A pair of shoes is a treasure for most poor Filipinos.

philstar

The philosophy of shoes TO THE QUICK - Jerry Tundag () - July 8, 2005 - 12:00am

On the front page of The Philippine Star issue of last Wednesday, July 6, was a photo of two grade school children, drenched to their skins from the rain, and wading through knee-deep floodwaters.

The immediate impact of the picture was to realize, yet again, the perennial problem of flooding, especially in the urban centers, and how local government officials seem always unable to provide a workable solution.

And then, from that initial realization came other realizations, like how those children and thousands, perhaps millions, of others like them are consequently exposed to the different water-borne diseases that regularly visit during the rainy season.

As one got more transfixed on that photo, and the mind hied off to yet other concerns, of which there seemed to be mysteriously plenty as they got awakened one by one in a suddenly very demanding taxpayer, one thing that was initially missed suddenly leaped out of the picture.

Not only did this thing leap out of the picture, it grabbed the beholder for recognition. By God, how could this thing be missed? This thing suddenly transformed a picture of bleakness in Philippine life into one of amusing endearment.

Because of the flood, the tendency was to focus simply on the flood. Well, one of the two children in the picture, a boy, turned out to be holding up what appeared to be a pair of brand new shoes. Yes! That's right! A pair of brand new shoes!

For God's sake, what can be more Filipino than that. What boy, or girl for that matter, had not at one time or another in his or her darn Filipino life, not taken off his or her pair of shoes to protect them from the water.

The philosophy is simple, oh, not really simple but simplified by the exigencies of life.

A pair of shoes is a treasure for most poor Filipinos. A pair is supposed to last the entire schoolyear. For some, perhaps even two schoolyears. You do not let water ruin it by any means.

With that philosophy, everything else comes secondary to a young Filipino school child's mind. And that means never mind the feet. Never mind if, in those floodwaters, a displaced and angry snake could take a bite at a heel or a rusty nail could plunge into a sole.

The primordial mission that must be carried out to its inexorable conclusion is that the integrity and sanctity of the pair of shoes must not be violated, must not be compromised. It must not even be threatened. That's why the boy in the picture held the shoes as high as he can.

I must confess I can never fathom this philosophy of the shoe. In fact this brings me to another experience that has got something to do with rain, or flooding if you will, but which takes me in the opposite direction with regard to brushing against the Filipino soul.

One time, in my younger years and standing under a building ledge at a street corner near a leading university in heavy rain, I saw two people make a dash for it across the street, each going in a different direction. The one who took off from my corner to the other side of the street was a young male student.

What I noticed of the young fellow as he sprinted was that he had opened the textbook he had with him and used it in a futile attempt to shield his head from the driving rain.

The one who came running from the opposite direction was a middle-aged Caucasian, probably an American. As he ran, he arched his body forward, curling it in such a way as to form a protective cavity in which he had tucked a pocketbook so it will not get wet. It dawned on me at the time, and it has dawned on me again, that we Filipinos seem to unconsciously value our shoes more than we do our books, or even, for Christ's sake, our feet. Why, I do not know. Maybe you would know.

But first you have to see it for yourself. The next time it rains hard and there is a flashflood, try standing in a street corner. Chances are you will see somebody wading with one hand holding a book over the head and another hand holding up a pair of shoes.