Month: November 2009

Kung Paano Maging Kaaya-aya Ang Pangingibangbayan

Nonfiction by | November 29, 2009

Magdadalawang dekada na ang inilagi ko sa labas ng bansa. Madalas kapag narinig ito ng mga di pa lubusang nakakakilala sa akin ay kaagad silang maghihinuha na mayaman na ako. Kumbaga, sinusukat nila ang naipon kong Swissfrancs sa tagal ng paninirahan ko sa Switzerland.

Sa simula, naaasiwa ako sa pahayag na ito. Subalit sa pagtakbo ng panahon ay sinasakyan ko na lamang ito’t inaamin na totoong mayaman ako. Iyon nga lang di sa pera kundi sa mga naipon kong karanasan bilang isang migrante. At ito ang nais kong ibahagi sa aking mga kababayan. Di lamang sa mga naglalayon na mangibangbayan kundi gayundin sa mga nananatili sa bansa sa kabila ng karalitaan. Bukod pa, ilang beses na rin akong tinanong at tiyak patuloy na tatanungin ng mga bagong saltang Pilipino sa Switzerland, tungkol sa kung paano maging magaa’t kaaya-aya ang pangingibangbayan. Kaya minabuti kong isatitik na rin ito.

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One small step to a giant goal

Nonfiction by | November 22, 2009

Comota is a barangay in La Paz, Agusan del Sur. Located 30 kilometers from the poblacion of La Paz, it can only be reached by walking or riding a banca or a motorcycle. When I was assigned there as a classroom teacher at Comota Elementary School in August 1999, what immediately struck me was the poverty of its inhabitants, composed of some 700 Manobo villagers and a handful of Cebuano families.

Poverty was due to inadequate family incomes that were worsened by the peace and order problem. The area was also frequently visited by floods that destroyed many of the crops during the La Niña phenomenon. For a teacher to be assigned in that place was, indeed, a challenge!

I taught 14 students from the Grade Five level and 36 from Grade Six. After a month of teaching, I got fairly acquainted with them, their parents and the barangay officials. One time, I was invited to attend the session of the barangay council and had a talk with the barangay captain and some councilors. From them I learned that each household owned several hectares of land, each of which was not fully cultivated. Almost 90% was still timberland from where they got logs as their source of living. This supplemented whatever they got from fishing and hunting.

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Science Fiction

Poetry by | November 22, 2009

I wish to live with you on a planet
at the edge of the universe. Earthly
houses, their pestilence of weed and gnome
have tired me. I wish to uproot
myself from them as quickly as I would mute
the screens of this black and white world
of Di Caprio and Winslet. Titanic
towers and princesses – the same entrapment,
the same frame, the graven
images we are meant to idolize.
I wish to live with you on a planet
at the edge of the universe. Where we constellate
the zodiac of our fates
and the geography of our feet.
And the Sun? The Sun will be an alien,
a distant star we shall point out one night
and say: It took billions of years for that light
to reach us. The Sun must be dead by now.
I wish to live with you on a planet
at the edge of the universe.
And there, where strange is now home
I can finally say to you this, this, this:
Only in your hands, stellar yet familiar, light
hands will I dissolve
and die.

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Pagpadu’ng sa Jolo (Sakay sa Gamay’ng Eroplano)

Poetry by | November 15, 2009

Layo ang pamalandong sa mata
Samtang naghuwat sa airport sa Zamboanga

Karga ang bug-at nga bag
Puno ug bisti ug mga pulong sa asawa nga mga tambag

Ang camera, computer ug mineral water,
Daghang papel, gisuksok sa pikas bag nga di-zipper

Hantud nanawag na ang laki’ng taga Seair
Boarding na ang eroplanong 19-seater

Dayun sa su’od, sa gamay’ng bintanang palingin dayun modungaw
Ug bisan sa kaigang, maminsar pag-usab sa katuyuan ug laraw

Mahunong lang sa pag-andar ug pagtuyok sa makabungog nga tapiraw
Arun molupad sa padul’ngang gibantuga’ng kulba’g kuyaw.

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Gardening by Accident

Poetry by | November 15, 2009

for Nanette

I wish I could tell you now
that you were right—
after two years
the pineapple head you had thrown
in the backyard has grown
and in fact, the strange
bromeliad is now the throne
of a lovely little piña,
still magenta in the base,
but already wearing a crown.
It competes with the thorns
and constant flowering
of the pink euphorbia beside it.
Also, the golden bamboo
you planted in the clay pot
to keep it portable
has broken through and proudly
taken root, right beside
the bougainvillea that had threatened
to die when the carpenter
chopped it down
to a stump.
It now bursts madly
into fuchsia revenge.
You have always known
it would all come to this,
didn’t you?
My wilderness of a garden
is profuse with paradoxes
and I grow lush
with a hundred eyes.

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The Pilgrim

Nonfiction by | November 8, 2009

beggars circle tables
dogs circle carrion
the lover circles
his own heart
-Rumi

1.

One occasion in my childhood changed my life forever. It was the arrival of a Sony Trinitron television in our home. Being the latest technology of that period, it was a departure from the electronic appliances that resembled pieces of furniture.

It was the last years of the Marcos era. In those days, television broadcasts in the province started at four o’clock in the afternoon with Batibot, followed by a back-to-back Christian cartoons, Super Book and Flying House. Music videos aired just before the evening news.

Coming home from school one afternoon, I switched on the television and saw a blonde girl with a headband and ridiculously large plastic earrings. She toyed with boys under a street sign, mouthing lyrics I barely understood. Soon I memorized the chorus of the song – Borderline — and eagerly anticipated the music video every afternoon. The singer, I learned, was Madonna.

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When you die I will bury you

Poetry by | November 1, 2009

When you die I will bury you
I will have trees murdered
And have their corpses mutilated
To make a casket for yours
That is all

When you die I will bury you
I and our relatives
will be busy
Preparing your wake
Serving your guests
with coffee and biscuits
Presiding the bingo
Spitting out the prayers
That is all

When you die I will bury you
I will weep a tear
Say a good word
Express regret
And express sorrow
That is all

When you die I will bury you
That is all

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You Inside of Me

Poetry by | November 1, 2009

The alluring taste of sweet kisses
that sends impulses through my skin.
The warm breath
whispering into my ear.
Those velvety hands
caressing me all over.
Your heavenly tongue
that lingers in my body.
Yes, I want you inside of me.

Enticing lips,
biting teeth,
intense kisses,
hearts racing
heating gush of blood
driving me into insanity.
The tingling sensation
Of each others touch
Tethering into an indulgent embrace
Pacing with desire
Until both scream in blissful sensuality
Yes, you inside of me.

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