§°§ NARGUILA NIGHTS §°§

dawit and me enjoying the sisha (narguila), segma taking the pic 

Despite the numerous years and opportunities of smoking shisha or narguila (nargile) in the Middle East, I found myself having my first puff in Geneva last night.

A meeting with some old classmates/friends turned into a dinner yesterday, not to mention an unexpected peep show. An Ethiopian friend of mine, Segma, invited for some drinks at the Café des Arts in Rue du Paquis, a quaint restaurant with an artsy-fartsy ambience. I don't know if actual artists go there. On one of my trips to the unisex toilet, a male occupant forgot to close the door. I opened it but I didn't see anything as he was facing the toilet and I was looking at his face. He thought I saw something so he said sorry while all red in the face. I wanted to laugh because I didn't see anything and perhaps, there was nothing to see.

Anyhow, we spent a few hours there. Segma introduced me to some of her other friends, who I met for the first time. One had to leave for another meeting, Dawit (Ethiopian for David) stayed. We hit it off and the three of us were dinner-bound at the "La Caravan Passe," (The Passing Caravan)a nearby restaurant.

Earlier in the café, a young man asked one of the customers where that resto was. The customer joked, "It already passed."

Going on...the Lebanese restaurant had a semi-authentic Arabic look to it. There were brass plates that served as tables and cloths with the usual Arabic design hanging from the ceiling to form part of what looks like an Arabic wedding tent.

The food was relatively cheap. I had my favorite felafel (fried ground chick peas with herbs, spices and baking soda) served with hommos (ground chick peas mixed with herbs and spices with a generous topping of olive oil) and khuboz (pita bread). We ordered different dishes so we could share.

We enjoyed authentic Lebanese tea which tasted great with the apple flavored narguile.

At least we didn't go home in the usual cigarette-smoke soaked night out.

walang p.

this is a common phrase used here in geneva among the filipino community. it means "walang papel" or succinctly, "no paper." many filipino migrant workers here are undocumented or do not have residence permits. from the rough 5,000 in geneva, maybe 70 percent are undocumented.

they live in fear from the men in uniforms that routinely check bus passes. they fear the winter raids. most of all, they fear the denouncement of their fellow countrymen. because of this, kababayans (compatriots) often ignore the other which is contrary to filipino inherent values. so many instances have happened that a filipino was "raided" because of some petty argument that arose. anger subsumed the other and the reasons why both of them worked and cleaned toilets didn't matter anymore. a trampled ego or unbridled pride was enough to wreak havoc and make the other lose his/her job plunging his/her family into more poverty. it was poverty that sent them out in the first place. but all is forgotten when anger is there.

it makes my heart cry to hear of these stories. traveling from country to country, seeing the plight of my countrymen, it has been a privilege to share in their lives. i am also an OFW (overseas filipino worker). but my life is arguably better than most.

one of my friends now, who i used to go hiking with in the lush mountains of our alma mater is cleaning houses and scrubbing toilets in a country that once colonized us for almost 400 years. it is still a decent living. but poverty has driven my countrymen out of our homeland. when will this diaspora end?

the philippines blessed with 7,101 islands have made some lives unlivable for some. a golden age ended with the power hungry politicians so eager to fill their pockets with government money.

so many filipinos seeking greener pastures are willing to give up the prestige of a degree to clean houses in a far away land. they risk being deported from switzerland to put food on the table for their families back home.

never had i seen such determination. not even when i was in the states, where the undocumented lived in relative comfort.

when i first left my country in 1990, i left that picture of poverty, the tenement style BLISS housing project that Imelda Marcos had constructed. i left some playmates whose joy was to fiddle with the passenger jeep parked in the then brown earth. i left the insult of my tattered clothes. i left the public school whose teachers made students come over their houses to do extra credit work to check school papers.

i saw what the american dream was. blessed filipinos who had gotten out during marcos' time or even earlier and when doctors and nurses were in demand, had resurrected their impoverished lives from the ashes and lived in enviable comfort.

big houses with manicured lawns, swimming pools and billiard rooms, erected from the sweat of the 18-hour shifts of some toxic hospital ward. they had reaped the rewards of their labor.

some forgot what it was like to be poor and began to look down on the less fortunate often renouncing charity because they had risen from their perceived own sweat.

others still did not fail to recognize the help they got and passed on the good work by helping others in need.

it is sorrowful to see suffering of broken homes because of economic dictates. why can't we provide for our people in our country?

i sit here now in geneva and i remember the countless parties in the states of the filipino organizations. i recount the bloodied suicide attempt of a kababayan who just slashed her wrist because of a love triangle in abu dhabi. i reminisce the lashes on the back of sarah balabagan, who was punished by shari'a law for murdering her rapist/employer. i remember the blood of an abortion on our carpet. i recall the denial of fear in iraq's abundant oil-wealth as filipinos witnessed the transition of dictatorship to eventual hostage-taking.

this is all in the name of putting food on the table and making the lives of filipino families better.

statistics show that 1 out of 10 in the philippines has an OFW. that is 10 million filipinos seeking their fortunes elsewhere. it is millions of families separated, a mother and father that children never knew and came to symbolize only a source of monthly stipends to buy the latest phone. the children sometimes follow when there are legal means. others stave off homesickness and go as long as 11 years without going home to their families. the phone card business thrives because of phone calls that substitute for hugs and kisses.

walang p. can invariably equate walang pera (no money). such a sad reality but reality is never really the rose-colored fantasy we all hold dear in our hearts. we just like to hope and wish it was.

of wanderers and goodbyes

i finished reading "house of the spirits" today. the book, written by a peruvian born chilean isabel allende, recounts the story of a latin american family and their tale of love through war, changing times and goodbyes.

when i first opened the book, i already felt sad. it wasn't the content that made me feel a sinking feeling in my heart. it was the thought of goodbye at the end of its pages.

as a wanderer, i meet many people. some come and go, others stay for while, and still some even through distance manages to stay in my life. when i meet a person, there is both elation and sadness for i know, even in the sweetest of shared laughters, i must move again and leave. no matter how many times i say goodbye, i never get used to it.

goodbyes have become such a part of my life, that even a book evokes such sadness from the first opening of its pages.

i meet strangers and i feel happy when they smile. for that fleeting moment, we shared something. when i talk to a friend and seem to have boxes of stories to share, the meeting must end.

but as dying is part of living, it is all just part of this so-called life. one of my bestfriend cheng said, "life is life...i take it as it comes." it is in the cycle of life that hellos end with goodbyes only to be greeted with another hello.

Ping and me 

Ping Lacson visits

Me, Sen. Panfilo "Ping" Lacson, his wife Alice, Gorby, Chris, Mama 

One of the other priviliges of being a diplomat's child is getting to meet people that you would just usually see on TV. Sen. Panfilo Lacson, a Philippine member of the Congress and then vice-president hopeful, is notorious for the Kuratong Baleleng case. I don't know where to put myself in that rub-out, but seeing him face to face, he is quite down-to-earth.

Ping was here for the WTO Symposium.

My mom hosted them as a send-off before they left for home. And as her children, we are expected to entertain her guests. I don't mind so much, especially if the guests are nice to talk to.

As he was watching T.V., his wife, Alice was talking to her friend. I would ask him questions about his travels, the political situation in the Philippines, the recent papal elections, etc. He was quite knowledgeable and seemed not to mind my curiousity.

Our Tita Minda (wonderful household member) prepared tapsilog, a common dish consisting of tapa (beef), sinangag (fried rice, but plain rice was served) and itlog (fried egg). For starters, they had tinola (chicken soup cooked with papaya and malunggay). They had tuyo (dried fish).

The guests didn't seem to mind the simplicity of the dishes. Philippine Ambassador to the UN, Enrique Manalo was also in attendance as well as the Chief of Staff of Ping. Jing and Jeneatte, also part of the senator's staff came along for the trip.

family visit

mama, me, chris, uncle anton (gorby, behind the camera) 

my uncle was just in geneva for two days but it was more quality over quantity. when ever we are posted, it's always a treat to have family visit us because we are usually in some far flung country.

when we were in the states, my uncle from cali got to visit. then, my grandad got to see our place in chicago. my mom's cousin (uncle) worked for us as well as a nearby aunt too. so, it was still all in the family. :)

when we were in abu dhabi, my mom's sis, the 3rd of 11 children, and my grandad got to visit us.

in egypt, my aunt from england visited.

this time in geneva, one of my favorite uncles came for a job interview and we were fortunate enough to be here to see him.

Best Musical Instrument

This is why the voice is still the best musical instrument there is. I got this from one of my yahoogroups. Check it out as the choir renders some familiar tunes a capella style. (Early fans of Nintendo might find this entertaining.)

Simply click on the title of this entry or copy and paste the link below onto your browser.

http://media.ebaumsworld.com/nintendoacapella.wmv

truckload of opportunities 

Mountain of wealth 

Scrambling for the first pick as garbage turns into money.  

Smokey Mountain  

amidst the garbage, a ray of hope, a smile of a child... 

hope in a pile of garbage

(Thank you to Joanne for lending me her pictures to post in my blog and providing the lyrics of Paraiso. She was recently in Smokey Mountain and sent these pictures to her friends.)

The pictures might seem down-trodden and probably makes one smell the stench of garbage without trying to imagine it but the smiles of the children bear witness that even in the direst of situations and in the ugliest of places, lie hope and happiness.

Amongst garbage, the daily pestering of flies, the worms, the constant worry of where to get the next meal, is the image of home for a child.

A popular song called Paraiso (Paradise) by the group Smokey Mountain which named itself after this godforsaken garbage dump in the city of Tondo in Metro Manila, captures the sentiments of such a child.

===
Paraiso

Return to a land called Paraiso
A place where a dying river ends
No birds there fly over Paraiso
No space allows them to endure
The smoke that screens the air
The grass that's never there
And if I could see a single bird, what a joy
I try to write some words and create a single song
To be heard by the rest of the world

I live in this land called Paraiso
In a house made of cardboard floors and walls
I learned to be free in Paraiso
Free to claim anything I see

Matching rags for my clothes
Plastic bags for the cold.
And if empty cans were all I have, what a joy
I never fight to take someone else's coins
And live with fear like the rest of the boys

Paraiso, help me make a stand
Paraiso, take me by the hand
Paraiso, make the world understand
That if I could see a single bird, what a joy
This tired and hungry land could expect
Some truth and hope and respect from the rest of the world

(Instrumental)

And if empty cans were all I have, what a joy
I never fight to take someone else's coins
And live with fear like the rest of the boys

Paraiso, help me make a stand
Paraiso, take me by the hand
Paraiso, make the world understand
That if I could see a single bird, what a joy
This tired and hungry land could expect
Some truth and hope and respect from the rest
Of the world...

Paraiso, help me make a stand
Paraiso, take me by the hand
Paraiso, make the world understand
That if I could see a single bird, what a joy
This tired and hungry land could expect
Some truth and hope and respect from the rest
Of the world...

Final Goodbye to the Pope

The circular church, with a crucifix hung from the sun roof directly above the altar, was bustling before 6 p.m. yesterday. Ambassadors and and other UN officials greeted each other as if in a reception at the St. Nicolas de Flue Parish in Geneva. But the mood of the mourners dramatically changed when the bell tolled to signify the start of the Holy Mass. The incense burned and the church was filled with its ancient yet familiar smell. The quick tapping of the Swiss guards' feet ushered in the clergymen who would concelebrate the mass.

Marching to "How Great thou Art," the guards took their places. One in front of the altar, two at the side and two more around the Papal Nuncio, the ambassador of the Vatican. These are the guards sworn to protect the members of the Holy See or the Vatican.

The congregation sang to the popular song and soon, the life of Pope John Paul II would again be recounted. This was the second mass I attended in his honor.

"Do not be afraid," was what the Pope said upon his accession to St. Peter's role, the Nuncio recalled in his homily. The head of the Catholic Church began and ended living these words.

The attendees were not all Catholic. I saw my Muslim classmate. My colleague, who is half Catholic and half Protestant sat beside me. More non-Catholics could be seen in the mass. But it didn't matter. The Pope was not only for Catholics, he was for the people. And everyone gathered there shared his vision and mission - to be equal as children of God.

The Mass was celebrated in many languages highlighting the six UN languages - Arabic, French, English, Russian, Chinese and Spanish. Polish was also used in the Prayer of the Faithful as the late Pope was Polish. Latin was used in the many hymns.

The mood was somber and solemn. The passing of a great man was deeply felt in everyone as silence embraced the Church. The traditional Catholic Mass doesn't differ, no matter what place or language is used to celebrate it. Because of this tradition, any Catholic can follow the mass wherever she or he is.

This was again seen in today's Requiem Mass for Pope John Paul II in the Vatican in St. Peter's Square where Latin was used. Millions of people filled the Eternal City to bid their final farewell to the third longest reigning Pope who for 26 years has tried to do the will of God.

The bells tolled to mark the entrance of the sheperds of the Church and the Papal men carried the body of the Pope in a cypress coffin. He was placed in front of the altar.

Earlier, hundreds of multi-faith world leaders took to their seats to pay their last respects in the Holy Mass. Muslim kings sat beside Catholic and Protestant presidents. Eastern Church clergymen concelebrated with Roman Catholic priests. The Eastern Patriarch even gave their traditional benediction.

The streets of the Vatican swelled with people. This is because of one man, a faithful servant of God. Banners waived, "Santo Subito" which means in Italian, "soon to be saint." Numerous Catholics believe that the late Pope should be made saint.

It is an overwhelming feeling to watch such a gathering of people because of one man. He was not only the head of the Church but he was a proponent of peace and forgiveness. The Pope spent his reign reconciling the Church with other faiths especially Judaism. He was the first Pope to enter the Jewish synagogue in Rome. He tried to bridge gaps between Muslims and Christians. He restored diplomatic ties with the United States. He asked for freedom of religion in communist Cuba and was critical of liberal capitalism.

He was a political figure as much as a spiritual leader. Philippine Pres. Gloria Macapagal-Arroyo was interviewed on CNN and she commented on how the Pope influenced her in key decisions. One being the moratorium on the death penalty and the other joining the bloodless second People Power Revolution which ousted then Pres. Joseph Estrada.

Many people have been touched by the life of the Pope. I consider myself blessed to have seen him twice in person and at such a close range when I attended a youth gathering in Berne last year. The Pope had a way of looking at the audience as if he was directly looking at you.

The Pope was a simple man.

He went to the Philippines twice. My mother saw him in 1981 when he first came to the country and visited our province, Bicol. He also visited the poorest area of Metro Manila and spent his time with the people. In 1995, World Youth Day was held in Manila and again, the Pope was pleased to see about four million gather to celebrate God's presence in our lives.

About a million people share some personal memory of the Pope. He will surely be missed.

As the world bids goodbye and mourns the death of the Pope, there is always hope in the resurrection. And hopefully, John Paul II is with the Risen Christ now.

blog addiction

tell me...when did this blog thing start? it seems that everyone who's anyone has a blog.

is it an inherent dream to become a world-renowned writer someday? surely, with the world wide web as one's audience, that dream is closer to realization that it will ever be.

so, what is it that draws us fellow bloggers to this blogging thingy-ma-jig? why the publishing of our thoughts for any random internet savvy person to stumble upon?

is it therapy? do we find a sense of comfort or of healing or of just plain simple exhalation? or is it the non-reactionary emotional dumping ground that seems to be so attractive? i don't know myself. i like to write. and i don't want to have to repeat every story for every person that comes my way. frankly, i was intrigued by the blog of my friend and i wanted to somehow have one too. or was it that he suggested that i should have one? i don't even remember.

tell me...what about you?

Eternal Rest Unto Pope John Paul II (1920-2005)

Once standing only 50 feet away from the Pope, I remember how it felt to be so near him and to be awed by his presence. It is sad to hear of his death but the Pope himself said on one of his birthdays, "I am one year closer to eternity." His suffering has ended and he is in a better place now. A great man of God has died and he has met his Maker.

"Eternal rest grant Pope John Paul II, O Lord, and let perpetual light shine upon him. May he rest in peace. Amen."

breath-taking... 

silky waters on the arve 

Beautiful Polly 

Talk to me 

Polly is shy 

Moi!!! 

Photo Accomplice: Nikki  

Sticks and Stones and feet :) 

Arve riverbank 

Day out 

ALLELUIA!!! CHRIST IS RISEN

Happy Easter Everyone!

====

In all my Catholic life, I have never seen such a solemn celebration of Holy Week as I did in my parish here in Geneva. The Triduum (Three Days) commemorating the death and resurrection of our Lord was marked with great reverence. The Last Supper on Holy Thursday saw the symbolic re-enactment of the washing of the feet. The priest washes the feet of 12 congregants to impress the commandment of God to serve others. On Good (God) Friday, Jesus' death was retold in the Liturgy (Latin, leitourgos, meaning public service) of the Word. There is no Mass on Good Friday but only a Communion service. On Black Saturday, we mourn and as the day passes, we prepare for the Easter Vigil to await the resurrection of Christ. We sing Alleluia and proclaim His glory in the Gloria.

Although, the tradition is the same in most countries, the meaning is different. For most Filipinos who are born Catholic, the act becomes redundant and without meaning. We go to Church and we listen to the Word, more as a matter of habit rather than of devotion and communion. So, we must not forget what Easter is all about. "For God so loved the world, He gave us His only Son." (John 3:16) It was the greatest sacrifice of God for us.

Today is Easter Sunday! We proclaim the resurrection. It is the corner stone of the Christian faith. For if Jesus hadn't risen, there wouldn't be Christianity.

let your mind feel and let you heart think

this is what my friend, buboy-liit, wrote in one of our chat exchanges...

we have been conditioned by morality dictated by man and the church that sometimes we forget that God gave us a natural compass, the heart. it will always feel heavy when we feel something is wrong even if it seems right in the human eye.

oftentimes, our mind thinks for us which sometimes lead to pitfalls because the human mind cannot comprehend what the heart can possibly know. we accuse ourselves of being over-emotional when we let our heart talk but when should it speak, when the mind tells it to?

our mind is formed in our daily dealings, it learns to read and write in school. it learns to be practical, it learns to cushion from hurt when our hearts first gets broken. but the heart is only too keen to love again, to learn about life without thinking of the mind's dictates.

we learn the norms that society impresses on us. we follow the laws yet our hearts scream in defiance. our heart will always know what the truth is.

pontius pilate asked that of himself, "what is the truth?" as he was about to hand over Jesus. if he had followed his heart without considering the law of caesar, Jesus wouldn't have died on a cross. although everything had been planned by the Father for this to happen, pilate had a choice.

today is Black Saturday. Jesus died on the cross on friday. the people shouted, "crucify him." his alleged crime - blasphemer by saying he was the Son of God. the people shouted, "give us barabbas" when pilate asked if Jesus or the notorious brigand should be released. if each citizen at that time examined their hearts, would they have crucified Jesus? although it is written in the Scriptures, His death and resurrection and the manner of His death, there was a call to examine the conscience, the heart.

so, how should we teach the heart to think without being stifled by the unemotional confines of the mind? how does the mind feel? it is in the harmony of the two that we find a balance. we should think with our hearts and let our minds experience the joy that is feeling. what is rational is not always in conjunction with the heart.

we have to unlearn so many things so the heart can flourish to rule our thoughts and our minds learn to love.

free will vs. God's purpose

“Wait,” Eddie said, pulling back. “Just tell me one thing. Did I save the little girl? At the pier. Did I save her?”

The Blue Man did not answer. Eddie slumped. “Then my death was a waste, just like my life.”

“No life is a waste,” the Blue Man said. “The only time we waste is the time we spend thinking we are alone.” (Taken from Mitch Albom’s “The Five People You Meet in Heaven,” p. 50)

====

The last few days I’ve exchanged some very thought-provoking emails with a friend. We discussed about God-given free will and God’s purpose. For those Purpose-Driven-Life fanatics, I’m not sure if I’m threading your paths. But rest assured, I’ve never read the book.

What is our purpose in life? Some people believe nothing happens by accident. Nothing is ever random. I’m one of those people. But I don’t believe that God willed everything to happen that way. We have and had a choice.

We were given a life. For me, our purpose is to love God, love others and in every aspect of our life, glorify His name. I am not one to wait for things to happen and put all my faith in prayer alone. I make sure to do all that I can then I lift it up to Him.

With our life, we were given freedom. Freedom comes with responsibility. This is where the random-ness of our lives is eliminated. We are all connected in some way. We all affect each other’s lives. There is a nexus in each one’s life. You may not know it, but there is. So, with each action, there is a reaction. And we bear the consequences of our action, negative and positive alike. In that, we are not alone.

I found a nice piece on the Internet that sums up what I believe in.

(taken from the friendster profile of mai)

life is a series of choice,
every waking moment of it,
every person is called to make a choice,
in fact everything we do or say is a choice,
every choice we make
has a positive or negative consequence.
a wrong choice
can bring us a lifetime
of grief & suffering.
a right choice can give us
lifelong fulfillment & gladness.
there is no escaping the consequence
that will surely follow ur choice.
every choice we make counts.
it is important then that we exercise
wisdom & prudence in our every choice.


I think that God gave us that freedom to decide what to do with our lives and in doing so, we must remember that we affect others in everything that we do. I guess it serves as a reminder to our conscience, to always bear in mind what our actions may bring.

And if we are at the receiving end, we must think of how we will react. “Life is what we make of it,” goes one saying. I wrote once, "When life deals us with an effin' sh***y card, who's to say we should stay in the pile of crap? let's take a shower!!!" Sorry for the graphic description.

Back to God’s will and our purpose…My friend and I discussed extensively about deaths, accidental deaths in particular. What about them? They did not choose to die. IT is in this event that a person is rendered choice-less because the choice to live has been taken from them by the aggressor/murderer/etc. This starts a chain of reactions and consequences – an orphaned child, a widow, a widower. But we always have a choice to react. One could take revenge, others leave it to the justice system.

What about those children with cancer? What did they do to deserve such a terrible affliction? If the cancer is caused by contaminated water near the family’s home, isn’t it the polluter’s fault? But it’s not just all finger-pointing. And before we point our blame to God, let's look at what we've done.

What about those stillborn babies? Whose fault is that? This is a hard one to call because sometimes, the human mind cannot possible comprehend all the trappings of life. At this point, God steps in. We then turn to faith. There must have been a reason. Maybe God knows it but we don’t. Not yet anyway. In the book “The Five People You Meet in Heaven,” the Blue Man says, “in death, we make sense of our life.”

...sometimes...

people tend to look at the bad side of life too long that they forget to see the good side. i heard a priest say this in a talk last sunday. he said people wear long faces because they think life is bad and that it has dealt them too many blows.

i think the many blogs that spew angst, anger, hate, all negative emotions bear witness to such a painful life. but sometimes, life is not too bad. and for such an occasion, i think i will make this blog entry less depressing for some. :)

today, i got on the bus. it was an ordinary day - sunny and bright. the bus was full. i stood near the driver and an old man about 60 years old got up from his seat and offered it to me. i gently refused because my hips and legs are still very much functional and i know he needed the seat more. he insisted and i gave in to his kindness. it's this kind of experience that makes me renew the faith i have in people. people are all born to be good. sometimes, we just lose our way. but it's always nice to be at the receiving end of something good.

====
spring has officially arrived in geneva and it promises new life. outside my office window, i hear the birds chirping every morning. the winter months with its sometimes gloomy mornings have faded into the blue skies of spring. people smile more and the lakeshore is lined with human toasts, some mildly tanned, others more so. i can finally wear light clothes. i think i've built my shoulder muscles with the sheer weight of my winter coat.

it's nice to be amidst such a bustling of life. families are seen in the parks, dogs meet as their owners chat, children play as if tomorrow will never come. the squirrel in my park has been so active that it tried to cross the street by jumping from tree to tree. the naked branches revealed his adventure but he was a bit too excited when he realized that there was no tree on the other side of the street. he halted abruptly. it was funny to watch though.

====
just the other day, i took a walk around geneva with a friend. since our bus passes double as boat passes too, we decided to take a ride across the lake. we went to the arve riverbanks. my friend has a very keen sense of adventure. we climbed over the railings and mind you she was wearing a skirt. it involved a 15-feet descent on an iron ladder bolted to the concrete wall. we made it safely and the river was so peaceful. the sun struck the surface of the water and it hit our eyes with a bright white light and the water was like a silk sheet flowing inviting our feet to dance on its waters.

====
sometimes...life is not too bad.

Reel Pinoy!

There’s something about Filipino films that draw as well as repel Pinoys to the silver screen. For the escapist fan, a love story of Judy Ann magnitude with complete kilig (titillating) story line is enough to drown every day woes of the Filipino life. But the same film can be predicted when the credits starts rolling. Boy meets girl, girl plays coy, boy tries his best to win girl’s heart with sometimes the cheesiest lines and cheesiest moves, girl gives in and after the movie house has been flooded by both the actress’ tears and the audience’s, they all live happily ever after. For some Pinoys, especially the non-masa (mass) type, it’s enough to reach for the vomit bag.

But there is also something so unique that draws each one to the cinema to watch the latest Pinoy teen flick or love story may it be from Star Cinema or Viva or whatever or the action-packed movie of reformed “Bad Boy” Robin Padilla. Movie-going is in most of our blood and is often on our schedule from Monday to Sunday, if the budget allows. For premieres, where the actors and actresses, actually attend, twice as many moviegoers will buy the expensive tickets. This is complete with after-show screams of “Ang ganda ganda! Ang gwapo ni Piolo! (It’s so nice. Piolo is so handsome!” as they are interviewed for their comments.

I relived that today. Piolo’s latest film, Dreamboy, was showing at Geneva’s Balexert’s cinema. It ran for two nights to raise funds for the Gawad Kalinga (To Give Care) Housing Project in the Philippines. Hollywood Video Store, a Filipino-owned movie rental shop, and ABS-CBN (The Filipino Channel) organized the event.

It came complete with a GK audio-visual presentation featuring Gary Granada’s song “Bahay” (House) to move the people to donate for the project. It was followed by a live presentation of the members of the Kids and Youth for Christ complete with a song and theatre number. It never ceases to amaze me how much talent these kids have.

But the best part of the whole Reel Pinoy! experience is perhaps the National Anthem being played before the movie started. Every time I hear the Lupang Hinirang (Esteemed Land), I am moved to tears. I might be a bit too patriotic at times but being outside of the country most of the time, I really miss it.

Before I get into my nationalistic mode as most of you know, I can just go on and on about the Philippines, I’d like to relate Dreamboy’s strong points. It wasn’t your typical love story that left no guess-work to the fans.

The lead character, Cyd, has dreamt and wished for her true love. She refuses to date the guys that her friend sets her up with. She said she believes her soul mate will come when the time is right. Orphaned early in her youth, she never made it to college. She had to work in a wholesale grocery to provide for her and her grandmother.

But one day, she meets Philip, a stunning young man who happens to own the grocery that she works at. He sweeps her off her feet but she does not belong to his socio-economic class or so his aunt warns her. She runs off and cries her eyes out. After a few weeks, she meets Eboy as he rescues her purse from a speeding thief. He is the spitting image of Philip but more athletic, care-free, and doesn’t hesitate to show her that he’s fallen for her instantly. But Eboy has a fiancée and Cyd’s heart was to be broken again. After a few more weeks, Jaime enters her life as a restaurant supervisor, also bearing the face of Philip and Eboy sans Philip’s rich and well-groomed look and Eboy’s scruffy masculinity. Jaime was your typical boy-next-door.

Jaime takes her to his mother’s house in the Quezon Province after a seminar they were both headed to was cancelled. Call it serendipity, but not!

All three characters try to win her heart and make her say the magic words – I LOVE YOU!

Cyd had to rush back to Manila after hearing news of her grandmother’s worried state after she had not communicated in light of the cancelled seminar. She rushes back to her work only to be scolded by her manager.

The story unfolds as Jaime in his love-struck frenzy runs after Cyd. He takes her by the hand and in full view of the other workers, professes his love for her. And in her angry and bitter tone, she says, “Let’s get this over with, you want to hear the magic words, here you go – I LOVE YOU!” And just as she says it, cameramen and TV crew springs out of nowhere and bright lights puts her on the spot. Not until a close friend told her a few days before, she didn’t know she had been the lead character in the latest reality TV show, Mr. Dreamboy. To her utter horror, she bursts into tears. Jaime, who is actually the real person of the Philip-Eboy-Jaime character, tries to explain that he had not counted on really falling in love with her. That many times, he tried to back out of the deal but he couldn’t because he hadn’t counted on falling for her and that he needed the money because his father’s land was confiscated by the bank after his father died and left the loans unpaid.

And after all the drama and deceit, they reunite and end in a blissful kiss.

I have to give credit to this film because it wasn’t as predictable as many of the Filipino films I’ve seen. Of course, from the mere title you could tell this was some fairytale story but how was the fairytale going to be played out?

This is quite original and kudos to Star Cinema for trying to break out of the mold of the teeny-boppy formula film that leaves most viewers disappointed and wanting their money back.

I hope we can make better movies that just don’t drain our pockets but also makes movie-going a treat - as it should be.

What Kind of Soul are You?

I found this while blog-hopping and got curious, so took the test. :)

You Are a Visionary Soul

You are a curious person, always in a state of awareness. Connected to all things spiritual, you are very connected to your soul. You are wise and bright: able to reason and be reasonable. Occasionally, you get quite depressed and have dark feelings. You have great vision and can be very insightful. In fact, you are often profound in a way that surprises yourself. Visionary souls like you can be the best type of friend. You are intuitive, understanding, sympathetic, and a good healer. Souls you are most compatible with: Old Soul and Peacemaker Soul

What Kind of Soul Are You?

Journey of faith…on the way to Rome

I was in Luzern, Switzerland yesterday to attend the CFC Pre-Conference (for CFC Switzerland) for the preparation of the Mega-Conference in Rome this coming July. CFC Europe will be celebrating its 10th year anniversary.

I have been to many CFC events but I’m not really part of it. All my family here is part of the “community” and I just tag along because I want to see new places and because all my family is going. I was never forced into going but I came any way.

They have invited me many times to join but I was not ready to join. I had been part of the Youth for Christ, one of the many ministries of the CFC, in my college days but was disillusioned because it served to be a social clique rather than a spiritual group. The other ministries are Kids for Christ, Singles for Christ, Handmaids of the Lord (for women aged 42 and up, without husbands or widowed), Servants of the Lord (for men aged 42 and up, without wives or widowers), and Couples for Christ (for married couples).

All CFC ministries are designed to involve the whole family in prayer and worship. It is believed that a “family that prays together, stays together.” It is a Catholic group that seeks to evangelize and spread God’s love through community worship and volunteerism.

I had been putting off joining SFC because I wasn’t convinced that it would do anything for me and I’d just be part of the hypocrisy that was the YFC in college. But seeing the work the CFC has done here in Switzerland and in the Philippines, I am considering changing my mind.

A CFC gathering is usually composed of a praise fest which kicks off the gathering and closes it, and a talk in the middle. There can be many talks depending on the time allotted.

One of the most interesting talks I have ever encountered in the CFC was the talk given by Bro. Ansel yesterday. He used to be what he described as a “screaming faggot” but has made a commitment to change his ways and is now married with two children. It is always inspiring to hear talks like this because it takes a lot of faith and strength. He seems to be happy with his decision and has often cited God’s calling to him. That giving up the homosexual life is not as hard as humility.

I was particularly struck by his recounting a parable of the Cross. A man asked God, “How can I enter the kingdom of God?” He said, “Take up your cross and follow me.” And suddenly, a big wooden cross appeared before him. It was heavy. He then took up his cross and treaded the path towards God’s kingdom. As he walked and walked, the cross got heavier. He decided to chop off parts of it so that it can become lighter. He continued to walk and just as he thought the Lord wasn’t looking, he chopped off some more until he reached a deep ravine. Across it was God’s kingdom. He wondered and was puzzled how he could go to the other side. He asked God, “God, how do I get across?” God said, “Use the cross. It was perfectly measured to be put as a bridge to the other side. It is even balanced, that’s why there’s a horizontal bar.” The man was aghast, holding his horizontal bar, all that was left of his cross.

Bro. Ansel said, “We often short-change God because we want our burdens to be lighter.”

I guess, even if we don’t know it, God really knows better. Suffering is part of human life, but all suffering gains meaning if we look to Him. There is a reason for everything.

There is always the handy saying, “What doesn’t kill us will only make us stronger.” But I guess, we only get stronger because we have faith in Him. There is a passage in the letters of Paul, “Do not boast unless you boast of Him.”

Bro. Ansel concluded by saying, “We cannot really claim to own anything, except for our sins. For sin cannot come from God.”

As Easter Sunday approaches, I hope we can reflect on the Cross and the Passion of Jesus Christ, who died innocently to save us from our sins.

Couples for Christ Pre-Conference in Küssnacht, Luzern, Switzerland (Mama, Chris, Me, & Gorby)  

English millionaire, Dylan Wilk, promoting the Gawad Kalinga (To Give Care) housing project at the International Labour Organization in Geneva. This 30-something Briton from Leeds works as a full-time volunteer for the Gawad Kalinga based in the Philippines. 

wanderer in thought 

Dead Sea Scrolls on exhibit in Geneva

Last night, I was privileged enough to attend a lecture on the Dead Sea Scrolls (DSS) by Dr. Donald Parry of the Brigham Young University in Utah, U.S.A. Replicas of the scrolls are on display at the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints in Geneva. Aside from being a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints, Dr. Parry is a university professor of Hebrew at BYU.

Among the audience were a handful of diplomats, religious leaders including former Geneva Rabbi-Chief Raphael Geudj of the University of Geneva, Latter-Day Saints believers, and many more.

The DSS is suggested to be dated from 100 B.C. It contains most of the Books of the Old Testament excluding that of Esther, because it never once mentioned the name of God (Elohim or Jehovah in Hebrew). The text is hand-written in calligraphy on leather made from bovine, sheep or deer skin with some measuring 26 feet in length and six inches in width.

It was discovered in some caves in 1947 by two shepherd boys in the area of Qumran, Palestine along the Dead Sea. One boy accidentally threw a rock into one of the caves that housed the scrolls and broke an ancient jar. It made an eerie sound which prompted one of the boys to tell someone. They had thought it was a jinn, the Arabic term for “devil” or “evil spirits.”

As they opened the jars, it was heavily sealed with wax and only contained the scrolls and not the gold treasures they were hoping to find. The two boys took some of the scrolls and sold it to an antiquities dealer for $20. The scrolls are now housed in the Shrine of Books in Israel. It is heavily guarded because the Old Testament is used in two major faiths: Judaism and Christianity. And the translation of the DSS is highly considered in modern day bibles. The DSS also provides great insight on the ancient Hebrew and the early Aramaic used in the bible.

Over 1000 books and 5000 articles have been written on the DSS but due to time constraints, Dr. Parry gave only a 25-minute presentation on the various questions that his scholarly work has answered. One of his findings is that the DSS were used by Essin Jews. It was hypothesized that may be Jesus Christ himself learned from these Jews but Dr. Parry doesn’t think so. It’s more likely that John the Baptist lived and learned with this group of Jews.

The Essin Jews are rumored to have been celibate Jews because when the area where they lived was dug up, only six females were there as compared to the 200 men buried in the cemetery.

He also elaborated on many of the texts found in the DSS but is not found in current bibles. An interesting insight is on Psalm 145 which is according to him an alphabetically versed song which has the missing Hebrew letter “N” or “noon.” The DSS supplies this missing text.

The age of the scrolls are in question because there are at least five ways to date them, i.e. carbon dating, paleography, geographical leveling, among others.

Dr. Parry after his short presentation took the audience to the exhibit and gave us a 15-minute tour of the major scroll findings, i.e. the Book of Job, Habakkuk and a book that contained the rules of daily living for Jews.

A diorama showed the layout of the Qumran caves where the Essin Jews displayed marvelous engineering skills by keeping rainwater for a whole year. Certain “wells” were created to catch the rainfall and it would last the whole year.

Dr. Parry has written various amount of books on the DSS and have worked with Emmanuel Tov, the editor-in-chief for the Translation of the DSS. Dr. Parry lived in Jerusalem at the time he worked with Tov.

Me, Dr. Parry and Mom  

Dr. Donald Parry in front of the Book of Job (Dead Sea Scroll) 

YOU ARE WORTH IT (circa 1999) by Ray Nichols (Raenante Rojas)

Do not undermine your worth
By comparing yourself with others
It is because we are different
That each of us is special

Do not set your goals
By what other people deem important
Only you know
What is best for you

Do not take for granted
The things closest to your heart
Cling to them as you would your life
For without them,
Life is meaningless

Do not let your life
Slip through your fingers
By living in the past
Nor for the future
By living your life one day at a time
You live all the days of your life

Do not give up
When you still have something to give
Nothing is really over
Until the moment you stop trying
It is a fragile thread
That binds us to each other

Do not be afraid to encounter risks
It is by taking chances
That we learn how to be brave

Do not shut love out of your life
By saying it is impossible to find

The quickest way to receive love
Is to give love
The fastest way to lose love is to hold it tightly

Do not dismiss your dreams
To be without dreams
Is to be without hope
To be without hope
Is to be without purpose

Do not run through life
So fast that you forget
Not only where you have been
But also were you are going

Life is not a race
But a journey
To be savored
Each step of the way

=====================

[Ray, 24, is a close friend of mine and we grew up together in Abu Dhabi, United Arab Emirates. We spent but only a few years building our friendship there but it was in the 10 years that we kept in touch that our friendship really blossomed. His writing has inspired me through the years. He wrote this poem for himself at the age of 19 before the new millennium. He gave the original copy to me when we met in Manila (1999) after six years of separation. I gave him his own laminated copy but he lost it again. So, I am putting a copy here for the world to see…how wonderful a writer he really is and how much he is an inspiration to so many people. Ray is a senior airman with the U.S. Air Force stationed in Travis Air Fore Base in California.]

“People Power I” Revisited…

In a few days, the Filipinos will be celebrating the 9th anniversary of the first People Power in the country. It was a benchmark in Asia that was replicated in many countries in the region, including Indonesia and the unsuccessful attempt in Tiananmen Square in China. It was a hallmark of democracy and for some, the true representation of rule by the people, for the people and of the people. IT MEANT THE END OF DICTATORSHIP, the beginning of democracy again and the peaceful resolution to an otherwise potentially violent end of the Marcos reign.

It was sparked by the anger, dismay and disappointment over the many injustices committed during the Marcos Era and the human rights violations flagrant during Martial Law. The writ of habeas corpus was suspended and most opposition leaders were imprisoned for their contrasting political stand. Many politicians, journalists, and oppositionists who questioned Marcos mysteriously disappeared, were tortured and some were forever silenced. The people had had enough.

With the defection of then Marcos’ loyalists, Juan Ponce Enrile (who later became Senator) and Fidel V. Ramos (who later became the President of the Republic), began the outpouring of support for the newly proclaimed administration of Pres. Corazon Aquino. It was 1986…and the wife of the assassinated opposition leader Benigno Aquino, Sr. was sworn in as president of the Republic. The people had taken to the streets to proclaim this. They had risen from fear and nuns, clergymen and common citizens put roses in the mouths of the tank with their barrels aimed at the people. They hung sampaguitas on the soldiers and acted as human barricade. The army at the behest of Marcos was to stop the people. But the people had come out in full support of Aquino and there could only be peace. The People Power Revolution passed with no bloodshed.

And almost ten years on…have we learned from our new democracy? People Power has been replicated in 2001 to oust yet another president, Joseph Estrada. But have we truly learned?

In our presidential elections, have we chosen the right candidate and was not blinded by the bribery of money? Have we diverted from corrupt officials and avoided being the “grease” in under-the-table deals? We were offered a new beginning in People Power I. But it seems to have lain in waste…

Our economy is slowly picking up now with new presidential initiatives but we still lose about $20 billion in corruption. Officials still funnel public funds into their private pockets. And we elect these officials…and we tolerate them. The lifestyle check was instituted by Pres. Gloria Macapagal-Arroyo but it seems to have lost steam and many anomalies are left unchecked.

Where is the Philippines going to? How long will it take for Filipinos to wake up and to actually devote time and money to rebuilding the Philippines? We are sometimes called “ningas cogon” meaning “good at the start, but never finishing.”

We are constantly plagued by problems that can be solved with a slight, or that maybe too kind, a MAJOR attitude change! Eighty million Filipinos survive each day, making a living out of nothing. And there are those that make a living by taking from others. What’s wrong with the picture? Of course, everyone should work for success, and everyone deserves their reward. But let’s not be greedy!

The Philippines was the first democracy in Asia. Have we lived up to that privilege? Have we learned from democracy’s rebirth in 1986? How many People Powers must occur? Wasn’t one enough? Let’s try to learn from our mistakes and try to make the best of what we’re given. Put selfishness aside---put love of God, country and fellowman at heart!

The Sacrament Of Waiting (by Fr. James Donelan, S.J.)

The English poet John Milton wrote that those who serve also stand and wait. I think I would go further and say that those who wait render the highest form of service. Waiting requires more discipline, more self-control and emotional maturity, more unshakable faith in our cause, more unwavering hope in the future, more sustaining love in our hearts that all the greatest deeds of deering-do go by the name of action.

Waiting is a mystery - a natural sacrament of life - there is a meaning hidden in all the times we have to wait. It must be an important mystery because there is so much waiting in our lives.

Everyday is filled with those little moments of waiting (testing our patience and our nerves, schooling us in self-control.) We wait for meals to be served, for a letter to arrive, for a friend to call or show up for a date. We wait in line at cinemas and theaters, concerts and circuses. Our airline terminals, railway stations and bus depots are great temples of waiting filled with men and women who wait in joy for the arrival of a loved one - or wait in sadness to say goodbye and give the last wave of hand. We wait for springs to come - or autumn - for the rains to begin and stop.

And we wait for ourselves to grow from childhood to maturity. We wait for those inner voices that tell us when we are ready for the next stop.

We wait for graduation, for our first job, our first promotion. We wait for success and recognition. We wait to grow up - to reach the stage where we make our own decisions. We cannot remove this waiting from our lives. It is a part of the tapestry of living - the fabric in which the threads are woven to tell the story of our lives.

Yet current philosophies would have us forget the need to wait "grab all the gusto you can get." So reads one of America's greatest beer ads - get it now! Instant pleasure, instant transcendence. Do not wait for anything. Life is short - eat, drink and be merry because tomorrow you will die.

And so they rationalize us into accepting unlicensed and irresponsible freedom - pre-marital sex and extra-marital affairs - they warn against attachments and commitments - against expecting anything of anybody, or allowing them to expect anything of us - against dropping any anchors in the currents of our life that will cause us to hold and wait.

This may be the correct prescription for pleasure - but even that is fleeting and doubtful - what was it Shakespeare said about the mad pursuit of pleasure - "Past reason hunted, and once had, past reason hated." Not if we wish to be real human beings, spirit as well as flesh, soul as well as heart, we have to learn to wait. For if we never learn to wait, we will never learn to love someone other than ourselves.

For most of all waiting means waiting for someone else. It is a mystery, brushing by our face everyday like a stray wind of leaf falling from a tree. Anyone who has loved knows how much waiting goes into it - how much waiting is important for love to grow, to flourish through a lifetime.

Why is this? Why can we not have it right now what we so desperately want and need? Why must we wait - two years, three years - and seemingly waste so much time? You might as well ask why a tree should take so long to bear fruit - the seed to flower - carbon to change to diamond.

There is no simple answer - no more than there is to life's other demands - having to say goodbye to someone you love because either you or they have made other commitments; or because they have to grow and find the meaning of their own lives - having yourself to leave home and loved ones to find your own path - goodbyes, like waiting, are also sacraments of our lives.

All we know is that growth - the budding, the flowering of love needs patient waiting. We have to give each other a time to grow. There is no way we can make someone else truly love us or we them, except through time.

So we give each other that mysterious gift of waiting - of being present without asking demands and rewards. There is nothing harder to do than this. It truly tests the depth and sincerity of our love. But there is life in the gift we give.

So lovers wait for each other - until they can see things the same way - or let each other freely see things in quite different ways. There are times when lovers hurt each other and cannot regain the balance of intimacy of the way they were. They have to wait - in silence - but still present to each other - until the pain subsides to an ache and then only a memory and the threads of the tapestry can be woven together again in a single love story.

What do we lose when we refuse to wait; when we try to find shortcuts through life -when we try to incubate love and rush blindly and foolishly into a commitment we are neither mature nor responsible enough to assume?

We lose the hope of truly loving or of being loved. Think of all the great love stories of history and literature - isn't it of their very essence that they are filled with this strange but common mystery - that waiting is part of the substance - the basic fabric against which the story of that true love is written.


How can we ever find either life or true love if we are too impatient to wait for it?

Waiting is a good thing only if something is worth waiting for.

How will you know if it's worth it? Gut feel.

What if you don't trust your gut? Pray. You will be enlightened. Trust me.

Is it wrong to expect while waiting? It's not wrong, but it will increase your chances of heartbreak and disappointment if things don't work out in the end.

Is it good to expect while waiting? It is better to HOPE.

What's the difference between hoping and expecting? HOPING means you're open to either side of the coin landing though you're more inclined to believe that things will turn out well. EXPECTING means you're thinking single-track...which won't do you much good at all.

What's the difference between waiting and expecting? EXPECTING is waiting for something TO DEFINITELY HAPPEN. WAITING is staying where you are, but not necessarily expecting something to happen definitely.

Do you need assurance from someone you're waiting for while you're waiting? Ideally, yes. But realistically, do you really want assurance from this person? It's so easy to just point at something and make that the reason why you're waiting ("Because she said..." "Because he told me that...").

With WAITING, all you really can rely on are 3 things: your gut feel, your heart and mind. Just YOURSELF, not anyone else.

So should you wait? What does your gut say? How does your heart feel? What does your mind think? If they're saying different things, keep asking yourself these 3 questions (and pray!) until you get a solid answer.

THEN you'll know if he or she is worth waiting for.

the Miracle of Love

rewatching "the notebook" for the third time never ceases to give me such a glimmer of hope that love can conquer all. allie at the end asks, "do you think that our love can perform miracles?" noah says, "it can and it has. it's what brings you back to me everytime." allie then says, "do you think our love can take us away together?" noah pauses and says, "i think it can do what we want it to do."

this love story is so inspiring that it is worth re-telling as much as re-watching the movie or re-reading the book, as the case may be. it tells of two young lovers who meet in the summer of 1940. star-crossed as they may be, they came together despite their daring first meeting. noah pursues allie and they fall in love that summer. but circumstances drove them apart and hurtful words were said during the breakup before summer’s end. both didn't mean what they said and both bled from the thought of being apart.

noah wrote allie 365 letters, one for each day. allie's mother had intervened and allie didn't get a single letter.

seven years passed...including the second world war. allie and noah had led separate lives until one day "fate stepped in" and let their paths cross again.

as allie was trying on her wedding dress, her guests marveled at her beauty and at her wedding announcement in the newspaper. unfolding it only revealed the bottom half which held allie's heart - a picture of noah beside his dream house, the house where they were supposed to show their expressions of love. upon seeing noah in the picture, she fainted and the following days found her saying goodbye to her fiance and taking a break.

she goes back to noah with jittery hands and talks of yester years. "what we had was real" she recounts. and noah never wanting her to leave his side again, did his best to keep her beside him.

after all was said and done, allie's fiance comes to seabrook where the love-struck couple were. allie chooses her fiancé, lon, but he let her go.

then the story ends in a happy ever after...noah stayed with allie all her life enduring even the alzheimer's disease which made her forget him and their family. but love always brought her back to him. and even in death, they held each other's hand.

The long journey home…

It’s been a week since I got back from my trip home. This last trip had opened my eyes to many things and had been cathartic to some effect.

I was welcomed by pollution and great heat when I stepped off the airport. I had waited for more than half an hour for my brother to pick me up. And when he did, we were met with traffic on the highway. I had returned and the reality of my homeland hit me like a violent storm.

But as the storm subsides, so did my expected bewilderment. I had come home and I had felt happy being there. No amount of traffic ever stopped me from going to one of my lunches or my dinners or any parties for that matter. I was content with riding the overflowing, often sardine-like-packed, metro rail to get to my appointments.

No amount of heat or the lack of hot running water prevented me from taking my daily bath. I was home and I was among my friends once again. I had missed my friends. I had missed the often cyclical discussions that touched on politics, economics, and whatever topic that presented itself.

I went home to the province of my mother to celebrate my grandfather’s 80th birthday. No less than the whole town showed up for the Grand Family Reunion. Life is simple in the barrio, but Ligao has now become a city in the province of Albay. I still don’t get why the residents laugh every time they say “Ligao City.” Perhaps, it’s because it doesn’t look like a city yet bereft of the standard fast food chains brought on by the “big city” phenomenon. There were no McDonald’s or Jollibees in sight. There was, however, a great Christmas tree which rose some 30 meters and twinkled with its light-ridden body in the town, sorry, city hall. I was told that same tree was featured in a national daily.

There was abundance in food and there were many relatives to meet. But time was short. It was a whirlwind event. I came out only with a picture of the famous Mayon Volcano when it actually showed itself, cloudless and majestic.

As I spent the rest of my holiday in Manila, I began to wonder at the general festive mood of the people. I have been living abroad for almost half of my life, going home once or twice and staying only a few years. I have never seen such a happy place such as the Philippines. No where else have I seen where people strive so much to be happy in the many faces of adversity. Even in the face of death or ultimate survival, a Filipino manages to smile and make a joke of his/her situation.

Most Filipinos go abroad in search of the greener pasture that the tropical islands cannot provide for them. But even when financial insolvency is in the offing, a Filipino manages to survive with the little or no money he has. It is called, “diskarte.” I don’t know the exact translation but it means “dealing with a situation in the best possible way and to make it to your advantage.” There are about 80 million Filipinos that survive each day.

I worked in government before. During lunchtime, I find one of our clerks offering me insurance, a cemetery plot and milkfish. Filipinos are multi-taskers as well as great businessmen. There is a great skill for survival. She is also paying for a low-cost government housing that results in a salary not even the equivalent of $10 as take home pay. She’s raising an adopted son on top of that. Yet, she survives. I am amazed that she is not willing to give up given her circumstances. I am always inspired to hear her story.

I admire so many Filipinos which have taken their plight and grabbed it by the horns and made a real life, and livable at that, for themselves.

I realized that I had been so happy living there before but that I had always been afraid to stay for fear that I wasn’t good enough and I didn’t possess the qualities that would make each Filipino great – success-driven, extreme industriousness and passion for living and pursuing what one wants. I had been afraid to go out and look for a private sector job because I thought I wasn’t good enough. I took a government job because it had been in my line of work and it offered me the greatest training in relation to my college degree. I am a journalist and I became an information officer. The pay was low but it gave me great exposure and an inside look on how it is to be in the press corps and as a media practitioner. But the people were not too great. Inherent in government are the bureaucratic stereotypes, the hierarchical considerations, the power struggle, etc. It’s also present everywhere but just more pronounced in government.

It had given me a lot and had given me good experiences. But I wanted more money. I wanted to be able to buy the things I wanted (note: not what I necessarily needed). So, I thought I’d go abroad in search of the greener pasture. But I was only met by unhappiness and discontent. I met mostly cold people who didn’t care. But I was blessed to have met some nice ones too.

I don’t know why I keep leaving the country but this time I am looking forward to going home for good. I want to live as a Filipino in the Philippines.

I want to see what life has in store for me there and to see how I can fare. These are wants but I hope that God will show the way to meet what I need. Discernment is always key.

The more I leave the Philippines, the stronger the drive to stay in the country. I hope that each Filipino will realize how wonderfully blessed we are to be a citizen of this country and to do our best to make it a livable place.

Silent call

(October 21, 2003, Philippines)


it was a silent call
i heard in the wilderness
that called me back
to where civilization resided

i was lost in the thick of bushes
in the darkness of the giant trees looming
i had been two nights in the place forlorn
no hope of rescue with passing dawns

i strayed into the godless place
while my heart weighs
the heavy world surrounding
escape i dared find but lost i was
in the wilderness tonight

but i heard a silent call
a faint hope of light
that my darkness be brightened
and out of the the wilderness i might
be free tonight