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This just in:

Firm Sacks Employee for Using Water in Toilet

An Australia-based engineering firm has reportedly sacked an employee for using water instead of toilet paper in the washroom.

While the company denied firing the employee, its manager Byron Carter said Filipino worker Amador Bernabe’s toilet habits posed a ’serious health risk’ to his other employees and he had been counselled a number of times about the issue.

The 43-year-old machine operator was working for Townsville Engineering Industries (TEI) Bohle on a working visa from The Philippines and used water to clean himself instead of toilet paper, a local newspaper ‘The Townsville Bulletin’ reported.

Carter said health and hygiene issues had been raised by other staff members. “The issue concerning Bernabe is not about toilet etiquette, it is about hygiene and the health of other employees.” “Bernabe’s technique to cleanse himself with water after his toiletry visits leaves the toilet cubical splashed with water suspected to be contaminated with faeces and wet soggy toilet paper lying on the floor,” Carter said.

“Other employees complain about the mess and the possible spread of disease and will not use the cubicles until they are cleaned and disinfected” he added.

This brings to mind the Pinoy kid who was suspended by his school in Canada for using  spoon in eating instead of a fork.

Now, why am I concerned?  A few things:

1. Is using water in the toilet instead of paper, and for that matter a spoon instead of a fork, enough reason to sack a worker or to suspend a student?

2. Is it no longer true that Australia, and for that matter Canada, are more tolerant countries—given the fact that they are emigrant societies and are therefore inherently diverse (in everything, including toilet and eating habits)?

3. Regarding the Pinoys’ preference for spoons over forks, one should only see a person eating rice with a fork like most occidentals do.  Many mess things badly.  They eat fifty percent of the actual food on their plate and the rest are scattered on the table and on their chins.

4. Regarding the Pinoys’ preference for water over toilet paper, I only have this to say: NO SKID MARKS!

In the last, this is in perfect conjunction with the Pinoys’ predilection to take a bath everyday while other cultures hardly do it once a week.  And if they do, they wallow in the bath water along with all their libag and balakubak.

Pom and I spent New Year’s Eve here in the city.  I had no desire to go through another 15-hour drive in crawling traffic back to Manila again, along with tens of thousands of motorists so soon.  Besides, what little money we had Pom blew on real nice gifts for me and for my godchildren who have grown too many for my frayed pockets.  But I can’t blame myself for having many friends; I blame the Roman Catholic Church hierarchy in the Philippines for being condom-phobes when its clout should be spent more railing against widespread human rights violations in the country.

Instead of observing the New Year rituals at our little rented apartment or at my mother’s house a few steps away we drove ourselves to the CERV dorm come midnight of the 31^st and spent it with my in-laws.  We thought there would be less smoke because the subdivision has less people, thus less firecrackers and smoke.  How wrong we were.  I guess people at gated communities had more money to burn.  The firecracker smoke was as thick as the sitting president’s sense of shame.  It was foggy and the soupy air wouldn’t let go of the smoke.  It was hard to breathe.

I am thinking of all the money burnt because of this useless and stupid Chinese superstition. I am thinking of how many classrooms we could build, how many trees we could plant, or how many medicines we could buy for our projects with the money wasted. I am thinking of the damage to the city’s air quality.  I am thinking how stupid this country is for not outlawing pedestrian firecrackers.

Driving through the city the next day I noticed how the smoke cleared marvelously.  News reports said there were less firecrackers lit up this time because of the crisis.  This is how it is with Filipinos sometimes.It would take a crisis of monstrous proportions to make us sober up a bit.  Still, I think there was too much paputok for anyone’s good.

= = = = =

A dear friend turned up to “celebrate” with us.  This was unexpected.  Not that we don’t want him hanging out with us but we were sad to have him.  His in-laws did not want him to see his estranged wife and their two kids.  He also failed to see them last Christmas.

This friend committed some stupid mistakes in the past that jeopardized his marriage and his relations with his in-laws.  It all started when he started earning some and things were apparently dandy.  But he did not have a good handle on things and he let them slip away.

Now, he is paying for those mistakes in a cruel way.  To send gifts for the kids over the holidays he had to ask another friend to do it for him.

If my friend is my brother-in-law I could have kicked him in the groin.  But he is genuinely repentant and is desperate to set things straight—unlike one of my brothers in law.  The latter I would love to kick in the groin but I’ll try not to kill my friend.  I think he deserves one last chance.

My friend is part Chinese.  He insisted on buying and lighting firecrackers to drive away bad luck.  I did not want him to (because it stresses Panda too much) but I let him.  In exchange I forced him to take some sip of the wine.  He became gigglier after that but there was no joy in his eyes.  I am pulling my hair off sometimes because of all my problems and troubles, but this is one problem I can never be able to bear with as much courage as my friend does.

Positive wishes are nothing more than good intentions.  But I wish for a better year for him.

= = = = =

Instead of resolutions (because it is stupid to have them when you know you can’t stick to them anyway), let me write down my top ten wishes for the year:

1. Please, do not let this year pass with gloria still in the palace.
2. Please, no cha-cha.
3. Please, make Barack a better American president than the outgoing one (because the imperialist US government is doubly insufferable when we have the likes of Dubya at the top).
4. Please, do not let the imperialist-controlled global economy affect the Philippine country too much (because you can’t squeeze any thing more from an emaciated cow ‘cept blood).
5. A stop to all the human rights violations and justice to all victims of state HRVs.
6. Good health to all my loved ones and friends.
7. More happiness in the family.
8. Fiscal health.
9. An approved break (to give me one chance to do the things I want to do for myself).
10. World Peace.

Last Christmas I wrote about three old men, one of whom was already dead at the time.  Earlier this year one of them died as well and the last one is barely hanging on.  I wish for him to live a little bit longer as we are planning a huge event to honor him while he still can see how much he is loved.

But this holiday season for me is all about kids.

Last Saturday, five days before Christmas, our radio program’s main guest was little ten-year old Nicole.She was very small for her age but quite tough and feisty for someone so young.  It’s no surprise really.  This kid sells rags on Manila’s mean streets right after school, weaving in and out of deadly traffic to earn thirty pesos everyday.  Her family lives in Tatalon, a nasty barangay of drug addicts, other petty crimes and grinding poverty.  Her father is house painter who is usually out of job while her mother is a laundrywoman.  We asked little Nicole why they are poor, she told us it’s because government officials pocket money meant for the poor.  We asked little Nicole what must be done, she yelled, “Oust gloria!” and “Imperyalismo ibagsak!”  We asked Nicole what she wanted for Christmas and she told us she just wants a day at the Quezon Circle with her family.  We asked Nicole what she really yearned for Christmas she told us she wanted a day at StarCity (a carnival).  Nicole told us in a quivering voice she has never been to StarCity and that none of four siblings (two of whom have become adults) have been to a carnival.

I saw Fred, the booth technician, hanging on to the kid’s every word.  It took a lot from me to hold back tears.

Last Sunday, I met Bechay and her parents.  I had the happy task of telling them that ten-year old girl will be sponsored by one of CERV’s former volunteers.  She will be receiving education support from Rebecca Snell of Australia, ensuring her fare and lunch money—two of the biggest reasons why millions of Filipino kids drop out of school.  But while making one kid happy is more like my idea of Christmas, I kept thinking about Nicole.

Monday came and it was the day I promised I’d take my seven-year old niece Chloe to Snow World inside StarCity.  We brought Andrea along, Pom’s precocious ten-year old niece.  My entire side of the family was there too.  It turned out that Chloe couldn’t bear the minus 15 degree chill but Andrea was showing a lot of teeth throughout—grinning like a horse from sheer joy.  We all had a good time bonding but my thoughts were punctured by Nicole and her dream of visiting the place.

On our way home and while waiting for the traffic light to turn green at a street corner, a woman with a thin and frail child in her arms tried to grab the soda my sister was drinking.  My startled sister cried out.  That put a damper on our upbeat mood.  But if I was that woman and my child is dying with hunger in my arms, I would do far worse.  I’d kill even if needed to save my child.

Driving around the city these past few days I saw a lot more kids begging on the streets.  Most where caroling but in the Philippine context, they were really begging.  And they were joined by a lot more adults.  Most were namamasko but in the Philippine context, it is really begging.

Christmas came and Pom and I gave dozens of gifts to our godchildren, nieces and nephews.  We felt like kids ourselves when we were opening gifts.  (Of course, we grinned and shrieked like kids for every gift we liked and obligatorily smiled for every gift we didn’t like so much—especially when the giver was present.)

Now, it’s the day after Christmas.  I again remember Nicole and wonder if she received any gift at all.  I remember all the kids who asked me for pamasko but who I failed.

There will come a time, hopefully in the near future, when I may be able to raise funds to take Nicole and her siblings to StarCity.  But there will never be a time when I can afford to give gifts to every kid who knocks on my car window.  There are just too many poor kids around.

Something is really wrong with this country.  We can not even assure our children of a good Christmas, not to mention assure them of a life the rest of the year. Perhaps, it is time we listen to kids like Nicole.