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.

Rules of the game

I’ve debated the very existence of this blog for a long time, roughly three months now. I’ve struggled with how to capture and express my Peace Corps experience in a manner that does justice and shows respect for the people and culture of the Philippines. I’m not sure I’ve quite figured it out yet, but I’m willing now to take the plunge and give it a shot. Many thanks are in order for my good friend Caroline Genco who has inspired me to kick off this blog.

I shall write once a month, expressing deep cultural insights, or if nothing else, posting something that elicits a smile or a laugh. I’ll stay away from an account of daily activities here in an effort to get at the larger picture and to offer a broader view of both Peace Corps and Filipino culture. In order to achieve this, these are the rules I have devised for myself:

• Minimum of one blog entry per month, to be completed by the end of each month.
• Minimum of one photo per blog post, which visually encapsulates the theme and emotional truth of the entry.
• Inclusion of one brief, personal story in each post to illustrate the theme or insight for the month.
• Inherent mindfulness in every post -- always thinking, “Would my Nanay approve of this message?”
• Have fun.

I have high hopes for this blog, but perhaps unjustifiably so. Let’s lower our expectations people. Buckle up, strap in, rub that lucky rabbit foot one last time and prepare for the ride of a lifetime…PEACE CORPS PHILIPPINES.

Now, just wait 3 weeks for my first real post. Maraming salamat po!