Sui Caedere

“But in the end one needs more courage to live than to kill himself.”
― Albert Camus

He walked through unconsciousness and never 
believed in fate, of faith, and of fait that providence
is nothing and devoid of meaning. He have stiffen
admission of truth, of realities, and the corollary promise
of hope and tenderness of the days ahead. He failed.
He stumbled. And he rolled through the open pit dirtying
his soul deliberately so that he cannot be cleansed
forever. He devoured the aroma of the filthy waters and
the fragrance of the stinky sludge that the pit has gladly offered.
He stopped dreaming. He ceased believing. He bore
to death and intended not to be awakened
anymore until the rain soaked him with water
seemingly consecrated with hope.
A hope, however it is in form or substance, he considered
the downpour in anticipation of hope.
Void hope. Suffice it to say that heavens do bestow false hope.
For the second time he died. Along with him, his premeditated
intent to slay himself perpetually. But he cannot. He certainly
did not. He was breathing endlessly and no matter
how he held his breath, holes of air intake constantly come into aid like it was destined eternally


that he cannot die; that he shall breath forever; that he shall live under the
authority of heavens whom he shall only entrust his life.

The insolence of an ungrateful alien

NB: This article is a reaction/open letter of the blogger to Mr. Herdy La. Yumul's article on http://riknakem.net/2013/08/06/for-speaking-ilokano-3-students-expelled-by-christian-school/

Photo courtesy of http://anti-oppressive-education.uregina.wikispaces.net/

Dear Herdy,

 

I just read your article about the three young students who were kicked out of school for speaking our native vernacular—Ilokano.

I am saddened and at the same time alarmed to learn that those students enrolled in that school (Saviours Christian Academy, Laoag City) are arbitrarily deprived of their right to speak in their local tongue, within the school premises.

Over the last decade, as our country grows more diverse, mostly from the influx of recent immigrants, we are seeing increased number of cases of language-based discrimination, particularly in schools and in the workplace. English-only rules, accent discrimination in hiring or promotion practices, and lack of translation of safety information are some of the common complaints—all of which are constitutive of coercion and deprivation of the right to freedom speech.

For Mr. Brian Shah, he has a responsibility to be culturally aware of his students and encourage diversity. His immersion in this country and him being an alien, should strike a chord on him of the respect and admiration we have accorded to him when he first set his foot to our land. Thus, such respect and admiration should be also reciprocated with high regard to our heritage as Ilokanos—as we speak naturally, the vernacular Iluko despite of some of us being educated with Spanish, French, and English languages.

It is shameful that people discourage others from speaking their native language. Wouldn't it be nice if everyone had the freedom and right, to speak their own language in public without fear of persecution from those that cannot understand them and have no desire to do so? Some day it may be illegal to speak Ilokano or Iluko in this province. Logically and in case of doubts, then just remember that English is not the native language of Ilocos Norte.

By the way, the 1987 Constitution guarantees the freedom of speech as the political right to communicate one's opinions and ideas using one's body and property to anyone who is willing to receive them. It includes any act of seeking, receiving and imparting information or ideas, regardless of the medium used—and that should mean to include all kinds of vernacular including Ilokano. Such right is accorded to all human beings, young and old. In fact, freedom of speech and of expression is a universally recognized human right.

In one case, the Court declared that it is incompetent for the government to prohibit the teaching of the German language to students between certain age levels since there is nothing inherently harmful in the language that will impair the upbringing of the child, and in fact, such a subject could improve his academic background.

Relative to this, speaking of Ilokano within the school premises should also be viewed the same way, as “there is nothing inherently harmful that will impair the upbringing of our children if they speak in Ilokano.”

Simply put, to educate children on our native tongue is an imperative. In fact, in these times when children are exposed everyday to myriad of information in the television, internet and other mass media, it is even past the time to ask if the inclusion of the Ilokano language should be discussed in formal education. Why? Because Ilokano or Iluko is a recognized form of verbal communication.

The development of our children is a concern of all institutions in the society especially the schools who are responsible in teaching and molding them. It is in schools where we partly or wholly entrust the future of our kids.

The act of Mr. Shah in dealing with the three young people is a reminder to all of us that such a type of oppression still exists. I hope, that this example of ignorance will not be forgotten and may all of us continue to move forward while creating a world that fosters children to embrace their heritage.


Sincerely,

Anton

Life's one, two, tree

“What we are doing to the forests of the world is but a mirror reflection of what we are doing to ourselves and to one another.” ~ Mahatma Gandhi

Planting a Neem tree in Paayas, Burgos, Ilocos Norte during the International Arbor Day Celebration, June 25, 2013. Neem tree is a tree in the Mahogany family Meliaceae which grows in the tropical and semi- tropical regions. It is a fast growing tree which can reach a height of 15-20 meters.

Said Herman Hesse; "For me, trees have always been the most penetrating preachers. I revere them when they live in tribes and families, in forests and groves. And even more I revere them when they stand alone. They are like lonely persons. Not like hermits who have stolen away out of some weakness, but like great, solitary men, like Beethoven and Nietzsche. In their highest boughs the world rustles, their roots rest in infinity; but they do not lose themselves there, they struggle with all the force of their lives for one thing only: to fulfill themselves according to their own laws, to build up their own form, to represent themselves. Nothing is holier, nothing is more exemplary than a beautiful, strong tree. When a tree is cut down and reveals its naked death-wound to the sun, one can read its whole history in the luminous, inscribed disk of its trunk: in the rings of its years, its scars, all the struggle, all the suffering, all the sickness, all the happiness and prosperity stand truly written, the narrow years and the luxurious years, the attacks withstood, the storms endured. And every young farmboy knows that the hardest and noblest wood has the narrowest rings, that high on the mountains and in continuing danger the most indestructible, the strongest, the ideal trees grow.

Trees are sanctuaries. Whoever knows how to speak to them, whoever knows how to listen to them, can learn the truth. They do not preach learning and precepts, they preach, undeterred by particulars, the ancient law of life.

A tree says: A kernel is hidden in me, a spark, a thought, I am life from eternal life. The attempt and the risk that the eternal mother took with me is unique, unique the form and veins of my skin, unique the smallest play of leaves in my branches and the smallest scar on my bark. I was made to form and reveal the eternal in my smallest special detail.

A tree says: My strength is trust. I know nothing about my fathers, I know nothing about the thousand children that every year spring out of me. I live out the secret of my seed to the very end, and I care for nothing else. I trust that God is in me. I trust that my labor is holy. Out of this trust I live.

When we are stricken and cannot bear our lives any longer, then a tree has something to say to us: Be still! Be still! Look at me! Life is not easy, life is not difficult. Those are childish thoughts. Let God speak within you, and your thoughts will grow silent. You are anxious because your path leads away from mother and home. But every step and every day lead you back again to the mother. Home is neither here nor there. Home is within you, or home is nowhere at all.

A longing to wander tears my heart when I hear trees rustling in the wind at evening. If one listens to them silently for a long time, this longing reveals its kernel, its meaning. It is not so much a matter of escaping from one's suffering, though it may seem to be so. It is a longing for home, for a memory of the mother, for new metaphors for life. It leads home. Every path leads homeward, every step is birth, every step is death, every grave is mother.

So the tree rustles in the evening, when we stand uneasy before our own childish thoughts: Trees have long thoughts, long-breathing and restful, just as they have longer lives than ours. They are wiser than we are, as long as we do not listen to them. But when we have learned how to listen to trees, then the brevity and the quickness and the childlike hastiness of our thoughts achieve an incomparable joy. Whoever has learned how to listen to trees no longer wants to be a tree. He wants to be nothing except what he is. That is home. That is happiness.”

Balanggiota

You always ask me. That is, likely.

And no, I do not give answers. You are sensitive.

I am, too. No, I do not give answers.

You always sway me. That is, likely.

And no, I cannot be twisted. You are steel.

I am, too. No, I cannot be twisted.

You always seize me. That is, likely.

And no, I cannot be captive. You are permanent.

I am, too. No, I cannot be captive.

You try to hook me. That is, likely.

And no, I cannot be clasped. You are enduring.

I am, too. No, I cannot be clasped.

You try to obliterate me. That is, likely.

And no, I am not easily wiped out. You are disaster.

I am, too. No, I am not easily wiped out.

You try to lambast me. That is likely.

And no, I cannot be censured. You are free.

I am, too. No, I cannot be censured.

You entice me. That is likely.

And no, I am not overwhelmed. You are devastating.

I am, too. No, I cannot be overwhelmed.

Ask.

Sway.

Seize me.

Hook.

Obliterate.

Lambast.

Entice me.

Asshole.

Ode to Monching

Dear Monching,

Dalawang buwang mahigit mong hinintay ang araw na’to. Alam kong, excited ka sa bagong mundo—malamang para sayo, ito ngayon ang real world. I saw your eagerness to learn, your desire to be free and of course, I know, you’re longing for new friends, too.

My kid Fiel Sigmund, then 3 years old, whom I endearingly call Monching.

I saw you so happy when mum have told you this morning that she has taken a leave from work so she could accompany you on your first day to school. I wish I am too, but Dad has some equally important work to do. Anyway, you know I can always catch up with you, awesome kiddo!

You see, yours is different from mine when I first set my foot in “real school.” Wala pang trolley bag na Cars o kaya Batman backpacks nung araw, o kung meron man, hindi pa uso, o kaya walang pambili si Nanay. Hindi rin uso ang hatid- sundo noon o school service. Kailangan magising at gumalaw ng maaga para sa halos isang kilometrong lakaran papuntang school. You see, old times are tough. Hindi katulad ngayon, almost everything is easier.

Mum and Dad graduated from the same university where we are sending you now. It’s a great school for amazing kids like you. Well, you are amazing because you have shown us remarkable cleverness and cunning attitude since you were born. You were thoughtful and sweet on your own ways, though you are exceptionally “makulit.”

You always say that you wanted to go to big school. At, ito na nga-- ang araw na iyong pinakahihintay. Mum and Dad are not expecting medals, ribbons, and certificates from you. You know those are only made of metals, satin sheets, and papers and sometimes they can be bought—ugh, somewhere else (like others do). But if you can bring home some “metals, satin sheets, and papers” those would be great compliment anyhow. We only ask you to make good on your studies, be diligent at all times, and that would sufficiently make us proud.

Ah, you may still get dirty and stinky or soil your school uniform ‘coz I know you don’t just do something without learning. Its okay, you can always play when it is time to play but, remember to be smart and tough as I have always taught you.

Hey kiddo, I am going to tell you some more on a weekend when we bike outdoors or jog at the stadium. Am sure you’d be glad to listen more of my pre- school stories or maybe interested to learn some stuff about “bullies” or boring subjects.

Bye for now. I love you kiddo!


Dad

PS: Don’t be late and forget not about our ‘deal.’

5IVE: Limang Retorika

Hindi kita bibigyan ng mamahaling tsokolate, o bunch of white roses, o di kaya'y recite a lovely poem, o magi-status ng matatamis at matatalinghagang love quotes upang mapasaya ka ngayong 5th wedding anniversary natin. Alam mo namang ‘di talaga ako mahilig magbigay nang mga ganun, lalo na sa tsokolate, dahil marami lang tayo sa bahay (hehehe). Alam ko namang sa bawat araw ng ating buhay, samut saring karanasan na sumasalamin sa matamis na pagmamahalan ang ating pinagdaraanan. Nandiyan ang saya, lungkot, kulitan, harutan, suntukan sa braso, at minsan "silent wars" din- yung tipong walang iimik tas may mangiyak- ngiyak na lang later on, pero sa bandang huli, a tight hug will sink in all bad feelings. Kumbaga, ang pagmamahalan natin, full of spices at surprises na din. Ikaw ba naman kasi ang nakapag- asawa ng malikot at makulit.

Sabi nila, kapag anniversary daw, kelangan mag- celebrate. Pero para sa akin, mas higit pa ang call for celebration kasi sa tingin ko, ang araw na'to ay sadyang itinadhana para pagsamahin tayo at ipahiwatig sa buong universe na may katulad nating nagmamahalan-- ng buong puso, sa hirap at ginhawa, sa lungkot at saya, meron man tayo o wala, at walang mga kondisyon kapalit ng pagmamahal.

We have changed over the years, but the sparkle in our eyes is as bright as ever and my love for you is even stronger. It has been another year. Time flies when you're having fun, ika nga!

Kaya naman, congratulations to us, we are five today. At dahil para sa akin, everyday ay anniversary natin, panata ko, hindi ako magsasawang magsasabi sa’yo ng “I love you Mommy Doc” araw- araw, at mas lalong hindi ako magsasawang kantahan ka ng I wanna Grow Old With You ni Adam Sandler bago matulog-- at siempre, makita ang iyong kagandahan tuwing imumulat ang mga mata sa umaga.

Kampay para sa limang taong pagmamahalan, Mommy Doc Sherlyn Bactin Nicolas!






Me and my wife, Dr. Sherlyn Bactin- Nicolas whom I fondly call Mommy Doc. We tied the knot on May 17, 2008 at the Immaculate Conception Parish in Batac City. We have one kid-- Fiel Sigmund who is a pre- schooler at the the MMSU- LES.

Walrusian Sonnet: Of love and autonomy

Today, I let go of his hands free from mine
Then he started to stroke his pencil with great liberation
On his pad paper, he wrote my name in full and so her mom's.

He never said he was proud of it.
I said, I am and her mom too.
He smiled back. I knew he was learning on his own.

He is only four
And I mean to grant him further freedom, choice, autonomy.

I would not know what he wants to be
But I certainly know where he will be.