The Philippine National Police is full of crooks, sometimes to the point of overflowing, but security guards as insiders is becoming a growing cottage industry, having graduated from two-bit jobs in pawnshops and money changers.
Take the case of the young girl whose cell phone was stolen by – get ready for this – a pregnant criminal in Landmark. The girl and her parents asked for help from a security guard, who ignored them and refused to radio for assistance.
The criminal escaped; she got by with a little help from her accomplice.
What Are We Filipinos Like?
We Filipinos are famous for being hospitable. Sadly, we are also major-league nitpickers so “hospitality” can sometimes mean “spit” and “hostility.”
The Philippines, Pearl of the Orient Seas, a gathering of 7,107 fiesta island (when it’s low tide)–the nation symbolized by the Three Stars and The Sun– is…strange.
The Jemaah Islamiyah terrorists in Indonesia want to live in Mindanao. The people of Mindanao, Visayas and Luzon want to live in Manila. And the people of Manila want to live in America.
We Filipinos have no racial discrimination. But there are those of us who, when we see white (Caucasians), we see green ($$$!). But then again, some of us are really color-blind, like that fellow who painted the National Museum a ghastly yellow.
We Filipinos say, “We would rather die than become a U.S. colony!” Americans say, “And who on earth told you we want you, hmm?”
We Filipinos love music. We express ourselves by singing, so much so that “Birthday parties” now means videooke and Red Horse beer ‘til the sun rises. Ask us, “Hey, what about the people who want to go to sleep but can’t because you’re too noisy?” We’d answer you, “What about them?”
Naturally, we have public sound systems in our park. An American friend asked me why Rizal Park – the national park of the Philippines–always play American music.
I said that’s because the first Filipino who wins a Grammy Award will become President. This partly explains why there are rumors flying around that IBO Junior Welterweight champion Manny Pacquiao will run for President.
(A note about Manny: we Filipinos love him but we don’t trust the people around him–the politicians who are using him for media mileage and his advisers who tell him to sign two contracts simultaneously.)
At the same time, we Filipinos hate silence. That’s why we have radios even in libraries. I remember finishing Dan Brown’s The DaVinci Code at the National Library with Guy Sebastian’s “Angels Brought Me Here” in the background. I’m writing this in May 2009 at the Manila City Library, and the song is “Desert Moon” by Styx.
What Is Wrong With Us?
History teaches us that all successful parliaments are essentially bicameral, and unicameral regimes always self-destruct-but apparently , we Filipinos have cultural ADHD.
Our Constitution may not be perfect, but it is workable: The problem is not our system but us-what we need is not Charter-change but psychotherapy.
Case in point: We have delusions of grandeur: When given a measure of authority, we become megalomaniacs like the proverbial fly on the carabao's back who shouts: "I'm the king of the world!"-then we follow-up with: "Please, don't let this feeling end!"
Furthermore, we're too greedy: What we do is our own business, but we ride on the achievements of other people-then we think they owe us their victories.
Also, we have paranoia: everybody's a subversive and a terrorist, and we burn book we haven't even read because other people who also haven't read them heard etc.
Plus, we have a fetish for mudslinging: our politics, showbiz, and mass-media revolve around malice, our national pastime is gossip, and we have obssessions about scandals.
On top of which, we have bi-polar disorder: We are either indifferent or hysterical-clearly, we're schizophrenic:
We want to be rich, but we hate businessmen.
We want to be famous, but we hate ambitious people.
We admire potential leaders, but we complain when they run for higher office.
We vote for movie stars, but we complain about celebrities in politics.
We call for professionalism, but we force teen stars to have affairs with each other.
We search for role models, but we force actors to dress like women and kiss each other.
Our idea of patriotism is Jamie Rivera's "Heal Our Land," but our idea of unity is Sinatra's "My Way."
We expect our kids to speak English, but we Tagalize everything.
We expect our students to be smart, but we conduct classes like refugee camps-and our SOP is to lower educational standards so they can gradute ASAP.
We demand our human rights, but we treat indigent patients like lepers and hospital watchers like beggars.
We demand due process, but we arrest poor suspects and fallguys without warrants then present them to the media without trial.
We want our prisoners to be rehabilitated, but we treat them like animals.
We hail the rule of law, but we sabotaged [whistleblowers] Nicole, Cam and Gudani-and encouraged [suspected masterminds] Garcillano, Bolante, Strunk and Palparan.
We lure foreign investors, but we can't even have honest public biddings.
We want a Strong Republic, but we can't even have honest elections.
We are "worth dying for," but we'd rather have "a government run like hell."
Our Dark Side
The reality TV show “Pinoy Big Brother” shows our most malicious fantasy–the omniscience to boost our egos.
The orientation of mass media illustrates our deep-seated inferiority complex – we need to see people scandalized because we want to think we're superior.
At the same time, insecurity drives us to go overboard for the six-thirty evening news to confirm our existence.
This is the reason why amending the Constitution will not change anything except the Charter–we have "A government run like hell" because it's part of our culture.
As the song “Man In The Mirror” goes: "If you wanna make the world a better place, take a look at yourself and make a change"–and the first step is to exorcise our own personal demons–not the Haunted House of Representatives.
Why I Want To Believe There Is Still Hope For The Philippines
As the late Senator Benigno Aquino Jr. wrote in his undelivered arrival statement, he returns "From exile to an uncertain future with only determination and faith to offer-faith in our people and faith in God."
We have always celebrated our undying optimism as a race, our fiesta mentality in the midst of a cyclone. From a historical perspective, we have gone through worse nightmares that today's political rollercoaster ride seems like a bump in the road. The Filipino as the ultimate survivor, if you will.
As long as we retain our gung-ho sense of humor, we'll be okay.
After all, for a country that has sired the likes of St. Lorenzo Ruiz, Jose Rizal and Carlos P. Romulo, we, the people, deserve more than a choice between the lesser of two evils. Discipline begins at the top, as every management guru would agree, and we deserve a government we can respect, trust and fight for.
Above all, we deserve more than our present public officials-gripped by the tentacles of partisan politics and vested interests.
Face To Face With A Freak Storm and Flashfloods
You get used to a lot of strange things when you live in the Philippines, like election frauds in showbiz awards. But nothing prepared anybody for typhoon Ondoy, a.k.a. Ketsana.
On the morning of September 26, I woke up and found my room already half-submerged in muddy water; the whole dorm, the compound, even the street outside, were sinking. This was at the heart of the University Belt in Manila, mind you.
I thought it would recede in a couple of hours – which is normal here.
I was wrong. Meanwhile I had to go out and eat anyway, so I waded to the nearest restaurant, then went to Morayta to pass the time in an Internet café. But I
couldn’t even cross Recto.
Things got worse – quickly.
The whole city is flooded with poisoned liquid, which was actually raging like a malignant river. Hundreds are stranded; some, like me, refused to be. I was slogging happily, like Gene Kelly in Singin’ In The Rain, but without the umbrella, much less the dance moves. But that was peanuts to what happened, as I found out later, to the entire Metro Manila.
The LRT 1 closed operation, and I was glad they re-opened by late afternoon. I rode to Pedro Gil to get to a friend’s house in the Paco area, near Quirino Highway (Figueroa Street, actually), which was elevated. They were glad to see me and equally happy that I was kind enough to swim by the market first. I bought food while the flood level is caressing my nipples, if you can imagine.
I spent that night dry and comfortable, fortified with food, listening to DzMM for a blow-by-blow account of the worst flood in nearly half a century, realizing that most of my country men are experiencing the exact opposite. There’s an element of guilt, but also a great measure of thanksgiving.
I returned to my room the next day, and saw that everything I owned were marinated, like chicken wings in soy sauce with calamansi lemons, the entire night. From the marks on the wall, the water level went just a couple of feet shy of the roof.
Almost a thousand books and magazines and files – including the only copy of my first novel’s original manuscript – transformed into a mountainous yucky soggy decaying Jabba the Hut. I’m starting all over again, and I’m not the only one.
Thousands of my country men died and lost all they had, but as TV host Boy Abunda memorably said: We have different stories, but they all lead to a single refrain – “Thank God we’re still alive.”
You Ain't Heavy! You're My Brother
We are all connected. An individual, in the metaphysical levels, share an indestructible bond with every man, woman and child; not only with those of the present, but also of the past and of the future. This empathy with our fellow human beings is the foundation of the noble side of our humanity.
The Mahabharata, one of the greatest spiritual documents known to man, teaches us to: “Do nothing to your neighbor which you would not hereafter have your neighbor do to you. A man obtains a rule of action by looking upon his neighbors like himself.”
A Wonderful World Page 8
