Walkin' in a Winter Wonderland

So Happy Universal Declaration of Human Rights Day.

"How do you spend the whole day hearing that your country is the root of the world's problems?" - texted today to my friend Helen in Bohol.

What made me text this? I thought I'd share my time with you by taking you on a little trip. I'll go through my evening step by step.

Now at the start of the evening, I was in my room...I know because I was there.

Ok, I'm done with crazy movie references most people will never get, but alas.

So ok, really. Tonight has been a crazy night for thoughts and I guess my best way to detox and process them all is to come here and write in my blog.

....

I started the evening walking down Osmena Blvd. towards Fuente Osmena. Looking over to the opposite side of the street I saw it mostly deserted, dry, and dark. This was quite a staggering contrast to this morning. I remembered taking those same steps walking towards the center of the roundabout with my German fellow intern in tow, racing to meet who knew how many people from various human rights delegations to join in a rally in honor of UDHRD (my own acronym). I guess if news hasn't exactly circulated in the states then it's a good time to mention that the "beloved" ASEAN summit has been postponed. They say that it's because of the threat of yet another typhoon that's been scheduled to hit the Visayas region. The thing is that Cebu is rarely hit by typhoons and feels little more than extended rains as throw off from other locations. The real reason? Well the talk here is it's Gloria's increasing attempts, most of them illegal, at her Charter Change and Con-Ass attempts (I'll explain that later if need be). Anyway, the sky then was a lot lighter this morning, but not as much as it should have been. There were dark clouds off in the distance, just to remind us that the typhoon was at least nearby, and to warn us against trying anything outdoorsy. No one seemed to notice, however, and instead all the gathering groups, from the urban poor, student, youth, women's, workers, and any other assembly you could think of were busy readying their own parts of the rally. The urban poor youth had made masks, placards, and ponchos and learned a dance as their part. The artist group I've been working with dressed up one of the girls in the papier mache head of Gloria and two boys joined in painting their bodies white and writing "Stop the Political Killings" on their backs. Debo and I had been told to stand off to the side and observe because of the threats of deporting any internationals who dared join in street rallies, peaceful or not. Still, we were ushered into the crowd and even moved to the front as the rain suddenly turned on and tried to soak us all to our skin. White puddles from the painted boys ahead ran down the streets, and I struggled to keep my bag inside my jacket to keep my camera safe. Thankfully all of the hundreds of placards displaying different victims of political killings had been covered with plastic for just such an event and once the international solidarity group joined, we pressed on down Osmena.

On our way down the street, I noticed police cars with their lights flashing, trying desperately to idle inconspicuously on the side of the road (maybe they should have turned off their lights), reminding us all in some little way why we were there. It seemed that would be all we would see of them. No such luck. A mere two blocks from our arrival location, we were met with a line of policemen, adorned with helmets and shields, stretched across the length of the road to tell us that human rights had little value on this day to them, namely the right to assemble peacefully. You kind of go dumb when you meet police. You don't know whether to go towards them or hide. Especially when you stick out because of your blinding skin. Part of me just wanted to go up and stare one in the face, instead I decided taking a picture would be a good idea, I'm not sure why. A man with a microphone began screaming at the police, demanding that we, as peaceful protesters, be allowed to pass. Moments after saying we would not be allowed to pass, we were being ushered through the streets to our final destination, two blocks away. Is two blocks worth all that? Maybe not in practice, but in principal, it's an ocean. Of course another barricade kept us from the actual side of the street we were supposed to be on, but in my opinion, they actually gave us a safer and more workable space to have our program than we could have had had we asked them.

Speakers began screaming in Cebuano and before long I saw at least a few other white faces who were there to try in their own little way to help. I guess I mention this because it's so strange to see other white faces that aren't the other interns and aren't the nasty white men with their bought women. But white or no, we all stood together as the rain turned on and off, shouting and listening and shouting again.

So why was I looking back and thinking about all of this? Because it was so difficult. Try being only one of two Americans in a vast swarm of people. The whole time, walking down that road, they were screaming...

Kinsa? Kinsa? Kinsa Terrorista? (Who? Who? Who is the terrorist?)
Ang US, si Gloria, sila ang Terrorista! (The US, Gloria, They are the terrorists!)

How did it feel every time? Piercing. Judging. Damning. Truthful.

In some ways you feel like you never thought you could feel it just wasn't important to you. You feel like a traitor. I know deep inside that it's true. That the US is a greedy, imposing, imperialist country. I know that many of the ills of the Philippines come from places like the US, and mostly from the US itself. I know the US government has groomed Filipino leaders, I know it gives money to the Arroyo government for counter terrorism that instead gets spent on extra-judicial killings of priests and community leaders. And yet, still, I felt like somehow it was condemning the whole country, all of us. I felt more and more eyes staring at me, even though I know they weren't. They always say they don't blame the people, just the government, and they want us to understand that, but that's not how it feels when you hear chants like that.

When the international solidarity group was asked to speak, it was one man from Australia. I honestly have to plead ignorance when it comes to the Australian government and their policies. Still, I would consider them a western country of wealth, who is at least somewhat guilty of the imperialism of which the US is constantly accused and guilty. So it's hard to hear an Australian white man say that they are with the Filipino people against the US, and that they too want the US out of their country and to take their bases with them. I don't see Australia really suffering from the US so much as the Filipino people do. I guess he's really only guilty of wanting to stand with the people he hurts for and getting caught up in the moment.

This is the part that catches up with the story and why I was walking at night all the way past Fuente. Trying to find some sort of escape, I noticed two white faces that looked familiar. It was a Canadian couple that works with a film group out of Montreal whom we had met at the Sept. 21st observation of the declaration of martial law under the Marcos dictatorship. I thought it would be nice to at least say hello. It turns out their hosting a three night film festival in a hotel about a mile from CENDET and tonight was the second night. They handed me a flier and rushed off to the meeting they were late for.

So here I was, walking down Osmena, having the hardest battle with myself over the weight of the world that I had somehow propped on my shoulders.

I walked into McDonald's to grab a quick bite because the canteen is closed on Sundays, and thought that Morgan Spurlock really wasted his time in revealing the "villainy" of McDonald's when there are so many more important things in the world than what people chose to eat. How 'bout the people who don't get to eat? How did that Supersize Me obsession start anyway? Damn you, Spurlock, and your pointless documentary. Go to a third world country and better spend your time. But I guess we all have to champion some cause, otherwise some would get lost in the shuffle.

I finally reached the hotel, a little early since most of the attendees are Filipino. So in other words, right on time. The Canadienne noticed me and came over. She gave me some reading material about the group in the Philippines that was sponsoring this event to read while I waited. The group is known as the Southern Tagalog Exposure and into which it is really worth looking. Then came the films.

The theme of the night was "'War on Terror' and US Military bases". Now, I don't know what these movies had to do with the US. They didn't mention the US once, something very unique to the night. I guess they wanted to throw a different light onto the countries where the US has military bases, but still, the theme of the films had nothing to do with the US, at all.

The first was "Game of Their Lives". "The story of how a group of hitherto unknown footballers performed one of the greatest upsets in World Cup history- and promptly vanished back into oblivion. The documentary tracks down North Korea's Cinderella 1966 World Cup team and is an exquisitely filmed exploration of pride, nationalism, friendship, aging, and life as the underdog. With myths exploded around every corner, much of North Korean society comes to resemble something we might even understand, or at least glimpse at its logic." Honestly, I saw little more than a story about football. I saw no myths exploded, maybe a simply blurb at the end that "dispelled" a rumor of them being imprisoned for drunken disorderly conduct, but that's about it. A good movie, but not much on North Korea itself. (The funny thing is they call this the biggest upset in world cup history, but there was a movie made of the same title about a US team in the 1950 World Cup in Brazil that claims the same thing...crazy, huh?)

The second film was "Singapore Rebel" (or here or here). "This documentary-like film on an opposition politician is a work Singapore's censorship board doesn't want people to see. The main protagonist, Chee Soon Juan, has twice been imprisoned for championing democratic change in the city state. The censor declared it a 'Party political film' and it was pulled form the Singapore International Film Festival line-up after the director was warned he could face two years in jail if the screening went ahead." This movie was actually really interesting. You don't really hear much about Singapore, and while it didn't do much in explaining the political situation there, it definitely got me interested in finding out.

The final film was about the Philippines and the Calibrated Pre-Emtive Response (CPR) which is in place for pre-meditated protests, as you could say. Is is called "Batas Busal" and "begins with the June 2005 revelation that seriously put into question the legitimacy of Gloria Macapagal Arroyo's Presidency. It examines how Arroyo impeded investigations, obstructed all legal processes and issued repressive orders such as the 'ccalibrated pre-emptive response', violently blocking all outlets for the legitimate protests of the Philippine people."

After the movies, there was a time for response. Little was said about the movies and more said about the evil US. Not the US government, the US. I have to admit that in my college-aged political activism, I myself have gained a bad taste for the US government that in all respects calls it close to the same things that the people I have heard it called today. I've turned the tables on their terrorism claims by calling it back to them myself, but there is just something sickening about sitting in a room and hearing nothing but bad things about the country. It's hard to hear that while N. Korea is wanting to run nuclear testings that they respect them for standing against the US for not disarming. They were borderline revered in this talk, and I have to say that I wish I knew more about the situation. Still, its more of an idea of if you're against the US, you're ok. And the problem is in each argument I can hear streams of truth and logic.

But since the topic of the movies wasn't stuck to, I'll try to give you the response that I didn't feel I could have given there.

The thing about all these movies is that they're about underdogs. Whether its the team from North Korea, or the opposition party, or the masses of people against a government, they're all somehow on the side you wouldn't expect to win. I, as an American, maybe as a women, but never as an American, will never be the underdog. I'll never be the one cheered for, and maybe I shouldn't ever be. The thing is that even I wouldn't cheer for me. I'm a huge fan of the underdog, and I'd be on their side long before my own. The only person who cheers for the other team is the one who wants to see the underdog lose, and who can be so cold as to do that. It's hard to sit in a room of other-worlders on a day such as today. Today is supposed to be a day when you celebrate an amazing act by a body that's great than you for a cause that's greater than you. That's something we all need to believe in. When we champion a government, and when we talk about nationalism, that's what we're all searching for. We want a government that is greater than us, because it's made up of all of our friends and families, things that are great. So it's so hard to want that from my own country which has more immediate potential to be such a place and instead to sit and hear how much we've failed at that. How even though there aren't the same ills in the US as there are in Singapore, and Northern Korea and the Philippines, we are still just as much the oppressors of human rights and as much guilty of violations because we let things happen. Sitting by and doing nothing makes you just as guilty, seeing things and not doing anything. So when we champion the underdog, let's always remember that it's not ourselves that we'll be cheering for. And sometimes that means letting people be angry with us, because we should be angry at ourselves.

I walked home and passed the Robinson's Mall, which by that time was closed. I realized that in a strangely cheesy, metaphorical way, the US is like a mall at night. I remember sitting in a mall after hours one night with my friend Eric Jones and just talking. No one was there, everyone had gone home. They had left the floor open to the night walkers for a few hours, but they were nowhere to be seen. It was like we owned the whole world, it was strangely exciting for something so stupid as the mall. The thing about a mall at night is there are so many things inside that are just sitting, doing nothing least of which is any good for anyone. All of these things that no one can get to, and no one's using. The US has all of this wealth inside it, most of which isn't being used. And it's just being locked up for no one's use but our own. I'm sorry, this sounded a lot more poignant and inspirational earlier tonight.

So this has been a really hard day and I'm surprised I'm planning on going back for a second dose tomorrow. The international solidarity meeting tomorrow is being held at CENDET at 8:00 am, and yet I'm getting up for it and saying bring it on. Sometimes I don't make sense to myself.

"I know you're not a conservative capitalist pig." - Helen's response

Sometimes it's more important that your friends like you than the rest of the world.