It was just another week of community quarantine in the Philippines (aka stricter “new normal”) until Filipinos decided that the government does not have a monopoly on the “bayanihan” spirit through the community pantry. The community pantry has been a volunteer-driven space where those who are capable can give what they can, and those who going through difficulties can get what they need. It started just when the third round of government support finally decided to be an unconditional cash transfer that unfortunately meant a lower rate as coffers run dry.
After relegating to the government to provide to its people, of understanding what it meant to hit rock-bottom in a pandemic, the dawning realization that citizens can take matters into their own hands and see immediate results was the perfect recipe for a new brand of “bayanihan.” Coming from its root word “bayan” or community, “bayanihan” means community togetherness, of helping one another. This was often depicted in the textbooks as a picturesque getting together of a provincial community, people in their kamisa de chino lifting someone’s bahay kubo (a nipa hut).
This spread of bayanihan is a perfect opener as we come to commemorate the 500th Anniversary of the Victory at Mactan this 27 April 2021. The contemporary struggles of the community pantry movement—from overreacting law enforcers, to abusive members of the community—can be juxtaposed against the struggle of Lapu-Lapu and our forebears against a new type of power. It is through these struggles that make us who we are as Filipinos—if literature on nationalism is to be believed.
To be a Filipino is a loaded term after all. How can we reconcile the mantra of having to leave the country to seek greener pastures with that certain spark of meeting someone abroad to exchange yes’s to the classic “Oh! Pinoy ka rin pala! (Oh! You’re also a Filipino!)” To some, there is nothing to reconcile as we follow through this serendipitous meeting with, “Taga-saan ka? (Where are you from?)” As the answer to that question often dictates what happens next. When people cordially part ways or start a lively exchange through their vernacular or a discussion of their province, we often accept that being a Filipino is the irreconcilable difference of life in the Imperial Manila, the province, and communities abroad.
But what if we take cognizance of our collective struggle and realize that there can be a larger community beyond the image of the barrio?
The call of nationalism resounds stronger than ever as people grapple with social change and the fragmentation of social identity. It is a time when the processes of globalization brought to bear new emphases on the local, a time when the fragility of identity has highlighted our relationship to place and people.
Paul James, Nation Formation: Towards a Theory of Abstract Community
What a contemporary observation as politics divide people based on political beliefs, as COVID-19 emphasized the importance of the nation and the negative dependencies of globalization, yet James wrote this in 1996. There is no better time to once again ask, “What does it mean to be a Filipino?”
Elroy Rendor 