Me (Trying my best at) Finding You as You Always Find Me

The King welcoming me back :)

It felt surreal, stepping out of Kenyatta airport and driving by the once familiar animal sculptures as we head towards the city centre.  I thought that had things worked out as they should, this would have been home for the family for the past 4 years – just what my contract then had stipulated.  This year, could have been “review” year to check if it would still be relevant as a work-base.  But then, pandemic happened and the rest is history. 

Yesterday was Pentecost Sunday. Before coming here, I knew I would have to try to attend an actual Mass.  I’ve reminded the children to make sure to do so as well.  Was happy they did. In my case, it was a bit eventful.  As seems to be my usual when traveling. 

Despite traveling for more than 24 hours, I immediately checked for Catholic churches near me and the schedule of Masses. I thought I could go to Kileleshwa, as I did in the past but the website advised it is already closed.  I came across The Holy Family Basilica which is 27 minutes away by foot but just 3 mins by car.  For some reason, my data roaming wasn’t working so I could not access Bolt or Uber.  I settled to just have an online Mass and started listening to the Ateneo Davao one. Still, it did not feel the same.  I rushed to wash up, change and asked front desk to help me get a ride.  They said it will cost me 10 USD.  I was happy to pay for it.  Eventually though, Bridgette, the hotel receptionist booked me an uber ride for just 200 KSh.  She also offered to change my big bills so I would not have trouble when paying for the fare.  The problem then was how to get back. She told me that I could ask someone from church to help me get a ride back.  I’m not sure I could do it and Bridgette told me to just text her “done” after Mass and she would text me back the plate number of the taxi.  We found out my SMS was working.

I was quite happy to have made it to church.  I’ve never been to the Cathedral in the time I was based here.  I’ve been to Westland’s Mother of Perpetual Help Parish several times.  The Holy Trinity Catholic Church in Kileleshwa was another one I frequented. In fact, it was the last Mass I attended before leaving Nairobi for the UK.  I was asked to do the First Reading at that time and I felt so blessed.  It was also a Filipino community celebration of Sinulog. 

It was supposed to just be a GHT-KMEAL meeting for a week in Oxford.  Then I had to be in Serbia to lead a Learning Review.  After a week there, I flew straight to Manila and then to Cotabato back home for another workshop.  Yes, not even Davao.  I was back home after a week, in time to celebrate Mama’s 1^st year death anniversary.  I would have left back for Nairobi, the day after.  And come back a month after to take Tatay and the children all the way to Nairobi and our apartment waiting for them.  (It took me awhile to find and furnish one).

But things have a way of turning out. On the day of my scheduled flight, Covid was declared a pandemic and all countries closed their doors. Technically, I was a returning resident of Kenya but would not have wanted to sit Covid down, on my own in the apartment while my entire family was back home.  Ah, all the uncertainties at that time.  And now, everything seems to be back to normal.  Like that particular period did not happen at all.  (Really hoping the lessons learned, insights and reflections arrived at, at that time would not be forgotten at all!  Like how fragile life is… how things could change in an instant… how one does not really have control over anything, no matter how much we obsess about doing so…)

Anyhow, I digress… so after the Mass, I tried to send a text to Bridgette but even that was not working a bit. I mustered by courage and approached someone. I tried 3 times but always lose my nerve.  It was dark already and I remember security guidance for Nairobi. Good thing someone helped me and got me an Uber.  Still, I was fretful inside while taking the ride.  The hotel was quite “interior” and a bit challenging to find.  As I was looking at the buildings we were passing by, I tired to recall if I’ve went past them earlier.  I only felt relieved when I was back at the hotel’s entrance.  Whew!

I know it was a foolish thing to  have risked it but yeah, having had Communion and heard Mass felt like coming full circle.  Mass when I was last here, Mass when I got back.  It’s just that I always feel thoroughly blessed and that He always finds me wherever I may be.  I am just returning the favour… that and the fact that I always feel on a drift and anchorless if I don’t start my week right…

Here in Nairobi for a week… Looking forward to all the learning and the experience. Thank you, Abba, for all the favours and the grace, each and every time.  Extremely grateful. 

 

 

Today. Aleppo.

I groaned when I noted that the clock reads 5 am'ish. I slept late the night before, pushing myself to the limit trying to finish a report with the remaining ounce of energy left in me. I'm on my last week of this deployment and as always the case, my energy tap is already close to depletion. The last few days would be like the final sprint. I was torn between wanting to go back to sleep and just going to the gym to run as I was not able to, the night before, having attended Mass and heading straight to dinner afterwards. But the church beckons. I did not take the communion the night before. I was not able to follow the Mass well as it was in Arabic. I listened intently though and was able to discern a few of the messages. But as to actual comprehension, enough to touch my heart, did not have that. So I've forgone the communion. I did know that the Roman Catholic church next to it would have an 8 am Mass the next day. So this morning, I found myself changing for church (and office get-up) instead. Before that, I was doing Mommy-duty, talking to rod about his university plans... When we walked into the church, the priest was already at the altar and about to start. Apart from the two commentator in front, the church was empty. I grew a bit self-conscious so decided to sit at the back pew. Mid-way through, there were 2 other who came in, intermitently. Around gospel time I just felt the tears come, unbidden. It felt as if the Mass was held "especially" for me. Although of course that is not the case. But having just a few of us there, it did feel that way. Who would have thought that I'd find myself attending Mass and receiving communion in Aleppo, in Syria. What are the odds? I am remembering being part of a joint RTR for Haiyan and having a fellow team member speaking about the sorry state of Syria then. I remember sharing related posts over the years, as the war waged on, year after year. And then suddenly here I am, serving a 3-month deployment. I feel grateful. After the Mass, went straight to the office, facilitated a workshop for 2 major sessions. I did not have to do it. Strictly speaking, it was not part of my TOR. It's going an extra mile on my part. But anyone who knows me, know that I do take my job seriously. Simply because, my job exists because there are people in need. Horrendous as that may sound, it is indeed true isn't it? Humanitarian work could be the most draining and demanding job. It doesnt have to be all the time. But I find myself, pushing myself, putting in extra on top of extra every time. Because, I feel I had to. My job is not about selling pancakes where my only concern would have to be how tasty it is going to be; how fluffy and fresh... It is about touching people's lives. Albeit with my role, a bit more "indirect" and a bit "removed" from the actual day to day community work. After the workshop, there were two meetings that I had to attend to as well. I found myself dozing off on the second one.Then after the workshop, checking out the bazar for local, indigenous products on display at the hotel. Then went back to my room to do a bit of work. A few emails after, I found myself walking towards a concert. Imagine all that. Take about a full day indeed. Thank you,God.

Bliss

 Just wanted to pen this now as yesterday was pretty special.  I've been wanting to go to Mass the entire week because we were at Sinuda last Sunday and was not able to go.  I intended to have an online one but was sidetracked with cleaning the house as it had been neglected for a while.  Anyway, yesterday we were able to go after we picked Forest up from school.  Kuya was still not through with classes so we told him to just meet us there.  Tatay had a funeral Mass that morning as well so he said he just be in the car, taking a nap as he had quite a busy day.  I was fine, no bitching from my end.  We arrived early but Forest and I quietly prayed and just sat there waiting for the Mass to start.  The Holy Host was in display so was being very quiet and mindful.  

When the Mass finally started, I was surprised that Tatay sat beside us and participated too. In a little while Rod also arrived and sat next to me.  That was enough to make me happy.  Very little really makes me happy.  Ate Janin was already at home so was not with us.  

We went to the mall to buy Kuya's barong for today's Araw ng Wika.  After that we went to buy some vegan stuff.  Yes, a week now being back to purely vegetarian.... Hope it will last.  We were quite happy to have found so many vegan stuff -- salmon, shrimp, bacon, mushrooms... oats milk.... ceremonial and premium matcha... We couldn't afford to buy the minute jar of premium matcha there so Rod settled with ordering the drink.  I was also surprised to have found Bundaburg there and ended up buying two. 

It felt quite blissful.  Since Ate was not with us, we did not feel right about eating outside so we had take out instead.  We got home, ate together -- some re-heated, left-over pasta and crackers for me though because they ordered meat for the takeaway.  After that Rod and Forest practiced playing the violin and the viola together (thus the photo that has to be furtively taken nowadays and to seek permission before posting haha).  That right there is heaven on earth for me.  Truly grateful. 

Early Dawn Musings, Basking in Luna's Light

• 02 August 4 AM. 
• Latagscape, Dolores, Quezon. (Thanks, Pam! Such a lovely place you have! Thank you for accommodating us!)

Day 5 of our great Min Vis Luzon sojourn (loop?). We've just been to Tacloban, Sorsogon and Naga.  Now, we're at Dolores, Quezon.

I woke up at around 3 AM.  As I had a hard time going back to sleep, I grabbed my kindle to read. It is an interesting book and what struck me most at that dawn reading was the bit about peace. 

Peace.  I’ve been very busy since forever I think, juggling motherhood, work, being a partner and on the sides, also working on my own becoming. (In an  “almost absent-minded manner to be honest or maybe more like an afterthought...  Or could also be because I have decided a long time ago that this is very important to me, this “feeding” or minding my unfolding, it seems that "my becoming" have continuously been brewing at the back-burner or half-awake-half-awake state of my consciousness.)

Anyway, I digress. Again.  So back to peace.  Reading that line on peace, I felt I was jolted awake.  I asked myself, when was the last time that I have really felt peaceful inside.? I mean, really, really at peace?  I think from the time I hit 30, gotten married, had children, my life has been a constant juggling of schedules, priorities… making to do lists… ticking them off (or forgetting to altogether as another matter had to be prioritized).  For the most part, I think, I’ve been chasing “urgent” matter this or that… And accommodating others’ “convenient time” so we could all manage to meet our many deadlines.  (And dealing with different time zones only makes this worse.) 

Lately, I’ve been noting how my time is so consumed with work and all these juggling that it has eaten into the “quality” time I have with the children.  And my me-time most of all!  On the former, I try so hard. I try so hard to be there, to be present, to be marking important milestones in their lives, to afford them opportunities and yes, "laying foundation" for their platform of agency/privileges.  But by quality time I meant, having that heart to heart talk like we used to when they were little.  Oh, we do have some snippets of that here and there.  But I feel, they are not enough?  We are not giving it time, enough for us to have that deeper connection. Enough time that would also in turn bring us back to our individual selves… to help us along in our own becoming… (Isn't that the reason why we've chosen to be family in the first place?)

So at 3 AM, I was contemplating on these things.  Being in the cradle of Mt. Banahaw-Mt. Cristobal Protected landscape, I started thinking about healing. Healing for my tired and aching body from this trip and as a whole really... I was thinking a lot about the children and their many pre-occupations in their current lives.  I guess I'm bemoaning the fact that they hardly have time for introspection these days. 

July 31 (just 2 days ago) was the Feast of St. Ignatius and we were lucky enough that we were able to attend a Mass commemorating this at the Penafrancia Basilica in Naga.  It was officiated by a Jesuit priest and in his Homily and final blessings, the priest alluded to self-introspection.  We were driving away from the church when I turned and said to Rod, "Di nga Rod.  St. Ignatius calls for self-introspection but you don't do it often enough. Or at all?"

Rod: Oh we do that every exam period.  We answer questions around that and we do that.

Me: But that's not it. I meant "really" self-reflection (making it a way of life).

Rod: Kaya nga. We do it periodically so why do I have to do it like everyday?

Me: So what has changed? I wonder what you tell yourselves once you enter HS and suddenly you have this sense of entitlement.  You used to be really kind and insightful when you were in Elementary.  What has changed? 

I think, I was really trying to understand their culture in school.  I remember back in elementary years, Rod shared he used to buy from vendors outside the school (even though he doesn't really like what they're selling) who have less crowd and buyers because he pities them.  Somehow, all that changed in HS and he's now this almost adult (little brat? pardon the term) with a strong sense of entitlement.  

For a long time, I blamed myself for this. I was an absentee parent for the most part.  Still I would like to think, I try harder at connecting with my children than other parents who are indeed physically present and not working overseas.  (No judgment here though. We are all trying our best.) But then I realised as well that it is not my sole responsibility.  Their becoming and unfolding is very much their own journey. I could try and move mountains, fetch the moon and stars for them but their unfolding is their own. 

Whew! It took me a long time to realise this, however.  It used to heavily weigh on me and fill me with so much guilt -- maybe I'm doing it wrong... I'm too lax... too strict... to idealistic... too much everything...

Case in point, we were driving back to the hotel that same day after dinner when Forest talked back to me over something I said which must have irritated her.  I turned abruptly and said, "Teka nga, I'm your parent ha? Nanay nyo ko.  I try so hard not to talk down to you since you were very little (so you can find your voice) and now you are talking down to me?! You should afford me with the same courtesy."  I realised then, that yes, it is good to be friends with your children.  That way, they trust you more and be more open?  But we must also not forget that we are their parents foremost.  They need to define boundaries and their own sets of values.  We can only help them along in that if we are being "parents" too.  Or perhaps, just to get it straight in our head what we mean by "parenting." 

So back to my dawn musings... I guess I was really praying for my own personal healing, for Tatay and for the children.  I found myself wishing that they would just one day wake up and realise they spent far too much time being glued to their phones, looking at social media and being bombarded with many "perfect" lives they wish to emulate.  

I was lead to thinking this because for this trip, Forest took a long time deciding which book to bring.  From my suggestion, she picked up Hosseini's "And the Mountains Echoed."  It starts with a mini-story which I'm sure would awaken her interest.  I'm trying to gauge if she's now ready for this kind of book... something that would make her aware of the more realistic, alternate lives in other contexts. I guess I was guilty of wanting her to "awaken" in a way and be aware that in other parts of the world, many are just busy surviving, far from trying to achieve a flashy, glamorous, aesthetic, social-media-posting-worthy life.  I try to tell them this every now and then but I know I couldn't take on the stance of a preacher in a teen-ager's life.  That would be tantamount to burning bridges hehe

So anyway, she did start to read it, in this trip.  And true enough she loved the mini-story in the intro.  And then the real story unfolds... We were on the ferry bound to Matnog when she turned to me and said, "Makaiyak man ito, Nay.  Mag-iyak man ako nito."

Me: Yeah.  I think I cried a lot when I was reading this too hehehe

Forest: Ayoko nito.

Me: It is a good story. But ikaw.  

I did not push her.  She must not be ready yet.  And that is fine.  So in true "ever-prepared" Forest fashion, she took out her alternative book -- Keepsake, a YA-themed book hahaha! 

So these many thoughts were running on my mind.  (Always thinking about the children).  Thinking about how we are in Mt. Banahaw and in close proximity to Mt. Cristobal, I was thinking perhaps I could just harness the energy of the place and ask for cleansing for us all.  Then suddenly, I noted the sky brightening up.  It is the full moon and I was actually thrilled to be working last night and participating in calls (meetings) while such a big moon was shining on me from the back.  

At dawn, it had moved to the west and basking all of us where we have laid down to sleep.  I noticed the dark clouds slowly receding and the moon glowed in all its glory.  The light travelled from the edge of the hut, to the bamboo floors and finally to my face. I felt I was totally bathing in it.  I stood up and opened further the children's tent so the light could get to them as well. Tatay and I were sleeping on a mattress on the floor so we were totally basking on the moon's glow.  I moved closer to the ballustre that enclosed the hut, facing the moon.  It glowed even brighter... To me that was quite a magical moment.  I felt as if my prayer for healing and restoration was being answered right then and there.  

I looked down at the city lights before me and thought again about how those lights represent our many "preoccupations" and how many of us really have lost our connection to nature and ourselves.  I thought about how under those city lights, we are always about chasing deadlines, material wealth and "priorities."  I find it funny thinking how everything seems to be aligned since the book I was just reading is entitled, "Oracles of Celestial Light."

I wanted to capture the moon and how it was glowing, bathing the hill and farm before me so I turned to get my phone.  I guess that broke the spell because by the time I got back (which must have been just a minute after), the moon hid itself in dark clouds and never showed up again.  Ah... phones! What a mistake :)

I am grateful for that moment though.  Me and my crazy ideas (as Rod loves to coin it, in an amused, loving manner), at 4 AM in the morning. Thank you. Dios Mabalos.

Birthday Blog, 48th

 I remember, almost the same time last year (albeit a different time zone), I felt so at peace heading back to Keble College from Oxford Oratory Church of St. Aloysius Gonzaga. I had to Google the nearest Catholic church to me and had to wake up early despite the previous day's long travel. Of course I had my doubts, fears of being lost and not being certain there would be Mass anyway... Still, me and my penchant for marking and upholding significant days and milestones, I quashed every nagging thought, armed with google map (grateful that the vicinity seems to be neaby, I still got connected to Keble's wifi), went in search of the church. But of course, as direction challenged as I am (I really should stop telling myself this), I got lost despite the map haha  But I made it.

I remember passing through some kind of a graveyard, spotting a few tombstones, and a narrow alley just before making it to the church.  In true, Oxford sense, it looked really old but not imposing in any way. I felt at home right away and was just grateful to have found a church nearby.  I went inside and the altar was... grand but in a quiet, unassuming way.  Just they way I would have wanted it.  I kneeled down to pray.  No requests really... just gratitude. I am away from home on a mission, onto my fourth  country on the very day of my birthday.  Who wouldn't be grateful for that? I had a full day ahead, being on a week-long conference but was gifted with a chance to go to a church nearby? I was just counting my many, many blessings... 

It was not an easy life at all... Not everything was a bed of roses... I too had an angry, disillusioned phase... There were may instances when things were not going my way... or how I'd want things to be, from what my grand brain construed that to be.  I did not always have what I want, have love unrequited, was bullied, ridiculed, scoffed over for having weird thoughts and ideas... And yet, if I look back, I am more blessed than I could ever imagine.  And I could not thank God enough for His faithfulness... 

When the priest came and it became apparent that there is going to be a Mass (on a Monday.  What are the odds?), I had all the more reason to be grateful.  I grew up saying this novena with my Mom for the Holy Infant Jesus of Prague -- "seek and you shall find..."  And I have often sought... always try my best to seek God in places where I find myself to be.  In Iraq, on my last year there, I got transferred to Erbil and near the guesthouse is a Jesuit-managed church that house Syrian refugees.  Several times, I even got to sit and sing with the choir... In Kenya, I even had the chance to be a reader on what I did not know to be my last day there (thanks to the pandemic. I was just supposed to leave for a meeting and a mission afterwards).  But even on times and in countries where I wouldn't manage to find a church (I managed to attend at several in Malawi but not one in Mozambique), I feel that God always finds me instead... I remember wanting to visit Mary's House in Turkey and for the love of me, knows not how I would make it happen. But He made it happen.  I got to go, on Mother's day... imagine that...

From that Birthday Mass in Oxford last year until now, I was very fortunate enough to visit churches in Poland, the best of all was the Divine Mercy Church where Sr. Faustina's relic is buried... I was able to come face to face with the Holy Infant Jesus of Prague, in Prague itself... And very recently, finding St. the Baptist in Syria... Each experience has left me in awe of God's faithfulness to me.  I try to look back at how life has been all these years and I know every step is peppered with God's love, generosity and faithfulness.. I am not perfect though I always try to live a life that is always pleasing to God but I fail more times than I succeed... And my human brain could not conceive how I could be worthy of all these blessings.. .I am nothing but a sinner and a hypocrite to my faith at times even... But God knows, I try my best to always be faithful to love...

Thank you, Father God. I am not worthy but still You see to blessing me and my loved ones with so much... my cup overflows... Continue to hold my hand as I travel through life... that I may always be mindful of Your will, be true to my values and to be able to sow love wherever I go... I always am not at my best self, God. I stumble and fall... so do lift me up and push me to the right direction each time.. May I always be in keeping to my highest self and value. I love you. Thank you for loving me so...

I Always Would.

Funny how things work at times.  But I've always believed that there is no such thing as a coincidence really.  Sometimes I think, we "bid" certain situations to come to us because we're wrestling with some inner questions we can't seem to formulate quite clearly.  We know something is going on inside and that we are trying to put a name to it but can't seem to grasp it quite clearly.  Other times, I think we're being nudged to a certain direction and so suddenly something would happen that would make us think and make us fully conscious of the choice we have to make, that our hearts have long decided on. Something akin to this happened to me today and so I would just have to pen it down. 

Last night, we went to the citadel. As it was already dark, it is already close. I did not quite expect that.  I knew there would be restaurants around it that are often frequented by locals.  We came because a colleague invited us.  Been very busy since I got here so I was not really able to go around yet and I know this week would be quite hectic as well. So I grabbed the chance.  It had always been the hotel, office, nearby cafe and food shops for me since I got here.  When we were driving towards, the first thing I noticed was the solid, "stone" roads leading to the citadel. Anyhow, what drew my attention next are the many ruins and totally destroyed buildings we're passing by.  As if reading my mind our colleagues would say, "Nope, that was not because of the earthquake." Those were destroyed during the war.   She had repeated that perhaps 3 to 4 times as we made our way up towards the citadel.

I was tired so I was feeling a bit detached. Or so I thought.  Today, had to go out to get some food supplies and coffee. Since the museum is literally just around the corner, we decided to visit it.  Afterwards, we had some ice cream and bought some water to take back to the hotel.  As we were right opposite Sheraton where we stayed previously and where I left a pouch of daily-use essential oils, we decided to drop by and have our coffee there. We had to wait awhile only to be told they could not find it there.  So anyhow, we went to buy some groceries and then went back to the hotel.  

Caught up with Forest who then requested that I watch her sleep. I told her I'll sing her the song I usually sing to them when they were babies -- "The Promise."  So I sang and watch her sleep. I had a senior moment and tried to remember who sang it.  I knew it was from our old LPs of Mama's so I thought it must be Doris Day's.  Anyway, so I googled to be certain and came across Chris Cornell's.

I knew his must be a different song altogether because I was pretty certain his would not be as ancient as the song I sang to the kids.   I clicked on the MTV anyway and decided to watch.  And then there it was.  First scene, the "Battle of Aleppo." It was followed by the painful exodus of the people that was the result of it.  The scenes leapt at me, the devastation; the trip to the dessert; to those crowded ships crossing the Mediterranean... Yes, those bright red life jackets that had become a symbol of the many lives -- young and old -- that were lost at sea in those times.  I've forgotten that.  Now, looking as the scenes came alive in front of me -- some even are those of the Somali crisis and some other crisis --   the floodgates just opened.  "Detached" my @$$.  

I guess seeing one emergency, one after another, one gets sort of "vaccinated" and becomes somewhat immune.  To some extent, one is not as bothered by it anymore.  It ceases to become a "passion," or a "cause" which was the reason why one signs up for this "profession," in the first place.  Well at least in my case.  It starts to become "just another day at work."  But I guess I'm always "lucky" coz each and every time, I would be reminded -- To.Always.Care; that I "SHOULD" care.. Because, I am fully human.  And perhaps, a long time ago, before I've started on this journey in this lifetime, I have decided that I always would.  

Field Work Musings (First FW this year)

Truth must be really tired now if she is an actual person.  Coz she can easily be ignored, really.  Others are more than happy to take on half-truths, even outright fake news/untruth if it will suit their own personal interests…

In a humanitarian situation, community needs are ACTUAL needs.  There’s no need to qualify that further whether you get enough media coverage or not…Syria has long been forgotten even if most of its people feel everyday what had cost them this war.  

I’m here to do some field work.  And while the conversations I had would often revolve on the same narrative – how the earthquake has compounded the vulnerabilities of the people – there was one that really struck me.  I quote, “Has the epicenter of the earthquake happen to just be in Turkey alone, this country would not have been so ‘lucky.’”  Imagine that.  Lucky to have been struck by a natural disaster but I totally understand where the other person was coming from.

The earthquake has once again brought Syria to media attention.  As a consequence, the donor landscape has suddenly shifted to accommodate a place for Syria once again.  They’ve been “ignored” for years now as more and more emergencies are happening around the world; as more “media-grabbing” crises are brought to the limelight and to the forefront of “donor consciousness.”  Not saying that these crises are “little” or “less important” as compared to Syria. The drought and hunger crisis in HECA is a serious one. (And if I may add, also receiving less funding than other emergencies do, despite how massive and urgent the needs are.)

For a country that has been ravaged by war for more than a decade, the needs in Syria are unimaginable.  You have a country where power outage several times a day has become a norm.  A colleague shared how shops used to be open till 3 am in the past.  Now, they close around 11 or midnight because the power goes out by then.  I could only imagine how it is for ordinary households, having to go through harsh winters with the power constantly off.  They would have to resort to gas-fueled heaters and fuel prices have skyrocketed over the years.  And this is compounded even more with inflation affecting SYP. 

When I first came, I was surprised to have been handed a “bundle” of cash when I exchanged my USD.  I was surprised even more when I only managed to buy a small bottle of olive oil, a small packet of coffee and some vegetables with that whole sum.  What would daily expenses look like for ordinary households then? For the female-headed households with several children and dependents to feed? 

These are “truths,” realities that I know donor communities are aware of as well.  And still, had it not been for this earthquake, there were little aid trickling into Syria. And the "cost requirements" are massive -- for repairs and rehabilitation of WASH facilities; food and livelihood needs, etc.  The recent cholera crisis that hit several governorates here is the consequence of under-attended WASH needs.  Being in my role (but also on a personal level), I know I’d be looking at whether this earthquake and the interventions being mounted now by different humanitarian organizations (by my own, mostly) would be making a significant change in the years to come.  I’ve seen enough emergencies in my work to know this is not always the case. But I sure hope it would be different this time.