of Santa and selfishness

Santa Claus came to town early for over 300 children from different low-income communities in Pasig City, thanks to my high school friend Malen who made it happen. Malen lives in the US, but every year, since five years back, she spearheads a soup kitchen for underprivileged children in Pasig. To say that Malen is a woman who is beautiful inside and out is an understatement; she’s one of the most genuine human beings I have ever known.

But more than helping in her project even when she’s unable to fly to Manila to do it herself, I joined because I needed it. I was waiting for a chance to do something good and tangible for others—yes, I waited for it like the true selfish bastard that I am, thinking that if it’s meant to be, it will come to me. And it did. After reading Malen’s email invitation, I knew right then that the opportunity I was looking for finally arrived. This was the good deed I needed to feel selfless about myself.

And so I went to the Immaculate Conception Cathedral in Pasig last Saturday morning bringing with me my contribution and my selfishness. The sight of 300 children overwhelmed me, not so much for their number but for the guilt and shame of needing them to feel good about myself.

 

Many of the children looked malnourished and deprived, and yet the poverty written all over their faces didn’t seem to dull their spirits—they laughed at the clowns’ antics and magic tricks like the two were the funniest comedians on earth; they competed in parlor games for small prizes that seemed like gold medals in the Olympics; some of them danced “Itaktak Mo” and “Papaya Dance” like they were on national television. The children brought so much life and energy to every activity as if that brief Saturday morning was all that mattered to them; it’s as if to lose a game is to lose on life itself.

After we served the spaghetti and fried chicken cooked by volunteer caregivers, some children rushed to their seats and revealed hunger and starvation like I’ve never seen before. It was a painful sight. I thought I have become numb to scenarios like this, being an educated middle-class urban yuppie constantly exposed to bitter third-world realities. I guess one never really gets used to realities that shouldn’t be.

After a serving of ice cream, the children lined up to receive their grocery bag, gift, and a box of milk and vitamins. They left with their tummy and hands full with the generosity from people who made time to make them feel cared for. The irony of it all is that every time I hand out an item to a child in close proximity, the more I feel the distance and disparity between us.

But this is the same distance and disparity that grounds me in gratefulness for being blessed with so much more than I think I deserve. The whole experience was humbling enough for me to realize that I have not given back enough when I really have so much more to give. I came to the project with all my selfishness; I came out of it feeling even more selfish.

But at least now I am a better judge of myself—thanks to Malen, her family and friends, and the more than 300 children for teaching me a lesson I thought I already knew.