*Note: Apologies to the lyricists of the Ricky Martin single, “Livin’ La Vida Loca” whose title I partially ripped off for this essay.

Awhile after clearing the clean dishes, I plopped right at our cushy sofa bed at our entertainment den to share the TV viewing experience with my aunt, whose eyes were evidently mesmerized by the sheer spectacle of talented kids dancing. Apparently, she has been watching a popular noontime show dubbed “Wowowee”, which she gazes at with such fervor like a kid would follow a bubble in the air. And since the 29-inch television set solely carries the burden of entertaining the whole family, I consigned myself to the ministrations of Willie Revillame, beauty queen Precious Lara Quigaman and the kid contestants who willingly trooped to the studio for a shot at winning easy money. I normally scoffed at local TV programs ever since my siblings and I discovered the joys of cable TV, but for some strange reason, I was glued to the boob tube. Only now have I realized that the reason why I was so fixated with these young dancers, eager to win the coveted prize money, is because of several similarities—not only do we all love to dance, we are all forced to dance because of the circumstances that we were born into.

What could a nineteen-year-old, middle-class, Comparative Literature major have in common with underprivileged gradeschoolers whose skinny back-up dancers and flashy dance outfits rocked the dance floor? Indeed, much can be said about our differences. I am definitely not a card-carrying member of the proletariat class nor do I have sob stories guaranteed to elicit tears from the viewers. Neither do I harbor illusions of having a showbiz career nor did I delve into streetdancing first—my first love affair with dancing started with ballet. No, I don’t dance for a living unlike some of these kids; however, I have always considered each unsure step of my journey as a hop or pirouette in further comprehending the world. This planet has never ceased to baffle me with its complicated twists and syncopated timing but as I watch myself gyrate in front of the mirror, what I see is a reflection of a lady who dared to dream and hope. What I perceive with fresh eyes is a product of a social order whose chasm between the wealthy and the poor runs deep and threatens to delineate the two classes more significantly. Amidst the great divide, I am subject to vacillating interests but I have chosen to make a stance that coincides with the interests of the masses. Like those amazing kids featured on the said show, I pin my expectations with not-so-wide-eyed innocence that the Philippines can weather well the adversities that currently plague the nation.

Of vital importance to the Filipino masses is that they eat three square rice meals a day. Headlines bannered that the world is facing a food predicament due to drought, a deteriorating dollar, investments granted for commodities, overpopulation, and use of farm land to grow fuel. Governments all over the world are hard-pressed to make efficient measures to ensure that the growing human population, projected to be 9 billion by 2050, will not die of starvation nor will the poor bear the brunt of the rising food prices. It was recorded that global food prices rose to 35 percent starting year 2001 until January 2002. At present, prices have escalated to record-high 65 percent. Organization for Economic Cooperation and Development or OECD and the United Nations agency predicted that there will be an increase of the prices of crops by the next decade: corn by 27 percent, 23 percent for soybeans and other oilseeds, and 9 percent for rice. I believe that there will only be chaos trying to follow the rhythmic patterns of the global order. Since the Philippines is not isolated from the rest of the world in terms of trading and export-import deals, this alarming news has can spell devastating effects on the future prices of commodities in the country.

As I struggle to find the right words that will sufficiently encapsulate the present political and economic situation in the Philippines, I remember with a bitter smile that the Wowowee kids and I would probably be forced to be more creative with our meals [e.g. using cheaper substitutes in recipes, eating root crops for our daily carb intake,e tc.], an indirect result of the global food scarcity. I recall with disappointment that these children who revel in the thought of a weekly meal at a fastfood chain will probably be as frustrated to know that there will be no more fastfood meals to greet their eyes. Moreover, I am reminded of my aunt’s constant bemoaning of how cheap yet quality rice is hard to come by these days, prompting us to purchase the more expensive varieties that will sustain us for a couple of weeks. I can only shudder at how effortlessly the rich can spend thousands of dollars on designer clothes they wear only once and tote Louis Vuitton handbags that only lasts a season while the rest of the Third World denizens can barely make it to the next payday. I bear in mind that even educational expenses are increasing as it conforms to the latest inflation rates, a surefire addition to disenfranchised parents’ list of worries. And the list goes on.

For any dancer, every count matters. A missed cue will mean having to risk making an obvious mistake or starting off on the wrong foot. Just as every second has a bearing on the outcome of the production number, every tick of the clock that is lost to endless bickering among public officials about the existence or the lack of rice shortage is a futile exercise. What truly matters to the masses is whether there is a step being taken towards waltzing out of this tight situation unscathed. I am optimistic that the dance doesn’t end with a ticket out of the rice fiasco. If any, the struggle for the establishment of major economic policies to aid the poor is merely an initial rehearsal for genuine social reforms.

The future casts a lot of shadows on everyone’s possible roles to play in the political and economic situation of the nation. I am confident, however, that the difficult circumstances will compel all the more the desire for a glib transition from gangly Pearly of the Orient to the majestic Queen of Southeast Asia. This author refuses to accept that there could be no hope left for a fast-declining nation, as long as the masses will band together in putting down imperialism, bureaucrat capitalism and feudalism—the three main causes of widespread poverty.

At the end of the day, the poor embody the resilience of the human spirit on the face of a ruthless terror. As all dancers are instructed to enjoy the whole number, I yearn for the day that these children will really be used to grinding to the beat of a less hard-up life. Inherent in every human being is the struggle for freedom or an exertion for survival. To concede to Fate without a human action from an individual is simply neglect on his part to explore one’s potential for even greater things. I pray that their early training will guide them to dodge gracefully the progression of economic crises and move for economic changes to be launched. When that day comes, I shall loudly laud their efforts.
As Shakespeare put it, “All the world’s a stage”. Smile, kids. The world is watching you.