Floods in the Philippines

The recent deadly storms to hit the Philippines were an eye opener for the world. Ketsana and Parma resulted in widespread flooding, landslides, dams busting, houses and bridges collapsing and massive population displacement, and from what I understand over seven million people were affected. Yet to international news broadcasters this type of story is unfortunately becoming all too common day after day, month after month.

Within the Philippines the site of dead bodies being broadcast appears somehow to be acceptable; yet in Europe and America the networks work on the theory that such images might upset their viewers as they tuck in to their bowls of cornflakes over breakfast; so they edit out such awful scenes. And anyway with the constant coverage of bombs going off in Iraq and Afghanistan, and the reaction of loved ones screaming in anguish in front of the camera, you cannot just move straight into the latest football results without some “softer” news to counter the maimed and the walking wounded.

Indeed, to watch some of the international broadcasters such as BBC and CNN, you might be forgiven for thinking that this was a 48 hour wonder; that within a week the Phils would be back to its old self as the world moved on to yet more bloodshed in the Middle East.

But eschewing the big players and watching some of the smaller TV stations and web outlets gave a different perspective. Reading the blog reports describing the cleaning up operations – not just removing the mud, but allowing everything to dry out so as to prevent the build up of mould – I was moved by the amount of bloggers who were able to put things into perspective; who had lived through a tragedy but could, in the face of adversity, learn to be stronger and hopeful that their flood-damaged homes would once again be beautiful some day.

We were also able to gauge the reaction of the Filipino communities around the globe as the news came in about the extent of the devastation and the amount of people affected. Yet again the sense of community was there for everyone to see. Here in Dubai I can’t think of a single Pinoy friend – and I have several – who was not involved in some way with fundraising, awareness raising and garnering help in some way.

The local independent TV station, City7 which has many Filipinos on its staff, broadcast night after night in its news bulletins about the relief efforts being made across the UAE to send over to the Philippines. It was both touching and a lesson to the rest of the world as to how disasters can pull communities closer together – a bit like World War 2 brought communities together in the UK as everyone faced a common foe …. so we were taught in school, though such evidence is much harder to find now in the “developed West”.

Perhaps the most telling statistics that came from the UN are what so “little” money can achieve - $18 can provide a family with rice for 2 weeks. Weigh that against the obscene amount of money being poured into armaments in the Middle East and you start wondering what kind of a damned fool world we are living in.

Think of the amount of aid money being thrown into some of the countries of Africa where – dare one be so politically incorrect – many of the problems nations, such as Zimbabwe or Angola or Sudan or Nigeria etc etc, face are of their own making.

But Africa represents the new conscience of the West, whist the Middle East has its oil; so countries such as the Phils cannot hope to compete on such terms. Thank goodness they have a community spirit which is ready to be mobilised at a moment’s notice.

Yes, it’s a crazy world that we live in. And all in all, it does make you question what is news? And who decides?

Wake Up and Look Around!

It often surprises me how little of the world people take in around them. When surrounded by the ordinary and the mundane it's so easy to take things for granted that curiosity is seldom stimulated … and that's a pity because I'm sure we all miss out on so much to enjoy.

I fear I'm as guilty as anyone else in this respect and it was brought home to me recently when a friend who was visiting me in the UAE, where I currently live, remarked what beautiful lampposts we have in Dubai. Lampposts??? I remarked in astonishment. I mean, can a lamppost be beautiful?

Well of course they can. And when I was next out driving to the other side of town I was amazed how I had routinely passed by these – dare I say it – works of art, without a second glance. They had flowing lines, beautiful curves and arches, needless decorations that someone had obviously taken a great deal of trouble over. And, yes, they were beautiful.

I'm lucky in that my work takes me to a number of countries. I love travel and have always thought of myself as having a curious mind. This past month I have been in the Philippines. Most of the time was spent in Manila – a dirty city where the residents seem to take so little pride in their capital. Yet pride of place must go to the city's lampposts. Yes, that's right. Forget the Coconut Palace. Forget Tagaytay. Even the likes of Antipolo pale into insignificance compared with the town's lampposts.

Drive down Roxhas along the filthy Bay View area and the redeeming feature is the plethora of designs stuck on poles for all to see, or more to the point, for all to see by. Some are grotesque, but in a fun way – a bit like the Victorian architects of 100 years ago used to smother their designs with filigree and twirls and baubles simply for the fun of it. I love them; and promptly started shooting photographs of every lamppost that took my fancy. I ended up with more pictures of lampposts than other more "worthy" monuments!

In a way it's a bit like the huge variety of gaudy designs on the city's Jeepneys: a utilitarian mode of transport which is transformed into a moving work of art. Sure, they're filthy, sleazy, unsafe and noisy and a load of other unflattering epithets could also be thrown their way. But there's a fun element there too. And I think this speaks volumes for the residents of this dirty city.

One day, however, I was taken through Marikina on the way to Antipolo and it was as if someone had taken a permanent marker and drawn a line in the street. On one side the debris, filth and sleaze of downtown Manila. On the other, clean streets, parking that was well thought out, and a river which was clean and appealing. It reminded me of the border fence between Saudi Arabia and Qatar where a visitor from another planet might well have concluded that the Qataris threw all their rubbish over onto the Saudi side.

Why is it that we all turn a blind eye to the unpleasant aspects of our environment? Both Qatar and Marikina amply demonstrate that it is perfectly possible to improve our surroundings by making the environment a nicer place to be in.

And Manila's lampposts show that although civic pride apparently disappeared a long time ago, there is still the propensity for beauty to rise out of ugliness. I can only hope that the residents of the Philippine capital can wake from their torpor and realise what they have been missing out on for all this time.

Manila Sauce

They say there's no fool like an old fool; and probably none more so than those who think "it" will never happen to them.

In this case, "it" happened to me….

I was riding on one of Manila's famous Jeepneys – those wonderfully painted and decorated icons of the Philippine transport system which ferry upwards of 20 passengers at a time along predetermined routes through the grimy streets of the capital city.

It was a hot, sultry afternoon and my friend and I were travelling back to the hotel when one of the other passengers pointed out that there was something sticky on my collar and the back of my shirt. Upon closer inspection I found I had been drenched in tomato sauce. "Probably one of the street kids throwing things through the window," remarked another passenger as people from all sides started finding scraps of material with which to rub me down. "They're always doing that. They obviously think it's funny."

I thanked my fellow passengers; and shortly after, there was a mass exodus from the Jeepney; and shortly after that I realised that I had had my wallet lifted. Expertly done. I had never felt a thing despite it being entrenched deep in my pocket. Almost all my money; my ID cards; my credit cards; nothing short of a disaster.

First things first – straight back to the hotel to ring the banks to stop the credit cards; and then, after a change of clothes, round to the Police station to report the theft; or in this case TOPCOP, which stood for Tourist Oriented Police, Community Oriented Police.

Below a sign reading MMP – Pride of the Community sat the station sergeant. Behind him was a cage which was filled with a motley collection of individuals who had been nabbed for some misdemeanour or other. He handed over a piece of paper and asked me to write my details down – passport, hotel, what was stolen and so on. And having filled it all up he then apologised that as it was a Friday evening, nothing could actually be done until Monday morning when the clerk was next in. Could we come back then?

But an hour later an SMS message appeared on the phone summoning me immediately. There was no clue as to who had sent the message, nor where I was supposed to go, so on a whim we returned to Topcop who said that they indeed had sent the message. Could we please report to the Chief Inspector, no less.

We eventually found the way – down to the very end of a badly lit corridor, and we edged into a seedy little room where the Important Inspector was questioning two people who, it subsequently turned out, were a security guard and a student shoplifter who had pilfered four bottles of shampoo and other essential lotions. It was all good natured.

Though the conversation was all in Tagalog, there were smiles all round and a lot of nodding of heads as the Inspector turned to us and pointing to the student advised that he'd be locked away in the cage until Monday when he would appear before a magistrate. He only hoped he had some friends who could bring him some food and drink since, because of budget cuts, there was no way they could provide any.

And then it was my turn. I was given special treatment, it appeared, as I was a foreigner. The locals had to pay for the sheet of paper on which he would make his report; but for me he would find a sheet, which he duly did.

A series of questions bouncing to and fro then started. Important Inspector would ask my friend in Tagalog about the details of the heinous crime. She then translated the question to me; I replied in English, she translated for the Important Inspector and there would then be a long pause before the next grilling.

Eventually all the details had been recorded – and we sat back as the Inspector composed his little essay, finally whipping it out of the printer and handing it over to me with a flourish. And there were all the details of the sordid little tale, all written in perfect English!

This is a new scam, he told me, now in faultless English. He had never heard of the tomato sauce caper … and he laughed at his little bit of humour. He would make sure this story was sent around the other Topcops though unfortunately this wouldn't help me.

Naturally I never expect to see any of the contents of my wallet again. And in terms of nuisance value alone in getting replacements for all those cards it struck me how perfectly stupid it was not to have removed any non essential contents and left them in the hotel safe.

But it's easy being wise after the event. At the time you just know it will never, ever happen to you. Which reminds me of another well known truism…. For, as we all know, lightning never strikes twice in the same place….. does it?