the good in goodbye, america

Goodbye America (Star Cinema, 1997) tackles the 1992 real-life closure of the U.S. Base in Olongapo City and the effect this situation creates to the Filipinos and Americans whose lives are tied up there. A Philippine-American collaboration, the film serves some kind of historic-cultural reference for the present-day Filipinos whose context of living is still entangled in the perceived web of American neocolonialism manifested through Hollywoodization, McDonaldization and other permutations of American imperialism. This is especially interesting in the light of the controversial Visiting Forces Agreement which provides a virtual U.S. Base in the country even when for certain cases to be discussed later, disadvantages apparently outweigh the advantages of keeping the American servicemen onshore.
The Base’s closure might have occurred in the movie, but as aforementioned, the U.S. troops are actually back and it may only be a matter of lenient time and forgetfulness before the virtual base becomes a reality somewhere in the country. The economy may somewhat get a boost what with a superpower backing us up with foreign aid, loan, investment and industry, but as the movie’s tagline goes, “There is a price.” Just now that the series of Balikatan exercises—a joint military undertaking between American and Filipino soldiers—begins a new episode somewhere in Mindanao, girlie bar joints are slowly mushrooming in the area, for starters. The U.S. government may have warned the G.I.’s to act like its country’s ambassadors, but with the superiority complex of some power-driven servicemen, who will not replicate the recent Subic rape case as well as other numerous sexual assaults on Filipino women throughout American presence? Most if not all of these rape cases, by the way, did not prosper in terms of taking the American perpetrators to jail because the vague bilateral provisions can allow these servicemen to escape. The movie has shown Filipinas working as hospitality girls to Americans in the Base, like being prostitutes to these foreigners is the only occupation they realize for our American Dream-driven Filipinas; this commodification and objectification of our women find parallelism in real life in the current Balikatan as in before when the Base operated a century ago. With the ongoing lopsided (because it militarily benefits U.S. mostly) Visiting Forces Agreement, the U.S. is figuratively raping again the Philippines.
The actual slowing down of the economy is actually foretold in the movie. The prickly character of Nanette Medved is shown working double-time with the Olongapo City Mayor’s staff in the hope of maintaining the city even when the Americans have left their largest naval facility in the world. The movie shows how our economy is at the mercy of Americans, that we are better off subsisting on their money. We have conveniently overlooked that their multinational companies are sucking off Philippine money by capitalizing on our colonial mentality. Even American-identified institutions like World Bank and International Monetary Fund loan us money for economically unviable projects and at astronomical interest rates at that. We are made dependent to the U.S. if that is how we can consummate a semblance of American Dream—Hollywood films over Filipino films, McDonald’s over locals, imported products over native-made—even if it entails destroying the Filipino sensibility. This is how America slows down not only the Philippine economy but also the Filipino identity. With regards to America’s betrayal for closing the Base as was symbolized by the Senator whose assassination was being plotted by the American soldier, it was a betrayal, all right. This is not simply true in our experience but is being felt across the globe ever since the U.S. achieved the superpower status to bully the world into submission. The Iraq and Afghanistan invasions are testaments to this betrayal, for after toppling the countries’ respective regimes, the Americans refused to leave, the oil-minded President George Bush seeing harnessing potential of such energy in the region. Back home, we felt betrayed because certain provisions in the VFA are so unclear that any activity to be undertaken by the servicemen remains undefined. Does that include abusing the Filipino people and the guarantee of getting away with it? So the film’s motif of betrayal resonates in the treachery of the Americans against not only our raped women, but also the countless people who were randomly picked as target shoots (i.e. an Aeta aborigine), who were open fired to (i.e. a pregnant Mindanaoan woman and her brother), who were mistaken for wild pigs (the subject of the film Minsan Isang Gamugamo), and who were tortured physically and psychologically (characters in Lualhati Bautista’s Gapo) just because our great American brothers can do so with their arms and inherent power. The VFA, with its many loopholes and unconstitutionalities, is itself a betrayal for giving pro-American provisions that support American-led alliance against universal terrorism (which expose us further to terrorists), that threaten our internal security with virile and trigger-happy servicemen, that makes a worry-inducing military laboratory out of our territory. This is how U.S. target shoots, opens fire at and ultimately, betrays the Philippines.
Goodbye America can give one the ambivalent feeling of ridding off a master at the expense of one’s economy, like you need but you don’t really need America. It is Goodbye, America, but Hello America all the same. The contradictory insight is good, though it’s only a movie, and the same ugly things are stubbornly happening yet again as if we Filipinos never learn.

isang komparatibong pagsusuri ng kalidad ng mahika ng mga akdang agyu at ibong adarna

Likas na sa mga epiko at tulang romansa ang pagkakaroon ng bahid ng kagila-gilalas sa dahilang ang una ay kakikitaan ng mga bayaning may supernatural na lakas at mga diwata o engkantadong lagi nang nakaalalay sa kanila. Kakikitaan din ang ikalawa ng mga delikadong pakikipagsapalaran ng mga tauhang kalimitang dugong bughaw at may kakayahang gumawa ng mga supernatural na bagay sa bisa ng anting-anting o sa tulong ng mga engkantado o ng Birheng Maria. Samantalang purista ang mga epiko sa kalidad ng mahika nito, kontaminado na ang sa mga tulang romansang korido at awit dahil sa hindi katutubo bagkus ay Kanluranin ang anyo ng mahika rito. Magagandang halimbawa ang epikong Agyu at ang koridong Ibong Adarna sa manipestasyon ng mahika kahit pa mapagtatambis ang kalidad ayon sa kalantayan.
Dulot ng ginintuang pinipig at mahimalang nganga ang pagbabagong-anyo ni Mungan, ang ketonging hipag ni Agyu, bilang paggantimpala sa dinanas niyang mga hirap. Katutubo ang mahikang ito dahil Oryental ang konsepto ng pagkonsumo ng butil bilang pambuhay, gayundin ang pagnguya ng nganga bilang pampahaba ng buhay. Dahil sa mga butil na ito, naging mala-imortal si Mungan bago tuluyang pumaimbulog sa mundong-langit. Dulot naman ng kamangha-manghang pagpapalit-balahibo at pag-awit ng ibong Adarna ang karugtong na buhay ng nagkasakit na Haring Fernando. Samantalang pagdugtong sa buhay ang ibinunga ng parehong mahika, Kanluranin ang konsepto ng ibong mahimala dahil sa Denmark at Alemanya halimbawa, ang awit ng ibong Phoenix ang lunas sa karamdaman ng nakaratay na hari. Kanluranin din—Katoliko pa nga—maging ang Kristong nag-anyong ermitanyo upang saklolohan si Don Juan matapos umugin ng dalawa niyang kuya. Kontaminasyon din ng Kanluraning mahika ang paglitaw ng engkantadong lobo upang sumaklolo kay Don Juan na makalawang nabugbog ang katawan matapos hayaang mahulog ng nakatatandang mga kapatid sa ilalim ng balon. Hindi katutubo sa Pilipinas ang lobo na tinagubilinan ni Donya Leonora upang gamutin ang nabaliang prinsipe.
Isang iglap lamang ang paglalakbay nina Agyu at mga kapatid paalis ng Ayuman papuntang Ilian at Pinamatun at katutubo sa mga epiko natin gaya ng Tuwaang, Ulod at Bantugan ang malikmatang pagtawid sa kalawakan gamit ang, halimbawa, bahaghari bilang daanan, at baluti o sibat bilang midyum. Samantala, ganito rin kabilis sa turing ang magdamagang pagpatag ng bundok, pagpapalago at pag-ani sa trigo at paghurno ng tinapay para ihain ni Don Juan sa hapag ng hari kinabukasan din. Mabilis man kapwa ang mga pangyayari, hindi katutubo ang paggamit ni Donya Juana ng “magica blanca” dahil sa pangalan pa lang, Kanluranin na ito.
Pagkandiling katutubo ang pagbibigay ng pambihirang lakas at mala-imortalidad ng Suguy o Diwata (Walang-hanggang Bathala) kina Agyu bilang premyo sa kanilang pakikipagsapalaran. Pinagmilagruhan din naman si Don Juan ng Birheng Mariang lagi niyang pinananalanginan at ng kasintahang si Donya Maria na may kapangyarihang puti. Pareho mang may bahid ng mahika ang mga pangyayari, Kanluranin ang kalidad ng ikalawa dahil nga Katolikong diskurso ang pananalig sa Inang Birhen at hindi katutubo ang “magica blanca.”
Kamangha-mangha ang paglipol ni Tanagyaw, ang batam-batang anak ni Agyu, sa lahat na mga kalaban ng kanilang angkan sa loob lamang ng apat na araw. Isa itong manipestasyon ng supernaturalesa ng batang bayani, sapat para pagilasin ang datung pinuno ng mga kalaban. Kinalaban din ng magkakapatid na Agyu, Lena at Banlak ang mag-asawang higanteng sina Kumakaan at Makarandeng—mga kababalaghang nilalang. Higante rin ang pinuksa ni Don Juan sa kaharian sa ilalim ng balon ngunit ang Kanluraning nilalang na hydra—isang ahas na pito ang ulo na sa pagtigpas ni Don Juan ng isa, may sisipot pang muli—ang kalabang nag-alis ng katutubong kanti ng mahika sa koridong Adarna.
Ang pagkakaroon ni Agyu ng isandaang asawa at anak ay lubhang hindi makatotohanan, ngunit may presensya ang ganitong kondisyon sa iba pang epiko ng Pilipinas. Lubhang hindi rin makatotohanan ang pagtadtad kay Donya Maria upang magkatawang-isda at masisid ang brilyanteng singsing ng Haring Salermo pati na ang pagkaramdam ng sakit ni Don Juan sa bawat hampas ng negrita sa negritong sa sayaw ng paalala sa dulo ng akda, ngunit ang tanging katutubo rito ay ang wika at talinghagang gamit ngunit ang mahika para isagawa ang mga kababalaghan, gaya ng nasabi na, ay Kanluranin.
Sa pangkalahatan, kapwa may hipo ng mahika ang mga akda ngunit magkaiba nga lang ng kalantayan dahil mas lantay ang Agyu samantalang kontaminado na ang Ibong Adarna. Maaaring katutubo ang Adarna sa wika, talinghaga, moral at oral na paghahabi ng kasaysayan ng pakikipagsapalaran ni Don Juan, ngunit hiram lamang ito sa mga Kastilang mananakop at ang tulang romansa sa kalahatan ay nitong 17 dantaon lang naiangkat sa Pilipinas at dalawang siglo pa ang dumaan bago tuluyang naging popular. Hindi naman kagigisnan ng dayuhang elemento ang epikong Agyu na lehitimong atin kaya ang paggamit ng katutubong paniniwala sa himala ng nganga at pinipig bilang pandagdag-buhay, ng Diwatang Bathala at ng supernatural na lakas ng mga bayaning nakikipagsagupaan.
Sa pagkukumpara at pagtatambis ng kalidad ng mahika sa Agyu at Ibong Adarna, kapansin-pansin ang katotohanang hinuhubog ng mga sangrang ito ng panitikan ang isang bayaning maaring tularan at hangaan.

commodifying the vagina

The issue of prostituting the Filipina is something our AKBAYAN party-list representative in Philippine Congress deems detestable because of the commodification and objectification our women and children are subjected to, just so they can live off with rather measly sum of money. Since it is illegal, it works underground and so, the number of Filipinas engaged in the flesh trade can only be estimated. At an alarming rate of 400-500,000, these prostituted women and children run the risk of exploitation, violence, trafficking, sexually transmitted diseases, negligible healthcare, and similar crimes and assaults against Filipinas. As a response, House Bill 2419 is under legislation in order to protect our women and children from such a dastardly occupation and were there more congresswomen in the House of Representatives, issues concerning women will be addressed more easily with feminist experts around.
I strongly agree that the prostitution of Filipinas should be stopped and the passing of the anti-prostitution house bill will greatly help the drive to cease any activity exploiting our women and children. It is disgusting that this grave criminal offense has corrupted our Filipinas in exchange for unworthy economic subsistence, and yet it seems that patriarchy in the society points a blaming finger at our prostituted women and children, unerring in its accusation that the Filipinas had it coming. Our women and children are humans, too, so they deserve some right to be respected and to live decently and in equal footing with men, whose acquisition of these living commodities’ sexual services exacerbates the plight of exploited women and children. These marginalized subjects are not worth a few pesos nor are they deserving of the various assaults incurred in the performance of their work, so to speak. It is right to shift the crime to the perpetrators of sexual exploitation of Filipinas because it is with their doing that our women and children are stripped of their dignity with just a small amount of money.
The proposed bill should be facilitated so finally, our prostituted Filipinas can start a healing process when they eventually haul their violators in jail. Only a speedy passing of the anti-prostitution bill, supported by men and especially women representatives in Congress and by the Filipino populace at-large, will realize that our Filipinas’ and children’s dignity is priceless and their humans rights should be championed at all cost. Also, the government should be able to generate enough financially compensatory jobs our Filipinas may engage in so they need not subject themselves under selling of the flesh out of sheer desperation and hopelessness. Eliminating prostitution is one way of subverting the macho gaze of women from mere objects or merchandise to persons of worth and honor; it is high time that women and children share the same privileges in life which men enjoy as a consequence of their social position.

movie gone mad, book gone vanishing, liquid gone lethal

i was supposed to leave early for makati for an interview in a writing firm when i saw not one neighborhood netcafe open early in the morning. the night before, i already have an impending headache threatening to crack my head (up there) like a split earthenware pot whose shards kids will use as pamato sa piko. the throbbing in my temple transmogrified into a full-pledged cranial earthquake when a computer in UP rivalled the celerity of the snail and refused to have me download sample of my literary works to be submitted to the firm. end of it, i had to forego my chance to join the in-house writing team of a giant real estate corporation. i decided just to goof around until such time i will drop by zenkit's house to coach her in her graduate school reporting and, more importantly, until the right timing when gorgeous and hunk will be lounging around gateway prior to their obligatory night out at the bar.
the mall i chose to linger around in was screening a digital gay film and curiosity getting the better of me, i forked in my last remaining hundred bucks (one ham in gay lingo) for a movie ticket and a pet bottle of iced tea. my headache doubled upon realizing what deplorable movie i was watching: bad acting, bad editing, bad story (the pederasty motif reminds me of the movie's oedipal counterpart "sarung banggi") bad soundtracks (except for the soothing "moon river" while the teener protagonist was running in the asphalt--huh?), makeup so overdone i almost took the movie for a pirated, drag version of "memoirs of a geisha." i appreciated only the lilting batangueño tongue used in the parts shot in the countryside--reminds me of good friends barok and legalboylet. as i left the theater, i already turned into a runny nose and cold body with human attachment. i thought of engulfing loads of water to hydrate myself to wellness, but i saw crowded washrooms instead of mineral water kiosks. i settled for my favorite sago gulaman and almost purchased a siopao--till my craving was doused by the dimsum's exorbitant price. i transferred to the posh mall of shangri-la and checked out powerbooks for its discounted titles. i looked hard for a softbound copy of jorge luis borges' fictions, to no avail. 'twas enough to make me flush myself for losing my reservation right over the latin american's "ficciones" anthology when i didn't return to booktopia at libis first chance i got. what can i do? it was just a month after when i acquired enough money to buy the rare book.
realizing that it's about time i stalk on my crush and his friend at the gateway, i proceeded to the mrt to whisk me from one posh mall to another. having taken out my contact lenses, i belatedly saw a warning posted on the ticketing counter saying "no liquids of whatever form allowed." uh-oh--the bomb scare in the airport has infected the magnetic aerotrain. first, no pets, food and beverages allowed; next, no tin cans. now, no liquids. what's next: no cellphones allowed or, worse, no humans permitted? all the same, i braved the queue, the contact lens solution, eye drops, facial cleanser, anti-perspirant, hair gel, and body spray be damned. seeing a mother being asked by the guard to taste the milk preparation before being granted entry, the horror dawned on me that maybe mr. guard will have my lips and my kikay kit liquids do close contact! aaargh!

flight (for y***)

"i'm flying away..."--moony



leonardo's vision flowered
into a feat in aerotechnology.
what gives?
the moonshine waxes more nostalgia,
the starry heavens are unfathomed poetry.
till you came,
announcing the arrival of
a whole new way of seeing
that glider in the air.
immediately,
the airplane rivals the dove in beauty,
its trail forms a watercolored rainbow,
its supersonic a wellspring of melody.
if you must go,
your departure shouldn't count
as a reason to grow sad,
for an airplane soon hovers
in these majestic skies
and when it does,
i whisper,"you're flying,"
wishing somewhere someone responds
"you're flying, too."

ex-change

the montessori i trained for suddenly terminated the training being given to me. no explanation. i can only surmise that the liberalism did it in. well, time to jobhunt afresh, but no-no to boyfriend hunting for now. i'm single and available, though. i come in attractive package but only in single variety, hahaha.
***
what does this mean: "i come in attractive package but only in single variety"?.. to be honest, i feel rejected. i'm sorry to hear about the montessori. i wish you all the luck in getting the job you'll really like...i'm also sorry to hear that you don't need a bf. i was kinda offering myself to you. you remind me of my ex though he's much handsomer. but i wasn't trying to use you to get over him. i don't think i could. god knows i miss him so much.. this is why i thought i needed you. i'm sure you miss your ex, too(..and he's much handsomer than me, too) but please don't act like you want me just because of this. i never needed charity when it comes to love.. and i could detect if you're acting. i'm sensitive to that. please don't be mad at what i'm about to say.. with your last emails, you strike me as a cold person. it sort of reminded me that we had contact back then but it was mutual that there were no feelings. but what could and why should i expect, right? to tell you, i get hurt with your kind of people. my fault, i guess. i assume a lot of things.. and i get attached too easily that some people interpret it as an indicator of some hidden agenda. sorry we're not even compatible as friends.. whenever i go to such places, though admittedly i need it, i always think i'm making a mistake. "there's nothing for me there," i would think. everything there is temporary, momentary.. i can't blame you if you don't think i have any virtue worthy of you..

you're a versatile person, you listen well (and speak a lot actually, i was quite amazed you didn't stop talking until we parted that saturday) but you keep a lot of the important things to yourself. maybe you should be a little more trusting by which i mean to let go of yourself a little. despite the being talkative, you're in a shell, an introvert.. but at least you made me feel like i wasn't alone. take care.
***
hi, joel. it seems to me it's high time we pour ourselves to each other. i was trying to sound jolly to you (hence the 'marketing myself' strat last email i sent) just so we didnt have to probe each other's loneliness soon. 'guess it's a fact of life: happiness is always farther away (mental note: reread ONE HUNDRED YEARS OF SOLITUDE).as for the montessori, dont you worry about me, i better gather what's lost in time, right before my pathetic self calcifies. hmm, i must have made a wrong transmission when you felt sorry that i dont want a bf in tow: such a loser to have a dwindling career and a loveless heart. let me rectify that: my heart's not loveless, but as a novel title goes, "the heart is a lonely hunter." no, i dont miss my ex, although i visit him sometimes in his workplace. it's not he that's the object of my raging desire now, but someone else. if you are hard to catch on, then maybe your heart still has other preoccupations. i envy you because you can take pride in saying you never needed charity when it comes to loving--love always makes me feel like a beggar, and i constantly hunger for love. which should tell you one reason why i occasionally go to such places where we met: i believe in love being found even in the strangest places (boyzone agrees). why should i not, when all the people there and in other cruising places only aim for one thing: to hunt? be it a lay, a curiosity satisfier, a shock absorber, a semi-finalist, a short-term lover, a partner for a lifetime, it all boils down to searching. we're lucky if we approximate our goal, but i must be a major disappointment to you. with your eloquence, raving looks, gentle nature, it's not hard to fall for you, but i've always been the shameless michelle aldana-like segurista, so this must add some more lemon to the fresh wound. i wish i could say never for you to surrender on me, but then again, i'm a fallible human and i may just hurt you. i am not a sadist, and come to think, you have had enough sufferance to want to remain a masochist. all things being equal, you are special to me. life's is short, but we got plenty of fullness to be had if we allow ourselves to be swept by the tide (of what? i need not articulate that). i miss you, honeybunny.:)
***
if you really miss me, why don't we set a time to meet? at least we can talk without "hiatus" =D (--though i knew the meaning from context, the picture i saw when i read this is someone in indian-sitting position waiting for something to fall from the heavens.) we could be spontaneous. there'd be very little opportunity to pretend, i guess. and you promised you'd lend me "one hundred years of solitude".. =D i'd love to read it.. i can tell you at this point that i'm open to liberal ideas when it comes to relationships, very open to man's "real nature". if ever, we could set rules so we wouldn't end up hurting each other.. i never thought you found me eloquent. i myself find you very articulate. i wouldn't think i could rival you.. the object of your "raving desire" must be really gorgeous, huh? how i wish it was i. you're special to me. needless to say, i miss you, too. take care.

narcissus and his boytoy

first thing i got a grand in hand, i treated myself and miss zimbabwe to a movie downtown. it's been a while that we were forced to take a hiatus in our squalid lair called home, so you could imagine us salivating like experimental dogs while on board the bus going to what sir j. neil garcia called the armpit of manila: quaipo (the remaining armpit being cubao, quezon city). actually, we were not about to lay back per se to screen a movie; more precisely, we were about to get laid, although not exactly in a way most cruises end up: horizontally. i had miss zimbabwe proceed first so he could begin reaching his quota, while i visited my ex-flame hansam in his workplace. like me, hansam just had a haircut, so my raging libido hit temperature high upon seeing my hothothot erstwhile boyfriend sporting a new 'do that's sure to leave gays pining for him.
quite surprisingly, hansam was extra-flirtatious when i came up to him to exchange an obligatory life update. he said that if i miss him, i should return to him as his lover. he added that he has lost weight not so much as the diet he has engaged in to achieve a washboard tummy as the absence of someone to take care of him. in response, i complained that it's his fault for not devoting a little time for little gapanese. hansam's quite a babe, i might just surrender to his sweet flirtations and start afresh. i promised to return the following week because maybe, just maybe, it'll be sweeter the second time around. p.s. the hotter brother troy has heeded the calling of priesthood, to my utter shock, for that means a steady diet of papayas for my future brother-in-law and another of women's frustrations for the chance enhancement of the human gene pool.
from the mall, i proceeded to the moviehouse and immediately got booked while miss zimbabwe contented herself to being a boyswatcher dahil naligwak na naman siya sa finals. i bagged my quota when a fair-looking hunk approached me in the industrial fan area and swept me to a row of seats nearby. like what i previously observed, fans hovered around us upon prospecting a spectacle involving an attractive-looking couple. well, better to ogle at two cuties than at two gorillas making out in the dark recesses of the theater. only that my partner absorbed to his head the fact that he's beautiful as to whip people including myself into frenzy. he enjoyed being an exhibitionist, a narcissist and a sex object rolled into one, but what pissed me off was hitching two other guys to kiss him on the mouth and on the chest while i worked on the sugarcane field, and went on to call the mouth guy his betrothed, the chest guy his lover, while me, his boy toy. it revolted me so much that i expressed my dissertation on how one cannot own anyone and on how ruinous the effects are of one's excessive perception of one's gorgeousness. instead of being threatened by my brain, he had me graze more down his groin, for more than the good head on my shoulder, it's the good head i'm giving him that matters.

an acid-throwing bravado...almost

queer invited me to his birthday party and so it became inevitable that weasel (queer's current roommate and formerly mine) and i were going to meet again after a year of ignoring each other's existence. you see, weasel has been my best friend since 1997 until an ugly domestic circumstance tore our friendship asunder. i was steeling myself that the party may just become an avenue of a spectacular bitchfight with weasel and i hurling acid on each other's face (for sheer entertainment value, including the sharded champagne glasses containing the poison). the bravura never happened, for when i stepped into queer's apartment, weasel and i ran to each other's embrace and completely forgot the remake--gay version--of "bituing walang ningning's" wine-throwing episode. it's the proverbial "time heals all wounds" in the works here; what ugly things matter when friends are back in each other's arms? the whole night was spent making up for the lost time, of course. i missed you, weasel!

microcosm (for y***)

"if i could, then i would, i'll go wherever you will go."--the calling

"small world," you grin
at this chance encounter
we follow the customary updates
until you sing a different song.
"a colleague called up.
business is brisk in dubai--
i'll see." the crammed
jeepneys in cubao become
airplanes zooming away
in an endless diaspora.
now, i understand
why in big bang,
the universe continues
to expand:
this moment, you orbit
next to me, so smothering
i could taste your perfume.
in an eye's twinkling, you go
half the world away,
where gold glitters like the sun,
the howl of wind
muffles the sighs of the shifting desert.
i'll stick around, sure thing,
but a part of me accompanies you
wherever is your calling.

of impeachment trial, agrarian reform and upland development

The impeachment trial, agrarian reform, and upland development may be disparate social issues, but they are all tied up in one way or another to the issue of lingering poverty. Of the three, the first eclipses the rest of the issues in terms of magnitude of controversy; it is the current buzz of national politics, especially after the black boxes containing allegedly incriminating evidences against President Gloria Macapagal-Arroyo were declared “dead-on-arrival” by her ilk owing to the shortage of oppositional support, like in last year’s similarly-fated attempt for presidential impeachment. The whole business of this “investigative” proceeding is actually reduced to the battle between the administration and the opposition, made colorful by the political bickering and mudslinging that is in no way connected to the duties these politicians are supposed to carry out. As the opposition accuses the President of electoral illegitimacy, of graft and corruption and of advancing her naked interests via the Charter Change, her allies are busy saving the queen by countering all these antagonisms on their political benefactress, to the detriment of the constitutional functions to be disposed in the name of progress. As our great leaders divert their energies on consequential matters other than the passage of bills into executive laws for the development of the country, the constituents suffer in poverty because its alleviation is relegated to the sides by more pressing issues involving the President.
Upland development in the form of forest clearing and mineral quarrying has not fulfilled its promised progress. In the wake of logging, mining and the kaingin system, mountain denudation has generated the rise in the number of endangered species, the depletion in our water reserve, the negative effects in upland migration and its related livelihood opportunities, and the high incidence of flashfloods and mudslides. The privatization of some highland areas paved for golf courses, subdivisions and rest houses has exacerbated what is supposed to alleviate the affected citizens from poverty. With lack of livelihood in their immediate environment, these people languish in economic misery as influential people exploit them and the uplands for the latter’s own gains.
It is lamentable that there is no real agrarian reform program in the Philippines, one of only two countries in the world to continue to ignore the privilege of tenants to own the lands they have tilled for quite a long time already. Feudalism is long dead in many countries that have since industrialized for an anticipated economic elevation, but hereabouts, the landed lords, even as they do not leave the comfort of their manors, continue to earn their keep from the rent collected from the kasama (proletariats). The Negros sugarfield experience and Hacienda Luisita controversy are but two of the sensational examples of the Philippine agrarian reform that fails in execution. The latter even involved a massacre of labor leaders who fight for the cause of land ownership in recent memory. This being the case, the tenants who are the very tillers of the land they use for occupation remain in abject poverty because the products of their daily toils are enjoyed not by them but by the landlords to whom they “owe” the produce by virtue of the piece of earth being leased to the former.

are god’s will and human will compatible?: a reaction to dostoyevsky's "the grand inquisitor"

The legend of “The Grand Inquisitor” in Fyodor Dostoyevsky’s The Brothers Karamazov incites many of my disturbing questions about religion. When the two long-separated brothers appeared to tackle their most hidden motives, I was partly one with the older brother Ivan in interrogating the teachings of religion, especially in portraying the Cardinal as a major reason to condemn religion for the futility of stopping sadomasochistic relationships among human beings. On the other hand, a part of me helplessly comprises the devotion of the younger Alyosha, whose Christian virtues of meekness, hope and humility make him willingly agree to the mysteries of religion rather than the reasonable explanation of it.
Reading the legend, I came to think: what is ideal for us humans, the best things based on our human necessities and desires, or spiritual beliefs promoting human freedom but guaranteeing human failures and desperation? It seems to me that the Cardinal is this world’s highest judge who appropriates religion to the humanity’s desires and needs. The Cardinal sees happiness as the ultimate goal of individuals, and is critical of God for challenging instead of comforting humans. Jesus Christ is his quiet respondent, and his return to this world is aimed at discovering what religious system has created for his dogmas. As it is, Jesus does not counter-argue the Grand Inquisitor’s criticisms of religion.
The Grand Inquisitor’s regard for freedom as a human burden jolts me out of complacency. Indeed, it seems humans are condemned to be free. As may be gleaned from the average Filipino’s definition of democracy, freedom is doing something at one’s full liberty. As the case has turned dismal, we are worse than free. Freedom, although a gift from God, has surpassed our capacity to optimize it. It demands so much, as in our ability to decide what is good and evil, to obey or disobey God, to resist or succumb to temptations of all sorts, from material to religious. The legend has shown that freedom is too much to afford because humans may be segregated into those who can effectively handle this gift from God, and those who cannot. By presenting the positive and the negative sides of freedom, “The Grand Inquisitor” has challenged me into finding out the point at which God’s will and free will meet.

the insect

After the abruptly-stopped late afternoon baseball practice, my teammate asked me to hitch a ride with him going to our common village. The rain wouldn't let up, and it would still take a good couple of hours before my parents would leave the office to fetch me from the field. I sat next to him at the driver's seat, folding the umbrella that protected me from getting drenched all over, until I noticed my teammate fumbling for his keys in his pocket.
“What's the matter?” I asked helpfully.
“The car keys—must have left them at the locker. Your umbrella, please?” He rushed out in the creeping darkness and shielded his already wet self from the wicked downpour.
I produced my phone to tell Mama I was heading home. The monitor light made something in the car glint: my teammate's sunglasses. I remembered having begged Papa to purchase me a pair of those, but he reserved my request for Christmas. Three months more, but here's a pair, presenting itself. I imagined how good it'd look at my face, when the sun's all up and blistering, showering me its sunshine and convincing the crowd to marvel at my look with mixed envy and admiration. I thought of flashing the shades on the mall, the people turning their heads to covet the tinted glasses in slim metallic gold frame.
“Take me,” the shades seemed to read my mind. A reddish glimmer from the pair's darkened corner took the last of the fading light outside. I ran my fingers at the beautiful frames, and thought of how the shades—MY shades, not my careless, filthy rich teammate's—would improve my small white cuddly face.
I arranged the mirror above me, ready to try on the glasses. Its silvery whiteness, already fading from the near-complete onslaught of darkness, showed the reflection of my eyes, pupils dilating in material desire. I imagined putting on the shades, until no squinting from guilt or whatever further assaulted my sight. I looked better now, I convinced myself, the dimness overpowering my vision. The mirror reflected my face, and looking at it, again and again and again, I got a strange illusion I transformed into a huge, disgusting insect.
My stream of imagination was interrupted by my teammate, who apologized for keeping me waiting. I woke from the trance, and sat back. Close shave, I thought. My teammate fed his player an audio CD, and a Christmas song wafted in the air. The engine started, and as moved along, I smiled at the prospect of Papa's Christmas gift.