Wala na si Ka Bel

Pumanaw na si Rep. Crispin "Ka Bel" Beltran, lider-manggagawa, kongresista, ama, asawa, kasama.

Mahirap sumahin ang buhay at pakikibaka ni Ka Bel, haligi ng militante at palabang kilusang manggagawa. Estudyante pa ako, si Ka Bel na ang simbolo ng pagkakaisa at tindig ng mga manggagawa. Kaya noong mag-thesis ako, walang dalawang-isip, labor ang paksa.

Hindi ko makakalimutan si Ka Bel. Magiliw sya, palabiro, malambing, magaan kausap. Walang ere, walang iniinda, tunay na lider ng masa.

Kapag kinamayan ka nya, tuloy akbay, ganun nya minahal ang mga manggagawa at ganundin nya kinalinga ang mga kasama.

"Ayan ha, ito ang una kong public appearance pagkalaya ko!" Sabi nya noong pinaunlakan nya ang porum ng aming upisina tungkol sa tubig, ilang minuto lang pagkalipas syang "palayain" ng gubyernong Arroyo. Si Ka Bel talaga, sya na nga ang nagbigay karangalan sa aming porum sa kabila ng kanyang hapit na kalagayan, pakiramdam pa rin nya ay magtatampo kami kung hindi sya dadating.

Mahigit 30 dekadang tinugis, inapi, pinatahimik, kinulong, hinaras si Ka Bel ng reaksyunaryong estado. Pwede na sana syang namatay sa torture, assassination, physical injuries, sa kulungan, o sa sakit dulot ng karahasan ng estado.

"Bakit daw?!" galit kong tanong

"Nalaglag sa bubong." Sagot ng kausap ko.

Noong mabalitaan ko kung paano pumanaw si Ka Bel, kahit isang sandali ay hindi nabawasan ang paghanga at pagpuri ko sa kanya bilang bayani ng sambayanang Pilipino. Ang paraan ng kanyang pagpanaw ay simbolo ng kanyang komitment sa buhay at pakikibaka ng anakpawis.

Paalam, Ka Bel. Tuloy ang pakikibaka!

Survivor Caramoan, Epilogue

The other day, news featured Caramoan, now dubbed as the next Boracay. No less than the lucky bitch (President Arroyo herself) was in Gota beach, wearing her tacky summer dress, meeting the Survivor cast and crew, and accompanied by the tourism secretary Ace Durano who was wearing shorts a la Indiana Jones.

Mayor Cordial was also interviewed on TV. This time, unlike during our visit when he was broken for being bypassed, he seemed happy to note that development was coming his way. I wonder how he was finally convinced by the President, but he cannot ignore the fact that fishermen in Caramoan have been complaining that they can no longer fish in the bays because of the closure of Gota beach and neighboring islands.

President Arroyo has gone on a natural resources/tourism mega-sale, and Caramoan is her current flavor. Will the people of Caramoan survive the onslaught? If she will not stop her whoring, she might be the one not surviving her illegitimate term.

Survivor Caramoan, Part 2

We pitched our tents right on top of the hill, the island’s highest point, which affords a great view of the sea, neighboring islands, the house, our beach, and partly Catanduanes island.


We cooked dinner, changed from wet to warm clothes, took photos of the rising full moon, mixed gin and tonic, and enjoyed conversations with the councilor, a friend he picked up during our island hopping, and the mother of the only household in our island who cooked us fish and sweet potatoes. We were lamenting how development could spoil Caramoan while our hosts on the contrary were excited about the prospect. Generally we were having fun … until it rained, and rained so hard, and rained till dawn.

We slept (or held on to the concept of sleep) with puddles inside our tents. We had to synchronize how to “toss and turn” to survive the night. Upon sunrise (or the illusion of it), we ‘woke up’ (or simply decided to get up and out of our tents) and started to salvage rain-soaked food. While preparing breakfast, Mango, Mai and I were formulating the lessons we’ve learned.

The view from our campsite, with the reluctant sunrise

Lesson No. 1. It was a mistake to share campsite with a carabao. We had puddles of mud inside our tents.

Lesson No. 2. Never trust the councilor when he says it won’t rain while he’s having fun. He walked on the sand bar going home, by the way.

Lesson No. 3. Always trust the mayor when he offers his place, he knows the weather.

Lesson No. 4. A boy scout can really read a map. Mango’s dad, a scout master, warned us that travel and island hopping would take much of our time, so better settle in the first island we find.

Lesson No. 5. Mother knows best when she tells you to bring sugar. We were bringing 3 in 1 coffee, so we didn’t listen to Mango’s mom. The sugar could have come in handy for the sweet potatoes.

Anyway, photo-ops will do the trick! Show and tell our friends that we enjoyed….

We broke camp and sailed at 8 a.m. to catch the last boat going back to Sabang at 11 a.m. Our island friends were sad to see us off and wished that we would go back to Caramoan soon and often. On one hand, we were secretly sad to see their excitement over the prospect of developing Caramoan as the next Boracay.

It’s a pity that we ended up the ones not remembering the names of the islands and beaches we went to. But since Mango and Mai were able to do their ‘morning ritual’ after breakfast (first time in the outdoors for Mai, no big deal for Mango), we are calling our island for now and before so-called development takes over, the “Prut-Prut Island”.

View of Prut-Prut Island from our boat

Survivor Caramoan, Part 1

We were thinking of having vacations in unexplored getaways with names our friends would not even be able to pronounce. Mango extended this invitation to trailblaze the “unexplored” Caramoan Peninsula, a group of islands at the tip of Camarines Sur, Bicol region, and to host the expedition in Albay (her hometown) with a side trip (take note, just a side trip) to the world-famous Donsol in Sorsogon, the migratory route of whalesharks locally known as butanding.

The prospect of Caramoan alone made Sam, Ems and Mai brag to their friends who turned green with envy. Caramoan, it turns out, is not that unfamiliar – everyone has already heard of the place, no one is brave enough just yet to wander far from the comforts of Boracay or Galera.

We really didn’t have plans to be uncomfortable ourselves. To save exploration time, we decided to experience Caramoan exactly the way it was described in a blog we tumbled upon. Plagiarize – guess that’s the classic tourism strategy – read the brochures, read the write-ups, relive the blogs, copy the postcards…

But it was a mistake to plagiarize. First of all, we did not end up in the more famous Gota beach. Caramoan has several beaches, islands and islets, and you can just choose your own island like create your own fantasy, pitch tent, camp, swim and explore your island. Since we followed the blog, we looked for Gota beach, but the place was closed for the shooting of the international reality show, Survivor.

What to do next? Island politics dictates that you go straight to the mayor. We raised issues like public land being closed for private use, lack of community consultation, development aggression, blah, blah, blah. But the mayor, bypassed by the governor, just sighed, short of saying “I’m the victim here.”

Anyway, the mayor instructed his councilor to lend us his boat and guide us to the mayor’s island. That started our great misadventures and shift to survival mode.

We were sailing for about an hour when we decided to have lunch in the councilor’s island.

Then we dropped our things in the mayor’s island and sailed again, touring the peninsula and searching for our perfect island.


Finally we decided to take a dip in an island with only one house, a carabao atop a hill, and a wide sand bar that connects the island to another island and that you can walk on during low tide.

We decided to stay. Mango and I had to go back to the mayor’s island to get our things while the rest explored the hill where we would pitch our tents.

That's me on the boat, waiting for Mango. Postcard-perfect? Well, that was the calm before the storm!

Byaheng Balikan

Nagparoo't parito ako sa Legaspi City noong Huwebes, eroplano papunta sa umaga, bus pauwi sa gabi. Maliit na laptop backpack lang ang dala ko.

Pag-check-in ko sa Cebu Pacific noong papunta, napaisip ako sa standard na tanong ng ground stewardess: May bagahe kayo ma'am?

Na-inspire tuloy akong sumagot sa recent post ng isang kaibigan tungkol sa pag-byahe nang magaan.

Naisip ko lang, wala akong bagahe, hindi lang ako nakakalimot. Di katulad ng kaibigan ko na short-term ang memory, ako sa maniwala kayo sa hinde, naaalala ko pa ang first birthday ko. Pinakbet ang handa.

Flex Revlon ang shampoo ko nung una akong magkagusto sa babae. Binigyan nya ako ng lyrics ng A Woman in Love sa H.E. class namin, sinulat-kamay nya sa yellow pad, tapos lahat ng 'man' sa lyrics pinalitan nya ng 'woman'. Naghiwalay kami nung 4th year kasi, oh well, pinalitan nya ako ng 'man'. Nagpalit ako ng shampoo.

Summer noong magka-boyfriend ako. Tuwing hapon naglalaro kami nung word game na Boggle, na prinonounce nya ng bogli. Hindi na ako nakipag-talo kasi lagi ko din naman syang talo sa game. Dumating ang pasukan na-realize ko na marami pala kaming di mapag-uusapan kasi bukod sa magka-iba kami ng pronunciation, magka-iba rin kami ng bokabularyo.

Taumbayan ang una kong naging papel sa teatro noong college sa Kahapon, Ngayon at Bukas ni Aurelio Tolentino. Ako sana talaga si Inang Bayan, pero hindi ko kinaya ang magtatakbo mula sa audience papuntang stage at magsisigaw ng "Mga walang-hiya! Mga walang utang na loob! Kayo'y nagsasayahan habang nagluluksa ang sambayanan!" Mahiyain pala talaga ako, sabi ng direktor. Ewan, basta alam ko may krisis ako noon.

Inis na inis tuloy ang bespren kong bading sa akin. Kasi bilang taumbayan ang sinuot kong costume ay mahabang saya na ang tela ay kapareho ng tela ng uniform ng mga babae nila sa Quezon City Science High School. Malay ko bang pinangarap nyang isuot yun!

Speaking of saya, naka-bestida ako nung malaman ko ang pakiramdam ng kinakabugan kapag kinakaliwa. Naghintay talaga ako dun sa kanto para mahuli ko sila. Ayun, magkasama nga silang bumaba ng jeep. Hindi sila bagay, hindi rin bagay sa akin ang bestida. Umabot pa naman ng 8 taon ang relasyon na yun, 4 na beses din ako kinaliwa. Noong huli, sya naman ang kinabugan.

Telepono ang unang appliance ko noong nakipag-bahay-bayahan ako. Nakasalampak pa nga ito sa sahig kasi walang ibang gamit na mapagpapatungan sa kwarto. Pagkalipas ng 13 taon, noong sumikip na rin ang apartment, nagkahiwalay kami kasi nawalan na kami ng totoong komunikasyon.

Nagpapalipad ako ng saranggola sa Subic noong magsimula akong mabagot sa relasyon ko ng 13 taon. Tumigil kami sa Shell station noong pauwi para kumain ng ice cream. Naalala ko tuwang-tuwa ang mga kasama namin sa iba-ibang flavors na mapagpipilian samantalang double dutch, cookies and cream, rocky road, at very rocky road lang naman ang nasa freezer. Ako, ewan ko ba, ampalaya yata ang napili ko.

Sa huli, naisip ko, maliban sa sinumpa ako ng matinding memorya, masaya ako sa araw-araw. Wala akong pagsisisi, wala akong ibang dala-dala. Sa katunayan, tuwing lumilipat ako ng tirahan, katulad ng kaibigan ko, nagkakasya rin ako sa isang maleta.

May wi-fi sa Lumang Bahay

Mantakin mo, ang lumang bahay ni Aning – circa 60s ito, 90% kahoy, two storeys, nasa labas ang hagdan kung aakyat ka sa taas kung saan kami nakatira at may sariling buhay ang silong, capiz ang bintana at narra ang muebles – ay naka-wi-fi na!

Kaya minsan pag-uwi ko doon, hinilera namin ang mga laptops sa mesang kainan, at ayun, mega-internet ang mga bakla kahit wala naman deadlines, at may gana pang mag-chat sa isa’t isa!

Proyekto ito ni Mira (Room No. 2) at Gail (Room No. 5), parehong computer programmers na walang panahon sa upisina para sa mga personal nilang interes sa net kaya sa bahay nila ito ginagawa. Sinuportahan naman namin sa Room No. 4 ang proyekto, kasi kulang naman ang oras namin sa net para sa trabaho, bukod pa sa hindi palaging may koneskyon si Mango.

Ang saya, salamat sa globalisasyon.

Kaya lang noong “soft launch” ng aming proyekto, na-miss ko bigla si Boots – ang kaibigan kong nasa Oxford. Sya nagturo sa akin mag-chat, at noon, araw-araw nya akong kinukulit sa text na mag-online na at mag-ch-chat na daw kami. Naiinis ako noon kasi hindi naman kami pareho ng oras di ba, at hindi rin kami pareho ng akses sa net. Pero ngayon na halos 24 oras na ako naka-konek, kapag tulog na lang hindi, hindi na rin kami nag-uusap, hindi na sya kumukonek at all, at hindi na rin nag-te-text.

Magkasing-mahal daw kasi ang text at tawag. Bawal daw sa upisina nila ang mag-download ng chat programs dahil nakakabawas ito ng efficiency sa trabaho. At mahal naman ang kuneksyon sa bahay-bahay, at syempre mahal ang laptop sa Europa.

Salamat sa globalisasyon? Na maski nililipad ang bubong ni Aning, tumutulo ang kubeta sa silong at nagwawala ang pamilya sa baba ay naka-wifi sya?

Demokratisasyon daw ng teknolohiya ang globalisasyon, na lahat ay magkakaroon ng akses sa teknolohiya para sa pag-unlad. Pero pakiramdam ko depende kung ano ang gustong itambak sa Third World (at sa mahal na halaga sa totoo lang) habang nakapokus ang First World sa esensya ng pag-unlad.

Huling balita ko kay Boots, nagpapa-renovate sya ng bahay.

Hating-Gabi kay Aning

Kung ipagpapabukas ko
ang ating pag-ibig
Para ko na ring isinantabi
ang lahat ng ating pinagdaanan
at kahihinatnan pa
ng ating himagsikan
Para ko na ring binale-wala
ang mga dumaang kontradiksyon
at narating na resolusyon
sa pagitan nating dalawa
Tinalikuran
ang aking mga pangako
na unti-unting pinapatupad
Kinalimutan
ang tapat at paulit-ulit kong
panambitan
Hinayaan
Na sa araw-araw kitang minamahal
ay may maiwan pang pagdududa
Para ko na ring sinabi
na ang ating masalimuot na pagsisimula
na matagal mong iniyakan
ay nananatiling walang batayan.
Na lahat ng ating paghihintay
pakikipagtunggali at paghahanda
sa pagdating ng tagumpay
ay madaling ipagpaumaga.

Mahal ko, huwag mo akong tanungin
Kung ako nga ba ay handa na
na makilala ng lahat
at humarap sa dambana
ng pag-ibig at pakikibaka
Para mo na rin akong tinanong
kung naniniwala nga ba ako
sa atin at sa pagbabago
Para mo na ring pinagdudahan
Ang palagi kong pagtatapat
At kung ako nga ba
ay karapat-dapat
sa proseso ng kasal.
Mahal ko, huwag mong hanapin
Ang kasiguraduhan sa akin
Huwag mo nang itanong…
dahil katulad ng rebolusyon
ang pag-ibig ko ay araw-araw
Isusulong.

The Original Post

In Aning’s place, five women, in separate rooms and living separate lives, used to converge at one post that stands in the middle of this old house.

Here, they literally posted poems, essays, new year’s resolutions, photos, news clippings, postcards, etc. until blogs, multiply or friendster took over and until updates on their lives became too complicated to be posted just like one of the bills.

Room No. 1 has given birth to a beautiful baby boy whose father is still unkown but who cares. Room No. 2 has just split up with her liar of a boyfriend who occupied Room No. 3 when former occupant, a timid call center agent, left unnoticed. Room No. 4 has fallen in love with another woman who now co-occupies the room. And Room No. 5, which has seen turnovers - from an accountant in love with a gay man to an indie actress in love with a priest - is now being occupied by shoes and bags, and the owner who can barely enter the room.

It's time to update the post.

Ms. World

I learned English like how I learned how to cook – out of sheer enjoyment of it and out of necessity – both reasons however would soon negate each other. I have always had fascination with languages – the elegance of French, precision of German and simplicity of Mandarin, the different kinds of sounds, to be able to create them, and be understood. But I have also been forced, like the rest of the Filipino people, to learn English to survive in the globalized economy. During my time, all subject areas including Philippine history had to be taught and learned in English, Grade 2 students would be fined 25 centavos if heard speaking in the vernacular, and students were considered dumb if they had their grammar wrong.

Things have changed – or so I thought. History is taught in Filipino now, but for a shorter time and not in all regions of the country. Students are no longer fined when speaking Filipino although continue to be punished and beaten for their misconduct. And still, finally, despite the recent scientific discovery of the seven domains of intelligence (and linguistics is just one domain), Filipinos still deride and demean wrong grammar and even wrong pronunciation for an archipelago with numerous ethno-linguistic tribes, and judge the speaker altogether as dumb.

Things have not really changed. There have been revisions in the curriculum but only in so far as there have been generations of nationalist and progressive thinkers (students and teachers alike) who would time and again push for some sanity in the Philippine educational system. Things have turned for the worse in fact – no less than the Philippine President is pushing through an executive order to make English the medium of instruction and shape education to serve the outsourcing needs of foreign corporations. Economic development in this country, according to the medium-term development plan, shall be propelled by call centers and tourism.

Watching 2008 Bb. Pilipinas-World winner Janina San Miguel answer in the Q&A portion of the pageant and after hearing all the half-time analyses and derisive comments on her bloopers, I can only lament how far we have been thrown back by this forced English. It is not only that we no longer enjoy learning new skills and exotic things, we have actually stopped learning. No, it is not Janina’s English that is crooked, it is the Philippine educational system that has produced robots for the world economy. She is not the nation’s embarrassment – it is the Philippine government that has disgraced all of us for all its wrong priorities. In the end, the ‘irregularity’ made by the pageant’s panel of judges in letting Janina win is nothing compared to President Arroyo’s cling to power while her legitimacy as President remains in question.

Oh, well, didn’t Janina say, “Oh, I’m so sorry!” in the Q&A? Guess that is the winning line.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xKwmseoKFCo