Not so fast Chippy Chip! I smell a dead rat on board your rickshaw of an apology. Okay, so you did apologize to the Filipino nation. But why did you do so in Spanish? Why couldn't you just stick to English? What were you thinking in your so-called mind? We are an English-speaking nation, and the Spanish language as it has been known and spoken in the Philippines once a upon a time is a language of old. I think by doing so, you just added salt to a gaping fresh wound, perhaps insinuating a bit of our history that as we were under the Spanishconquistadores, and madre Espana being our "master," making us "a nation of servants?" Either you are totally ignorant of our nation's history, or you simply wanted to insult us further by NOT apologizing in English. You said, "A todos los hermanos y todas las hermanas Filipinos: Losiento mucho. Vamos a vivir en paz." (Translation: To all Filipino brothers and sisters, I am very sorry. We should live in peace.) I wonder how many Filipinos understand that before translation. I'd say, "El burro sabe mas que tu!"
I would like to think that you are an intelligent individual and that you are perhaps educated in the UK just like many of your fellow-yellows. But no, you had to stay put in your comfort zone, just below the moral poverty level where you are most comfortable with.
I cannot, and will not accept your apology. As it is, more damage has been done with your apology. I leave your fate in the hands of the Filipino people. After all, it wasn't only I you insulted, but 92 million others.
This piece is dedicated to a Chinoy friend Edgar Allan Po, and in praise of the great author Edgar Allan Poe.
A reminder of the past elections, in anticipation to the forthcoming one.
Once upon a campaign dreary, one which left us weak and weary; O'er many a quaint and curious promise of political lore, While we nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a yapping, As of some votes overlapping, energy-zapping to the core. "Tis a mess here," we all muttered, as the network anchors stuttered, stuttered over a president wh*re. Could there be another election, with such a case of misdirection, One with such a weak selection, yet fraught with tension all the more? Quote the ravers, "Nevermore."
Many of my good and best friends are Filipinos of Chinese descent, a number of whom are even more patriotic Chinoys than the average Pinoy, if you know what I mean. Decent, respectable and Godly Chinese-Filipinos, or Filipino-Chinese. They who have made the Philippines their one and only motherland and home, working hard and living well. But, when a Hong Kong Chinese journalist writes an article of insult to hurt some 130,000 hard-working Filipina maids in Hong Kong, I immediately dump everything that's Chinese around me, including all my Ma-Ling, Haw flakes and Melamine-tainted milk in the garbage bin and start sharpening my bolo or gulok, and begin pointing it towards Hong Kong like a rabid but true katipunero, if you know what I mean.
Chip Tsao, a HK-based journalist who writes for HK Magazine has just declared war to all patriotic Filipinos, and most especially to all those who have relatives working in Hong Kong - maids, if you know what I mean.
In his column, Cheap Chow, er ... Chip Tsao wrote, "The Russians sank a Hong Kong freighter last month, killing the seven Chinese seamen on board. We can live with that - Lenin and Stalin were once the ideological mentors of all Chinese people. The Japanese planted a flag on Diaoyu Island. That's no big problem - we Hong Kong Chinese love Japanese cartoons, Hello Kitty, and shopping in Shinjuku, let alone our round-the-clock obsession with karaoke. But hold on - even the Filipinos? Manila has just claimed sovereignty over the scattered rocks in the South China Sea called the Spratly Islands, complete with a blatant threat from its congress to send gunboats to the South China Sea to defend the islands from China if necessary. The reason? There are 130,000 Filipina maids working as $3,580-a-month cheap labor in Hong Kong. As a nation of servants, you don't flex your muscles at your master, from whom you earn most of your bread andbutter. As a patriotic Chinese man, the news has made my blood boil. I summoned Louisa, my domestic assistant who holds a degree in international politics from the University of Manila, hung a map on the wall, and gave her a harsh lecture. I sternly warned her that if she wants her wages increased next year, she had better tell every one of her compatriots in Statue Square that the entirety of the Spratly Islands belongs to China. Grimly, I told her that if war breaks out between the Philippines and China, I would have to end her employment and send her staight home, because I would not risk the crime of treason for sponsoring an enemy of the state by paying her to washmy toilet and clean mywindows 16 hours a day. With that money, she would pay taxes to her government, and they would fund a navy to invade our motherland and deeply hurt my feelings. Oh yes. The government of the Philippines would certainly be wrong if they think we Chinese are prepared to swallow their insult and sit back and lose a Falkland Islands War in the Far East. They may have Barack Obama and the hawkish American military behind them, but we have a hostage in each of our homes in the Mid-Levels or higher. Some of my friends told me they have already declared a state of emergency at home. Their maids have been made to shout "China, Madam/Sir" loudly whenever they hear the word "Spratly." They say the indocrination is working as wonderfully as when we used to shout, "Long live Chairman Mao!" at the sight of a portrait of our Great Leader during the Cultural Revolution. I'm not sure if that's going a bit too far, at least for the time being."
Chip Tsao is a best-selling author and columnist. A former reporter for the BBC, his columns have also appeared in Apple Daily, Next Magazine and CUPMagazine, among others.
This is a sad day for both satirist and Filipino that I am because Mr. Tsao simply went overboard on this one. I woudn't be surprised if his Pinay domestic helper would from now on spit on his egg-drop soup every time she prepares him his dinner. I just hope he gets to see the difference, but I doubt it very much. As I write this, a juggernaut of reactions have now inundated the HK Online website, and I expect this to drag on for quite some time, unless they pull down the article.
On the other hand, I am reminded of one patriotic tiny man who had a mouthful to say when his country was being "marginalized."
General Carlos P. Romulo.
When the design for the UN flag was subject for approval by its member-nations, General Carlos P. Romulo (head of the UN General Assembly and the UN Security Council) pointed out a grand objection. The Philippines had been scratched out from the map of the world on the proposed flag. The artist explained that the omission was unavoidable, for he said it was no longer possible to include the Philippines on a world map bearing the size of a tablecloth. But the tiny man with a huge stature refused to listen at all to any and all excuses! Raising to his full height, the diminutive Tarlaqueno demanded: "I don't care how you do it, just put my country on that flag!"
Today, we have a different breed of mutant-Filipinos holding office in Malacanang Palace, and who would readily give up territory like the Spratlys to a nation of counterfeits like China, perfectly defined with racist rick-shaw operators like Chip Tsao from Hong Kong, who claims to be a former staff member of the BBC, but doesn't say he was fired for lewd behavior.
At this point, I could use a second Lim-Seng right at the Luneta all over again. But on the other hand, give the guy a break. Just make sure its one of his bones, if you know what I mean.
Lastly, if Hong Kong means "Fragrant Harbor," could Chip Tsao mean "Stinky Mooncake?"
Undertow was the title of my column for the Philippine Chronicle. I have been blogging since. I am a lover of the Scriptures, having read the entire King James Version (not by choice though) at a younger age. I think I have a little Amish blood in me, having abandoned my car (by choice this time)in my garage for quite some time now, and doing away just fine from many of the comforts in life, having resorted to commuting daily. I am a grandson of Jorge Bocobo, and in my veins I know runs his blood of patriotism and nationalism and a genuine love for God and country. Somehow, more of that same blood has transfused in me and at times at high-blood levels to expose and correct any form of injustice done to the helpless. I love the Law, first God's, and second man's, believing that both must always be an integral part of every human being.