Junior Volunteers with Orphans in the Philippines Over Summer

Both of my parents were born and raised in the Philippines, so making the choice to volunteer there easy. Kaya Volunteering, the program I signed up with, had many options to choose from but I decided to work at an orphanage because of my love for children.

Because I was only 15 at the time and under the required age of 18, my mom came with me.

Getting there included a 12-hour flight to Manila, followed by a 13-hour layover and another hour flight to the small city of Tacloban, where over-population has caused the city to be polluted, dangerous and in earnest need of help.

The orphanage I volunteered at is a branch of a project started by Mother Teresa and one of the Sisters there even actually gave me a small medallion that she said was touched by Mother Teresa herself.

There were 16 kids, ranging from 9 months to 9 years old, with only four adults to take care of them.

We dove head-first into the challenge. I admit that at first I refused to change the cloth diapers of the babies, and instead would play with the older kids, feed and put them to sleep.

Eventually I had to learn to change diapers when I couldn’t find anyone else to do it for me. After a few mistrials of putting the diaper on backwards or not tying it tight enough, resulting in a toddler walking around with half a diaper dragging on the ground, I got the hang of it.

It was sweaty (no air conditioners and at least 70 percent humidity all the time), demanding and exhausting work, but I loved every second of it. The kids had nonstop energy and because of their serious lack of having things to do, we ran around and played games with them.

There was something joyous about the simple happiness that the kids got from old, broken toys and from the visits of new volunteers.

I bonded with those orphans, who became like little brothers and sisters to me. The happiness I felt as I returned for my second day of work when several of the toddlers were waiting near the screen door waving and yelling “Ate,” which means big sister in Tagalog, remains unmatched.

One of my favorite kids was Clark, a 2-year-old boy who stole my heart on the first day. He was cute but mischievous and always wore an adorable smirk.

Though Clark couldn’t communicate anything more than with random toddler babble, he was attentive to others and his surroundings. Clark liked to kid around with the volunteers, but he also shared his crackers with a boy who had dropped his and handed a small baby bottle filled with water to a child who was coughing.

It was a running joke between my mother, my homestay family and I that we would take him home because he was honestly like a little brother to me.
I also became particularly attached to Renier, 9, the oldest orphan, because of his friendliness and lovingness.

Renier didn’t go to school because the orphanage didn’t have enough money to send him or to get a tutor for him. He learned from volunteers who worked at the orphanage and who took the time to teach him.

During my time there, another volunteer and I spent time every day trying to teach Renier the alphabet.

The most distinct memory I have of him was my last Friday at the orphanage. I was just sitting against a wall watching some of the kids eat, and Renier came up and laid his head down on my lap. We tried to communicate but struggled because of the language barrier. We stayed there until it was time for me to go, but the last thing he said was, “I’ll miss you, Ate.”

I also made friends with several of the other volunteers, who came from all over the world, including two from England and Scotland. Let me tell you, their heavy accents sometimes were harder to understand than the orphans’ babbling.

Away from the orphanage, our nights were filled with fun karaoke with my welcoming homestay family or going out to a small café nearby with friends to use Wi-Fi.

The program we were in also included optional small excursions to beaches, local islands and even cave diving.