Wednesday, January 5, 2011
Tuesday, January 4, 2011
to ask herself "are we really helping?"
Here are some random thoughts playing on my mind...
Yesterday, I read from Community Empowerment Collective's website about
"we want for people to be empowered and fight against poverty but what is the opposite of poverty, is it not wealth? An irony is that, we don't also want them to gain wealth, for wealth has a more negative underlying meaning" and.. "we would want people to get their selves out of poverty but deep in ourselves, we don't want them to get richer than us." (Not verbatim)
In ourselves, we have some discrimination for the poor... since we identify them, isolate our analysis to them and try everything that we an to make them integrated with the larger community. Is it not discrimination, in the first place?
Is it not true? Why are there social workers in the world? and why are we paid, if we would want to make a difference? Isn't our service for free? For some and for me, responses would be 'of course, we need to be paid too for our professional services' or 'we also need money to live'. The next question is.. what does being 'professional' mean? and if you need money, then why don't you get into another high-paying job?
Social workers are middle class people. Like me, we could play in between the crossfires of the rich and poor. We have poor friends so much more as we have rich and middle class friends. In this sense, a social worker's heart is divided into two. Her heart is with the poor and is bias with the poor but her upbringing has taught her from the start the live of the rich and to dream the life of the rich. It is a difficult challenge in the mind and in the heart to throw all these things away and sometimes inevitable to resist these subconscious yearnings for gratification. An example of which is.... though I advocate for organic and have learned the wrought that chemicals bring, I can't resist myself from buying those chemical soaps, perfumes and shampoos, which makes my life a little more fragrant everyday. Or this everyday fight to not buy soda or drink coffee or chocolate and everything else.
Yesterday, I read from Community Empowerment Collective's website about
"we want for people to be empowered and fight against poverty but what is the opposite of poverty, is it not wealth? An irony is that, we don't also want them to gain wealth, for wealth has a more negative underlying meaning" and.. "we would want people to get their selves out of poverty but deep in ourselves, we don't want them to get richer than us." (Not verbatim)
In ourselves, we have some discrimination for the poor... since we identify them, isolate our analysis to them and try everything that we an to make them integrated with the larger community. Is it not discrimination, in the first place?
Is it not true? Why are there social workers in the world? and why are we paid, if we would want to make a difference? Isn't our service for free? For some and for me, responses would be 'of course, we need to be paid too for our professional services' or 'we also need money to live'. The next question is.. what does being 'professional' mean? and if you need money, then why don't you get into another high-paying job?
Social workers are middle class people. Like me, we could play in between the crossfires of the rich and poor. We have poor friends so much more as we have rich and middle class friends. In this sense, a social worker's heart is divided into two. Her heart is with the poor and is bias with the poor but her upbringing has taught her from the start the live of the rich and to dream the life of the rich. It is a difficult challenge in the mind and in the heart to throw all these things away and sometimes inevitable to resist these subconscious yearnings for gratification. An example of which is.... though I advocate for organic and have learned the wrought that chemicals bring, I can't resist myself from buying those chemical soaps, perfumes and shampoos, which makes my life a little more fragrant everyday. Or this everyday fight to not buy soda or drink coffee or chocolate and everything else.
Monday, January 3, 2011
not to give a fish nor to teach someone how to fish
but to get organized.
I stumbled upon this, while doing research for the community organizing module.
I thought empowerment ends with teaching someone how to fish,
I learned, I was wrong.
From: http://www.sparkplugfoundation.org/faq.html
Sunday, January 2, 2011
defying one's shake, rattle and roll
is just easy. Go with it.
There will be points in your life where you thought that you've reached the peak, where you learned contentment and thought that you might live on in the future continuing what's in the now. Then all of a sudden, a strong earthquake will strike wherein the stable land that you're standing in will get a crack, gradually break and soon you'll fall. The crack, that is where I am.
It's been almost 6 years since I moved in Manila to prepare myself in the life of a university student. In the 4 years that I've been here, I became contented with late night chats or getting used to insomnia because of school work. I got used to friends who'll spend overnight at other friends' house, of eating at McDonalds, of keeping one's self happy through concerts, movies, anime and all commercialism has to offer. In the next 2 years, I'd spent in on travelling and meeting other people which kept me sane in as if the world was my playground and every people I met is a grain of sand which glides away from my hand soon after I picked it up from the beach. All these getting used to drove me to contentment, of standing on the edge of the Earth but in a solid ground.
Until I went home to Bicol... In a little less than 5 days, all those huge chunk of nostalgia hit me. Bit by bit, the memories which I thought I have buried in time sink in my senses and sing "it's all coming back to me, all coming back to me now". I met my friends again, relatives, playmates, as well as the then lovers. Their life has moved just a bit, but it's been just like before, yet with a few improvements of icing or spice on top.
A friend told me that he wouldn't want to move to Manila and he'll enjoy married life and die, in the same place where he grew up, in our barangay. While another told me, he feels exactly how I feel - Bicol has shrunk, and that to get married and stay in Bicol for the rest of his life is now an impossible reality. Friends who now have children taught me to be serious with love and to take each step with benign wisdom.
In two, or three or four or five years, I'll be in the exact position as them - learning how to prepare milk for my baby. But I'm caught in wonder, how I should choose the person to marry. It is not given in a piece of paper after solving a puzzle and definitely not like winning in a lottery, where you'll get the ideal person you've been praying for.
Before my writing has taken me to another planet because of the rush of thoughts, one thing I just want to ponder from now is how to defy this sudden shake of a question - would I want to stay the same in the next three, four or five years? And my decision is just to go with it, let the ground gradually break and I'll see what I'll do after I have fallen. Usually, I do best when I've already fallen.
There will be points in your life where you thought that you've reached the peak, where you learned contentment and thought that you might live on in the future continuing what's in the now. Then all of a sudden, a strong earthquake will strike wherein the stable land that you're standing in will get a crack, gradually break and soon you'll fall. The crack, that is where I am.
It's been almost 6 years since I moved in Manila to prepare myself in the life of a university student. In the 4 years that I've been here, I became contented with late night chats or getting used to insomnia because of school work. I got used to friends who'll spend overnight at other friends' house, of eating at McDonalds, of keeping one's self happy through concerts, movies, anime and all commercialism has to offer. In the next 2 years, I'd spent in on travelling and meeting other people which kept me sane in as if the world was my playground and every people I met is a grain of sand which glides away from my hand soon after I picked it up from the beach. All these getting used to drove me to contentment, of standing on the edge of the Earth but in a solid ground.
Until I went home to Bicol... In a little less than 5 days, all those huge chunk of nostalgia hit me. Bit by bit, the memories which I thought I have buried in time sink in my senses and sing "it's all coming back to me, all coming back to me now". I met my friends again, relatives, playmates, as well as the then lovers. Their life has moved just a bit, but it's been just like before, yet with a few improvements of icing or spice on top.
A friend told me that he wouldn't want to move to Manila and he'll enjoy married life and die, in the same place where he grew up, in our barangay. While another told me, he feels exactly how I feel - Bicol has shrunk, and that to get married and stay in Bicol for the rest of his life is now an impossible reality. Friends who now have children taught me to be serious with love and to take each step with benign wisdom.
In two, or three or four or five years, I'll be in the exact position as them - learning how to prepare milk for my baby. But I'm caught in wonder, how I should choose the person to marry. It is not given in a piece of paper after solving a puzzle and definitely not like winning in a lottery, where you'll get the ideal person you've been praying for.
Before my writing has taken me to another planet because of the rush of thoughts, one thing I just want to ponder from now is how to defy this sudden shake of a question - would I want to stay the same in the next three, four or five years? And my decision is just to go with it, let the ground gradually break and I'll see what I'll do after I have fallen. Usually, I do best when I've already fallen.
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