We all know his story by now.
Sent to Hong Kong to dodge a Senate hearing, Jun Lozada was abducted by a group of yet unidentified and armed men the moment he returned to Manila on the evening of Tuesday, February 5th. He was taken against his will, into a black van, and on a ride that spanned Taguig, Cavite and Laguna. Within the van he never felt free. The men were well-equipped and were able to track broadcasts, police scanners and even the Senate’s radio. They were able to track his text messages too and warned him that it was futile to ask for help. Not too soon, his mobile’s battery ran out and he literally fell off the map. His ordeal lasted around six hours.
What if it didn’t last as long? What if he never walked the path of truth as he eventually did? Take note that everything after this sentence is already revisionist history.
February 5. 8pm. Outskirts of Dasmarinas, Cavite.
Paralyzed by fear, he tried his phone again. The silence was killing him; it had already killed his phone. His fingers shook nervously as he flipped open the receiver and pressed the power button. No response. In his sweaty palm, the phone felt cold but his blood ran colder.
“Saan na po tayo?” He asked reflexively. He needed to warm himself and his jaw shivered first.
No response.
He bowed his head and tried to hide it between his knees. Yet he could still see them. Three armed men. The two large men in front seemed to be used to this; the one seated across him was younger but angrier somehow. Tatoos graced the skin that broke through their black sweaters. Apparently, these men seem to have seen too many wars. They have fought too many battles; none were their own.
He tried his phone again. Nothing still.
Then something clicked. And crackled. Hissed. But it wasn’t his.
The van pulled over and stopped on the shoulder. The driver reached for the dash with his right hand and picked up a phone. A conversation began and it wasn’t in a hurry to end.
He could barely hear anything through his own shivering. The phone was still dead but he felt deader. Through the muffled one-sided conversation he managed to make out some words. They sounded like places he’s been to in better times. Or hell. Somehow it didn’t matter.
Then the call ended. The driver nodded his head, and his companion on the right nodded in kind. The younger man across him grabbed his arm. “Lakad.”
So he walked. The door was open and he slid his right foot out. His left thigh followed suit, rested on the chair as he slowly eased his right leg down to the ground. It was wet. And the air smelled of grass, rain and incense. The moment almost felt holy if it weren’t so fast.
The young man held him at his left elbow, tentatively dragging him towards the two older men who have gone farther ahead into the grass that towered over them. This place reminded him of his numerous treks he had through the hills of Rizal. His job took him to strange places, just as his thoughts now take him to his wife, his children, his brother, his friends. But they weren’t really strange; just alien. They have been walking for what felt like forever, and that is a long time to be away from those you love.
And they stopped. Right in front of him stood the two men and they looked at him in the eye. Their cheeks were scarred by dried-up tears. Then it came.
His chest burned and his breathing heaved. He collapsed down to his right knee. And it came again.
This time his back felt the burn and it punctured through his chest. On his lips he could taste iron. It was warm and wet. He tried to breathe in but it only brought more wet iron to his lips. And on his fingers. On his chest.
It was funny, he thought at that moment. You never hear it until you feel it, and you never feel it until the regret, sadness and anger all wash over you at the same time. At least he no longer has to be afraid. The young man let go of his grip, as did fear.
He was finally free.
February 6. 8am.
The body is found by a local who was walking along the highway when he noticed that the grass bent lower in places it did not bend yesterday. He reports it to the police.
1pm.
The corpse is identified as Jun Lozada, the man summoned by the Senate as they deepened their investigation into the NBN probe.
1:03pm.
Inquirer.net runs the story — “Lozada found dead”AM radio stations pick up not too long afterwards.The government condemns the killing just as quickly.
6:30pm.
In the primetime news, Jun Lozada’s wife, Violet, is shown to be hysterical. She demands justice for her husband, her family and her kids. In a moment of rage, she vocalizes that some people in power don’t want what he has to say.
10:17pm.
In the evening news, some Senators go on air and question the link this killing has with their current investigation. Cayetano is quick to blame the government and calls everything the worst cover-up in history. Other Senators even go on to say that this may be our “Tarmac II”.
February 7. 3am. La Salle Greenhills
Lozada’s gives a press conference in LSGH where she and her children are hiding. Their tone is indignant and call on for justice and truth to prevail. At one point, they call on Jun’s friends who know the truth. They appeal that his sacrifice be not in vain.
9am.
Romulo Neri surfaces and holds a press conference deploring the ‘blatant assassination’ of his friend and colleague. He promises to testify against the Senate tomorrow, Friday.For the rest of Thursday, the media run features on the NBN deal in anticipation of Neri’s bombshell.
February 8. 10am. The Senate
.Romulo Neri swears under oath to tell the whole truth and nothing but the truth.He presents damning information about the bribes and kickbacks received by Benjamin Abalos and Miguel Arroyo. He presents documents protected by executive privilege and provides the hard facts required by the Senate Blue Ribbon committee.Towards the end of the testimony, he condemns the killing of his friend and declares that he has come forward in the name of justice and truth. “No more lying. No more hiding.”
5pm.
As his testimony at the Senate nears its end, civil society mobilizes quickly. Calls for President Gloria Macapagal-Arroyo to step down build up very fast and protests begin to bulge in Makati and Ortigas.
Now. February 14.
The rest, as they say, is history. I’m sorry if I haven’t been able to write the past few days. We all know how chaotic it has become.
Our country has reached a turning point. What will the death of Jun Lozada mean? I don’t know. What will the expose of Romulo Neri mean? I don’t know. What will all those protests mean? I don’t know. Some are beginning to call it People Power once more. But how long can we stand in defiance?
his may be my last post. I don’t know when I’ll get to write again. The government has issued a warrant of arrest for all enemies of the state. It was a student who saw my name on TV when the list was flashed and apparently, they read my blog.Whatever happens next, make sure that everything that happened over the past week has been for something. Only you can make that happen now — if you get to read this. Pretty soon I expect them to be knocking at my door. I will go quietly. I will not fight. Let them know for themselves the wrong they have done. Remember this, that whatever I have done or am about to do, I do it because of this:
I am free.
Thursday, November 27, 2008
Irony
She gave up on love a long time ago, that much I know.
Before, when she thought she was in love, she would come to me and tell me about the new man in her life. She told me time and time again that this would be the man who would take her away, the man who would do everything to make her happy. I only listened. Her eyes would sparkle with every word, and her cheeks would blush with every positive thought, every chunk of her imagination that now seemed within reach. She would giggle and tell me that she would not forget about me. Then, just weeks later, she would be packing her bags, and she would be off to some exotic destination.
But then she always came back crying, and she came back with less enthusiasm than what she had whenever she left. This is it, she would tell me. This is the last time. But then she would find someone again who would eventually leave her.
I've wondered why so many times. There was nothing wrong with her in my opinion - she had a beauty that shined more when you stared at her longer. She had a good, innocent heart, very childlike and yet containing a deep sense of maturity as well. She was charming and could sweep anyone off their feet without exerting much effort. But somehow, she keeps on falling in love with the wrong men.
They were all the same, the men she fell in love with. They were willing to give her the world, and being a young woman, what else could be more romantic? They bought her everything she asked for, and she pleased them. Yet they would end up leaving her in the end, either because they have already had their fun or because their wives found out about her.
She would always come back looking much older than she was when she left. But though she may be shedding tears and nursing fears, inside these things only made her stronger. She would go back to the world a rejuvenated person with new hope in her. Then the same thing would happen, and once again, she would close her heart off from the rest of the world.
The last time she returned, she told me she had given up on love already. She was tired, she said. The last man had done enough damage to her to last for a lifetime. That was what she told me. Indeed he had changed her life drastically. He was a single man who only wanted companionship, and she, being the innocent lady that she is, had mistaken this desire for companionship for love and passion. Indeed the passion led to their pleasure, and he left her with child. When he found out, he told her that he was willing to support her and their child, and he was willing to give anything that she asked for as long as she does not ask him to marry her. He told her he only wanted companionship, and he was not ready to settle down. When she heard this, it served as the last straw for her, and so she came home and told everyone that she was giving up on love.
Now there was a man who was constantly at her side whenever she would get her heart broken. He would always let her cry on his shoulder and tell her that things would be fine. He even offered to take responsibility for the child that she bore from the last failed relationship. For some reason that I do not know, she would not do as much as consider having this man in her life. I had dared ask her only once, and she just shrugged her shoulders in confusion and bewilderment. Maybe it was because she was still jaded when I asked, but I will never know. Anyway, he was always there, and one day he presented her with the one thing that she had always wanted - a ring.
"If you're doing that because you feel sorry for me, then just forget it," was what she answered. She let him go thinking he did not deserve her. But he refused to marry because he was waiting for her. Years later she would take him for his husband and live in utter bliss.
She gave up on love a long time ago. But then love had different plans. Love would not give up on her, and in the end it was worth the long wait.
Before, when she thought she was in love, she would come to me and tell me about the new man in her life. She told me time and time again that this would be the man who would take her away, the man who would do everything to make her happy. I only listened. Her eyes would sparkle with every word, and her cheeks would blush with every positive thought, every chunk of her imagination that now seemed within reach. She would giggle and tell me that she would not forget about me. Then, just weeks later, she would be packing her bags, and she would be off to some exotic destination.
But then she always came back crying, and she came back with less enthusiasm than what she had whenever she left. This is it, she would tell me. This is the last time. But then she would find someone again who would eventually leave her.
I've wondered why so many times. There was nothing wrong with her in my opinion - she had a beauty that shined more when you stared at her longer. She had a good, innocent heart, very childlike and yet containing a deep sense of maturity as well. She was charming and could sweep anyone off their feet without exerting much effort. But somehow, she keeps on falling in love with the wrong men.
They were all the same, the men she fell in love with. They were willing to give her the world, and being a young woman, what else could be more romantic? They bought her everything she asked for, and she pleased them. Yet they would end up leaving her in the end, either because they have already had their fun or because their wives found out about her.
She would always come back looking much older than she was when she left. But though she may be shedding tears and nursing fears, inside these things only made her stronger. She would go back to the world a rejuvenated person with new hope in her. Then the same thing would happen, and once again, she would close her heart off from the rest of the world.
The last time she returned, she told me she had given up on love already. She was tired, she said. The last man had done enough damage to her to last for a lifetime. That was what she told me. Indeed he had changed her life drastically. He was a single man who only wanted companionship, and she, being the innocent lady that she is, had mistaken this desire for companionship for love and passion. Indeed the passion led to their pleasure, and he left her with child. When he found out, he told her that he was willing to support her and their child, and he was willing to give anything that she asked for as long as she does not ask him to marry her. He told her he only wanted companionship, and he was not ready to settle down. When she heard this, it served as the last straw for her, and so she came home and told everyone that she was giving up on love.
Now there was a man who was constantly at her side whenever she would get her heart broken. He would always let her cry on his shoulder and tell her that things would be fine. He even offered to take responsibility for the child that she bore from the last failed relationship. For some reason that I do not know, she would not do as much as consider having this man in her life. I had dared ask her only once, and she just shrugged her shoulders in confusion and bewilderment. Maybe it was because she was still jaded when I asked, but I will never know. Anyway, he was always there, and one day he presented her with the one thing that she had always wanted - a ring.
"If you're doing that because you feel sorry for me, then just forget it," was what she answered. She let him go thinking he did not deserve her. But he refused to marry because he was waiting for her. Years later she would take him for his husband and live in utter bliss.
She gave up on love a long time ago. But then love had different plans. Love would not give up on her, and in the end it was worth the long wait.
Booger
Kuya, penge ng kulangot,” sabi niya.
Ang unang pumasok sa isip ko, hindi ko siya kapatid. Noon lang kami nagkita; nagkataong siya ang nakatabi ko sa bus pauwi. Kung akala niya, nadadala ako sa pa-“Kuya, kuya” ng mga taong hindi ko kilala, nagkakamali siya. Pangalawa, sa pagkakaalam ko, ang kulangot ay sinusungkit mula sa ilong upang ipahid sa ilalim ng mesa, idikit sa pader, iipit sa panyo, lunurin sa lababo o itapon sa basurahan. Hindi ipinapamigay ang kulangot. At pangatlo, sakaling nahihingi man ang kulangot, bakit ko naman ibibigay ang kulangot ko sa kanya? Habang nakasakay sa bus kasama ang humigit-kumulang animnapung pasahero?
“Wala akong kulangot.”
“Meron e. Kakasilip ko lang kaya! Dali! Penge na!”
Napakabastos naman nitong batang ito, sa loob-loob ko.
“Sabi nang wala e. Nasaan ba ang nanay mo?”
May halong paninindak ang tanong, nang sa gayon, maligaw na ang usapan at ako ay makasandal sa bintana upang matulog.
“Wala akong nanay. At wala rin akong tatay. Bigla na lang akong lumitaw sa mundong ibabaw.”
Gaaaaad. Kawawa naman ang batang ito; wala pang sampung taon, mukha nang takas ng psychiatry ward. Manghihingi ng kulangot, pagkatapos, sasabihing sumulpot na lang na parang kabute. Ayoko nang itanong kung ano ang pangalan niya, baka sagutin ako ng “Jesus Christ” at hindi ko kayanin.
“Boy,” hinawakan ko ang kanyang ulo at inilingon patungo sa telebisyon ng bus, “Mabuti pa, manood ka na lang. Baka sakaling matutunan mong hindi nahihingi ang kulangot at hindi mina-magic ang mga bata.”
“Hmp, madamot,” sambit niya sabay irap.
O, huwag nang patulan, pagpipigil ko sa sarili. Bata iyang aawayin mo, papasok ka pa sa PLM. Isang buong araw ka nang gising kakaedit at kakaaral (nga ba?), itulog mo na lang iyan.
Nakatitig na sa tv ang namamalimos ng kulangot. Kasalukuyang ipinapalabas ang isang tatay na nanghihingi ng donasyon para sa anak niyang may hydrocephalus: “Madalas nga, tinatanong naming mag-asawa sa Diyos, bakit kami pa? Sa dinami-dami ng tao sa mundo, bakit ang nag-iisang anak pa namin ang magkakasakit ng ganito.”
Mahirap siguro maging Diyos. Bagsakan ka na nga ng lahat ng hiling, bagsakan ka pa rin ng lahat ng sisi.
Ikinabit ko ang baon kong earphones at pinatugtog ang radyo ng aking telepono. Kinakanta ng Hoobastank ang “I’m not a perrr-fect perrr-son….”
Sa kauna-unahang pagkakataon sa loob ng 24 na oras, ipinikit ko ang aking mga mata.
Ginising ako ng marahang pagtapik sa aking balikat.
“Boss, saan kayo?”
Ang konduktor, naniningil ng pamasahe.
“Las Piñas, galing City hall, estudyante.”
Dinukot ko ang mga nakahandang barya sa aking bulsa. “Sino nga pala ang nagbayad dito?” pabulong kong tanong habang inginunguso ang katabi kong nakatulog din pala.
“Iyan? Walang bayad iyan,” mabilis niyang sagot saka abot sa akin ng tiket.
“Bakit?”
Subalit lumipat na siya sa susunod na hilera ng mga pasahero.
“E wala talaga akong bayad e!”
Aba! Gising pala ang mokong.
“Ano? Bibigyan mo na ako ng kulangot?”
Kung nagkataong may hawak siyang baril, malamang nakatutok na ito sa butas ng ilong ko. Para lang sa walang kakwenta-kwentang kulangot na gawa sa aking uhog at sa alikabok mula sa init ng Gusaling Lacson.
“Teka nga. Seryosong tanong, at kailangan ko rin ng seryosong sagot. Nag-iinit ang ulo ko sa mga pilosopo.”
“Tapos, ‘pag sinagot ko ang tanong mo, bibigyan mo na ako ng kulangot? Yehey!”
“Aanhin mo ba ang kulangot ko?”
Sa pagkakataong ito, umasa akong sisigaw siya ng “Wow! Mali!” o kaya ay “Yari ka!” at pagkatapos ay ituturo sa akin ang kamerang nakakubli sa isang maleta sa kabilang hanay ng mga upuan.
“Wala lang. Nangongolekta kasi ako ng kulangot.”
Uh-oh. Oras na para tumawag sa mental.
“E bakit hindi ka na lang mangulangot buong araw at magdamag?”
“Gusto ko kasi kulangot ng iba.”
“Ha? Aanhin mo naman ang kulangot ng iba?”
“Kinokolekta ko nga e. Ang kulit mo naman Kuya!”
At ako pa raw ang makulit!
“Bakit nga? Aanhin mo naman ang kulangot ng ibang tao?” Nakakunot na ang noo ko. Hindi na ako natutuwa.
“Wala lang.”
Weirdo. Mas gugustuhin ko pang mabiktima na lang ng isang practical joke show kaysa makipagtalo sa batang ito.
“Hindi pwedeng wala lang. Hindi pwedeng walang bakit.”
“Bakit naman hindi?”
“Ganun talaga kapag tumatanda ka na. Hindi pwedeng ‘wala lang’ dahil lahat ng bagay, may dahilan. Lahat ng pangyayari. Lahat ng hindi nangyayari. Lahat ng tuwa. Lahat ng luha. Lahat ng pagod. Lahat ng sakripisyo. Lahat ng nakakalimutan. Lahat ng nagbabago. Lahat ng nabubuhay. Lahat ng nagkakasakit. Lahat ng namamatay. Kahit kulangot ko, may dahilan kung bakit nasa ilong ko at wala sa kamay mo! "
Kapag matanda ka na, mahirap tanggapin na ang lahat ay nangyayari dahil ‘wala lang.’ Na lahat ng paghihirap mo sa araw-araw ay wala namang patutunguhan, at sa huli ay wala ring saysay. Para mo na ring inamin na ang buhay mo ay walang silbi. Naiintindihan mo ba iyon?”
Tulala ang bata.
Isa. Dalawa. Tatlo. Apat. Lima.Anim. Pito. Walo. Siyam. Sam-….
“Ang sungit mo naman. Madamot ka na nga, masungit pa. Mabuti pa yung katabi kong babae kanina, binigyan agad ako ng kulangot. Wala nang ‘Bakit? Bakit?’”
Grrrr.
“E ‘DI SA KANYA KA HUMINGI, HUWAG SA AKIN!”
Akala ko, mapapaiyak ko ang batang walang nanay at walang tatay. Lagot kapag nagkataon.Pero hindi siya umiyak. Bagkus, siya ay tumayo, nag-ayos ng nagusot na damit, humarap sa akin, tinitigan ako sa mata at nagsabing, “Alam mo, yung babaeng nagbigay sa akin ng kulangot, mas masaya siya kaysa sa iyo.”
Tinawag niya ang konduktor. Pinahinto ang bus at dali-daling bumaba.
Ako?
Tulala.
Isa. Dalawa. Tatlo.
Apat. Lima. Anim.
Pito. Walo. Siyam.
Sampu.
Ang unang pumasok sa isip ko, hindi ko siya kapatid. Noon lang kami nagkita; nagkataong siya ang nakatabi ko sa bus pauwi. Kung akala niya, nadadala ako sa pa-“Kuya, kuya” ng mga taong hindi ko kilala, nagkakamali siya. Pangalawa, sa pagkakaalam ko, ang kulangot ay sinusungkit mula sa ilong upang ipahid sa ilalim ng mesa, idikit sa pader, iipit sa panyo, lunurin sa lababo o itapon sa basurahan. Hindi ipinapamigay ang kulangot. At pangatlo, sakaling nahihingi man ang kulangot, bakit ko naman ibibigay ang kulangot ko sa kanya? Habang nakasakay sa bus kasama ang humigit-kumulang animnapung pasahero?
“Wala akong kulangot.”
“Meron e. Kakasilip ko lang kaya! Dali! Penge na!”
Napakabastos naman nitong batang ito, sa loob-loob ko.
“Sabi nang wala e. Nasaan ba ang nanay mo?”
May halong paninindak ang tanong, nang sa gayon, maligaw na ang usapan at ako ay makasandal sa bintana upang matulog.
“Wala akong nanay. At wala rin akong tatay. Bigla na lang akong lumitaw sa mundong ibabaw.”
Gaaaaad. Kawawa naman ang batang ito; wala pang sampung taon, mukha nang takas ng psychiatry ward. Manghihingi ng kulangot, pagkatapos, sasabihing sumulpot na lang na parang kabute. Ayoko nang itanong kung ano ang pangalan niya, baka sagutin ako ng “Jesus Christ” at hindi ko kayanin.
“Boy,” hinawakan ko ang kanyang ulo at inilingon patungo sa telebisyon ng bus, “Mabuti pa, manood ka na lang. Baka sakaling matutunan mong hindi nahihingi ang kulangot at hindi mina-magic ang mga bata.”
“Hmp, madamot,” sambit niya sabay irap.
O, huwag nang patulan, pagpipigil ko sa sarili. Bata iyang aawayin mo, papasok ka pa sa PLM. Isang buong araw ka nang gising kakaedit at kakaaral (nga ba?), itulog mo na lang iyan.
Nakatitig na sa tv ang namamalimos ng kulangot. Kasalukuyang ipinapalabas ang isang tatay na nanghihingi ng donasyon para sa anak niyang may hydrocephalus: “Madalas nga, tinatanong naming mag-asawa sa Diyos, bakit kami pa? Sa dinami-dami ng tao sa mundo, bakit ang nag-iisang anak pa namin ang magkakasakit ng ganito.”
Mahirap siguro maging Diyos. Bagsakan ka na nga ng lahat ng hiling, bagsakan ka pa rin ng lahat ng sisi.
Ikinabit ko ang baon kong earphones at pinatugtog ang radyo ng aking telepono. Kinakanta ng Hoobastank ang “I’m not a perrr-fect perrr-son….”
Sa kauna-unahang pagkakataon sa loob ng 24 na oras, ipinikit ko ang aking mga mata.
Ginising ako ng marahang pagtapik sa aking balikat.
“Boss, saan kayo?”
Ang konduktor, naniningil ng pamasahe.
“Las Piñas, galing City hall, estudyante.”
Dinukot ko ang mga nakahandang barya sa aking bulsa. “Sino nga pala ang nagbayad dito?” pabulong kong tanong habang inginunguso ang katabi kong nakatulog din pala.
“Iyan? Walang bayad iyan,” mabilis niyang sagot saka abot sa akin ng tiket.
“Bakit?”
Subalit lumipat na siya sa susunod na hilera ng mga pasahero.
“E wala talaga akong bayad e!”
Aba! Gising pala ang mokong.
“Ano? Bibigyan mo na ako ng kulangot?”
Kung nagkataong may hawak siyang baril, malamang nakatutok na ito sa butas ng ilong ko. Para lang sa walang kakwenta-kwentang kulangot na gawa sa aking uhog at sa alikabok mula sa init ng Gusaling Lacson.
“Teka nga. Seryosong tanong, at kailangan ko rin ng seryosong sagot. Nag-iinit ang ulo ko sa mga pilosopo.”
“Tapos, ‘pag sinagot ko ang tanong mo, bibigyan mo na ako ng kulangot? Yehey!”
“Aanhin mo ba ang kulangot ko?”
Sa pagkakataong ito, umasa akong sisigaw siya ng “Wow! Mali!” o kaya ay “Yari ka!” at pagkatapos ay ituturo sa akin ang kamerang nakakubli sa isang maleta sa kabilang hanay ng mga upuan.
“Wala lang. Nangongolekta kasi ako ng kulangot.”
Uh-oh. Oras na para tumawag sa mental.
“E bakit hindi ka na lang mangulangot buong araw at magdamag?”
“Gusto ko kasi kulangot ng iba.”
“Ha? Aanhin mo naman ang kulangot ng iba?”
“Kinokolekta ko nga e. Ang kulit mo naman Kuya!”
At ako pa raw ang makulit!
“Bakit nga? Aanhin mo naman ang kulangot ng ibang tao?” Nakakunot na ang noo ko. Hindi na ako natutuwa.
“Wala lang.”
Weirdo. Mas gugustuhin ko pang mabiktima na lang ng isang practical joke show kaysa makipagtalo sa batang ito.
“Hindi pwedeng wala lang. Hindi pwedeng walang bakit.”
“Bakit naman hindi?”
“Ganun talaga kapag tumatanda ka na. Hindi pwedeng ‘wala lang’ dahil lahat ng bagay, may dahilan. Lahat ng pangyayari. Lahat ng hindi nangyayari. Lahat ng tuwa. Lahat ng luha. Lahat ng pagod. Lahat ng sakripisyo. Lahat ng nakakalimutan. Lahat ng nagbabago. Lahat ng nabubuhay. Lahat ng nagkakasakit. Lahat ng namamatay. Kahit kulangot ko, may dahilan kung bakit nasa ilong ko at wala sa kamay mo! "
Kapag matanda ka na, mahirap tanggapin na ang lahat ay nangyayari dahil ‘wala lang.’ Na lahat ng paghihirap mo sa araw-araw ay wala namang patutunguhan, at sa huli ay wala ring saysay. Para mo na ring inamin na ang buhay mo ay walang silbi. Naiintindihan mo ba iyon?”
Tulala ang bata.
Isa. Dalawa. Tatlo. Apat. Lima.Anim. Pito. Walo. Siyam. Sam-….
“Ang sungit mo naman. Madamot ka na nga, masungit pa. Mabuti pa yung katabi kong babae kanina, binigyan agad ako ng kulangot. Wala nang ‘Bakit? Bakit?’”
Grrrr.
“E ‘DI SA KANYA KA HUMINGI, HUWAG SA AKIN!”
Akala ko, mapapaiyak ko ang batang walang nanay at walang tatay. Lagot kapag nagkataon.Pero hindi siya umiyak. Bagkus, siya ay tumayo, nag-ayos ng nagusot na damit, humarap sa akin, tinitigan ako sa mata at nagsabing, “Alam mo, yung babaeng nagbigay sa akin ng kulangot, mas masaya siya kaysa sa iyo.”
Tinawag niya ang konduktor. Pinahinto ang bus at dali-daling bumaba.
Ako?
Tulala.
Isa. Dalawa. Tatlo.
Apat. Lima. Anim.
Pito. Walo. Siyam.
Sampu.
Hotdogs
Habang naglilinis ang kapatid kong si Aika ng refrigerator ay napansin niya ang nag-iisang pulang hotdog sa sulok ng freezer.
Napagtanto niya na ang hotdog ay nahulog mula sa supot ng maraming hotdog at gumulong sa likod ng freezer. Hindi na namin napansin kaya noong niluto na namin ang mga hotdog, hindi ito napasama. Kaya ayun, nag-iisa na lang siya at literally ay “left out in the cold.”
Kung may feelings lang ang mga hotdogs, ano kaya nararamdaman niya na mag-isa na lang siya sa freezer, habang ang mga kasamahan niya ay naluto na at nakain? Lahat ng kasama niya sa supot na iyon, na-fulfill na ang mission sa buhay na makain – maliban sa kanya.
Lahat ba talaga ng mga hotdog ay kailangan kainin? Baka naman nagbubunyi iyong nag-iisang hotdog dahil malaya pa rin siya, habang ang lahat ng kasama niya ay tunaw na. Pero possible din na nalulungkot siya kapag naaalala niya ang mga kasamahan niya. Maaaring naghahanap siya ng warm body na makakatabi lalo na kapag hindi nade-defrost ang ref at kumakapal na ang yelo. Siguro, minsan, sinusubukan niya ring i-comfort ang sarili niya sa pag-iisip na siya ay nasa “better place” kesa sa mga kasama niya. O baka gusto niya i-defy ang notion na lahat ng hotdog ay kailangan kainin.
Baka handa na siya sa fate niya na siya ang hotdog na hindi makakain at mabubulok na mag-isa.
***
Noong isang araw, bumili ako ng hotdog. Pero hindi tulad noong nag-iisang hotdog na naiwan sa ref, chicken hotdog ang binili ko. Pero okay lang, hotdog pa rin iyon.
Sinama ko ang red hotdog sa supot ng mga brown na chicken hotdog. Binalak ko na prituhin sila for breakfast. At last, mafu-fulfill na rin ng naiwang hotdog ang mission niya sa buhay. At last, maluluto na rin siya at makakain bukas.
Kaya lang, bago matulog ay napaisip ako. Ano kaya ang mararamdaman ng hotdog kung maluto ko nga siya, pero hindi naman niya gusto ang mga kasama niya sa frying pan? Kaya pa ba niyang maghintay sa mga pulang hotdog na bibilhin ko in the future? Kailangan ba talaga siya maluto at makain? Paano kung masaya na siya na nag-iisa?
***
Nakaka-relate ako sa nag-iisang hotdog na hindi pa naluluto at nakakain. Isa-isa nang kinakasal ang mga kaibigan ko. At hinahanda ko na ang sarili ko na maaaring maiiwan akong mag-isa sa loob ng freezer.
May isang supot ng chicken hotdog sa tabi ko pero ayokong sumama sa kanila. Mas gugustuhin ko na lang ang mag-hintay dahil naniniwala ako na may mga bagong supot ng pulang hotdog na darating.
Pero kung sakali mang walang dumating, siguro ihanda ko na ang sarili ko na may mga hotdog na mas masaya na maiwan sa loob ng freezer na mag-isa.
Anatomy of a perfect girlfriend
No cracks, no fractures, no missing bones whatsoever.
Taxi cabs were her favorite way to go around the city. The boyfriend would open the car door for her and assist her while getting off the vehicle. She would take his offered hand like a princess getting off a lovely carriage. She would tell his boyfriend, "That's what boyfriends are for." Her boyfriend would nod in approval, kiss her on her forehead and smile. Her every step was watched. Her boyfriend is her safety scout. Sweet.
"If you don't take care of me, I'll break up with you."
No pulled, strained muscles.
She did not suffer from any forms of fatigue. Her life was a bliss. No need to rush to a convenient store to grab a midnight snack. Her boyfriend would offer his phone and she would call the delivery hotline. And on those days when it was not possible to have the food delivered, he would buy it himself, not minding the time nor the weather. No need to go to a spa to relax. He would light an essence lamp and ask her to lay on her tummy. He would then sooth her tired muscles using his bare hands. He was not really good at this but it pleased her. "That's what boyfriends are for," she would think.
"Buy me food, or else I'll break up with you."
Perfect condition, from mouth to the intestines
She was well-fed. Where to eat, what to eat.. it was her choice. Her every craving was satisfied. He would also introduce her to restaurants and plates she had never tried before. She would think it was fantastic. She would gain weight and think that was her boyfriend's fault. He would smile and tell her that how attractive she still was. Compliments. That's what boyfriends are for.
"Tell me I'm the prettiest or we're through."
Clean lungs. Healthy heart.
There was no way second-hand smoke could have harmed her. He was not a smoker. He lived a healthy life and so did she. He would take her to the country side and she would enjoy the sunshine and fresh air. He had to suspend several business trips so they could go together. Because according to her, that's what boyfriends are for.
"Let's go, or I'll find another boyfriend to take me there."
No signs of depression.
Hers was a worry-free life. Before she could even detect the problem, he already resolved it for her. She was trained not to care, not to worry about almost everything. Worrying was his job. That's what boyfriends are for. He would be sick but he would tell her not to worry. He would buy and take his medicines all by himself. She would be sick and he would worry to death. A simple migraine and he would panic.
"Make the pain go away, or you'll lose me."
She was in perfect health the night he left her and yet she was found dead the following morning.
Taxi cabs were her favorite way to go around the city. The boyfriend would open the car door for her and assist her while getting off the vehicle. She would take his offered hand like a princess getting off a lovely carriage. She would tell his boyfriend, "That's what boyfriends are for." Her boyfriend would nod in approval, kiss her on her forehead and smile. Her every step was watched. Her boyfriend is her safety scout. Sweet.
"If you don't take care of me, I'll break up with you."
No pulled, strained muscles.
She did not suffer from any forms of fatigue. Her life was a bliss. No need to rush to a convenient store to grab a midnight snack. Her boyfriend would offer his phone and she would call the delivery hotline. And on those days when it was not possible to have the food delivered, he would buy it himself, not minding the time nor the weather. No need to go to a spa to relax. He would light an essence lamp and ask her to lay on her tummy. He would then sooth her tired muscles using his bare hands. He was not really good at this but it pleased her. "That's what boyfriends are for," she would think.
"Buy me food, or else I'll break up with you."
Perfect condition, from mouth to the intestines
She was well-fed. Where to eat, what to eat.. it was her choice. Her every craving was satisfied. He would also introduce her to restaurants and plates she had never tried before. She would think it was fantastic. She would gain weight and think that was her boyfriend's fault. He would smile and tell her that how attractive she still was. Compliments. That's what boyfriends are for.
"Tell me I'm the prettiest or we're through."
Clean lungs. Healthy heart.
There was no way second-hand smoke could have harmed her. He was not a smoker. He lived a healthy life and so did she. He would take her to the country side and she would enjoy the sunshine and fresh air. He had to suspend several business trips so they could go together. Because according to her, that's what boyfriends are for.
"Let's go, or I'll find another boyfriend to take me there."
No signs of depression.
Hers was a worry-free life. Before she could even detect the problem, he already resolved it for her. She was trained not to care, not to worry about almost everything. Worrying was his job. That's what boyfriends are for. He would be sick but he would tell her not to worry. He would buy and take his medicines all by himself. She would be sick and he would worry to death. A simple migraine and he would panic.
"Make the pain go away, or you'll lose me."
She was in perfect health the night he left her and yet she was found dead the following morning.
An Atheist Professor of Philosophy speaks to his Class on the Problem Science has with GOD , The ALMIGHTY .
He asks one of his New Christian Students to stand and . . .
Professor : You are a Christian, aren't you, son ?
Student : Yes, sir.
Professor : So you Believe in GOD ?
Student : Absolutely, sir.
Professor : Is GOD Good ?
Student : Sure.
Professor : Is GOD ALL - POWERFUL ?
Student : Yes.
Professor : My Brother died of Cancer even though he Prayed to GOD to Heal him.Most of us would attempt to Help Others who are ill.But GOD didn't.How is this GOD Good then ? Hmm ?
( Student is silent )
Professor : You can't answer, can you ?Let's start again, Young Fella.Is GOD Good ?
Student : Yes.
Professor : Is Satan good ?
Student : No.
Professor : Where does Satan come from ?
Student : From . . . GOD . . .
Professor : That's right.Tell me son, is there evil in this World ?
Student : Yes.
Professor : Evil is everywhere, isn't it ?And GOD did make Everything. Correct ?
Student : Yes.
Professor : So who created evil ?
( Student does not answer )
Professor : Is there Sickness ? Immorality ? Hatred ? Ugliness ?All these terrible things exist in the World, don't they ?
Student : Yes, sir.
Professor : So, who Created them ?
( Student has no answer )
Professor : Science says you have 5 Senses you use to Identify and Observe the World around you.Tell me, son . . . Have you ever Seen GOD ?
Student : No, sir.
Professor : Tell us if you have ever Heard your GOD ?
Student : No , sir.
Professor : Have you ever Felt your GOD , Tasted your GOD , Smelt your GOD ?Have you ever had any Sensory Perception of GOD for that matter ?
Student : No, sir. I'm afraid I haven't.
Professor : Yet you still Believe in HIM ?
Student : Yes.
Professor : According to Empirical, Testable, Demonstrable Protocol, Science says your GOD doesn't exist.What do you say to that, son ?
Student : Nothing. I only have my Faith .
Professor : Yes. Faith . And that is the Problem Science has.
Student : Professor, is there such a thing as Heat ? Professor : Yes. Student : And is there such a thing as Cold ?
Professor : Yes.
Student : No sir. There isn't.
( The Lecture Theatre becomes very quiet with this turn of events )
Student : Sir, you can have Lots of Heat, even More Heat, Superheat, Mega Heat, White Heat,a Little Heat or No Heat.
But we don't have anything called Cold.
We can hit 458 Degrees below Zero which is No Heat, but we can't go any further after that.
There is no such thing as Cold.Cold is only a Word we use to describe the Absence of Heat.We cannot Measure Cold.Heat is Energy.Cold is Not the Opposite of Heat, sir, just the Absence of it.
( There is Pin - Drop Silence in the Lecture Theatre )
Student : What about Darkness, Professor ? Is there such a thing as Darkness ?
Professor : Yes. What is Night if there isn't Darkness ?
Student : You're wrong again, sir.
Darkness is the Absence of Something. You can have Low Light, Normal Light , Bright Light, Flashing Light . . .But if you have No Light Constantly, you have Nothing and it's called Darkness, isn't it ?In reality, Darkness isn't.If it is, were you would be able to make Darkness Darker, wouldn't you ?
Professor : So what is the point you are making, Young Man ?
Student : Sir, my point is your Philosophical Premise is Flawed.
Professor : Flawed ? Can you explain how ?
Student : Sir, you are working on the Premise of Duality..You argue there is Life and then there is Death, a Good GOD and a Bad GOD .You are viewing the Concept of GOD as something finite, something we can measure.Sir, Science can't even explain a Thought. It uses Electricity and Magnetism, but has never seen, much less fully understood either one.To view Death as the Opposite of Life is to be ignorant of the fact thatDeath cannot exist as a Substantive Thing. Death is Not the Opposite of Life : just the Absence of it.Now tell me, Professor, do you Teach your Students that they Evolved from a Monkey ?
Professor : If you are referring to the Natural Evolutionary Process, yes, of course, I do.
Student : Have you ever observed Evolution with your own eyes, sir ?
( The Professor shakes his head with a Smile, beginning to realize where the Argument is going )
Student : Since no one has ever observed the Process of Evolution at work andcannot even prove that this Process is an On - Going Endeavor,are you not Teaching your Opinion, sir ?Are you not a Scientist but a Preacher ?
( The Class is in Uproar )
Student : Is there anyone in the Class who has ever Seen the Professor's Brain?
(The Class breaks out into Laughter )
Student : Is there anyone here who has ever Heard the Professor's Brain, Felt it, Touched or Smelt it ? . . . No one appears to have done so.So, according to the Established Rules of Empirical, Stable, Demonstrable Protocol, Science says that you have No Brain, sir.With all due respect, sir, how do we then Trust your Lectures, sir?
(The Room is Silent. The Professor stares at the Student, his face unfathomable)
Professor: I guess you'll have to take them on Faith , son.
Student : That is it sir . . .the Link between Man & GOD is FAITH .That is all that Keeps Things Moving & Alive.
He asks one of his New Christian Students to stand and . . .
Professor : You are a Christian, aren't you, son ?
Student : Yes, sir.
Professor : So you Believe in GOD ?
Student : Absolutely, sir.
Professor : Is GOD Good ?
Student : Sure.
Professor : Is GOD ALL - POWERFUL ?
Student : Yes.
Professor : My Brother died of Cancer even though he Prayed to GOD to Heal him.Most of us would attempt to Help Others who are ill.But GOD didn't.How is this GOD Good then ? Hmm ?
( Student is silent )
Professor : You can't answer, can you ?Let's start again, Young Fella.Is GOD Good ?
Student : Yes.
Professor : Is Satan good ?
Student : No.
Professor : Where does Satan come from ?
Student : From . . . GOD . . .
Professor : That's right.Tell me son, is there evil in this World ?
Student : Yes.
Professor : Evil is everywhere, isn't it ?And GOD did make Everything. Correct ?
Student : Yes.
Professor : So who created evil ?
( Student does not answer )
Professor : Is there Sickness ? Immorality ? Hatred ? Ugliness ?All these terrible things exist in the World, don't they ?
Student : Yes, sir.
Professor : So, who Created them ?
( Student has no answer )
Professor : Science says you have 5 Senses you use to Identify and Observe the World around you.Tell me, son . . . Have you ever Seen GOD ?
Student : No, sir.
Professor : Tell us if you have ever Heard your GOD ?
Student : No , sir.
Professor : Have you ever Felt your GOD , Tasted your GOD , Smelt your GOD ?Have you ever had any Sensory Perception of GOD for that matter ?
Student : No, sir. I'm afraid I haven't.
Professor : Yet you still Believe in HIM ?
Student : Yes.
Professor : According to Empirical, Testable, Demonstrable Protocol, Science says your GOD doesn't exist.What do you say to that, son ?
Student : Nothing. I only have my Faith .
Professor : Yes. Faith . And that is the Problem Science has.
Student : Professor, is there such a thing as Heat ? Professor : Yes. Student : And is there such a thing as Cold ?
Professor : Yes.
Student : No sir. There isn't.
( The Lecture Theatre becomes very quiet with this turn of events )
Student : Sir, you can have Lots of Heat, even More Heat, Superheat, Mega Heat, White Heat,a Little Heat or No Heat.
But we don't have anything called Cold.
We can hit 458 Degrees below Zero which is No Heat, but we can't go any further after that.
There is no such thing as Cold.Cold is only a Word we use to describe the Absence of Heat.We cannot Measure Cold.Heat is Energy.Cold is Not the Opposite of Heat, sir, just the Absence of it.
( There is Pin - Drop Silence in the Lecture Theatre )
Student : What about Darkness, Professor ? Is there such a thing as Darkness ?
Professor : Yes. What is Night if there isn't Darkness ?
Student : You're wrong again, sir.
Darkness is the Absence of Something. You can have Low Light, Normal Light , Bright Light, Flashing Light . . .But if you have No Light Constantly, you have Nothing and it's called Darkness, isn't it ?In reality, Darkness isn't.If it is, were you would be able to make Darkness Darker, wouldn't you ?
Professor : So what is the point you are making, Young Man ?
Student : Sir, my point is your Philosophical Premise is Flawed.
Professor : Flawed ? Can you explain how ?
Student : Sir, you are working on the Premise of Duality..You argue there is Life and then there is Death, a Good GOD and a Bad GOD .You are viewing the Concept of GOD as something finite, something we can measure.Sir, Science can't even explain a Thought. It uses Electricity and Magnetism, but has never seen, much less fully understood either one.To view Death as the Opposite of Life is to be ignorant of the fact thatDeath cannot exist as a Substantive Thing. Death is Not the Opposite of Life : just the Absence of it.Now tell me, Professor, do you Teach your Students that they Evolved from a Monkey ?
Professor : If you are referring to the Natural Evolutionary Process, yes, of course, I do.
Student : Have you ever observed Evolution with your own eyes, sir ?
( The Professor shakes his head with a Smile, beginning to realize where the Argument is going )
Student : Since no one has ever observed the Process of Evolution at work andcannot even prove that this Process is an On - Going Endeavor,are you not Teaching your Opinion, sir ?Are you not a Scientist but a Preacher ?
( The Class is in Uproar )
Student : Is there anyone in the Class who has ever Seen the Professor's Brain?
(The Class breaks out into Laughter )
Student : Is there anyone here who has ever Heard the Professor's Brain, Felt it, Touched or Smelt it ? . . . No one appears to have done so.So, according to the Established Rules of Empirical, Stable, Demonstrable Protocol, Science says that you have No Brain, sir.With all due respect, sir, how do we then Trust your Lectures, sir?
(The Room is Silent. The Professor stares at the Student, his face unfathomable)
Professor: I guess you'll have to take them on Faith , son.
Student : That is it sir . . .the Link between Man & GOD is FAITH .That is all that Keeps Things Moving & Alive.
Pagmamahal at ang Laruan
Ito ang breaking news: "Walang kapalit ang una mong Lego."
Bata pa siya noon at ang buhay ay isa lamang bulto ng plastik na mayroong iba't ibang korte, maaaring pagkabit-kabitin bagamat iba't iba ang mga sukat nito.
Kaya naman nang una niyang makita sa Gift Gate ang isang kahong mayroong iregular na tao at pangkarerang oto, daglian niyang hinatak ang palda ng ina't itinuro ang laruang hinaharangan ng makapal na salamin.
Hindi daw pwede.
Araw-araw sa kanyang pag-uwi, pilit niyang sinusubukang tunawin ng kanyang paningin ang salaming naghihiwalay sa kanya't sa Legong inaasam. Malayo ito't mataas ang pagkakalagay sa istanteng nangungutyang hindi mo siya maaabot. Hindi mo siya mahahagkan. Hindi mo siya mabubuksan at mapaglalaruan. Hinding hindi.
Ligaw tingin ng mangingirog, kulang sa pansin, mahawakan lamang ang iniibig...
Gagawin ko ang lahat.
Isang linggong walang recess at lunch. Isang buwang naglalakad pauwi mula sa eskuwela. Isang taong nagkukunwaring may school project na dapat bayaran. Isang taong walang binibili kundi kendi't gulaman para sa tanghalian. Isang taong nangungupit sa ayaw magpaubaya. Isang taong hulihan at paluan.
Masakit. Mahirap. Pero lahat ay kalilimutan.
Inda ang latay ng walis-tambo sa aking puwitan, kita'y binalikang magmuli sa iyong kinatatayuan. Isang bantayog na matagal ko ring tiningala't inasam-asam. Sa bigat ng baryang tangan ng aking kaliwang kamay, kasabay ng pag-ngiti ng mga ngiping bungi, akin ka na. Matapos ang ilang libong SALE sa Gift Gate at pagdating ng mga mas bagong laruan, natagpuan kita sa estanteng sa sulok lang pala nakatayo, nakadungaw sa bintana. Luma na ang iyong kahon at ang iyong price tag ay ilang beses nang napatungan ng iba't ibang presyo --bawat isa'y pamura nang pamura.
Pinlastik, isinilid, iniuwi, pinigtas, pinunit, binuksan, ikinalat, inintindi, tinitigan.
Hindi na nagpalit ng damit, hindi na nanood ng TV, hindi na kumain ng meryenda't hapunan. Mayroong hindi mapakaling kitikiti sa kanyang puwitan na ayaw siyang tantanan.
Matagal nang pananabik. Matagal nang pagtitiis. Matagal na pag-iisip.
Hinawakan ang isang piraso't pilit isinuksok sa isa. Hindi maaari. Humanap ng ibang hugis at ipinasok sa isa pa. Parang mali. Binasa niya ulit ang papel na halos malukot na sa gigil ng kanyang mga kamay. Muling tinitigan ang mga bloke ng plastik na tila nakatitig sa kanya't naghihintay.
Nakangisi, nangungutya.Parang hindi tama. Parang hindi ito ang inasam-asam at pinag-ipunan ng isang taon. Parang nakaka-asar talo.
Nagsarado na ang Gift Gate sa Mendiola. Umangat na ang aking grado't lumipat ng ibang eskuwelahan. Lumipat na kami ng tirahan, kung saan malayo sa aking pinanggalingan. Nakakita na ko ng ibang mas-astig na laruan, at daglia'y nabibili ko na ang mga ito agad-agad. Madali ko rin silang naiintindihan at napaglalaruan --at pinagsasawaan.
Nagbago na ang lahat, pati ako, pero ikaw hindi ka pa rin nagbabago. Hindi pa rin kita mabuo.Isa kang malaking palaisipan para sa hindi matunawan. Bawat piraso mo'y simbigat ng adobeng hindi matibag-tibag. Bawat hugis mo'y ayaw lumapat sa iba pang piyesang dapat nama'y lumalapat. Walang katumbas ang disenyo mo. Hindi maintindihan ang kalakip mong instructions. Parang kahit kailan ay hindi kita mabubuo kahit pa tunawin ko ang mga bahagi mo.
Parang iba ka. Katulad ng mga bahagi mo'y hindi tayo magkatugma. Mahirap pilitin ang ayaw, bagamat matagal-tagal rin kitang hinantay.
Katulad ng isang batang hindi napagbigyan, iiiyak ko na lang ito sa isang tabi't kinabukasa'y maghahanap ng iba.
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