Urban Leadership Foundation

City of Contrasts

THE CONFIRMING OF A CALL

Reference: Grigg, V. (2004).City of contrasts: The confirming of a call. Companion to the Poor. GA, USA: Authentic Media in partnership with World Vision.

I STEPPED OVER A MUD PUDDLE, ducked beneath a clothe-line, and glimpsed the polluted river that surrounds the slums of Tatalon on three sides. I had searched, confused, for fifteen minutes among the labyrinth of concrete block and plywood houses before I saw the line of red, green and blue buckets leading to the hand pump. I stepped through a small gate to find people standing around, awaiting their turn and enjoying the early morning sun.

Two girls in patched dresses, their black hair bright and neatly combed, sat on their haunches. Washing clothes in large aluminum basins. One looked up to see my fair skin and beard.

"Si Jesus!' (It's Jesus!) she exclaimed in Tagalog, the language of Manila, nudging her companion alongside her. "Hindi, kaibigan ko lang siya!" (No, he's just my friend!) I replied, laughing. I put my bucket hesitantly at the end of the line. With Filipino hospitality, they motioned me - a stranger and a white person - to the front of the line. One of the men worked the long handle up and down for me with great gusto. Since, it was my first time at the pump, I accepted the offer of help. "Saan po kayo galling?" (Where have you come from, sir?) The girls asked, still giggling. "I am living in Aling Nena's upstairs room," "Why do you want to live there"? I smiled. "A few years ago I learned that Jesus said, 'Blessed are you poor,' I wanted to find out why the poor are blessed."
 

There were nods and smiles of agreement, so I went on. "I read too, that Jesus came to preach the gospel to the poor. I wanted to preach the gospel to the poor, also." There were more nods and smiles. We talked and joked until my bucket was full. Sloshing water over my feet, I searched again for the paths back to my rented quarter of a squatter home.

Children looked at me shyly as I walked by. At Aling Nena's home, I climbed the three steps up the eight-foot vertical ladder to my room. More water sloshed down the ladder. I put my bucket down with a sigh of relief and sat on a bench in the room. It was a good place to sit and look out over my now found community.

I thought back to the night before. A typhoon had come with the fury of the gods. The rain of sleet and the sound of crackling thunder seemed like a final demonic onslaught prevent me from carrying my few belongings into the house. I had been battling about of fever all day, and none of my friends had been free or willing to brave the typhoon to help.

I had returned the jeep and retraced the way to my new home by public transport in the dead of night. My first night as a squatter of Tatalon was the culmination of years of dreaming and preparation - and I was dizzy, weary, and sick. It was as if all the forces of oppression were thrown against me in my effort to live among the slum dwellers of Manila. But I knew God wanted me there. Even this room was a sign of his faithfulness.

Three weeks ago, I had written this prayer in my diary: "Lord, find me two rooms in Tatalon's slum area with cooking facilities and adequate sewerage. They need, to be upstairs so that I might have a quiet place for prayer and study, and with windows to allow for a cooling breeze - before September the third."

On September first, I was talking to Aling Nena in her home. (Aling, meaning "older lady," is perhaps equivalent to the English "Mrs" and is followed by a person's first name.)  I'd heard she had a room available. Embarrassed at the poverty of her empty upstairs room, she made an adjoining room available for me as well. Her niece could move downstairs. I knew this was the answer to my prayer: a quieter, upstairs room for myself, an adjoining room for companions, and a small kitchen space - quite a kingly situation for a squatter.

An answer to prayer in a long series of answered prayers. Twenty years earlier, with the intensity of a vision, I had seen my destiny stretched out before me. It was a call directly from my Maker: to live amongst these people of the slums, to preach the gospel to the poor. As I looked back on the journey that had brought me to Tatalon, even with the storm raging outside and my fever raging within, I knew I was home. I had replaced the boards that covered the entrance to my room. Finding a match and candle, I sat and took stock of my surroundings. Three windows would give me a breeze and a view overlooking the other homes. Lights flickered in windows throughout the neighborhood like symbols of hope in the midst of the dark oppression that is squatter poverty. I gave thanks for the guava tree that grew outside my window. In the midst of a treeless expanse of plywood, rusted iron, cardboard, plastic bags, and old tires, the tree would remind me again and again of the goodness of God in the months to come.

Out of the darkness:

As I prayed into the dark hours of that first night in Tatalon, I wondered what the next steps would be. How do you bring a whole city to the light? How can you rescue three million squatters and slum dwellers?

Suddenly, a beautiful gold and white creature scurried along some smoke-blackened rafters of my new home. It was a well-fed rat, sleek and cunning. I watched silently, intrigued and curious, as he made his way gracefully across the wood, avoiding splinters and knotholes.

'The cross of Christ was made of the same rough wood as this squatter home," I thought. Within the inner recesses of my spirit, God seemed to be speaking-directly, personally:

Carry My Cross. It is an instrument of death.
You must die to yourself in order to be a servant of this people.
 

For unless a grain of wheat falls into the ground and dies, it cannot bear fruit.
If it dies, it bears much fruit.

This cross commands absolute authority over all people, all history, all cultures.
 

Preach the cross! In it is the Salvation of this people: from drunkenness and despair, from broken families and oppression, from poverty and desolation.
In it alone is their hope.
 

Remember, it is a rugged cross. Do not return to a tinsel cross.
Take up my cross and follow in my footsteps, for I too chose poverty.

The next evening, a seven-year-old girl came shyly up the stairs. "Would you join us, sir?" she asked me. "We are saying a novena for Aling Nena's husband."

"What is a novena?"

"We are praying, so his spirit does not return to the house and annoy us! He died a year ago now." Later, I learned that even after this novena, they would pray each year for his spirit to leave and stop troubling them. I wasn’t sure of the correct response. "May I bring my new Tagalog Bible and read from it?"

We climbed down the ladder and I stooped into the door­way. About fifteen relatives were kneeling in front of the makeshift altar. An old lady chanted to the saints and icons that were laid out - which included a statue of the Virgin Mary. She was a professional chanter. The others joined in at appropriate times. Candles and other symbolic mementos had been placed neatly on the table.

I sat quietly and listened, trying to understand. At the end, they asked if I would say something. In halting Tagalog, I read the story of the resurrection in 1 Corinthians 15. It was the first "sermon" I had given in my new language. They listened politely in obvious appreciation of my presence as a religious man. A poor, gambling family would have found it difficult to convince a Priest to attend.

As they listened reverently to the words of the Bible, I rejoiced. The Rugged Cross had come to Tatalon!

Afterwards, I stayed for a snack of pancit (Chinese noodles), sandwiches and a cup of coffee, enjoying their laughter and friendship.

Aling Nena had been one of the original squatters in Tatalon. Twenty-five years ago, she had lived right on the banks of the river. As time went on, the first squatters rented out rooms in their homes to newer squatters. This provided a reasonable source of income. Those in the upper quarters of a house usually rented rooms from the owners who lived downstairs. Aling Nena was one of a clan, an extended family of about forty who lived in several houses in one area. She was also the chief gambler of a gambling den operating under my bedroom. Aling Nena was deeply honored to have a foreigner and a "man of God" staying at her house but she did not fully realize the implications of what she had done, as Jesus described them:

He who receives you, receives me...He who receives a prophet because he is a prophet shall receive a prophet's reward...And whoever gives to one of these little ones even a cup of cold water because he is a disciple, truly  I say to you, he shall not lose his reward (Matthew 10:40-42).

She would be the first in the community to believe. Through Aling Nena, many gamblers heard of the Cross of Jesus Christ, and several in her extended family believed.

Metro-Manila:

Aling Nena's house in Tatalon was not my first home in Manila. Years earlier, I had stepped off the plane for the first time. The tropical humidity hitting me like a shock wave. Friends had welcomed me as we drove across the city on an eight-lane highway jammed with cars, buses and trucks. It took two hours to travel through the twenty miles of towns and cities that ring Manila. Metro-Manila consists of four cities and thirteen towns.

The heat and the smell hit me as we crossed the river, the pungent odor overpowering. Fuming buses crazily raced against each other, pouring out enough dirty black smoke to cover a man in half a minute.

We passed by the rich mansions of Makati - the wealthy multinational and banking center. Behind high brick walls, palm trees waved in the breeze. Half-built concrete structures, towering office blocks, gleaming supermarts and movie theatres spoke of prosperity and commercial bustle.

The houses decreased in size as we drove through the poorer city of Caloocan and moved down a side road into the town of Valenzuela. Finally, we were out into one of the middle-class subdivisions. A driveway led to a beautiful Spanish-American style mansion behind a concrete and iron paling fence.

Manila is a mosaic of different cultures. Four hundred years before, Spanish had conquered this archipelago of 7000 islands scattered in the South China Sea and named it after their reigning monarch, King Philip. The Malay peoples dwelling there were scattered around the islands, speaking over a hundred different dialects. Arab traders had converted many of the settlements (called barangays or barrios) to Islam. Behind the Spanish sword, marched the Spanish cross of Catholicism. Many priests lived heroic and saintly lives for the gospel. Others were leaders in exploiting the people.

In 1898, The Filipinos threw off the Spanish yoke, only to betaken over by the Americans in 1901. Along with educational, medical, and commercial systems, the Americans opened the door for a new wave of missionaries.

The first Filipino believers were stoned to death. At times, Bibles were burned. Nevertheless, thousands responded to the gospel, experiencing a new freedom in Christ from the old bondage of animism and Catholicism. Today, however, 84% of the Population remained Catholic-animist. The culture and even the modes of speech are deeply influenced by the need to appease or utilize the spirits, the saints, the Virgin Mary, and God himself.

Like other urban centers in Asia, Manila has undergone rapid change. The barangay that was an Arab and Chinese trading post became the Spanish Fort Santiago in Manila and later the center of American-Japanese warfare. Today the original center is surrounded by the bustle and laughter of over eight million Metro-Manilans, some enjoying their fortunes in magnificent mansions, others seeking theirs, while yet others trying to eke out a living to overcome perpetual hunger.

One of the cities, Quezon City, is the center of bureaucracy and government for fifty million Filipinos. Manila City itself is a bustle of Chinese businesses, import-export businesses, street-hawkers, and one million students, crammed twelve per room. The density of Metro Manila today is over 100,000 people per square mile. Thousands of gaily-deco­rated jeepneys (converted World War II jeeps seating seven along each side at the back) move through the main streets, filling the city with fumes and loud music.

Supporting the growth of this steaming mega-city is a highly productive and mineral-rich hinterland, roughly the size of New Zealand. Rice, corn, cassava, sugar, bananas, and pineapple grow readily. The country exports coconut oil, clothing, electrical equipment, metal ores, fruit and vegetables, timber and sugar. The forests are rapidly destroyed, leading to flooding of formerly rich agricultural provinces during the 20 typhoons that ravage the country yearly. Minerals are also rapidly being exploited by the richer nations.

Muslim rebels in the south and a growing New People's Army of Marxist guerillas in a number of provinces pose a constant threat to President Corazon Aquino.

The country, essentially ruled by 400 rich families, has a gross national product of only US$590 per person (compare Australia US$10,900, New Zealand US$8,230, USA US$16,690.¹ The poor are very poor and the rich are very rich.

Yet life expectancy is relatively high (62.2 years for men and 65.8 years for women)² due to the American emphasis on medical facilities and some years of stable government. Of the total population, about half are below 15 years of age. The population of this city has exploded since the war - at a rate of five per cent per year, from 1.7 million in 1950 to 8.5 million in 1985, and an estimated 12.5 million by the year 2000. Manila is a highly educated society with over one million students in colleges and universities. The country has an overall literacy rate of 88%. Practical and technical training are developing rapidly to provide a base of expertise for industrialization.

During the decade of martial law in the seventies, major infrastructure projects in Metro-Manila were completed. There are now concreted highways, effective sewer, water, and telephone systems, giving a sense of progress and development.

But there are areas of horror within the city, particularly in "the tourist belt" with its opulent hotels, brothels, and discos - ironically, in a country once known for its modesty. Manila's rivers are filled with gaseous effluents emanating from thousands of uncontrolled factories. And against the backdrop of a modern city skyline, hundreds of hastily constructed shacks made up of packing cases and plywood, taking up every vacant lot or public place.

Yet even man cannot destroy all of God's beauty. The gold and pink hues of Manila Bay's sunsets continue unabated. Outlying suburbs on rolling hills twenty miles from the center of the city enjoy cooling breezes, the landscape dotted with trees and grass.

Above all, the Filipino soul, with its capacity for adaptation, survives all the traumas of urbanization, relocation, exploitation, and unemployment with a joie de vivre and a romantic, poetic optimism. Even the poorest of the poor dreamt of moving into a bureaucratic job and a middle-class subdivision, hoping that God, friends, fate, Virgin, saints and spirits will be favorable.

Urbanization:

The extent of urban poverty in Manila is not atypical. Among the specters of poverty, few can match the endless spreading slums and squatter areas of the sprawling Two­Thirds World mega-cities.

Since the industrial revolution, almost every major city has had its share of squatters and slum dwellers. Earlier this century, when European cities were growing, nations were able to cope with this problem through increased exploitation of Two-Thirds World resources, the creation of a welfare state, emigration, and industrialization. .

The post-war phenomenon in Asian, African and Latin American mega-cities is an apparently unresolved conflict between over-urbanization, due to too rapid a migration of millions to the capital cities, and a slow industrialization providing too few jobs. Migrants swell the ranks of the under-employed and unemployed. New urbanites adjust to their environment by creating permanent slums, which are now far beyond the control of any planning or administrative body.

SOME CITIES IN ASIA ³

(Population in millions)

Seoul....................................................13.7

Calcutta................................................10.5

Bombay.................................................10.1

Manila....................................................8.5

Jakarta...................................................8.1

Delhi......................................................6.9

Shanghai............................................... 6.7

Karachi...................................................6.4

Beijing....................................................5.6

Taipei.....................................................5.5

Hong Kong...............................................5.4

Bangkok..................................................5.0

Madras....................................................5.0

The number of Asian cities with a population of more than five million will rise from 13 in 1985 to twenty-nine by the year 2000 and their combined population will increase from 80,000,000 to 300,000,000.⁴ In most of these mega-cities the slum population will grow faster than the rest of the population, increasing from present rates of 30% up to 75% in some cities.

For example, when the slum population of Manila began growing during the sixties it made up a quarter of the population. Approximately 60% of Metro Manila’s population can be classified as low incomes, and more than 2.5 million people - many of them squatters - live in slums or depressed areas.⁵       

The greatest rates of growth for squatters have occurred in national capitals. Industry, dominated by transnational companies, has preferred the capital city - often a seaport and close to the political leadership of the country, technical skills and services are more readily available, and the city elite providing a greater part of it’s local market. The government bureaucracies administrating the expanding social services are largely located in the capitals. So instead of a hierarchy of urban centres evenly spaced along a continuum, we find the capital cities embracing an ever-increasing  proportion of the national population, far outdistancing their nearest rivals.⁶

Tatalon: a slum of hope

The physical characteristics and culture of each Shanty-town (slum, squatter community, favela, or bustee) differ from country to country. Yet the process that generates them and the resulting evils are universal among the major cities of Two-Thirds World countries.

We may consider two kinds of slums:

(a)   Inner city slums:

Inner cities have decaying tenements and houses in what were once good middle- and upper-class neighborhoods. Lloyd describes these areas as "slums of despair," where those who have lost the will to try and those who cannot cope gravitate. Here, too, are recent immigrants who have come to be near employment opportunities and students in their hundreds of thousands, seeking the upward mobility of education.

In such an atmosphere of despair and deterioration, social forces and expectations work against responsiveness to the gospel. It appeared more Strategic to work in the second kind of slum - peripheral shanty-towns - where social forces and expectations create a high degree of receptivity to the gospel.

(b)   Peripheral shanty towns:

Spontaneous communities built around massive cities tend to be "slums of hope," whose longer established occupants have employment and are now seeking to build their own homes. Yet here, too, are people and clusters of despair. The shanty town of Tatalon in Manila is an example of one of the many slums that have sprung up since World War II. It lies halfway between Manila City and Quezon City, two cities that are part of Metro-Manila.

The story of Tatalon begins with the oppression of the Spanish. At one point the Spanish propagated a law regarding the need to file for titles to land. Since the peasants knew little Spanish, they were unaware of the law and unable to gain titles to their lands. Those families close to the Spaniards utilized the law for their own ends. Eventually, just a few families owned the land around Manila in vast tracts.

One of these families was that of J. M. Tuason. He owned the land now known as the Tatalon Estate, Dating back to the pre-war period, the Tatalon Estate's history was characterized by claims, counter-claims, controversies, and court cases between J. M. Tuason and Co. and several other claimants.
 

In the thick of ownership controversies that have taken place in the area over the past forty years, the steady growth of an unwanted population in Tatalon has been barely noticed. Despite a total absence of facilities and services, provincial migrants flooding into the Metro-Manila areas found the unoccupied land of Tatalon an ideal site for establishing a foothold in the big city.

Social unrest began gripping the area, almost reaching boiling point in the late 1950's when Tuason and his administrator, Araneta, carried out mass eviction and demolition on the basis of an "authority to eject" issued by the courts.

I learned of the battles that raged when I sat one evening with Aling Cita, leader of the women: In those days Araneta came in with bulldozers to bulldoze down the squatter homes," she recalled. "We put them up the next night. Sometimes we surrounded the bulldozers. Some people lay down in front of them so they could not move. It was during that time that the old man up on the hill had his face beaten, so his lip became twisted and curled and his teeth were broken. He was one of the first people here - our leader. He was beaten by Araneta's henchmen."

Today, the average home in Tatalon contains 12.3 people. There are 14,500 in this six-block community - a density of 57,500 people per square kilometer. Homes were first put up by the river. Because of regular flooding, many were then relocated on higher ground.

Tatalon is one of the more fortunate squatter areas. The government in the last few years has established a sites and services program, gradually upgrading the area. It has put in roads, a number of toilets and some water pumps, surveyed the land and organized the people. Those longest in residence can buy the small lot on which they lived, at a reasonable cost. This program has evolved from a responsiveness to people's needs over a number of years.

"Through all the turmoil the community came together," Aling Cita told me proudly. "As time went on, the National Housing Authority was able to buy the land from Araneta. Now the squatters can own their own land. I went to General Tobias myself and asked him to put in the water pumps. These are better days."

Tatalon is a place of hope, a slum in which to dream and to aspire, a community that is beginning (with a lot of help) to come through decades of suffering into a little economic security. The people are gradually obtaining land and water. Enough individuals in the community have found employment to spur the others on. In such a context, the gospel was welcomed as one more social change people are going through. It can move like wild fire.

NOTES:

1. Statistical Surveys, Europa World Yearbook, Vols I and II, Europa Publications Ltd, London, England. 1989.
2. National Census Statistics Office, Metro-Manila, 1988.
3. World Almanac and Book of Facts. Pharo Books. Scripps Howard Company. New York. 1989, pp 737-739. The 1950 figure is quoted from David Kingsley in World Urbanization 1950-1970. University of California. 1969. p 234.
4. "Food and Population." Asia 1981 Yearbook. Far Eastern Economic Review. p 43.
5. Howard B. Henward. Jr. "Metro-Manila. Philippines: Conflicts and Illusions in Planning Urban  Development" from Cities in Conflict. The World Bank, Washington D.C.
6. Peter Lloyd. Slums of Hope? Shanty Towns of  the Third World, Pelican Books. 1979. pp 21 & 33. Reprinted by permission of Penguin Books Ltd