This is not a commentary about food – let’s just get that out of the way. While the title might make it seem like I am fixing to talk to you about a hearty meal, it goes way beyond that; although, as you likely already know, this country is not without its share of (super) delectable eats and treats! The phrase “Kain po!” for all its seeming simplicity, provides rich insight into the heart of the Filipino – and it also helps keep things in perspective, when life in this pocket of magical surrealism seems a little too surreal.
A generous heart
“Kain po!” translates directly as “Eat, Ma’am/Sir!” (with “po” connoting Ma’am – this two letter word of respect, also steeped in meaning and warrants its own edition of this column), but the significance is far weightier than that. The utterance is one that you will hear, by way of invitation, from most anyone who has brought out a meal of their own or who has sat down to eat – no matter the person’s status in life and no matter how meager the meal. Actually, I seem to hear it most often from those with hardly anything to share, really, but the heart to share.
This attitude of generosity is one that shines through life’s harsh realities. Case in point, I was on my way to the Bureau of Immigration’s main branch in Intramuros, not too long ago, inching along Manila’s infamous traffic-gnarled highways and byways. The situation was compounded by equally infamous monsoon rains. While it was before 7 a.m., it was also a Monday, and the streets were already full of first-day-of-work-and-school commuters. I could sense the cab driver getting more and more frustrated by the minute and it did not take a great deal of perception to see that he was tired, and presumably hungry, from the previous night’s driving. He spotted a street vendor, hawking boiled Saba bananas, and proceeded to count PhP10 in coins as he called the banana hawker to the cab. He purchased one banana to tide him over. “Kain po!” – I knew it was coming. I declined, with heartfelt thanks, and said that I had already eaten. He asked again, for good measure, before he peeled and bit voraciously into the healthy snack. He then told me that he was feeling a bit peckish, yes, but that he also does whatever he can to buy snacks from the urban peddlers – “Many of the vendors nowadays are reformed snatchers and addicts, Ma’am. So, I do what I can to help them stay clean,” he shared in the vernacular. Possible political implications aside, that statement, right there, made me beam. I live in a land of people who are willing to give out of their own lack, and for that, I am grateful.
When ‘Santa’ is the Little Helper
That particular incident en route to the bureau made me think of yet another instance which brought forth the Filipino’s generosity and willingness to help. In December of last year, a friend and I found ourselves on the receiving end of an extra dose of magical surrealism; so surreal that it may as well have been from a page of a Gabriel Garcia Marquez novel.
On that particular eve, close to Christmas, we made our way down Pasay City’s narrow, congested streets, headed to a birthday party for which we were running a tad late. A sense of nervous caution trumped the desire to reach our destination, pronto, and if you’ve driven through Pasay’s inner streets, then you definitely know what I mean. My friend, ever-so-careful behind the wheel, and I, on the alert as her navigator, kept our eyes peeled for children, vendors, vehicles, and Lord knows what else that would possibly dart across the road or edge us out of lane.
The streets were lined with your typical sari-sari stores laden with all manner of ware, from flowers and fruits to snacks, sundries, and plastic toys. There was a wake on one sidewalk, with mourners gathered round a coffin underneath the glare of a bright white light attached to the pole of the tarpaulin tent. Not too far from this, a group of young boys shot a ball through a hoop erected outside someone’s gate. Further down the street, men sat around a table for a game of cards. Down the way, still, we passed a junk shop, with broken bicycles, electric fans, and whatnot in a heap; a pile of rusted metal that poked and protruded every which way and then some. A handlebar jutted out of what was once a tricycle, reduced to scrap on wheels.
It was a tight squeeze on an already tight lane, and I knew that we would not clear the area without suffering a nasty scratch on the car door. Out of nowhere, a potbellied gay man clad in a grimy, tight-fitting Santa outfit, with a bag of belongings in hand, walked alongside the car and moved the handlebar out of our way. He motioned for us to pass, then continued on his own way. As he passed the front of the car, I gasped and cried out to my friend: Santa was SANS PANTS! His barenaked bottom peeked out of the fur-lined edge of the red suit. The man was, evidently, in poor mental health, but that did not stop him from helping us out of a pinch. He gave of his effort, out of his own lack. The mentality behind this act of kindness and “Kain po!” is one and the same. For that, my friend and I were entirely grateful – and, to be honest, a touch disoriented by the bizarreness of it all.
The art of inclusion
Yes, the phrase “Kain po!” literally means “Eat, Ma’am/Sir.” What it’s really saying, however, is “LET’S eat, Ma’am/Sir!” This is a statement that not only clues us in on the innate warm and generous nature of the Filipino people, but also reveals a mindset of gracious inclusion. It is the same spirit that shines forth when a Filipino invites you into their home, no matter how humble the abode. Or when a simple street sweeper stops to help an elderly person across a busy city intersection. Or when a group of people singing karaoke ask you to join in on the fun, even if you’ve only just met. Also when a stranger offers you their umbrella, because they see that you don’t have one and are getting wet. The list goes on.
Personally, I find this very comforting, having struggled most of my life with feeling like an outsider in the land in which I was born. Much of that had to do with society’s constructs and expectations, really, and once I had decide that I did not much give a rip about those, fitting in and finding a sense of belonging did not seem as difficult. While I am only partly Filipino by ancestry, being of predominantly Spanish-Portuguese descent, and completely not Filipino by citizenship, I am most certainly Filipino by extension – and, moreover, by inclusion.
There are many, many examples I could give, and I promise you, if you open your eyes to the beauty of life on these islands – as against focusing on the discomforts, annoyances, and inconveniences, of which there are also quite a few, a fact I won’t deny – you will see these precious gems of beauty and grace for yourself.
By ANGIE DUARTE