We had an incredible morning at the jungle survival camp at Subic Bay where the
GIs trained on their way to Vietnam.  Of course we got the two hour Disneyland
version, but it was incredibly meaningful to have even a tiny taste of what our
guys went through to prepare for their tours of duty in Southeast Asia. I doubt
if their trainers had a hard time capturing their attention. 

Our guide showed us how to start a fire using dry bamboo in just a few seconds.
I asked him how quickly the Americans learned to start the same fire, and he
said they were pretty fast. I guess it helps if you know that your survival
depends upon it. He also showed us how to cut a cup, spoon, plate and even rice
cooker out of green bamboo. He was using a huge machete, and when I asked, he
explained that the GIs would have had a much smaller knife. The rice cooker
stopped me -- I'm not sure where the rice is supposed to come from, but monkey
or snake meat, no problem, and.l was told, even the occasional escaped chicken turned wild. 

Then he took us out on the trail and showed us the rattan plant, the new shoots
of which are chewed to fight malaria. Then there is the Tarzan vine, which can
be used to sooth insect bites, and even create soap. Glycerin, I suppose? The
water bamboo is different from regular bamboo, and we drank water from it, which
was a much needed pick-me-up after our hike through the jungle in tropical
temperatures.

Our trip back to Manila followed the route of the Bataan death march, with
kilometer markers along to measure the way. A very evocative memorial is now, I
am sorry to say, lost in the middle of a traffic circle. But my sense is that
the Filipinos don't need reminders of those days. Dan says that his father was
on the death march but fell away and into the jungle and joined the guerrilla
forces.  

And we had been wondering why the Filipinos seem to have no respect for Koreans.
At least one answer, I have learned, is that it is Korean mercenaries working
for the Japanese who committed incredible brutalities against civilians in the opening days of the
Philippine campaign in WWII. Some events can never be erased.

Friday and Saturday blog -- Upper Crust

Yesterday was the start of the District Conference, and we presented twice.
First, in the morning, I did the breakout on the Matching Grant process of the
Rotary Foundation, and -- because I responded to the questions that I have been
asked over the past few weeks, and did not read the generic slides that I had
been asked to present --  it went over very well! Then in the afternoon was our
group presentation. We had to ad lib -- Christin has been under the weather from
something she ate over a week ago, and not only is she our AV guru but the
electronics were more than complicated on a very extensive set, so we ended up
doing our presentation without slides. Frankly, that's my preference anyway,
since I prefer people to look at me when I speak, not at a screen.

This was also the occasion when we gave our official gifts, and I think everyone
was surprised/a bit unbelieving that the jewelry and porcelain were made by
"Rotary Anns." But as I told them, we have very creative Rotarians and spouses in District 7780!

Both yesterday and today have been examples of how the other half lives ... or
in this case, the other point zero zero one percent. We spent this morning at a
very exclusive resort that has been carved out of a beach and mountain behind
the old Subic Naval Base. Only 300 homes will be built here, at a cost of about
$500,000 US apiece. The target market are Filipinos who have moved to the States
or Canada, done well, and who have come back to the Philippines to retire on a
US-based retirement package. The beach facilities are still under construction,
but are among the nicest I have ever seen, and remember, I spent three of my
formative years living in Hawaii.

The team took an outrigger canoe to go snorkeling, but since the boat only held
four passengers, I opted out. Our hosts don't understand that the team leader
takes care of the team; several times now when only four people could do
something, they expected me to ask one of the team to forgo the pleasure, but to me, that's not what leadership is all about. In this case, my reward
was almost immediate: I was treated to a full-body massage on the beach, just me
and the tradewinds and the masseuse (who had to deal with more than her share of
sand since I had been swimming in the ocean immediately prior). It was indeed
wonderful. And relaxing.

Then to lunch in the cabana, and now we are taking advantage of the wifi
available to club members.

There are currently 1000 employees here at this resort, with only a few of the
houses built (or household help hired), and the workers commute (via some sort
of unspecified bus service) from 45 minutes away. Of course they are lucky to
have these jobs -- after the US Navy pulled out there wasn't really much
employment -- but still, it makes me think again of the homes where they live
and then the services they offer to the fortunate few. 

One of the Rotarians told us a few days ago that he takes good care of his house
help -- that he treats his staff  the way he wants them to treat the children he leaves in their care. He said that he is
paying for his driver's child to go to school, for example. Another Rotarian
told us that he hires young household help, but only on the condition that they
work half-day and he gives them time off to go to school the other half day. I'm
afraid that for every example such as these, however, there's a Filipino who
does not provide a hotel room for his driver on the road (but leaves him to
sleep in the car), or expects his maids to eat substandard food while serving
the best for the family, or who doesn't provide access to medical attention, or
whatever. Even at the vacation home we stayed in in Tagatay, I was surprised
that each bedroom and bathroom was locked before we left -- so that the
caretaker couldn't decide to take advantage of the rooms, we were
 told.

This evening is the Governor's ball. We are looking forward to seeing our
Rotarian hosts in their most-dressed-up fashion, and we have all acquired
Filipino dresses -- or been given gifts of jewellry -- that we plan to debut tonight.

I've been told that the birthrate in the shanty towns reaches 20 percent, and no
one disputes that figure (although there clearly are no formal statistics). What
is clear is the number of young women who show up at birthing clinics and
lying-in centers, the number of babies birthed year after year, the huge size of
the families.

Early in our trip we met a congressman who is actively working on a bill to
allow education about women's health. Just education, and he said he had to
fight the church all the way to get his bill even considered. 

Jose Rizal, the Philippines' national hero from the time of Spanish
Independence, made his mark by writing a novel that described the abuses of the
priests who were then running the country. The priests may no longer run the
country, but the influence of the church is still paramount. In fact, we have
been told that it was the influence of Cardinal Sin, then the senior churchman
int he country, that made the difference in EDSA 1 and II. Cardinal Sin died a few years ago, and his successor apparently does not have his
backbone.

So the babies continue. And so do the girls, some of them in their low teens,
who show up at the lying in centers with tales of incest or rape. That's not
surprising, really, considering the crowded conditions in the shanties and the
fact that there aren't enough beds for everyone. But interestingly, sharing beds
is a Filipino trait that reaches into the upper classes -- it is typical for the
entire family to sleep on several double beds in the master bedroom -- mother
father, grown children, both sexes, everyone. I have asked if this is a form of
birth control and the answer is in the negative;  it's rather a matter of family
togetherness.

From an American perspective, sometimes families can have too much togetherness.

By "home" in this case, I am talking about Mother Earth. 

The trip to Corrigedor was evocative in every way. Then, that evening we stayed
at a restaurant on Manila Bay to watch the sunset. The sunset was indeed
impressive, but it's beauty was marred by the stench of open sewerage emanating
from the Bay.

I asked about overboard discharge laws, and was ensured that they are in place,
"but no one bothers about these things." The same is true about burning garbage
-- it's officially illegal, but no one bothers about enforcement. The
Philippines -- the corner we have seen -- is a beautiful country, but the
roadsides are littered with throwaways in a manner reminiscent of what I have
seen in other developing nations, but never in the US.

Why is that? Why is it that societies that have little seem to do a worse job of
collecting their left-overs and disposing of trash appropriately? We Americans
have so much, and the footprint we leave on this planet is much too large, in my humble opinion, but at least it is a relatively neat footprint. And
it's not only environmental concerns that have made us cringe here, but also
concern for animals and, let's face it, human life.

While we're on the subject, and I'm not changing the subject, it is clear that
TB is on the rise, particularly in the shanty towns. We haven't found anyone who
talks about it, but when we ask, our questions are answered, I think relatively
honestly. We've been told that the government is beginning to supply medicines
for those who both test positive for TB and whose sputum also tests positive. In
other words, carriers don't get treatment, but those with full-blown TB do.  I'm
not sure the distinction matters, frankly, since the best treatment for TB
involves cool breezes and physical space, neither of which is exactly prevalent
in overcrowded, tropical Manila.

So visiting clinics and lying-in centers, and hospitals, as we have done, and
seeing the facilities, and thinking about TB, it really seems as though we are waiting for a full-sized epidemic to get started before taking
preventative action. 

The threat of avian flu seems quite far away.

It’s Saturday, and the “hump day” of our trip. It’s also a “free day,” one where we have no obligations and can relax and make our own schedule. The rest of the team opted to go to the beach to soak in some rays and hope for a hot shower, but I opted to stay closer to home with a bucket shower but also time to go to the Internet cafe and exchange news with home and reflect on the past two weeks. And also, truth be known, I could use a day without dealing with Filipino traffic.

We are spending the weekend in a resort area on the rim of an old volcanic crater, now filled with a lake and a smaller crater. Those of you who know our Crater Lake in Oregon will know exactly what I am talking about. The comparisons of rich and poor are omnipresent here, as they are everywhere in the Philippines. We are in a vacation home large enough to sleep our entire group, various Rotarians, and a few more people besides, yet hot water for showers is heated in a bucket and carried upstairs in a pail. Manpower is just plain cheaper than a hot water heater. Manpower is cheaper than a decent broom, also. I’m not talking about a vacuum cleaner; I’m saying I haven’t seen a broom in this country that has more than about one-quarter of the bristles that we would expect at home. But if the porch is going to be swept every day anyway, does it really matter if it gets clean the first time?

The others went off to the beach in two cars, leaving me with two houseboys and a driver, and at least two other cars in the driveway. So I’ve got plenty of household help and transportation, but no cable or Internet closer than the cafe. The houseboys — as well as the Rotarians — can’t understand why communication is so important, and keep on suggesting that I phone home. I’ve explained about this blog, and about keeping in touch with multiple people, but it’s clearly a wierd American concept.

On our drive to get here, the driver told me his oldest child has just graduated from the University of the Philippines. I’ve been in-country long enough to know that this very-well-respected university is among the most difficult to get into just because it is public and inexpensive as well as good. So three cheers for his daughter and for upward mobility. It’s great to know that she will be able to do well because she worked hard and was able to pass the entrance exams, despite what I assume was a public school education (te education of last resort in this country).

To get to the Internet cafe we had to drive past the usual collection of squatters, perched on land that clearly is unstable and may well wash away with the next storm. But location is everything: The squatters need to live close enough to their places of work to commute each morning, so unstable land becomes just one more inconvenience. Filipinos are nothing if not flexible to deal with whatever comes their way.

So we are half-way through our adventure! To date, it’s been so much more than expected. More exotic (I must admit I expected more convenient Internet connections and hot showers since I knew we would be staying in business class homes); more varied (our hosts have done a good job of showing us as much as possible of different things, with little overlap) and more friendly (Filipinos are rightly known for their incredible hospitality) than I could have even imagined.

Stay tuned for the second half!

How do you get clean water and sanitary facilities to a metropolitan area of 13 million people? And what do you do with the waste? Old Manila was built where the Pasig River meets Manila Bay. Both bodies of water have been polluted for generations. Many of the Rotary projects we have seen have been designed to bring clean water to a school, a hospital, and to the local community. Some of these projects have the ability to cast off income: For example, Rotary Club Eastwood has used a matching grant to provide a water purification system to an elementary school, and the “excess” water is sold to nearby residents at a small cost, which provides the income to maintain the system. Otherwise, shanty communities of hundreds of thousands of families use a latrine and water from a nearby spigot … somewhere. And if the water comes from a well, let’s just say it’s scarcely potable. Greater Manila does have a huge watershed area, called La Luna. It’s in Quezon City, and in addition to forest/watershed, the preserve includes a dammed lake to hold the water supply during the dry season. However, over time, squatters had made their home in the preserve, and the forests were being denuded for firewood. Even the water company had gotten into the act, and had announced plans to long-term lease some of the watershed area for a subdivision. Just a few years ago, the community fought back — fought against the water company, the squatters, and the general lack of concern about the city’s water supply. The result is a park easily accessible from the city, removal of the squatters and reforestation, and a nascent attempt to teach environmental awareness to school children and families who come to La Luna to picnic. We were told that La Luna is the first environmental park in the country. That last — environmental awareness — is not to be taken lightly. This is a throw-away society, with little recycling or concern about same. Families have multiple cars — my personal count is that the number of cars typically equals the number of household help, which ranges from 3 to 8 to 14 or so for the families we have been staying with. Human life is taken more lightly here than in the States, and concern about animals is even less — the animal parks we have seen have been sad affairs, with animals caged at tight quarters or tied closely to their posts. The same holds true for cats and dogs — dogs are much in evidence as watch animals, and cats as mousers, but both are clearly work animals, not pets. So a park in greater Manila that actually gives school kids a chance to see a forest as opposed to a mall is a major plus — let’s hope it becomes a popular attraction! From Marty – We visited several Rotary project sites today, including a lying-in center for single mothers. The birthrate in this Catholic country is high enough, but in the shantytowns it is guestimated at a whopping 20 percent. The Church has come out against any form of “artificial” birth control, which apparently includes education, and the result is five, six, seven children per family, in families that can’t afford to put dinner on the table let alone educate that many children. And the poverty is pretty appalling. Yesterday I was introduced to the idea of “pushcart people.” These are families that live on the street, and sleep in a pushcart, which is, I suppose, better than a cardboard box but the idea of a baby growing up in a pushcart definitely is appalling. Anyway, these girls — age 15 to mid-30s today — all showed up at this charity with the clothes on their back, and very little more. Once they became pregnant their boyfriend deserted them — or maybe they got pregnant via rape or incest, which is common enough in this culture with huge families stuffed in tiny quarters without benefit of separate beds — and so here they are. The options open to them do not include abortion — at least not legal or safe abortion. Many girls resort to “street” abortions; the lucky ones are girls like these who are cared for, given some basic prenatal care, given some education and some choices about what to do after the baby is born, and have a midwife available to them — with a public hospital down the street if such should become necessary. One of the girls had gone into early labor, and was expecting her baby today — Feb 29 Leap Day — but while she was waiting she danced for us. She looked scared, as well she might, but with three other babies in the crib — all under the age of one month — at least there were plenty of friendly faces around her. I wished her and her baby well. Her odds — and that of her baby — are minimal indeed. And yet she is as much God’s daughter as I am; I was just blessed with better education and more choices.

Today’s itinerary called for driving three hours south of Manila to a coconut plantation-cum-resort. But again, getting there is half the fun, right? We drove straight through the middle ot town to get to the other side of metro Manila, stop-go traffic all the way. It is unfair to say that Manila has no super-highways, because we picked one up and drove its length for about 45 minutes. It’s still being built — traffic was constantly moved from lane to lane to allow for construction, and I was reminded of driving the then-nascent Interstate system in the early ’60s in the US, when similar construction was omnipresent. I asked, and it turns out that Marcos had planned for construction of this highway, but when Aquino came in, she canceled his projects. “Anything with Marcos’ name on it was bad,” I was told. “If she hadn’t canceled the highway, it would have been constructed a decade ago.” Yes, but the flip side of the coin: Before any road/hospital/airport gets built in this country, the congressmen involved buy up the adjacent land, then when the news gets out that infrastructure is coming, they resell the land to investors and keep the profits. So what Aquino really did in canceling Marcos’ projects, was to cancel the pork-barrel for his friends that would have come with them … life is indeed topsy turvy when seen through the looking glass. And when it comes to political will and public infrastructure, one need look no further than New York’s 2nd Avenue subway to know that these problems are endemic to all nations and can indeed last for generations. Manila’s traffic is certainly horrendous, and those who can afford to do so keep a driver on staff. The driver not only, well, drives, but also parks — or if necessary, drives around the block multiple times while the family has dinner or does shopping or goes to the medical or business appointment. Public transportation runs from jeepneys — buses that started out with engines “borrowed” from WWII surplus jeeps — to tricycles — motorcycles with a sidecar that can hold anything up to and including an extended family to taxis. There is a short and aging el downtown, but I haven’t figured out where it goes or for how far. Everything else is private car. A system has been put in place that is designed to keep each car off the road one day a week. Depending on the last digit of your license plate, you can’t drive on day 1, day 2, and so on throughout the week. Unless you are a congressman or a doctor, in which case your car is exempt. But of course, as in Mexico City, this system only served to create a used car market — people just drive another car with another license number on the forbidden day. The families we have been staying with typically have as many cars as maids — and remember, the daily minimum wage is around $10 per day.

From Marty It’s Beginning to Look a Lot Like Minneapolis I write this from an Internet Cafe in the Mall of Asia, which is supposedly the third largest mall in the world after the Mall of America and someplace in Malaysia. It’s the kind of place you like, if you like this kind of place, which the Gen-Xers on the team definitely do. They are off shopping. I retreated to the Internet. The mall is huge all right, but the fascinating thing about it is that it is so familiar. All the names you know and love — Starbucks, McDonalds, Speedo, Kodak, you name it, they got it. And since we’re inside an artificial place complete with an artificial environment, and can’t exactly see the palm trees or Manila Bay outside, we might as well be in the Mall of America. Hello Minneapolis, let’s give it a try. What is the attraction to global branding? I distinctly remember my first trip to Continental Europe in the early ’70s, when Americans could be picked out by their clothing styles and when I “hid” my identity by wearing past-the-knee skirts. Those days are definitely over. Globally, we all answer to one fashion sense — with some small variations in purses and shoes. It’s true that we’ve seen more polyester here in the Philippines than visible in the US except maybe at Lane Bryant, and the young dollies wear heels so high and spiked that I hope the country is graduating good podiatrists, but that’s about the only differences. And the music! I suspect poor Cat has given up on finding any made-in-the-Philippines music; what we constantly hear (at high decibel) on the radio and various other sound systems ranges from Frank Sinatra to Madonna to just plain noisy. This morning we toured Intramuros, the old Spanish walled city, and our guide pointed out a new-fangled pipe-like instrument designed to entertain the tourists. The pipes were indeed (you guessed it) PVC pipe. Oh well, I guess you use what you’ve got. American music, American brand names, American fashion. Even American food. And American English rapidly becoming the international language of business. There’s another way to think about these mega-malls, of course, and that’s from the point of view of who is actually doing the buying. Yesterday Christin and I toured a squatters’ community made up of an estimated 100,000 families. Squatters, living on land not their own and in daily danger of losing the only home they know, yet with a mall available right across the street. Of course they can’t be buying in the mall, although some of them may be working here, but somebody is doing the shopping: Greater Manila has 13 million inhabitants and even though 60% of that total are poor, that still leaves a large and rapidly rising middle class. The point is, the investors in the Mall of Asia are here to make money, not to entertain shoppers with concerts and church and free samples. I think I’ll go off and find something to buy.

From Marty – People Power or Power Play People Power or Power Play? That was the headline on the English all-news station a few days ago. Today is the 22nd anniversary of EDSA 1, when mass protests — peaceful but determined — served to bring down President Marcos after 14 (or so) years of dictatorial rule. EDSA 2 marked the end of yet another presidency, and here we are in 2008. The “First Gentleman” – husband of President Gloria Arroyo — is said to be mixed up in a corruption scheme involving telecommunications licensing, and the headlines all week have dealt with the protection of a witness who are testifying against the government forces in the Senate. President Gloria’s term isn’t up until 2010, and yesterday she went on TV and said that she had no intention of resigning. In the US that would be a sure signal that she was on her way out, but here? Who knows. Apparently part of the problem is that there is no clear successor to rally around. Anyway, the government declared a holiday today. I didn’t understand why, given the current headlines and unrest, the government would want to call attention to today ’s anniversary or give people time to go out for a mass rally, but it was explained to me that given a three-day weekend, many people will take the opportunity to leave the city and, literally and figuratively, cool off. NOW I get it! It’s like the line in “Scoop,” by Evelyn Waugh (which if you haven’t read, you should): “Nothing is happening here. The mayor has been kidnapped, so everyone is out of town.” So is this the beginning of EDSA 3, or just a blip? Or as the TV headline had it, People Power or Power Play? The families we are staying with have been downplaying the action, except to say that traffic may be congested because of a popular mass rally, or then again, not. And when I ask how many people are anticipated at the rally, they say not so many because there will actually be three rallies. Now you know. Special anniversary or no, this morning the team and I gathered at the Rotary Center as usual for our vocational visits. Several of our expected trips had been canceled because of the holiday, but Christin and I went off together to a public high school — no classes, of course, but the principal met us and described his work. Schools in Philippines tend to come in two sizes — large and larger. This one has 10,000 students in four grades, approx 60 students per classroom. There are two main bldgs on campus — the first one, about seven years old, was built by Dante, the Rotarian congressman and club president who was showing us around. The second, larger bldg was built last year by the mayor and holds 40 classrooms. There is a library, a lab of 20-computers, a canteen (the kids here and in all schools buy their own lunch) and a that’s about it. The kids go to school six hours per day, and are on a split schedule, with the younger grades in the morning and the older grades in the afternoon. The kids come almost entirely from a shantytown surrounding the school, which we next visited. In fact, 100,000 families live in this extended shantytown, many of them relatively recently arrived from the provinces. We learned that Quezon City is a destination of choice for those arriving in Metro Manila. We spoke to several women who are running a small charity in the midst of the community — they became active in 1980 when Marcos attempted to clear a section of the community for development. Many twists and turns later, Imelda took an interest in the area. As a result, the land was turned over to the NGO and “permanent” homes began to appear where once just corrugated iron and dirt floors made up shelter. There’s still mostly the latter, of course; no project can provide housing for 100,000 families! Then it was on to the dump that is the main source of income for 800 – 1000 families in the community. Unlike the Guatemala City dump, this one is filled in as-you-go, so that only a small area is open to dumping — the rest looks like the landfill it is. We were told that the current Mayor Belmonte had started the landfill operation, and enough signs trumpeted the fact to prove the statement. The city has also installed piping to collect methane and other gases for resale, but I was told that the process is not yet economically viable. No one under 14 can legally pick, but of course, as in Guatemala, small ones separate the garbage in recycling areas just outside the dump. And for that matter, I saw a little boy who clearly wasn’t 14 working on his own just ahead of a cherry picker. Yes, it felt like deja vu, all over again. The kids are just as cute as their counterparts in Guatemala, just as eager to go to school, and face just as powerful odds. Philippines has been working on a patronage system ever since the Spaniards introduced in nearly 500 years ago. I learned today that it is popular for businessmen to bring in countrymen from their home provinces to work for them in the city rather than use workers who already live in the shantytowns, both because the provincials are cheaper, because giving them a lifelihood essentially brings patronage to the home province and because the newcomers are more likely to vote the way they are told to vote. Certainly, like the school today, many, many public buildings and even trucks carry the name of the congresssman or local official who approved the money to pay for them. Patronage is a way of life, and it’s not surprising when patronage turns to graft — or supposed graft — at the highest level. Tonight we attend a multi-club meeting. The guest speaker is “Erap” Estrada, a once and perhaps future president, and the closest thing to opposition leader that Philippines has. Slight hiccup – he has been pardoned from the graft conviction that cost him the presidency; as part of the pardon he signed a statement that he wouldn’t run again for elective office. But during the EDSA anniversary celebration, that statement seems rather inconsequential.

In our adventures we (Catherine, Christin and I) went to the mall. We had no real purpose… other than see what we can find! Well- we found it! Security at every entrance. At almost every store they would briefly search your handbag before they would let you in. Help is EVERYWHERE! There were probably 2 sales people for every customer- at least. They all, mostly young people, were dressed neatly in their uniforms trying to sell you every kind of shoe. Most of the stores were American type. Izod, Lacoste, Adidas, Starbucks, McDonalds, Levis, Crabtree and Evelyn, Dunkin Donuts… We found a grocery store in the mall. This was, by far, the most interesting experience. They have select and package your own pieces of raw chicken, unrefrigerated sushi and cut melon, a jello bar, and whitening deodorant. The interesting thing is that they refrigerated grapes but not the cut melon or sushi. Also, at the pick your own chicken and sausage sections they wore face masks. There was probably 20 check out lines but each had only one person in line. They also had line cops who would direct you with a sign that said “short line this way”. A skating rink in the mall. Yup, it’s 75 degrees outside but you can ice skate at the mall. McDonalds has spaghetti on the menu. I found the deep fried chicken cheeks! By they way, the gallon size bag of granola bars has not been touched! Every 15 minutes we are eating!