Yoban

Simon in Manila shares this story.

Together with our friend Mani, on January 26 we drive to the outskirts of Metro-Manila. We have to take a private car as public transportation is only for vaccinated individuals and our two boys aren’t yet vaccinated. Joanna, one of our teachers, has moved in with her boyfriends’ family who live in a forest. She has talked to us about the many illiterate children in her village. Now, she’s teaching literacy in her new place. With this, she can save two hours daily (no travel) and one fourth of her income (no fare). And we have a new teaching area which we’re on our way to visit now.

The majority of this community living in the forest is earning their living by collecting garbage from a nearby dumpsite – a labour called scavenging. Joanna shows us her new home and new students, and we visit their houses where we can talk to their parents or grandparents, if they’re around. Most of the children are between 8 and 10 years old and can barely read.

One of the boys is Yoban* (in the yellow shirt in the front row). He’s 11, but has only studied up to grade 2. His parents are scavenging and sometimes he goes to the dumpsite as well. He’s excited. Now, he is able to learn to read. It’s his first day in the literacy program.

I assume that these families were underprivileged even before the pandemic. The Philippines has kept schools closed for two full years now, offering online learning for those with gadgets and internet signal. But there’s no signal in this remote area. So, the only learning method are printed modules that have to be accomplished weekly, without any help from a teacher. Many children have stopped studying at all for the moment.

The next day, Yoban gets up early to go scavenging on the dumpsite together with his older brother. Suddenly, there’s toxic gas leaking from somewhere. Yoban is inhaling it and dies right there and then, together with another man who was scavenging. Yoban’s brother is tumbling, vomiting and foaming. His vomit is green, but he survives.

A few days later, I’m visiting the family to take part in the wake. Yoban’s mother tells me how happy he was after our visit the day before the tragic accident. He came to her in the evening and told her he will be able to learn reading. She said he was a good boy who looked after his younger siblings and shared his food with them. His dog is near the coffin and hasn’t left Yoban since the corpse arrived.

Is it comforting that Yoban’s last day was a happy one? Or is it more like an excuse, so the tragedy seems easier to be borne? Despite everything, I’m grateful for the occasion to briefly know Yoban.

* name changed