What Churches are Made Of

(Picture courtesy of http://www.thinkphilippines.com/manila/adventure-visit-quiapo.html)

Yesterday once again presented me with an opportunity to drop by Quiapo Church in Manila. The immediate environs of the church was hot, congested, and filthy.  You are assailed by the sights, sounds, and smells of too many pedestrians, grimy street urchins, curbside vendors hawking all sorts of folk herbal remedies and other wares, wretched people in pathetic rags cruising past elbow to elbow with everyone else.  I got quite a generous whiff of an air redolent with wet market grease and the familiar scent of riverwater brine.  Sturdy commercial establishments are the lofty fixtures entrenching Quiapo Church in place on nearly all sides, including a building-size drugstore, fastfood shops, mini malls, and a modestly large transient hotel.  And yet, inspite of the trappings of modern urban life which pervade this area, I've always regarded the whole place as a backwater, just another type of ghetto masquerading under a paper-thin veneer.

I spent most of my growing up years in and around Quiapo Church.  What never fails to catch my attention every moment I'm there is the stark prevalence of unmitigated, grinding poverty.  You won't fail to catch this impression when you're there.  It's also a very popular notion that the immediate areas around Quiapo Church are preying grounds for pickpockets, purse snatchers, and wily robbers.  

It simply nags me to no end that such a large church would be present in the midst of such a foment of depression without making so much as a difference.  Like I mentioned, I've practically spent more than half of my life around Quiapo Church, and the conditions of the people you readily observe just outside of it haven't changed much in the over two decades I've been going there.  The same homeless winos sleep against the Church's formidable exterior walls.  The same number of dirty, unkempt children peddling cheap rosaries and scapulars gaggle around churchgoers begging them to buy anything, please, I need the money for food.  The same wrinkled faces would greet you and offer to sell you herbal remedies or miraculous amulets for a pittance.  And the same zombies roam around in drug-induced stupor, bodies bloated in malnutrition and hunger, some of them almost unimaginably deformed because of disease.  

Quiapo Church has withstood the cesspool around it with dominating ease.  I look up at its ornate and relatively hulking architecture and I think, what does a structure like this tell me about the haughty people who struggle to keep it as elegant as possible and yet obtusely neglecting what stares at them right in the face just outside their walls?  It reminds me of tales of medieaval era landlords, who concern themselves with beautifying their own castles and towers and minarets and enclaves, trying to outdo one another for the sake of caprice and pride, while ignoring the oppressed plight of the peasants around them, spending days and nights in wine and luxury.  It reminds me of callousness and greed.

It's common knowledge that Quiapo Church requires millions of pesos just for its upkeep every year.  It boasts of the best quality concrete, stone, and glass.  Its interiors are meticulously kept maintained to immaculate condition by perhaps the best that money can afford.  And there is no doubt that the priests enjoy much much more pleasant accommodations and meals in the Church's refectories compared to what scores of peasants have to endure just outside.  Just a few steps outside.

Most of these resources, of course, are fed to the Church by the avid churchgoing public, since every Mass held would yield heavy amounts of cash whenever sacristans pass around the bags where churchgoers would dutifully deposit however much money they could give.  In short, the Holy Sacrament of Mass is the Church's cash cow.  The Church would also receive plenty of donations from businessmen and other financial entities present in the Quiapo area, and there is no doubt that there are simply too many of them here ( including, of course, the SM conglomerate of companies, which has its roots firmly planted in Quiapo and Binondo ).  The Church also collects monies for weddings, baptims, funeral masses, christenings, confirmations...the list is endless. It would be hard to picture the humongous amounts of cash flowing into Quiapo Church every month.  I would picture it reaching high up to the heavens, perhaps.

Where would most of those resources go?  To the upkeep of the Church, maybe?  To the meals of the priests?  To the decorations of the Church interior?  For supplying the voluminous robes of countless members of the clergy?  For rennovating the Church building itself?

It seems an insult to me that Quiapo Church, which is supposed to be a glowing beacon of God's Mercy, Love, and Spirit of Giving, remains to be an ivory tower that shields itself from its duty to those immediately surrounding it.  Wouldn't it be better if they alloted portions of their property to building a medical center where the malformed derelicts just outside their walls could rehabilitate for free?  What would it harm the religious establishment in Quiapo Church to erect another drugstore that sold cheaper medicine right in front of the more expensive drugstore?  What if the handouts from the faithful churchgoers were pooled together to establish a food station where the homeless could avail of free meals three times a day?  Just where does the flood of money flowing endlessly into this Church end up anyway?

A recent suggestion has cropped up among Pinoy government officials enjoining Pinoy telecom companies to allot around 20% of their income from text messaging into forming a public fund for bolstering education among poor Pinoy children.  The idea has been floated around that since Pinoy telecom firms earn so much from their enterprises, it would be a necessary social obligation for them to share a bit of their revenues for the welfare of the greater number of those who are in need.  How come no one ever thought of the earnings of even as simple an entity as Quiapo Church as a source of public funding?

Then again, the Catholic Churches in our country have always been shielded from any form of "social obligation" ever since the time of the Spaniards during the 15th to the 19th centuries.  Quiapo Church is just one of the multitudes of other buildings that seem to unabashedly siphon money onto themselves without ever giving any substantial amount back to the people who need it more.  Thus, the prevalance of poverty around many Catholic Churches in our country.  It makes me shake my head.  Statistics would still bear out that, however numerous Churches of all denominations are found in the Philippines, our crime rate hasn't gone down any significant bit.  It seems that no matter how many Pinoys find more and more buildings to worship in ( it wold appear that a new building for worship is being built every day somewhere in the Philippines ), more and more Pinoys are finding more and more excuses to cheat and steal from one another, to murder each other, to rape each other.

Nope, the Churches haven't been making any difference at all, even if they do virtually number in the millions.

If this is what Churches are actually made of, I'd rather not give a single penny to any one of them.

 

   

    

   

   

Is Our Pinoy Economy So, uhm, Well...Worthless?

This is a glowing report from a certain Pinoy economic analyst which was published through chain emails around 3 months ago:

PLDT continues to lord it over listed companies in the Philippines, topping once again the 2007 list of most profitable companies. PLDT earned a net income of P36.0 Billion in 2007, 2.5% higher than its 2006 take. A far second in the list is Ayala Corporation which cleared P16.2 Billion in net income, 33% more than its 2006 earnings. However, two other Ayala companies, made it to the top 5. Globe Telecom earned P13.2 Billion and made it to #3 while BPI, the country’s most profitable bank, landed 5th with a net income of P10 Billion. Henry Sy’s SM Investments Corp, made P10.0 Billion last year, good for #4 on the list.

12 Most Profitable Philippine Companies

#1 - PLDT, P36.0 Billion

#2 - Ayala Corporation Holding, P16.2 Billion

#3 - Globe Telecom Services, P13.2 Billion

#4 - SM Investments Corp., P12.0 Billion

#5 - Bank of the Phil. Islands, P10.0 Billion

#6 - Phil. National Oil Company, P8.65 Billion

#7 - San Miguel Corporation, P 8.63 Billion

#8 - JG summit Holdings, P 8.61 Billion

#9 - Piltel, P 8.3 Billion

#10 - APC Group, P 7.2 Billion

#11 - Metrobank, P 7.0 Billion

#12 - Banco de Oro, P 6.5 Billion

At first glance, one could casually conclude that, with the big money these Pinoy companies reportedly earned, the average Pinoy would then have little reason to opine that the country is dirt poor. These figures, instead, seem to indicate a healthy and vibrant economy, filled with formidable companies and enterprises which would have the utmost capability of employing millions of Pinoy workers and would be able to compensate them heftily, just like any other First World economy is capable of. Yeah right.

Fact is, whenever I see these statistics being bandied about as if Pinoy companies were shining paragons of wealth and glut, it always makes me dizzy with regret and dismay. If one would take the time to frame these same representations of allegedly outstanding financial spreadsheets within the much bigger picture of global economics, even these numbers amounting to billions of pesos would disappear unnoticed in the middle of a gathering of far more impressive mountains of figures.

Come on, my fellow Pinoys, let's admit it. No matter how much PLDT should tout itself as the biggest earning Pinoy company, that same entity would pale in comparison to other such companies that operate in other Asian countries just next door. Let's put this in the proper perspective, please. PLDT is a Pinoy telecommunications giant which has been in operation in the Philippines since the pre-World War II era. Well, SingTel of Singapore is in the same line of business, and was incorporated much later. And yet, considering that PLDT is the older company of the two, which of them would earn more in a year? Of course, there is almost no need to answer that it would be SingTel, which boasts of services which even PLDT is paying it to perform for us Pinoys ( specifically satellite services for cellphone transmissions ).

Such lists like the ones above sound more like mere bragaddocio. Why don't we just take a look at the top earning companies in Korea? We don't need to research that much about them, you see, because they would probably be pretty obvious. Extrapolating from what is apparent to most of us, then ( because these same companies readily make their presence known here in our own country ), let us say that top three Korean companies in terms of revenue are:

1. Samsung - quite easy to assume as at the top spot because almost all PC's in the Philippines and all over the world have components made by Samsung; this, aside from the ubiquitousness of its other products like HD TV's, cellular phones, etc.

2. Hyundai - the number 1 producer of top-of-the-line seafaring vessels all over the world, as well as manufacturer of its own line of automobiles

3. Kia - car manufacturer

Wow, compared to these three giants, all Pinoy top twelve companies could be comparable to ants loitering underfoot.

Korea, which, like the Philippines, was also practically razed to the ground during World War II, now suddenly possesses a roster of extremely profitable companies which dominate the world. On the other hand, our number 1 Pinoy company, PLDT, is touting itself as the leader only in one country. It's like saying, yeah, Sarao may have been at one time the most prevalent brand of jeepney in the Philippines, but it seems to be lilliputian when placed against Toyota, which is number one wherever anybody travels around the world.

Doesn't this make it appear that our Pinoy economy is, well, just flat out worthless? The Korean companies mentioned above employ many hundreds of thousands of workers of different nationalities in Asia, Europe, the Americas, and the Middle East. PLDT employs...how many workers in one single country? If you were to shoot down all PLDT offices with nuclear arsenal, the world at large would nary feel a shudder. PLDT simply wouldn't make a difference. The whole world economy would proceed on as it always has, as if PLDT never even existed in the first place.

Now, imagine some crackpot terrorist organization pulling off the ultimate stunt and demolishing all traces of Samsung everywhere. All world continents would probably feel its ruin, and the loss would be almost unimaginable. With Samsung's earnings feeding the pockets of so many millions of people around the world, its demise would well be a catastrophe of gargantuan proportions.

And we're just taking into consideration one giant company here. There are lots of other bigshot firms out there which control the life or death of the world economy. It's quite a long list. Unfortunately, NOT ONE PINOY COMPANY would belong in that list...if we were to say that PLDT is the biggest we have.

Might as well erase the whole Philippines from the world map. Nobody would miss anything we've earned anyway.

Maybe it's about time that our Pinoy leaders start thinking about this.

The Unerasable Eraserheads

( This was published at abs-cbn.com's webpage. I was offered the chance to write for them just this once. Good thing it was about the Eraserheads' reunion concert last August 30, which was presented at the Fort Bonifacio Open Field. It was reported that the crowd attendance broke the record previously set by the Beyonce concert at that same venue. Hmmm. )

Unerasable: Life and love in the eternal circus of rocking youth

---

By Reggie Gulle, Special to abs-cbnNEWS.com | 08/31/2008 10:30 PM

An on-the-scene report and reflection on our collective near-death-experience -- and hey, Ely Buendia is still alive

You've probably heard of the sobering news by now: Ely Buendia of the Eraserheads was rushed to hospital in the middle of the band's highly anticipated reunion concert, and what was supposed to be Pinoy Rock's event of the decade had to be stopped halfway through in front of audiences who were shown the exits with rather abrupt finality.

That this unexpected turn was a bitter disappointment to some quarters of the crowd would be quite an understatement; yes, the event organizers did outwardly announce that Buendia's life was in danger even while fans were salivating for the concluding portion of the show, but this was totally lost on some inflamed youths, who shouted vitriolic epithets to the effect that Ely Buendia should pay the ultimate price for forsaking his duty to the concert goers and should just...well, expire would be the kindest word for it.

I should know—I was there, standing beside this cruel-looking gang of punters, hearing what they must have been thinking was the ultimate expression of rebellious indignation. And while they might not have represented the majority, they were also clearly not alone.

Sure, it could be said that such a reaction reflects a callous and selfish, even scandalous indifference that an Eraserheads fan should never indulge in.

After all, hasn't it already been circulating among the legions of Pinoy Rock aficionados that Buendia has already had a brush with an anomalous life-threatening condition before? Why betray him, then, whatever latitude you could afford to give?

The very fact that the band could muster the resources and the motivation to reunite several years after what seemed to be an irreversible break-up and put together a program onstage can already be argued as the most positive result one could ask for.

Besides, the concert actually did happen despite being dogged by some controversies that seemed to conspire together to prevent it from taking off the ground in the first place.

Including, it should be mentioned, the very recent death of Buendia's mother. All the more reason to justify the statement that he was plagued by unkind amounts of “emotional stress” during the performance itself.

And so, immediately after the first half of the concert, Buendia felt a heaviness under his chest, which was a red flag against carrying on with the show, and the most sensible thing to do was to immediately haul him off to the doctors before his own medical history would have a chance to repeat itself.

And yet, one could easily sense the brooding disquiet of the crowds as they gradually shuffled out the exits. I wasn't in the paid area of the Fort Bonifacio Open Field, mind you ( I was content to sit it out beyond the fenced-in patrons area enjoying the company of scores of other wretched souls like me, having decided like them that, hey, I could hear the concert even from this far anyways, even without paying for the privilege, ha ha! ), but it was evident among the scrunched up faces of those leaving the concert area that fate had pulled on them a malicious and completely uncalled for sleight of hand, a massive criminal swindle, so to speak.

It was a bummer of bummers, all right, and the more vocal youths were not remiss at voicing out what they thought of it. Someone had to put the blame on something, anything, right? Even if, unfortunately, it was a person on the wrong end of the stick.

Because, in retrospect, the concert had come very, very close to fulfilling its promise -- a harking back, no, a reliving of what the Eraserheads essentially was. Ah yes, a palpable throwback to the 90's, when the rock band exercised a magic which was, for all that it mattered, simply phenomenal.

E-heads sa tanghali, sa gabi at umaga...

Back then, the Internet was in infancy, and yes, there were more beepers compared to cellphones, more cassette tapes than CDs, more videotapes than DVDs, and the hackney chatrooms weren't as sleek and as glossy as Yahoo Messenger.

Text messaging was a novelty as luxurious as, well, waterbeds, and there was absolutely no Friendster. But there were a lot of other things to do, too, perhaps because students (who became the first rabid core of Eraserheads fanatics ) could already squeeze into a 50 pesos per day allowance so many forms of entertainment within the week.

Movie tickets were way cheaper at that time, for one, and rock bands performing in universities and campuses were the staple diversions after the drudgery of schoolwork, instead of the internet cafes of today.

It was 1993, and the Philippines was enjoying the beginning of an economic upswing that the general population not only heard about but actually felt, no matter that the resurgence was a bit muted. MC Hammer and Vanilla Ice had come and gone, and Metallica was inspiring a slew of Pinoys out to prove that little brown rockers could also deliver their own brand of musical mayhem.

Then, seemingly out of the blue, four school chums, who looked and dressed as unassumingly as the typical college-boys in tee-shirts and jeans and sneakers casually hanging out in front of dormitories after class, had a stroke of inspiration and put together an LP of their original compositions. It was titled, rather in come-what-hither fashion, "Ultraelectromagneticpop”, and credited as being presented by “The Eraserheads”.

It was trendy in those days for Pinoy rock bands to take their cue from more current Western influences, and so they tended to sound so much like the “alternative rock” bands from the Atlantic. What was different about the sound of the Eraserheads was that it somehow had a grounding in musical forms that other Pinoy bands hadn't explored as frequently.

Most noticeable about their first album was how the band didn't attempt to sound as angry or blistering as punk or thrash metal ( which Metallica allegedly first popularized ), nor did they try to ride along the remnants of the “New Wave” sound ( reduced to the generic term “alternative rock” ).

Instead, they managed to produce a distinctive amalgamation of bouncy rhythms and deceivingly simple arrangements which drove the Pinoy folk-rock-and-pop sensibility up a few hard-driving notches, together with upbeat smatterings of reggae, ska, and for the most part--yes, that unmistakeable Beatles-like energy.

It was a departure from what other Pinoy rock bands were doing, but it was subtle, to be sure, and yet also unique enough to become immensely popular, radio-friendly, and surprisingly anthemic. “Pare Ko”, the first hugely successful single from that album, could very well epitomize the almost unexpected infectiousness of the band's musical appeal.

While the song could never be classified as “alternative rock” since it sounds in no way like others of that ilk ( it is fast and energetic but not searingly so ), neither is it as passionately vocalized as the “grunge” of Pearl Jam or Soundgarden ( which, by the way, is ultimately rooted in blues music ).

Since then

In fact, “Pare Ko” sounds more like a pack of Pinoy drunkards trying to wake themselves up into a rowdy gusto by loudly singing whatever fast melody they could conjure to make them happy. The song is tongue-in-cheek, it never took itself too seriously despite its theme of betrayed love, it sounded Pinoy, and it was rock and roll.

After that album became one of the best-selling Pinoy rock albums of all time, the rest, as they say, is history. Seven albums and a multitude of awards later, it seemed that the Eraserheads were on a rocket ride which could never come down.

And when it finally did, the fans appear to have forgotten when, how or where. Yes, the band broke up in 2002, and as of this writing that would be six years ago, yet their songs still enjoy a considerable amount of airplay, and the ever-ubiquitous videoke singers out in the streets and inside smoky bars continue belting out tunes such as “Alapaap”, “Overdrive”, “Ligaya”, and that thoroughly overkilled ditty “Ang Huling El Bimbo”.

In a way, the Eraserheads have still endured inspite of the members having all gone their separate ways, and no matter how many other Pinoy rock bands have attempted to take over their mantle. And what better evidence of this than the massive attendance at their reunion concert?

I confess that I have never been a rabid fan of the Eraserheads, but I also have to say that I could mention no other Pinoy rock act which could muster the sheer patronage which Ely Buendia, Marcus Adoro, Buddy Zabala, and Raymund Marasigan still demonstrate, even after six years of not performing together.
And so they take to the stage once again, and in their trademark style of being spare in their live sets, only a brief introduction is made before they bring on the music. “Alapaap” opened their set, and I could instantly see the electrified reaction of the crowds.

They were truly transported back when you could never get through the day without at least hearing two Eraserheads tunes. The four guys onstage are maestros of the straight-up, no-frills performance, with hardly any let-up from one song to the next, and very little conversations with the crowd ( and with each other, in this case, with reasons only reserved to themselves ).

Into their fifth song, “Fruitcake”, people were still lined up at the box-office, never mind the same admission price despite missing out on whatever the early birds had.
I sat on a curbside and jived along to the rhythms, feeling relieved that there was no rain, losing myself every once in a while to the familiarity of hearing the band perform live again, which I last had the chance of experiencing more than a decade ago.

Then Buendia made a cursory introduction of the song “Toyang”, and the first few bars brought both those inside and outside the cordoned area off their feet, jiggling their hips and singing enthusiastically along.

Hearing that old tune from them once again, I begin to notice how better they sounded this time around, in stark contrast to their former performances during their heyday, when they were often faulted for not sounding as technically excellent onstage compared to their recorded sound. I credit them for taking the time to practice well for this appearance.

“Toyang” was such a surge of energy for most of the audience that during the succeeding songs, Buendia had to ask them “Okey lang ba kayo diyan?” once or twice because the enthusiasm appeared to peter out somewhat.

But there was no denying the women's screams when the band proceeded to sing “Kailan” ( a cheesy ode to love ), as well as the more raucous audience reactions into their other hits “Kaliwete”, “With A Smile”, “Shake Your Head”, and “Huwag mo Nang Itanong”.

Curtain

In total, they got to about 15 songs when the now infamous mid-show break came around, was timed for 20 minutes, and then suddenly dissolved into a cancellation of the second set.

During that 15-song stretch, I could not help but be astonished at how the audience reacted identically, given that some of them weren't even born when some of these selfsame songs were first aired on radio.

I saw cosmopolitan yuppies in their early-to-late thirties singing along to the lyrics simultaneous with the 12 and up crowd, whose fashion sense veered more to the “emo” set and the other varieties of more contemporary rock styles. It just shows how the Eraserheads' appeal has in this indefinable manner crossed generations, and speaks of an element in their sound which truly gives credence to the term “Pinoy Rock”.

Because, in sum, the Eraserheads' sound, far beyond the others I get to hear from most other local bands, is quite essentially the spirit of the Pinoy. Buendia's schoolboy vocals draw in Pinoys from all walks of life because it sounds so much like everyone of us that we don't hesitate to sing along, and there's no need to rattle off machinegunning syllables like gangsta rappers or sound like Afro-American blues singers or caterwaul like Axl Rose.

The instrumentations from Adoro, Zabala, and Marasigan aren't as intimidating as those of other rock bands we often listen to, and many of us are also regaled to try out what they do ourselves. Their very accessibility, their easygoing demeanor, and ultimately, the predominance of effortless mirth in their sound particularly encapsulate what most Pinoys crave for, in the end. And as I said, for us Pinoys this is still rock and roll, now matter how old you are, whether you may be rich or poor, and it's excellent.
Which is exactly why, even now, it may be a reunion for the band, but it could well be what Pinoys have been sorely missing for so long, too. Especially in these trying times--the country being ridden with all sorts of crises, economic and otherwise-- when that same upsurge of easygoing mirth seems to have disappeared all of a sudden, and left a sort of vacuum inside most of us.

It was only regrettable that the audiences who were expecting to rise above this mood, perhaps during the second set of the performance ( since the first set had already been leading up to a crescendo ), was presented with a downbeat result.

Sorry, but that's the way the world turns, no one to really blame here. Even those whose frustration took on more alarming ways of expression. No doubt, this concert will be judged in time as another indelible memory to be associated with the Eraserheads, who I am convinced will still remain unerasable after all is said and done.

As we Pinoys like say to ourselves in consolation, there might always be a next time. There might. Meanwhile we can always remind ourselves that, yeah, they try to tell us we're too young, but don't worry, we'll go into overdrive, and when they try to feed you with all that dog food that they make you just shake your head and walk away, there's a fruitcake for everybody, t--g i-a pare ko, huling el bimbo, oo, pero laging may ligaya, sa tanghali, sa gabi, at umaga.

Hazy Reflections on the Pasig River

(Image From http://www.daylife.com/photo/0eQX9ku8MK9mJ )

No one, absolutely nobody, among the inhabitants of Metro Manila would register shock at the sight of so mundane a city fixture as the Pasig River. This dense and dominating body of water cutting a wide and swirling path across nearly the whole width of the metropolis has by now been taken for granted by everyone. Of course it is polluted, foetid, and as grimy as an underground sewer. Of course no one in their right minds would bathe in it, since this biological habitat has most definitely been taken over by organisms hostile to anything healthy and alive (albeit there are still a few poor wretched souls who still bother to take a dip to escape the heat). Of course it is regarded more an open freeway to rusty, muck-encrusted trawlers and tugboats than a river. And of course it is the catchbasin for every sort of industrial and domestic waste. Generations of Metro Manila's inhabitants have regarded the Pasig River as such and this same attitude would arguably stick for a few more generations to come.

How far and distant the idea of what a river ought be to the populace of such a Big City, already become the domain of high-rise buildings and condominiums scrambling and competing for space with concrete residences and hackney ghetto communities. As far and distant as the rivers and tributaries of water still accommodating many remaining less-urbanized areas, where they provide food, irrigation, livelihood, and the sparkle of nature less-defiled.

In Metro Manila, a simpler disturbance such as a house fire would create more of a stir than one glance at the sorry and dire state of the Pasig River, something that has been carrying on for quite a longer stretch of time.

Yes, I've been city-bred, but this has not insulated me from exploring greener and more environmentally-sound locations. What I notice there is that rivers are apprehended more in this way:( Photo courtesy of http://i.pbase.com/u26/kiko6/large/31652469.5LOBOCRIVER6.jpg )

Looking at the image above, one cannot help but be drawn in to this river's peacefulness and pristine clarity. You could almost see yourself throwing all caution to the wind and diving in, feeling assured that doing so would be among one of this earth's greatest and nearly unfathomable blessings. After all, aren't rivers meant to be so?

Here in Metro Manila, I always hear of people longing for water. The tropical heat is no joke, and the yearning for any escape is certainly justified. Working professionals spend great sums on lengthy expeditions to distant beaches and swimming resorts for this luxury. It sounds farfetched to imagine today that there was a time when Metro Manila folk didn't have to embark on such costly getaways to enjoy the bounty of water. Just before World War II, the Pasig River afforded both the rich and poor this very same solace.

Mention this to any passing city-person right now and it would sound like some cheesy attempt at humor. However, if one would only take the time to read a bit of the city's history, it would yield that same precise fact, and remains a part of the relevant past which cannot be denied.

Back then, the Pasig River was sanitary enough to take a splash in, never mind that people also washed their clothing there and took to riding boats on it. Back then, this river was the romantic and sweetly hospitable river anyone would be grateful to have right at their doorsteps. The Pasig River's importance those days was of such a paramount degree that the Presidential Palace was built on its flanks, and still stands there today. Which would only mean that the river was once also the playground of the high and mighty.

What a far cry from what the present generation sees--a woeful, stinking mess.

Being the commuter that I am, travelling to and fro across Metro Manila almost often brings me to the panorama of the Pasig River, somehow always stretching to the horizon. Through all of those times, I could not help but be struck by its breadth and size, and be astonished by how, even after every punishment it has had to endure, the rhythm of its undulations and the gracefulness of its surface still evokes a kind of harmony and stillness seldom experienced amidst the haste, smog, and treachery of the city. Something about it endures in the heart, something approaching the divine within the chaos, if approached properly.

Many civic groups are advocating for the cleanup and renewal of the Pasig River. However, it seems to me that simply proclaiming this as an act to save the environment is showing to be an ineffective slant to motivate people. If only Metro Manila folk were re-educated about what the Pasig River actually once was and what it could still become. Today's generation looks to ultra-chic malls and business districts in Metro Manila as premiere destinations, both in that they are mostly air-conditioned, which meets the need to escape the heat, and that they are also haunts for lovelorn couples, which would appeal to the passion and romance of Pinoys. Should these same people be reminded that, not too long ago, the Pasig River also was the bastion of these same pursuits...then it can be that way again.

Just imagine a Pasig River once again a welcome respite from the world, ready and willing to delight you any time along its whole engrossing length, encompassing more acreage and possibilities for amusement and romance than any mall could provide. It could still become that garden in your backyard you struggle hard to maintain and beautify. It could still be that locket which you so perserveringly value above all other possessions, to be kept immaculately unblemished because of its enduring attachment to your heart.

Perhaps, with this healthier respect for what the Pasig River was, and what it could still hold for us and for the generations to come, then there will arrive the possibility that everyone can take part in starting the change.

An Extortionist Government

The cab driver had a lot to complain about. It's not just about the continuous rise in the prices of oil, he tells me. It's also about how the Pinoys in government deceive you into thinking they're doing something to address it and make life easier for the simple folk, then end up formulating laws which take more money away from you in the end.

Take this simple example, the cab driver says to me. First the government assures the cab drivers that a new law has been passed ordering a rise in taxi fares. It actually sounds pretty okay at first glance. However, the government also requires that individual taxi cabs pay a certain additional tax ( read: fee ) so that the cabdrivers would have the legal right to be able to charge these higher fares. It didn't matter that cabdrivers would have to pay this tax only once--just count the millions of cabdrivers who have to do so in order to start charging higher fares, and you can sum up the government's take in the hundreds of millions. In other words, before the cab drivers start earning more, they would have to pay a bit more, too.

The moment I hear this, I am reminded of common street thugs who approach you and say they won't harm you unless you hand over some, just this once. Talk about bullying and extortion.

Except this time, it's those big shots in high places who are talking. Pinoy politicians always have solutions to hunger and desperation in our country, but you have to fork over more money before you can avail of them. Yep, every piece of effective legislation always requires an additional burden on the pocket. The already stiff taxes you pay aren't really enough.

Now take a look at this, the cabdriver tells me. He points to a sort of rectangular plastic ornament hanging down his windshield. It's a card that says "On-Duty" on one side and "Off-Duty" on the other. Those government officials came up with a new law instituting the obligatory placement of these cards on all taxi cabs, he tells me. It is meant to show whether a cab driver is willing to take passengers ( On-Duty ) or is on break ( Off-Duty ). It is by all intents and purposes supposed to be against the law for cabdrivers to take this ornament off its place on their windshields, or to be without it in the first place, for that matter.

Of course it goes without saying that cabdrivers have to buy these godforsaken cards first. Which means that the government earns a bit more yet again. If cabdrivers make do without buying the cards in order to be able to save at least a bit of precious money for their own, then the government is only to eager to arrest them--and fine them. Again, more money for the government.

It kind of reminds you of the way with which the Italian mafia used to extort money from storeowners--pay up or we'll take you down.

It just goes to show that the present government is all to willing to dangle all sorts of promises...for a price. Will the time come when, God forbid, we'll be turning into another Myanmar, where people were struck down with calamity and food aid would be made available to the desperate victims only after some bribes were exchanged? Truth to tell, we Pinoys may well be on the same situation even now.

Oh the horror of it all.

Should Pinoys Be More Like Pakistanis?

It was a news item on BBC Asia Today. Pakistani students who graduated from university in countries outside Pakistan are coming back to their home country to contribute to its development. Pakistani businessmen whose enterprises have flourished in other countries aside from their own are also coming back to Pakistan to establish new money-making ventures with the hope of chipping in their own share.

Why the hell are they doing this? Are they stupid? I mean, Pakistan is poor and wretched just like any Third World country. Just like the Philippines. Millions of people there live in shantytown ghettoes, just like many people in the Philippines. The majority of people there are inadequately educated, are hungry, desperate for money, and for the most part also either underemployed or simply unemployed. Just like many Pinoys in the Philippines. This is the reason why so many Pakistanis have also left their country to look for better lives and opportunities abroad. Just like millions and millions of Pinoys!

And yet, Pakistanis who have found greener pastures in other countries are going back to Pakistan. So noticeable was this mass action that it was worthy of being noticed by an international news agency. Why? It is a question that would probably make any Pinoy overseas scratch his or her head. Oh yes. Why indeed. Pinoys who make it good in other countries would never ever consider going back to the Philippines. What for?

But these Pakistanis offer a simply-stated reason. "We owe it to our country to make it better," I remember one of them saying in an interview. Those other Pakistanis interviewed in the same segment used other words and phrases, but this goal of making their otherwise poor country better was the general sentiment amongst them. Well, wouldn't you know, these people still see hope for their nation!

Then again, perhaps Pakistan does have a chance of overcoming whatever problems might be dragging it down. Who can tell? Perhaps one day in the future, we Pinoys might see "Made in Pakistan" on cellular phones, shoes, toys, clothes, television sets, or whatever, as ubiquitously as those "Made in China". Perhaps there might come a time when we Pinoys would see our grandchildren working in Pakistani-owned offices, following orders from Pakistani bosses. It might even come to the point when unfortunate Pinays forced to sell their bodies for money might even see Pakistan as a viable destination, just like how many of these same unfortunate women perceive Japan today.

If ever that time does come, there'd be no doubt that these Pakistanis who went back home for their country would have played a large part in engendering it.

We Pinoys aren't the first nation of people who have gone to other countries by the millionfold because of our unenviable station in life. Way back, long long ago, the Chinese were already settling in other territories even before Magellan had landed in the Philippines. Much later, when Columbus landed on North America, it was the turn of those from Ireland, from Poland, from Italy, and from dozens of other countries, to go to America to establish their own stake at better lives.

We Pinoys are not the first race of people who have ever tried to find jobs and successful futures in other places. We are definitely not the first race of people to be labelled as "domestic helpers". It just so happens that right now, in our present milieu, we seem to be the only race of people who do anything and everything to deny our own Pinoy-ness. We hate being simply Pinoy. A Pinoy in America has to be Fil-Am. A Pinoy in Germany has to be Fil-German. Jose Rizal, who lived in and travelled to many places, in this frame of thinking, ought to have been called Fil-Am, Fil-German, Fil-French, Fil-Swiss, or Fil-wherever else he might have gone. Strangely enough, he preferred to be simply called Pinoy. Maybe because he felt proud of it.

Is there anything wrong with Pakistanis feeling so much obligated to make their own country better after having gone abroad? Would there be anything wrong for us Pinoys to feel the same way? Those Pakistanis are motivated with an overwhelming need to bring their country back up from the morass of political corruption and widespread poverty it is mired in today. When will Pinoys who have made it big in other countries feel the same way?

What A Police Officer Taught Me

Not three nights ago I had to pay a visit to some far off police station. No, don't get any ideas. I wasn't under arrest. One of my dearest friends had fallen victim to a 25,000-peso worth theft and had requested me to drop by the police station with him. The cops had already nabbed the suspect, and the complaint had been lodged.

It was around 11 o'clock in the evening, and we strode into the dingy looking police station not having the least idea of what to do. My friend was holding two sheets of paper with print on it--his copy of the complaint. He was intending to communicate with one particular cop, the officer who had helped him file this same complaint, simply to ask whether the suspect had already posted bail or was still being held at the police station's detention cell. It was a sweltering night, and the foyer was populated with visitors like us and a sprinkling of officers in blue uniforms. My friend and I being the most recent newcomers, one of the officers approached us and asked us what we needed.

I have an uncle who used to be a cop, and I tend to think of him as my second father. Back when he was still in the force, he would sometimes take me along with him to headquarters, just for fun. I was a kid back then, and I never really took deep notice of how my uncle's fellow cops talked to visitors walking in. For the most part, however, I kind of enjoyed how police officers would often engage in rowdy behavior at headquarters--this would include feeling their egos just palpably bulge out at you with their strong, booming voices and the particular machismo in their stare, as if they were measuring you up as an opponent.

But I'm not a curious kid anymore, and my friend and I were now in unfamiliar territory, and we needed help from these cops. This particular officer who approached us asked the right questions, and yet displayed an attitude of dismissiveness, and outright roughness, as if we weren't civilians seeking help from the law but were rather unwanted reprobates. You notice the difference between asking a flight stewardess to guide you towards your seat and asking a surly security guard to allow you into a restricted area. Man, oh man, this cop wanted us off his back, as if we were bothering him in the middle of hectic work. You could tell it in his voice and his repellant stare.

Of course we generally think low of Pinoy cops. At certain times I tend to disagree with this opinion, since I've known many officers and I am very much aware of the real reasons behind their apparent--let's just say--unsaintliness. And yet, in this instance, this display of attitude was uncalled for. After all, a bit of courtesy would have certainly made a big difference.

Okay, let's just assume that the cop we were talking to was in fact simply the typical gruff fellow with the inflated ego. There are many people like this at the office, too. However, reflecting back on it later, I envisioned a scenario if foreigners came into the station, and this same officer encountered them instead of us.

Go ahead, try to imagine the situation for yourself. In all probability this otherwise crude guy would perhaps be meek, deferent, more courteous, and accommodating towards them. I've been witness to similar circumstances before, and don't tell me it doesn't happen.

It's an attitude which I myself have been guilty of in many other instances before. Quite simply, it is this--we Pinoys, proud of ourselves as being one of the most hospitable of races in the world, well...we treat foreigners differently. We treat them better than we would treat a fellow Filipino.

Okay, I admit, this is not the kind of insight one would normally derive from an experience like the one my friend and I had with that erring cop. Quite usually you, as a Pinoy having dealt with cops, too, would pronounce this one officer a bad egg, and would say "off to the frying pan with him!". And that would be the end of that.

Then again, maybe such a swishing dismissal of the matter would not cover all significant angles. True, it could be said that the situation might merely reflect a failure of that cop to follow very basic rules of politeness and courtesy. And yet, how glaringly apparent it is that most of us Pinoys somehow share the same fault too, and commit it the most often, when interacting with fellow countrymen. I mean, of course, this was a Pinoy cop with crude manners. But, I repeat, would he have been as asinine if it were a foreigner he was addressing?

Admit it. We Pinoys are aware of and a witness to this dichotomy in our attitude towards other people all the time. We treat foreigners kinder than we do fellow Pinoys. We give them more slack, so to speak. Say you put an American maid in front of you and a Filipina maid side by side. We would refer to the American as a "maid" and the Filipina as "longkatut". We would probably never see them on the same plane, with the same essential humanity. Would you refer to an American maid as an American "longkatut"? Many Korean factory workers tour around our country. They work the same hours and punishing tasks as Filipino factory workers. And yet, we have this perception that Filipino factory workers are...well, factory workers. Korean factory workers are "tourists". But look beyond the flashy cameras and baggage all those Korean tourists bring with them, and what is left is quite simply...a group of factory workers.

Now, imagine yourself a Pinoy in Saudi Arabia, or in New York, going to a police station over there to report yourself as a victim of a crime. Do you think that cops over there will treat their fellow countrymen with disdain, and then leave them behind to attend to you? Will the cops over there prioritize you? I would think not. I think it would be more apparent that they would treat everybody with the same deference and cordiality, if the situation were ideal. If the situation were less than ideal, then most probably it would be the Pinoy who would suffer the indignity of being rudely addressed to. I hope it doesn't happen often.

I am not saying that Pinoys should be rude to foreigners. I am simply of the mind that, if we treat foreign visitors delicately and with care, what is it that keeps us from treating each other in the same way? Hasn't it been said that the Japanese are one of the most polite people in the world? Would they reserve that politeness only to foreigners? Don't they treat fellow Japanese the same way? Even better, at some instances?

Maybe it's harder for us Pinoys to elevate our fellow countrymen to the same status we give foreigners because it is so imbedded in our own culture the attitude of self-deprecation. It is as if we have this instinctive trait of always perceiving fellow Pinoys as persons less deserving of our best efforts at social graces. This only brings to light an even deeper, and more frightening, implication--that we in fact think that the Pinoy is a lesser form of human.

My oh my. The things that a police officer taught me. I hope it's something all of us should think about.