Early yesterday morning as I fed the kids' uniforms into the washing machine, I watched Seconds from Disaster at the National Geographic Channel. The program talked about the earthquake that rocked Kobe, Japan in 1995. The quake was violent, the program said, because the fault the city was sitting on turned out to be linked with yet another fault both at sea and the land on the southwest. What irony, too, that roofs of traditional Japanese village houses were responsible for the extent of the casualties. These roofs were precisely made heavy to withstand storms. But the quake caused the traditional houses, supported by narrow posts and burdened by disproportionately heavy roofs, to collapse.
On the same channel earlier last week, another program talked about the 1960 quake, magnitude 9.5, that devastated Chile. The program explained that the earthquake was so strong -- indeed the worst in history -- because Chile sat on the fault between two massive tectonic plates. The pressure built up over hundreds of years and then snapped. The program also said that the possibility of the same event happening again is not remote altogether.
These were my thoughts as I turned on the tv to watch CNN last night. Breaking News, I saw, a magnitude 8.8 quake rocked Concepcion, Chile. Concepcion is the second largest city in the country.
How soon can a tragedy occur again? Fifty years since the last one in Chile. A little more than a month after the one in Haiti. The tsunami warnings in the last 24 hours have been scary. Indeed, the ground is not as steady anymore. For a while you feel relieved that it's not you and you are only watching the tragedy from your television set. The really sobering thing is the knowledge that the next time around, this could happen where you are.
And then you stop taking things for granted.
Sunday, February 28, 2010
Patriots on the street
At no other time do citizens feel more involved in their nation's affairs than during the election season. Voting is the most common way for citizens to make their voices heard – assuming they don't write weekly newspaper columns or take to the streets to protest one thing or another. Assuming, too, that their votes are counted properly.
It is natural, thus, that in the days and weeks leading to elections, especially presidential elections such as the one we are having only a little over two months from now, people become extra open to what they hear and read about their candidates. News on the campaign trail and the elections in general usually comprise front-page items in the newspapers. Campaign jingles give the public last-song syndromes. Mudslinging becomes the name of the game. People lap up poll survey results as though it were Gospel truth. And in this era of social networking over the Internet, one should not be surprised if one gets invited to be a “fan” of a certain candidate.
Indeed, elections generate a certain hype that may be likened to the fervor we get upon the coming of a new year. We make plans, resolve to break bad habits and enjoy the fireworks. The thought of turning over a new leaf excites us. What happens afterwards is sad even as it is predictable. We fall into the same tired routines, procrastinate in plans and fall back into the same old rut.
Of course there is a so-called honeymoon period after a new set of leaders is installed. The length of that period varies, depending on the strength of the mandate, the crucial first few decisions, or just plain luck. But there is almost always a settling back into old frustrations. Pretty soon we realize that much of the same old problems persist, and that nothing has changed-- except for the faces that walk the corridors of power.
There will be poverty and there will be corruption for a long time. Anybody who promises to eradicate all these in one go is either delusional or deliberately taking the people for fools. Poverty and corruption are systemic ills that can only be gradually overcome with unwavering resolve and consistent teamwork between the governors and the governed at all levels.
Alas, not everybody has the capacity to see through these empty promises. People in the provinces, for instance, or those mired in poverty who have to scramble even for their next meal, cannot be expected to be discerning. They will go for somebody who simply claims affinity with them and promises to end all their woes. Or somebody simplistic enough to characterize people as either “good” or “bad”, the “bida” or the “kontrabida,” as in a telenovela. Desperation can blot common sense and make people believe anything. This is how things are.
But this is not how they should be.
Tragically, it is the politicians themselves who consign the masses to the sorry state of ignorance. Candidates talk about ending poverty but do not make a sincere effort to enlighten and empower the poor. They cannot even respect the voters enough to say what their plans really are, aside from the artful press releases and motherhood statements their highly paid writers churn out.
The voice of the majority is the voice of God, so they say. But what if that voice is uninformed and largely a product of a bandwagon effect? This is precisely what drives some people to nix their enlightened – though unpopular – choices. They feel their votes will be wasted. But does this not only serve to widen the gap between leaders and their constituents? This is the reason our nation cannot take off: people see their leaders as detached from them; leaders see their constituents as idiots.
**
Nonetheless, I am sure that there are many Filipinos across different backgrounds and socio-economic classes who genuinely love their country -- and not just during election time. They are those who, aside from wanting a better life for their children and grandchildren, also want better conditions and more opportunities for Filipinos as a people. They are those who ache to see the day when nasty political bickering is replaced by purposeful, intelligent yet practical discussions of national issues. They want to see justice served and swiftly.
While they are perceptive and quick to point out the undesirable things happening in the country, they make sure that these observations are based on verifiable facts instead of malicious innuendos. Most importantly, they do not stop with criticism and alienation. They propose how to correct these ills without projecting themselves as champions, saints, or, horrors, Messiahs. That is precisely the point: they are not any of these. They are human beings – complex, moody, insecure, vulnerable, but at all time conscious of the constant challenge to make a difference in their own way. They are patriots because their fondness for their country does not come and go like a hype. They embrace the Filipino nation, warts and all, while doing their share to remove the warts.
I am now in the final stretches of a collaborative project called Patriots on the Street, a short novel I am co-writing. The book, hopefully out in a couple of months, says everything I just did above. The difference is that there, the characters and situations tell the story. Everything is fiction but based on actual people, places and events. And I am going to stop there; this is all I will say about the project for now.
Book or not, the message is there. I hope that the public's interest in the stuff their aspiring leaders are made of will be sustained after the elections. Really, we should abandon the practice of abandoning our lot to the people in power, only to complain about their failure to deliver. Let us watch them constantly. Let us harbor no illusions. And let us be involved.
It is natural, thus, that in the days and weeks leading to elections, especially presidential elections such as the one we are having only a little over two months from now, people become extra open to what they hear and read about their candidates. News on the campaign trail and the elections in general usually comprise front-page items in the newspapers. Campaign jingles give the public last-song syndromes. Mudslinging becomes the name of the game. People lap up poll survey results as though it were Gospel truth. And in this era of social networking over the Internet, one should not be surprised if one gets invited to be a “fan” of a certain candidate.
Indeed, elections generate a certain hype that may be likened to the fervor we get upon the coming of a new year. We make plans, resolve to break bad habits and enjoy the fireworks. The thought of turning over a new leaf excites us. What happens afterwards is sad even as it is predictable. We fall into the same tired routines, procrastinate in plans and fall back into the same old rut.
Of course there is a so-called honeymoon period after a new set of leaders is installed. The length of that period varies, depending on the strength of the mandate, the crucial first few decisions, or just plain luck. But there is almost always a settling back into old frustrations. Pretty soon we realize that much of the same old problems persist, and that nothing has changed-- except for the faces that walk the corridors of power.
There will be poverty and there will be corruption for a long time. Anybody who promises to eradicate all these in one go is either delusional or deliberately taking the people for fools. Poverty and corruption are systemic ills that can only be gradually overcome with unwavering resolve and consistent teamwork between the governors and the governed at all levels.
Alas, not everybody has the capacity to see through these empty promises. People in the provinces, for instance, or those mired in poverty who have to scramble even for their next meal, cannot be expected to be discerning. They will go for somebody who simply claims affinity with them and promises to end all their woes. Or somebody simplistic enough to characterize people as either “good” or “bad”, the “bida” or the “kontrabida,” as in a telenovela. Desperation can blot common sense and make people believe anything. This is how things are.
But this is not how they should be.
Tragically, it is the politicians themselves who consign the masses to the sorry state of ignorance. Candidates talk about ending poverty but do not make a sincere effort to enlighten and empower the poor. They cannot even respect the voters enough to say what their plans really are, aside from the artful press releases and motherhood statements their highly paid writers churn out.
The voice of the majority is the voice of God, so they say. But what if that voice is uninformed and largely a product of a bandwagon effect? This is precisely what drives some people to nix their enlightened – though unpopular – choices. They feel their votes will be wasted. But does this not only serve to widen the gap between leaders and their constituents? This is the reason our nation cannot take off: people see their leaders as detached from them; leaders see their constituents as idiots.
**
Nonetheless, I am sure that there are many Filipinos across different backgrounds and socio-economic classes who genuinely love their country -- and not just during election time. They are those who, aside from wanting a better life for their children and grandchildren, also want better conditions and more opportunities for Filipinos as a people. They are those who ache to see the day when nasty political bickering is replaced by purposeful, intelligent yet practical discussions of national issues. They want to see justice served and swiftly.
While they are perceptive and quick to point out the undesirable things happening in the country, they make sure that these observations are based on verifiable facts instead of malicious innuendos. Most importantly, they do not stop with criticism and alienation. They propose how to correct these ills without projecting themselves as champions, saints, or, horrors, Messiahs. That is precisely the point: they are not any of these. They are human beings – complex, moody, insecure, vulnerable, but at all time conscious of the constant challenge to make a difference in their own way. They are patriots because their fondness for their country does not come and go like a hype. They embrace the Filipino nation, warts and all, while doing their share to remove the warts.
I am now in the final stretches of a collaborative project called Patriots on the Street, a short novel I am co-writing. The book, hopefully out in a couple of months, says everything I just did above. The difference is that there, the characters and situations tell the story. Everything is fiction but based on actual people, places and events. And I am going to stop there; this is all I will say about the project for now.
Book or not, the message is there. I hope that the public's interest in the stuff their aspiring leaders are made of will be sustained after the elections. Really, we should abandon the practice of abandoning our lot to the people in power, only to complain about their failure to deliver. Let us watch them constantly. Let us harbor no illusions. And let us be involved.
Thursday, February 25, 2010
From a phaseout to a total ban
published 22 February 2010, Manila Standard Today
Two months ago, I wrote about the campaign to phase out mercury-based healthcare materials like thermometers and sphygmomanometers (blood pressure taking devices) in hospitals and households. In that article entitled “Doing away with mercury”, I also talked about the Department of Health’s Administrative Order 21, issued in July 2008. The order mandated all hospitals to immediately discontinue the distribution of mercury thermometers to patients, stick to the prescribed timeline in phasing out mercury in their facilities and undertake a mercury minimization program. All health-care facilities should be mercury-free by the end of 2010.
Faye Ferrer, program officer for mercury for Healthcare Without Harm – Southeast Asia, told me that her group was cooperating with the health department and individual hospitals in the phase-out efforts. She added that the main obstacle to the elimination of mercury was the accessibility of mercury based thermometers and sphygmomanometers (they were still being sold in drug and medical supplies stores) and their low prices; the alternatives were costlier and more difficult to obtain.
These constraints nonetheless, Faye now says her group is calling for a total ban of mercury-containing devices instead of just complying with the phaseout, which was really just a compromise to begin with. (Her group’s original position was for the imposition of an outright ban. Some sectors, however, opposed this, saying this would disrupt trade relations with China. China is a main exporter of these mercury-containing devices.)
Why the change?
Healthcare Without Harm has been going around the country promoting its so-called Green Covenant, which seeks to make environment matters an election issue. In its recent trips to the Ilocos Region, the Cagayan Valley and the Calabarzon areas, it learned that many public hospitals, especially those run by local governments, were not complying with the administrative order. Worse, some hospitals did not know it even existed at all. Apparently Department of Health representatives in these areas had minimal clout.
Second, the 18-year-old victim of mercury poisoning in St. Andrews’ School in Parañaque finally filed a suit against the school and a teacher, four years after a spill happened on February 16, 2006. John Seth Cerillo was among 13 students confined at the Philippine General Hospital after they manifested symptoms of mercury poisoning. Their science teacher, Gloria Mercado, passed around a beaker containing mercury in class.
Now John Seth suffers from symptoms similar to Parkinsons’ disease, nerve damage and constant tremors and fevers. He still attends school but has difficulty keeping up with his load. The family spent the last four years appealing to the school to help with the medical expenses for the boy; alas, the school was now “ignoring” the family’s calls for help. They went to court seeking six million pesos in damages. But John Seth’s entire future, which is priceless, has been irreversibly compromised.
John Seth puts a face to all the other victims, or would-be victims, of mercury poisoning. Many cases go unreported. Worse, many people remain clueless that the harmless-looking silvery white element can do so much harm, specifically in the nervous system. For example, people do not know that their mercury-based thermometers contain enough of the element to contaminate a small lake. There are also standard procedures to follow should a spill occur, whether in the hospital or at home.
But now Ferrer is upbeat; she has just come from a meeting with Health Secretary Esperanza Cabral who, she says, “agreed” to her group’s four recommendations:
First, that the health department would engage in a more aggressive public campaign about the dangers of mercury.
Second, that the department would write letters to local government units telling them about the administrative order.
Third, that it would follow up on the status of John Seth and all the other victims of the St Andrews incident.
Finally, that the use of mercury based thermometers and sphygmomanometers would be banned the soonest time possible.
According to Ferrer, Cabral, who has just assumed her new Cabinet post last month, told her that her team would formalize the supposed adoption of these recommendations and get back to the group “immediately.” Ferrer hopes that such commitments would be translated into action, despite the fact that election fever is sweeping the country with barely three months to the polls.
***
Earlier this month, we heard that the Food and Drugs Administration had banned the distribution of three brands of beauty products—whitening creams— from China. These products were found to contain mercury. It is not clear whether actual poisoning cases or a simple random test made the finding possible.
This is another aspect of Healthcare Without Harm’s advocacy against mercury-laden consumer products. Apparently, not all products contain the proper information even as they make grand promises that would lure consumers. Sometimes, too, all the information on the label are in Chinese.
The group emphasizes that the banning of mercury in hospital settings and even in consumer goods have more far reaching implications to ordinary people. This is why the matter is being raised now, as an election issue.
And indeed, more than the fleeting—though decidedly more exciting—issues of shifts in party affiliations, infighting among decision makers of a political party and rumors of candidacy withdrawals and partner swapping, the threats of mercury poisoning and its lasting effects will remain long after the dust of the election settles.
adellechua@gmail.com
Two months ago, I wrote about the campaign to phase out mercury-based healthcare materials like thermometers and sphygmomanometers (blood pressure taking devices) in hospitals and households. In that article entitled “Doing away with mercury”, I also talked about the Department of Health’s Administrative Order 21, issued in July 2008. The order mandated all hospitals to immediately discontinue the distribution of mercury thermometers to patients, stick to the prescribed timeline in phasing out mercury in their facilities and undertake a mercury minimization program. All health-care facilities should be mercury-free by the end of 2010.
Faye Ferrer, program officer for mercury for Healthcare Without Harm – Southeast Asia, told me that her group was cooperating with the health department and individual hospitals in the phase-out efforts. She added that the main obstacle to the elimination of mercury was the accessibility of mercury based thermometers and sphygmomanometers (they were still being sold in drug and medical supplies stores) and their low prices; the alternatives were costlier and more difficult to obtain.
These constraints nonetheless, Faye now says her group is calling for a total ban of mercury-containing devices instead of just complying with the phaseout, which was really just a compromise to begin with. (Her group’s original position was for the imposition of an outright ban. Some sectors, however, opposed this, saying this would disrupt trade relations with China. China is a main exporter of these mercury-containing devices.)
Why the change?
Healthcare Without Harm has been going around the country promoting its so-called Green Covenant, which seeks to make environment matters an election issue. In its recent trips to the Ilocos Region, the Cagayan Valley and the Calabarzon areas, it learned that many public hospitals, especially those run by local governments, were not complying with the administrative order. Worse, some hospitals did not know it even existed at all. Apparently Department of Health representatives in these areas had minimal clout.
Second, the 18-year-old victim of mercury poisoning in St. Andrews’ School in Parañaque finally filed a suit against the school and a teacher, four years after a spill happened on February 16, 2006. John Seth Cerillo was among 13 students confined at the Philippine General Hospital after they manifested symptoms of mercury poisoning. Their science teacher, Gloria Mercado, passed around a beaker containing mercury in class.
Now John Seth suffers from symptoms similar to Parkinsons’ disease, nerve damage and constant tremors and fevers. He still attends school but has difficulty keeping up with his load. The family spent the last four years appealing to the school to help with the medical expenses for the boy; alas, the school was now “ignoring” the family’s calls for help. They went to court seeking six million pesos in damages. But John Seth’s entire future, which is priceless, has been irreversibly compromised.
John Seth puts a face to all the other victims, or would-be victims, of mercury poisoning. Many cases go unreported. Worse, many people remain clueless that the harmless-looking silvery white element can do so much harm, specifically in the nervous system. For example, people do not know that their mercury-based thermometers contain enough of the element to contaminate a small lake. There are also standard procedures to follow should a spill occur, whether in the hospital or at home.
But now Ferrer is upbeat; she has just come from a meeting with Health Secretary Esperanza Cabral who, she says, “agreed” to her group’s four recommendations:
First, that the health department would engage in a more aggressive public campaign about the dangers of mercury.
Second, that the department would write letters to local government units telling them about the administrative order.
Third, that it would follow up on the status of John Seth and all the other victims of the St Andrews incident.
Finally, that the use of mercury based thermometers and sphygmomanometers would be banned the soonest time possible.
According to Ferrer, Cabral, who has just assumed her new Cabinet post last month, told her that her team would formalize the supposed adoption of these recommendations and get back to the group “immediately.” Ferrer hopes that such commitments would be translated into action, despite the fact that election fever is sweeping the country with barely three months to the polls.
***
Earlier this month, we heard that the Food and Drugs Administration had banned the distribution of three brands of beauty products—whitening creams— from China. These products were found to contain mercury. It is not clear whether actual poisoning cases or a simple random test made the finding possible.
This is another aspect of Healthcare Without Harm’s advocacy against mercury-laden consumer products. Apparently, not all products contain the proper information even as they make grand promises that would lure consumers. Sometimes, too, all the information on the label are in Chinese.
The group emphasizes that the banning of mercury in hospital settings and even in consumer goods have more far reaching implications to ordinary people. This is why the matter is being raised now, as an election issue.
And indeed, more than the fleeting—though decidedly more exciting—issues of shifts in party affiliations, infighting among decision makers of a political party and rumors of candidacy withdrawals and partner swapping, the threats of mercury poisoning and its lasting effects will remain long after the dust of the election settles.
adellechua@gmail.com
Sunday, February 14, 2010
Doubly red
It is Valentine's Day and Chinese New Year and an hour before I have to leave for the office I think I have found my spot. I am seated beside a pond and some greens in air-conditioned comfort, Sinatra getting a kick, singing in the background, all courtesy of the Starbucks at the Sky Garden, SM North Edsa.
I had lunch earlier with the boys (Sophie is with her father while Bea has some other ideas of a meaningful Sunday, and I don't want to exert an effort to change her mind), Josh treated himself to his favorite, coffee jelly, while Elmo and I shared a no-whip mocha frap – a costly version of Ovaltine.
Now the boys have gone home and I'm supposed to be working here, except that I am much too soothed to get any real work done. For now, for this next hour, I think I will just...chill.
Refuse to allow my many concerns to pressure me. Manage Bea's adolescent whims, inspire Elmo to take care of his things, finish the third draft of my book because we really should be dealing with the publishers this month already, keep the “emergency” expenses down, build my savings so I can get at least a second-hand car and avoid dealing with unsavory elements of Manila on my way from work every night, lose weight, fix my teeth, peel my face, double my earnings, enroll in the UP development economics graduate program, move into a safer neighborhood, get nicer things for a neater house, the list seems endless, I get tired making lists... I really just get by believing that one day I will get all these things I deserve, because I. Work. Damn. Hard.
I really must be leaving soon. The dragon dancers and the accompanying drummers are muffling the coffee-shop music anyway. And isn't work a form of love?
I had lunch earlier with the boys (Sophie is with her father while Bea has some other ideas of a meaningful Sunday, and I don't want to exert an effort to change her mind), Josh treated himself to his favorite, coffee jelly, while Elmo and I shared a no-whip mocha frap – a costly version of Ovaltine.
Now the boys have gone home and I'm supposed to be working here, except that I am much too soothed to get any real work done. For now, for this next hour, I think I will just...chill.
Refuse to allow my many concerns to pressure me. Manage Bea's adolescent whims, inspire Elmo to take care of his things, finish the third draft of my book because we really should be dealing with the publishers this month already, keep the “emergency” expenses down, build my savings so I can get at least a second-hand car and avoid dealing with unsavory elements of Manila on my way from work every night, lose weight, fix my teeth, peel my face, double my earnings, enroll in the UP development economics graduate program, move into a safer neighborhood, get nicer things for a neater house, the list seems endless, I get tired making lists... I really just get by believing that one day I will get all these things I deserve, because I. Work. Damn. Hard.
I really must be leaving soon. The dragon dancers and the accompanying drummers are muffling the coffee-shop music anyway. And isn't work a form of love?
The lay minister's advice
Sometimes the institution that tells us that honesty is a virtue encourages us to lie – or risk being publicly damned.
My nine-year-old daughter Sophie will receive her first communion this Friday. The local parish is helping the school in the event. Over the weekend, I attended a seminar for parents; it was conducted by a lay minister of the parish. He made some suggestions on how we could help our children prepare to receive the Eucharist, one of seven sacraments, as Catholics know.
I arrived a bit late for the talk but as soon as I sat down I realized I had not missed much. The minister – let's call him Brother – was only talking about the details of the ceremonies, reiterating only what was already in the memo given to us long ago: time of assembly, proper attire, etcetera. This would turn out to be the easier – and less disturbing part – of the seminar.
Brother was actually elderly, almost grandfatherly, and I thought he was extraordinarily patient to deal with the third- and fourth-graders during their twice-a-week practices in the past month or so.
He asked the parents to go over the list of sins the children would be confessing to the priest. I was glad to know that the confession would be face-to-face instead of inside confessional boxes. If I were a child, I would be intimidated if my first confession put me inside a box, with only a window making the priest's voice audible.
Remember that Brother was talking to parents of different background: Catholic school-educated ones, faithful church-goers, non-practicing Catholics, or at least lukewarm ones. He explained that confession cleansed a person's heart of sin, so that the Lord would not turn him or her away (“para hindi kayo itakwil ng Diyos”).
I found this quite extreme. My notion of God was a loving one. He was somebody to guide you from day to day so that you make the right choices; if you fail, he would be there to help you up – certainly not turn you away.
Brother also said that only the children would line up in front of the priest for the communion; the parents and guardians would go to the lay ministers, like himself. The Catholic Church sorely lacks priests, he said, because they were getting out to get married all the time. One cannot perform one's priestly duties if one is married, because then one would have to serve one's spouse aside from serving the Lord. This makes practical sense.
But Brother had this way of explaining himself with absolute certainty. He ended each sentence with a nod and a smile, as though to discourage anybody from asking questions and to imply that having a different opinion, while it would be tolerated, would put one in the level of a third-grader.
By then some questions had been brewing in my mind. I wondered if Brother would say that a priest having a spouse would be less “katakwil-takwil” (damnable) than somebody who remains single – but who is extraordinarily fond of his altar boys and takes advantage of their subservience.
Brother also said that because of this inadequacy in the number of priests, there is now a proposal to ordains lay ministers to the priesthood. I wondered again: weren't lay ministers themselves married people in the first place? Why ordain somebody who serves two masters to begin with? But Brother smiled his special smile and I was reduced to thinking that a. he really would not be in a position to answer the question in an informed manner and b. the seminar was not really the venue for such questions. We were there to discuss what would happen during our children's first communion – only that.
Before the end of the session, Brother handed out sheets of paper, guidelines on how parents should raise their children. The instructions were in Abakada fashion and were in non-conversational Filipino. It was all nice and wise advice, compassionate, even, if you understood a language fit for the Balagtasan. I noted, though, that the D portion (on discipline) said “aral at pamalong itinatago'y nakasasama sa bunso (sparing the child of lessons and the spanking rod is bad for him).” Apparently these parenting suggestions were crafted decades ago: the Filipino alphabet now goes A-B-C-D, not A-B-K-D, and there are now initiatives to end the age-old inclination towards corporal punishment. One wishes our Church leaders exerted some effort to update whatever it tells its flock.
The most jarring thing in the orientation were the parting words of the lay minister. As we were capping the afternoon, he asked, “at least all of you were married in Catholic wedding rites, weren't you?” The room fell silent, as if the parents, mostly mothers, did not know what to say. Brother explained further. “The priest might ask, and he's a very strict priest.” Apparently some priests go through the trouble of excluding from the ceremonies adults not married in religious rites, because they were thought to be committing a mortal sin. What of children who were products of that mortal union? Would they be excluded from the ceremonies, too? Will their parents be escorted out of church as the more righteous ones look on (and shake their heads)?
Brother had a solution to this problem. “Just say yes to whatever questions the priest asks,” he advised us. He reminded us that we did not have to call attention to ourselves and away from the real occasion that was the first communion of our children.
Excuse me, but did he just suggest that telling a lie would be more convenient?
What if a couple was married all right, but only in civil rights? What if they received the Catholic sacrament of matrimony but are now separated after years of trying to remain true to their vows? What if the parents of the child have legal impediments to marry but are now happy and devoted to each other and their family? What if the child is being raised by the mother alone, and they do not anymore have communication with the father? Are these children any less worthy to receive the grace of communion? The minister did not tell us this, of course, but that would be a reasonable inference.
This reminded me of a baptism I attended in Paombong town in Bulacan two months ago. After the ceremony, the priest agreed to have his picture taken with the baptized child, the parents, relatives and godparents at the altar. Before the cameras clicked, however, the priest asked the baby's mother: “O, bakit wala kang asawa?(Why do you not have a husband?)” Of course the priest may have said this in jest, as he was a jovial one. Some women can just as easily say that their husbands were sick, or abroad, working. But what if a woman was impregnated by a man who has since disappeared? I am sure not a few women have frozen in self-consciousness as the priest announced this not-so-sensitive observation. Granted that she knew she was stupid to fall for a cad, was a woman supposed to lie, right under the roof of the same institution that tells her that honesty is a virtue, just to save herself from embarrassment?
Brother had yet another advice to those in complicated situations but did not want to lie about it. “Have somebody else go with your child -- a yaya, a tita, a lolo.” What about being there as your child receives grace that is the sacrament of communion? I think that's a higher purpose altogether.
There's a reason many Catholics degenerate to being “cafeteria believers,” choosing only aspects they are comfortable with while ignoring the rest of the dogma they find too extreme. Did not Jesus himself say he was like a doctor who was there for the sick and not for the healthy? Did not the shepherd leave his 99 sheep to search for the missing one? Church leaders should realize they need not alienate their members who live less than “correct” lives. It's the fastest way to lose them.
My nine-year-old daughter Sophie will receive her first communion this Friday. The local parish is helping the school in the event. Over the weekend, I attended a seminar for parents; it was conducted by a lay minister of the parish. He made some suggestions on how we could help our children prepare to receive the Eucharist, one of seven sacraments, as Catholics know.
I arrived a bit late for the talk but as soon as I sat down I realized I had not missed much. The minister – let's call him Brother – was only talking about the details of the ceremonies, reiterating only what was already in the memo given to us long ago: time of assembly, proper attire, etcetera. This would turn out to be the easier – and less disturbing part – of the seminar.
Brother was actually elderly, almost grandfatherly, and I thought he was extraordinarily patient to deal with the third- and fourth-graders during their twice-a-week practices in the past month or so.
He asked the parents to go over the list of sins the children would be confessing to the priest. I was glad to know that the confession would be face-to-face instead of inside confessional boxes. If I were a child, I would be intimidated if my first confession put me inside a box, with only a window making the priest's voice audible.
Remember that Brother was talking to parents of different background: Catholic school-educated ones, faithful church-goers, non-practicing Catholics, or at least lukewarm ones. He explained that confession cleansed a person's heart of sin, so that the Lord would not turn him or her away (“para hindi kayo itakwil ng Diyos”).
I found this quite extreme. My notion of God was a loving one. He was somebody to guide you from day to day so that you make the right choices; if you fail, he would be there to help you up – certainly not turn you away.
Brother also said that only the children would line up in front of the priest for the communion; the parents and guardians would go to the lay ministers, like himself. The Catholic Church sorely lacks priests, he said, because they were getting out to get married all the time. One cannot perform one's priestly duties if one is married, because then one would have to serve one's spouse aside from serving the Lord. This makes practical sense.
But Brother had this way of explaining himself with absolute certainty. He ended each sentence with a nod and a smile, as though to discourage anybody from asking questions and to imply that having a different opinion, while it would be tolerated, would put one in the level of a third-grader.
By then some questions had been brewing in my mind. I wondered if Brother would say that a priest having a spouse would be less “katakwil-takwil” (damnable) than somebody who remains single – but who is extraordinarily fond of his altar boys and takes advantage of their subservience.
Brother also said that because of this inadequacy in the number of priests, there is now a proposal to ordains lay ministers to the priesthood. I wondered again: weren't lay ministers themselves married people in the first place? Why ordain somebody who serves two masters to begin with? But Brother smiled his special smile and I was reduced to thinking that a. he really would not be in a position to answer the question in an informed manner and b. the seminar was not really the venue for such questions. We were there to discuss what would happen during our children's first communion – only that.
Before the end of the session, Brother handed out sheets of paper, guidelines on how parents should raise their children. The instructions were in Abakada fashion and were in non-conversational Filipino. It was all nice and wise advice, compassionate, even, if you understood a language fit for the Balagtasan. I noted, though, that the D portion (on discipline) said “aral at pamalong itinatago'y nakasasama sa bunso (sparing the child of lessons and the spanking rod is bad for him).” Apparently these parenting suggestions were crafted decades ago: the Filipino alphabet now goes A-B-C-D, not A-B-K-D, and there are now initiatives to end the age-old inclination towards corporal punishment. One wishes our Church leaders exerted some effort to update whatever it tells its flock.
The most jarring thing in the orientation were the parting words of the lay minister. As we were capping the afternoon, he asked, “at least all of you were married in Catholic wedding rites, weren't you?” The room fell silent, as if the parents, mostly mothers, did not know what to say. Brother explained further. “The priest might ask, and he's a very strict priest.” Apparently some priests go through the trouble of excluding from the ceremonies adults not married in religious rites, because they were thought to be committing a mortal sin. What of children who were products of that mortal union? Would they be excluded from the ceremonies, too? Will their parents be escorted out of church as the more righteous ones look on (and shake their heads)?
Brother had a solution to this problem. “Just say yes to whatever questions the priest asks,” he advised us. He reminded us that we did not have to call attention to ourselves and away from the real occasion that was the first communion of our children.
Excuse me, but did he just suggest that telling a lie would be more convenient?
What if a couple was married all right, but only in civil rights? What if they received the Catholic sacrament of matrimony but are now separated after years of trying to remain true to their vows? What if the parents of the child have legal impediments to marry but are now happy and devoted to each other and their family? What if the child is being raised by the mother alone, and they do not anymore have communication with the father? Are these children any less worthy to receive the grace of communion? The minister did not tell us this, of course, but that would be a reasonable inference.
This reminded me of a baptism I attended in Paombong town in Bulacan two months ago. After the ceremony, the priest agreed to have his picture taken with the baptized child, the parents, relatives and godparents at the altar. Before the cameras clicked, however, the priest asked the baby's mother: “O, bakit wala kang asawa?(Why do you not have a husband?)” Of course the priest may have said this in jest, as he was a jovial one. Some women can just as easily say that their husbands were sick, or abroad, working. But what if a woman was impregnated by a man who has since disappeared? I am sure not a few women have frozen in self-consciousness as the priest announced this not-so-sensitive observation. Granted that she knew she was stupid to fall for a cad, was a woman supposed to lie, right under the roof of the same institution that tells her that honesty is a virtue, just to save herself from embarrassment?
Brother had yet another advice to those in complicated situations but did not want to lie about it. “Have somebody else go with your child -- a yaya, a tita, a lolo.” What about being there as your child receives grace that is the sacrament of communion? I think that's a higher purpose altogether.
There's a reason many Catholics degenerate to being “cafeteria believers,” choosing only aspects they are comfortable with while ignoring the rest of the dogma they find too extreme. Did not Jesus himself say he was like a doctor who was there for the sick and not for the healthy? Did not the shepherd leave his 99 sheep to search for the missing one? Church leaders should realize they need not alienate their members who live less than “correct” lives. It's the fastest way to lose them.
Changing the way we look at disasters
published 8 Feb,MST
Here’s the usual story when a disaster occurs: A community goes about its business. Nature strikes, and with a fury. It could be a storm, an earthquake, a volcanic eruption. From the resulting floods, landslides or tsunamis, lives and property are lost. There is a mad scramble to offer relief operations. Victims mourn their losses and blame the government. The bayanihan feeling prompts donations from anywhere and everywhere. Politicians trip over each other to hand out goods to those in need. The disaster and its results hog the headlines.
And then the next big piece of news comes along. Public attention wanes and the issue is forgotten by everybody except the victims who must rebuild their homes, and hopes. That is, until the next disaster happens somewhere else in the country. Then the cycle begins all over again.
Last week’s UP Academic Congress, held at the Malcolm Theater at the College of Law, devoted one afternoon to the topic Climate Change and Disaster Risk Reduction. Antonio La Viña, dean of the Ateneo School of Government and an adviser to the Philippine government on matters pertaining to global warming, said that environmental law and policy had become popular recently. Filipinos, having experienced disaster up close, are now more interested in the subject. Science tells us that a warmer globe breeds more frequent and more violent storms. After Ondoy and Pepeng, we realize it’s more than science.
La Viña said that the failure of world leaders to come up with a decisive, adequate and legally binding climate deal in Copenhagen, Denmark last December was liberating. It made him realize that the focus now, at least for the Philippines, should be adaptation. The effects of global warming are already upon us. The Philippines is an archipelago, and it is located in a typhoon-prone corner of the world. A significant part of the population is poor, without any capabilities to defend themselves against the forces of nature.
Earthquakes are another type of disaster altogether, although the causes have less to do with the atmosphere than the surface of the earth. Alfredo Mahar Lagmay, PhD is the geologist who caused quite a stir recently when he published an article in another newspaper telling Metro Manila residents to brace for a magnitude 7.2 earthquake anytime. Lagmay is no Nostradamus. He is a man of science, and because of that, his words take on an even greater significance. He said that Filipinos should adopt a culture of safety, and real estate developers should fully disclose to their buyers the geological profile of the property.
That afternoon, however, Lagmay talked about the rain-gauge technology needed to enable citizens and the government to tell whether a preventive evacuation should be put in place. The devices, sophisticated though not necessarily costly, can prevent massive loss of life, property—and opportunities.
***
On the other hand, Emmanuel Luna, PhD talked about the challenges and causes for optimism in the way the country deals with disaster risk. Luna is professor of community development at the UP and is an advocate of community-based action in minimizing the devastation brought by natural disasters.
A paradigm shift is needed, Luna explained, especially for a nation so used to “emergency responses.” That the Philippines is disaster-prone and its people are vulnerable are already a given. Knowing these, we need to change the attitude and the approach so that while we cannot prevent disasters from happening, we can anticipate them so they cause as little damage as possible.
The problem is that there exist socio-economic and political structures that give rise to vulnerability. Luna cites the same absence of a culture of safety on one hand and a culture of mendicancy on the other. We always expect the government to take care of our needs especially in emergency situations. During these tough times, the norms are vague as to the extent of emergency relief. When should it end and when should rehabilitation begin? Then, moves by government officials are always suspect because they tend to exploit the situation to boost their political stock. Functions of the various agencies of the government and non-government organizations duplicate each other or overlap. Sometimes there is competition in the delivery of services. On the other hand,bureaucratic procedures cause delay. Last, there is no means with which to measure the increase or decrease in vulnerability of a certain community.
We have seen all these in disasters past. The question is whether we are inclined to repeat them.
Luna lauded Congress’ action in the would-be Disaster Risk Reduction and Management Act of 2010. At least one good thing came out of the just-concluded congressional sessions, despite the seemingly misplaced priorities of our lawmakers. President Arroyo will sign the bill into law anytime soon, and many are hopeful, despite observations that the law is less than perfect (it could have been better, for instance, if somebody other than the secretary of national defense,who already has too much on his plate, disaster or no, would head an independent disaster risk reduction body)
But for the first time, the reduction and management of disaster risk is institutionalized, and coordination among the national government, local governments, non-government organizations, people’s organizations, the academe,the media and the private sector is recognized. The law is a “holistic, comprehensive, integrated and pro-active means to address vulnerabilities,” said Luna in his presentation. He concludes his talk by stressing the importance of community-based action, because it is participatory and hence truly empowering.
***
It was standing room only in the theater and after the three well-applauded presentations, members of the audience were encouraged to ask questions. A man in a white shirt approached the microphone, a bit reluctantly. He introduced himself as Ka Rod, a fisherman, who lived in one of the communities around the Laguna Lake. He apologized for not being able to relate to the most part of the presentations—because they were in English.
Ka Rod had to pause a moment to collect himself; he almost broke down as he talked about his home. He said that five months after Ondoy, their lives still had not returned to normal. His house was still submerged in water. He then asked the panel if there were any programs to educate “kaming mga nasa ibaba,” the very members of the community, to prepare for further disasters. They had seen enough blaming among different government and non-government agencies, he said. In the end, the really vulnerable ones just want to know how they could better help themselves, and start doing so.
The contrast between the comprehensive presentations by experts and the concerns of the unassuming fisherman was what was perhaps most compelling about the session, and the whole debate on climate change and disaster preparedness. It is obvious we have a lot of great thinkers, bright ideas and sound policy. But the real test is translating all these into action that could spell the difference between life and death for the most vulnerable Filipinos. This requires consistency and will, —even on days when the sun is shining and the ground seems steady.
Here’s the usual story when a disaster occurs: A community goes about its business. Nature strikes, and with a fury. It could be a storm, an earthquake, a volcanic eruption. From the resulting floods, landslides or tsunamis, lives and property are lost. There is a mad scramble to offer relief operations. Victims mourn their losses and blame the government. The bayanihan feeling prompts donations from anywhere and everywhere. Politicians trip over each other to hand out goods to those in need. The disaster and its results hog the headlines.
And then the next big piece of news comes along. Public attention wanes and the issue is forgotten by everybody except the victims who must rebuild their homes, and hopes. That is, until the next disaster happens somewhere else in the country. Then the cycle begins all over again.
Last week’s UP Academic Congress, held at the Malcolm Theater at the College of Law, devoted one afternoon to the topic Climate Change and Disaster Risk Reduction. Antonio La Viña, dean of the Ateneo School of Government and an adviser to the Philippine government on matters pertaining to global warming, said that environmental law and policy had become popular recently. Filipinos, having experienced disaster up close, are now more interested in the subject. Science tells us that a warmer globe breeds more frequent and more violent storms. After Ondoy and Pepeng, we realize it’s more than science.
La Viña said that the failure of world leaders to come up with a decisive, adequate and legally binding climate deal in Copenhagen, Denmark last December was liberating. It made him realize that the focus now, at least for the Philippines, should be adaptation. The effects of global warming are already upon us. The Philippines is an archipelago, and it is located in a typhoon-prone corner of the world. A significant part of the population is poor, without any capabilities to defend themselves against the forces of nature.
Earthquakes are another type of disaster altogether, although the causes have less to do with the atmosphere than the surface of the earth. Alfredo Mahar Lagmay, PhD is the geologist who caused quite a stir recently when he published an article in another newspaper telling Metro Manila residents to brace for a magnitude 7.2 earthquake anytime. Lagmay is no Nostradamus. He is a man of science, and because of that, his words take on an even greater significance. He said that Filipinos should adopt a culture of safety, and real estate developers should fully disclose to their buyers the geological profile of the property.
That afternoon, however, Lagmay talked about the rain-gauge technology needed to enable citizens and the government to tell whether a preventive evacuation should be put in place. The devices, sophisticated though not necessarily costly, can prevent massive loss of life, property—and opportunities.
***
On the other hand, Emmanuel Luna, PhD talked about the challenges and causes for optimism in the way the country deals with disaster risk. Luna is professor of community development at the UP and is an advocate of community-based action in minimizing the devastation brought by natural disasters.
A paradigm shift is needed, Luna explained, especially for a nation so used to “emergency responses.” That the Philippines is disaster-prone and its people are vulnerable are already a given. Knowing these, we need to change the attitude and the approach so that while we cannot prevent disasters from happening, we can anticipate them so they cause as little damage as possible.
The problem is that there exist socio-economic and political structures that give rise to vulnerability. Luna cites the same absence of a culture of safety on one hand and a culture of mendicancy on the other. We always expect the government to take care of our needs especially in emergency situations. During these tough times, the norms are vague as to the extent of emergency relief. When should it end and when should rehabilitation begin? Then, moves by government officials are always suspect because they tend to exploit the situation to boost their political stock. Functions of the various agencies of the government and non-government organizations duplicate each other or overlap. Sometimes there is competition in the delivery of services. On the other hand,bureaucratic procedures cause delay. Last, there is no means with which to measure the increase or decrease in vulnerability of a certain community.
We have seen all these in disasters past. The question is whether we are inclined to repeat them.
Luna lauded Congress’ action in the would-be Disaster Risk Reduction and Management Act of 2010. At least one good thing came out of the just-concluded congressional sessions, despite the seemingly misplaced priorities of our lawmakers. President Arroyo will sign the bill into law anytime soon, and many are hopeful, despite observations that the law is less than perfect (it could have been better, for instance, if somebody other than the secretary of national defense,who already has too much on his plate, disaster or no, would head an independent disaster risk reduction body)
But for the first time, the reduction and management of disaster risk is institutionalized, and coordination among the national government, local governments, non-government organizations, people’s organizations, the academe,the media and the private sector is recognized. The law is a “holistic, comprehensive, integrated and pro-active means to address vulnerabilities,” said Luna in his presentation. He concludes his talk by stressing the importance of community-based action, because it is participatory and hence truly empowering.
***
It was standing room only in the theater and after the three well-applauded presentations, members of the audience were encouraged to ask questions. A man in a white shirt approached the microphone, a bit reluctantly. He introduced himself as Ka Rod, a fisherman, who lived in one of the communities around the Laguna Lake. He apologized for not being able to relate to the most part of the presentations—because they were in English.
Ka Rod had to pause a moment to collect himself; he almost broke down as he talked about his home. He said that five months after Ondoy, their lives still had not returned to normal. His house was still submerged in water. He then asked the panel if there were any programs to educate “kaming mga nasa ibaba,” the very members of the community, to prepare for further disasters. They had seen enough blaming among different government and non-government agencies, he said. In the end, the really vulnerable ones just want to know how they could better help themselves, and start doing so.
The contrast between the comprehensive presentations by experts and the concerns of the unassuming fisherman was what was perhaps most compelling about the session, and the whole debate on climate change and disaster preparedness. It is obvious we have a lot of great thinkers, bright ideas and sound policy. But the real test is translating all these into action that could spell the difference between life and death for the most vulnerable Filipinos. This requires consistency and will, —even on days when the sun is shining and the ground seems steady.
Thursday, February 11, 2010
Civility
The ex came to my house this morning as I was changing the curtains in my living room. It was Thursday, his two-seater BMW was color coded, so he had some time to kill until he could freely go out to the streets.
It had been more than a month since we last talked, since our son's 14th birthday dinner, which he hosted at a Chinese restaurant. On that occasion, the family was “complete” -- in the sense that there was father, mother and all four children seated around a table, talking about anything and everything except why the completeness felt contrived.
I had a list of topics we had to cover today. Four of the five items were about the children. The fifth agenda was mundane but necessary; something to do with the uncrossing of the support checks he had issued to nobody in particular. (“I did not know what last name you prefer using nowadays, so I left it blank” he said to me. Two weeks ago I had texted him to say it was a burden to wait an extra three days to get my hands on his money. The expenses knew no clearing period.)
It's a busy month for the children, I said. Next week would be the fourth-grader's first communion and the high school senior's prom. The senior is still tangling with her remaining options, college-wise, and yes, she is still with her boyfriend, they are now pushing five months.
The ex shook his head because he had wanted to decree a separation of the two, something which I had opposed. I believed dictatorship only breeds rebellion. A month ago, we had faced the sweethearts and told them they were much too young to be serious about each other. But I could certainly understand my daughter fighting for her love (though I could not understand many other things about her). Once upon a time when I was sixteen and in high school, I fought for my love, too. Alas, that love became the ex -- yes, the ex who was presently seated on my couch, every inch a visitor. Ah, youth's folly, youth's rush.
At least we now agreed that it was crucial to restore communication lines between him and his daughter, who was, truth be told, a little too much like him: upbeat, overconfident, dismissive of others, and way too fond of the spotlight. I say this as a matter of observation, not of judgment. They will try again to suffer each other's company this weekend. Let's hope the good phase sets in – and lasts longer – this time.
Finally, he said he was leaving. Let's have lunch or dinner with the kids again on Birthday Week, he asked, and I said, sure. My birthday is on the twenty-third of the month, his is the twenty-fourth. I was way too sure of the decision I had made nearly three years ago to be insecure about saying yes. I agreed, knowing it will be another polite gesture, albeit an awkward one. I thought it was a good way of showing the children that being separated does not mean you have to carry hatred in your heart forever. Besides, the pictures would elicit many “likes” on Facebook, especially from friends we made in our previous life together.
But I forgot to ask the ex whether he had received a notice of the pre-trial conference for my petition for the nullity of our marriage, scheduled late next month. That would be pushing my luck. Civility makes you skirt the issues that could trigger bad memories. And what memories, mixed as they are, did those thirteen years together contain.
I walked the ex to the gate of my apartment to make sure the landlady's dogs do not growl at, nor bite him. Before he started the engine of his car I was already back inside the house, back to my curtains, happy that the ones I just hung made the home I was building -- alone -- look sharper.
I wish the ex well and I hope he would find somebody else to draw out the best aspects of his nature. I certainly failed at that. I also hope he would be able to build a meaningful relationship with our children. I do not have to be in the equation for them to achieve that.
On some days, I can be really really sad, not because I miss the ex, regret my decision and wish I were back in my previous life, but because I realize I have the capacity to feel...nothing, nothing at all.
It had been more than a month since we last talked, since our son's 14th birthday dinner, which he hosted at a Chinese restaurant. On that occasion, the family was “complete” -- in the sense that there was father, mother and all four children seated around a table, talking about anything and everything except why the completeness felt contrived.
I had a list of topics we had to cover today. Four of the five items were about the children. The fifth agenda was mundane but necessary; something to do with the uncrossing of the support checks he had issued to nobody in particular. (“I did not know what last name you prefer using nowadays, so I left it blank” he said to me. Two weeks ago I had texted him to say it was a burden to wait an extra three days to get my hands on his money. The expenses knew no clearing period.)
It's a busy month for the children, I said. Next week would be the fourth-grader's first communion and the high school senior's prom. The senior is still tangling with her remaining options, college-wise, and yes, she is still with her boyfriend, they are now pushing five months.
The ex shook his head because he had wanted to decree a separation of the two, something which I had opposed. I believed dictatorship only breeds rebellion. A month ago, we had faced the sweethearts and told them they were much too young to be serious about each other. But I could certainly understand my daughter fighting for her love (though I could not understand many other things about her). Once upon a time when I was sixteen and in high school, I fought for my love, too. Alas, that love became the ex -- yes, the ex who was presently seated on my couch, every inch a visitor. Ah, youth's folly, youth's rush.
At least we now agreed that it was crucial to restore communication lines between him and his daughter, who was, truth be told, a little too much like him: upbeat, overconfident, dismissive of others, and way too fond of the spotlight. I say this as a matter of observation, not of judgment. They will try again to suffer each other's company this weekend. Let's hope the good phase sets in – and lasts longer – this time.
Finally, he said he was leaving. Let's have lunch or dinner with the kids again on Birthday Week, he asked, and I said, sure. My birthday is on the twenty-third of the month, his is the twenty-fourth. I was way too sure of the decision I had made nearly three years ago to be insecure about saying yes. I agreed, knowing it will be another polite gesture, albeit an awkward one. I thought it was a good way of showing the children that being separated does not mean you have to carry hatred in your heart forever. Besides, the pictures would elicit many “likes” on Facebook, especially from friends we made in our previous life together.
But I forgot to ask the ex whether he had received a notice of the pre-trial conference for my petition for the nullity of our marriage, scheduled late next month. That would be pushing my luck. Civility makes you skirt the issues that could trigger bad memories. And what memories, mixed as they are, did those thirteen years together contain.
I walked the ex to the gate of my apartment to make sure the landlady's dogs do not growl at, nor bite him. Before he started the engine of his car I was already back inside the house, back to my curtains, happy that the ones I just hung made the home I was building -- alone -- look sharper.
I wish the ex well and I hope he would find somebody else to draw out the best aspects of his nature. I certainly failed at that. I also hope he would be able to build a meaningful relationship with our children. I do not have to be in the equation for them to achieve that.
On some days, I can be really really sad, not because I miss the ex, regret my decision and wish I were back in my previous life, but because I realize I have the capacity to feel...nothing, nothing at all.
Tuesday, February 2, 2010
Uncharmed
The announcement came at around 5 in the afternoon. “How do you feel about the President coming over and bringing dinner?” Vic Agustin, chairman of the editorial board, asked us editors seated on the H-shaped tables. My first impulse was to eye the egg pie and the silvanas that I had brought from home. Sayang naman. If I had known there would be dinner, I would have left these treats to the kids who were bound to be hungry after their day in school. The second was a feeling of relief that I had decided against wearing my flip-flops to work that day. I had on black slip-ons, something I had not worn in quite a while. It still revealed a lot of flesh but was much dressier than the flip-flops. I had on jeans and I black polo t-shirt, the one that said “No woman should die giving life”...hardly corporate, but certainly the look of a thinking person. The shirt was from my NGO,pro-reproductive health bill friends.
It was a busy day,not only for me but for the entire desk. The guys have not yet quite decided on the banner. For my part, I had been dealing with another request from one of my columnists who somehow felt entitled to ask for little favors from the office, specifically from me, and who had to be turned down really politely, and really effectively if it was possible, if he was to be reminded of certain basic courtesies. On that Thursday, this columnist was asking of I could print, IN FULL,his article of two thousand seven hundred words. On the bright side, I was getting to practice my assertion skills. Diplomacy, too.
Things began turning funny when my boss started obsessing about the bathrooms. See,my office is in Port Area,Manila, right by the passenger piers. Standard Today prides itself in being an AB paper, and I've heard feedback that while it certainly can't compete with the Big 3 in terms of circulation and ads, we are one of the more intelligent, and better edited, broad sheets. But we certainly can't boast of the best editorial offices. Indeed our fixtures are worse than those of government offices, and outdated,too. The walls, which used to be grimy, are now painted in too-bright blue and yellow. Small roaches crawl over the tables, the chairs are rickety, and the bathrooms are decrepit – and smelly. My computer needs to be turned on by an assistant an hour before I arrive just so I could work smoothly at once upon getting to my seat.
I just do really love my job that's why I am able to get past all these.
Anyway the Palace people started arriving. They checked the names and the offices and the bathrooms. All too soon, the President was there. Thankfully she confined herself to the conference room up front and did not quite find her way to the sweat shop that is the editorial department. (I was worried my computer would hang while the Facebook window was showing.) The company's executives and the most senior editors went to the room ahead, finished or not. That hour was witching hour in our trade. I was wrestling with my columnists, and I was among the last who went to the conference room. When I arrived, there was an empty chair where my name tag “Adelle Tulagan, Opinion Editor” was propped on. I sat down, and soon dinner was served. The president was small talking with the others on the GDP figures that were released earlier that day. I was happy to see shrimps on the plate. Hmmm. Fancy.
There was wine, too, and my colleague Sarsi said it was good. I didn't touch it. Not that I did not want to, but I have this thing against consuming alcohol in public. I attacked the food while listening to the conversation among my office mates and the President, who did not look as old and as puffy as I had expected her to. She was very pleasant, and she had a captive audience. In the meantime, I was asking myself: What's the deal?
It was, of course, part of the charm offensive we've been hearing about. She's on her way out and the general sentiment is that she is not going to be missed. I wondered how complex such a small fellow could be. (This was the first time I'd seen her up front except the time I ran into her,when she was on her way out of and I was on my way to the wake of Raul Roco, my former boss.) All those vile things they say about her! All those shady transactions and that legendary temper! I looked at her closely and saw nothing but a woman making an effort to be nice. Sincerity? Innocence? Honesty? Frankly, I really couldn't tell. I did not see these, but I could not say for sure they were not there either. What was the truth, anyway?
Soon the conversation became lighter. The lifestyle people asked her if she was able to see some movies lately. What restaurants did she like, and how did she hear about them? When she asked our managing editor where the Tomeldans come from,I took my name tag and hid it away from her view. I was worried she would ask me if I was from Pangasinan. What was I supposed to do if she did? Tell her, and everybody else, that yes, the Tulagans were from Pangasinan, and the former Congressman Tulagan was the uncle of my husband, but I have been separated for the past three years and a nullity case is pending, and that I am really a Chua, but that is my mother's last name because I was born out of wedlock, etcetera etcetera. How complicated can an explanation about a name be?
The dinner lasted an hour and I did not ask a single question. I did not want to. I was content on observing the President, especially her facial expression as Mr. Agustin talked about a certain phone call to an election commissioner, and how everybody called commissioners all the time. But Mrs. Arroyo's face was blank. Alas, despite the niceties, the great food and the very obvious gesture of reaching out to the media, the President failed to connect with me. I had expected that somebody in that position would be so charismatic that one would be a convert after one has seen her, dined with her. I remained neutral. I do not dislike her, because I do not have enough firsthand observations to claim to know her, but I am not a fan, either.
So neutral, in fact, that when the whole thing was finally over and we were on our way back, she smiled at me as I was about to go out the door, and held out her hand. I shook it, smiled and said thanks. The thought of telling her my name and rank did not even cross my mind until I was back on my table and finishing up on my editing tasks. I decided it was not much of a loss.
A bright point: at least, much to my boss' relief, the President did not have to use the bathroom.
It was a busy day,not only for me but for the entire desk. The guys have not yet quite decided on the banner. For my part, I had been dealing with another request from one of my columnists who somehow felt entitled to ask for little favors from the office, specifically from me, and who had to be turned down really politely, and really effectively if it was possible, if he was to be reminded of certain basic courtesies. On that Thursday, this columnist was asking of I could print, IN FULL,his article of two thousand seven hundred words. On the bright side, I was getting to practice my assertion skills. Diplomacy, too.
Things began turning funny when my boss started obsessing about the bathrooms. See,my office is in Port Area,Manila, right by the passenger piers. Standard Today prides itself in being an AB paper, and I've heard feedback that while it certainly can't compete with the Big 3 in terms of circulation and ads, we are one of the more intelligent, and better edited, broad sheets. But we certainly can't boast of the best editorial offices. Indeed our fixtures are worse than those of government offices, and outdated,too. The walls, which used to be grimy, are now painted in too-bright blue and yellow. Small roaches crawl over the tables, the chairs are rickety, and the bathrooms are decrepit – and smelly. My computer needs to be turned on by an assistant an hour before I arrive just so I could work smoothly at once upon getting to my seat.
I just do really love my job that's why I am able to get past all these.
Anyway the Palace people started arriving. They checked the names and the offices and the bathrooms. All too soon, the President was there. Thankfully she confined herself to the conference room up front and did not quite find her way to the sweat shop that is the editorial department. (I was worried my computer would hang while the Facebook window was showing.) The company's executives and the most senior editors went to the room ahead, finished or not. That hour was witching hour in our trade. I was wrestling with my columnists, and I was among the last who went to the conference room. When I arrived, there was an empty chair where my name tag “Adelle Tulagan, Opinion Editor” was propped on. I sat down, and soon dinner was served. The president was small talking with the others on the GDP figures that were released earlier that day. I was happy to see shrimps on the plate. Hmmm. Fancy.
There was wine, too, and my colleague Sarsi said it was good. I didn't touch it. Not that I did not want to, but I have this thing against consuming alcohol in public. I attacked the food while listening to the conversation among my office mates and the President, who did not look as old and as puffy as I had expected her to. She was very pleasant, and she had a captive audience. In the meantime, I was asking myself: What's the deal?
It was, of course, part of the charm offensive we've been hearing about. She's on her way out and the general sentiment is that she is not going to be missed. I wondered how complex such a small fellow could be. (This was the first time I'd seen her up front except the time I ran into her,when she was on her way out of and I was on my way to the wake of Raul Roco, my former boss.) All those vile things they say about her! All those shady transactions and that legendary temper! I looked at her closely and saw nothing but a woman making an effort to be nice. Sincerity? Innocence? Honesty? Frankly, I really couldn't tell. I did not see these, but I could not say for sure they were not there either. What was the truth, anyway?
Soon the conversation became lighter. The lifestyle people asked her if she was able to see some movies lately. What restaurants did she like, and how did she hear about them? When she asked our managing editor where the Tomeldans come from,I took my name tag and hid it away from her view. I was worried she would ask me if I was from Pangasinan. What was I supposed to do if she did? Tell her, and everybody else, that yes, the Tulagans were from Pangasinan, and the former Congressman Tulagan was the uncle of my husband, but I have been separated for the past three years and a nullity case is pending, and that I am really a Chua, but that is my mother's last name because I was born out of wedlock, etcetera etcetera. How complicated can an explanation about a name be?
The dinner lasted an hour and I did not ask a single question. I did not want to. I was content on observing the President, especially her facial expression as Mr. Agustin talked about a certain phone call to an election commissioner, and how everybody called commissioners all the time. But Mrs. Arroyo's face was blank. Alas, despite the niceties, the great food and the very obvious gesture of reaching out to the media, the President failed to connect with me. I had expected that somebody in that position would be so charismatic that one would be a convert after one has seen her, dined with her. I remained neutral. I do not dislike her, because I do not have enough firsthand observations to claim to know her, but I am not a fan, either.
So neutral, in fact, that when the whole thing was finally over and we were on our way back, she smiled at me as I was about to go out the door, and held out her hand. I shook it, smiled and said thanks. The thought of telling her my name and rank did not even cross my mind until I was back on my table and finishing up on my editing tasks. I decided it was not much of a loss.
A bright point: at least, much to my boss' relief, the President did not have to use the bathroom.
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