~ The realization of the truth seems to be sinking in now. One indication is the commentary by an agitated blogger who took a swipe at the wife of an official for promoting herself to feed a craving for public attention. Her husband is spared even as he is equally guilty of parading himself, the spouse and their children by poor choices of where to show up as a family. While echoing the truth repeatedly mentioned in countless articles online and in print, the commentary comes across as half-hearted indictment of her person and not her activities that in the first place trigger the unpalatable stories. Why? Is this blogger, who I am told was once a lawyer, too afraid that his critical comments would backfire?
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“Cowardice asks the questions, ‘Is it safe?’ Expediency asks the question, ‘Is it politic?’ But conscience asks the question, ‘Is it right?’. And there comes a time when one must take a position that is neither safe, nor politic, nor popular but because conscience tells one it is right.” – Martin Luther King Jr.
TORONTO – The reactionary armchair blogger must have been so frustrated that he vented his anger at the wife, spared the man, and took a swipe by calling her a “self-promoting and public attention-starved wife”.
Of the many things that could be ascribed to her, that description is the least important, not only because it’s obvious but also it’s the safest. She’s obstinate for one, a user is another. And if other comments were given credence, she’s a cheat, a money-loving fraudster.
The idiot-proof mind would not understand the blogger’s position; it’s neither here nor there, a stingless balancing act to sound critical while playing both sides.
The fault is not so much hers as his, the husband’s, as it is also ours for allowing such a dysfunctional situation to obtain and rule the community.
Where I grew up and became afflicted with street smarts for survival, it’s called “supot” – not a bag – but in street lingo means uncircumcised, circumcision being a rite of passage from boyhood to manhood. A “supot” is synonymous with being weak, effeminate, cowardly.
The comment of the simple-minded blogger therefore falls in that category, a “supot” or dud.
By now, everybody knows that the tireless self-promotion by the wife is not possible without the full knowledge and consent of the husband. He’s part of it, unless he’s truly and totally henpecked and reining her in would result in being starved another way.
Long before his ass-licking was rewarded with a juicy appointment, the couple were already engaged in a job they knew would heighten visibility and cast them in a favourable light – fundraising.
They are the community’s conjugal fundraisers, the bleeding hearts so-called for their purported soft spot for the millions of impoverished people in the world’s developing nations.
They even enshrined it as a mandate of their organization, thus easily competing with the United Nations, perhaps to rationalize the endless fundraisings at every occasion, including personal birthdays of friends. I recall a diplomat whose tenure was coming to an end. To his amazement, a despedida party to send him off had been converted into a fundraising.
I don’t know whose pockets are lined up with money from these fundraisings. All I know is that many gullible people unhesitatingly donate on the belief they’re helping others.
Even politicians were mislead into believing that the couple’s constant exposures in newspapers were an indication of their popularity as concerned citizens, not knowing it’s a gambit – with the paid cooperation of the captive community press – to beautify their profiles, the best way to call attention to themselves.
In this couple’s organization, relieving every purse of cash is practically mandatory. To see their show, one has to pay his way in. To get physically closer to the movie stars, it would cost a little bit more. As exhaustion creeps in at the end of the day, one feels being robbed. That’s how people described it to me.
Not to boast, but the many events in London, England that I had occasion to attend recently didn’t involve a penny. The organizers didn’t have to say who their beneficiaries were. They didn’t have to make a pretense of inviting patrons to try to look good.
When attending a concert of the London Symphony Orchestra, the oldest in the British capital, I imagined how much it would cost to listen to its performance if it were held in Toronto under the management of this couple. The couple would surely make bundles and bundles of money for the world’s poor. Really?
The whole point is that our simple-minded blogger purposely avoided throwing a punch at the husband the way he did it to her. One reason could be that he was trying to skirt him for fear he would come back and expose his own misbehaviour.
At this instance I would encourage the wife to unsheathe her sword and go after him, just to even things up. He drew first blood and he must be able to weather its consequences. Let him prove he’s not “supot”.