The Stupidity of War

The headlines scream at me with the regularity of conflict that the images metamorphose to numbness. If there is a cause the world should devote itself to, it should be peace. There is no conclusive proof that free-market economics will do the trick.

Let's concentrate on the word "free." What kind of freedom does a "free" man have when all he has is the freedom to starve with the burdens of government inefficiency, too many taxes, too many barriers ... when conflict in the Middle East will spike oil prices and drive prices of commodities even further.

Yup, cynicism is the order of the day - or perhaps guarded optimism at best. A little piece I'd like to share with you, written at the beginning of the Balkan conflict in the 1990's:

Little soldier girl, do not cry when the drums refuse to play.
They are dead and buried under the ground, you know.
Don't fret when the clap of the cymbals have ceased singing.
They have wasted away in silence, even as you are far away.
No matter how much you tried to hear them as the winds blow,
No matter even if you're a world apart or within hearing.

The sounds of the battle march were tried, and found wanting.
And your tears mean even less in your own hour of reckoning.

Little boys in men's clothing take up their standards of death
And spread them like cloaks, or perhaps like picnic cloths
That invite destruction and decay to feast upon their souls.
Watch and see, little soldier girl, the stench of their breath
As they gamble recklessly and with doom they cast their lots.
They know little, men that they are, the weight of their roles.

So do not cry when the joyous jigs are buried with the moles.
The din of their gaiety brings no laughter but from the poles.

And did you know, little soldier girl, that with each battle cry
Another drop of blood is spilled upon the ground, to sow the soil
With the seeds of death, so that more would die the next time?
Did you know that the cries of joy these men heave and sigh
Are the very shouts in the darkness against which all must toil?
There is no reason in the melodies you wish to hear, nor rhyme.

The echoes lash about themselves, destroying themselves in time.
And perhaps you may say the song of death has become sublime.

Little soldier girl, will you die for the din in their hearts
That cries for retribution, that shouts for revenge for wrongs
Of childhood that all must bear? Will you perish for dreams
Of fear, of bogeymen in the night, of wan witches and their arts?
Will you make them real as these men plan to do in their throngs?
Will they die for you, you who do not know what's real and seems?

The anger and hatred in them is ripping their souls at the seams.
And the discordant tunes that haunt you are nothing but dreams.

It's said that idle minds are the devil's workshop, and I agree,
As the train of thought urges one to take one's hands and grasp
That lowly piston of desire, to acquire some comfort from lust.
Little soldier girl, it is not war which would set them free,
For their guns spit only the scum from their fear-filled asps,
Cringing in their fear of unknown destiny rising from the dust.

And they still spew and fight, doing what they think they must.
But looking in their eyes, reality has powdered itself to rust.

And oh, the loneliness that cries out from their scarred sinews,
The greed which has wasted their speech into guttural laughter :
You know how it is, little soldier girl, when dreams have died,
There's no herald to shout and holler, no tome to break the news,
There's no one to pick up the broken pieces in the morning after,
There's nothing to make up for but the noise of slighted pride.

There's no song in the air and the whistle in the wind has died.
And you will stand all alone with only adversity by your side.

There's still time to grow, little soldier girl, time to scatter
All your dreams and sow them as seeds into the great wide beyond,
Time for you to live and be happy, time to cherish the beauty
Of all this world, time to ask and know what really is the matter
With all of life. There is time to bear your daughter and a son
Who will carry on all your dreams and live in all this bounty.

I can hear your song for them, but its voice is spent and empty.
The melody is mired in the stench, still it is proud and haughty.

Little soldier girl, the song foretold for you is beyond hearing.
Puny men decide the way you go, to show the size of their roles.
Let go, strive for happiness, look for the reason and the rhyme
In all of this madness; find the the true gold in all that seems
Glitter; raise yourself from the pile of filth and from the dust,
Give yourself a reason to brush your feathers and live in pride
For deep within you there's more than wealth, more than bounty.

Look for it deep within your heart. It's called the truth.

Forgotten

Does anyone want to live forever?
Does anyone want to love without pain?
In the rush to buy all things we've forgotten
Nothing we have is so easily won,
No road is better than the one we're on.
When this life ends, when everything is done,
Can eternal day make brighter the sun?
Glory fades soon after it's begotten
But no loss is lost; lost love is true gain
In memories of our lives together.

Housekeeping

Finally...I have put together all the relevant stuff I've written or thought about during the past year. There are still some holes in my narrative, such as my first impressions of the families living here in KSA, how things went in my Creative Writing classes, preparations for the show... or that span in July and August 2004 when I had to get my head down and learned what I needed to learn for my job.

There is also the matter of confidences shared that I could not possibly let the public know, or updates on family members - for example, after I left home, my sister laid out her stakes and went to Dubai. Of course there were times I had no time to think of other things except work. Certainly if I had time to post I'm not busy at all.

There is still some comfort level I have to attain writing this way and getting the hang of all the other enhancements will take some time, especially posting pictures - not so much of me since I am not at all photogenic, but of other people and events that have made this first year in KSA memorable.

I am not out of the woods yet - still three weeks to go! I got my ticket today and it's confirmed - I will be spending seven extra hours on my layover in Dubai before I board my flight to Manila. Major bummer! If only I could go to Dubai visa-free without flying Emirates, especially on the busy days of the week.

*Sigh* They said you can't have everything, but I certainly tried to on this trip. Still thankful anyway.

Grounded

High-flying, free
Waiting to break out into song
Buoyed by the flush of delight
Like's a lover's long-awaited first kiss

Gliding, swirling
Dewdrops on the freshest flowers
Expectant of self-fulfilling prophecy
A supplicant hoping against all hope

Hanging on a thread
Such is life of one like me
Nourished by hopes
It will all get better
Not wanting to wake up

Otherwise –

Grounded
World-weary, obscure
No pretending in the face of despair
No formulae or words

No mantras –
Humbled, silenced
Treading the world step by step
Mystery is all in the mind

Working Backward...

I've actually had this blog all of one day but I'm organizing my way backward ... digesting all the thoughts I've written down electronically or in my journals.

It's a nice new experience. If I had more time to learn this gig (my training in HTML coding is dated about five years) I'll put in all the bells and whistles. Anyway, for now this format would suffice.

How time flies. Eighteen years ago I was with a bunch of other people who enjoyed the mere sight of four million people crammed into such a tiny space called EDSA. I find Antoine de Saint-Exupery's statements in "A Little Prince" so true. It's strange that humans want so much space when you can cram the whole six plus billion of us into a small amount of space than we occupy all over the Earth. It gives me perspective on how fleeting things can be and that people are much more important than ideas.

But it's like working backward on this blog... one can't perfect the events of the past, one can only move forward. Looking back, though, teaches me that it's all so possible to regain the insight of the times. Still, human beings can be so stubborn. History does not repeat itself, really, it's just that humans learn so slowly.

Will there be another EDSA in store for the Philippines? I do hope so, not because we Filipinos need to throw out our leadership for one more time, only to allow other crooks and the crackpots to seize power, but only because the potential exists for us to want, to need, to act for that change.

Still, one can only work backward for so long. I have said this so many times during those retreats - for every moment that passes, the past becomes bigger and the future becomes smaller. There is no value to looking past or looking forward if one doesn't start doing something NOW.

Stultified

3:19 p.m. Arab Standard Time.

So reads the dial on my computer clock. Three weeks and counting before I go on vacation in the Philippines . . . I’m facing a creativity drain which is threatening all the rest of my normal professional functions.

Is work boring? No. Is life boring? No. I just have this overwhelming feeling that all this – doesn’t matter anymore! Funny, but that it should happen to me these past few days when this was the kind of feeling I had avoided during my entire sojourn in Saudi Arabia.

Let’s see what I can do to get out of this funk. Instead of being aimless in front of my computer, I’ll see if blogging will get me moving. Stay tuned.

Random Thoughts - Valentine's Day

Well, I'd like to say something again...business must be good on Valentine's Day.

Hate to sound particularly KJ, but isn't the point of a loving relationship is keeping the love-light burning on the 364 other days of the year? So what's all the fuss with Valentine's Day?

Paraphrase of Robert Jordan: "Women love to fall in love, but only with the one they really want. Men don't want to think of love, but fall in love with the first woman that ties a string to their hearts." Don't want to blame the women for the hubbub over V-Day, but hey, blame everyone else first, right? (O.k., I'm just kidding, girls. Don't delete me from your lists yet.) OTOH, men have their own salacious reasons for the day, and mostly illicit too, hehe.

Got interrupted midway on this post...proud to say that our group here in KSA did well on our first presentation - a voice recital from eight of our students. Some dancing, some acting, some hosting thrown in, mostly by pre-teeners and teenagers. I was not altogether pleased with the PROCESS of it getting done, but on the whole, it turned out to be a lot better than what I expected.

Hey, it would be great to celebrate Valentine's and have it mean something more than just the CHOREOGRAPHY of love. Maybe, for me, it's because there's no one to share it with, these days. (short pause...)Or maybe not. If that were true, there'd be no reason to love life the other 364 days of the year. And I like life a whole lot more these days even though on some days it can be tough even to smile.

Still, needs must that we observe the rites of love (the romancing and the dancing) for often these are actions that are too often neglected, or in some cases, commercialized and trivialized to an absurd degree. For every rite that makes one day different from other days, and one hour from other hours, there is just another business that goes with it.

I'd like to see more homemade cards that even though they don't come out like Hallmark's, make a bolder statement because of the effort that went into them. I'd like to read bad poetry because it says more of the courage of the person writing and saying them than just hitting the right note with a ready-made CD. I'd like to know more of the patient waiting at the corner just to see a glimpse of the treasured one, and oh, the delight of it!Those are the things that make V-Day really work. It doesn't mean to throw out all that other stuff, but that without the real magic behind them, they're just... BUSINESS.

Trouble is, if everyone just picked up love at every other time, there wouldn't be any fun for business at all during Valentine's Day, and that may be ruinous, wouldn't you say? But such spontaneous gestures for any other day, on the other hand, make for more worthwhile living, methinks.

Have good thoughts of loving, everyone.

Rebirth

For the gift of life, for the gift of love. For my late father, for my mother who waits for my return. For today, which would have been their forty-seventh wedding anniversary.

Once I wrote of birth, waiting to be reborn. For a memory fourteen years past, for a life fourteen years hence that I may be able to look at this time with fondness.

For my family - the one that gave me life, and for those others who shared their lives and gave me inspiration.

Ang Anak Sa Sinapupunan ng Ina
Nagising ako sa kadiliman.
Hindi ko alam kung sino ako, o ano ako.
Basta, ang alam ko, bunga ako ng pagmamahalan.
Nag-ugat ako sa isang handog ng pag-ibig.
Iyon pa lang ang nasasaisip ko, maligaya na ako.
Sino kaya ang nagbigay buhay sa akin?
Ano kaya ang ginagawa nila?
Ano ang kanilang katangiang kahanga-hanga?
Ano ang kanilang pagkukulang?
Handa ko silang mahalin, dahil binuhay nila ako...
Ewan ko ba kung bakit ganito ang naiisip ko.
Kabubuo ko pa lamang, ang dami ko nang tanong.

Ang Ina, Umaasa
Naramdaman ko ang buhay na namutawi sa loob ko.
Batid ko ang anak ko sa aking sinapupunan.
Lalaki ba siya, o babae? Matangkad o pandak?
A, basta, kahit ano pa siya, minamahal ko siya.
Kahit maging pangit pa siya para sa iba.
Sa akin, magandang-maganda siya, o kaya,
Napakaguwapo! Anak ko yata 'yan.
Hindi na bale ang paghihirap, kasama 'yan
Sa kaligayahang matatamo sa pagdadala ng bagong tao,
Bagong buhay dito sa mundong kinagigiliwan...
Sabik na akong halikan at hagkan siya,
Ang anak ko!...Mahal na mahal kita!

Ang Ama, Nagsasaya
Tatay na ako! Nabigyang katuparan ang aking inaasam!
Ang anak ko ang magiging pambato namin,
Ang pagyayabang ng aming pamilya!
Sana lalaki, tagadala ng pangalan, bisig na masasandalan!
Kung babae?...hahangaan ng buong pamayanan!
Hindi na ako makapagpigil, kailangan kong magsaya!
Tatay na ako, naiinitindihan ninyo ba ang ligaya
Ng mag-alaga at magpalaki ng iyong anak,
Ng magbigay-ligaya sa sanggol at sa batang lumalaki,
Ng magkayod at magsikap para sa kanyang kinakailangan?
Handa na akong magtiis para sa iyo, anak,
Mahal kita! Kahit sino ka man, mahal kita...

Ang Kapatid, Hindi Mapakali
Nadagdagan pa kami, biyaya raw ng Diyos.
Naku! Ang dami pang abala ng sanggol na iyan!
Ang dami pang kakulitan at kaguluhan ang bibigay niya!
At higit pa sa lahat, magmumukha pa akong matanda,
Kasi, mas bata siya sa akin....nakakahiya, 'no?
Diyahe pala ang matawag na ate o kuya, at manong o manang.
Pero...masarap sigurong maging bantay sa bata,
Nakakakiliti pa lang isipin na mayroong akong matuturuan,
Na ako ay magiging huwara para sa kanyang mabuting paghubog,
At higit pa sa lahat...mauutusan at mauuto!
Hindi naman, kasama iyan sa pagmamahal, sa kapatiran.
'Tol, kahit kailan, naririto ako para sa iyo.

Ang Ina
Anak ko, anong biyaya ang maibibigay ko sa iyo?
Anong pamanang maihandog na iyong pagyayabang?
Anong pagmamahal na iyong ikalalaki at ipapamahagi?
Anong pag-arugang iyong ilalakip na parang hiyas?
Anong parangal ang ikatataas at ikabubuti mo?

Ang Ama
Anak ko, sapat ba ang aking huwaran para sa iyo?
Ako ba'y nagtataglay ng kabutihang iyong sasaliminin?
Ako ba'y isang bayani sa iyong paninigin?
Ano pa ba dapat ang aking gagawin para sa iyo?

Ang Kapatid
Kapatid, sana hindi lamang tayo magkadugo, ngunit magkaibigan,
Na ang kadalisayan ng pagmamahal ang siyang pangpatingkad
Sa atin...ano pa ang aabutin ko para sa iyo?

Mga Gabay ng Sanggol
Kung hindi sapat ang puso ko sa pagbibigay ng pagmamahal,
Kung hindi sapat ang kamay ko sa pag-alaga,
Kung hindi sapat ang dugo't pawis ko sa pag-aalala,
Iaalay ko ang aking buong sarili...para sa iyo.

Ang Sanggol
Salamat, mga nagmamahal sa akin, salamat sa
Pagmamalasakit ninyo...Ano ang aking pagkatao
Na kayo'y magdulot ng inyong buong pagkatao,
Na kayo'y mag-alay ng inyong pag-ibig...
Sino ba ako? Bakit ako ganito kahalaga?
Ano ba ang aking halaga para sa inyo?
Sana, hindi maglaho ang inyong pangako...
Pero, alam, hindi mangyayari iyon, ibibigay ninyo
Kung ano ang makakaya ninyo...Sana, sana, sana,
Humigit ang handog ko inyo sa pagdaos ng panahon...
Iyan ang aking pangako, sana hindi ako mabigo...

Panahon ko na para maisilang!

I'll Be Seeing You Again...

When I first heard the confirmation that one of my friends had stomach cancer, I was dumbfounded. I had known that he had an operation to address a malignant tumor, but since I moved to KSA I had no idea how bad it was.

So I wrote my friends that our friend, indeed, is losing his fight against stomach cancer. I wrote: Please pray for him that he makes it to another round. It hurts to say it, but if not, please pray for him that his soul will be freed from anger, despair, and regret for the time he has remaining.

I was glad that in the intervening months between the operation and his death my friend accepted his impending mortality and learned how to treasure whatever time he had left. Battista said: "The greatest weakness of most humans is their hesitancy to tell others how much they love them while they're still alive." I'm glad in some small way, he knew that I cared.

At his passing, I was reminded of this story – I don’t remember where I first learned of it – about a man visiting an old lady’s grave. When I read the obituary of our friend –

CARLOS MIGUEL BALUYUT
June 11, 1976 – January 10, 2005

I wouldn’t measure his life by the number of years that he lived. I’d like to focus on the “–” that represented the entirety of his life. Funny that in most cases we are so focused on the beginning and end we never look at the “between.”

I dare not write a testimonial because I fear it will not be the truest and most faithful representation of Miggy. All I can say is that I treasure all the good times, and only wish I could have helped out more during the bad. As in all things I wish I could have been a better person to Miggy while he was still alive. My heart goes out to all of those who had to watch and wait for a dear friend to end his days.

One lesson that his life has taught me is that we can never celebrate life too much. No one can stay the inevitability of death, but only to live life as best as we could.

In the middle of 2004, I heard the news that the wife of one of my close colleagues from the Namfrel days died in a road accident, leaving behind a child who hadn't even celebrated his second birthday. Late last month, my mother's youngest brother died.

I have no personal connection with the victims of the recent calamities (especially the ones closer to home who were overshadowed by the Indian Ocean tsunami), but I empathize with the members of the affected communities as they get through the trauma such a tragedy has wrought on their lives.

Life is precious. But even more precious are those moments we share with those whom we love, and those moments of clarity where we fully realize the hand of God in our lives.

I’ll say no more before my sorrow swallows me up in front of my desk.

To all who were honored to be called friends by Miggy, be true and love one another always.

Miggy, I'll be seeing you again, someday.

What we do today, right now, will have an accumulated effect on all our tomorrows. - Alexandra Stoddard -

Having a little faith...

Adapted from my e-mail...

Happy New Year!

Now how am I going to make a few resolutions for this year?

As I write, I am down to three months and 17 days, or if one prefers to be exact, 76 days before my contract ends and I will be due for a vacation. Some of my Indian colleagues transpose their v's and w's and their f's and v's. In the first case, "visa" becomes "wisa," while in the second, I'd rather not quote how they pronounce "vacation."

Resolutions, resolutions, let's pull out a few ones out of the hat from years gone by:

2001: Hold on to a job, at least longer than one year.

Status: Achieved, though only in 2003. I'm fighting for the "inches" of my career, in the words of Tony D (played by Al Pacino) in "Any Given Sunday." So far, doing okay.

2002: Never be held hostage by the opinions of others.

Status: It worked a great deal in '02 and '03, but here in KSA I'm on a different operating system so the jury's still out.

2003: Get something meaningful done in my job.

Status: I FAILED! Which led to...

2004: Dust off the cobwebs on my career and do something more challenging and more importantly, more financially rewarding.

Status: Am now finishing my first OFW contract, which I never dreamed of doing. Ever. But now that I'm here, it's a mixed bag of good and bad. Mostly good.

So what does 2005 bring? It is said that the absence of one thing draws more acute attention to it. What I don't have here:

a) Constant presence of family
b) The nourishment from a spiritual community (technically I could get some, but I don't want to switch religions just yet, or to belong to an organized group over here)
c) A steady relationship which would lead to a commitment. Of course, the side benefits that go with it. Or not.
d) Alcohol (NOT!)

2004 has been a really rough year on the world. I'm not about to go "millennial" and say this is the time of the "rapture" (as wonderfully advertised by Wilde E. Almeda, hehe), but there are signs that for life to be more meaningful, we have to go back to what is important. PDA's, new cars and such trappings one may not have, but one may derive joy and contentment from what one does, or with those that one loves.

I'd like to say 2005 would be a great year to build up on my faith life. Whether this would bring me to other things, I don't really know. But that sense of wonder, that strength of conviction, I'm sure, would give me a more solid anchor in these challenging times. I trust it will do the same for you, too.

Have a great 2005 everyone!

"When you come to the edge of all the light you know, and are about to step off into the darkness of the unknown, faith is knowing one of two things will happen: There will be something solid to stand on, or you will be taught how to fly." - Barbara J. Winter -

New Year - Facing Adversity

"Authorities across the region are running out of places to put the dead -- lining them up in schools and stacking them in the street ..."

Watching the images of the aftermath of the Indian ocean tsumani unfold on my TV set doesn't give me a lot of confidence that New Year would be great. On the one hand, I could say, "The quake didn't happen to me." On the other, how could I say it can't affect me at all?

I am all the more thankful that for whatever dire straits I think my life has fallen into, I am still on my feet ready to face another day. I may be down and out, broke, depressed, lonely, or what-have-you, but I have life, and that means something. I have still the chance to do something good that matters in someone else's life.

I don't think I could say there is a just God. Not today. But I'd like to believe there's a reason we can find someplace. There's a reason to be happy, and that is I live and exist to give happiness to others, as much as I can, when I can.

Happy New Year!

"There are two ways of spreading light - to be the candle or the mirror that reflects it." - Edith Wharton

First Christmas, KSA-style

Our organization had its Christmas party last Friday. I was in the middle of the program when my eldest sister called, which was funny to me because I was at the podium at the time. I didn't want to host but then again, I was the only guy funny enough and hip enough (and stupid enough, to boot), I suppose, to do it. Thank God I didn’t have to do a Santa Claus. We had something like 70+ (maybe 100) people arriving. Lots of games, song numbers, and a bunch of idiots (nice idiots) lined up to join “You’re Da Man” that we channeled from MTB Ang Saya Saya! Needless to say, it was a rousing success.

For the Christmas reunion for the clan, the responsibility passed on to our family. The last time we hosted the gig was in 1997 and while it wasn't the best of parties, it was well-remembered. Needless to say, I was involved in it (Oh, don't you worry about modesty. I don't have any of it.)

I suggested that the family do something of an SCQ-TV Idol sort of thing for the children. I also sent them questions for a “Game Ka Na Ba?” simulation. I had plans to use this during our Christmas party but we did not have enough time.

Favorite song this week: “Que Sera Sera” by Doris Day. I watched Alfred Hitchcock’s “The Man Who Knew Too Much” with Jimmy Stewart and Ms. Day and the song was prominently featured in the movie, one of Hitchcock’s better ones (shame I couldn’t get a copy of “Psycho”). It’s really dumb singing: “When I was a little boy/I asked my mother/what will I be?/Will I be handsome?/Will I be rich?/Here’s what she said to me” in the morning.

I hope the folks would find a good place for the reunion. The traditional place - the Teachers' Association assembly hall beside our house - is ghastly.

If I had Christmas gifts back from home, I would wish for an MP3 collection of the Beatles’ albums. If not the bootleg CDs of the albums or their Anthology series should be selling in Quiapo. Tough luck for any of that stuff to pass through Saudi customs and immigration. But I can dream of my old tapes of Green Day, Nirvana, Stone Temple Pilots, and Guns and Roses, can't I?

On the other hand, I could go domestic and ask for a sewing kit to darn my clothes. (Damn, that washing machine is EVIL! A necessary one, anyway.) The weather has moved to the level of Tagaytay/Baguio-type cold, but not enough for me to want to wear a jacket yet. At least on a regular basis. I like the cold, anyway. It reminds me to wrap myself in a jacket and pretend I am hugging someone I love from back home.

Volunteerism

“The world may not always understand a person’s profession of faith but it can understand service.”

My thanks to Nicky Templo-Perez who gave me this apt greeting on World Volunteers’ Day, today… and to all the people who keep that torch of volunteerism bright, here’s a cup of the best Turkish coffee for you. And for those who have tried the real-deal Turkish coffee, you know what I mean that it’s a real pick-me-up on a slow day. Assuming you like it, of course.

There’s this grade-A mush (moosh) line in Pearl Harbor that goes “There’s nothing greater than a heart of a volunteer” (or something like that) mentioned by Alec Baldwin, but somehow to this day it still rings true.

Somewhere out there people are still doing their thing, volunteering whatever they can give, and here’s my note of thanks for them.

I somehow got untracked with my regular routine since I moved to a bigger apartment in the center of town last weekend. Don’t have a TFC connection yet (has its advantages and disadvantages), my refrigerator and kitchen utensils are not properly set-up and I have lost a lot of inclination to do my own cooking since all the good eating places are just a stroll away. When there’s a gaping hole left in my wallet I’ll probably start. At least I have my own bathroom but …. (go on to the next paragraph if you feel you’re not close enough to me, hehe) ….the toilet is in the Eastern style, so doing number two means having to squat. This is not so bad since one would really want to get out of the bathroom quickly as temperatures run into the friendly teens (Celsius) for the better part of the day.

Christmas here means a whole lot more to the kids and to those who have kids. I really cannot relate for the most part since I’ve stopped thinking about Christmas as a season a long time ago, starting from the time I started paying my own bills (a solid thirteen or so years running), and going without a steady relationship (except for SHARE, bless her) for about 80% of that time. I do reflect a lot on the whole meaning of Christmas these days, and try to get whatever spiritual nourishment I can get from meditation, prayer, singing a few hymns and occasional reading of contraband Bibles. On the last matter, such items normally belong to those who are either Born-Again or are part of avidly Christian groups with whom I have personal or ideological differences. It’s nice to have faith on a daily basis but some people can get to be a drag. Moving to an additional level of acceptance is not as easy as it was ten years ago, alas.

Classes in my literary writing clinic are winding down for the season since most families in our group are spending the Christmas holidays back home. Maybe if I stay here long enough I will probably find the opportunity to go home during December. I try to focus on the here-and-now as it is difficult to think about the might-have-beens back home and all the difficulties many of our countrymen are experiencing. We are organizing our own fund-raising efforts here for the families and communities ravaged by the succession of storms, but a number of us were affected. My boss, for instance, lost some P1M in investments on his farm in Mindoro following typhoon Unding.

I’m glad that for the most part everyone in my family is okay, though I do hear reports that one of my uncles is in failing health. While we are not on great terms, I sent my best wishes to him and pray for him as much as I can.

Eid Mubarak and Remembrance

Eid Mubarak!

Ramadan has officially ended. More or less we will be back in a normal groove for our schedule. Muslims all over are practically celebrating – legally there is no work but I go to work anyway – no one wants to be trapped “not celebrating” or making like a vegetable in front of the TV set.

For non-Muslims, the best analogue to Ramadan is like rolling Lent and Christmas all into one. While I’m not to criticize somebody else’s religion if it works for them, I just find it funny that instead of losing weight and reflecting on the words of the Prophet during this time, people actually eat more and end up being more vacant-eyed during the day.

As for me, eating in secret (especially if one finds great leftovers in the fridge) has always been a thing to do even during my days back home, so nothing is different. Hehe, but I do hate having to eat big meals instead of small snacks. It was difficult doing it during the entire month, but now I can munch as much as I want on my desk.

The days of remembering have just gone by. I said a prayer for the dearly departed before I went to bed and got to reflect on some life lessons.

Life does pass us by, and there’s rarely a relationship where there is finality – there’s always something you want to say that is left unsaid, there’s something you wish to do for that person, or to do together with that person, that remains undone. Obviously there’s nothing more to be done but to appreciate each moment – because just as that familiar letter-writing activity goes, saying “I love you” can never be done too many times. And ironically, we yearn to say these words when it’s already too late.

Hindsight is the most common form of wisdom. At the same time, I always remember that line from “The Matrix” which has been very instructive: “Knowing the path is different from walking the path.” You can add “Being the One is like being in love – you just know it, balls to bones.”

So now, back to life and living. There are days when I miss my father terribly, but since he is gone the only thing I wish to do is that I could do the same for my future family all the good that my father has made it possible for our family. I pray that I will be true to this promise. As to the bad… well, I wouldn’t have known the good if not for the bad.

The Burden of Memory

A remembrance for my father, dead these past eleven years.

Plea (Song for my Father)

I break the silence of my heart to cry.
I crave for the truth even as I lie.
Understanding that words are never enough
To express the warmth of dreams, the stuff
That allows visions to live and be true.
Oh, for the life that belonged to you!

Is it inevitability that laid first claim,
For no heralds call out to shout your name?
Or has weak human flesh denied us our fate,
For unearned wisdom that arrived too late?
Time has come for the toll of your bell . . .
When my memories fail what more can I tell?

In peace or oblivion goodbyes are so trite
However I wish, or will with all of my might
Even as I gasp out the very life of my breath
My love will never match the power of death.

Walking Down Old Paths

I opened up some of my old work and this poem struck me for its length - it was meant to be a closed-eye experience, called "autogenics" in our seminar-jargon so long ago. Fourteen years ago have not stained the freshness of the thoughts. I would tend to hate the construction, but what do I know? Dedicated to SHARE Batch 10, November 1991. Many thanks, Gina V!

Journeying Within The Self

The First Voice
I am the voice of your inner shadow.
Let your world escape from your mind.
Let the shadows be the expression of your being.
For in this shadow without your world's glitter,
The wholeness of your being takes shape.
For in this darkness nothing else would give light
But the beauty of your person...

Let it come forward! Let your self find its voice,
Among the din of wayward melodies
Which you call upon for your guidance.
Drop the pale figure of your everyday masks
For here they are nothing but ghosts
Insubstantial forms, nothing more
Like the shadows which encase your being...

The Second Voice
We wear these masks to protect ourselves
To hold off everybody we meet,
For they savor the glamor of the creation
And not the simplicity of that
Which comes from the heart.

We seek to protect that image
We carefully contrive for ourselves
So that we can keep what we can
To satisfy our petty whims and egos.
For this is our only safety,
To be secure in what we believe in.

But stop! For the shadows catch up
To tear away at your wrappings
And reveal all your confusions,
And wounds, and scars, and fears...
Which you try to overcome
By running away...but you cannot.

The Third Voice
You don't wish to recall
The time you felt so hurt, so empty,
So much draped in your loneliness.
You are alone here in this darkness,
With only your conscience for company...
Do you remember how does it feel to be alone?
How does it feel to see
All your dreams shattered,
All your aspirations dashed to pieces?
How does it feel to be imprisoned
By your own masks and lies?
Your empty shell breathes its hollowness,
And the silence becomes deafening...

You cannot run away from truth,
But you can start facing yourself...
For in this shadow comes your light
And it speaks to you, saying ---

The First Voice, softly
I am the beauty which is barely heard
Like some sweet melody
Which visits your ears in that moment
When you are at peace with yourself.

I am the inspiration which opens
Your mind to scale greater heights
And break down barriers
To reach your goal.

Come, reach for me...
Journey within that being you call
YOURSELF...
And find me there, waiting.

The Second Voice, imploring
Don't be afraid of pain
For in pain comes happiness.
But for loss, we will never understand gain.
But for smallness, we will never see immensity.
But for limitations, we will never grasp forever.
But for selfishness, we will never know sacrifice.
But for loneliness, we will never feel love.

The Third Voice, inviting
Let your soul begin this journey
To seek and understand yourself
To grapple with the darkness
And discover your inner light.

Let your mind find its peace
Among your life's wellsprings
This is the beckoning call of our search:
To find ourselves through service.

Buhayin Mo Ang Pangarap Mo

Dedicated to the students of the La Salle Greenhills Adult Night High School, who at one time enriched my life. Karangalan po ang paglingkod ko sa inyong lahat.

Buhayin mo ang pangarap mo.
Hindi tulad ng agos ng tubig sa dagat
Ang buhay natin sa mundo.
Kung mayroon mang katuparan
Sa lahat ng iyong inaasam
Kailangan nito ng iyong lakas
Sapagkat nasa iyong kamay ang bukas.
Kung pangarap mo'y magiging iyo
Huwag kang magpapalito,
Kung ika'y may hinahanap
Buhayin mo ang pangarap mo.

Buhayin mo ang pangarap mo.
Sa pagsikat ng araw mapapawi ba
Ang pangamba mo sa puso?
Kung mayroong mang paglunas
Sa sugat ng iyong damdamin
Kailangan nito ng pag-unawa
Sapagkat ikaw ang bubuo ng diwa.
Kung pag-ibig ay tataglayin mo
Himukin ang 'yong puso
Kung nais mong umibig
Buhayin mo ang pangarap mo.

Sa lahat ng araw na ginawa ng Diyos
Inilaan Niya ang pagkakataong
Matamo natin ang kanyang itinakda.
Hindi sapat ang pamarisan lamang
Natin ang nakaraan.
Sapagkat ang iniwan sa ati'y lubos
Para sa lahat ng panahon.
Hindi ba't inilaan Niya
Ang buhay para sa ating utang
At sandaigdigang kasalanan?

Buhayin mo ang pangarap mo.
Mapaparisan ba ng liwanag ng buwan
Ang ilaw ng iyong puso?
Mahirap mang paniwalaan
Ang ganitong katotohanan
Ikaw lamang ang makatatamasa
Sa kabuuan ng iyong pagnanasa.
Kung apoy sa puso'y mabubuhay
Huwag umasa't maghintay,
Kung ika'y may ninanasa,
Buhayin mo ang pangarap mo.

Buhayin mo ang pangarap mo.
Maitatago mo ba ang iyong damdamin
Sa lahat ng mga tukso?
Dayain mo man ang iba
Huwag lang ang iyong konsiyensiya.
Kung dala na paghamon ay pangangamba
Manalig ka at huwag mabahala.
Kung mayroong kasukat ang panahon
Ikaw lang ang may sagot doon.
Kung nais mo ang mabuhay,
Buhayin mo ang pangarap mo.

The Malpractice of Suing Malpractice

In reaction to the news raised by one of my doctor-friends

http://news.inq7.net/opinion/index.php?index=1&col=&story_id=13862

My .02 on this –

Medical malpractice law must be rooted first in the improvement of medical services. Rather than using the malpractice law as a goad to pinpoint accountability and assign blame, the key factors government should be considering are:

1. The state of the medical profession in the country
2. The professionalism and adequate preparation of medical professionals
3. Giving appropriate monetary and non-monetary rewards and recognition to medical professionals to prevent their exodus
4. Making basic medical care more affordable to the greater mass of the Filipino public.
5. Increasing basic public health awareness so that medicine will be more preventive than curative.
6. Putting more money in public health programs as a percentage of GDP.

The other obvious factors in developing a medical malpractice law are:

• Creating and maintaining a largely incorruptible implementing mechanism. Who determines the degree of malpractice or neglect? How will they be selected? What is the nature of their involvement – paid or voluntary, temporary or permanent? How do you make them resistant to monetary or other forms of pressure? And most importantly – what makes you sure that making them cops won’t ruin their professional competence and/or judgment?
• Ensuring that cases are adequately and expeditiously filed and decided upon. Who will report cases? Who will conduct preliminary investigation? How will you secure support from hospital administrators? Where will documentation support come from? Who will rotate the evaluation of cases? How many people will you assign eventually to the whole support structure? How will you ensure that cases of “justice delayed, justice denied” will not proliferate?
• How can you protect doctors from wrongful filing or nuisance cases?
• How will you educate doctors in the nuances of the law? And who will educate them? How do you assign levels of accountability – supervising physician, ER physician, head nurse, shift nurse….heck, even the freaking janitor – when a case comes up?
• In the end, where will all the money come from to make sure this law is properly implemented?

I realize that there are a lot of holes in what I just mentioned, and/or somehow there are structures in place that will do some of the roles…

The government can’t implement a medical malpractice law, not with health care receiving less than 5% of total GDP! It’s f**king crazy if you ask me. The medical profession is best served by a better government program that is focused on developing better health professionals and delivering medical services where they are most needed, i.e. at the rural and barangay levels.

To do that, there are several directions, but the one that sounds best to me is to make internships and training more “organic,” i.e. assigning more interns to do more community work.

The real winners for any medical malpractice law in the Philippines would be the insurance and the medical supply companies, i.e. pharmaceutical manufacturers, medical laboratories, the whole kit-and-caboodle that support the medical profession, without necessarily translating into better medical services. Doctors will ask for more tests, more lab work, instead of doing some real doctor-ing. Yup, these “do-gooders” will have just ensured that medical professionals will seek work overseas, where at least their medical insurance bills would be covered by the higher standard of living of their patients and higher paychecks for them, too.

A law is needed, but lawmakers and public affairs people should first put the state of public health in the Philippines in the proper context.

That’s just about it. More if I think of something later.

Birthday

It's my birthday today. Shhh... I'd rather not hear the words, "Happy Birthday!"

I think I started hating my own birthday, subconsciously, when I was about five or six years old. My brother and I were horsing around in our backyard, where we had a basketball half-court. For some reason or another, the horsing around became a serious shoving match. Naturally, though my brother gave up a few pounds on me, he was older by two years, taller, and probably stronger. So my right eye received the business end of the concrete. I was glad I didn't lose any teeth (in other news, I did get back at my brother by loosening his tooth for him in another episode).

Anyhow, I bawled like the big crybaby I was and fell asleep. It was about five in the afternoon. Because of the fight, my parents chose not to wake me up. So they ate all the goodies prepared for that day and my brother ended up blowing the candles on my cake. Bummer.

Birthdays also often meant periodical exams in school so I never really enjoyed this time of year. Still, it was a bit of fun because two of my other classmates and I had back-to-back-to-back birthdays from the 3rd to the 5th.

Then there was that incident during the time of my 18th birthday when I was finishing some papers for my PoliSci class. It was the 40th day since my maternal grandfather had passed on. He was literally salt of the earth, a carpenter who loved making things with his hands until the last few months of his life.

So there I was, rushing to get some work done. It was 3:00 a.m. and I was writing like crazy to get the work done - no PC then and the typewriter would have been too loud (yes, I am dating myself impossibly here). To this day, I can swear that I heard some noises – first of a saw cutting its way through plywood, then the hammering of nails into wood.

My hackles rose and goosebumps broke out all over my body – but I ignored the sounds at first. It was only when I heard the tinkling of glass, as if my grandfather was pouring himself a shot of Tanduay on ice, that I finally gave up, left the kitchen and lay down on the couch. While I closed my eyes and blacked out the sound, I said a prayer for the repose of his soul. Whether or not that worked, I fell asleep anyway.

(No, I wasn't smoking weed that day. And I wasn't drinking.)

Then there are the specials called... the birthday break-ups!

(Pause... let me digest that line for just one more moment...)

This is the tenth year in a row when something has overtaken my birthday and I was not able to celebrate it with my family. If I can't celebrate it with them, then there's no reason for me to.

Still, a birthday is a chance to be thankful for the gift of life, and hard as it may be for some, life will always be precious. A birthday is a chance to say "thank you" to those who have given me life and nurtured me to become the person that I was. My life is a testament to what they have done for me, and though at times I would tend to blame them for living their life through mine, I'm oh so very glad that they bothered in the first place. Others aren't as lucky.

Happy birthday to me.

Hopes

It's been three years since the fateful events of this day occurred in New York.

I was still late at work rushing to get some papers finished for my boss at that time since he was traveling to Vietnam for the ASEAN Economic Ministers' Meeting as a private-sector representative, and later on to join the President in Japan.

We received a call just past midnight that the news was sprayed all over the broadcast media. The mighty towers had been hit. America took a sucker punch - before the day was over, there was reported loss of around 2,800 lives. I doubt if there was less, but probably there were more unreported deaths that day.

I'll spare myself getting worked up over the catchwords of violence, living as we do in a culture of violence.

It was also around the time that I left one of my previous jobs - one of a series of messy break-ups some people would call abandonments. In fact it was just my second day at my job when the attacks took place. While I was not meant to be with the good folks at the consultancy I left - I did learn one thing from them.

It was how to put a capsule of hope into a set of statements that will define who and what I am. It was not the first time I tried to put my beliefs and values on paper, but this was the first time I had mastered all the tools to make sure I can make these beliefs come true. In a sense, these were not only the things I stood for, but also the things I had always hoped for to achieve in this life.

On this day where the world remembers atrocity, I would like to remember those whose heart-wrenching stories I have not yet heard, because I have been too privileged to encounter them in this life.

And so I renew my stands:

I stand for truth, love, beauty and goodness.

I stand as a concerned citizen of the world, willing to contribute what I can toward making this world a better place.

I stand for a world that is moved by change, yet molded by the ideals I hold dear.

I stand for the cooperative work of all people, able to share peacefully in the resources of this world.

I stand as a unique and special individual, deepening and sharing my intimate relationship with my Creator.

I stand, open and waiting for the challenges that each day would bring me.

Defying Solitude

I cannot help but feel squeamish when I remember the time I recognized the stirrings of love. As the good poet Gibran says "Love gives naught but itself and takes naught but from itself. Love possesses not nor would it be possessed; For love is sufficient unto love. "

But first, one must learn courage to defy solitude.

This piece is for Cherry and Bobby P., who provided the inspiration and worked in my contribution. They also had the grace in first performing it more than 15 years ago. Thanks to Randy Crawford, who lives on in "senti" songs designed for retreats. It's sad but Googling "The Competition" does not yield quick results as to who composed the soundtrack. It's not a riveting earthquake, but that soundtrack played a part in changing a lot of lives.

And for Bambi F. (the memory of whom awakens all sort of squeamishness in me). My voice as the Voice Alone first recognized itself because of you. This voice is older now, and even though I don't know the what-might-have-been's, it's still nice to think of you sometimes.

People are gathered in the dark, illuminated by candles. The voices call out in the darkness.

The Woman
I am not who I was.
I am not going to be who I was going to be.
You changed all that.

The Man
I am not who I was.
I am not going to be who I was going to be.
You changed all that.

The Woman
You are not who you were.
You are not going to be who you were going to be.
I changed all that.

The Man
You are not who you were.
You are not going to be who you were going to be.
I changed all that.

Together
The separate paths we once took crossed
And suddenly became one.
Our lives are no longer yours nor mine alone.
We could never have who we are now
Without each other.

The Voice Alone
I am alone.
In my dreams I walk deserted paths.
In my life I hold forth that shell
With which I ward off everybody.
In my work I do my best to grab it all
And keep all the credit just for me.
In my hours of loneliness I clutch
At my security blankets, whatever's there.
And in my prayers I cry out loud, HELP ME!
But I hear only the passing darkness
. . . and I feel the swelling blackness.
Yes, I am alone.

I am afraid.
As I move closer to loving another person
I fear risking myself, and losing my love.
As I spend the hours in vigilance, alone,
I tremble to experience my own insignificance.
As I stand between the paths of taking and giving
I dread of doing the wrong thing
And end up doing nothing.
And in my soul again I scream, HELP ME!
But no one listens to my plea
. . .no one really cares for me.
Of this I am afraid.

I am confused.
Bewildered by my own universe
I can't understand my own self.
Puzzled by the feelings of others
I never really have felt a fullness.
Mystified by God's grace
I abstain from seeking my own soul.
Confused about my own course
I refuse to care about my life.
And there my spirit shouts, HELP ME!
But I don't see my own hand
. . . I can't help me see myself.
Oh, I...I don't know!

I am angry.
Why shouldn't I be angry
When this world gives nothing to me?
Why shouldn't I be resentful
When I share no love with another?
Why shouldn't I be hateful
When I've never known happiness?
Why shouldn't I be furious
When everything's been so unfair?
Yes, why would I cry, HELP ME?!
But no one really has,
. . .because no one can hear me.

For I am alone, and so unhappy.
I cannot be anything else,
And here I stand, in my empty shell.
I nurse my fears and feel my way
Alone, smoldering at my weakness.
I have failed to love, and so must
Failure come in my living life.
I am alone, my loneliness
Envelops me, and I am no more.

The Woman
What are you looking for?
What do you want to happen?
Aren't you satisfied with what life has to offer?
Will you ever be content?
Will you ever know?

The Man
Then I will sing a song of companionship;
I will show what alone must finally answer these.
I believe these are to find
our own ideal of human love
revealing it in you.
Therefore let me take you
somewhere you have never traveled.
For who but we should understand love
with all its sorrows and joys?
Who but we should be the creators of friends?

All Together
People alone may go very fast
But maybe not so far.
Playing alone is still solitaire,
Remember?
People alone may reach for a love
But only half as well.
People alone may seem satisfied. . .
How can they tell?

Anniversary

Adapted from my e-mail.

Happy birthday SHARE! Happy birthday to Marcial Soriano, one of the co-founders of SHARE (isn't he the coolest?)

I’m taking a little time off from “The Life of Otep” to say a few things ----

First, I am glad that we have continued to be in touch through our e-forum for airing out our views and sharing a little bit of our lives. I wish more people were more participative though.

I am glad that many people have continued to live the SHARE spirit in their lives even though we as an organization have not continued doing so. For those who plod on and try, kudos to you and I am behind you all the way even if I am all the way over here in KSA.

I am glad for the many friends that I have met through SHARE and even though at times I was not the best in my role to them (co-facilitator, center person, work colleague, or simply a person to hang out with), I am so grateful that so many have chosen to stick it out with me. One day I pray I will be given an opportunity to be there when I am needed.

I am glad for the education for life that SHARE has made possible for me and that I have learned so much more than I ever expected, received more than I have given, and blessed more than making it possible for others to be blessed through me. In some crazy way, I am humbled because I never thought I gave enough to the people we served and more importantly, to you the people that I have worked with for the 15 or so years I have been involved in SHARE before I left the Philippines.

I believe there is still room, what’s more, time for all of us SHARE people to move ourselves in a new direction if not a new ministry. I only wish that I had done more when I had the opportunity to do so back home.

Most of all, I believe in all of you who have lived, loved, learned with SHARE, have freely given, have shared joy and pain, blood, sweat, and tears all throughout these years. I pray that our guiding lights (the Brothers) will continue to be strong amidst the challenges and remain as inspiring to other youth so that they too, in their own way, blaze a path of, and to, service for youth at risk. I pray for everyone in this group (and especially those who are out of the loop) ... and even as I realize each of us has his or her own intentions, my prayer is for us to continue in the faith and that we continue to strive to put meaning in our lives and in the lives of others.

So goes another year in the life of SHARE. May we all have another year and much more together.

Happy birthday, SHARE. And... everyone, thank you.

(For those who don't but would really like to know, SHARE is the Service for Human And Religious Experience organization, founded in 1982 by graduates of La Salle Greenhills high school. Up until the year 2000, SHARE was active in administering retreats, recollections, and training seminars for Lasallian communities and in other apostolates.)

Waiting on Robert Jordan

Dang that Robert Jordan! How could he create a compelling series with such great pace to begin with and then degenerate into nothing! I agree with those who say that with "Crossroads of Twilight," the tenth volume of The Wheel of Time Series, Robert Jordan has managed to sandbag the pace of the series to a halt with the number of plots and sub-plots.

It was really fun until "The Dragon Reborn" and despite the drop-off in volumes 4 and 5, volume 6, "Lord of Chaos" has one of the best magic and metal fight sequence. Now the series is pitifully dragging out, begging for an ending. Jordan should just finish the series and come out with separate books on the sub-plots.

Even one of the most verbose of writers, Stephen King, took a jab at Jordan in his auto-bio/how-to book “On Writing.” Jordan is simply not getting to the point. I loved the series all the way to “Lord of Chaos.” “A Crown of Swords” was the first indication that the series would start to suck, especially the darned ending.

Obviously, TOR and Jordan are milking the series for the cash cow it is. The complete novel “A New Spring” came out and now Jordan will complete a three-book series on how Moiraine and Lan came to the Two Rivers just in time to take the ta’veren in hand. What a sell-out. I would have been happier to see that Jordan wrote the story of Rand (a.k.a. Tyr/the Fisher King) as one whole and give Mat (a.k.a. Odin/Heimdall/Rig) and Perrin (a.k.a. Thor/Perrun) their own book series to complement Rand’s story. Hell, you can throw in one whole book each for Egwene, Elayne, and Nynaeve, the history of Aes Sedai, how the Seanchan became Seanchan, the rise and fall of Artur Hawkwing, and the War of the Shadow. The last I would have enjoyed had Jordan written it as a separate series instead of making footnotes or references to it everywhere in WoT.

But I'm sure once the next book comes out, I'll be among the first in line to buy it. I'm such a sucker. It's worse than being whipped by your woman, not that I would know anything of that right now.

Relevance

Maybe I should put down more of my "political beliefs" in this blog. NOT!

Other than the random rant, what more can I say that hasn't been said? I don't think it would be such a good idea for me to do anything of that sort, given the fact that I am steeped in cynicism. I did wave the placards once, got gassed and received volleys from the water cannon back in the day. Somehow that seems to be one feverish dream, as if all the anger for a formless, shapeless Establishment was drained away.

Where is the relevance of seeking more rights for the people? Where is the righteous indignation over the decline of the Filipino spirit? Or of atrocities occurring in Iraq? Or of the unjust hegemony of the United States? Would I really think about what would happen if G.W. Bush would win a second term?

If I had wanted a career in government, maybe I should talk more about injustice. But the cause for change shouldn't come from without, but from without. In pragmatic terms, drawing from Machiavelli, it doesn't really matter what a "statesman" or a government does, it is how it achieves its results. Power in itself is its own means and ends.

If, however, someone crows loudly about "might for right" just look back and see how well that he, she, or it, matches the stated aims with the procedure and the result. That will be the yardstick of success and credibility. Given the way things stand, it still pays to be in the good graces of the United States. Whatever governments/groups do in foreign policy to oppose or coalesce with the US, or to advance certain economic or cultural policies, it is because they see that it is in their interest to do so. The results may be disappointing to some, but that is the reality we have, and will remain so until parochialism of one form or the other will be replaced by a true Earth-based ideology, or "Earthism."

That will be the relevance I am aiming for.

Mantra

A theme song - not to end all theme songs, but from which there is a beginning

In 1988, I joined a retreat that said "YES" to Life - Search-In of La Salle Greenhills. In tribute, I would like to share this song, a mantra, if you would have it, written by John Klemmer. My oldest brother liked him so much he bought the cassette tape. It has since been eroded and lost, but up to this day I can recall the soulfulness of his rendition, the simple accompaniment, the texture of the song.

It's not heavy stuff, and I won't pretend it is. It opened my mind to new doors, doors which were hurtful to pass through, but gave my life meaning nonetheless. And so it goes:

Time to hear the ocean
Time to see the sky
Time to close my eyes
Just to feel
Just be real

A chance to run and roam
A place that I call home
A woman and child of my own
Just for me
Just be free.

A star to reach for
So little yet so much more
Something I can really hold on to
A love I take with me
A hand to lead me
All I ever wanted was my life.
All I ever wanted was my life.
All I ever wanted was my life.

Time to work and play
Time to think and grow
Time to search and know
Who I am
If I can.

A chance to find my soul
To understand my role
All I ever wanted was my life
Was my life
Was my life.

On Being Angelo de la Cruz

"We’re under the gun, man. We gotta fight.”

Just a classic line from “The Godfather.” We’re under the gun, and we have to fight.

I don’t know about you, and I’m not riding any bandwagon, but the recent decision of the GMA administration to cave in to terrorists’ demands raises the fear level of all OFWs here in Saudi Arabia. But this move does not surprise me in any way. We groveled to high heavens in the last two prominent OFW cases to hit the media, Sarah Balabagan and Flor Contemplacion. In one, the media coverage and the diplomacy helped; in the other, we had three biopics and still an unsolved case, if you believe the said movies.

And then there was the Abu Sayyaf.

Face it folks, we had this coming for a long time. Some people may say, “Conviction is best from one at the sidelines.” Again, I don’t know about you, but I live here in the Middle East, where a proverbial powder keg may explode any time. I’d like to be brave, but these days, I’d rather be ignorant.

But, in all fairness, let’s not ride Angelo de la Cruz ragged through all this. The guy had hard choices to make; he had the bad luck of being in a convoy that was bound to be attacked. He is neither saint, villain, nor hero. He’s just an ordinary guy, as ordinary as anyone can be.

And again,In all fairness, let’s not ride Mrs. Arroyo ragged through all this. She just moved heaven and earth to win the presidency and yet there still are clouds of doubt over her legitimacy as President of the Philippines. She just gave away our remaining shreds of decency to pander to the mob.

Through it all, here is poor OFW, asking for a place where he can work, where he can put his talent to some use, be some help to the family, wondering how he can live through this day and the next.

Folks, we’ve been wearing tattered shreds of self-respect for a long time. It’s just like that bold starlet who went to a publicity shoot wearing a paper dress crying foul that she is being pawned off to satisfy a politician’s lust and fantasies. Ummm… hello, did I just hear a sound of protest?

Hate it if we must, celebrate it while we can, the still-undecided soap opera of Angelo de la Cruz is just another sad and sorry episode of the life of every Filipino.

But hey, look at the bright side. This guy’s life can probably make a blockbuster movie. Bring out the popcorn and the tissues…

Flaming Out

Lucas.

That movie brings to mind so many memories. How I loved Winona Ryder then, and even now I still remember the innocence with which I viewed relationships. Man, did I want to be Corey Haim, the lucky bastard.

Lucas was one of those last movies in high school that I remember watching with my brother – before the onset of the change that wasn’t a change. I think of him and somehow I am welling up inside with pain and pity. What a waste of a life.

There is neither reason nor design that I understand what has been wrought in my brother’s life. Could it be that God, in His infinite wisdom, doled out hardship to the innocent as well as to the guilty? One can say something about Job, he who dared to grapple the infinity of God, and succeeding, in his own way, to make God acknowledge him. Sure, the Lord restored Job to full health and gave him a new family to live the happily ever after.

But the book never did talk about the injustice or the deaths of Job’s older children.

Ah, Lucas, Lucas – I remember the locusts that were an integral part of the movie’s atmosphere. These were the 17-year locusts that wait all those years, experience a frenzy of growth, and then flame out. For my brother, he was 17 when he reached the height of who he could have been, and then he flamed out. How he has been since then, well, is just like being a 17-year old. On the verge of getting somewhere, but somehow not getting there…. on the verge of discovering himself, but somehow never achieving it.

That’s his life, that’s his fate. As much as I try to get away from that fate, we are bound by a common heritage and bonds that cannot be denied. Denial never does erase the sense of helplessness. I am not Job, still a Lucas who survived getting out of his cocoon, but still looking for a new place to take root.

Devoid of Inspiration... Removing Masks

One of my all-time favorites, written way back in 1991. The angst is dripping like venom. Today, I am devoid of inspiration and must go back to the memories. For Lonie P, who asked me to try.

Welcome to this masquerade!
Welcome to your daily world, children of God.
Welcome to your faces
Which you wear like clothes :
Different styles for differing purposes.

Voice out your greetings to everyone here,
For this is the side you present,
This is the profile you labor to show.

Welcome ! Welcome !
Don't be afraid of each other;
After all, everyone is hiding behind a mask.
What is there to fear?

Are you afraid that others will find
That you are not as strong as you seem
That you are not as cheerful as you pretend
That you are not as interesting as you intend
That you are not as you great as you dream?

Are you afraid that even with the mask
Others will find you unwholesome,
Or uninteresting,
Or a person below their notice?

You have the masks on,
So why bother to hide,
When the pretty image you present
Is what they too expect?

They expect that you'll be happy
When you're so torn up deep inside.
They expect that you'll carry on
When your soul cries out for rest.
They expect your cheerful countenance
When you want to cry and berate them.
They expect your willing hand
When it is all so bruised and broken.

And yet, these masks make you so happy,
Or is that how shallow you can be?

For your masks are like clenched fists
Which push through every obstacle
But punish every knuckle
With the pain of each hard strike.

Your satisfaction demands it.
Your self-serving wishes advise it.
Your blind expectations will it.
I WILL LIVE BEHIND THIS MASK!
I will be what others want me to be,
Even if it hurts,
Even if it plunges me into self-hate!
I will lie to myself so I can lie to others...
I want to keep these smiles of companionship
So I will give them what they want
At the risk of being so utterly lonely inside...

Your yearning for truth asks for deliverance...
Must you always be what others wish for?
Can you not be yourself and thus be more?
More than that pale profile you must cast
Like an unseemly shadow in the world of bright light.

You are as bright as any illumination,
You are just like any star that shines at night
For every pain and hurt that scars your being
Is like the stroke of the blacksmith's hammer
That forges the sharpness of your spirit.
For every tear that you must shed
Is like the burden which hardens your sinews
That gives you the very power to stand.

Open your heart to yourself
As you open a hand to reach out...
This same hand that opens to its very palms
Can strike down any hurdle
A lot better than any clenched fist.

Yes, the pain would sear much further
For you do not have the protective wrappings.
All the better, for the pain which you dread
Is the very love which sanctifies your sacrifice.
The scars which would come forth from these wounds
Would be your trophies of growth,
As with seeds which must die in order to bloom.

You are what you are, your masks cannot change that.
Lies wrapped up in themselves fade away easily
Before that chance wind which breaks them all down...
You are what you can be, and yet you settle for less
When you can share in each other's pain
And give solace to each other's hurt
And pull down the walls of each other's fall
And reveal your true persons beyond the confusion.

Stop! And look at one another,
How ridiculous must people be to show beauty
When true beauty comes from the appreciation
Of each blemish and imperfection
Which you can change with the love of others...
Stop! Listen to the call of your souls...
Take the masks off, and take that risk...
NOW....

On the Importance of Being Filipino

Before we take any pride in the thought that portions of the world would shut down if ever the Overseas Filipino Workers would disappear, I'd like to pause and think differently, just like a wise soul once said:

"We should stop kidding ourselves that we are important in this world. We are as ordinary as the Bangladeshis as they are as ordinary as the Americans. If we want to be recognized, we have to sweat it out like any other instead of making false claims. We should attempt to perform well as individuals. Let us feed our kids and send them to school. That we can do, and do greatly. Because as a race, we have been mixed up too much in the cauldron of opposing cultures. We are diluted as astreet hawker's buco juice in some aspect, and dense as Petron's motor oil in some others.

So, a world without Filipinos? I think the world might not even notice. Reality bites. So our recourse really is just to try to do well as individuals. If our kids notice us as good parents, well that's a greater reward."

If Filipinos were to disappear from Saudi Arabia, we would open the labor market to engineers from places such as India or Indonesia who are just as qualified but maybe not as skilled in communication or not as savvy in learning. The Saudis have done just as well with Indian surrogates for positions once held by Filipinos, and in the general labor market Filipinos have been overtaken by Bangalis (Bangladeshis) and Pakistanis. After all, the Saudis can live with the mediocrity of their citizens. They can live with the mediocrity of others less qualified than Filipinos.

Besides, many Filipinos who have been here a long time have become rather arrogant. I shared this thought with some of the veterans in this place: “Cast your net about in the Philippine labor market, and see where you do stack up. Better transform yourself into an entrepreneur, and you would be a bigger hero than you would think.”

I think the more important question is to focus on what can be done in the Philippines. We’re famous as a cautionary tale, and making the change seems to be an impossible task. I don’t propose any quick-fix solution within one post, or even thousands. We must however, as individuals, do our best to change our situation without hurting others. This is the best thing we can do insofar as our desire for “societal change” works, at least as a common denominator.

Putting forward a hypothetical situation:

"A Filipino (X) in Sydney toiled hard and saved about 50,000 Aussie dollars in 6 months. He plans to invest it in a house for his family. Then another Filipino (Y) comes along and asks to borrow half of that money for a business he would like to start up. Y promises to pay X back with 20% interest in 6 months. Meanwhile another Filipino (Z)wants to borrow the other half as his wife is sick.

If you are X, what would you do if you deem yourself a true Filipino?"

For me, there is no way on Earth I would lend that money out without a decent return on my money. I’d say to the guy to wait for another six months for me to lend him the cash. As to the other Filipino, if I don’t know him from Adam I’d say no. Sue me, life really sucks. I can always pass the hat for him and his wife in the office, where I’d give a normal share just like everyone would. But me to shell out 25 grand? Forget it. Making the exception means I would have to qualify the contribution.

As to this question gauging our Filipino-ness…. I’d like to add another (true) story just to drive home the point about where we are in terms of our civic responsibility:

A college professor asked his class of working students, mostly professionals in night school, this question:

“Do you really consider yourselves Filipinos?” The class said yes in the strongest terms.

“Would you do anything if you think it helps your fellow Filipinos?” The class, sensing the cheery note in his voice, said yes again.

He took a more serious mien and said, “Really, this is a serious question. You said that you consider yourselves true Filipinos? I’m asking again, would you do what you can in helping your community because you take pride in being Filipino?”

The class settled down, and after a while, all of them gave their assent.

“So let’s see… let’s just say your mayor and the city council call for a public hearing on re-zoning the place where you live, and let’s just say you attend because it is very important. The DENR, the MMDA, and the city council have come up with a study for a landfill to be built near your home. The studies point out that your location is ideal for logistics in setting up the landfill, and that in four to five years they will be able to build a recycling center near the landfill. They have also conducted a serious study in which the landfill will not contaminate ground water. It will essentially be a receiving area so that the recycling center could do its work.”

The professor paused and looked into the eyes of his students. Then he asked, “Would you agree even if it means you will have to live with garbage everyday?”

The class looked at him in stunned silence. Just then the bell conveniently rang, and before the class started filing out, the professor said, “Just a thought for all of you before you say you take pride in being a true Filipino.”

Detroit Pistons, Dan Brown, and the State of Affairs

Adapted.

The Detroit Pistons win the NBA title!

I couldn’t agree more that the Pistons deserve the title. Great to see that Kobe “I Never Met a Shot I Didn’t Like” Bryant could be shut up about being compared to Jordan. Or Shaq could shut up about being “The Most Dominant Ever.” Bunch of overblown windbags.

As to Karl Malone, he is just unfortunate to be playing for another Finals losers. Might as well retire. He should take a cue from his buddy John Stockton, who apparently has no ego problem about not winning a title so his legacy is safe and secure. What a bad end for a guy who has redefined the power forward position and probably would be its benchmark for years to come (of course Tim Duncan would have something to say about that, but then again, I’ve always thought of Duncan as a center masquerading as a forward). As to Gary Payton, the guy shouldn’t have shown up in a Laker uniform with that kind of ego and without the game he has played until about two years ago.

Even during Showtime, I was never a Laker fan, excepting for the year the 76ers made it to the finals in 2001. Shame that Boston imploded and has not come up with a competitive team in the past few years. Go Pistons! Consider:

- Though the third pick in the 1997 draft (tops was Tim Duncan), Billups got bounced around through four teams (Boston, Toronto, Orlando, and Denver) before signing with Minnesota for two years, and then moving two years ago to the Pistons.
- Hamilton was traded by Michael Jordan for Jerry Stackhouse (?!) With the kind of game Stackhouse has and his recent injuries, and of course his lack of desire to part with the ball, that was such a DUMB decision.
- Ben Wallace was undrafted, and was part of the Grant Hill trade to Orlando (The others I think were Bo Outlaw- a well-traveled dude who's played for Phoenix and Memphis and should see another team on his resume anytime soon, Chucky Atkins – now with Boston because of the Rasheed trade, and another player named Derek Strong, who is now off the NBA map). This guy was cut by Boston because they were trying to make him a swingman (?!). He also got traded by Washington. Considering what a monster he is in the paint … no further comment.
- Joe Dumars passed up on drafting Carmelo Anthony and put his faith in Tayshaun Prince. Seems he is a genius for doing so, but only time will tell if Darko Milicic pans out.
- Rasheed Wallace was traded by Washington to Portland for Rod Strickland (it seems dumb now, but Strickland was one of the best point guards at the time), and of course was the NBA record-setter for technicals and DQs, and received the harshest penalty for a non-fight incident ever given by the NBA. Looks like Larry Brown is a genius in coaching ‘Sheed, though I am not a fan of Larry Brown.

Hmmm… three guys formerly from the Wizards. Should make them wonder. Oh, by the way, the Wizards let go of Chris Webber too. A bit of trivia: I only found out today that Grant Hill and I share a birthday. Some guys have all the luck (he got a whole of it, I should say).

There is a buzz about Dan Brown and his books being considered for a run at Hollywood adaptation (Best of luck, Dan…) Have heard good things about Da Vinci Code and it's refreshing to read him since I haven't picked up fiction in ages since I read a lot of HR books these days and am catching up on labor regulations and all that stuff.

Hope things are not too tense back home in the Philippines. The peso saw another slump and more investors are on “wait-and-see.” Both sides are spooking up their own conspiracy theories. Problem is, will the military side with either one or take the reins themselves?

Dan Brown is a slam-dunk in “Angels and Demons,” the first Robert Langdon book (it was published three years before Da Vinci Code). I picked up both books and passed on “The 48 Laws of Power” and “Dark Tower V: Wolves of Calla.” I also got a vampire story collection that was on sale but I have a feeling I've been shortchanged on this volume.

Dang... guess I could still go on forever reading from 6:30pm last night to almost 4 a.m. in the morning. The girl in the book was such a FOX. Who wouldn’t want to be Robert Langdon? I guess I have to spend a few hours in the swimming pool and get hormone shots, while of course fry my brain on reading and learning so I can be an art geek and an athlete at the same time while being able to pay my bills.

I suspect though, you would find the “Angels and Demons” verrry similar in treatment if you have read “The Da Vinci Code” but the stage is just as expansive. I won’t say more because it might be a spoiler to everyone still wanting to read the books.

For me, the key points that I think Brown is making in the books are:

• There is no time in history than right now where our spirituality and faith will save the planet from implosion (internal decay) and explosion (wars and environmental destruction).
• Everyone has a need to believe, even in the religion of science and the humanist philosophy. Otherwise there is no order on which we can base our conduct.
• History is always written by the winners. But… it doesn’t always pay to win if you have a skeleton in your closet.
• Keeping things in perspective is sometimes more important than finding out the hard truth. And as Frank Herbert said in Dune (I paraphrase him loosely): the way we see, understand, and accept the “truth” can very easily change if we acknowledge that “truth” can be very fluid.

O.K - Time now to remove the “book critic” hat and put on my “good office worker” hat – I used to love Saturdays but since we have a different schedule here, I have certainly learned to hate it.

Learning of Faith

I have said so much but want to commit so many things to memory - so that one day I can look back and see what I have done.

Just a short lesson for those out there not living the life in Saudi Arabia: The muezzin (mosque crier) makes the invitation to prayer or adhan (azan), which is called out five times a day. Small note: these guys are well-paid for their regular gigs. Oft-times, the mosque gets one of the young people to make the adhan, or if you are a convert, part of the lesson is to do this for around two weeks with your fellow students: "Allahu Akbar, Allahu Akbar, Allahu Akbar, Allahu Akbar." This means: Allah is the Greatest. (repeated four times).

This is followed by: "Ashhadu al la ilaha illa-Ilah. Ashhadu al la ilaha illa-Ilah." I bear witness that nothing deserves to be worshipped except Allah (repeated twice). I’d rather not repeat the rest of what they do in prayer. By the way, don't be too impressed, I've just cut-and-pasted most of this stuff. It makes for informative reading, don't you think?

The five Islamic prayers are named Fajr, Dhuhr, Asr, Maghrib and Isha. The timing of these five prayers varies from place to place and from day to day. It is obligatory for Muslims to perform these prayers at the correct time. They face in the direction of Mecca (this is called the qibla). Dammam is a coastal city on the Persian Gulf and we are about 776.68 miles or 1249.68 Km northeast of the Black Stone (or Kaaba) in Makkah (Mecca) and when people pray, they face southwest. The prayer times for any given location on earth may be determined mathematically if the latitude and longitude of the location are known. However, the theoretical determination of prayer times is a lengthy process (which used to be computed by the best of Muslim scholars). Now this tedium has been alleviated by using computer programs. There’s already a screen saver/alarm clock that precisely alerts you when to pray, and another program that tells you where Mecca is based on your coordinates.

Prayer times

• FAJR starts with the dawn or morning twilight. Fajr ends just before sunrise.
• DHUHR begins after midday when the trailing limb of the sun has passed the meridian. In other words, this is sometime before or right after noontime, or zawal. Dhuhr ends at the start of Asr time.
• The timing of ASR depends on the length of the shadow cast by an object. According to the Shafi school of jurisprudence, Asr begins when the length of the shadow of an object exceeds the length of the object. According to the Hanafi school of jurisprudence, Asr begins when the length of the shadow exceeds TWICE the length of the object. In both cases, the minimum length of shadow (which occurs when the sun passes the meridian) is subtracted from the length of the shadow before comparing it with the length of the object. Asr normally happens beginning 3:00pm or so.
• MAGHRIB begins at sunset and ends at the start of isha.
• ISHA starts after dusk when the evening twilight disappears. In winter this is held almost as soon as Maghrib is over. When I arrived it was about 7:30pm, now it’s about 8:00. During the height of summer it may be as late as 8:30 or 9pm.

It is interesting that I still remember the old lessons from high school about the five pillars of Islam. Apart from the requirement of prayer, the four other pillars are:

1. The Shahada or profession of faith (There is no God but Allah and Mohammad is His prophet)
2. Abstinence from fermented beverages (alcohol) plus other dietary practices (such as eating only halal food and abstaining from pork)
3. Zakat – or giving of alms to widows and orphans. Otherwise known as works of mercy. Because of this, orthodox Muslims do not practice usury and banks here charge little or no interest. Great especially if you have a credit card, where the APR is 2% per month. (On the other hand, the documentation for an expat Filipino to get a credit card is so frustrating so the effort is not worth it).
4. Making a pilgrimage (Hajj) to Mecca at least once during adult life.

There is so much that I'd like to say but I had so little time to think in the beginning. Now all of these thoughts overflow like a river that has been dammed for so long. I hope the continuing discovery will keep me enthralled until I start growing roots here, because for one I don’t think I will be coming back to the Philippines for a long while except for vacations. But who knows? Things may change. For now, I am a willing exile, a stranger in a strange land, only to find that the strange one is ME.

Ablaze in Al-Khobar

Adapted.

The attacks last week in Khobar give me some room to pause. Two e-mails from a kababayan based near the center of the attacks tell it all

Circa 11:00am, June 29

Mga Kababayan,

Ngayong umaga umataki ang mga terorista dito sa Al Khobar Saudi Arabia. Tatlong westerner ang namatay basi sa latest briefing sa amin ngayong 10 ng umaga. Isang Filipino daw at dalawang Saudi na company security guard ang hindi pa tiyak kung nakaligtas sa tama ng bala.

Nakapasok sa Petroleum Center Building ang mga terorista dahil naka uniformi sila ng Saudi National Guard uniform so pinayagan ng guwardya na pumasok sa aming administration building. At simultaneous din na inataki ang housing compound na tinitirahan ng mga western expat dito sa kalapit na area.

Hindi pa kami makalabas at maka uwi sa aming familya hanggat walang clear signal sa autoridad at sa security team ng S. (his company, edit mine), dahil hindi pa tiyak kung nahuli or naneutralized na ang mga terorista. Bawat oras ang briefing sa amin to update on the what is happening and what to do next. Shut down ang company operation at possibling mag evacuate kami kung hindi ma clear ang security status sa alas tres ng hapon ngayon.

Wala nang putukan ngayon pero dahil sabay sabay ang ataki sa apat na location kanginang 7:15 ng umaga
malamang na marami ang miembro ng terorista.

Nag uulat sa Al Khobar...

Circa 5:20pm, June 29

Yahoo!
Akala ko goodbye cruel world na, makauwi pa rin pala ako sa aking familya. Tumigil ang putukan at naghabulan ang mga terorista at pulis/national guard, kaso naka kuha pa ng police car ang mga terorista paglabas nila sa Oasiscompound. Hindi mo tuloy matiyak kung sino ang masama o alagad ng batas sa sumunod na laban nila. Napalayo ng kaunti ang action sa aming pwesto.

Hindi ko na alam kung anong sunod na info.....dahil naalis na ang police cordon sa aming building at makauwi na ako after 10 hours na tension!!

See you folks. I think I am safely on my way home now.

With that kind of reporting, I have nothing much to add. I was dumbstruck to think that our place could have been defenseless if we had been the target of an attack. Outside of the “kill zones” the rest of Saudi Arabian life went on with glacial slowness and sameness. Over the last few days, there have been reports of incidents in Riyadh and rumors in Jeddah, but they seem to dim with the boredom of repetition.

Americans and Westerners have much to fear from these attacks but most other nationalities I spoke with, especially the South Asians (Indians, Pakistanis, and Bangalis) just shrug their shoulders and say, “What’s new?” or even the Arabs from other nations (such as Palestinians, Jordanians, Egyptians, and Lebanese) just say, “So what? We’ve had this thing going on for as long as we can remember.”

I have to agree that the risks are everywhere and I could even wager that it is more likely for someone to lose a cellphone to snatchers and stick-up men in Metro Manila than it is to get killed in an attack while working for an Arab-owned company (as opposed to Western-managed or affiliated firms). At least we get paid (even if we don’t get laid as much as we would like, if at all, hehe) as well as we could imagine, given the current state of affairs back home.

Some other thoughts that come to mind:

1. There is no need to be lackadaisical with respect to the situation, but the situation does not demand an alarmist tone either. The general feeling particularly among those from countrieswhich have experienced periodic violence such as the Arabs or those inured in poverty such as the South Asians is that living here is a risk that is worth taking, considering what they have in their own countries. I would like to think that petrodollars and lack of opportunities back home are also the reasons why Filipinos come here.

2. The war on terror, in theory, and the unequivocal stand set by the Philippine government with respect to terrorism, are things with which I can sympathize. Just a thought, though - we must be realistic as to what kind of true contribution we can do for the war - sending troops abroad or addressing the source back home with a clear program that will reduce the effectiveness of extremists in recruiting among our dispossessed and especially the young into their fold.

3. The less-protected are more obvious targets in this kind of crossfire. Haven't thought about that in quite a while. OTOH, the extremists are eager to get support among their countrymen, so killing one of their own is not halal at all. When they start wising up that the key to end KSA government support for the US is to get to the Royals themselves or killing prominent Arab businessmen, then there will be a lot of trouble (that would be the time to really go back home at the first available opportunity). Still, that would make them pariahs everywhere.

4. There should be an interesting correlation between the zakat (the mandatory tithing for charities which is one of the five pillars of Islam) contributions of top businesses and terrorism. Contributions may actually end up in the hands of religious organizations fronting for al-Qaeda and similar extremist groups. I remember this embarrassing incident (for both the US and KSA) wherein the US security agencies traced an al-Qaeda link to a contribution fromthe wife of the Saudi ambassador to the US. It was hushed-up immediately, but that possibility remains.

5. There seems to be a streak of apologia in the statement of the attackers - in the rush to get to the kill they shot indiscriminately. But dead is dead, no matter the explanation.

6. Just like everywhere else, the root of the problem is the glaring inequity between the rich and the poor. In just my short time here, I have seen many examples of the glaring disparity in the rights and treatment of women and the all-too tangible lack of readiness (in experience, education, and attitude) of many Saudis to handle the challenges of modernizing their economy. There, too, is the existence of a double standard - "since I am rich, I can do what I want" mentality among the young and the bored Saudis, while just some distance on open ground in some industrial areas, some of their countrymen still live the same way as they did centuries before - in tents, without adequate food, water, or opportunity for improvement.

7. There too, is the pervasiveness of religion which has not helped this country. No offense to the devout ones out there, but without a humanist slant on religion (such as what the Protestants did in Europe, fueled by the Renaissance), I fear there would be little progress in changing many attitudes which have remained static for so many years.

In the end though, I can not trivialize a potentially explosive situation and I can't pass off another act of violence with indifference. To put things in perspective:

1. All in all, many Filipinos are a bit jittery, but not more so when thinking of how to pay off our loans, payments on the house, tuition for the kids, etc. A colleague's daughter was very sad that her friends (the children of the ones who work for the American companies) have not come back for school. Her father, just like others like him with families, are considering returning to the Philippines, at least to send their wives and children home, because of the potential risks. One of the victims (a Feliciano Dizon, if I remember his name correctly) just had his wife and daughter brought over to KSA recently, which is supreme irony and what a tragedy (it is still hard to stay dry-eyed thinking of what they are feeling right now). But we like the majority here are determined to remain. As for me, I could now identify with those who returned from Iraq but were determined to go back after things blow over. It's tough, but somebody's got to do it, for the sake of our families and loved ones.

2. Nothing much has changed with respect to the Philippine government policy on overseas workers - "the less maintenance they need, the better" is the kind of vibe I get (and shared by many veterans over here). Sad but true, and were it not for the agitation of OFW groupsmany changes would not have been made.

3. Back to 3, our best source to rely upon in protecting ourselves and fellow OFWs is to stay low, to keep informed, and most of all - to remain on the alert.

4. Many would really be happier if we could just get back home, myself included. Bullets don't
have eyes, and the most violent sometimes don't even bother to aim.

I'll go off-tangent a little... there are stories waiting to be told about the OFWs all over the world. And what kind of impact the diaspora has made and is continuing to make in Philippine society among the children - what kind of values they learn from the parents who are parenting in absentia.

That may be an interesting project to get into if I get any takers.

Tonight I'll say one more prayer that peace will find its way into the hearts of violent men. And women.