Saturday, November 30, 2013

The eyes have it: Emergency Trauma Treatment for Child Victims of Yolanda

The calm came first.  It made the warnings of a most terrible phenomenon seem like an alarmist’s tale.  By battening down their homes and securing their belongings, Visayans have managed to survive storm after storm to look forward to a new day.

Then the rain fell, soft and rhythmic at first, like a drummer trying to stir a crowd into anticipation.  Then the wind came, with a hint of malice, like a shark circling a drowning prey.  Then the wind became blasts of malevolent screams, bringing rain that traveled with such velocity that they pierced the skin like nails.  Then the sea rose, higher than any human structure in the area, higher than any tree.  It came with such ferocity and impunity that it took away everything in its path.  There was no time to react.  It was instant chaos; earth was inundated, whatever was left underneath was rendered useless, and whatever life that floated above was left defenseless – at the mercy of a force that recognized no status in society.  Everyone is losing everything.  And life -- the one thing hanging in the balance – was fast shriveling into mere flesh and bones, its spirit violently being swept away.

That’s what I imagined happened to many people as typhoon Yolanda ravaged Visayas.

As I look at the faces of a group of young children brought over to Ortigas from the tent city in Roxas Boulevard for post-trauma intervention, I saw confusion layering a canvas of fear, numbness and distress.  Some merely stared blankly, moving as they are told, often not before a slight nudge of encouragement; others were smiling, but happiness never reached their glam eyes.  They are still in shock and now they are in some strange place, with strange people looking over at them, smiling and nodding, which I suppose intensified their bewilderment even more.

Then volunteers, led by our mostly German trainors, began to grab one child by the hand, linking one volunteer to a child to form a circle of singing unit that gently pranced around the room.  We stopped and another trainor led a eurythmic activity which involved gestures of acknowledgment of one another’s presence, and of connection and warmth.  Most of the children quickly got into the motion and smiles visited some of the faces; they can sense that they were with people who care.  Soon, the group linked hands once more and the circle began to move, still singing, to an adjacent room where balls of clay awaited to be molded.

We ushered them to their seats, but as soon as they saw the clay not too far away, half of the kids instantaneously grabbed their share as if that was the most logical thing to do.  This is indicative of the situation that they have left in their ravaged place.

When order was restored, the kids were still listless.  Nina, our art therapy trainor began giving out the instruction for the child closest to the clay blocks to pick up one and pass it to the next person beside him, which then will pass it to the next, who will also do the same until everyone, including all the volunteers had a clay in their hands – all these while a song about good mornings and smiling and sharing was being sung. Not every kid got the idea at once, but when they realized that there would be enough for everyone, they stopped collecting clay and started passing them around.

However, when Nina said that everyone must cut in half the clay block, a lot of the kids hesitated.  Nina did not pause and simply continued as she began to tell a story about an egg, kneading the clay into an ovate as she narrates.  The clay changed shape as the story unfolded, from an egg to a chick, to a bird that wants to spread its wings and fly.  At this point, Nina took her clay bird and started a conga line of kids and birds, and adult volunteers and birds.  The room was full of chirping sound and song about malinis na batis and masayang kapaligiran as the birds exchanged kisses in mid-air.  For the first time, every child was smiling, and this time their eyes shared in the mirth.

Nina then asked the child to find an adult partner and so the bird story continued.  Because the bird had found a partner, they were now ready to start a family, and this required making a nest out of clay.  The kids, having experienced what total destruction meant, made sure the clay twigs they made wove into a sturdy abode; strong enough to accommodate the small eggs that materialized out of their busy small hands, for then the bird story became a family lore.

It is interesting how the children’s individual stories and aspirations reflected in the nests that they built.  One child made his bird’s wings spread out so wide so that it covers in security the entire nest and the eggs within.  I wonder if that’s what his parents did when Yolanda struck.  I wonder if the parents survived.

Another placed a worm into a parent bird’s beak and made it appear as if it is feeding the chicks inside the nest.  I wonder if she is depicting the sacrifices of her parents, or the aspiration that their parents, in their present situation, can still do the same.

Another was not content with having a bird, a nest and some eggs that he had to add a towering tree.  I wonder if a tree was instrumental in saving their lives.

When the story was over, each child was asked to point to his/her masterpiece, to the applause of those in the room.  There was a hint of accomplishment in their demeanor.  But the smiles were not fixed.  Like the tormented sea, it rose, fell and sometimes disappeared.  But there were instances when happiness reached their eyes.  And during these brief moments, they have cleared in their mind the devastation that they have gone through.  But they won’t forget.  Not ever.  But they can recover.  And they can’t do that on their own.

The task now is to help their young minds process what they went through and guide them to a life of structure and stability, which Yolanda totally wiped out of their psyche.  On its own, the art therapy is not going to do it for them but it deeply helps them to be in touch with the beauty, innocence and potential inherent in every child.  It allows them to release the trauma that may hinder their development.

If the eyes that have seen destruction that many of us will never see in our lifetimes can flash, however fleeting, a twinkle of happiness, then all is not lost.



The seminar “Stimulating Self-Healing from Trauma in Children and Youth” was conducted by The Freunde, a group of mostly German child trauma specialists who have, over the years, visited disaster areas (man-made and natural) all over the world.  It was attended by members of NGOs, and groups and individuals with ongoing or planned intervention programs in Yolanda affected areas.

Sunday, November 17, 2013

How to save the world

This is a swarm of bees.  It is composed of several thousand worker bees, a handful of drones and a queen.  When the weather becomes cooler toward the last quarter of the year, a bee colony, in its instinct to ensure its specie’s survival, will produce several queen cells.  When a queen bee is about to emerge from her cell, the old queen will exit the hive, bringing along with her half of the colony in search for a new home.  This is what is called a swarm, a buzzing cloud of insects that looks threatening but is actually quite docile.

Let me explain that. 

You see bees only become aggressive when they sense that their home is in danger.  Hence, you can actually sit beside a hive for hours in a non-threatening way (meaning you are relaxed), observe their comings and goings, and not get stung at all.  But since a swarm is still looking for a home, it has nothing to protect – meaning they are not prone to sting.  Of course, you don’t approach a swarm recklessly then take a swing at it just because they are at their tamest.  Do that to a stranger (a person this time) and it is logical to expect retaliation.

However, before the swarm can find a new home, it will usually gather first under a tree branch where it will stay for as short as an hour to as long as a day.  The length of its stopover depends on how quickly or slowly the scout bees (worker bees assigned to find a new home, usually a hole in the wall or a tree, or a box, or an abandoned house) can search for a relocation site.  When a scout bee had assessed that she (yes, a female) has found a suitable home, she will go back to the swarm, announce to everyone that they are ready to move, then guide the swarm – worker bees, drones and queen – to their new abode.  But until that happens, the beekeeper can capture the swarm and then place it inside a new box that is prepared with a few frames taken from the box where the particular swarm came from.

But I don’t think getting a swarm would make it to anyone’s wish list this Christmas, after all, you can’t wear it, play games on it, use it to call friends, or start a fun conversation with it unless you consider stings, swelling and throbbing pain as topics you’d like to swap stories with friends.  That would be so uncool.

I have been receiving these gifts since early October.  By the time the swarming season ends in around February next year, I would have increased my number of colonies to around 30.  Cool, right?

Well, when you romanticize about the uniqueness of this pursuit and that one can actually earn a little on the side while you’re at it, then yes, I guess it is cool.

But being a beekeeper is not cool, especially when I am in my bee suit, sweating like a boxer who overshot the weight limit by two pounds and trying to go under the limit in an hour’s time, or when I am inspecting a hive unprotected and some bees decide that my presence is not welcome and begin giving up their lives (bees die soon after stinging) to shoo me away (I have experienced getting stung 20 to 30 in one go on several occasions), or when I find myself some fifteen feet up a tree trying to capture a swarm, which sometimes makes me question the sanity of what I am doing, or the safety of it.  After all, at 6’1” and 180 pounds, I am a fairly large and heavy man by any tree branch standard.

So why do I do it?

First, it was fascination.  Then I realized it could be a hobby that can also be an alternative source of income.  Now, it is all those, plus it has grown into some sort of advocacy – one that is bigger than what I do.  Now more than ever, call me a suffering idealist, I believe that what I do will help save the world, a mission that is nice to hear but difficult to substantiate with action because it usually means either having to give up something or doing something that may be inconvenient, bothersome, or uncool.


According to scientists, bees are central to the survival of humans because it comes in contact with two-thirds of the food that we and land animals eat, or the foods that animals that we eat, eat.   They say that should bees go because of a combination of global warming, heavy use of insecticides and decimation of land dedicated to planting, so will humans, not long after.

So are bees really important?  I don’t know.  Maybe.  Scientists are positive that they are.  But then again, scientists do say a lot.

They say that global warming is now in play and that its effects – drier dry seasons characterized by extreme heat spells and wetter wet seasons with stronger typhoons and storms unlike any experienced before – will be catastrophic, and that the Philippines will be one of the most at risk of these global climatic upheavals.

Maybe they are onto something.

Yolanda happens and its devastation is unparalleled in Philippine history that is already long in cataclysmic weather and geological spasms, from earthquakes to volcanic eruptions to torrential monsoons and destructive typhoons. 

They say Yolanda sets the record for raw power.  What’s more terrifying is that records, just like political promises, are meant to be broken; it’s just a matter of when, how frequent, and at what cost.

We, those that are not directly or as severely affected by Yolanda, especially those of us here in Luzon, are lucky, extremely lucky.  Luck involves probability.  And we may soon run out of luck.

In 2012, also nearing Christmas, typhoon Pablo literally leveled a large swath of Mindanao, leaving thousands dead in its wake.  And this year, Yolanda violently drops by on a slightly higher trajectory – leveling Visayas.  Next year, it is probable that a new monster will form and it will be out to get us this time.

So while the nation, with the help of the global community, is desperately trying to resuscitate Visayas, with donations and rebuilding strategies, it is also imperative that Yolanda should not be treated as an isolated case – a fluke of nature.  It is not.  We, you and I, had a hand in its making.  And the probability is high that it is going to happen again, unless we desperately act as if our lives and everything that we deem important depended on it.

It is time to do the uncool things.  Now that you have read this far, I ask you – for all our sake – to do something uncool: sweat it by walking or biking instead of riding your own car, eschew gadgets and devices that consume disproportionately large amounts of energy, avoid foods that take a lot of resources to produce such as animal meats, plant a tree, or even a flowering plant in a pot, give to World Wide Fund, dispose garbage properly, call out someone who unmindfully litter, recycle, share what you don’t need, spread the word, tell your kids, encourage the youth to be mindful of what they do.  Whatever it is, do something. Anything. Doing nothing is not an option.  I hope you realize that Yolanda has made that very clear.


I’ll be doing all of the above, including climbing trees to catch swarms.




Tuesday, October 29, 2013

Everyday Nanay, Everyday

The last time I saw my Nanay alive she was about to die.  I knew it the moment I saw her slumped on her favorite chair, her eyes wide open, glassy and blank.  I tried talking to her, encouraging her to communicate.  All I heard were moans, perhaps she was saying something.  Then tears fell from her eyes.  She was saying goodbye.

I know she’s gone but I can’t seem to do the same.

Ok, Tnx.  That was the last conscious communication I got from Nanay as a response to a text query whether she wanted photo albums to go with the pictures of her Europe Marian Pilgrimage, which she asked to be printed at the mall.  She said that her adventures would be better told if she had the pictures to guide her where she went, who she was with, and what she did. 

She arrived a little over a week before that fateful day.  She was extremely exhausted from the non-stop walking and moving from one pilgrimage site to another, and desperately missing rice, which she had only twice in the entire three weeks or so that she was away.  But she was very happy and serene, as if she knew something we did not.

I don’t recall much about how I brought her to the hospital.  I don’t know if I was driving fast or reckless, all I knew was that I was frantic, hoping against hope that my effort will result into the opposite of what I knew was the start of a chapter in my life that I had no interest having.

I spoke the word Nanay countless times, each instance with the earnestness of a young child searching for the one person in the crowd that would make everything alright – with merely her presence.   She was there, barely.

It was fast.  And it was slow, so slow that I still see everything happening now as I write because everything started around this time, with this same cold in the air, with this same silence.  All that is missing is the shriek from Nanay’s angel – Lyn – who pierced the unbecoming calm, “Kuya, si Nanay!”

It’s been a year.  Many things have changed, many things have happened – none is ever the same, yet everything is the same, everything happened without Nanay around.

I know she is gone for good.  But I’m not saying goodbye.  She is always with me, and not a day that passes by that I don’t expect to see her, by the garden, inside the house, anywhere – just to see her.


So if by chance one day we meet and she asks me if ever I thought of her, I’d say Everyday Nanay, everyday.


Here are posts about my Nanay which you may have missed:




Friday, October 18, 2013

Classroom detour and biking soundtrack

After what seemed like forever, I finally booked 3 hours or so for myself and my bike.  In over a month, the only time I spent on my saddle was a few trips to town for some errands, which do not count as legit rides (Unless paying bills or buying small stuff from the hardware are considered adventures).

My Fuji had been a picture of neglect.  Nightly, I could almost hear it implore me “Ride me, please! I’m useless without you.”  With so many things to do and so many concerns to think about, I couldn’t do anything but deaden my heart and be strong.  I silently ignored it.  But from time to time, I can’t help but peek at its black body, its sheen already masked by the dirt it had attracted from its last adventure, and the thin veil of dust that has settled over it during the course of its stagnation.  In my mind, I reassure it:  Our time would come.

Finally, yesterday I found the courage to tell my wife, “Mahal, may gagawin ako bukas.”  And from the glint in my eyes, she knew what I meant.

I woke up with a to-do checklist so I could feel that I have done enough to deserve my date with my bike: prepare breakfast, go to the palengke, cook lunch, check on the bees.  After I have ticked off everything, I took out my Fuji and brushed the dirt and grime away with the help of Joy dishwashing liquid before hosing it down with water and drying it with chamois.  I let it sit awhile before giving all the moving parts a good dose of WD40.  We were ready.  I had already added 29 songs to my music list the night before so the soundtrack was simply waiting to be played as my ride unfolded.

I was off.  And the effect of clean and lubricated chain was apparent instantly as I pedaled with ease, or maybe I was just too giddy with excitement that my movement felt effortless.  Or maybe it was Ely Buendia’s almost lackadaisical singing style that mesmerized me into a flow.

I have planned my route – a 34 kilometer welcome-back-loop of uphills and downhills (what do you expect, it seems there’s no kilometer of road in Lipa that is flat and uneventful).  I was about to turn right to where the road leads to the mountains of Malarayat when Melissa Etheridge stopped yelling at me to come to her window to give way to a text message that says: Sir, nasa LaSalle ka ba?  Baka sakali lang naman.  Wala kasi si ____, kulang ng magpa-panel.

Shoot.  I haven’t been assigned to teach even a single unit the past 5 semesters, but every near-end of the semester, I already half-expect that my teacher/friends would call on me for panel duty, which I enjoy by the way because I get to ask and share at the same time.  But come on.  On my version of the selfie?

I pointed my bike to the opposite direction.  True Faith’s Medwin Marfil was crooning one of my most favorite OPM moving on songs:  Park is empty, beer’s already warm, shoppers have all gone home.  Duty calls.  And I’m not even a faculty member.

I had a vision of gliding downhill at a 35-42 kph clip when I reach the backroads of Santo Tomas with Blues Traveller asking me “Why you wanna give me the runaround?  Is it your sure fire way to speed things up, when all it does is slooo-ooo-oow me down.

And in this vision, General Public will be mocking me – Never you done that, yeeahh-ehhh-ohhhh – as I pedal like crazy as I try to use the momentum created by a very steep drop, where I frantically calculated in my head my freefall speed and the balance that I need to keep my front wheel from skidding into a pothole just before the concrete road gives way to a steel bridge over a densely vegetated stream below.  Every time I negotiate this part of Plaridel, it always comes with a Hail Mary, that I may carry enough momentum (after making it safely across the pothole and the steel bridge) to give me the needed pace to climb the cruel uphill aftermath, and that I would not be caught behind a struggling motor vehicle which would almost certainly force me to dismount because by then, I had lost momentum and I would be biking on wobbly wheels if I tried to stand on my pedals and power through the climb.  If the latter scenario happens, I would also utter a few choice inanities because the vehicle would also have spewed exhaust all over my face.

None of that happened.  Instead I found myself biking the ramps going to the third floor of the Noli building where my duty awaits.  Normally, I would leave my bike at the wall climbing facility that I operate.  But since I had no plans of dropping by, I did not bring the key to the gate.  I can’t leave my bike on the corridor, so I opened the door and entered the classroom together with my steed.  The students presenting were surprised.  It was their first time to see a mountain bike parked inside a classroom.


I always thought that I can go back to the classroom by earning my “credential” through graduate school.  I never realized that I could also do it while biking.  K.D. Lang sings Hallelujah!

Monday, October 14, 2013

Science, according to the Filipino

When I was young, I used to spend my summer vacations in Pangasinan, my mother’s birthplace, where I learned that the first rain of May, when caught and poured half full in a clear glass bottle (Tanduay lapad the preferred receptacle) will tell whether it would rain or not during the day, for the rest of the year, depending on the moisture that accumulates inside the bottle; that blowing air on the sides of a fish before frying it on steaming oil will prevent the hot oil from spraying searing liquid all over the pan and on someone’s skin, and; that the sap of a small plant when dropped on flesh splintered by tiny wood chips would magically force the wood out of the painful puncture.

These are only some of the amazing and highly effective local knowledge that I learned and experienced but have never read in any science book, nor encountered in any classroom or scientific discourse.  Western science, which is what is promoted in school, will be quick to dismiss such practices as outdated, or worse, a backward exercise that should have no place in a modern, science-based world.

That traditional practices are not found in any science book nor are explained by lab-based experiments does not mean that they are unscientific and, thus, worthless as western science would like us to believe; they are simply the Filipino’s common sense-based approach to everyday problems culled from keen observation leading to creative solutions.   Stopping short of romanticizing practice of local knowledge, Filipinos, especially those who are exposed more and more everyday to western technology and, consequently, way of life and thinking, should be wary about relegating traditional knowhow into the backburner, archiving them as if they no longer have use in the modern world.

In Paul Pertierra’s essay Is there a Culture of Science in the Philippines, he describes science as “an ultimate cultural value and its practice as an example of the pursuit of cognitive excellence (Pertierra, 2003).” Given the fact that a sizeable number Filipinos, especially those residing in the countryside and outside of urban locales where the seats of education and, therefore, science are, still practice and apply local knowledge in many of their daily activities from cooking food, to healing the body and even raising children, does it mean then that Filipinos who feel comfort and a measure of the familiar in such practices do not care about pursuing cognitive excellence?  This is rather an unfair indictment on a people’s practice that has worked for generations, centuries even, and an affront to the intelligence of the elders from long ago that labored tirelessly, perhaps over a period of several years, to understand how the world works and how to control it, which uncannily reflects how Pertierra characterizes what culture of science is all about – a culture of science consists of principles and practices whose aims are to explore the natural world in order to bring it under human control.

While I understand that modern science brings empirical evidences of its potency and can and will play a relevant role in the improvement of many Filipino’s lives, can’t there be a happy compromise where science benefits the people without victimizing, marginalizing and rendering cultures and traditions inutile?  This all or nothing stance by some scientists devalues the richness of our nation’s culture.

Pertierra’s essay further questions the seeming lack of traction of Filipinos toward modern science, and a culture of science in general, which underscores some scientists’ seeming disregard and lack of appreciation for cultural and traditional values:  “Why is this competence given little social or cultural value? Is this because scientific knowledge depends on objective and impersonal criteria rather than on the personalized networks Filipinos normally use for success? Is the lack of a scientific orientation partly cultural?”

Curiously, the fact that these questions were posed is a clear indication that scientists have a firm grasp of the Filipino’s psyche which they, in their determined pursuit to homogenize local science with the rest of the western world, are trying to demystify and, to a great extent, demolish to the point of negligibility. This attitude is not only rampant in academic circles but can also be observed even in mainstream media where big businesses backed by western science continue its battle to suppress local knowledge.  Over the last few years, traditional medicines including an assortment of polstices and concoctions have been finding currency and a measure of success in the mainstream.  An example is the Lagundi leaves via the ASCOF Lagundi product, which is claimed to be highly effective in treating coughs and colds and, apparently, in also making headways into the bottomlines of multinationals offering western medicines.  Solmux, a western formula, with the help of local superstar-of-the-masses endorser Vic Sotto exhorts the potency of its formula, with Sotto retorting “Kaya ba yan ng padahon-dahon lang?” referring to the simplicity (read: unsophisticated) of formulation of the lagundi product.

On a more positive note, certain quarters in the scientific community are looking toward traditional medicines in their quest to find remedies for difficult to cure diseases.  In fact, some are looking into the traditional medicinal practices of tribes living deep in the Amazon jungles of Brazil who, apart from the occasional forays of scientists and anthropologists into their realm, have had basically no contact with the western world.  These scientists believe that the most effective medicines for many of today’s lifestyle diseases, including cancer and even AIDS can be found in the jungles, and some of these are already being used by indigenous, supposedly unlearned and unscientific, peoples.  Closer to home, local doctors and scientists from UP-PGH are conducting experiments on traditional medicines like the Tawa-tawa and even Papaya leaves as treatment for dengue, a deadly virus.

It’s true that science only deals with facts – cold and unemotional facts that are the currency of intellectual and scientific pursuits.  However, scientists need not be cold and unemotional like the variables that they regularly deal with.  They must also be culturally-sensitive and open-minded to the truth that not all that is effective and beneficial is proven in a western-style laboratory, and that there is much more to science and living in particular than the hows and whys.  There must be a healthy margin for acceptance regardless of the questions asked.  It is about being human, and acknowledging that some things need no explanations.

When my father was in the hospital for Stage 4 cancer that has metastasized to various areas of his chest, causing him intense, excruciating pain, my immediate recourse was to do something that I have learned from my childhood to be effective in easing pain and bringing comfort to the soul – the puyok larak in Pangasinanse, or pahid ng langis ng niyog to the Tagalogs.  So while I was massaging my father’s body with larak, my father’s physician, a Filipino-Chinese lady doctor whose idea of pain-relief was injecting morphine, came in, saw what I was doing and smelled the burnt aroma of the coconut oil, which prompted her to stoically admonish me: Wala naman magagawa yang langis na ‘yan, eh.


She doesn’t know.  Western science has made her forget.


This is part of a series of essays for my Educational Anthropology class under Dr. Eufracio Abaya.

Sunday, October 6, 2013

Beautifying the dead: An Ethnography of a mortician and her nine-year old apprentice

Beautifying the dead:  An Ethnography of a mortician
and her nine-year old apprentice




Prepared by
Cheryl Samonte and Marcial I. Enginco


For
Eufracio Abaya, PhD
Professor, EDFD 225  Educational Anthropology





College of Education
University of the Philippines Diliman







RESEARCH QUESTIONS
What makes people decide which career path to choose and how do they learn the skills and knowledge required to dispense of the responsibilities called for by the job? 

The choice of a career relies on many distinct factors, none of which is more important than the other.  Some are influenced by trends, others by parents, mentors and peers; even the media through its glamorization of certain professions play a critical role in nudging an impressionable person into a certain direction.  Some careers, however, do not come from these molds, as the chosen paths of the interlocutors of this ethnography will show.

INTRODUCTION
A morbid fascination

When my mother suddenly died October of last year, I together with my family and friends, including neighbors and acquaintances were shocked and devastated.  At 77, she was the model of a woman aging gracefully and, relative to her age, healthily.  Her diet was regimented, consisting mainly of fish and vegetables.  She religiously observed her regular activities including going to mass daily, tending to her garden, visiting her friends and occasionally going with them to the mall, and every first Friday of the month – making her devotion to the Our Lady of Manaoag in her home province Pangasinan, where she would commute via a series of bus rides from our home in Lipa. 

But as much as we were grief-stricken, seeing her inside her casket looking calm and serene, even short of smiling, somehow eased the pain of knowing that she is gone; the oft-repeated complement, “parang natutulog lang” aptly describes her horizontal state and gives the impression that she died happily, to the relief of those of us that she left behind.

Over the next several months, I visited several wakes of friends’ dead relatives and most of them, if not all, found deep solace in finding their dear departed appearing serene and at ease that the condoling words “Mas masaya na siya ngayon,” is taken literally, rather than figuratively.  This visual consolation, I realize, is the priceless byproduct of the makeup artist for the dead – the mortician, whose representatives are the subjects of this ethnography.

Fear of the dead as a cultural phenomenon
Most people in a society have the tendency to distance themselves from jobs that are risqué such as prostitution, or violent such as gun-for-hire, or strange and grotesque such as embalming or beautifying cadavers.  This aversion of the masses, too, extends to the people who have chosen or are already involved in such careers.  Thus, while an adult who is a full-fledged mortician will no longer get as much ridicule or raised eyebrows, she would still get her fair share of encounters with people, especially those that do not know her personally, who would surreptitiously give her a polite smile and a cold shoulder when they learn that she makes dead people beautiful for a living.

On the other hand, when a Filipino child is asked what he or she wants to be when she is old enough, a typical answer would be to become a doctor, or an engineer, or a nurse, or any mainstream profession that readily commands esteem, recognition, and – to a great extent -- handsome remuneration.  Curiously, a child who says she wants to be a mortician will, in most social settings that are divorced from the context in which the statement is made, be looked upon as troubled or has a strange affinity for the macabre and the morbid, and thus should be referred to his/her parents for guidance, or to the nearest psychologist for evaluation and, if deemed necessary, intervention.

This unfair assessment of people working in non-mainstream industries, in this case, cadaver preparation, has been brought about, rightly or wrongly, by misplaced judgments based on a combination of ignorance of the industry, its workers and practices, and the almost paralyzing fear of the unknown still prevalent among many Filipinos, especially of the spirit world in which the dead body is supposed to be handled with extreme care, if not reverence or else its unhappy spirit may haunt the living. 

In her essay (Constantino, 1966) entitled The Filipino mental make-up and science, Josefina Constantino describes the Filipino’s lack of objectivity, thusly: 

The Filipino loves a sense of Oriental Mysticism: a kind of exotic, secret darkness conducive to a sense of mystery.  But a whole enveloping sense of the supernatural needs a continuing intellectualization in order to render the vagueness of Oriental faith more coherently luminous and intellectualized.  In general, therefore, one can say that the Oriental deification of natural forces prevents their analytical and objective study of forces apart from their faith.

This concept of overlapping worlds of the living and the dead is nothing new and has been part of many cultures for ages, passing from one generation to another because there is neither a force or phenomenon big and sustainable enough that can unsettle this belief, which could lead to a significant shift in attitude.  Roger Keesing in a paper he wrote entitled Theories of Culture (Keesing, 1974), cites that cultural behavioral pattern is socially transmitted and that it serves to relate human communities to their ecological settings, which, in this case, extends to the spirit world and the notions and connotations contingent to its interpretations and conceptions, the real and the imagined.

THE APPROACH
This ethnography will show how the interlocutors found themselves in such a committed state to beautifying the dead despite the social norms that have placed them and their kind on the periphery of the mainstream, and the ways and means in which they learned, honed and improved on the skills needed in their chosen craft.

The researchers used personal interview as its main source of information, which is supplemented by observation of verbal and physical cues.

While the information, attitudes and social context stated in this study are true for the interlocutors, the same may not necessarily apply to other morticians.  Likewise, the study does not cover an actual servicing of a cadaver which could have given us the sense of the expertise as well as the level of comfort of the interlocutors in handling a dead body.  Likewise, the two separate days from which this paper is based on may not have been enough to uncover the complexity and the nuances of living the life of a busy mortician, or in the case of Brittany and Dana, a glimpse of their behavioral patterns amongst dead people.

APPLYING LEARNING THEORIES
To be an embalmer, one must undergo trainings and pass an Embalming Certification test.  However, no school or university offers any course in preparing the dead for visual presentation inside a casket, nor are there conventions how a dead person should look while being viewed; social norms and mores coupled with an individual’s cultural sensitivity suffice as a loose guideline on how such work should be conducted.  Hence, someone who is interested in working as a mortician is left to his or her own devices in as far as learning the craft and pushing its limits are concerned.

Literacy is often defined in academic circles as the ability to read, write and do arithmetic, ostensibly for productive pursuits.  This somewhat exclusive definition of literacy places a mortician’s knowledge and skills base, which hedge on the practical, outside of the popular defined meaning.  However, it is -- like hunting or foraging for food by the Maoris of New Zealand and the Aborigines of Australia, or the construction of the Banawe Rice Terraces of the Ifugaos in the Philippines -- no less important or indispensable to a society than any of the literate skills accepted by western-style education.  Further, because beautifying the dead requires learning, leaves room for innovation, and produces an invaluable contribution to society, it should be rightfully considered a type of literacy.  

While the interlocutors of this ethnography learned their skills through differing contexts and have taken different entry points to the profession,  Albert  Bandura’s social learning theory  puts into perspective how both the interlocutors were able to acquire their knowledge.

The social learning theory, also called observational learning or vicarious learning, states that learning occurs as a function of observing others who serve as a model, noting the consequences of what is observed, and then replicating the behavior.  Because of the absence of standards, it will be noted that the elder mortician, through her experience and personal observation of her work and its results, has began to use these self-discovered baselines as a platform to better her craft in such a way that she had, over time, developed her own set of techniques and values, which may be different from those of other morticians.  This conscious decision to better her craft based on her life experiences can be considered incidental learning, where learning is planned yet unstructured.

Meet the Morticians: Flor and Brittany
This section would present varying ways in which the social learning theory as well as incidental learning apply to two generations of the Dayao family, and how their respective environment and social underpinnings weighed in on their decisions  to pursue a life in the funeral business as morticians, as well making them feel at ease in a milieu that most would be scared of.

Flor Dayao:  Married into the business
Flor Dayao is a 56-year old wife to a licensed embalmer, mother to 3, and grandmother to 2 beautiful and intelligent girls, Brittany, nine years old and Dana, two.  While movies and the media may have created a stereotyped image of a mortician as a somber looking, detached and unsociable loner, Flor is as bubbly and warm as any one’s favorite aunt.  In fact, she was the only one of the several morticians we sought who gladly obliged an interview; others, upon realizing that our purpose was to strike a conversation and not offer a cadaver to be made up, grumpily and abruptly turned down our request.  During our conversations, she was relaxed, spontaneous and very open.

Flor who took up a secretarial course, it seemed, was fated to become a mortician as her boyfriend of seven years owned a funeral business.  The long courtship has prepared her mentally and emotionally to be part of such a sensitive profession that by the time they got married, she was ready and willing to assume a role in the family business. 

Consistent with the social learning theory where the learner gains knowledge by observing and modeling, Flor initially served as her husband’s assistant, while keeping a keen eye on how their resident mortician was handling the makeup job.  Over time, she realized that this was one area in the business operation where she could contribute the most and that would take advantage of her innate artistic talent.   Flor claims that she always had the knack for beauty and the arts – and painting life to a pallid face was, in itself, an art form that she’d like to immerse herself in.

She could no longer recall her first encounter with a cadaver as a makeup artist but she remembers that she was feeling a bit tense, not because she was scared, but because – just like any neophyte wishing to do a good job -- she was still learning the ropes of the craft and was mindful at how the dead’s kin would react to her handiwork.  From time to time she would enlist the advice of her husband’s uncle who was himself a mortician based in Canada.  But before long, it was through learning from her own experiences, consistent with the incidental learning model, that she was able to develop her style and techniques.  She said that her most important goal in every commissioned work is to produce a result that makes the cadaver look as if it was in a state of natural sleep. 

This is, however, easier said than done, especially when the dead is a victim of drowning or a head wound, which requires more care, patience and determination to make the dead look as fresh-looking as possible.  Even then, the result is almost always less than the goal.  Also, Flor considers applying the right skin tone and color as critical; too much color and the dead would look vulgar, as if she was about to go to a party, too light or too dark and the dead would scare the visitors away.  “Ang patay, kapag pangit ang makeup, taon na ang nakalipas pinag-uusapan pa,” Flor explains why she does not want her work to be associated with shoddy service. 

“Alam niyo kasi, walang namamatay na nakangiti.  Lahat sila ay mukhang nahirapan dahil naghahabol sila ng hininga.”

She then shares some of the tricks of her trade to make the dead look pleasantly at rest.  To eliminate the winced look on the mouth area as a result of gasping for air, Flor manually kneads the mouth muscles so that it forms a smile before the embalmer injects formalin to solidify the demeanor.  Because the eyes roll backward into the socket after death, she meticulously inserts thin pieces of cotton into the eyelids until the normal eye bulge size is retained, making sure that there are no noticeable lumps which would reveal the inside job.  The same is done for hollowed cheeks, but this time, with much larger cotton balls.  If the nostrils are profuse with hair, she snips them away with scissors; she also does the same when there is excessive facial hair.  She is more careful though with dyeing the hair because there are relatives who prefer their dead one to look like the last day when he or she was seen alive.

Because of her dedication and ability to beautify the dead, Flor’s confidence grew, and along with it the reputation she had in the community as the mortician of choice, both of the poor and the rich.  “Mapa-mayaman o mapa-mahirap, pareho din lang ang makeup na ginagamit ko.  Lahat signature,” Flor shares her equal treatment of her dead clients, “mahirap ka na nga, magmumukha ka pang mahirap sa kabaong mo, eh di lalo kang nag-mukhang kawawa.”

Flor initially claimed that anyone can work as a mortician, and that it takes no special characteristic to be one, but this is belied by an anecdote she shared about one of her daughters who signified her intention to learn embalming.    While in a training session with her father involving a real fresh cadaver to be embalmed, the daughter hesitated to insert a tube into the cadaver which should drain blood and body liquids.  She went out of the operating room and promptly lit a cigarette, which according to Flor herself, was an indication of nerves.  The daughter no longer pursued embalming after that.

Flor is active in the local church as a member of the Christian Women’s League.  This is where she feels comfortable socially because members know her line of work; some are even contracting her to do their make up when they are dead.  However, her friendship with them had not encouraged them to see the dead the way Flor does; to them the cadaver, unless it is of a relative or a dear one, must be avoided at all cost.

Brittany:  Born into the business
The future of Dayao Funeral Homes lies in the small, delicate hands of Brittany, Flor’s 9-year old granddaughter, who declared that she would one day assume management of the family enterprise.   Like most girls her age, she is a fan of Taylor Swift and likes mimicking gyrating dances on TV, a talent she allowed us to see after a little prodding from her Mama Flor.

Brittany literally opened her eyes to dead people as she was raised in the family compound that also served as the business’ base of operations, where she was freely exposed to what her grandparents did for a living.  Because of this, she is, unlike many children her age, comfortable being around cadavers, even touching them.  It is this level of ease with dead people that encouraged the then seven year old to tag along with her grandmother as she performed her job in the morgue inside the family compound, or when called in for home service in another barrio, or as a freelancer in other funeral homes.  Acting with an uncharacteristic sense of purpose, Brittany would surprisingly transform from a carefree child who still plays with a huge teddy bear to a no-nonsense professional assistant as she hands her Mama Flor brushes and makeups the way a nurse would hand over scalpel and scissors to a surgeon.  After the operation, she would promptly clean the tools of the trade and carefully replace them in her Mama Flor’s makeup kit.

It is in one of these sorties that Brittany volunteered to do the makeup herself when she saw that the dead was a baby.  Apprehensive but not wanting to nip in the bud her granddaughter’s enthusiasm for the craft, she allowed her to do the makeup, assessing that it was a simple job anyway.  Though her trained eyes spotted some flaws in Brittany’s first on the job experience, the satisfied reaction of the dead baby’s parents convinced her that she had found her heir-apparent.  Two years later, Mama Flor had lost count at how many dead young children Brittany had beautified. 

When asked what she feels when doing makeup, Brittany answers like the child that she is: Masaya po.  Iniisip ko lang na mine-make-up-an ko ang manika ko.   She further adds, “Di naman ako natatakot.  Pero mga classmates ko po natatakot.  Akala nila gumagalaw ang mga patay.”

CONCLUSION
Society often dictates what is and what is not acceptable, what is mainstream and what is out.  Those left out of the majority are often discriminated against or put at a disadvantage in terms of opportunities and social acceptance.  However, some people belonging to the minority are there because of choices that are so obvious, and that they are somewhat outcasts not because they have done something wrong or are abominable in some way, but rather because their decisions run counter to what others would make under similar circumstances. A popular funeral business name such as Paz, like the Malabanan of pozo negro fame, often become punchlines because of the nature of the business, and not because of their lack of success.  In fact, a funeral home is lucrative business, as Flor Dayao herself admits.  Through their family’s small enterprise, they were able to send three children to college and are sufficiently funded to ride out rough times, as they say, “May buhay sa hanap patay.”

Because morticians and embalmers are left out of the mainstream, their next of kin usually take their place in the business; thereby perpetuating a line of interest.  Hence, Flor weds into the business, while Brittany was born into it.   Although, it remains to be seen whether Brittany will remain true to her vow to take over the business someday, as she intimated that she wants to study to become a nurse.  This niche, pun intended, and internal breeding assure that competition will almost always be relegated to a few families, and that new entries are highly unlikely, at least not in the prolific degree that successful mainstream enterprises normally spawn copycats.

The social learning theory or learning through observation is in full display in this ethnography; so is the incidental learning concept, because in the absence of formal and structured knowledge transfer, Flor decided on her own that she is going to develop her style according to her experiences and assessment of her own works.

The culture of an individual is greatly influenced by what he or she sees as normal on a daily basis, and also by her experiences which either confirm or debunk what the majority of people believe or assume to be true, or at least somewhat truthful.  Hence, when Brittany and her 2-year old sister Dana sees, and even interacts with dead people, then it is as normal to them as other children opening their eyes to a litter of dogs, or to a plethora of malls.  And if based on their experience that the dead does not do harm, nor do they haunt them in their sleep and even waking hours, then they would view them differently from other children who have been taught both by tradition and popular media that the dead can inflict malevolence, and therefore must be feared and kept at bay.



Tuesday, September 3, 2013

Trust me, I'm a liar.. a lawyer, I mean

Image from philstar.com
Perhaps it’s because I am not a lawyer that I don’t understand how a lawyer’s mind works.  Take the case of Attorney Lorna Kapunan, she with the close cropped hair, goth-inspired eyeliner and slow, drawling speech that reminds me of a carabao that has learned human speech, legalese at that, who in a recent exclusive interview with Karen Davila succeeded in convincing me that there are secret societies in the lawyers’ world composed of heroic, noble and idealistic attorneys in one corner, and a cabal of scheming, devious and cunning suits who use their encyclopedic knowledge of laws to muddle cases, malign personalities, and throw legal obstacles at pursuits of truth ruling the other; surrounding them are lawyers content to affix their signature on affidavits, interpret laws for corporations, or silently broker deals legal or otherwise. 

Of course, I may be wrong.  I’m not a lawyer and I don’t understand how a lawyer’s mind works.

Maybe law schools have secret parallel worlds that can only be breached by any law student willing to swap memorizing the Constitution over having a good movie date, or two that could land him a base, or two.  In this hidden world, law students are banged on the head by a gavel until they tread between consciousness and a possible homicide case, and would emerge from the stupor merrily choosing a house: Gryffindor! Or Slytherin! Or Notario!, which would ultimately seal their fate and mission once they pass the bar.

Kapunan spun a yarn, or at least tried to paint a scenario, of how Benhur Luy and Merlita Sunas, erstwhile right and left hands of her client Napoles, managed to dupe the entire nation including goodhearted but dimwitted senators and congressmen into parting with money that can’t even be counted without losing count.  And all these happened right under the nose of Napoles and her daughter Jean who were too preoccupied buying designer bags and exotic cars to know anything about how her trusted hands were besmirching her untarnished reputation.

I know Kapunan is supposed to do that as the defense attorney.  And that’s what I don’t understand.  How far can a defense lawyer go in defense of the indefensible?  Does painting a lie count?  Or casting shadows (she hinted at Benhur’s sexual preference) on an already shadowy character?  Or shedding crocodile tears before cameras as she implores “Oh, who can we trust but God”?

Since I am not a lawyer, I say I don’t have a clue.  But to prove my argument that there is a secret lawyers world, I would like to cite in evidence the true-to-life portrayal of defense lawyers in the Devil’s Advocate starring Keanu Reeves and Al Pacino, who together elaborately laid down the groundwork of evil for litigation success.  Oh yes, this movie by the way has its Pinoy life-imitating-art version starring the lawyer Fortun who is at the forefront of defending evil legion personified – the Ampatuans and, before that, once-popular President and now laughable city mayor Joseph Estrada, father of kindhearted but dimwitted senator Jinggoy Porkstrada.

Kapunan, herself, is a stalwart as far as the caliber and class of her sources of income are concerned.  She counts among her clients Hayden Kho and Marjorie and Claudine Barretto – characters embroiled in unsavory situations.  Tell me who your friends are and I will tell you who you are.  Of course Kapunan would say that they are not her friends; that she is simply putting a good word or two for them.  I don’t know. I don’t know how lawyers think, and I imagine carabaos speaking legalese so I can’t really be trusted on these matters.

I lost count at how many times Kapunan qualified her statements with “As a matter of fact…”  As a matter of fact, Napoles knew nothing about the NGOs.  As a matter of fact, the 17 supposed former Napoles employees turned whistleblowers all conspired to pin down Napoles to hide their devilish plans.  As a matter of fact this, matter of fact that.

If behavioral scientists are to be believed, one of the telltale signs a person is lying is when he or she uses “As a matter of fact” to bolster his or her statement.  But then again, what do I know?  I am just a curious biker who imagines a carabao speaking legalese, not really a legal luminary, nor even a law student who has had the privilege of having a gavel banged on his head.

But what I know is that every time Kapunan opens her mouth, she is being paid for by the money that has been siphoned off taxpayers; the same greens that were diverted from farmers’ implements, students’ classrooms and livelihood programs for the unemployed.  And I am sure that she knew and perhaps because of her advise (but won’t admit) that Napoles began withdrawing money from her countless bank accounts when this mess began to stink.  She should be made part of the charge sheet as an accessory to plunder.  Of course, I am not a lawyer and I don’t understand that a lawyer can lie through the skin of her teeth and proudly claim that she is only doing her job.

I don’t understand. 

Perhaps, in law school future lawyers are taught how to set aside personal beliefs and morals for the good of a bad person. Oh, Slytherin.   I don’t understand.  In fact, I believe that Benhur Luy and Merlita Sunas orchestrated all these mess, and now Napoles and the senators, and the congressmen are being unjustly vilified.


To paraphrase Kapunan in her teary spiel, “Oh, who can we trust… a lawyer perhaps?”


Thursday, August 29, 2013

If Porkstrada calls you a LIAR

Image from inquirer.net
SINator Jinggoy Porkstrada  tried to appear calm as he claimed that he had nothing to hide, and that if only Janet Napoles spoke the truth and nothing but the truth, that he had nothing to worry about.

I agree with Porkstrada that he has nothing to hide.  After all, his greed is too exposed that he can no longer do anything to hide it.  Only a fool wouldn’t see how Jinggoy made fools of the Filipino people, posturing as a do-good, pro-poor Senator only to hoodwink every Filipino by signing away hundreds of millions of pesos to fake NGOs with fake projects to help the downtrodden – particularly hapless farmers and the poor masses who, in a supreme act of irony, probably voted for him into office.

If Janet Napoles tells the truth, true, Porkstrada has nothing to worry about.  Because in the crook’s world, truth is about not admitting to fault, however damning the evidences are.  Their version of the truth is that some powerful forces are conniving to cast aspersions on their immaculately clean personhood.

That means you and I who like them to rot in jail are liars.  You, who have been robbed blind, ARE A LIAR!

How do you like the sound of that?

You must be angry.  You must.

You must not let up until the plunderers who wantonly burned public money end up in jail, not for negotiated sentences, but for the entire duration of a just sentence.  The social networking world where this and other blogs, and other posts, comments, demands and advocacies find currency is, as we Filipinos and the “truth-tellers” are finding out, a very powerful gong in awakening more and more previously apathetic Filipinos into a state of activism.  This is people power without the march – spontaneous and equally potent.

Porkstrada, Juan Ponce Pigrile, Bong Ribsvilla and Gringo Honaswine would wash their hands, deny involvement and claim that these are all politically-motivated attacks – they would say anything except the truth; blame everyone except themselves.  That’s how it works in a crook’s world.  Ask Gloria, she would instantly profess her innocence.

These are just four greedy animals in a stinking corral called the Senate; there are more and they are likely wishing that the cry of the people do not reach their doorstep. There are more beasts in the bigger sty called Congress; a lot of them were able to trudge their slimy feet inside the halls of congress by way of family connection, guns, gold and grand promises. 

The 10 Billion pesos being investigated covers only a period of 3 years.  For Porkstrada and the gang to so conveniently withdraw PDAF without seeming fear of being found out means that this has been going on for a very long time, and that the 10 billion, however staggering it already is, is simply the tip of a fuckingly huge iceberg.

And that is simply putting it into perspective.

So yes, if you could get angrier than you already are now, go ahead seethe.  And let these leeches feel the wrath of a people who finally found the collected voice to shout and demand: ENOUGH YOU PIGS!


If their conscience cannot put the fear of God in their being, then let your vigilance put the fear of jail and humiliation in these scalawags.  They are now feeling it.  Try as he might, Jinggoy could not hide the anxiety in his voice.  He and the rest of the pigs thought that this day would never come.  Thank God, it seems the clock is finally ticking.

Wednesday, August 28, 2013

Disabusing the Concept of Bullying



Disabusing the Concept of Bullying

  

An Essay based on

Bullies, Victims and Bully-Victims:
Psychosocial Profiles and Attribution Style
By Stelios N. Georgiou and Panayiotis Stavrinides



Written by
Marcial I. Enginco


For
Dr. Grace S. Koo
Professor, EDFD 206 Affective Learning
College of Education, University of the Philippines Diliman




SUMMARY
The study conducted by Stelios N. Georgiou and Panayiotis Stavrinides was aimed at establishing a link between a child’s tendency to either bully, be bullied, or both based on his physical appearance, temperament and degree of peer acceptance.  The study covered 377 young Cypriot children with an average of 11.6 years, with the cooperation and parallel self-presentation of their mothers.
The study concluded that bully-victims were more temperamental and more different than the typical student.  Consequently, he was more socially isolated than the bully, the victim, or the passive student.


BODY
Bullying, in recent years, has been used to describe a wide array of situations that involve either an individual or a group exercising or showing power and advantage, perceived or real, over another presumably more vulnerable individual, resulting in physical and/or emotional and psychological injury to the latter.  Even stressing a point or strongly echoing a sentiment that is shared by many others against a person who had committed something unpopular or unacceptable is often labeled as an act of bullying.  Hence, Janet Napoles, Senator Tito Sotto, and Hayden Kho mistake popular opinion against them as an affront to their person, never mind that the outcry was merited by their acts and not their personhood.

Sometimes, I feel that bullying is taken out of context and that discussions surrounding it tend to focus on surface concerns rather than zeroing in on its core issues, which should unearth or at least understand the underlying causes and therefore aid in crafting solutions or intervention programs where they are truly needed.  This is also my conclusion after reading Georgiou and Panayiotis’ journal which details their research on the psychosocial profiles and attribution styles of bullies, victims and bully-victims.

Stating the obvious
Researches are essential to gaining new knowledge and perspective toward an existing subject or problem; at the very least, it should tend to support findings already made in previous studies.  This one, though thoroughly and scientifically conducted did not, in my appreciation, further the cause of understanding bullying and therefore did not contribute to the proper evaluation of its existence and the mitigation of its resulting effects.  The study merely reiterated previously established notions about bullying, such as being different in a negative way in appearance or behavior puts a child at risk for victimization, or that bully-victims are disliked by their peers and are lonely, having few friends or no friends to support them, which without the benefit of a full-blown research may be confirmed and replicated through simple observation.

Digging deeper than skin
While I am not comfortable with the term used, the researchers’ contention that “peer violence is a universal problem” is correct and is, in fact, supported by data.  Numerous studies have shown that behavior consistent with bullying initially manifests when children reach the age of 10 (middle gradeschool) and peaks in intensity and prevalence when they reach mid-teens (junior highschool), but gradually tapers off as the child gains more maturity and perspective.  

What this suggests is that children will inevitably undergo a stage where they will begin to explore who they are and what they can and cannot do in a social setting and in the process may show behavior consistent with the description of bullying.  But while this errant behavior is not to be tolerated, it is however more crucial to look into why the child is exhibiting such aberration than trying to identify a personality profile and using it to preempt bullying behavior from manifesting, or if it can’t be helped finding a way to penalize or sanction him for this perceived truancy.  I subscribe to the line of thinking that being a bully or being a magnet for bullying is an offshoot of relational discrepancies at home, and that bullying behavior merely reflects a lack of security and guidance from the home.

While I am not questioning the research data nor the manner by which these are derived, I am under the impression that how these were analyzed and read was purposedly designed to skew toward a foregone conclusion or to a reinforce a bias previously held by the researchers; resulting in somewhat self-fulfilling interpretations that bullying can be identified through a child’s physical appearance, and behavioral and attribution patterns, and thus possession of this knowledge will help authorities to preempt bullying by identifying who are bound to behave in a certain manner based on flimsy and highly-contestable information.

Security as a learned value
I know a group of three brothers who physically would fit the typical candidates of victims based on this study’s assertion.  They are, thanks to the genes they inherited from their parents, short in stature but heavy in weight.  The eldest wears thick eyeglasses, while the youngest is blind in one eye.  Nevertheless it would be difficult to find a more sunny dispositioned set of brothers than them.  They are neither bullied nor exhibit behavior that would suggest that they are not comfortable with how they look, especially the youngest who does not resent his condition, or see it as a barrier towards achieving his personal and professional goals.  They have, by the way, supportive and caring parents.

Contesting the findings
I will cite and provide a contradicting reading on several lines and contentions made in this article to buttress my contention that the root cause and therefore intervention programs of bullying lies embedded in the quality of a child’s familial relationships and the security that he derives from it. 

I am a bit alarmed that the researchers do not give children with aggressive behavior and those who experienced being bullied credence when they attribute their behavior to external factors such as parents and teachers.  The researchers add that while such attribution may shield the children’s emotional health, it is however detrimental to any effort to change their destructive behavior.  This presupposes that the adults in the children’s lives are in no way responsible for how they behave with and against one another, and that any errant behavior and its consequent mitigation rests solely on the ability of the child to accept blame.  This is a particularly distressing interpretation as the children in question are in the median age of 11, far from being expected to think like adults. The way I see it, the fact that a child points to adults as the culprit for his demeanor is a clear indication of what he perceives is lacking in his life – direction, guidance, maybe even love.  A child exhibiting aggressive behavior then placing blame on adults is actually crying for help.  Ignoring such plea and instead imposing arbitrary punishment will only help foster the belief in the child that adults can never be trusted to provide guidance and care.

On a parallel note, the researchers stated that children with the ability to appraise negative events by claiming that they simply were at the wrong place, at the wrong time, and will never place themselves in a similar situation in the future are the most likely to adapt positively.  While I am not contesting this assertion, to neglect the role of adults in developing such a positive attitude in the child leaves the impression that children have acquired this on their own, which I highly doubt; they are, after all, a little more than a decade old.

When the researchers found a strong correlation between the student’s self-report of his personal characteristics and the mother’s perception of the same, they readily use it to support the veracity of their findings rather than casting a critical eye on such an interesting finding.  I believe that how children see themselves reflects how their parents viewed and taught them.  If a parent makes it known to the child that he is pretty, or intelligent, or talented then that’s how the young one will report his or her characteristics, in the same manner that he will report that he is unattractive or deficient in some way if he is made to feel and believe that, too.  Again, it is the parents who mold the child’s perceptions, not the other way around.  The case of the three brothers who all consider themselves as beautiful and love-worthy individuals is proof of how influential parents are in developing their children’s perspectives about themselves.  On a side note, I am curious why only mothers were made to take part in the study, and that if both parents were involved in the study, would the data gathered have remained the same or would it have been drastically altered?

CONCLUSION
People, including children, are social beings.  However, acceptable social behavior is learned through the push and pull of relationships beginning at the home for schoolchildren and extending to the schools where they will meet other young ones who are also struggling to learn socialization in the context of being around with peers.  When children reach the age of 10, his tendency is to ascertain his status amongst this group.  Unfortunately, for some who have insecure attachment values at home, this period of exploration may be characterized by aggression, or at the other end of the extreme – timidity and passivity.

We humans are not alone in this behavioral pattern.  A litter of lion cubs would routinely engage in rough play intended to identify their pecking order in the pride.  This determines who follows whom when the pack is devouring a kill.  Pigs do this too, and also for the same reason.  In a study documented by the Discovery Channel, a brood of piglets is shown engaged in simulated fights to assess each individual’s weight in the family.  The strongest one gets to choose the nipple that produces the most milk, followed by the runner-up, and succeeded by the next, until the runt finally gets the nipple that nobody wanted.  To test this principle, the researchers wrote big numbers on the flank of each piglet while they were feeding: 1 for the strongest, 2 for the next, and so on and so forth until the weakest is assigned a number.  They then removed the brood and placed them in a holding pen.  When they were released back to their mother, they promptly assumed their designated spot in the order that they fought for or were allowed by their rank, with nary a complaint or hesitation. 

What these behavior show is that we share a lot in common with how animals develop into maturity than we care to think, or admit.  However, we humans have the unique ability to put this in its proper context – that this stage has a purpose and whatever may be realized at this point is not permanent and may be crystallized into something positive and life-changing.  Parents, caregivers and teachers should be aware of this role.  This is what parenting and child-rearing is all about, to take responsibility in not only showing the young child what is wrong or right, but more importantly being there to provide emotional and psychological security in the home so that his interactions with his peers outside of it won’t be characterized by aggressive or timid behavior.


The tendency to bully is not determined by looks, or temperament as this study wants to suggest but rather in the values that children have learned about themselves and others as imparted by their parents.  When bullying happens, it is not recommended for teachers or parents to immediately punish or sanction the culprit.  But rather it would be best to examine the underlying insecurity that triggered such behavior and tailor interventions using this information.  On the other hand, children who experience bullying should not be readily shielded since this would impress in him the victim attitude which would not help him process the situation in a positive, constructive light.  Responsible teachers and parents should take this as an opportunity to teach the child a thing or two about adversity and overcoming it.  This way, the child is better equipped to handle similar situations in the future and will not take it negatively, but rather as a motivation to be a better and more capable individual.  When human’s response to a situation is based on a firm understanding, then that’s where real growth and development occurs.  That’s how a human being grows and develops as a person.