Today is Friday, June 4th, 2010 and it is now 1158 AM here in San Franz, Mindanao, Philippines.
Recap: The ferry to Cebu was almost docking, the sun had just come up after a long night of serious dicussions with Jackie, about her many lies...
I didn't see much point continuing this type of conversation because I always psych myself up before arriving. 3rd World ports are not the safest places in the world. Indeed, Cebu City is the nation's crime capital. Cebuanos are rightly or wrongly stereotyped as inherently criminal in the north of the country. I DO know that it is the only city in the world where university fraternities function as organised criminal gangs so it is not the type of city where you want to let your guard down.
Actually, it is kind of ironic because Cebu City is also the place most white foreigners settle, yet another reason why I don't like the place. You move to a foreign nation you should live like the locals. White foreigners though try to live like kings, mistreating everyone around them.
As ferries dock in the south small "prao," dugout outriggers powered by oars flock to the ship. Their occupants, sometimes 4 or 5 years old (and alone) are Bajao tribesmen. The Bajao, or "Samal Bajao," or "Sea Gypsies," are Moros, 1 of the 13 Islamacised tribes of the Southern Philippines. The term "Moro" is Spanish, and was applied by the 1st Spanish explorers who of course saw every Muslim in relation to the North African "Moors" who had occupied Spain and Portugal for nearly 700 years.
The 13 tribes had just become Islamicised (in fact only 12 were, the last, the "Kagan" adopted the faith in the mid-19th Century) when Spain arrived. Bajao however are only Muslim in name, living in close proximity to the truly Muslim tribes required such dissemblance.
Their religion is a combination of animism and ancestor worship. Their settlements are always stilt houses in isolated mangrove swamps, or else they settle atop coral reefs 15 to 20 km off of the nearest land.
If anyone has ever seen the terrible Kevin Costner film, "Waterworld," the sets were actually patterened off of Bajao offshore settlements. I wish I remembered "Maria Callas' " tips on using photos in these Blogs because I have some great shots of these villages.
On coral reefs, in water up to 15 meters deep they sink trunks of coconut palm trees, deep into the seabed (they are natural divers, swimming before walking). They then construct bamboo and plam trunk platforms atop these pilings (the embedded trunks). Atop the platforms they build the bamboo framed nipa plam leaf abodes commonly called "nipas" in the Philippines. They connect each platform with bamboo walkways, often with wide gaps so that only someone very accustomed to this type of structure could navigate these small settlements.
In the early 1990s, before the Abu Sayyaf Insurgency (that targets all foreigners up until the present) most settlements maintained an empty abode for any visitors, free of charge. Truly intrepid travellers (such as yours truly) could spend time amongst these very interesting people. As I said, they swim and deep dive before they can walk and anytime you near a Bajao settlement you can see 4 and 5 year old children in their tiny outriggers, paddling out of sight of any other boats, homes or people. Westerners are almost always shocked to see these things.
In times past this tribe, which is actually a collection of ethnically and linguistically linked tribes, were entirely nomadic. Today though most are settled and can be found on islands as far afield as Australian territory, Malaysia and even some Thai islands (there is another tribe, the Mokken, who are also labelled as "Sea Gypsies" who inhabit Burmese and Bangladeshi islands and are rarely settled still.
In Southern Philippine ferry ports the Bajao await any incoming vessel, roaw out as the ships maneuver to dock, and with amazing seamanship and dexterity manage to never get themselves killed. Imagaine a small cruise ship, as it moves to and fro attempting to mosey into a berth dockside. Now imagine 5 year old kids, in some cases nursing moms and even he very elderly paddling to not be crushed and managing it quite well.
It is amazing really, all the more so when they are only doing this to beg the equivalent of 2 Cents US). Passengers aboard the ferries throw these coins that almost always sink to the bottom in water as deep as 10 meters. The young Bajao then dive into the polluted water sans goggles but with 1 (only 1) flipper on 1 foot, and retrieve the coins.
Many Filipinos (as well as myself) disdain this custom because it fosters this sad interdependance on handouts. In fact, in most Southern cities there are now Bajao ghettos where they simply beg on downtown street corners, usually making less than 50 Cents US a day. Butuan has a huge problem with this.
So, the ferry was docking. Jackie and myself stood at the rail looking at the Bajao, begging and diving, one bare breasted woman, feeding a baby on one breast, made eye contact with me and held out her hand with the fake smile they use when begging. Jackie actually got jealous about this but then she has hardly ever travelled and Cagayan del Oro, her hometown, has suprisingly few Badjao. She more likely-than-not did not understand that the woman was merely trying to hustle me.
We grabbed our bags and walked down the gangplank and into Cebu's port. Like most Philippine ports it functions almost as an autonomous city. We walked the almost 2 kilometers to the port gate and grabbed a taxi, after telling Jackie to do the talking, and to use Cebuano (the language).
When a Filipino speaks "Bisaya" (Visayan) they are usually speaking Cebuano though Bisaya can include Ilonggo, Waray, even Butanon, the indigenous language of Butuan. Most though have a mastery of Cebuano which is the dominant form.
Jackie speaks Cagayano, which is a distinct dialect of Cebuano mixed with hilltribe languages like her father's Higaon-an. I am quite fluent in Cebuano since it is Rizza's native tongue (all Mindanowan Bisayans speak it as a 1st language with slightly different dialects than Cebu Proper). However, even speaking in Cebuano I would be charged the "Kano Tax," which means the unofficial "Foreigner's Price." Jackie talking would save us a nice sum of money.
We travelled quickly along the hiway, out of the city (I was in no mood to come across Rizza who is living there now) and went directly to Compostela, Rizza's father's hometown. On the beach, on the border with the town of Danao, is a resort called "Elsalvador," spelled exactly like that (in proper Spanish it would be "El Salvador").
Whenever Rizza, her father and I would visit Rizza's grandparents we would dine there for lunch. It is one of my favourite places in the entire nation.
The setting is gorgeous, but that is not difficult to find on tropical islands, and to be quite honest the beach leaves a lot to be desired. Very narrow, it is quite rocky.
Re the hotel itself. It is rare to find a Western style hotel in the Philippines. The rooms range from 3rd class rooms to private bungalows. Bungalows are only about 90 US a night, though a fortune in the Philippines (3 weeks wages for most laborers) it is quite acceptable by Western standards.
The menu, in the beautiful cafe is not very baried but they do prepare it well. My favourite thing? Bananas are very abundant here, but the one's people eat in the West are only exported. "Cavendish" bananas have a taste that I love. The native species taste a bit like apples and are slightly harder.
They also make a great mango shake!
I took a bungalow and tried to foist Jackie off in a separate room but of course she wouldn't hear it. The bunglaows are set up as suites so I simply used the sofa and gave her the bed.
We spent almost a week, talking it through but I could never get past the betrayal. I say "betrayal" because that is EXACTLY what it is. Still, the issue remained; She HAD given up 3 young children, her family and the only man (supposedly) that she had ever known (besides me). In the Philippines these things are so much more serious than any Westerner might imagine.
Even when one sees a woman leave her husband, and today it is beginning to happen here, one never sees the abandonment of children and absolutely never sees the voluntary enstrangement of one's own family. For all Filipino ethnicities family is everything.
She gave this all up. The question though, is why did she do so? Was it for me, as she desperately claims? Or was it, as her sister says, to simply disappear after making a mess of her life with debt and 3 young kids she apparently wasn't crazy about having?
It could even be a case of BOTH rationales. Yet, I have no way of knowing and the more time I spent with her the more I began adapting and rationalising.
By early Saturday, May 30th, I departed Cebu, for Manila, knowing that I had to be more decisive on this manner. I came to a decison...
But that will wait for my next entry.
Recap: The ferry to Cebu was almost docking, the sun had just come up after a long night of serious dicussions with Jackie, about her many lies...
I didn't see much point continuing this type of conversation because I always psych myself up before arriving. 3rd World ports are not the safest places in the world. Indeed, Cebu City is the nation's crime capital. Cebuanos are rightly or wrongly stereotyped as inherently criminal in the north of the country. I DO know that it is the only city in the world where university fraternities function as organised criminal gangs so it is not the type of city where you want to let your guard down.
Actually, it is kind of ironic because Cebu City is also the place most white foreigners settle, yet another reason why I don't like the place. You move to a foreign nation you should live like the locals. White foreigners though try to live like kings, mistreating everyone around them.
As ferries dock in the south small "prao," dugout outriggers powered by oars flock to the ship. Their occupants, sometimes 4 or 5 years old (and alone) are Bajao tribesmen. The Bajao, or "Samal Bajao," or "Sea Gypsies," are Moros, 1 of the 13 Islamacised tribes of the Southern Philippines. The term "Moro" is Spanish, and was applied by the 1st Spanish explorers who of course saw every Muslim in relation to the North African "Moors" who had occupied Spain and Portugal for nearly 700 years.
The 13 tribes had just become Islamicised (in fact only 12 were, the last, the "Kagan" adopted the faith in the mid-19th Century) when Spain arrived. Bajao however are only Muslim in name, living in close proximity to the truly Muslim tribes required such dissemblance.
Their religion is a combination of animism and ancestor worship. Their settlements are always stilt houses in isolated mangrove swamps, or else they settle atop coral reefs 15 to 20 km off of the nearest land.
If anyone has ever seen the terrible Kevin Costner film, "Waterworld," the sets were actually patterened off of Bajao offshore settlements. I wish I remembered "Maria Callas' " tips on using photos in these Blogs because I have some great shots of these villages.
On coral reefs, in water up to 15 meters deep they sink trunks of coconut palm trees, deep into the seabed (they are natural divers, swimming before walking). They then construct bamboo and plam trunk platforms atop these pilings (the embedded trunks). Atop the platforms they build the bamboo framed nipa plam leaf abodes commonly called "nipas" in the Philippines. They connect each platform with bamboo walkways, often with wide gaps so that only someone very accustomed to this type of structure could navigate these small settlements.
In the early 1990s, before the Abu Sayyaf Insurgency (that targets all foreigners up until the present) most settlements maintained an empty abode for any visitors, free of charge. Truly intrepid travellers (such as yours truly) could spend time amongst these very interesting people. As I said, they swim and deep dive before they can walk and anytime you near a Bajao settlement you can see 4 and 5 year old children in their tiny outriggers, paddling out of sight of any other boats, homes or people. Westerners are almost always shocked to see these things.
In times past this tribe, which is actually a collection of ethnically and linguistically linked tribes, were entirely nomadic. Today though most are settled and can be found on islands as far afield as Australian territory, Malaysia and even some Thai islands (there is another tribe, the Mokken, who are also labelled as "Sea Gypsies" who inhabit Burmese and Bangladeshi islands and are rarely settled still.
In Southern Philippine ferry ports the Bajao await any incoming vessel, roaw out as the ships maneuver to dock, and with amazing seamanship and dexterity manage to never get themselves killed. Imagaine a small cruise ship, as it moves to and fro attempting to mosey into a berth dockside. Now imagine 5 year old kids, in some cases nursing moms and even he very elderly paddling to not be crushed and managing it quite well.
It is amazing really, all the more so when they are only doing this to beg the equivalent of 2 Cents US). Passengers aboard the ferries throw these coins that almost always sink to the bottom in water as deep as 10 meters. The young Bajao then dive into the polluted water sans goggles but with 1 (only 1) flipper on 1 foot, and retrieve the coins.
Many Filipinos (as well as myself) disdain this custom because it fosters this sad interdependance on handouts. In fact, in most Southern cities there are now Bajao ghettos where they simply beg on downtown street corners, usually making less than 50 Cents US a day. Butuan has a huge problem with this.
So, the ferry was docking. Jackie and myself stood at the rail looking at the Bajao, begging and diving, one bare breasted woman, feeding a baby on one breast, made eye contact with me and held out her hand with the fake smile they use when begging. Jackie actually got jealous about this but then she has hardly ever travelled and Cagayan del Oro, her hometown, has suprisingly few Badjao. She more likely-than-not did not understand that the woman was merely trying to hustle me.
We grabbed our bags and walked down the gangplank and into Cebu's port. Like most Philippine ports it functions almost as an autonomous city. We walked the almost 2 kilometers to the port gate and grabbed a taxi, after telling Jackie to do the talking, and to use Cebuano (the language).
When a Filipino speaks "Bisaya" (Visayan) they are usually speaking Cebuano though Bisaya can include Ilonggo, Waray, even Butanon, the indigenous language of Butuan. Most though have a mastery of Cebuano which is the dominant form.
Jackie speaks Cagayano, which is a distinct dialect of Cebuano mixed with hilltribe languages like her father's Higaon-an. I am quite fluent in Cebuano since it is Rizza's native tongue (all Mindanowan Bisayans speak it as a 1st language with slightly different dialects than Cebu Proper). However, even speaking in Cebuano I would be charged the "Kano Tax," which means the unofficial "Foreigner's Price." Jackie talking would save us a nice sum of money.
We travelled quickly along the hiway, out of the city (I was in no mood to come across Rizza who is living there now) and went directly to Compostela, Rizza's father's hometown. On the beach, on the border with the town of Danao, is a resort called "Elsalvador," spelled exactly like that (in proper Spanish it would be "El Salvador").
Whenever Rizza, her father and I would visit Rizza's grandparents we would dine there for lunch. It is one of my favourite places in the entire nation.
The setting is gorgeous, but that is not difficult to find on tropical islands, and to be quite honest the beach leaves a lot to be desired. Very narrow, it is quite rocky.
Re the hotel itself. It is rare to find a Western style hotel in the Philippines. The rooms range from 3rd class rooms to private bungalows. Bungalows are only about 90 US a night, though a fortune in the Philippines (3 weeks wages for most laborers) it is quite acceptable by Western standards.
The menu, in the beautiful cafe is not very baried but they do prepare it well. My favourite thing? Bananas are very abundant here, but the one's people eat in the West are only exported. "Cavendish" bananas have a taste that I love. The native species taste a bit like apples and are slightly harder.
They also make a great mango shake!
I took a bungalow and tried to foist Jackie off in a separate room but of course she wouldn't hear it. The bunglaows are set up as suites so I simply used the sofa and gave her the bed.
We spent almost a week, talking it through but I could never get past the betrayal. I say "betrayal" because that is EXACTLY what it is. Still, the issue remained; She HAD given up 3 young children, her family and the only man (supposedly) that she had ever known (besides me). In the Philippines these things are so much more serious than any Westerner might imagine.
Even when one sees a woman leave her husband, and today it is beginning to happen here, one never sees the abandonment of children and absolutely never sees the voluntary enstrangement of one's own family. For all Filipino ethnicities family is everything.
She gave this all up. The question though, is why did she do so? Was it for me, as she desperately claims? Or was it, as her sister says, to simply disappear after making a mess of her life with debt and 3 young kids she apparently wasn't crazy about having?
It could even be a case of BOTH rationales. Yet, I have no way of knowing and the more time I spent with her the more I began adapting and rationalising.
By early Saturday, May 30th, I departed Cebu, for Manila, knowing that I had to be more decisive on this manner. I came to a decison...
But that will wait for my next entry.