Why Walking in Flood Water is Easy

First: You can leave your death threats in the comment section. 

Now that we've gotten that out of the way, on with the blogpost.

It has been three days since the Maring and the Habagat joined forces and brought watery hell down our heads. In Paranaque, it was no surprise that there were floods. Water would rise and wane with every burst of rain. People flocked to our sari-sari store because they had no food and they could not cook. The first night of the flood was Sunday. My mother did not sleep, because even though our house was pretty safe, the rising water scared her. 

 

3AM, Monday: The house in front of us has been repeatedly raped by the flood.

3AM, Monday: My mom had not slept. She kept vigil until noon, helping people and keeping watch just in case flood waters enter the house. She's like Wonder Woman that way.

I don't blame her. Years ago, we would have been panicking at the thought of rising water as well. I would have been stuffing clothes and food in plastic bags from Pure Gold and stuffing it in the highest shelves of my closet, along with important documents and my favorite books. I would have proceeded to put most of our possessions on top of each other. Then I would have waited (and hoped fervently)for the rain to stop. 

I grew up walking through flood waters. In fact, having to wade through dirty, muddy, smelly flood water from polluted rivers, drainage, and sewers is part of my high school memories. When I was in college, it was jumping onto a dump truck (you know, where they put trash and shit - literally, to my dismay) in my white nursing uniform so I could get across the flood around SM Sucat and get home. It is still a mystery how my uniform survived, but it did.

Tuesday morning: The water had been rising and waning. Above is a shot of the water entering our gate. Below are photos of how the rest of the neighborhood looked.

Which brings me to my point: walking through flood water is not a noble thing. It is not something to be applauded. And like many other things, it should not be a source of that false manifestation of nationality, "Pinoy Pride". I agree that it is a show of resilience, the "I need to fucking get home" kind or the "I'm going to die if I don't get out of this leptospirosis-infested water" kind.

Think of this, however: If Mother Nature had PMS everyday and decided to unleash its watery fury on us non-water benders, then the Filipino people would be walking in flood water everyday. You know what? Because we would have no choice.

It is easy walk through flood water. All one has to do is put your life, your family and your properties on the line. I promise you, you grit your teeth and take the plunge, shit in dump-truck, swimming rats, and floating cockroaches be damned. Any sane person with a relatively intact moral compass would do the same thing.

Yung totoo, hindi 'eto nakakabilib.

Alam mo kung ano yung nakakabilib? Yung sa susunod na delubyo, wala nang baha.

In a spur or narcissism

A/N: A little something I wrote for my writing workshop at the office.


Once upon a time, there was a little girl who stared out into the night, at the brightest star in the sky. She closed her eyes, and clasped her hands, and fervently murmured her petition into the quiet night: “I wish to wake up tomorrow and find myself beautiful. I wish for fair skin, and blonde hair, and clear, bright blue eyes…”


I used to hate being a Filipino. When I was in my high school, I had dreamt of my future as a professional in the U.S., a woman of sophistication, possibly married to a white man, with beautiful, bright-eyed children. I wanted Western liberty and class. I believed the Filipino people were hopeless, helpless and ignorant. I even wrote this description of our country in my old deleted blog about Joseph Estrada’s term as President:

“In the Philippines, we have an actor for a President, and people from the entertainment industry are flocking into politics as though it were the newest fad. People would storm the streets everyday, demanding reforms, demanding the resignation of our leaders. We had a so-called EDSA Tres, which, in my opinion, is an event disgracing the original EDSA miracle. We have Abu Sayyaf decapitating people left and right. We have NPA, MILF and whateverterrorist groups. We even gained international acclaim for our connection to the Al Quaida group. We had the international reputation of being a country of corruption, and of murderous Muslim rebels.”

What had caused the turn around?

It was my steady exposure to the outside world, the positives and the misconceptions about our race, and my sudden realization that whatever I do, whatever I change, I am, and will always be a Filipino. I have loathed discrimination for as long as I remember, and here I was, a supposedly educated, an intellectual young lady, discriminating my own kind, being a racist to myself. I had been an idiot, and I realized I should not allow my people to make the same mistake as I had.

These days, I make it a point to show my color. I want to show everyone that they should not let anyone degrade their dignity as a Pinoy. There have been many instances wherein Filipinos have been discriminated. American TV show Desperate Housewives implied that Pinoy health care professionals are incompetent. Chinese columnist Tsip Chao’s article, The War at Home, explicitly stated that we are “a nation of servants” (albeit the article was supposed to be a satire). Recently, American radio host Adam Carolla stated that the Philippines has nothing to be proud of but Manny Pacquiao, and that we should “get a life”.

It is one thing for foreigners to be subjectively narrow-minded in discerning the Filipinos, and another when the Filipino himself looks down at his own identity. Many people do this. They fervently believe that this country is worthless, and helpless; that their heritage is not important. They look down upon their fellow Filipinos, and look down upon themselves, too, as Filipinos. An article featured in Bob Ong’s Bakit Baliktad Magbasa and mga Pilipino?, claimed that the thing we lack is respect for ourselves. This article was written by a foreigner who had fallen in love with the Philippines.

If truth be told, we have a lot to be proud of.

We have a beautiful country, and a resilient people. We have a colorful history, filled with many brave men and women who fought for what they believed in.
We are a race of survivors, who have lived through the storms of nature and history. We have been through Ondoy, and Basyang lately, and countless other natural disasters. Devastating winds and floodwater might have crushed our houses, and destroyed our crops and possessions, but no amount of catastrophes could mangle the Filipino spirit. We always emerge victorious in the end.

We are a country of resourcefulness, creativity, humility, and of love for God. Our professionals brave foreign seas for the sake of a better life for their families, despite the fact that the work they do is way below them. Young, intellectual marvels from deprived families studying in ill-equipped public schools do researches for the advancement of science and technology. We have Lea Salonga, Charice Pempengco, Arnel Pineda, Manny Pacquiao, and Efren Pena Florida and more. They are Filipinos, and the world is at their feet.

I want to tell Tsip Chao that we are a nation of servants, but not robotic drones. We are hardworking, competent and compassionate. I want to explain to Adam Carolla that yes, we do have Manny Pacquiao to be proud of, and that he is among the millions of Filipinos who have made their mark in history. I want to tell you, my fellow Pinoys, that no one has the right to spit at his own identity.
This is my passion. I burn with enthusiasm and love for my heritage, for my culture, for where I come from, and, ultimately, for who I am.

The little girl woke up the next day and found that the star had granted her wish. She still had her brown skin, and her long hair. When she touched her nose, it was still flat. But as she looked at herself in the mirror she realized something: she was beautiful.

Her eyes – they were bright and clear.