[ R EJEC T A PAT H Y ]
AROUND THE WORLD IN 334 DAYS C
A RECENT COLLEGE GRAD ENCOUNTERS POVERTY, PROSTITUTION AND PRISON ON THE WORLD RACE
mold. My team walks into Malaybalay City Jail guided by the warden, who tells the girls not to get too close to the prison bars. “You don’t want to tempt these dogs,” he says with a crooked smile. BY CURT DEVINE We make our way past rusted cells filled with dozens URT DEVINE SHARES HIS EXPERIENCE ON THE WORLD RACE, of men. They jeer and smile at some reaching out for handAN 11-MONTH MISSIONS TRIP TO 11 DIFFERENT COUNTRIES. us, shakes and high-fives, others WE ASKED HIM TO REFLECT ON WHAT HE’D SEEN, TO OFFER staring in jealousy of our freeMost of their bodies are US SNAPSHOTS—BOTH VISUAL AND WRITTEN—OF HIS TRIP dom. covered head to toe with scars AROUND THE WORLD, FROM URBAN SLUMS AND RED-LIGHT DISTRICTS and faded tattoos, reflecting the gang violence overrunning TO PRISONS, RURAL CHURCHES AND ORPHANAGES. this city. They stare at the girls with hunger, mumbling crude Day 1: Los Angeles, U.S.A. better angle, 1,000 lights flash in mere seconds remarks. We came hoping to teach English As I sit in LAX awaiting my flight to Manila, and the two celebrities simply ignore it all. The lessons and encourage the prisoners to trust Philippines, my mind splits as a thousand terminal becomes chaos. God with their future, but after only a few thoughts vie for focus. I’ve been awake for 33 The irony is not lost on me. Before embark- moments in these conditions, I feel doubtful hours, but my adrenaline is still going strong. I ing on a journey to the poorest corners of the we can even interact with them at all. close my eyes and consider the things I’ve left world, I have a layover at the center of posh, “I don’t know if I can handle this,” my teambehind. Almost a full year will pass before I see materialistic American culture. I look around mate Jeannie says. “I don’t feel safe.” my friends and family, more than 300 nights and see Burberry advertisements, Starbucks I tell her nothing bad can happen with the will go by before I sleep in my bed, six major logos, billboards with picture-perfect mod- guards standing nearby, but the darkness of holidays will happen without me. I look down els—the images that have kept me focused on the prison weighs heavily on me, and I secretly at my over-stuffed backpack, knowing my me and my desires for years. The noise around agree: it’s not safe. “God, are you even in this house has been replaced by a tent, my bed has me seems to grow until I can hardly stand it. place?” I can’t help but ask under my breath. been replaced by a sleeping bag and my closet This is when I first recognize The World Race “Keep coming this way,” the warden says. has been reduced to a week’s worth of clothing. is not a great sacrifice. It’s an opportunity to We follow him around a bend to another Do I really want to go through with this? seek God like I never have before, a chance to wing of the prison. We walk past iron doors While I stand in the terminal checking abandon my selfishness and get lost in what holding the jail’s troublemakers in solitary boarding times, I see a suspicious number of He is doing around the world. The Philippines, confinement and then past more crowded camera-wielding journalists lined up near Cambodia, Thailand, Malaysia, Rwanda, cells, finally stopping at a small, dark cell in the baggage claim. They keep filing in right Kenya, India, Romania—these countries and the back corner of the prison. I look inside, off the street; each one with slicked-back more will soon become memories of love and stunned by what I see. “How old are these hair and camera lenses the length of baseball adventure. I long for this year to be a turning kids?” I ask the warden. bats. “Who are these guys?” I ask out loud. point for my entire life. “Twelve to 17 years old,” he says. “Most are I hear the young blonde sitting next to me “Flight number 618 now boarding,” the in for drug pedaling or gang robbery. Don’t shout, “JWoww and Snooki are coming!” In intercom says. I grab my pack and walk toward be fooled, though. They’re young, but they’ve an instant, the two divas from MTV’s Jersey the boarding gate. earned their time. Some are in for murder.” Shore burst through the terminal doors with About a dozen teenage gangsters rush to a swarm of paparazzi chasing them. Each pho- Day 28: Malaybalay, Philippines the cell’s bars, smiling and reaching out their tographer fights with the one next to him for a The prison entrance smells of sulfur and hands to greet us. They wear colored bandanas
44 / RELEVANT_MAY/JUNE 11