Some time ago, I said to myself I am not going to write a new post against Mar Roxas because I have said my piece with my two previous posts including the corresponding comments and reactions to my readers therewith. On Sunday night, I watched the story of his wedding with the lady who, through sheer hard work and dedication, rose from the ranks of common workers to become one of the country’s leading and most influential journalists, Korina Sanchez, and I realized I was wrong even before the airing of the story was over.

You see, in the feature narrated by the  bride herself, Mar brought Korina to Baguio, to Bulacan, Bacolod, and Iloilo. Maybe they ran out of time thus he was not able to bring her to Capiz, a province he once represented in Congress.

There is a rumor in Capiz that Mar gave way to Noynoy to become the party’s presidential bet because he realized he was not going to win in the province. If he loses in the election, and record shows he also lost in Capiz, it would become a public relations nightmare that would take more time and more money to shake off in relaunching his bid. It makes no difference if he wins the election but loses in Capiz, except that, he can  enjoy his power and continue ignoring the province where he launched his political career.

Surely, I was not the only one waiting and expecting for that part of the story where he brought his bride to Capiz.  All Capizenos were watching and waiting also.

So what if the wedding special did not mention or include Capiz as one of their destinations prior to their wedding? Nothing really. No big deal, except for us people from Capiz. I expected him to bring Korina to Capiz and at least pretend he had accomplished something she could be proud of. He could have also claimed he was responsible for the wonders found in the beaches of Capiz–the castles made of sand. Or, is not Roxas City, the provincial capital, dubbed as the sea food capital of the Philippines? I  would have loved to see Korina enjoy a sumptuous meal of pusit, alimango, lukon, pakinhason, kag kon ano pa da nga namit sa Capiz.

On the brighter side, we are happy he did not have to pretend he has done something for Capiz. Also, at least we know why Capiz has not received the attention it deserves from its leaders. Mar would rather be in Baguio, Bulacan, Bacolod, and Iloilo yesterday, now, and tomorrow.

Now the rumor after all might not be all rumor.

Two weeks ago, I was fortunate to have been chosen by my employer to conduct a home visit to some of my colleagues from Marikina who were severely affected by the flooding.  The amount of debris piling both sides of the streets in one subdivision I visited, and the stench that overpowered the surroundings,  made me feel I was reliving the devastation brought by war.

Meanwhile, it’s been almost a month now yet the seat of the city government of Pasig is still flooded–the City Hall, the Hall of Justice, the National Bureau of Investigation, the Police Office, the Post Office, the Bereau of Internal Revenue office, the Market, et cetera. The City Government constructed bridges made of coco lumber connecting all the offices and the dry land so that people can still transact business with these government offices without getting wet.

In my text message to a friend who is into photography, I told her that she should come visit Pasig to at least take pictures. Instead of road and concrete pavements, she will see water, water, and water. So, instead of cars, she will see boats pulled, pushed, or paddled by men. Two or three of the boats I saw were long and narrow.  But most of the boats there now are made of plywood, about three feet wide and four to six feet long, hastily assembled to ferry passengers for a fee. How often do we see a woman sitting down in a boat holding a blue umbrella in the center of the city? It only happens during disasters like this one. Surely, the City and the National Governments are doing something to make sure this crisis will not happen again.

The number of people affected including those in Cavite and the neighboring provinces that stretch as far as the Cordilleras, and the number of deaths have caused the declaration of a State of National Calamity by the President. Even as I write now, another super typhoon is again heading towards the Philippines. There will be more rain, more land and mudslide, more flood, more families affected that will need more help. And help comes from our wealthy companies, brothers, and sisters, and also from around the world.

As our country is busy with the relief operations, reconstruction, planning and prevention of similar catastrophe, the international community, headed by the United States, is doing its best to stop Iran from continuing its nuclear program. Although Iran, through its president  Mahmoud Ahmadinejad, insisti that the program is for projects other than the building of nuclear weapons, people are not convinced. And as Nobel Peace Prize winner Henry Alfred Kissinger in an interview with Fox News puts it, what will stop Iran’s neighboring countries like Saudi Arabia and Egypt from acquiring their own weapon of mass destruction after Iran? They will stop at nothing to build their own WMD also as a deterrent against any threat or actual nuke attack. As a Newsweek reader puts it, “The world may not end if Iran gets the bomb, but it would surely be changed irrevocably for the worst. It is the ultimate geopolitical nightmare: the world’s worst weapon in the hands of a radical…”

What would countries do with their nukes if not to obliterate another enemy country by preemptive strike or in retaliation? And if countries throw nukes at each other, what will happen to humanity?

More and more countries are having this WMD and it will only be a matter of time before one uses it against another and vice versa.

This situation is almost impossible to imagine. But like the flood that inundated cities and whole provinces, we also did not think it could happen. It makes sense that as we (with our government) prepare ourselves for the next flood, we also prepare and combat the proliferation of nuclear weapons because, once unleashed, its effect is beyond what we have imagined yet.

With the flood, we can swim or save ourselves if we are on a higher ground. We can avoid leptospirosis by staying out of the flood water; if we get sick, people will distribute medicines, or  volunteers will bring them to the hospitals. Evacuees will receive relief goods. With a nuclear attack, none of that will work. There will be no help, no rescue.

Unlike the flood, the nuke will wipe us all.

As I write now, President Corazon Aquino is being brought to her final resting place beside her murdered husband, Ninoy; after the magnanimous eulogies given to her the previous night, today the Filipinos listen to the grateful, totally heartfelt response by daughter Kris Aquino being replayed on tv.

Kris could not almost finish her address as she fought against her tears choking her. But when she reached the part where she said Noynoy and she were in the best position to continue the legacy her parents left, she became grave-faced, short of a threat to everyone who has expressed ambitions to become the country’s next president.

I will not be surprised if Kris will soon study economics, the laws, and other things that will make her capable of becoming the leader of the country loved by both her mother and her father. Kris is popular and I do not think it needs more explanation. Kris is also transparent. She does not seem to have a definition of what is private and public. Almost everything for her and about her is public property. Are we all not looking for a leader who is completely transparent?

Cory’s death and the public’s reaction to it will surely be a turning point in Kris’s life. She is no more a rebel child looking for her identity apart from her parents’. It is her identity as an Aquino that has found her. Aquino–the family name of a man who was shot in the tarmac, fighting for the restoration of democracy, and of a woman who became Asia’s first woman president who happened to be her mother.

People will not take her seriously at first. But with the camera following her every move, it will be very hard not to take notice.

Or, at least, Cory’s death and Kris’s public statement of gratitude to the Filipino nation has brought Noynoy in the limelight. If in the past, people have never considered  Noynoy as the next president because he seems to lack the star quality of someone who will win a presidential election, with Kris’s eulogy, not anymore. If Judy Ann can make a senator out of a Jamby Madrigal, it is not impossible for a Kris Aquino to make a president out of her brother Noynoy, who unknowingly, himself exudes the quiet dignity, simplicity, and moral persona of his mother.

I have seen pictures of people power, but of course few pictures are nothing compared to the constant barrage of high quality pictures streaming through our television sets by the hour since President Cory died. I am awed by the sight of the people on the streets, in churches, and in the cemetery.

The soldiers have folded the flag. It has passed the hands of one official to the next and has rested on the hands of Noynoy. The circumstances surrounding the surrender of the flag to Noynoy has brought a new meaning to the ritual. Doesn’t the flag represent our Republic or the Presidency–by design?

The Catholic Church may soon ban the holding of hands during the singing or recitation of the Lord’s prayer, and the kissing or touching of venerated statues to help prevent the spread of disease such as the H1N1 commonly called the swine flu virus.

I say the Catholic Church should also stop placing holy water by the door of each church where the faithful dip their fingers before doing the sign of the cross.

Even then, I wonder why is this move being initiated only now? Surely, this hand holding during masses and the kissing of the statues have transmitted so many less notorious deseases in the past.

Are you a reporter who cover Raul Gonzales or his office? Or do you know any reporter who covers him or his office?

If you are any of the two, please help us clarify with him the accusations of one of my blog readers, Joji Rojas, that Justice Raul Gonzales is sleeping on the murder case of Ramon Rojas, Vice Mayor of Ajuy, Iloilo, who was shot dead on May 22, 2008.

Vice Mayor Ramon Rojas was shot dead by a team of two assassins (allegedly Dennis “Totong” Cartagena and Edgar Cordero) who were riding a motor cycle. His murder would have reached its dead end had it not been for what happened on August 29, 2008 at around 7:30 PM in Butuan City.

On August 29, 2008, Cartagena and Cordero were ambushed where Cordero died while Cartagena survived and reported to the police. Cartagena introduced himself as DJ Herrera while Cordero as Dave Panisales. The Butuan City police discovered their real identity and a pending warrant of arrest against them for the murder of the Vice Mayor of Ajuy, Iloilo, Ramon Rojas.

Cartagena was arrested and brought back to Iloilo City where he revealed all he know about the murder of Ramon Rojas.

In his 6-page affidavit written in Hiligaynon, Cartagena said they shot Rojas to death “because we were paid by Vicente ‘Etik’ Espinosa alias ‘Bulldog’ of Brgy. Lanjagan, Ajuy, Iloilo.” Cartagena said he was a former bodyguard of Espinosa from April to May 2007 elections along with Rey Peña and Lindsey Buenavista. Right after the May 2007 elections, Cartagena said Espinosa has been plotting to kill Rojas. Aside from the vice mayor, the assassination plot also included provincial board member Jett Rojas, Ajuy Mayor Juancho Alvarez, Councilors Pepe Dumayao and Pepe Baterna and Punong Barangay Ronnie “Calis” Bañas. The plot was finalized April 2008 when Buenavista presented Cartagena to Espinosa at the latter’s house in Brgy. Lanjagan. “We met Vicente ‘Etik’ Espinosa and he told me and Buenavista that we will kill vice mayor Ramon Rojas and he gave us P8,000 for our allowance and surveillance expenses,” Cartagena said. For several days, Cartagena and Cordero monitored Rojas’s movements.

The hit happened around 5:30am of May 22 while Rojas was jogging on the highway at Brgy. Central. “When we reached Sitio Casamata which is sparsely populated, we drove near vice mayor Rojas and Edgar Cordero quickly shot him twice. Cordero then alighted from the motorcycle then chased and shot Rojas who was running towards the mahogany plantation. Then I saw Rojas fall to the ground but Cordero went near and repeatedly shot him,” Cartagena said. The duo then fled and proceeded to Barotac Viejo. They later learned from the radio that Rojas was dead.

There is something about eating fruits that is so delightful and I had been wondering about what it is but could not get it until this morning. I woke up and I was so hungry but I do not like what is on the table–fried egg, rice, and bangus cooked in tomato sauce. I wanted something light and refreshing. I was thinking about watermelon and melon. But there was none in the ref. I ended up sitting on a couch and reading the news. And since nothing about reading the news could fill my hunger, I looked out the door and saw the guava tree. I climbed the tree and took out three yellow-green fruits, bit one and understood that it was exactly fruits I was craving to eat today.

So what is it about fruits that is so delightful? It is watery, it is sweet, it is light in the stomach, and it is refreshing.

Out of the three guava fruits I picked, I was able to eat only one because the rest were maggot infested. I could not have the full satisfaction I was hoping for. So, I had someone buy me a watermelon and a melon but she ended up buying only watermelon. And the price is so prohibitive.

The need for a human body for fresh fruits could not be overemphasized. Doctors advise to always eat fruits, aside from vegetables. People will be healthier if we eat more fruits. Of course, almost every body wants and loves to eat fruits but could not do so in a regular basis because the price is beyond what a basic salaried employee, like me, can afford.

In the past, the duties of the state to its people does not include providing them with decent housing. But with more and more people populating the country and less and less land there is available for people to own, rent or build their house on to, providing its citizens with a decent housing in the form of housing loan has become a necessity. In the same vein, addressing the health issues of the citizenry requires, among others, that my beloved Philippines create a program for each local government to have a garden where each can plant and sell farm products, like fruits, at prices affordable to the masa.

Taksi is a local game which can be likened to ten pin bowling (“bowling” for short). Whereas bowling needs a bowling lane, taksi needs only a dry and solid ground; whereas bowling needs ten pins and a special ball to knock the pins out, taksi needs only coins and a cue coin with which to take the bets off. Needless to say, taksi  requires much lesser space than the area used for bowling.

The players agree on the value of the coin bet, draw a square on the ground, place the bets at the center of the square, draw a big letter “H” with a long horizontal but with shorter vertical lines few feet away from the square. Each player stands as near as the bets and toss the cue coin to the letter “H”. The player who can land his cue coin (ball) at or nearest to the center of the vertical line of the H will start the game by throwing at the bets in the square to remove  at least one coin (pin) out of it. The act of successfully removing a bet (pin) from inside to outside the square with the use of a cue coin (ball) is called “punggit”. The usual rule is, when a player shoots out a bet from the square at the start of the game, he gets all the bets. Game over for that set. The players would again put bets on the square and start the same process.

The player who starts the game aims to punggit the bet. The next players have the option to either punggit the bet or hit the first player’s cue coin to eliminate him from the game.

When the second player, for example hit’s the first player’s cue coin, the 2nd player eliminates the first player, removes the 1st player’s bet, and starts punggit-ing the bets even before other players have not started yet. This time, the second player can get close to the square and therefore has a more accurate shot at the bets, and the freedom to choose whichever direction he wants his cue coin to go to. Players however may agree on the rule that each player may only approach the square and attack the bets from the direction of his cue coin.

Any player may not aim at the bets in the square or at the other players’ cue coin. Instead, he may toss his cue coin in a spot where the cue coin of a player who could not hit and remove the bet from the square would go.

Like any other game, taksi needs accuracy and planning. Because it is a game played by children who cut classes, or by drop-outs, taksi has become associated with them and earned its notoriety as such. But as taksi become known it will also someday have the respect it deserves. Like Billiards. Before Efren “Bata” Reyes, it used to be a game played only in stalls inside wet markets.

I was there once or twice many years ago. There, were courage, loyalty and integrity are inculcated and carved into the being of the very few and the very privileged people who will someday defend the territorial integrity and political independence of my beloved Philippines. I mean, the Philippine Military Academy.

I really have no idea how life as a cadet is lived in the PMA, although the movie Full Metal Jacket (Stanley Kubrick), the HBO series Band of Brothers, and my experience as a son of a strict father and as an ex-seminarian give me a glimpse.

There is a unique sense of pride of being a part or having been part of an organization people look up to and consider elite. On your shoulders lies the responsibility of living the ideals that reflect the nobility and the tenacity of the human spirit.

I look up to the men and women who graduated from the Philippine Military Academy. They are very proud people whose “upbringing” is to make the country and its people safe from harm, and their motto says it all: courage, integrity and loyalty.

The oath of the new Katipuneros

1. I am willing to lay down my life in the pursuit of the Vision
2. I will be loyal always to the National Interest
3. I am willing to be a catalyst of change of an oppressive and unjust society into one that advocates equality and social justice
4. I will respect human rights
5. I will not commit any acts of corruption
6. I will live a modest life commensurate to my legal means
7. I am willing to be punished should I betray any decree of this oath
8. I am doing this supreme act of sacrifice for God, Country and People with no promise of reward, compensation or recognition

There is the Magdalo group whose leader Senator Antonio Trillanes IV is still incarcerated. He was later joined by General Danilo Lim–the two walked out from Makati Regional Trial Court all the way to Manila Peninsula Hotel. I called them The free people in jail.

But before the Magdalo group, there is another less known PMA graduate who laid down his life for his country–Philip Andrew Pestaño.

I heard about him only through an email that was forwarded to me. The email says:

Philip Pestano Memorial
Justice at 3 A.M.
by Fr. James B. Reuter, S.J.

The scheduled trip was very brief – from Cavite to Roxas Boulevard – it usually took only 45 minutes. But on September 27, 1995, it took one hour and a half. When the ship arrived at Roxas Boulevard, Ensign Pestaño was dead. The body was in his stateroom, with a pistol, and a letter saying that he was committing suicide. The family realized at once that the letter was forged. They tried desperately for justice, carrying the case right up to the Senate. The Senatorial Investigation Committee examined all the evidence, carefully. Then they issued an official statement, saying among other things: Ensign Phillip Pestaño did not commit suicide. He was murdered. He was shot through the head, somewhere outside of his stateroom, and the body was carried to his room and placed in the bed. The crime was committed by more than one person. In spite of these findings by the Senate, the family could not get justice. The case is still recorded, by the Navy, as suicide. For 12 years they have been knocking at the doors of those in power, to no avail. Now they realize that they should knock on the door of HIM who said: “Knock, and it shall be opened to you. Ask and you shall receive. Seek, and you shall find.”

Phillip Pestaño died at the age of 24. He was scheduled to be married in January of 1996, four months after he was murdered.

In these people lie the contradiction of hope and despair. The Magdalo group has no more hope for the corrupt military leadership sanctioned by the Arroyo Administration to become clean. So the members initiated the bold move. Yet, they are also hopeful that this country will someday have a great military and an exemplary leader, the same reason why they initiated the bold move.

The PMA will continue to produce the men and women who are changing this country. The new graduates will correct and straighten the obnoxious ways of the fellow alumni who made it possible for elections to be defrauded, public funds to be used for personal pleasures, and make a business out of the misery of people trapped in a war zone or addicted to drugs.

That is Jovie Ann Decoyna, 24, from Benguet, youngest of the six children of a farmer and a domestic helper, and the highest scorer in last year’s nursing board exam, speaking.

Her statement reminds me of my own life “in the farm” which indeed was hard. Who else do I remember when I think about that life but my father?

I did not appreciate the agriculturist for waking me up early every morning to help him tend to his garden of egg plant, tomato, okra, chili, pechay, cacao, etc.

In fairness to him, I only spent few minutes in the garden every morning and afternoon to water the plants and help him uproot weeds or till a new plot. But I was only less than ten years old and the few minutes I should have spent in bed seemed eternity. It was forced labor. The sprinkler weighed twice as much and the well where I got the water was twice as far as when I was fully awake. And in the afternoon, while my playmates rolled and chaseed after bicycle tires or played bog-uy or taksi, I was there in the garden planting or watering animosity or uprooting whatever good will he had shown towards me.

We had no tv and I did not know about Voltes V or Heman my cousins from Manila would talk about when they came home for Christmas vacation. They seemed so intelligent, confident, clean and smooth while I felt sloppy, awkward and clumsy. I blamed my work in my father’s garden. The soil made my little fingers coarse, my sun tanned skin made me awkward, and the little muscles growing in my arms made me clumsy and that place of work-without-play made me want to run away.

And I did plan to run away.

To the left of our house was a rice field, after that a peace of land left to trees, shrubs and wild plants, and next to it the sea whose rumbling we could hear from the house when the weather is bad. To the right of the woods is a swamp that extended towards the river. And across that river is the poblacion.

I imagined somewhere between the woods and the swamp I could hide and survive by trapping and grilling birds. My father did not love me enough. Instead of letting me sleep or play, he made me work in his garden of tears. If he could not take care of me, I might as well take care of myself.

I try to remember what I planned to do when I was already Tarzan. How I would go about my day to day life while I was a run away child in the jungle. But as far as I can remember, all I knew was that I would run away and trap and grill birds. Maybe the rest of the day I would be making and setting the traps to catch birds, and at night, I would be nursing the wound left by my father’s cruelty. I did not also think where I would live or sleep at night. I only have this picture of me sitting under a tree and looking far away, sorrowful.

I did not attempt to run away because I was afraid of my father who seemed to read my mind. He warned me one day that if I run away, he would not look for me. I could try if I wanted to find out.

I never found out.

Maybe I talked in my sleep, and my mother who shared the bed with me and my sister SP was closely listening and reported my plans to my father who was sleeping in another room.

My father and I did not bother about kamote, alogbate and saluyot (local vegetable) shoots. It grew everywhere and all my mother or our helper would do was go out to the fields and cut them out and bring them home. In cities like Manila, they are very expensive.

Life in the farm is hard. I did run away eventually and I realized I miss so many things about it.

Decoyna said she was open to the idea of working abroad but, given the opportunity, would prefer to work in a hospital in Baguio.

She would rather be home too.

The Commission on Higher Education is aiming at the elimination of review centers that allegedly cost P12,000 to P18,000 nursing reviewees per review. To do this it announced that Ched will revise the nursing curriculum. The result: 5 year nursing course beginning school year 2010.

Ched chair Emmanuel Angeles: “The cost is almost the same when another year is added to a four-year curriculum. Yet, in the proposed curriculum, students need not attend courses in review centers which sometimes charged exorbitant fees to prepare for their licensure exams. A review course will be incorporated in the curriculum.”

Further, Angeles laments that “parents are already paying for a five-year nursing program including the review yet less than 50 percent (of nursing graduates) pass the licensure test.”

According to Angeles, a 10+2+3 scheme in the education system with the skills necessary for them to compete with  both local and international job markets.

The scheme works this way: 6 years of primary, 4 years of secondary (10)+ 2 year technical school or pre -university program before finally pursuing a three-year specialization course.

Nursing review lasts only 4 months, but as Angeles noted, less than fifty percent make it. So, why not add another full year where review classes are integrated. Besides, as to the review classes, they are optional. Meaning, you may attend or you may not.

The government can do that–add another year to a course despite riots from parents and students, of course. But it has built hospitals, schools, roads, buildings, among others. Did these projects stop persons both natural and juridical from building private hospitals, private schools, private roads and buildings?

No.

The primary reason for the change of curriculum  is to improve the quality of our nursing graduates. The elimination of the nursing review centers is secondary. Why Ched played on the secondary reson is to make the idea appealling to people who will be affected by the 1 year extension by insisting that the extension and the necessary expenses incurred offset the expenses for the review centers who fill the need left unsatisfied by the 4 year course.

So, will Ched be able to eliminate nursing review centers?

No. But “yes”, according to Ched Chair Emmanuel Angeles.