Ka-Blog!

While waiting for their boarding call at an airport lounge, a Chinese, an American and a Filipino chatted up about the respective state of their country’s finances.

Chinese: Our government is opening up a $600 billion loan facility for the workers of the world to better cope with the financial crisis.

American: You crazy Reds! Why bother with the workers? Our $700 billion bailout plan is for the real money-makers—the multinational corporations.

Filipino: You slowpokes! Our government officials already pocketed P700 million earmarked for farmers!

I know I am being corny here, using the classic Hapon-Amerikano-Filipino joke template that always shows Filipinos getting the better of anyone. Never mind that, in these jokes, we often appear to be the biggest jackasses of all.

There is really nothing funny about the current global financial crisis, of course. I myself am not laughing.  Our family’s livelihood is dependent on foreigners having enough dispensable cash to volunteer with our NGO.  And we are getting less application for 2009.  Belt-tightening, here I come!

What I wish to underscore here though is how different governments deal differently with the impending global meltdown.

The Chinese government, eager to show the world they have not betrayed their Socialist ideology, is saying they wish to help embattled workers worldwide.  I don’t know if they are sincere as it remains to be seen how this amount would eventually be used.  But I like the idea.

The Americans, well, their instinct tells them to save their greedy and grossly-mismanaged giants before anyone else.  Today, I read about how the Big Three car companies (Ford, GM, Chrysler) are asking for $25 billion golden parachute.  It’s like saying, “Hey, thanks for fucking up the global economy.Take this moolah, go yatch-sailing and drink up on Piper Heidsieck!”

The Philippine government?  Well, gma and her officials do not care about the people.In fact, based on their actions, they want us all dead.  They hardly ever care about Pinoy companies either—at least the honest and tax-paying ones.  All they care about is how to line up their pockets.  So we have these stealing and lying phenomena called Joc-joc Bolante and the Euro generals.

And we have all this talk about gma trying to extend her term of terror beyond 2010.  This is not as far-fetched as one may be excused to initially think.  How else should be interpret Juan Ponce Enrile’s shocking rise to the senate presidency (sworn in by Gregorio Honasan, no less?)  I am hard pressed to think of a stranger thing happening with this government.

I feel like crying sometimes.   I am worried to death about this country’s collective future.

But I am not one to commit suicide over these turn of events. Pinoy yata ako. So I turn to our old reliable.In times like these, I try to find humor in the events as they crash around me like fat raindrops under a menacing cloudburst.  I am so desperate to be able to laugh. Pinoy nga ako.

Yes, I try to laugh about these things.  But I am not saying I’m not doing anything about them. Ika nga ni kumpareng Peter Ustinov, “Comedy is simply a funny way of being serious.”  I maintain that in this tragedy called the Philippines, there is no business as serious as humor.

I’ve been to Cebu many times before.  My earlier visits were either to give lectures, seminars and workshops or to attend forums.  But I did not get to know the city well; I was never given the chance to explore and discover the place, much less spend not-work-related time with the proud Cebuanos.  (There was a time when Pom and I stopped by Cebu for a brief lay-over that lasted only several hours.That only allowed us to pop by SM to catch a movie before we went on our way.)

This weeklong trip is about a video production workshop—with two small differences compared with the others.  Incorporated into the program is a practicum that entails visits to marginalized communities in and around the city and a “breather” that allows for some beer drinking and singing.(What novelty!)

I was tasked to handle a workshop group that had to shoot in an urban poor community.  Subangdaku (Big River) is a Mandaue village teeming with industrial and commercial real estate.  But in its nooks and crannies, hidden by huge billboards and tall walls, are communities that totally belie appearances of genuine progress in this biggest of southern hubs in the Philippines.

We were let off our pick-up truck on the gravel driveway of a lumberyard.  The shotgun-toting guard looked at our cameras and glared at us.  I thought we must be at the wrong place because I saw no shanties and we were clearly not welcome.  Suddenly, from a small gap between two walls emerged people who animatedly talked to our guide.  Then I saw it—the pathway we had to take to reach our real destination.

It was narrow.  It was barely half-a-meter wide, made more constricting by jutting trees and posts.  It was really an old and clogged-up drainage ditch which 200 families had to use as access road to the nearest jeepney-serviced avenue.  I felt claustrophobic but I willed it away as I had to recall my hopscotch skills (Meron ba?) to avoid the innumerable putrid puddles and holes on the pathway.  Two hundred meters of the mazelike twists and 90-degree turns the pathway opened up to reveal a wastewater lake where shanties floated and babies played.

This was Sitio Likod-sa-Matimco where residents had to wear rain boots to go anywhere (from buying anything from the neighborhood stores to fetching water).  They have to inhale the stench every second they are in the community.Even their tiny chapel is flooded when it rains.  They have one communal bathroom.

The lumberyard on the eastern side refuses to give them right-of-way.  The container terminal likewise refuses.So they have to content themselves with the pathways.  With the community below sea level and boxed in on all sides by reclaimed territory, all water drain their way and stay permanently.

I climbed Smokey Mountain and visited its residents and shanties during its “heyday” in the 1980s.  We lived near the railroad tracks of Sampaloc.  I was exposed to communities like Tondo’s Estero de Magdalena when I was a younger activist.  I worked as a student and teacher organizer in Payatas.  I am familiar with such poverty and inhumane living conditions.   But I am always shocked when I visit such places.Always.

The other workshop teams had similar experiences.  Palanca awardee Boni Ilagan was similarly shocked when he and his workshop groups climbed the hills of Talamban to see even more abject communities.  And right below them were huge houses of the rich with tiled roofs, manicured lawns and cars parked on their garages.  In the distance are the skyscrapers of Cebu and the sprawling resorts of the rich and (sigh) foreign.

Because my team was planning to do a video short on roads, they thought of shooting scenes on Colon, the country’s oldest existing street.  Amid the swirling human and vehicle traffic we met rubber stamp makers and food vendors who have had no business the entire day and an old woman kneeling on the street corner begging.  Our soundperson, while standing in front of a Jollibee store, was approached by a man who whispered in his ear, “Magkano?” (How much?)

By the shores of Mactan Strait, up on the hills of Talamban, and in the navel of the city center, poverty is still present—if one dares to just even look.

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Last night, plied with Red Horse, young Visayan activists sang Max Urban and Vis-Rock (Visayan Rock) songs.  From what I got to understand, the songs were very funny and earthy.  I knew about the genius of Max Urban syempre.  So I asked about Vis-Rock which I heard about for the first time.These are rock bands who could be likened to Parokya ni Edgar and Eraserheads in Manila, they said.

I think so too.  Parokya and E-heads are funny and, sometimes, their songs bite. Yano too (before they fried their brains).  Vis-Rock songs are oftentimes novel yet are piercing social commentaries.  Love songs and protest pieces against human trafficking in one, for example.Indeed, Dodongs singing about pined-for Indays who prefer 80-year old white American text mates are both funny and sad.

I like Vis-Rock.Yes, as much as I like Red Horse.