POLITICAL RARITY
It is uncommon in the Philippines. In fact it is the first that something like it happened. It is so rare an incident that some skeptics were quietly disappointed. I am referring to the peaceful take-over by Mayor Joy Peñano who was vindicated several years after filing a protest against the result of the last election that originally proclaimed Ver Varias as winner.
From the very start of the protest there were only wild talks and wilder jokes but there were never great fights between political opponents and followers. In other municipalities, situations like this results to many quarrels and misunderstandings sometimes resulting to killings – but not in Alfonso, our town which has always been relatively peaceful as proven during the Second World War.
Local residents attributed it to the miraculous intercession of the town’s Patron Saint, John Nepomucene. During the Japanese occupation the neighboring towns were all heavily disturbed but the town of Alfonso remained peaceful and surprisingly festive. Social organizations did not run out of interesting activities for everyone. As a result the damage of war was minimal though the Japanese also stayed there for quite sometime.
In 1934 the elected Mayor Juan Mojica, Sr. won only one vote over his opponent, Laureano Rosanes but there was no commotion. Everybody seemed to trust everyone so genuinely that the result wasn’t protested or discussed further.
Going back further before Alfonso was established as a separate town from Mother Indang there was very strong oppositions between Don Bonifacio Aveo and Don Felix del Mundo in choosing the site to be made the Poblacion. Aveo was sponsoring Taywanak (Malaking Bayan) because it is the meeting point between Indang, Maragondon, Magallanes and Bailen, while del Mundo was backing Pajo because it is directly connected to Indang. Both were established political leaders and no one would give way. During the heat of the controversy Don Herminigildo Aviñante, a civic leader, offered Alas-as as a compromise solution since it is located in a neutral point. Both Aveo and del Mundo readily accepted the suggestion and since then Alfonso has always been peaceful.
At present the peace and tranquility of the place is possibly because it remained a virgin after all those years gone-by. There are no factories and business establishments that usually attracts workers from far places and since there are few outsiders there are no beer gardens or red houses. Staying in Alfonso is simply an experience in Paradise. Thanks both to Mayor Joy Peñano and Ex-mayor Ver Varias
Thursday, September 24, 2009
Tuesday, September 8, 2009
LUCKY NINE
LUCKY NINE
9-9-9 is the numerical representation of the date September 9, 2009 but to many old folks ”s’yam-s’yam” (9-9) means 9x9, signifying endlessness when referring to non stop raining like what we are experiencing now, at least here at Southern Luzon due to the passing of typhoon Labuyo.
When it is raining continuously, calamities such as flood, landslide, etc., are experienced in many communities in the lowlands. Lucky are we in the uplands where such calamities are almost nil.
It is pleasant to eat anything during rainy days. Pleasant too, it is to relax and just indulge in daydreaming. More pleasant still is to just observe the surroundings with the trees swaying gently left and right, sometimes wildly in all directions.
Few birds are flying. But one little humming bird catches my attention. It is happily jumping from flower to flower of the bright Japanese Bougainvillea.
I wonder if it could sip from the rain-drenched blossoms. That bird must be too hungry to try its luck under the very dangerous situation or perhaps that little bird is a worried mother trying to get something it could share with its tiny offspring.
Then I see two bigger birds also looking for food. They sighted the ripe bananas hanging at the window of my open terrace. I just allowed them, even took pictures of them while happily feasting on my ripe bananas.
Back to 9-9-9, this is the 40th day of Cory’s death and this is the day Noynoy will make or announce his decision if he is going to run for presidency this coming election next year. As I am writing this he is at Press conference and whatever he shall announce I just hope it will bring much luck to the already too deprived Filipinos.
9-9-9 is the numerical representation of the date September 9, 2009 but to many old folks ”s’yam-s’yam” (9-9) means 9x9, signifying endlessness when referring to non stop raining like what we are experiencing now, at least here at Southern Luzon due to the passing of typhoon Labuyo.
When it is raining continuously, calamities such as flood, landslide, etc., are experienced in many communities in the lowlands. Lucky are we in the uplands where such calamities are almost nil.
It is pleasant to eat anything during rainy days. Pleasant too, it is to relax and just indulge in daydreaming. More pleasant still is to just observe the surroundings with the trees swaying gently left and right, sometimes wildly in all directions.
Few birds are flying. But one little humming bird catches my attention. It is happily jumping from flower to flower of the bright Japanese Bougainvillea.
I wonder if it could sip from the rain-drenched blossoms. That bird must be too hungry to try its luck under the very dangerous situation or perhaps that little bird is a worried mother trying to get something it could share with its tiny offspring.
Then I see two bigger birds also looking for food. They sighted the ripe bananas hanging at the window of my open terrace. I just allowed them, even took pictures of them while happily feasting on my ripe bananas.
Back to 9-9-9, this is the 40th day of Cory’s death and this is the day Noynoy will make or announce his decision if he is going to run for presidency this coming election next year. As I am writing this he is at Press conference and whatever he shall announce I just hope it will bring much luck to the already too deprived Filipinos.
Sunday, August 30, 2009
POLITICAL RAINBOW
POLITICAL RAINBOW
People are not just talking about a yellow bird or a yellow submarine, nor about a yellow box or the third color of the rainbow. But for whatever reason everybody’s interest suddenly turned to yellow – the new color of courage, Philippines style; the new symbol of Freedom; the banner of Democracy.
Now Noynoy, the son of Ninoy to whom the yellow ribbons were hanged everywhere to welcome him home from self exile, wants to see the country turning yellow to convince him to run for Presidency in the coming election.
I can understand Noynoy’s predicament. Presidency is not a joke as his mother realized when she run and won against a very strong dictator. For indeed his mother, Cory was not joking when she chased democracy back for the Filipinos to enjoy again. Now Cory is universally accepted as the Mother of Democracy.
Ninoy sincerely believed that the Filipinos were worth dying for and Cory proved that Filipinos are worth living for. Now can Noynoy at least show that the Filipinos are worth anything at all?
Yellow is originally and globally considered the color of cowardice. Is that the essence of the color now flowing in Noynoy”s veins or is he overwhelmingly confused of what is yellow’s true meaning now for the present generation? Is the new yellow too insurmountable to tackle after his parents made it so huge and heavy to handle?
The new political revolution could be expected to be very colorful but unlike the rainbow that God let appeared after the deluge as a promise not to repeat what happened, the prevailing colors now appearing seem not to promise anything to the voters. Whether it be Loren Legarda’s Green or Bayani Fernando’s Pink or any other color and for that matter I believe that even Noynoy’s yellow doesn’t yet promise any worthy hue to our already graying country.
People are not just talking about a yellow bird or a yellow submarine, nor about a yellow box or the third color of the rainbow. But for whatever reason everybody’s interest suddenly turned to yellow – the new color of courage, Philippines style; the new symbol of Freedom; the banner of Democracy.
Now Noynoy, the son of Ninoy to whom the yellow ribbons were hanged everywhere to welcome him home from self exile, wants to see the country turning yellow to convince him to run for Presidency in the coming election.
I can understand Noynoy’s predicament. Presidency is not a joke as his mother realized when she run and won against a very strong dictator. For indeed his mother, Cory was not joking when she chased democracy back for the Filipinos to enjoy again. Now Cory is universally accepted as the Mother of Democracy.
Ninoy sincerely believed that the Filipinos were worth dying for and Cory proved that Filipinos are worth living for. Now can Noynoy at least show that the Filipinos are worth anything at all?
Yellow is originally and globally considered the color of cowardice. Is that the essence of the color now flowing in Noynoy”s veins or is he overwhelmingly confused of what is yellow’s true meaning now for the present generation? Is the new yellow too insurmountable to tackle after his parents made it so huge and heavy to handle?
The new political revolution could be expected to be very colorful but unlike the rainbow that God let appeared after the deluge as a promise not to repeat what happened, the prevailing colors now appearing seem not to promise anything to the voters. Whether it be Loren Legarda’s Green or Bayani Fernando’s Pink or any other color and for that matter I believe that even Noynoy’s yellow doesn’t yet promise any worthy hue to our already graying country.
Friday, August 28, 2009
AWARDS
AWARDS
Awards are being distributed left and right in whatever season for whatever reason or in whatever category. The latest and most controversial brouhaha is the award for the National Artists. There is so much misunderstanding that it reaches the Supreme Court for the final decision.
I simply don’t understand why so many people are so awards conscious as if award is the only thing that matters. Recently, a parade during the Nutrition Week observance showed children carrying different fruits and vegetables, all trying to invite for an award such as The Biggest Squash, The Reddest Tomatoes, The Longest Eggplant or whatever…
I still remember what I experienced a long time ago when I was invited to Chair the Awards Committee for a Christmas Parade. The School Principal requested us, judges, to see to it that all groups would receive an award as every student in any group spent money and effort, all hoping to receive awards. We decided to introduce many categories to accommodate every participating group. Aside from the usual Most Artistic, Most Colorful, Most Symbolic or Most Unique, we added categories like Most Well-behaved Group, Most Attended, Most Orderly, Most Simple, etc., etc.
At the end of the parade every group got an award to the amusement of the Principal and of many parents, except that one teacher loudly protested scandalously. She claimed that her group was the most Artistic, the Most Colorful and the Most Symbolic aside from being the Most Disciplined. It took weeks before the controversy subsided and only after said teacher had branded me as the Most Stupid if not The Most Insensitive Judge ever. Since then I never accepted judging any competition.
One time during the Town’s Day Celebration I was chosen to receive the Town’s Historian Award. I didn’t know how the Awards Committee arrived at their choice but in all honesty I couldn’t accept the award as I was fully aware how historically misinformed I was. I didn’t attend the awarding ceremony but the Master of Ceremonies received the award on my behalf.
Giving of awards shall continue for as long as the world is whirling so let us expect more misunderstandings, more controversies, more confusions and more and more of the same problem.
Awards are being distributed left and right in whatever season for whatever reason or in whatever category. The latest and most controversial brouhaha is the award for the National Artists. There is so much misunderstanding that it reaches the Supreme Court for the final decision.
I simply don’t understand why so many people are so awards conscious as if award is the only thing that matters. Recently, a parade during the Nutrition Week observance showed children carrying different fruits and vegetables, all trying to invite for an award such as The Biggest Squash, The Reddest Tomatoes, The Longest Eggplant or whatever…
I still remember what I experienced a long time ago when I was invited to Chair the Awards Committee for a Christmas Parade. The School Principal requested us, judges, to see to it that all groups would receive an award as every student in any group spent money and effort, all hoping to receive awards. We decided to introduce many categories to accommodate every participating group. Aside from the usual Most Artistic, Most Colorful, Most Symbolic or Most Unique, we added categories like Most Well-behaved Group, Most Attended, Most Orderly, Most Simple, etc., etc.
At the end of the parade every group got an award to the amusement of the Principal and of many parents, except that one teacher loudly protested scandalously. She claimed that her group was the most Artistic, the Most Colorful and the Most Symbolic aside from being the Most Disciplined. It took weeks before the controversy subsided and only after said teacher had branded me as the Most Stupid if not The Most Insensitive Judge ever. Since then I never accepted judging any competition.
One time during the Town’s Day Celebration I was chosen to receive the Town’s Historian Award. I didn’t know how the Awards Committee arrived at their choice but in all honesty I couldn’t accept the award as I was fully aware how historically misinformed I was. I didn’t attend the awarding ceremony but the Master of Ceremonies received the award on my behalf.
Giving of awards shall continue for as long as the world is whirling so let us expect more misunderstandings, more controversies, more confusions and more and more of the same problem.
Thursday, August 6, 2009
The Honor Guards
THE HONOR GUARDS
While watching Cory’s funeral cortege on television I was greatly touched by the outpouring of love expressed by thousands and thousands of Filipinos from all walks of life. I was in fact so carried by my memories back to the time of the EDSA Revolution in 1986.
But I was more profoundly affected by the plight of the four Honor Guards that remained almost motionless in their dignified stiffness for nine hours. I pitied them so much but I appreciate them for doing their duties with flying colors. I knew they were trained to do their jobs.
Alternately they were rain-drenched and scorched by the heat of the sun but they stood with sincerity and firmness in performing their duties. Cory must be very proud of them as she was immensely thankful too.
Along the way they were thrown coins and flowers; teased by some naughty mourners but they remained unmoved. They served their Commander-in-Chief in the most courageous way.
I learned about their names on newspaper reports and I understood they would be given rewards of promotion and increase pay that they fully deserve. I join all the other good Filipinos in honoring the Honor Guards. I wish you the best!!! Pfc Antonio Cadiente, Airman 2nd class Gener Laguindam, Petty officer 3 Edgardo Rodriguez and Police officer l Danilo Maalab.
While watching Cory’s funeral cortege on television I was greatly touched by the outpouring of love expressed by thousands and thousands of Filipinos from all walks of life. I was in fact so carried by my memories back to the time of the EDSA Revolution in 1986.
But I was more profoundly affected by the plight of the four Honor Guards that remained almost motionless in their dignified stiffness for nine hours. I pitied them so much but I appreciate them for doing their duties with flying colors. I knew they were trained to do their jobs.
Alternately they were rain-drenched and scorched by the heat of the sun but they stood with sincerity and firmness in performing their duties. Cory must be very proud of them as she was immensely thankful too.
Along the way they were thrown coins and flowers; teased by some naughty mourners but they remained unmoved. They served their Commander-in-Chief in the most courageous way.
I learned about their names on newspaper reports and I understood they would be given rewards of promotion and increase pay that they fully deserve. I join all the other good Filipinos in honoring the Honor Guards. I wish you the best!!! Pfc Antonio Cadiente, Airman 2nd class Gener Laguindam, Petty officer 3 Edgardo Rodriguez and Police officer l Danilo Maalab.
Wednesday, August 5, 2009
Positive Conversion of "L" sign
POSITIVE CONVERSION OF “L” SIGN
Yesterday, after taking my bath I suddenly had the urge to look for a yellow shirt. When I finally found an old collarless T-shirt I then looked for a matching yellow cap before a proceeded to my favorite netcafe to do my daily routine.
Yellow used to be the most distasteful color for me but after the EDSA revolution that I personally experienced with my 15 year old son, yellow quickly turned to be a most important color.
Immediately it projected a very different connotation. Instead of symbolizing cowardice that it used to represent it now stands for bravery, freedom, democracy and joy.
Yesterday, former President Corazon Cojuanco Aquino “Cory” who popularized the color yellow and died of colon cancer complications was buried. My patriotism was greatly awakened when the mother of Democracy died. Yellow is revived; Bayan Ko and Magkaisa are again on the air. Laban sign is once more popular.
This time the outstretched thumb and index finger forming an” L” has a different meaning. While it started as a fighting symbol, meaning Laban, now it is converted to mean love. Imee Marcos who once said she would spend her last centavo to get even with Cory attended the wake, together with her brother Bongbong and his wife, perhaps without deep sincerity but it was a good start.
President Gloria Macapagal Aroyo visited the wake too even just for a very short time but the mystery of love could miraculously transform things from “laban” to “Love”. It is not a sin to hope so let us all pray that the positive conversion rolls on.
Ninoy and Cory both gave their lives for us Filipinos – so that we may live freely and peacefully. It is not an impossible dream if we are all willing “to march into hell for a heavenly cause” in our own little ways.
Somehow, while watching on TV the thousands of mourners joining Cory's funeral, I felt a bit of sadness because my 15 year old son who was with me then during the EDSA revolution is now an Australian citizen as well as my youngest son.
My middle daughter is now a Canadian citizen and my two married daughters left in the Philippines might also immigrate to other countries. My wife and I could be left alone with my old fashioned "parochial patriotism".
Yesterday, after taking my bath I suddenly had the urge to look for a yellow shirt. When I finally found an old collarless T-shirt I then looked for a matching yellow cap before a proceeded to my favorite netcafe to do my daily routine.
Yellow used to be the most distasteful color for me but after the EDSA revolution that I personally experienced with my 15 year old son, yellow quickly turned to be a most important color.
Immediately it projected a very different connotation. Instead of symbolizing cowardice that it used to represent it now stands for bravery, freedom, democracy and joy.
Yesterday, former President Corazon Cojuanco Aquino “Cory” who popularized the color yellow and died of colon cancer complications was buried. My patriotism was greatly awakened when the mother of Democracy died. Yellow is revived; Bayan Ko and Magkaisa are again on the air. Laban sign is once more popular.
This time the outstretched thumb and index finger forming an” L” has a different meaning. While it started as a fighting symbol, meaning Laban, now it is converted to mean love. Imee Marcos who once said she would spend her last centavo to get even with Cory attended the wake, together with her brother Bongbong and his wife, perhaps without deep sincerity but it was a good start.
President Gloria Macapagal Aroyo visited the wake too even just for a very short time but the mystery of love could miraculously transform things from “laban” to “Love”. It is not a sin to hope so let us all pray that the positive conversion rolls on.
Ninoy and Cory both gave their lives for us Filipinos – so that we may live freely and peacefully. It is not an impossible dream if we are all willing “to march into hell for a heavenly cause” in our own little ways.
Somehow, while watching on TV the thousands of mourners joining Cory's funeral, I felt a bit of sadness because my 15 year old son who was with me then during the EDSA revolution is now an Australian citizen as well as my youngest son.
My middle daughter is now a Canadian citizen and my two married daughters left in the Philippines might also immigrate to other countries. My wife and I could be left alone with my old fashioned "parochial patriotism".
Monday, July 20, 2009
MISSION UNACCOMPLISHED
MISSION UNACCOMPLISHED
“If you are no longer talked about, you are finished and shall soon be forgotten”, so said someone, somewhere, sometime. It simply signified that you were no longer active, no longer seen around. Your existence were barely felt by others. You were either considered too weak or too sick if not yet dead.
This was the agony of a senior citizen. His activities were limited, his movements were minimized either by ailments or circumstances that prohibited him from getting involved in various activities, sometimes as ordered by his children who thought they were doing him good.
So I launched a book that I started writing 50 years ago. It was an entirely different book – semi historical, semi legendary. A compilation of my personal impressions about my hometown. Some thought it was weird if not outrageous. Thus it generated controversies that many didn’t like it . Someone deducted that half of the readers didn’t like the way it was presented but I was sure that the other half enjoyed it immensely. The optimist in me banked on the satisfied and gratified as well as enlightened 50 % of the readers. It was enough for me to consider my book successful and more than enough to keep people talking about me. I was far from being finished yet.
To add more intrigue for a more substantial topic of discussion, I was hit by a speeding motorbike. I saw it directly onrushing to my path but a mysterious force pushed me just a hair line away before I fell down without hurting myself as the same mysterious force saved me and prevented my head from hitting the pavement.
Onlookers at the Municipal Park screamed and rushed to my rescue when they saw the incident. Many offered help, volunteering to bring me to the hospital. Many expected me to have sustained massive abrasions, contusions, dislocations and fractures all over my body but nothing of that sort happened. People suggested that I file a complaint against the unlicensed driver of a borrowed motorbike. But I left it to the Policemen to evaluate the violations and to observed their part and duty as guardians of the public.
For days people kept talking about that incident. They kept on talking about me and that way they kept me alive. Perhaps God wanted me to stay for a more while for a certain mission that I must accomplished. But what could be the mission? I hope the Guardian Angel who saved me shall appear in my dream one of these nights to explain to me how I should go about my unaccomplished mission.
“If you are no longer talked about, you are finished and shall soon be forgotten”, so said someone, somewhere, sometime. It simply signified that you were no longer active, no longer seen around. Your existence were barely felt by others. You were either considered too weak or too sick if not yet dead.
This was the agony of a senior citizen. His activities were limited, his movements were minimized either by ailments or circumstances that prohibited him from getting involved in various activities, sometimes as ordered by his children who thought they were doing him good.
So I launched a book that I started writing 50 years ago. It was an entirely different book – semi historical, semi legendary. A compilation of my personal impressions about my hometown. Some thought it was weird if not outrageous. Thus it generated controversies that many didn’t like it . Someone deducted that half of the readers didn’t like the way it was presented but I was sure that the other half enjoyed it immensely. The optimist in me banked on the satisfied and gratified as well as enlightened 50 % of the readers. It was enough for me to consider my book successful and more than enough to keep people talking about me. I was far from being finished yet.
To add more intrigue for a more substantial topic of discussion, I was hit by a speeding motorbike. I saw it directly onrushing to my path but a mysterious force pushed me just a hair line away before I fell down without hurting myself as the same mysterious force saved me and prevented my head from hitting the pavement.
Onlookers at the Municipal Park screamed and rushed to my rescue when they saw the incident. Many offered help, volunteering to bring me to the hospital. Many expected me to have sustained massive abrasions, contusions, dislocations and fractures all over my body but nothing of that sort happened. People suggested that I file a complaint against the unlicensed driver of a borrowed motorbike. But I left it to the Policemen to evaluate the violations and to observed their part and duty as guardians of the public.
For days people kept talking about that incident. They kept on talking about me and that way they kept me alive. Perhaps God wanted me to stay for a more while for a certain mission that I must accomplished. But what could be the mission? I hope the Guardian Angel who saved me shall appear in my dream one of these nights to explain to me how I should go about my unaccomplished mission.
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