Issuu

a letter to the new girl To the little girl who just moved to Manila, I love my family. Yes, I know that’s probably a given for anyone, even you. But now that you live in Manila, your family isn’t just your family. It’s going to be your family’s friends, and their family, and their friends, and so on until you’ll wonder if you know the whole country. It’s what I thought, at least. Maybe I still think that, a little bit. You’re definitely in for a surprise... Not very many years ago, you were born in the UK. You met your first friends and made your first memories, and you even experienced the joys of being an older sibling for the first time. Your world was simple: there were this many people, and you knew everyone. You could barely call anyone your family outside of your mother, father and infant brother. But, soon, your family moves to a new country — where you meet new friends and make new memories. You arrive in Manila: it’s your mother’s first time to live in the Philippines after studying abroad eighteen years ago. Almost her entire school life took place in Manila, and so did her first job — but as a seven-year-old Year 3 student, you have absolutely no idea about her history and childhood here.

“your tita’s brother-in-law’s wife’s niece, whose mother used to live across the street”. It will be a total culture shock, and your British father will probably joke, “Those people would be strangers to me.” Yes, you’re probably confused! And yes, this is going to be surprising.

Your world is going to become so much bigger than before.

Maybe what will surprise you most will be having to call people completely unrelated to you “tito” and “tita”. Uncle and aunt. Maybe what will surprise you most will be having to kiss them on the cheek as a hello. Maybe it will be the constant greeting of “Ang laki mo na!” Maybe it will be a surprise that you’ve met these people before — that they remember you, even (and especially) when you don’t remember them.

You’ll be introduced to your mum’s grade school and high school classmates and her college friends and even — and I quote —

It’s a journey. I know that being in a new place will be difficult, but your dusty confusion will settle and your vision will clear.

//WORDS BY AVA DANIELS, YEAR 10//

Do you see? It’s your cousins, your titos, your titas, your new friends, even your mum’s friends and tita’s brother-in-law’s wife’s niece at times. You will have them with you every step of the way. Perhaps this will be daunting at times, but that’s what’ll make it exciting!

What a strange thought to know that your mum has known these people way, way before she thought about meeting your dad: it’s so wonderfully Filipino to know that these people who have known your mum for thirty years will still connect with her as if she never moved away. No matter what happens, no matter your struggles, there will always be people who will support you. Even the ones you barely know will be eager to help you grow and learn, and you will never be alone. Your parents will remind you that “the only thing that’s constant in this world is change.” People come and go, we grow up, we move on. You’ve certainly grown. But even if it morphs into something newer and bigger — even if everything else does — family is forever. And you are incredibly lucky to have such an amazing one.

Your world is going to become so much bigger than before

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Challenges exist for a reason, whether they be social, academic or physical. They’re a vital necessity for growth and character development. Internal challenges are not to be dismissed as less significant than external, as often times they are the ones from which the most value is derived. Internal conflict regarding my identity only surfaced relatively recently; contemplation concerning where I ‘truly’ belonged emerged as a result my personal conviction of not wholly belonging to one place or the other. My lack of intimacy with a specific culture (either Filipino or Singaporean), intertwined with my separation from all the little idiosyncrasies that combine to suggest one is from a specific nation, fortify my differences from those that have been born and raised in the places that I claim to be from. It is commonly said that people are a product of their environment - ironically enough, I found it difficult to fully resonate with this statement.

amongst those of us whose outline isn't as clearly cut. This is especially evident when an individual has lived in one place for half their life, and elsewhere for the other. Alternatively, one could ponder if being born somewhere automatically indicates that they are from said country, despite the fact that their ethnic heritage claims otherwise.

See, identity’s definition — ‘the fact of being who or what a person or thing is’ — itself maintains a degree of ambiguity. It is practically impossible to quantify one’s identity, as it would be unjust to perceive one’s identity as a series of qualifications that warrant one’s ability to deem themself from a specific location. The numerous aspects — ethnicity, upbringing, location, language, culture — that outline one's identity often merge and, in turn, lose clarity: they are extensively too complex to be condensed into an elementary definition, evoking confusion

Instead, I’ve found that constancy and belonging can be instilled by surrounding yourself with the right people. Home is a feeling that is not necessarily attached to a location:

Overall, despite these sentiments of confusion, it is paramount to note one’s identity is not static: it possesses the potential to undergo unending modifications. Appearance and disposition are not absolute representations of one's identity as vital internal factors play an indispensable role as well. Growth is an important variable to consider: when placed in an unfamiliar environment one is bound to flourish and develop numerous constituents that eventually compile, intertwining with old facets to continuously produce an ever-changing individual.

home is the people who make you feel like you are part of a bigger picture, regardless of where you are in the world.

We shot these photos just as July’s sticky heat rolled in. Almost entirely locally sourced and inspired, this editorial was one of our team’s most ambitious feats yet. Roots marries tradition with trend - it’s a playful celebration of Filipino heritage and the realization of an impossible dream of ours. 23 23

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dress PIOPIO

blouse PIOPIO shorts Just G.

Jacket PIOPIO

shorts PIOPIO

Jacket PIOPIO

paalam mr. mann ! Mr. Mann has a left a significant legacy here in the BSM community. As such, the Winston team thought that there was no better way to celebrate his departure than an interview with the man himself. In this interview we aimed to find Mr. Mann’s insights on both BSM and his time here in the Philippines. How long have you been here in the Philippines? This is the beginning of my seventh year, so, six years and two months. Could you describe the journey that led you here?

I lived in Britain, UK for a really long time until my wife and I decided to move to New Zealand for five years. We settled down and had our kids until suddenly things just changed and we thought, ‘right, we’ll do three years overseas and we’ll come back’. We ended living in Asia for a few years… then at around February I was phoned up due to an unexpected vacancy at BSM. Despite my initial hesitance… I decided to travel to the

Philippines and take a look… I ended up coming back for other interviews and here I am! Six and a bit years later; been a bit much longer than I thought I would. Given that, what were the first impressions you had of the Philippines when you came? And did that change over the six, seven years that you were here for? I’ve always felt very positive about the Philippines: it’s a comfortable place to live, and I love the people. But, when I

first arrived I thought that the cultures were going to be much more like the other Asian cultures that I’ve experienced. However, the longer I’ve been here the more I understood that although the Philippines has a mix of other Asian elements, it has its own uniqueness; such as american and indigenous cultures which I think is really interesting. I personally think that Filipinos need to connect, they need to believe in things; and I believe that that on its own is a uniqueness of the Filipino culture as well. All of this has made me think very differently about how I interact, allowing me to recognize and understand when I make mistakes. The BSM community is always described as a family, why do you think such a culture exists? I think there’s a lot of Philippine influence in BSM: that family, that kind of connection, relationship approach that is permeated throughout the school. I also think that due to its origins of being a very small school, we’ve had the opportunity to expand and actively bring a sense of belonging into the school community... I love the vibrance of the school. I love the candle wax people just get stuck into, you know? BSM is a place where we do lots of stuff together: kids want to play sport, they want to do music, they want to dance, and they want to run Winston. I think that all plays into that culture of community which I think is what a family is. Do you have a favourite memory? Oh wow. So many favourite memories. I think nearly all my favourite memories are to do with student achievements - not necessarily winning but, just achieving anything. There are magic moments every year in graduation where certain kids go up on stage and realize that they got through it; they’ve done it tough and they’ve had support from all over the place. And then you just kinda shake their hands and watch them go. I’ve seen kids coming into this school with really poor sets of skills, who’ve grown into young men and young women that I’m proud to see moving forward.

But, whilst I said that most of my favorite memories with this school have been about students’ achievements, I’ve got some about being a parent too. I’ve loved watching my kids grow: watching their drama productions, playing sports, and seeing them graduate. So my memories are pretty much about individual kids and the little moments that build up together to create one beautiful memory of BSM. Going back to the idea of community and connection that you mentioned earlier, a big part of Filipino culture is connecting over food. Is there like a particular food here that you’ve tried? I like all food. If I’m talking about my favourite Filipino recipe, I love kinilaw. At home, I make my kinilaw slightly differently as I use lemon juice and not vinegar. I’m also a big fan of lechon. Since our next issue is centred around the theme of ‘Roots’, can you tell us a bit about what you consider your roots? Both my parents were teachers, but both came to teaching really late. My dad left school when he was fourteen and joined the navy before finally entering teaching training college at the age of 32 and becoming a teacher. My mom also left school at the age of 18 and served in the war before travelling the world. She applied to an art college where she later on chose to become a teacher as well. One thing I’ve learnt is that you don’t know where life is going to take you - I never thought that I’d become a teacher but, here I am. So what would you say is next for you after BSM? I want to stay in education and I’d like to keep a connection with the region but, I’m not quite sure yet. We’ve decided to move back to New Zealand but I’m not going to be a headteacher in another international school - if I was going to do that I would probably stay in the Philippines.

believers

//WORDS BY ISABELLA BRADSHAW, YEAR 10// I grew up very differently from my cousins on both my Mom and Dad’s sides. Being the only mixed race of the bunch (alongside my sister, of course), it was odd to see how different we really were. My close family has very contrasting worldviews and often we don’t really see eye-to-eye.

Jedd stood there, his eyes and mouth wide open in disbelief. My sister gave him her ‘I told you so’ look. Matthew was silent, though I could tell he was mad, and was about to hit Jedd on the head. “Well,

One very defining factor is our religious beliefs. My mother, father, sister and I are the only members of our family that are non-religious. Everyone else has a strong belief in Christianity, and personally, this causes a very evident disconnect between us. I remember when I was nine years old, my younger sister Siena and I were visiting our cousins, Matthew and Jedd. Matthew and I, being the older, more sensible children, had already gone over the fact that we had contrasting beliefs, and had sworn on our pinky fingers to not judge each other and let it get in the way of our ‘cousin-ship’. Jedd came into the room with my sister, looking confused. Siena looked like she had something to prove. Matthew and I were immediately baffled, almost scared. It got stranger when Jedd said: “Do you believe in the Big Bang?” Matthew sent him a warning glare. Everyone in the family knew that we didn’t share the same beliefs. Jedd seemed to take no notice. I sighed, and replied: “Yes.”

you’re

wrong.

Th—”

Before he could finish, Matthew swiftly stood up, went to Jedd and cuffed him. Jedd looked at Matthew with a hint of betrayal. Matthew responded with yet another glare, and motioned for him and Siena to leave. They did. As they left, we could hear them arguing in the corridor. Matthew and I looked at each other, shrugged, and continued on our business. In England it’s not as present, but the disconnect is still there. For example, my Uncle Matt doesn’t want his children saying “Oh my God” or any of that sort of thing — and neither does my Grandma — which means we have to be careful even with how we speak around our cousins. I am a culprit of accidentally saying so, and getting told on — then getting told off. My sister and I were very strong believers in Santa Claus, the Tooth Fairy, and the Easter Bunny. Some of our cousins, however, were not, as they were told straight away that they didn’t exist. I remember we went to carols once in the Philippines with them, and they pointed out in the pamphlet that the Bible doesn’t mention any Santa Claus, nor the others. We did have other cousins

that followed that same tradition, though. Christmas with them was extra special. The most prominent difference, however, is the way we see the world. For example, a few of our relatives don’t believe in LGBTQ+ marriage. Because we don’t believe the same things our family does, sometimes we get told that we need to change our beliefs and have faith. They can be scared by us, intrigued, confused. Sometimes, we feel different from one another. Sometimes, we can’t understand each other. Sometimes, we want to scream into each other’s faces and plead, “Why can’t you see things my way?!” It’s always a bit awkward at family dinners, when everyone is praying. My immediate family respectfully closes our eyes, abiding, yet not joining in. I didn’t understand it at first, but afterwards my dad would always say: “Don’t think about it”. And in the long run, it does make us closer. When we were younger, we were never aware of the things that made us different - but my cousins and I have since learned to trust each other more as we embrace our differences. Sure, we still have our Big Bang incidents - but we always end up asking ourselves; “But they’re still the same person…so why should it matter?” Looking past our differences and resisting the urge to try and ‘enlighten’ each other is hard, but the outcome is worth it - we respect each other for our beliefs. Maybe we’ll never know who’s ‘right’.

Maybe we’ll never know if there is a God, but for the time being, it doesn’t affect us. We’re all family after all, no matter what we choose to do, and we will love and support each other, just like we always have done. And I wouldn’t have it any other way.

romper PIOPIO

sirena

BY KAYLEE HARTIGAN-GO, YEAR 13 limbs It begins with buoyancy. The natural state of the human body? We coast along the waves, sea foam curling to our silhouette. Skies reflect water reflects skies; this is the definition of kapayapaang walang hanggan. The human spirit is much the same. Masaya ka ngayon, ah! If laughter echoes brighter than all else, you are as lively as the beaming yellow stars.

lungs My second language, clumsy under my tongue, navigates the sweltering breeze like a stumbling kite. Conversational, I claim. Pwede na. Still, I cling onto it loosely. Some of us are only grasping at the ends of kites soaring skyward in the wind. Grounded by string; grounded in gradual kinship by this vocabulary we share. Sometimes my words trip over their tsinelas. Sometimes I have to falter into this ink puddle of a dictionary to discover what I meant to say before I said it. Still: an expression, a sentence, a dialogue, a remark — keeps me standing and elevated.

veins I mean, do I even have to say it? The asphalt ground to dust and more dust, yet still surviving the furious beat of the sun. Wheels trudging. Barely. Engines sputtering, blurting out tides of smoke into the air. The city is alive, but on fire. Ay nako. It’s a wonder that the body functions at all. Still surviving.

belly Toyo, paminta, asukal, pampalasa. Saltwater seas. Mama’s and Papa’s cooking builds the fortress of my memories. Their instructions, perfectly crafted and passed down from ancestry, blend into the ingredients. The kalan flickers with measured flame; the palayok kindles in excitement. To think: heritage found within our grocery lists. To think: a slice of ocean in our recipes.

bones There is history to be unearthed in museums, everyone knows this to be a fact. In that room I find the castaway fragments of an artifact. In this exhibit I encounter a silver skin of armor — protected, encased in glass, and no longer able to protect. The past often surrenders its first intent to continue existing in present time. A golden coin from a pirate’s shipwreck is now a different kind of currency. All around us I see ghosts, and reflect, Yung mga natandaan at nakalimutan — nilalampasan na kayo ng mga taon. Outside, there are statues and monuments on every other corner, trying to make kwento with rushing passersby. How many stories have been lost in the telling? I think, too many to count.

heart

I have lived on the shoreline for eighteen years, and this horizon looks as good as any other to push off from. To sail into. We can be hopeful. Sunrise is simply another synonym for kinabukasan. Afterwards, we might smile. Not so strange to yearn for the struggle you’ve already faced. Kilala mo pa ba ako? Eventually, I’ll come back; the floods will call me back to the start. Huwag mo akong kalimutan.