Ka-Blog!

Oi! AFP! You are sooooo fucked!

To the enlisted military and police personnel who blindly follow the unlawful orders of their officers; to the military and police officers who blindly follow the criminal orders of the top brass; to the military and police top brass (particularly retired Major General Jovito S Palparan) for blindly following the animalistic orders of the Cabinet and Malacañang; to the Cabinet and Malacañang who blindly implement the so-called global war on terror  by the imperialist US government—YOU ARE SOOOOO FUCKED!

            Just try explaining the military is not involved in enforced disappearances, torture, and extrajudicial killings now. Click this: (http://newsinfo.inquirer.net/inquirerheadlines/nation/view_article.php?article_id=84423) 

            It would be very interesting to know how the Supreme Court would decide on this unique petition.  It would be very interesting to see how the AFP and Malacañang wiggle their way out of this one.

Mindanao wars: who fights for what?

Sometime this week I overheard over ANC a Marine Corps spokesperson try to wax poetic and said, “You (the people) may be paying for our salaries with your taxes, but we Marines pay it back with our blood” or something to that effect.

            That is true in many respects.  Yet before we hasten to liken this frustrated Robert Frost with other extremely quotable warlords such as Douglas McArthur of the “I shall return” fame or Jacob H Smith of “The more you kill and burn, the more you please me” notoriety, let me try to put some perspective to what he said.

·        The Bangsa-Moro suffered massacres, deprivations, discriminations, abuse, neglect, and all sorts of high crimes against all Manila governments for centuries—from the Spaniards, British, Americans, Japanese and Filipino neocolonial governments.  Self-respecting peoples would keep the fire of resistance and sense of nationhood if made to suffer the same fate;

·        There was a ceasefire agreement between the Government of the Republic of the Philippines (GRP) and the Moro Islamic Liberation Front (MILF), which controls territories in Moroland.  Whether one agrees that a belligerent force controls areas known to be inside Philippine boundaries or not is beside the point—because there is a different government aside from the GRP existing and operating in these areas. That is a fact, else the GRP wouldn’t bother sitting across the peace table with the belligerents nor allow the Malaysian government to broker the process if they do not recognize this;

·        Part of that agreement is that the GRP should notify the MILF before their forces are to pass through said territories;

·        Under the pretext of running after alleged Abu Sayyaf bandits suspected of kidnapping Italian Catholic Priest Giancarlo Bossi last moth, GRP forces trespassed on MILF territory without heeding the “notice” clause of said agreement.  That was when the encounter happened where 10 Marines were ambushed.  Six of the dead were later grotesquely hacked even when already dead;

·        Bloodlust revenge for the humiliation drove Malacañang and the Armed Forces of the Philippines (AFP) to unsheath their swords and send more Army and Marine battalions to that unfortunate part of the country.  The result, as every interested person knows, is dozens more deaths on the part of the AFP while not knowing how many rebel casualties there were in return.  What I am sure though is that the soldiers are so desperate for revenge they shoot at just about anything that moves—even children and unarmed civilians (This my source from a military hospital told me.);

·        While all these were happening, a wire photographer snapped a picture of United States Armed Forces personnel imbedded among the Filipino soldiers on their way to the battles.  (The same source said that his patients in a military hospital told him the Americans gave them war materiel and command directives, which did not work and are not working against the rebels.);

·        Those provinces are mineral and oil rich and foreign countries are tripping all over themselves to get to them.  We do not have to guess which is the most rapacious foreign country there is; and

·        The MILF is open to talks; the GRP said no.

Don’t get me wrong.  I do believe that violent deaths are such a waste.  The tragedy of it all is sufficiently driven into everybody nowadays as the networks and papers are outdoing each other in showing how the dead soldiers are breadwinners of their respective families or avid texters of endearments to their sweethearts.

Truth to tell, though, I am not entirely sure the soldiers and their young officers in the first encounter were sent after the Abu Sayyaf.  When Bossi was released, he revealed he was kept on mainland Mindanao throughout his captivity and not in the Jolo archipelago where the fighting is now. I hope I am not oversimplifying when I write this, but here goes: there are four groups of armed groups in that area now.  One is an armed bandit group which was put up by veterans of the Afghanistan War of Liberation and were originally trained and equipped by the US Armed Forces.  Another is a revolutionary force who are peoples of Moroland and are fighting in and for their ancestral domains.  Still another is a national armed force which is being equipped, trained and directed by a foreign armed force.  The last is of course the foreign armed force who has no business being in the middle of all these but is there nonetheless.

Yes, Marine, the deaths of your fellow soldiers are tragic and sad.  But more tragic because… 

Starstruck with a 'criminal'

I am preparing to hit some assholes hard so I needed a lawyer.  The only human rights slash labor lawyer who has time to immediately give me pro bono services at the moment texted me to say he was to be at Branch 100 of the Quezon City Regional Trial Court at eight this morning.

            So, I was there and, familiar with the look and feel of a courtroom, immediately proceeded to where lawyers sit: up front.  After announcing my presence to Atty Greg Fabros I turned around to look for a place to park my bum.  Then I saw him in his

ubiquitous orange t-shirt emblazoned with the popular “Free all political prisoners!” slogan.

            Just last week, I read about him (http://services.inquirer.net/express/07/08/21/html_output/xmlhtml/20070815-82834-xml.html).  Idol ko talaga itong taong ito.  I also know persons close to him—just don’t ask who and how. 

            I waited to catch his eyes and flashed my warmest smile at him.  Now, I don’t fault anyone who might think I look like some donut-stuffed police officer and I certainly won’t blame Serrano if he gives me a dirty look in return instead.  But he smiled back and, with the gorgeous beard he’s now wearing, looked like a benevolent Moses.

            When the presiding judge was too busy to notice some private conversation going on, I slipped a paper to him introducing myself.  After reading it he reached over and give me such a strong handshake it nearly uprooted my right arm from its socket and crushed my finger bones while at it.  Then he passed the paper to some peasant-looking couple across the aisle (who were probably there to make sure he was not being harmed by his armed custodians).  All the while the PNP “escort” was eyeing us like a hawk—but I couldn’t care less. 

            When he was about to be carted off again to his jail cell at Camp Crame (yes, nasa Crame na siya), I slipped another piece of paper introducing Ka Greg to him.  Afterwards, he approached Ka Greg and shook his hand.

            After giving me another earth-shaking handshake, he was off.

            Also noteworthy about my morning was the privilege to see Atty Pura Calleja in action in defense of Serrano.  By the looks of it, she was able to totally convince the judge about the need to first rule on the defense’s petition to consolidate the dozens of murder charges against Serrano to that of rebellion.  (Judging by how even his enemies respect Serrano a lot, who would believe but the malicious he is a mass murderer?  See article again.) All the while, the public prosecutor just sat there bemused-looking.  He was benefiting from the impromptu lecturing Atty Calleja was giving everyone with her performance.

            Anyway, my point really is, I was so pleasantly surprised to meet a man that I never thought would see personally.  To this government he is a criminal.  To the people of Southern Tagalog he is a folk hero—their hero.  The former is like the Sheriff of Nottingham.  The latter is, I think, much greater than Robin Hood ever was.

Who wouldn’t be star-struck?              

About an 'animal' named Malu Fernandez

Isang araw, like rain in the desert where he is now, my long-time tormentor Adolfo Ares Gutierrez suddenly sent me this message:

“aware ka naman siguro sa alingasngas ng mga OFW dun sa animal na columnist ng standard at people asia na si Malu Fernandez…araw-araw, nadadagdagan ng 100 comments yung isang blogspot na nagpaskel ng article ...indikasyon ng galit ng mga migrante…”

Now, Ares writes like this all the time.  But I thought his colorful adjectives were reserved only for college hamsters and nincompoops he disliked (because he was friends with nincompoops—so there goes consistency). 

What made my beloved (gag!) former ‘B’ eic use these choice words again?

Here:

Are you a stinky linky? Or do you smell like a divine divalicious babe?

By Malu Fernandez

“As all of you know I have just returned from a wonderful holiday in the Mediterranean. To cut on some costs for this impromptu vacation I was forced to fly economy class which I absolutely do not wish on my worst enemy. I was, however, encouraged by my travel agent to try out Emirates since it won the best economy class, so with great trepidation I flew on Emirates via Dubai, completely forgetting that Dubai is the hub for all the Filipino migrant workers. Call me whatever you like but when you are trapped in economy class that is filled to the brim with migrant workers the smell gets a little funky after nine hours of flying…”

Following are some of the reactions flying around the web from incensed Pinoy migrant workers:

--"arogante, mayabang, pintasera, matapobre... etc. etc. ”

--“No wonder na ang broadsheet na Manila Standard ay hindi pupuwedeng i-level sa mga broadsheets na kagaya ng Manila Bulletin, Philippine Daily Inquirer at Philippine Star, dahil sa mga ganitong klaseng writer at article.”

--“my Goshhhhh!!!!!!!  shes not kagandahan para mag enarte.......try nya muna mag pa lipo k!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

--"inutusan lang ng suka writer na.”

The number of such reactions must have already reached critical mass that Ms Fernandez was forced to respond, to wit:

“As I type this, I’d like you to know that it’s not about whining, complaining and bitching but just stating the facts. Just recently, I wrote a funny article in my magazine column and my friends thought it was hilarious. It was humorous and quite tongue-in-cheek, or at least I thought so, until the magazine got a few e-mails from people who didn’t get the meaning of my acerbic wit. The bottom line was just that I had offended the reader’s socioeconomic background. If any of these people actually read anything thicker then a magazine they would find it very funny. Most people don’t get the fact that they need bitches like me to shake up their world, otherwise their lives would be boring and mediocre. I obviously write for the a certain target audience and if what I write offends you, just stop reading. (sic)

“Although it may sound elitist to you the fact is this country is built on the foundation of haves, have-nots and wannabes. One group will never get the culture of the other. Although I could mention that it is easier to understand someone who has a lower socioeconomic background that would entail a whole other page and frankly I don’t want to be someone to bridge the gap between socioeconomic classes. I leave that to the politicians in my family who believe they can actually help. Now I seriously ask you, am I being a diva or are people around me just lacking in common sense? Perhaps it’s a little of both!”

Now, my take—

If you tell Filipinos to their faces they are dark-skinned, they will agree.

If you tell Filipinos they are only good for manual work, they may agree.

If you say Filipinos stink, they will disagree.

Because she is elitist and born of the hated class, Ms Fernandez does not know this.  By firing off that rejoinder, she also showed the world she is clueless.  Well, she is probably not too bright up there in the first place.  What she arrogantly wrote was cassus belli—cause for war.

We Filipinos genuinely believe we are the best-smelling people in the world.  Our national pastime (no, not basketball or cockfights or bloody elections) is taking a bath, which is even bigger than the government’s proclivity for corruption.  Yes! that! big! 

Now, to say Manila Standard Today and People Asia should be boycotted is harsh.  Take pity on papers that haven’t made money since their first issues.  More to the point, take pity on their working journalists and other workers.

To say that Ms Fernandez and her class orientation should be incessantly pilloried, you’ll hear nothing from me.

======= Turns out I only picked one small portion of that offensive article by that animal! (pronounce it like an Iberian, please) wrote. Here is more quotations from that article Col. Ares Sanders sent to the rest of the universe: "I forgot that the hub (of Emirates Airlines) was in Dubai and the majority of OFWs were stationed there. The duty-free shop was overrun with Filipino workers selling cell phones and perfume. I wanted to slash my wrist at the thought of being trapped in a plane with all of them," she wrote in her column. She claimed this was aggravated when one of her fellow passengers spoke to her and said "Hey there? Where are you from? Are you a domestic helper as well?" Fernandez wrote that due to the huge number of OFWs in the plane wearing cheap perfumes, the expensive perfume she had on evaporated into thin air. "I had resigned myself to being trapped like a sardine with all these OFWs smelling of AXE and Charlie cologne while my Jo Malone evaporated into thin air," Fernandez boasted. Hayop nga 'tong putang-amang ito, ano? Anyway, Fernandez is reported to have resigned from the two rags already. Nobody is saying whether she is really contrite or not. My question is, when is that wrist-slashing coming?

Being tagged and tagging back

I learned something from Ina Silverio (http://allecoallende.blogs.friendster.com/my_blog/) today. She wrote, “A person who gets tagged must write in his or her blog ten weird things or habits or little known facts about himself or herself. He or she should also state this rule clearly. At the end of the blog entry, he or she should tag six other people, except the one who tagged him or her.”

           Like Ina, Mong Palatino (http://mongpalatino.motime.com/) has tagged me. And he’s not ashamed to tell me he reads my blog. Bless him.   

          So, ten weird things about me:

1. I hate going out of the house in the morning without doing "number two." And I always have to have something to read, even old, torn newspapers;

2. I love putting mint ointments inside my nostrils—and I mean really inside and up there;

3. I hate condiments in small portions. And lots of lemon and chili, please;

4. I was about the only kid who went to our rural elementary school in shoes everyday. But I grew up hating wearing shoes;

5. A meal without soup is not really a meal for me;

6. I suck in every sport or game when I was growing up. But I was the best game annotator in town even when I was younger;

7. I have a huge stage fright, but there were times in the past I was a regular on current affairs TV shows, addressed Labor Day and Sona rallies and emceed lots of events (including uprisings);

8. I used to play with stiff pillow corners with my fingers to put myself to sleep. (My wife and mom made sure we only have soft-cornered pillows so I don’t do it as much anymore.);

9. I hate clutter but I am such a couch potato I keep putting off house cleaning duties;

10. There are more weird things about me but am not so brave to write them here.

          Finally, I have to tag six other persons, excluding Mong. But unlike Motime, Friendster does not allow for a sidebar listing of links to my favorite bloggers. So it must be here:

a. Pom, my wife, who I honestly think writes better than I (http://queen_fisher.blogs.friendster.com/my_blog/);

b. Malcolm Roy Trevena, who’s a funny and profound bloke (http://www.crazymalc.co.nz/);

c. Ina Alleco Silverio, who as Mong wrote is so galing-galing (http://allecoallende.blogs.friendster.com/my_blog/);

d. Ilang-Ilang Quijano, who’s boyfriend will never be as good a writer (http://ilangq.wordpress.com/);

e. Sassy Lawyer, who first made me think there is something to blogging (http://houseonahill.net/index.php/blog);

f. And I leave this spot to all my friends (and, aherm!, fans) who tagged and read me but I can’t include because the list must end here.

Darth Bukaneg finds his Darth Sith

Pom read my previous blog about airsofting.  She probably took pity on me and surprised me with wonderful gifts before she flew to her vacation last Saturday.

            She went with her sister Emily to downtown Manila last Friday.  I told her I wanted a black cap to complement my ukay and repaired SWAT Tactical Uniform (STU) I use in our airsofting games.  She let me on a bit by texting me she had a surprise for me.  When I arrived at the CERV office that evening, there was not only the exact pleated cap I wanted, she also showed me—with relish—a complete battle dress uniform (BDU)!  I barely checked myself from squealing like a little girl (because Emily was there waiting for my reaction).  Not wanting to show how excited I was, I thought of trying it on upon reaching home later that night.  But Pom was not to be denied her amusement.  She wanted me to try them on.  So I did.  Finally!  A uniform that does not make me look like lumpia—it fit perfectly, my beer belly notwithstanding.

            Then my wife took pains in explaining that it was the official PNP-RSAF/SWAT uniform.  At least that was what the sales clerk told her.  We don’t know if they were factory overruns or that some police (and even military) officers sold them off for some extra and illegal income.  Nevertheless, I remember Chief Supt. Oscar Calderon saying late last year that civvies found wearing police and military uniforms complete with badges and insignias will be arrested as they may be using them for illegal activities.  He said that doing so are violations of Articles 177 (Usurpation of Authority or Official Functions) and 179 (Illegal Use of Uniforms or Insignia) of the Revised Penal Code.  The PNP chief conveniently forgot to mention that most bank robberies, kidnapping for ransom and other organized crime activities ARE being committed by active and former police and military officers. 

No PNP badges and insignias for my STU then.  But so what?  Who wants to be a PNP but the desperate and the criminally-minded Filipino men and women?  (I grant there are some police and military persons who play by the rules, but they are the minority and are inside brigs instead of command offices.)  The first (and hopefully the last) time I wore a PNP uniform was to act a role that parodied the idiotic police policies on legit dissent.  That is why I don’t blame Jaz Lumang-Buncan her dislike of my preference to black police uniforms.  But my AEG is an HK MP5, which is really a police weapon.  I like it better than the more popular M4/M16s.  I find the AK47 series to be too heavy for me.  And I like CQBs better than field play.  So no olive greens or desert browns for me, sorry.

Back to the subject of my wife’s gifts.

After taking off the uniforms, Pom playfully said that my medium-cut sneakers no longer look right with my STU.  I thought she was egging me to be aggressive in finding a pair of second-hand combat shoes.  But then she turned around and produced from her shopping bag a brand-new pair.  She dropped them on my lap and immediately saw they were first class.  They were very light, despite their size.  I have not seen a local police officer wear one.  The pair was genuine leather, had gum soles, steel toes, exhausts holes and padded insides.  Pom told me that it was made by Marikina’s Gibsons and that it was an export overrun of those made for foreign police forces.  I had doubts whether I would be able to slog it through mud and debris and not be worried if I give it a scratch or two.

And how much did she pay for all these?  Shockingly cheap!  Lord bless our ukay economy!  I did not even feel guilt for our spending for these non-essential items.

Why can't high government officials become victims for once?

All that happened to us last Wednesday were the things I hate about driving in Metro Manila.  I was driving the wife to the airport and we left Fairview at half past ten for their 1:30 pm flight.  I reckoned three hours was more than enough.

            But this was Metro Manila and one must always expect the unexpected.  It rained heavily that morning; many streets were flooded; and schoolchildren and workers were sent home just as they arrived in their schools and places of work. The result? Pandemonium!

            From Commonwealth Avenue I thought of taking C5 to the airport.  I saw Zurzuaregi chocked with all sorts of vehicles.  The vehicles on University Avenue leading to CP Garcia were not moving.  While East Avenue was moving a bit, EDSA had a gridlock.  I fought my way along Kamuning and the “K” streets trying to cross over to New Manila.  But I was only able to do that on Tomas Morato.  I picked up some speed on Gilmore but found vehicles backed up a few blocks from Aurora Boulevard.  I skirted Mt Carmel Church and emerged somewhere in San Juan where we passed by children cavorting on filthy floodwaters.  On to V Mapa, I took a short cut through the Prince Motel and emerged on the new bridge across the swollen Pasig River.  At the end of that street was Quirino Highway where nothing South-bound was moving.  So we doubled back to Otis and emerged at UN Avenue.  We found ourselves somewhere in Paco and crossed Taft Avenue on Quirino.  We emerged on Roxas Boulevard and made a right to the CCP complex and on to Macapagal Avenue.  It was already one o’clock by this time.

             I punctured through EDSA Extension and raced toward Uniwide Sales Coastal Mall where we got held up by a monstrous traffic jam.  All I could at this point was to curse every high government official I could think off and pound my steering wheel until my hands hurt.  When we were able to crawl our way onto the Domestic Airport departure area, we were three minutes late and the plane had already taxied to the runway.

            My day shot to bits, I had no choice but to drive the missus all the way back to Fairview.  Surprise, surprise!  It took us less than an hour.

            The early evening news said that even the fake president's convoy had to make a very wide detour to reach Quezon City.  Still, she was an hour late.  I didn’t even find the news a bit consoling, that even the most powerful fake in this godforsaken country was victimized by Manila’s horrendous traffic problems.

             The only thoughts swimming in my head at the time was this fervent wish that her convoy bogged down somewhere in San Juan and that she subsequently drowned in a submerged street overflowing with polluted floodwaters.

Secrets to an enjoyable movie experience

They are not among my list of favorite movies but the Die Hard series has always been a good reason for me to visit a cinema.  It started with when I was still in college and the cinemas of Recto were within crawling distance from Mendiola.

            Thinking it would be my last chance to see the fourth installment on a silver screen I asked the wife to see Die Hard 4.0 with me last night.  It had been on the playbill since July 4.

            The movie did not disappoint.  It was mindlessly violent, with all the required incredible action sequences only a John McLaine would be able to survive. 

            Die Hard is one of the very few movie series that gets better with every reprisal.  Die Hard was good enough.  Die Harder was even more violent.  Die Hardest was funniest (Samuel Jackson was hilarious).  Die Hard 4.0 was very hi-tech.  I compare it with Enemy of the State starring Will Smith.  Only this time the US government was the good guy. Bleh!

            What I liked most about this fourth iteration was there was less corny dialogue from McLaine.  There was hardly any trying-hard-to-be-funny-but-it-is-not chattiness from the lead character.  All that has been replaced with IT geek-ery that amply shows who really rule the coop these days—the geeks.  My favorite new character was Warlock, even more than lead geek Matthew Farrel.  And the US government’s chief geek was an Arab-looking bloke.  Wonderful!  One Hollywood movie subtly saying to the George W Bush Fans Club that Arabs and other Arab-looking races are not all about terrorism and camel-racing.

            But there were still stereotypes.  The FBI stereotypically arriving when the heroic lead has already disposed of all the baddies was one.

            Refreshing about Bruce Willis’ action movies is the lack of steamy sex scenes.  This is very good—there is nothing to distract me from all the hardcore action I crave.  Besides, if I wanted to see people humping on a screen, why not just watch porn, right? (I am imagining some readers saying “Right!” back.  Tama ba, Xavier?)

            In the movie McLaine’s lovable daughter Lucie grew up to be a hottie.  One minor twist at the end of the movie though is that she has fallen for the main geek and detective dad approved.  And the geek was not even good-looking!  There is hope for you yet, _____________________!  (Think of your favorite ugly, single geek here).

            The box office lady at SM Fairview told us there was no word yet about ending the movie’s run.  So I urge you to go see it, if you are a mindless action movie junkie like me.  And wait for its DVD “copy” to come out and buy one for your collection.  I would.  (Quiapo, here I come!)

* * * *

There were only four of us inside the SM Fairview Cinema 10 last night.  But the other couple did not seem to be there for the movie.  The guy was already all over the poor girl even when the house lights were still on.  So it was practically a private screening for the wife and I.

           In fact, I was able to unshod my feet and park them on top of the seat in front of me.  It felt close to sitting on a Lazy Boy.

           When we saw Harry Potter: Order of the Phoenix last month I threw an empty soda cup hard at the direction of a man talking loudly to his cellphone during the movie.  Prior to that he annotated the movie in between coughing fits that dominated even the cinema’s Dolby Surround system.  He left after that.  But I wouldn’t have minded either if he picked a fight with me.  (Pom was mortified!)

           After last night, I think I discovered the secret to an enjoyable movie experience: a good movie on the day’s LFS (last full show) on a stormy night.  Plus it wouldn’t hurt if you have a jumbo bag of cheese popcorn, large coke and a beautiful date, like I had.

* * * *

This just in.

Malcolm Trevena, the proudest Kiwi I know, just can't help but react to this article.  He sent me this:

From: Malcolm Trevena <crazymalc@gmail.com>
To: Raymund Villanueva <raymundbvillanueva@yahoo.com>
Sent: Thursday, August 9, 2007 11:26:16 AM
Subject: Arab looking bloke

You said:

"And the US government's chief geek was an Arab-looking bloke"

in your review of Die Hard 4.0.

That "arab looking bloke" is actually a Maori fella from New Zealand!

--

If you want one fun and long read, click

www.crazymalc.co.nz

In defense of airsoft

I guess it’s my fault I can’t stop myself talking about airsofting.  I ask just about anyone to join us the next time we play.  I try hard to make them believe it is a good form of exercise and stress-buster and it is not really that expensive to play.

            These past weeks I knew my big mouth was getting me into trouble when a colleague asked me more than once about it.  She was not at all interested about joining us; she simply disapproved.

            In a discussion today about combatting liberalism she blurted (sort of) airsofting is not in keeping with an, erm, an activist’s lifestyle.  You know, simple life-hard struggle and all that.  She mentioned other reasons why the topic was suddenly on the table.  I said the “other” reasons she cited may have merit but I definitely do not agree that airsofting is not in keeping with an activist’s ideal lifestyle.

            Let me state my reasons:

1. It is not expensive to play airsoft.  To play basketball in a private court is much more expensive.  A hundred peso gamesite entrance fee allows me to play from morning to dusk.  A 48-minute basketball game in our subdivision’s covered court costs PhP150 every game.  I am not even talking about tennis or golf or even billiards here. 
2. My AEG cost me PhP3,500.00 late last year, which is my single biggest expense.  Should an activist have that much disposable income?  In most cases, no.  But the money I spent there was a Christmas gift to me by friends and family just for me to pick up a sport (everyone thinks I am already too fat to be cute still).  Is that too much for me to get started on a sport that interests me? Hell, no!
3. Other airsoft gear could be had cheaply.  My padded long-sleeved shirt is a hundred pesos and my vest is three hundred from Fort Bonifacio’s Commissary.  I looked for merchandise with factory defects and bargained shamelessly like my mother.  My cargo pants cost two-fifty from Commonwealth Market’s Ukay Paradise.  It had a size 39 waist and so I had it repaired by the neighborhood tailor for thirty pesos.  My hat was a gift from a former volunteer.  One could buy and use carpentry goggles instead of an Oakley eyepiece.  Match that with a “Baguio City” baklava and you are set.  My shoes were given to me by a former volunteer.  My knee and elbow pads cost three hundred from Pier.  One does not have to buy a BDU from Hahn-Manila.  Do the math. A basketball shoe could outfit an entire airsoft team; a Big Bertha putter could launch a weekend tournament. 
4. To save some more, we bring drinking water and packed lunch, mostly kaning lamig and dinner leftovers.  We don’t buy, hangga’t kaya.
5. We are BB misers.  We do not fire unless we see the “enemy” and we are sure to hit them.  We even pick unused pellets from plinking areas.  (Kawawa, ano?)
6. I enjoy the game so much, I feel cheated when I played less than ten games in a day.  I am so frustrated if I am taken out of the game early by a “lucky shot.” I always look forward to our next game date.
7. You should see me run or climb stairs just to get a better position than the “Tango” at the start of each game.  Think Chito Loyzaga outsprinting Elmer Reyes in a fastbreak.  The last time I ran that fast was when I was carrying the command flag in a rally in front of the Old Congress Building and we were being chased by the police—14 damned years ago!

     And what do I get from all this?

A lot—not least of all is the ability to outrun the police desperately wanting to bash my head with truncheons.

Sona 2007 notes

I have to hand it to the Southern Tagalog contingent.  They were at the rally site at five o’clock in the morning on the day of gloria’s Sona.  To think they started traveling to Manila the day before pa.

            When I arrived they were way past Ever Gotesco and already pushing towards Sandiganbayan.  They were near St. Peter’s Church before the police were able to stop them.

            When the PNP started pushing them back toward Ever Gotesco they fought for every step backward they were forced to take.  This led early-bird journos like GMA 7’s Oscar Oida to smile and shake their head in wonder at the farmers’ determination.

            

* * * *

There were only two Manila-based activists equal to the ST militants that day.  KMP’s Karl Ala and KMU’s Gary, himself coming from Cavite (I think), were with the farmers when they battled the police even when most Metro Manilans have had their breakfast yet.

            Activists living near the rally site were not seen until 9 am.

           Kung sino pa ang galing sa malapit…

* * * *

While waiting for the main bulk of rallyists to arrive Bayan-ST played militant songs, mostly with lively martial beat.  The songs of course talked about human rights violations, anti-imperialism, the struggle for liberation, and how gma is evil incarnate.

            To my amusement, I found PNP officers bobbing their helmeted heads and tapping their boot-clad feet to the beat of the songs.

            Pathetic talaga 'tong mga ito.

* * * *

Ugat-Lahi’s manananggal effigy is my favorite among the dozens it has produced for the Sona.  gma was sufficiently ugly in past effigies but this year’s beat them all.  Plus she could be raised from her lower extremities and swiveled from left to right—talagang nakakatakot!

            And I love how the effigy burned this year.  It was all over in just two minutes—I counted the time when I played back the video I took.

            When gma burns in hell though I would want it to last for eternity.  (Naku! Baka ma-anti-terror law ako nito a.)

* * * *

Nanay Mameng Dionida cracked everyone up when she said, “Wala nang mura ngayon.  Ang mura na lang ay ‘Putangina’!  Yun ang mura.”

            She was referring to gloria, of course.