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

The Savior

Fiction by | April 26, 2014

Three months left. That was all. And it was not even a whole three months. It was two months and twenty nine days. He had been counting. Every morning, since that visit to the doctor, he had been counting. And tomorrow, it would just be two months and twenty eight days. And then, in the end, he would have to leave his son. Alone. There was clearly nothing left to do, but pray. And cry.

They were on a bus, his son and himself, going no place in particular, on the sunniest of spring days. The boy almost looked normal, except that his eyes seemed a little uncoordinated, somewhat unfocused. But you had to look at him closely to notice. The way he acted, however, gave his condition away. He looked ten, perhaps eleven, but he was most decidedly too childlike for his age. “Fire truck!” he would say, identifying the red vehicle parked in its station. “Dog!” he exclaimed, pointing at a morning jogger’s pet on a leash. “Flag!” he said, looking up at a waiving banner, glancing at his father for reassurance and acknowledgement that he had identified correctly.

The boy had his father’s visage. Lines and wrinkles on the older man’s face camouflaged the similarity, but the boy’s eyes whispered of his father’s. Assenting with a nod and a smile, the father thought back to a moment just half a year ago, when all hope was snatched from him.

Continue reading The Savior

Hope

Poetry by | April 26, 2014

Hope
it flows in a running stream,
scintillating under the sun
like a vein of liquid treasure.
You can barely cup it with your palms
as it only drips from your fingers,
But the coolness of it
makes you smile.
You take some into plastic bottles,
and share it with the nearby sun-baked children,
sweating as they toil the earth and mud.
They drink Hope,
not a drop escaping their lips,
and they smile.
And you smile too,
because you understand completely
their experience.

—
Glyd Jun Arañes works as a research assistant at the Philippine Women’s College of Davao. This poem is dedicated to the refugees in Ban Mae Surin, Thailand.

Semana Santa

Poetry by | April 26, 2014

Yes, there is stillness in darkness, for there is
beauty in light. Yesterday, the world showed me
its wound in the chest of a homeless child, drenched
with rain, begging for crumbs outside the door
of the ancient cathedral, where we converge
and pray on what can never be, whenever we try
to pull the rusty nails from our palms. And there
is grief, for there is always loss, in life. Every morning,
during holy week around 8 am, after a mug of coffee,
the maya birds stop over my balcony to sing a song
I could never ever decipher. And that is a miracle
by itself. Of knowing there are limits. Sometimes
there is a sentiment of defeat at the peak of triumph.
Sometimes, I seek god, in the twirling smoke
of every cigarette I consume, while I wait
with awe for the sky to be filled with stars.

—
Simon Anton Nino Diego Baena is an undergraduate student of MSU-IIT, Iligan city. Originally from Bais, Negros Oriental, now based in Iligan. Some of his poems have already been published in the Philippines Free Press, Philippines Graphic magazine, and Eastlit online literary journal, the upcoming issue 17 of Kartika review, ODDproyekto, and Kabisdak online.

Instrumental

Poetry by | April 26, 2014

Instrumental
Our room gets smaller,
walls wanting to embrace each other
pouting every detail of that wallpaper as if to kiss
or crumple the silences in between
or fold it, neatly as if origami beds and chairs
dreaming to fly with cranes and paper planes
out your window–
your every breath reminds me how
suffocated words want to escape and be born again
with voices, to speak up the reasons why
this room is getting smaller,
why this room has no more music
only lullabies slowly repeating each goodbyes
so slowly that I can spell it out
with the lyrics of an empty love song.

—
Jermafe Kae Angelo-Prias is a graduate of Creative Writing in University of the Philippines Mindanao. She was a fellow at the 2012 Iligan National Writers workshop and 2005 Davao Writers Workshop. Some of her works have appeared in SunStar Davao and the Best of Dagmay anthology.

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

Ngano'ng Nangaso si Balaw sa Patag sa Palawpao? Part 2

Fiction by | March 30, 2014

Photo RAE, from "Daloy"
Photo RAE, from “Daloy”
Gipadayon gikan sa Part 1.

Pagliko ni Balaw sa naay kawayan, nakita niya ang payag ni Don Angelo. Gilibotan kini sa iyang mga sakop nga walo kabuok. Mga dagko ang mga sakop ni Don Angelo ug ang matag usa dunay gigunitan nga bunal. Milusot si Balaw sa kural ug miduol sa payag nga galungot-lungot. Nabantayan siya sa mga sakop ni Don Angelo. Dali-dali nga nagtapok sila atubangan sa payag kay atoa man si Don Angelo sa sulod mga namantay ug nagpaminaw.

“Igawas ang mananap nga mipatay sa akong amahan ug nangilog sa among yuta!”, ang singgit sa galungot-lingot nga si Balaw sa mga sakop ni Don Angelo.

Nagtinan-awa ang mga sakop ni Don Angelo ug nangbuhakhak og katawa sa ilang nadungog. Gikantsawan nila si Balaw.

Continue reading Ngano'ng Nangaso si Balaw sa Patag sa Palawpao? Part 2