My teacher told me that it is an interesting study on our culture that the personal-issue switches and buttons that ignite our self-pity are beauty, wealth and intellect. It might take a Christian counseling degree from quality online Christian colleges to sort it all out.
And why not?
Since March 16, 1521, the war between the brown man and the white conquistador has been in play up until now. Obviously, because of our fertile land, Juan (who was later given the surname Tamad) has trusted in the good grace of our Lord to provide for his basic daily bread and needs; this gave him little incentive to work like a horse. This inherent quality of Juan has been spat on by the well-meaning Spaniard (who has experienced the hardships of winter most probably as a serf in the faraway kingdom of Spain). And the same well-meaning, God-fearing, arts and sciences worshipping, patrician-nosed Spaniard came to look down on carefree, tree and sun worshipping, kinky-haired, pug-nosed Juan.
But despite the disparity in the Old-World-approved standards of beauty, intellect and process of creating wealth, not to mention the mores and norms of the mighty conquistador, Juan still felt the human indignation of being frowned upon to the maximum level, not to mention being evicted from his own God-given land.
War ensued. Battles have been won, lost, sold, bought, kept under the covers, forgotten and written in history books, to be memorized by rote by indifferent school children who now buy the notions of the global community.
And yet, unawares, the battle between the white man and the brown native still rage deep inside us. We have been raped, if not physically, then emotionally and verbally, and we try to keep up a brave face and soldier on in the global community. Many of our fellowmen have won. But even more still suffer. I remember the statistics recently pointed out by a highly intellectual friend: 22% of us are middle class, 77% live in poverty and illiteracy, 1% bask in wealth. Who comprises the 77%? What is their history? What force glues them there? And the 22%? Many are climbing the material ladder by working like dogs, leaving most of the good stuff they learn through their own efforts in order to survive and “be happy”. And what of the 1%? How many in the 1% are spreading their good fortune to the world? THIS IS NOT TO DISCREDIT THE GOOD DEEDS DONE BY PEOPLE FROM ALL PIECES OF THE NUMBER PIE (special mention to my idols: Efren Penaflorida, Illac Diaz, Miguel Syjuco, Charice Pempengco, Heidi Mendoza, Clarissa Ocampo, the sincere public and private school teachers, the truly just lawyers, the homemakers (male or female) and the many unsung heroes, many of whom are in my circle of friends and I’m sure in yours too, who relentlessly help themselves and inspire those within their kalye). The question is, why, despite the blessings of the tropics are we still holding on to our sob stories – whether we belong to thin slice, the 22% or the whopping 77%?
It is cultural. It is in our conditioned nature.
[caption id="attachment_299" align="aligncenter" width="300" caption="My book-loving version of my nationalism"]
[/caption]And yet, the gift of the ruthless conquistadors is Jesus.
Jesus, whose name the ancient powers that were used to claim our lands and rape our women, is the same name we invoke in our need.
Our sob stories when lifted to the unwitting Weapon used to pilfer our lands and our souls do not go unheard.
How many sob stories have turned into sweet victories? I am not only talking about the travel-magazine advertisement of the Filipino people that despite the deplorable living conditions and inner turmoil are still able to eat, drink and be merry. I am talking about quiet, substantial real life triumphs over the sad histories of endless family conflicts and the resulting inner turmoil and social chaos, the prejudices felt from our version of the caste systems and the exhaustion from the collective pain the country has felt ever since Juan Tamad and Maria Peninsulares intermarried (or should I say, ever since Padre Damaso heard Capitana Ines’s confession).
There is hope. In prayer, we supplicate, we send out to the universe our plea.
It begins with hope. And the world shifts into our tiny kalye. We look at our problems in terms of beauty, wealth and intellect STRAIGHT IN THE EYE. If we choose to be honest and face the pain and not buy into the contradicting ideas of working like a horse and being fatalistic. If we relentlessly face our fear and tell the now invisible conquistador in our brain (that sends us these text messages: you’re no good, you’re lazy, your ugly, you’re destined to be poor and eat scraps, you don’t work hard enough, you’re a son of a white/brown bitch) that what happened in 1521 in Limasawa or Butuan was Lucifer’s ploy of turning God’s people into unbelievers and we’re no longer buying it. We can transcend our painful history, and make our dear sob story a short introduction into our own individual versions of victory against all odds. With tenacity and in the middle of challenges, let’s walk the talk with faith and not fear of the ancient conquistador’s sneers. Let’s win the battle in our personal lives and win the war that started in 1521 or ever since Eve ate the apple. Perhaps in our own way, we can shed light on the 77% and like the heroes, dead and living, lauded and unsung, help in the collective healing of our land.
It is possible and it has started and it is continuing, despite the many inner wars that happen.
I’m writing this, because as a Filipino who has suffered the culturally existential debates in my brain (borne by real life situations worthy of this December’s MMF entry and perhaps it may go to the Sundance and/or Canne Film Fest), and suffered alone, I reclaim my birthright of greatness and joy not only as Juan Tamad and Maria Peninsulares’ Filipino offspring but most of all as God’s child.
If we were misguidedly usurped in the name of God, it is now time to reclaim our birthright. I believe that when we do this persistently despite the challenges that will lie ahead, we help others do the same. Makibaka! Let’s fight the good fight!
©*Me*
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