ANYONE who drives a vehicle more than ten years old will find the following circumstances familiar.
I am writing for many of us who drive around with cracked shields, leaking transmission fluids, and other necessary ailments of our surplus or second hand ride. This one goes out for those who whisper a lightning speed Our Father before they crank the ignition praying that the engine will turn.
I used to have an older vehicle that is 30 years old, which finally gave up on my efforts to keep her running. And now, this younger trusty vehicle, about half as old, gives me, on average, also half the trouble of the former. That is how I define trusty - which means a monthly trip to Osmena St. and my friendly mekaniko instead of the almost weekly for the latter.
My rickety vehicles' condition has allowed me to achieve a degree of familiarity with the best places to buy which kind of parts here. It is something of a secret knowledge that one gains while standing around Osmena and engaging its regulars with small talk.
It is really an exhilarating adventure of the devotedly scrimping, not that the likes of us have much of a choice. After the long hunt for that elusive part, you either go home victorious or depressed in a manner that matches the swell of emotions of a good action flick.
Good fortune and the honest assistance of your mekaniko's posse will determine whether you will dare the long commute or ride on your metal steed to your daily destinations. And if you share your concern among these old-timer shop attendants, there is a certain camaraderie among all of you, including the other customers, who are only too eager to share to you a seller or an innovative solution that should give anyone hope that yes, the engine in trouble will purr again.
So there I was in the backstreets of the City's Osmena St., aiming to have a quick and cheap oil change for my "trusty" ride. But what I thought to be a fast lube drain and refill process extended for hours since I had to bring a piyesa to the machine shop for customization.
Amid the clanging and banging, the acetylene torches and melting brass, it occurred to me that what I am actually witnessing on the machine shop floor is a representation of the possibilities and limitations of our local economy.
There on its work space was an assortment of jobs to be undertaken. A huge metal assembly for the wheels of a tractor was being reconditioned. New metal fillings were forged into the portion eaten away by decades of use and corrosion. On its side lay gears whose indentations had also been mangled perhaps by a loose bearing. It awaitied its time to be worked on, teeth by teeth, centimeter by centimeter of forged metal.
The client patiently waited on this laborious job since its success and precision will determine whether his 40-year old tractor will be able to participate in the coming months' planting season in Bukidnon. Meanwhile, a boy tried his hand at welding a broken part of his BMX bike's frame. Good thing he was ably assisted by a shop hand and not before long, he happily rode out with the services done for free.
What these combined efforts actually represent, and in a way, symbolized by places like Osmena St. is the culture of "making do." Here in these places, acted out daily, is the muted desperation of farmers, surplus or second hand car owners, and jeepney drivers, all trying to squeeze the diminishing lives of their dying work horses. It is what German scholar Adorno defines as the process of "adjustment" or the "mode of behavior which corresponds to too little." We have to make do since this is all we could afford.
It is a situation that is not unique to the City. In fact, every major urban area in our country has a version of Osmena St. or this kind of space where various clients converge to find cheap and innovative solutions to their mechanical predicaments. Most often, the recourse is the machine shop where custom solutions are undertaken to revive out-of-production original parts. If you’re lucky, one will be able to find a replacement from the dealers of surplus parts which are bought as junk from Japan then shipped to second hand economies such as ours for our unique version of recycling. All these are hallmarks of a backward economy that remain export oriented and import dependent bereft of any serious plan for national industrialization.
I was able to "make do" with the custom job on my vehicle's leaking oil pan which saved me a few pesos I would like to think. Thanks to the camaraderie of the bros in Osmena, my vehicle and plenty others similarly situated will run again. Thanks to me too, my mekaniko will have a bit of money to spend for his sick 1-year old baby. In a country such as ours run by hacienderos without vision, we all have little choice but to make do.
from: http://www.sunstar.com.ph/cagayan-de-oro/opinion/2013/04/30/alamon-osmena-st-280048
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