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.

Founded in Faith, Centered on Love

Today is September 18, 2012. It is my birthday and it is been a while since I posted my last blog. And no, not that I am tired of writing, perhaps, I am just too selective what articles from my journal deserves a post. Yet, this time I am not lifting an article from my journal. I am writing what my heart dictates. No edits. No right clicking to check on the right word or synonyms that would fit well to my sentence construction. In short, I am just purely writing, this time under the throb of my heart and compulsion of my mind.

“Hinubog ng tatlumpo't tatlong taong pagmamahal, pag- aaruga, at pagkakakilanlan bilang tao-- kaibigan, anak, kapatid, asawa at ama. Haggang ngayon, hindi pa rin pumipikit ang mga pilik.Tuloy ang daloy ng dugo at buhay sa bawat kahinaan at kalakasan. Ang mga karanasan sa buhay, matamis man o singpait ng katas ng gumamela, naging bahagi ang mga ito kung bakit ako naging AKO. Tuloy ang buhay, ang saya. Think happiness, ika'nga.”

The preceding snatch which I posted over Facebook had solicited some “likes” and sumptuous comments. Truly, the line came through my mind while I was looking at some of my pictures on my net book until my mind wandered travelling back some years from the past up to the present times.

Growing up in a brood of three while our father is away for the most part of the year and with our mother taking charge of all the chores at home, I am a witness of the “hard life before we get into a dwelling called home,” or that “educate yourself if you want to see the world” experience.

My father was a constant absentee from home not because of severance. He was on every two- year contract as a foreman of a furniture manufacturing company in the Middle East way back in the early 80’s up to the mid- 90s where he finally settled home due to the Gulf War. My mother on the other hand, was our constant guide, a mother cum father for us three kids.

Me and my wife, Sherlyn.

Like any typical mother, ours was a constant hard disciplinarian with a twist of some “sticks and yell” whenever house rules were evaded. Largely, our Manong takes responsibility towards me and to our youngest when mother would get off from the family home to do some commerce or trade nearby, sometimes out of town.

Our parents sent the three of us brothers in the same school from pre- school way up in the college. According to them, learning is best in public schools and universities. At one point, I despised my mother for not letting me go to the school where I wanted to pursue a degree in college. But as usual, mother’s decisions were like a judge’s final resolution- non appealable and even an attempt for a motion for reconsideration is prima facie denied.

After all, Manong was an attestation to my mother’s claim that public schools are the best schools. He obtained his Electrical Engineering degree from a local state university and hurdled the board examination the same year after his graduation. In short, I and our youngest were also sent to the same state university where Manong have attended. Later, I would graduate with a communication degree and our youngest, a computer engineer.

Back in the middle 90’s when my father finally came home for good, my family moved to a modest house adjacent from my father’s family home where we stayed, perhaps until I was five or six years old. The new home was far better than where we were I thought, since we were previously under one roof with my father’s parents and siblings. My father was eldest in a brood of ten— some were married and had children too whom I play with during weekends.

As I rekindle, I fairly revive that I have experienced labor during my tender years. Not because I was required by my parents but because I was envious to my friends who seem to enjoy some trade such as picking chico fruit and sell the same in the neighbourhood. In doing so, I would be able to afford to buy a bottle of Coke or Mello Yellow after I sold mine.

At one point, Manong and I have also experienced buying and selling old bottles, scrap metals, and other wisp goodies with our own kariton. This time, my brother and I have to pretend like we were just out picking chico fruit but in reality, we were engaged in buy and sell with our push carts intentionally not brought home. Otherwise, we would be prevented from doing our “business” forever. Yet, my mother would later find out what we were doing. Since then, my Manong and I was prevented from leaving our house early in the morning during weekends, my mother, under the impression that we would go back in that buy and sell stuff.

Rarely having a common time due to conflict of schedules, it is worthy to note that this photo (including two Yayas on the most right) is the most complete family picture ever taken. On the pool from L-R is Hannah (Manong's eldest child), Manong Randy, Jabez (Manong's second child), my kid Monching and wife Sherlyn, Theresa (my mother), and Ate Joy (Hannah and Jabez' Yaya. On top from L-R , me, my father Jun, and youngest brother Loyd who stays in Makati, Phl. and Ate Jaja (Monching's Yaya). September 16, 2012

Since I was small, I was made to understand by my parents and was taught by the circumstances that surround me that life would not be fine sans the hard work and cooperation. For example, my mother would post a work list in our kitchen’s back door indicating therein the specific jobs for us three brothers such as who will wash the dishes, mop the floor, pump the deep well or water the plants. Ignoring such specific duties would bar anyone of us from watching TV or play dodge ball with the other kids around.

Nonetheless, our mother, the expert disciplinarian educated us with the best home-grown teachings which are beyond compare to the principles and theories that are taught within the four corners of any popular learning institutions.

My father, on the other hand, is an epitome of a gentle family man worth emulating. While on vacation, my father would make sure that all of us would have a chunk of his modest precious time. Born traveller and adventurous, he would bring us out of town and meet other relatives and family friends. We would go out for a picnic or breakfast over the beach or even stay longer to watch the sunset. At home, he would cook us some mouth- watering kebab inspired foodstuffs while singing Tom Jones or Engelbert Humperndick songs. My father memorizes his lyrics along with the slightest pause or falsetto of each song he sings and I was his number one fan. In fact, I first learned my basic guitar chords from him when I was six during one of his vacations at home from abroad.

He was a book enthusiast and an accomplish historian in his own right. Not because he did study time and history in a modest university but because he was a vast reader of histories from the holy book up to the latest issues on human invasion to the moon or planet Mars. Conceivably, I could have inherited his deep passion for books.

Most of all, my father is a living proof that a college degree is not a requirement for one to see some of the most significant historical sites in the world. For one, he would account during his vacations that he had visited the birthplace of Jesus in Israel, the Holy mountain of Mount Sinai in the north western Saudi Arabia, and the cradle of civilization of Iraq. 

In fact, nearly two decades now since my father came home for good, he could still write and speak Arabic fluently and can communicate basic Indian and Bangla languages. Just recently, when my aunt along with her Punjab husband from Malaysia spent summer with us, our foreigner- uncle was surprised that my father could speak basic Indian- Punjabi dialect.

Looking back now, I have seen the saga of my life and my family like a roller coaster. The joys unforgotten, the hardships that inspired me, the knowledge acquired throughout my existence, my frustrations and desperation-- they have become the core of my persona. Within the sphere of influence though, I strongly attribute that whatever I have become now, the family whom I was with from the day of my conception until birth, is the same family whom I adore when I speak about love and values.

Truly, I have gone far from where I started. Life goes on, and perfect bliss is always around despite everyday confrontation with various negative atmospheres. And when I grow older, I would mean to tell my child's child that once upon a time I had a family that was founded in faith and centered on love, and that he is destined to be the apparent heir of great love, kind-heartedness, and wisdom.

oOo

Jay Go

Umaga. Hindi kailangang magsuot

Jay Go

ng dress upang masasabing maayos
ka tingnan. Salamin ng kaayusan ay
nasa isipan lang. Itanong mo pa
kay Nathan.
Hapon. Hindi kailangang
maligo para ang amoy mabango.
Pwede namang sa salamin lang
maaaring malaman kung amoy
paminta ka ba o toyo.

Pero, hindi sapat. Hindi akma ang
pag- iisip na binayo ni Karen
nitong nakaraan. Hindi tama ang
lugar kung saan isinilid ang damdaming
matagal nang nagtitimpi sa kahibangan.
Hindi pwedeng malaman ni Karl na para sa'yo
hindi mo talaga sya kaibigan.

Tuloy, nawaglit sa isipan
na hindi na kailanma babalik sa harap
ng salamin. Ayaw mo. Hindi mo maatim tingnan
ang mukhang parang espasol sa kapal
ng foundation na inilagay
ni Helen. Sabi mo, tsaka na lang.
Kapag maayos ka nang tingnan.

Tsaka na lang.

Unseating the Chief Justice: The Grand Coronation

At the outset of the so- called trial of the century after former President Joseph Ejercito Estrada’s impeachment in 2000, I can almost hear Michael Buffer’s trademarked catchphrase “Let’s get ready to rumble.....!” announcing the ‘President Noynoy Aquino versus Chief Justice Renato Corona’ match at the Senate of the Philippines impeachment court that has disappointed more Filipinos in the recent months.

Yes, the commotion between the two highest leaders in the judiciary and the executive branches in the country is a pandemonium that grimly affects the Filipino people. Simply put, it shouldn’t be like that. Both bodies should respect each other and subsist to achieve the ends of equity and justice and the general welfare every Filipino.

It’s distressing, however, that two of the highest leaders of the country today have forgotten their Constitutional mandate, that is, to serve the public more than their vested personal interests. Yet, it is evident from the recent actions between the judiciary and the executive branches of their immaturity and neglect to the true needs of the people, more so, of breaching the so called ‘public trust.’

For the first time in Philippine history, the leaders of the Executive and Judicial branches of the government had come to the open, firing their accusations to each other with dismay and arrogance. The President accused of bullying the Chief Justice, while the latter accused the former of disrespect and lack of civility.

Since Aquino was sworn to office in June 2010, he vowed to ‘cleanse’ the government by ‘removing from public office and hold liable those who have transgressed the law.’ His first move was the creation of the Truth Commission which was tasked to investigate the alleged corruption and cheating scandals that hounded the nine-year Arroyo administration. Aquino eyed former SC Chief Justice Hilario Davide Jr. to lead the commission.

SCRA. The MMSU College of Law where the author takes his Llb/Juris Doctor is equipped with facilities such as the law library where it houses annotated Supreme Court Reports.

Thus, in another blow to President Noynoy’s administration, the Supreme Court headed by Corona has declared unconstitutional the much trumpeted Truth Commission. Voting 10-5, the Supreme Court ruling effectively barred the prosecution of former President Gloria Macapagal Arroyo and other officials and parties involved in alleged scandals under the previous administration.

The majority, among others, held that EO 1 (Executive Order 1) which attempted to create the Truth Commission violated the equal protection clause of the Constitution in as much as it singles out for investigation the reports of graft and corruption in the previous administration.

Then on, the cold war between the executive and legislative branches of the government fired up. For the first time a President boldly expressed his overly dismay against the judicial branch of the government while the latter stood with its decisions without any word of reprisal against the highest leader of the land.

In retaliation, the Chief Executive of the country publicly humiliated the chief magistrate of the highest tribunal, who was just an inch away from him on the occasion of a very important summit and in front of many morally and intellectually upright folks. The act was appalling. Majority of whom who were present in that particular occasion were members of the Bar. Beyond imagination, the speech delivered by President Aquino was no less than a slap in the face of the officers and members of the court, more so to the Chief Justice who seemed to have been subdued by what he just heard.

Arrogant, disrespectful, lack of civility, pathetic, megalomaniac, political dog—these were the words used to describe each other that Aquino and Corona blatantly expressed in their word wars which was published, viewed and heard in local and international media. Virtually, the Malacanang Palace portrayed the Supreme Court’s Chief Justice as a protector of the villains in the past administration.

Diverse reactions from the masses surfaced. Mostly were in disgust over the two warring heads. To some, there was actually nothing new—our dear Philippines have been lost for many decades due to precarious political situations.

Some said that the Aquino administration is disrespectful to the highest tribunal and has encroached into the independence of the judiciary. On one hand, the Supreme Court has kept its silence until Corona broke his voice a day before the impeachment trial and bravely announced that the President’s reason for putting him in the hot tub is plainly to vindicate his personal qualms.

Whatever the reason or reasons are, the on- going impeachment trial in the Senate is another sabotage in the political and economic sectors of the country. Time and again, the oligarchs in the three branches of the government have become the source of unsound situation that has put more Filipinos disgruntled with the breed of leaders this country has.

To many, the prosecution of Chief Justice Corona is an indication that the democratic system in this country is evident. However, it cannot also be concealed that the same system is thwarted and garnished by corrupt, ill- mannered, and feeble- minded public officials who have become the transgressors of law in the front line.

On a personal opinion, the three branches of the government, as an underlying principle, are mandated to serve and protect the interest and the general welfare of the masses. This principle is well entrenched in the Constitution—the fundamental law of this country. Yet, such duty is impaired due to political interests and gluttony of power which has left this country behind the shadows of its neighbouring Asian nations.

While it is true that compared to other countries, democracy so to speak, in the Philippines is well recognized, there is an urgent need for a major facelift and work out the details of our democratic system—to direct growth and shape our future all in conformity with the traditions and culture of our race. 

Consequently, the Philippine problem on politics and the so- called ‘democracy’ should be discussed in the light of true and real statesmanship—in a plane far above narrow, petty arguing regarding bribery, bossism, demagoguery, feuds, scandals—for these exists everywhere even in the most enlightened nations. After all, this country needs more reconstruction to re-establish its marred name, the Pearl of the Orient.

The political annals of this country have been blemished in countless times and patent with the notion that whenever a new political leader assumes power, the first move is to eliminate personalities that were appointed by previous administration. Vindication, avenge, conviction, cleansing, towards the right path? Whatever you call it, it does not make sense.

In other countries like the superpower United States, republicans and democrats, despite of their varying policies and political beliefs, they forge a harmonious working relationship for their citizens. So that at the end of the day, the general welfare of their people, justice and equity, and stable economy is delivered.

Our dear Philippines on the other hand, is also best served by our leaders- the other way around. Political coalitions simply stand ground on their crooked principles and remain adversaries until they end up instituting court action to get rid of their political foes from public office. They call that democracy. I simply call it ‘democrazy.’

One thing is clear though— democracy has been abused as an insensible arsenal of the political crooks of this country in order to bend the rule of Law.

Whatever the outcome of the impeachment trial, the personal interests of the two highest leaders would still benefit the most. Whether or not Corona will be exonerated and the State will be justified with its accusations, everything stays the same except that the results of the trial will form part as a newly established jurisprudence which will become as a condition precedent later on to another impeachment trial of an unwanted public official.

On the move is the grand ‘Coronation’. I wonder when do we draw closer to a great evolution?

oOo

What it takes to be a Father?

Monching and I. The writer enjoys playing football with his 2 year old

 kid.

My life changed with a birth.

It was not an instant. The test came right through when my first child was born. With great keenness and diminutively anxious, these feelings were almost soaked through my knees undermining my consciousness, when I first had my eyes met with this little angel. Suddenly, the world had stopped and changed in a split second.

At the outset of my first encounter with my precious little thing, I initially thought of great things, joyful moments, and that entire positive aura that came across my psyche. The atmosphere was filled with bliss. His eyes, there’s no doubt that he had mine. His lips, the softest I’ve ever touched and those pair of eyebrows which had turn out to be astonishingly as those that her mum’s exquisite eyebrows. Besides, whatever he may look like, he’s my son. As far as going to be a father is concerned, I can only confer upon him the greatest love and affection a father could give to his child.

Time had come into pass, the tide had its turn to become so much faster as it gets. Days rolled over and I could not accept as true that I had been a father for quite sometime.  As far as I can tell, if someone have ever become a father, I assume the strangest and strongest sensation of life will be hearing for the first instance the lean cry of the child. For a second, I had this bizarre emotion of being twofold.

But there was rather, further somewhat impossible to analyze- probably the resonance in a man’s heart of all the sensations felt by all fathers and mothers at a similar moment in the history. It is a very kindhearted, but also a very indistinct feeling. For to have my child all wrap up in my arms, I’ve always felt that the good Lord has given me the best present a man could ever obtain in his possession.

FRIES. French fries is symbol of bonding between me and my son.

There are occasions when he would scramble into my lap and coil into the crook of my left upper limb, and then I would cuddle him in return. I couldn’t move about that arm, but I could cradle him in it. I could kiss the top of his head. And I could have no reservation that those were one of the sweetest moments of my existence. I cannot exactly remember the first time he called me Daddy, but that didn’t matter because what was material was how he let the word spoken out from his gentle lips; a charming song to my ears, a shot through my heart, a food to my soul.

Being a father was not as simple as it gets. I had to reflect in the stillness of the night what possessions I could leave to my child when I depart from him. Almost certainly, he shall become heir to those desirable qualities I may impart to him while he grows old. Because one day, my child will be all grown up and I will mean to take off my mask to carry on where I left off. I may have lost twenty years or so, maybe thin on top, as my child tower over me and thump me on the head, however it maybe, I’ll be the proudest man for I became the best father of my own, a master of my offspring, a grand champion in the art of loving.

In the hours of darkness while my world is in solitude with my child, I would transform into a fantasist. I would think of him as a brilliant lawyer (in case I will fail the bar exams) like Jake Brigance in the novel A Time to Kill by John Grisham firing his finest argument in the highest court  or perhaps a vibrant community leader like Nelson Mandela who transformed the Africas in many ways. At the very least, I would still end up shrugging my shoulders off and realize that my child should choose the path he needs to take, by his own, with my guidance.

I may never become the next President or never make it to Pilipinas Got Talent, may never read all Harry Potter novels or see an original painting by Leonardo. I was born unfortunate and, in spite of working hard all my life, I may always be meager, though, I will be swollen with pride, self-taught, and will leave no amount overdue which may torment my child’s name later on. If I had any concealed imaginings, further than of being a fine man, a dedicated father, and a fond husband, no one will eternally know about them. If profound misgivings, reservations, or personal qualms will distress me, I’ll never state them, by choice and being a father.

A single object is for sure, I have constantly sought that my child will be sensitive that years of having acknowledged and respected as a father have transformed me from Daddy, the straightforward human being, into Daddy the almost saint. At the end of the day, my child ought to arrive into the conclusion that there was nothing wrong with the way I brought him up.

In other words, whatever it takes to be a father, one has to be self-assured enough that his child will become as he wish he could be. Let a child learn how he wishes he want to. At the very least, he must test the waters by himself so that on his own and at the end of the day, he would surface with pride, proud of being self- taught of the things he needed to know. If in the future my child may fail, I must stand ground to defeat any obstruction that may arrive so that he may come for a reason to effectuate my fervent prayers and wishes for him.

I may not be the greatest father of all time however, one thing is for sure: I would take whatever it takes to be a father.

A Letter to Maybel

The Nicolas

Dear Maybel,

This is one moment that our family would somehow feel nostalgia.

The day has come for you to say goodbye. For our part, you have become close and dear to us, and at the very most, we have considered you as a member of the family, a part of our life. 

But then, people come and go as they say; and we could not really hold on to people, even how close they have been to our hearts—what is important rather, is to let go and wish the best for that person, no matter how hard it is to say goodbye.

Monching was barely months old when you came to the family. We were happy, excited, and felt eased. It was easy to get along with you and you cared for us, especially Monching. We always told you then that you’ll be a part of our family. We treated you as nice as we could, knowing that you’ll be caring for our family too, in return. 

We even enjoyed the very first meal you cooked and how you narrate stories about the place you came from during our brief talks. You said that life in Tineg- a part of the Cordillera, is as harsh as its terrains, the coldness is unforgiving during the coldest months, and the wind and rain washing away your tucked roof when the weather is not so friendly. We wondered how you survived despite of meagreness of life, which you always told...then on, we believed that you had a big heart with a big dream.

There were beautiful memories developed that paved a close relationship between you and our family and they will be cherished forever. Even if we lived a simple life, we tried our best to give you comfort for we knew how it felt to be away from your own family. There were times when we saw you crying and lonely, but then, we made sure that you’ll feel better later on. Your smile would be our joy because we always wanted you to be happy.

Now that you are leaving, you might not see us as emotional as you might be expecting, but deep in our hearts, we will surely miss you. We hope you’ll cherish all the days you were with us and not to forget the pieces of advice we imparted on you. You know how hard life is. And all the things we have showed you may have somehow inspired you as you go along. When you’ll have your own family, you’ll understand more life...it’s all about being happy and contented for what you have.

Thank you for the love and care you gave to our family. Thank you for treating Monching like your own little brother. Thank you for being a nice sister to your Ate She. Thank you for sharing your stories that inspired me more than you know. Thank you for the good times. 

Wherever you go, remember that once in your life, we have become a part of you.

Thank you and God bless you always.

Sincerely,

Kuya Anton, Ate She, and Monching

6 November 2010