Takaw tingin
Di makalapit
Napipi na sa
Pagibig
Nakakadena
Sa selda ng
Pagsinta
Napako na sa
Pagkakatindig
Di mapakali
Naiihi na
sa sabik
Pero paralisado
Pa din
Ang lintik
Hihintayin atang
Magunaw ang
Mundo
Bago isiwalat
Ang saloobing
Kumukulo
Sayang kung
Pipigilan
Baka sa huli
Ito’y mauwi
Sa utot na lamang!
Ang tunog ng hangin ay malumanay parang bumubulong sa aking tenga, parang nakahehele kaya ako ay inaantok na, payapa ang dulot nito sa aking isip at katawan nakakakalma ng kalooban. Hindi ako nangangamaba o natatakot, parang bughaw na langit ang aking nakikita dahil maaliwalas di lang ang pakiramdam at pati na ang nakikita. Gusto ko tuloy kumanta ng malakas na dinig ng lahat, hahawaan ko sila ng aking ligaya at kapayapaang nadarama. Maaaring mahawaan ko sila ng aking masayang pakiramdam kaya susunod din sila sa aking pagkanta. Ang ganda ng paligid parang umuusbong na mga bulaklak at dagat na may payapang alon. Lumalangoy ako sa galak at kaisa ko ang kalikasan. Bawat puno’y nakatindig, mga dahon nila’y sumasayaw, mga hayop masasaya, parang isang malawak at makulay na paraiso.
I liked this summer, because it didn’t just pass me by. I lived it by the day; saw and experienced each one and wished it never ended. Everyday was eventful, memorable and laughable, even tragic at some point. I was at different places and wore happy faces most of the time. Met people, loved people, missed people and always had the people that mattered to me here, even now.
I will miss this summer because I won’t get to see the sun as I would always want to. The smile, the smirk, the rain that comes with it on crazy periods, how it stands tall and proud over me, shining on me giving me that golden gleaming color, it makes me smile back at it. Once it starts raining, the heat may stay and the sun will show up, but it will only take a peek only at times it will be allowed to.
I will miss this summer. I enjoyed the heat, sometimes it made me crazy. How unpredictable it was – greeting me, ignoring me, smiling at me or sometimes keeping away from me – a puzzling act, yet is still there. Always is. Dark clouds never succeed in hiding it. I know it’s just behind it and I am always proven right, because despite the distance it just remains there and the brief absence makes me miss it a lot.
I will miss you summer. How you made me wish I was young as you; I wish I could kiss you and brave being burnt by you. But the cold wind gusts at a distance and storms are raging to come one after the other. By then you would be gone.
Promise me, you will still shine on me. And after every tear your heat will dry it up as you embrace me.
I may wait for a year to see you again, but I know you are just there and that in time we will be together.
I hate waiting.
I’ve written about this before but I guess, I still hate it and for me it’s a challenge being patient.
When I brought carla to the hospital together with my father and brother-in-law last week, after hearing from them that she could undergo ceasarian section I had no choice but to wait like them and suffer the anxiety of what my sister would experience.
I’m a restless soul. I either sit down or stand up, talk to somebody, read posters or announcements on the wall until I’ve almost memorized them, watch people as they walk past me, eat, listen to the radio if there was one, read a book or newspaper or sleep if there was such a space to do it. If I had a laptop I would bring my work so that I don’t waste time.
I never did like waiting.
That’s also the reason why I waste so many opportunities – I was often told, haste makes waste. So I blow my chances because I failed to wait. But at the same time, I learned from my mom the wisdom of doing two or three or more things that I can at the same time. That way I maximize the time and finish what needs to be done.
I don’t trust myself to be patient.
I might end up dillydallying or miss out altogether on an important task. That’s why I would rather that I keep myself occupied and doing things in order for me to finish my work and not be bogged down with backlogs.
Come to think of it, waiting is something that we always end up doing. It’s the way things happen. If I were to relate better to people, I should learn how to wait for them – to learn, to adopt, to be oriented, to mature, to know me, etc. it’s not a quick fix like applying liquid paper on typo errors or putting things together with mighty bond. At the same time, we wait for our true happiness to come and if we do that then maybe we can achieve and experience it in our lifetime. Otherwise, we die not knowing what it was that was going to make us happy or if we did realize that there was something or someone out there who made us happy; we were just too in a hurry to recognize it or him or her.
On one hand as well, when we learn how to wait, we grow as mature individuals, because we allow others to do their thing without us imposing ourselves on them; we slow down and appreciate the basic things in life and the people around us because we were not in a hurry for the day to pass by. We are able to smile and share to others our heart and wisdom and not just gloss over people as if they were incidentally there while we did our work.
So, even if I don’t like waiting, I will use the time to maximize what other stuff needs to be done and make myself available to meet other people and get to know them better. I will just have to wait.
But between now and such time, I have to wait to gain that patience and wisdom.
I’m really distracted. Although I’m increasing my pace as I go along. (still transcribing as I post this..hohummm..) I was a little irked a while ago when somebody came and was beginning to become bothersome, but then, I took the laptop and earphones and moved to another place where obviously people will know that I do not want to be disturbed.
Anyway, it’s beginning to become humid, but the fan beside me is giving me a cool breeze as if it was coming outside from the mango trees swaying above the next door apartment’s roof.
Looking at the mango tree, I remember summer at sison, pangasinan and I felt good again. We would have lunch at the lawn of the Miranda’s summer house then later play with water on the hose and swim on the kiddie pool. I could still smell the fresh dew and trees in the morning every time I wake up. It was cooler there, but in the middle of the day the summer heat engulfed us so we would go to the village guest house and take a dip at the swimming pool!
I miss that, but now I look forward to summer and maybe a day in the beach or picnic under the mango tree.
Minsan, naghanap ako ng dahilan para makabisita sa isang lugar at pabiro akong sinabihan ng kaibigan ko na gawin kong rason ang isang research kung papaano magcelebrate ng pasko ang mga biktima at mga pamilya nila, para opisyal akong makapunta sa kanila. Di ko inakalang ang pabirong suggestion na ito ay sasagutin sa isang okasyon na madadaluhan ko ngayong araw na ito.
Paano nga ba? Papaano magdiwang ng pasko ang mga inulila na?
Di ko na kinailangan gumawa ng questionnaire para dito o maghanap ng mga biktima at mga kaanak nila para itipon at gawing focus group para sa mga katanungan ko. Kanina lang galing ako sa isang pagtitipon, Christmas party ng mga nawalan; mga kapamilya ng mga biktima ng sapilitang pagkawala.
Simple lang ang okasyon, simple lang ang pagkain, kahit konti lang nabusog ako. Mas nabusog ako sa halakhak ng bawat isa, sa mga games, sa mga sigawan, sa mga tapunan ng biro at tuksuhan. Hindi pilit ang mga ngiti at tawanan, sa palitan ng mga aguinaldo at premyo. Masaya ang okasyong ito!
Nagkita kita muli ang mga magkakaibigan, namiss ang isa’t isa. May nanggaling pa sa malayong lugar, merong may iniindang personal na suliranin pero tiniyak pa ring makasalo sa kasiyahan.
Saksi ako at kasalo sa kung papaano magdiwang ang mga mag-anak na ito; silang nawalan ng mga asawa, anak, kapatid, ama at ina. Silang sa mga unang panahon ng pagka-ulila ay naghanap, nalungkot, lumuha, nagalit at ngayon ay patuloy na kumikilos, naghahanap.
Hindi nila hinayaan balutin sila ng lungkot, takot o kaya galit. Sa mga panahong ito, kasama ang iba pang pamilya, kumuha sila ng lakas sa bawat isa at sabay na hinarap ang mga hamon ng kanilang sitwasyon. Masaya silang magkakasama sa dapat naman ay masaya ring okasyong ito ng pasko.
Ang pagkawala ay nandyan pa rin, ngunit ang nakamit naman ay ang mga karamay sa hirap, mga pamilyang ngayon ay pamilya na rin nila, ng bawat isa. Di na sila hiwa-hiwalay kundi kumikilos na bilang isa.
Ang kanilang pagdiwang ng pasko ay tulad din ng iba, may kainan, paligsahan, palitan ng regalo, at maikling programa. Pero kaiba sa ibang mga party, ang okasyong ito ay pagdiriwang din ng pagkakaisa para sa hustisya at para sa patuloy na paghahanap at pakikibaka.
Ito na marahil ang pinakamasayang Christmas party na nadaluhan ko ngayong taon. At sa susunod pa, balak kong maging bahagi ng ganitong mga okasyon. Hindi man ako biktima o kapamilya ng biktima, ako ay kaibigan nila at kaisa nila ako sa kanilang gawain at pakikibaka; sa luha man at sa saya.
I arrived to the office
today, anxious. I guess that was because I was only informed about presenting
before a group of visitors from the US at 10 pm last night and I was barely prepared. When finally it did not push through I
thought my anxiety was going to go away. For a few minutes it did go away, but
when I joined 12 relatives of victims sing before the same group this
afternoon, and heard them sing with conviction as well as almost breakdown and
become teary eyed in the middle of their presentation, I felt goose bumps all
over me and anxiety grow inside my stomach.
When I was asked to translate
some of the stories for the foreign guests, I could not help but become
emotional as well as I followed each word and relive with these relatives the
pain of remembering how their loved ones where abducted or killed.
My head ached, my stomach
turned. I didn’t know where to go, or to sit or stand. It’s as if it was June
2006 again and I was meeting the relatives for the first time and did not know
how to console them.
Yes, June 2006 is an
unforgettable month and date. It’s the month that marks the abductions of
Sherlyn Cadapan, Karen Empeno, Leopoldo Ancheta, Rogelio and Gabriel Calubad,
Prudencio Calubid, Celina Palma, Gloria Soco and Ariel Beloy.
It was as if a typhoon of
signal #10 overcame us. The incidents came one after the other. The office was
often filled with people, crying came at different times and from different
individuals.
One sat at one end of the
room staring into space. One sobbed inconsolably. The phones kept ringing, the
media kept coming, we kept planning and trooping from one camp to another. We
were desperate, the families were desperate. They needed all kinds of help. We
did not stop.
We have continued doing the
same things we did since then. We would find leads then dead-ends. But we would
keep our hopes up. In the end we became a family. And the loss of one, became
the loss of another. The search for one, was a search for all those missing.
Maybe I don’t know how they
feel, because I still haven’t lost a loved one, but I guess being with them is
almost the same as being the relative or wife or daughter or sister of a
victim. Maybe my tears are endless because even if the years have passed, the
stories stay the same and the pain never goes away, especially if you have a
remorseless government who insists that “ …there is consistent effort to POLITICIZE Human Rights in the Philippines” and a ruthless military who tries to make fools of
you, by giving you the runaround and continues to wreak havoc over civilians. Putangina
nila!
I still don’t feel good
tonight. I don’t know if I will have a dreamless sleep tonight, or when I will
stop crying.
I don’t really care for the
headache nor the stomach cramps, I just care, that we have families and victims
to look after and that if there are no one else to do this, who will? They only
have us. They trust only us. And in the end all we have is one another. We must
never stop.
Who said it was going to be easy?
It started as an adventure, wanting a place
to belong to, finding a place to discover independence, finding ones worth as a
person and finding true love.
No, it’s not about looking for Mr. Right,
it’s about my work.
I remembered Spur Dos in Cateel, Davao
Oriental my first fact-finding mission. It opened my eyes to so many truths. I
remembered waking up with a small piece of paper and a pen jotting down notes
for that day’s statement…then came more work, more ffms, pickets, discussions,
etc. until I couldn’t find the time to do anything else including my real
paying-job. After a couple of more years I decided to marry this job and it has
been a love-hate relationship. Not your perfect love-affair, as other couples dream
to have, but like the rest of them, something on which we can all survive with.
I do love this job, I enjoy it. No, of
course I don’t enjoy counting those killed, missing, tortured, detained, etc.
nor do I enjoy reading my cellphone, evertime it lets out an alert tune even in
the dead of the night or at the crack of dawn only for me to read that someone
was shot or that we need to run to the police station because someone got
arrested. I do dread them, I wish I didn’t have any of those messages, but the
fact is, the situation is getting worse by the minute (5 killed in less than 24
hours; 2 killed within 10 hours, etc.) and our work necessitates us to respond.
That’s the essence: respond. Respond to seek justice, who cry out in
helplessness and then later see hope and move on, much stronger than before.
It’s not easy choosing this job. It’s not
easy doing this job, but it’s not just a job. It’s my commitment.
It was 1989. The year
I had graduated from High School. The
year I turned into an out-of-school youth. The year we moved in to a small
urban poor community. The year when teachers from all over metro manila had a
full blown boycott and the year when my grandmother died, the year I had my
first boyfriend.
At 18, I was a late
bloomer. My mom was beginning to worry about me. When she was my age, she was
counting suitors. So when manong came along, even if she was still not that keen
on me getting a boyfriend yet (enter into a serious relationship that is), she
relented on this one. Cute daw kasi si
manong, bagay kami. Hehehe. “Kaya lang
boyfriend sa salita lang ha.”She wanted me to collect and select.
How did manong and I
meet?
Well it wasn’t exactly
a clear meeting, one night in October of that year. Hindi Clear, na well lighted ang
lugar, in fact Inday’s house had no electricity because they still had to apply
for one with Meralco, so we had to settle with a gasera to hold that meeting and Meeting nga, because it was a caucus or discussion on the municipal
ordinance that the local government wanted to implement regarding the
distribution of lot titles or the deception of such an ordinance which we
tackled.
Anyway, it was dark
and despite the lack of clear light, we managed to still see each other with
the gasera and when we went out of
the house, under the moonlight. I remembered very well, it took a while before
he let go of my hand after we shook hands.
Then, a series of
happy coincindences followed. Well, for me it was serendipity, but I guess for
him, he had wanted to see me often, visiting our place and passing by in front
of my aunt’s home, where we lived, in the afternoon.
We would sit outside
near Tiya Basyon’s store and talk non-stop from 4:00 PM until midnight. The economic crisis was very much evident,
with news of factory strikes and the black-outs that became a usual sight in
every community. Manong would come often
on those black-outs and we would take advantage of the moonlight and sit out
and talk about history, like why we should all be for the removal of the US
bases and why I was out of school and why we were having black-outs. We would
even debate on the most trivial of things.
It was a lively
discussion of life, dreams and politics. It was all a mixture of excitement,
compassion and discovery. He brought me new insights and understanding of
things around me.
Did he court me?
The daily visits, the cake
he gave me on my 19th birthday, the marathon running kwentuhan from
4:00 PM til midnight; everyone was already teasing us – uyyyyyyyyyyyyyy! But there were no
revelations then and I didn’t have the slightest idea that he was already
courting me. All the while I thought the visits were friendly. When he taunted
me and called me bato I still couldn’t
get it, manhid ata ako oh inosente lang talaga. Hahahaha!
How did he and I become
a ‘we’?
Well it was one funny,
silly December afternoon that turned out to be a romantically glorious December
night.
I was in a jealous fit
and was near in tears when I saw him hounding my sister the whole afternoon.
All the while I was bothered with the thought that it was my sister manong was
interested in and not me. I kept harassing my gay friend while we spied on both
manong and my sister from a distance. But only to find out later that he was
trying to befriend her because he liked me.
How did I know? As was
our usual habit, we would sit out of the house and talk after dinner. (He
visited me almost daily) Our conversations went on pretty varied then it wandered
into the topic of girls liking guys. I asked him what he thought of girls who
opened up to guys and told them she liked him. He said that it was ok, because
he viewed this as the right of every person – that is to express oneself even
romantically. But personally, he would feel awkward, if he was told by a girl
that she liked him. I then followed it up with “well I like you”, to which he
replied rather unawkardly that he liked me too. KABOOM! At that moment,
fireworks would’ve erupted in the sky as in the movies and the leading
guy and girl lovebirds would end up kissing, but I was an innocent girl at 19 and he at 18 was still coping up with his age. We fell quiet for a moment, both awestruck and
breathless with what we have just revealed to each other. From the back of the
house, we moved to the front for a little more privacy, then manong popped up
the question – “so what does that make us now?” I had to pause first before I
spewed out “I don’t know?” (still dazed at what was said and heard and what was
unfolding before me). He was the first to be shaken back into reality and
clarified things with me “what do you mean you don’t know? We’re a we. (Tayo na!)”
I stiffled a giggle
and looked away, agreeing with him, oo
nga tayo na. But the night had to be cut short because I heard my mom,
calling me into the house because it was already late. That was manong’s cue to
say, good night. We briefly kissed and bid each other goodnight (away from my
mom’s guarded sight of course).
That night, I was
restless in bed, I couldn’t believe that I had a boyfriend and with a guy I
really liked. It took a while before I fell asleep, comforted with that
wonderful thought that finally, we were a we.
To be continued…
I miss this room.
It used to be were I worked, slept, wept, laughed, and lived. It was my home, refuge, and workplace. It kept me company ‘til the wee hours of the morning trying to finish a report; It looked after me while I slept and it simply gave me peace when I wanted be alone and stare at its four walls. But somehow in the past we had a falling a part.
Suddenly, I couldn’t bear to be in it for more than 5 minutes. I was restless and had sleepless nights in it. I was cold, sore and angry. My temper marked the walls red, I was seeing red. Then I caught myself and said, “Hey, it wasn’t fair.” If couldn’t bear to be in it, it was also trying to spew me out. So we finally had to part.
So, the time came when I would only visit it every now and then, when I needed to do something in it, or if I wanted to be alone because the veranda had other occupants. Or I would be forced into its humid walls for a meeting, when there would be no where else to do it. But many times I refuse to stay in it or even go up to look at it.
But now, I’m beginning to miss it again. Miss the times when I was glad I woke up to the same four walls that saw me sleep the night before. Miss the times when I shared it with orphans, widows, singletons and those who needed healing like me. Miss the times it comforted me and hid my tears away from the probing eyes of interlopers as streaks of pain and anger gushed forth down my cheeks.
But then again, why would I go on missing it when it has kept its arms wide open to accept me back again and again and again to unceasingly bear witness to my continuing perseverance to struggle more amidst the worst conditions that threatens to come.
And when the time comes it will no longer see me back, others will come and eventually will stay.
Welcome back!
