Complacency

IN MANILA, I never wore any jewelry (I only own one genuine item anyway), and I always kept track of where my wallet, cellphone and keys were. When out at night, I kept an eye on strangers I shared a sidewalk with. I always gave detailed directions to taxi drivers and tried to read their face one the rear view mirror, forwarded e-mails about taxi abductions going through my mind. My bag or backpack was almost always with me. When alone at a cafe, I would bring with me to the ladies' room. At the gym, it would be safe in a locker or on the floor where I could keep an eye on it. That was the way it was in Manila. That is how most Manilenos behaved too.

Here in Duluth, it is hard to keep my Third World street smarts. At the university library, students leave their backpacks open--iPods and wallets spilling out on the desk--when they go to the loo. People leave their car windows down at the parking lot and leave their doors open on side streets. Laptops are left open and humming, and alone on front porches. And yesterday, I did it. I left my bag all alone on a library table. What is the matter me? What is the matter with with these people? Sometimes I look at C. in askance and he just tells me that's the way it is in these university towns.

I'm sure these behaviors are indicators that Duluth is a safe and pleasant place to live in. And it is indeed very beautiful. People are friendly, once you get the hang of American-Minnesota small talk. ("Hi! Howzit goin? Ooh now, isn't the day a beauty!") But they are easily perturbed too. I remember that talk I gave to a class of retirees for the University for Seniors program. They all wondered why I spoke English so well. And I explained that English has been the language of instruction in the Philippines since the US invaded us after the Spanish (or was it the Japanese) war. The old guys and gals were crestfallen. They never knew the US invaded the Philippines. Some of them never even knew about my country till that very day I spoke in front of them. All these retired engineers, homemakers, architects, nurses and school teachers. All of them well-meaning and kind, but unaware of many things and forces that change the world outside the predominantly Lutheran state of Minnesota.

I felt compelled to comfort the old folks. Tell them everything's okay. So I said, democracy is a messy business but at least we kicked you out and we've got our country back now. But instead of the relieved and relaxed looks that I hoped for, brows furrowed deeper. (Trademark Natasha taklesa! I realized what I said 3 seconds after I said it. Oh God, I could hear the sirens of Homeland Security police cars getting louder and louder. Lintek, baka ma-deport pa ako nito!) Everyone thought it, but no one dared say it: are we doing this to Afghanistan and Iraq too? In moments of panic, one reverts to the native tongue. I wanted to say "Biro lang!" but I knew I wasn't kidding. Like that tired journalism cliche, I was just calling a spade, a palakol.

But the damage had been done. I felt I had devirginized a roomfull of innocents. I was the bringer of uncomfortable truth. Me. A small Asian woman half their junior. I was sure I would never get invited to speak there again. Many of them approached me after the talk, to say how enlightening it all was. I am sure it was. Kind of like when you find out there isn't a Santa Claus.


I AM of two minds about the pleasant complacency of life in Duluth. I like it. It's probably something I wished I had in Manila. I also resist it, knowing I can never be as complacent as any true Duluthian is. It is part of my history and part of my journey.

Cities are different the way people are and the charms of home--good food, the proximity to friends, excellent choral music--are intertwined with the quirky kapit sa patalim way of life in Manila.

All I can do for now is keep chaining my bike to bike racks and hope the extra vigilance will someday pay-off.