DITAN,

Iris D.
2014 – 48971

Bounded by Irony

Minor Basilica of the Black Nazarene, Mercury Drug, streets full of vendors and
peddlers: a complete 360° turn in Plaza Miranda showcases the juxtaposed symbolic
institutions and beliefs that sway most Filipinos’ life and health. Where these three institutions
meet, at the center is the average Filipino.

“Ama namin, sumasalangit Ka. Sambahin ang ngalan Mo…”

The Minor Basilica of the Black Nazarene, or commonly called Quiapo Church, is the hub
of the devotees of the Black Nazarene. Here, thousands of people from all over the country
flock to offer up their prayers. Famous for the miracles or wishes granted, many people become
devotees in the hopes of better health for themselves or their loved ones.
For the religious, grave illnesses are an opportunity to exercise faith. Either a
supplement to the care the patient is already receiving, or a last ditch effort after modern
medicine has failed, they lift silent prayers, attend mass, and do penitence in exchange for
getting better. While it may not always end with the patient recovering, the exercises of faith
give them the much needed psychological strength in the face of crisis.

“Reseta po ni Dok. Pabili po ng…”

On the other side of Plaza Miranda, a Mercury Drug store stands. A nation-wide
drugstore chain, it stands there as the face of the modern western medicine most health
professionals ascribe to. Where almost every ill has a corresponding pill, the drugstore also
represents the preferably clear-cut world of science and technology.
After a trip to the doctor, the average patient trods on to the nearest pharmacy, armed
with the doctor’s prescription and the money they’ve prepared. There, trusting the doctor’s
words, they ask for the medicine that they hope will cure their or their loved one’s ailment.
They hope the money they’ve prepared is enough; after all, medicine in the Philippines does
not come cheap at all. While this is not the only scope of medicine, or even how medicine
should ideally be practiced, it is the way Filipino’s see our health care work. Unlike that of faith
that permeates their entire lives, Filipinos see health care as a temporal response to the
development of disease.

“Puwede pong magpahula? May magagamit po ba kayo sa...”
 In the shadow of two institutions that scorn and disapprove of blasphemous and
unevidenced practices, thrives the street shops of Quiapo that peddle herbs, crystals, talismans,
charms, and sometimes, illegal drugs. Here, the most outrageous of claims, for mundane and
simple items, through the vaguest means can be heard; yet, to the people buying these
products, there is a logic to what the vendors sell, and so business thrives.
Although some of the ‘medicine’ sold make no sense and most have no proof of
efficacy, people still buy these things. Compared to the medicine of Mercury Drug, Quiapo’s
wares are definitely much more affordable, especially for the majority of Filipinos who live
under minimum wage. This is especially important for those who have illnesses or loved ones
with illnesses. The cost of medical services in this country, even in public facilities, is daunting.
Where faith is free, and health care costs an arm and a leg, in our country, Quiapo is affordable.
The burden of illness falls on the whole family; if a bread winner becomes ill then
resources are severely reduced. This is further exacerbated by the fact that in the current
health care system, having another person as bantay is a must. There is also the problem that
health care practiced in our country often feels impersonal; with patients leaving doctors
feeling not having been healed despite being treated. Although it is not far-fetched to believe
that some people actually believe in the efficacy of the products of Quiapo, especially with the
superstitious culture that exists in our country, what often drives people towards Quiapo is
what drives people away from modern medicine. Whether it is actual belief or desperation,
people leave Quiapo hoping that whatever it is they bought will work.

Three symbolic institutions that influence people’s health – they surround Plaza
Miranda. The differences in their practices is stark. While the irony in their residence around
common ground is quite obvious, a deeper look into the context they fit gives light to their
seemingly contradictory existence. The growing inequities in health make proper health care
almost unattainable for the average Filipino. Who wants to spend several months’ salary on
treatment one doesn’t understand when easy-to-understand ‘medicine’ is available in Quiapo
for as low as Php20.00? At the the very essence of Quiapo is not superstition, not even total
ignorance; it is the Filipino people, desperately searching for solutions outside the broken
health care system.