Seeing Poverty Abroad Changed My Perspective On My Career
My friend Marcos offered a stark contrast to my own life.
A huge roasted pig sprawled across the table with an apple in its smiling mouth, frozen in mockery at my naïveté. I was 6-years-old at the time, feeling mesmerized and terrified all at once. The other kids eagerly grabbed slices and chatted in Tagalog. I could only stare.
Years passed before I ate pork again. Conceptually, I knew where meat came from. But some part of me always imagined this happy field where already-cooked meat sprouted up like the dandelions and sunflowers around them.
The pork, also called lechon, is a beloved luxury meal in the region, and emblematic of a humble life where people make do with what they have. Despite my discomfort, there was a communal joy to the occasion I never forgot. But that was only the beginning of the things I learned.
How we ended up there
We were stationed in the Philippines for my dad’s Navy career. On our first night, a huge typhoon plowed into the country. We only had a few hours to prepare.
Just as the air got still, cool and dark, fireflies floated up in my bedroom window, dancing for me like tiny winged ballerinas.
