It has been weeks since Supertyphoon “Yolanda” swept across central Philippines, and left in its wake an unbelievably so vast and shocking swath of death, destruction and devastation it has become a stuff for movies like “2012.” But very, very conspicuous by their absence are the usual suspects who swarm over disaster areas like flies and maggots, or vultures and ghouls.
They are the phenomena of our times after the presidency of Corazon C. Aquino—not unlike the partylist system. They are known as “nongovernment organizations” or more commonly as “NGOs.”
The sheer magnitude of the disaster seemed to have scared them off for now. But wait until the foreign aid for rehabilitation starts flowing into the country. Watch them jump out of fallen trees and rubble, unidentified corpses and even missing bodies. Some will come into existence in an instant, like rabbits pulled out of a magician’s hat. The likes of Janet Napoles and her clones are veterans at this sleight of hand. There is one NGO in particular that has drawn my personal attention following the attack on Zamboanga City by loyalists of Moro National Liberation Front founding chair Nurullaji “Nur” Misuari. In that attack several predominantly Muslim communities were looted and burned, leaving hundreds of families homeless.
The solo operator of this NGO has been writing heartrending letters to government agencies and officials, pleading that her NGO be allowed to purchase “titled properties,” specifically in the vicinity of the disaster area, surrounding an estero (inland river), commonly known by its Spanish name “Rio Hondo” (Deep River).
I became particularly interested in this strange proposal due to a rather personal attachment to the place. While I was still working with the now-defunct Department of Public Information-Regional Office IX, my boss Jose Lopez,
assigned me to write a feature article on Rio Hondo and the adjacent community, Mariki or Simariki, a Sama Bangingi word meaning “the small one.”
The government under President Ferdinand Marcos was undertaking a project that would develop the area, a seaside community of fisherfolk living in authentic houses on stilts, for tourism purposes. I had to stay in the area for three days and nights, observing the dynamics of the neighborhoods, interviewing the residents about their history, myths, legends, customs and traditions.
Up to that time, I noted that they still referred to the Zamboanga City commercial center as “Samboangan” (the city’s ancient name, which means “anchorage”), indicating that they still considered their place a settlement apart. I would watch the fishermen leave for the sea in their small bancas or pumpboats at dusk, and return with their catch before the break of dawn. It was an unforgettable assignment.
But what I will remember most was the pervading environment of peace and contentment; good humor among neighbors; the petty gossip among the women; the laughter of the children; the singing and the sharing of food.
In my citified eyes, they lacked so many things necessary for a comfortable “modern” life, without which I could not imagine myself existing. Yet they were so happy, peaceful and contented. Why, this has remained a mystery to me to this day.
Now here comes this “convenor” of an NGO advocating the “uplift” of the “Samal Dilaut,” a sea-dwelling indigenous people, among the first waves of inhabitants of the southern islands, who came from what we know now as Indonesia, Brunei and Malaysia.
So far this NGO seems to be the only one with this particular “vision and mission.” It proposes that inasmuch as several families of Samal Dilaut have been displaced by the Zamboanga disaster and have been “forced to live out in the open sea” (or words to that effect), they should be resettled on a piece of “titled property” from where they could never be evicted.
Sounds nice. Really. Except that the Samal Dilaut prefer to be out in the open sea because that is their natural habitat. Forcing them to live on terra firma will lead to the extinction of their species.
Their livelihood is in the sea. Their customs and traditions were fashioned by the waves. They can swim like fish and dive for pearls several feet down without breathing, long enough to detach those pearl-bearing oysters for which they have no use, but which they sell to landlocked people so they will have money to buy materials to repair their bancas, pots and pans, clothes, etc.
No, they don’t set aside any budget for “entertainment” (e.g., movies). They have their own songs and dances and storytelling to enjoy after the day’s work is done. The only things they save money for, aside from the “bare necessities,” are the weddings and funerals, birth and death ceremonies, the coming-of-age rituals, etc. But of course the whole community shares the expenses accordingly, as a matter of obligation.
Now back to our NGO convenor who, with bleeding heart, wants to purchase titled properties for these beautiful people who will never pay taxes to an alien government. Needless to say, for this project much money will be solicited from funding agencies both here and abroad. And the usual politicians may even use this undertaking to steal from their pork barrel.
This convenor has, of course, among her well-equipped office, a functioning calculator with which she will get the exact quotations for overpricing, commissions, etc.
And in whose name will the titled properties be registered under? The NGO’s name, of course! And who owns the NGO? This question should be asked in a quiz program like that defunct TV program “Battle of the Brainless.”
Don’t just abolish the pork barrel and President Aquino’s pounds of ham.
Abolish the NGOs.
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