Mga Taong Miss kong Makapiling

Gusto kong makasama uli ang mga taong 'to. 

Nabansagang Pagong ang barkada namin

 At seaside sa MOA ang tambayan namin. 

Sana, isang gabi uli, 

maglalatag kami ng sapin sa semento

iinom kami ng beer sa lata

titira kami ng Goldilocks cake

magsisindi ng lusis

ilalabas ang problema

iiyak

magmumurahan, tapos biglang tatawa

pag dumaan yong nagpapatrol na guard

tago muna ang toma!

Isang gabi lang

Balik tayo

Doon sa tabi ng dagat

Na ang simoy ay hindi maalat. 

Tamis ng pagkakaibigan

Pait ng hiwalayan

Miss ko kayo mga kaibigan!

*sori po di kumpleto ang barkada sa pic na yan! hehe

Kalaro

News from last night says that in the Philippines there are a million women that undergoes abortion a year, and that three women dies from abortion a day. Coincidentally, I have finished a short story the other night that tells of abortion. 

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Tanaw ko ang lahat sa aking kinauupuan. Dito sa kusina ng aking bahay, saksi ako ng naiwang bakas ng nagdaang bagyo. 


Naipon ang di pa natutuyong tubig ulan sa mga lubak ng daan at nagmistulang maliit na batis. Sa kahabaan ng kalsada ay ang mga kabahayan. May mga gawa sa kahoy, at may iilang gawa sa konkreto. Pero dahil pugad ng iskwater ang aming lugar, karamihan ng mga bahay dito ay gawa sa mga pinaglumaan, kalawangin, at halos luray-luray na mga materyales mula sa gulong, yero, plywood, tarpaulin ng kandito ng nakaraang eleksyon na todo sa pag ngiti at kahit ano pang akala mo'y wala ng pakinabang hanggang sa ang mga ito'y pinagtagpi-tagpi at naging isang tahanan. 


Isa nga dito ang aking tahanan. Ngunit mas nakaaangat man ang iba, hindi rin sila nakaligtas sa bagsik ni Bagyong Basyang. Nagkalat ang mga nagliparang yero, nagibang mga dingding, at nalaglag na sanga. Lahat ng kayang tangayin ng hangin ay kung saan saan lang napadpad. 


Ngunit sa gitna ng kaguluhang ito ay mas kapansin-pansin ang mga batang naglalaro dahil na rin sa suspendidong klase. Maliwanag ang bagong umaga. Hindi alintana ng mga inosenteng paslit ang takot at lamig na dala ng bagyo kagabi. Madami ang mga paslit dito sa amin. Sunod-sunod kasi ang mga di inaasahang pagbubuntis. Ang magkapatid na sina Nonoy, limanga taong gulang at Jessa, apat na taon, ay nagtatampisaw sa naipong tubig sa kalye. Hindi alintana ng ina ang duming makukuha nila sa paglalaro sa maputik na tubig. Isinaboy ni Nonoy ang maduming tubig kay Jessa. Lalo pang natuwa si Nonoy ng makitang nadumihan ang kapatid na nakapanty lang. Nagsimula ng mainis at maiyak si Jessa. Padabog nyang binagsak ang mga paa sa putikan at di sinasadyang matalsikan si Nonoy. Imbis na magalit ay ginaya ni Nonoy ang pagdadabog sa putikan. Mukhang natuwa sila sa ganoong paglalaro dahil huminto na si Jessa at sabay na silang nagdabog-dabog ng kapatid. 


Samantala ay maingay namang naghahabulan sina Aaron, Zean, Micmic at Jomar. Ang kanilang mga edad ay mula anim hanggang walo. Habang tumatakbo ay winawasiwas nila ang mga bitbit na putol na sangang may dahon pa. Maya maya pa ay tila umaarte ng albularyo si Jomar, ang pinakamatanda, at mistulang pinapaspasan si Aaron. Hindi ko alam kung naintindihan nila Zean at Micmic ang nais palabasin ni Jomar pero gumaya na din sila. Ang ibang mga batang kasing edad ng apat na ito ay naghahabulan din ng sarili sa kabilang dako. 


Ang ilang mas matatanda na, sina Ana at ang mga kalaro nyang babae ay nagkakantahan. Sila ay nasa sampung taong gulang hanggang labin-dalawa. Minsan ay sinasabayan ng sayaw ang mga kanta nila, ganun na din ng kantiyawan na mauuwi sa malakas na tawanan. 


Dito sa kusina ay batid kong lahat ng kilos nila. Simple lang ang mga bata. Hindi hihinto ang mundo nila kahit huminto na ang lahat sa paligid nila. Kitang-kita ko ang paghakbang ng maliit na paa, ang pagngiti ng bungi-bunging ipin, at ang pag-indayong ng malalayang katawan. Napakasaya nila. Wala silang damang pagod dahil tiyak mahimbing pa rin silang nakatulog. Ang kanilang mga ina ang nanatiling gising para mayakap at maprotektahan sila sa magdamag. 


Gustong kong umiyak. Iniisip ko, magiging kalaro rin kaya ng mga batang ito ang anak ko? Kung sakaling nabubuhay siya ngayon, tumatakbo, nadadapa't umiiyak, tumatawa, kumakanta't sumasayaw din kaya siya ngayon? Ngunit hindi ko siya binigyan ng pagkakataong mabuhay. Ipinalaglag ko siya. 


Hindi naman talaga ang bumagsak na dingding dito sa kusina ang iniwang bakas ni Bagyong Basyang sa akin, mga katanungan at sugat. Ano nga bang pakiramdam ng mayakap ang laman ng sarili kong anak, mainit kaya yon? Kahit kailan ay hindi ko malalaman. Kahit kailan ay hindi ko masasagot. Kahit kailan..

Sining Mula sa Papel

Likhang sining ng paborito kong artist, Tupe Peralta. 

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Hindi ko alam kong may titulo ang art na yan, pero, ang alam ko e ang tyaga at puso na binuhos dyan. 

Suportahan po natin ang Sining Pilipino. Tingnan ng malapitan ang mga likha ng aking idol at ng iba pang artist na kabilang sa Pasig Art Club. Magtungo sa kanilang eksibit. Alamin ang iba pang detalye dito.

*Image by Tupe Peralta

Trapiko Pilipino

Sinong nagsasabing di humihinto ang mundo? Dito sa mga kalye ng Pinas, aba'y OO!

Ano pa bang bago sa trapiko? Ang hindi mahigpit na pagpapanukala ng batas trapiko, sa pagpapasaway ng mga mamamayang Pilipino, sa parehong kampo ng mga awtoridad, at pasaherong pribado o pampubliko, wala pa rin namang nagbabago. Bukod na lang marahil sa pabago-bagong kulay ng mga overpass, depende sa mahiligan ng kung sinong namumuno sa Metropolitan Manila Development Authority o MMDA. 

Hindi ko nais mangaral. Hindi ko nais mangwestyon. Ang tanging kaya ko lang namang gawin ay sumakay at bumaba sa tamang lugar, at tumawid sa mga tamang tawiran. Ang totoong balak ko ay magpatawa. TAMA! Gawing katatawanan ang isang araw sa pangkaraniwang buhay ng isang nilalanang na naipit sa trapiko. Mga eksenang alam mo na!

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Isang araw, sa buhay ni Iska, siya'y makikipag-EB sa kanyang limang buwan ng dyowa sa text. Sadyang kinakabahan siya! Paano kung ang lalaking mahal (daw) niya ay pangit?! Hindi na 'yon mahalaga, mahal nga naman (daw) nya si lalaki. Kaya kontodo pabango siya sa damit na bagong bili. Sinoot nya pa to ng hindi nilalabhan, aba'y nagliliwanag sa kaputian! Maaliwalas ang panahon, handa ka na Iska sa pag-alis. Tiningnan mo ang oras, alas-onse ng umaga. Aba'y mainit na! Oras na para umalis. Takda silang magkita ni lalaki sa ganap na alas-onse y medya. Tamang-tama, kalahating oras lang naman ang byahe, isang dyip lang at nasa tagpuan ka na. Kung mahuli man siya ng ilang minuto dahil sa trapiko, dapat lang. Basta hindi siya ang maghihintay. OO naman, babae ka Iska. 

At sumakay ka na nga ng dyip, o kay luwag na dyip. Maya-maya ay unti-unti nang napuno ang dyip na sinasakyan mo. Paanong hindi, ang tagal atang huminto ng drayber sa tapat ng iskinita nyo. Hindi kaya serbis yang nasakyan mo? Baka may libing na pupuntahan ang mga kapitbahay mo. Lahat ba naman ay piliting pasakayin, kulang na lang pati aso pasakayin.Limang minuto na ang naubos sa oras mo, nasa kanto ninyo ka pa rin! Tapos ganun din ang trip ni manong sa kabilang kanto. Makikipaglibing din daw sila. Limang minuto uli ang naubos. 

Aba teka, parang naka-kandong na sa'yo ang katabi mo ha? Hindi pa pala, hindi pa pala kuntento si manong drayber na nagsisiksikan na kayong parang sardinas. Sa sobrang kaswapangan ng drayber sa pasahero, ayon, naipit na kayo sa trapik, ang haba ng linya ng sasakyan mula sa interseksyon. Hindi naman pala papayag si manong drayber na maipit na lang kayo e, ayon, nag-counterflow ng sarili sa kabilang kalsada. Bulag ata sya, e kita mong trapik din sa kabilang kalsada e. Ayan at pasalama't sa'yo manong, buhol-buhol na ang trapik. Hindi  ka makausad dahil nakaharang yong Mercedes Benz sa dyip mo. Yong dyip mo kaya nakaharang. Kaya nagbusina ang drayber ng Mercedes Benz, na sinagot ng drayber ng dyip. Sinundan naman ng mga gaya-gaya ang mga pauso! Labin-limang minuto kang nabingi Iska. 

Salamat at nakalampas ka na sa interseksyon. Nakahinga ka ng maluwag. Salamat sa hampas ng hanging banayad na dumadampi sa iyong mukha. Ang sarap, ayan, lakasan mo pa hangin, teka sobrang lakas na hangin! Kulang na lang ay matapyas ang anit mo sa iyong ulo sa sobrang karipas ni manong drayber. Pilit mong tinali ang iyong sabog na buhok ng ikaw ay biglang tumalsik sa iyong katabi, at ang iyong katabi ay tumalsik naman sa kanyang katabi! Samantala ay muntikan naman tumagos palabas ng dyip si manong drayber sa lakas ng pagpreno nya. Mabuti at hindi nasagasaan si Kuya na ilang hakbang na lang ang layo sa pink overpass. Siguro nagpapakamatay yon.

Tiningnan mo ang oras, ubos na pala ang trenta minutos mo. Alas-onse y medya na at sa iyong kalkula isang oras pa bago ka dumating! Hinanda mo na ang sarili mo, lahat na ng trapik pwedeng mangyari sa kalsada. Tulad ng nangyayari ngayon, nasa kahabaan ng isang unibersidad ang dyip. Hinto, usad, hinto, usad, hinto, usad, tinanong mo kung gaano katagal pa bago ka makalalampas sa unibersidad na yan. Bakit kasi hindi na lang magsabay-sabay bumaba ang mga estudyante, isa lang naman ang paaralan nila! Hindi kaya galit-galit sila? 


Kahit na sasabog ka na ata sa init ng ulo, aba'y maswerte ka naman pala! Dinaan ni manong sa shortcut ang dyip! Ngunit wag ka munang magsaya. Pagpasok ni manong sa eskenita, akalain mong trapik din! Aba't blockbuster na din ang pila ng dyip dito! Hindi mo man lamang naisip na lahat din pala sila ay naisip magshortcut! 


Goodluck na lang sa'yo Iska. Kelan ka pa kaya makakalabas dyan sa masikip at pasikot-sikot na kantong pilit ginagawang national road dito sa Pinas. Isipin mo na lang, baka kasalukuyan ding naipit sa trapik si lalaking ka-EB mo. Baka pinilit din ng drayber nya na gawing national road ang masikip at pasikot-sikot na kanto. Malay mo! Manalig ka Iska! 

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Maligayang Buwan ng Wika. Lahat ng isusulat ko ngayong Agosto ay nasa Pilipino. =)

Tap Tap Tap

After writing so seriously about seriousness, can you give me just this one post, to indulge in this thing called, infatuation? Will you now? Well, I'll go on nevertheless. 


Few days ago, I was depressed! Would you believe that? I had even concluded a journal entry with something like this

"There is nothing, no beginnings, no endings, just plain, dull, sad, NOTHING."

What! Have I grown EMO (taboo haha) now? There were just past events that contributed to the complications I created. After which, I realized I had been very unfair to myself. Because, if something bad happened to me in the past, there's terribly no reason to make a parallel out of it now. If he doesn't like me back, then don't. HAH! It's that simple right, I just sort of twisted my emotions until I got real sad. UHM, let's just say his pretty impressive. So I feel quite at a loss. (I'm betraying myself with that.) I'm really really good now, swear! (kaya nga nablog ko na 'to. ang drama!)


My new crush, the lucky guy (he's lucky, I'm not), I have known for ages. I think he had been a friend, but twist of fate made him, hate me. HAHAHAHA, It's just funny trying to remember it now. Funny and suspicious! For you see, I'm a person who forgets things sooooooo easily. I remember very few from my childhood, but this recollection is one childhood memory my brain can access. It kinds of serves it purpose now. 


To think, we know each other. And considering how impersonal it is, there's really nothing to consider. So end of reminiscing. But how did he become the newest crush (a little crush, not like i faint every time we touch)? After so long of contentedly ignoring the existence of one another. 


OK, this will kill me! I.. him again. Then I.. him. So I.. way... him. I also.. him. I.. his.. and he's.. as well. So there! I bet by now you know what I mean! 


*This is edited. I wrote the original in my journal, after listening to Chico and Del's "Top Ten Signs Your Crush Likes You Too." Guess what, I better stop imagining too much! Right? Well, Keri lang, kilig naman! :)

Beauty

A woman looks in a mirror and what does she see? 

She sees the sincerity in her smile even if her teeth are slightly crooked. She sees the warmth of her touch even if her hands are calloused. She sees she glows with kindness even if her color is black. She sees she's capable of doing great things even if she's little. She sees she's loved even if she doesn't fit your standards. 

She.Is.Beautiful. 

*image not mine

A Question of Faith

As a child, whenever my mother forces me to attend bible studies in our friendly neighborhood, I'll feel a strong dislike. What happens is, I'll go to the first session just to stop my mother from talking too much. Then on the next meetings, I'm gone. The story goes like that until my mother felt tired in convincing me. 


Maybe, by then, she have foreseen that I am not much of the Catholic she believed I'll be when the Holy Water streamed down my infant's head. When I came at the right age to hear a Holy Mass, the willingness did not last long. 


During my primary school, there was a special children's mass offered at our parochial church. I would amusingly listen to the Kura Paroko as he talked to us like his children. I would say that my basic knowledge on how Christ sacrificed his life for us came from him. I thank the Kura Paroko because it was him who imprinted the goodness of Christ in me. But since I started growing up and the said priest was involved in different scandals on expending the Church's money, my Church days started fluctuating. 


In high school, there was the so-called LICS (La Immaculada Concepcion School) Sunday Mass. It was part of the grade computation for the subject Values Education. It required me to wake up early and get a smiley cutout as a proof that I heard the mass. If we fail to present the smiley cutout on the next Values Education class, a "valid" excuse had to be presented. Our teacher would always remind us to be honest in giving the excuses. So one time I was too lazy to wake up that early for the day, I skipped the mass. On the next meeting, I told the teacher that I was too lazy to wake up that's why I didn't hear mass. She was bitterly disappointed by my reason. At the very least I had been honest. I believed that should account for a better grade, after all, honesty, is a value! 


When college came, it was official. I'm a Zero-Sunday-Mass person, except for Christmas, or New Year, either one of the two. I just don't hear mass. I still do enter church to pray alone. That's the only time I get a divine feeling inside a church. 


In better words, the Church, does not exude enough power to me. I don't need a body like it to strengthen my faith, or to run to every time I need somewhere to go. I have a strong faith in God and God alone. And my faith resides in my heart, not in the Church. I may not know all the sins the Church tells not to commit but I know when I have done bad things. I commit a sin every time I hurt someone. That sums it up. To equal that, I must do good to others. By that, I show love. That too, sums it up. 


God is watching me. And I fear Him. God is guiding me. And I thank Him. God is with me, even if I stop being a Catholic. And I love Him. 

Dealing with Poverty

Nobody is alike. It is also true that this overused words translates to how each different person deals with poverty. Even though poverty is generally the same to everyone, people show different takes on it. 


Aida Selmo, 53 years of age, had been a vendor of assorted fruits and vegetables since 1981. She faces poverty with a hopes in her heart. 


A native of Pangasinan, she spent her first years as vendor in the wet market of her native town. Then wanting to try her luck, she went here to Metro Manila. She found a residence in Pasig City and eventually, had a family. Realizing that moving and working in Manila was not as easy as she believed, Aling Aida ended up selling her goods in the streets. She became a sidewalk vendor taking chances on available spots attainable for the day around Pasig's public market. Her husband who is already 61 years old had his share working as a construction worker. Though the couple suffers difficulties, it helps that both have jobs. Together, they eased two of their 10 children to finish studies. One became a Seaman, the other Engineer. Aling Aida hopes that she will be able to continue supporting her other children. 


She feels content that she earns P300 a day from selling her goods. She does everything so that her children will not have the same fate she have. 


A lady passed by and saw the unripe mangoes on Aling Aida's basket. She decided to buy, as Aling Aida told her how much her purchase is, the lady thought twice. She put the money back in her purse and handed the already wrapped mangoes back to Aling Aida. Aling Aida nevertheless looked for the day ahead. With a smile she hoped that the bad buena mano wouldn't affect her sale. 


Fernando Jimenez is a 66-year old man. Both time and poverty have consumed him over the long years. He have been a magbobote for 35 years and now he doesn't hope. 


Mang Fernando left Bicol for having the mistaken belief that going to Metro Manila would free him from the harshness of life. He had a family in Pasig City. Because of poverty, he told that he lose three of his six children. Death of a child is painful, to think of three deaths, it's hard to imagine. 


Mang Fernando starts his day at seven in the morning and starts his work by scavenging bottles, papers, metals in places unfit for the health. then he goes around the vicinity pushing his carts, all the while shouting "Dyaryo! Bote!" Most of the time, he stops work by midnight. Even after this long hours of walking, he goes home with an income ranging from P50 to P100 a day. He tells me, "'Pag 50 (pesos), tuyo ulam namin. 'Pag100 (pesos), isda." This way of living is made too familiar to Mang Fernando. When asked if he hadn't tried looking for other jobs, he blandly reasoned that there are no jobs for high school graduates like him. 


Don't expect Mang Fernando to encourage you that if you pursue, you'll have a better life. He doesn't believe in this anymore. He has even made himself an example, "Ang tagal kong nang nagsisikap, umangat ba ako?"

Child of a Third World Philippines

I am a child of a Third World Philippines. 


I am raised by a Third World Family. I have a father who belongs to the working class. He have been a minimum-wage earner ever since. And ever since, my family lives with just enough. During times when we have more, my humble father will contentedly spend it playing Tong-its. If I think about it, my father does gamble quite often. My mother who exclusively works for the family, does tell my father to quit Tong-its. Thus she talks a lot. Thus, mother's fault is father's fault. They are both guilty. I love them that way. 


I am the product of a Third World Education. I spent my primary education in a public school. I did not enter nursery. There are lots of inter-school competitions. I joined a lot, but I won few minor medals. At this early age, I studied Journalism. I learned that there is expression in writing. 


I was able to enter a private school during my secondary education. My parents spent a lot so I can finish considering that school is already the cheapest in the list of private schools. We bought books for my own use. My classmates always had more than me, they had literary books. I would always borrow. After secondary education, I'd love both writing and reading. 


In a state university, I took Journalism. It's the personification of the things I have loved during elementary and high school. During my first year in college, I entered a police station, second year, I joined a rally outside Batasang Pambansa against PGMA's SONA. By third year, I saw the multitude of people in the Feast of the Black Nazarene in Quiapo. And by fourth year, I had written for the oldest newspaper in the country, The Manila Times. 


I am a victim of a Third World corruption. I now become part of the working class. A suffering class in which many can be absorbed in the ever declining economy. While a ruling class gets all the wealth there can be had, those who are left with nothing, either just die or kill so they won't die. 


I am the future of the Third World Philippines. I will provide for my family. I will practice my education. I will serve the country.