Why Sinigang? By Doreen G. Fernandez

Rather than the overworked adobo (so identified as the Philippine stew in foreign cookbooks), sinigang seems to me the dish most representative of Filipino taste. We like the lightly boiled, the slightly soured, the dish that includes fish (or shrimp or meat) vegetables and broth. It is adaptable to all tastes ( if you don’t like shrimp, then bangus, or pork), to all classes and budgets, (even ayungin, in humble little piles, find their way into the pot), to seasons and availability (walang talong, mahal ang gabi? kangkong na lang!).

          But why? Why does sinigang find its way to bare dulang, to formica-topped restaurant booth, to gleaming ilustrado table? Why does one like anything at all? How is a people’s taste shaped?

          But still, why soured? Aside from the fact that sour broths are cooling in hot weather, could it be perhaps because the dish is meant to be eaten against the mild background of rice? Easy to plant and harvest, and allowing more than one crop a year, rice is ubiquitous on the landscape. One can picture our ancestors settling down beside their rivers and finally tuning to the cultivation of fields, with rice as one of the first steady crops.

RICE

          Rice to us is more than basic cereal, for as constant background, steady accompaniment; it is also the shaper of other food, and of tastes. We not only sour, but also salt (daing, tuyo, bagoong) because the blandness of rice suggests the desirability of sharp contrast. Rice can be ground into flour and thus the proliferation of puto; the mildly sweet Putong Polo, the banana leaf-encased Manapla variety; puto filled with meat or flavored with ube; puto in cakes or wedges, white or brown eaten with dinuguan or salabat.   

THE GREENERY

          The landscape also offers the vines, shrubs, fields, forest and tress from which comes the galaxy of gulay with which we are best all year round. “Back home,” an American friend commented.” All we use from day to day are peas, carrots, potatoes, cabbage, and very few others.”

          The dietarily uninhibited Filipino, on the other hand, recognizes the succulence of roots (gabi, ube, kamote); the delicacy and flavor of leaves (pechay, dahong bawang, kintsay, pako, malunggay) and tendrils (talbos ng ampalaya, kalabasa, sayote); the bounty of fruits (not only upo and kalabasa, talong and ampalaya, but also desserts like langka and banana, which double as vegetables; and the excitement of flowers like katuray and kalabasa

About Doreen Fernandez

What is an Educated Filipino? by Francisco Benitez (An Excerpt)

          What is an educated Filipino and what qualities should distinguish him today? The conception of education and of what an educated man is varied in response to fundamental changes in the details and aims of society. In our country and during this transition stage in our national life, what are the qualities which an educated man should possess?

          Great changes have taken place in the nature of our social life during the last forty years. The contact with Americans and their civilization has modified many of our own social customs, traditions, and practices, some for the worse and many for the better. The means of communication have improved and therefore better understanding exists among the different sections of our country. Religious freedom has developed religious tolerance in our people. The growth of public schools and the establishment of democratic institutions have developed our national consciousness both in strength and in solidarity. With this growth in national consciousness and national spirit among our people, we witness the corresponding rise of a new conception of education – the training of the individual for the duties and privileges of citizenship, not only for his own happiness and efficiency but also for national service and welfare. In the old days, education was a matter of private concern; now it is a public function, and the state not only has the duty but it has the right as well to educate every member of the community – the old as well as the young, women as well as men – not only for the good of the individual but also for the self-preservation and protection of the State itself. Our modern public school system has been established as a safeguard against the shortcomings and dangers of a democratic government and democratic institutions.

          In the light of social changes, we come again to the question: What qualities should distinguish the educated Filipino of today? I venture to suggest that the educated Filipino should first be distinguished by the power to do. The Oriental excels in reflective thinking; he is a philosopher. The Occidental is the doer; he manages things, men and affairs. The Filipino of today needs more of his power to translate reflection into action. I believe that we are coming more and more to the conviction that no Filipino has the right to be considered educated unless he is prepared and ready to take an active and useful part in the work, life, and progress of our country as well as in the progress of the world.

About Francisco Benitez

The Hands of the Blacks An excerpts from “We Killed Mangy-Dog and other Mozambique stories” by Luis Bernardo Honwana

            I don’t remember now how we got onto the subject, but one day Teacher said that the palms of the black’s hands were much lighter than the rest of their bodies because only few centuries ago they walked around on all fours, like wild animals, so their palms weren’t exposed to the sun, which made the rest of their bodies darker and darker. I thought of this when Father Christiano told us after catechism that we were absolutely hopeless, and that even the blacks were better than us, and he went back to this thing about their hands being lighter, and said it was like that because they always went about with their hands folded together, praying in secret. I thought this was so funny, this thing of the black’s hands being lighter, that you should just see me now – I don’t let go of anyone, whoever they are, until they tell me why they think that the palms of the black’s hands are lighter. Dona Dores, for instance, told me that God made their hands lighter like that so they wouldn’t dirty the food they made for their masters, or anything else they were ordered to do that had to be kept quite clean. Senhor Antunes, the Coca Cola man, who only comes to the village now and again when all the Cokes in the cantinas have been sold, said to me that everything I had been told was a lot of baloney. Of course I don’t know if it was really, but he assured me it was. After I said yes, all right, it was baloney, then he told me what he knew about this thing of the black’s hands. It was like this: - ‘Long ago, many years ago, God, Our Lord Jesus Christ, the Virgin Mary, St. Peter, many other saints, all the angels that were in Heaven then, and some of the people who had died and gone to Heaven – they all had a meeting and decided to make blacks. Do you know how? They got hold of some clay and pressed it into some second-hand moulds. And to bake the clay of the creatures they took them to the Heavenly kilns. Because they were in a hurry and there was no room next to the fire, they hung them in the chimneys. Smoke, smoke, smoke – and there you have them, black as coals. And now do you want to know why their hand stayed white? Well, didn’t they have to hold on while their clay baked? When he had told me this Senhor Antunes and the other men who were around us were very pleased and they all burst out laughing. That very same day Senhor Frias called me after Senhor Antunes had gone away, and told me that everything I had heard from them there had been just one big pack of lies. Really and truly, what he knew about the black’s hands was right – that God finished making men and told them to bathe in a lake in Heaven. After bathing the people were nice and white. The blacks, well, they were made very early in the morning, and at this hour the water in the lake was very cold, so they only wet the palms of their hands and the soles of their feet before dressing and coming into the world. 
            But I read in a book that happened to mention it, that the blacks have hand lighter like this because they spent their lives bent over, gathering the white cotton of Virginia and I don’t know where else. Of course Dona Estefánia didn’t agree when I told her this. According to her it’s only because their hands became bleached with all that washing. Well, I don’t know what to think about all this, but the truth is that however calloused and cracked they may be, a black’s hands are always lighter than all the rest of him. And that’s that! My mother is the only one who must be right about this question of a black’s hands being lighter than the rest of his body. On the day that we were talking about it, us two, I was telling her what I already knew about the questions, and she just couldn’t stop laughing. What I thought was strange was that she didn’t tell me at once what she thought about all this, and she only answered me when she was sure that I wouldn’t get tired of bothering her about it. And even then she was crying and clutching herself around the stomach like someone who had laughed so much that it was quite unbearable. What she said was more or less this: ‘God made blacks because they had to be. They had to be, my son. He thought they really had to be… Afterwards he regretted having made them because the other men laughed at them and took them off to their homes and put them to serve like slaves or not much better. But because he couldn’t make them all be white, for those who were used to seeing them black would complain, He made it so that the palms of their hands would be exactly like the palms of the hands of other men. And do you know why that was? Of course you don’t know, and it’s not surprising, because many, many people don’t know. Well, listen: it was to show that what men do is only the work of men… That what men do is done by hands that are the same – hands of people who, if they had any sense, would know that before everything else they are men. He must have been thinking of this when He made the hands of the blacks be the same as the hands of those men who thank God they are not black!’ 
            After telling me all this, my mother kissed my hands. As I ran off into the yard to play ball, I thought that I had never seen a person cry so much when nobody had hit them.

About Luis Bernardo Honwana

I am an African Child by Eku McGred

I am an African child
Born with a skin the colour of chocolate
Bright, brilliant and articulate
Strong and bold; I’m gifted
Talented enough to be the best
I am an African child

Often the target of pity
My future is not confined to charity
Give me the gift of a lifetime;
Give me a dream, a door of opportunity;
I will thrive
I am an African child

Do not hide my fault
show me my wrong
I am like any other;
Teach me to dream
And I will become
I am an African child

I am the son, daughter of the soil
Rich in texture and content
Full of potential for a better tomorrow
Teach me discipline, teach me character, teach me hard work
Teach me to think like the star within me
I am an African child

I can be extra-ordinary
call me William Kamkwamba the Inventor;
Give me a library with books
Give me a scrap yard and discarded electronics
Give me a broken bicycle;
Plus the freedom to be me
And I will build you a wind mill
I am an African child

We are the new generation
Not afraid to be us
Uniquely gifted, black and talented
Shining like the stars we are
We are the children of Africa
Making the best of us
Yes! I am an African Child

The Secret Of Living by J. Carie Sexton

To appreciate beauty and the gifts nature brings,
To discover the pleasure of life’s simplest things,
To remember the blessings we receive every day,
To explore new horizons as we travel our way—
This is the Secret of Living.

To find hope in each raibow that appears in the sky,
To give comfort to strangers who may be passing by,
To keep smiling whenever there’s a task to be done,
To be gracious in losing and give thanks when we’ve won—
This is the Secret of Living.

To build meaningful values in this life that we live,
To be full of compassion and be willing to give,
To regard as a treasure every friendship we’ve made
And to find peace and love even time cannot fade—
This is the Secret of Living.

WISHING AND HOPING (Burt Bacharach) Dionne Warwick

Wishing and hoping and thinking and praying
Planning and dreaming each night of his charms
That won't get you into his arms
So if you're looking to find love you can share
All you got to do is hold him and kiss him and love him
And show him that you care

Show him that you care just for him
Do the things he likes to do
Wear your hair just for him, 'cause
You won't get him
Thinking and a-praying, wishing and a-hoping

'Cause wishing and hoping and thinking and praying
Planning and dreaming his kisses will start
That won't get you into his heart
So if you're thinking of how great true love is
All you got to do is hold him and kiss him and squeeze him and love him
Yeah, just do it
And after you do, you will be his

You got to show him that you care just for him
Do the things he likes to do
Wear your hair just for him, 'cause
You won't get him
Thinking and a-praying, wishing and a-hoping

'Cause wishing and hoping and thinking and praying
Planning and dreaming his kisses will start
That won't get you into his heart
So if you're thinking of how great true love is

All you got to do is hold him and kiss him and squeeze him and love him
Yeah, just do it
And after you do, you will be his
You will be his (2x)

About Dionne Warwick

The Impossible Dream

To dream the impossible dream
To fight the unbeatable foe
To bear with unbearable sorrow
To run where the brave dare not go

To right the unrightable wrong
To love pure and chaste from afar
To try when your arms are too weary
To reach the unreachable star

This is my quest
To follow that star
No matter how hopeless
No matter how far

To fight for the right
Without question or pause
To be willing to march into Hell
For a heavenly cause

And I know if I'll only be true
To this glorious quest
That my heart will lie peaceful and calm
When I'm laid to my rest

And the world will be better for this
That one man, scorned and covered with scars
Still strove with his last ounce of courage
To reach the unreachable star