Riding the twenty-seven hour ship from Tagbilaran to Manila a month and a half ago, I met a group of Filipinos working on a project called AnakTV (translates to ChildTV.) They advocate for more child-sensitive programming on the airwaves, and hold events around the country (on ships included) screening pilot TV programs. Before the pilots, a video is shown about a day in the life of a three-year old who is left alone (by his mother and babysitter) with a remote control for an entire day, seen through his eyes. Dozens of very sexual and very violent scenes are shown. (They were all recorded off free TV channels in Manila over a two-week period a couple years ago.) Then, parents are asked to rate the programs for child-sensitivity. The AnakTV seal is then awarded annually to the top-ranking programs.
Pretty much since the minute I arrived here, in February 2004, I’ve been disturbed by how much TV Filipinos watch. It seems like the sets are never turned off. I’d been meaning to get past the first chapter of a particular book for over a year, and though the ship would be a great place to do so. But, alas, I was quite interested to talk to the AnakTV people. Ultimately, I stayed up into the wee-hours with Mag, the Secretary General, discussing TV, culture, kids, advertising, the environment, etc.
A few weeks later, when my parents and sister were in Manila, we met for dinner. Mag really wanted to meet my parents because he had never before met people who had eliminated TV from their home (against threats of rebellion from their children, no less!) We had a lively dinner, and met the following day at lunch to continue the discussion. Finally, Mag invited me to join AnakTV as they headed way north, to Vigan and Laoag. I declined because I really needed to get back to work, but agreed to speak the following week in Dumaguete, just a short ride away from Bohol.
My speech was received well by the audience of mostly private-school students and their parents. I post the text and audio here. For the audio, which sounds like it’s transmitted from a few meters underwater, my speech begins at about 2 minutes in, and there are bits of Cebuano interspersed, and yes, my accent is funny. At the beginning, I invited the crowd to stretch a bit, since they’d been sitting a while and surely their butts were getting hot. They appreciated it.
People just don’t seem to have any idea of the health, intellectual, and social risks of planting themselves on the couch. They just want to be zone-out and be entertained; especially the lower-class folks (by that I mean perpetually in-debt and lacking money for even basic daily needs.) So, of course, I don’t think just stamping seals on appropriate programming will do the trick. (For one thing, nobody in my town seems to know what the AnakTV represents.) Commercial messages seem to take up more time than the programs themselves, and there is absolutely zero media-awareness here. If I had the cash, I’d buy a hammer for every home in the Philippines and include specific instructions for use. But for a million and one reasons, baby-steps are all are being taken now.
However if you’d like to educate yourself about the boob tube and “The Facts About Marketing to Kids” from an American perspective, check out Campaign For A Commercial-Free Childhood. Now I’m off on another tangent, and I’ll end with a run-on sentence that is just the tip of the iceberg lettuce. Since Americans consume more than anyone else, and so many people around the world look up to and yearn to achieve the American lifestyle, the best way to curb unsustainable consumption worldwide would be to slow things down on the home front, especially amongst the young, impressionable minds.
]]>Folks often remark gamay ra sueldo, pero mahal bugas (wages are low, but rice is expensive.) Barrels of crude ain’t getting any cheaper either. I do not know how to define basic commodity here in the Philippines, but prices are certainly on the rise. A liter of Coca-Cola just jumped from twenty to twenty-two pesos. All canned goods recently went up a fraction of a peso. Life is tough for most Filipinos. I often wonder what a Filipino who lived 500 years ago, eating fish he caught and vegetables he grew, with plenty to spare, would say if he could see where all the progress has led. I wonder what the man whose rice exploded would say if he were sent back in time 500 years.
It’s a busy week for this particular daniel bowman simon. I must finish up the script for the dengue fever slash solid waste management video we will make provided we find a budget, write and deliver a speech about my relationship with television (plus a brief introduction biography), prepare a presentation on appropriate technologies for the Philippines, go to the market and the post office, and make time to occasionally eat, sleep, bathe, stretch, and watch geckos battle moths on the wall.
I was honored to host both of my sisters, my father, and even my mother in the Philippines over the past couple months. There was plenty of excitement, drama, lively debate, and gazillions of questions, with far fewer answers. I invited all of them to write a little something for me to post here. Hopefully, they’ll come through.]]>
The invitation kit to serve in Peace Corps Philippines mentioned something about many volunteers living in nipa huts. As of last week, after 17 months and three caring host families, I finally have my own place to live, and it is indeed a nipa hut. So just what is a nipa hut? Nipa is a type of palm that grows low to the ground. It has been used traditionally as the roof of huts since time immemorial for all I know. My nipa roof only leaks a little. Now that we got the roof out of the way, you might want to know about the walls. They are amakan, which is split and woven bamboo. The beams are lubi (coconut wood), and the floor is lipak (bamboo slats.) My hut is very modern. It has running water, a telephone, electricity, and a comfort room. (None of these amenities were promised in the invitation kit, and although I try to live simply, it’s hard to resist a modern convenience or four. Some people tell me I need a fridge, but it’s not necessary when I cook everyday. People are also bemused that I can survive with no TV.)
For too many reasons to mention, it took about four months to build. It should have taken about two weeks. But I can’t complain, because the wait gave me the opportunity to get to know my neighbors pretty well before I moved in. And the neighbors drop by all the time, because they are worried I am lonely. You see, Filipinos generally don’t live alone, and they seem to dread the thought of it. Filipinos also have a knack to tell the same exact joke. I have a tally sheet for all the times someone tells me I have many American neighbors…American frogs…ha, ha, ha, sorry I don’t get it. Sure, it’s rainy season and the field beside my hut is flooded and home to copious amounts of frogs, but American?
The custom here is to have a priest bless a new home, and roast a pig in celebration. I chose to do things a bit different, but in the same jovial spirit. I hired a clown, and convinced my friends at Meat Magic (soy, wheat, and corn proteins, plus carrageenan) to come over and prove that being vegetarian for a meal isn’t that awful. I also ordered a bucket full of taho, a sweetened soy drink which is usually sold by an ambulant vendor door to door in the mornings.
I spent the week prior to the party inviting everyone I know, and plenty who I don’t know. But people are shy, so many of my neighbor friends decided not to come. Instead, when the food arrived, I tried to make a speech, but my brain experienced a momentary lapse of all the Cebuano I ever learned (and I know quite a bit.) So I just said “Thanks, let’s eat my house!” and hordes of people, most of whom I’d never seen before, descended on the pots of sweet & sour, curry, spaghetti, and spring rolls, as well as the platters of pineapple. The plates were piled double and triple high, and if a person didn’t take off with a whole lot of food, he or she found a good spot to wolf it down and come back for seconds. I don’t think anybody even realized it wasn’t animal flesh they were ingesting. Within twenty minutes, all the food intended for three to four hundred people was gone…devoured by less than one hundred. When hosting a party in the Philippines, the #1 rule is don’t run out of food. Thankfully, an experienced Filipino friend had stashed away a few servings of each dish in case friends of mine showed up late…which as sure enough as The Simpsons are yellow, latecomers there were.
So if y’all need a place to stay in the Philippines, you’re more than welcome to crash my shack for the duration of my stay. (After which it will become the municipal office of solid waste management.)
]]>Looking back to my much younger days, I remember an inescapable and all too persuasive TV jingle "Showbiz Pizza: Where A Kid Can Be A Kid!" Man, they’ve got nothing on the Philippines. Here, kids are free to roam wherever the wind blows them, with no parental supervision, no purchase necessary.
A few weeks ago, a rusty old barge docked at the local wharf to deliver rocks (to make cement into for the national road project.) When kids got word, they showed up in droves to experience this temporary playground. At high tide, the kids who can swim (and believe it or not, in this coastal town, there are many who can not) began jumping from the top of the barge, probably twenty feet above the sea.
Those too cowardly to make the jump (myself included) eventually got peer-pressured into taking the plunge. The kids got a kick out of my thunderous "KOWABUNGA" and total lack of ability to execute a proper dive. They demanded more. And I realized there was a greater risk of contracting tetanus from the barge itself than injuring myself jumping. So I swam to shore, climbed back onboard and leapt again. One pint-sized ball of energy, a boy about three years old, must have soared off the top once a minute for as long as the tide allowed.
As to be expected, the bulldozer transferring the rocks to the hauling trucks broke down, so the barge was still at the wharf the next morning. This mechanical problem and the high tide gave plenty of kids another reason to be thankful summer vacation was not yet over. (Although school resumed the following week.) When I pulled up on my bike, the kids hollered "Daniel! ambak!" (jump!) and I was more than happy to oblige their wishes again. I always am. They are the best part of living here.
Fun like this never happens in America. Can you imagine parents allowing kids to leave their supervision for more than a few minutes? Do you know any barge companies that allow their vessels to become jungle gyms, especially without parental supervision? I didn’t think so. The Republic of the Philippines: Where a kid can be a kid!
P.S. Sorry I don't know how to use Photoshop. These photos deserve a bit more POP than I can deliver. And those tokens ain't mine. I found them on a Showbiz fan site. How lame is that?
October 21, 1972-June 3, 2005
I never knew anyone quite like Juan Abud, and certainly neither did anyone else. He was always cheerful and doing something unique (such as making tape sculptures on the bathroom mirror or inventing new words.) He was often the life of the party. Other times, he found a quiet corner, where he could go totally unnoticed.
I never thought I would never be able to hang with Juan again. Sadly but courageously, Juan succumbed to a short battle with brain cancer last Friday night. Everyone who knew him will miss him dearly, and those who never got the chance missed out on knowing a wonderful human being, much too fragile for this planet.
For the better part of the past two days, Kid Rock has been blasting from the speakers of my next-door neighbor. I've never heard these particular selections before, but I'm quite certain it's Kid Rock. You see, Rock is a master of self-promotion, and magically inserts his moniker into every verse. The "standby" (used to mean standing by for work, now just means lazy) kids love it and have been exerting more energy than usual, practicing aggressive dance moves.
Looking back to Monday, I visited the ear doctor. I still have mildly uncomfortable pressure in my right ear, caused by my failure to properly equalize on a scuba dive last December. She put me on a strict regimen of gum-chewing, twice daily.
As I was leaving, she said "I saw you at mass yesterday." "Huh?" I replied, as I don’t do mass. "You know," she explained "the mass at the mall." Oh yes, that's right, I was at the mall during mass the day before. The mall is where you go when you need to buy a replacement backpack strap and get it repaired, if your strap has been violently torn off in a motorized tricycle wheel. And it is also where you go for a Sunday morning Tympanogram and a Pure Tone Audiogram (ear tests, both of which I fall well within normal range.)
It also happens to be where many urban dwellers attend mass. The whole thing strikes me a bit weird. In the center of the mall, right outside the supermarket, hundreds of people fight for a spot to see the priest serve mass. Now I don't know much about mass, but I always hear the phrase "Let us put ourselves in the presence of god…" That seems pretty darn tough to do in a shopping mall. There are plenty of non-mass-goers passing through the corridor, tons of nagging children, noise pollution from every shop on the strip, and instead of angelic stained glass windows, the mass-goers can stare at immense banner advertisements for all the products to be bought. I saw one devout looking woman standing under a poster for the movie "Sin City," and another mass-goer leafing through the supermarket circular.
So I asked my doctor why people go to mass at the mall. She told me it is a matter of convenience. Parents like to take their kids shopping and for lunch at the mall every Sunday. So they can kill two birds with one stone. The shopping begins just as soon as communion has been received. And don't discount basking in the comfort of almighty air-condition. I asked her if she didn't find this convenience contradictory to the concept of making a sacrifice for worship. "Actually, the priest made the same comment yesterday." Ha! Don’t mind the messenger. Just bestow praise for all that western civilization has wrought.
FOR THE TIME BEING, COMMENTS ARE OUT-OF-ORDER. I’VE GOTTEN WAY TO MUCH COMMENT SPAM. SO UNTIL I FIGURE OUT A WAY TO DEFEAT THE SPAMMERS, NOBODY EXCEPT ME CAN SAY ANYTHING.
For the past three months, I’ve spent every Wednesday at the Public Market (except once when I was at a peace corps seminar, and once when market day was cancelled due to fiesta. At first, I just bought vegetables and got to know all the vendors. There are some neat folks there, like the toothless old lady who has been peddling bananas since 1955. The vendors quickly realized that I always bring my own bag, and adamantly refuse their cellophane. And if I buy seaweed or mungo beans, they go directly into Tupperware (yup, it’s legit. Tupperware parties used to be huge here.)
Before I forget, you should know about the chemist turned pork vendor. He slaughters a pig at 2am before every market day (so that the meat doesn’t spoil without refrigeration.) This is only a problem because he’s my neighbor and the poor squealing pig woke me up and I could not go back to sleep. (Actually, that’s not the only problem. Being the vegetarian I am, I would much prefer if people stopped killing animals for food, but now I’m getting preachy.) So from that day on everyone in the market jokes that Mr. Pork has no manners, and that they will support me to pass an ordinance preventing swine murder after midnight.
When I felt a little more like a regular at the market (which doesn’t take much time here in the Philippines, and especially in Bohol,) I started bringing a bunch of small borrowed garbage pails to collect the biodegradable waste. I told everyone I was collecting it in order to turn their garbage into free, nutritious fertilizer for our garden. (A few vendors have decided this stuff would make great free pig feeds, and one guy asked if he could look through a pail for promising squash seeds.) With the help of some curious kids, I use my host mother’s pint-sized tricycle to haul all the stuff back to the compost pit we dug at my house. The tricycle has taken a couple comedic spills.
As my luck would have it, I’ve become known as the garbage collector. This is definitely not my goal. After all, I’m only here for less than another year. Part of the Peace Corps goal is to leave something sustainable, not just help out for a while and take off. So I have been doing this work as research, to figure out how the market works, and to help design a cleanup system, hopefully one that can be replicated in other similar markets.
The mayor has asked me for memos with my advice, and here is the latest. It may seem like a piece of cake to get this stuff implemented. But this is the Philippines. First we have to gather a group of people to discuss the memo. Next, if everyone can agree, room must be found in the meager budget. Then a bidding process might ensue for materials required. I’m sure that if we ever get the “tubs” there will be issues on where they will be stored, and so on and so forth. A compost area was finally constructed last week. But it’s too big for the piles to retain heat, and besides, it’s built out of hollow blocks on top of a huge trash pile. And it doesn’t help that the supposed market cleaner now has an affinity for the bottle and for setting fire to garbage piles. Nonetheless, I feel progress in the air.
Let me add one more preface to the memo. USAID has an on-going project in the Philippines providing technical assistance (read: non-financial assistance) on Solid Waste Management to selected Local Government Units. We are one of the recipients. Before I arrived, they helped draft a 10-Year Integrated Solid Waste Management Plan.
The 10-Year plan is more of an overall guide than a nitty-gritty instruction book. So for example, it will say that we should educate every neighborhood about solid waste, but doesn’t give us particular messages to convey or how to monitor if the people really learned anything. Kind of like going to a concert and trying to sing along with a song you’ve never heard before. (Not a perfect analogy, but the only other thing I can think of right now is the bible, and I’m not gonna go there.)
Well, I often get accused of having ideas that are not part of the 10-Year plan. This is my first memo where I’ve explicitly linked my suggestions to the 10-Year plan. And I should also mention that my language helper helped me translate this to Cebuano. Here goes:
Memo
Re: Public Market
Subject: Strategies for a clean, healthy market in compliance with The 10-Year Integrated Solid Waste Management Plan
According to the 10-Year Integrated Solid Waste Management Plan (Chapter 5.1.5 Activities and Implementation Schedule,) we are behind the 2004 schedule on “Procurement of waste receptacles for market & other public places.” 2005 is also the year scheduled for “LGU [Local Government Unit] collects 4 types of segregated waste from public market, institutions; transports biodegradable & recyclable waste to Municipal MRF, residual & special waste to SLF.”
Hopefully, this memo will help us implement these activities ASAP.
Vegetable Vendors:
Each vegetable vendor (including the women who sit on the concrete and the corn-on-the-cob vendors) should be provided a “tub” for biodegradable wastes, and a smaller container for non-biodegradable wastes. A “tub” is required for the biodegradable because most vendors prepare pre-cut vegetables at the market. And there is always some spoilage. (The vendors seem to know how to separate their wastes, but they should be refreshed once the system is in place.)
Market Cleaners:
In order to make sure the wastes are being properly sorted, and to make the job of the market cleaners easier and less disgusting, there should be one market cleaner assigned to the vegetable section DURING the market day. The cleaner should be there early enough to put out the containers when the vendors arrive. The cleaner should collect the biodegradable wastes at least three times, at 9am, 11am, and 1pm, to make the job more manageable and to make sure the vendors are properly separating. He or she can use the orange wheelbarrow for this purpose. (They should also make sure no non-biodegradable wastes have been mixed in.)
Compost Area:
Once the compost area is completed, this biodegradable waste can be deposited there. (Ideally, it would be chopped into small pieces with a machete for faster decomposition. However, we have enough composting area that this is not a necessity.
No need for a compost shredder:
A compost shredder seems to be a very bad investment for a municipality this size [10000 people], with the small volume of biodegradable market waste we have to manage. It is an unnecessary expense that is very expensive to operate, and very expensive to repair if it breaks.
Non-biodegradable wastes:
In the time they are not collecting biodegradable wastes, the cleaner can also collect the non-biodegradable waste in a separate container. Perhaps a handmade trash can on wheels. In this way, at the end of the day, cleanup should be very fast and easy.
Fish vendors:
There should also be garbage pails provided for the fish vendors. Mostly they bring home all their biodegradable wastes. But they leave many cellophane bags in puddles of water. The fish vendors also have a bad habit of throwing their wastes in the small muddy area behind them. They should be gently reminded that throwing trash there makes the job of the poor market cleaner disgusting and difficult. Also, throwing wastes there makes a perfect breeding ground for mosquitoes. (Perhaps if budget allows, that area could be dug out and covered with chicken wire or concreted.)
Regarding the shellfish vendors, there should be 2 extra tubs placed there so that the empty shells can be brought by wheelbarrow to the end of the wharf. They came from the sea and they can be safely returned to the sea, reducing the waste here on land and potential mosquito-breeding grounds.
Tire-material garbage bins:
The tire-material garbage bins should be removed from the market and stored behind the municipal hall, until a good purpose is found. These bins are an awkward shape. They quickly become filled or clogged, and they are heavy and difficult to empty. Also, psychologically, the people are already used to NOT sorting garbage they throw in those bins.
Next steps to a cleaner, healthier public market:
Once we have a good market cleaning system in place, we can start to plan projects such as:
*re-teaching the permanent store owners proper segregation
*cleaning the field behind the market in order to remediate the drainage and safety issues (a market-goer badly wounded his foot by stepping on broken glass last May 18th)
####
P.S. Today I biked by of kids crouched on the ground. They told me they were pulling teeth out of a cow skull. So I asked why. “Just for fun, and where are you going?” “To take a bath in the sea.” At which point they stood up and ran past me. “Hey, where are you going?” “We want to watch you swim.” So be it.
Last year I saw Imelda: The Movie in a theatre in Cebu City. (The previews were all for action movies.) It's quite informative, humorous and unbelievable. The soundtrack is chock full of appropriate sound effects.
And if you live in America, you can watch it free, in the comfort of your own home, this week on PBS. (However, it won't compare to my experience in a theatre surrounded by people whose lives were in some way or another greatly influenced by the Iron Butterfly.
Independent Lens: Imelda
Check your local listings, but i can guarantee you it'll be on in NYC at these times:
Tuesday, May 10, 10:00pm/Thursday, May 12, 12:30am (Thirteen/WNET New York
CHANNEL 13)
FROM THE PRESS RELEASE:
Few modern political figures have been as controversial, outspoken and perhaps misunderstood as Imelda Marcos, the former first lady of the Philippines and the subject of award-winning filmmaker Ramona Diaz's IMELDA. For the first time, Marcos tells her own story on film: how she rose from humble origins to become one of the richest and most powerful women in contemporary world history.
There are some clips, schedules, and other info here: http://www.pbs.org/independentlens/imelda/
]]>
Brian-
It seems it has taken me just as long to reply to your reply as it took for you to reply to me in the first place. Things would move at breakneck speed here in the Philippines, if snails ruled the world, that is.
To refresh your memory, this regards my "Break a Record for the Future" idea.
I've decided I don't like my idea as much as you do. I liked my idea "Break a Record for the Future," initially. Just as you observed, it is immediately understandable. And if you truly beat on your head and wondered "why didn’t I think of that," I’m flattered.
So here’s why you shouldn’t have thought of my idea. The whole idea of record-breaking is based on quantity, not quality. Record breaking is not sustainable in the long now.
By the way, they were back at it, sucking face in the Philippines last February, striving for another most massive display of public display of affection world record. They failed miserably, but with corporate sponsorship by Unilever on behalf of their toothpaste brand, Closeup, they are plenty happy to be "building a tradition."
Unilever purports that "millions fell in love for the second time," while watching the televised Loveapalooza. I’d say reality is that at least a handful of record attempters left with an extra cold-sore or two (and a t-shirt.)
Similar maladies may occur whilst breaking a record for the future. Quantity could very well outdo quality. The examples I gave you were largest coastal mangrove reforestation and the most-bountiful compost harvest. A million mangrove reforestation could flop hard. Instead of supplying a few thousand high-quality propagules of an array of species, in order to nurture a robust forest, organizers who aim for a new record might blow the wad on a million crappy mono-culture propagules. And I've heard far too much about pesticide-laden fruit peels doing a number on a compost pit. (Think Paul Hawken) So what long-term benefits would these efforts offer?
There doesn't seem to be a way to ensure quantity and quality will work in symbiosis.
Then there is the related potential of backfire. A mangrove flop might discourage much-needed well-planned future reforestation. Bad compost could tarnish the reputation of organic farming. Think about solar paneling. According to people like Bill McKibben, great gains in efficiency and reliability have been made in solar energy over the past few years. Still, the common perception is that solar isn't even worth considering. Now take your time machine back to the 80s (everyone knows you have one). Imagine there’d been a record broken for world’s largest solar panel. And then the darn thing stopped working after six months, or even exploded. The negative publicity might have persisted to this day.
An example of a real life backfire: I know a guy here in the Philippines whose father broke the record for youngest solo flight at age 10. Guinness removed the category from the book when a six-year-old girl crashed and died in her attempt.
Another sort of backfire is the real risk of driving up consumption. I am trying to promote less wasteful, more responsible trash behavior where I live. However, the place is already turning into a huge trash pit, and most people already feel helpless to make the beautiful place clean again.
I know I must start small, so I collect bottle caps. Just as you can't walk five meters in Tokyo without encountering a Louis Vutton handbag, you can't walk the same distance here without stepping on a bottle cap.
I go around to all the sari-sari stores and ask them to save their bottle caps, instead of sweeping them outside. In doing so, they keep the area cleaner, and I hope they are starting to get the hang of separating different kinds of trash.
When I bend down to pick up a bottle cap on the road, a child invariably bends down with me. The kids then too are getting into cleaning up. They also learn to remove potential breeding grounds for mosquitoes, and think about art projects they might be able to do once school is back in session.
I've thought about having a contest for most bottle caps recovered. I've thought about attempting to establish the Guinness record for most bottle caps ever recovered. I’m sure we could have the place bottle-cap-free within weeks. But would it be worth it?
One way to be responsible about waste is to generate less of it. Surely, a record attempt of this sort would drive up consumption, in order to collect more trash. Living in the country that already drinks more half the soft-drinks on the entire continent, I’m pretty sure that's already too much. A liter of coke costs the equivalent to an hour or more of typical wage, and the diabetes rate is spiraling.
As you mentioned in your essay and speech, the idea for the Long Now emerged from realizing the Big Here. Having pondered my idea some more, I’ve decided record-breaking solidly belongs to the Big Here. After all, if people weren’t so concerned about more big more fast more money more more more more more more, folks would still be planting olive trees for the long now.
David Ramsey stopped collecting maps when he realized they'd be good as useless unless he spent more time cataloging and making public the ones he already had. Daniel Jansen came to a similar conclusion about identifying new species in Costa Rica.
We as a people must slow down and stop trying to break records if we are ever to settle into the long now.
Meanwhile, I hope in some way I can contribute to your book. We are now living in the first generation where a typical person in the developed world has access to a video camera. I've interviewed both of my grandmothers (one was still talking after ten hours of footage, the other had enough after 45 minutes.) They both had memories of fruits coming into season. Nowadays in America, there is no need for fruits to come into season, since food can be frozen, canned, genetically modified to grow at strange temperatures or Fedexed from half the world away! We should preserve and pass on the memories and values of these older folks in a format that young people give credence to. That might help us and the future generations revert to the nostalgic long now. If you'd like, I will expound on my ideas of documenting our elders.
Finally, I can't remember the exact premise of your book, but it seems you have some honest competition. I just read a review for Karen M. Jones' "The Difference A Day Makes: 365 Ways to Change Your World in Just 24 Hours," available in paperback from www.newworldlibrary.com.
Adios,
Daniel
----Original Message Follows----
From: Brian Eno
Subject: TALK ABOUT LONG NOW....
Date: Mon, 20 Dec 2004 21:01:59 +0000
...it took him a year to reply
I'm so sorry that it's taken me so long to respond to your very interesting and provocative letter. It's a long story, but part of it is that it was passed on to me through someone else and therefore filed under their name, so I wasn't able to find it when I was ready to reply. And then time passed and, to be honest, I forgot all about it until this evening when I chanced upon you hidden deep in someone else's email file....
I like your idea very much, and, if it's OK with you, I'll pass this on to The Institute of Social Inventions as a submission for one of their awards this year. My book is stalled, I'm afraid, but I hope to pick it up again next year and I would certainly like to include this idea in it. It has all the hallmarks of a great idea: immediately understandable, and one of those things that makes you beat your head and say "Why didn't I think of that?".
In fact, in the interim, I've sent this idea to the Global Ideas Bank, where it should appear shortly.I hope that's OK.
Check http://www.globalideasbank.org/site/home/
I'll be in touch as and when something develops.
XX Brian
]]>
In a bizarre attempt to appease global contempt for his destructive policies and appointments, W is now working personally, hand in hand with community colleges to grant visas and high-paying jobs for innocent civilians of the third world!
Visas and jobs are now available for nurses, caregivers, and I.T. professionals, as well as anybody else who would like to work as a dollar-earner.
The visas are now being offered for all the great democratic nations, where freedom means spending your hard earned dollars at the mall, every freakin' weekend!
The democracies include, and are limited to: USA, UK, Australia, Canada (hey, how'd that get there, they don't have troops in Iraq) and (correct me if I'm wrong but i think that flag belongs to) New Zealand. (Hey, George, what about Poland?)
The pilot project is beginning right here in the Philippines, at the traffic-jammed corner of Del Rosario and Osmena Blvd.
It is not clear why Mr. Bush included the words "WANTED ABROAD" in his offering.
In unrelated news, there is a Bob Marley multi-cab now servicing the greater Tagbilaran area. In America, this thing would be pulled over for random searches by every sheriff on the beat. But here in the Philippines, it is likely to be filled with lime-green cellophane bag-carrying, soft-rock-loving Filipinos, fresh from a trip to the brand new, world class, escalator, elevator, air-conditioning that could freeze beer, movie theatre showing all the latest Hollywood blockbusters (which is what life in America is really like, my friend) equipped Island City Mall. No woman, no cry indeed!
(Just inform me if you would like these photos hi-res.)
]]>(P.S. I forgot to mention that on the second round of soup, the boat had to wait for us to finish making the soup, and in our hurry, one of my friends got a little burned ladling the soup into the Tupperware. He's ok. Also, please note, aside from the ingredients mentioned on the recording, we used plenty of eggplant, okra, squash, and chili pepper.)
]]>I fall asleep thinking about trash, and wake up in a garbage state of mind. I am thankful I am not the type who remembers my dreams. My fellow Peace Corps volunteers say I’m obsessed. The locals have called me hinuktuk, which translates to a similarly. I’m going to Bikol next week for a short vacation (it’s Holy Week, which means nothing gets done) and I’ve been warned against uttering words relating to Solid Waste Management.
The idea below is still in the infancy stage. It was inspired somewhat by the thrilling and suspenseful book Rubbish: The Archeology of Garbage, What Our Garbage Tells Us About Ourselves . The good people at The Garbage Project dig up landfills and sort trash into a ridiculous number of categories and sub-categories. This program should be easier on the eyes and nose, and perhaps attract less flies. (Of course, the purpose is different.)
I have never heard of a similar project for community collection. If you have, please let me know. And if you have any suggestions or criticisms, bring it!
A PILOT PROGRAM OF WASTE SUPER-SEGREGATION
DESCRIPTION:
At the barangay hall, place picture-coded or physical-representation-coded waste receptacles for various and numerous types of waste, in order to encourage better waste segregation-at-source and segregation-near-source habits.
BACKGROUND:
Until now, people, here and in many other places, have ignored the instructions on segregated waste receptacles. There are a few reasons we assume that people ignore the instructions:
- People confuse the meanings of “malata” (biodegradable) and “di-malata” (non-biodegradable) (ie. some people think that cellophane are “malata” or leaves are “di-malata”)
- People also confuse the color codings (what does green mean vs. what does red mean?)
- People can’t or don’t read the instructional words on the receptacles (especially young children and old people with poor vision)
- Even though the wastes generated are in different types and quantities, the receptacles are all the same size. That means if the proper receptacles are already full, the people will throw to the not-yet-full improper receptacles
- Waste collectors often dump all wastes (regardless of type of waste) in same dump truck, so people think their efforts are pointless
ACTION PLAN:
- Make a series of variable size receptacles on the eastern side of the Barangay Hall of Eastern Poblacion
- We will affix to each receptacle a picture or actual example (physical representation) of the proper item, as well as a written description of what should be disposed in that receptacle
- In some cases, the containers have an exact sized hole in the cover, in order to allow disposal of that item, but prevent disposal of improper items (for example, a small round hole for bottle caps, which will prevent throwing of larger items, such as bottles or kitchen waste.)
- Some examples of receptacles:
o Cellophanes
o Junkfood wrappers, food seasoning sachets
o Juice and ice candy wrappers
o Ice water wrappers
o Hard plastics (like cigarette lighters or broken toys)
o Tin cans
o Disposable plastics cups
o Popsicle (ice bar) sticks, barbeque sticks
o Shampoo sachets
o Plastic bottles (like water or soda)
o Bottle caps (tansans)
o Cigarette pack wrappers
o Fruit and vegetable kitchen wastes
o Diapers, pads, and sanitary napkins
o Batteries
o Other “special” hazardous waste
- Place signs above receptacles in the local dialect (Bisayan):
o Please Respect Our Community Waste Segregation Project, Please Place Items in the Proper Receptacles
o This is one easy way to help our children to have a healthy and clean environment and a better place to live now and forever
o If you have questions about this project please ask Elvie, Daniel, Barangay Chairman, Kagawads, Tanods, or purok leaders
RATIONALE:
- Pictures or physical representations on waste receptacles are self-explanatory. There will be less confusion about where to dispose a certain kind of waste (for example, where do I put cellophane or leafs or batteries?)
- This super-segregation is very specific. We should be able to recover certain items for re-use, recycling or art projects
- A place to properly and easily segregate waste nearby may encourage and simplify household segregation-at-source efforts
- Children might enjoy this activity and see it as a kind of a game
EDUCATION OF INTERESTED PARTIES:
- We will inform the Barangay Chairman, Kagawads and Tanods, as well as purok leaders, about our Waste Super-Segregation Program (either through barangay session, purok meeting or home visits.) Because this program is quite simple, it should not take long to fully explain the program
- We will inform the residents nearby the barangay hall about this program through informal methods
- If participation is low, we will use a trysikad as a mobile education unit to quickly demonstrate the program around the neighborhood
MATERIALS NEEDED:
- containers
- pictures or physical representations of all the various kind of wastes we will be collecting
- glue (to affix pictures or physical representations to the receptacles)
- paper, computer, and plastic coverings (for the signs)
- trysikad (in case we do mobile education)
BUDGET:
- The budget for this program should be minimal, as most of the materials are already available, and the education component is all local and does not require vehicular transportation
EVALUATION/MONITORING:
- On a daily basis, we will inspect the receptacles in order to see if the people are segregating their waste properly
- Count certain items in order to establish records of use of the receptacles
- We should also determine how people are keeping the wastes in their homes (whether or not they are pre-segregating, and by what means)
NEXT STEPS:
- If this program shows signs of success, we will write Bisayan and English manual so that other puroks and barangays and the Metro-Tagbilaran cluster municipalities can replicate our program, if they chose to do so
- In June, when school is back in session, we will try to implement similar waste super-segregation at the central elementary school and at the barangay high school. When Daniel transfers to his nipa hut (once it is constructed,) he will try to replicate the super-segregation project in the market
- Establish a transfer station at the back of the municipal hall for the segregated residual waste. (If there is no foul odor, perhaps we can keep the wastes there until the sanitary landfill is established.) We also need to arrange a system to deliver the wastes to the transfer station (i.e. who will do the transfer, and how often the waste will be transferred)
- Plan and implement a compost-system for the biodegradable waste
- Make a video to educate the people about proper segregation at source and engage their hearts and minds in proper solid waste management
--------------------------------------------------------
PREPARED BY:
ELVIE L. IRAG AND DANIEL B. SIMON
March 14, 2005
My response to Fareed Zakaria’s latest Newsweek column,
Imagine:500 Miles to the Gallon
Dear Newsweek Editors:
All Hail Fareed!
How delightful it would be if Fareed Zakaria were Mr. Bush's speechwriter. And so much the better if Bush's speeches on energy independence led to serious, responsible actions rather than mere lip-service.
Instead of any legitimate action on freeing the American and world citizens from the crippling health, economic, and environmental effects of petroleum dependence (from countries with quite un-democratic leadership,) we re-elected a man notorious for stacking the courts with judges who kowtow to the corporate energy interests, who as Fareed mentions, have "vested interest in not changing much."
For a president who loves to talk about research, he hasn't shown any evidence he's read the reports by The Apollo Project or the Natural Capitalism folks practically screaming that the technologies we need for energy independence already exist. (And he certainly doesn't listen to any of the evidence on climate change.)
So, I propose to let the campaigning begin. Fareed For President 2008. Wherever I am in the world, I'll punch the chad for him in on my mail-in ballot, and pray it gets counted. Until then, I'll keep riding my bicycle.
daniel bowman simon
bohol, philippines
P.S. Here's another related topic you all might find interesting (from grist.org)
AAA FOR EFFORT
Legislation would force EPA to get realistic about fuel-efficiency stats
A bill debuting in Congress today would require the U.S. EPA to revamp its gas-mileage tests to more accurately reflect real-world driving conditions. Currently the EPA determines mileage ratings for vehicles by using 30-year-old tests that allow vehicle engines to get warm, never push the speed above 60 mph, never run the air conditioning, and never accelerate quickly. Enviro groups have long argued for reform of the tests, but now the bill has garnered the support of behemoth auto club AAA, which has conducted its own tests and found that the EPA is overestimating average gas mileage for several vehicle models, sometimes by almost 10 miles per gallon. The AAA's test, though not scientific, involves drivers around the country "getting groceries, getting stuck in traffic jams, driving the same way you would," says AAA spokesdude Mantill Williams. Now if only AAA would stop lobbying for more highways and fewer emissions
standards ...
straight to the source: USA Today, James R. Healey, 02 Mar 2005
see also, in Grist: Road Warriors -- A travel club provides a greener alternative to AAA -- by Michelle Nijhuis
see also, in Grist: Sticker Shocking -- The EPA has been misoverestimating the fuel economy of cars sold in the U.S., says enviro group -- in Muckraker
]]>Dear Dad,
So I did a little research on this great new bolthouse farms juice you're drinking. My comments in BLOCK...(and it pains me to say this, but the same goes for Tropicana Grovestand:)
From:
Q. Where is your juice made?
A. We make our juice daily in our newly constructed state of the art bottling facility located in the San Joaquin Valley of California.
THAT'S WHERE I WENT TO SCHOOL. NICE PLACE. BUT AS YOU MIGHT RECALL, PRETTY DARN FAR FROM NEW YORK. THE JUICE HAS TO GET TO YOU SOMEHOW, HUH?
Q. Is your juice perishable?
A. Yes! Our juice must be kept cold. Under normal refrigerated conditions, our juice can be safely enjoyed up to the expiration date printed on the bottle. (40 days from production)
HMMMM...IF IT MUST BE KEPT COLD IT MUST NEED REFRIGERATION ON THE RIDE FROM CA TO NY. YOU BOUGHT A CAR WITH NO AIR-CONDITIONER BECAUSE IT SAVED ON GAS. BOY OH BOY, THIS RIDE MUST EAT UP A REALLY RIDICULOUS AMOUNT OF GAS. AND WHAT'S THAT I HEARD ABOUT GLOBAL WARMING?
PLUS, LOOKS LIKE IT CAN STAY PUT IN THE REFRIGERATOR SECTION OF THE SUPERMARKET PRETTY MUCH FOREVER, AND WHAT'S THAT I HEARD ABOUT THEM NEEDING MORE ENERGY AND A NEW COAL OR NUCLEAR POWER PLANT? (NOT IN MY BACKYARD!!!!)
Q. How long will your juice stay fresh?
A. Once the bottle is opened, our juice should retain its fresh flavor for approximately 7-10 days. ensuring the best taste possible while still ensuring the safety of our product.
OH, GOOD, YOU CAN KEEP IT IN THE FRIDGE AT HOME LONGER THAN THAT POT OF LEFT-OVER SPLIT PEA SOUP.
Q. Where can I recycle your bottle?
A. Bolthouse juice bottles can be recycled anywhere that accepts P.E.T. #1 plastics.
OH, WHAT A RELIEF IT IS TO KNOW THAT AFTER THE BOTTLE HAS TRAVELEED CROSS COUNTRY, FILLING THE LUNGS OF MY FELLOW AMERICANS WITH SOOT, AND HELPING THIS CLIMATE CHANGE THING PICK UP SOME MUCH NEEDED SPEED, AT LEAST I CAN RECYCLE THE DARN BOTTLE.
Q. Where can I find your product?
A. Bolthouse Farms beverages can be found in the refrigerated produce section of your local grocery store.
LOCAL GROCERY STORE? WHAT'S THAT? CAN'T I GET IT CHEAPER AT WAL-MART ANYWAY?
HEY DAD, CHECK THIS OUT TOO...SOUNDS LIKE LOCALLY GROWN ORGANIC IS A REAL DOUBLE WHAMMY!!!!!
From: Grist Magazine
Date: Thu, 3 Mar 2005 12:19:40 -0800
To: daily-grist@lists.grist.org
Subject: DAILY GRIST, 03 Mar 2005
YOU SAY TOMATO, I SAY HIDDEN COSTS OF TRANSPORT
Locally grown food greener than organic, British study says
Though organic farming is relatively easy on the environment, buying locally grown food, even the pesticide-sprayed variety, is usually more earth-friendly than buying organic, a new study contends. Published in the journal Food Policy, the study found that the transportation of food over long distances -- anywhere outside a 12-mile radius -- can cause more harm than the growing of food with non-organic methods. Researchers calculated the hidden costs of farming and food transport and found that the U.K. would save some $4 billion a year in environmental and traffic costs if all food consumed was locally grown, and an additional $2.1 billion a year if all food were grown organically. The study authors called on supermarkets to label items with the number of "food miles" they travel to get to the store. "The most political act we do on a daily basis is to eat, as our actions affect farms, landscapes, and food businesses," said study coauthor Jules Pretty of the University of Essex.
straight to the source: BBC News, 02 March 2005
straight to the source: The Independent, Steve Connor, 03 March 2005
]]>I am not sure if I agree words should be retired, but I do have a confession to make. When I read “Generation of Swine, Gonzo Papers Vol. 2: Tales of Shame and Degradation in the ‘80s” last year, I enjoyed an entire phrase so much I lifted it right here to this very website. I hope I haven’t caused anybody harm or disgust. But no, I won’t disclose what that phrase was, cuz I might have the occasion to use it again, without inciting the wrath of Mr. Greenwood. However, a free box of Peanut Kisses, Bohol’s finest junk food, is forthcoming for the first person to identify the phrase that pays.
(Some restrictions apply. This contest off limits to employees of dbs.com and US Peace Corps, and most residents of Colorado. Sorry I used the word I so much in previous paragraph. It’s not really about me. “Winner” must shoulder shipping costs from the Philippines. Contest sponsor not liable for any ill effects brought on by Peanut Kisses. Not that there would be any. For a complete list of the “winner,” should there be any, please send a SASE to dbs.)
Next on my agenda: I invited my brother and lola (grandma) to contribute a guest commentary on their visits to the Philippines. Neither even bothered to respond to my kind invitation. Instead, they took off to Honduras and returned to the daily grind of bridge, tennis, and yoga respectively. That figures.
So I will tell a story instead. A wise man told me once there ain’t such a thing called “coincidence.”
Lola and I were chillin’ on the beach in Panglao, late on a Sunday afternoon, and I decided that wasn’t good enough. I wanted to show her another beach. But instead of hiking there on the road, I figured it would be a nice idea to wade through the low tide to the other beach. I told her it would be about a kilometer (62% of a mile.) She was in!
We started wading and quickly the white-sand coast disappeared. We were hugging the volcanic rock wall, the tide was rising, and we could not see any beachy land. I told Lola we’d reach our destination shortly. But suddenly, I was not so sure myself. (After all, I’d only ever passed this way in a kayak, and that was at night.) Lola told me she was less than thrilled to be in said situation, now completely soaked and headed in the opposite direction from her suitcase. And then she slipped, and scraped her leg on a sharp rock.
What you have to understand at this point in my relation of events about Grandma Lili is that she is one of the most laidback, easy-going persons in the history of womankind. I have never seen her angry and or strung-out, (even when I was eight and dumped all her cigarettes in the toilet bowl, waiting for her to discover them on her next trip to the comfort room.) But all of a sudden, Lola freaked out. She recalled vividly a time more than thirty years ago when a minor leg wound on a tropical adventure almost led to amputation.
I tried to get her to calm down, but she could not be reasoned with. (Lest you think she was having a nicotine fit, she quit smoking shortly after her smokes ended up swimming in porcelain.) I told her we were still just around the corner, even though I knew it was a lie. I was hoping for a miracle. For example, it would have been nice if somebody I knew passed us in a small banka (outrigger boat) and offered us a ride to shore.
We finally reached a small area of beach in between the super-sized rocks. A few gentlemen were drinking beer and barely acknowledged our presence. I asked if the stairs behind them led anywhere, and they responded with some fancy facial gestures, as if to say “duh, why would they be here if they didn’t?” So we started up the weed-covered concrete stairs, and a big black barking retriever followed behind us. If there’s anything my grandma doesn’t appreciate, it is a dog. But the dog liked Lola, and wanted to show us the way. We tromped through huge fallen palm leaves, and surprise, surprise, ended up facing barbed wire. Then I noticed more stairs, going down. And so, we were back on the pint-sized beach. The drunk men looked at us funny.
Fortuitously, there was a 3rd staircase. when we reached the top, we encountered an old bearded man sitting in a little hut, shellacking a piece of bamboo. In my best Cebuano, I asked him whether we were anywhere near Alona Beach. He stared at me blankly. (sometimes, Filipinos are so astonished to hear a foreigner speaking their language that they go into shock.) So I used English. Still no answer. I gave him the “what drugs are you on?” look, and he said “I, Japanese.” So I used the three words of Japanese I remembered to ask him once more how to get to where we needed to go. He pointed to a little path, and told me “1 kilometer.”
Lola didn't like the sound of 1 kilometer, especially with the big dog still following us, and to be honest, neither did I. But we both realized we were up a certain kind of stinking creek, and at least we were out of the rising tide. And then it happened. We stumbled upon a barkada of jovial Filipinos, and said hello.
There was a van beside their table, so my grandma asked if they could give a us a ride, but they ignored the request. Then, she asked if any of them had a band-aid for her barely bloody leg, and one of the women went into her house and came out with a handful of first-aid items. Turned out the lady was a nurse, freshly back from Europe. She cleaned up Lola, and assured her that getting scraped in the salty sea is nothing to worry about. Grandma finally seemed to come to the realization that her leg would not need to be sawed off. And then, the woman’s husband said that since we were wet, he would give us a ride, as long as we were willing to sit on trash bags (so as not to get the seats salty.)
In utter desperation, a nurse and a driver in one shot! That was the last time Lola complained until I dragged her on a hike in a slippery virgin forest at Lake Danao, but that’s a story for another day.
]]>