I am not a gold person.  This didn’t start with any activism, or with any real reason other than the fact that I’m just not a jewelry person period.  I simply have never felt the desire for shiny that most people seem to possess.

Now that I know how the extractive process affects people (including those that look like me), I consider myself lucky.

But it’s not that easy is it?  Not wearing gold, or diamonds, or whatever doesn’t really change much when that which sparkles is the cornerstone of world economies.  While none in my family live or have ever lived near a large scale mine, in fact most Filipinos I know here in Toronto don’t have family near mines, but whether we realise it or not we remain deeply affected.

As Filipinos, and as Canadians, our lives would be radically different if foreign multinationals (including mining companies) never operated in the Philippines.

As you may or may not know the Philippines is one of the most gold rich countries in the world.  We have the second largest gold deposit (after our sister country Indonesia), while Canada is one of the top mining nations (with 75% of all mining companies being traded out of the Toronto Stock Exchange).

When the Spanish arrived they discovered that the locals all had gold rings, necklaces, and decorative art.  But already having possession of the El Dorado that is Latin America, and the fierce resistance they met outside of the ports they held (the Spaniards never controlled the majority of the Philippines beyond a few kms from the coast) they never really hunted for it.

The natives of the Philippines, in turn, never extensively mined gold.  They mined enough to make personal jewelry but never hoarded it or extensively used it as a form of currency.

It was the Americans (after they slaughtered 1 in 10 Filipinos) who saw the economic potential (for themselves) of their new possession.  Mining began in earnest.  It has been downhill since.

You’d think that having so much of this covetous metal would be good for the Philippines, but of course that would mean that you think that Filipinos are making the money.  No, because the Philippines was (when the Americans came) a feudal nation, there was not enough capital for a large scale mining operation.  So it was the Americans that exploited these riches.  They did help to generously provide the people with poverty and displacement from their land.

Today not much has changed.  Foreigners (many proudly wearing the maple leaf) set up the mine, make the money.  The people get kicked off their land, and are forced to endure violations in their human rights and a toxic environment.

Throughout our history since the coming of the Spanish, land has been the premier issue.  Our revolts against colonial powers have always had land as a central issue.

The stories are similar around the world.  Where there are open pit mines, there are accusations of murder, forced displacement, the destruction of livelihood, environmental destruction, illness, disrespect of indigenous rights, political and economic corruption, and other serious offences.

The government of the Philippines currently provides attractive incentives for multinational companies including allowing 100% foreign ownership, 100% repatriation of profits and capital, and long tax holidays.  Clearly the people don’t see much, if any, of the wealth, but they bear full brunt of the damage.

The Philippine government not only provides financial and political support, but also provides the muscle to back it up.  Where there are mines, there are soldiers.  And where there are soldiers there are deaths, disappearances, and fear.

Since the current president came to power in 2001 over 1000 activists have died fighting for the rights and welfare of people like those affected by Canadian mining.

As a Filipino I grieve openly.  As a Canadian, I know that a good part of this adopted nations wealth is bathed in the blood and tears of my brothers and sisters.  I know that some of my relative wealth comes off the back of my brethren.  It’s a bit of a dilemma.

And as depressing as that is on its own, that’s not even the end of the story.

There are about 400,000 Filipinos in Canada, 200,000 in Toronto.  We started arriving in the late 60s and this has only accelerated.  Why did we come?  Well it wasn’t because we all wanted to take up hockey and strap sticks to our feet so we can slide headlong down a frozen hill (sorry I’m a bit of a hater when it comes to winter).

We left our tropical islands because there was no work.  The Americans set up industry, but it wasn’t for the benefit of the Filipino.  When the American government ‘left,’ its industries remained.  And they invited their friends to the party.

Today the nation remains semi-feudal (agriculture still being the main form of livelihood despite the fact that less than 5% owning land).  A few foreign industries here and there take our raw materials and our desperate poverty and convert it into prosperity for people far away.  So, of course, being a rational people we packed our bags and moved to those prosperous countries.

The Philippine government calls it's overseas foriegn workers (OFWs) "Modern Day Heroes" as it's their remittances home (approx US$15bil/year) that keeps the economy afloat.

We came because we had to if we wanted to feed our family and have some hope for our children.  Today 3500 to 4000 people left the Philippines to work abroad, tomorrow and the day after a similar number will do the same.

When I visited mining communities I was surprised to see Canadian flags everywhere, on homes, on jeepneys, on signs.  ‘What’s going on,’ I wondered, were the people actually happy to have a Canadian mine in town?  Could I have so drastically misunderstood the mood of the people?

The answer was simpler.  The people were merely showing respect to the source of their funds, or their hopes for a better future.  No it wasn’t the mine wasn’t redistributing wealth, the people were simply thankful for the remittances sent by relatives that were forced to migrate to places like Canada.

Signs were everywhere advertising agencies that sent people to Canada (though they didn’t advertise the exorbitant fees or the rampant corruption of their practice).

Oh what a wonderful and honourable place that Canada must be to take in these people in need, a people to whom they have a debt since their multinational had taken so much.  To give these migrants equal economic potential with people who were the descendants of migrants from Europe would be a small but wonderful gesture.   Sadly no, that Canada does not exist–but I still hope one day it will.

Today most of the Filipinos entering the country do so on a temporary work basis.  Thousands come as caregivers every year to help Canadian families.  Our women (and some men) sacrifice their dreams to ensure a future to their families, and so that Canadian women can be free to pursue their dreams.  We come to work in the factories, fast food outlets, and other low paying temporary jobs, so that Canadian businesses can maximize their profits in places like Alberta (where Canadians refuse to work for the miniscule wages paid at Timmies or McDonalds) or in the north (where few wish to go, at least not for minimum wage).

Even if you don’t care about these individuals, as Filipinos who have been in Canada for awhile we are still affected by the destructive forces of Canada and it’s Western partners whether we know it or not.  Our relatives suffer either directly from the mine or from the cycle of increasing poverty they ensure.  Our people are forced to leave their families because of them.  And we that are established must support those that stay.  And the negative stereotypes and the belittling of our collective self-esteem that results when, for example, we are called “a nation of servants” by others is in no way to our individual or communal benefit.

That’s why we have to act.

That’s why we have to take advantage of this moment in time when there is a rising consciousness about Canada’s role in the world, especially around the extractive industries.

On 22 July 2009, a new coalition of advocates, including Filipinos (represented by BAYAN), rallied against destructive mining in front of the Toronto Stock Exchange.  The groups called for the government to take action against these large multinationals, and expressed support for Bill C-300, a private members Bill calling for enforceable mandatory regulations.

In the spring Liberal MP John McKay tabled a private members Bill that would put in place rules that would stop public money from being invested in companies proven to violate Canada’s signed international commitments to human and environmental rights.

The Bill proposes regulation between mining companies and government agencies (Export Development Canada, the Department of Foreign Affairs and International Trade, and the Canadian Pension Plan).  It would put in place criteria for these companies to be eligible for political and financial support.  Further there would be requirements that “guidelines that articulate corporate accountability standards” include the International Finance Corporation Performance Standards, related guidance notes, and Environmental Health and Safety General Guidelines; the Voluntary Principles on Security and Human Rights; “human rights provisions that ensure corporations operate in a manner that is consistent with international human rights standards; and any other standard consistent with international human rights standards.”  And finally it would create a complaints mechanism.

The proposed bill barely past second reading in the House of Commons on April 22, 2009 by four votes.  While it was supported by most of the opposition parties (the New Democrats, Bloc Quebecois, and the majority of backbench Liberals) the Liberal front bench either abstained, were absent, or voted ‘no.’

Speak No Evil, See No Evil, Hear No Evil @ the TSX

The success of this Bill is far from guaranteed as the Liberal Party themselves do not have a unified stance on this Bill proposed by one of their own.  Some of the party leadership have even spoken negatively of it in public committee meetings.  Currently the House of Commons is on its summer recess and will resume in September. Another vote on the bill is expected in October.

Every person should be concerned, open pit mining is responsible for countless human and environmental rights violations.

Every Canadian should be concerned, over 70% of all mining companies IN THE WORLD are traded out of Toronto.

Every Filipino should be concerned, the Phils has the SECOND largest gold deposits (for it’s land area) in the world.

I hope you will consider getting involved.

*   *   *

©2009 alex felipe
All Rights Reserved.

Please contact the photographer with use inquiries.

*   *   *

My other mining related posts:

All That Glitters

Gold, Our Conflict Diamonds

Marinduque/Canatuan Slideshow

Rapu-Rapu Mining Report

Gold Mining: Problem is not Solb

Canadian companies don't limit their disregard for communities to the developing world. Here in Ontario uranium mining is a major issue...

“Solidarity protests were held in Toronto and Montreal in Canada, in Melbourne, Canberra and Newcastle in Australia, as well as in Bankok, Thailand, and Mexico City, Mexico, as part of the Global Day of Action Against Open-Pit Mining.  These protests targeted Canadian Embassies, specific mining companies’ offices, as well as the Toronto Stock Exchange, to show their solidarity with communities around the world that have been impacted by Canadian mining projects.” [from alan.lissner.net]

Learn More from Organizations in Support:

Amnesty International

Mining Watch Canada

Rights Action

Friends of Congo

Legal Rights and Natural Resources Centre, Philippines

Frente Amplio Opositor, Mexico

Alan Lissner, photojournalist

Jersey Boys (#0189)

All photos are available for sale to the artists. Please contact me directly for a pricelist: alex.felipe@gmail.com

There are multiple images for each artist, most are not posted here, so please email me (with your name and the number underneath the photo of you) and I will send you low res samples of all your images.

In this album are photos from the afterparty, please CLICK HERE to see the backstage album.

Contact: alex.felipe@gmail.com

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All photos are available for sale to the artists. Please contact me directly for a pricelist: alex.felipe@gmail.com

There are multiple images for each artist, most are not posted here, so please email me (with your name and the number underneath the photo of you) and I will send you low res samples of all your images.

These are partially unfinished images, purchased images will be photoshopped fully.

In this album are photos from backstage, please CLICK HERE for photos from the afterparty.

Contact: alex.felipe@gmail.com

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Admitting that I was a Canadian has never been as difficult as when I travelled to the Philippines to photograph two Canadian-owned open-pit mining sites last winter. The fact that I am also Filipino by blood didn’t help.

I went to the island of Marinduque and visited the Marcopper Mining site, operated by Placer Dome, which began mining in 1969. The mine was closed in 1996 following the Boac River spill, one of the world’s greatest mining disasters, where a dam breach spilled between three and four million tonnes of tailings, rich in toxic heavy metals. Canadian taxpayers, through the Canadian Pension Plan, have invested over $350 million into the Marinduque mine.

I went to this site to witness the long-term effects of mining. For comparison I also visited a newer mining site on Mt. Canatuan on the large southern island of Mindanao by Toronto Ventures Incorporated (TVI), which began operations in 2005. That year, community representatives travelled to Canada to speak to parliament about TVI’s human rights violations in Canatuan. The Liberals responded by setting up a committee to create guidelines for Canadian mining companies at home and abroad; they later rejected the committee’s recommendations. Despite the community complaints TVI receives Canadian tax-dollar funds through CIDA for livelihood programs.

The government of the Philippines claims that mining will bring prosperity to the people. The mining laws are geared toward increasing foreign-owned operations, to help the ailing economy. But the truth is that few jobs are created around large-scale mining, and many, many more are lost.

Personally this was a surprise — I expected to see thousands working manual labour jobs. But open-pit mining is not labour intensive and most of the jobs are in the office, or as heavy equipment operators. And as most of the communities that have mines are away from city centres, the majority of their populations are not highly educated nor do they have the training to operate the equipment. The few new jobs available are easily outweighed by the number of jobs lost to the mine, usually in fishing, farming, or as small-scale miners.

Profit from the foreign-owned mines doesn’t even stay in the Philippines, as the government grants companies long renewable tax holidays, and allows for 100 percent foreign ownership and 100 percent repatriation of capital and profits. On Marinduque, it’s been more than 10 years since the mine closed, but none of the three spill sites have been fully rehabilitated. Sometimes during windy days, toxic mine waste is picked up and dropped on nearby villages. The locals call this their “snow from Canada.”

Twenty-four hours a day, from 1975 to 1991, Marcopper Mining (operated by Canadian Placer Dome — which has since been bought out by Barrick Gold) dumped 200 million metric tonnes of toxic mine tailings onto Calancan Bay at surface level. What you see in this image is part of the 7.5 km long tailings causeway, an artificial landmass made up of mine tailings (a mix that includes dangerous levels of arsenic, lead, and mercury). The causeway used to be 9 km long, but the rains and tide have been slowly eroding it into the ocean.

The result has been the death of the corals and much of the life in this bay. The poverty of the local people forces them to continue to eat what they can catch resulting in major health problems.

Above is Wilson Manuba of Calancan Bay. He used to accompany his father fishing as a young boy in the late ’70s. He told me about how much fun he used to think the mine tailings were (“it felt different than the sand and mud, I used to love playing in it”).

Unfortunately, neither he nor his father knew about its dangers. And so regular barefoot exposure, coupled with regular cuts and scrapes on their feet (a daily reality for fishers) resulted in severe heavy metal poisoning for the father and son.

Wilson, his father, and his sons all suffer from open tumor-like wounds that won’t heal. Wilson’s poisoning was so severe that he almost died and was saved only through the loss of his leg. Despite it all, both continued on as fishers as it was their only means of livelihood.

Wilson recently quit fishing when MACEC, a local NGO, provided him with a sari-sari store (a small village store).

Wilson has three children, two of whom (the boys) also have persistent open wounds on their legs.

Five-year-old Maria Neryl Pigquerra is one of three children born in Calancan Bay in 2002 with microcephalis. This condition leaves her smaller than her four-year-old brother, unable to communicate (other than crying), and with virtually no motor skills. She is fed congee (Maria can only swallow pureed food) by her mother, who wonders how a family of fishers will be able to care for her in the future.

Heavy metal poisoning is intergenerational, thus metals are transmitted from mother to child.

Mt. Canatuan, Mindanao

Marinduque was a sample of the long term effects of open pit mining, I also visited Mt. Canatuan in Mindanao to witness how a relatively new mine (operations began in 2003) affected a very old community.

The area around Canatuan is the ancestral domain of the indigenous Subanon people.  I arrived in time to witness the local people try the Canadian company, Toronto Ventures Incorporated, in it’s highest body (officiated by the chiefs of the seven tribes).

The people had become tired of waiting for the nation to recognise their grievances, and so had decided to use their own traditional methods.

Above is a Subanon ritual before the commencement of the ‘gokum,’ the traditional highest court of the indigenous people.  This assembly found the mining company guilty of illegal operations, but its verdict was not recognized by the government.

One of the jobs available to locals is that of security. The Special Citizens Armed Auxiliary (SCAA) is a force armed with fully automatic armalite rifles. This is just one more example of the divideand-conquer technique used by mining companies.

According to TVI’s website, there are benefits to this security:”People are able to sleep without fear of attack,” and “people are not in fear from oppression coming from a small minority — it is only those that want to go back to the old ways of illegal activities and oppression that would like to see the military presence gone.”

What really surprised me about mining operations in the Philippines was how few visible miners there were. These operations were seemingly run by a few large machines and a few supervisors. Thus the potential for employment for the community is very limited.

Locals told me that even before TVI entered the land there were miners on Mt. Canatuan. At its peak, about 10,000 small scale Filipino miners were in the area. Today less than one hundred remain in the community of Canatuan on the side of the mountain.

Though small-scale mining was a source of conflict between these outsiders and the Subanon people, they have since come together as the effects of underground tunneling by these independent miners was nothing compared to those of open-pit mining.

These Filipino miners lost their livelihoods when TVI arrived. Accompanied by the company’s heavily armed private militia (trained and armed by the Armed Forces of the Philippines) all tunnels and equipment were destroyed or confiscated without compensation.

They soon turned to destroying homes in the path of the mine. Many residents, intimidated by the growing unrest and the heavily armed security force, left with little to no compensation. Some stayed out of necessity and became farmers, though this number grows smaller every week. Despite their lack of experience at farming, they turned to it as the only thing left to them to provide for their families.

Locals say the meager amounts offered by TVI as a payoff would not pay for a similar piece of land and a home elsewhere so to accept would result in worse poverty.

The flag you see on the rock [photo on the right] signifies the presence of gold ore on the property of this Canatuan resident, a small-scale-miner-turned-farmer. The mine has reached the edge of his property and he has little doubt they will be at his doorstep soon.

Canatuan Primary School was built by the small scale miners who lived on the mountain. This was where the president of the Philippines awarded the Subanon tribe an Ancestral Domain Title to the land. When TVI came this local school was closed.

The remains of the home of the chieftain’s aide is in the foreground of the photo. He left Canatuan in fear for his life and his family’s lives when he heard strangers under the floor of his home (which sits atop stilts).

The tiny hamlet of Cosan at the base of Mt. Canatuan is home to no more than 40 people. It’s the last remaining independent mining site just a few hundred metres downstream from TVI’s sulphide dam.

The men and children from Cosan have started experiencing mysterious skin rashes in the years since the open pit began. The rashes are always in the lower extremities. For the men this is because they are often wet from the waist down working as gold pan miners. For the children it’s because they play in the creek.

TVI says that the water they dump into the creek that runs by the hamlet is clean. The locals, pointing to their visible wounds, claim otherwise.

*   *   *

©2009 alex felipe
All Rights Reserved.

Please contact the photographer with use inquiries.

*   *   *

My other mining related posts:

Gold, Our Conflict Diamonds

Marinduque/Canatuan Slideshow

Rapu-Rapu Mining Report

Gold Mining: Problem is not Solb

]]> http://alexfelipe.com/2009/06/07/all-that-glitters-nominated-for-a-natl-mag-award/feed/ 8 alexfelipe http://alexfelipe.com/2009/05/18/native-earth-fall-season-shoot/ http://alexfelipe.com/2009/05/18/native-earth-fall-season-shoot/#comments Mon, 18 May 2009 18:45:58 +0000 alexfelipe http://alexfelipe.com/?p=776 ]]>

These are some random photos from the Native Earth fall season shoot.  The images were shot at Six Nations Reserve.

Learn more HERE:  www.nativeearth.ca

Watch the launch video HERE.

Watch how it was created HERE.

About Native Earth:

Native Earth Performing Arts is a not-for-profit organization dedicated to the creating, developing and producing of professional artistic expression of the Aboriginal experience in Canada.

Through stage productions (theatre, dance and multi-disciplinary), new script development, apprenticeships and internships, Native Earth seeks to fulfill a community of artistic visions. It is a vision that is inclusive and reflective of the artistic directions of members of the Aboriginal community who actively participate in the arts. [text taken from their website]

My recent run in with the military has resulted in a concern from people both in Canada and here in the Philippines.  Even the NGO peeps I work with that deal with this sort of situation all the time have been asking whether I’m ok, whether I was afraid.  People have even gone to call me brave.  Very strange.

To tell you the truth, and this isn’t me putting on a front, I’m always a little surprised when others call my little adventures brave.  I mean, don’t you have to overcome fear to be brave?

For some reason I really don’t feel a strong sense of at-the-moment fear.  I feel concern sure, but gut wrenching fear?  Not really.

Sometimes I’m concerned by it, shouldn’t that freak me out?  Isn’t fear in that situation normal?

[*note: the kind of fear I’m talking about here is the kind you feel at the spur of the moment when something happens unpredictably.  The kind of fears that are what if’s about the future still scare the crap out of me!]

I’ve had a lot of, what many would probably call ‘reckless’ adventures in the last few year so I’ve thought about this many times before.  I figure that as this trip is supposed to be partially about self-reflection, I’d share some of my thoughts on this with you.

Just so you have an idea of my idiocy, since I’ve been travelling I’ve:
- been strip-searched in public in Colombia by heavily armed soldiers after an attempted drug frame up.
- almost flew off a cliff in Colombia when the driver of the car decided to get really drunk.  Seriously, 1/3rd of the car was hanging off the edge.  This was after the driver just saved our asses (I was travelling with friends).  He had found us alone on the top of a volcano with no transportation and Colombian bandits on our tail (not kidding).
- negotiated with a drunk machete wielding mugger on a dark Ecuadorian sidestreet, who kindly didn’t kill me and only slashed off my shoulder bag.  I continued to walk after him to protest even after the fact.
- went hiking in the Andes without any water (as I thought there would be a shop at the Ecuadorian provincial park—there wasn’t), got bad altitude sickness while alone in the middle of the mountain forest, which resulted in my getting lost.  In a haze (really it was bad) I forced myself to push on blind up and down the rolling hills, and around ponds and rivers (which I drank from in desperation) towards a road I could only see every time I got to the top of a hill.  Had I not made it back before 4pm I would have been stuck overnight, the temperature would have dropped to below 0C and it would have been bad.
- gotten drunk with Filipino sailors I had come to travel with in Palawan, who then preceded to have a gun fight.

And those examples are all from before I started doing human rights work (where at least the danger is for a cause).  Yes I’m a fool.  But it’s weird, in none of the above instances was I afraid.  And I mean the shivering, unable to think, frozen in fear sort of afraid.  I recognized the danger and thought of what action would be best (granted sometimes the choices haven’t been the wisest—drunken machete man being a good example.)

It wasn’t always this way.  When I was younger I used to hear, like most did I’m sure, the taunt, “are you chicken?” (followed by the requisite chicken sound effects).  Being a smaller guy I may have heard it more than some.

Truth be told I was afraid of a lot of things those days: heights, being left alone, the dark (I slept with a night light forever!), people, and on and on.

Despite that I always daydreamed what I figure are usual guy dreams: superheros (this is really what I wanted to be when I grew up, it kindof still is), 007 type spies, being Bruce Lee, etc.  I always dreamt of a life of adventure, and the usual ‘adult’ life seemed so boring to me.

I remember starting a ‘spy club’ as a ten year old where me and friends would follow ‘suspicious’ people around town.  It would have been a ‘superhero club’ but we couldn’t quite figure out how to fly (apparently even if you really want to, ya can’t fly).  We’d never confront them but we always thought we would—you know, like when they posed a danger to innocents (which never seemed to happen—hahaha).

All the while if anything really bad happened to me I’d just back off and do nothing.

Eventually as I got older the fears really started to piss me off so I purposefully put myself into situations were I was afraid.  Thus I jumped out of a plane, travelled alone, forced myself to sleep in the dark, etc…

Then one day they were gone.  And that’s when the idiocy really began.  The correlation between the two is somewhat disturbing.

I’ve figure part of it all was about proving something to myself at first.  But these days it’s just normal.  These days it’s focused: bad shit is happening to people, people that look like me, and if I can do something (and have an adventure at the same time) then that’s the life I dreamed of as a kid isn’t it?

I’m still waiting for my superpowers though.

~  ~  ~

***Oh, and just so my Mum doesn’t freak out: I’m not a reckless as I was in my travelling days.  My travels these days are with responsible orgs and we are in constant contact with the outside when we go into the field.  There’s a buddy system where no one goes out alone, and we always have an exit plan.  I’m a responsible fool nowadays Mum!

Superheros, Identity, and Art:

Yeah so I want(ed) to be a superhero when I grew up:  to go right wrongs and have cool adventures.  That’s a good part of why I love the photo-ing so much.

To get good pics you have to be out there.  I thought about being a writer at first, but chose against it as I felt bored with the making calls and hunting down people in offices for interviews, I’d rather be where the action is, its the adventure instinct I think.  You have to be out there, and more, you have to be out front.

I freak out the human rights workers here in Manila all the time for example when I won’t stay behind the rally line and actually push the police out of my way to get shots.  At first whoever they chose as my ‘buddy’ (you always go to rallies in pairs in case of something happening) always looked like he was going to have a heart attack.  (Sorry bout that guys!)

That’s how I see it all and where my motivation is.  (Plus Peter Parker is a photographer.) 

And that also where my difficulties start in purely ‘art for arts sake’ type work.  For me it has to mean something, it has to be of service somehow.  I have no problem with beauty for beauty’s sake, I just have trouble doing it myself.

For me identity is tied with politics and history.  As Filipinos lucky enough to have opportunities in our lives that our brothers and sisters didn’t have here, I feel we need to represent them and their struggles.

What was it the uncle of a famous superhero said about great power and responsibility?

A winning chicken gets stitched up after a cock-fight. His severe leg injury will keep him out of the game for 6 months. Bukidnon, Mindanao (2005)

Notes about the photos and story:

It all started with the pictures of chickens I took in Balanak, Bikol (I also added a couple on the bottom from Bukidnon, Mindanao).  “WTF am I going to write about?!?” I asked myself.  I was at a loss.

Then Rose Cortez wrote that I was ‘brave’ in a comment on my last post.  People have said this to me in the past too and I always feel weird about that.

Brave I thought?  Not really, but no chicken either.

Sure it’s a stretch, but hey there it is…

©2009 alex felipe
All Rights Reserved.

Jocelyn Polborido's family home.

It was 4am, the sun was still a long time from rising, and rain was falling when I woke up to make breakfast with the one other guy in the group.  We were in Balinak, Ligao, Bikol, a town at the end of the road—literally.

The single paved lane wove around the rolling hills of the land around Mt. Mayon, it ended at the basketball court of Balinak, a simple village that still consisted of many nipa hut homes, a village with a sad recent story.

A daytime photo of where we cooked our meals.

That morning I was getting the fire going for our breakfast, there was no stove.  I cracked apart some wood, and placed them utop the embers of last nights fire.  I fanned the glowing cinders with a palm leaf, smoke and ash blew into my squinting eyes.  It was at about this time when I noticed a man behind me.

I turned.  I saw the soldier in dripping rain gear carrying an automatic rifle almost as big as me (ok maybe a bit of an exaggeration, but it was a big gun).  More soldiers appeared.  I clumsily tossed my head in his direction in greeting, I may have even said ‘magandang umaga po [good morning sir], but I can’t really remember.

I was dumbfounded and trying to think of what language best to answer to keep my ass safe.  I can’t speak the local tongue so I was an outsider no matter what, I decided to keep English for if it got worse, I went with Tagalog.  I knew enough to keep my answers short.

“May bago ba ditto [Are there new people here?],” he asked.
“Opo, kami po [yes, sir, us sir],” I replied.
“Saan kayo nakatira? [Where are you staying?]”
“Sa barangay hall po [At the barangay hall sir].”

That was the extent of my conversation.  My colleague had finally noticed that the military had discovered our presence and took over the conversation.

The soldiers were in front of the barangay hall too I would later discover when I was bringing up breakfast to the five still sleeping women that were part of our group.  The soldiers would be around watching us for the rest of the day.

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I had gone to Bikol on the invitation of the Children’s Rehabilitation Center (CRC), an NGO I’ve work with in the past.  They provide psychosocial art therapy for child victims of military violence.  We had come to Balanak because less than a month ago a child had died when a grenade was dropped on a home injuring two families and killing a baby.  Shrapnel remains in the bodies of some of the survivors.

The day before the soldiers arrived we did art workshops with the kids in the community so as to help the psychological healing process.  We discovered a great amount of fear in the kids, not just with the survivors of the incident, but to the greater community at large.  The kids drew images of war, images of suffering.

School attendance had dropped 58% since that day.  Kids were too fearful to leave their parents.  The military presence didn’t suffer the same drop.

Any day now 6000 US troops will be descending on Bikol as part of the Visiting Forces Agreement (VFA)between the Philippines and the USA.  Officially they are here for the Balikatan (‘shoulder to shoulder’) training exercises.  Six thousand Americans will join two thousand five hundred Filipino troops.

Human rights groups see the incident in Balanak as a ‘clearing’ operation to pave the way for the Americans.  This entire region has suffered from the second greatest number of extrajudicial killings (after Mindanao) in the Philippines since the beginning of the Arroyo administration (a total number almost at 1000).  Things aren’t looking up.

Inside a jeepney in the nearest major town of Naraga.

The kids don’t want to see another gun, or hear another shot or explosion.  That’s not going to happen if the exercises happen (there is a strong local movement against it).  In Mindanao these exercises have been happening pretty much since the US bases were officially closed in the early 90s.  Peace hasn’t exactly followed the VFA forces.

I came here with the CRC because I needed to get away from the confusion I felt with Kilusan.  I came to remind myself of the important things.  Kilusan is supposed to be here in the Philippines to explore the identity of the Filipino-Canadian.  Sometimes I had felt like the identity I was exploring with the collective was not as complete as I would prefer, I felt it small compared to the depth of the Filipino identity as a whole.  Coming out to places like this remind me that there is more to us than Manila, than mimicry and praise of the West.  But it also reminds me that places like this are more affected by decisions made in Manila and in the West than they should be.

We are a people with a terribly sad history, a history with ramifications that are being played out right now.

The village shower, sink, laundromat, etc...

Balanak is a beautiful place, but an impoverished one.  Places like this are the everyday for most Filipinos outside the cities.  A place of nipa huts with dirt floors, a single village poso (water pump), rice paddies, carabaos, coconut farms, but also of radios, basketball, and occasional tv’s, ref’s, and motorcycles.

Coming here was sad, it was exciting, and it was nerve-wracking (having loaded automatic weapons around you does that) but it was good for me and my mindset.  As I mention in my last post it set me straight.  It has informed my direction on this project, it has confirmed in my head what it is that I want to say.

I hope the CRC (and other orgs like them) can continue to help the people of Balanak.  The soldiers aren’t happy with the presence of outsiders, but staying quiet helps no one.  That said my heart goes out to them and I commend their bravery.

As a Filipino-Canadian these places, these people, are often so detached from our everyday experience it’s easy to view it all through the eyes of a foreigner, but no matter how well you try to convince yourself of it (and I know some of us try really hard) we aren’t foreigners.  We might have been socialized differently, and in a different environment, but we are only foreign to this land if we choose to be.  These are our people and this land is in our soul.

For but one different decision here or there in our family history, these people would be us.

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A Synopsis of the Tragedy

On the morning of 18 February the community of Balanak heard three shots coming from Philippine military locations.  Jocelyn Polborido and her three of her children Ina (5yrs), Daisy (4yrs), and Raphaela (1yrs) fled their simple nipa hut home to go to the sturdier home of Gloria Polborido (her mother in law).  On the way the stopped at Euphemia Polborido’s home and that’s when the grenade fell.  Euphemia was able to shield her son and take the brunt of the blast, Jocelyn was not as lucky.  Raphaela was being held over her shoulder and received shrapnel wounds to the nape of the neck, and later died.

Jocelyn, Daisy, and Ina were all hit as well.  Even after the initial hospital visit shrapnel remains in two of the victims, the most serious lodged in Ina’s forehead.

According to one version of the military’s story (there have been multiple versions, this one is the most believable) the running family resembled NPA troops running away, that’s why they bombed the house they hid in.  According to statements from fact-finding missions in the area no one in the community saw any of the NPA troops the army was claiming to have had an encounter with.

. . .

Note about spelling:

“Bikol” is the Filipino spelling, “Bicol” the English.  I decided to use the former.

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©2009 alex felipe  /  All rights reserved.

Please contact alex with all use requests.

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I was on my way back to Manila, back to what had been a source of confusion and creative roadblock.

Things have not been easy on the homefront, the collective has been suffering. Strong personalities clashed with a feeling (at least on my part) with a non-unified sense of direction. Toronto issues had been transferred a half world away. But on this bus ride I could feel that, in my mind at least, the weather was getting better.   I was in the Philippines, and I had a project to get on with.

That’s why I had gone to Bikol, even if the group-mind remained confused, I wanted my own mind clear. This trip, as sad/exciting/nerve-wracking as it was (more on this in my next post), helped do just that.

I’m back now. Conversations amongst the group have been productive. A new sense of purpose seems to have arisen. There are more discussions that have to be had, and I remain uncertain about some things, but for me, for what I want to do, I can see the path ahead…

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Misc Bus Thoughts:

I was ready for it this time, the crazy air-conditioning I mean.  For those of you who have not been on an intercity bus in the developing world (really it’s not just the Phils), it’s bloody cold.

I remember dying on buses my first time.  Being in the tropics I usually go about in shorts, flipflops and a really light shirt.  That outfit results in hypothermia.

This time around I wore pants, socks, shoes, a t-shirt, a hoodie, a hat, a scarf, and a blanket (that I *ahem* borrowed from the plane).  I was still cold, but I was better. 

Sure half my clothes bag was filed with stuff just for the bus, but it was worth it.

I lived here in 2001 with my family. The simple house of corregated iron, plywood, and cinderblock was by active traintracks.

I’ve been in the Philippines a few days now with the Kilusan Collective and I am lost in a sea of conflicting thoughts, much of it stemming from an inner debate as to my responsibilities as a balikbayan [returning Filipino living abroad] and my purpose in this project.

I am introspective by nature, travel back to the homeland only heightens this. This post is not about art, it is about my mindset on this trip.

As a balikbayan one fits outside Philippine society. No matter how economically challenged one might be in Toronto all of us are still better off than the vast majority in Philippine society. This weighs on me heavily.

There are two main classes here: the elite and the masses (the middle class is very, very tiny and so exert little of the balancing influence that they do in Western societies). Conversations with the girls made me realise that as balikbayans we have to make a choice about which group identify with—and this choice gives us focus and purpose.
I think most Filipinos from abroad make this choice subconsciously, I make mine fully aware.

So with whom do I identify you may wonder? Well let me share with you a family story from my first full day here: I have an adopted cousin who is currently working illegally in the Middle-East, and while spending time with family in Quiapo I found out she just got caught by the authorities.

This cousin was abandoned by her birth mother as a child and was unofficially adopted by my aunt. When I lived with them in the squatter neighbourhood by the railroad tracks during my first trip to the Phils in 2001 she was just finishing high school and she took care of the household chores. She ‘found’ a caregiving job in the middle-east just before my next trip to the Phils in 2005 but it was sketchy and the family was concerned. They grew more concerned when she didn’t call for months and when she finally called (I was with them when this happened) she was barely intelligible through the tears.

We all wanted her to go home, but she felt that she had to stay in order to make money and help support her adopted family (who struggle as street vendors). She never told us about her work, and the family had severe doubts she was actually working as a caregiver (they didn’t know yet that she was there illegally).

She finally made it back earlier this year (2009). She came back with very little money, and even less in terms of details of what she was doing there. The family found out that the people that found her the work were not with a legit agency, and that she was made to travel under a fake name and passport. Further she was asked to transport mystery packages she could not open.

Just days ago she was caught as an illegal worker. The family is in tears wanting her to return, but she doesn’t want to be a burden. She tells them that a rich family is offering to help her out, but again illegally and with a ‘new’ fake name.
Her story is not unique. This happens everyday to the poor of this country just trying to make a better life for their family—even at the expense of their own.

I am a balikbayan and I am very lucky to be in the position I’m in. My position, contrasted with my family here, is not easy on me it never has been and I doubt it ever will be. All this informs my travels back, and shapes a great deal of who I am.

My Culture Shock

I have to admit that I am probably experiencing more culture shock on this trip than on any of my other visits. I am living in a nice air-conditioned place in Malate where I have someone cook for me and drive me around. I eat with the girls at Aristocrat, and I speak English most of the time (even with the locals that are in my immediate circle this time around, which is strange and somewhat unsettling).

I feel like I’m in a foreign world for the first time ever in the Philippines. And I have to admit, it feels so very odd to me.

Now I do know that as a balikbayan I am not one of the Philippine poor. I know that I can never be, and I know that I am glad for that fact—but the poor remain my point of reference when I think of life in this country. Because of this I find myself feeling guilty and uncomfortable at times.

I knew before hand that this was going to be a unique trip for me. But only a few days in, it’s already messed with my mind more than I expected.

This month is going to be crazy….

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photos ©2005-08 alex felipe  /  All Rights Reserved.

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