Pasaig
Avenue. Four lanes, maybe six. It should be daytime or twilight. Nevertheless,
it is dark, grey. A landscape of old faded concrete so timidly lighten by
several coloured neon lightening. Looking at the sky, I realized that I walk
under the eight lanes skyway. An ultimate attempt, yet vain, to decongest
Manila from its traffic in superposing roads and highways. Along the narrow
footpath, offices employees in their uniforms are walking shoulder against
shoulder, avoiding to be dragged down the street flow where drivers would have
no cure. The rich against the poor. A battle lost in advance.
The multicoloured Djeepneys (old Djeeep cars left by the Americans after the WWII, customized and reconverted into public transport) are sending out clouds of particles, creating a fog that blurs the last rays of sunlight. Some of the street vendors are obstructing the flow of pedestrians convulsively trying to attract the attention on the Chinese products they are desperate to sell while breastfeeding or protecting the baby that sleeps in the cradle. What could be your life expectancy when one starts its first years breathing this fog from dawn until the night? One of these small canals that covers Manila run perpendicular of Pasaig Avenue. I am neither an urban planer or a civil engineer. But surely, the navigating purpose of these channels has definitely lost against the lack of alternative than to use them as an open sewage system.
Pasaig Avenue is the edge, the frontier between two worlds. The luxurious business area of Makati and the rest, and the world. A so commonly seen scenery. On one side, shines the ultra-modern Makati Medical Centre enveloped in its blue chromatic spectrum crimped by the most recent skyscrapers. On the other side, the little Botanical community made of a unique street parallel to the canal. Right through, small wood-made houses covered of corrugated iron sheets are housing a bundle of swarming activities, enveloped in putrid smells. Laundry is drying in the smokes of local barbecues. A blacksmith focuses on his noisy machines while other play the local “Tong eat” card game. The first floor shallow bedrooms have all a small window towards the shining city that finally provides its free of charge light when the night comes.
Few hours spent there taught me that, here, one does more than survive. And if there is one thing different in Philippines, it is this impertinent positivism proudly waving its marketing slogan that “it is more fun in the Philippines…!”. Even there. Filipinos have a disconcerting ability to paint their daily life with a mix of their passions for food, religion, humour and plays of words in their musical Tacalog, Sprinkled with the determination to climb the ladle of progress and wealth in a fast moving economic growth and illuminated by the promising family member that either migrated abroad or seat on the bench of a University, there is no worries to fell on the wrong side of the edge. There is surely no guaranteed safety net except a remarkable sense of solidarity, of ownership, should it be to an unfavoured community. The social scale is undoubtedly as wide as anywhere else in this global economy, as extreme, as shockingly reflected by a short walk in one of these numerous giant malls. Another urban characteristic.
The multicoloured Djeepneys (old Djeeep cars left by the Americans after the WWII, customized and reconverted into public transport) are sending out clouds of particles, creating a fog that blurs the last rays of sunlight. Some of the street vendors are obstructing the flow of pedestrians convulsively trying to attract the attention on the Chinese products they are desperate to sell while breastfeeding or protecting the baby that sleeps in the cradle. What could be your life expectancy when one starts its first years breathing this fog from dawn until the night? One of these small canals that covers Manila run perpendicular of Pasaig Avenue. I am neither an urban planer or a civil engineer. But surely, the navigating purpose of these channels has definitely lost against the lack of alternative than to use them as an open sewage system.
Pasaig Avenue is the edge, the frontier between two worlds. The luxurious business area of Makati and the rest, and the world. A so commonly seen scenery. On one side, shines the ultra-modern Makati Medical Centre enveloped in its blue chromatic spectrum crimped by the most recent skyscrapers. On the other side, the little Botanical community made of a unique street parallel to the canal. Right through, small wood-made houses covered of corrugated iron sheets are housing a bundle of swarming activities, enveloped in putrid smells. Laundry is drying in the smokes of local barbecues. A blacksmith focuses on his noisy machines while other play the local “Tong eat” card game. The first floor shallow bedrooms have all a small window towards the shining city that finally provides its free of charge light when the night comes.
Few hours spent there taught me that, here, one does more than survive. And if there is one thing different in Philippines, it is this impertinent positivism proudly waving its marketing slogan that “it is more fun in the Philippines…!”. Even there. Filipinos have a disconcerting ability to paint their daily life with a mix of their passions for food, religion, humour and plays of words in their musical Tacalog, Sprinkled with the determination to climb the ladle of progress and wealth in a fast moving economic growth and illuminated by the promising family member that either migrated abroad or seat on the bench of a University, there is no worries to fell on the wrong side of the edge. There is surely no guaranteed safety net except a remarkable sense of solidarity, of ownership, should it be to an unfavoured community. The social scale is undoubtedly as wide as anywhere else in this global economy, as extreme, as shockingly reflected by a short walk in one of these numerous giant malls. Another urban characteristic.
Yes. Unlike elsewhere, it is simply unsustainable and how could it be ? But this has become a worldwide truism. And it will not change anytime soon the life of those on both sides of Pasaig Avenue.
I recently
realized that this is neither a question nor a fear for an individual. Not in
this world. However, only through our answer, can we initiate a serene direction.
And it varies for all of us. It is only through finding our own truth that we
would know individually where and when to stop. And if we were to share a
momentum irrespective to where one live or on which rung he/she sits then it
could candidly make a collective difference. And so, I now know that a stop, a
detour, as well, can be the right and sensitive attitude.
I still needed to
learn that there is no fear to be on the edge.
Manila 09/01/2014
