On Philippines and what you can learn from being different

Upon arriving home, I found a huge flume on my suitcase. In the one hour that it takes to get home from the airport, someone had felt the need to clear his throat, and aim the result at my luggage. 

It was a telling end to my trip with two Chinese colleagues to Philippines. After the initial excitement

Aflatot class in Manila

and anxiety that comes with traveling to a new destination settled down, the word that kept coming back in our conversations was “politeness”. Mostly related to how extremely friendly, polite and hospitable our Philippine hosts were, always smiling, always relaxt, always helpful. But later on, also as a reflection on how impolite many Chinese are. 

Among the cultural differences we found was the resilience of the teachers that we observed, and how at 30 degrees Celcius, they were pulling off amazing classes, singing, clapping, engaging the children all along. All their teaching materials were handmade, low-cost, traditionally inspired, and colourful. The parents maintained a beautiful garden around the school from which they sold the produce to the community. Where was the examination stress, the lack of time, the pressure from parents, the complicatedness of large classes of over 50 students that Chinese teachers tend to complain about, and use as excuse for not delivering high quality education? 

Riding a Jeepney in Manila

As the trip was intense, and took us up and down the country from one meeting to the other, we got more and more tired. And as we got tired, it became harder and harder to show the better sides or ourselves to each other. As I became more and more Dutch, my colleagues became more and more Chinese and the cultural gap between us became wider and wider. Just as I find it hard to speak any foreign language when I’m exhausted, I found it more difficult to understand why we had to bring back three overflowing bags full of presents for relatives. I found it more difficult to understand why we couldn’t communicate directly about what we wanted, but always needed to form a small talking chain. I found it more hard to live with the fact that at dinner 8 of our Philippine hosts were waiting to start eating until everyone was served, and that 2 Chinese guests weren’t able to know or sense there was such etiquette. 

The trip reminded me again of what I already know: that an intercultural setting is the most fertile possible soil to grow your personal leadership from. At any time, we can perceive of the foreignness as hostile, for example while driving through a slum area after sunset, depending on a taxi driver who doesn’t respond to our questions, and might or might not know where he is taking us. And we can hate it, and try to stay away from it, look for things that we understand: shopping malls, hotels, airports, because they are close to what we have in Shanghai. One of my colleagues dropped out from our trip, and opted for the latter: sleeping & shopping. My other colleague did the opposite. Through all the many misunderstandings, because English in Philippines isn’t quite like English in Shanghai, she smiled bravely, asked more questions until she got it, she stepped forward to arrange things even if people didn’t understand what she was asking them to do. 

Bay of Manila

One late evening we went out to the pool, I had promised to be her swimming teacher. The sky was lit up with stars, the pool surrounded by palmtrees and her heart raced with fear when she stepped into the water. Had she told me it was the first time in her life to swim, I wouldn’t have started by doing some floating. But once I found out, and let her to hold on to the stairs for as long as she wanted, the tightness around her chest became less, air reached her lungs again, and she trusted me her two hands to slowly make our way to the other end. Her two wide open eyes fixed on me, scared like hell, but never giving up to try the next step, and the next, and smiling all the while. There isn’t a more beautiful thing in the world perhaps: fear meeting with trust and bravery. While she took a long rest on the other end, I swam my laps feeling like a fish in the water. Not literally. I’m not a great swimmer. More like the fish being a giant foreign redhead in a foreign country, with other foreigners, being able to make sense of it all, easily.