Class of 1968 - Weedsport Central School

Editor's Note: Thomas McGraw, a senior at Weedsport Central School, recently returned home after spending the summer as an American Field Service representative in The Philippines. He is the son of Mrs. Mary McGraw of 124 E. Brutus St., Weedsport. In this article, Tom reports the highlights of his visit and gives his impressions of the people of the land where he lived as one of them and attended their school. While in The Philippines, Tom stayed at the home of Mr. and Mrs. Pedro Banlawi of Cotabato City, Mindanao.

BY TOM McGRAW

The Philippine Island of Mindanao lies approximately 13,000 miles from Weedsport, but as an American Field Service student I was able to grasp the hidden oneness which binds all people together.
We all share the same dreams and aspirations and have basically the same out- look on life.
There were five people in my “family.” My father worked as a cashier at the college in Cotabato City (which was just across the street from my house).
My mother was the housekeeper and chief cook. She was skilled in the culinary arts and could cook rice along with chicken, pork and beef with the best of them.
Charlie was my foster brother. He looked like an American Negro, which was an oddity. Although all Filipinos are very dark, their facial features are unmistakably Oriental.
I often said he looked like “The Big O,” Oscar Robertson, one of the greatest basketball players alive. This pleased him considerably for he was a natural athlete. However, at 5 feet 4 inches, he was confined to boxing and volleyball, though he could play basketball very well.
He had a subtle humor, which also was a rarity. The Filipino still enjoys the “pie-in-the-face” routine type of humor.
Charlie's sense of humor had developed to the point where I sometimes sat puzzling over something he had said, only to look up at that knowing grin on his face.
Myrla, at 13, was the quiet one. She never said much to me, but on occasion I could hear her bragging to her friends about her new “brother.”
Juan was the pet of the family. He was six, and came up to my kneecap. He knew one word of English - “welcome” which he would recite over and over even when no one had said “thank you.” At least he was polite, and very appealing in the bargain.
When the foster families of the four American students were gathered, it was like a contest.
One family would boast about what their “son” had done or something he had said and rock with laughter. Not to be outdone, another foster family would carry on the same process and might even laugh a bit harder to make their “son” or “daughter” look a little bit better than the others. It really got pretty funny (or ridiculous, depending on how you looked at it) at times.
All the families were deeply religious and mine had nightly devotions.

EDUCATION “POOR”

The educational system in the Philippines is poor. Mass memorization is the standard by which the kids are judged. They just cannot reason independently. The Peace Corps Volunteers in our area were doing excellent work in this field, though.
My physics teacher was a jack-of-all-trades - master of none. In three previous years, she had held the positions of registrar, secretary to the principal, and librarian, so she was considered to have the best background for teaching physics.
Our school's flag had holes in it and was tattered and torn. Randy, the other American lad there, and I pooled together 55 pesos ($16) and bought them a new flag. They were very happy when we presented it to them.
It was a good feeling, but I hope they take it out of the school's trophy case and run it up the flagpole eventually.
The food of the common Filipino is basic: rice and fish.
However my family was comparatively well-off and as a result we ate well. I had mostly pork products with chicken here and there, and rice, always there. I drank Coke at every meal, and my complexion looked it!
Meals were five times a day. The big one was at noon, then they tapered off.
I didn't drink much water because there was the danger of contracting amoebic dysentery, so I stuck to Coke.
As far as luxuries go, I had running water and occasionally water in the shower. We had electricity, a refrigerator and an electric iron and my house was one of the best in the entire city.
Most people did not have electricity or any appliances, and many people lived in abject squalor. The Moslems (or “Moros”) are filthy and their section of the city was unbelievably dirty. I seldom ventured there because of the repellent stench.
Many homes are made of thatched nipa. Built on stilts, they offer protection from the annual floods.
Their floors are made of bamboo, with inch-wide strips laid vertically across beams with about an inch between strips. They were both comfortable and functional. They allowed whatever breeze happened to be blowing to enter.

PRESS ''FREEST IN THE WORLD”

The Philippine press is the freest in the world. At first I became so incensed at their writings, their seemingly strong anti-American sentiments, that I had to stop reading it.
But it was explained to me that they are not really anti-American, but fiercely pro-Filipino.
Fierce is the word. I heard Lyndon Johnson called everything from a hateful war-mongerer to a clumsy carabao (the Filipino beast of burden - like an American Ox).
The race riots in the U.S. were an embarrassment to the American students and at times annoying, especially when we became tongue-tied in our attempted explanations of the deep problems at home.
The geography of Mindanao is that of a typical South Pacific Island - fronded palm trees, high rocky mountains and rice paddies.
Among many memorable incidents in Manila was my reception at Malacanang Palace by President Marcos and his glamorous first lady, Imelda. The customs office is not one of my finest memories as my carefully packed suitcases were mercilessly ripped apart.
The summer was a rewarding one, one which I will never forget. My family, my house and all the people who were so helpful to me made it seem much too short a stay. It broadened the scope of my life and made me realize that people are driven by the same motivations and desperately want one thing - peace among mankind.