Today is June 30, 2009. One year from now this woman is no longer President. She will become private person Gloria Arroyo. Wouldn't it be great? Thank God the Philippines and the Filipinos are still intact.
But don't be hoodwinked into believing that she will just go quietly. She will try other dirty tricks to cling to power.
So be vigilant. Support the anti-CON ASS movement. And clamour for genuine change to be effected if not now, at least in 2010.@
Note: Photos on this post were taken from the internet.
Tuesday, June 30, 2009
Do you like this woman to rule your life for long?
Sunday, June 28, 2009
The passing of icons
Michael Jackson is dead. So is Farrah Fawcett. Everybody knows them because they were world icons.
Nancy Q is dead. I was informed about her death days after she was buried.
You may ask, Nancy Q who? I say, you don’t know Nancy Q. Only my high school classmates know or remember Nancy because she was an icon in our remote smalltime high school during our time.
Nancy was beautiful. She was the corps sponsor of our CAT Corps. In those days, CAT sponsors came from the lower years because all fourth year students were required to take up CAT. But in the case of Nancy, the standing policy was waived because she was too beautiful to become an ordinary cadette.
Au-au, Janet, and I visited her house in Barangay Hibolo, Janiuay, near the Suage Bridge. We met her husband and her siblings. We were informed that Nancy died of cancer. In her early years, she worked with Meralco in Pasig where she met her husband who was a lineman. She also had worked briefly abroad. Nancy and her husband had a son, now a first year Aeronautics student. Until she died, Nancy was still beautiful and sexy.
Other classmates had also gone to the great beyond. They may not be icons. Nevertheless, their passing could mean the passing of an age.
Nestor G, our class Third Horable Mention and the one we called in high school as Mr. Wordpower because of his penchant for bringing to class that book most of the time and embellishing his sentences with never-heard-of terminologies all the time (In our Biology class, he described a skinny squid as svelte. Mr. Mina, our teacher, could not decide on the appropriateness of the word as he immediately feigned going to the CR but actually rushed to the library to look for the meaning of svelte.), also died of cancer. In February of the year he died, he came back to Iloilo. He told us he worked as a religious preacher. Together with classmate Taling L and another local preacher, we visited classmate Jorge A, a former seaman who was paralyzed from the chest down. They intended to pray over Jorge. Taling and I went with them because we were informed we would stay only for 30 minutes. The pray over started at 5:30pm. At 6:00pm, they were still reading the scriptures. I was sleepy. Taling was bored. At 7:00pm, they were still reading. I was in and out of deep slumber, they thought I was meditating with them. But, in truth, I only got out from sleep during the times when Taling gave my left leg a kick. Her Lucifer look at me hinted that she wanted us to leave and quick. At 8:00 pm, they were chanting something. My left leg felt like it was about to break. And Taling was seething like hell. At 8:30pm, my left leg couldn’t stand it anymore. Taling was kicking like a demonic horse, I thought I saw horns growing on her forehead. So I told the two preachers that I still have an appointment. And Taling seconded that it was already dark, and I still have to drive to the city. I limped to my car. And Taling vowed never to go out with me again. After a few days, Nestor asked me through text to gather all our classmates because he wanted to meet them. I texted back some excuses because I thought it was another prayer meeting and my classmates would bury me alive because the classmates I knew were not the type who would qualify as members of CWL, CFC, or any church orgs. So Nestor went back to Manila without meeting his other classmates and without us knowing he was suffering from terminal cancer. Three months later, his family informed us that he died in a hospital in Manila. I was so guilty, I went to church everyday for one week.
Noel A died in his sleep, or possibly cardiac arrest. He was a classmate since Grade 1. Early on, he was one of the biggest in class. In death, he was still a gigantic hulk, his beer belly was protruding at the top of the coffin. His wake was at his sister's house in Bgy. Pungtod.
Irene M-C was an unassuming and shy classmate. She died of complications after she was hospitalized for high blood. She was a barangay social worker and was the mother of Denver, an iconic pugilist who is currently World Boxing Council minimumweight title holder (see the YouTube video) and was recently honored ala Pacquiao by politicians in Iloilo.
Ninfa P just came from the hospital due to a lingering illness. Then the flood brought by typhoon Frank nearly submerged their house. She died of exhaustion after she helped evacuate their belongings. We thought though that she was ready to die because she was a deeply religious woman. She was an office worker in the local Catholic church. So, during the funeral, I informed my classmates to also be ready for the eventuality that we reach our time. I asked them to become members of the church orgs, go to mass regularly, and stop wearing sexy dresses. As de facto class president and life-time class valedictorian, I was always obeyed without question by my classmates. But this time, each one approached me, felt my temperature, and asked whether I had a fever. Others offered me food. They thought I was delirious because of extreme hunger.
Rowena C also died of cancer. She was also beautiful and a CAT sponsor. We hired Celso’s jeep and went to her family’s house in Guimbal the day before her burial. Haydee M-A and Toto B-M led the prayers.
Another cancer victim was Luisa V. We went to her wake in her sibling's house in Bgy. Bolong, Sta. Barbara. Colay C was there because Luisa was her barkada in high school. Their barkada also included Bella B. All were marikulkol and gwapahon.
Still another cancer victim was Cecilia T. We remembered her in high school as slim, gwapa, maputi and suplada. When she was alive, she had never attended class reunions. But she had remained slim, gwapa, maputi, very suplada, and laon.
But the first wake I went to for a classmate was that for Renilda A. She was the 4th year section 1 muse. She too died of cancer. She died when we were still in first year college. She was wearing her pink graduation dress in her coffin.
These were the classmates whose wake/funeral I attended.
I noticed that almost all the classmates who passed away died of cancer. Could this be an indication that we had improved economically in life? I said this because in our impoverished community, only the few rich people who can afford doctors died of cancer. Sila mga astig gid. Where I came from, surhanos cured even the most serious illnesses and all the people I knew either died naturally of old age or they died mysteriously of hiwit (black magic or witchcraft).Weird.@
Thursday, June 25, 2009
Do-Day
My daughter, a Grade V pupil, told me that they would have a Do-Day in school. She and her classmates were required to bring wide buri hats and surot (trowel).
I was flabbergasted. Today, do schools still hold Do-Days?
Do-Day was popular during the time I was in the elementary. During those days, we bring cleaning and gardening tools to school. The whole day we had no class. We just cleaned the classrooms or did gardening - all child play for us then.
Today, are there still spaces to be gardened? Do schools, or even parents, lack the funds to pay for extra janitors and maintenance people? Does anyone still use a surot?
On the day of the Do-Day, aside from the requirements, my daughter brought insect repellant lotion, hand sanitizer, alcohol, a roll of tisue paper, surgical gloves,extra clothes, and food. In the afternoon, she excitedly reported her experience of scraping dried mud from the sidewalks using a surot, and clearing a less than 2 square meters shaded plot which had fewer growth compared to the bald head of their school's dean. And, yes, she applied the lotion, wore the hat and surgical gloves, and afterwards, wiped her exposed skin with alcohol and sanitizer. That night, she complained that she could not sleep because her legs were itchy.
I remembered our Do-Day way back then.
Our teacher shepherded us to the track and field ground to clear the chest-high grasses and bushes. He ordered that each of us should produce a waist-high pile of cut overgrowth which he would check after an hour. Then he left. At first, all of us were keen on cutting grasses and making our piles. But then one classmate somersaulted over the pile of another. And it was playtime. The boys jockeyed for positions and made the best somersault they could perform. Others practiced on the nearby piles. The girls formed groups to boo and to cheer. Nobody shouted a warning that there could be a sharp scythe or hoe carelessly left on the side and any accident may be fatal. As the time progressed, some boys snatched lumps of grasses from the piles of innocent girls to make their pile higher. The girls cried when they discovered their missing grasses so the good boys steadily cut more grass to appease the girls. The lazy ones looked for standing bushes and covered them with cut grasses to form a pile. Meantime the show went on. We ducked, romped, and rolled over the piles as if these were cushions. After more than an hour, we learned that our teacher had already gone home without checking the piles we made. So we burned all the freshly cut grass and made a contest as to who could produce the thickest smoke and the biggest fire. After sometime, the principal and some people came and scolded us because nearby residents complained that they could not stay in their houses because of the heavy smoke and they were afraid the fire would reach their humble abodes.
The following day, many of us came to class with the same clothes we wore the time we romped over the piles of grasses. Non complained of itchyness and the teachers never complained of our smell. All of us seemed to look fresh, scrubbed, and delightfully cuddly. When our teacher came, he was accompanied by the principal. Our lesson for that day was about fire prevention.@
Sunday, June 21, 2009
Heaven
Today, I woke up at 6am. As I got down from our upstairs bedroom for my coffee, I saw the message indicator of my cellphone was blinking. Suddenly, I felt uneasy. Ano naman natabo kay Nanay?
My mother lives in our ancestral house, while I live 25km away. My mother had a near fatal stroke 12 years ago. Since that time, she has a hard time moving around.
As I looked at the blinking light of my cellphone, I remembered the time I visited some relatives during a fiesta. When I left the house of the 8th relative I visited, I noticed that the message and call indicators of my cellphone, which I left in my car, were all lighted. When I opened the flap, I read that I had 7 missed calls and 8 unopened messages. The first message I opened was from my sister. Drtso ka na lg CT. Sakay kmi ambulanc. Was this message for me? Wr ka? Bring namon Nanay CT. Sa ambulanc na lg kmi sakay. Then a message from my nephew. To wr ka? Ri kmi Ramon Tabiana hosptl. Dala namon Nanay. I didn't open the other messages. I called my sister. She informed me Nanay had another stroke.
Ano naman natabo kay Nanay? Then I gingerly opened the first message. Basi ma-stroke ako.
The message began,
Long time ago,
It was not about Nanay. I heaved a sigh of relief. Ah, it's going to be a good day. Then I scrolled down the message, as it was typed a few words in a line, in a strip tease manner.
persons who
sacrificed
their spirit,
their life,
identity,
wealth,
laughter,
wer called
Saints.
Today,
they r
called
Before I continued scrolling down, I anticipated the next word would be Heroes as it is now Arroyo-bashing season. But I was wrong as the next word was
Husbands!!
And the kicker,
Happy
FATHER'S
DAY.:-)
It was from my banker friend. And the other messages (more were still coming) were greeting me the same.
Then my daughters came down, kissed me, and greeted me with the sweetest HAPPY FATHER'S DAY.
I was so delirious, I nearly had a stroke. It was heaven.@
Saturday, June 6, 2009
On HR 1109: Dapat dito ka o doon. Walang middle ground.
My favorite nephew, a UP PolSci student, frequently texts me famous quotes/timely proverbs. Sometimes, I am irritated because I find this a waste of money (Tito naka-unli ako!). But, always, I appreciate his thoughts, and especially the messages that many times jolted me to realities.
One message I received from him was: 'Dapat, dito ka o doon. Walang middle ground.'
The message was simple. But it was one of the few he sent that I could not ignore.
Last month, I used the message as the gist of my speech in a speaking engagement for the youth. You can only be in one place - dito o doon. Walang middle ground. Just like in the issues buffeting our country. You have to take sides. Whether you're pro- or anti-, it does not matter. You have to take sides. Walang middle ground. Walang passive. You have to take action. And when you grow old and feel irrelevant, you will be comforted by the fact that when you were young, you took action and made a difference.
Sa issue sang HR 1109 o Con-Ass, ano bala ang dapat naton himuon? Dapat, diri ka o didto. Wala sang middle ground. Kon ano man ang inyo opinion, make it known. Voice it out! This could be the time for it. Tomorrow can be too late.
Ang iba sigi lang reklamo. Wala man ginahimo. Could it be that we REALLY deserve the kind of government we have?
Please click here for an article on Con-Ass. You can find many other relevant articles in the internet.@
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