Rooftops September 30, 2011

There’s a warm breeze this morning.  The sun is out in full force, drying up what’s left from the typhoon 2 days ago.  The flooded streets had made a clean sweep of the trash & animal excrements, but the strong wind had only added to the mess.

There’s still a tiny pool of water on my neighbor’s tarp that serves as his roof.  During the storm, I saw him out on his roof, pulling taught the edges, adding blankets & bricks to seal it from the elements.

It reminds me of when I was a child, building tents & forts with blankets & whatever else was available.

Over the tarp roof is a bushy tree, with one strong branch, from which hangs a rope that disappears from my view on the other side of the roof.  If this was my childhood, it might be a rope swing.

My neighbor’s house is fairly protected, nestled in the corner of a 2-story house and a rough brick wall that blocks from my view all but the rooftops of the wealthy neighbors’ 3-story mansions in the gated community.  I wonder if their side of the wall is painted.  Ours is shabby (but sturdy) and growing moss.

Mama Merly says she wishes the neighbors on this side wouldn’t use tires to hold down their corrugated tin rooftops.  They collect water, breeding mosquitoes.  I told Mama Merly a while ago they should just cut the tires so that the water will drain.  Nothing came of it.

A few weeks ago, there was a pile of tires in the basketball court, (which is the juncture for major footpaths in our neighborhood).  I asked my insider-informant about it. “They were probably collected from people’s rooftops.  Mosquitoes, you know.  People should be using nails, not tires, to hold down their roofs.  Tires just take less effort.”  I told him about my idea of boring holes in the tires.  No response.  That takes effort too, I guess.

Maybe the general feeling among some is: “When it becomes a problem, we’ll address it.”

During the storm 2 days ago, my informant says he saw rooftops flying.

 

 

There are still too many factors I just don’t know about.

But I can’t help but wonder about the dynamics of:

• People being helpless, or having learned helplessness.
• Oppression — not as anything malicious, but as letting the status quo remain the status quo, without giving thought to how to fix it, or if having thought about it, coming up void of practical, easy solutions.

How to Eat a Pig Head September 24, 2011

Step 1:  Butcher a Pig.

Step 2:  Remove the Innards.

Step 3:  “Pass the Pig” …Head

Step 4:  Cook it.

Step 5:  Dig in!

You’re not going to EAT that, are you? September 6, 2011

These are not the kids who were at my door, but I like the how the little smile on the front girl's face communicates how I feel now about this story. I'm laughing at myself as I continue to make bloopers crossing cultures.

Wed, Sept 6, 2011 – “Tapon” or “Tao po”?

I recently learned the word “tapon” (to throw away), which sounds like “tao po” (knock, knock, can I come in?).  Had I known this a month ago, it might have made all the difference in the following encounter:

Sat, Aug 6, 2011

Two kids just arrived at my door.

“Tapon, Tapon,” they called.  I thought they were saying, “Tao po, tao po.”

“May basura?” they asked.  (Do you have trash?)  It’s not Wednesday (trash day), I thought.  Why do they want trash?    I motioned to the nearest trash can, a small bag of scraps by the sink with flies swarming around it.  No, they didn’t want it.  “Oh, recyclables,” I thought, and offered two glass bottles.  No again.  I brought out a trash can containing empty wrappers.  No.  “Baboy at kanin,” (pork and rice), they requested, and pointed to a big bag of leftovers on the windowsill.  Food waste; it had been outside the fridge for a while and was waiting for disposal.  I gave it to them, then blurted out in English, “You’re not going to eat that, are you?”  They looked back at me blankly, which I took to mean, “Why wouldn’t we?”  In a flash, I did what anyone in my shoes would do: I opened the “ref” (fridge) and started filling a clean bag with still-fresh dishes of meat, veggies, and rice, asking “gusto mo?” (do you like/want this?) about each one.  The kids left, and I sat & pondered what happened, feeling quite selfish for all the fresh food & treats I’d eaten that morning.  A few moments later, the kids returned, asking for “bayad” (payment — not charity).  “Magkano?” (What’s the price?) I asked.  “Bahala,” they answered (Whatever is God’s will that you would give us).  No idea.  I found my host brother, and explained the whole thing.  “It’s 5 pesos,” he said, “and they were just taking out our trash.”

I felt relieved that I hadn’t just encountered people who pick through trash for food — although I know there are places in this city where that happens.  In retrospect, I’m even a little ashamed that I would assume that about our neighborhood, because people here are so conscious about taking care of each other that it would be totally undignified to give someone food-waste when you have proper, edible food available… I think.

At least the kids’ family got a free meal out of the deal.  I hope they understood it was to eat.

This was a good reminder for me that as much as I strive to be culturally aware and sensitive, I am still prone to instincts and impulses rooted in my culture and assumptions that lead to inferences and responses that can easily be way off-track.

Lola & Lolo September 2, 2011

I changed the names to preserve anonymity; the people in this picture are not Lola & Lolo, but this is an example of a 'tricycle' ... with some of my friends inside. :D

Rejoice with me!  I’m getting to know my community members, and therein finding ways I can share in their joys & struggles, and even some probable solutions…

 

Lola, the woman who washes my family’s laundry on occasion, just lost her regular job; she used to wash clothes for a middle-class household, but was replaced by a full-time house-help.

 

When I met her on the street this evening, she was trying to figure out what she & her husband & 7 kids were going to do for dinner.  I asked what her options were, and she explained in Tagalog using the words “hanap” (look for) and “utang” (debt).  Not sure whether she was looking to go into debt to her neighbors, or hoping to retrieve money/favors from those who were indebted to her.  I asked who owed her money.  “Wala” (there’s no one).

 

Having talked through a few options,  I asked if I could join them for dinner and also have the pleasure of providing the rice.

We climbed the stairs into their humble abode, and had a great time hanging out, joking, singing, and conversing as much as I could in Tagalog with her kids and husband while she cooked the rice.

 

I learned that Lola’s husband, Lolo, hasn’t worked for 3 months.

He used to drive tricycle (earning about 400 pesos a day, spending 120 pesos per day to rent the tricycle).

Then one day, his wallet fell out of his pocket, and with it, his driver’s license.  Without a license, you can’t drive, so he had to stop working.

A driver’s license shouldn’t be that hard to replace — it only costs 150 pesos ($4) for the government office to make a new one, but you also need an official affidavit stating that it was simply lost, and it’s difficult when you don’t know how to proceed with the legal processes.

 

I’m excited now thinking about it because I know a lawyer — one of my professors — who does a lot on behalf of the poor.  I’ll ask him if he’d be able to draw up an affidavit, and let Lolo know I have a contact for him if he’s interested.