There's a New Game in Town---the Blame Claim Game

After a tragedy, calamity or monumental failure in government, the game usually played in the aftermath is something we already know---the Blame Game.

But in the aftermath of Ondoy, there's a new game in town--the Blame Claim Game.

And just like all the previous "innovative" ideas that he presented in performing his job as Chairman of the MMDA, Bayani Fernando, Presidential aspirant, is introducing this new game.

He tries to assume responsibility of the Ondoy tragedy by asking people to blame him ( http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PAUuVXgdEGI ). "Blame me, rather than blame God", he said in Pilipino.

But I think it is ridiculous for Chairman Fernando to call attention to himself by claiming the blame for the disastrous flood brought about by Ondoy. This calamity brought about by Ondoy is much bigger than him and he does not enjoy singular responsibility for the any failure of government in the face of the typhoon.

Although it is true that his many years in the MMDA only resulted in the failure to address the perennial flood problem of Metro Manila.

BUt it is more ridiculous for him to make a pitch for his presidential campaign by saying that if there is no leadership with political will (using his campaign line), this will happen again and again. It is ridiculous because he already had his chance to use his much-publicized political will for so many years in the MMDA but he still failed. In fact, he's saying now that he is to blame!

But more than just ridiculous but already insulting is his refusal to resign his post in spite of claiming the blame for the tragedy. He should be informed of what the Premier of Taiwan did in the aftermath of Typhoon Morakot. Because of public dissatisfaction of how the government bungled the response to Morakot, President Ma Ying-jeou along with a couple of cabinet ministers resigned. (http://online.wsj.com/article/SB125231317773090087.html )

Now if Chairman wants to talk about political will, he should take a lesson first from the Taiwanese.

A Great Day --September 27, 2009

It was a good day yesterday. In fact, I would say it was a great day!

Usually, I reserve my Sundays for my family, taking the time to play with them, have lunch or dinner, or go to the mall. But yesterday, inspite of being a Sunday, I left the house while they were still sleeping and when I got home ( which was actually Monday already), they are already in dreamland.

Eight out of the nine barnagays in my district were under water. People traveled the streets in bancas, making the scene similar to Venice, except that instead of gondolas, people were riding in fishing bancas. Around 1,900 families, or an estimate of 10,000 persons, were living in evacuation centers with little food and dismal sanitary conditions. More people were trapped in their homes, finding shelter on the roof instead of under.

But it was a great day. Why?

Well, it was great because in spite of the gloomy weather, disastrous conditions and me being torn from my usual routine with my family, it was a day that Filipinos showed their best qualities and virtues that made everyday people extraordinary heroes.

I refuse to acknowledge the sorrow and pain brought about by the loss of life and property during the storm. I refuse to give in to the anger at incompetence and neglect which led to delayed disaster response and failure to prepare. I do not want to highlight that which is depressing but rather encourage everyone with what is inspiring.

Yesterday was good because of the various stories of good Samaritans, people who extended their hands to help a fellow human being. Like those soldiers and CAFGU who gave up their lives in order for others to live. Or that video I saw in Youtube and Facebook, where a man jumped from a roof into swirling waters which had cars floating and bumping against each other in order to reach a woman in danger. Or the people who opened their homes to strangers who were stranded by the rising flood waters. There are so many stories during the attack of Ondoy that makes you proud to be a Filipino, proud to be human.

My own experience with these heroes compel me to praise them and give them honor.

Since my district was badly devastated and thousands of my constituents were suffering, my father and I immediately activated our relief operations and assembled relief packs for those in the evacuation centers. Using funds available to our offices, we purchased foodstuffs for distribution to the victims of the typhoon and floods.

Realizing that the people needed many more items other than food, and that our available resources were already depleted, I sent out a call for donations through my Facebook account and text messages to friends.

Admittedly, I wasn’t really expecting much, especially that other groups like the Red Cross and the NGOs of the big media networks were already receiving donations. Add to that the fact that people have low regard and trust for politicians, I was actually expecting to receive responses from friends.

But I was pleasantly surprised to find out that by lunch time that day, donations were coming in not just from friends, but from complete strangers. They said they simply heard the call for donations and felt they had to respond. Actually, it is the good nature of these people which led them to give. 

I instructed my staff to give acknowledgment receipts to those donate, but they were puzzled why others did not even bother to wait for the receipts. Still, others even refused to identify themselves. 

But I owe it to those people who went out of their comfort zones and gave for others. I will make sure that those who gave will be recognized, not just in the interest of giving them due recognition but also for transparency. After all, it is they who should be given credit. I was just a conduit.

In fact, even those who did not come to my office to donate something specific, as long as they are diligent taxpayers, they have already done their part because a majority of the funds we used to prepare relief goods were funds allocated to our office by the government. We are mere administrators of those funds.

As we went around the evacuation centers, my concern that we will run out of goods to deliver was eased. With each passing hour, more contributions came in. For a while, I was worried that our staff would be overwhelmed. My family members were already lending their hands. But that concern too, was allayed because volunteer workers started coming in. 

People who were not even part of my district gave and came, simply because they wanted to be of help to their fellowman. People of such character are heroes in my book. 

Am proud to have known these people. I am even prouder to serve them. It was a great day yesterday, September 27, 2009. No amount of destruction, death and deluge will take that away. In the coming days, while there is much work to be done, I will continue to be inspired by these good people. Heroes, really.

10 Things that Makes Ho Chi Minh City Better than Metro Manila

1. Their pedestrian sidewalks are wide.

2. They have tree-lined streets.

3. They have well-maintained and landscaping in center islands.

4. They don’t have ridiculously colored “roadside furniture” (pink fences and pink toilets), as MMDA calls theirs.

5. There are trash bins at almost every corner.

6. They have many parks with lush greenery and tall trees scattered around the city.

7. They don’t have traffic enforcers but somehow the flow of vehicles is continuous.

8. They don’t have maniacal bus and jeepney drivers clogging their roadways.

9. Even with the millions of motorcycles on the road, there isn’t a single one with a modified muffler to make the motorcycle noisier.

10. Even with the millions of motorcycles on the road, the air is much more breathable than Metro Manila.

10 Things I Observed as a Pedestrian in ho Chi Minh City

1. Motorcycle riders in Ho Chi Minh City, young or old, man or woman, are skilled at avoiding pedestrians.
2. Pedestrian sidewalks serve as alternate routes in case of traffic congestion.
3. A motorcycle can be used to deliver furniture, big boxes, flower arrangements and even a huge glass panes. No need for delivery trucks.
4. A family of four can fit comfortably on a motorbike. And it is allowed by the law, as long as the children are below 7 years old.
5. Few people use the pedestrian sidewalks walking to their destination. Motorcycles are the main mode of mobility. Even on sidewalks.
6. Even construction workers have their own motorcycles to go to work.
7. There is valet parking at some establishments. The valets are skilled not only in driving but also Tetris..that’s how they park the motorcycles.
8. The traffic lights are just a suggestion.
9. If you want to teach your child about how blood cells flow in the body, let them observe the flow of motorcycle traffic in the streets of HCMC. It’s pretty much like that.
10. There are many sidewalk eateries. But they all use kiddie size tables and chairs.

My Pedestrian Experience in Ho Chi Minh City

It was a Sunday and my wife and I agreed that she could stay in bed longer while I go out for a photo safari in the streets of Ho Chi Minh.

I donned my most comfortable shoes, put a spare battery, memory cards, Vietnamese money in small denominations, cellphone and a small map in my multi-pocket cargo pants. I stepped out of the hotel around 7:00 AM, expecting to take photos of the empty streets.

But the moment I got out of the front driveway of the hotel, I realized that I was wrong. Early Sunday morning in Ho Chi Minh does not equate with empty streets. It was more like business as usual, meaning that the streets are still populated by the continuous flow of motorcycles. I guess taking a photo of an empty HCMC street is out of the question.

I walked towards the direction I plotted out in my map. Good thing I earned my orienteering badge when I was a Boy Scout. My first target was the Saigon Opera House which was just about a hundred meters away from our hotel. In our hotel room, there were a couple of old photographs of the Opera House taken several decades ago. I wanted to do some comparisons.

When I got to the building, there was a set up for what seemed to be a concert. Chairs were lined up like a theater in front of the main entrance, and a sound system set up with massive speakers was ready for the performance. There was no one else around except the sound technician, who apparently likes Kenny G. One of the jazz musician’s top hits in the 80’s was playing over and over again. The song filled the whole square, to the delight of no one in particular except the technician.

After spending several minutes and more than a dozen frames, I continued my walk. I passed what seemed to be a main avenue of the city with small parks in the center island. I came to a rotunda which I took a video of two days ago, amused at how the throngs of motorcycles weaved in and out of the rotunda in what seemed to be chaos, but at the same time an exercise of concerted riding skills of the riders.

The rotunda is just a stone’s throw away from the People’s Committee Building, which I think is the City Hall. Beautiful architecture, European inspired. A statue of Ho Chi Minh stands in a park in front of the building, depicting the Vietnamese leader with a young child in his protective arms. Typical propaganda material.

I took more than a few photos, including a self-portrait using my point and shoot held my extended arms. I had my bulky digital SLR for my more “artistic” shots while I used my digital point and shoot for my typical “tourist” shots. One more benefit with the point and shoot is that it has video capabilities.

My next destination was the Reunification Palace which was several blocks away. It was a pleasurable walk, however, because of the many sights and sounds I encountered along the way. As a photographer, it is always interesting to see the daily life of a foreign city, especially the areas outside the usual tourist routes. I took delight in watching Ho Chi Minh City life go by.

After several blocks and minutes, I heard loud music playing, the kind which I usually hear playing in Chinese variety shows on cable TV back home. I then notice that there was an increasing number of people on red shirts moving about. Being used to public gatherings, I sensed that there was something going on up ahead. Perhaps a political mass action? That would be an excellent photo subject. My pace became faster.

Nearing a corner, I saw that a park was up ahead, one with big trees and lush greenery. More people in red. I then noticed that there was writing on their shirts. I strain to read it. I forget what was written as I do this write up, but when I read it, I guessed it to be some local bank.

I arrived at the park where a stage was set up, and some children were performing a dance in front of about four hundred people in red shirts and more people who I presumed were regular park goers. I couldn’t make out what were written in the streamers and other posters but from what I saw onstage, this seemed to be some promotional event of an insurance company. I walked around in the park taking some photos before continuing with my itinerary.

It turns out that the Reunification Palace was across the park. I walked to towards the building which was in the middle of a huge piece of land surrounded by tall fences. I could see the “palace” but to me, it didn’t look like a palace, or at least as what I expected it to be. Having seen the palaces in Bangkok, Thailand and Phnom Penh, Cambodia, I was expecting the same. The Reunification Palace looked to me like a huge embassy. I took some pictures and didn’t bother to go in. I did notice, however that there were some military relics scattered around the grounds.

I walked on to my next destination, the War Remnants Museum. That was actually my main destination, having been keenly interested in the Vietnam War even when I was a kid. It was about four more blocks away. Again, it wasn’t a boring walk, since there were sights to see along the way.

After a about 10 minutes, I arrived at the museum. I stood at the corner outside the museum compound to rest and watch the intersection. Somehow, Ho Chi Minh intersections has become somewhat of entertaining for me. Watching people cross the street and the motorcycles dodge each other through the intersections amused me.

Then a guy sitting on his motorcycle (he wasn’t riding, just sitting there) said, “Hello!…Hello!….War Museum there!”, pointing to the building. I smiled at him. Thn he said, “You can cross now”. I looked left and right and saw motorcycles coming toward the intersection without seeming to slow down. “You can cross now”, he repeated.

Is he trying to amuse himself by luring me to cross the street and see me get run over by a motorcycle? Or is he genuinely trying to help me. Well, I remembered the advice of other people people who have survived the streets of HCMC. “Walk…and they will swerve around you…”

So I took the step of faith…got off the sidewalk and fixed my eyes on the opposite corner, walking in a steady stride. After a few seconds, I got to the other side…like Jesus walking on water.

I entered the gate of the museum, paid the entrance and felt like a kid in a toy store as I walked among the war relics there…reminders of a war where a poor nation of farmers beat a super power of the world. Of course, I took photos left and right.

After walking around the displays outside the building, I entered the museum proper where there were more displays of weapons, bombs, ammunition, clothing and photos of the war.

I entered a room where a sign was displayed beside the entrance: “The Scars of War”. In the simple display cases in the room, photographs of the ravages of war were displayed. Most sobering were those of the effects of the Americans’ use of Agent Orange, an example of chemical warfare.

The high rate of birth defects among the people of Vietnam which were exposed to Agent Orange was shocking. Most of all, the photos of Vietnamese with grotesque deformities was truly moving. The photos of the devastated forests, farms and landscape were compelling. One will understand why there is pain among Vietnamese when they remember the effects of America’s intrusion into their lives more than four decades ago.

Makes you think about America’s war on terror and their presence in Afghanistan and Iraq.

I spent quite some time in the museum. My previous interest in the Vietnam War was now sobered by the perspective coming from the Vietnamese people. Yesterday I had seen how they were forced to go underground for their safety and protection, now I had seen how they had suffered during and after the war. Truly, this experience will be one of those which will be forever etched in my memory and serve as a lesson on man’s ability to be cruel and to be steadfast.

With more than just photos in my cameras to bring home with me, but more importantly lessons for my mind and soul, I began my walk back to the hotel.

I passed a different route, going through another park which was obviously a Sunday destination for many citizens of Ho Chi Minh City. I was headed for the Notre Dame Cathedral, located just after the park from the museum.

As I was going through the park, I noticed that more than a few times, groups of people, mostly young, sitting on the grass in the park, seemed to be looking at me as I passed by. I could sense that they were looking at me with interest, not a few times giggling as they looked at me.

I began to get conscious, thinking of the reason why. I could think of a few:

1. My fly must have been open. But no, I checked, it was closed.
2. They must be thinking how silly of me to carry two cameras, one hanging on my neck, the other in my hands.
3. They must be wondering how this Asian became so big. I did not see a single overweight Vietnamese man, while I am “American size”.
4. They might have been wondering why I was sweating it out walking instead of riding a motorcycle.
5. They might have wanted me to take their photo.

I arrived at the cathedral. By this time, the sun was already shining high in the sky, so I kind of rushed myself in taking photos. Besides, I had to get back to the hotel to join my wife for lunch. After a few minutes, I continued my walk back to the hotel.

It was around 10:30 in the morning and I had been walking for more than three hours. I don’t know how far it was, but I’m pretty sure, it was enough to count as exercise. Along the way, I was able to take in Ho Chi Minh City more than what I could have if I had taken a cab to the places I went to.

Are the Young People of Today Aware That They Are the Fair Hope of the Motherland?

I am often the subject of interviews by students from schools in the district I represent, and I always cheerfully grant their request for a parley. Usually, the students are assigned to interview a public official and many times they end up having the same subject--me. I never turn down a request for an appointment with students, whom I believe should be given every opportunity to be inspired by their elders.

 

Well, that makes me feel old, being referred to as an "elder". But I am still within the parameters of being under the coverage of the term "Youth", which spans the range of 40 years old and below. I am in the last months of being part of the Youth, although I always say that I am forever a teenager at heart and soul.

 

In these interviews, I am often the one who is inspired, admiring the young students' energy, drive, inquisitive minds and confident dispositions. They always seem ready and eager to face the harsh and cruel world, believing that they have learned more than enough in the few years that they have existed in this world.

 

Recently, I had another round of these interviews. In a well-known private school, a fourth year high school teacher assigned her students to interview a public official of the city and several groups of students chose to interview me. They had various ways of getting to me, from cold calls to my office to tracing friends or relatives who had personal connections to me. As always, I reserved exclusive time for them, even scheduling them as my last appointment so that we will have time to extend if needed.

 

The interviews went well and the students did not even seem intimidated by the fact that they were speaking to a Member of the House of Representatives.

 

I was proud of them.  Except for one thing...

 

Towards the end of the interview of the first group, I gave them some parting words and exhorted them for  their accomplishment. I told them, "Talagang ang Kabataan ay Pag-asa ng Bayan (Truly, the Youth is the Fair Hope of Our Motherland)".

 

The teenage boys and girls said,"Wow! That's a great quote! Can we use it exclusively in our project?" I then realized that they thought the quote was an original one from me.

 

So I asked them, "Do you know who said that?". They had no reply but looked at me with interested and curious eyes, waiting for me to answer my own question.

 

After a brief moment of silence, I told them that it was our National Hero, Dr. Jose P. Rizal who said it. "Oh. We didn't know that", they said. After a few more pleasantries, they said goodbye.

 

Actually, I was surprised that they didn't know Rizal's famous quotation. I had to find out if the youth were really not aware of this or if it was just this group who seemed to be clueless to Rizal's exhortation of the youth.

 

I did the same thing to the next three groups who interviewed me. Sadly, just like the first group, they were not familiar with the quote. Before I was surprised, this time I was disturbed.

 

When I got home, I talked to my eldest son who is now 18 and in first year college. I ask him, "Who said this---ang kabataan ay ang pag-asa ng bayan?". He looked at me and said, "You?"

 

"No", I said.

 

"Ninoy Aquino?"

 

I shake my head.

 

"Cory Aquino?"

 

We definitely have a problem here.

 

Eventually, I told him it was Jose Rizal who said it and continued with a lecture in history and nationalism.

 

What's wrong with the youth? With all the potential that they have, do they even realize at this stage the role that they are going to play in the coming years?

 

Of course, we do see young people who are politically aware and active, marching in the streets and shouting slogans. We see young persons challenging authorities and facing policemen with shields and truncheons. We see students speak with passion and even anger at the powers that be. But how many of our youth are as aware and involved as they are? Besides, is that the only image of the youth that we want to see?

 

But the more relevant question is how did the youth come to where they are? Because it is definitely not the fault of those students why they don't know who said the quote. It is the fault of their elders because they failed to convey the message to the young.

 

The schools are institutions of learning therefore they are at fault. While learning about Rizal and the lessons of his thoughts is not part of the Three R's of basic education, it is part of the basic learnings of being a Filipino. Emphasis should be given on those lessons.

 

At first, I thought it was just the school of the students who interviewed me which was at fault. But my own son, who went to another school, also was not able to answer. So it is not an isolated case limited to one school.

 

In fact, the schools are not alone. Learning begins at home and the parents have the primary responsibility of teaching their children. Not just in reading, writing and arithmetic. But more so in character, nationalism and faith.

 

I stand guilty for my son's ignorance about Jose Rizal's quote. I have taught this quote thousands of times among the students in my district and yet under my very own roof, my son lived unaware of the legacy of wisdom left by our national hero. I accept the blame.

 

But more than teaching them the what and the who, it is our responsibility as elders to explain to the youth the Why.... Why are they the hope of the nation? We must be able to explain this to them to know their purpose as Filipinos, motivate them to live in the right direction, and fulfill their role as the hope of our nation.

 

Now comes the hard part..being an example to the youth. Because the youth are impressionable and look up to their elders as role models, it is vital that not only do we talk the talk, but we walk the walk. They may be young, but they are observant and critical. The value of our lessons will be lost if they do not see consistency between what we say and what we do.

 

The youth, indeed, is the fair hope of the motherland. But they cannot do it alone. They need the guidance of the elders to steer them in the right direction. Are the elders up to it? They were once young and were, themselves, the fair hope of the motherland. How did they fare?