slacker mommy files

Archive for the ‘serious mode’ 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.

    I have a dilemma. There is this one relative that I have, and let’s just say that he was unceremoniously evicted from his family due to his own fault. Whatever happened between him and his family was not my business. Still, I felt sorry for him. So, I took it up to myself to try and be a friend to him, if only to help him through dealing with what happened to his family.

    The problem started when he tried to tell me his side of the story. It was originally my idea. I thought that if I knew what his side was, I might better understand him and all the events that had happened. Instead, when I got his next text message, all I got was how his family was cold towards him, how he felt disrespected as the head of the family. I admit, I was actually expecting some sort of remorse, or even a confession that he actually admits he wronged his family. The way he portrayed himself as a poor under-appreciated, mistreated father was just too much for me.

    See, I had lived with him and his family for some time in the past. I have heard all the stories of his “escapades,” as well as the version of the story from his wife and kids. I have even seen some of his transgressions with my own eyes. I understand that he tries to make himself believe that he had been the best father he can be if only to alleviate his guilt, but please don’t take me for a fool. Now, I try hard to ignore his “pitiable” situation, so he texts me, just to keep myself from replying with something that I would regret later.

    I am not so sure if I have done the right thing, or if it would have been better if I hadn’t done anything at all. I was trying to help a man go through a tough time in his life, but it is another matter to try to make himself look the injured party just to make himself feel better about all of it. I have seen him amidst his transgressions but never breathed a word about it to him. I tried to understand him, even decided to try and bridge the gap between him and his children. But to make me look like an idiot, that is just low!

    I am not a perfect person. I have my times of weaknesses, but I try my hardest not to console myself by painting a different picture of me to others. I am just mad. I feel betrayed; my faith in that person was horribly shattered because he can be such a good person, yet he chose to be a hypocrite. Now I have no clear idea just what to do, or to feel.

    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.

    Today is another chance for my daughters to learn the dynamics of social interaction: they were invited to the birthday party of one of their second cousins, just across the street. Hans was celebrating his seventh birthday and his folks were thoughtful enough to invite Lyka, Kylee, as well as their cousins Joshua and Jayvee. When the invitation came yesterday, I thought that the celebrant was almost as old as Lyka so I was just happy to accompany the girls to the small party. Therefore, I was a bit taken aback when I realized that Hans was turning seven. I thought, “What the heck, it’s a kids’ party. No big deal.” Thus, we went in the gate bearing our gift-cake with my mom and three children with us.

    Inside the compound, I admit, my mom and I were a bit ill at ease. These are relatives of my husband’s, and I admit, my semi-hermitic tendencies did not help in getting to know these people. I was not about to let that hamper my daughters’ enjoyment though, so I mastered myself and just tried to let the kids have their fun.

    The festivities started soon enough with a prayer and a few introductions. We were seated somewhere in the back far from the stage. Hans and his classmates, friends and close cousins were from ages seven to ten, I think, and they cannot be bothered by toddlers. Anyway, Lyka found some toys lying around, Hans’, and took those to our table to entertain herself and Joshua. Kylee on the other hand is nearing her naptime, making her both restless and cranky at the same time. Maybe it is because of the novelty that Kylee kept trying to get closer to the stage to get closer to the clowns giving out entertainment. For about half an hour or so, the clowns dished out some parlour games like “Trip to Jerusalem”, “Bring Me”, riddles, and “The Longest Greeting.” We succeeded in getting a few prizes for Lyka while Kylee fell asleep during the game of riddles.

    As I said, Lyka is among the youngest kids in that party, but that fact did not stop her from participating in the games and having a good time. She first participated in the game “Trip to Jerusalem” also known as musical chairs. Despite her being large for her age, she was dwarfed by the other children playing with her. Still, she was game. The music started and she moved, danced, and went around the chairs. When it stopped, she sat, pretty as you please, on the chair behind her. Well, it was a good dry run, commented the clown and then real game began. Again, Lyka stood up, danced, and went round the chairs. When the music stopped, she was left without a chair. No problem. She went round again looking for a free chair. She was looking really serious. It seemed to me that she was thinking that she should sit, so there should be a free chair for her. Everyone in the crowd was laughing at this small precocious child, and some were even clapping when she went down the stairs. She was nonchalant about the whole thing and she was cuter for it. All the while, Kylee was just watching her sister’s escapade. She really was getting sleepier and crankier. Eventually she fell asleep and had to be brought home.

    Lyka’s second foray into this world of the big kids is during the “Bring Me” game. One of the items asked to be brought is a kid who knows how to dance. I shooed Lyka to the stage, me being a typical proud mom. I was not expecting any more other than my kid bringing back a new bauble for a prize. There were three more children with her on the stage, all of them much older than she was. The clown then announced that he will make the children dance to determine who the best dancer in the group is. Then the Wondergirls were singing. The children all started dancing their own choreographies, including Lyka. The crowd was laughing. Even I was laughing. More than that, I was amazed at my own daughter’s moxie. She was dancing there, however which way and she was enjoying what she was doing. She had no mind for the crowd in front of her, not for the other kids beside her. It looked like at that time, there was only Lyka and the music. After a minute of dancing, there was a vote for who was the best dancer. Two kids were left; Lyka and a boy named Restar. They had a showdown of sorts but it was obvious that Lyka was the crowd favourite. So, she won. Of course, I was the happy and proud mom during those moments.

    The party then proceeded to other games, a small break to eat, to the magic show, a last scramble for party favours and, lastly, the wishes for the birthday boy. Lyka had no interests for friends’ wishes for Hans; she was busy playing with her prizes. After she tired of that, she spied a girl in front of her sitting in a different table. She slowly made her way to the girl while assuring me that she is just fine (I kept asking her if she is ok since she can be restless when she is sleepy and she still has not had her nap). Eventually she fell in the seat beside the girl, Janna. Janna was playing with a plastic toy rifle and as usual, Lyka is curious. She was tentatively reaching for the toy, but she made no move to take it. I saw Janna try to talk to Lyka and I had no idea how they had a conversation if they ever did. Instead, I just watched Lyka in amazement and awe. Eventually, the party ended and we found our way out of the compound. Back in the street, some of the people who saw Lyka dance on stage were very vocal about their admiration for this cheeky kid of mind. I just smiled my thanks, feeling my heart light and buoyant.

    Lyka really surprised me in that party. I have always known that she was pining for the company of other children other than her sister’s, but somehow I have imagined that she would be shy and even ill at ease. What she showed me is that she has a degree of confidence that she can carry herself well among other children, even at her very young age. Well, she still has a tendency to take any toy she sees and declare it hers but somehow, she is starting to learn how to interact with other kids now. I will try to support her in this discovery, hoping she will keep on being a fun-loving, sweet girl.

    Here’s Lyka and Raster’s final dance showdown. Enjoy!