At sea

While inside the boat going to Zamboanga from Jolo my friend saw someone in dextrose.

She was 18 years old, her mother said. She added it’s been a week since they were observing her. They thought the girl had typhoid fever. So they would be at peace, they decided to bring her to Zamboanga City.

All throughout the night the mother would wipe her with warm towel to make sure that she’s comfortable. On the other hand, the father did not sleep—walking back and forth inside the boat big enough to contain some 200 passengers.

That was a very sad scene. Imagine a girl being traveled in a boat in dextrose for 8 hours because they do not have access to a decent medical care in her province? My Muslim friend told me that the girl must be from a well-off family. Otherwise, they will just let old cures do the trick for her in Sulu.

Different images entered my mind following that scenario. What about other emergencies like giving birth? Treating contagious diseases? What about those who do not have PhP 400 for a one-way ticket to Zamboanga City? And what about those who can no longer afford to travel for 8 hours? What about them?

I stopped thinking. I did not like the images that followed.

At 4am, the boat docked in Zamboanga City port. Everybody was excited to go out of the boat. And the girl, at last, would have the chance to be treated at a decent hospital—after waiting for 8 hours.

Basic medical care is among the basic needs of humanity, and yet there are many who do not have access to it. Not just in Sulu, but in many parts of the country.

I have long been asking myself why. Why is poverty so persistent? Why is inequality so pronounced such that many have gotten used to it?

Alas, the answers must have drifted away at sea.