May 30, 2005

gleanings from last week

in a meeting of government agencies about prioritizing legislative agenda, one of the participants found the title of one of our bills ("addressing the system of prostitution") inappropriate because prostitution in the country is illegal so it has no system yet to speak of. he just made corruption and jueteng legal.

an executive order made my office, an oversight agency for gender as a cross-cutting concern, under the oversight and supervision of dswd. our head said it was an upgrade rather than a downgrade for the office. well...

going to davao, i arrived at the airport one and a half hour before the 5am flight only to know that it was rescheduled to 620am. i slept and luckily, woke up a few seconds prior to the closing of the boarding gate. whew!

in the training that i attended in davao, i was excited to see some of the people whom i developed friendships with from the previous training. one of them is a manobo leader from bukidnon. she has been involved in almost all of the workshops and focus group discusions of the project that we are doing. very articulate, she has no problem about sharing her experiences and views with others. but in this last training, she shared one experience which she has never shared before. it was the first time that she talked about it. indeed, there are stories that take time to come out.

another friendship developed in davao is with arvin, an intelligent and talented guy. we talked about a lot things over several cans of san mig light. we also went to a piano bar with his other friends. it was fun...kindred spirits we must be!

suddenly last saturday, while talking to some members of a voluntary organization, these things sounded so ancient to me: no phone signal, no electricity, no running water.

i woke up last sunday from the adobo aroma coming from the kitchen. my mother is cooking adobo chicken which was one of the two live native chickens that she brought from the province. i looked at the other chicken... i haven't seen the house before as a death row.

eyed at 3:48 PM

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May 19, 2005

At Lubang Island

A friend of mine offered me to join her and her family in their visit to hometown Lubang Island on the dates which include my 30th birthday. Devoid of any plan for that day and somehow not wanting to experience it in usual surroundings, I decided to take a two-day leave from work and joined them.

We boarded a small ferry which departed from Manila at almost midnight. The boat had only one engine working instead of two so it sailed almost twice the supposedly travel time. I slept throughout the single-engined sailing, waking up already thirty years old.

It was my first time to set foot at Lubang Island which is located at the northern tip of Occidental Mindoro. I have not much knowledge about the place except that it is always in the typhoon hit list - being near the China Sea – especially during rainy season. I also learned later that it was in this island when the last Japanese imperial soldier was discovered "hiding" (apparently local folks know about it) thirty years after the second world war ended.

From the port, we rode a jeepney to go to barangay Maliig where we would be staying. Clouds of thick dusts were tailing us as the jeepney toiled the solitary dirt road, interrupted by few meters of concrete pavements. Local politics at work, I would be told by my companions. But the dirt road interrupted was sandwiched in breathtaking views of mountains, ricefields and grazing cows at the left and the beaches at the right. They were enough to make me forget the situation I am in - bumpy ride, heat, dust, and “thirtiness”.

It was a good two days spent in the island. The Lubang noon sky is deep blue, lathered with whiteness. When the sun sets, the sea also empties (kati), offering bounties which women and children gather. I also had a good time picking sineguelas, watching a santacruzan, and welcoming the much-awaited rains showering the sea with diamond kisses.

Lubang Island, of course, is not the usual place for tourists. In this wonderful setting, there were no hotels or places to stay. A kilo of fresh galunggong is sold at 10 pesos which, ironically, a lot of local folks cannot afford to buy. Some beaches are also littered with household garbage and fishing implements. Brownouts are frequent, there is no local radio station or newspaper and I haven't even seen national dailies in bayan. Lubang is a good place for hiding.

I am supposed to post some of the pictures here but cannot make them get out of my cellphone. Lubang Island is in hiding.

eyed at 11:00 PM

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May 10, 2005

Off to Mindoro


untitled
Originally uploaded by eyed.
Will soon be back, balakubak.

eyed at 6:25 PM

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May 08, 2005

Happy Mother's Day!

Nobody knows of the work it makes
To keep the home together.
Nobody knows of the steps it takes,
Nobody knows-but Mother.
-Anon

I would venture to guess that Anon, who wrote so many poems without signing them, was often a woman. — Virginia Woolf
...sa nanay ko na pinilit intindihin ang mga bagay na mahirap intindihin sa kanyang ikawalong anak, kay mommy lupe na nagbigay, kay molan na mas naisip maging nanay kaysa mag-asawa, kay lennga na masarap pakinggan ang mga malulutong na tawa, kay queen na mabilisang naging mommy at di ko na nakikita pero natatanaw ko lang ang bahay mula sa bintana ng opisina, kay cecille na sinugod ang pulis na tatay ng nanuntok kay zoeboy, sa mommy ni rocroc na sana ay gumaling na at di na gaanong nahihirapan, sa mommy ni polin na nag-asikaso sa akin nung palagi pa kaming magkasama ng anak nya, sa mommy ni tina na naghanda ng almusal nung nakitulog ako sa bahay nila, sa nanay ni ate sonia na palagi raw akong kinukumusta, sa nanay ni ate lolit na wala na akong balita, kay jean na nanay ni jojo, kay aleth na nanay ni tracy marie, kay beth na may apat na anak at isang naglulukong asawa, sa lahat ng mga inang malayo sa pamilya, sa lahat ng mga lesbyanang ina, sa lahat ng mga ina na walang asawa o piniling hindi mag-asawa, sa lahat ng mga ina na wala nang anak o asawa, sa lahat ng mga ina na hindi magka-anak.

eyed at 9:36 PM

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May 07, 2005

Th...ir,ahem...ty

Nitong mga nakaraang araw, parati kong nahuhuli ang sarili ko na nag-mumuni. E kasi, malapit na akong tumuntong ng trenta ngayong buwan.

Tumuntong.

Kumbaga sa isang paikot na hagdanan, kung dati rati ay umaakyat lang ako ng mga pare-parehong baitang, ngayon, biglang nasa landing na pala ako at papaliko na uli para umakyat ng isa nang panibagong hagdanan.

Bigla.

Wala akong maalalang ganitong pakiramdam noong nakarating ako sa edad bente. Parang ganun lang din naman dapat ito kung transisyon lang naman ang pag-uusapan. Pero bakit parang iba. Imbes na antisipasyon sa kung ano ba ang mangyayari sa mga susunod na pag-akyat, parang pagod at takot pa yata ang nangingibabaw.

Sabi ni ikabod, edad 34, habang kumakain kami sa superbowl sa gateway mall nung isang gabi, iba rin talaga ang pagte-trenta. Eto yung taon na biglang malayo na ako sa mga twenty-something, kagaya ni bananarit na bising-bisi sa pagkain ng bineyk na tahong, dahil nakahanay na ako sa mga thirty-something, gaya nya na matagal sumagot sa isang simpleng tanong. At habol pa nya, kung tutuusin, trenta na ako ngayon at makukumpleto lang yun ng mismong kaarawan ko. Pagkatapos ng mismong kaarawan, mahigit trenta na ako. Nakagaan lalo ng pakiramdam ang mga realisasyong iyon.

Pero bago pa ang usapang iyon, tinanong ko pala sya kung ano ang ginawa nya na masasabing major nung trenta sya. Nag-resign daw sya sa trabaho. Pero mas marami pa raw syang major na ginawa nung pre-thirty years nya kagaya ng pag-asawa, paghiwalay, at pag-asawa. Dagdag pa nya, pagkatapos ng ilang minutong pagngunguya, eto yung edad na wala na syang inisip na urgent na gawin pa sa buhay di gaya nung kabataan na may mga sinet na goals na dapat tuparin. Kung meron mang deficit dun sa mga pangarap, gaya ng backpacking throughout southeast asia, pwede pa ring habulin.

Busog ako pagkatapos ng hapunang iyon!

eyed at 3:38 PM

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May 01, 2005

how to deal with a volunteer

There’s a foreign volunteer in the office – a first in its 30 years. The volunteer is assigned in the division where I belong and in fact, we’ll be working together for an advocacy project. Below are some tips that I gleaned from the the anticipatory days and the first three actual days of the volunteer’s stay.
The guiding rule is never alienate the volunteer. So prior to the volunteer’s arrival, see to it that the volunteer is in the daily conversations. Make some guesses on the appearance and if you can’t, think harder. Make sure that the room is squeaky squeaky squeaky clean. Hold a lunch party on the volunteer’s first day. Orient the volunteer with a power point presentation. Speak English, especially if the conversation is within the volunteers’s earshot. Assume the volunteer’s accent or the volunteer might not remember it. If you want to switch to favorite conversations like Darna, make sure that you tell the entire story to the volunteer. Assume that the volunteer is always interested in what you are talking about. If the volunteer is silent, ask the volunteer some trigger questions like if the volunteer knows how to cook rice. It doesn’t matter what the volunteer would answer, any mumble from the volunteer’s lips must signal you to talk about the procedures on how to cook rice through (a) rice cooker, (b) electric stove, and (c) wood fire. Make sure that you take a picture of the volunteer every three seconds and your picture together every four seconds. Explain to the volunteer about the kodakan culture of the Filipinos. Explain further to the volunteer that kodak is a brand name of film used in taking pictures. Tell the volunteer some native words including their synonyms, antonyms and homonyms. Applaud when the volunteer writes these words down. Never allow the volunteer to keep silent. Remember, you don’t want to alienate the volunteer. If you can’t think of things to ask the volunteer, ask the volunteer about the previous questions that has been asked. Rejoice if the volunteer answered correctly. If not, explain again the supposed answer in an enthusiastic manner. When the day ends and the volunteer is preparing to get home, ask the volunteer if the volunteer remembers the way home. Then tell the volunteer what would be your schedule for tomorrow regardless of whether the volunteer is part of it or not. Say goodbye in the native tongue then translate it to the volunteer even if the volunteer has already one foot outside the door. Wave and say waving is a Filipino culture. Congratulate each other for a successful day of not alienating the volunteer.

eyed at 11:01 PM

6comments

Rainless

I am on a dry spell for sometime now. When I’m like this, it’s usually because I haven’t finished some things that I need to get done. Boring office work has been getting in the way of doing personal stuff and tiring me off like a dead jacket on the floor. I have been thinking about these unfinished matters days in and out. There’s my term paper which I have yet to finalize so I can provide copies to my interviewees who I also promised some materials and a dinner (having submitted a so-so version of the term paper added up to my frustrations), several unsent draft job and training applications in a diskette, ideas just nesting in my mind, letters to special ones unwritten, ad infinitum.

Things don’t have to be linear but I usually look at them as such. The pressure of finishing things one by one, in an invisible line, usually speeds me up. And so when pressure didn’t work (I wonder when does pressure become no longer a pressure and when it’s not, does it assume another name?) then I'm stuck. The way out is only by pushing my self to get things done or else, they would all pile up and bury me in this idle ground.

I’m being too melodramatic. It must be the debilitating heat these past few months. I wonder how some people deal with the hot weather. Richie and I bought this big industrial fan a few months back but the air stirred by the fan doesn’t dodge the heat, the heat joins it. Of course it’s better than our old electric fan that had to retire because the blades don’t turn anymore unless you poke them with your finger. Which is too dangerous and tiring for the poker.

Summer seems to be getting hotter every year. Or is it just me and my already long hair? It was last year – a day before my birthday - when I had my hair shaved off. I was too scared as I feel the electric shaver wheezing on my head and see the locks falling on the floor (somehow, I feel the littlest speck of how death convicts must have felt prior to the plunge). But after my head had been cleared, I feel that I conquered something – a fear or an expectation, perhaps.

I remember how some people would suggest that I wear earrings, skirt, and anything that would still signify some traces of feminity. I say what’s the point – deal with the shaved head or don’t look at me.

Well, I guess summer’s the time when the sky’s all clear and shaved up. So, it's either we deal with the heat or don't finish our bath.

eyed at 9:48 PM

5comments