I frequently read the papers with my mom at night. Though time-consuming, it's way better than listening to the sensationalized news which are so pathetic and not even new because they are being aired each day. For more than a month now, the media are putting emphasis on three trivial issues: (1)Hayden Kho's sex scandal videos, (2) A(H1N1) virus and (3) Boys over Flowers. All of these are then further seasoned with the usual reports on rape, murder and street fights.
The daily news tell me that life never gets better in the Philippines. Even though we're not rich, I hardly feel that my country is collapsing because I am forever guarded and well-provided for by my parents. Once in a while, I also get to dine in fancy restaurants and sit languidly in expensive coffee shops. I hardly feel the impact. But the people in remote areas endure all the shock waves. Last week, I've been talking to several plantation workers who were instructed by the company to "do whatever I asked them to". As much as I wanted to read a book, I didn't; instead, I chose to listen and glean kernels of wisdom from the impoverished people who are fortunate to know what "real life" is. They kept regaling me with their stories... from their capricious wives, to their children, girlfriends, pastors, etc. They even told me several hilarious stories about witches and vampires. But the most heart-breaking story I heard was from one worker who quit mining at Mt. Diwalwal:
In rough vernacular he asked me, "Do you know why it's called Mt. Diwalwal, Z?" Quizzical, I asked him spontaneously in a crooked Bisaya-tagalog manner. "It's derived from two words: 'wal-wal' and 'dila'," he said. In English, by the way, wal-wal means hanging/drooping. Dila means tongue. Dead miners frequently come out of the mountain with their tongues, drooping. From this, the mountain gets its name.
Indeed, the miners are risking their lives just to earn money. They are not even paid with a fixed amount each day, he said. They have to dig through the mountain and make sure to bring a barrow-full of soil. They have to stay down the tunnel for a full day, bringing with them their lunch packs at the bottom. They cannot even leave when they're too exhausted because before coming down, they have to deposit their bags. The only way out is to flee and run topless in the wilderness. He said that in Mt. Diwalwal, miners' lives are never important. "When you get in and can't get out, you can't get out, Z! We won't even have time to pray once the tunnel collapses," he said. "And suppose the tunnel collapses?" I asked. "Then you die, Z! That's the end for you. Then our employer will just tie up the deads whose tongues are drooping and sticking out and pull them out of the mountain as if they are pulling a stone."
Oh well, that's life in the Philippines. There is a clear demarcation between the rich and the poor. While the rich are too preoccupied daydreaming about the perfect blend of eye shadows, the poor, on the other hand, have nothing to think about except a kilo of rice and a can of sardines which they are yet to loan from a nearby sari-sari store.
The daily news tell me that life never gets better in the Philippines. Even though we're not rich, I hardly feel that my country is collapsing because I am forever guarded and well-provided for by my parents. Once in a while, I also get to dine in fancy restaurants and sit languidly in expensive coffee shops. I hardly feel the impact. But the people in remote areas endure all the shock waves. Last week, I've been talking to several plantation workers who were instructed by the company to "do whatever I asked them to". As much as I wanted to read a book, I didn't; instead, I chose to listen and glean kernels of wisdom from the impoverished people who are fortunate to know what "real life" is. They kept regaling me with their stories... from their capricious wives, to their children, girlfriends, pastors, etc. They even told me several hilarious stories about witches and vampires. But the most heart-breaking story I heard was from one worker who quit mining at Mt. Diwalwal:
In rough vernacular he asked me, "Do you know why it's called Mt. Diwalwal, Z?" Quizzical, I asked him spontaneously in a crooked Bisaya-tagalog manner. "It's derived from two words: 'wal-wal' and 'dila'," he said. In English, by the way, wal-wal means hanging/drooping. Dila means tongue. Dead miners frequently come out of the mountain with their tongues, drooping. From this, the mountain gets its name.
Indeed, the miners are risking their lives just to earn money. They are not even paid with a fixed amount each day, he said. They have to dig through the mountain and make sure to bring a barrow-full of soil. They have to stay down the tunnel for a full day, bringing with them their lunch packs at the bottom. They cannot even leave when they're too exhausted because before coming down, they have to deposit their bags. The only way out is to flee and run topless in the wilderness. He said that in Mt. Diwalwal, miners' lives are never important. "When you get in and can't get out, you can't get out, Z! We won't even have time to pray once the tunnel collapses," he said. "And suppose the tunnel collapses?" I asked. "Then you die, Z! That's the end for you. Then our employer will just tie up the deads whose tongues are drooping and sticking out and pull them out of the mountain as if they are pulling a stone."
Oh well, that's life in the Philippines. There is a clear demarcation between the rich and the poor. While the rich are too preoccupied daydreaming about the perfect blend of eye shadows, the poor, on the other hand, have nothing to think about except a kilo of rice and a can of sardines which they are yet to loan from a nearby sari-sari store.
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