Filipino Language & Other Philippine Languages on Channel 18

A PHOTO W/ MY WIFE, ANGIE, & JANNELLE SO (May 27,2009)

What is a Filipino language? This was one of the questions that Jannelle So, the beautiful host of Channel 18's Kababayan L.A., asked in her email couple of days ago, and she wanted it discuss in one of her Pre-Independence Day programs.

Apparently, some of our kababayans here in the U.S. has been suggesting that they would like her to speak in Filipino, since her program is specifically catering to the Filipino community. But is there really a Filipino language? If she would speak plain Tagalog (Filipino (?)) in the program, would she not alienate some Filipinos or Filipino-Americans who are non-native Tagalog speakers?

I was Jannelle's guest on May 27th to promote my two published books, KOILAWAN and PRAISING ALL SEASONS LONG, and my experimental performance poetry, Hey-Dasang. I probably have done pretty well that day, despite my thick Tagalog accent, that she expressed, after the show, her plan to invite me again. And I wasn't surprised when I received her email inviting me to guest on June 8th.

So, I would like to invite you all to watch Channel 18's Kababayan L.A. from 4:30 to 5:00 p.m. on June 8th. Besides me, Jannelle also has invited a linguist. Well, I am not a linguist. I am a sociologist with a modest research experiences in ethnology and linguistics.

I believe this discussion on Filipino, as a language, is a "first" without the presence of Filipino language planners, academicians, and politicians. Hence, I can assure you all that we will be taking up the language issue head-on and free of bias.

People In Skid Row

Yesterday, May 22nd, I again was in Skid Row for my volunteer work with the Union Rescue Mission. Fortunately, I was requested to man the bread station, and not the lettuce or the chopped tomatoes, the stewed diced white meat or the corn. All of these require the servers to move fast for the trays to get into the hands of those on line. We have white bread, raisin bread, and rye bread, so I often asked which one would they prefer to have. This allowed me to look at everyone and observe those who already were eating. I also have the opportunity to tell them to enjoy their meal and that 'Jesus loves them'.

Young and old Asians, African-Americans, Hispanics, and Caucasians were represented. Sane, insane, shabbily dressed, and formally dressed were there to be served lunch. There was even a guy, who was wearing a clean coat and tie, so opposite to a guy, who wore a dirty pair of shoes and a black plastic trash bag to cover his upper body.

Certainly, homelessness doesn't excuse any nationality. Sometimes, it hits someone, because of extravagance and addiction; many times it victimizes someone, because of job loss and unemployment. Nevertheless, the one that touches me most, besides those hapless children, are those with mental instability.

I can't help myself, but to sympathize for those I saw staring blankly at their food, talking and laughing as they talked either to their food trays or to imaginary someones beside them. Most of the time, they were the last ones to turn their trays in. Others don't even have the time to finish their food before the security officer would announce that their eating time is up.

But you know what; you cannot underestimate homeless people. Even though most don't observe cleanliness, many still do.

In between service, servers have to clean tables. We were supposed to dispose our old gloves, washed our hands properly before wearing another clean pair of gloves. In one occasion, one of the lady volunteer inadvertently forgot to dispose her latex gloves. She immediately went to her station, because the next serve was about to begin. Immediately, a homeless lady called the attention of the supervisor to report it.

So, when you're on Skid Row doing some volunteer work, forget the idea, for once, that they sleep on a card boards, tattered tents, or plastic tarps at nighttime. Many of those who don shabby or showy dresses cannot just be taken for granted.

And if you have time or a dime to spare, open up your heart or pocket to help URM and other agencies on Skid Row. Yesterday, URM run out of disposable plastic gloves. All the agencies are non-profits; thus operating by faith. Come on. Let's help them a little.

The dining hall and the food counter in this clip are that of the Union Rescue Mission.

A Brief Face-to-face talk with a Kid on Skid Row

Lunch at the Union Rescue Mission (URM) is served in three batches. First serve is at 11a.m., exclusively for men, who are in URM's Recovery, Apprenticeship, and Transitional Living Programs. Second serve is at 12p.m., exclusively for women and women with children. This includes women, who lives in the street. Third serve is at 2p.m., exclusively for men, who are not in the URM program;hence, every homeless men is welcome. A slice of meat, a scoop of rice or mashed potato, a half-cup of cooked vegetables, a bowl of green salad (sometimes a scoop of fruit) and a slice of bread comprise lunch. Besides serving the food, we also have to clean the tables before the next batch of people comes in.

It was during the second serve last Friday, May 8th, when I got the chance to talk face-to-face with a 4-year old girl on Skid Row. Her mom and her three sisters regularly eat at URM. Almost all the women have left the dining hall. I was cleaning one of the tables near the water fountain, when she was trying to get her drink. The mom was about 15 yards away feeding the youngest daughter. She tried to reach for the paper cup, but she was a little short. I went near her and asked if she would like my help. Instead of answering, she just stood motionless, staring at me. That few seconds of silence tore me apart. Her eyes was calm, yet sharp. She did not call her mom, but she seemed to size me up whether I was a good or a bad guy. Then, after she realized that I was one of those who served them food, her facial expression changed in an instant. I saw in her eyes a helpless child, who have been harboring pain and exhaustion, sleepy yet awake, trying to grow up fast. She smiled wryly and said, "Yes, please."

I know that these children have no other choice, but to live on Skid Row. They were collateral victims of poverty, unemployment, lack of affordable housing, substance abuse, domestic violence, changes and cuts in public assistance (welfare) program, and job loss. Statistics on families with children who are homeless each night in Los Angeles County is 29% of 84,000 homeless people.

Without help from non-profit organizations, such as Union Rescue Mission, Los Angeles Mission, The Midnight Mission, etc., these children will literally be out sleeping in tents, on cardboards, or in plastic tarps.

Yes, education in the U.S. is mandatory. Every school age child is required to be in school on weekdays, except if a child has health issue or family emergency. That 4-year old girl should had been in pre-school. However, some homeless moms just do not have the means to take their kids to school even if education is free. I probably have to be at Skid Row before 6 a.m. one of these days to check if there are orange (school) buses picking up the kids for school.

After lunch service was over, I decided to walk around to do more observation. I saw a little place called School-On-Wheels. Compared to the buildings of other non-profit organizations on Skid Row, School-On-Wheels is just a molehill. It has been run by a retired nun. It's window has been decorated with cut-up paper arts. It's facade is so modest that my heart falls for it. I hope to stop by in one of these days to check its program. If its mission suits me, especially on the spiritual aspect of its program, I probably would be giving to School-On-Wheels one day of my two days beginning next month. If not, then, I would be sticking both of my days with URM's kitchen and, later, in it's Learning Center.

ON L.A SKID ROW: Homeless People is Worth My Time

I have been hearing on the radio and seeing on TV the Skid Row of Los Angeles. However, I never have seen it first-hand. Living in Pasadena, a very progressive suburbian city of Los Angeles county, yet haven't gone to Skid Row? That's ludicrous!

Call me hypocrite! Label me so insincere to the academic discipline that I spent so much time on. What happened?

The news about Skid Row gave creeps and chills; too risky for me to dare. I thought that those count of 84,000 homeless people in Los Angeles county, many of them are in Skid Row, were scarier than living and interacting with the Ata Manobo tribe of so. Philippines, who were considered by the early Philippine historian as the fiercest warriors of Mindanao. I was so intimidated.

Watch this clip from You Tube and see what I mean.



Nevertheless, while I started brainstorming on my first novel, Skewed Triad; No More: The Novel, I thought that Skid Row would be an excellent setting for a badly disfigured Filipino-American woman to regain completely her self-confidence and self-worth. Consequently, I mustered courage to visit and observe the "Third World" of Los Angeles,The Skid Row.

The traffic at the freeway was heavy that Thursday morning, so I decided to take the Metro train, Gold line. Pasadena to Union Station, the main hub, was only half an hour ride. At the Union Station, I walked two stairs down to take a subway Metro that took me to Pershing Square right at the Los Angeles financial center.

Believe me, just three blocks from Pershing Square, I already smelled the stink of a slum area, saw the roguishness of many untidy street people, and felt that I was rooted off the great city, despite those tall buildings. I slowed down starting to observe. Many were standing and talking in the street, especially near the buildings of non-profit organizations serving three-square meals a day and offering home and shelter to fortunate homeless families and individuals. Some people were yelling at each other; a few were walking erratically. Others were involved in some transaction of some sort.

I continued my walk for a few more blocks and I felt I was one of them. The smell became normal; the sight became ordinary, yet strange. I started to empathize with these less fortunate. I began to think of doing some volunteering in one of the soup kitchens. I went inside the building of Union Rescue Mission. After a talk with a Volunteer Supervisor, I decided to be a server at lunch time on Mondays and Fridays. Join me in this adventure at Skid Row in my next blogs.