Tag Archives: poverty

Luxury is relative

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Screengrab from CNA

Pinay teen gets bashed for calling Charles & Keith ‘luxury,’ fashion brand invites her to lunch

Zoe is a Filipina transplant in Singapore. Money is very tight given that Singapore is expensive for families not on expat package. I could understand why her parents don’t want to leave them behind in the Philippines and chose to live an almost hand-to-mouth existence in Singapore. I may have done the same because I cannot be parted from my children; but the difference is that I have a choice and I chose to stay here and live comfortably. Zoe’s father doesn’t. There is not enough employment options for Zoe’s parents in the Philippines as wages remain depressed while cost of living continues to jump.

Zoe impressed many when she replied to the trolls by posting a follow-up video in which she tearily explains her humble background and talks about privilege.

She told ST via e-mail that her family moved to Singapore from the Philippines in 2010. While she declined to say more about her parents, ST understands that her father works as a mechanical engineer.

So when her father gave her an SGD 80 Charles & Keith handbag, she was so happy that she uploaded on Tiktok that finally has her first luxury bag.

“My family didn’t have a lot. We couldn’t buy things as simple as bread from BreadTalk… when we moved to Singapore… Your comment spoke volumes on how ignorant you seem because of your wealth,” said the eldest of four siblings, who is being home-schooled.

The Singaporeans bashed her so much. The luxury brand-obsessed Singaporeans belittled an immigrant because her definition of luxury doesn’t match their own. My colleague told me that they shop so much because there is nothing else to do. In the end, they just throw out stuff with their price tags still attached because they no longer have room for more shopping. She felt Singapore produces so much waste because of this obsession with shopping.

They do not understand the kind of privilege they have and that only a fraction of the world’s population enjoy that kind of privilege. They live in a bubble.

Luxury is relative.

There was a time that C&K was a luxury to me as well and all I could do was just look longingly at the window displays in Rustans as I walked the length of Ayala Ave going to the MRT station wearing my beaten up black loafers from SM department store (Parisian) and blouse and skirt from Surplus Shop. I had to choose the cheapest toiletries and meals to make ends meet because I was just a year off from college and was just earning minimum wage. I had to share a dorm room with four other girls. My worldly possessions were my electric fan, my clothes, and my analog cellphone that I bought second-hand from my brother. I had to be judicious with sending SMS because at that time one SMS costs one peso and I only had PHP 300 budget for airtime load a month. Books and magazines were also luxuries to me. The only way I can indulge myself was to go to Booksale and buy PHP 10 to PHP 30-paperbacks or PHP 100-back issues of Vogue.

So for Zoe, it was a big deal to be given a Charles & Keith bag because her parents could barely afford it. People just 🤦‍♀️ love to hurt others.

Meanwhile, my quest to make nice bookmarks is not yet through.

Art and photo by CallMeCreation.com
Art and photo by CallMeCreation.com
Art and photo by CallMeCreation.com
Art and photo by CallMeCreation.com
Art and photo by CallMeCreation.com
This one was just an excuse to use my new Holbein watercolors. It doesn’t have to be pretty and correct. Art and photo by CallMeCreation.com
Trying my hand at children’s book illustration. It’s a book mark so it doesn’t have to be correct or pretty. Art and photo by CallMeCreation.com
This one was an experiment. I just washed the entire paper and let the color bleed. My big mistake was lining it with a marker. Art and photo by CallMeCreation.com

I need to go to a museum. I’m losing my spark again. 😑

Lack of empathy

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Let me tell you about people’s disconnect from the realities of this world. Their bubble and the lack of resistance in life made them what they are… They lack empathy. I’ve met humans like that and I honestly wish I won’t come into contact with them ever again.

Follow this thread on Twitter, it’s interesting and it hurts.

No, this is not only about UPenn. This is everywhere. I remember having to hear such similar litany regularly before. And I wondered why this person even bothered talking to me or being with me at that moment. This person couldn’t believe that there are people who could not afford to pay the full amount for a bottle of shampoo so poor families resort to buying sachets of shampoo because that’s all they could afford for the day. Because they had to make 500 pesos or 350 pesos fit for everyone in their family for a day. Everyday. 365 days a year.

This type of person couldn’t understand the sachet economy that is the Philippines. That not everybody can afford to buy their daily needs from supermarkets and had to rely on sari-sari stores for their groceries–despite the fact that they pay 1.5 or even 2x the retail price–because the sari-sari stores can sell them goods on credit.

And this person just thinks the poor are just numbskulls that’s why they stay poor. This person does not understand that when you’re at the lower level of the pyramid, it’s hard to climb, even if poor people work 18 hours a day. There are just too many hurdles strewn around those at the poverty line compared to people like me who lead a relatively comfortable life. I’m not even rich. I drive a crappy car, I don’t own a house. I don’t have financial security.

And yet these people will be the ones running companies, making public policies, make big and small decisions that can add or lessen the obstacles for the poor. The lack of empathy among this kind of people is disturbing.

Because I’m not in a good mood today, I slept almost the entire day. And then fixed my container garden.

New location. Photo by CallMeCreation.com
New location. Photo by CallMeCreation.com

I relocated my plants because placing them under the huge mango tree was a big mistake. They were shaded, fell victim to caterpillars, aphids, and other pests, neighborhood cats kept digging the soil, and the overall vibe was bad. So a lot of my plants died and these are the hardier ones. The roses lost many leaves and the flowering became dormant.

Now I’ve put white stones so the outdoor cats wouldn’t dig again. I bought flowering fertilizers to revive the roses. My sunflower was completely lost to caterpillars. The periwinkle died of root rot or some fungal infection. The mums and the daisies stopped flowering maybe because the location was not optimal.

I had to redo everything.

This is my goal:

She just completely transformed her condo balcony into a country-style garden.

More or less we have the same size to work with. She has more patience and time than I do though.

Banishing anger is hard

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So many things to be angry about these days. It’s difficult to contain it. When you voice it out, you will be red-tagged and that’s equivalent to a bull’s eye on your forehead for the military and police. Ted Herbosa, that effing DDS medical doctor, who gloated about the death of one balut vendor because of exhaustion while lining up at a community pantry organized by actress Angel Locsin. How can a doctor, who swore an oath not to harm anyone, be gleeful about a poor man’s death?

I’ve seen the lines personally when I brought the rice sacks. There are so many hungry people who suffer for hours just to be able to get food.

I can’t afford to be angry anymore because my heart is already black as it is. So much anger inside of me that I might implode. All I can do is to channel this anger to just helping others. I’m so angry that I no longer know what to do with it.

Bayanihan on the rise

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When the government fails the Filipinos, people power rises. Bayanihan at its finest.

Maginhawa community pantry. Photo from Facebook.

Filipinos are accepting and have big hearts. We do not hesitate helping our brethren, be it our fellow countrymen or foreigners (white Russians, European Jews, and Vietnamese refugees come to mind). A lot went hungry when the government started imposing lockdowns again without enough or no financial support to the most vulnerable. So kind-hearted souls started a community pantry, in Maginhawa St, Quezon City.

The sign says “Give only based on what you can afford. Get only based on what you need.” According to anecdotal reports, no one or only a few abused this honesty system. There may be one or two who brought sacks but most only got what their family needs. The queues were long but everyone was disciplined.

This community pantry concept spread like wildfire nationwide. ❤️ It is so heartwarming. When the government failed, ordinary Filipinos rose up to the occasion to make sure no one goes hungry.

Farmers and fisherfolk donated to the community pantry. Excess produce and catch were given to those in need.

Of course dirty politicians will mess up this pure-hearted endeavor.

What this FB post says is that the barangay captain in Los Baños has been demonizing the founders/organizers of the local community pantry because they refused to play politics. The barangay captain wanted them to move the donations to the barangay hall/office so it would look like it’s his initiative. Or the donated goods will be repacked with his name/seal in it. Because politics.

DDS trolls began red-tagging the efforts, saying this is a communist move to brainwash the people. Of course they will tarnish the movement because this is a slap on the face of the Duterte administration that failed the people. It proved that the demon in Malacañang doesn’t fucking care and is just concerned about image and obsessed with bringing down critics.

As part of my continued support to the less fortunate, I will buy rice packs tomorrow and bring these to various community pantries around me.

Because we can’t let anyone die of hunger while we are privileged to be able to stay at home and live comfortably.

My childhood and the dying sakada child

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I was reading my old blogs and deleting spam comments when I encountered two comments that prompted me to resurrect this blog today.

The entry was about Joel Abong, the symbol of poverty in the Philippines, the poster child of the sufferings of the sakadas in the 1980s. He haunted my childhood, changing me forever and ever. (No, he’s not the reason why I am fat today. Let’s just say I’m scarred forever because there will always be a part of me that would hanker for a meaningful job, instead of getting rich and have a happy ignorant life.)

One of the comments in my old blog directed me to Kim Komenich‘s page devoted to his coverage of the Philippines during the tumultuous Marcos regime leading to Cory Aquino’s ascent to presidency.

Photo by Kim Komenich/San Francisco Examiner) Young tuberculosis/malnutrition victim Joel Abong is among the hardest-hit of the children at The Corazon Locsin Montelibano Memorial Hospital in Bacolod City, Negros Occidental. The hospital is home to a clinic where about a dozen kids are being treated for third degree malnutrition as a result of lack of food due to sugar layoffs. Joel’s father, a fisherman, cannot make enough money to feed Joel and his six siblings. It is doubtful whether Joel, photographed on May, 4, 1985, will recover. (revolutionrevisited.com/remember)

I remember Joel Abong as a sakada child whose emaciated body was plastered all over the newspaper’s front page (and for the life of me I cannot remember what newspaper was that because I’m not sure if it was right before or after EDSA I). Now I don’t know if my parents mistook him for a sakada child, the newspapers mistook him for a sakada child or, as one of the commenters in my old blog claimed, his parents were paid by the photojournalist to pass him off as a sakada child.

Little did I know that this child — skin and bones and all — would haunt me for eternity.

My mother always showed me the newspaper clipping of Joel Abong whenever i threw tantrums and didn’t want to eat. I was really a picky eater then. She often reminded me that I was fortunate that I had something to fill me up whereas this child did not. (Don’t get me started–my parents didn’t care about the psychological repercussions of my harsh education as long as I grew up to be a compassionate and mulat na Filipino).

Because of that, I could not forget that image and his name.

His memory was again resurrected in my head when I watched Maalaala Mo Kaya four years ago featuring a sakada family. Two of the letter sender’s siblings died of hunger and neglect, because of their parents’ ignorance and because their situation was further aggravated by their father’s abusive nature and irresponsibility. I cried towards the end of the episode and I couldn’t pinpoint the exact reason why… Maybe because the drunkard, abusive father asked for forgiveness from his son whom he banished more than 15 years ago or because of the plight of the letter sender’s family.

When MKK showed the ashen corpse of the letter sender’s youngest sibling, the image of Joel Abong suddenly flashed through my mind. No, they didn’t look alike but their lasting impression on me was the same: it was that of horror.

At the back of my mind I know people like them die everyday and stark realities like these every now and then get shown on TV. I’m angry that a child could die like. What makes me more frustrated was that I don’t know if my being a journalist is making any dent to their situation. I don’t know if I am making a difference. Our housekeeper that time asked me (she was watching MKK with me that time when we were having dinner) if it’s true that such things happen. Yes, I replied. It happens everyday. And I don’t know if I am doing anything about it.

We, the burgis crowd, are lucky we don’t know the realities of what this woman lives with everyday. We only get to do stories about them. We only get to read them. Like poverty pornography in print.

–

I remember my friend of so many years became so disillusioned with multilateral/bilateral projects/grants/loans after being part of one of those “aid” projects in the country. Part of her job was going around the country, to the most depressed places you could think of, and see the areas that needed “development”, to put it simply.

She met a family from a province down south who cut and gathered firewood for a living. All of the children had to work alongside their parents day in and day out so that they could earn a maximum of P250 a day. Collectively. for a day’s work each of them only earned P50.

In contrast, her bosses — the project consultants — were earning at least P350,000 a month. She complained that some of them weren’t even reporting to the office and weren’t doing any work at all since most of the “work” just piled up on other people. As if these consultants were just milking the project of those much-needed dollars that should be going to these impoverished families. She knew they weren’t doing anything much to help solve the poverty problem and all of what they were producing were papers, recommendations — those sort of stuff that wouldn’t really put food in those wood gatherer’s stomachs.

She asked whether there were any sense at all in these projects. She asked me, why can’t these multilateral or bilateral agencies just use the P350,000 paid to each of those “consultants” to help the wood gatherers and their kind instead?

She was so distraught and disillusioned. She resigned from her high-paying job (at that time) and wandered around for a while until she found herself again.

I couldn’t blame her. I would be questioning my raison d’ etre if I were put in her shoes.

Was my father right all along? The debate still continues if these loans do really help the poor.

—

And now back to the sakadas, I wonder about the sugar workers of the azucareras in the south. I wonder what happened to Joel Abong, his family. I wonder about the farmers who continue to suffer, with climate change, with the failure of WTO agreements and the so-called safety nets that economists promised two decades ago.

I wonder about where I will be going.