Childhood is supposed to be a time of innocence, but for this little
Amerasian girl, whatever is left of it is slowly being peeled away
every day that passes by.
I met Marge only briefly - but I immediately knew the kind of life she
lead and the extraordinary danger that she faces every minute of her
There was a time when I spent more hours in the street than in the
small room that my mom rented for us. I was a few years younger than
her then, but then I was a boy - and so was shielded from some of the
dangers that waited for her around corners.
The tragedy in her situation is that, having lived in the streets for
so long, she no longer knows how to live what we would call ' an
ordinary life', spent around the house among family.
She has become like the wind, breezing through the streets of
Olongapo, as wild and free as the elements itself. Sleeping under the
roof of buildings, looking for food whatver way she could manage, and
doing what she wills - when she wants to - has become a way of life
But when I look at her, I see her encased in a prison - made possible
by long habit - encased between walls of air. It doesn't take a lot of
imagination to see what life has in store for her down the road, if
she can't do something to get her out of there - or find people who
will help her.
One of the most positive scenarios for her, sad to say, is to become
her like father - an Amerasian who prowls the city streets, with no
real place to call home, only managing by a hair's breadth to overcome
hunger, thirst, and the dangers that lurk nearby by dint of luck.