Pride

Ask me if I am proud of my country and I will tell you that you are asking me the wrong question.

Am I proud that 25 years after Edsa the Marcoses are back in power? Maybe not the presidency, but they are definitely back.

Am I proud of our PNP? The bus episode would have been really funny except that Bitoy didn't reveal himself in the end.

Am I proud that our government is known in the world as one of the most corrupt? So corrupt that our chief export is now manual labor?

Am I proud that hunger exists at all in a country so blessed that kamoteng kahoy will grow anywhere one would care to stick a cutting in the ground and not even bother to take care of it?

Am I proud that a despicable noon-time tv host is allowed to resurrect his career on primetime? And that our local televiewing choice has all but been reduced to either that despicable host or a Koreanovela, or worse, a local remake of a Koreanovela?

I can go on and on with this list. But I've sufficiently made the point. Pride at this point in our history would be false. Drink a cup of reality coffee in the morning, I'd advise you.

Don't get me wrong. There are a few bright spots we can genuinely be proud of. Manny Pacquiao for one. Charice Pempengco another. And maybe a few more makes the short list. But that's just the point. The bright spots are too few and far between.

So ask me another question.

Do I love my country?

Yes. Definitely. And I will tell you why.

I love that, as a people, we are able to forgive. Not always a positive attribute, as in the case of the Marcoses, but there it is, we forgive. We don't hold grudges.

I love that we've successfully deposed of two presidents with minimal blood shed. More people die when the Bulls win championships for Chicago. We are a kind people. Violence, as in the case of the terrorist Abu Sayyafs, is rightly condemned as so "UN-FILIPINO" -- not that the Abus want to be known as Filipinos in the first place.

I love that we can lose everything but never our ability to smile. Even in misery, we smile. It might not make sense to another nationality but as a Filipino we all know what that is all about. Life is hard. We've come to terms with it. We are not going to let that little fact bring us down any more than it has to. We are alright.

There are pros and there are cons to being Filipino. But I was making this list, I've come to this realization. I love my country for almost the same exact reason I love my mother. I know she is not the best mother in the world. I know all her faults. She may embarrass me at times. But warts and all, I love her -- simply because she is my mother.

And what is so important about this love, you ask? I love her enough that I want to make her proud.