Sunday, February 10, 2008 Estremera: To suffer as Pinoy By Stella A. Estremera Spider's Web
I BET you've sat through the Jun Lozada testimony the whole day Friday. Let's give it to him. He made that long drawn out Senate hearing quite entertaining. He has wit. He has spontaneity. He has humor. As we would say in this part of the world, he is "istoryador."
I can just imagine being made to talk about yourself and your experience from morning till late at night and still keep your sanity. Oh gee...
And boy, those senators are worse than the media, the showbiz media that is. They go for what's juicy. Apparently they're playing up to the gallery AND the live feed. Oh dear, you mean Neri is....? Another big oh, dear. But I bet that made you sit up straight and perk your ears to listen to the details. Gee.
It's times like these when I hate being Pinoy. Here's a guy who's crying his heart out because after so many attempts to hide and let the issue pass with the help of his well-placed friends at that, he's now out there all by himself, in the middle of it all, his morality and sexuality questioned for all to snicker at, his family threatened everyday, while his wife is freaking out in the domestic front. Poor probinsiyanong intsik. But I'm sure you've read enough about him. So let's stick with how I started this paragraph... hating to be Pinoy.
One other thing I hate about being Pinoy is being subject to outbursts about your weight.
"Ang taba mo!" "Hala ka, naunsa man ka?" Yeahhhrrrriggght. Only Pinoys to that, and they do that with such glee, especially women who have long been slobbering to have something to put you down with.
It's bad enough if your acquaintances or friends say that. It's worse if it's coming from someone you don't even know.
Dropping by our neighborhood convenience store to buy some food, this lady attendant beams up while arranging some items on the shelves.
"Nipayat na lagi ka (You're grown slim)," she said. In fairness, friendly siya.
It's difficult enough for me to address strangers (believe it or not I am really very shy. I'm just forced to face strangers because I have to feed myself) but addressing a stranger commenting on my weight? Oh gee... I swear, I am not Pinoy.
With nothing much to say, I smiled, and said, "Thank you."
But she is Pinoy and perceives me as one, no matter how hard I was denying my Pinoyness at that moment, and so she was not about to be stopped.
"Unsa'y gihimo nimo ngano nipayat man ka (What did you do to lose weight)?" she persisted.
Now, what do you say to that?
The most I could say was, "Aw, nagbawas lang gud ug kaon (I simply ate less)."
That should end our conversation, or so I thought. It didn't.
"Nagpapayat gyud diay ka (So you really worked on your weight loss)?" she asked. Arrrrgh...
By then I was trying to find an alternate route out of the aisle we were caught in, and just mumbled an incoherent reply.
Seeing I was about to end our conversation, she piped up in an oh-so-friendly manner, "Mas maayo man nang payat na ka dili parehas kaniadto perteng tamboka gyud nimo ba (You look better now that you have slimmed down unlike before when you were really stout)." Oh dear, and that's supposed to make me feel better. Gee, thanks.
Homicidal rage... I could feel blood rushing up my head. But I didn't want to be subjected to the same grilling in a venue where you cannot argue very much, like in court when you're being grilled for homicide and where you run the risk of having your sexuality questioned as well as if your sexuality will change the fact that someone is dead -- or in Lozada's case in the Senate, the fact that there was a scam.
Teka muna, would Lozada's sexuality change the credibility of what what he attests to as the truth? So, why did that get into the grilling? Are we saying that gay truth is less credible than gender-defined truth? I really don't get it, but that's one long rant I'd rather not subject my readers to.
And so as those thoughts flashed through my mind and the likelihood of being grilled in court should I slam that darn store attendant in the head with the monobloc chair beside me, I picked up a pack of dice hopia and rushed to the cashier, mumbling a good-bye.
I am not Pinoy.
Epilogue: In the office, as I was nibbling on my hopia, I remembered that what I went to the convenience store for was to buy potato chips. (http://saestremera.multiply.com)
