Archive for February, 2007

The real poverty lies in not knowing this…

Friday, February 16th, 2007

Between poverty and paradise

By Paolo P. Mangahas
Inquirer
Last updated 12:49pm (Mla time) 02/06/2007

KUALA LUMPUR, MALAYSIA- Last night, I had dinner with my German friend to talk about her planned trip to the Philippines . She had just completed an internship program in one of the law firms here in Malaysia and wanted to take a short holiday in a nearby country before heading off to Australia to finish her studies. She wanted to know more about the Philippines and asked me for tips on making the most of the two-and-a-half weeks that she had allotted for this vacation.

We planned her trip between bites, armed only with a faded map of the Philippines that we downloaded from the Internet. My goal was to identify all the “must-see” places (her criteria: beaches and volcanoes), plot them according to distance and flight routes then cram them all in 17 days.

A tall order indeed, especially for someone like me who’s never had a sense of direction even in my own neighborhood. For the life of me, I could not spot where Boracay was on her map. So I took the easy way out and told her to go to Palawan instead.

I carried on with the task like a diligent student trying to remember my geography, starting from the rice terraces in Banaue up north, moving down south to the Mayon Volcano in Bicol and the Chocolate Hills in Bohol . It was an embarrassing ordeal nonetheless as she could see that I was struggling to find all the other attractive destinations on the map, which in turn made me realize how little I truly knew about my own country.

She was very excited about the trip, eager to learn more about the country and its people. She imagined the Philippines to be an eternal fiesta of Spanish and Chinese Third-World flair, filled with warm and accommodating people who all speak with a clear American accent, where all men have the handsome earthy appeal of Jericho Rosales and women the heavenly mestiza charms of Kristine Hermosa (thanks to Filipino soap operas that have become so popular here in Malaysia).

It was certainly one of the most honest cultural impressions I’ve ever heard, and quite amusingly, one shared by many. In my German friend’s opinion, the Philippines is one of the most open-minded countries in Southeast Asia . I found this view rather interesting, especially since it came from a European who’s never stepped foot in the Philippines and whose only direct exposure to the country was me.

The funny thing about cultural impressions is that they often come from a place of both acute perception and blatant ignorance, split in the middle by what is painfully true. But they are what they are—impressions.

Quite naturally, my friend and I have come to build our own impressions about Malaysia in the several months we’ve been here. Malaysia is a beautiful country that seems to be in a hurry to develop economically, but is hampered by a palpable trace of social reluctance. It seems grounded on an age-old culture that simply does not mix well with progress, or at least the kind dictated and exemplified by the Western world. I find this true for most developing Asian countries, including the Philippines .

My friend pointed out that she’s never seen a beggar in the streets of Kuala Lumpur since she moved here and asked me if it’s the same in the Philippines . As a matter of fact, she admitted that she’s never seen a beggar up close in her whole life and asked me to explain how it is to live in a poor country. She wanted to know more about poverty.

Her question struck a chord in me because I realized that apart from Jericho Rosales, this woman had absolutely no idea about the country she was going to and how it was out there. Here was someone who came to me wanting to know more about my country and the best I could offer was a geographical representation of scenic destinations, which I hardly even knew myself.

By this time I had put down the pen I was holding, set aside the map, and got ready to explain details about my country. I didn’t know where to begin. How does one explain poverty to someone who’s never experienced it before?

To make things more relevant to her, I started by comparing the Philippines to Malaysia . I told her that blue-collar workers in the Philippines did not have the same opportunities as the ones in Malaysia, who can afford to eat in the same restaurants as executives or even shop in stores where their bosses shop. I told her that unlike the ones I have met in Malaysia, secretaries and administrative clerks in the Philippines eat in posh restaurants only on very special occasions and can barely afford to travel to other countries.

I then told her about the beggars, young and old, who parade in the streets of Manila , the children who knock on car windows selling sampaguita, the mothers who have to forage for food in garbage landfills, and the unemployed fathers who waste their lives on drugs and alcohol. I told her about the shanties that bedeck highways and railroads, the unproductive traffic jams, the garbage-infested streets and sewers, and the regular typhoons that flood the country and exacerbate already poor living conditions.

I told her that poverty in the Philippines hits you in the face unapologetically the very moment you step in. It’s an open wound waiting to be healed.

My friend looked shaken, as if experiencing for the first time a world she has seen only on TV. That was when my tears started to fall. I could not help it. I have never cried in front of a semi-stranger before but for some reason, I cried this time because she was still not immune to these things. Her unawareness taught me to see poverty as if for the first time myself - bringing a lot of pain. I’ve become so used to the pain that I’ve forgotten how it felt until I painted the sad face of poverty for her.

I then found myself having to explain to her that despite all these, the Philippines is still a beautiful country and this you also feel the very moment you get there. It’s a beauty characterized by the indomitable human spirit of a people who have seen better days and yet still have the capacity to find a piece of heaven in their lives. It’s beauty defined by the untiring faith of a people who have learned to acknowledge their plight with reverence and yet have never lost the courage to dream big dreams. It’s a beauty characterized by the painful history of a people who have been abused and pillaged through years, yet still have so much of themselves to give.

Now her tears were falling, smearing the map I had earlier vandalized with circles and arrows. I knew it did not matter this point. I realized that my friend had learned all she needed to know about my country and my people. She thanked me profusely, saying that she came to me wanting to know more about how poor the Philippines is but in the end, she learned how abundantly blessed Filipinos truly are.

A beach is a beach and a volcano is a volcano anywhere in the world, but it’s the people who make the difference. I learned in that moment that I may not know the geographical features of my country all too well, but I sure know its heart and its soul because it’s who I am.

The real poverty lies in not knowing this.

Paolo P. Mangahas, 32, is currently working in Kuala Lumpur as Head of Communications for WWF-Malaysia (World Wide Fund for Nature Malaysia ). He won Honorable Mention in the 2003 Doreen Fernandez Food Writing Award for his piece “Adobo, I’m Home” and has published several essays on food, lifestyle, fashion, and social and environmental development.

Red necks and their meat.

Thursday, February 1st, 2007

“To people who don’t know any better…”

Sometimes, it’s very funny (pardon me for showing tinges of being racist - I assure you I am not) how some uneducated white folks can deem themselves smarter than everybody else here just because they are white. Come on you’re a construction worker back home… They may earn more than the usual Asian professionals but it doesn’t prove a thing. Money can’t buy you common sense or an education at that. Well, okay the buck can go as far as paying for your books and shit BUT if you are mentally incapable of infusing your brain with solid facts - what’s the point right?

I have nothing against the color of your skin. But you can tell quick quickly how some folks were brought up by just observing the way they speak and treat other people. Okay guys don’t panic - I’m fine I wasn’t harassed or anything. But you do know me - I won’t back down but I will carry the fight to uphold the truth. How ever petty it may seem -Hahaha! Hihihi! Read on…

So a guy was giving me slack for not knowing how to cook meat properly. Uhm, if you’ve read The Undomesticated Goddess by Sophie Kinsella (if you even read at all…), you might as well have been introduced to me. Hihihi. I didn’t really care, I’ll work on my cooking skills when I need to feed people on a regular basis I guess. His opinion didn’t really matter to me… My view was enforced as our convos went on…

Out of the blue the dude said that since pork was white meat, it had to be cooked well done to get rid of Salmonella.

I corrected him. Actually, pork is red meat.

Kim, have you seen pork when its cooked? It should be white.

I laughed and replied. Whatever, I know its red meat - just like beef. I’ll even google it for you.

But he insisted and even asked we should ask his friend who likes food.

Err, was his friend a nutritionist or has even taken a basic home economics class? Come to think of it, any literate person who knows how to use a search engine can easily get the answer. Again his words had no bearing whatsoever on the topic.

It sounds pretty petty to be sooo absorbed about this. I guess it hit a nerve and I’m not afraid to blog it. Oh ew. Blogger. Hahaha!

So, after everything that we talked about, the dude still kept going back to the damn pork being white meat. He even had the nerve to say mumble something about people who don’t know better…

I was controlling myself because it was his gf’s (my good friend’s) birthday. I didn’t want to ruin the party by quarreling over nonsensical stuff.

Also, he had a comment about Romanians working in Ireland were taking all their money away from them. Err, dude they do work for the money - if they send it back to Romania - that’s their choice. It’s an equal exchange of services for goods. How silly to say that their money is being taken away from them because the Romanians are sending it back to their families. Im sure not all his countrymen think this way. It would be a sad sad thing if they all did. And if I believed that they were all the same as this roughie - what would that say about me…

So he went on to say that Ireland was poor before and blah blah blah… but they never did this. At the back of my mind, visions of a dozen Hollywood movies about Irish folks scraping a living in the US of A flashed. I know for a fact that for a time New York’s slums were jam packed of illegal Irish workers - who were actually sending money back home. Let’s not even go to the IRA. Come on even Leonardio di Caprio and Brad Pitt played leprechauns on the big screen!

Hmp. It was useless to even have a decent conversation with this dude so I just shut my mouth and drank my Bacardi to numb myself of the stupidity that he was blurting out.

Anyways we still went out and partied. He paid for my drinks and I drowned his annoying comments with alcohol and really awful music.

For those who got a lil curious - pork really is red meat. Here’s the proof… I did end up googling it.
1. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Red_meat
2. http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/health/4088824.stm