THIN SKINS IN SHORT SUPPLY

(Part 2)

II.

Onions can make anyone cry, and I was no exception. The first time I bought onions, a single bulb looked so tiny in my hand. It was hard to believe that one could be enough for a single dish. Let alone a family of four. But this assumption was quickly corrected soon after cutting into it. Like all corrections, it stung hard. The world on the other side of my glasses looked washed out, as if all shape and color were bleeding into one.

There’s a science to this, of course: onions contain sulfur. It’s in various amino acids like methionine and cystine. When cut, they’re released into the air. They react and become lachrymator compounds, acids that irritate the eyes’ lacrimal glands. There are ways to keep yourself from tearing up: keeping your knife sharp, storing onions in the fridge, the list goes on. Surprisingly, we don’t bother. Tears aren’t enough to stop the knife. There is only a sigh of relief after the bulb is reduced to pieces, reduced further by the oil in the pan.

One might liken the release of flavors to a trial by fire, or “being in the hot seat”. We can say a person was ginisa when being scolded or berated, usually by one’s boss or superior. Going the route of agony and suffering, people can be harmed using their own means – ginisa sa sariling mantika – to add insult to injury. It can be likened to not only being robbed blind, but having no choice but to house the robber, being forced to watch as hard-earned savings and possessions are swindled away for said robber’s own benefit. Do so much as raise a finger and a hundred or so will side-eye or post mocking comments behind fake social media profiles. Raise a voice and risk harassment from police or military-aged men. If you’re lucky, this prompts a Senate hearing. If.

Our cultures understand how hard insults can hit, especially when compared to root bulbs. Being balat-sibuyas is one such example among the idioms that pepper our many languages (pun intended). Literally “onion-skinned”, it’s used for people deemed overly sensitive, who will cry foul over the smallest of perceived slights. I think I used to be one – as a kid who once cried over math classes for fear of being beaten or scolded, or when frustrated over my own inability to solve ultimately simple problems.

What’s not understandable is being in one’s thirties, forties, or older, occupying an important post, and then throwing childish tantrums when put under scrutiny. Of course, no need to name names. We know who they are. They usually put on a front of stone, acting “tough”, “cool”, “stylish”, “Mayor”, “Senator”, “Congressman”, or whatever else they layer upon themselves. The shiny Rolexes and Patek Phillipes on their wrists are dead giveaways. “Kay sarap ng buhay. Sana ganito na lang palagi.”

Peel away the layers. Put them under heat. See how they sweat?

At some level, I still fear I’m like this. Behind my own layers is a child full of fear, compounded by years of pressure and harsh parenting. Most of the time I don’t get the results that I want with myself, and I’ve felt the need to lash out. As time passes, as the news shows more and more of that same circus everyone tires of hearing, I constantly pray I’m not.

I can still cry when I chop onions. Only now, with the benefit of hindsight, I learn to wash my hands with soap and water first before washing my eyes. I sometimes put on one of those face shields if it feels too much. No tantrums required.

III.

The world of food and agriculture is intertwined with layers of logistics, from manufacturing to production and finally distribution. Here the middleman is king. Storage facilities are unfortunately costly. Fertilizers, seeds, and tools, even more so. Mills are vital for turning palay into rice by the sack, and yet they remain ever so expensive. Then, to get the rice to market, it needs to be transported there. Another slash in the budget for gas and space. Our farmers, mostly, don’t simply bake in the hot sun for crumbs. In more and more cases, they take their own lives.

It makes sense that the further you go outside urban areas, the cheaper vegetables get. In many cases, farmers find themselves dumping “excess” produce because they can’t find anyone to sell them. Facebook posts abound of farmers dumping entire truckloads of tomatoes or squashes being sold at 4 pesos per kilo.

In other news, the World Bank reported in 2021 that micronutrient undernutrition is highly prevalent in the country. As many as 38 percent of infants and 20 percent of pregnant women in the country are anemic.

In other news, still, as much as 500 to 600 million pesos’ worth of onions were seized and impounded this January. These were only about 30 percent of all the smuggled goods. We’re all tired of statistics. Unfortunately, they keep on coming. One statistic hopelessly layered on top of another. We’ll be part of them, sooner or later.