Separation to Identification

Are the Filipino people really worth dying for as Ninoy said? How many of our people actually value being part of this nation? Each day would be a reminder of the past that paved way to the future. Manila has been teeming with history. Walking to Paco market I wonder, are these streets the same ones young Nick Joaquin has walked upon? The old church of Paco Catholic School the same one he used to go to? Did N.V.M. Gonzales actually stay in Mindoro to learn Mangyan culture which is often presented in his writings?

History is not only those few prominent people who have already gone but even us which had already passed through each day. There goes the impersonal lady behind the counter and the guard by the door, marking the receipt. Naked children playing outside HBC, forbidden to enter just to cool out. Rugby boys outside office buildings. A rally in Padre Faura, blocking the way for an ambulance going to PGH. Houses worn out by years still being rented out to lady bed spacers.

It is our diversity that renders us without a single spark of identity as a Filipino. How would I not remember when my school building, though named after a Filipino doctor, has been sponsored by the Rockefeller Foundation and constructed during American occupation? Beside it are high rise condominiums while sidewalk vendors are forbidden from selling wares through Pedro Gil.

How many more dole outs did we receive? Our religion, our government system, our values. Everything has been borrowed and personalized until the littlest identity left of us had been superseded by flashy brands and shining trends, we after all are made for globalization, citizens of the world, not of our own country. But amazingly, though our past, I assume, had been enough to erase any trace that may reveal our being part of a group, something still remains. It is our resiliency, humor, close family ties and our forbearance.

Even if our leaders may be corrupt, they do not leave out or surrender their spouse or children to be cleaned from corruption complaints. Through Roxas boulevard are families, with very young children. Not a roof above their heads or a piece of land in their name. Not an ounce of security for the present, much more the future, and yet, and yet, they can laugh and live as if nothing else matters than being together as a family. However ironic these instances are, name it and you’ll find it here. The Philippines is like a summarized world.

In reality it is not our famed white sand beaches, the dirty politics, the largest coral reef, the poverty, the home for biodiversity, militant groups, perfect cone volcano, extra-judicial killings, numerous caves, injustice, hot water springs, usually sunny skies, corruption, fondness for texting, natural calamities, being an OFW or DH, sumptuous cuisine, increasing population, our heroes who so courageously killed the invaders, or great sports people and outstanding artists. None of these would define who we are. And what we are for.

Who knows? It is for you to discover.