Mending nets, sewing (sowing) relationships

Today's interviews were at the Cala-anan resettlement site. It's one of the largest resettlement sites in CDO, and is home to former residents from many different barangays. When I tell people that I'm studying the different places where the survivors of Typhoon Sendong went, and what they have done for their livelihoods, a typical response is "have you been to Cala-anan?"

Relocation housing in Cala-anan

From the city's main market, it's a 40 minute (15P) jeepney ride. My translator, Ada and I rode a jeepney that was nearly empty when it left the terminal. This is highly unusual; most drivers will wait until the jeep is full or nearly full before departing. We stop frequently, picking up passengers. We pass the giant landfill site (site of tomorrow's interviews), the turnoff to a transitional housing area and another relocation site.

Along one of the side streets, in the doorway of her row house, sits an older woman. She is mending a net. Instead of thread she uses fine wire, carefully stitching the mesh to a round metal frame. The net is pink. Attached to the frame is a long, thin metal handle. It looks sturdy, yet light.

When we reach the part of the interview about livelihoods, and changes she has experienced in her livelihoods before and after Sendong, I ask her about the net. Her former barangay is next to the sea; I am anticipating to learn that she used to mend fishing nets (likely for a fisherman husband or son), and continues to do so in her new home. That the person using the net doesn't fish as frequently as before, because of the distance and added expense of commuting from such a distance.

I'm wrong.

The net is unrelated to her livelihood. Her apo (grandchildren) like to fish in the creek on the other side of the road. Their enthusiasm for fishing (the act of fishing, not necessarily catching anything) means there are many nets to repair. It makes her happy to make her apo happy.

When I look at the net again, it looks familiar. Not one of the store-bought butterfly nets you see in nature stores. No, it more closely resembles the handmade nets my Grandpa made for his grandchildren. The nets that my cousins and I used to catch minnows and crayfish in Lake Superior, and the chipmunks and squirrels that ventured onto one of bird (squirrel) feeders at camp. The nets that gave us endless hours of planning, practicing, failing and finally catching creatures. The nets that, more importantly, encouraged us to play and run around together for hours and hours and hours. The nets that Grandpa would repair again and again (the squirrels had a tendency to chew through the nets in their quest for freedom).

When I watch the woman mend the fish net with this insight, I see her sewing with something other than potential income or food as her motivation. It's something that money cannot buy. In mending this net, she is sowing relationships - among her apo, and between her and her apo.

Academic publications, or Ada's first lecture

Publishing in peer-reviewed journals is a critical component of academic life. The old adage of publish or perish rings true for many university lifers. Your credibility, reputation and ability to garner scholarships, research grant money, tenure and promotions all depend, in part, having your research evaluated by your peers. There is a seemingly endless list of journals publishing research on an equally impressive array of topics. These journals are ranked in terms of their impact factor. For example, getting published in a journal like Nature or Science is akin to winning an Olympic medal. Scholars typically aim to publish in both very specialized journals read only by their peers and high impact journals with an extensive readership. In addition to publishing in peer reviewed journals, academics must also share their work orally - at conferences and workshops, guest lectures, in undergraduate and graduate courses. 

During my doctoral studies I need to buoy up the academic publication and presentation section of my curriculum vitae. This post is a brief account of one such foray.

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Part I: The article

Last year, I co-authored a paper with Dr. James Ford, one of my profs at McGill University. It investigates one part of the climate migration puzzle, specifically how to provide protection for the people displaced by climate change. The following abstract summarizes the main arguments of the paper.

Climate change is expected to increase migration flows, especially from socially and environmentally vulnerable populations. These 'climate migrants' do not have any official protection under international law, which has implications for the human security of migrants. This work argues that the United Nations Framework Convention on Climate Change (UNFCCC) can and should recognize climate migrants, and is the most relevant international framework for doing so. While not legally binding, the acknowledgment of climate displacement, migration and planned relocation issues in the UNFCCC's Cancun Adaptation Framework indicates a willingness to address the issue through an adaptation lens. Herein, the paper proposes a framework for setting the institutional groundwork for recognizing climate migrants, focusing on the most vulnerable, promoting targeted research and policy agendas, and situating policies within a comprehensive strategy.

If you want to read the full article, it's available on the Environmental Research Letters (ERL) website. ERL is an open access journal, which means that you can read and download articles for free. An added perk of open access journals (to academics) is that your research is more likely to be disseminated outside the academic community. 

For a short synopsis, try reading Liz Kalaugher's article on the environmentalresearchweb.org website. This online magazine targets a non-academic audience so the writing style is much less academic and reader-friendly. 

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Part II: The presentation

One of my key informants at Ateneo de Manila University kindly invited me to present this paper as part of their social sciences guest lecture series. I jumped at the opportunity. But it didn't unfold exactly as planned.

The lecture was set for Friday January 25 at 4:30 pm. As luck would have it, Frank received a text message from the MSI service center earlier that week, informing him that the long-awaited hard drive for our beleaguered laptop was finally ready for pick-up. We were in Manila for only a few days; Friday was the only available day for pick-up. Because the trek to the MSI office entails a short stint on the body-crushing MRT (Metro Rail Transit), bringing Ada was not an option. So Ada spent the day with me.

After a delicious lunch of bulalo (Filipino beef marrow soup) at Jek's Kubo (including a complimentary bowl of the broth and vegetables for "the cute baby with blue eyes"), Ada and I set off for Ateneo. We arrived early, with lots of time to peruse library resources and to photograph the outdoor art installation of quirky giant animals made of wire and coloured cans. I orated an abridged version of the presentation to a pair of giraffes.

Ada sandwiched between two giant giraffes at Ateneo de Manila University

Shortly before the scheduled start time I asked a fellow student if he'd hold the baby during the presentation. He replied that it would be his pleasure. As the lecture hall filled up, Ada started to fuss. She was getting into one of those moods, the one in which she refuses to be held by anyone except mom and papa. 

I sent a frantic text to Frank.

When I was introduced, the remarks included the usual info - name, degrees, country of origin, research interests, etc. The remarks also included some commentary about changing gender relations (in which the father takes time off work to care for the children), work-life balance, parental leave in Quebec, and conducting research with a baby. 

I walked up to the podium, notes in one hand, baby in the other. I don't remember much about the words alternately flowing and stumbling from my lips. I do remember bouncing my daughter up and down on my hip, listening to her babble into the microphone, watching her make eyes at the audience. I remember feeling mortified and guilty; the guilt comes from wondering whether or not I am exerting white privilege by bringing my baby to work and expecting others to ignore the inconvenience. I remember stealing frequent glances at the door, willing Frank to enter the room.

A half hour later he does. Waltzes down the stairs to the podium, picks up the baby and exits the room. 

My knight in shining armor is also my yaya (Filipino term for nanny).

Despite (or perhaps because of) the distraction of my co-presenter, the lecture was well-received. I am very grateful that everyone I have met here in the Philippines, without exception, has been extremely understanding and receptive to accommodating a baby. Even when it entails listening to a lecture delivered (in part) by a seven and a half month old.

Reference: Christine Gibb and James Ford (2012) Should the United Nations Framework Convention on Climate Change recognize climate migrants? Environ. Res. Lett. 7 doi: 045601

Postcards from Camiguin

A one week break from all research activities on a beautiful volcanic island in Northern Mindanao.

December 21
Greetings from Kingfisher Cottage in barangay Agoho!

After an exhaustive day of traveling, we are settling in nicely at our new abode. We had an early start to the day - with the intention of arriving in Camiguin early to mid afternoon. Our plans, however, were thwarted by:
a) an uncanny absence of taxis looking for passengers to drive into the city,
b) traffic entering CDO,
c) a long line-up of passengers waiting to alight the CDO-Balingoan bus (which worked in our favour by giving us time to use the bus station's CR (comfort room) - the cleanest public bathrooms I have ever seen in the Philippines), d) traffic leaving CDO,
e) construction on the national highway,
f) an hour delay in the ferry departure, and
g) an aging ferry whose running time, we are told, has increased steadily from one hour to two hours in the past few years.
We were glad to have asked Ralph, one half of the German-Filipino couple who own the cottage, to pick us up at the Benoni wharf.

Our first glimpse of a mist-covered Camiguin Island from the Baligoan-Benoni ferry.

On the way, we stop at the "one decent grocery store" to pick up some supplies in the capital town of Mambajao. There's a small combined wet (fish and meats) and dry (vegetables, fruits and rice) market across the road. We buy a few bags of pre-cut mixed vegetables for a stir-fry (at ten pisos a bag, it's a steal), some potatoes and a few skewers of barbecued pork (10PhP), fresh tuna (25PhP) and a fish whose name escapes me (30PhP). Masarap (delicious)!

Iggy

Daylight was fast fading by the time we left the ferry terminal. The beauty and charm of the island remains a secret ... at least until tomorrow.

P.S. Frank noticed two lizards perched atop the ceiling beam over the kitchenette. We named the larger one 'Iggy' and the smaller one 'Pop'. We enjoyed (and will continue to enjoy every night of our stay in Camiguin) watching them clamour after moths. They appeared to enjoy watching us too, and perhaps even amused when we try to engage them in conversation.


December 22
Maayong odto (good noontime) from Mambajao.

Today's the day for wandering the streets of the capital city, sampling local fare and strolling along the beach. The carabao (water buffalo) in the rice paddies along the beach fascinate Frank. The picture below is one he snapped from the beach looking up towards one of the island's majestic volcanoes, Mount Hibok-Hibok.




December 23

Today we experienced the world from a whole new perspective ... underwater. There's a beach resort / dive centre called Camiguin Action Geckos just down the hill from our cottage. It offers introductory SCUBA courses; your first dive is at one of the island's incredible coral reefs. After watching an educational video (that was probably made in the eighties or early nineties judging from the hairstyles), we hopped in a jeepney and headed to the Catarman dive site on the southwest side of the island. Exploring the reef is like jumping into a BBC nature special - except you get the full sensory experience, complete with the taste of salt water when your respirator escapes your mouth. Fish and coral of every imaginable shape and size, and more colourful than a painter's palette.

A roadside carinderia lunch included a delicious monggo bean and cabbage soup. The woman who sold it to us generously shared the recipe. (We're planning on trying it when we get back to CDO.)

In the afternoon, Frank had his turn underwater. He explored a reef just off White Island, near Action Geckos. Among the marine life he saw were two sea snakes and the silhouette of a sea turtle.


December 24
Joyeux Noel!

It's raining (again). It's amazing how the weather is so different from Cagayan de Oro City, less than one hundred kilometers away. CDO has not had a single full day of rain since we arrived mid November, while we have not yet experienced a sunny day in Camiguin.

A rainy day is a great day for visiting one of the island's waterfalls. We opt for the highest ones: Katibawasan Falls. It's a 75m drop. We charter a motorella for a 'special trip'. The lack of good maps and street signs means that you're less likely to get lost if you ride public transit than if you venture out on your own with the tourist map.

The young boy riding shotgun in the motorella wore an Armani t-shirt. His father, the driver, probably makes less than 200PhP a day. Armani clothes are probably sold for bargain prices at the town ukay-ukay (used clothing market).

At the falls, there is a group of physiotherapy students from South Korea. They are volunteering in CDO. They tell us the water is cold, but wonderful for a swim. The water is definitely colder than what we've grown accustomed to here in the Philippines, but infinitely warmer than the Quebec rivers we kayak in early spring.

One of several pools at Ardent Hot Springs

We spend the latter part of the afternoon relaxing in the warm soothing pools of Ardent Hot Springs. The natural pools are warmed in the neighbouring Mount Hibok-Hibok volcano. If you concentrate, you can smell a faint whiff of sulphur, but it's not the overpowering stench of rotten eggs. There are a series of beautiful little pools and waterfalls the same temperature as a baby's bathwater. Ada revels in this gigantic bathtub.

P.S. Tonight was Frank's night for handwashing diapers. Daily diaper washing has become a necessity because it takes so long for the diapers to dry in such a wet and humid climate. Before going to bed, Frank jokes that he never imagined that his first Christmas Eve in a tropical paradise would include such a dirty job.

December 25

Merry Christmas from Kingfisher Cottage! 

It's another rainy day so we've opted for a leisurely day.  Breakfast is French toast (the preferred breakfast of dads-on-parental-leave), fresh pineapple and mango, and instant coffee. After eating, we opened a few gifts while listening to the Puppini Sisters Christmas album. Ada's favourite present was the box.

The cottage owners, Ralph and Suzie, invited us to a Christmas lunch buffet. Like other family-based gatherings in the Philippines, there were copious amounts of food.  We spent several hours eating and conversing with a dozen or so guests. We had a particularly interesting discussion with a Camiguin-based couple, a Swiss man married to a Filipina woman, about grandfather aged foreign men starting a second family with a several decades younger Filipina woman.

I managed to sneak in a short run up to Ardent Hot Springs then down to Action Geckos before dinner. It was raining, so it felt like a late spring run in Montreal ... except for the coconut trees, roosters and pigs.

View of White Island from Kingfisher Cottage

December 26
Kamusta ka!

Despite soaring temperatures, we enjoyed a white Christmas. We spent late morning and early afternoon (with the time difference, this morning can be considered December 25 in Canada) on White Island, a gorgeous white sand island about a kilometer from the coast.

We shared a bangka (boat) from the mainland to the island with a newly-married couple on their honeymoon. He's from Ottawa, working in Calgary (and he's a Habs fan); she's from CDO, working in Calgary.

 

Frank and I took turns swimming with Ada in a shallow pool, and snorkeling around the reef. It was absolutely stunning, and we failed to notice how strong the sun had become. Only the baby, in her full-body UV suit and Australian lifeguard-inspired hat managed to escape sunburn.
Lesson learned!


December 27
Have you ever wondered about giant clams? They are perhaps one of the most awe-inspiring life forms.

Our visit to Cantaan Kabila White Beach Giant Clam Sanctuary was the most amazing day of the trip. Six of the nine species of giant clams found worldwide are raised here. The small entry fee pays for the maintenance of the centre and its research activities, and provides a source of livelihood for locals. It's more profitable for locals to maintain this biodiverse gem as an ecotourism destination than to harvest its marine life to sell at the market.

A visit begins with a short introductory biology lesson on the life history of the clams, and is followed by a tour of several aquariums with giant clams and fresh water tilapia. After, a local guide takes visitors on a "snorkel tour" of the giant clam sanctuary and reef. Even though the reef was partially destroyed by Typhoon Pablo, it still boasts some of the best snorkeling on Camiguin. You have to be especially careful where you step because the force of a giant bivalve slamming shut can easily sever a limb.

After snorkeling, we ate the best and probably freshest meal we've had: calamari, grilled emperor fish and Filipino-style chop suey (vegetables). The sanctuary maintains a fish pen where they raise fish for their restaurant. They catch a few fish or squid each day to transform into gourmet meals for hungry snorkelers.

December 28
Sniff, sniff. It's time to leave this tropical paradise and head back 'home' to Cagayan de Oro City. We're excited to see our CDO family again, but will miss adventuring in Camiguin.

Liquid gold

After Typhoon Pablo, there's an outpouring of support to the affected areas. Donations range from noodles, water and canned sardines to blankets, clothes, cash and medicines. And chain saws - to cut all the felled trees so that the lumber can be sold or used for rebuilding.

A young twenty-something mother and a few of her friends opt to collect another sort of relief good. These first-time mothers created an awareness and advocacy group in November to educate themselves and others about baby-wearing, cloth diapers (the enthusiasm for porte-bébés and couches lavables in la belle province has not yet spread throughout the Philippines), breast feeding and related baby matters. A natural extension of their education project is a milk letting drive.

At a milk letting drive, nursing mothers pump and donate breast milk. The set-up is similar to a blood drive:  preliminary medical screening, semi-private areas for mothers to pump milk, medical professionals who seal the collected milk in sterile milk bags, post-donation water or juice for donors. The intended recipients for this particular milk letting drive are the orphans of Typhoon Pablo in the eastern parts of Mindanao.

The organizers with their babies

The group's founder is Nadine. She's a confident, poised and educated woman. When she talks about breastfeeding, her face lights up and her voice becomes animated, drawing in the listener. She wants to pursue her passion as a professional and become a certified lactation consultant. Unfortunately, there are no such certification options available locally in CDO.

Three days after Pablo struck the Philippines, Nadine contacted the management at the Ayala Centrio Mall, the newest and trendiest of CDO's malls. They were receptive to the idea of allocating some space for the collection of this 'liquid gold for Typhoon Pablo orphans' and agreed to waive the usual exhibitor rental fee. The group is still responsible for paying for security and janitorial services.

Pay it forward CDO
Liquid gold for Typhoon Pablo orphans
(A milk letting drive)

Convincing middle class mothers at the mall to pump and donate a few ounces of breast milk is an arduous task. Nadine explains that breastfeeding is not strongly encouraged at the hospitals. Moreover, the prevalent attitude is that, for those families who can afford it, commercial formula is a desirable and maybe even preferable baby food choice. Of the nursing mothers she encounters at the mall, many decline to donate for fear they won't have enough milk for their babies. A possible, but unlikely situation.

It's a different story among women whom Nadine refers to as "marginalized". These women breastfeed. They don't need to be convinced of the benefits of nursing for mother and child. They nurse out of necessity. They nurse at home, at work, on jeepneys and non-air con buses, in churches, in carinderias (small cafeteria style eateries), in covered courts, in barangay halls, in wet and dry markets, outside roadside shops. But these women aren't at the mall.

At the end of the three day milk letting drive, Pay it forward CDO has netted just over three litres of milk and has raised an immeasurable amount of awareness. Given the limited number of eligible donors, the mall crowd's reticence to nurse and donate milk, and the minimal amount of event promotion, this is a remarkable achievement.

A laudable goal and effort by a caring group of young middle class mothers. Still, I can't help but wonder what results would a milk letting drive located outside of the mall, in a locale frequented by marginalized women, in a sitio devastated by last year's Typhoon Sendong, have yielded?

The fourth “M”

This blog chronicles the journey (and tangents) of my PhD.

It begins in Montreal, where I am a student in the Université de Montréal’s geography department. Almost immediately it jumps to a tiny street in Quezon City called Mayumi. Mayumi was my home base for my three month exploratory field season in the Philippines in 2010. Then, it returns to Montreal for coursework and comprehensive assessments (neither of which receive much space on these pages). The third “M” refers to an intensive two-month Tagalog (Filipino) language course in Madison, Wisconsin.

Thus we arrive at the fourth “M”: motherhood.

On many occasions, I have been told that there is never a “good time” to have kids. This is particularly true for academics – not as an undergraduate or graduate student (time and financial constraints), not as a post-doc (similar constraints as students), not as a young prof trying to balance a research programme, teaching requirements and administrative duties. The gap in publications that often accompanies parental leave isn’t always looked upon favourably in tenure applications.

And so, for someone (hopefully) headed on a professorial track, the question is not when to have a family but rather how to make it work.

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Four months ago my husband and I became parents. Thus far, it has been an exhilarating experience.

Motherhood is also changing various dimensions of my PhD, in particular the dynamics of my field research. In this field season, for example, I’m joined by my husband and daughter. While they won’t accompany me to every meeting, interview and event, they will be integral parts of the research process. I anticipate that I will be treated differently, and perhaps privy to different kinds of insights, when people see me as a mother, in addition to being a western woman researcher. Caring for an infant also means that the pace of research is slowed. Plus, it's more challenging to act spontaneously and chase down leads at a moment's notice. 

On a personal level, I'm thrilled to share the highs and lows of new experiences with loved ones in person, and not just via Skype, email and blogs. 

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And so I enter my main field season with fresh eyes and ears, attuned not only to things relevant to my research project, but also to things relevant to family life.

I invite you to follow along, and to comment on things that intrigue, surprise or provoke you.