What’s It All Worth?

I had just landed in Afghanistan, coming from four plane flights right after taking my midterm exams in Econometrics (don’t ask me what subject that is - I wouldn’t be able to explain it to you), armed security checkpoints of different nationalities, and a short incident where my driver bumped an army truck in front of us - with armed soldiers inside! (I was amazed at my bladder control.) I remember driving up to the team’s house in Kabul, and seeing on both sides of the house were cemeteries. You could really feel a sense of death around you - but, ironically, I had never felt so alive and secure.I’ve never been afraid of death, at least on a cerebral level. I’ve been taught not to fear death, that I could put my trust in God, and that I can expect an eternity in Heaven with Him. But of course, while I professed these things, my life was never really threatened (maybe aside from a few incidents my parents would rather not remember). Being in a position where death was so real, and realizing I truly was not afraid, injected new life into my existence. I didn’t just believe I was not afraid, this time I knew for sure
Read the rest of this entry »

Irate Date

by David Bonifacio

It’s eight

I’m late

For a date

She ate

Left an empty plate

And a bill to set straight

I’m to hate

I hear her relate

She continues to berate

My ego, to deflate

She, I want to sedate

And end this debate

I apologize to my mate

Tell her I love her state

She equates it to her weight

Oh great that hit her straight

Her anger fails to abate

The couch is my fate

My older brother, Joseph, drives an 11yr. old Tamaraw FX (and he drives it like a virgin Ferrari). It’s so old that there was a time he stopped locking the doors since he didn’t think anyone would steal it anyway. We had it appraised and found out it was worth a Big Mac and a stick of gum - just one stick! (Ok, that’s exagerated. But you get the picture.)

But what would seem of little worth to many people, is our treasured Tamaraw. When you’re 22 years old, and you’ve had a car for 11 years (half my life!), you just get attached. Here are my top memories with Joe’s Tamaraw:

1. When we nearly died tumbling on the Edsa-Buendia overpass because Joe was driving at over a hundred on the curve - When the car settled down, Joe was hanging on top of me by his seatbelt and we had to crawl out the windshield. The roof was sunk, all the windows were crashed, and even the spare tire exploded, but Joe and I were completely untouched other than a glass bit on my leg and a sprained neck. Now here’s the best part, Joe hugged me as soon as I got out. (AWWWW) That’s the first time he ever hugged me. (AND THE LAST!) I called my dad and told him we got into a “small” accident. He gave me an english lesson on the word “small” when he saw the wreck. What I forgot to say was that it was “small” compared to the 1906 San Francisco Earthquake. Oh well, miscommunication.

2. Joe learning to drive while visiting our lots in Forest Hills, Antipolo - I wouldn’t call the Tamaraw the ultimate golfer’s car or something for the country club, but I sure had fun watching Joe learn to drive on hills in that thing. Thank God for engine breaks.

3. When I nearly had a date - took this car to school once, the Ateneo (don’t forget “the”), which is a school known for it’s selflessness and being poor in spirit (hard to be sarcastic without the tone), and a friend asked if she could ride with me. I found this weird because she has drivers, but strangely they’re all named “Manong”… Anyway… So by this time the Tamaraw was so shot up that it shook like crazy when you turned the ignition, and the A/C spit black water out at the front seat passenger. So walking to the car she asked me, “Do you want to have dinner first?” I said sure. She’s a pretty girl and smart too (a pretty AND smart female is not the same as a pretty smart one), and I was hungry so why not? A few seconds in the shaking spitting Tamaraw, and here’s what she said next, “I’m kinda tired. Mind if you drop me home straight?” I should have had a secret camera focused on her. It’s safe to say that ended her infatuation with me.

4. Joe’s MacBook gets stolen - Joe locks his doors now. Enough said.

So I’ve realized that the things that mean most to me are not the most expensive things, but neither are they cheap. They go beyond monetary and economic valuations. At the end of the day fulfillment is not found in being able to obtain the priciest things, but in discovering that what you have is priceless.

Just came from a fundraising luncheon for Children’s Hour. Children’s Hour is a non-profit organization that asks individuals and companies to donate an hour of their earnings in support of programs committed to the welfare and development of marginalized Filipino children. It’s a wonderful concept and it has been effective in helping raise funds for furthering the causes of children. It’s interesting how one group, taking one hour’s worth of pay can go to changing so many lives. We, the Real LIFE Foundation and Every Nation, are glad to have supported this luncheon.

This year’s luncheon was held at the Every Nation Building in the Bonifacio, Global City complex. And a lot of comments were made on how nice the building was.

Thinking about Every Nation and Children’s Hour reminds me of how much can come from so little. And there are really two ways small things can become big, through collective cooperation or through growth. By collecting an hour’s worth of pay from individuals, Children’s Hour is able to create a significant pool of funds for projects that may not necessarily be funded by a single employee’s pay. There’s power in gathering.

For Every Nation, years of growth and consistency have led to something larger than what it started with. You do something for a few years and you reach a certain level of prociency - they’ve been doing this since 1984. That’s 22 years. That’s as old as I am. From a small student movement to what it is today, growth allows once small things to play larger roles.

When we talk about value, we are actually talking about the relative worth, importance, usefulness, or significance of something to somebody.

Money

In our world, one of the most widely accepted forms of value transfer is money. Money basically is used as a store of value, a unit of accounting, and a medium of exchange. We are able to obtain or purchase items for the equivalent value in money. In other words we swap different goods for equivalent values. It’s no wonder that the most alluring form of compensation is in money terms (whether in cash, stock options, or whatever mode of money).

Let’s put the thoughts on the first two paragraphs together.

If valuable things are significant to us, and money is one of the most accepted forms of value transfer, then it should follow that we are ready to exchange the equivalent money value for a certain valuable item. Let’s say your dream house. Given that you can afford it, you will have no problem shelling out the money for the right equivalent price. Why? Because you recognize the “value” of the house, and the money exchange is fair. What we value, we are willing to exchange money for. What we value, we are willing to pay for.

Faulty Valuation
I said all of that to show us how faulty our valuation can be. Why am I willing to pay money for a pleasant dining experience and not as willing to give to an efficient foundation with a good cause and proven track record? It means I draw more value, more satisfaction and significance, from the meal, than I do from the work of the foundation. I hope we get the point. Many times, and I am very guilty of this, we are willing pay a premium for temporary pleasures, but unwilling to do the same for righteous and idealistic concerns. Aren’t they just as or even more valuable?

Treasure
Matthew 13:44 has the following verses, “The kingdom of heaven is like treasure hidden in a field. When a man found it, he hid it again, and then in his joy went and sold all he had and bought that field.

We’re all free to spend, give, invest, gamble, save, and burn our own money, but let us try to reevaluate. Let’s ask ourselves, am I really putting value on the right things?

And for those of us who have found what we really value, back it up by putting your resources behind it. I hope we find that treasure. A treasure so fulfilling, that we can joyfully give everything towards it.

I’ve been thinking a lot about the idea of “value” and the “value systems” people work with. What do people value? And what makes them value these things? What do I value? Why do I value these things?

After nearly a year of doing social work, these questions were triggered after reading scandals and complaints connected to the compensation of social workers, religious individuals, and public servants. The general complaint is, why are these people getting paid so much?

I see it a different way. My thinking is, how can we compensate them more? Why does it bother people when these servants are well salaried? Why are we comfortable with a rich car salesman and uncomfortable with a blessed teacher, priest, pastor, social worker, etc.? Sometimes we’re even more comfortable with corrupt individuals driving nice cars, but are offended at seeing our local social servant in a car better than ours.

Don’t get me wrong. There are cases of these individuals abusing their position for selfish motives. But what about the honest ones? Does an honest servant need to be poor? And does a poor servant mark an honest one? And pertaining to motives, does a well meaning servant have to be poor? And does a poor servant mark a well meaning one as well? The answer to all of these questions is NO.

First thoughts
When I was a kid, maybe 9 or 10, I would buy a pack of candy for about P30.00, take it home, and sell them for P20.00 each to my younger brother. I used to wonder why he always bought them - even though he knew how much the whole pack cost (on other grocery trips he’d buy his own pack and still buy my pack at crazy prices). The few times he didn’t buy them was when he didn’t have any money, and even on those occasions, he was ready to borrow from his brother Shylock (my earliest experience of the world of money lending).

As I got older, I realized, it was not so much the cost that affected his decision, as much as the value he placed on candy. To my 7 - 8 year old brother, money didn’t mean anything, but the sweetness of sugar did. So it didn’t matter how much money it cost him, because in the end he got what he wanted.

Elastic and Inelastic
Fast-forward to my university days studying Economics. We’re talking about the price elasticity of demand.

Note: In economics, the price elasticity of demand is an elasticity that measures the nature and degree of the relationship between changes in quantity demanded of a good and changes in its price.

So the idea here is, when goods are very elastic, small changes in price affect the quantity demanded greatly. Example, when the price of X goes up, the demand for X goes down since less people can afford it or are willing to spend so much for it. Good are considered inelastic when the quantity demanded does not change much with the price.

To Joshua, my younger brother, the relationship between candy and it’s cost was inelastic. Changes in the cost did not change his demand for candy.

The secret to happiness
One thing I never understood when I was younger, was that no matter how much I cheated my brother on the price, and no matter how much money I made at his expense, he never seemed to care. He was happy with his candy.

Looking back I wonder, had my brother discovered the secret to happiness? And, like him, have I found something that makes the cost, no matter how much it gets, seem negligible?

Desire is inelastic. So what do I desire?