Whirl

Shit River was the nickname for a waterway at the main entrance to Subic Bay, home of the former US Naval base in the Philippines—it was not misnamed. Massive amounts of raw sewage from the city of Olongapo drained into it; thus the smell and literally, the shit. The river served as a moat for the naval base. A wide, low concrete bridge connected the main thoroughfare of the city to the base gate. Tens of thousands of sailors, airmen, soldiers, and marines have crossed this bridge; all headed for the bars and prostitutes in Olongapo City.

In the fetid waters beneath this bridge, young Filipino children would dive among the feces to retrieve coins. Nearly valueless pesos and centavos, tossed into the river by giddy servicemen. The memory of these kids haunt me to this day. I can still see their sun bleached faces staring up at me.

Are any of them still alive? Or did they die of hepatitis for our amusement?

On this Google map, you can see the bridge itself—along with the gatehouse, just a few meters away. There you will also find a place mark, taken from a post to a Google Earth forum in 2006. The wording on the post reflects a very typical attitude of many visiting US servicemen between 1965 and 1991—including, I am sorry to say, myself. In it, the poster calls Olongapo City an “Adult Disney Land”.

If you Google Shit River you’ll see hundreds of references dating back into the 1960’s. Many are sympathetic, a few are regretful, and some are downright creative. But if you sample the hits for any length of time, you’ll find the Adult Disney Land theme is very prevalent among the many who crossed that bridge: parties, good times, and lots ‘O healthy sex—all without those pesky consequences. Most of them read like the work of nostalgic, horny, detached tourist—focused on the booze, drugs and pussy beyond bridge, and not what was happening beneath it.

I’ve crossed shit river many times. I was stationed at Clark Air Base for three years in the early 1980’s; arriving with nothing and leaving with a ton of positives—a loving wife and daughter, enduring friendships, and a new understanding about the differences between those who have, and those who do not. With that (plus a shitload of late blooming maturity) my thinking about my past behavior has radically evolved. I’ve swum across Shit River and in the process, discovered that much of the shit was my own. Though I never tossed a coin into that water, I also never lifted a finger to stop it. And I now understand that my actions on the other side of the bridge contributed to putting those children underneath it, and also helped perpetuate a flourishing sex trade that still exist on those very streets.

This Adult Disney Land was not Las Vegas or Hedonism II—both of which are purely elective activities. What existed then, and still exist today is slavery, child prostitution, and in its mildest form: economic domination and exploitation. The names have changed, but the crimes remain the same.

And so these gleefully nostalgic ramblings about the good old days in Olongapo tend to really piss me off. Not because they are the ignorant posturing of horny young boys. Because instead they are the wistful longings of middle aged men.

Men who have daughters. Men who have the respect of their community. Men who fought for their country. Men who vote, and men who lead. Men who, after all they have done for their country, somehow cannot see the contradiction in their own heads. Men who have never crossed their own Shit River.

© 2007, by Rodney Gleghorn. All rights Reserved