Category: Nonfiction

The Teacher

Nonfiction by | February 8, 2015

When he entered the room with his ironed uniform and his usual aura, everybody stared. When he put his things on the table with a thud, everybody behaved. And when he finally faced the class, everybody fell silent. How amusing! To see how that four-eyed man can control the class without having to say a single word. To see how his silent laughter played around his lips when he knew he’s won. I witnessed those things amidst the sea of little black dots in front me. When I saw him, everything around me turned to a blur.

And right at that moment, I fell in love.

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Ang Pamalandong Sa Pinulongan

Nonfiction by | January 4, 2015

Ang pinulongan ang pinakadako nga pundasyon sa usa ka kultura. Tungod sa pinulongan nakuha sa tawo nga makigtipon sa ubang tawo, makigstorya kanila ubp. Mao nang pinaagi aning pinulongan magkahiusa ang usa ka katilingban tungod kay pareha ang ilahang pagkasabot sa mga butang, ideya, ubp. Tungod niini, ang kultura adunay dakong kalambigitan sa usa ka nasud o katilingban. Masulti nato nga ang pinulongan maoy usa sa mga importante nga ginagunitan sa nasud, kultura ug mismo sa tawo. Kung wala ang pinulongan walay matukod nga maayong kultura, nasud, og balaod kay mismo sa pinulongan nga ginagamit dili magkasinabtanay. Usab makasulti kita na ang pinulongon maoy makasulti sa gigikanan o kasinatian sa tawo. Kung ang tawo nagagamit sa Cebuano masulti nato nga siya kay Bisaya, Cebuano, ubp. Pwede usab, kini nga tawo aduna’y kasinatian sa kultura sa Cebuano o sa laing lugar nga naga-istorya sa maong pinulongan.

Sama sa uban, ang pinulongan pud adunay mga straktura og balaod nga ginagamit. Mao nang usa ka pagbinastos o insulto ang mahitabo kung ang pulong sa uban kay magamit nato sa mali. Aron makagamit ta sa ubang pinulongan sa ubang kultura, kinahanglan natong tun-an kini og maayo.

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Her Words

Nonfiction by | November 30, 2014

It was two days before Christmas last year when I received a text message saying “Hi” with a smiley. The phone number was not in my contact list so it took me a few minutes before I finally replied and asked who it was.

I was surprised when she revealed she was “Dee…UPMin Arki.” I had met her in school. Someone might have introduced us and since then, every time we saw each other, we would exchange greetings and smiles. But that was all. I never remembered conversing with her or anything. She was that pretty chinita girl who was a member of the Dance Ensemble. I clearly remember that she was the frontliner in their number during our Freshmen Convocation Program.

She just wanted to confirm whom she was texting because my number was registered as “UP LitSoc” in her contact list. I told her that it was me and she apologized for causing any inconvenience. I said she wasn’t causing any. And from then, we exchanged text messages. We would text each other in the morning when we woke up, remind each other to eat meals, ask what each was doing, and late at night, we would say good night to each other.

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The Human Heart Has No Measure: Davao Writers Workshop 2014

Nonfiction by | November 23, 2014

Davao Writers Workshop 2014There are three things I’m pretty sure writers will want at one point or another in their lives: to travel, to better themselves in their craft, and to create something worthwhile. The three are interconnected, if you really think about it. In the short time we spend on this world, it is with great skill (or with great luck) that we acquire the opportunity to gain all three at once. As for me, being accepted into this year’s Davao Writers Workshop was one of those opportunities.

Wanderlust
I had learned of my acceptance into the workshop on the eve of September 27th, exactly a month before the workshop would begin. It seemed so near and so far at the time. A lot can happen in a month. Specifically for me, it was finishing final grades for the first semester and organizing Poetry Night, a poetry reading program that our group NAGMAC (Nagkahiusang Mambabalak sa Cagayan de Oro) held every other month. The latter happened just two nights before I and co-fellow Vel Marie “Mai” Santillan, were to get on an all-night bus ride to Davao for the workshop.

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Nana and Our Nangka Tree

Nonfiction by | October 26, 2014

Yesterday I bought a pack of nangka or jackfruit from the grocery store. The smell was so enticing that I had to pick one and convince myself I wasn’t splurging. One pack has 10 seeds and costs 50 pesos. Immediately after paying, I pulled the bubble-wrap, took out one seed at a time and savored every bite. I planned to finish all in one sitting and not have any leftovers inside the refrigerator for later. My Nana, or Yaya, as many would associate her, used to tell me that the smell of this fruit extends unsolicited to all other elements in the fridge, like a surprisingly sweet gesture.

Before transferring to study and eventually own a company based in Davao, I used to live in Dumaguete City. There, we have a two-storey house fenced by a number of mango, chico, and star apple trees, as well as, a good growth of garden vegetables to harvest by season. To welcome visitors in our front yard are other plants such as a line of orchids and relative flowers. The main attraction is like a CTA widget inviting neighbors as it consistently bears two fruits every month. It is our Nangka Tree located on the right side, facing the gate. My Nana would wrap each of the tree’s fruit upon its birth and when it matures, it would reveal a large sweet and fleshy product enough to make a family of five happy. My twin and I, the Nangka and its interests were among Nana’s primary concerns.

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How to Climb Mount Apo

Nonfiction by | October 19, 2014

Climb when you are fifteen or so. Harbor an affinity for heights: at eleven you must have already seen the whole of Bangkok from the 88th floor of Baiyoke Sky Hotel, as well as gone parasailing at Subic, noting how the sea looks like a massive blue tarpaulin from a height of 800 feet.

Know the basics of mountain trekking: never step on slippery ground, always watch your step; on the way down, lean back and allow your feet to fall on stones as surely as a bird lands on its own shadow. But know also what it is to fear heights. Call to mind the day you first climbed Mount Agad-Agad (your hometown’s tallest mountain), aged nine, when, going up the mountain, the sheer effort wrung your lungs empty and your vision swam in a haze of blue afterimages. On the descent you could only cling to earth and crawl down gingerly. Bear these in mind always, for they will arm you for the great climb. Never forget that what you will be dealing with is the highest mountain in the Philippines (think 9,692 feet above sea level).

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Surviving Typhoon Bopha

Nonfiction by | September 28, 2014

In this world where we are living, challenges and obstacles are always present. Sometimes we ought to give up because of these challenges. No matter how difficult the situation is we should always remember what Albert Einstein said, Life is like a bicycle, to keep your balance you must keep moving. One year and 9 months ago I was trapped in a challenge I never thought would come in my life.

It was in the year two thousand and twelve on the fourth day of December, at exactly 4 o’clock in a Tuesday morning when a category 5 super typhoon took its landfall in a quiet town of Baganga, Davao Oriental. I could hear booms of the thunderstorms which I thought engines of trucks. I could see lightnings which I thought are coming from the cars of the people in the place. I could see nothing anymore but trees swaying from left to right and never stopping, houses ruined and families left with nothing.

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Unraveling the Roads that Shape my Future

Nonfiction by | August 3, 2014

In the past four months, I have been around Southeast Asia in line with my GIST (Guided Independent Study Travel) sojourn to visit the bamboo schools and green schools in the region and learn their best practices and challenges.

It has been an amazing and enriching journey. I thank the East West Center and Asia Pacific Leadership Program for giving me the opportunity to explore cultures, while I continue to unravel the roads that will shape my future and my community. My deepest mahalo! Continue reading Unraveling the Roads that Shape my Future