Masskara Ng Pag-asa

Makulay,
Masaya at
Maingay

Ngayong taon ako'y pinalad na masilayan ang kilalang City of Smiles, ang Bacolod City.

Taunang ipinagdiriwang dito ang Masskara Festival tuwing Oktubre.

Nagmula sa dalawang banyagang salita na Mass o masa at kara o muka, nangangahulugang mukha ng masa.

Tunay ngang ika'y mahahawa at mapapangiti sa makukulay at naggagandahang masskara.

Sa taong ito, niyanig man ng intensity 5 na lindol, walang nakapigil sa pag indak ng mga taga Bacolod suot ang kanilang mga Masskara na naging simbolo na ng saya at pag asa.

Sumilang 34 apat na taon nang nakararaan ang selebrasyon upang magbigay pag asa sa mga Bacoloño matapos ang paglubog ng MV Don Juan at ng crisis sa asukal. Mula noon, hanggang ngayon anumang pagsubok ang dumaan sa syudad nariyan ang mga nakangiting maskara na bumubuhay sa kanilang pag asa.

Bukod sa makulay na pista, masasarap na pagkain ang ipinagmamalaki ng Bacolod City.

Dito makikita ang manukan country, isang hilera ng higit dalawampung kainan ng original na Bacolod chicken inasal.

Sa dalawampu't dalawang kainan, ang Nena's Rose ang isa sa pinakadinarayo dito. Higit tatlong dekada ang tatlong henerasyon nang pinagpasapasahan ang paggluluto ng kanilang inasal.

Kwento nga ng ngayo'y may ari na nito na si Rose, lola pa nya ang nagsimula nito. Elementary palang sya nagtitinda na sa bangketa ng chicken inasal ang lola nito.

Sa kasalukuyan, ang dating sa bangketa lang natitikman, ngayon ihinahain na sa kanilang apat na restaurant na nakakalat sa buong Bacolod. Si Rose at mga anak na nito ang namamahala.

Ang Bacolod, taniman din ng tubo at sentro ng asukarera kaya saan ka man bumaling puro matatamis na pagkain.

Bukod sa iba't ibang cakes paburitong pasalubong dito ang piyaya at napoleones.

Ito rin marahil ang dahilan ng pagiging sweet at mabait ng mga Bacoloño.

Noong 2008 sa survey na inilathala ng MoneySense magazine, nanguna ang Bacolod bilang Best place to live in the Philippines.

Ako ma'y di magtataka dahil sa maraming lugar nang aking napuntahan, Bacolod na ata ang pinakamasarap pasyalan.

Mga batang Zamboangeño gustong gustong mag-aral...

"Edukasyon daw ang susi sa tagumpay," makailang beses na ba nating narinig yan? Pero malaki pa rin ang paniniwala rito ng mga kababayan nating Zamboangeno.

Para sa mga bata na aming nakilala, dagat man ay sasagwanin, ilog man ay tatawirin at kahit pa nga bundok ay aakyati't bababain para matuto, para sila'y makapag aral.

Tulad nalang ni Jul Kipli Gani, labindalawang taong gulang, at kasalukuyang nasa ikaanim na baitang. Araw araw hinahatid sya ng kanyang ama sa eskwela. Mula labinlimang minuto hanggang dalawampung minuto nilang binabaybay ang dagat gamit ang kanilang de motor na bangka. Aminado ang ama ni Jul na minsan sinasagwan lamang nila ito at inaabot ng hanggang higit tatlumpong minuto.

Pagtatanim ng halamang dagat ang kinabubuhay nila Jul Kipli, tulad din ng karamihan sa kanilang kababayan sa Sumatra Mariki, isang kumpol ng kabahayang nakatirik sa tubig. Kabilang sila sa lahi ng mga badjao sa Zamboanga City.

Sakripisyo na ang pagpasok, sakripisyo pa rin pagdating sa paaralan. Sa dami ng mga batang naghalong badjao at tausog, tatlo ang naghihiraman sa isang aklat, tatlo rin ang nauupo sa upuang pang dalawahan, at ang classroom nila Jul Kipli, ang espasyo sa harap ng entablado, nilagyan lang ng bubong, ng silya at ng chalkboard.

Maliban kasi sa pagdoble ng bilang ng mga eatudyanteng pumasok ngayong taon, isa din sa gusali sa kanilang paaralan ang hindi na pinayagang gamitin ngayong ng mga kinauukulan, mapanganib na daw kasi itong pasukan dahil ang kisame at dingding ay sira sira na. Kaya ang remedyo, ang bakanteng sementado sa harap ng entablado.

Sa kabila nito, pursigido sa pagpasok si Jul, pangarap nyang maging pulis. Hindi rin naman kasi lingid sa kanya ang peligrong nakaambang sa kanilang lugar. Naniniwala syang malaki ang kanyang maitutulong sa pagpapanatili ng kaayusan. Suportado sya ng amang si Boyet dito.

Nag aral din ng pagpupulis dati si Boyet, ilang subjects na nga lang magtatapos na sana sya kaya lang kinapos ang kanyang mga magulang sa pagtustos sa kanyang pangangailan. Kaya naman ngayon, nais nyang pagsumikapang iraos ang pag aaral ni Jul Kipli. Kapag napagtapos nya daw ito, para na ring natupad ang kanyang noo'y minsan din pinangarap.

In my heart...

In a SOMBER-mood—my heart is in PEACE, my mind is in chaos.
My eyes are in tears—joy and pain parting.
My spirit is in thirst—my voice, my hands, my all—in praise.
Not a bargain to get something, a request for strengthening.

I realize, the more I try to seek God’s will, the more I lose control of my life,
But the more selfless, too, and the more tranquility my spirit gains, that amidst the weariness knocking my heart this very moment; it’s like a shielded heart, though—as if in a shell protected from worries and fear.
My mind, though, I hope is as shielded. It’s more vulnerable, easier to distract.

Uncertainty is in the air, but I chose to worship—sing, write, edit photos to inject meaning [that could reflect your glory in creating me]—using my all. I am Yours, I surrender all. My life, my plans, my past and my future. Today, I know the meaning of the cliché “when CHRIST is removed in the word CHRISTIAN, I-A-N be left stands for I Am Nothing.” For I am nothing without You, but with you, I am who you want me to be—the one in your mind when you were creating me; the one with Your purpose. And with that purpose I will live—seeking ways to make you smile, to belong to Your family, to be like You [no matter the process will be a lifetime], to serve using everything You had and will be giving me, and to share the burden of sharing about You.

This is me without pretension—see me straight to my heart. Seek, you will see I have nothing to conceal today. Yes, you will see desire, for You told me its for me—You know how I wanted to claim it, and I’m claiming it. But…what was that…(?), a choice, a comfort-er or a[nother] test?

As the song goes,
“…though I may not understand,
All the plans you have for me,
My life is in your hand, and through eyes oif faith I can clearly say: [that] God is good, all the time…”

My life is in Your hand, indeed! All I wanted is to give you praise using the SHAPE you had given me. Amen

My Experiences, my Ministry

These articles were dated Dated 31 October to 5 November 2008, I accidentally found a 2-year old notebook last night and saw these compositions I have written when I visited my father.

A Dream—a Journey

Shiver.
Chill.
Coldness is in the air.

As I opened my eyes, I became conscious of my posture, crossed arms inside my jacket with scarf on my neck and hood in my head.

Wait.
I felt the inertia—moving.

Raindrops falling like tears from heaven.
Was it for joy, or sorrow?

When I see the once familiar view of mountains and tobacco plantation, I’m back in reality.
Memories came flooding as the childhood site passing my eyes, unclad my sleepy mind.

Yeah.
Right, I’m on my way to my father, whom I suddenly missed so much.
I just don’t want to admit it. [I just admitted, right?]

Two years ago, I’ve been here—the same scenario, but it seems a distant pass—a history that happened a long, long time ago. Or, maybe, those were just dreams like this one—a dream that soon will pass; leaving just memories and goals, until it too shall fade on my human memory.

Then goes in a cycle, afterwards, time will come, I’ll return on this same scenario again to have another dream of the man I longed more than forever.

I am in a dream—awake, in a dream.

Bonding: Uban-hunt Galore


[ Uban- a bolinao, our local language, word used to refer a white hair.]

In my dream, he asked me to ‘hunt’ for uban—a simple activity, but it made an impact to the dreamer’s heart.

I fear him.
I love him.
Anxiety’s within.
A gap—a wall, I don’t know who built.

Or, was it the fear I felt of him,
or, the neither anger nor disappointment maybe?

Of his stiffness and hard outer wall, I surprisingly penetrate his inner core—of loneliness, nostalgia and love.

I constantly wished his companionship before.
I lost a part of my childhood without him—this is what I’m trying to fix in this dream, but soon will end.

His uban was plenty—the witnesses of his own sacrifices for this stubborn hand that one by one picked them. Hoping as the itch they cause him disappear, the burden of carrying a dreamer in his shoulders will soon end.

Proud Lolo—smiled through the eyes

In my dream, because this is just too good to be true, I showed him our little princess’s pictures—Keziah, my older sister’s daughter—and despite his confessed disappointment to her mother, I saw flickers of joy in his eyes, as if his heart just leaped with pride and care.

“Did you feel the same way almost 21 years ago, seeing that bottle-sized baby in the incubator?” I wanted to ask him, but I knew the answer.

Coffee break in the swing

Sitting in the swing, I felt like a seven year old child listening eagerly to his father’s tales not caring if those are just make-believe fairy tales or realities. Then, I realized how blessed I am to be in this dream even just for a while.

No matter how high the walls,
No matter how hard the outer-layer of your heart,
Love can break to show the real ‘you’ within.

This is just the right stress boaster—to feel once for awhile the pride and security of having a father.

No pictures.
No souvenir.
But a whole spirited person unleashed and new goal to reach:
‘be the pap’s little girl he will be proud of.’

“Thank you Lord!”


Alone—in the Garden

Of the brisk of Bermuda in my bare feet,
The sound of little fountain,
And the unheard bark of dogs in the other side of the garden.

The hanging fruits, and moss-like vines,
And the sound of joy—my own joy;

Of love of puppy, Dobbie,
Of nostalgia in the air—I feel.

The plants with green and red leaves,
The temple-stone,
The rocks reflected in the glass, sliding doors.

The garden—in the garden,
I see the beauty in simplicity.

Awaken—‘tis Over

Like the rain in the summer, I know it’s over—the dream in that land 7-hours away home.

I am back in reality, in the four cornered room of invisible graffiti waiting to be written.

I am thankful enough with the dream I had to wash the stress—to refresh, to mend the broken spirit and recharge with new aspirations and courage to go on.

Here, it is: a bunch of work lain before me. It’s just the start I know. Yet, though the pressure is starting to crawl my once relaxed veins, the excitement begin and the adrenaline awakened as well.

What is there for me in store?

New opportunities to unfold,
new tasks to accomplish, new goals to pursue,
new visions to make happen,
but same God who guides.

I’m more that hopeful to survive this semester [SY 2008-2009] with papa behind and God by my side.

Amen.

[Two years after, I reached the short-term goal I made in that swing. In black robe and hanging white tassel, I climbed the stage to receive the silver-plated medal and maroon lace with my mother. He was just wasn’t there to witness our victory. I honestly wished he was there, too.]

How can I be a HERO?

“Bayani and hero are words that have been used so much,
and indiscriminately at times, that they have lost
the power to inspire a people that solely needs heroes…”

—A. R. Ocampo


HERO is a heavy word packed with patriotism and martyrdom, however in the context of our society in the present time where the colonialism is over; the weight of the once almost sacred word was lightened.

Overseas Filipino Workers (OFW) were tagged by the Arroyo administration as modern-day heroes for keeping the country’s economy afloat amidst global crisis. Honest Filipinos such as drivers returning valuable goods or brief cased money are instantly called heroes as well.

And so, I pause for a thought, “Can I also be a hero in my simple ways?”

How can I be a hero then?

Journalists are one of my most-respected people from the time I heard the idealisms of the few renown in their field.

Kara David, GMA 7 reporter, regards a journalists as “story-tellers who are nation-builders” at the same time. The documentary reporter emphasized the accountability in every story they deliver the public.

And so, I told myself, “I will be a responsible nation builder”. Easy as it may sound but it will be different in the field—amid the corruption in media; the temptation and challenges.

Though, how can an ordinary person be a great hero, is to be the best he can be in performing his role in the society.

Just think how peaceful and prosperous Philippines will be if everyone does his responsibility faithfully; so not joining those many going with the current of infidelity, one can be considered a hero.

…and I will be a hero!

The time of Rizal was long over. Yet, the plume remains great weapon in fighting the unseen enemies of truth. The use of novel is now inapplicable for press had got a sharper fang—a freedom to boldly express the truth.

Ironically, while the truth is freer to express it became harder to search. Or was it the searcher that had grown timid of finding it?

The time of martyrdom was over—the guns of the firing squad are now too rusty. But many are still modern day Rizal whose writings sent them to grave. They are the fighters for the truth of which number had swollen fast. The number of media killing had reached already more than 80 early last year.

Journalism had gained a bloody impression from the curios spectators, and so I salute the bravery of those who continue reporting accurately in the name of the only one rule of the game: the public has the right to know.

Journalists are indeed heroes.

…and I will be a hero. ‘dLS

NEW YEAR’S RESOLUTION: Fading Habit

It was a tradition—a yearly assignment—for teachers to ask students to write and bring with them in school as the classes resume after the Christmas break their written New Year’s resolution. I used doing it dutifully from my grade school until I finally got used to it being broken the rest of the year.

Aren’t we all?

It is very easy to identify weaknesses—negative attitudes—that ought to be corrected. And most of the time faster to write it down under the ‘new-year’s resolution’ list at the first day of the promising new hope that just sprung. But how many had really executed those words scrambled in the list as the year progress and come to another end…another year will come—another list of resolutions not even bothering to evaluate which from the previous years had been achieved.

Believe me, looking back to the list written a year or two, frustration would just shock many of us to realize we just keep on rewriting the same resolutions every year. In different wordings maybe but the same roots; the same negative traits we of how many times had attempted to eradicate.

Until I stopped writing mine, at least in New Year. Change does not need to be done in just the beginning of the year anyway. It should be anytime—as soon as the realization for a need to change knocks the door of our hearts. Why wait for the New Year’s Eve?

I am not against the tradition of course. I think it is quite healthy to evaluate at least once a year and think of the things we want to attain for the new hopeful 365 days. It is an assessing exercise to see ourselves more objectively than the usual biased self analysis on the rest of the year. You will agree though that it would be healthier to keep those written commitment for self improvement—to be a truly better person.

What is saddening was that the tradition had been long taken for granted by many. But with still few exceptions, I believe—I salute those unknowns who still value their pledges. If only everyone will do, this world will be a wholly better place more and more each year. But it does not—a palpable evident of forsaken habit.

The practice of writing resolutions keeps the ball rolling in the glimpse of new hope each year but its essence will be useless unless the inertia the motion had made will continue until it finds the finish line—a never-easy task; a challenge to keep promises made to oneself. If you do not really mean a change or planning to give it some efforts but just for the sake of bluffing that you had written one, don’t bother—save your dignity by not breaking more promises.

Words are valuable more than we can fathom and there is no worst offense than breaking your promises for yourself. So again, I salute those who still do their list and manage to keep them. ‘dLS

Leak...

Recently I'm experiencing a titanic problem--my 'free child' chatters within leaking my creativity juices—EXPLODE!

Then, I suddenly felt the urge to do this or I'll totally explode with the rising pressure to give birth to stories my wild imagination is engendering—the pain is almost unbearable but the euphoria finding its way out is inconceivably wonderful--almost ecstatic!

I could not resist the juggernaut...

SOON...

I don't want to spoil this 'vision' anymore--I'm spilling some ink:

risk to make a change!