bout de papier, Vol. 17, No. 2 (2000) — Summer 2000 // Été 2000, p. 39
My first posting was to the Phillippines, in 1958, when our diplomatic accreditation was through the Ambassador in Tokyo. Canada was represented on the ground by a Consul General and me. I thus came, at an early stage, to be involved in a range of activities that would, in a broader representation, have been parceled out on a more functional basis. An event that stays particularly in my memory is the celebration of United Nations Day in 1959.
Those who have served among them will know that Filipinos have a great capacity for enthusiasm, and love celebrations, particularly if they have an inspirational motif. I am still unsure why the government decided to emphasize United Nations Day that year, but having made the decision, it did not hold back.
The ceremony was to take place in a large park in the middle of Manila, on one corner of which a covered grandstand offered comfort and shade for officials and guests. The rest had to stand, and because Manilla is hot and humid virtually from the earliest ascent of the sun, the program was to commence at eight in the morning. A semicircle of flag poles, one for each member of the UN graced the front of the grandstand. These in turn were attended by Boy Scouts and Girl Guides. After appropriate speech making, the band was to strike up the UN anthem, the Boy Scouts raise flags, and the Girl Guides release doves.
The Consul General, who was not born yesterday, decided that my wife and I would be appropriate representatives, and so we joined our diplomatic colleagues on the grandstand at the appropriate hour. All of us were impressed by the thousands who had turned out for the ceremony. In those bygone days, a gathering of diplomats could still attract interest, but the attendance was, nonetheless, surprising.
Needless to say, things did not get going on time. The Foreign Minister was a bit late. Various arrangements seemed to require last minute amendment, and what with one thing and another, the sun was well into the sky by the time the first speech commenced. Too many speeches under too hot a sun began to produce a discernable restlessness among the crowd, noted by those of us sitting in shaded splendor but not apparently, by the speech makers. But, as all things human must, the speeches finally came to an end, the band struck up, the chorus sang, the flags began their ascents, and the doves were released.
Murmurs of approval quickly grew to a roar from a crowd that was clearly delighted to see and hear something other than speeches. The doves, hot and enervated from their incarceration in little boxes, rose as one, leveled in front of the grandstand, retreated from the roar of the crowd, flew into the welcoming shade and relieved themselves on the diplomats. Undignified shouts and screams from the honored guests drove the doves out to the crowd that again roared its approval, causing the birds to return to the shade. I cannot recall how many times the doves reversed field as diplomatic howls competed with roars from the crowd, but ultimately things began to wind down and everyone began to wander off.
Some of us decided to repair our dignity at the Army and Navy Club, where we were joined by the Foreign Minister, who suggested that a similar exercise was unlikely for the next year.
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Originally published in bout de papier, Vol. 17, No. 2 (2000) — Summer 2000 // Été 2000, p. 39. Read the rest of this issue →
