Yesterday I went to a forum/roundtable discussion on the situation in Thailand (featuring both Filipinos and visiting Thai citizens) that was interesting for several reasons. First, it was cool listening to the Thai turmoil discussed from a Filipino point of view - there were many comparisons to EDSA and questions of how far those comparisons can go, debate over whether the red shirt/yellow shirt divide is a true class conflict or not, and expressions of solidarity with the Thai. Secondly, it was my first time watching an academic discussion about the third world/global south that took place in the third world/global south (and yeah, for what those definitions are worth I'd say Thailand is right there - unless you ignore all the rural poor, and as recent events have shown this would be a poor idea).
It was in many ways a very familiar setting, surrounded by professors and listening to a panel speak in academic English (there was a lot of contextualizing and reframed discourse and sociocultural conflict) but thus far in my life I've mostly attended discussions of global poverty and horrific violence in the decidedly wealthy, tranquil setting of Davidson College (and St. Mary's College, come to think of it). At UP, there was the distinct presence of personal memory and knowledge - of massive street protests, martial law, disappearing opposition leaders, corrupt heads of government, the fury of the disenfranchised poor. Shared experience filled the room as I struggled to catch all of the references.
But in some ways it was not so different - after all, I think I could fairly say that the well-educated panel-discussion-attendees were members of the elite class (or at least middle class) in the islands and in Thailand. One attendee asked about the Thai progressive response to the violence (and why they had not known to anticipate it) and whether the anger of the disenfranchised could be channeled into a productive movement. Before any of the panelists replied, the panel moderator gently reminded her that as wealthy progressives, "we cannot pretend to truly understand movements of the poor and disenfranchised, because we don't share their lives." I think she was both answering the question about why Thai progressives hadn't seen this coming and chiding the assumption that elite progressives could or should redirect the fury of the protesters. At any rate, it was a very familiar rebuke.
Thirdly, as I was eating the dinner provided after the forum, a man sitting next to me introduced himself, and after I told him my name was Camila, he said, "Oh... is your dad Tom?" It was one of the more astonishing moments of my life, given that I was 8,000 miles from home, but it turns out I was sitting next to an old friend/coworker of my mother's (although he thought of my dad's name first, go figure). This guy knew me when I was 2 years old. Is that weird or what?
Okay, it's not as weird as it sounds. He worked with my mom at the Philippine Resource Center, so it's not that surprising that he would live in the Philippines now. Or that as a white guy he speaks fluent Tagalog. And one of the panelists was another old friend of my mother's, who actually invited me to attend, so there was a connection. I was still kind of flabbergasted, though. My mom's other old friend, the panelist, was a pretty awesome guy - he's in the house of representatives, has written lots of books (including one on Thailand, hence the panel) and although juggling what look like fifty billion different obligations, took the time to introduce me to some people who might help me with my research. He also gave me a ride back to my condo (along with all the Thai people - we were squeezed into an SUV like clowns into a kiddie car) and we sang along to Bob Marley as we went. It was pretty cool.
Anyway, my original point was going to be that this was my first time venturing outside of the wealthy enclave of Ft. Bonifacio. i know, I know, it took me a while - but I was sleeping, and de-jet-lagging, and buying supplies, and - and - well, anyway, I only got here Wednesday morning, so that's just two days I took to acclimate before venturing out past walking distance. That's not that bad, right? right? So I have finally seen more of Manila, and I'm afraid that all I can say - with a stunning lack of intelligence or insight - is WOW.
This place is huge. And chaotic. And crazy. And fascinating. And the driving! Well, I'll talk about the driving some other time. For now, what struck me most of all was the incredible contrast between rich and poor. I'm hardly the first person to say this, and this is certainly not exclusive to Manila, and it had been pretty well described to me before I came here, but - well - WOW. It really is unbelievable, and there's nothing like seeing it first-hand. In two minutes we drove from Ft. Bonifacio High Street, where the night before I'd been gazing longingly through the gleaming windows of an Aldo store, to the entrance to the highway, shadowed by sheet-metal shacks. As we kept driving towards Quezon City the distinctions just got more and more striking (and sobering). 50-story glass and steel condo buildings rising behind strips of stores and restaurants with roofs held up by sticks. Barefoot teenagers running across six lanes of traffic, wearing dirty t-shirts and shorts, in front of billboards for designer clothes and watches. Three scrawny men and ascrawnier dog squatting in front of a BMW dealership. The mind rebels at the sight - I was staring out of the windows of my taxi, wondering how it was even possible, with an acute sense of guilt from the surety that somehow I am helping. Part of the solution or...
At least I hadn't bought any Aldos.
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