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Wednesday, April 11, 2007

Youngblood : Weeping for the living

First posted 02:03am (Mla time) Mar 25, 2006
By Ala Paredes
Inquirer

Editor's Note: Published on Page A11 of the March 25, 2006 issue of the Philippine Daily Inquirer

IN THE Ateneo Art Gallery, there is one painting that I will never forget. It is entitled "Children Begging For Food" by Kathe Kollwitz. It's a simple work, very rough and done only in charcoal. It shows three very small, hungry children, arms extended and holding empty bowls, much like that famous scene in the movie "Oliver Twist" where the title character says, "Please sir, I want some more."

What's most striking about the painting is the expression on the children's faces. It reminds me of fish that die out of the water with wide, unseeing eyes and parched, parted lips. The soul-lessness in their faces is frightening, a feeling that was heightened when I read that the artist was influenced by what she had seen in poverty-stricken neighborhoods and concentration camps during World War II.

I remembered the painting when I heard the stories being told by ABS-CBN Broadcasting insiders about the "Wowowee" stampede in the PhilSports Arena (formerly Ultra) last Feb. 4. The accounts I heard were enough to make anyone weep-but more for the living than for the dead.

I was told that near the entrance to the PhilSports Arena, as many as five dead bodies were already stacked one on top of the other but some people still clambered over them in an attempt to get in. And even as the police were carrying the bodies away, some people were still asking if they could please have the tickets of the dead. It was also said that when relatives of some of the victims got money, they immediately divided it among themselves.

I don't know what it's like to be so poor that one would fight tooth and nail for the opportunity to win a few thousand pesos. But are our people really so desperate that they can't think beyond what they're going to eat for the day? Have we really sunk so low?

But low is a relative term, and these people live much different lives from mine. How do I know I wouldn't do the same thing if I were in their place? I've never had to struggle to keep body and soul together. I don't know what acts I am capable of committing until I experience what it's like to starve. One never knows the depths of depravity one can sink into until he has to fight for survival.

So how can we go any higher if our people have nothing in their stomachs? How can we strive for a higher culture if we can't even satisfy basic needs? We are so poor in many ways -- materially, culturally, morally.

I have the same confession to make as many people I know: I shun the poor out in the street, often unconsciously. When I pass by them, I find myself trying not to look them in the eye. When they come up to me and beg for money, I wish they would go away.

Why? Because such encounters bring me face to face with the same, old, tormenting dilemma: Should I give this guy money or not? Wouldn't giving him money only make him dependent on others and make the problem worse? But then again, doesn't he need this money more than I do? It's a battle between mind and conscience. And as I struggle to make a decision, the beggar becomes more insistent, making me slightly nervous.

Sometimes conscience wins out and I give him change, but maybe it's really just to shut him up. Sometimes my brain wins and I politely tell him to go away. Either way, I end up with a heavy, uncomfortable feeling that I can't quite place. But since I'm in a hurry, I just brush the bad feeling aside. It's not your problem anyway, says my brain.

Want to know what that feeling is? It's guilt and anger. It's the same collective guilt that privileged people in this country share, the ones who have shelter, food to eat, a promising future, and money to spare for new clothes, nights out and vacations. The guilt is always there, telling you: "You're well-off, and they're not. You went to a good school, and they will never be able to afford it. You're living in this house, using the Internet on your fancy computer, while outside, your neighbor worries what her kids are going to eat today and the next few days." It's the kind of guilt that reminds us always that we could have been born in their place.

We're angry with ourselves for allowing this to continue day after day, mainly because we feel so powerless and because we don't know what we can do to change things. We're angry with ourselves because we know we use apathy to shield ourselves from the distress we'd otherwise experience from seeing these people suffer.

I wish I could propose some grand solution to this problem, but I don't have one. I'm no hero. Just like everyone else, I wish I didn't feel so damn helpless.

Sure, we can complain about our President, or join NGOs and charities that cater to the needy. But we know that this isn't all about the President, and it isn't just about how much food and money we can give away. This is about poverty that seems to have penetrated the material aspect and entered our souls. This is about all of us.

After the "Wowowee" incident, we find ourselves searching for answers, trying to see what we have become as a people more clearly. We are all outraged, shocked, disappointed, trying to make sense of the tragedy. No matter how angry you may be, and whether you find answers or not, please do not commit the single biggest sin you can make against our country, which is losing hope.

If you are angry, be glad you are still capable of feeling anger unlike the many who are too jaded and hopeless to feel anything.

Ala Paredes, 22, is a graduate of Bachelor of Arts in Communications from the Ateneo de Manila University.


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