Category: Nonfiction

Paghahanap ng Dagat sa Switzerland

Nonfiction by | July 6, 2014

Sa isang Dabawenyong tulad ko na halos nasa bakuran lamang ang dagat, ay di maitatuwang kasingkahulugan ng dagat ang pagiging masaya, pagdiriwang, pagpapahinga mula sa araw-araw na kalakaran, karaniwan at masaganang buhay. Kung kaya’t hinanap ko ito bago pa man napanatag ang loob ko sa Switzerland. Ngunit nabigo ako sa paghahanap na ito. Oo, maraming anyong-tubig sa Switzerland subalit wala ni isa man sa mga ito ay tubig-dagat. Lahat ng tubig sa lawa at ilog ay nanggagaling sa mga natutunaw na niyebe buhat sa nagtatayugang mga alpina na nakapalibot sa maliit na bansang matatagpuan sa gitnang kanluran ng Europa.

Dahil nahirapan akong tanggapin ang katotohanang wala talagang dagat sa bayang nakilala ko lamang noon sa mga makikintab na larawan sa kalendaryo’t libro, ay nagpasya akong hanapin ito sa ibang lugar. Mag-iisang taon pa lamang ako noon sa Switzerland ngunit pakiramdam ko’y dekada nang di ako nakalusong sa dagat. Laking pasalamat ko nang naunawaan ng aking katuwang ang pangangailangan kong ito. Isang araw pagkagaling ko sa Alpha Sprachschule Zuerich, kung saan ako nag-aral ng lengguwaheng Aleman, ay nakalatag sa mesa ang isang makulay na magasing nagbebenta ng mga bakasyon sa mga destinasyong maaraw at may dagat di lamang sa Europa kundi maging sa iba pang kontinente. Lumundag sa galak ang puso ko sa aking natunghayan.

Continue reading Paghahanap ng Dagat sa Switzerland

Panic Stations

Nonfiction by | May 25, 2014

I was three years old when I became aware of my condition. I cannot recall how I was rushed to the hospital, but I do remember waking up in a cold white room with a crucifix staring down at me. I lifted my right hand and noticed a transparent tube injected at the back of my palm and right through my veins. Since then, I have been rushed to the hospital countless times; each one a nightmare both for myself and my parents.

Asthma is a lung condition that affects the eyes, ears, nose, throat, and stomach. It causes the lining of the airways to become swollen and inflamed. Extra mucus begins to clog the nose and the muscles of the airways tighten, causing less air to pass in and out. A number of allergens like pollen, dust mites, cigarette smoke, dander, and stress can trigger an asthmatic reaction. Even changes in weather could also cause asthma attacks. Usually when my nose starts to itch, chances are, it’ll rain soon after. Some people are born with this condition and others just develop asthma when they are exposed to the different kinds of allergens. In my case, I have asthma because my father also had it when he was young.

Continue reading Panic Stations

She Had Her Way

Nonfiction by | May 11, 2014

April 1 was my mother’s first day in the hospital. My mother could still talk and she could still move around but she kept feeling pain in her legs. She still had her dialysis, which was already part of her routine since she had her stroke. The doctors advised us that my mother’s legs needed to be amputated because they were starting to create pus that was going into her blood stream. She was then moved to the ICU because there were already complications in her body and she needed to be watched over very carefully. My family talked about the decision and we decided that both legs should be cut off. The doctors had to take away the source of the pus so that they could easily clean my mother’s blood by dialysis. But the doctors were having problems because they couldn’t do the operation as my mother was starting to weaken and they had to operate on her immediately. But before that, they needed bags of blood for the dialysis. We couldn’t get enough blood in the city so my sister Elaine, my brother Elmer, and his wife Cora had to travel all the way to Tagum City just to get blood.

When I saw my mother after the operation, I couldn’t help but cry because she had become noticeably smaller because of the amputation. We tried to lighten the mood around her, telling her that she could still have new legs. My mother just smiled. She wanted to see her legs but hospital procedure wouldn’t let her see them.

On the 8th of April, my mother had her last dialysis. Continue reading She Had Her Way

This is How to Talk to a Stranger

Nonfiction by | May 4, 2014

Talk to a StrangerYou are seventeen.

In the Bachelor Bus from Tagum, third to the last two-seat row, you are seated behind a man in his late 60s. He says something, but his breath that smells like he hasn’t been brushing his teeth for several days now disturbs you.

He says it again: Kamusta ka? (How are you?)

The utterance of the two-word Tagalog greeting signals a sincere effort. You can’t decide whether he has a British or American accent. It is somewhat a combination of both. His face doesn’t help you recognize his nationality either, just the prominent nose at least. You look at him more closely as if to help you assess. He is a tall man. You can tell by how his feet struggle with his black back pack on it in the space given on the rest. He tries to move his legs once in a while. He wears a black beret, a yellow polo shirt, checkered Bermuda shorts, and black sandals. Quite a color combination, you think.

As if willing to play against your ignorance, he greets you again with a more obvious effort. You find it hard to resist the charm of his eagerness to start a conversation when he displays a smile that reveals a white set of teeth. You wonder why he has bad breath.

Continue reading This is How to Talk to a Stranger

Tinapay Republic

Nonfiction by | April 6, 2014

Tayong mga Pilipino ay napakapanatiko sa tinapay. Tinapay sa almusal, tinapay bago mag-almusal, tinapay pagkatapos mag-jogging bago mag-almusal, tinapay sa meryenda bago mananghalian, at para sa mga walang pera, yung tipong mga taong mga pobreng tinapay sa lipunan, ito na din ang pananghalian. Sa mga medyo mayaman, ito ang minsang panghimagas, lalagyan ng medyo mahal na asukal at tada! Ang tig-singkong pandesal at tigkinse na ang isang kusing na piraso.

Nasubukan mo na bang ipalaman ang ice cream sa tinapay? Palagi yan sa piging ng mga pobreng tinapay sa lipunan. Kung walang ice cream ay yung bihon o kung nakakaluwag ay ang walang kamatayang spaghetti.

Grabe andami na nating naimbento mula sa tinapay. Mula sa pagsawsaw nito sa tradisyunal na kape hanggang pagsawsaw nito sa coke at kung minsan sa juice hanggang sa pinalamanan ito ng peanut butter, cheese shizz at kapwa nito tinapay na nagkukunwaring keso o tsokolate.

Continue reading Tinapay Republic

A Case of You

Nonfiction by | March 16, 2014

It was the sight of a pitcher held up that woke my senses. The plummet shattered all of the plastic, and when silence broke lose, panic spoke, “Ano’ng problema? Pag-usapan natin.”

The question was thrown back to me as if it were a mistake to wake up. I answered, “Wala,” until he referred to you and I. It was a question I wanted to ask myself, too. Did we have a problem? He questioned my silence; our silence when he would come home. He said he knew everything.

“Wala kaming problema,” you said.

“Are you sure you want to talk about it? I know you’re drunk and I don’t want you to regret anything you want to say right now.”

“Yes, I’m sure,” he boldly said.

“Okay. If you want to talk to me, I would expect you to wear something.” He was in his underwear, drunk and late when he got home from work.

Continue reading A Case of You

Paleontology of Ink and Bones

Nonfiction by | March 9, 2014

A family. Memories of sanguine childhood. Mama’s home-cooked meals. Hallways filled with history of accidentally spilt milk, and walls occupied by pictures hung of birthdays and reunions seldom dusted… These are the things that make a home, or so they say. None of which I now cherish, for I am the only one left and they are those who chose to live on.

But I have fragmented memories, at least, and I look back at them from time to time. Like those moments I tried on papa’s huge loafers and dreamt my feet would fit them someday. Like when mama woke me up that particular morning to let me ride my new bicycle they just bought me while she sat on the front porch and sipped on a cup of coffee. Come evenings when mama comes home from work with a pasalubong of my favorite Jollibee meal and that time when I locked myself in their room because I did something stupid and only opened the door after a few hours begging not to be punished. Yes, I remember them dearly. I always was so spoiled.

Oh, how I felt so proud seeing papa on TV. He was broadcasting the news back then­ and I always waited for him to greet me before letting out his famous punch line: “Hoy! Gising!” Oh, how I must have felt so proud.

Continue reading Paleontology of Ink and Bones

Shaken and Stirred: The Adverbum Writers Retreat in Palawan

Nonfiction by | November 10, 2013

ShelllsTwo days before I was to leave for Palawan to join the first Adverbum Writers Retreat in Palawan, a 7.2 magnitude earthquake hit Central Visayas at past 8 in the morning. Soon after, social network newsfeeds were filled with initial images of the destruction it wrought. Later, television news programs provided more details. It broke my heart to see the ancient Baclayon and Loboc churches destroyed, but even more distressing were the number of human casualties. The earthquake was also felt in Davao City, but to a lesser extent, and with no reported damage. Still, I couldn’t help but feel anxious to leave my two children for a week to do something entirely for myself.

It was a palpable anxiety that I had been feeling since I learned about the retreat. Last July, I received an invitation to the writers retreat from Almira Astudillo-Gilles of Chicago, who organized the retreat to provide established writers with “time and space for creative work.” On October 17 – 22, I was to join Jose “Butch” Dalisay, Ed Maranan, Ricky de Ungria, and Juaniyo Arcellana in a private and secluded villa in Sitio Bobosawen, one and a half hours by road from Puerto Princesa City. With no mobile signal whatsoever, a two-kilometer stretch of coastline, and a view of the mountains, it did sound like a perfect writer’s destination.

Continue reading Shaken and Stirred: The Adverbum Writers Retreat in Palawan