Lockdown in Manila

by

Global Health

Special to United Methodist Insight

I had arrived in Manila on March 10 to begin a project to document the work of deaconesses in the Philippines. I am a U. S. deaconess and I had been to the Philippines three times previously. The work of deaconesses in the Philippines is very important and deserves to be better known. I spent one day at a session of the Northeast Luzon Annual Conference of The United Methodist Church, where I interviewed ten amazing, hard-working deaconesses. The itinerary for the rest of my trip included more interviews with deaconesses, but Covid-19 interfered.

My return flight was scheduled for March 23, but I was leaving early. Manila had been locked down on March 15, and on the evening of March 16, the president had declared that the Manila airport would be shut down completely within 72 hours. A friend had seen it coming and had urged me to leave while I could. I managed to book a return flight only a few hours before the announcement.

Because I had not purchased a sim card that would allow me to make phone calls, my husband had tried to reach the airline to reschedule my return flight for two days. The line was always busy. I spent those two days mostly in a hammock under a mango tree, which sounds ideal except that the fear and anxiety in the air kept rising until it was palpable.

My friend in Manila also tried to call the airline to rebook. She concluded that the airline had shut the phones down. She then tried the U. S. Embassy and received only minimal information about “repatriation” that led her to believe that it could be prohibitively expensive and was devoid of details. I would have to go to the embassy in person to find out more.

Meanwhile, my husband called the company that I had purchased travel insurance (including evacuation and emergency expenses) from and they were very helpful. They promised to help find a flight for me to get home on. They would call him back in 6-8 hours. It should be noted that he was calling about midnight California time.

By this time, I was near panic. It seemed that a better option was to try to purchase a new, one- way ticket and abandon the return ticket I already had, then cancel that original reservation later. I really did not have a lot of hope that there would be any flight available, but I decided to go on-line to try. Staying indefinitely did not seem to be wise for several reasons, but if I couldn’t leave before the airport closed, that’s what would happen.

To my great relief, there was room on a flight out on March 17! I got ready to leave, then tried to sleep. When I checked my messages at about 3 am, I learned that a friend had arranged for a private car to take me to the airport. Fortunately, I read that before I found out that all public transportation, including taxis and Grabs (like Uber) had been shut down at midnight! My friends in Manila do not own cars and hiring someone to drive me was the only way.

My flights home were uneventful. While the short hop to Taipei was crowded, the longer leg was only about a third full. Despite quite a few children on board, it was quiet. I had a lot of time to reflect on my mixed emotions. Grateful to be going home, I was keenly aware that it is privilege that allowed me to do so. I felt that all the solidarity I felt for the people of the Philippines was betrayed by being able to go home and leave them there to face whatever would happen next.

Food shortages were expected. Martial law was a reasonable concern. The deaths of many, many people living in poverty could be anticipated as COVID-19 rampages through the crowded neighborhoods and among those without homes to take shelter in.

As I am writing sixteen days after leaving, food shortages are creating desperation. Hungry people with children to feed are breaking the law by going out to ask for food. Daily wage earners unable to work have no money to buy what they need. The Church is doing what it can. The government is not helping.

Instead, President Duterte has declared that anyone out in the streets can be shot for violating the order to stay home. This is a military response to a medical crisis. It is inappropriate to say the least. It is also ineffective at keeping desperate people from going outside. It is an extension of Duterte’s “War on Drugs” in which people are shot and killed without any warrant or investigation. Both are in fact a War on the Poor.

This situation will get worse as COVID-19 continues to ramp up. Calls for mass testing have been raised by justice workers. So far, the testing is mostly of elected officials and other people with power. Medical care is hard to come by and far too many people cannot afford it even if they can access it. Although the number of cases there is lower than the number in California, I am glad to be here. At least I can reach my doctor if I need medical help.

My heart is with the people of the Philippines, always. So far, all my friends are okay. I hope and pray that they stay that way. But many others are not.

Solidarity. It doesn’t always mean staying. Often it means letting people know what life and death are like for people in other places in the world. I hope you are still reading. Our tax dollars go, in part, to support the government in the Philippines, the government that is not making sure that people have enough food or access to medical care. The government that is fighting a virus by killing people and not by providing medical help. Is that okay with you? It’s not okay with me.

Deaconess Sharon McCart serves as Vice Chair of DisAbility MInistries Committee of The UMC.