Preparation, and Repair

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October 14, 2024, Manila- We got word this morning that a longtime Baha’i resident of Metro Manila, who came from Iran, had passed away after a long illness. When something like this happens, plans change, of course, and a”all hands are on deck”. Being on the periphery of preparations for the funeral and memorial, two days from now, my immediate concern was to get a proper shirt and tie, and leather shoes, for the occasion. (I would have done that, anyway, in preparation for an event being planned for this week. That event is postponed until after the honouring of the deceased. ) I will help out, at the ground level, on Wednesday.

The other thing that happened, over the weekend, was that a major kitchen appliance went kaput. We looked at the matter from all angles, and while it may be repairable, the item does not, in other ways, any longer meet the needs of the community. A comparable appliance, different in capacity, will be purchased to take its place.

This is a most intense year of changes happening “on a dime”. There will, no doubt, be others-some of which can be deduced by an educated guess and the rest coming upon us with minimal notice. My time in the Philippines, this go-round, is down to two weeks. Then comes the Presidential election, and for me, on the ground, drives to Carson City, northern New Mexico, southern Arizona and either a flight or road trip to Grapevine.

Then comes 2025, the year of fruition, of tying up loose ends, and of “one door closing and another one opening”. What that means for your truly will somewhat depend on the next 2 1/2 months, as who knows what loose ends will still be dangling. There will, however, be no shortage of preparation, and repair.

A Cluster of Parks, Part I

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October 12, 2024, Manila- On days when K is busy, which are most days lately, I have determined routes for walking and found that Manila has a wealth of green spaces to check out, particularly in the area to the south and east of the Pasig River. Rizal Park, which memorializes the death of Dr. Jose A. Rizal, National Hero of the Philippines, and adjacent Luneta Park, occupy the eastern third of this greenway. This magnificent park was the second area, after Intramuros, that the ladies showed me, last year.

There are five smaller parks and gardens between Rizal/Luneta and the river. Yesterday, en route to a shopping run at SM City-Manila, I checked out Heroes Park. This small, but impressive, gem is also called Bonifacio Memorial. Andres Bonifacio is considered by many to have been the first President of the Philippine people, being a key leader of the movement towards a free Republic of the Tagalogs, in the mid-1890s. He was executed by the Spaniards, in 1897, and is viewed as a national hero by many, alongside his contemporary, Jose A. Rizal.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Andr%C3%A9s_Bonifacio

Bonifacio Memorial at Heroes Park, Manila (above and below)
Just so we’re clear, KKK refers to Kataastaasan Kagalanggalang na Katipunan, which is Tagalog for “Most Honourable Assembly”.

Near Heroes Park is the Clock Tower, which I captured only through the tree-tops. More on that edifice, later this coming week.

View of Manila Clock Tower, north of Heroes Park.

It is Kathy’s stated intention to get to more of the historical sites of the capital region, while I’m here. She’s doing the work of the Divine, though, so I am going to take up the slack and catalog as many sites as I can, on my own. It will make for a more interesting discourse, when we do get to visit the sites together.

My other mission was to replenish a few items and pick up some “breathable” cotton shirts, at SM City-Manila, not too far from Heroes Park. After walking past Arroceros Forest Park, a bit to the west of Bonifacio, I went about my shopping mission and enjoyed some Inasal Chicken, a breast barbecued in lime, pepper, vinegar and annatto/asuete ( derived from the seed of the achiote tree, as a natural food colouring). This style was developed in the area of Bacolod (Ba-KOO-lud), Negros. A couple of new polo shirts, some toiletries and a SIM card, w/ new adapter, for my camera accompanied me back to Ola! Hostel.

What started as a day of dark energy was turned around. Pondering the struggles of freedom fighters will do that. So will being grateful for having a certain person in my life.

Nampo Garcia- A Street Kid Story

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October 9, 2024, Manila- (Any connection between the characters in this tale and real people is purely coincidental.)

I felt the blade at my back,as I retrieved the cash from the ATM. “Now, you will give me the due that you refused, back at the Light Rail station!”, snarled a voice at the other end of the knife. “Will I, now?”, I responded, in my best fake Irish brogue. I looked at the wad of bills, then glanced over at the small pair of hands to my right, cupped and ready.

I tossed the folded bills to a chuckling, triumphant street boy. The hapless beggar took off after Nampo, dropping his knife and momentarily forgetting about me. The boy, little more than 3’8” and 50 pounds soaking wet, ran around the floral planter that graced the front of my hostel, all the while holding the cash, in a teasing manner, as the half-addled thief continued to pursue him, like a cat chasing its own tail.

Nampo knew the drill. He ran up to the hostel’s security guard and stood still, until I came up the steps. His meal depended on not running afoul of Steven Morales, who had often graciously provided the boy, and his little sister, with one of the hostel restaurant’s signature burgers or at least one of its ample rice bowls. Tonight, though, as Steven handcuffed the foolish beggar, I took Nampo inside the cafe, and for once, the Chinese owner did not wince and start fussing in Mandarin, about “a mouse being in the house”. Nampo had a full meal and was allowed to take an order to go, for his sister, who was waiting at their makeshift cardboard and plywood hut, off Dominga Street.

“Uncle Rama”, Nampo queried, as we ate, “do you have a friend like me, back in Bengaluru?” “Actually, I have several such friends, Nampo”, I responded. “You see, not so long ago, I too was sleeping under rattan and cardboard, frequently crying myself to sleep and keeping one eye open. The street bandits back in India are not so easy to elude, as the drugged up fiends here in Manila.”

“Not all the thieves here are drugged up”, answered Nampo, “in fact, the only reason I can leave Shakira alone is because we have Auntie Jinja looking after us. Her son, Raul, is also here, visiting his mother and taking her to see a doctor, for her diabetes. Raul said that if he needs to take his mother back to his house in Sucot, we will go with them-and he will make sure we go to school every day.”

I felt relieved at this news and as I walked Nampo back to his encampment, thought of how lucky this resourceful little boy was, to have found Jinja, and by extension, Raul, in the first place. Then again, it was Nampo’s heart energy, taking care of little Shakira, and his pluckiness at cultivating a security guard and a tourist as his friends, that most appealed to my own heart. As it happened, Raul had gone to the hardware, on P. Ocampo, and purchased a few folding chairs. His mother was sitting in one, and he, in another. The dutiful son beckoned me to sit for a while. “Would you care for a cup of iced tea?” “That would be heavenly”, I replied, taking the last empty chair, as Nampo sat down on a bean bag seat, which Raul had also purchased. Shakira was asleep on a small cot, covered with a clean sheet, again provided by the dutiful son.

This night would pass safely for the makeshift family, and soon the four of them would head past the Ninoy Aquino International Airport, through Paranaque to the seaside community of Sucot. I would be heading home to Karnataka, in a few days, and thought that I would make more of an effort to help the urchins in my home city, in honour of Nampo and Shakira.

(The street children of Manila are definitely winsome and engaging. It is their sheer number that prevents meaningful individual assistance, but there are a number of organizations, such as Children International, which I use as a vehicle to help two families, and Save the Children, that can provide assistance to destitute children and their families. Nampo and Shakira are fictional characters, but there are people who fit their description all over the streets of Metro Manila-and other Philippine cities.)

Navigating

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October 6,2024, Manila- The day started and ended with rain. Thus, the nice picnic devotional we had planned for late morning became an indoor affair. I brought chicken fillets, topped with dinakdakan sauce. Kathy and her male cousin contributed a rather good pizza. Others brought a regional variation on pancit- a generic Tagalog name for noodles. There was also a seaweed dish, brought by one of the young men. I have been a fan of seaweed since the days we lived in Jeju, Korea. It is a powerhouse of nutrients. I will describe dinakdakan, which I find tasty, upon request. (No, it is not made from insects).

The afternoon was spent in study of aspects of Huquq’u’llah, which I have discussed in earlier posts (see especially Sept. 16, 2024). It was not dry and intense-no Filipino would sit through such boredom for long, but it was done with attention and focus. Kathy knows what she’s doing, especially when it comes to academic presentation of financial matters. I was honoured to sit at her right-hand side and contribute a fair amount to the discussion. Much of it was in Tagalog, but I had everyone’s attention when offering thoughts in English.

Towards the end of the meeting, K’s cousin pressed me to extend my stay- “permanently”. She and I exchanged knowing glances, smiled and I said I would need to go back to the U.S., for six months. There are several things needing attention at Home Base, in Carson City and back East-not excluding the possibility of time in the Southeast, given this year’s sudden explosion of hurricane energy-shades of 2005. Brief visits to San Diego and Jalisco are likely in February, and I will want to get to Massachusetts and Pennsylvania, in April.

So, we have pretty much agreed on a May return. How “permanent” will be influenced by things like the birth of one or more grandchildren-still to be determined, BTW. Today, though, I learned that any mixed signals I may have sensed, over the past day or so, were mainly in my mind. This beautiful, compassionate, intelligent woman, whose friendship I am so privileged to secure, is for real.

Baccarat

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October 5, 2024, Manila- What I was told, about yesterday’s travails, more than tugged at my heartstrings. I said as much, and sincerely want to be there, when life goes off the rails for one who has had to struggle on her own, for far too long. I said that, too.

Maybe because she has a need to do things on her own, to struggle and see things through, my comments were met with a shrug. It’s hard to say; after all, I can only be here, this time, for three more weeks. Then I have to return to North America, to at the very least meet obligations, and at the very most finish up what I started, before I met her. While I am back at Home Base, and elsewhere on the continent where I have spent most of my life, K will be here, carrying on and relying on her own abilities and talents. I will be offering moral support, from a distance, and that’s all.

In the game of Baccarat, a player holds two hands and a dealer, one. The player may bet for or against either hand, or against the dealer’s. In life, one can show confidence in the figurative hand one has been dealt or plan against it-or may challenge the hand held by the person in control.

So, I can move forward with confidence, make plans to return here next May, with or without any guarantee that I will initially be welcomed again. I can “bet against my own hand”, put it down and stay put in Home Base, being thankful for even having had time with K, at all. I can bet against the dictates of conventional wisdom, and come here with a greater purpose: To do, in the Philippines and southeast Asia what a core group are doing in the Phoenix area. None of these options depends on the strength of a relationship with a specific person-and that is most likely what would actually save it. Independence reassures-and draws people in.

It’s easy, in some ways, to get young people here involved in the building of an equitable society. They are more likely to bring their friends along to a gathering and to take leadership roles, without being prodded. There is no residue of “Children should be seen and not heard”; no noxious after-scent from the Victorian Era. For their part, youth are more prone to thinking before acting or speaking. A good part of that has to do with numbers: People under the age of 30 constituted 60 % of the Philippine population, in the 2020 Census. The percentage of youth in the United States population, according to the same census, is 28.6 %.

Youth in developing nations, like the Philippines, are more likely to be in the driver’s seat, so to speak than their peers are in the developed countries, whose populations are both aging out and much more in a state of time consciousness. There is much that we can learn from countries like the Philippines, in terms of youth engagement.

I hope, thus, to pick up some of those lessons, in the next three weeks-and trust that the right course of action in 2025 will make itself known.

More Transition

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October 4,2024, Manila- She was long a champion of civil rights, for racial minorities and women. “Sexual minorities” were a bit harder for her, but she was trying to understand. Michele was, nonetheless, a compassionate friend of 35 years.

It was she, and her late husband, Tom, who talked me into taking a road trip to San Francisco-Oakland, in 2012; of course, swinging by their then-home in Reno and caravanning to the Bay Area. From there, I headed north, after three days of commemorating ‘Abdu’l-Baha’s 1912 visit to that area. After Tom passed away, in 2013, I continued to visit Michele and her family, which I came to regard as an extension of my own. Her eldest granddaughter became a surrogate grand-niece, followed, seven years later, by her little brother.

Sis has been getting weaker, these past few years, though she did not lose any of her feistiness. On my last visit, three months ago, she stood strongly against what she regarded as a general moral laxity. She cautioned me, on a different note, against up and leaving the United States, for what she regarded as a pipe dream of living abroad again. I think she felt the hourglass was running out. Last night, it did. Michele Le Boutellier Smith passed away, at the age of 75.

Michele may yet turn out to have been right. I have pretty much hit a plateau, in several aspects, as to what I can accomplish in Manila, and after giving it a few more days, will likely move on to the provinces for a couple of weeks. It is encouraging to me, though, that a well-educated, savvy gentleman is stepping up as a moving and shaking force for the Baha’i Faith in the capital area. Today, at lunch, he articulated some solid practical ideas for making the Regional Baha’i Center a true locus for the betterment of the community. It is the local residents who must achieve the true greatness of a place. Visitors like me, no matter how loving or well-intentioned, wear out our welcomes after so many days.

Transitions have been at flood tide, in a number of respects, in this Eight Universal Year, which always seems to bring about drastic change. The number of close family and friends who have left my life, either through death or attrition in the past nine months, is jarring. It is also not entirely unexpected. The year is not over yet, by a long shot, so I hang on and continue to work for the best.

Somewhere, in the great energy field to which we all go, at some point, all my relations and extended family of friends are sending the energy that will guide me aright, as long as I pay attention. I will probably be walking that path largely alone, but that is okay. I can do this.

Notes On The Filipino Road-and Other Elements

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October 3, 2024, Manila- Today was one of those days when the executive dysfunction of some friends led to long periods of sitting around, waiting for things to happen. K was doing a lot, as was the renovation crew who are working on the Baha’i Center. She, and they, were doing fine without me, so I offered to help another friend, and waited, and waited. In the end, the day went by with plans unfulfilled-for several reasons.

While waiting, though, my mind went over several things I’ve noticed have changed about Philippine traffic, since last year: 1.There are, for pedestrians, a signal that tells both how long until they may cross again (red numbers) and how long they have to cross (green numbers). There is still, for unregulated intersections, the tradition of crossing when traffic slows down. 2. There are several more directional signs for outlying areas than I recall from last year. 3. Directions for places of interest are more commonly posted, both in Metro Manila and in the smaller cities. 4. Cautionary signs, regarding speeding and littering, are more common-especially in smaller neighbourhoods. 5. I have seen fewer instances of gridlock than I saw last year.

Coffee shops and juice bars have sprung up in areas where they were lacking-always a sign of a trend towards a more peaceful camaraderie and health consciousness.

There aren’t as many beggars, and there is markedly less trash on the streets, even in more “rundown” neighbourhoods. (There are many more wheeled trash bins around.) More kids are in school than are wandering the streets. I see more people who look like they are on a mission. I see more couples showing affection, though rarely in an unseemly manner. Life in “the Phils”, to my eyes, seems to be getting better.

My relative downtime gave me a chance to completely catch up on things that had accumulated, so now I can focus on remaining goals, over the next 3.5 weeks. I am keeping abreast of events in the U.S. and in western Asia. Hurricane Helene was the worst cyclone in my homeland since Katrina. There are no words to describe my sorrow at the devastation in places like Perry (FL), Asheville, Boone, Aiken, Greenville (SC), Tryon, Valdosta, Damascus and Newport (TN). I have been to most of those places and have friends in several of them. Claytor Lake State Park, in southwest Virginia, was a place of refuge for me, in August, 2011, when I was at the lowest ebb, emotionally. It is now at its lowest ebb, physically, and will do well by the Federal aid that has been secured for several states in the southeast. Remember our small towns. They will live on and largely recover, but right now, many are in agony.

A Missing Shoe

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September 27, 2024, Puerto Princesa- The dog was sniffing my shoes, as a I left them outside the door to the large, comfortable villa, where our evening meal and impromptu conversation of two hours was to unfold. There are no puppies here at Dang Maria, (named for the mother of the owner), so I thought nothing of leaving them in the customary spot.

We had several lengthy and intelligent conversations today. Sister-friend Jane looms large in this seaside community, and has done nothing but good for the Puertenyos, and all Palawenyos. Her vision, like mine, is global and inclusive. I am proud to see her as a spiritual sibling.

My actual hosts here in Puerto Princesa are a furniture maker, Roger, and his wife Amie (AA mee). Roger sets the meetings and, in the tropical tradition, the times. It is vacation mode, even with my keeping view of my goals here-to encourage the Baha’is, as we continue to re-group, in the lingering aftermath of pandemic. I walk more slowly, along Manalo Street, to and from my host’s residence and my digs at Rodolfo Royale Hotel-and anywhere else we may be walking.

Our first leisurely stop was at Palawan Mall, where I refueled my wallet. We then headed over to Jane’s Restaurant, Neva’s Place, named for one of her three daughters.

Neva’s Place, Puerto Princesa, Palawan (above and below)

After a meal of garlic shrimp and noodles, with coffee as a dessert item rather than as “fuel”, we bid Jane adieu and headed back to our respective spots on Manalo Street, for siesta in the sitio (neighbourhood). It is still an institution here on Palawan-for those who don’t have a series of meetings to attend.

Our evening gathering, at Dang Maria, started “promptly at 5 p.m.”, which is Taglish for “be here around 6…or so”. We got there at 6:15. The gloaming had set in, but in the house, everything had a quiet vibrancy, and we addressed woes, both near and far. One thing we all hold in common- our Faith is not meant to have us hold our heads in the clouds. Spirituality, if real, must envelop, absorb and sanctify the material and the practical. Matters, great and small, put in front of us, are worthy of our attention. “Be anxiously concerned with the needs of the age ye live in, and centre your deliberations on its exigencies and requirements.-Baha’u’llah, “The Tabernacle of Unity”

Evening, at Casa Maria, Puerto Princesa
Amie, Roger and Jane
This is the one where I look like my maternal grandfather. (Time is flying!)

It was time to leave, being close to 9 p.m., so I went outside, to put on my shoes-except that there was only one. We looked high and low-but in the darkness, there was only one thing to do. I was graciously offered a pair of sandals, and the remaining shoe was placed out of harm’s way.

Tomorrow is another day.

Day of Even Flow

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September 26, 2024, Puerto Princesa, Palawan- Today began with an urgent plea, which I answered with a long prayer for healing. It seemed to have done the trick, as the medical emergency has been relieved somewhat. So, prayers on that matter (Confidential, of course) will continue from this end.

The day played out with yet another transition from Manila to a provincial area. It was a day of even flow, with a flight delay answered by the pilot by getting us to Puerto Princesa in 2/3 of the time that the manifest stated. Passengers are far from the only people who want to get to their destinations, be those home or a temporary Home Base.

Here in “Puerto”, and elsewhere in Palawan. motorized tricycles take the place of jeepneys. Two of them got me from the airport to this 2-star hotel: Rodolfo Royale, which more than suits my needs for a few days. The first Tricycle took me to a “recommended” rooming house, whose owner was none too pleased to see a foreign national. No matter- I got a second tricycle to a popular restaurant, and my friend here in Puerto lives just up the road from RR, and getting in here was no problem.

It will be more socially intense here, as there is a larger group of people who are interested in my presence, and these are country people, not so absorbed in their own day to day business, as those who dwell in the cities. In the course of events, that is a good thing, more conducive to personal growth.

A Noble Partnership

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September 24, 2024- A groan came from the back of the taxi, and I turned to see my sister-friend trying to stomp a cockroach, which scurried out of harm’s way-toward my beloved, who also tried to stomp and missed. Being the man in the party of three, Filipino culture dictated that I sit in the front passenger seat, so despite my annoyance at the insect being near my friends, I could do nothing-but wait and see if it came towards my space. Somehow, it stayed hidden under my seat-and we all refocused.

We had been on an outing, first to the Philippine-American Cemetery, where 17,000 men and women, who died fighting the Japanese invaders, between 1941-45, are laid to rest. Those Missing in Action are named also named on a Wall of Honour. This wall is in three segments, each of which has several columns. Kathy wondered if any of my family members died in service, during World War II. None did, but my late father-in-law was a prisoner of war, in Berga, Germany, for five long months, in 1945. As a Jew, he was given “special” torment. Two of my maternal uncles were in the Navy, during the Battle of Midway. One of them served with valor, when his ship was shot out from under him and crew mates. He received a Silver Star for his actions. One of my paternal aunts served in the Women’s Naval Corps, the only member of her family who was able to serve at the time. I did find a distant relative, a Robert Boivin, USN, who was killed in action in the Philippines. There may be others, as we did not go to the Army, Marines or Coast Guard sections, which we will visit another day.

We viewed a film about the sequence of events There were so many heroic figures, among the Filipino and American forces, including many of both who acted as guerillas, constantly harassing the occupants. Filipino civilians also acted in wily fashion, many operating right under the noses of the overconfident Rising Sun. All those who died, made the soil of the Philippine nation fertile, in the best of ways. My head is bowed in tribute.

Here are some scenes from our visit to this hallowed spot.

The Home Front of America sprang to action.
People of colour were in the forefront of the battle for the Philippines, and elsewhere.
Kathy and Norlie are among the grateful.
So am I.
Norlie’s grandfather was one of the above.
I still stand ready.
This cenotaph honours the fallen, collectively.
Robert Boivin, Signal Corps, USN, was a distant cousin.
Three of Penny’s distant maternal cousins, Anthony, Ervin and Kyee Faust, were also in the forefront of the battle-at Leyte Gulf (1944).

Here is another view of the Cenotaph. It is actually a chapel, with a statue of St. Mary inside.

Afterwards, we went to one of the legacies of Philippine freedom: The new financial center of Manila: Bonifacio Global Center. There, we met another friend and I became the lovely ladies’ paparazzo.

Bonifacio Global Center
Norlie, Kathy and Ylona at “BGC”.

We got a late start today, but it didn’t matter.