Philippine graffiti art

 Filipino graffiti artists tend to be very polite. Usually, in other countries, graffiti art is done on the sly on walls where it shouldn't be, and the artists do it when no one's looking to escape arrest. But in the Philippines, it is done on broken down walls of old buildings which no one would care about anyway. For me, suddenly the abandoned walls become special because someone, or perhaps a crew, used these walls as a canvas. Just look at this piece, the amazing movement on it makes this the beginnings of what could be a beautiful mural.

I learned about graffiti art when I did an interview of Graham Upton, of Kent, UK, who was a graffiti artist at 14 but who took the craft seriously. The government, noticing the talent of Graham's crew, hired them, rather than arrested them.

 Graham's story also traces the unique history of graffiti art. You can find the link at http://monasabalonesgonzalez.blogspot.com/2010/05/from-kilroy-to-grahap-upton.html. Anyway, he has maintained his graffiti art style and made a career out of it.

 When I wrote that story, there wasn't much graffiti art in the Philippines. Now, I find it blooming in the most polite places --broken down walls of an abandoned house, for example. If I were the mayor, I'd use their creativity to do government projects, and perhaps to teach and inspire other young indigents who might want to be artists. In this piece, for instance, notice how the letter E looks like the profile of an angry man. And the "I" wears glasses.

 For this man, and/or his friends to take the time to make paintings like these, shows that they are works of passion, and passion is always a good place to start when you are an artist. Help these men to do city walls using their own style, lending guidance, giving them some training seminars and who knows what these men can become? Here, you see the worry lines on a face with a jughead cap to the side of a head shaped like a water jug.

 In England graffiti art is used to promote products of hip hop culture like skateboards, bikes and the like. Graham Upton has also worked on makeover television shows.

 Getting guys who do stuff like this to do graffiti art like flowers and family value scenes would be nice. Nicer still, is to let them do good values art but not interfere with their style. These eyes, these faces and use of color and lines tell a story, an emotion that characterizes Filipino pop culture that I hope we can preserve. And so, this post on graffiti art.

 Whoever Janina may be, the letterings are good. Upton told me in http://monasabalonesgonzalez.blogspot.com/2010/05/from-kilroy-to-grahap-upton.html that he specializes in letterings and has spent hours of days of years studying different types of handwritings.

 This one has dimension, something not easy to do.

 If I lived in a container van, maybe I would want some of this stuff painted on its outside, except for the aqua robot.

This stuff is so cool:)

The Santo Nino in the Philippines

Because the Philippines is a Catholic and matriarchal society, it is understandable why Filipinos have a special love for the Santo Nino, who is actually supposed to be Baby Jesus wrapped in royal clothes.

In many parts of the Philippines there are Santo Nino processions where several versions of the statue of the Santo Nino are displayed in different clothing. Sometimes, the Santo Nino is shown wearing the clothes of a specific profession.

The Santo Nino came to the Philippines from Spain. The statue was made in Flanders in the 16^th century. A Belgian priest gave it to the Queen of Spain, who in turn gave it to Ferdinand Magellan to serve as his Patron in his voyage.

Magellan landed in Cebu in 1521. He landed in the wrong island – he wanted to reach the Spice Islands. In Cebu he befriended Rajah Humabon and his wife, Hara Amihan. He gifted the wife with the statue of the Santo Nino. They were baptized as Catholics and took on the names Carlos and Juana.

Things didn’t end well. Magellan died in the Battle of Mactan, and the Spanish burned Cebu. But a soldier found a box amid the rubble, and inside was the Santo Nino image that Magellan had given to Hara Amihan.

They considered this a miracle and built a church where the statue was found.

I have nothing against the Santo Nino. But if you ask me, in the Bible Jesus was born in a barn and was the son of a carpenter. It is more likely that in his lifetime, Jesus looked more like this streetboy who sells flowers near my neighborhood.

Football + Soccer = Azkals

Being totally non-interested in sports, I had always nurtured two questions at the back of my mind. First, why is our national sport basketball, when Filipinos have a definite disadvantage, being short? Second, wouldn’t soccer be a better alternative, since height seems to play no huge differential here?

I have grown up with the Filipino basketball frenzy of all others ignored largely by me. My sister would watch basketball and as I bothered a few minutes to take it in, noticed some black men and white men, obviously not Filipino. They were imports, she told me. Filipinos do that.

Well, I thought, if they were imports maybe they were good, but not good enough for their own country. But sports is also very much about money and finding sponsorships and there were lots of businesses cashing in on the local frenzy and if it took imports to make the game more exciting, so be it.

Shoeless soccer

One day a friend of mine said her boyfriend teaches soccer. Well and good, I figured, but why was there insufficient support for soccer the way there is for football? The question was left hanging in the air. But she told me a story that cut my heart.

Her boyfriend was a volunteer coach for indigent boys who loved soccer and played it no matter what. The boys are really good, she told me. They can really kick. They play barefoot. Some of them my have a pair of shoes, so one boy wears one shoe, the other wears the other shoe.

How, I wondered, could any team hope to become internationally famous if they didn’t even have shoes? And knowing how hard that ball was, I marveled that boys would kick it barefoot, anyway.

Along came Azkals

Then something happened in 2010. Seemingly out of nowhere, the Azkals (the nickname of our soccer team) won the AFF Suzuki Cup, defeating then champion Vietnam. The victory was recorded as “one of the biggest shocks in the history of the AFF Suzuki Cup” according to the FIFA.com website.   

The Philippines now ranks third in ASEAN, and they might make FIFA with a current ranking of 148, their highest ever. They would have to defeat Vietnam, which ranks 97, and Thailand at 141.

But having a familiarity with the excitement FIFA generates in the Philippines and how my hubby and daughter exchange regular conversations game for game where I feel completely left out, this sounds to me like a major thing and it would be nice if the Philippines ranked FIFA.

Not Filipino

Now, along come some haters who say that the players of Azkals are not Filipino, because many of them grew up overseas and are only half Filipino. They sort of seem to think that is cheating.

Not being a sports fan, I wasn’t sure of any validity to this. But then I found out that NBA players regularly scout for new talent from different countries. In fact, Dikembe Mutombo of Congo DR played with the Denver Nuggets, New York Knicks and other teams in the NBA. As did Congo Nationals DJ MBenga (Dallas Mavericks, LA Lakers) and Christian Eyenga (Cleveland Cavaliers).

Why am I interested enough to write about the Azkals when I hate sports? Because I love dogs, and I have two askals. People have tried to change the name to Aspins, but I love the sound of the word, askals. So that’s why I bother to write about Azkals. Because askals have never gotten a better break for respectability than now.

OMF's Dawn Harvest

I think of the book, Dawn Harvest by Patrick Hobbs (OMF Lit) when I look at stuff like this, which happens a short drive away from where I live.

Or this guy we saw one evening near Taft Avenue. You feel like something is very, very wrong when stuff like this intermingles with areas where two universities and one college for very wealthy children is just alongside where this guy sleeps.

I used to always go here to get my checks from a magazine I used to write for that was linked to The Manila Bulletin. One day, I waited in the car while my hubby went to get the check for me.

I was surprised to see that it was a classroom for schoolchildren. I mean, look at the broken windows. It was such a hot afternoon, did they at least have electric fans?

Funny thing is, I must have passed by this building thousands of times through the years. But it was only now that I realized it was actually being used as a school.

I tried to take a long shot so you can see the cars parked, probably of people going to the Bulletin. It is just so ironic.

Last Christmas these three children sold me some sampaguita leis. As usual, I took their photo. I was surprised to see them so nicely dressed, I guess because it was Christmas. Today I saw the little girl in the middle, using her normal clothes, not as nice as the ones she wears now in this photo.

This photo was taken by Luis Liwanag. His photos come out at Getty Images in New York, and Agence France Presse, and all over the world. He said I could use some of his photos as long as I credit him. So to see some real works of photojournalism genius, go to http://www.lightstalkers.org/luisliwanag. But I love the photos in his personal blog best, http://luisliwanag.asia/.

Another photo by Luis Liwanag. The girl is inhaling rugby, which is glue used for homes but if you inhale it, you forget that you are hungry. Rugby also melts the brain.

Here are some leis I bought. I hung them on my rearview mirror.

I bought them from this sweet little girl.

And now, another great photo by the visual genius, Luis Liwanag. Go to http://luisliwanag.asia/ and http://www.lightstalkers.org/luisliwanag to view his work. Ok, makulit ako. (Makulit means irritating because one repeats the same thing over and over again. Ako means "I".

Once again, Luis Liwanag's work. The reason I am putting all these images up is because when I read the book, Dawn Harvest, I had perhaps the best insight into urban poverty ever. The author spent 17 years in the Philippines working on urban poverty. It makes you see there are genuine victims in the world -- of natural disasters, others who escaped to the city to hide from military groups, others thrown out of land they had lived in for generations by businesses that had no sense of a people's traditions. Victims of volcanic eruptions, typhoons, etc.

The book talks of people who sell their blood for money, or perhaps a kidney or part of a liver so they can try to build a second floor to their home. And then others find out they have money and stop by and as per custom, the money goes here and there and they end up not accomplishing what they planned. What they sold part of their body (literally) to achieve ended up half done.

The book made me realize there are true victims of this world, and so I find myself buying flowers from children. But then I also realize, these children are being used to sell flowers. Where will the 20 pesos I give them go? To buy beer for a father? To rugby?

So I realize you have to give your money to organizations that help these people. Otherwise, the little children will grow up in the streets because I thought they were cute and I bought flowers from them for 20 pesos.

Not anymore, my little children. That is not the way to truly love you.

CDR-King, Magarbo and Great Cheap Stuff

 *Chipanga – Tsif (Tagalog) Cheap (English) Variations: shifanga, chipipay, shififay

I love cheap things. I love getting a bargain, as opposed to feeling cheated by shelling out too much for a signature item. Here are some great cheap things.

CDR-King. Through the years, CDR-King grew quickly and hasbranches in most malls. CDR King sells service-- and the stuff happens to be cheap. All their sales people know all the products, will show you how to work them and answer all your questions. You also get a guarantee. The products aren't fancy brands, but they work very well. 


Every time I go to a high falutin expensive computer store, I notice that the salesmen don't know anything about the products. I asked one well dressed salesman from such a store how long a laptop's battery could last. He didn't know. At another high falutin store I asked the same question and the salesman said "___ hours," but he seemed shifty and I think he lied. 


CDR King is a cross between the corner store where everything that was sold was good and the salesman knew his products very well; and today’s technological age. High falutin computer stores should take note and learn. 

       Magarbo  -- Kat and I love have no prejudice against ukay-ukay stores (second hand shops). The owner of Magarbo, I am told, has several Ukay Ukay stores, but she upped her business one level by keeping the best with a dash of personality at her Magarbo outlets. Included, too, are pieces she buys from other Asian countries and local factories. The clothes reign with chutzpah, with prices ranging from P350 – P550. They also have regular sell-out days when unsold items are P250 each. The key here is taste with a touch of the avant garde or La Vie Boheme. I like to do a little dugtong here and there. Kat says the blouses I buy make great dresses for her. Sometimes she’ll tell me to remove some buttons to upcycle the look. 

 Dog bones – Toy dog bones go up to P150 each, and my dogs can finish one in a day. At the Supermarket I look for pig’s feet, or any huge bone for my dogs. Cost: About P50 for three huge bones, making all my dogs happy for 1 to 2 days, as long as it would take them to finish 3 rawhide bones that would have cost a total of P450 for 3.

DIY – My dog nibbled at the wooden edges of my mirror, and wood fillers didn't help much. So I DIY'd. With barbecue sticks. 

Using rugby, I attached the sticks on the frame. I quite adore it, and love the fact that my personal touch is right in there. What do you DIY?

I got this on the mail from Godvine

Photo by me:)

What Do Angels Look Like?

God puts special people in our lives all the time. We just must open our eyes and look around. What do they look like?

Like the little old lady who returned your wallet yesterday.

Like the taxi driver who told you that your eyes light up the world, when you smile.

Like the small child who showed you the wonder in simple things.

Like the poor man who offered to share his lunch with you.

Like the rich man who showed you that it really is all possible, if only you believe.

Like the stranger who just happened to come along, when you had lost your way.

Like the friend who touched your heart, when you didn't think you had one.

Angels come in all sizes and shapes, all ages and skin types.

Some with freckles, some with dimples, some with wrinkles, some without.

They come disguised as friends, enemies teachers, students, lovers and fools.

They don't take life too seriously, they travel light.

They leave no forwarding address, they ask nothing in return.

They are hard to find when your eyes are closed, but when you choose to see, they are everywhere you look.

So, open you eyes and count all your Angels -- for you are truly blessed!

Flower Child

When the street children first started selling flowers, I paid high prices for them – P10 to P20 -- partly, because the flowers reminded me of my grandmother, who always bought sampaguita leis for the statue of Jesus in our home; and partly because children with flowers are endearing.

I had forgotten that at this part of town, the beggars have pre-selected haunts. They show up early in the morning, in the same way that other people wake up and go to the office. Their haunts are their “office,” and they know the people who go to the area regularly – to eat at this restaurant or that, to shop at the supermarket or dry markets for bargain items, who hang out in the afternoon with laptops at certain coffee shops, etc. These flower children and the adult members of the coterie know the regulars and the cars that they drive. They know who gives generously, and who does not.

So before I knew it, children would spot me and show up with flowers, knowing I was an easy target. I decided finally to just give to one girl who I thought was quite nice, and to no other child.

Then a boy came up to me with a new innovation. He offered me the flowers, and demanded P20. Oftentimes I try to talk to the children, because I know that street children are brave and they live in a harsh world.

Some friends of mine did a TV WWJD (What Would Jesus Do) documentary on street children. What struck me was one child, 12 years old, who said she doesn’t touch people because she knows they don’t like it. But children are made to be embraced.

So as this young boy followed me to my car, I pretended to bargain with him, just to keep a conversation going. How about P10, P15, P18? He stuck to the price he wanted, P20.

As we reached my car, I showed him my flowers on my rearview mirror. I said, “See? My flowers are dead and I need new ones. P18.” Then I saw something surprising. His eyes turned to slits, he showed anger and insisted on P20.

I recognized that glimmer of anger as a knowledge of the streets that children should not have to have. I then told him, “Okay, but first I have to take your picture.” He panicked and wailed, “No!”

This reassured me. I felt maybe he was street smart about child molesters and really, he didn’t know me. Why, come to think of it, would anyone hold a conversation with a street child?

I was glad that he would not sell his soul to sell me his flowers at that price. I pulled out my camera. “It’s okay. I can take your picture right here.” So, here he is.

I wonder sometimes who these children are, what adults they are with and where they live. I once bought a child siopao instead of purchasing his flowers. The next night, when I again said I would buy him siopao, he insisted he just wanted me to buy his flowers.

Quite a surprise, since siopao costs twice as much.