I Left My Heart In Iloilo City

Written by Sheril A. Bustaman

Photographs by Melissa Chia & Sarah Chong

    Like thieves in the night, the travelers had packed up to leave the University of Philippines Visayas, our home for the past ten days. We hugged our student guides, who had woken up at 4am despite not really having to do so, exchanged promises to see each other soon and to keep in touch. Despite my protesting eyelids, I kept myself awake to absorb just once again all the places we’ve been to over the past ten days. As we passed the Esplanade, Smallville, SM City Iloilo, and moved on to the road to the airport, I felt a horrid sinking feeling in my stomach, almost as if I was leaving my real home to go away.

Operation STOM: Thunderball Dinagyang Field Report

Written by Team Leader Sheril A. Bustaman
Photographed by Sarah Chong

*Names in this article have been changed to protect minors’ identities.

     Beneath the scorching heat of the Iloilo sun, four students, a student guide and their pathfinder were struggling to find a nice spot to watch the Kasadyahan Street Dancing that was to begin in an hour. Whilst walking down the streets of Iloilo’s Chinatown, team Thunderball had an encounter with the boy who was to play the child Jesus, in the flesh.

The boy who was to play the Child Jesus in the festival.

     This little boy was getting made up by a professional make-up artist at the back of his parents’ car when our team happened to walk by. Judging by the fuss that was being made by the people around him, we decided he’d be a good subject to interview. Being Malaysian, we always think people who a fuss is being made of are important, and almost always we are never wrong.

Session 5.1: The Urban Poor of Iloilo : North Baluarte & the Sooc Project 5 Site

Written by Sheril A. Bustaman 

Photographs by Joyce Ng and Jonathan Lim

     Iloilo is a vibrant thriving city that is developing at its own pace. Hidden within the developing city however are squatter areas and project sites populated by the urban poor. On the sixth day of our journey, the travellers split into three different groups to visit the places where the urban poor lived and worked. This article is about two such areas: North Baluarte and the Sooc Project Site.

Daily Diary: Day Four

Written by Sheril  A. Bustaman 

Pictures by Joyce Ng, Sarah Chong, Melissa Chia & Jonathan Lim 

  Today was by far the earliest start we’ve had so far- the travelers convened at 7.30am and made their way via jeepney ride to the Ortiz Pier where Joyce bought us ferry tickets to the island of Guimaras. Our chief editor Chrishandra had to register us all by name before we could board the boat. A short fifteen minutes later, we arrived at the Guimaras Roro Pier and arranged a jeepney to take us to our first destination of the day. While waiting, Dr Rosalie Hall pointed out the balik bayan goods that were being unloaded onto the pier. The travelers learnt that balik bayan (literally translated as “to return home”) were goods sent from people living overseas for their family and friends or even their own things because they are now returning back to their homeland. What is so special about the balik bayan is that it has no weight limit and has a flat rate that varies according to the country the goods are being sent from. The jeepney finally arrived, and the travelers then piled in.

Now this is where things got interesting.

The Freedom Grandstand Children

Written by Sheril A. Bustaman

Photographs by Melissa Chia

*Names in this article have been changed to protect identities of minors. 

     The atmosphere was loud. The humid night sky loomed above everyone present in the Freedom Grandstand. As people attempted to secure the best seats, in ran eight little boys. Skinny yet full of life, these boys ran around the grand stand, weaving their way through throngs of people and causing a kind of ruckus only young boys could cause. Out of the blue, one of these young boys decided to sit in the small space I had left vacant for a friend of mine. Petite in a NYC cap too big for his head and shades (despite it being eight o clock at night) the boy sat silently. The other boys then came up to him, tugging at his arm screaming what I assumed were invitations for him to join them, but he just shook his head, indicating he did not want to move. With the help of Aisa (one of the student guides), I decided to attempt to have a conversation with him, hence unearthing the story of the Freedom Grandstand Children.