Easter Sunday 4th April

So many mornings on this trip have past in a blur, usually because I’m tired having stayed up talking to Becky and Saskia until around midnight. This morning was notable for extreme sleepiness and depth of church services. I was woken at 5am to go to the first one. It was supposed to be held at dawn (which made Becky laugh as she related it to a Michael McIntyre joke about meeting at dusk) but in true Filipino style, we were at the church about half-an-hour before everyone else. And by the time the singing started, most of the cocks had given up crowing. 90 minutes into the service our group was ushered out so that we could go to another church up the road (or down the hill as the locals describe it) in Roosevelt.

The second service was in a small community apparently in the middle of nowhere. Rows of wooden pews had been placed in a concrete hut and the words for the songs had been written on a make-shift flip chart, which one of the congregation flipped over at the appropriate moment. The singing went on and on, although the words for the songs had to be quite brief in order to fit on the sheets. It meant most verses were repeated about half-a-dozen times. Mum gave another sermon, which was her strongest yet. She’s starting to learn how to play the congregation. The Filipinos like their ‘praise God’s and ‘A-men’s. I’d written a testimony which I wasn’t asked to deliver. I was quite pleased in the end. By the time the Sunday school, meet the visitors (pronounced vee-say-tors), extended worship session, Bible teaching bit, prayers, readings, youth songs and offerings had been factored in we already over two hours. It meant we’d managed around four hours of service before lunch.

I enjoyed a siesta, which is fast becoming a habit.

This afternoon we organised an egg hunt for the children up at the Philippines Outreach Centre’s school. The hunt itself took longer to set up than it did for the kids to finish it and pretty soon they were running around playing basketball, tag and other games in the school grounds. Chrissie took the opportunity to show us round the derelict hospital that overshadows the classrooms. She wants to buy the building to extend both the school and the children’s home. At the moment she only has a couple of thousand pounds but she’ll need around half-a-million if the work is to get completed.

And there’s a lot of work to do. The building is a wreck. The roof has disappeared and rooms are gradually being taken over by plants, graffiti and rubbish. There’s even a twenty-foot tree that’s growing between the first floor and the area that used to be used for surgery. I moved from room to room, taking pictures of the children in the remains. On the top floor there was a spectacular view across the whole of Subic Bay.

Later, I joined a game of volleyball with some of the men from the mission. Pastor Dondi was on the opposing team. He’s a thickset man with a manner that is used to being listened to. Although I could hardly understand any of the communication between the sides, it was obvious that he’s both very competitive and a little biased towards his own team. Some of his line calls were hilarious and his grumpy body language was equally funny when he didn’t get his way. On either side of the playing area, the tarmac fell away down a steep hill. It meant we had to keep a close eye on the ball to stop it rolling away. On shot left me scuttling so quickly on the turn that I failed to notice a hen in my path. A healthy – if accidental kick later – she was squarking and flapping all over the place, trying desperately to get out of the way while making sure that her little chicks were safe.

This evening, Tony gave a testimony to the whole of the group. He’s had difficulties with a previous marriage and with the death of his young son. He wanted to tell us how God had helped him forgive those who needed forgiving and come to terms with the loss of his boy. At times this trip has reminded me of the Christian summer festivals that I used to go to in my teens. There’s openness and an excitement in the group combined with some pretty intense Christianity. It’s hard to avoid assessing your own situation and thinking about whether you’re getting it right.

By the end of Tony’s story, Saskia had to hide her face behind Becky to stop herself crying. Then Marian helped Tony recount how they met and married - a relationship that began on a walking holiday. The group gathered round Marian to lay hands on her and pray for the sermon she’s giving tomorrow. It’ll be her first. Ian and I sat back from the group and watched. At the moment, that’s where I feel is the right place to be.