Getting back to my roots...

How appropriate that I start this blog entry talking about how much my mom and dad love me that they would drive up to my school just to bring me groceries AND home-made adobo! For all you who have never had the pleasure of enticing your taste buds with some chicken adobo and white rice, well you lemme know when you get that orgasm in your mouth ;)

Anywhoo, back to my regularly scheduled blog idea. 

I was doing some volunteer work on campus today, so I couldn't go home or to church...and as unfortunate as that was for me, I thought the event today was well-worth attending. It was this event that our school's BSU co-sponsored called "Mission Namibia" and it was founded in order to address the ongoing issue of poverty and struggles women and children are facing in Namibia, Africa. The event started off with drummers & dancers, and it had storytellers, a spoken word artist, slide shows of Namibia and its people, and many more. 

I was so touched by the spoken word performed as well as the portrayal of three Namibian women who are currently facing the struggle. I was also so moved by the rhythm of the drums & dance, as well as the different colors and vivid cultures, even from that one country in Africa. It made me think about my own heritage and my very on culture. I've said it many times...I'm Filipino, and I'm sure proud of it. I don't think about it all the time, but this experience triggered the fact that I feel somewhat out of touch with my own culture, especially now that I live in the United States. Come take a journey with me for about five minutes and you'll see just what I mean.

[photo courtesy of E.]

I was born and raised in the Philippines- in Manila to be exact. My family decided to move here when I was about nine years old. I was still so young then and I didn't think that leaving my homeland would be so bad. Shit, I'll be honest, I was excited to go to Disneyland and Universal Studios and live the "American life" because they made it look soooo good on television, like there were no problems (that's obviously not true, but that's a tangent to my main point so moving right along).

So we moved here and everything seemed alright. I had to make adjustments language and time-wise but everything else seemed "normal". I was still eating what I would regularly eat, well for the most part, with the addition of "American" foods, and etc...Moving forward, ten years later, to this present tense...As I sat there, in the darkness of the room, watching the three men beat on their African drums and the woman dance to the same African beats wearing beautifully colored clothing, I realized, I don't know much about my culture as I initially thought I did. Yeah, I still speak Tagalog...when I'm speaking to my grandma, I still eat adobo, lumpia, and pancit, and I'm still Filipino at heart, but I don't feel as bonded with the richness of my culture as I wish I coulda been.

There are Filipino dances, music, & traditions that I don't even know of, and those that I do know about, I don't know HOW to practice them. There are many people in the Philippines, whose stories are waiting to be told that are exploding with such rich Filipino values that I knew growing up, that seem to be eroding, as my more American side is exponentially increasing, and there are family ties that I feel are not as strong because we are all so busy with our own individualized priorities. We are all so "American" now, living their values of "I can do this on my own" kinda thing.

I remember back home, I knew everyone in my neighborhood, because either they were somehow related to me or because they had lived there for so long that they practically are part of my family. Here, I would be lucky to know one of my neighbors, or even see one of them and have a mini conversation. Back home, everyone just had a sense of togetherness, of being a family. I also remember going to the open market with my mom almost every morning before I started going to school and buying the ingredients for lunch and dinner that day, the food so fresh that you can see them cut the meat right in front of you. Here, the freshest I can get my food if from Henry's or Trader Joes but I'd still store it in the freezer, that's if I'm lucky. Often times, I just grab some fast food to eat. I miss getting on the jeeps, taking afternoon naps then getting lugaw & tokwa and halo halo when I wake up for a snack. I miss going outta my house to watch a parade. I miss eating with my fingers instead of forks and spoons. I miss going down the end of my neighborhood to the river and pass the coconut trees in my grandma's house. I miss home.

I'm not saying I don't like living here, no that is definitely not what I am saying. I feel privileged to have been able to move here to have more opportunities, after all, this is the land of opportunities. So please don't get me wrong or twist the meaning of my words around. All I'm saying is that I wish I could be about my culture more, carry on and carry out the things that make me proud of who I am, things that make me proud to be a Filipino. It may be hard to stay up where I'm from, but they say you cannot know where you're going unless you know where you're coming from. And from what I'm working with, I know I'll go far because I already moved thousands of miles away from home and I'm still here, still fighting, and more importantly, I got this heritage that still stands, richer than ever, even after it has been stepped on by white, Spanish, and Japanese men. We're still here, coloring and enriching the lives of the world and the people in it. The 'patis'  to the adobo of the world.

<3