(^100) Zamboanga City, Mindanao, Philippines
I was woken by more chattering, coughing, farting, burping and radios playing.
Our vessel was moving at a snail's pace, and I understood the reduced speed
was due to engine problems.
Being the sole foreigner aboard, I had my fair share of attention and felt
positively alien. Fellow passengers had no shame looking and gathered at the
end of my bunk, staring motionlessly. Still, it remained social, and the ladies on
either side took it upon themselves to take care of me and told onlookers when
they thought it was time to go. This was perfect, as someone was always
available to watch your stuff when not there.
The hours came and went and, in the end, the sun started sinking below the
horizon, and still, no land in sight. I sat on the deck, watching Muslims perform
their evening prayers to the soothing sounds of the (impromptu?) mullah—a
ritual calming and peaceful against the vibrant colours of the setting sun.
The boat docked at the port city of Zamboanga at around nine p.m., but it wasn’t
until after eleven that we got off the ferry. The going was particularly slow, as
one and all wanted to get off first. Passengers further had to wait for
transportation to the immigration office. Waiting to get off, one had to be vigilant
as kids hopped onboard, scavenging for whatever was going - might it be
unattended luggage or leftover food. They were like monkeys, scaling up and
down the side of the ferry, and it was astonishing to watch them operate - they
were as quick as lightning, and onboard security had no chance of catching
them. They were under and over the sleeping bunks without the guards seeing
them.
leana
(Leana)
#1