Note to the President

After having watched the live footage, listened when people talked and read the comments on the internet, I came up with my own version of a commentary and a solution. I have never given any unsolicited advice to the new Philippine President anywhere (Facebook, Twitter, etc.) and I didn't plan on doing it now because I don’t know if he will get the chance to read this—I’m sure he’s been reading all sorts of reactions and advice as of late and wouldn’t know where to start, if he is thinking of starting to find a solution at all. I just need to get this off my chest and move on. So be prepared for a long read.

But first, I have a question: How much does the average policeman in the US (or Australia or even Hongkong) earn in a month?

In the aftermath of Monday's hostage-taking drama in Manila, the subject has been thoroughly discussed and ruminated on. You can't open your inbox or Facebook account or Google site without seeing a note that refers back to it. There are also so many links on how the tragedy could have been avoided being posted on every social networking site that it’s difficult to ignore. So if you're a generally optimistic person (which I am), you'd be experiencing a relatively depressed emotion right about now (which I do).

But this melancholy didn't happen all at once. It started with disgust when the hostage-taker-- a policeman trained to protect the lives of innocent people-- shot his innocent hostages in the end and got himself killed by a sharpshooter. (If he was so sharp, how come he couldn’t have done it sooner? But that’s another story.) It didn’t help that the entire episode was televised live for over 10 hours and that the whole world was watching with breath drawn and hearts pounding. It didn’t help that the first people off the bus were the Filipino tour guide (released as negotiating point) and driver (fled the scene after escaping out the window), leaving their hapless foreign guests to the mercy of the armed man. It didn’t help to watch the growing number of policemen, S.W.A.T. and media standing around, reporting the incident, running back and forth… in essence, DOING NOTHING to help neutralize the situation. Yep, I was disgusted and irritated that I had to get up intermittently because it was chafing to watch.

My antipathy grew when noted that none of our newly-elected political figures, except for the vice mayor of Manila (who, by the way, I commend for at least trying to show that he was doing his duty but who wouldn’t really know what to do in situations like this), were present, not even virtually, not even a phone call. If this had happened in the province somewhere in the boondocks, then yes, maybe it would be understandable to say they couldn’t get there on time. But this happened in the Capital City of Manila, in a parking lot big enough to hold a helicopter or two. What happened? They didn’t think the situation didn’t require their immediate attention? They thought the local police could handle it themselves? Anyway, I don’t get it.

My anguish grew when, after reading some articles and theories and stories behind the case, I was shocked to learn that the policeman involved—a senior inspector or captain and a well-decorated one at that—was only earning about P19,000-20,000 a month! He was a highly skilled government employee, permitted to carry a weapon and use it in the efficient performance of his duty, and he put his life on the line EVERYDAY. And yet I earn more than he did by simply sitting in front of a computer and occasionally going out and telling visitors about the beauty of my country. No wonder he went crazy when his only source of income as well as all future benefits that would come from his retirement was abruptly taken away.

Upset slowly set in when the world condemned the Philippines as a whole because of the lack of training and equipment in a highly-specialized field of law- enforcement. Travel advisories (Hong Kong has blacklisted us) were declared against our country, cautioning their citizens to be wary when traveling around here (France). Filipinos abroad, in Hong Kong especially, are today being looked upon as the lowest beings on earth (if not already). News reports about Filipinos being maltreated BECAUSE OF what happened are filtering in. In an article on Tuesday about the incident (http://www.sfgate.com/cgi-bin/article.cgi?f=/g/a/2010/08/24/bloomberg1376-L7NB8M6TTDS501-2UQKD4Q7O0QACV35AOVTARVN6B.DTL#ixzz0xaqQVnMB), the Philippines is ranked #130 out of 149 countries with the worst peace and order management evaluation (Global Peace Index).

All this, because an underpaid, overworked, upstanding citizen, sworn to protect and serve his country, was removed from active duty for something he claimed not to have done (the case is still under investigation, I hope). And it all boils down to the fact that the illegal act of extortion would not have become such a controversially public issue (it’s done out in the open and without shame on the part of the authorities) if our law-enforcement agencies were being properly compensated for the skill and training they go through in their line of duty. I mean, is the pork barrel absolutely necessary? Can any of our politicians honestly say that the wage they earn is not enough that they have to be reimbursed many times over for projects they think up for the country they are elected to serve? Can’t some of it be budgeted for a long-overdue salary increase for all those men and women who have to resort to harassing the ordinary citizen to be able to pay for things such as basic needs?

As I see it, we are at the lowest point in all history of modern-day Philippines. I believe the challenge is not just to President Noy, but also to the Filipinos as a whole. All of us. Filipinos in the Philippines and abroad today should do it. Now. Change the image. Change the process. Change ourselves. Is that too much to ask?

This video was posted on Youtube and Facebok and was made by, of all people, a Korean, someone who is a visitor to our country and has decided to settle here because they saw it was a good place to live… until now.

To Filipinos: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CpiaLQOB4zo

My Trip Up North (last part)

Our drive back to Manila took roughly 12 hours.  Mama wanted to stop over somewhere like La Union of Pangasinan and stay the night so that the drive wouldn't be so tiring, but Joey insisted to going all the way in one go, because he had a meeting the next morning at 10:00am.  It was dark and we were hungry when we reached San Fernando, La Union and so we stopped by this unique-looking restaurant called Riverfarm, a fishpond complex turned restaurant, which served fresh seafood and vegetables.  The smaller kids liked it because there was a TV near the kitchen and Spongebob Squarepants was on.

After dinner, we all piled back into the car and continued on to Manila.  Needless to say, when we reached my brother's house in Marikina at around 5:30am, we were tired to the bone and had to take a couple of hours rest before proceeding to our hotel.

It was a loooong road trip, but I'd do it again if only to be able to visit new places with my family.

Mabuhay ang Turistang Pilipino!

Manila: A Crowded Break

I've lived in Bukidnon permanently since 1996.  That's 14 years almost to the day.  That's four more years than my academic life in Manila and twice the number of years I've been married.  Though living in a province far away from Manila is enjoyable, sometimes I still get that itch to return to the big city.  Why? 

 The Fort Skyline

 Metro Rail Transit along EDSA

 SM Megamall

 EDSA Shrine with Robinsons Galleria and Ortigas Center Skyscrapers

Which is why I try to make it a habit to come at least once a year, even for just a few days.  Sort of like a break.  A crowded break.

Live with constant change!

Poverty and the OFW

Yesterday, my mom and I arrived at the Ninoy Aquino International Airport Terminal 2 (Philippine Airlines) at exactly 1:15pm, right on schedule.  Unfortunately, due to a misinterpretation of our travel documents, my brother thought we were arriving at 3:00pm.  So to pass the time, we headed for the Jollibee kiosk located on the upper level, just outside the Departure Area.

The waiting area was packed with people, waiting for their flight to be called, waiting for their loved ones to pick them up (like us), waiting for whatever or whoever they had to wait for.  After ordering two hamburgers and two bottles of water (a total payment of P208), I brought the food over to Mama who was seated in the only remaining space next to where I had parked our baggage cart.  She was listening in to the conversation of the group of Visayan women waiting for their flight to be called for Qatar. When they left, they were replaced by another family.

At first glance, one could already see that the most important person in the group was the young man, dressed in a new blue collared shirt, clean jeans, and spotlessly shiny black shoes.  Dressed to impress, ika nga.  His companions were his lola (a not-so-old woman dressed only in a faded house dress or duster), his younger sister and several cousins or house members (all wearing short-shorts and house clothes and slippers).  Also, one could instantly make out a natural Tagalog accent.

The young man was a 22-year-old high school graduate whose family could not afford to send him to college, so he was going to try his luck as a mechanic's assistant in Riyadh.  He had relatives already there so it was easy for him to process his application.  Now they just had to wait for his licensing officer with the last of his travel documents, and then he was ready to go.  His luggage consisted of one suitcase, obviously new and bought just for this purpose.

I remember a Manilena friend once asked what kind of lifestyle the OFWs from Bukidnon had.  Her query was specific: were they as poor and hard-up as the OFWs from the squatter areas in Manila?  My reaction at the time was defensive.  I know several people who are working abroad in search of greener pastures (three of my brothers-in-law in particular) and none of them come from poverty-stricken lifestyles.  In fact, they had had somewhat comfortable lives here in the Philippines and had only gone abroad because they felt they could feed their families faster with the bigger incomes they could generate there.

Then I realized that my friend, who had been born, raised and lived in Manila all her life, was no different from many citizens of Luzon, who still believe that Mindanaoans are less fortunate than they and that becoming an OFW was the only way to survive in our kind of wilderness.  It was right about that moment when we began passing several houses with Dream satellite cable connections and I was pressed to point out that even on top of a mountain, people could afford to buy their own satellite dishes.

So what makes a Filipino decide to leave his family to work abroad?  Is it because he is poor?  Is it because he is dissatisfied with the way he is treated here?  Is it because he sees no future for his family here?

Whatever the reason, it is the same whether he is from Manila, Luzon, Visayas or Mindanao.  One cannot generalize for any island group, for we are one country, one race.  If only we could stand together, as one, then maybe we could change the world.

God Speed, OFW!

Pepeng Overshot Manila!

How anti-climactic!

On the bright side, everyone was prepared for the worst this time. Also, the volunteers (and donors) were finally able to take a breath, have that missed meal, take a nap and generally Thank God for all His blessings.

In the span of one week, a floundering third-world country on the brink of total chaos was transformed into a family doing everything in their power to help each other, from buying supplies for donation, to sending cash, to praying. Even with the reports that several politicians and government officials tried to turn the calamity into an electioneering campaign, the private citizens still won in the end.

We're Proud of You, Filipino! Keep it up!