WELCOME TO THE PHILIPPINES
My home deep in the rainforest was peaceful and so calm
no humans with their cars and trucks, solitude with charm,
just me with wild animals, snakes, nice birds and frogs
lizards that eat flies and grubs in fallen logs.
Fireflies playing in the dark, glowing up so bright
silence was a normal day, bush noises through the night,
I’d planned a trip to see my girl, living overseas
in the Islands of the Philippines with their gentle ocean breeze.
I climbed aboard a plane for the first time in my life
soaring like an eagle off to see my future wife,
trying to stay all calm as my nerves jumped up and down
afraid this giant steel bird would plummet to the ground.
We landed at the airport my calmness had remained
arriving to such friendly smiles and a musical refrain,
the night was hot and sultry, the humidity immense
as I walked out through the door the bustle quite intense.
“You want taxi Sir?” One hundred voices called
“I won’t charge you much, won’t charge you much at all,”
I boarded one man’s cab, we set out on the road
things that happened next caused my calmness to explode.
There was traffic to the left of me and traffic to the right
I had never seen such mayhem as I did on that first night,
one thousand cars and jeepneys, motorbikes galore
honking, weaving, dodging just inches from my door.
I screamed, “OH, MY GOODNESS! CRIKEY! GET ME THERE ALIVE!”
then and there I thought I’d die, this drive I’d not survive,
I held my breath and closed my eyes, waited for the crash
the driver looked and smiled then drove on for his cash.
No stop or give way signs, no green or red lights there
no cops directing traffic, just madness everywhere,
hands were glued to horns as walkers crossed the road
forcing heavy trucks to swerve, swaying unsafe loads.
My nerves were shot, brow was wet, my mind was spinning ’round
so different to my jungle home where I rarely heard a sound,
we pulled up at this compound one hundred folks appeared
my girlfriend and her family at the home where she was reared.
My “Delia,” paid with cash for that roller coaster ride
I was glad to get there safe, on that trip I could have died,
we went into a house, the neighbours all came too
to see this giant hairy white man, from an Aussie jungle zoo.
Tiny Asians smiling and talking in their tongue
I couldn’t understand a word, to Delia I just clung,
much food prepared and music, drinks were there on hand
to celebrate my arrival, a “welcome to our land.”
© 2019 Walu Feral
“It’s more fun in the Philippines,” which is the country’s national slogan, is the third book in the series, “A Different Life, The One They Call Feral in Rhyming Poetry.” Which is the biographical account of my life.
© 2019, Walu Feral. All rights reserved.
I am an Australian living in the Philippines with my beautiful wife, Delia, our eleven-year-old daughter and her four older brothers who were surviving in a rubbish dump until we adopted them and gave them a home.
I didn’t begin to learn how to read or write until I was nineteen-years-old after running away from an abusive childhood at fourteen and living with the Nyamal aboriginal tribe in a Western Australian desert for five years. I’m so grateful that I did learn because now I have two published books and never stop writing.