:: Balisawsaw ::These are just rantings of a Fool.
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Who is beautiful? - By Kristel S. Patapat
(HOY!!! Maganda ka ba? Talaga? Eh sino ba talaga ang Maganda? Ano ba meaning ng Maganda?? Heto ang sagot ng isang Maganda...again in the Inquirer)
AS our bus stopped at the driveway of the National Center for Mental Health (NCMH), I felt…well, I don't really know how I felt. There isn't one word in the dictionary to describe what I felt that day. For a moment, I was confused. I was feeling a mixture of extremely strong emotions all at once. I felt like exploding. I was scared, nervous, excited and even freaked out.
I was scared of what might happen. Will they hurt us? What will I say to them? I was nervous because of what I might see and hear that would stick to my brain and disturb me for the rest of my life. And I must have freaked out to feel so excited about visiting a mental hospital.
It was a different kind of excitement. It was not like the excitement I felt when I first visited the zoo. It's not the excitement of going to your first concert, it was the excitement of not just seeing or listening, but actually of experiencing a whole new dimension of life.
I was still in the bus when I realized that I wanted to cry, even go back to school and not go on with this educational trip. But, I was there. It was different from what I saw on television: it was worse. I guess editing did a lot of good in that TV program I saw featuring the NCMH. They definitely did not show what I was seeing.
I was sweating. My palms were sweating and I did not have enough presence of mind to take down notes as our guide showed us around the hospital.
I'm sorry to say this, but the hospital was pitiful. It made me wonder, ‘‘Gumagaling ba talaga sila dito?''
The hospital always got a small budget and, in my view, its facilities were primitive. They still applied shock treatment on patients, supposedly the last resort for individuals who were mentally ill. They gave the cheapest kinds of medicine which I'm sure led to adverse side effects.
The wards looked like pig pens to me. The patients were virtually living in cages. They were not prisoners! And they were definitely not animals! They were people who needed help and understanding.
I'm just so angry! Prisoners probably live in better conditions. The patients at the NCMH slept on the floor. Some of them had no slippers. Many of them were not wearing any underwear!
I saw their food being served in a dish fit for Bantay. I did not see any utensils.
The patients practically washed and bathed where they slept. The bathing areas must have been so crowded for I saw a man bathing naked outside the adult ward.
I was shocked. I did not know how to react. I knew some of my classmates saw him, too, but they were discrete enough to keep their comments and reactions to themselves.
What I will never forget was the face of a patient from the adult female ward. She came up to my friends and me and said, ‘‘Ang ganda-ganda nyo naman, ate.''
I smiled at her and said, ‘‘Ikaw din, ang ganda-ganda mo.'' She said, ‘‘Wala pang nagsasabi sa akin niyan.''
I told her, ‘‘Ayan madami kami ha? Sinabi na naming maganda ka.''
She smiled at me and offered to sing a song. She seemed so happy to see so many visitors.
As we started to leave, many of the patients were shouting: ‘‘Balik kayo dito ha? Bisitahin nyo kami!''
I wanted to die. I wanted to kill myself for complaining about my life. After seeing their kind of life, guilt filled my soul. I felt helpless.
I'm an 18-year-old nobody. I am not beautiful, as that woman said. I am ugly--if only for the fact that I look at life the way I do--for not appreciating what I have and always asking for more than what I actually need. There are no real beautiful people. Kung tutuusin, mas maganda ka pa sa akin. I am not sick and yet I think sick.
I feel so sorry that I can't help them. My life will never be the same; that trip changed me. I can only pray that it changed them, too.
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Kristel S. Patapat, 19, is an AB Psychology junior at Miriam College
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:: Bing Tuesday, October 08, 2002
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