Comfort Destroys Usefulness

There was a story about a story about a monk who believed that he has overcome every struggle he has to go through in life. Many other monks believed him to have done so and they praised and idolized him.

Word spread out and a wise teacher from another village heard about him. Instead of being amazed, the teacher merely smiled and gathered his students in a prayer.

“Let us pray for our brother who has conquered all of his struggles” the teacher started. “Let us pray that the Almighty give more struggle. And if he overcomes that, give him more. For a soul that lacks struggle wither and die.”

And so, the story teaches people to embrace their struggles and learn from them. Instead of complete surrender, one must fight and continue to take risks in order to keep their souls from burning out.

In life, we cannot always be sheltered otherwise we’ll miss great opportunities that life has in store for us. We cannot always choose to be in the middle because different times call for different choices. And we certainly cannot always  be happy, because in order to feel happiness, one should also feel sadness.

Life is full of surprises.

Jump in and experience opportunities.

Guardians

It was an ordinary day at the office and my colleagues and I were discussing robbing incidents we’ve witnessed in the past couple of days.

.

“I’m very thankful that I’ve never been in incidents like that. I haven’t been robbed, mobbed or anything. It’s like my instincts are always telling where to go and what to do”, I blurted out.

“Then you’re very well guided”, said a female colleague, smiling.

Her words made me think. Usually people would say, “Ang swerte mo!” (“You’re lucky!”). But “you are very well guided” is not a phrase you often hear people say. I realized the gravity of what she said. I looked back at the things I’ve gone through. It made me see that she is indeed correct, because no matter how lost I am emotionally and geographically, I always manage to find my way.

As I went on with my business of reading manga and watching movies online (hey, it’s almost time for the holidays, not much work to do), I recalled a story my mother told me when I was young.

When I was around 4 months old, she put me to sleep in the middle of the bed, stuffing pillows beside me to keep me from rolling. My mother went to the adjoining kitchen to prepare my milk bottles in case I wake up and ask for it. A couple of minutes later, she came back and was very surprised to see that I’m missing.

Frantically, she searched the room for me. After a while she heard baby googling sounds coming from under the bed. She checked and saw me there, lying on my back and smiling at an invisible entity.

“I was surprised to see you under the bed when you can barely roll over on your stomach”, my mother would say. “You didn’t make any sound at all!”

She proceeded to claim that it was my angel that caught me when I fell down from the bed.

Angels. Yeah, I do believe in angels but I never really thought that they will reside on Earth to watch over our every step.

Everything happens for a reason. That is what I believed in for a very long time. Sometimes, I may hate the situation for all of its hardships and difficulties and most of the time, I lose hope that everything will turn out fine. In the end, I always manage to come up and say “Hey, I made it.”

During those dark times, I failed to see that I am guided. It only takes one angel to pull me through and guide me. I’m done evil things but I know I also did good things more than evil. And I thank my Angel for guiding me and whispering loudly to my ears.

Bonds more than the season

“It’s early!”, my friend exclaimed.

It was the first day of September and Christmas carols started playing at malls, radio stations, canteens and other public places.

“What’s wrong with that?”, I asked my friend, a little dumbfounded. “My family gets into a festive mood the moment September enters and we sing carols together.”

“Well, it’s because, whenever I look back, I just drive my family around during Christmas, from one family reunion to another. We struggle to buy gifts in a swarm of Christmas shoppers,” he related. “By the time it’s Christmas Eve, I’m overly stressed and all I do is sleep. When I wake up, Christmas is over.”

We both fell silent.

“What about you? How do you usually feel about Christmas?”, he asked me, breaking the silence.

“I have a lot of Christmas memories. And I treasure all of them”, I said, smiling back at him. “On September first, my grandmother will ask my uncles to play Jackson 5. Every morning, we will sing carols together. Of course, there would be some who wouldn’t sing, but we would sing. Then we go on our daily lives, going to work, to school, to the market. Then comes December.”

“I still think it’s too early! There’s still All Saints’ Day!”

“We also celebrate All Saints’ Day. We would light candles for our loved ones and pray for their souls. But I do remember my grandmother saying, if you show them a heavy heart when they visit, they will have a hard time moving on. We greet our visitors with warm hearts and bid them joyful farewell. So, we never really drop the joy of ‘Christmas Air’.”

“What do you DO on the actual season then?”

“That’s the best part”, I smiled at him, remembering the good times. “My cousins and I grew up in a small and meagre house owned by our grandparents. It’s a small wood panelled house. My grandparents, my mom and my uncles would start taking out the decorations from the ceiling and we youngsters will wait patiently downstairs. We will carefully take the decors out of the box and put them in a wash basin to get cleaned. My mom would conceptualize a different set-up, every year. My uncles would paint a background for the Belen (Nativity scene). That’s the best part of Christmas I guess. All the members of the family working together to put up senseless decorations, celebrating an occasion that most probably didn’t even happen in December.”

We both laughed. For a few moments, we stared at each other.

“So, what do you do when you’re done with the decorations?”

I thought for a moment. “We usually get done really late, since there’s a lot to prepare. My grandmother would be done cooking by then, so we all eat together. We have a small table, so some of us eat by the sofa and the floor. After that, we sit together in front of the Christmas tree and close the lights, leaving only the Christmas lights glowing.”

We both fell silent, then I started humming a Christmas carol.

“Thank you”. He said. 

“Hmm?”

“I have always burdened myself with the thought of getting stressed over superficial things that I failed to see the beauty of the reunions I drive my family to; I failed to feel the essence of spending time and carefully choosing gifts to our loved ones. Thank you because you gave me a reason to believe in the ‘magic’ of Christmas that I’ve lost so many years ago. Thank you.”

I smiled. And I continued humming a Christmas carol.

The Solution in Doing Nothing

My childhood memories are full of my grandmother: the things we do together, the lessons she unknowingly passed on to me, the tender love and care she undoubtedly expressed to her one and only princess.

One of the many things I loved doing was run to her every time something went wrong. And every single time, she would tell me “It’s ok, Apo. We’ll fix it”. True enough, she would always find a way to mend things.

When I was five years old, I bit her dress in a childish attempt for stop her from leaving the kubo and I ended up with a loose tooth. At nine in the evening and out in the middle of nowhere, hope for my tooth was almost lost. But with the magic of a single thread, my grandmother was able to solve the problem.

But there would also be times that things would get wrecked beyond repair. Similar to how I tore half my Sunday dress by playing near the fence or how my goldfish got swallowed by the neighbor’s cat. “Let it go, Apo. Your Mama will get you a new one”, she would say.

Looking back, it made me realize that every problem has a solution as long as we put our hearts into it. But sometimes the solution is to simply give up and let things be. “H’wag mo nang pilitin, Apo. Lalo lang yan masisira” my grandmother used to tell me. And she was right.

Once, I tried to mend a broken necklace, I ended up breaking it even more; I tried to glue a broken glass together, I ended up with a thumb-full of bandaids; I attempted to fix a ruined relationship, I ended up breaking myself even more.

Maybe that necklace could have been used in a more efficient way if I gave up repairing it and simply turn it into a bracelet. Maybe I wouldn't have cut and hurt myself if I just got a new glass. Maybe I would have healed faster if I never attempted to fix a relationship that’s been long broken.  

Accept. Let go. Move on. (SRN_UP Peer Facilitator’s Training, 2006)

Plants Planted Apart

When I was young, my grandmother would always take me to the province with her during the summer vacation. There, I spend my simple days helping her with the farm and watching her do her chores from under the shade of a "kubo" or nipa hut. 

One sunny day, while we were having a snack of ripe yellow mangos under a tree, a question popped into my head. "Lola, why do you plant the seeds so far apart?"

"So they can breathe and grow healthy", my lola answered, smiling at me.

Back then, I had no idea what she meant. But as grew up, I understood the meaning behind her old wise words. A decade and a half later, I realized that relationships are similar to how we plant seeds. We carefully select the best seed of our preference from barrels and barrels, from store to store. We invest time to plant feelings, emotions and experiences while waiting for the seeds to grow into something beautiful and worthy to reap. 

But the process doesn't end when you plant the seeds. The farmer has to select or make an environment conducive for the growth of his seeds. 

One, they have to planted apart so their roots will not tangle with each other, receiving equal amounts from oxygen and nutrients from the soil. Similarly, a couple has to spend time apart to focus on the part of their lives they do not share with their partner. Family, friends, hobbies, and sometimes, just the simple alone-time to have some self talk. Love knows DETACHMENT. 

Second, seeds grow with a cup of radiating sunshine and a cloud-full of rain. It needs change in the weather. Constant sunshine will dry the soil, thus kill the plant. Constant rain will drown the plant or wash it away. Similarly, when we are in a relationship, we have to adapt to change. We have to feel pain in order to know the feeling of joy; we have to feel sadness to know the feeling of happiness; and we have to know the feeling of being incomplete to know the feeling of being complete.

Third, growth needs time. Time is needed for the seed to transform into a plant, grow leaves, deeper roots and unfold a beautiful flower. In a relationship, whether friendship or a romantic partnership, to achieve one thing, certain preparations have to be made. Temperance is needed while things fall into their proper places. Feelings grow deeper, familiarity roots farther in the past and lives become intertwined. 

Lastly, the farmer and the seeds need communication. Remember the theory wherein plants are considered to feel the emotions we share with them? It might sound nuts at one point, but it's true. Relationships need good communication in order to grow, for it is in communication that common ground is discovered. Communication is not necessarily in form of words, for actions are necessary to accentuate and complement words. Words are empty without actions. Actions are vague without words. Both are needed for growth.

Be wary of destructive relationships. Seeds planted close together; one seed out-growing the other; too much sunshine, too much rain; impatience and selfishness; and most of all misunderstandings. 

Once upon an evil Queen

I had the strangest dream.

I was watching a Queen murder her King. The King was sitting on his throne wearing a knight's silver armor and the Queen, with brown curly hair and elegant emerald gown, stood behind him, a silver dagger in her hands. She pierced his throat and blood gashed out, soaKing his silver armor and the floor beneath him. The King slumped down on his throne, helplessly crying for his Queen’s help. Cut to…

The Queen lay on the couch. She wore a contented smile on her ivory face, her emerald eyes twinkling mischievously. She covered her body with a shawl, concealing her exposed bones (literally exposed bones, without a tinge of flesh). A servant girl rushed to her, calling out “My lady”. The Queen pretended to be delirious, screaming for help. Cut to…

The servant girl was walKing in a dark forest, the Queen trailing closely behind her. The servant anxiously looks around the forest, as if making out figures in the dark. Behind her, the Queen held a silver dagger above her head, and sunk them deep into the servant’s throat. Cut to…

I stood rigidly behind an altar inside a crypt, disguised as a man. I watched soldiers gather in front of the altar as they pay their last tribute to the King. Commotion stirred in the middle of the crowd and the Queen, clad in black velvet gown, walked pass. For a moment, the Queen elegantly held her head high and walked toward the altar. And then our eyes met. Her eyes had intense flames in them and I felt the hairs on the back of my head tingle in fear and anticipation. Soldiers (clad in musketeer uniforms) ran towards me and I leaned back. The wall behind me gave away, leading to a secret passage in the crypt. I looked down and saw my hat caught in between walls, the pink feather barely noticeable. I smiled. I thought of comrades who would eventually follow me, and let the hat lead them to me. I turned and ran down the dirt path. I heard my comrades call out to me, telling me to stop.

As I ran pass the passage walls, I saw soldiers meeting in rooms without walls, similar to comfort room cubicles without doors, only larger. Upon seeing me, they all grabbed their rifles and ran after me. Cut to…

I’m holding a bow and arrow, waiting behind a fascia wall. The Queen stood in the middle of the field while her followers pour oil on the fascia walls. The walls seem to have been constructed to imitate a maze. I danced around the maze, trying to avoid the Queen’s followers, who are apparently trying to kill me. In the end, I was trapped. With burning walls from three directions and a musketeer in front of me, I loaded my bow with arrows and took my aim. Cut to…

I sat on a bed, looKing at a wooden cabinet, adorned by flower carvings. I closed my eyes and thought of the night the Queen drove a dagger in the servant girl’s throat. I opened my eyes and walked towards the wooden cabinet. I took out a small wooden chest with lotus and hibiscus carvings on the lid. I sat back on the bed and I opened the chest. Next thing I know I was playing some kind stringed instrument. I thought of a handsome bearded man and his wise words. I felt an ache in my heart and a string snapped.

And I woke from my dream…

Ordinary meetings give extraordinary feelings

I find pleasure in meeting old friends and sharing new stories. A few weeks ago, I bumped into an old friend of mine whom I haven’t seen in over a year. We had a few sticks of cigar together and went on with our usual casual talk about how expensive items have become, compared people from here and there, talked about books and authors, and shared old memories. Then he said, “I find it amusing that, even when we haven’t seen each other in over a year, it only seemed like yesterday that we sat on the grass of Sunshine Park and talked about the same things.”

I find that amusing as well. Very amusing, and amazing actually.

A couple of days ago I met up with a very special friend and his parents at Glorietta. I haven’t seen him in over a year as well, but we often talked online and shared stories though text and Facebook (the wonder of Facebook). His parents decided to leave the two of us to catch up on things. While waiting for their transport to arrive, his father put his hand on my head and rubbed it, similar to how you rub the top of a silly kid’s head. I saw him look at me so fondly. His mother gave me a hug and a pinch, and told me to meet her in Baguio. Of course, I said yes.

Meetings are very wonderful indeed. Whether they’re old friends or new acquaintances, I love the feeling of connection forged when meeting people. The way you open yourself to new lives, new stories, and sometimes, life lessons through their experiences.  

But every meeting entails a farewell. But as friends part, distances made, and new meetings encountered, we look forward to a time when we can say, “We meet again, dear friend”.

I’m looking forward to meeting dear old friends in Baguio. In time, I will see you again.

On money and charity

When I was a kid, I couldn't stop wishing that time will pass quickly so I can be an adult already. But now that I'm an adult, I couldn't stop wishing that I'm a kid again with simple pleasures in life.

Similarly, when I was at the University, I couldn't stop wishing to graduate and start working. Now that I'm working and earning for "some" of my basic needs, I couldn't stop wishing that I'm back at the University.

Many of us have, I'm sure, have complained more than once about the hardships of living and earning so little money, despite the hard-work and efforts we put into our jobs. Some of us might want to earn more than what we already do either to completely support ourselves and start living indepently, or at least help ease our family's expences. 

When I started working and finally realized the difficulties and hardships that earning on my own entails, I started to set SOME of my priorities right. Yeah, it was hard to not spend on a good pair of shoes, but it has to be done. I realized that I started being a little "kuripot" when buying things. I now even think twice when buying a bag of chocolates that's worth more than a hundred bucks.

Yes, money is really hard to come buy.

Today, while on my way to meet an old friend, I saw a middle aged woman crying rather loudly at one corner of  the train station. Being a frequent train passenger, I know that it's the first time I've seen her there. She's notone of the usual beggars you see at the station who, no matter how much you give, stays there for the remainder of their unfortunate lives. The woman was crying out to whomsoever will her. "Kahit magkano lang po! Kailangan ko lang po ng tulong!". 

I stared at her and walked past. "What a bogus", I said to myself. Just when I was about to take another flight of steps up the station, I heard her cry out again. "Maawa po kayo. Kahit magkano lang po."

I stopped to look at her for a little while. I realized that no one, except for myself, evens stopped and took another glimpse at the obviously grief stricken woman. Then, I had a strange feeling. I ignored it until it felt overwhelming. I felt pity. Not for the crying woman, but for those people who have chosen to turn a blind eye and deaf ears on the woman who obviously needed their help.

Needless to say, I went out of my way, took our my wallet and got a P20.00 bill (the only money that I can spare at that time). I actually felt a wave of embarrassment becaus I can only give her so little. As I handed her the bill, she stopped sobbing into her hand towel and looked up into my eyes. Her eyes shifted from me to the bill that I'm offering. Suddenly, she grabbed my hand into both of hers and  started wailing "thank you" in between her sobs.

As I walked on my own way, I started thinking of that weird feeling growing at the pit of my stomach. Whether it's happiness, sadness, pity, pride, restlessness, contentment, a mixture of all those feelings or a feeling in between those emotions, I couldn't simply describe it. I wondered if I'm feeling regret of shedding out money when I know within myself that I need every penny that I earn. "Mahirap na ang buhay ngayon" as so everyone says.

I sat in the train, still contemplating on that feeling. My attempts proved to be futile, for up until this moment, I cannot describe what it is. But I do know that we both touched each other's lives. A simple gesture from the both of us (sharing money on my part, and the woman's unending gratitude).

In the end, I came to remember that simple life lesson that we have all been taught when we were young and naive about that corruption of the world, and that is to SHARE. Why? Personally, I think this is because human gestures are sacred and are full of consequences. We can choose to touch and inspire the lives of the people around us, but we also have the choice of either ignoring these people or inflicting them harm. Whatever we choose, in the end, we still have to share our lives people we know and don't know. Because it is in sharing that our soul grows. 

I am a careless man's careless daughter

It has been almost a year since I last saw you. Now, all I'm hoping for is for my feelings to turn out to be self-implicated; my efforts futile; and us being together, imaginary.

I continue to walk down my path, hoping that our paths would cross some distance ahead. Do I wait for you, and miss out all the other opportunities? Or do I grab my opportunities and miss out my chance to be with you?

In the battle with myself, I end up winning. But I also end up losing.

Which do I choose? And why? Why is that even when I was sure that you will never be mine, I still look on and watch myself fall carelessly deeper into the imaginary world where you and I are together? 

Questions I'd rather ask on a date

Being on a date with a potential romantic partner is one of the most crucial stages in dating. As this is basically the stage that you open yourself to the possibility of a new relationship, you become observant of your date's mannerisms, table etiquette, and smart-ass retorts in convo exchange. It is important to be very observant at this point because it basically determines what kind of person your date is.

And imagine it turns out well, you got to know what he's like at home and you finally decide to tie up loose ends, and finally got together. Happily ever after, you realize that he might've exaggerated a bit with his stories, and fabricated some to his arguments (memorized some lines that goes well with another).

A dozen relationships and a couple liters of liquor after, I began to wonder what if we start asking some in-depth questions just about anything. I wondered where your "relationship" would end if you start asking questions about politics, philosophy, economics and other relevant issues that the world is facing today.

Questions like, "What's your stand on the issue of the Reproductive Health Bill?", "Do you think Merciditas Guiterrez will be impeached after the Senate hearing? How do you think that will after the politics of our country?". Or you can also ask his stand on pre-marital sex and abortion and the democracy of the Philippines. Ask away without commenting on the subject. Why? Do you know the Draatism theory by Kenneth Burke? Well, if you don't, he basically stated that in our everyday lives we act out parts of ourselves in settings, plots and use tools to act out our general purpose. If your date's purpose is to woe you, then there is a great possibility that you only see the act onstage, while the backstage is well hidden. By commenting on the subject, you give your date a hint of your stance and opinion. Based on this, your date would want to appeal to your side.

Wala lang. Naisip ko lang naman. In the end, it might either be that your date becomes so bewildered by the depth of your questions and leaves you, or your date gets so impressed (and you do too) and you end up with someone worth suffering for. Not to mention worth having good conversations with. :)

-kaLai

Ang Pagdaloy ng Ilog Chico

This story is, by far, the most realistic and most essential to the culture of the Filipino people among all the other fairy tails that we have been told when we were little. I was never sent to bed without being told this story of resistance, courage, and bravery. And while my playmates set their eyes on a fairytail's true love's kiss, I have set my eyes to revolt and freedom.


So, here is a story that is unlike any other. Yet, it is more realistic than a knight in shining armor. 


Ang Pagdaloy ng Ilog Chico mula sa National Alliance of Women's Organization


Ito ang Ilog Chico. Ang aming dakila, at mahabang ilog. Ito ang ilog na dumadaloy sa aming palayan, at nagbibigay inumin sa mga hayop. Ito ang ilog na nagtatanggal ng dumi sa aming mga damit, at nagpupuno ng inumin sa aming mga banga. Ito ang ilog na nag-aruga sa aming mga ninuno at sa kanilang mga palayan.


Ang aming mga tahanan ay nakatayo sa tabi ng ilog na ito kung saan kami lumalangoy at naglalaro. Tulad namin, dito rin naglaro at lumangoy ang aming mga ninuno. 


Ngunit hindi nagtagal, may mga taong gustong pigilan ang pagdaloy ng aming dakilang ilog. 

Sila ang mga nagpaplanong magtayo ng dam. Sila ay mga puting dayuhan mula sa malalayong bansa, at mga kayumanggi na nagmula mismo sa ating bayan.


"Let us build a dam in the Chico river", wika nila. 

"It will make our shops and factories run", wika ng mga dayuhan.

"Nagbibigay ilaw at elektisidad ito sa mga siyudad", wika ng mga mayayamang kayumanggi. "Mas maraming tao ang bibili sa ating mga tindahan".


Maigi at matagal pinag isipan ng mga magtatayo ng dam and plano nila. At sila'y nagalak.


Upang makapagtayo ng isang dam, kailangan harangin at pigilan ang pagdaloy ng tubig mula sa ilog at pataasin ng napakataas hanggang sa lunurin nito ang aming bayan na Kalinga. Ang dam ay magiging kasing taas ng isang bundok at kasing lapad ng dalawang bayan. 


Nangupahan ang mga nagpaplano ng dam ng dayuhang puti at kayumanggi upang magtayo ng dam. 


Sinukat nila ang dam. Pinag-aralan ang mga buntok. Sinuri ang lupa.


"Tamang-tama ang lugar na ito para sa isang dam", wika nila. "Isa itong gubat at walang nakatira rito".


Ang aming mga apo at mga ama ay pinag-usapan ang mga magtatayo ng dam.

"Ito ay aming ilog. Ito ay aming lupa. Ito ay aming tahanan", wika ng aming mga apo. "Matagal na panahon na tayong naninirahan dito. Ang ating mga ninuno ay nanirahan dito magmula pa nuong araw".


"Isipin niyo ang dami ng mga tindahan at factory na mapapatakbo ng dam na ito", sagot ng mga tagapagtayo ng dam. "Isipin ninyo ang ilaw na maibibigay nito sa kanayunan!"


"Hindi namin kailangan ng dam", sagot naman ng aming mga apo. "Kailangan namin ang aming mga tahanan at palayan na sisirain ng dam".


Ngunit hindi sila pinansin ng mga tagpagtayo ng dam at sila'y lumisan ng may ngiti sa kanilang mga labi.


Nang magbalik ang mga dayuhan, nagtayo sila ng kampo malapit sa aming bayan. 


Sinubukan ng aming mga ama, tiyo at kapatid na pasukin ang kanilang kampo. Ngunit sila'y hinuli at ikinulong.


Nagtawag ng pagpupulong ang mga nakakatanda. 


"Kailangan natin sirain ang kanilang kampo", wika nila. "Hindi pa man naitatayo ang dam, ngunit hinagpis at pignati na ang dulot nito sa atin".


"Patuloy lamang nila tayong huhulihin at ikukulong hanggang sa matapos itayo ang dam".


"Kaya natin itong gawin" wika ng aming mga ina, tiya at kapatid. "Alam namin kung paano lumaban. Protektahan natin ang ating bayan!"


Isang gabi, isang malakas at mahabang hiyaw ang pumukaw sa kadiliman.


"Hwoooo-oow! Hwoooo-oow!"


Ito ang aming hudyat ng pagsalakay. Mabilis kaming tumakbo. Ina, tiya, at mga kapatid. Kasama pati ang aming mga anak. Gamit ang mga pat-pat, bato at aming mga kamay, naibagsak namin ang kanilang mga tolda, ang kanilang mga makina. Lumaban kami.




Magmula nuon, kami ay nagbantay sa paligid ng aming dakilang ilog. Kami ay natulog sa lupa. Nagsindi ng matataas na apoy upang panatilihing mainit ang aming katawan. Kumanta kami ng Salidumay upang hindi kami panghinaan ng loob. 


Isang araw, nagbalik ang mga magtatayo ng dam. Dala nila ay mas malalaking makina, mas maraming armas, at mas maraming kagamitan. Muli silang nagtayo ng kanilang kampo at sila'y desidido na manatili.


Tulad ng dakilang ilog, ang balita ay mabilis na dumaloy sa aming mga karatig bayan. Tulad namin, sila'y mawawalan din ng tahanan at palayan sa pagtatayo ng dam.


"Hwoooo-oow! Hwoooo-oow!"


Sa pagkakataong ito, mas marami ang dumating at nakisali. Maraming dumating mula sa ibang bayan. Nagulat ang mga sundalo sa aming pagdami.  Nawalan sila ng pag-asa habang pinabagsak namin ang kanilang kampo.


Sa pangalawang pagkakataon, sila'y lumisan.


Hinakot namin ang kanilang mga tolda, mga kumot at palayok. Dala ang mga ito sa aming likod at mga balikad, kami ay nagmartsa sa kanilang barracks.


Ibinalik namin sa kanila ang kanilang mga gamit na kanilang iniwan sa aming lupa. Galit ang naramdaman ng mga sundalo. Muli nilang hinuli at ipiniit ang aming mga ama, tiyo at mga kapatid. 


"Huwag kayong mawalan ng pag-asa", wika ng aming mga ina, tiya at mga kapatid. "Hindi tayo lilikas hangga't hindi nila pinakakawalan ang ating mga kalalakihan." Muli kami'y nagbantay, umawit ng salidumay. 


Marami ang dumamay at nakisalo sa aming laban mula sa ibang bayan. Dala nila ang kanilang sariling Salidumay, kwento at mga ideya. May iilan ding nagladala ng kanilang mga armas.


Matapos ng maraming buwan, pinakawalan din ang aming mga kalalakihan. Umuwi kami sa aming mga bayan at nagpunyagi. Ngunit sa aming pagbalik sa aming bayan, nagtagpuan namin ang mas matibay at mas malaki nilang kampo.


"Hwoooo-oow! Hwoooo-oow!"


Muli, kami'y nakipaglaban. Ginamit namin ang aming mga kamay, mga paa at ang aming katawan. May mga gumamit ng pat-pat. May gumamit ng mga bato. Ngunit mas marami ang mga magtatayo ng dam, at mas marami ang kanilang armas. 


Sa kanyang pagpupumiglas, isang matandang babae ang sumigaw. "Hwoooo-oow! Hwooooo-oow!" at tinanggal ang kanyang damit. Isa-isang sumunod ang aming mga ina, tiya, at mga kapatid, habang mahigpit ang hawak sa kamay ng isa't-isa.

"Kami ay mga ina, tiya at kapatid", wika namin sa mga sundalo. "Bakit niyo to ginagawa?"


Hindi maitago ang hiya sa muka ng mga sundalo at magtatayo ng dam. Lumikas sila ng may takip sa kanilang mga mukha.


Sa loob ng labing-limang taon, kami'y lumaban upang mapanatili ang pagdaloy ng aming dakilang ilog Chico. Sa bawat pagkakataon na magbabalik ang mga dayuhan upang magtayo ng dam, itinataboy namin sila. 


Hanggang sa araw na ito, nasa amin parin ang aming lupa at bundok. 


At ang aming ilog Chico ay patuloy na dumadaloy.

Are we ready? That is the question.

As the devastating 8.9 magnitude earthquake and tsunami hits Japan, the world’s third economic country, on Friday, the world has glued itself on the television screens, newspapers and online news feeds to receive recent updates and news about the calamity stricken country. International relief operations were coordinated by the United Nations and hoax or no hoax, the Philippines has taken precautions against might-be radiation infused rain and such, due to the blasts in nuclear power plants in Japan caused by the earthquake and tsunami.

As a country that is often hit by earthquakes, the Japanese were prepared. Devastating as it is, many families were able to survive to a certain extent by reserved water and food supply, in case of emergencies.

“The people were very disciplined, very organized during the evacuation and their rescue personnel responded quickly, with most, if not all, knowing their roles” said Muntinlupa Mayor Aldrin San Pedro shared in an Inquirer article dated March 15, 2011.

And the question popped out of nowhere. Is the Philippines prepared to face such calamity? Possibilities have been proven, time and again, to be endless. Many of the Filipinos may dismiss the possibility of a tsunami, or an equally devastating calamity, hitting our country soon. But is it not this mentally that left our country vulnerable to numerous “accidents” in the past?

Furthermore, majority of the citizens in the urban poor and rural areas are not well informed of the necessary actions that they need to take in times of calamity. And as a domino effect, the lack of well communicated precautions and information causes panic, which in effect renders the people either impulsive or immobile.

What do you think should be done?

Disaster preparedness seminars have proliferated in the metro since the country has been devastated by Pepeng and Ondoy in the latter months of 2009. Efforts have been made to have a uniform and viral move towards disaster information and preparedness in the urban poor and secluded areas in the country.

 These efforts have been lauded, but it doesn’t have to end there. The move has to continue to move forward and continue to educate and inform more and more of our citizens to be equipped and well-versed in times of great need.

With that said, the citizenry is merely a part of a greater whole. The local government units, state departments, non-governmental organizations, independent companies and other agencies should also be informed and trained to act accordingly in times of calamity, because the amount of well trained personnel may compensate for our lack of equipment. If more people are prepared, more lives could be saved. 

KALUSKOS I: Do we fight? or do we surrender?

And the wooden oak doors came crashing down on the ground.

It may have been her fear or her anger that sent her blood to her head that kept her running. Either way, she felt her heart hammer against her chest as her pursuers closed the distance behind her. She withheld the urge of turning at the horrible sound of their leather shoes trampling on her beloved oak doors.

She gathered the hem of her skirt, and padded barefooted towards the staircase. She ascended the wooden staircase that leads to the labyrinthine apartments above. Her mind focused on her parents’ room, and she pictured the tall wooden closet lined with her father’s rifles. Her father.

Her heart clenched at the thought her father. Gunned and butchered like a pig by those Japanese invaders. And where have they taken her mother?

 Could they have…How dare they? How dare they?!

Tears welled up in her eyes. She brushed them away as she stealthily rounded a corner after another in their lavish ancestral home. In the previous days, when she and her sister had nothing to fear, they always sit together in front of the piano where she plays her music. Her heart fills with joy at the sound of her sister’s hearty laugh and giggles, overjoyed by Bach’s music. Their laughter and her parents coaxing bounce against the aging walls, brightened by the streaming sunlight, seeping through the capiz windows.

But today is different. She has to ignore the beauty of their home and give herself time to distance herself from her pursuers.

She slipped through the heady wooden double doors to her parents’ chambers, and walked silently towards the closet. Its dark wood gave a beautiful sheen, and silently creaked as she pulled the doors open. It revealed her fathers’ beloved firearms. An M1 Carbine, two M1903 Springfield Rifle which her father commissioned in the Americas when they visited the previous year, a handful of M1917 revolvers and several others she can’t recognize.

She gave herself the liberty of using the latest semi-automatic rifle and two revolvers. She quickly loaded all firearms, glancing occasionally behind her to keep the doors in check. Brushing away strands of her hair that escaped her bun, she pocketed a handful of bullets and calculated a round of 17 shots before she completely loses hope, given that she loads each revolver with adequate amount of bullets.

Her head snapped back at the sound of breaking glass a few feet from her parents’ chambers. Carefully, she positioned herself behind the door and listened intently to the commotion outside.

She silently prayed and thanked God that her father lost hope in having a son and taught her how to fight, unconventional to typical Filipino-Spanish families. She closed her eyes and words of silent prayer escaped her lips.

Ave Maria, gracia plena, dominicus tecum. Benedicta tu in mulieribus, et benedictus fructus ventris tui, Jesus…

She breathed heavily and tried to focus her mind away from her broken wrist. The largest of the five Japanese soldiers who assaulted her grabbed her wrist and twisted it in an odd angle. The best she managed was point the revolver’s barrel in between his eyes and pull the trigger before any of his barbaric comrades approached her.

Then she broke into a run, three Japanese soldiers close at her heels. Regardless of the situation, she managed to smile as she remembered how she blew two of the soldiers’ heads while trying to escape from her parents’ chambers.

She rounded a corner and slipped to the back of the house, obscured from the street by tall Acacia trees her grandmother planted and a high wall at the far corner. The late afternoon sunlight casting shadows on the cold wall behind her.

She rested her back against the brick wall, and collapsed on the ground. She closed her eyes and thought of her sister.

Soledad.

Her mother hid them in the family storehouse when word spread around town that the Japanese invaders are just outside their town gates, marching fearlessly and shooting mercilessly in the streets.

Barbara, take care of Soledad. Keep each other safe! her mother whispered into her ear.

When their parents left to secure their home, she decided to hide her sister in a barrel of grain and covered her with hay. When she peered outside, she saw how her father fought bravely to keep the soldiers at bay. When her father finally fell, she feared that she and her sister will be discovered and ran towards the house to divert their attention to her and away from the storehouse.

As she pondered on the day’s event, a shadow loomed above her, blocking the sunset from her face.

She looked up and gasped. Three Japanese soldiers surrounded her.

The smallest of the three laughed and spoke to the others. They laughed. Then they looked at her and their beady, evil eyes fixed on her.

Pater noster, qui es in cælis, sanctificetur nomen tuum, she prayed.

She winced in pain as one of the soldiers grabbed her neck and yanked her upward.

Their eyes met.

And she screamed. 

I stopped and got hit by nostalgia

I realized that I really did well during my last year in High School. Not because I'm a genius or anything like that. It's because my classmates and I are clever. In each of our subjects, there would always be one who would specialize. The Math genius would specialize in Math and English genius specializes in English, etc. Answers will be written at the back of bus tickets and will be passed around. And VOILA! Everyone passes!

Before the exams, everyone would say, "ANG DI MAGPAPAKOPYA, BABAGSAK!"

Worst, or maybe the best was during periodical exams. From one section to the next, the answers are leaking. Clever us. *clap *clap *clap

Apparently, my last year became the most memorable because I was careless and carefree at the same time. My friends and I screwed the rules and ventured into things we haven't done so much in our previous years. Cheating became a routine; cutting-classes became a hobby; and raising a hand in class to make a blunt remark was never an issue.

A last year well-spent, I guess. I remembered well how some of my classmates would ask a "subo" from each of our baon. We then get the chance to taste everybody else's lunch, and to those who doesn't have lunches, go on about the day with filled stomachs.

Fights. They're a part, never an exception. Bickering here and there, alliances and groups forming at every corner. Funny enough, most of the time, they eventually become good friends. Laughing and screaming at the same thing, awe-ing with similar distaste on a surprise long test, running side-by-side to escape "Tangaro's Stamp"...Yes, those were good times :)