Hala

Hala. Kwarenta minutos na sana palan mali-late na naman ako sa enot kong subject. Nagparahiling pa pa’no akong Mara Clara kasubanggi. Haha. Si mama ngani pig-iinutan na su director kun ano mangyayari. Kan aki ako, narumduman ko na itong original version kaan. Si mama fan ni Juday. Makaulok. Haloy na panahon na nakalipas.

Hala. Makarigos na daw muna ako. Duman ako sa bombahan pirmi nagkakarigos ta makahugakon magparabitbit ki balde pasiring sa CR. Buda bitin pa ang tubig. Ugaring pag-arug kaini, nangingirimig-kimig talaga ako ta maniwang baya, buda an paros pano malipot. Nata daw ta pag nagdudugdog ka lugod ayos lang sa lawas, pero pag nagtunong ka na magdugdog ‘tian ta maliputon.

Hala. “Ma, twalya tabi.” Dagit na naman si mama ta dai na naman ako nagdara ki twalya sa karigusan. Haha. Maray ta su saro kong tugang dai na nagkaklase ta bagsak sa tolong subject. May taga-tao ako ki twalya. Haha. Si mama para twalya an pighahagad ko nakaabot na naman an ratatat sa pagpamatanga ko daa sa pag-drowing. Hay. Sabagay, paralamawon na talaga ako ngunian, bako arog kan hayskul ako naeenot sa room. Maski sarado pa baga sa room, yaon na ako. Pero dai ako na-awardan ki Most Punctual. Nata daw ito?

Hala. “mamahaw ka. May maluto dyan. May pritos na sira. Mauli ka na naman alas nuwebe. Gulsok.”

Nagtango sana ako kay mama pero dai man ako makakan. Aw enda. Mali-late na ngani ako. Nagkape na man ako. Mabakal na sana akong Mr. Chips sa canteen taud-taod. May tada man na otso ang pamasahe ko. Maray ngani dai na ako nasisibang maski dai namamahaw. Pano dai na ako nagtutubod. Dati iyo. Pag nagkukulog an tulak ko kaito pigpapaliwuyan ko kay Marlon, su kataning mi. Miracle! Nawawara man talaga. Garu man lang gayod “faith healing” ang sibang. Pag nagtubod ka, mararahay ka, adi?

Hala. Atang late na baya ako. Kupason na su pantalon ko. Binakal ko pa sana ini kan June kan sarong taon, pakasweldo ko sa summer job. Enot ko itong sweldo buda trabaho. Paborito ko ining pantalon ta pinagpagalan ko baga, syempre padaba ko. Ugaring ang mga t-shirt ko mga makanuson na. dai na ako nakakabakal bagong bado. Dakulon pano na gastusan sa harong, sa eskwelahan. Su yearbook mi ngani a-1,700 pesos. Hamak mo an? Sarong sako na itong bagas, may sarong kilo pang sibubog. Hehe. Buda pirang t-shirt na. An pigbabakal ko pating t-shirt su barato man sana baga mga a-100 pesos sa gilid-gilid. Sabi kaya, it’s not about the shirt daa, it’s the pagdadala. Ano palan ang pagdadala sa English?

Hala. Iyo na daw ini an isangli ko. Dai na magparapili. Su bag ko palan. ID. Wallet. Ay su balon ko. “Ano ma isira ko?” dai ako nadangog. “Ma?” “Yaon sa ref. su manok prinitos ko.” Maray ta mabitbit na sana ako. The best talaga si mama. Minsan ugaring pag daing maipos nagpapangudto na sana ako sa canteen. Mami ang paborito ko. Tipid. Haha. Dali-dali na baya. Tuod na ako magpanguros pagpaluwas na sa harong. Turo ito ni mama. Epektib man. Ay su celphone ko pa. mabalik na naman sa laog. Sabi pati ni ma maraot daa magparaburubwelta. Pag pighahapot ko kung nata, dai man nagsisimbag. Dai daa magparahapot. Aw enda man.

Hala. Su payong. Su panyo. Mauran na naman gayod dyan na hapon. Climate change. Haha. Ikaduwang balik. “Ano na iyan? Madudugi mo na naman ang pwertahan?” si mama talaga warang nakakaligtas. Garu may laser vision. Haha.

Hala. Late na baya ako. Uni na ngani malakaw na. limang minuto man sana ako malakaw pairaya paduman sa pighahalatan ko ki jeep pa-Legazpi. Pero sa iba gayod bente minutos na ito. Sanayan lang talaga. Buda arog kaini mali-late na naman. Ooops! Ang mga karabaw ugaring talagang warang manners. Sa tinampo pa minausmak. Sabagay, karabaw man. Hayop man. Wara man isip. An iba nganing tawo usmak, hayop pa daw. Haha.

Hala. Haluyon ang jeep. “isn’t it ironic?” Su kanta baga, kung nuarin ka nagmamadali saka man haluyon ang hamag na lunadan na an. Uyan may jeep na. Ay may nagsakay na sa inutan. Makisusuan na naman ako sa laog. Kung dai talaga ako nagmamadali dai na muna ako malunad. Aysus. Midbid ko ining drayber. Agom kan kataning mi na pinsan ni papa. Sana librehon ako. Sayang kang kinse. Ay may kunduktor. Dimalas. Grrrrr.

Hala. Wara palan akong sinsilyo kan 1000 na tinao ni mama, pamasahe tolong aldaw buda pambayad sa yearbook – downpayment muna. Yes, sana warang sinsilyo ining konduktor nganing dai na ako hagadan. Haha. “bayad po. Estudyante, saro.” Itinao ko su 1000. “Wara kang barya noy?” Mahapot pa man. Alangan. “Wara po.” Sige na, ibalik mo na sana iyan. Haha. “Halat, ipabarya ta sa gasolinahan pagtangod duman.” Ngek! Sayang kinse pa ito. Sarong mami pa kuta. Hay. Sigurista si tiyong konduktor. Sabagay, garo dakula ang pangaipuhan. Daing kurukarigaos, pati ang itsura buda parong. Hahahaha. Grabe man ako makatatsar. Pag ako ngani dai nakagradwar ta arug man gayod ako kaan. Dai man lugod. Knock on wood.

Hala. Mahapit pa sa gasolinahan. Imposible na gayod na makaabot ako sa klase. Marasa pa man pati. Ini si kuyang drayber, na agom kan pinsan ni papa, na kataning mi. mas marabas pa gayod kung mag bisikleta ako. Ay saro pa iyan. Dai palan ako tatao magbisikleta. Takot kaya ako. Sa kagurangan kong ini? Pramis, dai talaga. Kung may sarong bagay na dai ko pa talaga nababalo, pagbisikleta na ito. Nata man daw ta takot ako? Makapraning man.

Hala. Nagtagiti na. Ayos lang, may payong man ako. Regalo pa ini sako kan organisasyon mi kan Pasko. Ugaring putol na su sarong gusok. Pipasugpon ko ini sa tugang ko, pigbungug-bungogan sana ako. Padabaon ko pati ining payong. Ta mas nakakairiba ko pa kaysa mga tugang ko. Pano pag alas nwebe na ako nag-uuli, tururog na sinda. Pagkaaga naman alas otso ako mamuklat, wara na sinda sa harong - nagklase na. Halos dai na kami nag-iirilingan. Sabado na sana buda Dominggo.

Hala. Kasakayan ko palan su dati kong kaklase kang hayskul. Dai ko lamang aram. Kung dai ako inulukan, dai ako nabisto. Garu man su haraluyon na ang nakaagi. Dai ko na pano sinda nagkakairiling. Maski ngani text wara. Sabagay nag-iiba na talaga ang prioriries kang tawo, sinda talagang nakatutok sa pag-adal , ako sa barkada. Haha. Pero nakakapasar man ako kaya ayos lang.

Hala. Mababa na. Dai pa ako nag-enot magbaba ta nagsusurusuan sa pwertahan kan jeep. Makatandol ngani sinda. “Booog!” sabi ko na, haha. Dai talaga ako nasasala. Haha.

Hala. Lima na sanang minute, TIME na. Dai na ako makaabot. Pero malay mo late man si madam. Baka makasabay ko pa ngaya pasakat. Haha. “Bayad po.” Sais man sana ang pamasahe sa jeep. “Piso pa noy.” Sabi kan drayber. “Estudyante tabi” , nakisuway man ako. Aram ko sais talaga.  “Nagpatong na baga, dai ka naghiling ki TV Patrol?” nasupla pa ako. Ho, piso mo. Nagtaas na palan pamasahe.? Pano kaan, bawas na naman sa balon ko. Bale dos balikan. Napasupog pa ako ki Tiyo. Maray ngani ako sana ang sakay kang jeep. Dai naman talaga ako makakahiling ki TV Patrol ta alas nwebee na ako nakakaantos sa harong. Ano daw sinimbag ko si Tiyo arug kaito? Baga dae ako pinababa sa ujeep. Haha.

Hala. Su masungit na guard ang bantay sa gate.  Mahapot na naman iyan, “Anong kulang saimo? Anong kulang saimo?” Haha. Isanli ko na daw ining ID bago pa ako masita. “Para po. Para po” kung dai tubtubon ang atop kan jeep ideretso pa gayod ako kaini ni Tiyo sa Daraga. Hay. Bungog. Pero salamat man ta hinatod mo ako sa eskwelahan buda aram ko na na syete na ang pamasahe maski bungog ka.

Hala. Anong nagyari kay guard? Himala, nakapamahaw sa oras. Good mood. Haha. Dai nangsita sa mga dai naka-ID. O kaya baka naman nareklamo. Takot man gayod mawaran ki trabaho. Maraoton man pano minsan, nakakathreaten kumbaga. Pero pasaway man pano ang ibang estudyante. Habo mag-ID. Bag ang nag-ID. Kung bako man bugsok ang payo. Haha. Ay bahala man sinda. Malaog na basta ako.

Hala. Dyes minutos na akong late. Sibug-sibog. Nagdadalagan na sa hagyan. Pag nadapa ako pasa ang ngimot. Salamat ta pig-didiyosan pa man. Hay salamat wara pa si Madam. “hello classmate.” Mga maribukon na naman. Agang-aga.. garu pirang bulan dai naghirilingan sa kakatabil. Ang istorya puro man sana nangayari sa lovelife., sa pamilya, buda sa Mara Clara. Naghiling ako kasubanggi. “hoy, aram na baga ni Clara na bako siya tunay na aki.” Ako naman maistorya. Haha.

Hala. “Good morning Madam.” Yaon na si Madam. Ay wara man palan. Su mga nangtitrip na classmates. Gibu-gibo ko man iyan. An mga kabuahan talaga ngunyan kan mga tawo. Huni sanang nakasurat sa tukawan ko. May drowing pa. aram mo na akung ano, kabaglaan. Hay. Tapos “need txtmate”. Dai pa lamang ako nagsurat ki arog kaini sa desk o kaya arm chair. Panagran iyo, pero baku number. Garo man desperado. Sabagay, “need” baga daa. Basic need na gayod ang textmates ngunyan.

Hala. Speaking of textmates. Su cellphone ko palan haen na naman daw. Nakalaag. Ay, sa bag. O may nagtext, “Gud morning”. Wara man akong load. Dai na ako nagloload poon kan may mga nagkatampuhan sa pag-group message sa classroom. Mga bestfriend ko pati.syempre ako dai man nagkakampi ta pare-pareho man  may sala. Basta, maaayos man sana iyan. Bayaan na sana na magpila ang mga lugad in a natural way. Hehe.

Hala. Kinse minutos na, wara pa si Madam. Malamang absent na ito. “Maruluwas na kita, sabi baga 15 minutes late, considered absent na. Dapat saiya applicable man itong policy.” Madangog ngani ako ki professor – makusog pati ang boses ko. Haha. “Tama!” chorus na naman ang klase.

Hala. Nagharali na kami sa room ta dai man ki pag-asang mag-abot si Madam. Pag nag-abot si Madam turutaod-ataod wara na siyang aabutan. Haha. Bahala man siya. Maray pa magpalibrary na sana. Aircon lamang.  Pag napapalibrary ako ang pigbabasa ko man sana mga dyaryo buda magazine. Ang mga libro pan maalpugon na. Nahahatsing lamang ako. Kaherak man nag mga lumang libro, girisi na lamang sa kakagamit. Pirmi pating matawuhon sa library. Palibhasa general libarary kan university. Siguro nagtatambay man sana ang iba sainda, arog ko. Palipas-oras.

Hala. Su library card ko palan dai ko man nadara. Yaun ito sa bag kasudma. Baad na naman nalibong ako kang linaugan na wallet. Sayang dai ako maka-aircon. Dai na sana lugod. Sain daw ako mahanap? Mga lagalag pati ito.

Hala. Makaihion ako, halat daw muna. Ang mga CR digdi sa eskwelahan minsan may tubig, minsan wara. Kaya pano man magiging malinig pirmi? Ang iba man pating estudyante maski may tubig dai man giraray nagbubuhos. Kabaglaan. Ako pag may tubig nagbubuhos ako, pag wara dai na sana. Haha. Piglilinigan man kan mga janitor. Iyo man ang obligasyon ninda sa mundo. Kaya ngani may janitor para maglinig. Tama?

Hala. Maduman na daw ako sa canteen, baka kun sain pa ito magrarabas. Alas singko na pati ang sunod na klase mi. Sabi na daw, nagngangararakngak na naman. Dai talaga nauubusan ning istorya. Pigririlibak na naman su saro ming kaklase. Makiintra daw ako. “aw iyo baga, arog man talaga sya kaan.” Nagpuon na naman ako. Haha. “Hoy dai kamo gigutom? Dai ako namahaw.” “Sige lang, busy pa.” maray pa magpangudto na. Alas onse na man. Pag nag-snack pa ako alanganin na. makaon na talaga lugod ako. “ Karaon tabi.” Garu daing nadangog ang mga buang ini.

Hala nawalat ko palan su balon kong tubig. Mabakal pa. hay dimalas man. “hoy pabantay daw tabi kang pagkaon ko, mabakal lang akong Sparkle.” Garu talaga bungog ining mga kahampang ko. Makakalusot ang langaw sa ngimot ta pirming bukas. Haha. “gurano tabi ang sparkle, ate?” “Otso.” “Saro tabi.” Su kwarta ko palan.

Hala. Dai ko  nakua su uli sa jeep kasubago. Ano na ining dimalas? Ano sabihon ko ki mama? Ang kapatalan ko talaga! Kaya palan kikulbaan ako. Nata ngunyan ko sana naisip? Grrrrrr. “wait lang po ate ha!”

Hala. Dai na akong ibang kwarta. Sus! “sisay tabi mapautang sako? Dai ko nakua su uli ko sa jeep.” Dai man giraray nakadangog sako.

Hala.

*i wrote this nearly a year ago.it is fun to reminisce.

The Wisdom of the Old Man

The morning was still dusky as it rained the whole night. The usual, I had to wait at the side of the road for the sole jeepney that passes by daily to fetch the earliest birds.

When you do something on a very regular basis, the feeling becomes more and more familiar and you get used to it. So is getting used to the faces that you rub elbows with, (literally inside the jeepney).

Amusing it is that you almost memorize who will jump into the vehicle at the specific areas where they wait, and who will have to board off when they reach their final destination.

That makes a routine.

However, things sometimes surprise you in your most unguarded moments.

One of the familiar faces I see on a daily basis is that of this man who is somewhere or above his 50s, I guess. Judging from the looks, he seems part of the labor sector. Though it is a bit dark, I can sense the wrinkles on his forehead and his tired limbs. His crooked back when he sits down tells he had worked hard all his life, or a big part of it.

I usually don’t mind whether there are other people around when I wait at that corner in the morning. Unless, he talks to me, then I would have to be polite in the best way that I can and reply.

Cut the story short, he started asking me some basic questions - where I work, my salary, and the like.

I thought it would end there. But he started convincing me of the irregularities he see in the labor sector.

He argued companies don’t put their employees on regular status to avoid the benefits they would deserve. He asked me about my salary, how much I spend for food and commuting, how much deductions are taken from the minimal amount that I earn, among other things that I don’t clearly recall. They were known facts to me already but with this man reiterating them, I can only grow more pimples on my forehead.

He then muttered about his observations on working in the government, like in departmental agencies or government units. He seemed to have grudges that many government employees were reliant on their “backdoor” connections. The sad part, though, is being fired out that easy when your connections lose their connections to the ones seated.

We call this the Padrino system. I know this for a fact because a few of my not-close relatives are working in the govt. I have also availed of the summer job program in my municipality before, and have observed some practices I’d rather be silent about.

All the while, I was only listening to the wisdom of the old man. There were glimpses of truth in what he said. There were strong convictions. There were brave accusations as well.

At the end of all his sad realizations, he told me I am young, and there’s way to go.

He was a message.

His thoughts were showing me the downside of the hill. A neophyte in the world of labor, I needed the reality in all that he was saying.

The situation is there.

What can we do? He is at the base of the society as I am. Sad it may be but we are both specks of dust. Not that I am belittling our capability to create change but the real world is harsh indeed.

Nonetheless, specks of dust, however tiny they may be, can be big enough to make someone see more clearly.

And then the jeep came, we both hopped in to face the realities of our separate lives.

VINCENT

This song is playing in my mind right now:

Vincent
written by Don McLean

 Starry, starry night
Paint your palette blue and gray
Look out on a summer's day
With eyes that know the darkness in my soul
Shadows on the hills
Sketch the trees and the daffodils
Catch the breeze and the winter chills
In colors on the snowy linen land

Now I understand what you tried to say to me
And how you suffered for your sanity
How you tried to set them free
They would not listen, they did not know how
Perhaps they'll listen now

Starry, starry night
Flaming flowers that brightly blaze
Swirling clouds in violet haze
Reflect in Vincent's eyes of china blue
Colors changing hue
Morning fields of amber grain
Weathered faces lined in pain
Are soothed beneath the artist's loving hand

Now I understand what you tried to say to me
And how you suffered for your sanity
And how you tried to set them free
They would not listen, they did not know how
Perhaps they'll listen now
 For they could not love you
But still your love was true
And when no hope was left inside
On that starry, starry night
You took your life as lovers often do
But I could have told you, Vincent
This world was never meant
For one as beautiful as you

Starry, starry night
Portraits hung in empty halls
Frameless heads on nameless walls
With eyes that watch the world and can't forget
Like the strangers that you've met
The ragged men in ragged clothes
A silver thorn, a bloody rose
Lie crushed and broken on the virgin snow

Now I think I know what you tried to say to me
And how you suffered for your sanity
And how you tried to set them free
They would not listen, they're not listening still
Perhaps they never will...

trial and error

I have never been, in any way, political in nature. That is why I find political news and events boring, and to a point, disgusting, especially in the Philippines.

You see, at some days you think this place is paradise and the next day, it’s hell.

Just like now.

Impeachment.

The very fact that the word itself sounds complicated makes me scratch every inch of my head and resign to the fact that I will have a really good headache trying to make myself understand it.

I would have wanted to watch the TV special of Cheche Lazaro aired over the weekend but since I have to attend to work early the next day, I missed my attempt to lash off my ignorance.

But it doesn’t need a TV special or a law lecture 101 to make me understand that this Impeachment is a stain in history. The Philippines is not a virgin of the Impeachment trial.

We saw Erap impeached. We wanted GMA impeached. We tried to impeach Merciditas Guttierez. Fortunately, the Ombudsman spared us the airtime and resigned, herself.

But the Chief Justice Renato Corona wouldn’t do the same.

Now, our senate has once again turned red literally and otherwise to investigate one of the most important pillars of the government, the highest man of law in RP.

Spare me from the legalities that this frustrating, highly cerebral trial entails. What I know for sure is that after all of the blackest, meanest, most unfounded, least credible and most malicious propaganda against and for the Chief Justice are brought out in the open, we will still have the same food on our plate and the same wages.

It will be Elections once again next year. Not only will this Impeachment be a trial against the CJ, it will also be a grand showcase and battlefield of political colors, of aspirants wanting to glue themselves on their precious senatorial posts.

Those who would want to get indorsed by Noynoy, who happens to be the president, will of course try to imperil Corona’s reputation, as much as he can, earning the president’s favor and getting a clearer view on the 2013 ballot turnouts.

Sadly, this will be same old politics.

More than the senate, the outskirts will be more festive and action-filled, with more bombastic, more scandalous accusations made out of court premises. The speakers of which, will be superstars in minutes. Voila! Free PR.

Sigh.

A lot of pedestrians too, will pretend to understand the proceeding and argue with their neighbors.

The only true beneficiaries are the TV networks who get the coverage, pull advertisers, earn a living.

And we, the commoners, we will still get on with our plain lives as our government becomes busy putting up a convincingly good show.

Is it more fun in the Philippines?

The new campaign slogan of the Department of Tourism which was launched last week instantly earned diverse feedback from both sides that easily proliferated in the internet world over the weekend.

Indeed, Secretary Mon Jimenez was right when he said social media would play a big part in the campaign, being a campaign of the people, more than anything.

The slogan was simple: “It’s more fun in the Philippines”. That’s it.

Some don’t find it catchy. I believe otherwise. Less is more, we say. The new slogan is, however simple it is, encompasses all facets of what the Philippines is really all about.

And it is flexible. Some netizens have even parodied the slogan and came up with odd and funny versions like “Social Climbing-it’s more fun in the Philippines”, or “kwek-kwek-it’s more fun in the Philippines.”

True enough, the Philippines is a depository of anything.

Our colorful history brought us to a culture that emanated from various cultures, making it solely ours- unique in every way. We have been colonized, of course. Our aborigines have traded with different nationalities, not only did they trade products but values and traits.

In the more recent past, the Filipino has been most adaptable to all races. There could be two reasons. One, we have a lot of foreign workers who of course adapt the culture of the countries they work for. This diaspora of our race has reached all continents. Some of them come back after years. Some next generation Pinoys who were born and raised abroad come back as a neo-Filipino.

Second, we are a welcoming country. Anyone can come here, marry a Filipino, live and make business.

We don’t even know what a real Filipino looks like! Everyone is a mix.

Now, that makes it more fun in the Philippines.

Who celebrates Fiestas more than us? Who has the most number of festivals here and there? Whose is the longest Christmas?

The Puerto Princesa Subterranean River which took a spot as one of new Seven Wonders of Nature is a clear manifestation of how capable the Philippines is in terms of tourism,  aside from our incredible voting power, i.e. voting People’s Choice in global pageants.

Texting? It’s more fun in the Philippines! Definitely. We have even created a text lingo of our own, the infamous Jejemon fad.

And what country would promulgate an “Epal Bill” against old school political patronage? Good thing a Mirriam Defensor- Santiago is a Filipina.

Speaking of whom, she has been the first Asian to be selected as judge at the International Criminal Court for a tenure of nine years. Kudos to the iron woman of the senate. Sadly, we will lose to the world one of the few credible faces in the government.

It’s more fun in PH because we make it so. The Filipino is our best resource and whether or not we are better than anybody else in the world, the fact shall stand still – we are a great people.

The Story of HORSE and PIG

There was a farmer who collected horses; he only needed one more breed to complete his collection. One day, he found out that his neighbor had the particular horse breed he needed. So, he constantly bothered his neighbor until he sold it to him.

A month later, the horse became ill and he called the veterinarian, who said:

“ Well, your horse has a virus. He must take this medicine for three days. I'll come back on the 3rd day and if he's not better, we're going to have to put him down.”

Nearby, the pig listened closely to their conversation.

The next day, they gave him the medicine and left. The pig approached the horse and said:

“Be strong, my friend. Get up or else they're going to put you to sleep!”

On the second day, they gave him the medicine and left. The pig came back and said:

“Come on buddy, get up or else you're going to die! Come on, I'll help you get up. Let's go! One, two, three...”

On the third day, they came to give him the medicine and the vet said:

“Unfortunately, we're going to have to put him down tomorrow. Otherwise, the virus might spread and infect the other horses.”

After they left, the pig approached the horse and said:

“Listen pal, it's now or never! Get up, come on! Have courage! Come on! Get up! Get up! That's it, slowly! Great! Come on, one, two, three... Good, good. Now faster, come on.... Fantastic! Run, run more! Yes! Yay! Yes! You did it, you're a champion!!!”

All of a sudden, the owner came back, saw the horse running in the field and began shouting:

“It's a miracle! My horse is cured. This deserves a party. Let's kill the pig!”

Points for reflection: this often happens in the workplace. Nobody truly knows which employee actually deserves the merit of success, or who's actually contributing the necessary support to make things happen. Are you the Horse who takes all the credit or are you the Pig who supports

the Horse but is not recognized by the Horse?

LEARNING TO LIVE WITHOUT RECOGNITION IS A SKILL!

If anyone ever tells you that your work is unprofessional, remember: amateurs built the Ark and professionals built the Titanic.

ENJOY LIFE NOW - IT HAS AN EXPIRATION DATE

-adapted

on believing and being

The Filipino has been under Spanish colonization for over three centuries.

The most notable residue of this occupation is, of course, the very fact that we had been baptized as Catholics, given Catholic names, and learnt Catholic values. Although the propagation of the religion has been difficult, against opposition, revolt and contradiction from the early Filipino nationalists, –the likes of Jose Rizal –Catholicism has proliferated across the country.

Years hence, there have been changes in terms of diversity in the aspect of Filipino faith as we have welcomed and embraced other forms of faith but many have remained devout Catholics and have preserved the religious legacies from the past.

The annual translacion of the Black Nazarene around the bustling Manila to its home in Quiapo Church has been, for years, one of the most celebrated and documented events of the Catholic Church.

This year, a sea of people in maroon and yellow shirts has flooded the streets, mostly barefooted, just to get a glimpse of the black saint. The panata is a form of regular religious sacrifice, either to pay gratitude to the patron, ask for a miracle, or simply send praises.

But aside from this magnanimous display of religiosity, this year’s translacion which gathered the most number of devotees, also tolled the most number of persons injured.

The rubbish left on the streets was humungous. And the rage that many devotees have showed towards a suspected snatcher was rather ironic, defying the supposed significance of the holy practice.

A day after, the suspect came out of national TV, countering all allegations. The man was found to be well-off, and a devout believer of the Black Nazarene.

Judgmental the people were. Sadly.

Although I have been born and lived Catholic to date, I find rather hard to understand why some Catholics do not live with what they say they believe. While I respect, to the point of admiring these devotees, I can’t help asking why they seem to forget one important principle that is superior over any religious dogma – RESPECT itself.

Was it not a manifestation of faith if they respected the alleged criminal?

Was it not a manifestation of faith if they avoided clutter and respected the streets?

We still boil down to one bottom line, RESPECT.

“Satisfaction lies in the effort, not in the attainment. Full effort is full victory.” – Mahatma Gandhi

a not so ideal idea

I came across a one-fourth piece of dusted yellow paper from the tons of clutter I collected through college. I smiled at myself upon realizing why I kept the trash.

Flashback.

Monday. It was past five and the semi-lit, semi-dark room at the end of the alley was peopled with my busy classmates, trying to inject as much information as possible in their heads. Minutes after, the prosecutor, also our professor comes in and everybody sat down and shut up.

It has been his teaching strategy to give a quiz of some 15 items every Monday. Whether we like it or not.

Lazy as I am, I pay no much time reviewing as I find it too much of a burden.  My philosophy is, why should I relearn something that has already been absorbed by my brain (or not?). Either way, I just feel that it is too much toil to repeat things over and over again.

Memorize. It’s one thing I never really liked to do. And I am definitely not good at.

But the trade calls for it. We were taking a Law subject. A minor subject. But nothing seemed minor.

Maybe I was not doing my best or trying at least.

But I have already surrendered to the fact that I am not good at it and will not make it good. Ever.

I am not that dumb, though. I actually believe that I have a piece of talent and wit in me. I also do good in school. Okay, in some areas. Like I am a trying-hard writer and a trying-hard artist.

But not the geek.

I would often tell my academically-inclined friends that grades do not make a large part of who we are. I was exaggerating, of course. Just trying to convince them not to review any further (so it won’t appear like I am the dumbest of all with them memorizing all that has been written in their torn notes.)

That wouldn’t succeed though. Papers passed, answers checked (and ex’ed), back to the owners.

Voila! They triumph with their perfect scores. One mistake break their hearts.

And me? Like in other situations, divine intervention would always come upon me. I check my paper and the score I get feels most fulfilling than any other in the room.

He who knew least and got more than what he thought he knew is way happier than he who thought he knew all that there is to know but missed one.

Not that I am convincing anybody to be content with what they have, or what they know, but I believe you can’t always push for something you can’t. If it becomes a frustration, more than a fulfillment, then maybe it’s not the right thing.

But it’s not a one-size-fits-all situation.

It just so happened that on my part, I choose the path of the fair weather.

While I sometimes pass, courtesy of the universe conspiring to save me from shame, there are also chances that I get what nobody would dream of. And I deserve it.

Just like this dusty piece of paper – side by side with my name, in red ink – a giant number 1, altogether with three wrong answers and eleven blanks.

The irony is, it’s the one I keep – the one that makes me smile.

  

I felt bad about what happened to a child, barely six or seven years old, hit by a stray bullet in the head on New Year's Eve. He was inside the house, in front of the tv, awaiting 2012. He had big dreams, I suppose. And 2012 could have given him his desires. But someoene took it all away.


A lola was watching the skies get painted with firework sparks. She was happy as another year will add to her life. She will watch over her grandchildren grow a year older. A spit of  gun from the dark corner, amid the noise and festivity, shot the poor woman to death.


A teenage boy was killed in a gangt war at the foggy, noisy streets of Manila. He was struck by an empty bottle, brutally wounded, shot dead. The scene was caught through the eyes of the camera lens.  

Just as this is happening, we are counting down, shouting, overflowing with enthusiasm.


And we call it a happy new year.

Those are the headlines that wake you up and make your January 1st.


Now have you still got the optimism?


I do.


No matter.