Ka-Blog!

Crude

(In)justice secretary Raul Gonzalez’ unending string of gaffes have been written about to death already.  But a remark defending his P10,000.00 bribe to each of the 180 Iloilo City barangay captains who will deliver a 12-0 sweep in favor of Team (Dis)unity senatorial bets screams at me and I can’t help but comment again.

            Gonzalez said that a one-time harvest at his wife’s poultry farm can easily pay for the P1.8 million bribe.  Asked also why he made the “offer”, he arrogantly quipped, “Marami akong pera e.”

            A few months ago, at the height of gloria’s minions’ cha-cha drive at the House of Reptiles, este, Representatives, Quezon City Rep. Annie Rosa Susano committed a similar blunder.  She said the Roman Catholic Church can not express displeasure over her support of the cha-cha because she just gave them millions a few days earlier.

            Still another administration ally, senatorial candidate Chavit Singson said he should not be charged with violation of the Omnibus Election Code because the money he gave to some local political leaders was “not much” even though it was worth tens of thousands of pesos.

            Back to Gonzalez.  I will not comment on how his remark violated the election code because everybody already knows it did.  Rather, I am wondering how much Mrs. Gonzalez’ poultry farm workers are being paid for taking care of the chicken and cleaning their shit while proceeds from their sale are promised to village chiefs who are willing to break the law.  At least P10,000.00 a month for their dirty and backbreaking work?  I don’t think so.

            But the more important point, I believe, is this: how easily and guiltless the few rich flaunt their wealth in the face of the people’s grinding poverty.  Their thick skulls and unfeeling heart remain unaffected by the sad fact that 15 million Filipinos live on less than P47 pesos a day while they go around offering bribes to the bribeable.

            Another important point is, these three are gloria’s trusted lieutenants.

            If persons are judged by the friends they keep, are leaders judged by allies they maintain?  If gloria’s lieutenants are this crude, what does that tell us of her?

Heroes

Chief Justice Reynato Puno may have a bastard of a brother but I like the way this man thinks.  He described the arroyo regime’s efforts to implement the US government’s so-called War on Terror as “mindless” and “knee-jerk.”  Since he became the country’s chief magistrate, the Court has ruled arroyo’s calibrated preemptive response, Presidential Proclamation 1017 and cha-cha moves as unconstitutional.  In its judicious disagreement with the police’s arbitrary arrest tactics, it allowed Rep. Satur Ocampo to post bail early this month.  I sincerely wish there’d be more Reynato Punos in government.  But I believe he is the exception that proves the rule—that this government is a royal pain in the people’s battered (with an “a”, not with a “u” please) ass.

            Puno correctly pointed out that the ongoing spate of human rights violations—the extrajudicial killings of activists and journalists, the banning of rallies, the passage of the so-called anti-terror law, among others—are just arroyo’s way of pandering up to the US principals to shore up her illegitimate government.  (Not his words exactly but this is how I get him.)  It seems to be working; gloria is still in the Palace and ruling the country like Nero, along with her husband who refuses to keel over and breath his last.

            Today, we visited a North Caloocan community on a fact-finding mission about the effects of urban militarization in nine areas here in Metro Manila.  In that community, we shot a video of an AFP poster obviously directed against activists in the area.  That alone produces a chilling effect against the people who before enjoyed peace and quiet despite their grinding poverty.  Nearby, a soldier inside an SUV stood guard, obviously keeping tabs on the activities of suspected “enemies of the state.”

            Since December, platoons of soldiers belonging to the Philippine Army’s dubious Civilian-Military Organization put up camps inside nine urban poor barangays in Metro Manila.  These soldiers in full combat gear go around, distribute pamphlets and terrorize the people.  They even hit a teenager with an armalite butt in Parola, Tondo.  All these are in violation of the Constitution’s Bill of Rights, CARHRIHL (Part 4, Article 12) and the International Humanitarian Law.   

(Logic 101: When men in camouflaged fatigue uniforms have with them assault rifles, they are combat soldiers. Combat soldiers have no business inside civilian communities.  Combat soldiers inside civilian communities hurting hapless boys are gloria’s bastards.)

            We interviewed Maricon.  The way she narrated her experiences, it was clear this woman is as intelligent as Norberto Gonzales is dumb.  She lives in a hovel but she is as classy as Raul Gonzalez is crass.  Her life in service of the people is as noble as gloria arroyo is evil.

            Since December, she said, she had been tailed, harassed and threatened countless times.  All of these she now suffers simply because she is a community organizer under Bayan Muna.  When “bad cop” tactics did not work on her, she was bribed with a thousand pesos each day she would work with the military in putting up a bogus people’s organization in the area.

            Maricon always put up a brave front in the soldiers’ presence.  Based on her narration, many times she succeeded in putting the soldiers in their proper place.  She made them speechless with pointed and clear answers to their incessant interrogation.  I am sure that even their PMA graduate CO, a jerk surnamed Mabanag, could not make heads or tails of Maricon and the other brave women of the community.  It just shows the billions of pesos spent on the officers’ education and the entire budget of the military organization are wasted on them all when they can not even justify their operations to an unshod woman living in a hovel at the city’s edge.

            But Maricon was candid enough to admit to us that there were nights she could not sleep because of sheer terror of what might happen to her and her kids.  When the soldiers “visited” her many times daily, she listened to every noise when she was already in bed and it was dark outside.  Previously, she said, she could go around her neighborhood even when it was already late.  Now, she could hardly go anywhere without a companion, lest she is abducted or killed or both.  Like countless others.

            Years after these cursed times, people will remember those who resisted.  Books shall be written about their bravery against soldiers, police, gloria and her principals.  Songs shall be sung about their commitment to keep the light burning in the dark.  Exalted persons like Chief Justice Puno shall be given their due but ordinary mortals like the Maricons of this blighted country will be held in our hearts as true heroes of our people.

Sad developments

Peace Corps volunteer Julia Campbell was found dead in Battad yesterday.  She has been missing since last Wednesday  It looks like she was murdered as she was found buried a few meters below a mountain trail.

            We operate a volunteer placement organization.  While I am aware of the Peace Corps’ real objectives, I am sad for her family and I am afraid of how her apparent murder might affect us.

            CERV is dissimilar with the Peace Corps in the sense that it does not allow political, economic and religious objectives to taint the volunteers’ work.  If anything, we inform our American volunteers what the US government has done and is doing against the Filipino people in cahoots with the Philippine government.  If we even hold back our punches for the sake of diplomacy, we can always count on our volunteers from other countries to tell their American counterparts about their views on the US government.  More often than not, Americans acknowledge that their government is not the nice kid on the block.  We’ve had one or two volunteers who passed themselves off as Canadians when travelling abroad lest they receive dagger looks and unkind words from all sorts of people of different nationalities.  All because of Bush and his Iraq and Afghanistan mess. 

             One thing I am sure of is that volunteers spend lots of money and time to volunteer abroad because of their sincere desire to help, sans misled beliefs to show off.  Sure, some just want a cheap way to travel and stay but they are the small minority.              

We’ve had one young American volunteer last year who was a Republican back home.  It was his misfortune to have come with several outspoken British girls so he was needled a lot about Bush.  He stuck to his belief that the American government is democracy’s pillar everywhere in the world.  Until I informed him of how the US military killed a fifth of all living Filipinos at the turn of the last century during the Filipino-American war.  He was jolted to the reality that his country’s government had and has blood on its hands.  It simply means that not all Americans are aware of their government’s history.

One somewhat related story is of our first American volunteer who was from the midwest.  He just earned his MBA from Purdue in Indiana (think Larry Bird and Reggie Miller).  He was here when Katrina battered New Orleans.  When we informed him that Fidel Castro offered to send doctors stateside to help the victims, he asked where would Fidel find doctors in Cuba to send to the US.  We told him that Cuba has the most number of doctors and nurses per capita than anywhere else in the world and he did not want to believe it.  Yes indeed.  Even American MBAs may not know beyond what their government and Fox tell them of countries that have different political systems.

            Ms Campbell was not our volunteer so I don’t know if she toed the original Peace Corps line of showing that the American way is the best way. My presumption is that they do not know or have been misled anyway.  I don’t deny the folks she came into direct contact with feels she did a lot of good in her two years here.  And that is what is more important, moreso in the country that could not rely on its government for the much-needed help the volunteers provide.

            Aside from the Peace Corps and CERV, I know of two other volunteer placement organizations operating in the Philippines.  With Ms Campbell's death, I am afraid many interested future volunteers may think twice about going to the Philippines.  This is a sad development for us; this is a sad development for the communities we are helping.

             But the saddest thing of all is that we are nation who has to rely so much on the kindness of others to look our way.

So it goes*

Kurt Vonnegut Jr, one of only two authors I listed as my personal favorites, died yesterday.  He was 84.

            Reputedly, at the time of his death, he had caused six billion laughs from all over the world.

            Seriously, he died after banging his head after a fall in his Manhattan apartment a few weeks back.  He at last succeeded in killing himself after a failed suicide in 1984.  A true master of irony and satire him.

            Who was he again?

            An intelligent read.  America’s 20^th and 21^st Centuries' Mark Twain who wrote and looked like him.  Mark Twain was anti-imperialist.  Vonnegut was ACLU, humanist, anti-Vietnam and Iraq wars all the way.  (Some even described him as socialist, pero Trotskyite.)   Both have cult followings, especially politicized campus denizens.

             Vonnegut has been credited as the father of literary counterculture in the US.  True to character, he refused to be so labeled nor he ever did postulate on what the heck counterculture is.

            In his only book Pom and I own, Bagombo Snuff Box, he wrote the following advice to aspiring short story writers:

1. Use the time of a total stranger in such a way that he or she will not feel the time was wasted.
2. Give the reader at least one character he or she can root for.
3. Every character should want something, even if it is only a glass of water.
4. Every sentence must do one of two things -- reveal character or advance the action.
5. Start as close to the end as possible.
6. Be a sadist. No matter how sweet and innocent your leading characters, make awful things happen to them -- in order that the reader may see what they are made of.
7. Write to please just one person. If you open a window and make love to the world, so to speak, your story will get pneumonia.
8. Give your readers as much information as possible as soon as possible. To heck with suspense. Readers should have such complete understanding of what is going on, where and why, that they could finish the story themselves, should cockroaches eat the last few pages.

            "I've had a hell of a good time," Vonnegut once wrote. "I tell you, we are here on Earth to fart around, and don't let anybody tell you any different."

Last year, he came out of semi-retirement to write a new book - A Man Without a Country - because of his "contempt" for current US President George W Bush.  “Bush is so ignorant,” he was quoted to have said.

Did I say he was also a master of understaments?

After finishing the book, he was again quoted in August 2006 to have said: 'Please, I've done everything I was supposed to do. Can I go home now?' That's what I feel right now. I've written books. Lots of them. Please, I've done everything I'm supposed to do. Can I go home now?"

Sure, Mr Vonnegut.  As if you need permission from anyone.

= = = = = =

* Vonnegut's favorite and most popular parting shot.

A wedding and a funeral

Prestoline Sistoza Suyat, Kilusang Mayo Uno spokesperson, former College Editors Guild of the Philippines president (two terms), and former University of the East Dawn editor in chief (tikatik) took a bride last March 28.  He married the very lovely Aya of the Kilusang Magbubukid ng Pilipinas.  Yan ang batayang alyansa!

            The Catholic rites were held at the Sta. Teresita Church near Welcome Rotunda—a walking distance away from the historic Basilio Street abode where many a YS meeting and EDs took place.  This is the area where Presto grew up (medyo).

            It’s a wonder these two found time to get married in the midst of social crises grinding us to dust.  But, as I always say, love conquers.

            Syanga pala, aherm, Best Man ako.  Originally, a decade or so back, I volunteered just to be the fotog.

            As with most weddings, some cried.

             Seconds before the entourage was to march towards the altar, I already saw Mama Pepay’s—sorry, Pepsi’s—eyes misting.  By the time the dear mom was marching along with her two sons, it was practically a Maria Cristina Falls already.  While we stood watching Aya marching down the aisle, grabe na.  Victoria Falls talaga.            

                (Unfortunately, Pom was seated too far back to snap a clear photo of Pepsi.  I would have it framed!  While driving the family back to Maia Alta in Antipolo, I was having a good time needling her about it.)

            During the reception’s program—which surprised the bride—Aya cried when Presto recited his poem to her.  Okey, we have known Presto to turn sappy (extra thick) when he writes love poems or songs, but she was so touched she cried.  So in love, so happy.

            Not all Guilders Presto wanted to be there were able to make it.  Bayan Muna staffmembers had to work for Ka Satur’s release (ninong si SO, but of course wasn’t able to attend, along with Ka Bel and Ka Rey Casambre).  But three CEGP presidents were there: Ronalyn Olea, Ruth Cervantes and Teddy Casiño.  Secretary generals were there too, including two who served during Presto’s terms—Cherry “Ako’y Anakpawis” Clemente and Jazminda "Ako'y Ibon" Lumang-Buncan.  I don’t know if Mai Gile and Mao Hermitanio became SecGens but they were there too.  Syempre, may Dawners ding pumunta—that proud and loyal bunch.

            Speaking of Mao, KMU’s most eligible bachelorette ended up with the bridal bouquet.  Everyone had a hearty laugh over that.

             Boss P is now married.  He is soon to be a father.  Some good things still happen in this country.

= = = = = =

The other day, I belatedly learned Luzviminda V. Galang died.  She succumbed from her liver cancer diagnosed only this year.  (Parang si Ka Jeng Crisostomo all over again.) 

Two weeks ago, I learned Minda was already weak from her illness.  The news made me weak then.  The news of her death made me profoundly sad.

One of the things I am most grateful of in my seven years as Alliance of Concerned Teachers spokesperson and later secretary general is to know and work with old teacher-leaders like Minda.

She was a character.  While other female teacher-leaders spoke in rallies in Batibot-like manner, Minda hated minching words.  And she always reserved the most colorful language for education officials and Malacañang.  If we were not careful and gave her bullshit, she let us have a taste of them, too.  It was always a pleasure to let journalists interview her as she dished certified quotables everytime.  It did not hurt that she looked like Ms Tapia, albeit a militant-looking one.  Thick glasses, thin frame and fingers perpetually caked with chalkdust.

But, young as I was when I presented myself to her as the new ACT spokesperson in 1997, I never felt she looked down on me because of my age.  She listened and asked questions.  And shared many a smoke with me.  And this was an old teacher (she was 47, I was 25 and a teachers’ movement newbie) who was already a former Manila Public School Teachers Association president.  It was such a happy day when she cast her political lot with ACT again, and chose us over dear friends who were at the other side of the fence.

Before I left ACT, Minda and I could share jokes like old friends—usually at the expense of Benjie Valbuena.  During boring meetings, we would find each other in a school corner fumbling for a lighter and a smoke.

At the time of her death, Minda was concurrent president of the Philippine Public School Teachers’ Association-NCR and the MPSTA, the two biggest teachers’ organizations in Metro Manila.  She was also ACT National Council and a Gabriela member.

As hundreds of teachers celebrated Minda’s life on her wake’s last night at the Rajah Soliman High School in Tondo, a KGM wreath stood closest to her coffin.

Mahusay at matapat na Kasamang Minda, mabuhay ka!

If this big guy bought it

If media and congressional reports and witness accounts are at all true about his activities, the following may just happen if this big guy bought it.

1. The elder son will be left to control most of the jueteng operations in the country;
2. The younger son would be politically listless;
3. The wife and the children would inherit the reported offshore bank accounts and property;
4. VT may also inherit some;
5. Pseudo party lists organizations loose their biggest political backer;
6. Journalists can breath easier;
7. Lakas-CMD may secretly rejoice;
8. Garci looses a partner in crime;
9. Cheating generals loose their biggest benefactor and “special operations” commander; and
10. Lechon sellers loose a big customer.

Among other things, of course.

The thing is, he came out of the “very risky” open heart surgery alive.  So the status quo remains.

Lost (and feeling good about it)

Pom and I went a little bit crazy this Lenten break and took an offbeat road trip.

            As soon as I told her a forthnight back Kodao is allowing a break this Holy Week, she went all over the place planning a beach trip.  The past few days she was never without a travel guide book or two.  And she always had the beach pages folded.

            Last Tuesday afternoon, though, I knew I’m gonna mess up her plans.  Kabataan Party flooded with me texts about their troubles with the bus we lent them.  (I really do not know why that bus is giving them lots of trouble.  Or are they giving the bus lots of trouble?  I’m not sure.)  I started to make all sorts of noises to Pom about how difficult it was to go to any beach at this time.  Wise to my ways, she just gave me non-committal yet pregnant “uh-huhs.”

            Early Wednesday morning, I had to drag my tired body away from the pillows and picked up the mechanic at his shop.  I told KP to send someone to meet us at the bus at seven in the morning.  Awa ng diyos, dumating ng mag-aalas dose.  We were done by one o’clock.

           Pom and I went out for dinner that night.  Unlike dinner some days back, we actually went to a place I liked.  The Pasta Factory was the name of the place, co-owned by my crush LJ Moreno.  The pasta was swimming with delicious sauce; the pizza was simple yet flavorful.  My only gripe was they scrimped on paper napkins.  But that resto deserves a repeat.

            Yesterday, we purposefully woke up late.  For breakfast, I fried pork liempo and reheated some left-over shrimps from Dampa in Parañaque.  (Cholesterol trip, baby!)  Then we lounged around and viewed some DVDs.  It felt soooo nice.  Been wanting to do it for such a long time.

            Pom was saying we could just go to some hot spring tub in Laguna instead.  But I had other things in mind.  We grabbed some change of clothes and off we went—to Bulacan.  No, we did not go to the pricey and overcrowded resorts of Malolos or

San Rafael. We took Quirino Highway and lost ourselves in Sapang Palay and Barangay Tigbe in San Juan del Monte.

            We actually visited one resort just past Grotto.  But it was full and we saw the water already green.  Pom did not like it.  With no map and armed only with a fading recollection of Sapang Palay’s general direction from a bus trip I took more than seven years ago, we set off for the foothills of Sierra Madre.  We hoped we’d stumble into a little known resort with airconditioned rooms and few bathers somehow.

            We found Sapang Palay alright.  I must admit though I really did not know the way there.  We just took the slightly wider roads and tried to follow jeepneys as they took turns to what we hoped was the correct direction.  At a gas station, we asked the attendant if he knew of any resort nearby.  He mentioned Adventure Resort at Barangay Tigbe.  Then a tricycle driver mentioned two other resorts.  Our first real clues.  After asking for directions, off we went.

            We found Adventure Resort without trouble.  It looked impressive from the outside.  We did not go in because we saw it was already full and they had no rooms.  Guests had to bring their own tents if they wanted to stay overnight.  We just thought it would be worth a try later. 

            Then we got lost.  It turned out that I was just going around circles in the area’s confusing layout.  We ended up near we took a u-turn after Adventure Resort, doubled back and got lost again.  But the place was not wanting in kind souls who pointed us to the right direction. (We only had to strain our ears to understand their accent.)  After another double back, we passed by Adventure Resort once more on our way to Norzagaray.  All the while, we were just driving around Tigbe.

             Then the drive became pretty.  Narrow barangay roads opened up beautiful vistas I never knew existed so close to

Manila

.  On both sides are mango orchards with trees full of growing fruits.  Bamboo clumps form archways providing sun shelter as we drove through.  Then, from time to time, we saw nipa huts made picture perfect by their thriving flower gardens.  On hill crests, we saw green valleys below us and the impressive Sierra Madre stretching as far as the eyes can see.

            After another double back and a new set of directions, we found Falcon Crest Resort hidden away along a rough side road on a place where trivial pursuits like resorts are not to be expected.  I don’t know if it was named after that

US soap in the 80s or after predator birds there because I saw one hovering directly overhead.  Anyway, it was really a retreat house and they only accept groups of seven and up.  But Pom and I thought it would be worth another visit sometime, if just for the view.

            Finally, we left Barangay Tigbe and emerged on the highway connecting Sta Maria and Norzagaray.  On another rise beside the municipal cemetery, we hit paydirt—

Golden Forest Resort.  No, it did not have airconditioning in its rooms but it had three pools with only a few bathers.  Left with no other choice, we booked ourselves in.

            

Golden Forest is not half as bad.  If not for its four karaoke machines in its 850 sq meters, it’d be very good in my book.  We took our first dip just as a gorgeous sunset was coloring the sky with a deep orange.

            The resort did not have a restaurant.  So we went out and got lost again in the entrails of ‘Garay.  The town is so old-townish with very narrow streets and a million tricycles.  We had to double back twice again just to find our way back to the cemetary.  Eventually, we just ate dinner at the crossing leading to Sta. Maria, Angat, Marilao and NLEX.  Mr. Chef the resto was called.  The tapsilog was good, the fried rice was oily but tasty and their tokwa’t baboy was divine.  Cheap, too.  It would have been perfect if not for the drunk tricycle drivers who were eating lugaw near us.  But, hey, it’s their town.

            Pom and I took another dip when we got back.  Then we sat in front of our room, and talked and talked until we polished off a liter of

California

red and two bags of nachos with cheese and salsa dips.  To ward off them ‘quitos, I lit up Isabela cigars with good old fashioned matches.  (Makes cigars taste better, I read somewhere.) 

            It turned out we did not need airconditioned rooms.  The place was surprisingly cool.  We barely could stop our teeth from chattering while having a shower by the pool and the wind blew.

             Then it’s early morning and time to leave.  On the way back to Tigbe, we shot some photos of the gorgeous sunrise and scenery.  We passed by a farmer’s house where they sold carabao milk on gin bottles stopped with rolled banana leaves.  The milk was sweet and very fresh indeed.  We could still taste Momma Carabao’s tits as we drank straight from the bottle.

            We did not get lost this time, although Sapang Palay was a bit confusing.  And because it was a Good Friday, we were caught in a traffic jam for more than an hour at Grotto.  Reaching Lagro, we stopped by Chowking.  Pom had King’s Breakfast while I had spicy beef wanton noodles.

            Our trip was not Galera, Panglao, El Nido, Samal, Pagudpud nor Bora but I sure enjoyed it.  Something about going to places and discovering roads I’ve never been to before that makes getting lost worth it.

Thieving restaurants!

There’s a new restaurant at Manggahan corner Commonwealth.  It’s called “Raffy’s”.  I was grateful for its new building because it cleared that area of the chaotic tiangge that raised my blood pressure every time I drove by because pedestrians were forced to take the road itself and not the sidewalk.

            Anyway, last Saturday night, Pom texted me to buy cooked food as she had no time to cook.  I thought it would be a good time to drop by Raffy’s for the first time.

            Right off, I saw their menu is a bit high priced. Parang presyong Horseshoe Drive, hindi pang-Manggahan.  But I shrugged and thought that probably they have big servings and their foods are tasty.  So I ordered one bulalo, one pinakbet and four cups of rice to go.

            I don’t know with you guys but I feel insulted whenever I see serbidoras painstakingly counting every meat slice and limp vegetables they put in my plastic bags.  They did it to me at Raffy’s.  And when they thought that one slice is a millimeter too thick, they hurriedly put it back inside the trays and gingerly scratch around for smaller ones.    Mas mabuto, mas mabuti.  (I wished I have 25 centavo coins so I can mimic them when it was my turn to pay.  Unti-unti, parang atubiling magbayad.)

            What’s more, I even have to ask them for kalamansi and sili for my dip.

            Put off at the restaurant itself, I already had cause to be critical of Raffy’s food.  Man, their bulalo is tasteless!  They even scrimped on beef cubes!  And their pinakbet?  Kapampangan, not Ilokano. 

            Last night, Pom and I went mall-ing and ate out.  Being a Sunday after payday, there were of course hoards of people in the mall.  We were then forced to look for restaurants that had less people eating.  That’s when we stumbled upon “Reyes’ Barbeque.”   

            Forget their rice cups.  Their cupful won’t feed two birds, much less a man of my appetite.  And their kinilaw na tanigue?  They call nine very small slices a serving?  And I counted exactly 12 strands of green papaya on the achara they put on my plate!

            I don’t know if I have reason to gripe like this, given the fact that the peso is virtually worthless already.  But the pesos I paid them I worked very hard for. 

I would be less angry if they pay their workers their just wages.  But, chances are, those are contractuals with wages lower than dirt.

Fucking capitalists!