I’ve never seen a seizure before.

I went to the Saturday market today. Every Saturday, farmers and shop owners come from neighboring municipalities—some from several hours away. They sell DVDs, all sorts of food, clothes, towels, kitchen ware, batteries, and other wares you might not be able to find so easily during the week. The whole town shows up for the event, and though I’m not a huge fan of crowds, I’ve grown fond of a few treats there, and I needed some supplies I wasn’t sure the local market would have.

After I got my odd collection of things—nail clippers and polish, eggs, a new towel, markers, a pirated DVD and some sticky rice pudding—I wandered with my bag down to the one restaurant where they sell banana shakes. The day was warm and breezy, a lazy Saturday, and I thought a shake would be the perfect thing. There’s one restaurant that serves a really good one called Las Vegas. I ordered a shake then went outside to sit.

A teenage Filipina leaned lay against a long carved wooden bench. She had a red DKNY visor on and long hair pulled into a bun in the back. She stretched her legs in front of her and gave me a sleepy smile.

“Are you tired?” I asked in Ifugao. She nodded her head.
“Yeah,” she said. “It’s so hot outside.” She waved a hand in front of her face.
“Can I join you?” I asked. It seemed silly to sit at a table by myself when I could chat with a local. She nodded her head.

We got to talking and I found out she lived in Banaue with her parents. After some conversation we discovered she was related to my family next door, which didn’t come as a huge surprise since everyone in town seems related to my family somehow. I also found out she was a fourth year in high school (they don’t use our freshman-senior terms). I asked her what she was going to do next.

“I don’t know,” she said, still relaxing against the bench. “I’m not sure if I’ll study nursing or become a doctor…I still don’t know what I want to study. I’m not ready to graduate!” She smiled and threw her hands up in the air.

“What do you want to do when you’re finished with school? Live abroad?”
“Of course,” she said, her eyes wide and excited. “My sister is in Germany now. And my mom and my other sister lived in Canada. So, I’d like to live abroad too.” She looked away for a moment, almost shy. “But that is just my wish,” she said. “We’ll see.”

We talked for awhile longer, about my project and what I’m doing here. We talked about Ifugao and she taught me a few phrases. I finished off my banana shake and began to think about how I’d end the conversation. I looked in my bag for a moment, but her sudden silence made me look back at her. She was still on the bench, but extremely still, her eyes glassed over as she stared off into space. At first I thought: what’s she thinking about? But within seconds I could tell something was wrong. Her hand curled up to her face and she began to slide off the bench.

“Oh god, is she going to die?” I thought in a moment of panic. And then I realized she was having a seizure.

One of her cousins, a girl about six years old, stood next to her and touched her arm. I ran a few feet into the restaurant and got her aunt and uncle (the people who ran the restaurant) and then ran back out. They ran over, grabbed her, and helped her to the floor. Her small body contorted and convulsed, shivering in the warm air. Her aunt held her legs down while her uncle helped her with her breathing. We pulled the table away, the table I’d just had my drink on, and they sent the little girl away to get someone—I never found out who. I stood nearby, mesmerized, making sure the adults took care of her as I had been trained to in my first aid courses.

They held her tenderly as she trembled and spat. I wanted to help, but knew it wasn’t my place. I felt so awkward; I didn’t want to leave, but I didn’t feel like I was any help there either. I didn’t want the girl to be embarrassed—having a seizure in front of a foreigner—so I thought I should leave so I wouldn’t be there when she came to. By this point, her body had calmed, though her eyes were still wide and glassy. Her continued to hold her arms and head as she lay there. I took my bags in one hand and placed a hand on her aunt’s shoulder.

“Tell her I enjoyed speaking with her will you?” I said, as I got up to leave, “I hope she’s okay.” It was the only thing I could think to say.

I walked back home, unable to get the image of her seizure out of my mind. I realized later that I didn’t even pay for the shake.