(Crime, business, and culture)
My recent Christmas vacation at home in Pangasinan was truly merry except for one thing: the tupig (a native glutinous rice cake snack) I bought at the bus station as I went back Manila turned out to be a big joke. For the first time in my years of traveling this path to the north, I bought something fake at Php100 per bunch (I think around four or five pieces).
I realized I'd been had the moment I took a bite at the first piece in the bunch as soon as I got back in Pasay. There's no mistaking it: The tupig maker used sapal or grated coconut meat that has already been drained of its milky juice. In other words, the tupig maker resorted to recycling.
If person could do that, what other fake things could he or she have put into the thing I was eating? I stopped chewing at the thought, spewed the thing out, and threw the whole bunch away straight into the trash can.
I couldn't believe it, my thoughts about the many repercussions racing in my head. How many people would have bought the fake products? Surely they would feel as betrayed? If visitors to the town were victimized, the experience would forever be etched on their memory, associating the town with fake tupigs.
Other honest tupig makers would be among those victimized. Who else would want to buy tupig in our town, which is among its traditional products? Shouldn't there be strict regulation of the tupig industry? Shouldn't towns like ours license, regulate, standardize, and monitor all of them for best practices? Shouldn't they know who to point to as culpable for possible breaches?
I felt so helpless. Ideally, I could've called the police or emailed the town officers from Manila, but I didn't have the numbers and contact details, as I am no longer an official resident of the town, just a holiday visitor. The least I could do now is report the incident to my folks.
I've never been a victim of fake food in Manila, so it doubly hurt to be victimized like that right in my own hometown. I wish the long arms of the law would catch up with the fake tupig maker, for the sake of my hometown and everyone, for the fakery is not mere fakery: It is tantamount to economic and cultural sabotage.
I dread to think how this shady reality is repeated in every town in the country, especially tourist towns. Every now and then, don't we hear victims of roadside hawkers selling fake buko pies after a visit to Tagaytay, diluted strawberry jam from the Baguio public market, etc.?
In other countries that are respectfully fond of their traditions, they will go so far as to fiercely protect their heritage (certain cheese recipes, for instance) with official public pronouncements and trade documents stating the standards to be strictly enforced, or else the product is deemed not up to par or counterfeit. They know the consequences of how substandard products would reflect on the repute of their place and their people.
Except for a few crusading patriots here and there, I don't see the same level of vigilant pride of place and product among Filipinos. There should be.
My recent Christmas vacation at home in Pangasinan was truly merry except for one thing: the tupig (a native glutinous rice cake snack) I bought at the bus station as I went back Manila turned out to be a big joke. For the first time in my years of traveling this path to the north, I bought something fake at Php100 per bunch (I think around four or five pieces).
I realized I'd been had the moment I took a bite at the first piece in the bunch as soon as I got back in Pasay. There's no mistaking it: The tupig maker used sapal or grated coconut meat that has already been drained of its milky juice. In other words, the tupig maker resorted to recycling.
If person could do that, what other fake things could he or she have put into the thing I was eating? I stopped chewing at the thought, spewed the thing out, and threw the whole bunch away straight into the trash can.
I couldn't believe it, my thoughts about the many repercussions racing in my head. How many people would have bought the fake products? Surely they would feel as betrayed? If visitors to the town were victimized, the experience would forever be etched on their memory, associating the town with fake tupigs.
Other honest tupig makers would be among those victimized. Who else would want to buy tupig in our town, which is among its traditional products? Shouldn't there be strict regulation of the tupig industry? Shouldn't towns like ours license, regulate, standardize, and monitor all of them for best practices? Shouldn't they know who to point to as culpable for possible breaches?
I felt so helpless. Ideally, I could've called the police or emailed the town officers from Manila, but I didn't have the numbers and contact details, as I am no longer an official resident of the town, just a holiday visitor. The least I could do now is report the incident to my folks.
I've never been a victim of fake food in Manila, so it doubly hurt to be victimized like that right in my own hometown. I wish the long arms of the law would catch up with the fake tupig maker, for the sake of my hometown and everyone, for the fakery is not mere fakery: It is tantamount to economic and cultural sabotage.
I dread to think how this shady reality is repeated in every town in the country, especially tourist towns. Every now and then, don't we hear victims of roadside hawkers selling fake buko pies after a visit to Tagaytay, diluted strawberry jam from the Baguio public market, etc.?
In other countries that are respectfully fond of their traditions, they will go so far as to fiercely protect their heritage (certain cheese recipes, for instance) with official public pronouncements and trade documents stating the standards to be strictly enforced, or else the product is deemed not up to par or counterfeit. They know the consequences of how substandard products would reflect on the repute of their place and their people.
Except for a few crusading patriots here and there, I don't see the same level of vigilant pride of place and product among Filipinos. There should be.
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