Forty days

It has been awhile again since I updated my blog. Many events have taken place, and many things have changed. It is now 40 days since my mom left us, and joined Papang and Our Creator last January 3. She was laid to rest last January 9, and I just want to share my eulogy which I delivered during the last minutes we were with her:

TRIBUTE TO MOMMY

Last November 16, I made a blog entry in my online photography album, entitled Survivor Mom. There was no special occasion. I just felt it was high time to pay her a tribute.

I never thought that the tribute I made would turn out to be a eulogy instead. Nonetheless, I am here infront of you to share my personal tribute, which is now our tribute—to share the important lessons from Mommy.

1. Mommy will always be a Mommy to us! She gave birth and raised 7 of us to become the persons we are now—as professionals and successful in our respective careers—but more importantly, to be God-fearing and just be good persons. One can never imagine how she shuffled between her teaching career and a housekeeper, and between being a loving mother to us and wife to Papang, a sister to her kins and an adorable auntie.

From her, springs a lifelong learning of doing something that comes from the heart—of showing love and care for each other, of looking after each other’s welfare, and of making sure that we make each other, and other people comfortable in or outside our home.

2. Next to being a mother, she was a dedicated educator.

For more than 40 years, she was committed to her vocation—despite the hardships and challenges of teaching in a public school. As such, she was a witness to hundreds or even thousands of young minds being moulded into becoming more productive persons. In all these years, she never complained about the hardships. Rather, she steadfastly and patiently fulfilled her vocation, lived it, and dutifully performed the role of a second mother to her pupils.

3. She was a doting grandmother to her 12 grandchildren, and all her other grandchildren who were put under her care. Together with the late Papang, she loved playing the role of doting Mamang, as surrogate mother at all times, and their attorney-in-fact who was always ready to stand up defending against their tyrant parents when her grandchildren needed some protection and comforting.

They simply love her for that! Of course! Who would not like being defended by Atty. Mamang Paring?

4. As a grandmother, she would always find time to be updated on what is happening to them, and if they were well taken cared of. Last Christmas, while lying in bed and was so weak to cook, she was still concerned if her apos, nephews and nieces had food to eat. She did not stop bugging us until we assured that everything is settled and that she had nothing to worry about.

5. For that, I would say that she is the best cook/ chef I have known all my life. Mommy is synonymous to food. If one needs some feeding, just go to our home and you will surely burp to your satisfaction. We can say that we inherited her cooking skills. She had no secret recipe to keep, but one important cooking lesson that we learned from her is that everything is just gut feel—something that comes from the heart—one that nurtures and not the one that only satisfies your physical body.

6. She is the Auntie for all seasons—our cousins branded her as "Auntie Singsingpet". I have witnessed how she showered our cousins with a motherly love and affection that sometimes makes us jealous.

7. Long before the word caregiver was a buzz word, she already was a caregiver: She took care of Inang Baket for 5 years, Auntie Aurea, Aunite Pajing, Uncle Tinoy, Papang for 7 long years, and us when we get sick. She did all these without expecting anything in return. All these she did because of her boundless and limitless love. Again, she gave us a very important lesson—the virtue of paying it forward.

In 2004, she was diagnosed with a stage 2 breast cancer. In gratitude, we did our best to give back the fruits of what she has sown in 80 years of her life. In the end, our love and care, her positive view about life, and the love for her grandchildren fueled her more to continue cherishing life! For her, having a cancer is not the end of world! It was a celebration of life!

8. Mommy is one great cheer leader—an animator, and a source of great inspiration. In our studies and in our professional life, she wrote us long letters, giving us the encouragement to bring home the bacon. When she was in the US, she never failed to send us--the old-fashioned way--birthday and Christmas cards. Although old-fashioned, she marveled at the internet! Before she went home from the US, she would always egg on Ating Edna when she goes home from work to turn on her laptop so we can chat for more than one hour through the internet. Whatever mean of communication, she never failed to remind us to be strong and pray hard amidst the difficulties we face in life. We would certainly miss those endearing words.

9. Mommy is an enigma. We are in the belief that she would survive the strange illness she had. We thought she will be okay after all. She had the best medical treatment and specialists in one of the best hospitals in the Philippines and in the US. I believe she had the best care she got from us, her children. But all the best things that the world can offer have their end after all. As I write this eulogy, I realize there is more than the best in this earthly existence. Now, she is in the BESTEST place—in the hands of God—that we could not offer.

There are still many WHY’s—burning questions that are left unanswered. Only time will tell how and why she had to leave us. Her death may seem to be a puzzle to all of us. However, slowly, each day, and true to her nature as a caring mother and teacher, she helped us unravel, and put the pieces together, and understand and accept her departure.

Just like her very nature, she made sure that, we, her children, would not suffer anymore from the agony of expecting death. She went away fast, and unannounced, but I believe that she is making sure the acceptance is also fast. Up to this day, she offers bits and pieces of information that make us realize she lived a fruitful life. Indeed, she deserved the nickname Mamang Fruits. (Of course there is another story why she is being called Fruits.).

10. One very important lesson from Mommy is her being a very prayerful person. She had a very strong relationship with God. In her journey through life, she always asked God for intercession. When I was a small child, when life was hard, she always took refuge and guidance from Mama Mary. She was a devotee of the Mother of Perpetual Help, and always prayed the Holy Rosary. On her flight back to Manila, she was praying the Rosary. Whenever she was in pain and in sorrow, she never complained. Rather she lifted them up to God and she would always utter, “Kaasian na kami Apo” (Lord have Mercy). And I would like to believe that at the time of her last breath, she was still saying her last prayers.

Mommy likes to travel. When she travels, she makes sure everything was prepared—baon na pagkain, water, candies, and anything that fills our stomach. On the spiritual side, she always brought her small prayer travel companion—a small book of prayers. In her journeys here and abroad, God is always her refuge and travel guide.

Mommy is a very secretive woman. She did not tell us her pains or how painful they are. However, when it comes to showing his love and affection, there is nothing spectacular or unusually different act. You could not tell if there is something special on a particular day because it was just her nature to freely express her affection. In short, it was normal if you get a token or a gift from her or if she feeds you in our home, or as simple as “Kumusta kan anak ko?”

True to her secretive nature, and unlike her previous travels, Mommy kept her last journey a secret. However, while we are unaware that she prepared for her last journey, we later realized she made sure that everyone and everything were okay.

On the third night of the wake, I was so bored, so I was drawn to read her small prayer book. I am still puzzled but I was surprised with my discovery. I thought, ang ingat naman ni Mommy kasi wala man lang lukot ang mga pages. Pero nagulat na lang ako na may isang page na nakatiklop ang corner. It was rather odd. So I became curious and read the page content. I was even more shocked when the content of the page, says:

MY FINAL DESTINATION:

Psalm 84

How lovely is your dwelling place,

O Lord of hosts!

My soul yearns and pines

For the courts of the Lord.

My heart and my flesh

Cry out for the living God

Even the sparrow finds a home,

And the swallow a nest

In which she puts her young

Your altars o Lord of hosts.

My King and my God!

Mommy has completed her last journey. She is gone. We could not hug and kiss her anymore. But what consoles us is that we believe she is finally home with her Creator.

We will miss her, but she will always live in our memories and beat in our hearts.

Goodbye Mamang!

....
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Inkblots: Double R [Rants and Rates]

Life is not always pleasant. You wake up one morning and some work issues greet you, making you grumpy the whole day. Save for the photos I see on Flickr in between work, and getting nice comments on my photos.

Then getting some not really good news from my sister, the morbid stories about the Romblon disaster, the spiraling prices of oil in the world market, and some saddening stories about my wife's cousin. Last Friday seems Friday the 13th!

However, I think God is really good. At least, the tax exemption is bigger now, which would at least gives me a bigger take home pay. I just hope they get reflected in my next pay check. Overall, my household is peaceful. My two sons are behaving well. Blessings! Blessings! I would count them instead.

In my previous post, I just started to count my blessings by discussing and expressing my gratitude to PinoyCentric as the second home for my photos in the net. Then, while reviewing the Technorati blog stats in Larawang Pinoy, to see if my groupmates are reading the LP blog after all. i was happy with the results in terns of page views and unique visits. Not bad for a baby blog. Then I noticed that there was a new link on Rate my Philippines. So I clicked it and saw something familiar screen shot -- and that is my blog! So I clicked it and indeed, it was my blog which is the latest review of the Rate my Philippines (RMP) Website.

Although it did not come to me as a surprise because, in the first place, I submitted my blog for rating and to be included in their review. What surprised me is the fact that it came too soon, add to to it the very nice review they gave to my blog.

I would say, it feels good to get a very nice review from people like the admins and website reviewers of RMP. There are not enough words to thank them for making me feel good about myself today.

Thanks a lot, Rate My Philippines!

God Bless and have a happy weekend!

...
P.S. I finally made a way on how to perform print screen, which you can see now posted here. I think the Print Screen button of my keyboard is not functioning. Then I looked into the installation icon, and found the function called "on-screen keyboard". So I tried if it works. It did! Cool A4Tech keyboard! Now I do not have to bug Alvin to do a print screen for me. LOLs!

Also, please visit THIS LINK and rate my blog. Just click at the stars below the review. Thanks!

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On hurdling challenges

The year 2007 has both been easy and challenging for me.

Personally, it was satisfying because I got the chance to look after my growing sons. Being on consulting work and working at home gave me that enough leeway and free time to look after them. At the same time, it gave me that rest I have been longing for.

It was also an opportunity for me to take on blogging (read: writing), which I have always wanted to do. Blogging gave me that opportunity to expand my horizon and views about many things. It also gave me that chance to meet great people online.

I also got engrossed with photography, which is my first love, actually. Being unable to draw or paint well, photography gave me that chance to delve into visual arts.

My almost one year "rest" if I may call it that way (although I am working in the comforts of our home), however, was a sudden shift in my professional career. For the past 19 years, I have been up and about, and working from one project to another. The sudden slack time sometimes bored me. Gladly, there is internet where I could channel my spare energy. When I go out for meetings and mall hopping (which is very rare), sometimes I even wonder if I still know how to cross the street. (Smile!).

Working on consulting projects also means smaller income. But I was glad I was able to get through it. And I am just happy that I would be working on another project in 2008. That should get me off my seat and become busier again. But I have to wait until I sign the contract. Lols! Does it mean less time for blogging? I hope not. My work is related to my other blog: Views with a Point, and I should be able to take off from there.

The year 2007 was both a challenge and a blessing for me. There are no misgivings--simply an appreciation and learning from what 2007 has given me. I just hope year 2008 would be kinder to me.

Happy New year to all!

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The problem with call centers

Since Wednesday, I was offline. After trying to connect, my DSL connection just did not respond. I checked all the cables because there could be some lose connection. I restarted but no response. It was only when I was about to call the customer service hotline, did I realize that my phone did not have a dial tone. Not again!

Without any other recourse, I had to use my prepaid cellular phone to call the hotline. Again, it took them too long before a customer service representative would answer my call! As usual, the CSR agent who got my call could not give any reason why our phone line was cut. Acting like robots, they told me they will report it to the technical team and wait for 24 hours before the line could be connected again. Since I was at their mercy, I asked for an update. The girl at the other end of the line told me they will.

I patiently waited. Twenty-four hours had passed. No dial tone. No updates. I was disgusted. My work relies heavily on the internet--I had to check my e-mails for some last-minute instructions from my client, do research on the topic I was writing on, and of course read and update my blogs. Twenty-four hours is 24 hours.

Losing my patience, I called again from my prepaid phone. Again, it took them too long to answer that I had to hang up before 1 minute is over. I finally succeeded after the 3rd call. Nonetheless, the CSR person who answered my call knows what she was doing. I just gave my number and my name and confirmed I am the account holder, and I told her I am following up on the line reconnection. She did not ask what my complaint was, but instead looked at the recent records and reiterated my complaint by updating me that there was a stolen cable somewhere near our area. However, the bad part is that she promised me again to wait after 24 hours. Okay. Fine with me. She was good in handling my call anyway.

On the 3rd day (Friday night), and taking off from the promise that our phone line would be reconnected within 24 hours, I called again. This time, I was no longer goody-goody with the CSR agent. Why?

She could not follow through my speaking speed (which is normal , and which was the speed I used with the previous CSR agents, and I do not even have an accent!)--

"Hello! This is ______, and my phone number is _____. I would like to follow up on the reconnection of my phone line."

It took me 3 times to say these lines! Finally, she got it and I told her I am calling to follow up on my earlier complaint. She asked me if I have a complaint number. I do have the complaint number but I had no time to look for it in my notes and because I was using a prepaid phone and I was running of load. In disgust, I told her,

"Can you not look for the records of my complaint at the computer infront of you? As far as I am concerned, I only have one complaint and that is about the reconnection of the phone line!"

She gave me a number of reasons which I did not bother to listen to. Instead, I barraged her with more complaints: that they told me they would reconnect my phone within 24 hours--and that they will update me but nothing of this happened within 24 hours--and now can she update me what happened?

"Sir, we will report this to the technical team," her lame reply.

Without any patience and kindness in my heart that time, I told her how many times should they have to report this complaint to the technical team and that I do not want to hear that crap because all I wanted to know is an update. Can she not give me an update of what is happening so I will know if I should permanently cut my subscription with them? Before she could answer, I also told her to stop telling me any memorized and standard reply because I am already pissed off with those replies. It was just so disappointing to know that they were only commissioned to take in complaints and nothing more, and that they do not have an idea on what is going on with the technical team.

Albeit seething with anger and disgust, I still managed to give them a piece of my mind. I told them that it is not my fault that their cables would be stolen. They should keep guard on their cables! What they should do is to ensure the continuity of their services for the people they vowed to serve. Second, they should have a strong feedback mechanism with the technical team so that they would not take all the flak from the irate customers like me. I even told her that since our conversation is recorded, let the company management hear it and begin improving the customer service by not just commissioning a complaint-taking services but include a service that will give an update on the complaints, or better yet, improve their internal customer-feedback mechanism. She wanted to say something but I did not want my prepaid load to go to waste, but instead, I emphasized in loud and exasperated voice: I just want my phone line back and I want to get an update at 10Am tomorrow.

Next day, Saturday, at 10AM, no dial tone. No feedback. I resigned my case. There was no point in arguing with CSR agents because they are only agents. Sometimes, private companies are even worse than the government.

At 6:30PM today, the line was restored. Somebody called me to check if the phone line was already okay. I said "yes", but I was not in the mood to express my gratitude. (Bad me!).

In the end, I pitied the CSR agent. It might be her first time to receive a call. And she could be in her probationary period. She might not get the permanent status and lose her job. I am sorry for that.

But then I stand by my irate behavior. I have the reason to get mad.

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Celebrating Life, instead!

I wanted to blog something about suicide because of the blog of Liz about another suicide supposedly attributed to poverty, and because I want to advocate that the media should stop this media-hype because of the possibility that suicide might actually be "copied" and misconstrued that it is cool to commit suicide as what Prudence has mentioned in her blog as Werther Syndrome.

I had to refresh my psychology since it was already eons ago! I rummaged through the net and looked for theories of attribution, cognitive dissonance and suicide itself. But then, discussing suicide is in itself mind-boggling. So, I decided not to discuss suicide for several reasons:

1. If I would stretch my mind just to present an academic discussion into a human interest blog entry, I would turn nuts! One did an anthropological study on suicide in Palawan for years! Plus, there are discussions that range from legal, philosophical, psychological, socio-cultural, anthropological, theological, medical, etc. etc. I only have one hour! I am not that gifted to put all these discussions into 4 paragraphs. Just Google it!
2. I might get disappointed if I cannot write an article because I made a personal promise that I owe my readers, which I can actually count with my ten fingers on my hand (smile), then I become so frustrated, and depressed and....no! I still have my wits intact. Don't worry!
3. Last, but not the least, I stumbled on a website, which I think is the only website in the Philippines (except for the news item) about suicide and support for suicidal persons. This is PRO-Life Philippines website. Actually nothing much is discussed about suicide. What caught my attention was THE JOURNEY OF LIFE.

Isn't this more blogworthy than the horrific and morbid stories about suicide?

....And I remember the day when my wife told me she was pregnant of Gio. The day when he was born and how I exclaimed: "Tatay na ako!" (I am now a father!).

Fatherhood was something I did not fear right from the start. I fully embraced the fact that I have to leave some parts of me behind. There were some trepidations, why not? It was my first time to be a father! But the joy of seeing your son in his nursery crib, holding him for the first time, inhaling his breath each morning, bathing him, feeding him in the middle of the night--would always be 100% effective in erasing the worries. The feeling is simply indescribable!

...and This poem of Robert Browning, Pippa's Song, would perhaps explain how I felt:

The year's at the spring

And day's at the morn;

Morning's at seven;

The hillside's dew-pearled;

The lark's on the wing;

The snail's on the thorn;

God's in his heaven---

All's right with the world!

Cross-posted at: Psyche

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Countdown to Christmas

WE WERE A BIT LATE in sprucing the house with Christmas decors. We were all too busy doing our work after the Halloween break. It is already a tradition that a day after the Halloween, I would gather my family as I bring out the tree from its box and let the kids adorn it with balls and stars.

Gio, during his prep and grade school years, always looked forward to seeing the tree spruced up. I would see him in such awe and being so delighted with the dancing lights. When it is almost November, he would always look at the calendar and remind me that we should put up the tree and put on the lights already. Matter of factly, I just told him "after the Halloween."

When his little brother, Gelo, came into this world, he showed him how to hang the balls and stars. Gelo is perhaps even more fascinated with the tree to the extent of even pinching the tiny bulbs that scared all of us for he might actually break the bulb and get electrocuted. Hence, Gio would always remind his toddler brother not to touch the lights or remove and play with the balls. Gelo gladly obeyed. Gelo seems more afraid of his kuya than us, his parents.

Putting up the tree today is a little different because their mom is on travel. The fact that kuya is now on his teens, he seems to have lost the zest and excitement of decorating the tree. They were more busy with playing their PC game so I had to threaten them that I will uninstall it if they will not heed my commands. I did not win. I just shrugged it off, but did not decorate the tree for them. I wanted them to supposedly enjoy this moment.

Instead of getting more mad at their disobedience, I went to the mall to look for a replacement of the busted bulbs of our capiz lantern. Unfortunately, I could not find the right size. So I went home frustrated and tired only to find out that the tree still stood up without any decor at all. I realized they were busy watching Saving Private Ryan on DVD. (They have a different taste for movies at their young age.).

Finally, after watching the movie, and me reminding them, they willingly obliged. I occasionally watched them while I was checking my blog and email. As in the past, I saw them having fun and having great time together. They were even outsmarting and racing against each other on who's getting the bigger balls (because they are fewer and easier to hang) or who gets to hang more stars. In less than 30 minutes, they have done their task. They did a good job!

While working on it, Gelo realized he has grown up. He could already reach the top of the tree, and kuya is now even taller than the tree. Indeed they grow up so fast! The next thing we know, they are already getting mad at their kids just like how I was mad at them for not decorating their tree.

But wait a second! Not fast-forward yet! It is not yet done! The next thing is them asking me:

"Where are the gifts under the tree?"


Cross-posted at: Psyche

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Romblon Chronicles Part 2: Facing fear

IT TOOK ME ONE HOUR to reach the town of Calatrava via a big version of jeepney. The road was in good condition except for some unpaved parts. It was fortunate that the rain the previous night spared me from heat and dust. Actually, it was a fine day, when you could smell the sweet morning breeze, the scent of freshly mowed grass, appreciate the newly plowed rice fields waiting for new seeds to be planted, the people were nice, and most of all, seeing the sun rays peeking through the mountains and trees along the road.

Continue reading

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Romblon Chronicles - Part 1: A bitter-sweet rendezvous with RO-RO

Finally, I am able to sit down and write what I have gone through almost two weeks ago. A week after I went to Batanes for a work-related trip which I blogged here, here, here, and here, I went to Romblon last October 4 for a consulting work with the Peace and Equity Foundation.

I was both excited and anxious about my trip to Romblon. Had it not for the consulting fee (lolz!) and the important social mission I have to accomplish (I will blog about it later.), I would not go to Romblon.

First, I was full of apprehension, because it was my first time to take a RO-RO cruise for more than 7 hours, and at the same time I felt excited to see for myself what a RO-RO (Roll On-Roll Off) is all about and why PGMA is boasting and taking pride of the nautical highway. The longest boat ride I had to take was the trip to Lebak, Sultan Kudarat where we had to pass by the Celebes Sea (another fearsome adventure!) from Cotabato City.

Second, I fear the sea. Yes, I love the beach, but not crossing the sea especially at this time of the year when the Southwest monsoon (habagat) is at its peak. More importantly, I have not gotten rid of my fear after I almost drowned in Illana Bay in Pagadian City during one of my official trips 2 years ago--and this boat below almost killed me! The propeller was detached from the boat which caused it to sink. Had it not been for a woman who went out of their house located near the shore, and who saw us waving in distress, I would not have been blogging now. (And good thing we were only at least 1,500 meters away from the shore.)



Cruising for more than 7 hours from Batangas pier to Odiongan, Romblon was just a part of service and commitment ro poverty alleviation. Certainly, it gave me the creeps because we had to sail at night! Then in Pagadian, we only sailed for less than 5 minutes and our boat sank! It was a relief, however, that I had to ride a huge ferry that can carry at most 20 fully-loaded ten-wheeler trucks!

Wow! I thought it was cool, but not until I boarded the ship. Although I trust the crew not to overload, I was still paranoid because these ferries have the tendency to overload. We have witnessed disasters in the past! As the first instinct, immediately after boarding, I had to look for the exits and find out where the life vests are stored. I was just being cautious and preparing for any eventuality. Who knows?

I got a ticket for an "air con" accomodation, which I learned later that it was the section with double-decker beds. However, I did not use it except for one hour at around 1AM when my body could no longer stand the physical strain. Why? The room was emitting odor of human sweat and human heat because apparently, the air conditioning is not enough to cool the entire room. Rather, I stayed on the deck where it is colder. Because there are no seats on the deck, I had to endure more than 7 hours of walking, standing, sitting on railings and on any available flat surface so that I could rest my wobbly and cramped legs. The trip would have been a complete disaster, save for the people I chatted with, and bland instant coffee to keep me awake.

Reflecting on this, the government should look into this matter. The management should ensure the comfort of the passengers, as well. I would not mind cruising for long hours to go places like Romblon--if I were comfortable. Perhaps the ferry management is not aware of the plight of the common people who only rely on this kind of transportation, or perhaps, they simply have become insensitive and callous of the travelling conditions. Because PGMA is lauding their contribution to the transport of produce to and from the provinces, they may have the notion that they are doing perfectly well. Also, no one is complaining.

So here I am ranting that:

1. The customer service is bad; some crew members are even impolite (that I had to force myself to lower my expectations--after all, it is not a plane);
2. The service crew members are nowhere to be found near the passenger area, especially during the wee hours. (What if? Just what if....? There would be no one to guide us all.).
3. The passenger areas are humid and hot.
4. The "bed area" is too cramped, which would be aggravating emergency situations
5. Exit passageways are blocked by passengers' luggage; One exit is even closed, and
6. The comfort rooms are dirty and stinky (This I could not tolerate!)

There may be more but these are the only major observations I noted.

When I arrived in Odiongan at 4:00 AM, I felt so wasted that I immediately checked in the small hotel near the pier and dozed off until 7AM. At 8AM I was again on my way to Calatrava, where another boat ride going to Simara Island was waiting for me!

Not again!

(Watch out for the sequel!)

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Blogging: The heart and soul of it

Treasure chest
My wife was always complaining that I spend too much infront of my PC and retiring in the wee hours of the morning because of blogging. However, when I joined the Wika 2007, I never thought she would not support me to campaign for my entry. [It is because I promised her that I will give her the pot money if I win! Lolz]. So she helped in the campaign as well, and helped analyze why our 200+ contacts did not translate to number of votes. Our campaign yielded low votes. We have the wrong target “voters”. Our friends are all busy and too old (yes too old and not techie enough, sigh!) to participate in this techie environment! Aren’t they opening their mails? Or perhaps, they do not know where the links are! Unlike other participants, they have a vast network of yuppies and younger friends to boot. Talo na ako sa internet votes! (Sigh again!).

Nonetheless, I was simply elated with the comments I got from my voters. They are all friends and colleagues who have supported me all the way! Win or lose, according to them, I am still their winner. That is enough reward for me. Now, I could proudly say, I am their winner!

Almost a traitor
Honestly, I was also thinking about how to make money out of my blog, so I applied at an advertisement site. But sadly, I was not accepted because they think that my blog does not support language translation. I thought that the “culprit” could have been my Wika 2007 entry, so I thought about actually deleting this blog entry. Since I was already deeply engrossed with blogging, I might as well get money from it. After a careful deliberation, and accepting fact that I am not a conformist, and again inspired by Señor Enrique’s comment in my blog about service. I do realize that I just wanted to share my thoughts and feelings about the mundane things about life, and being a Filipino. So the money-making motive is now completely abandoned. Deleting my Wika 2007 entry would also mean I am turning my back from the things I have believed in—to put it more succintly, I would become a traitor to my being a Filipino!

Gifts come in different packages
I was in Cagayan de Oro last September 4 enjoying my sumptuous dinner at Bigby’s in Lim Ket Kai and at the same time was mulling over some important things about work, and texting my friends and wife about it. (Yes, I am a multi-tasker!).

Back from a 2-day respite, I finally had the chance to open my email, and was just so glad to find that the result of the Wika 2007 Blog contest was already out. I was even more joyful with the fact that I saw my name, but was not exactly sure about it. So I scrolled up and down slowly, then it dawned to me, I was the Grand Prize winner! Certainly, it relieved that sullen feeling for the past two days, and perhaps, a nice bithday gift. I will be a year older in a few days.

The heart and soul of it
Blogging has never never failed to give me that feeling of excitement. While looking at my rankings, it makes me think of how my blog should get noticed and actually frequented my readers. I feel bad when my PBS and Ratified ranking goes to the bottom. So I strategized and put some new features in my blog like the “Viewpoint” which showcases some of my photographs, and the weekly “Inkblots Polls” which tackles current events, and allows an interaction among the readers by creating a comment blog page for the poll. I have other plans for my blog. Karir na ito! And all these is not in just in the name of rankings. After winnng the Wika 2007 blog contest, I am more inclined to believe that I have to work harder to live up to the expectation that I deliver sensible information to my readers, that would make them go back to my blog, read my ideas as well as that of my readers, and perhaps, learn from it—to borrow Señor Enrique’s words, “all in the name of service.”


ACKNOWLEDGEMENT: To the judges who recognized me and those who voted for me. Maraming Salamat!

To the other winners, congratulations, too!

Second Prize:
Naykupu! by Ynon

Third Prize:
Ang Obra by Feddie Marc S. Perez

Misteryosa Award:
1. ‘THE’ Filipino Language: WHAT THE HECK DOES THIS MEAN??? by Frances Paola G. Doplon
2. A Language We All Need to Learn by Ayel

Participants’ Choice Award:
Pista ng Wikang Filipino/The Spectacle of the Filipino Language by Marocharim

Consolation Prizes:
1. Ang paradigm shift at ang mga erehe ng KWF by Willy Prilles, Jr.
2. Wika at Musika by Garry Victor Urbi

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Is the Filipino [still] worth dying for?

At a tender age of 15, while other teen-agers were worrying about Bagets fashion that time, I was slowly immersing myself to fully understand social, political, and economic issues. Being involved in these causes was not an easy thing to do. Being born and raised in a clan of Marcos fanatics was doubly hard.

For many parents and elders, seeing their children joining the ranks of student activists was definitely despicable and intolerable behavior. Maybe it was just a parental or elderly brother/sister concern. We are not rich to afford losing our education in exchange of what they call a useless endeavor—because according to them, “we are just destroying the future that is in store for us.” Of course, we wanted to argue, but any intellectual argument would only prove futile. First, we were not fully understood. Second, if given the chance to speak our minds, they would refuse to understand, and third, which is a prerequisite to the second reason--they already have an unperturbed and deeply-rooted mindset.

So, our parents, specially our late father, sternly warned us not to engage ourselves in these activities. I can still vividly recall the day when my late father and I were intently listening to the live coverage of Ninoy Aquino’s arrival in the then Manila International Airport (MIA). I was incredibly outraged upon hearing that Ninoy was killed. For the first time and being in the junior high, I had mustered enough courage to utter words against the late dictator. While I succeeded, I was also amused by the fact that I have recoiled after his scolding.

Even against the will of our parents, we still saw the need to be involved—isang pakikibaka upang lupigin ang rehimeng diktadura tungo sa minimithing katarungan at kalayaan para sa masang Pilipino! (Such a mouthful!).

I would say, I was a little bit immersed—albeit everything was done in hiding. In high school, we secretly passed around old copies of Malaya and We Forum. We participated in school plays and wrote essays against the tyranny. We sang tibak songs in between rehearsals of our church choir and in our bid for seats in the student council or whenever there is a school program or event. In college, I allowed myself to be part of the UG (underground movement), help orchestrate rallies to push for the students’ right to self-determination, and participated in secret meetings. However, it ended when one day; I realized it would not do me any good. My parents were retiring at that time. Wasting their hard-earned money would make me a traitor to them. I had no choice but to say my goodbyes to the core group and concentrate in my studies. I was thankful that my comrades understood me. After all, my parents were right. Despite this, however, my sympathy for the causes still remained.

Before our father left us, and when I have already earned confidence and some level of authority, and already undaunted in my personal convictions, we had some opportunities to discuss about politics and social issues. I realized that despite his being a Marcos loyalist, he was receptive to the discussion of socio-political and economic issues, with the caveat that we have to elude conversations against Marcos. In the end, I made him understand how Marcos—although to their minds is a great hero—have caused much trouble to the country, and that all the hardships that the country is facing now is partly attributed to that part of our history.

This month, we celebrate three important events: Buwan ng Wikang Filipino, Ninoy Aquino Day, and Araw ng mga Bayani. Once again, we are called to cherish our being Filipinos by recognizing our cultural diversity and appreciate our being a multi-lingual race. We are reminded of how great Filipinos can be by honoring our proclaimed and unsung heroes—as well remembering the days when they offered their lives for genuine social justice, freedom and democracy. Ninoy, Macli-ing Dulag, Ed Jopson, Lean Alejandro, to name a few, have died for noble causes. But is their spirit of patriotism, wisdom, and at least a small percentage of their consciousness still thrives within us?

More than three decades ago, the Filipino youth started their fight against dictatorship and social injustice. To this day, the issues they have fought for are still in our midst—only in different forms and come in more elaborate and fancy packaging. The tyranny and oppressors we wanted to topple down then are still among us—only they have evolved into a more charming form of creatures that prove to be more monstrous in comparison. They are like chameleons effortlessly capable of camouflaging in many a conceivable manner.

This is not to incite any form of rebellion. With these issues still lurking in our nation’s life, would we offer ourselves in the same way that our advocates and leaders have done? Would we take on the issues they have fought against—at least in our little ways no matter how insignificant they may be?

Ninoy once said: “The Filipino is worth dying for.” However, before taking the next step and share a part of ourselves nation-building, we should be able to discern about this more practical question: “Is the Filipino [still] worth dying for?”


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Note: I have an entry at WIKA 2007. Please read my previous entry, and vote for me by clicking this badge:

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PBS WIKA 2007 GRAND PRIZE: Tungo sa Panlipunang Pagbabanyuhay

Halos isa’t kalahating dekada na ang nakalilipas mula nang mag-aplay ako sa isang training program para sa mga kabataang propesyunal upang maging ganap na social development worker. May trabaho na ako sa Baguio noon bilang isang Assistant Project Manager for Training sa isang Foundation, pero hindi ko maintindihan kung ano nga ba ang tunay kong papel sa adhikain ng Foundation, at higit sa lahat, ang kaugnayan ko bilang isang mamamayan sa pagpapaunlad ng ating bansang naghihikahos. Dahil sa kagustuhan kong magkaroon ng higit na malalim at malawak na kaalaman sa development work, at sa paghikayat ng aking manager na may malalim na karanasan sa pag-oorganisa ng pamayanan, sumali ako sa programang iyon. Dumaan ako sa proseso ng pagpili ng mga kabataang propesyunal sa buong Pilipinas upang mapabilang sa programang ito. Naging mapalad akong napabilang sa mga shortlisted o mga kandidato. Dala-dala ang aking kredensiyal, ang aking kaunting karanasan sa community development (pagpapaunlad ng pamayanan), lakas ng loob, at mahaba at matinding dasal, tumulak ako patungong Manila. Sa Manila, haharapin ko ang isang pagsusulit sa harap ng mga piling dalubhasa sa community development o mga taong haligi ng mga non-government organizations (NGO) sa buong Pilipinas.

Sa harap ng panel, ibinigay ko ang lahat ng lakas at ipinaliwanag ko ang aking nalalaman tungkol sa pakikisalamuha sa mga tao, ang papel sa kasalukuyang trabaho, at ang aking hangad na maging mas epektibo sa pagtulong sa mga mahihirap lalo na kung ako ay magkakaroon ng higit at malawak na kaalaman sa pagpapaunlad ng pamayanan. Sa palagay ko, walang tanong na hindi ko sinagot nang tama. Simple lang naman pala ang mga tanong. Natuwa ako sa nangyari. Lumabas ako sa board room nang may ngiti sa aking mga labi. Pero ang ngiting iyon ay panandalian lamang.

Tinawag ako ng HRD Manager at kinausap ako sa sa isang tabi. Hindi raw nila ako “maibaba” at sa palagay nila, mahihirapan akong makisalamuha sa mga taong aking paglilingkuran. Hindi daw kuwestiyon na mataas ang antas ng aking kasanayan at tiyak na magiging asset o yaman ako ng isang pamayanan, subali’t hindi nga raw nila ako “maibaba.” Hindi ko sya maintindihan, at nilinaw ko ang tanong nya—kung ano ang ibig sabihin ng “maibaba.” Sa madaling-salita, panay daw ang Ingles ko at mahihirapan akong makibagay sa mga tao at lalong hindi ko kakailanganin ang Ingles sa mga pagsasanay at pag-oorganisa ng mga tao. Hindi ko kasi napansin na sa wikang Tagalog ang kanilang mga tanong at sa wikang Ingles ang aking sagot. May kulang sa nangyaring komunikasyon--kung komunikasyon man ang tawag doon.

Hindi ko alam kung matutuwa ako o maiinis sa sarili, pero ngumiti na lang ako nagpaliwanag. Ipinaliwanag ko na ang pagiging Inglesero ko noong panahong yon—ay impluwensya ng aking nakasanayan sa Baguio at Benguet. Sa halip na Tagalog, gamit namin ang Ingles bilang pangunahing wika sa pagsasanay, at pantulong ang Ilocano, kung saan ang mga matatandang Ibaloi at Kankana-ey ay bihasa. Para sa kanila, ang Tagalog ay Ingles o salitang banyaga.

Bumalik ako sa Baguio na may agam-agam kung ano ang kahihinatnan ng panel interbyu na iyon. Hindi ko na inasahan na matatanggap ako. Subali’t natuwa ako nang may matanggap akong telegrama (nakakatawa man, oo telegrama pa ang uso noon) na nagsasabing tanggap ako sa programa.

Umukit sa aking puso at naitatak sa aking isipan ang karanasang ito. Hindi man tahasang itinuro sa kolehiyo ng mga paring Belgiano na kailangang malaman ko ang bagay na ito pagkatapos mag-aral ng apat na taon, masasabi ko ngayon na bago ang pagtulong sa isang pamayanan, hindi lamang dapat malaman ang kanilang kultura, pag-iisip, mga pangarap at adhikain sa buhay.

Pangunahin dito ang kasanayan sa pakikipagtalastasan (natutuhan ko ang terminolohiyong ito mula kay Gng. Ermelinda Carbonell na aking propesor sa Filipino class) o pakikipag-komunikasyon sa mga tao, dahil nagsisilbi itong tulay upang matawid mo ang kanilang kinaroroonan. At sa pakikipagtalastasan, higit mong mauunawaan ang kanilang kultura, kaugalian, kabuuang kalagayan at kabuhayan, kaisipan, mga suliranin at ang kanilang mga mungkahi upang higit nilang mapaunlad ang mga yaman sa kanilang pamayanan.

Sa higit isang dekada kong pakikisalamuha sa mga tao, bago pa man ako magsimula sa mga pagpupulong at mga pagbisita sa mga baryo, inaalam ko na ang kanilang lengguwahe. Ang “’Ayo!” o pina-ikling “Maayo!” o “Maayong buntag/ adlaw!” na mamumutawi sa aking mga labi tuwing bibisita ako sa mga proyekto ng mga Salesian Brothers sa Dumaguete, ay nagiging pampukaw ng atensyon ng mga abalang nanay at nagiging simula upang kagaanan nila ako ng loob. Nagiging hudyat ito upang ihinto ang kanilang ginagawa at simulan ang mas malalim na talakayan tungkol sa kanilang maliit na negosyong babuyan. Sa mga pagpupulong sa komunidad, hindi man nila lubos na maintindihan ang aking sinasabi sa Tagalog o Ingles, ang pagsasabi ko ng “Unsa may ato?”(Ano ang sa atin?) o “Na-a’y pangutana?” (May mga tanong? O Is there any question?) ay nagsisilbi namang mitsa sa kanilang mga inaantok na utak upang pag-usapan ang kanilang mga agam-agam at mas pina-igting na paliwanag sa mga bagay na hindi nila lubos na maunawaan. Gamay lang ang nahibaluan ko sa Cebuano o Binisaya, subali’t naipararating ko, kahit papaano, ang aking mensahe.

Noong nakaraang Abril, nagkaroon muli ako ng pagkakataong makatrabaho ang mga taga Cordillera, bumalik tuloy ang ala-ala ng pagsisimula ko sa development work. Hindi pa man kami nagkakaharap, parang isang makina na kailangan kong i-calibrate o kalibrahan ang aking utak—kailangan ko namang magsalita ng Ilocano. Hindi ako nagkamali sa aking sapantaha. Higit man silang maunlad o progresibo sa panahon ngayon, naging mas agresibo pa sila sa kanilang partisipasyon nang malaman nilang marunong akong makipagkomunikasyon gamit ang kanilang wika. Komportable sila sa akin.

Sa aking pakikipag-ugnayan nakurot ko nang bahagya ang kanilang mga puso. Masasabi nilang kaisa o kabilang nila ako, dahil hindi lamang ito nagsisilbing tulay upang maabot mo ang kanilang kinaroroonan, ito ay nagsisilbi ding puso upang dumaloy ang bawat mensahe—masaya, malungkot, pangit man o maganda. Kung ang ngiti ay ang isang pangkalahatang pagpapakita ng giliw, ang wika naman ang nagbibigay ng mas malalim na katuturan dito.

Ang iba’t-ibang kultura, kaisipan, kaugalian, kaalaman at adhikain ay magsisilbing isla sa malawak na karagatan kung hindi ito mauunawaan ng bawat Pilipino. Sa pagpapaunlad ng pamayanan, hindi maaring may maiwang pamayanan. Hindi maaring ang iilang tao lamang o siyudad gaya ng Metro Manila, Cebu o Davao ang maaaring umunlad upang masabi nating bumabangon na sa pagkakasadlak ang Pilipinas. Kailangan, ang bawat pamayanan ay may kapayapaan at angking likas-kayang pag-unlad (sustainable development) na dulot ng kanilang pagkakaisa at pagsisikap. Hindi man sa panahon ngayon mangyayari ang ating inaasam na ginhawa. Subali’t mangyayari ito kung lubos nating bibigyang pansin ang ating pagkakaunawaan gamit ang patuloy na pakikipagtalastasan—sa kabila ng pagkakaiba ng ating mga wika. At sa tamang panahon, tayo ay mabubuklod gayundin ang ating pangarap at layunin. At kung and bawat isa ay kikilos nang mapayapa at tatahak sa iisang daan, insha'Allah! (God Willing), masisimulan nating gumising sa magandang kinabukasan.



Pahuling Salita:
Pagkalipas ng isang taon sa programa, kinailangan naming gumawa ng isang Synthesis Paper kung saan namin isusulat ang aming mga reyalisasyon at mga aral mula programa. Ito ay parang tesis na kailangang isumite at idepensa upang maka-gradweyt kami. Ito ang pamagat ng aking Synthesis Paper:

“Banyuhay: Isang Paglalagom ng mga Natatanging Karanasan sa Social Development Workers’ Formation Program (SDWFP)”

Oo, sa halip na Ingles, isinulat ko ito sa wikang Filipino maliban sa titulo ng mga programa at sa mga pangalan ng mga institusyong napapabilang dito. Ito ay pagpapatunay na tinanggap ko ang hamon sa akin—na hindi ako Inglesero at kaya ko ring “bumaba.” Tanging ako lamang ang gumamit ng wikang Filipino sa buong klase namin, isama pa ang naunang dalawang klase. Pati ang depensa ko sa panel ay sa wikang Filipino—isang patunay ng sarili kong pagbabanyuhay (transformation). At nakakatabang puso na alalahanin ito dahil pagkatapos ay nilapitan ako at personal pinapurihan ng isang Direktor ng NGO namin—dahil sa paggamit ko ng wikang Filipino.

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Counting and sharing my blessings!

Needless to say, this is the first day of the month! Last night, while I was writing about my last blog for July I wished that my first blog for the month should be something good and inspiring.

That wish was granted.

1. I woke up early. For the past 6 months, I am a night-lurker working like a graveyard shift call center agent. Sweet life! Let's put it this way: I work at home, at my own pace and time, but making sure I deliver the outputs that my clients want from me. The truth is, I prefer to work at night when it is colder and no one can disturb me while working. Unless, I will transfer my PC to our bedroom and turn on the air-conditioning, but that is too much. My electric bill is not included in my PF.
2. The document I was asking in my previous work, which I also mentioned in my earlier blog about red tape has finally arrived though e-mail;
3. I sent an email to my future employer accepting their offer to manage one of their programs. I will start on August 15. I can never be grateful about this opportunity and blessing!
4. I am officially out of job (at least until August 14), so I can blog the whole day and till "kingdom come" (Oops! I still have to finish the study commisisoned to me!).

And I thank God, Almighty for all these blessings today.

BACK TO: INKBLOTS' PSYCHE

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Moving on

This morning, I was so enticed by one blogger who has moved his blogs to WordPress that I tried it myself and had the process figured out. It was just awesome to see how the entire blog being transferred from one site to another. Really neat! We owe it to technology and to the internet savvy guys who work hard (and get highly paid!) for this marvel in communication.

I can blame it to my indolence in learning another blogging process, but perhaps, WordPress is just too “techie” for me, unlike Blogger.com, where blogging becomes uncomplicated and trouble-free. It is like voting for Nokia or Sony Ericsson. And I choose Nokia because Sony Ericsson, just like WordPress, is not user-friendly (and I mean it!). WordPress users reading this must be brewing with anger by now. Don’t push your button yet. This is not going to be a technical debate on which blogging technology is better.

Read on….

Our behaviors and actions all boil down to familiarity of doing things. We get accustomed to places, objects, people, events, time, hobbies and what-have-you’s. While I am more of a Rogerian fan because of his concept on Self-Actualization, Burrhus Frederick Skinner was right. Behavior becomes a function of conditioning. We can learn a certain behavior if we are presented the appropriate stimuli and rewarded accordingly. It is a good thing that his Operant Conditioning theory also tells us we can unlearn them, which gives us hope to change for the better or take on a different course that is not within the confines of our security blankets.

For the past months, I have been busy looking for a next job in anticipation my consulting work coming to an end. I am a family man and I have to plan things ahead. My consulting work in one project has just ended today.

Last week, I pulled out the last equipment that I needed to turn over for custodianship. A few weeks earlier, I pulled the pieces of furniture out, realizing that that seemingly perfunctory task of pulling out each piece of equipment and furniture from the office is more than meets the eye. It becomes conscious that it had a psychological effect on me—called separation anxiety.

I didn’t know what was eating me. I had an assortment of emotions, actually. Was it because of the loss of a job? Well, I was not apprehensive of that because there would be another job anywhere. In fact I was just hired yesterday. Was it because of the memories of my wards? They are stored anyway. I can always retrieve them in the CPU that is my brain. Even the laughter, poignant moments, our petty and serious quarrels, and special and ordinary mundane events are still vivid in my mind and in the CDs where I stored their photos.

Perhaps it was my first time to close down a project—and alone at that! Two years ago, I went ahead of those who closed another project where I was involved, that is why I never had that feeling of actually going through the matter-of-factly and symbolic closing of the doors behind me. At least, they had each other to lean on as they all witnessed the office doors being closed and locked for the last time. There was no turning back—only moving on.

The project has become special as I was able to give it a significant part of me. But I have to let it go and move on. This is mushy but I would admit that the people I met have taken so much space in my heart. But I have to “zip” them to free some space inside, and just move on.

Just like transferring my entire blog to another hosting site, I would also be relocating to another work, where I will learn new behavior and way of doing things and establish relationships. Some parts may be lost just like how I customized my header, sidebars, links, and widgets, but more important is the fact that the vital part of me stays, and willing to be moved. In a few days, I will be hosted by another company. I will be wearing a different header, I will also customize my sidebars and establish new links in order to effectively relate to the people I would work with, but I would still be bringing my own way of thinking, my feelings, learning from life the way I observed and experience it, and I still should be able to share whatever bric-a-brac about life may come my way.

BACK TO: INKBLOTS' PSYCHE
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Securing the future

Meeting future farmers
Originally uploaded by Ding's Inkblots

My father left us a small parcel of land which we alternately till. When our father passed away two years ago, I was the first to volunteer to manage it, putting my hard-earned money to venture into farming.

To my dismay, however, the farm yielded so low. I feared that I would not recoup my expenses. Luckily, however, I had more than a thousand as profit which I willingly gave to my cousin who directly managed the farm. Since I am not a risk-taker, I did not invest any money in the next cropping cycle. It was a tragic experience.

A year after, my sister, who I think is a better farmer than me, took over. Since she had more time to spend in the farm, she was able to observe how the production went and what the technical problems were. She found out the the soil was highly acidic that caused the low yields in the past years. I was just unlucky that I had to bear the consequences when it was my time to till it. For decades, the farmlot has been a willing recipient of inorganic fertilizers, that slowly caused it to succomb to its natural death--giving little yield to any crop that would be planted.

After the soil analysis, my sister applied lime to balance the pH level of the soil. It was also a time when my wife met Prof. Ernie Gonzales who was working for a foundation that helps farmers in Mindoro to shift to organic farming. He developed a concoction or an organic fertilizer, which we availed and applied to our farm. It was some sort of expriment by dividing the farm into three experimental conditions: (1) with lime treatment, and inorganic fertilizer, (2) only with lime treatment, with organic fertilizer from Prof. Gonzales, and (3) with no lime, but with organic fertilizer.

The result was remarkable. The treatment of the soil acidity resulted to better yield. Conditions 1 and 2 almost have the same yield, while Condition 3 showed progress in terms of treating the acidity of the soil and was also promising in terms of yield.

So what does this tell us?

I do not like to dwell on the implications of imperialism on agriculture since we already know the fact that commercial inorganic fertilizers do nothing but harm to the ecosystem. What is more important should be our action to promote organic farming and help bring our farms come to life and eventually save the ecosystem. With this, we would be able to secure our environemnt for the next generation. It does not take an advocacy program of Prof. Gonzales to convince us to adopt organic farming. As a development worker, and an advocate of sustainable development myself, I should practice what I teach.

Post Script: During his visit last April, I told him, how good it felt be visited by a development worker like him. We are a family of development workers and it is always a noble and humbling experience to be visited and assisted by another development worker and being given assistance. Photo shows my son (in red sando) and my nephew during their photo-op with Prof. Ernie.

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That "faith-full" July 16 Earthquake

I WAS ABOUT to close my browser but I shocked to learn that Japan has been hit by an earthquake. Read more about this news.

On July 16, 1990, I was in La Trinidad, Benguet serving as one of the Guidance Counselors in San Jose High School. The second year high school history teacher was not able to have his class that day and it was a common practice in the school to make the students busy. With no other teacher to pitch in his class, I did a homeroom activity instead.

One of the topics of the homeroom activity was "faith". In giving my synthesis during the processing, I shared what my theology professor taught us back in college:

"That faith like riding a jeepney going to school, without the fear or paranoia that you will be mugged or meet an accident."

Then I gave my example:

"It is also like sitting here in this classroom that you will not even think that that concrete beam right above you would not fall right this moment."

The sophomore class understood what I said and they shared the same, and so we ended up our emergency homeroom class at 3:00 PM. Immediately after, I went to the Guidance Office in the third floor. There, I met several seniors who seem to have a penchant for the Guidance Office and made it their tambayan.

Before I could even sit , I heard a loud and disturbing rumbling noise from a distance. We were 100 meters from the highway, and the thought of a roaring Peterbilt truck would not be a possibility. (Benguet Corporation have huge Peterbilt trucks for their mining operations). The roaring and rumbling sound became louder like a huge Peterbilt coming closer. We all asked: “Ano yun?!” Before we could figure it out, however, a strong jolt already shook us, making us unbalanced and some to fall on the floor. Then another jolt! Then, we realized it was an earthquake. It was 3:26PM (DST), July 16, 1990.

I immediately ordered everyone to go down and out of the building! But in the second floor, the strongest jolt happened. Everything was swaying, cracking, falling, that even some debris fell on us, and the students and teachers were already screaming. We thought we would be buried alive in that building. We had no choice but to take refuge in one corner infront of the library, not realizing that it had glass panels. We were stuck! And we even saw the librarian trying to keep the book shelves from falling. It was the time when one of the male teachers summoned the librarian to get out of the room. What was more horrible was the fact that there were four pre-school pupils playing infront of the library and were already screaming and crying in fear. But the quake never stopped. So we decided for a moment to cover the kids with out bodies hoping it would protect them and the jolts would stop. It never stopped. Out of instinct, the male teacher and I decided to carry the kids out of the building. With two kids tucked in my arms, constant shaking, and falling debris, made it more difficult to negotiate the stairs. Outside the building, we met the crying, praying and screaming students and teachers on the open ground.

For a while, we thought everyone was fine. Then one girl came to us crying, and told us one of the her friends was left in their room. The strong quakes have subsided a bit. But the aftershocks were still strong to make you fall. We did not waste any time. Together with the male teacher and two senior male students, we went back to the building for a rescue. Apparently, the door was jammed and stuck that made it difficult for the girl to come out. We kicked the door until it opened. Rescuing the girl was more difficult because she was already in a state of shock and kept on screaming. She would not want to come out, so we practically dragged her out of the building. On the open grounds, she lost her consciousness.

The powerful temblor measured 7.7 in the Richter scale and lasted for 45 seconds.

When the aftershocks subsided, the school principal let us go home.

A week later, I returned to the school, and I had goose bumps all over my body with what I saw. The concrete beam which I pointed during my homeroom class, was the only one which fell. Was it foreboding? I fear not. I just thought that I had a more concrete lesson about faith.

I could only look back now, and say this famous line in Baguio once again: "I survived July 16!"


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