Experiential wisdom of Mang Jaime and Mang Doro (3)

These two anecdotes are inspired by true characters. Names are changed for privacy.

The Fake-Engineer Seaman

During my travels drifting and hitchhiking across Europe for three years, I met many Filipino seamen. I bumped into Mang Jaime in Rotterdam, one of the watering holes for many great devil-may-care adventure-addicted Filipino seamen. He was 58 years old, almost retiring. He invited me for a drink in a local strip joint. We did not get any girls and simply watched them semi-nude. That was good enough for us. On our seventh bottle of draft Heineken, he started talking. The beer loosened his tongue. I was in awe as a silent listener because I knew his story would be fascinating.

MANG JAIME: When I finished high school, I almost did not graduate due to low grades. I applied as a seaman and was accepted as an engineer.

ME: What? I thought you were just a high school graduate.

MANG JAIME: I got a fake engineering license from a skilled rubber stamp expert along Recto Avenue. At first, I was scared because I did not know how to be an engineer. But I always asked fellow Filipino seamen who were engineers how to do my job. My engineering degree came from them. They did not mind me constantly asking them how to do my job. In two months, I knew I could fake it well. I was brimming with confidence.

ME: I suppose no one knew about your fake license.

MANG JAIME: The Filipino seamen knew. It was an open secret. I was a fake engineer for 30 years to this day and got away with it.

ME: Amazing that you learned your craft from experience without proper schooling and license.

MANG JAIME: It was easy because I had a photographic memory. At a certain point, I was debating with engineers on technical issues. (A pretty Dutch lady suddenly sat on Mang Jaime’s lap.) Hey, miss, please get us two beers. We’re busy talking here. Sorry.

Mang Jaime did not realize that his engineering expertise was experiential wisdom — no schooling, no textbooks, just pure on-the-job “training.” I found no crime in his work, because he did it well. Not having an engineering degree was not a crime. If he failed to do his job, it would be a crime. I reached for my wallet to pay the bill.

MANG JAIME: Stop. I already paid when you went to the CR. You are my guest.

The Navy Ship Repair Expert

I met 45-year-old Mang Doro in Cavite City, home of the Philippine Navy. We were drinking in a local pub and, like Mang Jaime, the eight beers loosened his tongue.

ME: I understand you were an officer in the Philippine Navy. Tell me what it was like.

MANG DORO: After I finished high school, I became a soldier for the navy. For 30 long years, I worked my ass off until I rose to become a captain.

ME: You never studied for a degree anymore after entering the navy?

MANG DORO: No more studies. I was assigned as a chief of a mission to have the navy’s Datu Kalantiaw, an aging warship that was donated by the US, to be repaired in Florida. It took us a year to finish the repairs.

ME: How did you learn your ship repair skills?

MANG JAIME: I learned everything from hands-on training for 30 long years. I became the master ship repair expert of the navy.

ME: Wow. Just pure hands-on training.

MANG DORO: If you put your mind to it, it becomes easy.

Mang Doro is another example of high-school-graduate experiential wisdom. It took him three decades to learn his highly technical skills in ship repair. No degree, no license, just pure hands-on training for 30 long years.