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Corazon Aquino

I remember a dictator name Marcos and his wife Imelda when I was a teenager in high school.  I also remember his fall and the rise of a woman who seemed to rally her country to new heights of hope.  For some reason I was fascinated by this woman and this place called the Philippines.  My only tangible connection to this exotic land was a lamp made out of sea shells that my grandmother had in her living room and she used to tell me that it was “from the Philippines”.  I saw news film of Corazon Aquino and wondered who she was - I think I was a bit suspicious of her - I don’t know why.

Then one night I had a dream.  I was walking with Cory Aquino and we were talking.  I don’t remember exactly what the conversation was, but I was deeply touched by her presence and I remember waking feeling changed. This woman who was so far away inspired something in me. Ever since that dream I felt a special connection and distant fascination with Cory Aquino and this place called the Philippines which made seashell lamps.

Now, twenty four years later I am in that land, home of Cory Aquino, the mysterious seashell

Aquino

lamp land and I have the honour of joining this nation in mourning a very instrumental symbol of what this country has attained and wants to aspire again to.
Abode well Cory and thank you for your presence and what it has and will continue to inspire in all of us.

I really need to start doing a better editing job of editing these post.  I just re-read the last post and realized that I’ve repeated myself embarrassingly. Damn “cut and past”. Either that or I am posting too late at night and not all of my faculties are with me.

Chow King Kiosk

Have you ever done the same thing over and over again and wondered why you do it, particularly if the result isn’t always what you’d hope to expect? I ask myself this every time I go and order supper at the small Chow King kiosk here in the front of the Diocesan Centre. Chow King is a fast food establishment which is Chinese. I believe there are some Chow Kings in California. I’ve been told that the owner of the Chow King food chain sits on the board of St. Luke’s hospital and is a great supporter of the Central Diocese. The food is Chinese, but fast food, so the taste isn’t that bad nor is it the best, but it works because I can get a beef and wanton noodle dish that is one of my favourites. Plus it’s quick and take-out.

Most evenings you can find me in the office working on my computer when I am not being enticed to drink a “few” bottles of beer. So enjoy the take out aspect of Chow King. English is widely spoken here or should I say widely understood. Often times I find that I am

Chow King Inside

understood, but the person listening to me can’t respond. This becomes quite interesting at times particularly when I am trying to order something that I can’t pronounce, because my Tagalog is desperate, and I am trying to make sure I get what I think I am ordering. For the past three time I go to Chow King I either get something different then what I intended or I get something extra that I thought I didn’t order. It gets quite amusing, because I am normally dealing with the same person each time and I really should know better.

Jobs are fairly scarce here and it is not uncommon to find the same person working constantly at the same job; I’ve gone into Burger King at 7:00 in the morning and seen the same person there when I have returned at 6:00 p.m. It seems like the staff never really changes. I’ve been told that most people make 300 pesos a day at these kinds of fast food jobs, which amounts to nearly 7.00 dollars a shift, Canadian and that I am told is doing well. So knowing this, each night I got to Chow King and see the same person and he and I do this dance. I speak very slowly and usually order the same thing hoping that we are on the same page. Sometimes I order something slightly different, like a Dim Sum extra. If I can’t pronounce the word he usually leans as far out as he can from the kiosk window as I point to a picture. This very rarely is effective. If I want the fried pork and tofu he orders me a pork rice dish. If I order beef noodles I get spare rib topping with rice. It really gets fun when he starts asking me if I want something to drink and I can’t tell if he is asking me if I want Ice Tea or Water. Most of the time I am happy to get what I get and am willing to take the consequences given I am insisting on conversing in English. When you go to a cantina the food is laid out before you and you can pick what you want and have it be served. At least you visually know what you are getting so knowing what it is isn’t so crucial. Though I must admit I have picked things I had no idea what they were until I ate it.

Misty Baguio City

Filipino and English are the official languages in the Philippines. English is predominately the language of education and most definitely business, though Filipino is being used more and more in the school room. You will find signs in a mixture of English and Filipino and most newspapers will be in English. In Manila particularly it is not uncommon to hear “Taglish” being spoken or even just a kind of English. It has amazed me how many people will insist on speaking English to each other instead of Tagalog. I’ve been told that this is a bit of a snobby thing to do and my closer friends will tell me that they will not speak English to another Filipino unless in mixed company because of this. In most cases people will ask me if they can speak Tagalog or rather “their language” as a politeness so as not to have me feel left out and if they are speaking on a subject regarding me they will always speak English. The Filipino is just too polite. There was only one occasion where an individual spoke about me in Tagalog while I was present and that was met by firm consternation from the other Filipinos in the room, but this individual is known for her rudeness and does not by any means represent the norm. Having said this though, to say that the Philippines is a predominately English speaking country would be misleading. I still have to be vigilant about the kind of English I use and the speed by which I speak. Gonny, who is quite good in English, revealed to me just recently that he didn’t always understand me because I spoke so fast, particularly when we are relaxing. I asked him how often he doesn’t understand and he said “quite” where upon I scolded him and told him to tell me to “slow down” which for a Filipino is a gargantuan task because it goes against there polite grain. I would rather be understood then nodded at politely not understood. However, I will work with anything, because the English that I do run into is very helpful to me. My experience here would be very different if English wasn’t spoken.

I am just back from Baguio City, which is a city up in the Benguet Province in the Northern Luzon. Baguio is Igorot territory and is about 1500 meters above sea level; though the mountain climb isn’t quite as dramatic as going to Bontoc and Sagada it was never the-less quite interesting. Baguio City was founded by the Americans in 1900 when

The Happy Bride and Groom

they scouted the place out for a good summer capitol. Being high in the mountains the temperature never goes above 28 degrees Celsius and is very cool all year round. I never really understood the idea behind summer capitols until I came to the Philippines. The lowlands where Metro Manila finds itself is extremely stifling and hot. I came here at the tail end of the summer and it was shocking. People have told me that the temperatures I experienced were typical, but by far not the highest. Imagine Manila in the 1900’s without air conditioning?

The American Government scouted out Baguio for a summer residence. When the hot season arrived the whole government moved to the city. Baguio is fascinating because it is a designed city so it has a real feel of order and symmetry. The architect, Daniel Burnham, planned the city in such a way that the city hall would be its centre and the city would not reach out further then 8.2 kilometres east, west and north and south. The city was built for only 25,000 people and as of today in the off season it sports about 300,00. The one thing that is really striking about Baguio is all the pine trees and the fauna. Because the city was planned the roads are ascetic and the parks and open areas make “sense”. The road that we took was the road the American Army built and it was quite steep all and all.

I went to Baguio with Johnny the main development officer in the Central Diocese. Myself, Lean, and Leyte went up on Friday afternoon and Johnny drove. Johnny is from Baguio and has a house there and he goes up quite often. There were many opportunities by which I could have gone up sooner, but unfortunately I did not take them. Ah, what a mistake. Either way the reason for our journey this time was that Marvin, who is a seminary graduate and applying for ordination, was getting married. I had never seen a Filipino wedding so this was a good opportunity that presented itself.

Fr. Frary and the Bride

I ended up spending my first night with Fr. Frary who is a professor and priest that teaches and resides in St. Andrews College. The common denominator that unites us is Maine. He is from Farmington, where my sister is and my family resides in Maine. He owns a small condominium that is quite comfortable. When I walked in the door I was greeted with English language television some water and then was asked if I wanted anything “stronger” whereupon I said yes quite affirmatively and was given a glass of very good whiskey. We talked Maine and the polity of the Episcopal Church. Fr. Frary is quite a talker and I when I have a glass of whiskey am quite a good listener.

The next day we were picked up by Lean and Johnnie with his wife and drove to the wedding. I have never seen a church quite like the one where the wedding was. It was painted with murals and words and was quite colourful. We arrived rather early which I must say is quite un-Filipino given that. In the Philippines you should expect that things will start or people will arrive at least a half hour after the appointed time. When I walked into the church it was like a reunion – so many people were there from Cathedral Heights Compound. Myself, Fr. Fear, Bishop Jones and his wife, and of course Fr. Frary found ourselves all sitting together in the pews and taking in the scene. Our banter was very ex-pat and I must say that we had the gamut of the English speaking world represented. Fr. Fear is from England, Fr. Frary from the U.S and Bishop Jones from Australia. It was quite fun.

The wedding wasn’t as long as I thought it would be and went quite smoothly. Afterwards everybody got to have pictures with the groom and bride. This is quite a practice. First you have the bride and groom; then the bride and

Friends of the Groom

groom with the clergy; then the bride’s family and then the groom’s family; the bride’s friends, grooms friends. This can go on and on depending how many combinations people can come up with. This is all done with the most festive of flairs.

After the picture taking myself, Lean and Leyte weren’t sure where Johnnie had parked the car so we ended up jumping into a Jeepney for the ride to the reception area. I am rather used to riding in Jeepneys now and it seemed quite “normal” I couldn’t resist taking this picture. When we got to the reception area it was being held in a yard and in a house being currently built. People were gathering around the yard and taking shelter from the rain under canopies that had been set up. It rained quite a bit that day, however this is not entirely unusual given that it is rainy season.

I was introduced to two parishioners from the church the wedding was held in and they quickly ushered me to the second floor of the house and sat me down where the bishop was and his wife were. When the house is finished it will be quite a large affair and I was amazed at its height and size. Currently the house was a bare shell, but if offered good

Outside at the Reception

shelter from the rain. I was told that recently a family member had died in the house and couldn’t be at the wedding. It is a custom to honour the deceased and therefore that is why the reception was being held in the house as a way to include the family member. I was told that the person had died alone and this gave more relevance as to why we were gathering in the house. Igorot culture honours the ancestors and the first nine days and the next forty are very important in remembering the one who has died. Normally after a wedding the gongs are played, however because of the recent death they are not utilized. I really get along well with the bishops wife. We always have very frank conversations and she tends to talk about her experiences in the Philippines in a very colourful manner. She strikes me as very Australian in her mannerism and expressions and is very easy to get alone with.

I must admit the one thing that I really like about the culture here in the Philippines is the food. Food is so important to the gathering of people that it is hard to believe anyone would go hungry here. Of course being in Baguio in the North, all my favourite Igorot dishes were represented and I might say that I was in a small ecstatic state. Just when you thought that we were finally reaching the end of the food – more would appear in even grater abundance. Just thinking about it makes me think I should stop writing and go and get some supper.

I’ve been taking my supper quite routinely at a cantina near to the diocesan office. I was initially brought there by Mama Leyte. I liked the place because I can sit inside, which is comfortable and because I don’t garner attention there. It is also a good space when it rains. What makes me come back to the place each day and I do eat there at least once a

Feasting

day is that the food is quite good. There is a nice elder woman there who at first didn’t really speak to me, but now feels quite comfortable to carry on a conversation when I arrive. I find it quite comforting that she knows my schedule and will comment if I deviate from it. I have even reached the point that if I ask for take out she will let me take the plate with me knowing I will return it the next day.

After the reception there was a plan for all of us to go over to Johnnie’s house. He was going to prepare a special dish for us. When in the mountain provinces that special dish usually barks before it is prepared. Apparently, I found out upon more inquiry that Johnnie raises dogs for eating. These dogs are of the native variety and are not “special” breads like a Labrador retriever or poodles. I don’t think a poodle would make a tasty dish anyhow – if their meat is anything like their disposition. Think of it in the manner by which we eat chickens but not our pet parakeets or canaries. They are both birds, but utilised for different things. I found out that the dogs are fed rice and I guess they eat a lot of it. In my earlier days I remember walking through small villages and seeing dogs in cages with bowls of rice. I wonder what that was all about. Well now I know…

Gin and "Finger Food"

Since I have been in the Philippines I have eaten dog meat on five occasions and can say I quite enjoy its taste. I think its far tastier then goat. My favourite way it is prepared is Adobo, which is a Spanish word for seasoning or marinade. I guess the Spanish have a particular way of cooking Adobo; however the Adobo cooking style in the Philippines is very distinct to the Philippines and was here when the Spanish came. Adobo cooking is typically, pork or chicken, or a combination of both. Pork and chicken adobo is really one of my favourite dishes – so much so that when I am invited to people’s homes to eat I can expect it. The chosen meat is slowly cooked in soy sauce, vinegar, crushed garlic, bay leaf and black peppercorn  is browned in the oven or pan-fried afterward to get the desirable crisped edges. Adobo cooking originated in the northern regions of the Philippines and traditionally has been associated with cooking dog. Dog was the originally prominent protein source of the people in the north. Adobo meat also keeps well and it’s good for traveling with it, because the vinegar keeps bacteria at bay.

Seeing the animal you’re going to eat is a very interesting thing. Seeing the animal you’re going to eat being “prepared” takes things to a completely different level. Since I’ve been in the Philippines I have seen four animals I was going to consume being prepared. I feel that if I am going to be an honest meat eater this is something that I should be exposed to and understand. Of course watching is different then taking part and I haven’t taken that step yet so I can’t say that I am being truly honest in my meat eating entirely. So much so in our society (modern – urban dwelling not necessarily farm dwelling) we separate ourselves from what we are eating. Lovely shrink wrapped packages of prepared flesh. You can forget that it once was a living breathing creature and that it died for you, for your consumption. Perhaps if people saw animals being slaughtered for their consumption they may not be so complacent about the mechanized and distant way that we treat animals in the process. It is much different taking an individual animal and “preparing” it then herding hundreds of animals into a mechanized slaughter house, which becomes a blood bath of horrible cruelty, which requires a psychological distancing that almost seems inhumane to attain by those who are exposed to it every day.

O.K. so you’re saying, “Yes, Nicolas, a chicken, a goat, a duck, but a dog?” and I reply, “Think about it.” What is the difference between a dog, a chicken, a goat and a duck or a cow?” Yes each taste different, but as a protein source they are equal. Obviously the idea of not eating a dog stems from our cultural attachment to what dogs have become to us. Let me assure you that there are a lot of pet dogs up north. So much so that it has really stunned me how many dogs there are, particularly when you’re trying to sleep at night and they feel they have to have a lively chat amongst themselves.

There is an image that I have in my head from a long time ago. I can’t remember how long, but let me assure you I think I was in my early teens – WELL maybe it wasn’t THAT long ago! I remember it was on this programme like 20/20 a programme that dealt with cutting edge stories. Either way, this man who was an animal rights activist had gone to a market in Korea with a camera (the Koreans love dog as well) and emerged wretched in tears barely able to articulate his emotional disturbance to the television audience. I remember being rather taken aback by the whole thing. I remember wondering what has triggered this response. I saw the pictures of the dogs in the cage and to me at the time it did seem quite unsettling because I had never seen dogs in cages being sold for food. However, I do remember quite distinctly that this “atrocity” was being practice by Koreans and there was a very distinct cultural line being drawn with all that it entails. Almost intonating “That if Koreans treat dogs this way….” I also remember the camera passing over cages of chickens as well; however they didn’t seem to get much of a mention.

Eating a dog is not something that I never thought I would initially be drawn to or ever thought that I would partake in. You may remember my earlier conversation with Lean when I had a crisis thinking that I insulted her and even said, “I don’t eat intelligent animals.” Well I do. Having witnessed a pig being slaughtered and hearing its squeals tells

"Delicious?"

me that this animal is intelligent enough to know its demise is coming. I am not a vegetarian. I have tried all sorts of diets, Macro-biotic, Vegan, and every degree of “vegetarian” (lacto…ect…) it doesn’t suit my body type so I have resolved in myself that I need protein and not the protein which comes from nuts. Plus I enjoy the taste of meat. I guess I am asking that if you are a meat eater what makes one meat source less acceptable then another; for me its taste and for you?

Ooops…A Polemic

Crucifix St. Andrews Episcopal Seminary

Over the past two weeks I have been attending some classes over at St. Andrew’s Seminary the official, actually, the only Episcopal Seminary in the Philippines. The class of choice has been “Nurturing Christian Congregations” which we would understand to be Congregational Studies. The class is taught by a lay Roman Catholic man, Peter Botangan, who is very engaged with BCC’s (Basic Christian Communities) which is similar to small groups. He has been teaching the history of this process and how it came to the Philippines from Central America. I found this to be quite engaging because it is connected to Liberation Theology. This led me to ask a question about the similarities and difference between Liberation Theology and the Theology of Struggle, which is distinctly Filipino. Peter really connected the dots for me and it was quite exciting. I feel that having been “in the field” sort to speak for the past two months has given me some intense practical information and experience that I am finding is really coming together in the classroom. I am integrating my experience with intellectual learning and I am feeling that a lot is coming together.

During the break I had the opportunity to talk with Peter more in the faculty lounge and found that he and I have a mutual interest in Contextual Theology which is quite a burgeoning discipline here in the Philippines. My interest in Contextual Theology comes from my studies of the syncretisation of Christian culture with that of indigenous cultures. Plus the study of early Christian communities begs the question of context. There is something really different about studying Christianity in another culture when you are in that culture. The resources I have available to me are distinctly Filipino and I can also compare my first hand experiences with that of academic study. It’s a great balance and it suits my learning style. As a result of our conversation Peter set up a meeting for me with one of the leading authorities in Contextual Theology, Fr. Daniel Pilario, who I found out later (because everyone kept telling me in awed and amazed voices) that he is the Dean of St. Vincent Roman Catholic Seminary.

One of the things that is very different here in the Philippines and particularly in the

The Daily Reading

Episcopal Church in the Philippines, is a tremendous obsession with hierarchy and rigid formality. Patrick, the New Zealand priest made a passing comment that the Episcopal Church is very formal. I replied that what he was experiencing was Filipino formality applied to the Episcopal Church. I’ve noticed that there is a real pecking order here and from what I have witnessed those on top do not let those on the bottom forget it. In what is more fascinating, if just not down right worse, is that there seems to be a hazing tradition by those who have made it through the “system” to those who are trying to move into it. Positions are jealously guarded. I know this first hand because I have had the interesting fortune to watch at least three people apply for ordination only to have it kyboshed and put off for an indefinite time. Often times for no particularly reason. Even the bishop has told me that if someone doesn’t particularly like you on a standing committee you can be held up for years. I have talked to too many people not to believe that this can be true. I think the longest I have heard of someone being held from ordination has been eight years and this was around issues of education. Which is another obsession over here; if you have education you are assumed to be on a higher level then others. O.K you might be saying to yourself Nicolas you’re being too harsh. I beg to differ.

One of the benefits of moving around the diocese as much as I have and being part of vestry meetings discussions on parish building and just being privy to a wide amount of information, is that I have witnessed a real old fashion attitude that the priest by virtue of being a priest tend to be considered the end all of authority. Unfortunately this authority is too easily given over by the people in the parish and often times to some very non productive results. I have witnessed at least two parishes that have been paralysed by their authoritarian priests who have very little skill with working with their parishioners and have been caught up in their own status quo. You see, here, it is true, not everyone has education. The priest may be the most educated person in the small village he is placed in, however the concept of that education being used to empower and motivate is still sometimes a very new idea. There isn’t a service mentality here.

St. Andrews

Much of the cause for this dynamic can be explained in principally two kinds of phenomenon that is prevalent in Filipino cultural attitudes. One is the strong sense of response to hierarchy or position. This is fundamentally ensconced in the family structure where parents are the first authority figures and you would not challenge them at least until you reached a similar rank (if you ever reached that rank). It was related to me by a priest – when I was pressing this question - that he would never have offered an opposing opinion to his father before his ordination as a priest. His ordination placed him on par with parental authority and gave him a right to level out his relationship with a man that held higher rank up until that point. Now I am not saying this is an excuse for disrespect, but a space to feel comfortable stating ones opinions, particularly if they differ. From what I have been told and observed, Filipinos have an uneasy response to authority and it baffles me sometimes how they respond to it. Some have offered the explanation that particularly in the North there is still vestiges of the old system of tribal authority and it is natural for the mindset to give over to that authority.

Others, and I think that this is most pertinent as well, have said that 400 years of colonialism has produced an uneasy response to authority and what is witnessed as knee jerk response is really a protective measure. When the Spanish colonised the Philippines they brought a unique blend of government that merged religion with secular authority and as I mentioned before more times then naught the governors and representatives of authority were ecclesiastical. This has created a culture, sort to speak that is responsive to religious authority. This coupled with an all ready inherent response to authority by virtue of imbalanced colonialism creates a reaction that often times seem automatic. It requires a great deal of self confidence to break this mould particularly when you are the one who is in the position of authority.

The second dynamic that influences this mechanism is that Episcopalianism has been in the Philippines for only 100 years and its bastion is in the mountainous region of the north. Roman Catholicism has had a strong and influential presence for 300 years. Today Roman Catholics make up over 90% of the population with 10% making up the other, which includes the protestant denominations. The Episcopal Church makes up a very small percent of this ten. Unfortunately there is no count on membership in the Episcopal Church in the Philippines so it hard to find out just how much of a percent the church makes. Needless-to say the Roman Catholic Church has had a very strong influence over the Episcopal Church so much so that the two are almost indistinguishable on the outside. I have had two distinct conversations where I was asked if it were common practise to place signs outside churches stating that they were Anglican back in Canada. This struck me funny at first because it is a very common practise and one by which I would not expect not to find. The reason this conversation came up was there is an active debate going on now whether Episcopalians should do this so they can distinguish themselves from the Romans.

Because of the heavy Roman influence, there is a very strong emphasis on Liturgy. It is perceived that the priest’s main function is to consecrate the Eucharist and the prevailing attitude amongst the laity is that going to church on Sunday is mainly for receiving the Eucharist only. One of the questions that I ask when I visit parishes is “What does this Church mean to you? Why do you come here?” The majority of answers that I receive are based on testimonies to miraculous happenings that center around some kind of healing or problem solving. I am not saying this is necessarily wrong, however I rarely if ever hear that the Church is a community and that through that community Christ is

Me Listening Worshipfully

present. I’ve been told by priests that there still is a “magical” or ritual understanding applied to the liturgy. In a “former” culture where the regular performance of rituals meant prosperity or disaster this is not unreasonable. Unfortunately, this regulates the priest to one function and because those who educate these priests have come from the same understanding little changes and they act in accordance to what they’ve been taught. The Episcopal Church has only been independent from the Episcopal Church of the U.S.A for just over thirty years.

The expectation of the priest visiting and carrying on a ministry amongst the parish is not one that is well founded or received. As a result it is very common for a priest to only appear on occasion for the Eucharist. There still remains a pre-reformed mentality (or perhaps medieval would be more accurate) that because the priest is closest to the Eucharist s/he has special abilities and position. Couple that with the education and you have a very interesting combination that produces distance between the people and the Church’s representatives and an even more interesting combination when the individual suffers from insecurity. Human nature is what human nature is.

I have experienced, in the seminary particularly, a new wave of education coming from priests and laity that are emphasising a new model based on the understanding of the priesthood of all believers and that the church is the community of Christ first and that the Eucharist is the ultimate expression of this. The thrust behind Basic Christian Communities (small groups etc..) is to active the laity and empower them and to recognise Emmanuel amongst the people. I hear “When two or three are gathered” as almost a rallying call for this approach. What is helping to motivated this movement is also Contextual Theology and its relation to Liberationist philosophy. The context of theology is very important to a people that is working to integrate and understand what is their own culture as to what is the culture that has been “given” them.

I don’t quite know why such a heavy liturgical approach leads to such a disconnect. I can only think that it really is a personality thing more then the logistics. Fr. Jamie introduced me to a rapidly growing Episcopal Church here in the Philippines (which is growing as well in North America) called the ICCEC or International Communion of the Charismatic Episcopal Church (http://www.iccec.org/). These guys are extremely liturgical and would put any High Church through their paces. They describe themselves as charismatic and evangelical, however also liturgical. I’ve never seen anything quite like it – it’s an amazing blend of church community and high church liturgy. Their services last three hours and are packed. So I can’t in honesty blame liturgical practices alone for this disconnect.

In fairness I must state that this attitude to the solely liturgical priesthood is not the attitude of all priests serving here in the Central Diocese. I’ve been told that this kind of mind-set around ministry is something that rest in an older generation that was taught that by the even older missionary tradition. The younger priests and seminarians that are up and coming have a much more activated approach to their ministry and I have been told on many occasions “in Jesus Christ all things are possible.” These are the people who are on the ground level and are embracing the philosophies of struggle in the theological context of their culture. These are the same people who are asking the same questions that I have been asking about poverty and the heavy imbalance of the distribution of wealth. They are looking at privilege in a different way and that includes looking at the church hierarchy and the missionary mechanism that the church still fosters.

Strangely, I’ve noticed here that if you’re not a priest that you don’t really come up on the radar. When it is found out you’re a priest your status sky rockets, but with that high status comes and even higher expectation of your perfection. Seminarians are at the bottom of the social order and are treated as almost non entities. Sort of like babies that haven’t left the womb yet. Deacons are accorded a bit more respect but they do not have the ultimate “prize” yet.

In my lecture about the Anglican Church in Canada at the seminary, one thing that was impressed upon me is that discernment in the manner that I am accustomed to from a North American context is not really engaged in here, particularly at the earlier stages of consideration. It seems students enter seminary rather raw and are expected to be formed through the process and then are put through their paces after they graduate. One point that surprised the seminarians during my lecture on the Anglican Church of Canada was that it was not at all unusual to call priests by their first name back home. My explanation that authority is based on mutual respect and knowledge of each other was met by audible gasps of incredulity!

Part of the movement towards Basic Christian Community and a Theology of Context, is to empower everyone to meet their baptismal goal and to erode authority based on position and replace it with an egalitarian model of respect and mutual support. How I see this being taught is that there is now more of an emphasis on people and not solely on a ritual structure which is supported by a justified privileged class. Philippino government in society is very much based on hierarchy - on those who have power, because they have money, and those who don’t and who lie beneath. More often times then naught those who are in power are there because of their money or intellectual currency and hereditary peerages. Those on the other side of the great chasm of inequity are expected to act accordingly and if they don’t there are consequences. Classical fixed and immovable principles are upheld as absolute norms and there becomes no tolerance for natural movement. I guess what the point I am trying to make is what I am hearing from people trying to change the existing paradigm is that unless we get to a place where we break down hierarchal structures and see each other in the light of mutual value and respect we not going to fulfil the Christian message. The bishop said to me once that Love is service manifested concretely in action. When people are sacrificed for the upholding of structures whether they be the ritual of the church or government have we not given in to the temptations that the challenger presented to Jesus in the desert?

O.K. before I take to the hills in a revolutionary fervour, I must get back to what I was talking about initially. Yes context, where was I? I have this habit of going off on tangents. Right, a meeting with Fr. Daniel Pilario, who did I mention is the Dean of St. Vincent’s Roman Catholic Seminary?

Before I met Daniel Pilario who is one of the foremost pioneers of Contextual Theology in the Philippines, I was given before hand a copy of his paper that was published in the St. Vincent quarterly, which I found to be quite good. Actually it was excellent. Initially myself and Peter were going to travel to St. Vincent’s Seminary to meet Daniel, however there was a planned transportation strike and that kind of put the kibosh on the travelling. This is the first strike I have encountered in the Philippines and because I am cloistered in the Cathedral Heights Compound I must say I didn’t feel it. Either way, Leyte (known as Mama Leyte) was not going to let me travel alone, because of the potential chaos that might envelop me on a Jeepney. I was thankful that the meeting was held at St. Andrew’s Seminary and even more thankful that Daniel offered to meet me there.

Much of my study has been around anthropological and sociological studies into Filipino cultural context. I’ve had to pursue this study so in order to keep my sanity and get down to the basics as to why people behave the way they do here. This, as you well can gather, is very intimately tied to my question as to why there is such abject poverty here despite the extreme wealth that abounds in this country. The question as to why is so intrinsically tied up with Filipino cultural norms and history that the answer requires a form of sociological multi-tasking that covers the gamut of so many disciplines.

Evensong St. Andrews

With my studies I am developing a strategy to apply to the Canadian context, particularly with the history of the First Nations community. I am hoping that some of the dynamics that I am studying here can translate and shed some light on some questions that I have had in that area. This has been a very interesting class in the sense that we have been discussing much of the questions that I have been asking about poverty and strategies on how to alleviate it. I am looking forward to more dialogs.

The other benefit of hanging out with the seminarians and taking classes is that I have had the opportunity to worship with them. One thing I particularly enjoy is that they have Evensong every night, which is a very nice way of ending the day. Filipinos have very strong voices and they really like music so it is almost a treat to hear them worship. Their worship schedule is quite full and starts quite early. I enjoy actually worshipping with a large group. There are about 70 seminarians and I am always thrown by the resonance of voices – they fill the chapel.

Can we talk here?

I have been making arrangements to get my Visa renewed, because it expires on 11 July.  Trust me it’s a miracle that I even decided to renew the thing.  At first I was told that I would have to go to the Immigration Office and start the application process.  So dutifully I decided to go online to the “official” immigration page of the Philippines to I began the tedious process of trying to figure out what I needed to do or more accurately how MUCH was it going to cost.

Not Pretty is It?

Navigating the immigration website was a feat in itself and finding relevant information even more so.  The first thing that I cam upon was a diatribe about dressing properly when one comes to the immigration office.  Apparently, shorts and flip flops was enough not to gain you admittance and or service.  One must wear business attire with closed shoes or “service will not be rendered”.  I am glad I read that.  However, that wasn’t as shocking as the confusing fee list.  The only thing it said to me was I was going to get gauged.

After talking to Fr. Jaime he said that it would be important for me not to go to the Immigration office on my own, because “some people may take advantage” which his polite way to say that I might become the victim of government corruption.   I have had enough experience with being “taken” on the street by the average person who has no authority, I am not to hot to put myself in a position to be taken by someone who has something that I need.  So slowly I was gearing myself up for what I knew was going to be an adventure to say the least and an exercise in patience to say the most.  Either way, after talking with Fr. Jaime about strategies on how to do this, I spoke to Leyte who said that they usually employ an “agent” to renew visas.  Apparently she would most likely accompany me.

Scream

The next day Leyte called me into the office and said that the good news was I wouldn’t have to go to the immigration office, the bad news was that the agent wanted my money.

Now, I knew I was going to be charged quite a bit, because well,  I am a foreigner and RICH – I was guessing around 2,000 pesos.  Poor Mama Leyte I think she girded herself quite well when she started the sentence with.  “She wants your money” and I replied calmly “Oh, how much?”  She said quite gently, “6,700  pesos.”

“WHAT?!”

O.K. in fairness the diocesan office is paved with stone tiles and it doesn’t have that much furniture in it so I can’t say that my voice, which echoed down the hall to the reception area and got at least two concerned people to come to Leyte’s office, was really all that loud.  I think I did swear in two languages though.

When I applied for my initial Visa it was given to me by a nice sweet old man who only charged me around 37.00 dollars and he smiled.  Now I am being charged up the Wahzoo for

Highway Robbery?

the privilege of staying in this lovely country another forty days.  This feels like a “bait and switch” job to me.

Row of Stores

There seems to be a suspicious pattern developing, but not to worry I am on top of it. Every Sunday at around 5:30 I get a text message. Did I ever mention that that’s all people do here is text message each other? You can see adds in newspaper that give phone umbers with the line “or text”. Apparently, talking on the phone is shunned because it’s too expensive. I was told only rich people talk on the phone. I believe in many cases it can cost up to three to five pesos a minute if you talk on the phone, depending on you carrier. Now, most people here get prepaid phones. You can buy as much pesos as you want, 100, 300, 500. One text message, that is if you use one page, will cost one pesos, hence the reason why texting is so popular. I have watched Filipinos walk and text, with only the left hand mind you, and carry on a conversation. It’s a feat of multi tasking that baffles someone like me that still need two hands to text and cannot walk or talk when I am doing it. In fact I can’t have any distraction or I’ll miss the right letters. In fairness I can say that I am getting better.

It seems here everybody has a cell phone and it’s is a very important part of the social scene. They only thing that really bothers me is that with the pre-paid phone you get these constant and trivial messages being sent to you form the carrier ALL THE TIME! Sometimes the phone even rings like there’s a message and it’s a advertisement. Grrrrh. These constant messages are ever so polite and invite to find out more information by pressing “enter”. These things tend to drain the battery and I am constantly charging mine.

Nokia seems to be the brand of choice here. Well, I am not sure choice has anything to do with it. Out of curiosity I went to a store to look at phones and the sales clerk ever so

More Sari Sari Stores

politely and meaningfully apologized that they only sell Noikas. Noikas are nice, but man when more then one goes off it’s like a Polyphonic apocalypse that leaves my ears vibrating. Vibrate seems to be a lost setting. There is an unfortunate occurrence here called “phone grabbing”. I was told to be very careful in public, particularly since I have a Motorola, which is considered fancy smancy around here because they are pretty unique. This is what I am told happens, particularly on Jeepneys. Some poor victim have been texting, with one hand of course, and then suddenly from out of nowhere a pair of hands jot out and grabs the phone, just as the Jeepney takes off. Like a marauding Killer whale after a hapless seal sunning itself not close to the shore enough. I don’t know if you remember the pictures of the Jeepneys but they have no windows on the side and are wide open. Fely when he texts, holds the phone cupped in both hands as if he were a soccer playing protecting his naughty bits during a penalty kick.

So usually at 5:30 on Sunday evening I get this nice text from Deacon Reshley gently enquiring what I am doing. When I say “nothing particular” a solicitous reply comes back saying, “Would you like to drink beer?” Do Filipino men piss anywhere? Is the Pope Roman Catholic? The challenge is when I am asked by Reshley “Would you like to drink some beer?” I have no idea what that might entail. The other night he “dragged” me to this little hole in the wall (not anything like the game show.) I think the whole place was painted red and doubled as a Sari-Sari store.

A Sari-Sari store is a little shop that specialises in small quantities. It’s kinda of like the pica-pica of selling goods. You can buy a single cigarette a small package of toothpaste, packages of laundry detergent, coffee, and phone cards, almost anything else you can imagine. But the key words here are “small packages”. That’s the other thing about the Philippines. They love their individually wrapped stuff. You can buy big packages of small things individually wrapped, packaged and produced. It’s a Green recycling nightmare! Though I am just as guilty, one of my favourite things is buying these Nescafe “3 in 1” coffee packets. Yes 250 individual packaged one serving coffee powder that sports coffee, cream and sugar – did I say - ALL in one? So handy - yet so bad. That’s one thing that brings out the ants in droves. They love drowning themselves in the residue coffee – I have to be very vigilant.

Man in Front of Sari Sari Store

Either way, Sari-Sari stores are everywhere and they are the small business enterprises that keep the neighbourhood hooked up. This establishment couldn’t have been larger then a good size living room with as much space for these “booths” which were kind of like the ones you’d find in a fast food restaurant, as it could fit. There was of course the obligatory Karaoke machine prominently displayed on an elevated step, which the gracious hostess dutifully turned on upon our arrival. When no-one is singing on a Karaoke machine it usually is belting out some kind of music and displaying saucy picture of scantily clad women. It seems these scantily clad women are always Western, tall blond, leggy, and I have yet to see any Asian represented not that that would be any better, mind you. I am told the Karaoke machine was invented in the Philippines, but from what I understand it was patented in the Philippines but was really developed in Japan by a Japanese. But you didn’t hear that from me – when in Rome…

Well after a “couple” of beers before I knew it I was asking for the song book and perusing its pages to find some songs I might like to sing. I think I took leave of my

"Nicolas??"

senses temporarily. Normally when you want to sing a song or two you write them down on a piece of paper and the hostess will take your request and put them in a cue. All I am going to say is I am glad that I don’t have a day job to quit. I chose a few ditties from the 80’s and one classic. Karaoke is not as easy as some people have it look! Well, needless-to say I had a lot of coaching in this endeavour. I may try it again, but I don’t think the neighbourhood is quite ready for Nicolas’ rendition of “My favourite Things” for quite sometime.

Evidence of a Snoozer

I think one of the things that really impress me about my Filipino friends is their capacity to sleep ANYWHERE. I think it’s a special power. It’s almost like they have a switch that they turn off and then their out like a light and when they wake up, they are refreshed! There is a conference room on the second floor where my room is. It’s not unusual to find someone sleeping on one of the tables – sometimes with something which resembles a pillow and sometimes not. Actually, its quite startling, the tables are quite high and the sleeping person looks like a body laid out for a wake. Once I came into the Diocesan Centre early in the morning and I almost sat on a human body. Thankfully before I sat down I put my hand down (mind you it was a bit dark) only to find a shirtless human being face down on the couch sleeping soundly with a fan on him.

Actually, that reminds me of and incident that happened to a friend of mine during the

Tricycle driver has a Rest

time when I lived in Burlington, Vermont where the University of Vermont student’s partying habits are legendary. Burlington Vermont is full of old stately homes that are occupied by students. This is the land where everyone has a couch on their front porch and people are really laid back. Some of the homes are private and often times you have neighbourhoods with a mixture of private homes and student hovels. It was bit of a problem then I remember; hoards of inebriated students marauding around at all hours of the night calling to each other like a pack of wolves. Despite this back then it was rare to lock your doors. I think it must have been around Halloween and it had been a particularly wild night. My friend who owned a lovely stately home and was about enjoy a nice cuppa of Joe on his couch – that is in his living room and not on the porch - was most rudely awakened, not by caffeine, but the discovery of a huge blue M&M passed out on his couch!

I have no idea why this came to mind, but there you have it. Often times when I am in the small office that I now use to surf the net Joe, who works in the field as a community coordinator, will come in and carry on a very lively conversation with me for a good while and then abruptly say, “O.K. I have to sleep” and then put his head down on the desk and does. It’s not uncommon to see people snoozing here in there around town, particularly when the afternoon heat is high. I think I mentioned that there are two people who sleep on plastic tables in one of the vendors cantina’s here at the Diocesan Centre. I enquired as to why they do this and I was told that they are security. It’s the best way to protect the equipment and I suppose save on some rent.

Joel stayed in my room one night and I like the good host, I was fussing about getting a pillow and sheets and he kept turning them down. “I can sleep anywhere with nothing.” I have heard this many times from my Filipino hosts. Here’s me insisting on having three pillows a mattress and whatever else to make my sleep peaceful! I joke that I am a “soft” global northerner. Its hard to be compared to the Princess and the pea. But honestly I was like this even when I was crashing about in Ireland. Sometimes this mortal coil is way too confining!

A House in Rizal

I have spoken before about the poverty that has confronted me here in Metro Manila. It is crushing to say the least and overwhelming. It’s like watching the tide come in and not being able to stop it; a perpetual Ninth Wave which keeps on coming. I keep asking myself how can a country which is at a conservative estimate is 85% Christian and is known for its “community” and “hospitality” not even have a social system to confront such things? As I have stated before, there is vast wealth in the Philippines and the country is a rich country in resources and potential. How can people close their eyes to abject suffering that is everywhere? What mechanism is in place to allow such vulgar displays of wealth to arise next to what can only be described as worse then slums? What turns off in the human conscious that allows people to accept such conditions? To say being here is pleasant would not be a very honest reflection of what it is like to be confronted with such realities on a daily basis. It is my intent in future posts to investigate these questions and try to get to the root of this matter. My sanity depends on it.

However, there is a flip side to this. One thing that I found particularly difficult is finding a middle point between feeling this raw pain for the poverty I see around me and the attention that I get because of being Caucasian. When you are of light skin you attract attention because it symbolises to the average Filipino

Squatter Row Houses

that you are rich. Unfortunately, but not uncommonly, this is the way the system has been set up and those that have money are usually light skinned even in this culture. I have never seen advertisements before for products that promote the whitening of skin colour, but they are here and there are a lot of them. Movie stars, politicians, and general representative pictures of “Filipino” culture are portrayed by light skinned people.

It’s very challenging being perceived as having loads of money, particularly when back in Canada I am scrapping to make ends meet and living because of the charity of friends. I am certainly aware that I am not wealthy by North American standards; However having said that, I came to the Philippines with a stipend that could pay an average priest in the Philippine Episcopal Church for four and half months and I don’t have to worry about accommodation or a family as they do. Albeit the average foreigner does have a more affluent position given the standard of living that we have in North America and Europe.

I am a magnet for those who are seeking money. When I walk down the street children literally run to me. They will abandon a Filipino in a heart beat and make a “b” line to me and they are more consistent and aggressive. One evening I was walking down the street and noticed an 18 month old baby girl walking with open arms to her father who was sitting on the pavement. Instead of catching her in his arms he noticed me and pushed her in my direction. She dutifully responded with folded hands extended out to me. I am sitting in my favourite cantina, the one that is enclosed so I don’t have to be outside garnering attention, and a man comes in with a note and proceeds to go from table to table. He leaves quite quickly the Filipinos who dismiss him, however when he comes to me and I shake my head politely he comes closer and is more insistent – to the point where I have to say firmly in Tagalog “Hindi” which means “no”. I am sitting out in the courtyard with Lean, having the conversation about balut and eating dog when three vendors come up to our table almost one after another. These are vendors that I have never seen out there before and I ask how do they know someone white is around? I’ve been told over and over again not to give money.

One evening I was sitting in Burger King intently working on this blog when a man came up to me and addressed me as “father”. I was so engrossed in my work that I looked up at him and he sat down. He said to me that his heart is heavy and that he wanted me to pray for his son who was in hospital. He was acting very nervous and agitated, but I gave him the benefit of the doubt as to what he had to say. He even put an old beat up picture of a boy on the table to show me. He began to tell me that his son has had operations, isn’t doing well and the boy needs medication. Can I help him; his son needed medication that would cost 1,000 pesos? At this point I was still giving him the benefit of the doubt. I asked him if he had contacted his local priest or the bishop’s office. He was good. He knew the name of the Prime Bishop and he knew the name of Bishop Taclobao. He told me he went to the Prime Bishop’s office, but he wasn’t in. When I said that I couldn’t help, but that the Diocesan office would be the best place to start he began to ask me if I could give him at least 500 pesos. In response to this I said that if he gave me his name and a way to contact him I would be happy to pass it on to the bishop’s assistant. After giving me a name and what seemed to be a legitimate number he asked me if I could at least give him 150 pesos. It was then that I had to say to him that I understood his need, but could not help him. He left soon after that.

Homes in Macabod, Rizal

This really rattled me afterwards, because I began to wonder what gave him the impression that I was ordained. Had he seen me around the Diocesan Centre? By that point I had been going to Burger King almost routinely, daily even. Was he watching my movements? Did he know where I lived? As I promised the next day I gave his name and number to Fr. Jaime and he verified that it wasn’t a real number and that the name given, Juan Cruz, was the name of an actor.

Later when I talked to the Bishop he told me that I handled the situation well and that there well tell tale signs that he helped me see indicated that this individual wasn’t being straight up. He told me that even for Filipinos it’s challenging sometimes to figure out who is telling the truth and what that truth is. However, it’s important to listen, because sometimes people need more then money. He reiterated that it would not be a good idea to give out money, because I am well identified because of being a foreigner and many people who will seek money from me are the same ones who inhabit this area. I think the thing that pains me a bit is there was a moment when I was going to give this “Juan Cruz” money, because I misinterpreted his nervousness for sincerity, but what I was picking up on was his nervousness was most likely coming from a place because he was lying to someone he thought was a priest in order to get money on false pretences.

Later after talking with Fr. Jamie again I realized that I had had a conversation with a woman who worked at Burger King who told me she was immigrating to Canada. I remember showing her a map of Canada on my lap top, because she didn’t know where Vancouver was. She had asked me what I was doing in the Philippines and I explained that I was a seminarian on an International Internship programme. This might explain why “Juan Cruz” thought I was a priest.

Needless-to-say this filled me with a great deal of trepidation – I might even say paranoia. The next day I returned to Burger King, because at the time that was the only place that I could get internet. I was unable to get a seat in the back where I usually sit and had to choose a seat out front by the window, which is not my preferred place for obvious reasons. Almost immediately I was seen by a group of three street children who came up to the window where I sat and began tapping. When I nodded in the usual “no” they still stayed there and continued to stare tapping more and more aggressively. They didn’t move until the outside guard had them leave. And I do not kid you when I say this, but no more then four minutes later there comes another tap on the window and I look up and there is a man sitting at a table near me with all these knives laid out and he is displaying one to me. I nod “no” and go back to working and then another nock comes on the window, I look up and now the same guy is displaying a leather wallet to me – smiling! O.K. that made me laugh. He was quite friendly and the interaction was not threatening, but it was just one more thing on top of the other.

What I find most challenging about these experiences is that I am really trying to adjust to the extreme desperation in the poverty that I see and my reactions to it. My reactions encompass the gamut as I have written before. Its heartbreaking, overwhelming, it makes me feel helpless and just when I am coming to terms with those feelings, I have to become protective of myself from those who do not see me for who I am, but an image of money that the can extract from. It’s like being a piece of iron heated red on the coals and banged repeatedly with the hammer on the anvil and then plunged into cold water and then put back on the coals for more reheating. I wonder if I will survive the forging.

When I returned from the Mountain Provinces I basically spent the week readjusting to Manila again and getting into the swing of things. Perhaps one of my saving graces is that I met a seminarian graduate name Gonny (short for Gregorio) who I have been hanging out with steadily. He’s actually become my roommate because he was sleeping in the conference hall and the mosquitoes were getting vicious. He is staying at the Diocesan Centre to become orientated with the development projects of the diocese before he is placed in Brent School and the surrounding area of Laguna. I met Gonny some weeks ago when the bishop invited me over to a priest’s house, Fr. Dougson, who celebrating getting his new motorcycle. O.K. it was just an excuse to celebrate, but it worked. The next day there was a knock on my door and it was Gonny. He asked me to help him with his English on a speech that he was preparing for the following Sunday, which happened to be the Holy Trinity 50^th anniversary, to thank the parishioners of Holy Trinity for their support of him. I had seen him at Holy Trinity before and he is the one that normally reads the Gospel in Tagalog after the English reading. I also sat with him and his family during the 50^th anniversary celebrations.

Either way, it’s been quite good hanging out. He has introduced me to row of vendors on the street that runs parallel to my room that have very reasonable food at an even more reasonable price. Through him I discovered a great bar/cantina called the Hut. It’s this simple place where you can eat. They have a second floor that is decorated in bamboo and is a completely open balcony, thus the hut theme, with Karaoke. It was there that I first met some fourth year seminarians who I know quite well now.  In the following days I am looking forward to taking classes at St. Andrews Seminary.  This will be good becasue I will be able to get a better insight as to how clergy are educated.

Climbing Towards Sagada

Fr. Joel picked me up at 8:30 in the morning for our first day of a whirl wind trip to Sagada. Sagada actually is the first place that the missions began. It is actually higher up then Bontoc, which sits in a valley. The air was very cool there. Joel’s wife, Irene, joined us that day and the drive around was really pleasant. Again, breathtaking seems too mild to describe going up to Sagada. I love mountains and I love being high up, but this was incredible!

The one thing that struck me about Bontoc and the Mountain Province was that people were poor, but they weren’t destitute. There is something in the way the people carried themselves as well. I didn’t see any people begging on the street and I wasn’t approach once for money. If anything I was approached by some children that came up to me and asked “Americano?” and I had quite a conversation with them. That is the other thing I noticed in the Mountain Province is that people’s English was quite good. Usually, the farther you move away from Metro Manila the scarce the English becomes. I am told that this is a result of the American Missionaries. I felt safe and confident in Bontoc as I said to the bishop when I text him – “It felt like home.”

When we reached Sagada we made our way to St. Ann’s parish. The priest there Daniel is married to an American woman named Nancy. I must admit this was the first time that I met a “reverse couple” that is

Breath Taking View

a Filipino man married to a Western Woman. So many times it’s the opposite. Well I must say I had a very good time there. There house sat high upon a hill with the most intense views. It was good to talk with Nancy who is from California and has been living in the Philippines for six years. The two met in Japan. Daniel cooked us a traditional dish of beans and pork and Nancy made avocado salad California style and cucumber salad. This was the first time in a while that I had anything that smacked of cooking from back home and I finished all of the two dishes. Well, I was told that there shouldn’t be left overs.

After we left Nancy and Daniel we continued our tour of the churches and various parishes. One thing that became delightfully apparent was that I was in an area that wood was plentiful so many houses that we visited were wooden. That was quite a nice change from the concrete ones that I’ve become accustomed to. We returned Bontoc quite early, around five and I proceeded to convalesce again in my room. The fresh mountain air made me quite tired and I found myself retiring early. This was good, because I felt that I was still recovering from traveling and I could feel that my body was actually relaxing in a deep way given my affinity to my surrounding.

Irene, Joel, Daniel and Nancy

Bontoc at night is shockingly quiet…until the dogs start up. My, the dogs! One begins and they all start joining in. That night I thought I was going to go mad. No one seems to be bothered by dogs continuously barking – there was no effort to shut them up. There was one point where I thought “If I could eat you all I would!” After the dogs quieted I was awakened by a cacophony of roosters crowing at 2:00 a.m. I have never experienced that before in my life. I think they went on for a good half hour. I’m thinking to myself are they confused the sun isn’t do to rise until at least another five hours! The dichotomy of a place that could be so quiet yet be so loud wasn’t lost on me.