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He rushed in and took a long time to get out

Brandrewartwork_1 Oh, shit! They're dropping like flies!  But I swear, I absolutely had nothing to do with it.
       Former DepEd secretary Bro. Andrew Gonzales, FSC bought the farm the other day.  His last wave came just a few months after Raul Roco.  In my years as the Alliance of Concerned Teachers' mouthpiece, those two had been my sworn enemies.  No, not personally.  It was just clash of differing standpoints.  (ACT was still trying to purchase some footing back when Ricardo "Tsaang Gubat" Gloria was secretary, so no real sword crossing with him back in '97.  Edilberto "DJ in the hawz" de Jesus was more of Tonchi's rival than mine. But before Roco, Gonzales was it for me.)
    Paano ba naman, in our first ever dialogue with him in his office, among a group of no more than seven seated around his receiving area, Bro. Andrew slept right through it!  It was around 1:30 in the afternoon and we knew it was his siesta time.  Pero kahit na, I thought thenSomeone who could sleep through heart-rending laments of leaky classroom roofs, unpaid benefits and tubercular students must be Captain Ironheart himself.
       But being soft-spoken and a La Sallite brother at that, we had to be careful around him.  Lay religious e.  Mahirap na.  We could not shoot haphazardly, our guns ablaze with choice verbal ammo.  But one cannot be a good secretary in the eyes of the establishment while upholding the interests of the students and teachers, right?
       It was under Bro Andrew that all these hullabaloo about the change in the basic education curriculum started.  His Honorable "Wersh-Wersh" wanted all the Pinoy kids to speak the colonial master's language as well as he did.  What to do?  Hack big chunks from the class hours allotted to Filipino, Social Sciences and Values and feed it to the English Language dog, he said.  (People Power II intervened.  So Gonzales, who stuck it out with Sherap near the very end, failed to see it through.)
       Bro. Andrew was probably among the few respected officials in the criminal-laden Estrada cabinet.  To cover up for his apparent ineptitude, Sherap peopled some line agencies with highly-regarded names in their respective circles.  Hindi ko nga maubos maisip why Bro. Andrew agreed to be Sherap's main man at the education portfolio, but he did.  He did not see through the charade that he was just being used to prop up Sherap's sagging eyebags, este, reputation.

       When the charges of corruption, drunkenness and womanizing were starting to stick to Erap like glue, Bro. Andrew remained untarnished.  But this ethical man had a slip once--a costly mistake that some journalists said marked the end of the Estrada regime.  His office bought a lumbering Ford Expedition from funds donated by the Land Bank to buy computers for some schools.  (Only five percent of all public school teachers at that time had ready access to the internet.)

      And we bit his head off.
      For someone who probably has no personal agenda (only a class-based one perhaps), a mere window dressing to project that Estrada could work with men of probity, Gonzales unwittingly provided us some ammo to show the people that Erap's regime is not as "makamasa" as it claimed to be.  An SUV-riding education secretary when teachers are hardly paid their salaries?  When schoolchildren had no books from which to learn?  It was so patently stupid that I could not hardly believe it when he still stood up to defend his decision.  He challenged us to a debate and we obliged.  ACT came out smelling like Ilang-Ilang and he smelled like a tail-pipe afterwards.

       And the rest is history, so they say.
       In 2003, Gonzales came out with a book narrating his nearly three years as education secretary--forgot its title; something about the number of days warming the seat.    I am sure, had he been asked on his deathbed whether he would have still accepted the job knowing what eventually transpired, I think he might have said no.
       In a government such as ours (GMA or Sherap, pareho lang naman), the cabinet is a virtual snakepit.  Clueless persons like Bro. Andrew really had no chance.
       Ika nga, "Fools rush in where angels fear to tread."

Love's language (Last night at the 70s Bistro)

Dscn1708It has been such a long while--the venerable 70s Bistro in Quezon City packed to its creaky rafters by national democrats and friends. It felt like the good old days more than a decade ago when everyone knew everybody else from its narrow door to its smokey bar.

        To its credit, 70s Bistro still looked and felt the same. It still has its cramped toilets and egg crate ceilings. Most of all, it had the legendary Asin on stage last night. No one could have said it better than my lovely wife: “Nakaka-inis! Ang tatanda na pero ang galing pa rin!”

       Yes, Asin was at its best—Lolita (with her patented wild hair and shoulder pumps) and Pendong (hunching over his exquisite and pale guitar). They had the activists singing, swaying and asking for more. Of course they sang their classics—Usok, Karapatang Pantao, Kapaligiran and others. Testament to their longevity, reestablishment and post-IDKP activists sang along to their songs like they belonged to the same generation. Dottie Abaya and Risa Jopson enjoying the same group? Incredible! Lolita herself said of Kalikasan, “Mahirap paniwalaang 28 years old na ang kantang iyan.” Getting really into it, both traded mild jokes at their own expense. Pendong said that, indeed, they were amazed to realize recently “Mga lolo at lola na pala kami.” When Lolita took a quick break to take a sip of water, Pendong said “Sandali lang. Nauuhaw na ang Lola.”Dscn1705

        No one got drunk nor became rowdy. No real activist would dare to be with Rita Baua around. Policies aside, there really was no need to be inebriated silly to enjoy the night. The concert, entitled “Handog Kay Nanay” was all about music, specifically Asin music, and love, specifically a daughter’s love to her mother.

        The night’s real star was Nanay Belen, Ronalyn Olea’s mom, who is undergoing twice-a-week chemotherapy sessions to defeat her Stage IV breast cancer. Wan and weak, she stayed until the last song of one of her favorite bands. She bobbed her head along with the music and she was smiling all throughout the concert. “Handog kay Nanay” is a benefit concert organized by Len and future hubby Fred (who reminds me of Oscar Wilde) to raise funds for Nanay Belen’s treatments. I hear they raised a modest sum, enough for nearly a month’s treatment. Some more events would have to be staged. But the point was, here is a daughter moving heaven and earth to take some of her mother’s pains away.

       Music is love’s language, they say. Last night, in a cramped bar in an obscure corner of this blighted city, I saw no better proof of this.

       When Asin ended their second set, they sang “Byaheng Langit.” With good music and loving children and friends, we all prayed “Not just yet, Nanay Belen, not just yet.” #

Kamatayan

Kayong mga may kasalanan
mga responsable't nasa posisyon
huwag na huwag ninyo itong kalilimutan
kahapon, ngayon at magpakailanman --

Alam niyo ba
kung paano namatay
si Aya?

Ganito:

Tinatawid niya ang magkatapat na tarangkahan
ng unibersidad
habang humaharurot ang naglalakihang sasakyan
na hindi inalintana ang babala
"Pook paaralan. Maghinay-hinay lang."

Ayaw ni Ayang dumaan sa overpass
pugad ito ng mga durog at kriminal.
Sa isip ng bata, hindi lamang sa gubyerno sila naroroon.
Walang bantay, at sa gabi'y walang ilaw
sinong baliw ang doo'y gustong umakyat?

Kaya ang biktima'y nakipagsapalaran
nakipagpatintero sa mga sasakyan
nasungkit ng bakal ang katawan
humampas si Aya sa sementong daan

Napasuot sa ilalim si Aya
at dinaanan siya ng naglalakihang gulong.
Hindi sa katawan, hindi sa paa at sa kamay--
sa ulo, tama, sa ulo siya pinatay.

Napisak parang kamatis
ang kanina lamang ay bilog na ulo.
At ang kanyang utak na kanina'y buo
nahati sa dalawa't bumulwak sa semento.

At tumigil sandali ang mundo

may natulala
may tumili
may umiyak
may nagalit
ang drayber ay tumalilis
ang presidente ay walang naitulong
at ang alkalde ay walang alam

Pagdaka...

Ang pinakamaagang nahimasmasan
ay ang tinderang naglalako lamang.
Siya ang unang lumapit sa bangkay.
Tinakpan ito ng dyaryong bukas
ay si Aya na ang laman.

                                        -1:30 n.h.
                                         13 Setyembre 2001
                                         Rizal Park, Manila

==================
Sa alaala ni Zoraya Rose Ahmid Paul, mag-aaral ng Philippine Normal University-Manila, kasapi ng Gabriela-Youth at kasama sa Sektor Kaguruan at Estudyanteng Guro. 

Hanggang ngayon, humahagibis pa rin ang mga naglalakihang trak sa harap ng eskwelahan, pareho pa rin ang alkalde ng Maynila, ang presidente ng unibersidad at presidente ng Pilipinas.

Buhay Kulungan

Tayo, upo, higa.
Tayo, upo, higa.
Tayo, upo, higa.
Tayo . . .

       

                    -20 November 1992               
                     Warrant Section Jail
                     Western Police District
                     United Nations Avenue, Manila

=====================

This poem saw print on The Philippine Collegian (University of the Philippines-Diliman) in 1994 and  on SPIRES (San Beda College) in 1996.

Coined Faith

There is no escaping
The Lord's guilt-inducing eyes
Glued on an almbox
        Held aloft
By a beggar's grimy hands.

I fish out a coin
From my frayed pocket
To purchase
A peso worth of faith.

________________

This poem was originally submitted as a graduate poetry writing class assignment under Marra PL Lanot at the UP.  It later saw print in San Beda College's SPIRES, October 1995.

'Nay, Ipinagpalit Kita sa Bagyo

Binabasag ng pandalas
na patak ng tubig-ulan
ang pagninilay ko,

alam ko kasing nag-aalala ka.

Kung talagang nais mong malaman . . .
nangangatog na ako sa lamig,
butas ang bubong namin,
basa ang aking damit,
malamig ang hanging sa siwang sumingit,
wala akong unan at kumot,
hindi na makatulog.

Ang lambot ng dating kama ko?
Ang init ng mga yakap mo?

'Nay, hindi na bale.

Nilatagan na ako ng banig ng pagtanggap
ng masang umaasa.
Uminit na ako sa yakap ng bisig
ng pakikibakang mapagpalaya.

Patawad, 'Nay, sa Paskong ito,
ipinagpalit kita sa bagyo.

                                                -10:15 n.g.
                                                 27 Disyembre 1993
                                                 Laguna
+++++++++++++++++

I wrote this poem while Typhoon Upeng was tearing through Southern Luzon at Signal Number 4.  It saw print on Homelife Magazine (December 1995), was a finalist in the Homelife National Literary Awards 1995, cited as one of the "Ten Best Poems" by  Isagani Cruz in the Sunday Star in January 1996, and was included in  "Ang Aklat Likhaan ng Tula at Maikling Kwento 1995 of the University of the Philippines Press (Domingo G. Landicho and Lilia Quindoza Santiago, editors).

Pokwang

Pokwang_2In some recent gatherings, Cherry Clemente's name keeps getting mentioned among my circle of friends, comrades and jerks-who-I-thought-were-my-friends.  I don't blame Cherry for the jerks whom we happen to know both.  She just had the power to attract both good guys and simply assholes.
       Every peso in my wallet at the moment couldn't match the number of guys who had a crush on her when we were younger.   Hindi ko naman alam kung bakit. :-)
       It has been a complete decade since I last worked with Pokwang--I was updating my poetry notebook when I realized "Ay, sampung taon na nga pala nung naghiwalay kami ng bruha."
       
We are both members of something and we still move within the same general circle.  Our relationship have matured in a such a way that, when we bump into each other, I get a sweet hug from her one moment and a dirty finger the next.  I got some of both when we were abroad last December.  The friends I keep.
        Enough of the introductions.  Twelve years ago, Cherry and I were like this:


2 Pebrero 1994


Dear Raymund:

Bawat tuyong daho'y may sisibol na usbong,
    panibagong dahon sa buhay ng puno.
Nalalaglag na daho'y lumalakad na panahon,
    pagkakataon sa pagpapanibagong hubog.

Mga ugat na mahigpit ang kapit sa lupa'y
     di nakaliligtas at nahahagip din ng bagyo
May mga ugat na minsan ay nabubunot
    sa pagkakatayo sa nabababad na lupa.

Sa bawat dahong nililipad
    sana'y mga bagong usbong ay magsilbing karugtong ng buhay...

                                                        Ako,

                                                      Cherry

= = = = = = = = = = = =

5 Pebrero 1994


Cherry,


Ang daho'y natutuyot, nalalagas
kapag matanda na't said na ang katas
at bago maging lason sa punong kinakapitan
kumakalas, nalalaglag, nagiging kasaysayan

Ang ugat ay ligtas sa sakuna't kapahamakan
malalim lang ang kapit at laging nadidiligan
ngunit ito'y nahuhugot, puno'y nabubuwal
kapag lupa'y ulila, tuyo at pagal

Ngunit ang ugat na sumisipsip sa aral ng lipunan
malalim ang kapit, ang lupa'y kaibigan
Ang daho'y buhay sa katas ng pakikibaka
hindi natutuyot, sariwa sa kanyang paglaya

Ako'y naglalagas ng lason, nagdidilig ng ugat
Upang pakikibaka'y masigla at mulat.

                                            Ako rin,

                                           Raymund

Bakasyon

(Para kay Pom)

Ako pa ang namilit
Na umuwi ka sa inyo

Makapagbakasyon at makapagpahinga
Inihatid pa nga kita

 
Nasobrahan naman yata
Labis isang buwan na
Wala ka pa

Bigla, lumakas ang pandinig ko
Umaalingawngaw ang tagas ng gripo
Nakakabingi ang tiktak ng relo

 
Sa lalim ng gabing ito
Sa sarap ng tulog mo
Maalimpungatan ka sana
At bumalik na rito

                                 
                            -29 Enero 1998
                             9:40 n.g.
                             Sampalok, Maynila