Last year I went home on my Christmas vacation to the Philippines. My, oh my, how the place has changed. New block constructed homes with cemented driveways and wrought iron fences. Tile roofs and building facades painted in bright colors. Even the country dirt road that led to the sea that wound past our house was concretized albeit narrow and sidewalk-like. But the progress was evident everywhere in the newly built structures.I took a bus to the big city. It was a six hour ride. The bus was air conditioned and kept extremely cold the condensation began to form around the windows into little water droplets. It was as if a snowless blizzard was blowing inside the bus. The people bundled up in their parkas, animal skins, layers of blankets and other types of inclement weather clothing. The bus radio was tuned to some station playing reggae music and hip hop. The videotape player was turned on too with some kind of locally made for TV movie about two lovers having a quarrel. The noise from the blowers, the TV chatter along with the heavy thumping bass of the gangsta rap music gave me a headache. The conductor came around checking tickets. He was swaying and dancing to the cacophony. Outside the bus was the simmering heatwave rising from the asphalt road. It was a most uncomfortable ride.
We stopped at a couple of truck stops owned by the bus company. The toilet facilities were practically non-existent. The hole in the wall designated as the men's room had a trough but had no running water. My nose was immediately assaulted by the strong, unmistakable smell of human waste. I imagined that even with an oxygen mask fully deployed the repugnant smell would have been unbearable nevertheless. I held my breath for the duration and got out of there quickly.
There were vendors selling every kind of locally prepared snack and finger food. Crackling pork skins, chicken skins, fried chicken entrails, coconut confections, sweet rice cakes and warm coconut juice. Everywhere there were people milling about. I wondered what was there that attracted so many people to congregate?
That was last year...
Today I read in the papers that the Philippines is toying around with the idea of limiting a family to two children. Some kind of "family planning" ala China. The Catholic Church opposes it and prolife groups here in the US are definitely against it. I read in the article that some young upstart lawmaker thought of the idea. I can only surmise that this young solon has been exposed to the radical feminism running rampant in the western world... the same kind of feminism that puts career first before family. What's next, abortion on demand, euthanasia, same sex marriage and the homosexual agenda - and not necessarily in that order?
Progress certainly has its side effects. True, the Philippine economy is helped tremendously with the monies transmitted back home by the Overseas Filipino Workers (OFW) to their families. But along with that infusion of wealth and resources comes the "trends, fashions and other cultural nits" and factors that these overseas workers pick up from where they work and bring back home. I saw this "trendiness" during the Christmas show that the local folks put on during their barrio fiesta celebration. Baggy pants on boys with the waist hanging so low way past their hips and almost down to their knees, girls wearing the Madonna and Spears clothing and adults sporting thick make up on their faces. I was surprised too to see young, seven-to-eight year old little girls doing the Paula Abdul dance routine choreographed to Michael Jackson's Thriller music. Then there were the beauty pageants with teenaged girls dressed in bikinis. I was in total disbelief. It was as if these people were trying to do their own little Las Vegas scene.
I came back to the US still thinking about the things I saw and witnessed happening in that little place where I grew up. I still don't understand how that obscure little place could have gotten influenced by outside forces, events and trends. I think it is true... perhaps things are truly going global.
