Amo dya ang igma ko kaina. Prito nga pesugo. Laswa - karbasa, balagay, sitaw, okra, kag tugabang. Kan-on. Dapat kamuros ang bugas namon. Brown. Pero naubosan kami. Ang mga laswa nga diya halin sa uma. Preska pa. Ang karbasa lang ang ginbakal ko sa talipapa sa Tabucan.
Amo dya ang typical ko nga igma. Simple lang. Mayad kay waay ang mga bata. Sa eskwelahan sanda. Makakaon ako kang akon gusto kag husto sa lawas ko. Kon diyan abi ang mga bata, daw lain ang anda gusto. Hambal gani ka gurang ko, 'Daddy, kain naman tayo ng bad for the body.' Daw naluoy man ako kananda. Gani, kon imaw namon sanda magkaon, nagasugba kami ka baboy, o manok. Kon kaisa beef briskets.
Ang igma ka mga bata ko, amo man diya. Gindugangan lang ti meat balls para maganahan gid. Ginadul-ongan sanda sa school. Kon kaisa nagapabati-bati sanda nga namit kuno magkaon sa canteen o sa McDo. Pero kon kaisa ginahambal man nanda nga gusto ka mga classmates nanda ang anda igma. Kay ang anda dapli waay ginabaligya sa canteen. Kag personal pa nga gina-serve kang anda Mommy. Gusto man daad ka mga classmates nanda nga ang anda man mga Mommy mag-serve kang anda igma.
Daw waay na ako gusto ka manok. Baboy pwede pa. Pero waay lang taba kag kon kaisa lang. Kang una nagakaon pa ako ka bulalo. Pero kang makita ko sa TV documentary ang pag-liposuction ka tambok nga babae, nga ang ginkuha ka na daw sabaw ka bulalo, gapangindi na gid ko sa bulalo o karne.
And akon kaina nga panghimagas amo ang avocado nga may gatas. Astig gid. Akon na dya produkto. Una nga bunga kang tanom ko nga pilit nga avocado sa uma.
Ti diyan sa abroad namit man igma niyo?
@
Friday, July 31, 2009
Ang igma ko kaina
Monday, July 27, 2009
The prize/price of vanity
I saw this article while surfing the web. I copied it verbatimly. Might as well share it with you.
My point is... People today attach too much attention to their appearance. They will do anything their money can buy to enhance their looks. Kaya yumaman at sumikat si Vicky Belo.
Anyway, read this piece and make up your mind. To Belo, or not to Belo? That's the question.
Warning: After the jump on clicking Read More..., there are Parental Guidance photos.
This is a butt augmentation procedure that went horribly wrong. It landed Josie, as she is known to friends, in St. Luke’s hospital where she went into septic shock. Emerging from that medical crisis, she was so blinded by extreme pain, she had to be put on a morphine drip. At some point, nearly half crazy with the pain that constantly wracked her entire body and kept deliberately immobile, face down on her bed, she begged the doctors to let her die. “Please,” she begged, “tanggalin nyo na lahat ng tinusok nyo sa akin, hayaan nyo na akong mamatay, hindi ko na ito kaya…”
Six major operations after being admitted into St. Luke’s, she is back home, but still devastated. She has lost over thirty pounds, she remains weak and on pain killers – though milder ones now. She has become the face of what could horribly go wrong in the megamillion peso beauty industry, a business populated by charlatans brandishing doctor’s licenses.
And that is what remains now. Josie plays in her mind Vicky Belo’s sales pitch for her procedure, “Safe na safe ito, tubig lang sya, kaya hindi magrereject ito.” But as we can clearly see from the pictures here, this turned out to be a horrible lie.
Sunday, July 26, 2009
Rally sa Cabatuan
July 26, 2009. 3:00pm. It was the eve of Gloria Arroyo's SONA (State of the Nation Address). Militant groups all over the Philippines were in different stages of their protest activities to greet the SONA.
In Iloilo, militant groups were also busy. Marches were scheduled from all points in Iloilo, and to finally converge at the Iloilo capitol grounds in Iloilo City on the day of the SONA.
The march from the central towns started in Janiuay and passed through the sleepy town of Cabatuan where rallies only happened in the the TV news and where militancy meant studying in far away University of the Philippines. Cabatuan's nearest experience to militant rally was when flag bearing vehicle caravans of striking drivers passed through en route to the city. There never was any red-flag marches with loud chants of Ibagsak si Gloria Arroyo!
Organizers said they were heading for the municipality of Pavia were they will spend the night. The next day they will continue their march to Iloilo City where they will hold a program.
The anti-PGMA march with their signature red flags, as seen from inside the Cabatuan Catholic cemetery.@Sunday, July 19, 2009
Road repairs
Going down to Talanghauan from Sta. Barbara. The next pictures were taken near the same spot but at a different day after a rain.
When you are on the way from the city to Cabatuan, you will feel that election is really near.
The roads which seemed acceptable yesterday are being scraped and filled up as if this is the best time for repairs. It would have been better had the repairs been done last summer, which may not be called summer because of the intermittent rains. But at least, last summer there were long sunny periods and there were less commuters because the schools were closed.
During these typhoon months, the asphaltless roads easily turn to pit holes and mud ponds. With only one lane open, the traffic is sometimes nasty. Though I pity the rain drenched civilians who help ease the traffic flow.
But then, dapat maman-an kang mga botante nga may ginahimo ang mga politiko. Gimmick man. There are people who want to send a message accross.
Ti sin-o naghambal nga waay election sa 2010?@
Saturday, July 11, 2009
Gloria L as seen these days
She vanished like a smoke after high school graduation. But we remember her as a giggly, always happy girl with a flawless complexion and to-die-for legs. She would gather and tie her hair up ala Mr. Clean to the protestation of Ma'am Andon in our Physics class. 'Ma'am mainit', she giggled as she continued reading the mailed letter (wala pa cellphone o email kang una) coming from friend Magda sealed with a band-aid, yes the one used for first aid. In Literature, she specially impressed Mr. Maroma with her well-thought-of answers to her book-home-reading report. When asked about the kind of story she had read, she exclaimed 'It's a satire.' Mr. Maroma had quoted her 'It's a satire' answer in front of his other clueless but impressed students. In our remote high school, nobody had heard what a satire was. Many thought satire was a kind of round rubber that makes vehicles run.
Mosac, Gloria, and Au-au - all sisters in their previous lives - are happy to be around at 50. Thirty-four years had passed since they last saw each other.
The last time I heard about her, she was already working with a Makati-based firm. That was after college graduation. She never attended any past class reunions.
After 34 years, we suddenly heard that Gloria Lanes (now Habacon) was in Jaro, Iloilo. She came unannounced, like the swine flu.
Last July 10, 2009, we met Gloria at her brother's residence in Cubay, Jaro, Iloilo City during the wake of her father, Nemesio Lanes, Sr. Burial was scheduled on the next day at Forest Lake Memorial Cemetery.
Gloria still had shades of her former giggly, happy self. But obviously, she is now restrained, her dialogue is peppered with scriptural passages, and she has mellowed to a fine lady.
Gloria now lives in Olongapo City with her husband, six children, and one grandchild named Aesop. She works with the Born Again Ministry where her eldest son is a Minister.@
Tuesday, July 7, 2009
Changes and We
Note: The title of this post was copied from the title of an editorial of a graduate school publication.
A few days back I cleared my desk of clutter - documents, drafts, publications, papers, etc. Sometimes, I like an orderly and neat looking desk. (My extra workload meant schools sending me copies of their school publications; which further meant more clutter on my desk.)
One publication I was about to throw had an editorial titled 'Changes and We'. The title sounded awkward but, so what? What do you expect from a high school paper? But wait. The next page had a picture of my classmate, sporting his signature bald head. Then I looked at the masthead. From day one, I thought that this paper was the domain of English students, sort of their OJT. So, if the paper was run by English students, 'Changes and We' could be right. But, no. The title bugged me. It just crawled under my skin. The title should have been 'Changes and Us'.
I am no grammarian. But in the context of a grad school work, I doubt that 'Changes and We' passes the mark. Of course, I can't fully recall the subjective/objective cases of pronouns. But there are tips that I usually employ when in doubt.
1. Play it by ear. Literally, it must not sound awkward.
2. For a group of words, it may help to make a complete sentence. Changes and we are the topics of this editorial. , or This editorial is about changes and us. The first sentence is too stuffy; the second is straightforward and acceptable.
3. Titles are like captions. And a caption is a shortcut of a sentence about the picture. This is a photo of (or about) changes and us. So my caption/title is Changes and Us.
4. A title is an answer to a question. What is the article about? The article is about changes and us.
5. It is I is formal and correct. But Shakespeare is already dead. And nobody speaks and writes like Shakespeare anymore. So, the conventional and acceptable way is It is me.
6. The editorial 'we' discussed in journalism classes must not be taken literally. Editorials must present a collective opinion.
This post is not to embarrass anyone but to help writers perfect their craft; and to convey the message that somebody reads (good) even belatedly, and analyzes (better) the paper he helped financed (best reason!).
This post is also about my abhorence to someone who regards the English language as a badge of superiority. Speak and write in English as a way of expression, not as a way to massage the ego. I am not keen about English. And more so about grammar. The last time I was so particular about grammar was when I was ed-in-chief of my college and university publications. (And I was a sloppy ed-in-chief. But I was an undergrad then. Undergrads are not supposed to be blamed for the errors. Instead, blame the moderators or advisers.) But after I travelled to France and Germany, where nobody would speak to me in English, and where even the British and the Americans were required to speak in the local language, I no longer cared about my grammar as long as I was understood. Sign language has no grammar. In the United Kingdom where I thought my English had a better chance, my conversations were interspersed with ‘What?’, ‘Please speak slowly.’, ‘Please repeat that’, and other unwanted ad libs. Back in the Philippines, when I practice tit-for-tat and answer a foreigner in Kinaray-a, Filipinos think I am rude. But to the foreigners/tourists who prefer to immerse in the local color, they think my response is proper as they fidget with their translation notebooks. (BTW, more than once I called up an office in DepEd and was answered by a male voice who refused to speak in English as he spoke in fluent Ilonggo. I later learned that the male voice was not a tugabang-and-takway-eating Ilonggo like me, but a DepEd-detailed young Japanese who had arrived only recently and had never been to Iloilo before.)
A classmate once said, 'Kamango sa iya kay English niya sala.' (He is so dumb because his English is wrong.) I pity my classmate. To me, the more we think of English as an instrument to measure our intelligence, the more we are stuck into the third world rut. Japan, France, Germany, etc. have booming economies. And they don't care if their English, like my English, sucks.
Changes and We, anyone?
