The constant kvetch

Rhona Canoy .

SO… kvetch \kvetCH, kfetCH\ Amer. informal—(v) constant complaining; (n) constant complaint, or habitual complainer

I took a two-week hiatus from this space in the paper to attend to some things which I needed my undivided attention. It was unbelievable how much proverbial crap hit the proverbial fan during those weeks. Or perhaps I have just been tuning things out in order to survive. Trillanes, Duterte, Trillanes again, Duterte again, Mangkhut-Ompong, rice at 60 pesos per kilo, gasoline at an all-time high, peso at an all-time low, bombings in Mindanao, name-calling at an all-time high, seven young men brutally killed in Sulu by government forces, etcetera, etcetera. Ensuing volatile emotions coloring social media opinions. I’m actually considering ending my column-writing career. My ass is tired.

I don’t even know where to start. Yes, damn it. Our country is in a difficult situation and the big part of me that values my Filipinohood aches. But not because of all the things happening. My heartaches because we are a nation divided. My heart aches because it turns out we are bad at taking care of ourselves. My heart aches because we are letting the news (whether perceived as real or fake) drive our destiny. My heart aches because we are somehow choosing to tolerate this cesspool that we call our country to fester.

We like to rage against the wind. Yes, we do. Not against the machine, as Cong likes to think he is doing. Expending copious amounts of physical, emotional, psychic energy flailing at things we don’t or can’t control. Everybody has an opinion, everybody is right, everybody wants somebody (else) to fix what’s wrong, and everybody wants something. So we have a massive collective tantrum. Over something we don’t or can’t actually control. We have not learned how to objectively deconstruct what we are facing, and deal with it accordingly.

Take the Trillanes issue, for example. How quickly we rose up in arms either to defend him or condemn him. And how much energy and time we wasted posting crap on social media just to be “part of the discussion.” I can’t tell you whether he should be arrested or not, whether the strategy to harass him is legal or not, whether he is a coward or a hero. I don’t have time for that. And I can’t tell you whether Duterte is crazy or not, whether he has sold us out to China or not, whether he should be impeached or not. I don’t have time for that. I can’t tell you whether those men killed in Sulu deserved to die or not, whether they were terrorists or not, whether government is handling the investigation fairly or not. I don’t have time for that. I can’t tell you whether what we are fed as news (no matter where it comes from) is true or not. I can’t tell you. But that doesn’t mean I don’t have an opinion on these things.

So my ass is really tired. But I spent the last two weeks talking to young people who are also tired. And choose to do something positive instead of complain. Some of them are involved in ecobrick-making. They are teaching people how to stuff plastic trash into used plastic soda bottles so they can be used as construction material. Which is actually a cool way of making people aware of our trash problem, and doing something positive about it. And some others who want to promote backyard or container gardening so that families can have food security. And some others who want to go around teaching households some strategies to bring down their energy consumption. These young people are heroes in my book.

They are doing these things for no monetary consideration. They don’t get paid, they don’t ask for payment. They want to help, and do so in ways that are in our control. In all our get-togethers to discuss strategies, not once was I involved in a conversation that even hinted at any of the “overwhelming” issues I listed in my lead paragraph. Nope. All efforts and focus was on how to engage more people to take part in these projects and somehow feel some sort of control over their lives in the face of difficulties.

I’m not even sure how I ended up with these guys. Sometimes fate takes you by the hand and leads you to the most unexpected places. But I appreciate that they don’t want to waste their energies on things that have no tangible results. We can’t do anything about TRAIN except complain about it. Yeah, yeah, yeah. I know. Maybe if we complain enough, someone will listen. And until they do, all we do is complain. Well, I figured since if TRAIN has made things more financially difficult, I’ve planted vegetables in old plastic tubs and discarded water containers. So far, my backyard has kangkong, two types of lettuce, three types of chili peppers, pechay, and the ubiquitous kalamunggay tree. My tomatoes, eggplants, and okra have sprouted. Among other things. At least, that gives us a few pesos freed up to pay for other things. And we share the produce with the families of our workers, who are encouraged to take part in caring for our food security garden.

Kamote, saba and corn grits are making a comeback to our dining table, and our loyal cook is learning to be creative in stretching food resources. Yes, we are having to cut corners, but it is also pleasing that we have control over how. So we focus on that rather than complaining. We braise cheap meat to make it tender over a wood-burning fire, ever so grateful that we have a lot of available wood to use. We’re also learning to turn off unnecessary lights, plan trips in the car so as to save gasoline, take a jeepney, or (my worst nightmare) walk.

I’m not making myself out to be better than other people. I’m just doing what needs to be done. We’ve gotten so used to complaining and looking around for someone to blame and someone to do something about it. We don’t want to have to make the necessary sacrifices, and appreciate how much control we actually could have. A long time ago, I learned to play the desperation game. The ultimate “what if”. What if I lost everything in the world? What would I have to do to survive, to get back up on my feet, to thrive? What would I do with my daughter? What would I do if I only had 100 pesos to my name and had to live on that for a week, without going into debt? What would I do if… ?

That’s a skill we haven’t learned. Aside from the fact that we don’t want to give anything up, no matter how trivial or inconsequential. Women who complain that they don’t have enough money to buy rice for the week do so while their fingers and toes are impeccably -cured. Men who complain that they don’t earn enough to pay the exorbitant Cepalco bill do so while refusing to quit smoking or cut back going out for beers each day after work. The worst crime of all is not including the children in this difficult situation. We have not learned to discuss money matters with our kids, to make them participatory in the situation and expecting them to do their part to make things a bit better. If it’s cheaper to send them to school with peanut butter sandwiches and a small carton of milk in their lunch boxes, then do so. They are not being nutritionally deprived and they will learn early to appreciate how blessed they are not to be scrounging for sellable trash in the trash heap.

If you’re going to rage for or against the Trillanes situation, then do something about it. Go out into the streets, protest, get interviewed on TV, go to your congressman’s office and demand that he take a stand for or against the perfectly coiffed senator. Stop kvetching about it. Leave that to our beleaguered journalists and commentators. No matter who is in power, we Filipinos are kvetchers. Kvetch, kvetch, kvetch. That’s what we are best at. Second best is looking around for the person who is going to fix all the things we are kvetching about. As long as it’s not us who has to fix it, we’re cool.

Here’s what we’re not realizing. If ALL of us did one small kind, positive thing for someone or something—whether it’s to give your neighbor a few pechay seedlings they can plant in their home, or to take a jeepney today instead of the big gas-guzzler sitting in your garage, or throwing your trash in the trash bin for once—it will give you a small sense of accomplishment and satisfaction that you did something good because you could. And the more small good things you do, the more frequent you’re going to feel better.

The people we elect next year aren’t going to make things better, believe me. They’re going to do their part to ensure their reelection. That’s their job. They’re still going to steal from us, they’re still going to work hard for political permanency, they’re the most self-invested a-holes we’re ever going to find. And we are the ones who keep putting them there. So if you want something, anything, to change, do it yourself. Keep up the kvetching but do your part. Because after next year’s elections you’re going to find something and someone to kvetch about. Trust me on this.

Someone said, “People are afraid of change. Maybe not because they fear the unknown. Maybe because they fear things will stay the same.” If you change even if the world around you doesn’t, then something has changed. Let’s make it for the better. I started out this column by telling you that I’m tired. I am. If my words aren’t making a difference or an impact on anyone, then I’m wasting precious column inches. I don’t want to do that. I guess I’ll have to see how I feel next week. Sorry, Boss Herbie!