of the church and to the barangay council of their living conditions. We should at least sponsor their water supply. It is very uncomforting to know they are lifting heavy loads of water everyday for their water needs."

I felt very uncomfortable. It was very heartwarming to hear they were very concerned about our well being. But at the same time, it feels very disturbing to know they had the wrong notions about us. After the mass ended, we spoke to the community. We thanked them for their generosity and genuine concern. But we made it clear that we are here to serve and not to be served. Never think of us as someone of higher grace. Yes, we may have different backgrounds, but it doesn’t make us better than them. The smiles and the kind gestures they gave us are more than enough to make the struggles worthwhile. At that moment, I felt infinite. I kept worrying about how the people would react on our return, but the truth is, they were also worrying if we would return. We may not had our heroes’ welcome, or a sounding cheer from a crowd, but at that moment, I was sure I was doing something significant with my life. I was sure I was where I belong.