A Story 4 Billion Years in the Making

I've never believed that God created man with just a nod or a snap of his fingers.

Several teachings about the Creation of the Universe point out that some sort of Supreme Being just got it into Its head to say, "Hey, I've created the earth in--what, two, three, six, seven days? Maybe I'd better put something in there to populate it". And just like that--the first man and woman rise up from the ground. It all happens by rote, since no one argues that a Supreme Creator, after all, is imbued with such infinite power and ability that it only takes a thought from this Creator to make anything suddenly come to be.

And yet, empirical science has categorically proven that the whole human race is the product of a long process of evolution. The development of the human organism was only achieved after about 4 billion years during which life on earth passed through several stages before reaching the pinnacle we call homo sapiens. Which would mean that the Creator, most likely, must have first experimented with single-celled biological creations, then moved on to make more complex life forms when the Creator found the former less satisfactory. Mind you, this whole process took a lot more time that simply one day ( again, 4 billion years or so, in fact ), and more than a few hits and misses with paramecium, then trilobites, then dinosaurs, and then whatnot, before settling on humanity as the "perfect" creation.

The late Herbert W. Armstrong, the founder of the Worldwide Church of God in the United States, himself an extremely prolific evangelical writer, once argued in one of his dissertations that the sheer "perfection" of the human specimen was pure unarguable proof of the existence of a Creator. He states that we humans would dare not think of such a specimen of sophisticated electronic technology as a personal desktop computer as having spontaneously risen up from the ground. No one in his right mind would think that a personal desktop computer could rise up from the sands of the earth by itself by rote. All personal computers have been created, he argues. Ergo, so was the human species, which could be regarded as even more technically superior than any computer...of course.

Still, there would also be nothing ungracious nor perhaps blasphemous in thinking that perhaps the Creator may not have stumbled upon Its so far "perfect" creation in so little instance as one day. What if the Creator did take some time before he managed to fashion the first man and woman? What would be improper or derogatory in the logic of a Creator having had Its generous share of trials and errors towards the creation of Man, much like human scientists and inventors had with computers? What if perfection, after all, had never been a static and steady event but a state of constant improvement?

What if it turns out that we, humans all of us whatever color or shade of skin and eyes and hair, were in fact the product of a meticulous labor of love by a master Artist which continually improved on Its work over and over again in the space of eons?

Humans, for the most part, are creators themselves. And in this capacity, it is certainly apparent that in our quest to make the best products of our efforts at creating all sorts of things, we make sure to improve upon each of them simply for the sake of reaching ever higher and vaster possibilities. And all improvements take time. To bring into mind once again this wondrous human invention we call the personal desktop computer, isn't it a fact that humans continually improve upon its capabilities day after day, year after year, so much so that its potentials for function and performance would appear limitless? Perhaps the Supreme Creator does the same with all Creation? And what if this same Creator takes even more time to make Its improvements with Its more vastly complex inventions?

If this were truly so, then it wouldn't be that much of a stretch of the imagination to think that, yes, perhaps humans did have primate ancestors, as Sir Charles Darwin supposed. And it would not dehumanize humans at all. Such an accounting of a tremendous effort on the Creator's part would, on the contrary, raise us humans up to the level of the infinite. For is it not that when an artist, or sculptor, or inventor, or loving parent, for that matter, devotes such divine effort into perfecting his or her creation or child ( or even brainchild ) over and over again without fail or hesitation, the resulting effort would be something unfathomably, spectacularly beyond all expectations? Evolution over millions of years, then, may yet be the greatest expression of the Creator's infinite love for everything in the universe.

Would that all philosophies embrace the dynamic of such a paradigm! It would impress upon everyone that every person they meet, whether beggar, street urchin, cosmopolitan executive, showbiz celebrity, or whoever, carries within him or her such an inestimable worth. Each of us, it turns out, is not the product of nine months in the womb. We are all the children of over four billion years of a Creator's efforts. In a world where we value 500-year-old antique vases, 5,000-year-old pyramids, even 200-year-old wines, it is possible we might be missing out on the value of even the lowliest unwanted child. For how does any creation finished in a day compare to a whole race of living beings carefully nurtured after for four billion years?

How could anybody think of even harming a hair of anyone else, much less intend of the death or dismemberment of any other person, if everyone thought this way?

( continued in next blog... "And 4 Billion Years After" )

What Churches are Made Of

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 

   

    

   

   

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

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

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

12 Most Profitable Philippine Companies

#1 - PLDT, P36.0 Billion

#2 - Ayala Corporation Holding, P16.2 Billion

#3 - Globe Telecom Services, P13.2 Billion

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

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

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

#7 - San Miguel Corporation, P 8.63 Billion

#8 - JG summit Holdings, P 8.61 Billion

#9 - Piltel, P 8.3 Billion

#10 - APC Group, P 7.2 Billion

#11 - Metrobank, P 7.0 Billion

#12 - Banco de Oro, P 6.5 Billion

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

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

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

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

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

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

3. Kia - car manufacturer

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Unerasable Eraserheads

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Since then

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Curtain

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Hazy Reflections on the Pasig River

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

An Extortionist Government

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oh the horror of it all.

Should Pinoys Be More Like Pakistanis?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What A Police Officer Taught Me

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Between The Sinking of a Ship and The Rise of Two Victorious Fists

Within the space of less than two weeks, we Filipinos have found ourselves caught between a starkly unimaginable polarity of emotions.

On the one hand, the recent visit of typhoon Frank thrashed and pummeled whole countrysides, leading to large-scale loss of life and property. Most horrible of all, it was the direct cause of the sinking of what in historical record was the largest inter-island seafaring vessel operating for Filipino passengers, the M/V Princess of the Stars. This tragedy of overwhelming proportions rang a death toll running into the hundreds.

On the other hand, the exemplary Pinoy athlete Manny Pacquiao has just captured yet another world championship title in boxing, marking out a milestone in the history of the sport in that he now stands as the first Asian to hold four championship belts in four different weight divisions. This is no small feat, and the achievement has already reaped the huge attention, accolade, and celebration it deserves from boxing critics and fans all around the world. It need not be explained how Manny Pacquiao has once again ignited passion and pride among all Pinoys because of this, so much so that everybody could feel the palpable jubilation in the streets. Go, Manny, go!

In less than two weeks, Pinoys were besieged by a turbulent wave of grieving and desparation, only to later on find ourselves lifted upward by a surge of victory. One can easily be reminded of the unexpected twists and turns of a hair-raising roller coaster ride. Or the swinging of a pendulum, with horror at one end of the amplitude, and rejoicing at the other.

I cannot help but join the chorus of voices extolling the thunderous victory of one of my fellow countrymen in a sport that has captured and inflamed the sentiments of all Pinoys like me. The particular instance in which he struck the final blow on his opponent seemed to be etched in time--one single tick of the clock when all Filipinos saw one of their own finally taking down an Enemy, an Adversary which encapsulated in itself all the terror and malady of the previous days. When Pacquiao's opponent fell like a ton of bricks on the canvass, a huge release of breath could almost be heard all throughout the country. We have just been through terrible tragedy, yes, but one single punch has proclaimed that we have emerged through it victorious, too.

Pinoys have always been the resilient lot. We have been through all sorts of desperate times and unimaginable loss, and yet even after the worst of calamities we seem to be able to whittle off the last of its vestiges much like dusting ourselves off after a slight stumble. It may take less than two weeks--in this case, it took only one final punch.

Being a Pinoy myself, I see this as a desperate yearning for good news--any good news--that could reassure the heart in the middle of a multitude of crises afflicting each Pinoy. The bad news is depressingly widespread enough--continually rising cost of living brought about by record levels of inflation, hunger and military conflict in the south of the country, flagrant corruption in high places in government, and most recently a calamitous typhoon, on top of everything. A Manny Pacquiao victory still remains to be the one good thing we would readily bandy about with proud smiles to all people around the world. We Pinoys know deep inside ourselves that every other race seems to look down on us, but, hey, we have a world champion fourfold! Who can top that?

Still, in spite of the undeniable praiseworthiness of us Pinoys to vent all sorts of merrymaking and cheers to what Pacquiao has carved out for himself as well as for all of us, it still makes sense to keep our sense of proportion in order. His victory, however towering and larger-than-life it might have been, is in its deepest essence that of only one man. A whole multitude of Pinoys, in fact, face collective challenges which are themselves also towering and larger-than-life, and which also cry for each one of us to prevail over. There has always been this danger that we Pinoys would hang on to Pacquiao's stellar achievement to such an overbearing degree that its memory would overshadow the ever-present need for every one of us to be a warrior ourselves against our collective problems. Pacquiao's job was to fight his Mexican opponent, and he did it rather exceedingly well. Now it's our turn to face our own adversaries. And the very first we would have to tangle with is ourselves--after all, we have a whole country to rehabilitate, what with the typhoon having hit us, and our desperate population still among the poorest in the world, among other things. Plenty of changes need to be started. There are obligations to be performed scrupulously. Pacquiao's finishing blow should not be an end in itself. It should serve as a new beginning, an inspiration for every Pinoy to get up and accomplish what should get done.

I would prefer that the government lead the way. Things like this should never have to be said, and yet it seems that in performance and example, the government could be likened to a poorly-trained and mediocre boxer, always on the losing end of a fight. How I wish our government could be more of Pacquiao's caliber, an excellent fighter who could wage war against social ills and injustices, a fighter dedicating its effort to all Pinoys. Sadly enough, the typical Pinoy is given this responsibility and burden to shoulder, and could expect no amount of help from the bureaucracy. Only time would tell whether it could reform itself.

Still, I nurture a hope that Pinoys finally come to their senses and see the true meaning of Pacquiao's daring efforts to overcome each and every one of his opponents. I have this hope that Pinoys inspire each other and struggle to become world-class warriors in whatever they are involved with, whether you are in government, in another country, or staying here at home. Between the sinking of a ship and the raising of all our victorious fists, I hope we could collect ourselves and make the pendulum swing to the side better for all of us, all the time.

The Saddest Day in The History of Philippine Movies

Most of us didn't really see it coming, and yet slowly, inexorably, the decline came as quietly as the setting of the sun.

It used to be that General Motors sold the most number of cars and car parts in the world. When the American public and the world population in general reversed their habits and bought less and less of General Motors products, the company's revenues sank so low that they had to lay off thousands of workers. These unfortunate workers must have dedicated so much of their lives to their craft and livelihood, and yet, in exchange for years--maybe even decades of service, it became their lot to be rewarded with the loss of their jobs. A host of various factors brought this about, factors which may be both within and outside the control of these workers. But the fact remains that the end result was not desirable, and perhaps even incomprehensible to those very workers.

The same thing has happened to the Philippine movie industry. Where once the Industry managed to produce around 100 movie titles per year, the number has drastically been dwindling as we move closer to the end of the decade. At present, the Filipino moviegoing public can expect only around 40 or so new titles this year, less than half of the previous yearly average.

If you liken this situation to what has happened to General Motors, it simply means that the Industry has been making less, and by necessity has to shed a whole lot of its workforce. Say that, hypothetically, around 50 workers at an average work on one film. That would total to about 5, 000 workers for 100 films ( usually the number of workers per film reaches beyond the 50 mark ). Now, slash the number of films to 40, and you easily see 3, 000 people without jobs. You can imagine a hundred people lined up a city block doing nothing all day. How about 3,000 of them? They would probably fill, oh, about six city blocks.

Which could only mean that the Philippine movie industry as a whole earns a lot less than it did before. Because of this, it wouldn't have enough financial strength to compensate its workers. And with less workers, how can movie producers make more films?

I have worked in the Philippine movie industry myself for over 10 years, and am a personal witness to the steady decline of the Industry. I have seen how so many colleagues of mine have lost their jobs, simply because local movie producers have been making less movies. It saddens me to see them--movie directors, film editors, screenwriters, movie actors--co-workers in the film industry who have dedicated whole lifetimes to their work ( or as some of them would prefer to describe it, their passion ), now left with too little or nothing to do, drifting away like ashes from a dying ember.

The Industry hasn't always been in such a sorry state as this. It was not too long ago when one or two, even three Filipino movies would be showing at the cineplexes for every week of the year, side-by-side with American films. And, like their American counterparts, local films back then did enjoy a considerable amount of patronage. At some indistinguishable point, however, it was slowly becoming apparent that Filipino moviegoers were beginning to avoid local films at the moviehouses, and instead were flocking in droves to Hollywood blockbusters.

The simple explanation for this would be that Filipino moviegoers just got fed up with the sub par quality of local films as compared to that of Hollywood movies. American films have better picture quality and better sound. American movies have better stories. Filipino-made movies simply haven't ever reached the same level of technical and creative excellence. There was a time when we didn't care at all about this difference in quality, but that time is past. Today, in our age of 5.1 digital dolby surround sound, in this age of spectacular technological innovations in filmmaking, Hollywood movies reign supreme and local movies are being left behind.

There had been a time when this difference in quality didn't really matter, because admission prices were more affordable, whether you were going to a Filipino or American movie. However, ticket prices at the box office have been recently skyrocketing. When you choose between two products which have the same forbidding price tag, you normally and logically patronize the better product. In the contest between Hollywood movie wizardry versus the mostly lackadaisical and unspectacular Filipino films, the winner would be very much obvious enough.

Filipino moviegoers readily place the blame on local film workers, who are perceived as unqualified and incapable of matching the abilities of filmmakers in Hollywood.

This finger-pointing, however, is not the exclusive domain of the audience. Filipino film workers themselves decry the fact that local movie producers, or financiers, have never at all allocated the proper budget for their projects. From my personal experience, local film workers have always been yearning to deliver movies to the Filipino audience that would satisfy the demand for Hollywood quality. That yearning remains unfulfilled. Top-notch quality filmmaking, as defined by Hollywood standards, requires top-notch funding in the first place. Local movie producers simply cannot and will never ever allow this. And why so? Hollywood blockbusters have the backing of millions of U.S. dollars as production budgets. Even 100 million Philippine pesos is but a paltry sum compared to that.

Still, the complaint about local movies' scant production budgets is not new. It is, in fact, a perpetual complaint. Local film workers have been struggling with this situation for generations. In trying to break free from this quandary, there has grown a perception among film workers--and even among Filipino audiences themselves--that a more creative utilization of the budget and resources in the making of a Filipino movie would be the workaround to restrictive financial backing. In other words, local filmmakers have to make do with what little money they have, but must find innovative methods which would lift up local movies to the standard of Hollywood. This is easier said than done, because innovations in the filmmaking process require a whole lot of time to plan and execute. Most of the time, local film workers are expected to produce movies within two months, from scriptwriting to shooting to screening. Timetables this tight could never make room for any departures from filmmaking habits, much less any groundbreaking eurekas. No, the only way to deliver movies this fast to the audience is to stick to time-honored Filipino filmmaking techniques, never mind if the technology is advancing. Local movie workers know by heart that, by going this route, the movie won't measure up to what Hollywood gives us. Whenever the local producers shell out the millions, they expect to earn it back fast.

In stark contrast to this, Hollywood has the luxury of stretching its production schedules. The Spiderman franchise, for example, has shown three sequels so far. Each sequel, from script to screen, would cover two years of production. They could never make Spiderman franchise that good if the filmmakers were given two months to execute each one.

So, taking the cue from these conditions, it can be safely concluded that local film workers are hampered by 1) the lack of adequate capital infusion from local movie producers, and 2) mismanagement of timetables. The question then arises whether local movie workers could produce a movie as smooth and sleek as a Hollywood production if they were given the adequate budget and the proper length of time in which to deliver it to the audience. The answer would be a resounding yes! After working in the Philippine industry for so long a time, I could proclaim that Filipinos are not lacking in talent and artistry when it comes to making grade-A films. However, could a situation this ideal ever come to fruition? Off the top of my head, I can only say, "Not in the immediate future". Local movie producers quite simply can't afford bigger budgets, and won't give in to demands that production schedules be stretched. No, the only way this could happen is if some bigshot rich foreigner would risk the opportunity of co-producing a Filipino movie. That would seem to be quite a stretch of the imagination, of course, but then again, maybe there's no reason not to hope for it.

In the meantime, the Industry's downward trend continues. If it's any consolation, there is still to be found among local movie producers one particular studio which is very much able to churn out at least 10 movie titles per year. That studio is so far the most resilient, and it is refreshing to know that their earnings have been buoyed by a rather enthusiastic audience patronage. However, ten films a year is a far cry from the previous number of titles which other studios like them used to make. In the past, rival studios could each successfully deliver 20 or more movies per year. In this regard, it could be said that this particular studio has achieved something enviable today, but falls far short of what it could be achieving.

One cannot also deny the prevalence of many other circumstances which are eroding the health of the Industry. Movie piracy has become so rampant. The Philippine government's censorship body has so fervently pursued a moral stand so prudish and Victorian, to say the least, that it chokes any chance at all for movie producers to reach out to more mature audiences. Local moviemaking is now a domain very narrowly confined by stiff Hollywood competition, the dangers of hefty revenue loss through piracy, and the ever-absurd dogmatism of censorship.

Plenty of what if questions come to mind. What if cineplexes decide to drastically reduce ticket prices? What if local movies were spared from piracy? What if the government censorship body were abolished? There is also that one more frightening question: Do we really care if the Industry survives or not?

After all, we have already entered the 21st century, and it may be that Philippines movies don't hold the same special place in our society anymore. Plenty of other leisure activities are emerging which are taking the audiences away from the moviehouses. There is the fairly new craze over internet cafes, for instance, and it is all too easy to understand why these centers of gaming and net surfing are sprouting up like mushrooms everywhere, to the point that they are multiplying faster than new moviehouses are being built. Spending two hours in these boutiques is way cheaper than watching a movie. There is an added attraction, too, in that the internet is untrammeled by any form of moral censorship. Cable television is also making it easier to stay away from the moviehouses. Who needs to see the film at the cineplex today when you can simply bide your time and just wait when it appears on television?

One can easily imagine a possible point in the future when the last Filipino movie is produced, after which there will never be any other. That would have to be the saddest day in the history of Philippine movies. It might not have really arrived yet, but is it just around the corner?

After all, he was just a dog...and yet...

When I was so certain that my dog was going to die, I didn't have the heart to take a look. Like any other tragedy, this one also happened rather too suddenly.

No, I don't particularly label myself as a fervent dog lover. When both of my dogs were still alive, mother and son, I wouldn't lavish them with the same attention and affection which I would witness from others I know who would truly qualify as extraordinarily caring pet owners. However, I wouldn't call myself a neglectful pet owner, either. I might not have taken them to daily walks around the neighborhood, but I did feed them regularly, and provided them shelter from the rains. Or I would delegate feeding and cleaning duties to any one of my close relatives ( specifically my younger cousins or my aunt ). And I would take the time to pet them and play with them, even if it wasn't every day. For their part, that mother-and-puppy pair was pretty much very affectionate with all of us, and were able to dutifully follow proper house rules all the time. The mother, surprisingly enough, was even able to toilet-train her own puppy herself, and both of them maintained a strict habit of always using their own designated doggy-toilet area in the house. They were also very dependable guard dogs, even if they hadn't the temperament enough to assault any living person, or possibly even any intruder. Yet, their barks were loud and long, and would easily grab your attention. In short, they were prim and proper, meek and adorable members of the family.

And so we were harmoniously living together, six humans and two dogs, for the better part of a year. Those two never failed to perk up the household everyday, most especially that large 6-month-old puppy, which would never tire of playing catch with you, and always licked you and wanted you to pet him. They were great company when you were sick and tired of the working day. And then, things simply happened.

The mother was netted by the roaming dog catcher one morning. As of that time, I was working on a film project that would often see me arrive home at 7am or thereabouts. When I groggily pushed open the front door to the house that early morning, my cousin promptly told me that the mother dog was gone. Taken by the city government to the dog pound.

I was disheartened. The mother dog had been with us for the better part of 2 years, and her 6-month-old puppy was lonely without her, missing a playmate. At the same time I was infuriated with the mother, since she brought this upon herself. She wasn't the type to roam around the streets, she often stayed indoors because she was usually scared of people and vehicles and other dogs. This time, however, mating season probably got the better of her, which any dog might not be able to resist. It was such a stroke of bad luck to have to lose her to the dog pound.

I wasn't able to retrieve her until five days later, mostly because of difficulties at work. At the same time, I have to admit that I was pooling together the necessary claim money.

One sweltering day, I was able to go to the dog pound. It was an enclosed facility right behind a fire station, and was a sort of lamentably decrepit prison house for dogs--dirty, unkempt, and a generally unsuitable place for maintaining any sort of animal's health. I found the mother in a rather lethargic state, having had to put up with three other female dogs in the same cage. From my vantage point outside the cage, I judged she was frightened of her situation and highly-strung, which would explain her expressionless, almost blank stare when she finally approached me after I urged her towards me with my hand. She had recognized me well enough, but she would not wag her tail.

When the mother dog finally got home, some sort of satisfaction washed over me because of having done something right. After all, this dog was a member of the family, and to bring her back home from what was in all practical opinion something very close to imprisonment was only very proper. Mother and puppy had a very emotional reunion.

I began to notice as the days went by, however, that the mother dog seemed to be having difficulty eating, and still appeared to be lethargic. She would respond to our calls, and would still bark at strangers. And yet...she was weaker, in a way. Her puppy would try to wrestle her and play games, but she wouldn't respond in the same way she used to. I began to wonder if this was the equivalent of prison trauma in dogs. She did spend five days in probably the most inhospitable kennel in the city, in the company of three or four inmates who were, in all probability, unbearably dominant. Was this some kind of stress the mother continued to feel?

The truth behind the matter revealed itself not in the mother dog, but in her puppy. One sunny morning, the household woke up and found the poor puppy uninterested in eating anything, staring out through a haze of torpor, his body refusing to move. He was still alive, we could see that, but he stayed in place, eyes sad, as if suddenly depressed. Staring into his eyes, one could not help but think of human eyes which had just witnessed some startling calamity. My puppy's eyes were distant, but they were pleading, somehow. Except that, he simply did not have the capability to tell us what was wrong.

We all felt the tug inside ourselves. We tried all sorts of things to bring him back to his former vibrant self, and yet nothing worked. His stupor and the state of his eyes continued for three days. He would not eat. He would not play with us no matter how much we urged him. Finally, I thought of looking up his symptoms on the Internet, and what I found there brought home the painful reality that my dog was going to die.

All of the puppy's recent afflictions were classic symptoms of parvovirus infection. Much like being infected with cholera in the case of a person, parvovirus in dogs instantly sentence them to a 50-50 chance of living. How could something as nefarious as this have infected my dog? Then, I remembered the puppy's mother, and how she had been exposed to all sorts of illnesses in the stifling atmosphere of the dog pound. The puppy had acquired the virus from his mother ( out of all possible routes ), who had, in turn, probably caught it from one of the other dogs in the pound. The realization hit me like a brick squarely in the middle of the eyes. I further read, through a haze of denial and incredulity, that parvovirus, if left untreated for more than a day, had a higher fatality rate in puppies compared to older dogs infected with it. The puppy had been harboring the virus inside itself for more than 3 days and two nights.

I finally knew that we were going to lose our treasured puppy. The pet which would always make your mornings more delightful. The dog which was unfalteringly loyal, obedient, and often far better to be around with than some other humans.

And as if in affirmation that fate could very well be cruel whenever it wanted to be, during those moments while I was reading the Internet entries, my puppy reached the lowest ebb of its struggle with the disease, and excreted her bowels to the earth. The final sign of a parvovirus fatality. I wasn't there to see it. I couldn't bear to see it. The smell of necrotic tissue wafted up and spiralled outward all throughout the house. The other members of the household beckoned me to take one look at the puppy, and asked of me what we could do about him. The puppy is outside, they told me. His smell is terrible. They did not know yet about parvovirus. I simply told them that the dog is infected with a virus, and its terrible smelling excreta is a sure sign that he will shortly be dead. It was already night, and I resigned myself to the certainty that when the morning came, our prized dog would be nothing but a carcass.

The next day's grief was palpable. It wasn't entirely the same feeling one would experience if the death in the house was that of a human, and yet, there was a deep sense of loss, all the same. Mornings would be different from now on. A mother had lost her child. The other members of the household handled the situation rather calmly, but tears were shed.

My cousins and my aunt had seen the last dying moments of the dog. They were the ones who, after sunrise, carefully wrapped the body up and buried it in our neighbor's backyard. I couldn't bear taking part in any of it.

I had to ask many excruciating questions of myself. Was I partly responsible? The virus infection was a direct consequence of my bringing home the puppy's mother. I never once thought that it was the mother's fault. I was delayed in claiming the mother back from the dog pound because I didn't have enough resources. To be more specific, I lacked financial resources. Could anything like this have been averted were I, well, richer? It might be a stupid question to some, but it was a question I couldn't avoid asking myself. Was it the dog pound's fault? That they couldn't maintain a clean enough and virus-free facility? When the puppy was already showing visible signs of a serious affliction, we couldn't bring the poor animal to any veterinarian because of, again, financial constraints. The services of a vet would simply require too steep a price. According to the helpful entries on the Internet, a puppy's chances of surviving parvovirus increases if it were brought to a veterinarian at the earliest onset of symptoms. We were discussing the possibility of bringing our puppy to the vet as early as the first day we noticed something amiss about him. However, we simply didn't have enough money to be able to do that. Even if we did manage to scrimp some token amount for the veterinarian's fees, we were certain that the medicine required for our dog would be too expensive, all the same. Any attempt at trying to get a diagnosis for the dog would be fruitless if the medicines could not be obtained.

I very much loved that puppy. I had the sincerest of intentions to reunite him with his mother. But, sometimes, even the best of intentions, and the most caring of actions, could lead to disaster, all the same. Could money have helped? Were its owner a bit richer, would my puppy have been saved? It is a question that still lingers in my mind.

Then again, there are simply so many things in our lives which are simply taken away. You invest so much time, effort, and concern for them, and yet events beyond our control are suddenly the ones in control. My grief may have been for this pet that I wasn't able to save because of my financial situation, but the future might see me torn apart by the same situation concerning a human.

It's a hard life, this life. But hope and faith do have their places here. I must go on.

A Filipino Decides to Blog

I am a Filipino.

I stand 5 feet 4 inches tall, about the height of any typical Southeast Asian ( which would probably bring to mind Thais, Indonesians, or Malaysians ).  My skin is a tad paler than freshly dug earth, and my hair is dry, smudgy black.  When I enter a room I would probably draw nary the slightest attention right here at home, but if ever I probably get the chance to enter a genuine English pub in the midst of London, or a deli in Italy, and hey   ( what the hell ),  maybe even a strip club in Las Vegas, I would probably appear like a pygmy. 

I was baptized a Catholic, as most Filipinos are, and yet I rarely practice my religious duties, well...religiously, just like most Catholic Filipinos.   I have a face which is distinctly oriental, even if my eyes don't have the slant of the Chinese, or Koreans, or Japanese.  My name sounds like a mixture of American slang, German phonetics, and French ancestry.  It would be a far cry from any distinctly Asian-sounding name.  I smoke locally-made Marlboros, and I sing to the tunes of mostly American songs while I groove to European dance music.  From my collared shirt down to my leather shoes, I subscribe to fashion which appears fairly urban contemporary, and pretty much pedestrian, given the tropical climate of the city I live in ( which means that, whereas in any other clime, people would have to wear different sets of clothes relevant to the season, Filipinos in Metro Manila could be said to generally wear summer clothing all throughout the year ).

I live the urban life.  My work demands that I commute by passenger vehicles, just like millions of other working Filipinos in Metro Manila.  Oh yes, that means people mostly get around by public transport--by jeepney ( a World War II-model jeep locally modified to accommodate more than 20 passengers ), by bus, train, or tricycle ( another World War II-type of motorcycle and passenger-cab fusion which would remind you of chase scenes in the movie Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade ).  The only Manilans who have cars normally belong to the upper-middle classes and the still higher classes.  To put it more simply, privately-owned cars are a luxury here in my country.  Typical urban Filipino families in Manila would have no car of their own.

Yes, as the reader may have guessed, the standard of living in Metro Manila is urban Third World.  Which means that, however cheaper the goods and services may be over here compared to Tokyo or Amsterdam, around 20 million workers in Metro Manila never earn enough to acquire them.  The situation can be better comprehended by thinking of it this way:  a Filipina maid working in Hong Kong or Singapore would earn higher income in a month than would a public school teacher in Metro Manila.   In similar fashion, even suavely cosmopolitan computer professionals over here earn a pittance compared to Filipinos who take on blue-collar jobs ( like plumbing ) in Australia.  This is exactly why Filipinos are mostly perceived as undereducated laborers in the countries around the world where they are found, because many of them perform the "dirty jobs".  And yet, it would not at all be surprising, upon more careful inspection, to find out that the Filipino nurse taking orders from the Canadian doctor might have been a doctor himself in the Philippines once before.  Or that the office clerk pushing 40 in an American trading firm performing the most menial of office-supply inventories was a bigshot bank manager back home.     

Filipinos want the good life, of course.  And by "good life", the Filipino simply seeks a First-World standard of living, pretty much what people in the First World take for granted.  Three square meals a day, for example, and include burgers with that, or fries ( chips ).   A home with a television set and refrigerator, at least, and don't forget cheap electricity and a constant supply of tapwater, please.  A telephone line, too , if you may, and perhaps, if one is very lucky, maybe even a personal computer to boot.  And a car, even if it's been through one or two previous owners.  All of these are easily within reach of even the most menial worker in a First World country, while over here, in the Philippines, the cheapest brand new car would be something no nurse, or a police officer, or perhaps even a college professor could afford.  So, many Filipinos yearn to go and work overseas, thinking that,  over there, any kind of job can give you a First World life.   Even if it means becoming household help.  It is a desperation so prevalent among my countrymen that millions of Filipinos have already spread around the world in search of jobs.  Who knows?  I might become one of them in the near future.  Which is why I keep musing about entering an English pub some day, probably to apply for a bartending gig.

So, is this what being a Filipino is all about?  You are born here, in the Philippines, then you grow up and find some work in another country.   You might raise a family wherever you find yourself in.  Pretty soon, you're not just a Filipino anymore.  You're either Filipino-American, or Filipino-Canadian, or Filipino- German, or Filipino-Japanese, or Filipino-Russian, or Filipino-Australian, or Filipino-Korean...and so on.  It seems that to be simply Filipino, without any dash and foreign country after that one word, has no relevance anymore. 

Filipinos hate being simply...Filipino.  We hate that we are born brown, and a bit smaller in stature compared to Caucasians.  We hate that the weather in our country has to be so hot all the time, with no possibility of snowfall.  We hate that we speak a native language that seems to sound so unsophisticated and so painful to the ears that we have to speak English most of the time.  We hate that most of our fellow Filipinos seem to be always so poor and so very lacking in everything ( they don't even have enough money to buy the proper shoes, for goodness' sakes ) that we would rather physically keep away from them as often as possible.  We hate so many things about ourselves it surprises me that we could even look at our own faces in the mirror.  In other words, there is no perfect, ideal Filipino.  There is only the perfect, ideal, Filipino-American, or Filipino-Brazilian, or Filipino-whatever.  

It makes me think about Singapore, where Singaporeans seem to be perfectly fine with being simply Singaporean, even though the country they live in is so small that there's no possibility of finding anything over there as interesting as a mountain range you can hike on, or a coral reef you can explore ( things which we have by the dozen in the Philippines ).  

It makes me think about trying to find out what being a Filipino really means, and if there's still some significance to it.  I mean, doesn't being Japanese mean a lot to a Japanese?  Or being American mean a lot to, well...an American?  If a Filipino calls himself a Filipino, what does it mean?  Does it mean that that particular Filipino has to live by ideals?  The same way that Japanese seem to live by the ideals of politeness, courtesy, and business-savvy?  The same way that Americans seem to live by their ideals of always being in the lead, and being the richest people in the world?  

Which is why this blog, and the many more which will follow this one, will hopefully make sense of what being a Filipino is, by simply reflecting one typical Filipino's experiences and impressions on life in the Philippines--my own. 

This is how a Filipino decides to blog.