what I do-do

I'm straying from my rules and typical blog entry this month to share a special video. The current Peace Corps volunteers serving in the Philippines (myself included) were asked to create a video introducing ourselves, our site, and our work to the new batch of Peace Corps volunteers arriving in July. This is my video. Enjoy!

A Thousand Splendid Smiles

3 hours on a bus. 30 minutes on a jeepney. 10 minutes on a tricycle. "You have arrived at your destination." Umm...yea. Looking around, there were no houses in sight, just a large expanse of dried-up rice fields. We made our way through the rice fields, following the narrow dirt ridges to a rather shaky and precarious looking bridge. At last, a nipa hut appeared in the distance and we powered through the last leg of the journey, looking forward to some relief from the hot summer sun. Exhausted from a long morning of traveling, my energy level was about as low as [insert something witty, like a reference to a recent celebrity blunder]. It all changed when the boy we were seeking popped up and said "Welcome Kuya!" with a huge smile on his face. My spirits were instantly lifted, and I remember thinking that day how that one smile made the whole journey worth it.

Filipinos are so incredibly gracious and generous with their smiles. Don't get me wrong, the Philippines isn't some sort of real life Candy Land where everyone smiles all the time. That would just be creepy. My experience is that when I greet someone or take a minute to stop and chat, I sense their appreciation of my time through a genuine smile. For example, even when I walk by an intimidating group of tambays (generally unemployed men who are always hanging around), if I just say good morning, I've got several genuine smiles coming my way (this could also be happening because they hear a foreigner using the local language, which is not so common...)

Being surrounded by such sincere smiles is one of my favorite parts about living in the Philippines. I love the lighthearted nature of Filipinos, with all their joking-joking and acute ability to laugh at just about any situation. It's a great reminder to not take myself so seriously and to just laugh it off and smile, like when you find yourself in the middle of nowhere and a two hour journey has just become four :)

tuli too late

Father, why is he walking like that? And why isn’t he wearing any pants?

[chuckles then responds] Ahh, it must be circumcision.

What!? That boy looks at least 10 years old!

Yes, that sounds about right.

[silence and phantom pain ensues]

As I was only familiar with the American practice of circumcision (typically occurring within the first 10 days of a baby boy’s life), it was quite shocking to come to the Philippines and learn about the pinoy culture of male circumcision. In the Philippines, just about all men are circumcised, and it takes place around the ripe age of 11, give or take a few years. It’s true…believe me.

At my center, we availed of free medical services for our boys at a medical mission sponsored by the U.S. Air Force. The timing was right for three of our youngest boys, as they were deemed ready for circumcision at the prime ages of 7, 8, and 11. I visited the boys a few hours after the operation, finding them quite agitated and distressed. Whatever anesthetics were used to numb the pain had worn off, and now they were stuck in a hot room, anxiously waiting for their medicines. One boy had been crying, and looking a bit delirious, but the others tried to keep it together since they were told that the bravest would be rewarded with ice cream.

It was a sad sight, but at the same time, inherently kind of funny. You had to see it. The tell-tale sign for circumcision, which any Filipino would pick up on in a game of charades, is the simple act of hunching over, pinching the front of your t-shirt and holding it out at least 6 inches away from your body. I so badly wanted to photograph this but it felt so wrong and I couldn't bring myself to do it….so you’ll just have to use your imagination. Three little boys, perhaps 4 feet tall, hunched over, slowly shuffling around like old men, only wearing giant, sweaty t-shirts that are pitched like a tent in front of their bare-bummed bodies. Gets?

The circumcision boys, as the trio was referred to, continued to move about like this in their borrowed, oversized t-shirts for at least 3 more days, or maybe even a week. Many said that the youngest was overacting (O.A. as it’s referred to here), and maybe so, as he made me laugh the hardest while he shuffled around at a snail’s pace.

Any who, let’s talk about WHY. It was such a baffling concept to me, but now after discussing it with several Filipino men of varied ages, and doing my own bit of research, I've gained an ounce (maybe ounce and a half) of understanding. In the Philippines, it seems to me that the primary reason for circumcision is the rite of passage. It’s an act of bravery and endurance, proving entry into manhood. Every Filipino man is expected to experience tuli, and thus, every young boy will endure the procedure so that he can become a man.

I have never in my life discussed circumcision more than I have here in the Philippines. For some reason, the topic comes up often here, usually as a joke, and I've found it a bit strange to discuss so much. As a result, I felt the need to research it and see how the Philippines compare to the rest of the world…this is what I've found:

Apparently, the origins of male circumcision are unclear, but it is documented as an age-old tradition with evidence reaching as far back as Ancient Egypt:

Ancient Egyptian relief from Ankhmahor, Saqqara, Egypt (2345–2182 BC), 
representing an adult circumcision ceremony. 

SOURCE:  2007 World Health Organization report on Male Circumcision

Common reasons for male circumcision often revolve around religion, perceived health benefits, and social norms. It’s nearly universal for all Muslims and Jews to be circumcised, so that makes up about seventy percent of all circumcised men. Among the world’s male population, one-third are circumcised. Circumcision is particularly uncommon in Europe, Latin America, parts of southern Africa, and most of Asia. In the U.S., circumcision is on the decline with just over half of all newborn boys being circumcised, as of 2009.

In terms of health benefits, the most convincing evidence supports circumcision as a cost-effective way to reduce incidents of HIV AIDS transmission in Africa (among heterosexuals). Aside from that, people cite benefits such as improved hygiene and slightly reduced chances of cancer and developing UTI’s early in life. Most recently, the American Academy of Pediatrics confirmed the benefits of circumcision for HIV protection but they did not go as far as recommending circumcision for all boys. It’s actually quite a controversial subject, giving way to a significant anti-circumcision movement in the U.S. and even some opposition here in the Philippines.

The social and cultural motivations behind male circumcision simply appear to be that parents want a boy to look like his father. I see that as a potentially strong motivation for the prevalence of circumcision here in the Philippines, as appearances are very important. Culturally, it might also stem from a colonial mentality where Americans perhaps popularized circumcision, causing it to be perceived as medically essential for all Filipino men vs. just a religious mandate for the small Muslim population.

Whatever the reason is, it still makes me quite uncomfortable. It seems a bit cruel and unnecessary to put young boys through such an ordeal, but it's hard to battle a cultural practice that questions masculinity. Every boy wants to be a man, and for now, tuli happens to be the well-traveled, Pinoy path to manhood.



P.S. if you’re interested in learning more about the global history of male circumcision and the 2007 U.N. recommendation for circumcision as a means of HIV reduction in Africa, I’d highly recommend checking out this WHO report

Nicknaming, Pinoy style

Twit-Twit and Joy-Joy, two precious girls in my neighborhood
with very Filipino nicknames.

Fa-THER, Bro-THER, Fa-THER, ‘THER, ‘THER, ‘THER.  A strange sound, no? But “Ther” is all I hear these days. “Ther” this and “Ther” that. All the boys at my orphanage use this nickname to call the attention of the Catholic priests in charge. I found this nicknaming so interesting that I wrote a song about it (well, to be precise, it’s a parody of The Cranberries, “Zombie”).

The Philippines is dominated by nicknames, so much so, that one day, months after knowing someone, you’re asked what their full name is and you’re completely stumped. Well, I only know her by “A.A.” so maybe Angelica Anne? I used to encode family profiles at my organization and I loved seeing the full names and nick names side by side. Erik would become “Rek-rek,” Justin would become “Tin-tin” and so on and so on.

In my first six months in the Philippines, I quickly discovered the prevalence of nicknames, especially those that encompassed a repetition of syllables (“Moy-moy”, “Joy-joy”, “Twit-twit”…I’m not making these up). Lately though, I’ve recognized a new phenomenon in nick-naming. That from which “Ther” stems…taking just the last syllable of a person’s name. Halimbawa (example):

Full name                                          Nickname

Christopher                  ->                  ‘fur

Raymond                      ->                  ‘mund

Robert                          ->                  ‘burt

Remarkable! Right? It’s just so interesting to me since in the U.S. we would naturally abbreviate those common names with Chris, Ray, or Rob.

This trend also appears in the local language where full words are abbreviated with just the last syllable. Example:

Manong          ->        ‘nong                           (Older brother)

Dodong         ->         ‘dong                          (Younger brother)

Personally, I’m mostly just called “Larry,” but I do anxiously await the day when my name is simply reduced to “Ree.”

Filipino Faith - Catholic (2x)

A tribute to the Virgin Mary,
prominently displayed in the center of my host family's house.

As dusk rolls around each evening, the church bells ring out and call everyone to attention. It's 6:00 pm and thus time to pray the Angelus. In my house, everyone stops what they are doing and enters the living room to bow before "Mamma Mary." As if it were the voice of God himself, the verses of prayer penetrate the town, amplified by a sound system fit for Giants Stadium. Heads bowed, hands clasped, the townspeople respond to each verse and carry out three Hail Mary’s. The prayer closes with an Amen, the sign of the cross, and mano (a Filipino tradition where you ask for blessings from your elders). I stand silently throughout this ritual each night since it is spoken in the local language, Kinaray-a. I do, however, go up to my Nanay and Tatay afterwards, greet them good evening and ask for their blessing.

In my town, here in the Western Visayas of the Philippines, the Angelus is prayed at six pm, every night, like clockwork. After the Angelus, everyone in my house typically returns to whatever they were doing, but the mysterious voice drones on for a solid thirty minutes more, reciting a full rosary. I find this all so striking. If I were a Peace Corps Volunteer in Mali, where I was originally assigned, I surely would have expected this type of daily, religious experience through the Muslim call to prayer. Here though, where the religion practiced is my own, I find myself taken aback by the abundance of these Catholic rituals. The presence of public prayer here is quite remarkable, especially coming from a place where almost all acts of religion occur in a church, on Sundays.

A friend of mine from the States once asked me on facebook if I thought Filipinos truly believe, or if they’re simply going through the motions. Immediately, my Filipina friend responded, “Filipinos have a 100% faith!!!” And actually, I think that’s true. There’s so much I can say about Catholicism and faith in the Philippines, but for now, I’ll just leave you with this brief story:

“China could have easily destroyed us, but do you know why we’ve stayed safe during the Philippines-China conflict?”

“Ummm, no. Why?” I asked my co-worker.

“Because we have God on our side. The Philippines is the only Catholic country in Asia.”

Conclusion: Filipino faith. It’s stronger than China.

Beauty is in the nose of the beholder

The nose that baffles and consistently amazes the people of the Philippines.

My nose, by far, is most often the topic of conversation when I first meet Filipinos. I walk down the street, catching stares like a Hollywood star, and people will gesture a slight slope with their fingers and say, “Wow, your nose is so pointed.” Filipinos always tell me that my nose is “very high” and that they wish they could have just half of my nose. A distinguished woman who I had just met even asked me if she could touch my nose and was consequently amazed at how rigid it was.

I think I can safely say, Filipinos are obsessed with noses. In my five months of living here in the Philippines, it seems to me that beauty is defined by two things: your nose and the color of your skin. When it comes to the nose, many Filipinos complain about their flat noses, wishing they had a bit more definition in the nasal region. A straight, pointed nose is highly desired and more characteristic of the historic Malay and Spanish settlers of the Philippines. Now, when you talk about skin, we've got a Snow White complex going on here…ya know, who’s the fairest of them all? The media glorifies fair skin, and I doubt you can find a commercial or advertisement with anyone of a darker complexion. Thus, if you want to be beautiful, you've got to be white, creating quite the market for skin whitening products, ranging from soaps to deodorants to feminine whitening agents...it’s out of control.

Whenever the issue of noses or white skin comes up, I love to tell Filipinos that in America it’s the opposite. Some Americans will pay thousands of dollars to make their nose smaller and less pointy or “high." Also, in America, we think tan is beautiful, and people will pay to have their skin spray-tanned or artificially bronzed. When I tell Filipinos this, the look on their faces (especially young girls) is priceless, especially when I point to their skin and say, "that’s what Americans want!"

Before coming to the Philippines, I never really thought about the cultural differences in “beauty.” I thought there was a certain universal beauty when it came to something as simple as a nose, but I've come to realize how silly we all are about the matter. Really, what’s in a nose?

As One Direction so eloquently puts it:

Being the way that you are is enough [...]
You don't know you're beautiful! 
That's what makes you beautiful!

Family ties

The Trimors, so beautifully depicted here, represent my former perception of “family”

– a father, mother, & children

PHOTO CREDITS: Victoria Carberry, PCV

"Naklimutan ko (I forget), how are you related to Justin?"
After ten minutes of winding explanations...
"So…Justin's father is your cousin’s daughter’s sister-in-law’s son?"
"Hu-od (yes)"
"Oh wow, okay. So Justin's father works in the U.S. How about his mother?"
"She lives and works in the city."
"Ahh, malapit na! (very near!). So she must come and visit Justin often, right?"
"Ahh, no. Not really."

Justin lives with his "grandmother," who isn't actually his biological grandmother (a distant relative at best), but for all practical purposes, she is his grandma and primary care-giver. His father is an OFW, a term you’ll see plastered all over customs in Manila. Overseas Filipino Workers are extremely common here in the Philippines. Everyone you meet here is sure to know someone who is currently working abroad or has worked abroad in the past. Now I’m fixing to get off topic…back to Justin.

I meet so many children here like Justin with strikingly similar family situations, and I just can’t imagine what life must be like for them. To grow up without a mother or father, yet both your parents are still alive and you never get to see them. Unfair, right? I often wonder what kind of impact it has on a child to be abandoned by his mother or father. With Justin, my sympathy only extends so far because then I start to think of Justin’s assets, and like many Filipinos, he is surely rich in social capital. He has many friends here, all of the neighbors know him by name, and he is surrounded by loving relatives. He visits his uncles, aunts, and cousins often, as they live right down the street, and despite his father living 10,000 miles away, he still has positive male role models just around the corner.

Growing up, I had quite the traditional childhood experience, living with both of my parents and two full-blood siblings. All my cousins grew up the same way, with both parents in the house from birth till present. Back then, I never thought twice about how else a family could look…about single-parents, migrant workers, abandoned children, or being raised by a distant relative, like Justin’s "grandmother." Although broken families have become more and more common, especially here in the Philippines, I think there’s still hope for these children. Social capital is key; having strong communities with neighbors and relatives forming tight bonds can help fill the void of a distant father or an absent mother. 

A very wise friend once told me, you don’t have to define your family by blood…closeness and affection are enough to justify family ties.