Keeping up with the Discayas

When the new darling of the tennis world, Alex Eala, charmed the socks out of tennis fans and mothers like me by seemingly mouthing a truly raw and authentic Pinoy expletive at the US Open, I find myself using P-I- that same day upon ending the YouTube video of Julius Babao. And why?

For someone who often avoids reading the news to preserve my mental peace, this one takes the bibingka. I opened the video to be able to form an opinion on the swirling issues on corruption in connection with floodwater prevention. So I clicked, I saw, and I stopped midway, gagging at the naive display of wealth that couple Curlee and Sarah Discaya showed their fellow Filipinos. It made me sick to the core. The freebie umbrella, the huge crystals and statues, the luxury cars. The gall.

It brought me back to my childhood. What did I collect? Stamps, stationery, Sanrio. Signature bags, not even. Other people collect vintage watches or vinyl records. We can really latch on to material things that fascinate us. For those who collect money, they no longer laugh all the way to the bank. Heck, they just build special vaults to escape the monster called Anti-Money Laundering Council.

So who are we to pass judgment on the Discayas? Is it not that all of us desire to be rich? If we are embarrassed to say we are rich, then there is a kind euphemism for it. The word is comfortable. In the case of the Discayas, it was the kind of comfort that lifted them out of the ordinary and catapulted them to fame. There is a Latin term for this called “res ipsa loquitor” or the thing speaks for itself. It was an advertisement of a palace of wonder and a mind-boggling lifestyle that we did not know existed. It was as if they were saying, if we can do this, you can do it. Can we, really? Is there a short course for this in any university or training center, Tesda maybe?

I bet that so many professionals like me—lawyers, doctors, accountants, nurses, teachers—may be wondering if they work honestly from graduation to retirement, perhaps our savings would not even add up to a kitty worthy of purchasing 40 or so SUVs that, mind you, “hindi nga nagagamit, sa dami.”

And then, for those who toil physically in the fields and in the seas, who work in the mountains and under the earth, what about their honor compared to the accumulation of jade, amethyst, and brass in a single home? The idolatry is just unbelievable.

Why cannot we achieve the kind of wealth that begets wealth? No matter how hard we try. Without favor or influence. Without government projects. How can we participate in that kind of money-raising activity that seems to be exclusively tucked inside the halls of power and privilege? We are merely witnesses to the new Philippine theater of horror. One where I cannot even laugh when Curlee Discaya mispronounces the word carve. Or cry when Sarah Discaya gushes about how she loves the color red and orange.

As a mother, I wonder how that kind of wealth is explained to their children. Babao said that the Discaya couple’s rags-to-riches story is “para ma-inspire sila na magtrabaho nang magtrabaho” and therefore suggests theirs is a life worthy of emulation. A simple equation of education plus work plus pay plus savings plus side hustle plus prayer equals comfort plus more side hustle equals wealth. In our language, “ma-abilidad,” “may connect.” It is who you know and not what you know. Curlee Discaya says that in the case of contracting work, the foreman is often better than the engineer.

The Discayas are now under a microscope as if they are a unique kind of species. We must remember that there have been others who preceded them. Marie Antoinette, Imelda Marcos, and Janet Napoles are examples. I have witnessed boardroom meetings where even the ultrarich say, “I have never seen so many zeros.” I have been inside beautifully curated mansions of the rich and famous but the Discaya home stands on a special category not worthy of Vanity Fair. Hmmm, perhaps take away the “fair.”

It is not my desire to scoff at anyone’s abilities to make money beyond a regular job. I cannot question the Discayas’ humble beginnings of being a sacristan or wanting to become a nun. I cannot belittle their faith in the unseen hand that may have bestowed so much to them who had so little then. They are blessed and we simply are not in the same manner or breadth even if we danced with the devil who wears Hermes.

To conclude, ‘di ko kaya ang mga Discaya (I can’t handle the Discayas). Good luck to them both. They will need this and more.

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Susan Marie Javelosa Atienza is a farmer’s wife and mother of three. She is also a lawyer and a freelance writer.