How Pooping Outdoors Changed My Life

There's more to the Philippines than just beaches and dirty politics!

“Are we there yet?” My tone came with a tinge of impatience. “You tell me! You’re the one leading.” My dad said in jest. For a second it sounded like a blend of sarcasm and condescension. Being one of the best athletes in our city, I hated being patronized. I knew the only reason he put me on the lead was for him to catch me in case I fell. I chose not to give any response lest my voice betray my growing irritation. Somehow he sensed my resentment, so he said “It’s just a walk’s distance!” Y’see, good timing is probably not my dad’s best talent! My annoyance gave me this shot of adrenaline that channeled all my strength to my arms because my legs had all but hung purposelessly from my torso. Then I pushed myself up the trail with my trekking poles piercing the ground. But by some freak of fate, I stepped on a loose rock and my right calf got cramped. The pain was unbearable that I screamed “Fu#k!” The word was a warm congratulation to my frustration that had consummated itself into anger! I was so humiliated! I was in my prime and Dad, at fifty-five, was walking uphill without the aid of trekking poles. Yet there I was, looking like a lifeless object strewn carelessly on the ground. He casually sat down next to me. Then, staring blankly into the mist he said “You’re not the only one! Thirty years ago, at this same spot, I kept calling out ‘Hello! Anybody there?’ shivering in the cold…scared…’’ after a short pause he turned to me and said “ashamed.”

the foggy trail up that nameless mountain in Atok, Benguet

“But I pushed on and saw a woman quietly staring at me in front of that house. And she gave me directions to the tower I was looking for!” Obscured by the thick afternoon fog, a house was indeed at the direction my dad was pointing at. For a moment, the pain disappeared and I managed a sigh of jubilation. Dad went on to stretch and massage my calf. “Feelin’ better?” I gave a nod that pretended to be angry. But Dad knew I was in a good mood again.

We resumed our trek and upon reaching the house, we turned right. About 500 meters farther was the peak with the tower. We camped outside the walls of the tower. After dinner, Dad told me a story that he said changed his life.

Thirty years ago, at the spot where we camped, Dad met a man named Elmer Basongit. He was the security guard manning the tower then. In Apo Elmer's childhood, he had a simple dream—to ride a plane! His father had always told him that for a child born to a simple farmer in Benguet, the dream to ride a plane was a fantasy no more realizable than the legend of Kabunian. But Apo Elmer was unfazed. He kept his dream alive in his heart and when he was in his twenties, he was among the three individuals who were chosen by the DENR to help in the reforestation and rehabilitation of Mt Halcon! And so he was flown from Manila to Mindoro. He had fulfilled his dream!

After his job in Mindoro, he came back to Benguet and raised a family. When all his twelve children had settled down, he quit farming and became a security guard. My dad never met Apo Elmer again.

a picture of my dad taken by Apo Elmer 30 years ago

The following morning, I woke up with an upset stomach. Dad told me to ask permission from the guard at the tower to use the outhouse. Sensing the urgency of the situation, the guard hurriedly opened the gate. When I pushed the loose door of the run-down outhouse, I saw a row of planks on the ground with a cover at the center. And when I lifted the moist cover, the stench was more than I could take. The drum under the planks stored all the dirt that fell through the nasty hole. I felt sick but I knew there was no turning back. It was a five-minute ordeal but somehow, I did it! When I came out I saw my dad giving me this grin that seemed to say “Thirty years ago, that same thing happened to me.” I still had no appetite so we decided to take pictures. The views were spectacular! The peaks around were like rocks jutting out of a vast sea of clouds! It made me think that indeed there was more to the Philippines than just beaches and corruption. And I almost did not notice—the field had been covered with frost. ‘Is this for real?’ Dad smiled saying, “They call this andap, it may look cute to you but the farmers in Benguet dread this. This lays waste to their crops when it melts!” Before having breakfast, I lingered on a boulder contemplating the beauty and peace of that nameless mountain in Atok, Benguet. I wanted to stay one more day but we had to catch our flight back to Cebu.

the sea of clouds that greeted us in the morning

Apo Elmer’s life story was so profound that it took Dad about ten years before he was able to come up with words that could justify its depth. Then one day, following the lesson that he learned from Apo Elmer’s story, Dad did what his heart wanted—he quit his job and focused on writing. In 2014, he joined a writing contest and his story about Apo Elmer won an award. That success opened a lot of doors to his writing career.

On our flight back to Cebu, I kept thinking about a very important lesson that I learned from that trip. It was the same lesson that had kept my dad optimistic and worry-free doing what his heart wanted. It was a conviction to start following my heart and stop worrying about failing and suffering afterwards because if I could survive that trek and if I could poop in that outhouse, there’s nothing in life I can’t survive!

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Blogger's note: In case it wasn't obvious enough, this is a story written by my future son twenty years from now.