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Archive for the ‘local flavor’ Category

    It is now February 15 and there are about 82 days left before the 2010 presidential elections. Debates and forums are being held in these and those places, as well as public mudslinging and marathon speeches about political platforms and rehashed promises. Nearly everybody has an opinion on each presidential candidate, everyone has his own manok (bet), and everyone has a say on what should be done to the Philippines on a national level.

    For me, I’m just a housewife, a mom, and a pseudo-hermit. What does the presidential elections have to do with me? Could anyone guarantee me that if I vote for Noynoy, I will be ensured that I can land a suitable job with relative ease despite my qualifications, or the lack thereof? Or if I vote for Villar, that I would be able to walk the streets of Metro Manila with my children without fear of being mugged or such? Or if I vote for Jamby, would she be able to effect the necessary changes in national health care so that I wouldn’t’t have to present my passbook before I get the necessary medical attention that I need? I do not have the luxury to be idealistic about the politics in this country. First and foremost, if I would ever vote for any candidate, I have to keep my children’s welfare in mind.

    I am aware that there are various national issues that need to be resolved: the civil-military unrest in Mindanao, educational inadequacies, unemployment, poverty, plunder, graft and corruption, et cetera, et cetera; but I am more concerned of issues that relate almost directly to me and my family. I ask again, what is politics to a housewife anyway? I would really like to read and examine each presidential candidate’s platform and discern for myself whether the changes they are selling to the people are actually feasible, and if I can entrust to them the future of my daughters. So far, I have only skimmed through three political platforms: those of Nicanor Perlas, Gibo Teodoro, and Bro. Eddie Villanueva. I still want to scrutinize these propositions for change that these gentlemen are publishing. It would seem that they already have strategies mapped out. Maybe by reading more into these, I might have a clear idea if these plans are actually doable and implementable, especially in the current societal environment and in six years of their office.

    I would want to believe that among these people running for the highest political office in the country would be one who will be really able to alleviate the immediate problems of our land and gradually effect changes the changes that they envisioned. I am still without a candidate to vote for, but should I finally decide on anyone, I hope that they will be able to lay out the foundations of a great future Philippines for my daughters.

    I am a bookworm. Any body who ever saw me in college would, for the most part, have seen me in more than one occasion, sitting in a corner with my nose deep in a book — mostly novels of the fantasy, gothic horror and sci-fi varieties. All of them, American or British novels. It was only this year that I have given thought to read local novels by local authors like Lualhati Bautista and Andres Cristobal Cruz. You see, I read mostly to entertain myself, to get out and explore worlds vastly different from mine, and to contemplate of various abstract subjects without tying them to anything that is tangible to me. Somehow, I don’t see any local books that do that, yet.

    When I read Luahati Bautista’s ’Gapo, I was made to face the harsh reality of things twenty to thirty years or so ago; I was brought to a time when the American bases were still in Olongapo, and racism was rampant among the American soldiers, African-American soldiers, and the Filipino residents of the city.

    The story revolved around the characters of Michael Taylor, Jr., an illegitimate son of an American Naval officer; Magda, a prostitute who is also a friend of Michael’s; Modesto, a Filipino working in the American base; and Ali McGraw, a Filipino transvestite who was looking for love from anyone. Their lives represent the condition of the Olongapo society under the shadow of the American soldiers. They endured the hardships of ridicule, marginalization, poverty and abuse, not just by the Americans, but from their own countrymen as well. It was a sad reflection on the miserable human condition aggravated by racism and the lust for the American dream.

    I have nothing against Americans; some of my internet friends are Americans. What disturbed me about this story was the Filipinos’ blind faith that the Americans will save them from poverty and destituteness; they believed that the only way they will ever be successful, the only way they can get out of the pitiful live they lead was to get to America, by any means, and never look back. It was sad for the novel mirrored reality in an almost exact clarity.

    But I believe that things have changed since the time illustrated in ’Gapo. I believe that people now are more or less comfortable in their own ethnic identity that they would see themselves at par with people from different nationalities, especially now that the world is much more smaller thanks to the internet. I believe that any Filipino can hold his own against any person from any such country and not cower. I believe that, or at least, I like to.

    I have former classmates, as well as friends and relatives abroad who walk and work among the people there, and they are just as successful as the rest of them. They are at par with those foreigners in their foreign lands and I salute them; they make me proud to be a Filipino. Pinoys like Efren Penaflorida, Jr. are testaments to what Filipinos can do and can become. The nightmare of the novel ’Gapo can easily be dissipated if we start to act not just for ourselves, but for our families and neighbors as well.

    I am just a mom who stays at home to look after her kids. I do not have a profession, nor do I even have a college degree. But I will try to do my part by trying to raise my kids to be respectful, responsible, humble and true to themselves. People talk about changing our society by voting this candidate or that candidate and expect changes to take place overnight. That is just plain stupid. changes don’t happen in the blink of an eye. Changes begin from inside oneself, then it spreads in the home, than on the street, then it infects everyone else. I would like my children to live in a better country than I grew up in, so I’ll raise them to be better citizens of a country they will grow up in.

    It’s already February. There is only three more months, including this one, before the presidential elections. The time for forging promises has come. Politicians stand on their soapboxes worth millions of pesos and court voters for their say so. It may look like the same old story; politician gives out promises, politician breaks promises and politician sucks the nation dry. Somehow, from what little I see here in my hermitage, it seems that the youth is finally taking the political scene seriously.

    Among those who try to give voice for their ideas and criticism is Gloc-9. Also knownas Aristotle “Aries” Pollisco, this local talent was once a protégé of Master Rapper Francis M himself. His latest album Matrikula (Tuition) is a rather bleak view of our own society dressed up in Pinoy Rock. It showcases the state of the nation as seen from the eye of the artist.

    I have heard of Gloc-9 before, and I have known him only as a collaborator to the Parokya ni Edgar song Bagsakan. I have only given him my time when Leejay sent me a link to one of his songs and told to me give it an ear. What I heard made me stop in my seat. Most of the raps that I heard on the local airwaves are shallow and brassy to the ears. Though they have a good beat, these songs would just go into one ear and out the other; they are of no significant consequence. Then here comes this one guy who really had something to say. His music is something that grips you like it was alive. It will make you think and reflect, and at times, it will move you.



    The song Balita is an adaptation of the 1970’s song by the same name, sung by ASIN. Like the original song, it describes the current state of affairs of the people. On one hand, they are all the same issues: poverty, hunger, corruption, the war in Mindanao; but it has been a long time to hear these matters voiced outside of a picket line or a public demonstration. What more, it is quite something to hear it from someone who is not known to be an activist, other than probably Francis Magalona himself. It was like a wake-up call to all who would listen, especially the youth.

     Listening to him, I’d forget that he was a rap artist; instead I’d remember the handful of times I spent talking with the activists I met in UP. His song Bayad Po, which is a collaboration with folk singer Noel Cabangon, is a glimpse in the lives of common people struggling with poverty and misfortune. It is a heart-wrenching piece, and one that should stick to mind, to remind us of how lucky we are with what we have. In all, Gloc-9 has set the bar for local rap artists, and has opened the eyes and ears of his audience to the truth out in the streets.

    As I end this post, I leave you with another video from Gloc-9’s Matrikula album. This is a “parinig” to anyone who has ears.

PS: The shirt featured here can be ordered from zazzle.com. It is not a Filipino company, but I thought the design was appropriate.

    It is the day before the last day of the national voter’s registration. I am a victim of my own procrastination that was why I was standing in line in heat and sweat, aiming to change my city of registration so that I don’t have to go back to Pulilan, Bulacan to vote for the 2010 Presidential elections.

    I have resigned myself to a long wait and an hour or so of boredom. Eventually I got inside the Comelec office and confirmed that I was already registered in Bulacan and was only transferring precints. Anyway, there was nothing much to it: I showed them y driver’s license, told them I was married, gave my maiden name and voila! I was on given several forms to fill and was instructed to have my driver’s license photocopied and attached to my completed forms.

    As I was filling up my forms, I was wondering why I was supposed to fill up 4 forms when the instructions on the forms themselves stated that I was to fill up just 2 copies. I was bewildered, thinking maybe they’re just extras should I make any mistakes (shrug). Anyway, I did what I had to do and helped out some people struggling with their own forms. There was a certain degree of confusion among the registrants with that day. One primary cause of the confusion was in the current address part of the form. People are just unsure what to put in the boxes headed “Province”. Most of them wrote the name of the province they hailed from, whereas the right thing to put down was “National Capital Region”. The problem would have been easily solved if there was a filled-up sample form to serve as a guide. Alas, that would prove only wishful thinking, for a though there are 4×2 ft tarpaulin copies of filed up forms, none of them addressed the simply confusing issue of correctly filling up the address boxes.

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    After filling up two of my four forms, I stood in line again to file my documents for confirmation. It was then pointed out to me that I have to accomplish ALL FOUR FORMS. Well, it was my bad since I did not ask for specific instructions in filling up said forms, but then again, why print that applicant should accomplish only two copies? It was there on the first page! Maybe I was just oversimplifying things again.

    With that minor issue resolved, I went to file again and this time I was told to have my picture and thumb print taken. It took only about 15 to 20 minutes to go though the whole process of voter’s registration. I was just curious as to why people come back to “finish” the process? I even overheard someone that they have been coming here for the past two days with their registration never being completed. What was so complicated about it?

    Well, maybe because there are very few volunteers and so many registrants. They poor people as just overwhelmed by sheer volume. Another thing may be is the inefficient dissemination of relevant information for registrants. It would also have helped if some of the volunteers just had patience enough to walk those poor registrants step by step through filling out their forms. Of course, it will be annoyingly slow but at least you would keep the people from coming back and back again. It would be nice if something might be done about this in the next senatorial elections, so that I will not be finding lost kids, or get confused filling up forms.

    Today I went to Caloocan City’s District 2 Comelec Office to transfer my voter’s registration from Pulilan to my current residence. I left the house around 10 o’clock and went to City Hall. When I got there I asked the guard on duty where the Comelec Office. I was expecting to be directed to a particular floor in the building. What I did not expect is to be given a vague direction to where I was supposed to be going.

    ”Ma’am, tawid lang po kayo riyan. Tapos po kumanan kayo hanggang sa may Petron. Katabi lang po ng gasolinahan yun.” (Just cross the street ma’am, then turn right. The [Comelec] office will be just beside the gas station) So, with those directions, thinking that my destination will be a mere five-minute walk, I thanked the guard and went on my way, almost skipping, I might add. But after about 10 minutes of walking, I have yet to see a gas station on either side of the street I was walking. Thinking that my sense of direction has failed me, I looked for a local traffic enforcer and asked him for directions. Again, I was given the same set of directions.

    ”May kalayuan po ba? Kailangan ko po bang sumakay pa ng jeep? (Is it far? Will I need to ride a jeepney?)”, I asked. “Hmmm…”, he thought. “Pwedeng sumakay ka ng jeep. Pero kung di ka naman naiinitan, pwede ring lakarin. (You could take a ride, but if you’re up to it, you can walk instead.)” So I thought, might as well walk. At least that way, I could burn of those extra calories. What I didn’t expect, though, is the 200-meter walk to the Comelec office. Aside from that, the building is located inside a gas station’s parking lot. I went past it four times in an increasingly frustrating attempt to find. It behooves me to wonder what they were thinking when they installed a government agency in an out-of-way location which is practically unnoticeable.

    When I finally got there, it was about noon with the sun bearing down on me with its relentless heat. The heat was only bearable thanks to the breeze that decided to blow that day. It would have been a piece of cake but for the fact that there was a long line of people waiting outside the Comelec office. I’m not daunted by lines of people per se, but there was no apparent order to be seen anywhere. I tried to ask where should I go first since I’m just transferring my voter’s registration but the best answer I got from the Comelec volunteers is just,”Pumila na lang ho kayo riyan.” (Just stand in line there.) So I just have go with it, wishing that I should have brought a book to while away my time.

    I was in that line of thought when I heard a small child crying somewhere near me, among the crowd. I looked around and saw a toddler, maybe no older than my youngest looking forlorn and abandoned. She kept calling for her mother who must be somewhere in the throng. It was curious to note that despite the child’s plaintive cries, barely anyone pays attention to the kid at all. So I took her in my arms, (she really feels like my daughter, being small and clingy) and went off to look for one of the uniformed volunteers. It was lucky that the mother/aunt was nearby that the child was claimed from me right away. At least the child was safe from getting lost or worse, abducted. Still, I think that it was really neglectful(?) of the child’s guardian to bring her there in the first place if said guardian cannot look after properly. They may not have anyone to leave the child to but children are restless and they could easily be lost. It was much consolation for me when I saw the little girl again, then secured on the lap of a (supposedly) relative. I was just thankful that my own children were safe at home, asleep and content, not out there in that crowded tent of the government office patio(?) baking in heat and sweat, in constant threat of being overlooked and lost.