Many Filipino sailors make small incisions in their penises and slide tiny plastic or stone balls -- the size of M&M's -- underneath the skin in order to enhance sexual pleasure for prostitutes and other women they encounter in port cities, especially in Rio de Janeiro. "This 'secret weapon of the Filipinos,' as a second mate phrased it, has therefore obviously something to do," Lamvik wrote in his thesis, "'with the fact that 'the Filipinos are so small, and the Brazilian women are so big' as another second mate put it."

According to University of California, Santa Cruz labor sociologist Steve McKay, who traveled extensively on container ships with Filipino crews in 2005 for his research on the masculine identity in the shipping market, raw materials for the bolitas can range from tiles to plastic chopsticks or toothbrushes. A designated crew member boils them in hot water to sterilize them, and then performs the procedure. There are also different preferred locations for insertion. Some have one on top or bottom, and others have both. One shipmate told McKay that others have four, one on top and bottom and on both sides, "like the sign of the cross." Another said: "I have a friend at home, you know what his nickname is?" McKay recalled. "Seven."

The practice is unique to Southeast Asia and dates back to at least the 16th century, though no one is sure if it has been continuous. Italian scholar Antonio Pigafetta accompanied Ferdinand Magellan and his crew on their explorations and journaled about a similar behavior in what is currently southern Philippines and Borneo. Apparently, it was also practiced in Thailand and Indonesia, but vanished from the historical record in the mid-17th century, when men bowed to the pressures of Islam and Christianity.



Mckay was shocked to learn that it still existed in what, based on his extensive conversations with Filipino seafarers, seemed like great numbers. In the extremely limited body of academic literature on this topic, there aren't many numbers. One 1999 study found that out of 314 randomly selected Filipino seamen in the port of Manila, 180, or 57 percent, said they had them.



According to McKay's interviews, danger of infection and resulting pain seemed to be worth their reception by droves of Brazilian prostitutes. According to one of his papers, one shipmate told him: "'Filipino seaman are famous for them...that's why they [women in port] like us, why they keep asking for us,'" he said. "'When they hear that Filipinos are coming, they're happy.'"



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The Philippines provides more seafarers to the global labor market than any other country in the world, accounting for approximately a fifth of 1.2 million maritime workers. The number of Filipinos currently living on vessels is roughly 240,000. It's as if every person in the entire city of Orlando woke up, drove to Miami, and signed contracts to ship out on cruiseliners.



The industry has not always employed Filipino crew members in these numbers. In the 1960s, only 2,000 Filipinos worked in international waters. But after the oil crisis of the 1970s placed financial pressure on the industry and a shift in maritime regulations allowed ships to hire workers from countries with lower wages, companies set out to reduce labor costs. According to Lamvik, the Filipinos emerged in the late 1970s and early 1980s as the most qualified option for the mostly European-owned businesses. "They are fluent in English, they are Christians, and they accepted cheaper pay," said Lamvik, whose grandfather and great-grandfather both worked on Norwegian ships. The Filipinos also had a built-in nautical legacy, according to McKay. From the 16th through the 19th century, Filipinos were ordered into servitude on Spanish galleons, and in the 1800s, they helped man American whaling ships.