I had to make another walk-through in the environs of Metro Manila to get an updated grasp of the few Muslim communities that had slowly sprouted as an aftermath of the successful overrun of an Abu Sayyaf camp by the Philippine Marines in the southern tip of the Philippine island of Mindanao.
Although 85% Roman Catholics populated the major islands in the Philippines, places like Maharlika Village, Taguig, and a glitzy shopping area called Greenhills around Manila housed Muslim immigrants from the south who were now under scrutiny.
Since the Valentine Day’s bombings, which the local intel had found out to have costed the terrorists US$7,000-,the Manila government was not taking any chances through regular surveillances of these communities which netted for them a cohort of bombers trained by Jemayah Islamiya in Indonesia and Malaysia.
Knowing their trade in CD piracy, it wasn’t that difficult to show my interest in cheap CDs and pose as a potential buyer around Greenhills. The CD shops that once lined the stalls were now replaced with rows and rows of South Sea pearl shops tended by the Muslim women. The only clue left of the former CD shops was the gruffy voice that called out “DVD, sir?” behind me as I passed by.
With a few smatterings of the local dialect, Tagalog, that I picked up for shopping purposes and some body language, I had somehow convinced them (two others followed us behind) that I was a genuine DVD aficionado willing to part with my hard-earned cash. English would’ve been a dead giveaway to clue them in that I wasn’t really part of the regular scenery. With the backdrop of 300 years of Spanish rule, the Philippines had a lot of half-breeds (Mestizos) or Tisoys who I probably passed for.
The accent was unmistakable.( I was getting good at audibly distinguishing) Southern Mindanaoan , as only a Muslim from the south could speak his Tagalog. I was led to an outdoor café’, where two other guys started showing me a shopping list of the DVDs they had (most of the latest movies) and they said that I could either wait while one of them retrieved what I wanted or I could just follow them to the main place and probably view their wares. Being the curious cat that I am, you must’ve guessed my choice.
The main place was what I wanted to see, so I followed them as they led me through a roundabout of the shopping stalls, through the security guards and out of the main complex into the main streets nearby. I could tell from the overfolded jeans and the outworn rubber shoes of the guide before me that it’s been some months for him in loaners. I was assessing their built and if I could outrun them… just in case. Thoughts of reporter Daniel Pearl raced through my mind, but I kept saying, “Hey, this ain’t Pakistan.” (Then again, he must’ve said something similar to himself before he disappeared)
There were a number of traffic cops still visible even at dinnertime and the streets were well-lighted which emboldened me until their friendly spokesman pointed to a familiar bank sign which marked an alley niched between two 20-storey buildings. It was a narrow passage (good for two) made narrower by the makeshift wooden stalls that lined each side but people continuously just went in and out of the alley, as if it were a shortcut of some sort. It was well-lighted and the end led up to a short staircase that led to what seemed to be several squatter houses (a squatter community behind a glitzy shopping center!?)
I could’ve just gone up the staircase, but their spokesman pointed to a wooden house built on a space at the side of the building just before the staircase, as being “the place”, so I turned, looked at the women sitting at the entrance, who smiled and said, “Pasok kayo, sir (come in, sir.). There were some teenage guys wearing fishermen’s knitted caps sitting on a makeshift fence as I went in, but they looked straight ahead as if they didn’t notice me.
They opened the sliding front door that revealed a well-lit room crammed with a lot of people (all male – about 7 or 8 of them) for a 5-bed size floor space. Only one other fellow appeared as another customer to me. He was asking for particular movies, like I was. The other who was the only phenotypically Chinese, casually but smartly dressed, in the group (Malaysian Chinese?) was going thru the DVD files but kept doing so ritualistically and the others, dressed in similar unkempt garb, just kept milling around. A 17” inch monitor was reviewing a DVD movie on a multiregional player. On its left side below a poster picture depicting an aerial view of Muslims worshipping at the temple in Mecca, Saudi Arabia, stood the mother lode.
Bill Gates, eat your heart out. Here were stacks and stacks of pirated DVDs and they were even classified as original Indonesian or original Malaysian. I was trying to see if there were software I could use, but they were buried behind the tons of movies I saw selling at the equivalent US$ 2 a piece (Is that cheap or is that dirt cheap?) Using BitTorrent/ Exeem and a little patience, one could undercut pirate economy rates, but this is the shortcut. The DVDs/CDs were stacked bare without their jewelry cases but encased in their paper labels which were folded into sachets. With less of the breakables, they could easily be transported within pillows, blankets and mats the Muslims are wont to travel with using interisland shipping.
My assessment of situation then was that I wouldn’t be able to get a safe conduct pass out of that room without at least buying some of their wares. So I chose a DVD movie, “Konstantine”, a Keanu Reeves starrer, and told them if I liked it, I would come back for more. They told me that I could view it there but I told them I didn’t have the time.
As I put out my wallet to bring out the cash, the inevitable happened. A US$ bill peeped out. Jeez. And I thought I had everything exchanged for Philippine pesos. Although I promptly folded the wallet, I was pretty sure they caught sight of it, for immediately after, the door slid shut behind me and two of them approached me on the side and shoved something to my face.
Of all things, stacks of Porn CDs were shown to me at 3 pieces for the same price. (Why must horny be the first adjective they use to describe American males ? Just asking.) I used the same smile I used in approaching them as I headed for the door promising to come back. In Asia, you smile a lot as you see others smile. You don’t know what they’re up to and they don’t know what you’re up to. If you frown, or show irritation, then it’s like a fish floundering in the ocean and attracting the sharks. When you smile, you can better manage to slide out of tight situations, at least most of the tight situations. When I got out the entrance, the women, called out “Pasensya na, sir.” (Have patience with us, sir.)
As the spokesman escorted me out of the alley and into the parking lot , I sensed he wanted to talk some more, but ended with saying “Pasensya na, sir” again and that he was just trying to eke out a living.
As I jogged through one of the Manila parks the following weekend, I passed a central shed which served as a multi-function area for ballroom dancing, prayer meetings and snacks. Several male muslims had gathered for a meeting and prayers. Wanting to strike a conversation in a safer situation, I asked one of them what the prayers were all about. I was told they were praying for the Pope. True enough, it came out as the following day’s news.
“What was it actually – united front tactics or a genuine political statement ?”, my skeptical self would question. Usually, Muslims are quiet on things that might be disadvantageous to fellow Muslims, let alone, their own religion. But here they were – praying for the spiritual leader of Christians – a group the terrorists had lumped to them as “ infidels”. They could’ve just kept quiet, but they went on publicly and prayed for the Pope. Isn’t this the attitude they had peacefully living with Christians in the Philippines before Al Qaeda and Abu Sayyaf came along ?
The same phenomenon was observed from among the million Muslim population in London when the headscarf issue came to fore. Majority of the Muslims supported the school policy of doing away with headscarves. Would we hear more Muslims in the future voicing their grievance against Islamic Fundamentalism ?
“Visitors” can only be as nosy as they are less noisy. I need back-up here. Besides, I’m getting homesick.