Showing posts with label current events. Show all posts

Fortunately for me, my new landlady knocked on my door at 8:00 am on Wednesday, June 30, 2010, to ask me something, or else I wouldn't have woken up in time to make it to Luneta and would have been contented to watch it on TV instead. I had been debating with myself for the past few days whether or not I would make the effort to go to the Aquino-Binay inauguration. (It's a holiday! It looks like rain!  You'll go alone and there'll be a huge crowd. So what? You went to Cory's wake by yourself too, and waited in line for four hours along with hundreds of other people. You can watch it on TV. Nothing beats the real thing. There are too many people there already, your presence won't matter. What does it matter, this is history in the making!)

In the end, it was that "history in the making" thing that convinced me. I had read stories in the past, about people who attended presidential inaugurations, and about how it felt to be there, when Quezon, when Magsaysay, became president. When I was still in Mindanao watching events such as this on TV, my siblings and I would sigh and say, Ah, if only we lived in Manila, we would surely be there as well. Now, here I was... why was I dawdling?

A friend and I had been discussing it for days --we both voted for Noynoy Aquino-- and saying that we wanted to attend the inauguration. However, she bowed out at the last minute because she had to go home to the province. I knew everyone at home would be asking, did you go to the Luneta? Why didn't you? You were THERE!

So I donned something yellow, and sallied forth to Luneta. As I left the house, the little back alley I lived on was full of noise... all the neighbors had their radios on, and were listening to the broadcast coverage of the inauguration. I found a taxi immediately when I got to the main road. He said he had passed on Nagtahan just previously and met the convoy from Times Street going to Malacanang. It seemed I was just in time, since there would be protocols at Malacanang and I could still reach Luneta before the convoy did. The taxi let me off on UN Avenue, one block away from Roxas Boulevard, because the rest of the way was closed. I walked a bit on UN, crossed over to Kalaw, and joined the rest of the crowds headed in one direction-- Quirino Grandstand. It was some time past 10:00 am, and I heard the program would begin at 11:00 am.

Everybody I passed or walked with or behind seemed in a festive mood. There were old people and teenagers, friends and neighbors, even entire families dressed in varying shades of yellow. Some brought food (I brought a can of Nescafe Latte, which I was chug-a-lugging on the way, as I was too excited to have a proper breakfast). People all around were smiling.

After a few minutes of walking, I finally crossed Roxas Boulevard and plunged into the stream of people and vendors on the sidewalk. There were so many things being sold... food, commemorative pins and badges, yellow hats and umbrellas, caps and t-shirts, even birds. I stopped to buy a button for my bag (and promptly lost it after I'd walked a few steps, but luckily spotted the loss and was able to retrieve it before someone else picked it up or trampled it). The crowd was getting thicker, although there was still ample space to walk. Music was blaring from loudspeakers.

Things got a little tense at the gate into the grounds, though, because there already was a bottleneck and some people at the back were pushing. I got into a line that made the wrong turn and came up against a barrier, and we all had to go around and look for the gate. Finally we found it, and after some pushing and being pushed, got through.

At first, looking at the crowd, I was afraid I'd never be able to see anything, because there seemed to be so many people there. When I got a little further, though, the crowd thinned out and there was ample space to stand and look around. The day was overcast and there was no direct sunlight, but it was still kind of hot and many people had their umbrellas up, prompting people at the back to call to them to take the umbrellas down, the yells of "Pa-yong! pa-yong!" blending into the general chant of "Noy-noy! Bi-nay!" and "noy-bi!"

It seemed I had arrived just in time, as the big LED screens ahead showed the ex-President and the new President getting out of the car. People around me began shouting "Babay Gloria, umalis ka na (Goodbye Gloria, go away now)" and when she finally got back into the car a while later, a lot of them waved at the screen and laughed. "Sa wakas, aalis na rin siya! (Finally, she's leaving!)" I heard a woman beside me say.

I realized that the oath-taking was traditionally at noon, and that there was still some time before that. Vice President Jejomar Binay was arriving in his electric jeepney -- I learned later there was some to-do about his being "late." After that, things kind of blurred into one song number after another, with the accompaniment to "Sabihin mo, ikaw ay Filipino" serving as background music for the most part. Charice Pempengco rendered the National Anthem beautifully (Ha! Let the NHI find fault with THAT! I thought) although some people behind me complained afterwards that it was very fast. I remembered, though, that the anthem was originally a march, so I figured the tempo was just about right. Noel Cabangon also sang "Mabuting Filipino" which I had previously heard him sing at an event we held last year at PLM, and his iconic "Kanlungan" which had people around me singing too.

Finally, the Vice President stood up to take his oath, and after him, the President. People around me were rapt, craning their necks and listening to the words being broadcast over the speakers. The Laban sign was being flashed everywhere.

The President's inaugural speech was well-received by the crowd, who cheered spontaneously at key  points and laughed when he said "magtatapos na ang pagtitiis ng sambayanan... Ito naman po ang umpisa ng kalbaryo ko. (The people's sufferings are about to end... now my calvary begins.)" I looked around me; everyone was intent upon his words (a rare occurrence!), as if he were speaking to each and every one of us. I thought to myself; this is why I'm here. That is MY president up there. Let him prove to be worthy of the trust that we have placed in him, in who he is, in who we hope he would be.
(Read transcript of the entire speech, with English translation here.)

A weird thing happened as I stood there, looking and listening. I could see only the roof of the grandstand from my vantage point, but had a fine view of the LED screen in front. As I watched, as I listened, it seemed to me that I could hear at times the voice of Ninoy and Cory Aquino, as I had heard them speak in recordings and video clips before. It seemed to me at times that their faces overlay that of their son's as he spoke. The thought occurred to me again: Had Ninoy and Cory ever thought, when they looked at Noynoy as a boy, that he would be the Benigno Aquino who would become President someday?

After the president's speech, there was a "people's pledge" where representatives of various sectors, as well as the audience, promised to work with the government to reduce corruption and make the country a better place. It was a proud moment for me, as I stood there with my right hand raised and watched everyone around me raise their own hands and repeat the words of the pledge as they were spoken.

Even when the program was already over, people seemed to be reluctant to leave. Many still stood in their places, looking thoughtful, as I headed for the exit. Now that I had seen my president sworn into office (how I'd worried before that even though he'd be elected, something might happen to prevent this day!) I suddenly realized that I hadn't eaten a thing yet that day. As I walked down Roxas Boulevard to look for somewhere to eat, the clouds that had been so thick during the entire program parted, and the sun shone brightly.

Continue if you care...

Beware the ides of March, a soothsayer once told Julius Caesar. If it were March instead of December, perhaps the saying would have been appropriate for today.

As sarahcada, a plurk friend of mine, posted, "Today MS made a Plurk clone, a car exploded near our office, voters' reg is reopened, Mayon is erupting, and MS pulled out the Plurk clone."

And yes, Comelec released the official list of candidates for 2010, economist Paul Samuelson passed away, and the Yangtze dolphin was officially declared extinct. Sigh.

Continue if you care...

The taxi I took last night to get home had its radio tuned to GMA teleradyo, and the driver was listening to the news. Just as we entered the traffic along Araneta Ave., Jiggy Manicad's report on the Maguindanao Massacre came on, where he interviewed Buluan Vice-Mayor Toto Mangudadatu, who had finally seen the dead body of his wife, one of those killed in the massacre. By the time I reached my destination, I was already crying from sorrow, anger and frustration.

“My wife’s private parts were slashed four times, after which they fired a bullet into it. They speared both of her eyes, shot both her breasts, cut off her feet, fired into her mouth. I could not begin to describe the manner by which they treated her," Mangudadatu said, trying to hide the tremor in his voice. "I cannot cry. I have to show my people that I am strong," he added.

Two of Mangudadatu's sisters, Bai Eden and Bai Faridah, were also killed in the massacre. One of them was four months pregnant. One of their aunts, Bai Manguda, was also reported to have been with them.

Aside from the Mangudadatu family members and relatives, the massacre victims also included two female lawyers, one of whom also had her elderly father with her, many journalists, and even some people who were on their way to Cotabato City to consult a doctor, and whose vehicles had gotten into or near the convoy when it was attacked.

According to news reports, Mangudadatu said that there were witnesses who had been able to escape from the convoy and who said that the attackers belonged to the Ampatuan clan, whose stronghold was the town where the attack happened. He also said that his wife had managed to call him over the cellphone and tell him of the attack, that the attackers were forcing them to rip up the papers they were to file with the Comelec for his candidacy, that the attackers were forcing them to even eat and swallow those papers, before the call was cut off. In one of the interviews of him after news of the massacre came out, he said that he had already been threatened with death if he filed his candidacy for the governorship of Maguindanao, the incumbent of which is an Ampatuan, and that the reason his wife went to file the papers for him was that he thought they would not dare to attack women.

He learned all too soon how high the price was of losing the gamble he made.

The massacre has provoked an outcry, not only within the country, but in the international community as well. Media watchdog Reporters Sans Frontieres has already called it the worst media killing in one day in the history of journalism, because of the number of mediamen who were killed, covering what would been an ordinary news event.

Perhaps the reason why the massacre has provoked so many reactions is that it hits so deep and touches on so many nerves. The senseless and brutal gunning down of so many people for the simple reason that they were trying to exercise the right to run for office in a democracy, because they dared to challenge an incumbent in his own stronghold, is one. Another is that many of those killed were women, one of them even a pregnant woman. Still another is that among the victims were lawyers and journalists, members of professions which are by tradition to some degree entitled to protection, one for its function as mediators and negotiators, the other for its function as recorder and reporter. Yet another is that even bystanders who happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time became collateral damage.

Try as I might, I cannot begin to fathom the mindset that would perpetrate and even condone the commission of such atrocities. The manner of killing, as well as the treatment of the dead bodies, by the (said to number about 100) killers, displays such contempt, such scorn towards the victims as to show that they regarded the people they killed to be nothing more than pieces of trash to be thrown out and destroyed. What sort of people are they? Are they still human, at all? What manner of environment, of upbringing, even only of personality, do they have that they can commit such things the same way a mad dog singlemindedly attacks everything in its path?

Arguing for the sake of argument without all these statements necessarily being the truth, if all the rumors were true, if Mangudadatu's allegation concerning the Ampatuans were true, if all of these were for the purpose of teaching a lesson to an "upstart" who dared to challenge the king, then the twisted rationale to the Maguindanao massacre would be this:

A politician, wishing to extend his area of influence, decides to run for office in his rival's territory, and this rival, who has so far enjoyed unlimited authority in said territory, becomes incensed at what he views as an insult to his honor. Instead, however, of letting the election process run its course, he decides to nip it off at the bud by making the first politician abandon his plan. But the former is determined; come the day of filing for candidacy, he has a brilliant idea and sends to file his papers in his stead the people who by law and tradition are entitled to protection and safe-conduct: women, ambassadors, mediators and scribes. It was a good plan; had his rival been a more reasonable person, he would have acknowledged his loss in the first round. But no, the rival's anger grows even more. How dared they? How dared this woman come here on behalf of her husband, thinking to outfox him in his own den? Very well, if she would enter the field, she would then be a player, and she would learn the price that losers pay. Let all their deaths be horrible, so that no one would dare to challenge the king again. So he orders, and so his orders are carried out.

The rival, however, forgets that his "kingdom" has long since been a part of a democracy, and that he is in that position technically not because he belongs to a clan that has long been regarded as royal, but because of the democratic processes of the country where he lives, and that any misuse and abuse of power would hold him liable for his misdeeds to the people of that country.

Even if he were made liable, he thinks, they would have to come and dig him out of his fortress first. Who would dare? After all, this is his territory and he has friends in high places. He once got them out of a tight spot; he played a key role in getting them where they are now. Let them return the favor; if he goes down, so will they.

(That's why I should be writing fiction instead. I'm good at cooking up conspiracy theories.)

A great deal of the indignation we now feel at this is fueled by what we perceive as impunity granted to these monstrous killers to murder anyone who stands in their way. It is an indignation born of the knowledge that the common man is nowhere safe, that even the legal processes meant to protect them may also be their downfall if they do not have the money or influence to protect their rights. That it is always easy for one to earn a place in a cage when he is sufficiently non-entity enough. That on the other hand, one who deserves to be put in a cage can always avoid it or walk out of it at will if he had the money or influence. It is an indignation born of the realization that even monsters can go on a killing spree in broad daylight and their identities will be protected if they have the money and the influence with those who think they're the ones who matter. That in the end, the laws and legal processes of a democracy only work for the elite and not for the common man for whose benefit and protection they were originally intended and on whose backs, on whose sweat and toil, these elite built their empires.

It is an indignation that grows even more every time we read or hear words like these:

"Under the current government, the Philippines has become the most dangerous place in the world for media workers. At least 74 journalists have been killed during its eight-year tenure, yet the government has not acted to end the culture of impunity. At last count, only four convictions had been secured..."
(Being a journalist: one of the most dangerous jobs in the world.)

"an incident between two families in Mindanao... We cannot be affected by that… This has nothing to do with President Gloria Macapagal-Arroyo or the administration... If the public would know that we are sincere and that we are doing our best to give justice to the victims, I think that would vindicate us in case there would be impressions later on.”
(Why do you need vindication?)

“We don’t have full control of the situation on the ground, mortals as we are."
(...)

"If we use the iron hand on them, they might fight back. We should take precaution. These are not ordinary people."
(Weren't you quick to use the "iron hand" against the MILF and the Abu Sayyaf? Didn't the government fall all over its own feet to declare an "all-out war" in Mindanao? What makes these people different? Why are you so afraid that they will fight back?)

In the end, all we have are rumors that refuse to be substantiated, and this sorrow, anger, indignation and frustration that refuses to be assuaged. Wanna bet that after a while, all this will die down, and people will refuse to remember anymore... until the next, more horrific massacre occurs? And meanwhile the underlying problems continue, and the impunity remains.

Continue if you care...

Every time I remember the recent killings in Maguindanao, it hurts a lot. It's as if a person's life were that cheap, that worthless, that it didn't matter. It hearkens back to our past. Every time we think that we have achieved a precarious balance in making peace on this island, something happens that reminds us how close that past still is, how near the surface the barbaric customs of not so long ago.

I thought the Mindanao depicted in the songs of Asin in the 1970s was beginning to fade. Has it?

The song "Bayan kong Sinilangan" was written by Saro Banares, who came from Koronadal, South Cotabato. Though it mostly refers only to one place, the song could just as easily refer to the island and its past.

The song "Balita" on the other hand is perhaps more familiar to people as its chorus was sampled by the Black Eyed Peas for its "APL Song." After over 20 years, suddenly it has garnered fresh meaning in the light of recent events. Sh*t. Still hurts.

Bayan Kong Sinilangan
(Asin)

Ako'y isinilang sa isang bayan ng Cotabato
Kasing gulo ng tao, kasing gulo ng mundo
Dahil 'di magkasundo sa relihiyon at prinsipyo
Nagkagulo
Ang bayan ko sa Cotabato, kasing gulo ng isip ko
'Di alam saan nanggaling, 'di alam saan patungo
Kapatid sa kapatid, laman sa laman
Sila-sila ang naglalaban, 'di ko alam ang dahilan ng gulo

Bakit nagkagano'n, ang sagot sa tanong ko
Bakit kayo nag-away, bakit kayo nagkagulo
Prinsipyo mo'y igagalang ko kung ako'y iyong nirespeto
Kung nagtulungan kayo, 'di sana magulo ang bayan ko

CHORUS
Sa bayan kong sinilangan, sa timog Cotabato
Ako ay namulat sa napakalaking gulo
Dahil walang respeto sa prinsipyo ng kapwa tao
Kapwa Pilipino ay pinapahirapan mo
Ang gulo

Ako'y nananawagan, humihingi ng tulong n'yo
Kapayapaa'y bigyan ng daan, kapayapaan sa bayan ko
Bakit kailangan pang maglaban, magkapatid kayo sa dugo
Kailan kayo magkakasundo, kapayapaa'y kailan matatamo ng bayan ko

Kung ako'y may maitutulong, tutulong nang buong puso
Gitara ko'y aking inaalay, kung magkagulo'y gamitin mo
Kung ang kalaba'y walang puso, puso na rin ang gamitin mo
Ituring mong 'sang kaibigan, isipin mong siya'y may puso rin katulad mo

CHORUS
Sa bayan kong sinilangan (bakit may gulo) sa timog Cotabato (sa timog Cotabato)
Ako ay namulat (kailan matatapos) sa napakalaking gulo (ang gulo)
Dahil walang respeto (kailan magkakasundo) sa prinsipyo ng kapwa tao (ang tao)
Kapwa Pilipino (kapwa Pilipino) ay kinakalaban mo (bakit kinalaban mo)
Ang gulo...

-----------------------
The Land of My Birth
(Original by Asin; translation by Laya)
INTRO


I was born in a town in Cotabato
As troublesome as people, as chaotic as the world
Because they couldn't agree on religion and principles
There was trouble
My hometown in Cotabato, as troubled as my mind
It doesn't know where it came from, it doesn't know where to go
Brother against brother, and flesh against flesh
They turned against one another, I don't know the reason for this trouble

Why did this happen, the answer to my question
Why are you quarreling, why did you create trouble
I would respect your principles if you respected me
If only you helped one another there wouldn't be such trouble in my home town.

CHORUS
In the land where I was born, in South Cotabato
I grew up amidst a great trouble
Because of lack of respect for the beliefs of fellow men
You brought hardship to your fellow Filipinos
Such trouble

I am making this call, asking for your help
Give way to peace, peace in my home land
Why do you need to fight, when you are brothers in blood
When will you agree, when will peace be achieved in my home town

If there were something I could do to help, to help with all my heart
My guitar I offer, for use in times of trouble
If the enemy has no heart, you should still use your own heart
Treat him as a friend, think that he also has a heart like you do

CHORUS
In the land of my birth (why is there trouble) in South Cotabato (in South Cotabato)
I grew up (when will it end) amidst such great trouble (such trouble)
Because of lack of respect (when will they agree) for the beliefs of fellowmen (of men)
Fellow Filipinos (fellow Filipinos) are who you're fighting against (why are you fighting them)
Such trouble...

----------------------

Balita
(Asin)

Chorus:
Lapit mga kaibigan at makinig kayo
ako'y may dala-dalang balita galing sa bayan ko
nais kong ipamahagi ang mga kuwento at
ang mga pangyayaring nagaganap sa lupang ipinangako

I
Ang lupang pinanggalingan ko'y may bahid ng dugo
May mga lorong di makalipad nasa hawlang ginto
may mga puno walang dahon
mga pusong di makakibo
sa mga pangyayaring nagaganap sa lupang ipinangako

II
mula ng makita ko ang lupang ito
nakita ko rin ng munting apoy sa puso ng tao
ginatungan ng mga kabulukan hanggang sa lumago,
ngayon ang puso'y may takot sa lupang pinangako

(repeat chorus)

III
dati rati ang mga bukid ay kulay ginto
dati rati'y ang mga ibon sinlaya ng tao
dati rati ay katahimikan, ang musikang nagpapatulog sa mga batang walang muwang sa mundo

IV
ngayon ang lupang ipinangako ay nagsusumamo
patakan n'yo ng luha ang apoy sa kanyang puso
dinggin n'yo ang mga sigaw ng mga puso
ng taong kung n'yong dadamhing kabilang sa inyo

V
duul mga kaigsuunan ug paminaw kamo
duna koy dala nga mga balita gikan sa banwa ko
gusto ko nga ipahibalo ang mga istorya nga nangakahitabu sa banwang gisaad nato


------------------
News
(Original by Asin; translation by Laya)

Chorus:
Come near my friends and listen
I have brought news from my hometown
I want to disseminate the stories
And the things that are happening in the promised land

I
The land that I came from is stained with blood
There are parrots that cannot fly, in golden cages
There are trees without leaves there are hearts that cannot move
Because of the things that are happening in the promised land

II
From the moment I first saw this land
I also saw the tiny flame in the hearts of men
Fueled by the corruption until it burst into flame
Now hearts are frightened in the promised land

(repeat chorus)

III
Once, the fields were golden
Once, the birds were as free as men
Once, only silence
Lulled to sleep the children who know nothing about the world


IV
Now the promised land is pleading
Drop tears upon the fire in its heart
Listen to the shouts of the hearts
Of men who if you would but feel are part of you


V
Come nearer my brothers and listen
I have brought news from my hometown
I want to disseminate the stories
That are happening in the land that was promised us.

Continue if you care...

*headdesk* Now I realize I've been neglecting this blog, although I've been keeping up Simpleng Kaligayahan because of, well, Teaser Tuesdays. LOL. I guess it's been because this blog was supposed to be about politics and culture and I was, well, hesitant to write something that I hadn't researched much about or couldn't discuss fully. Add in a laptop that decided to act up after one year and a half, and a wonky Internet connection (I'm looking at you, Globe Visibility / Tattoo), and well... Child of Earth doesn't get updated in three weeks! Mea culpa, mea culpa.

Also, I didn't get to do anything much about Typhoons Ondoy and Pepeng except for, well, buying and donating relief goods. And that was only because I found a spare couple of hundred in the pocket of my pants as I was about to wash it. I was pretty broke during those times, because all I had left was supposedly my allowance for fares going to work and meals until payday. Then the office got flooded, and we didn't know when exactly it would be fit for normal operations. But we had to keep the office websites going, so we logged on as much as we were able. Fortunately all but one of the sites had been transferred to commercial servers a few days before Ondoy!

Suddenly my biggest expense was keeping my internet connection going so I'd know what was happening outside. That was the time I wished fervently that I had a postpaid connection or a DSL, because then I wouldn't have to worry about whether I had enough to pay for load, or that I wouldn't have enough credits left to finish uploading and editing articles, each time the connection dropped or disconnected even without reaching a 15-minute increment. (I'm looking at you again, Globe.) It was all I could do to fight the tears of frustration each time I looked at the flat line on the statistics tab, with only five minutes after I'd reconnected. I don't know how much I spent on internet load from September 26, when Ondoy hit, to October 7, when we could finally return to the office. Since I was spending a minimum of five hours a day online, not including the time I spent on Plurk, Twitter and Facebook and the weather sites monitoring the latest updates, and Globe Visibility doesn't have a log, I can't say for sure. Perhaps 800 pesos at the minimum.

It was raining off and on during those days, but thankfully the water in the street outside the house was only knee deep. That made it hard to go out, though, and go to my favorite internet cafe in the next block. The two or three times that I was able to, the internet connection also kept disconnecting at the oddest times... the only good thing about that was paying only 10 pesos an hour if I stayed for five hours, no matter how frequently I got disconnected.

Thankfully, we live on the third floor, so we didn't get flooded. However, we found out how essential it is to waterproof cement when you live in a place that gets a lot of storms... the afternoon that Ondoy hit, my roommate, who had been doing her week's laundry, thought she'd change her clothes, only to realize that they were all wet. Apparently, water had still leaked through the walls and ceiling and pooled on the floor under the beds, where we kept our clothes in traveling bags. We spent the next three days laundering everything and hoping they'd dry. Still, we were very fortunate to have sustained so little damage, when people in other parts of the metro were losing all that they had and sitting on their roofs in the rain.

And all that I was able to do was pack up some spare clothes and canned goods and drop them off at the nearest place that accepted relief goods. I was happy to find the two hundred because that let me buy some mineral water, bread, and more canned goods, as well as some soap, at Puregold and make another trip to drop off donations. I still feel guilty for not doing more. :(

Continue if you care...

Whew. Parokya sa Web, the virtual parish of Running Priest Fr. Robert Reyes, turns a year old on Monday, September 21, 2009. I can't believe it's been a year since I first met Fr. Robert, when we were still setting up Parokya sa Web on the fledgling Philippine Online Chronicles. POC was only a couple of months old at that time.

I'd seen Fr. Robert before on TV, and was curious about the priest who dared to defy the conventions and speak out for what he believed was right. He became a priest without an earthly parish, with a scattered flock. Yet he still believed that what he was doing, what he was fighting for, was right.

When I met Fr. Robert, I realized how revolutionary he was in his own way. How many of us would dare to face censure and jeers and even ostracism for what we believe is right? Far too many of us decide to back down, to hide. Though we may be screaming inside ourselves in anger and frustration, even just the thought of facing the world's contempt is too hard for us to attempt. But Fr. Robert did it, and he is still doing it everyday until this very minute.

I'm not a good Catholic; I can't even be called a Catholic anymore unless it's a lapsed one. Too many policies and stands taken by the church anger me and make me feel that I cannot stay a member of something when I don't agree with its principles. Yet Fr. Robert, even when he dared to challenge many of the decisions and pronouncements of the local church, stayed as devout as ever, something that I always wondered how to do. In spite of all his trials and tribulations, he has stayed steadfast to his faith, has stayed serene and amiable throughout it all, and has even reached out his hand to people from other faiths and does not judge them, but simply accepts. I can't help but admire him. When I read his daily reflections on Parokya sa Web, it helps me attain at least some small measure of his serenity and faith.

Kubol Pag-asa and the Philippine Online Chronicles will be having an event for bloggers to meet and greet Fr. Robert Reyes on Monday, September 21, 2009, from 3:00 to 5:00 pm at Conspiracy Bar, Quezon City. Please come and meet him, no matter what your denomination.

Continue if you care...

As an adolescent, all that I knew of Ninoy Aquino was that he was Cory Aquino's husband, assassinated on the tarmac as he stepped out of the plane when he arrived home after three years of exile. That his death on August 21, 1983, 26 years ago today, was said to have triggered the EDSA Revolution years later, led by his widow who later became President. He was the bespectacled man with the thoughtful gaze on the 500-peso bill, the one who believed that the Filipino is worth dying for. He was the father of Kris Aquino, the actress and TV personality, and of Noynoy Aquino, the politician.


Time went on, and the farther it went from 1986, the farther Ninoy Aquino, and even Cory Aquino, receded from memory as the first EDSA faded in people's minds. Ninoy became no more than the man on the 500-peso bill, his identity compressed into the six words many now considered a laughable banality. Cory became no more than what people viewed as the mother who "could not control" Kris Aquino, the former president who "could not control" many of the things that went on during her administration. Others even began to view EDSA as something that shouldn't have happened, as if things would really have been better under the Marcos dictatorship. A mere 15 years later, EDSA and Ninoy were often given no more than token remembrance when their anniversaries came around. They became "just another holiday," a time off from work or school. Some would even ask the relevance of these holidays, as if they deserved to be relegated into insignificance.

Then Cory got sick and died. And suddenly, with her passing, her late husband and the event they both catalyzed returned to centerstage. Suddenly, the Filipino people remembered that once they had laid their hopes for a better nation upon Ninoy and Cory and EDSA. Suddenly, we realized our hunger for good governance was still alive, though we might disguise it beneath apathy and cynicism at present conditions.

Our reawakening interest in all things Cory and Ninoy-related showed us the sacrifices they voluntarily underwent, with no other motive in mind than the good of the country, so different from the people we call our public officials whom we see and hear almost on a daily basis mouthing things the sincerity and veracity of which we often doubt. How could we believe the professed sincerity and dedication to duty of politicians who say things which their acts then often belie? Politicians who claim to have nothing but the country's welfare in mind, but then use their positions as public officials to line their pockets, expand their business interests, and raise their relatives and cronies to power. Politicians who when their acts are questioned, shrug the questions off as irritating persecutions by opponents or as complete fabrications engineered by enemies of the state, and issue blanket denials and reassurances, expecting people to go on believing what they say. Politicians who, even in the face of mounting dissent, show how little they care for the people they swore to serve when they accepted their positions by refusing to shape up and mend their ways, and even refusing to step down and turn over their posts once their terms have ended.

Ninoy Aquino suffered incarceration and solitary confinement as a matter of principle. His widow always dared to stand up and show civil disobedience even under threat of punishment to make a statement when she was fighting against something she perceived as wrong, fighting for something she perceived as right. How many of our politicians would do the same thing now? How many of us would do the same thing now? How many times have we jeered at activists, rallyists, or even just people fighting for a cause they believed in, and told them that martyrs get shot at the Luneta, implying of course that our first obligation is always to save ourselves at whatever cost? With such a mindset, no wonder our public officials are so free to do what they do. With such public officials to set such good examples, no wonder our people have degenerated to such a level of apathy, thinking only to survive even at the cost of their fellow Filipinos. There is no right and wrong anymore, only kapit sa patalim (clutching the blade), survival and self-prosperity at all costs.

We need more good men and women like Ninoy and Cory Aquino. People whose integrity shine through, unswayed by personal interest or greed for power. People whom we can put our faith in again, who will teach us to trust and who will justify that trust a million times over. People who have unshakable principles, lodestars we can count on to show us the way to a better country. People who can unite us again and bring out the best in us, the kernel of noble character buried deep within the Filipino people.

Because if a Ninoy and a Cory could bring out the best in us, how much more can five, or ten, or fifteen, or fifty, or a hundred such persons? But where will we find them now?

Continue if you care...

I got to La Salle Greenhills at around 7:30 pm last night, still early, I thought. Plenty of time for me to pay my last respects to a woman I have regarded as an icon, an idol, a great inspiration. Just as I was descending the stairs on the overpass near Gate 5, rain suddenly began pouring in great big bucketsful. Good thing I brought my umbrella.

Then I spotted the long, long line into Gate 5. The thought that leaped into my mind was: "Naku, penitensya to! (Oh, no, this will be a penance!)" No matter, I thought, I will see this through. After all, this is the last chance. I'm here. Go go go. I headed for the end of the line... and found it at the corner of Columbia, a block away from the EDSA Shrine. The two elderly women who lined up behind me said that the line stretched all the way to EDSA before doubling back.


But it didn't matter, one of them said, waving at the people in the line before us. "Nagtiyaga nga silang pumila at maghintay, tayo pa kaya (They patiently lined up and waited, we can do the same)."

"Para naman ito kay Cory eh (After all, this is for Cory)," added the young man behind them.

Just ahead of me in the line was an entire family: father, mother, and three daughters. While the two older girls patiently accompanied their mother, the father carried the youngest when she complained she was tired.

There was no shoving or jostling, no complaining. Everyone patiently waited, stopped when the line stopped, advanced when the line moved. People from all walks of life were there. Well-off matrons in pretty dresses, young women carrying shopping bags, young men with iPods, entire families, old people, teenagers with backpacks, nuns, office ladies in uniform... well-dressed, casually dressed, in expensive shoes or flip-flops. Almost all of them in varying shades of yellow... those who weren't in yellow wore black, yellow ribbons on their chests. Fences and lampposts along the way, even the railings of the Ortigas flyover above us, bore fluttering yellow ribbons. Even most of the vehicles that passed... cars, taxis, jeepneys, buses, had yellow ribbons on them.

Hawkers moved along the line, selling crackers, chips, candy, peanuts and bottled drinks. Others offered yellow ribbons, armbands, and shirts saying "We love you Cory. Thank you." A lot of people bought shirts and wore them over their clothing. I saw an elderly lady wearing a yellow ribbon tied around her head. I remembered that I had only had a bowl of pancit canton for breakfast, over eight hours before, so I bought some crackers and C2 iced tea. The elderly woman behind me cautioned me to drink sparingly, as there were no toilets in sight.

The line got stuck for the better part of an hour as Mass was conducted inside La Salle at 8:00 pm. Fortunately, the rain stopped. As we waited, people chatted. Looking around me, I thought that age and distance might have prevented me being at the first EDSA, but this might be a taste of what it was like, this sense of unity, this sense of being there for a united purpose. By the time the line got moving again, it was as if there were no longer any strangers among us. We were there for Cory. Even in her death, as in her life, she united us.

"Parang EDSA ulit ah," I heard someone comment. By then the line had doubled back upon itself again, so that people had to walk from EDSA to La Salle gate and back to EDSA before stepping on the last stretch to get into La Salle. But fortunately, we were already on the last stretch. People were asking us, how long have you been here? When we said we'd been there since 7:30, some of them groaned. But no one looked like they had any intention of giving up and leaving.

As we neared the gate of La Salle, some of Cory's grandsons came out and walked along the line, thanking everyone. "Salamat po sa inyong pakikiramay (Thank you for your condolences)."

No, some of us said. It is us who thank Cory.

When we finally went through the gate of La Salle, I looked at the time. It was 11:00 pm.

From there, it was a long, long trudge up the winding ramp into the dome, though not as long as the one we had outside. Finally we were there, walking up that final aisle, towards the bier at the center where she lay surrounded by yellow flowers. She looked serene, dressed in her trademark yellow, a rosary twined among her clasped fingers. I barely had the time to look and whisper "Thank you po," before we were waved on, to exit through another door.

In the end, the visit was way shorter than the wait, but no matter. At least I got to say goodbye in person to someone whom I have always greatly admired and respected -- Corazon Aquino.

Continue if you care...

Dear Tita Cory,

I cannot count how many times I had thought to myself how fortunate this martial law baby was to grow up a child of EDSA. I was six years old and several islands away in 1986, and the most I can remember of EDSA was being shushed by my parents as they listened to the live broadcasts on the radio. I could not have known then that what was going on was changing the country and the world in ways I could not have imagined.


I was a child, uninterested in current events and politics, when you struggled to restore democracy to this country in 1986, and during the six tumultuous years that followed until you turned over power to Ramos in 1992. I only realized what EDSA was about when I began reading about it in high school and later in college, when I began asking my elders about martial law and EDSA. When I learned how dark were the days in which I had been born, and how different they had been from the days in which I now lived. My elders spoke of fear in the night, of armed men suddenly knocking on people's doors and taking them away never to be seen again, of never knowing what was to happen next, of suspicion and threat everywhere. Yet now, they said, because of EDSA, all that has changed. And I would always think how thankful I am for EDSA.

Studying the Philippine Constitution for law school made me appreciate EDSA all over again, as I learned to dissect the fundamental law of the land, look at its framework, know why it was crafted-- to avert another Martial Law, to protect the people.

Then, a couple of years ago, I wrote your biography for Wikipilipinas. For that article, I had to dig deep, to learn about you... your strengths and your failings, your shortcomings and your triumphs. And what I learned only made me marvel all the more at the indomitable spirit underneath that serene exterior. Faced with many trials and heartbreaks in life, you persevered and you prevailed. You stood up for what you believed in. You dared to face off with a dictator. You united a fragmented people. You showed them that the true power of a country resides not in its officials but in its citizens. You gave them back their freedom. More... you led them in showing the world what People Power really is, for EDSA blazed the way for other, similar revolutions around the globe.

When your term ended, you were unique among all our past presidents in that you stepped down with a light heart, content to pass the torch to another. The power of the position had not corrupted you and although you may have safely gone for another term, you refused. Yet, whenever the democracy you had sought to reestablish was threatened, you were always there to defend it.

Many would point out the shortcomings of your administration. I would dare them to stand up and do as you did, if they were in your place (and they better do a good job of it). You are much more than your presidency, so much more than housewife, mother, grandmother, and wife. You are Cory, Inang Bayan personified, our own version of Lady Liberty, symbol of democracy. Your legacy cannot be quantified in tangible terms, but intangibly, in all the ways that hearts and minds and lives were changed for having been touched by you, not just in our country, but throughout the world.

Now you have gone to your rest, leaving a country bereft of your presence. Where will we find another like you? I only hope that your legacy will never be tossed aside and forgotten, and that someday still, yours and Ninoy's dream of a truly democratic Philippines will still be realized.

Thank you, Tita Cory. We love you.

===============================

Facts about Cory Aquino:

1. She was the first female President of the Philippines.
2. She was the only President who has not held any previous office in government.
3. She was the only President to run by direct nomination of the people... all 1.2 million plus of them who signed the petition endorsing her candidacy.
4. She became President not after a regular Presidential election but a "snap" election.
5. She was the only President to be declared so not by virtue of the official results of the counting of votes, but by a "People's Resolution" signed by about 150 people.
6. She remains the only President who, given the chance to run for a second term, did not do so.

====================================

Awards and Accolades

* 1986 Time Magazine Woman of the Year
* 1986 Eleanor Roosevelt Human Rights Award
* 1986 United Nations Silver Medal
* 1986 Canadian International Prize for Freedom
* 1986 Nobel Peace Prize nominee
* 1986 International Democracy Award from the International Association of Political Consultants
* 1987 Prize For Freedom Award from Liberal International
* 1993 Special Peace Award from the Aurora Aragon Quezon Peace Awards Foundation and Concerned Women of the Philippines
* 1994 One of 100 Women Who Shaped World History (by G.M. Rolka, Bluewood Books, San Francisco, CA)
* 1995 Path to Peace Award
* 1996 J. William Fulbright Prize for International Understanding from the U.S. Department of State
* 1998 Ramon Magsaysay Award for International Understanding
* 1998 Pearl S. Buck Award
* 1999 One of Time Magazine's 20 Most Influential Asians of the 20th Century
* 2001 World Citizenship Award
* 2005 David Rockefeller Bridging Leadership Awards
* 2005 One of the World's Elite Women Who Make a Difference by the International Women's Forum Hall of Fame
* 2006 One of Time Magazine's 65 Asian Heroes
* 2008 One of A Different View's 15 Champions of World Democracy
* EWC Asia Pacific Community Building Award
* Women's International Center International Leadership Living Legacy Award
* Martin Luther King Jr. Nonviolent Peace Prize
* United Nations Development Fund for Women Noel Award for Political Leadership

====================================

Corazon Aquino Quotes

"I could have rigged the 1993 elections for my successor. Instead, I directed the chiefs of the military to do the country proud by assuring a fair and free election, whatever the result. Better still, I could have run myself. The constitutional limitation of a single presidential term did not apply to me; I had taken office under the old Constitution. But that limitation was a cornerstone of the new Constitution I had caused to be drafted and for which I vigorously campaigned. How could I serve as the first example of its moral violation?'"

''January 20, 1993 was therefore one of the proudest moments of my life. I was stepping down and handing the presidency to my duly elected successor. This was what my husband had died for; he had returned precisely to forestall an illegal political succession. This moment is democracy's glory: the peaceful transfer of power without bloodshed, in strict accordance with law. As I left the Palace for the last time, the sentry at the gate gave a final salute to his Commander-in-Chief. With the exception of my predecessor, no President had been so deeply involved with the military as I had been. But there was this distinction between us: I had treated the military with trust and respect, and left it with honor. When the story of the many coup attempts against the young Philippine democracy is told, the treason of a few will be seen against the backdrop of the majority who held firm. They repaid my compliment with loyalty.''

'It is never too late to advance the cause of democracy by honoring its struggles and celebrating its victories. For somewhere in the world, there are always women and men who see what their jailers cannot, through the bars of their prison: in the distant triumphs of democracy – the hope of freedom...There is never a wrong time to honor courage, conviction and right, because these qualities are always in short supply yet ever in infinite demand, wherever freedom is sought and democracy is threatened.''

In Memoriam, Maria Corazon Sumulong Cojuangco Aquino
11th President of the Philippines
January 25, 1933 - August 1, 2009

Continue if you care...

(an open letter to "Nicole" of the Subic Rape Case)

What a Women's Month gift you gave us, Nicole.

After obtaining a conviction in your case, after everything, you suddenly threw it all away. Little by little, you had been working towards victory. He was convicted. He was not being held in our jails, true, but people were working on that. You had faced the public brouhaha the case engendered. You had been through the innuendoes, the malice and the rumors. You were nearly out of the tunnel, Nicole. Then you took it back. Your statement admitted you had behaved improperly, that perhaps you had been mistaken in what happened.

What does it look like now, to us? The newspapers say that you took the 100k he offered and emigrated to his country. They say that you went to join one of his countrymen. We feel betrayed.


I feel betrayed. I had viewed your case as something quite close to the one in "Inherit the Wind." You were a symbol to us of all our countrywomen who had been oppressed by foreigners simply because of our nationality, and far greater insult, this time the oppression had occurred on our own native soil. Would we let the foreigner get away with it? Of course we needed to show that we are not the pushovers they take us to be. We needed to show that the Filipina, despite her submissive reputation as a domestic helper, as a mail-order bride, even as a prostitute, also had dignity and was entitled to respect. Since you were the one involved, you became that symbol, Nicole.

In the end, you stood for none other than our own motherland, which in the words of the song:

"...pag-ibig nasa kanyang palad,
nag-alay ng ganda't dilag,
at sa kanyang yumi at ganda,
dayuhan ay nahalina...
bayan ko, binihag ka, nasadlak sa dusa."

(Love was in her hands,
she offered beauty and splendor,
and because of her gentleness and beauty,
the foreigners were attracted.
My country, you were taken captive and plunged into despair.)

Did it ultimately prove too much for you, Nicole? Did you just want to shout that you cannot be the statue on the pedestal that everyone wanted you to be? Or did you not realize how great a symbol you had become?

A friend of mine says that perhaps you were not strong enough, that was why you gave up the fight. She says perhaps if you had a more activist mentality, perhaps if you had been more idealistic, you might have seen the fight through to the end. As it was, she said, like most of us maybe you just wanted to give up. After all, "what justice could there be in this country?"

Others are only all too ready to heap blame upon your head for your acts, saying that since by your own admission, you were promiscuous after all, you deserved no respect and you proved it by skipping out on the rest of us. Some think that you were all too ready to give up the fight for a little money and the golden opportunity to emigrate to the "land of plenty." Implying, of course, that you are really just no better than the gold-digger which some people in other countries label us Filipinas to be-- all too ready to lie down and spread her legs for a little cash, long devoid of any inherent dignity. And that image does not help us at all.

Why, Nicole, why?

I do not know you as a person. Still, I do not want to condemn you for what many of our other sisters have done by reason of poverty or external pressure. Our country has long rationalized many acts in the name of personal prosperity-- how else would it attain the level of corruption the world perceives in it? We know the concept of "kapit sa patalim" (cling to the knife)-- the justification why so many of our countrymen leave the country to work in other places, no matter if they are overeducated for the job, just as long as it pays better. It takes a person with backbone to stand against that concept, to refuse to be one of those who subscribe to it.

I know too, how in this country things can be deceiving on the surface. I know how innocence can be twisted till it looks the very picture of guilt. I know too how guilt may be whitewashed till it looks the very image of innocence. I know how great a role money and influence play in those transformations, especially when it comes to politics. I know how this can subvert truth till it cannot be found anymore. Which is why, in the face of all the recriminations being laid at your door, even in my disappointment I do not want to judge you, Nicole.

What happened, Nicole? Only you know the truth... but then again, when it comes to this country, does anyone ever know the truth anymore?

Continue if you care...

So wrapped up in trying to get a website online, we didn't even notice there was a storm brewing. We managed to get the site up 30 minutes before quitting time on Friday, June 20, 2008, then rushed home ahead of the gathering rain. At approximately the same time that my co-workers and I left the office, a ferry had left port a few kilometers away from our workplace in Quezon City and was making its way out of Manila Bay towards a fateful rendezvous with death. I was glad the next day when the heavy rains gave me an excuse not to render Saturday overtime, inspiring me to sleep late and not even turn on the TV. A way to compensate for nearly three weeks of uber-overtime including whole weekends. It was Sunday when I tuned in to GMA News and saw the newsflash-- San Fernando, Romblon mayor Nanette Tansingco's radio interview, where she said that she had sent their municipal Chief of Police and members of the Bantay Dagat in a speedboat to verify the wreck "nakita nilang may nakataob na barko may butas sa gitna (they saw a ship belly up with a hole in the middle)" but they couldn't get near it because of rough seas and almost zero visibility.

The ship was the M/V Princess of the Stars-- Sulpicio Lines' "flagship". Supposedly with a capacity of 1,992 passengers, it was carrying only a little over 800 people when it crossed the path of a meandering Typhoon Frank near Sibuyan Island, Romblon at noon on Saturday, June 21, 2008. According to the few survivors, it was all over in 15 minutes. They described waves as tall as mountains (mas malaki pa sa simbahan), saying that the ship slowed down and began to tilt. It was noon and lunch was being served when the order came to abandon ship. Of the more than 800 people on board including about 50 children and infants, only about 57 lived to tell the tale.

Much has been written and continues to be written on the "culture of disaster" that seems to permeate the Filipino way of life -- fatalism, belief in Divine Providence and fate, "bahala na". With the Princess of the Stars, and, it seems, as with all the other ferry disasters this country has endured, Murphy's Law always caught people at their weakest and most inattentive times. If I remember correctly, the M/V Vector smashed into the Dona Paz in what came to be considered "the world's worst peacetime maritime disaster" when, it was said, the tanker's crew were napping, watching television and drinking beer. Such inattention to duty, accompanied with sheer overloading and the desire to turn a profit on the side of the powers that be that made the Dona Paz possible (would it be rude to call it greed? :P), cost over 4,000 lives-- nearly four times the death toll of the famous Titanic-- and made the Christmas of 1987 one of the saddest in this nation's history. This time, a ship was allowed to sail in disregard of a gathering storm-- a fatal miscalculation. Or was it a miscalculation? The word miscalculation denotes a mistake, an error. If you knew that grave danger was looming, would you still walk willingly into it, or would you try to get as far away from it as you could? What would you call the act of someone who would knowingly lead over 800 people into a dangerous situation? You'd not call it a mistake, but arrant foolhardiness, right?

Yet, so many do it, like the man who gambles his family's food budget for a month, on the risk of winning-- never considering that he may lose. Princess of the Stars was just this gamble magnified-- the gamble of bringing the ship in safe and on time (as if Sulpicio ships were ever on time). It was a gamble that should not have been made on the lives of people. It was a disaster waiting to happen. The shipping company called it an act of God. Instead, in view of the many ferry disasters that this company has been involved in in the past, and in view of all the lives that it has gambled with and lost to the deeps of the seas, I only remember one of our folk adages: "Kaisa, suyap. Kaduha, sipyat. Katatlo, katangahan, ukon gintuyo na. (Once is a mistake, twice may be a coincidence, but thrice is either foolhardiness, intentional negligence, or deliberate malice.)"

I never dreamed that the first articles I'd write for my new site, the one we'd just put up the Friday before, would be on Typhoon Frank and the Princess of the Stars disaster. As I read the news coverage and wrote my stories, tears kept trickling down my face to the chagrin of everybody in the office including myself. Tears of sorrow, of frustrated rage, that was all that I and everyone else could offer, all of us who ask: Did it have to happen?

Continue if you care...