Waking Up Of The Philippines

Andy Mulligan's ‘Trash’ deals with challenging issues, including children living in third world countries and poverty. Mulligan uses language techniques as well as rich characters and setting descriptions to help educate readers about poverty. Language techniques, such as sensory language and imagery language, and setting descriptions were used to make the reader feel the impact of these situations. Mulligan also uses rich characters in the novel to assist in informing the reader about poverty and issues in third world countries.

Andy Mulligan’s “Trash” deals with challenging issues, including poverty and children living in third world countries. He uses setting descriptions and rich characters in this book to help the reader to understand poverty and third world countries as it helps the reader to understand the themes in the book. Poverty and third world countries are also presented to the reader as Mulligan uses different language techniques throughout the book like the description of the dumpsite. Sensory language and imagery are the techniques that Mulligan uses to cause the reader to almost physically feel some or all the five senses that Mulligan intends to share with his audience.

Philip shares with me his personal experiences working with the individuals who found themselves living on the streets during the years of 1986-1996. He explains why eventually he dealt solely with those individuals who would not go in to the missions and shelters or even accept food from the mobile soup wagons. Philip relives the moment that he first realized that houseless people were not in their current situation because of a life misled or because they were lazy or criminal, as may be the common

Before Riis picked up his pen and camera, our city was a very nasty place to live in. Garbage filled the streets and children who didn’t work or attend school roamed around in the midst of it, catching bacteria or viruses. For them, it wasn’t much better at home, where they most likely lived in a cramped, dark room with another family. Because people were paid low wages, many young children had to take on jobs, that usually took advantage of them, to support their family.

A warm bead of sweat rolled down my brow in such a slow manner I thought that I had received a cut on my head and I was bleeding from whacking my head on the door panel when I exited out of the cruiser. I wiped it away as I leaned back against the hood of the car, sweating up a storm in the white polo that was supposed to be a uniform.

Paul Fisher describes the Tangerine County as “a place carpeted with green grass, with trees along both sides of the road and flower beds running down the middle of a median strip. We could see the roofs of big expensive houses peeking up over the landscaping” (9). Although things on the surface look great in Tangerine County, they’re falling apart underneath. Outside the housing development, a muck fire burns underground (16). In a middle school, a sinkhole opens (80), and mosquitoes torture the neighborhoods (161).

Overall, the book gives an incredibly unique outlook on such an underserved community and exposes the harsh economical and social realities these people face under the ruse of “family” and “community.”

My answer to African American and Filipino Activists looking for a "double victory" in the U.S. would be to stop trying. Although their cause is just, and maybe even winnable, it would potentially lead to a situation that must be avoided. Assuming victory is attained, what happens next? What would even constitute "victory?" What would be the positions of various races in America if victory is acquired?

One of the houses was Deep South looking; run down and bare of any organized growth, i.e. landscaping. It was just a large rectangle— greatly in need of paint and repair. And, this house just happened to be near the heart of The Town of Smithtown, right in the cross roads of the historic area of the celebrated main street. But, in hindsight, perhaps this dwelling was a part of that history—a reminder of the history that had its good and bad; the well to do and the have nots, with some of the have nots, not having because the haves didn’t want them to.

The cold water from condensation went through my glove as I wiped the seat. I thought to myself, “What a stupid choice. My gloves are now wet and I have a ten-minute ride home so they will likely freeze“. Then the warmth of the sun hit me. The clouds had cleared and offered up from behind the wall which it had been hidden, my favorite object−the sun! I had not seen it for almost two weeks and to feel the warmth on the back of my neck was a much needed mental boost. The wonderful heat, cut like a hot knife through butter, and helped the humidy level go

In a world full of different people that come from various backgrounds, there are different perspectives on what is found as important. Something that is seen as trash or useless by one may have once meant the world to another person. Each piece of trash carries a memory from its past life, ready to take on its new life to help the next person in one way or another. Howard Nemerov’s poem “The Town Dump”, Lars Eighner’s essay “On Dumpster Diving”, and “The Town Dump” by Wallace Stegner each tell a story about how trash has impacted them. Even though these pieces are written with different messages, each piece of writing uses tone to establish the importance of local trash, as well as establishing the history behind its significance.

The book presented statistics about New York’s poverty and contained drawings of the photos from Riis’ unending tour of the city’s worst slums. Riis said that his motivation for presenting such a dark tableau was “that every man’s experience ought to be worth something to the community from which he drew it, no matter what that experience may be.”

Immediately I was introduced to an unimaginable degree of poverty. Hungry families were living in small rundown shacks. Soon after sunrise construction began- building a volunteer bunkhouse and renovating families homes. With growing mold, broken utilities, and overall structural deterioration, homes were unsafe living conditions for any human being, let alone a family.

The leather furniture was cracked, and if the chairs were sat upon dust rose about one's thighs. The house seemed to be submerged in shadows as if it also refused to admit the light of the future. It had once been part of the most stylish street in town. Now it was surrounded with the cotton wagons and the gasoline pumps. It had obviously become an eyesore compared to once when it had been so beautiful.

Take a moment and picture a child half naked in the streets. His body has been harshly neglected. Little to no calf muscles exist. His ribs are plainly countable. One, two, three up his left side. You can do the same to his right. Malnutrition only vaguely begins to describe his condition. The worst of anorexia doesn’t even compare to this child’s inhumane state. As for shelter, he lives in a dilapidated hut. Food is a luxury, as the child may be fed only three or four times a week. He’s expected to die by the age of five due to severe malnutrition and disease. This is the grim portrait of an Ethiopian child in absolute poverty. His life doesn’t allow for the basic essentials of food, shelter, or clothing.