The Endless Cycle of Poverty (Part 3)

Poverty can be cultural. I know that might sound strange and it might even seem preposterous in a place like the Philippines, but it’s true. The caste system not only exists in places like India, but also in the Philippines. For instance, where I work in Mindanao there seems to be a tribal caste system within the 14 Muslim tribes. The Tausug, Maranao and Maguindanao are at the top of the heap, the Yakan and others sit in the middle somewhere and the Sama are at the bottom of the heap. In language the Tausug would never learn Yakan or Sama because that is generally beneath them to do so. The Yakan would learn Tausug but not Sama and the Sama would learn Yakan and Tausug. And as with caste systems one is stuck within it. If you’re Tausug you are more likely to succeed but if you’re a Sama you are stuck in poverty. I haven’t been able to research this much yet, but it does intrigue me that poverty can often be related to culture rather than just the perception of bad luck, bad mistakes, bad government or a bad economy.

Quiapo Capers

Quiapo is a well known place of Manila located inside the old city. It is congested and full of life. Not just human life but some life that shouldn't be alive like rats and bugs (at least in my opinion anyway). Quiapo is well known for all the wrong reasons though. It may be full of history, have horse and buggy (known locally as a calesa), China town, the Church of the Black Nazarene and the largest Mosque in Manila, but all that is forgotten in light of the corruption that is rife within it. And not necessarily of the officials which seems so prevalent in this country, but of the horse and buggy drivers. It’s probably the greatest tourist attractions in the area, but is also the greatest scam. Let me share a story I heard from some friends of mine who were visiting from Australia not too long ago. He’s a photographer so he wanted to get out and see some sights in the old city. He and his wife hopped in one of the horse and buggies started to trot around town. The guy was nice and gave them the history of the area, but then volunteered to take them to some other areas. They accepted his offer for an extra 50 pesos but that’s when the story turned bad. They were lead down winding alley ways and got totally lost. Then the guys demanded 50 dollars instead of 50 pesos! In the end they managed to get back out to the main road and then got out of the carriage. The girl then ran off with the camera gear and the guy was there by himself trying to deal with the two demanding drivers. They insisted that he had to pay 50 dollars instead of 50 pesos or they would beat him up. So like any good Aussie he squared up to them ready for a fight. In the end he got out of it with his life by saying he only had 100 pesos, which was true, for one wallet. The other wallet had everything else in it. The moral of the story is carry two wallets (one with money and one with very little and never catch a ride with the horse and buggies, no matter how cool it looks or how good the deal seems to be. I tell you this story so you don’t make the same mistake and because it’s an area I go to quite often because they have heaps of fishing farming gear for sale there.

The Endless Cycle of Poverty (Part 2)

Poverty… What exactly is it? I can read a dictionary definition about the “poverty line” or “standard of living”, but what does that mean when you live in a country where the majority of people live below this standard? What does it mean when most of the people can’t get employed without a university degree but can’t afford that sort of education? What does it mean when you feel so trapped in the cycle of poverty that you just give up and beg from strangers in the street because it’s all the hope you can muster? What does it all mean? After living here for almost a year I’m not entirely sure. But I do see some hope. For one, the Filipino people are very creative. They seem to find a way to pass time and earn money in the most amazing ways. They don’t just sit in a heap with an outstretched arm. Children, hop on jeepneys to wipe the dust off people’s feet, men stand out in the street directing traffic and helping people to find parking, ladies sell tattered pieces of material sewn into rags and dish cloths, fisherman walk the street selling fish on the end of poles, other sea folk paddle their boats up to the side of ferries to ply their trade of shells, carvings and pearls, actors sing and dance in the street and others knock on doors on asking for whatever work is available even if its cleaning the garage, weeding the garden or painting a wall. There are some people willing to do anything to survive. There is hope.

Things I Miss About Australia

It’s coming up to my 1 year milestone of living in the Philippines and I’ve been thinking about Australia a lot lately. I guess many of you might wonder what I miss about Australia. Well, here’s list for you. It’s not exhaustive, just what comes to mind now:
· Tim Tams
· Cheese
· Steak
· Real milk
· My family
· Cool weather
· Feeling like I fit in
· Cadbury’s chocolate
· Being able to put a blanket over me at night
· Understanding what everyone is saying about me
· Having the assurance that the police officer won’t pull be over cos he sees my white skin
· Being able to drive down the road without worrying about being side swiped by a bus
· Retreating to the bush for some R&R whenever I feel like it
· Seeing my nieces and nephews grow up
· Did I mention the cool weather?
. Oh, and I miss my friends (Don't worry Rache, I didn't forget you guys)

Language Milestones

I did it. I passed my 6 month language evaluation. My boss is happy and so am I! As I look back over that 6 month period I realize just how beneficial it is to learn the language of the people that you work with. Business is best done in their heart language because that is when they feel more comfortable. I certainly don’t, but if they do then that’s all that matters. I don’t know a lot but I know enough to get around. I’m now officially at a basic conversational level. To give you an idea of what this means, I was able to hold a simple conversation with a taxi driver the other day for about 20 minutes before it became a little too much for my brain to cope with. But then I realized how little I really knew when I went to visit our projects in Mindanao. I was on the back of Jeepney trying to have my usual simple conversation, but this time it proved harder than normal. I quickly realized that we found it hard to communicate because even though it was supposed to be the same language, I was talking “Manila-ish” and he was speaking “Zamboanga-ish”. Same words but different accents. The reason why is that many of the people in Zamboanga either speak Chavacano or Tausug as their first language. Tausug for instance only has 3 vowel sounds whereas Tagalog has 5. Make sense now… Try understanding a guy condensing a language with 5 vowel sounds into 3 or understanding a guy who speaks in (at least) 5 vowel sounds when you’re used to hearing only 3. I’m on my way to learning Tagalog, but I’ve got a long way to go!

The Best Airport in the World

On my way back from Indonesia I stopped off at Singapore’s Changi Airport. Man, that place is awesome! I haven’t traveled very far in the world yet, but this place has to be the best airport. They have free movies, tours of the city, a gym, free internet, cafes, restaurants, televisions, duty free shopping, a roof top garden and so much more. It was unbelievable. I only spent a couple of hours there, but for the first time in my life I actually wanted to have a longer stop over. Next time I go through there, I’m going to see if I can make it a longer stop over so I can check it out a bit more, maybe even squeeze in a city tour. Those guys know how to do business, they won me over.

World Cup Fever

World Cup fever was everywhere in Indonesia. Maybe it was everywhere else as well, but I certainly noticed it in Bali. It was cool that Australia made it through to the second round too. We should have gone further if it wasn’t for lousy umpiring too… Grrrr… Okay, enough venting. The hype was incredible in Bali. Every single hotel and bar had late night soccer being watched. I wasn’t feeling too great so I didn’t get a lot of the games, but I heard all the stories the next day and watched the highlights. I’m not much of a soccer fan but I got hooked and even bought a couple of soccer tops at the markets in Bali. I got a Harry Kewell one and then when Australia got kicked out I decided to follow France. I’m not entirely sure why, it was just a random pick. Then when they made it to the final I was really happy with my choice. I had even bought a France top with the players name Zidane on the back. Boy, did I regret my choice after the final. France not only lost, Zidane decided to head butt a guy and get a red card. Oh well, you win some, you lose some.

Lovely Lombok

Lombok on the other hand was kind of refreshing. Imagine laying in bed happily snoozing and then tick, tick, tick… the clock strikes 4.45am and the call to pray rings out across town waking all but the deaf. Despite being woken up at what felt like an ungodly hour at the time, I felt refreshed after the dinginess of Bali. I managed to get back to sleep after the Call to Prayer finished about 5.30am and get enough sleep to give me energy for the rest of the day. I visited a coffee shop and art gallery start up business and gave some advice to those running it then toured the island including an amazing “batik” art gallery, secluded beach, mountainous region and missed the beach sunset by about 10 seconds. The place was remote enough to feel unexploited, yet populated and developed enough to feel cosy. Unlike Bali, Lombok is a place I would go back to.

Bali Musings

Bali is an interesting place. I got the impression from some people back home that they worried about my safety more going to Bali than to a place like Basilan. I guess Bali has received a lot of bad press lately with the bombings and the Shapelle Corby case. I felt relatively safe there and was even able to comfortably slip into my Aussie accent easily cos the locals understood it better than my fake American/Filipino accent. However, despite its laid back feel and friendly exterior I felt uncomfortable there. I’m not sure I can put my finger on what it was exactly, but I think it had something to do with how sleazy and exploitive it seemed to be. Guys trying to rip you off with money changing, Honest Two Bob’s Watches (yeah right) and sleazy girls lining the streets trying to lure you inside bars. It just didn’t appeal to me. It had a very thin veneer of tourism and development but underneath I felt a real sense of discontent, dependency and even deceit. Don’t get me wrong, I had a good time there, but there was something just not quite right about the place. I don’t think I’ll be in a hurry to go back there.

The Endless Cycle of Poverty (Part 1)

Something that I’ve been intending on blogging about since I arrived in the Philippines in the endless cycle of poverty I see in this place. It’s going to be something that will take me a while to process so I thought I’d just introduce it now. What amazes me is that in a place that promises so much there is so little. On the surface you see huge malls, fancy cars and nice clothes, but hidden away are the squatter villages, littered streets, poor beggars and people’s sense of helplessness and hopelessness. How did it happen? What can we do? What should I do? What is real story behind that person’s pitiful state? Is it really pitiful? Can we put an end to it all? Should we try to put an end to it all? If so, how? Questions, questions and more questions…

Pahiyas Festival

The Pahiyas Festival in Lucban, Quezon Province is without a doubt the most beautiful fiesta I have been to in the Philippines. I went there with my fellow Tagalog students and a couple of our teachers. It was a lovely drive through the mountains despite the early morning start. After a few unexpected detours (No we weren’t lost, just geographically embarrassed), we arrived in Lucban. Finding parking was crazy. We had to drive down tiny little alleys lined with cars and people until we could eventually find somewhere to park on the outskirts of town. Then we walked into the middle of town where people had decorated their houses with food, flowers and anything else you could possible imagine. It was an amazing site, truly spectacular! The people were so imaginative. They have this competition every year where you can text the number of your favourite house to a service provider who tallies the votes and at the end of the day a winner is announced. A really cool idea. They’ve also got a special dish called “hab-hab” which is noodles in a banana leaf you eat with your mouth. Oops, that must sound funny. You don’t use cutlery or your hands, you just open your mouth and eat it straight off the banana leaf. Man was it tasty and cheap. I think it was 10 pesos (about 25 cents) per serve. I think I had 3 servings! Yummm… The other thing about this place that struck me was that it was old. There was church that was built in 1595. It’s the oldest building I have ever seen! But my favourite part of the whole day was a guy in body paint who danced to the beat of funky music all day. I just had to get a photo with him. It was so funny. Every time language or life got me down for the next couple of weeks I just thought of the dancing dude and a broad smile crept across my face. It’s happening right now.

The Pogi Man Strikes Again

I did it again. The Pogi Man came out to draw attention to himself again. I should have know better. I should have learnt my lesson from the wedding. If I wear a barong something will happen. But I didn’t learn my lesson. I accepted the invitation to join the Santacruzan parade in Lapaz, Tarlac. My land lady asked me to do her a favour and be an “escort” at the Santacruzan parade she was hosting in her home town of Lapaz, Tarlac. I told her that I didn’t want the attention, but that I would help her out. So with my barong and black pants packed I set off for the province with the rest of the family. It was a good opportunity to practice my Tagalog and see another area of the country as well as experience some more Filipino culture. But little did I realize that I would be the star of the show. When I arrived I found out that I was to be “Constantino”. The history of the Santacruzan is a bit sketchy in my mind now, but it revolves around two characters Reyna Elena and her son Constantino. Despite the historical significance and meaning, it is now a beauty parade for most of the young people of the town. The most beautiful young girl and most handsome young guy play the role of Reyna Elena and Constantino. There are many other female characters involves as well like Miss May and Miss Mystica. I thought I was just going to be accompanying one of the girls as we walk through the streets of the town, but I ended up being the main man. And to top it off I ended up being twice the age of a girl who was supposed to be my mother if we follow the history. Oh well, it was special to them so I just played along. I walked through the town (at least a couple of kms), smiling and waving at the crowds that lined the streets. It was an embarrassing experience, but one that taught me a lot about Pilipino culture.

A Filipino Wedding

Before you ask, “No it’s not my wedding”. It was the wedding of my Filipino sister. Remember the family I told you I lived with for a month when I first got to the Philippines. Yeah, that one. Well, my little sister got married. That means that even though I’m the oldest in my Filipino family (the opposite in actual fact, “Ako ang bunso”). I’m now the only one who’s not married (“Binata pa”). Anyway, it was a great weekend. We had a big celebration the night before. All the family and friends came to visit us, the ate (a little too much), drank (a bit too much) and sang (far too much). It took me a long time to get going on the wedding day cos I wasn’t feeling too well but I eventually got there. I drove to the neighbouring city of Lipa where the bridal party had gathered earlier in the day to beautify themselves. It was really cool to have the whole family together before the wedding. Then we all piled into cars and headed for the church. I found out that I was supposed to walk the Mayor of Tanauan’s wife down the aisle as a sponsor last minute, but I’m sort of getting use to that. Oh, wait a minute, I think I need to back up a bit. I need to explain a little bit about Filipino weddings. In a Filipino wedding there’s the couple, bridesmaids, groomsmen and parents (just like us), but then you also need to add primary and secondary sponsors. The secondary sponsors are usually friends who are close but not close enough to be bridesmaids or groomsman (I could be wrong in that explanation but it’s how it appeared to me). The primary sponsors are usually older married people who might help financially but who mainly offer practical advice and provide marital support to the couple. All these people walk down the aisle! In this case it was the couple, 2 sets of parents, 3 bridesmaids and groomsman, 10 sets secondary sponsors and 10 sets of primary sponsors, oh and I almost forgot that the 10 sets of cute little kids. That makes at least 72 people plus the priest who walked down the aisle. Man, talk about suspense. Okay, where was I? That’s right, I was supposed to walk the Mayor’s wife down the aisle cos she was a primary sponsor without a partner to walk down the aisle. Thankfully she was running late so I didn’t walk down the aisle with her, I just got to walk down the aisle with someone else I didn’t know. The service was all in Tagalog so I didn’t understand a lot of it, especially the Catholic traditions. It was a learning experience. I sat in the corner, took some photos and monitored my video recorder while trying to follow what was going on. Once the service was over the photos took place. Man, there were a lot of photos! Of there were, there were lots of people. Then it was off to the reception. When I got there I settled into my place, talked to a few people, but tried to lay as low as a white man can at a large Filipino wedding. That’s when it happened. One of the bridesmaids dragged me out of my chair to “help her dance”. I had no idea what I was getting myself into. Here I am standing in front of about 200 people having to dance a dance I don’t know with a girl I’ve never met. Was I nervous or what! It didn’t end up being that hard, but I still couldn’t believe it happened to me. The things that happen to you when you don’t have a partner and wear a Barong! The strangest thing that happened that night though, was that straight after the meal and speeches, 70% of the people just up and left. I couldn’t believe it. It was all over within a couple of hours. It was totally bizarre for me, given the fact that us Aussies normally party til late in the night and sometimes wee hours of the morning. It did, however, give me the opportunity to drive back to Tanauan and then on to Manila so I could attend my language class the next day though.

Chasing Time

It’s been a while since I last blogged. Time just sort of ran away from me and since I’m so unfit it took me a while to catch up and do the things that I’ve meant to do but not gotten around to. But my fitness has improved a bit I’m now sitting here blogging. Well, at least the second part is true. I am blogging, but my waist line continues to need some serious attention. Just another thing I’ve got to get round to. Let me see, where do I start again? I know, a wedding…