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In response to Mr. Estoconing's query regarding Cambodia's development dilemma, I believe that Culture shapes a society and therefore, at one point, affects economic development. Nee Meas' research study on Cambodia which focused on intrastate conflict to control the central government left me pondering on several points:
- The country is under the highly centralized control of the military patronage system, a concept of oligarchy spawned by the early communist Khmer Rouge and the Pol Pot regime based on discipline and conformity.
- The three problems arising from the crippled Cambodian environment include: distortion of social structures, social inequality, and lack of people's participation.
- Cambodia is living through a vicious cycle of power-hungry military officials and warlords and its oppressed citizens refusing to trust anyone for fear of getting arrested.
Having emerged from a struggle against communism and absolute oligarchy, the aged Cambodians are far too traumatized to trust anyone as regards nation building. The lack of human resources is not so much a problem as having the capacity to use the existing human power. Concerned members of the academe both from Cambodia and the international community suggest ways to alleviate the unusual problem that has been inflicting Cambodia for several generations. Aside from gradually removing the military patronage system and establishing a democratic form of government - one that is not tainted with malice, greed, and megalomania, creating networks and strengthening linkages within local government units should be prioritized, and most importantly, bringing back the trust among people.
Mr. Estoconing asked how development can be achieved in an impossibly torn country like Cambodia with its high militaristic rule, xenophobic values, and widespread apathy. Regardless of its painful past and conforming present, instilling trust back to individuals remains to be the toughest challenge. I always believe that behind a properous country is a unified citizenry. And in the case of Cambodia, healing the bitterness of the past can be a good headstart.
Its about time for Cambodia to come out of its shell and show off their exotic cultural heritage. The country's sociopolitical aspect may need mending but culturally, Cambodia has so much to offer with its unique traditions, arts, and architecture, among others. They can even bank on their hideous yet interesting past and the fact that some areas considered as sacred still have landmines waiting to be stepped on. People live to tell stories and nothing excites tourists more than a story on struggle and survival. Surely, these Cambodians after having been imprisoned in their own land for so long would want to express themselves through their craft. Cambodian dances are fast getting into the international scene so why not capitalize on that?
Culture plays an important role in bridging the gap not only between the rich and poor but among all Cambodians. Whether in a form of song, dance, painting, sculpture, prayer, architecture, or oral lore, it encourages people to express themselves (and creatively at that) which in turn enhances self-esteem and confidence, an essential tool in a peaceful group participation. It may be a long process (who says healing isn't?) but at least culture binds the people and gives them something in common, leading to the path of unification.
***
hmm...I just felt like writing this so as not to soil my pride. I just had to prove myself that I actually learned something from the case on Cambodia; that no matter how I'm judge, I'm confident of my brain's capacity to stimulate and process ideas.
Forced
Claudine Lim
Obcompfreak
Coming home to a series of glitches isn’t exactly the therapeutic setting you think you deserve yet for some reasons you feel empty without the little misfortunes that fire up your otherwise bland existence.
At times you wonder how on earth you’re going to survive the upsetting course you only have half a heart to take. You’ve been playing the piano since you were three and would’ve definitely loved a taste of UP Conservatory of Music hadn’t your parents insisted on sending you to that prestigious Christian institution in Negros Oriental to take up (ahem…ahem…) Nursing. There are various reasons that propel you to excel and who knows you’re only here because you just wanted to step out of your folks’ shadow to show independence without needing to. But then again, maybe you’re just forced to live up to your family’s expectations or to choose what’s practical where money is a’ flowing.
You find yourself overran with subjects that you know are of little or no use to achieving your goals. You plead the conformists to please stop with the holistic education crap as they very well know that quite a number of students feel they could do away with the extra subjects on the prospectus, not to mention a reassuring cut on their tuition.
Your mood dampens when you are compelled to write something against your principles because it’s what your narrow-minded teacher wants to believe you’ve learned from him/her. Your flair for words becomes useless because as much as you want to give the divine (ha!) educator a piece of your radical mind, the last thing he/she wants is an opinion contrasting his/her own. You can always rise up to the challenge by roping in your own convictions. That is, if you’re strong-willed enough to see an unusually low mark on your grade sheet.
You rant about how your teacher’s soporific voice barely keeps you awake to understand the lessons, then the next thing you know you surprise yourself by laughing at another teacher’s corny bathroom jokes. You don’t know how it happens but you deliberately sit in front, make yourself noticed, and guess what, laugh (too unnaturally) at a funny story your teacher shares for the nth time. Your seatmate also laughs (too unnaturally) but unlike you, he’s just trying to be polite by giggling.
You’re finally free for the day. There’s still time to grab some Quesadillas or watch 1408 with your friends. But as you cheerfully amble along Langheim Road, you receive a text message from your on-and-off boyfriend, threatening you to get back together with him else he’ll kill himself (a.k.a. deliberately flunk his majors). Your sunny afternoon returns to its gloomy state, gloomier in fact than you when were inside the sleep-inducing classroom fifteen minutes ago. You know he’s faking it but still agrees to see him because, though you deny it, you still love him (cringe…cringe…).
You decide against eating and head instead to your meeting. You’re happy with your organization but you wish not to come face to face with co-members who think they’re all that when they truthfully aren’t worth an iota of attention. You coercively engage in small conversations (if you can call it that) but pray that the chitchat on boys and make-up or girls and basketball would soon end. You crave for brain-stimulating topics and gratifying talks but at the same time bear in mind to avoid morphing into a self-professed intellectual who, in all astounding wisdom, couldn’t seem to understand the words “Keep Your Voices Down”.
You’re done with your research, decide to skip dinner (again), and by the time you reach your apartment, your tummy’s uprising becomes unbearable. You inwardly smile at the silence of your abode and as you settle for a cracker, you start picking up your roommates’ discarded clothes and washing their used plates. The place would never be clean as you hope to be. And since they’re out for the weekend you realize how much you missed being alone. Sometimes you get tired of reluctantly cheering up to avoid frustratingly being asked “Okay ra ka?” or feign laughter to get your chums to shut up about your stern humorless expression. But at the end of the day you yearn for good company (who sometimes forces you to go out of your comfort zone) and perhaps a hundredfold of shame to fire up your otherwise bland existence.
*as published in the Weekly Sillimanian (September 26, 2007)
I admit to being the official kiosk klutz so just to get it over with, I've listed several situations that ultimately never fail to impress on me my occasional lack of hand-eye coordination and utter need of brain-boosting edibles.
Klutz-o-meter
Kindly rate which among my kiosk bloopers deserves the highest distinction:
a. Mickey's five peso coin fell into a pint of oily jalapeno and chili siomai sauce because I was too slow (and blind) to notice where his open palms were.
b. Dirgy's iced tea cup runneth over. Literally!
c. Spilled Milo anyone? Seriously, how many times must this incident repeat before I learned to stay focused?
d. Daz's change. The girl was buying Funchum and I sort of gave her more than the supposed amount! Gulp... (And I call myself a Biz Ad senior? Geez...)
e. Jumping pancit canton with dirt granules on the side, please.
huhuhuhuhu
I would always feel sorry for failing my fellow campus ambassadors as their chairperson. Where previous leaders successfully organized projects that propelled the corps to dynamism, I was torn between managing finances of the school paper and doing practically all ambassador stuff by myself, refusing to designate assignments as should be.
As the officially elected chairperson Angel Amador’s second in command, I assumed the highest position and therefore the most crucial responsibility upon learning of her out of school status, confused as to where my loyalty lay. At that time, I was almost finished with the Weekly Silliman budget proposal I was drafting with then editor in chief Michelle De Guzman and was as good as pledging 100% of my time and service to the school publication. Now I couldn’t stop thinking had I remained vice chair, would I have been more efficient and productive in my tWS job? Or, if I had resigned and concentrated on campus ambassador affairs, how many vital projects and activities would I have organized?
It was evident that I sucked at multi-tasking, and with two demanding positions at that. My worries with being chairperson didn’t even begin with having to juggle these two commitments on top of wanting to redeem my class standing which I shamefully failed to achieve.
The campus ambassadors always know how, what, and when to speak. We undergo a strict screening process consisting of three phases. We uphold the tradition of choosing competent individuals possessed with the spirit of volunteerism; whose proficiency in spoken English is and should be untainted. We hone each other's social skills and the ability to easily strike meaningful conversations with people from different walks of life, and empathize with them. We are trained with experience, and with every verbally inflicted bruise, we conduct research to replenish our memory banks and value the importance of self-regulation even more.
The organization is home to a few of Silliman’s assets: members of the school publication, presidents and governors of colleges and organizations, runners of the student government, exchange students, and achievers in their own right. It is up to the chairperson, as the leader of student leaders so to speak, to take initiative in creating and sustaining an environment for these strong personalities to work harmoniously for the glory of the corps.
I knew I failed them because the projects I spoke of during our first general assembly never materialized. What about reviving the organization’s spirit and placing ourselves in the limelight that we once graced? Of bringing back the prestige that slowly left us? This was my pride talking, fueled by the memory of Ate Rose saying “ingon si Kuya Jojo nimo hinay daw ka mulihok og mga projects”.
I could only blame myself for knowing that though I couldn’t handle the job I still accepted position because the accompanying prestige was so tempting. And even though I was perfectly aware of my grammatical blunders, my inability to speak English worthy of a chairperson, and my abysmal ratings at socializing, I let my ambitions swallow me ignorant and still carried on without so much as a consideration for reelection. I was never fit to be a chairperson.
Gosh, I was embarrassed with myself. With Angel gone, I could’ve jumpstarted our first meeting with a snap election or something instead of handing out pamphlets whose plans and agenda never came into existence. I felt like a loser in a winner’s circle trying to fit in but obviously spilling beans of her mislaid self. Perhaps I had what it took to lead the “prestigious” society of leaders, but failing to maximize my potential when I had a chance hurt more than a thousand jabs. I could’ve done something worth preserving.
All I could remember of my term was the sound of my fellow campus ambassador’s boisterous laughter and the bond of tuploks formed within meetings, after-tour lunches, and more outings than usual not to mention an out-of-town IPR. That I will always be proud of the connection established among members was not enough. Why would it be when some of Silliman still doesn’t know we exist?
My high school buddy Joe says he's having a hard time adjusting to their new place in Arizona. As if leaving his friends in NJ/NY was not enough, he has to find a new job, make new friends, and "start from scratch". That's how life is, he says. You constantly think about those you leave behind especially if the new environment doesn't par with the old one. Via Friendster, I told him to think of his ordeal as a God-destined adventure. Who knows, this new place might brighten his life in ways he never thought of.
If he's longing for his old place, I think I've had enough of laid back Dumaguete. I am counting the days 'til I graduate and get out of this city. I've been here long enough and I know its about time to try another environment where I can start over - meet and establish rapport with new people, set goals, and learn from past mistakes. I am actually looking forward to starting from scratch (Joe and I are in two opposite situations).
That's the beauty of life. It never limits you until you say its over. Even if you're exhausted, it pushes you to move on, to evolve with the challenges. I want to be able to move on without ghosts from the past trailing behind, unattached to the strings that bind me to moments that are soon to become memories. I want to be able to hop from one island of experience to another, even if it means starting from the beginning over and over again. And even if I seem to run in circles, I know that after every round, I learn something new.
What good is the world if you don't explore it?
