Probabilities

Fiction by | March 7, 2010

Assuming that Rudolf is in front, there are 40,320 ways to arrange the other eight reindeer, he boasted as he came up to me with a new book about probabilities. Peter stood about 5’6” but he looked shorter than he actually was because he was duck-footed and because he always wore oversized shirts. He sat beside me, brushed his nose and gave me that kind of ‘you-don’t-know-this-dummy’ look, and I wanted to break his nose for it. Except for the fact that I couldn’t, of course.

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Ang Kakaibang Pangako

Fiction by | February 28, 2010

Nangyari ang lahat sa loob lamang ng sampung buwan at isang linggo. Ngunit para kay Nico, ang maikling panahon na iyon ang maituturing niyang pinakamahalagang panahon sa buhay niya. Pagkat sa panahong iyon lang siya nagbuhos ng maraming luha, nagmahal ng todo at nawalan bigla. Batid niya pa rin sa kanyang puso’t isipan ang lahat-lahat ng nangyari sa maikling panahon na iyon.

Ang simula’y malabo pa. Pasukan noon at nasa ika-apat na taon na ng kolehiyo si Nico. Isa siya sa Top Three ng buong paaralan nila. Mahilig siyang kumanta at tumugtog. Sa katunayan, siya ang pinakamagaling tumugtog ng gitara sa buong kampus nila. Siya rin ang may pinakamagandang boses sa mga lalaki. Ngunit pagdating sa pag-ibig ay mahina si Nico.

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Saranggi Port

Poetry by | February 21, 2010

Minsan noong pababa tayo
sa padyak galing eskuwelahan
dito sa lumang daungan
na dati’y ginamit ng Espanya
sa pagkalakal ng alak,
sinabi mo ang pinaghalong
halimuyak ng ilang-ilang
sa gitna ng liwasan at
simoy ng dagat ay walang
katulad.

Habang kumukuha tayo
ng litrato ng mga mangingisdang
nasa balsa sumasagwan,
namimingwit, naglalambat,
nag-uunahan sa kuha,
hindi ko alintana
ang oras kahit
dapithapon na.

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In Due Time

Nonfiction by | February 21, 2010

In finding a job in the Philippines, many feel that the palaksan system always prevails: it’s not what you know, but whom you know. But I have come to learn that sometimes, things can come in their own time. As Kuya Kim on TV says: “Ang buhay ay weather-weather lang.”

In the summer of 1997, I applied for a job at the Department of Education in Agusan del Norte. After the competitive exam, the interviews, and the teaching demonstration, I emerged sixth among the more than two hundred applicants from the entire province.

Three months later, I still didn’t get a position while those who ranked lower than me had already been assigned as substitutes in our own town, Nasipit. My co-applicant, a neighbor of mine, said knowingly: “Bisan unsa pa ka kataas sa ranking ba ug wala’y lakas, ‘la man jud.” No matter how high you rank in the exam, if you don’t know anyone, it will all come to naught.

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A Lump of Clay

Poetry by | February 14, 2010

The dirt under his nails—gray
mud scraped to shape
my body. My body
is a lump of clay
on the potter’s wheel,
slick palms tracing the curves,
dripping clay
covers the potter’s hand going down
inside the jar. What smooth rings
his fingers create, moans
of solemn earth, shaped
to become my body. My body
enters the kiln, gasps from the heat
of the fire within, burning
the skin of his fingers off my body
until I’m done—
a hollow
vessel
of burnt clay.

—-
Maureen Ronquillo is a senior creative writing student at UP Mindanao.

Filthy White-washed Walls

Poetry by | February 14, 2010

Written, scribbled is her name
on your filthy white-washed walls.
i beg no explanation.

your walls that surround me, bathed in her name,
engulfs me in pain and hatred.
i wish to unravel your mind,
for her name is not enough to make me bleed.

i’m thankful your room is your hell.
we can start afresh with my white-washed walls
that never witnessed any of your melancholy.
we can turn it into your heaven and paint
diamonds and Lucy’s kaleidoscopic eyes on the ceiling.

write, scribble your name on my walls.
and when you leave me,
i will taste the hell you have tasted
by sleeping with names
written by someone now a memory.

—-
Krizia Banosan Garcia graduated from DRANHS’ acceleration program called ALS, finishing elementary two years ago and high school last year.

Panaad

Poetry by | February 14, 2010

Panaad kanako
nga gaksun ko nimo sa hugot
sa mga buktong luwas ako
diin makabatyag kalinaw
ug makalimtan ang tanan.

Panaad kanako
nga sagupon ko nimo
ug padayunon sa gambalay
sa imong hunahuna
dayon sa kasingkasing
lahos sa imong kalag.

Panaad kanako
nga subayan ko nimo
sa dalan sa way sukod
ug samang kalipay
diin mawagtang ang
handumanan sa kagahapon
sa paghulat ug pagmahay.

Ayaw tuod ko pakyasa
diin kaniadto napakyas ko
kay ako nakahukom na
nga dugmukon ang talikala
sa akong kalibog
nga nagpitul sa akong
kagawasan.

Karon ako manaad usab
nga panggaon
ug amumahon ka sa labaw –
butang nga wa nako
nabuhat kaniya.

Dili ko mabasol
ang mga rosas nga
gibalibad ni Alyssa
nga maoy nagtukmod
kanako sa kahimtang
kung ang pinitik mao
nang imong gugma.

Alang kanila
dili man kini angay
apan maangay ra kini.
Salig lang kanako
ug diha usab kanimo
ug sa atong mga panaad

Manukad na ta
ug ipadayon
ang atong mga
panaad.

—-
JR Pascual studies in a business school in Mindanao.

Sakit ng Kalalakihan

Poetry by | February 14, 2010

Gano kalayo ang milya,
Na kailangan kong tahakin,
Upang ikaw ay makita,
Upang muling kausapin,
Upang muling masilayan,
Mata na umakit sa akin
Upang muli kong masabi,
Alab ng aking damdamin.
Gano kahaba ang araw,
Na kailangang padaanin,
Na kailangang palipasin,
Upang ika’y makapiling?
Laman ng aking dalangin,
Palagi mong iisipin,
Di mo man ako piliin,
Ikaw lang ang iibigin.

—-
Jhunorjim Caumbo Zandueta is a Computer Engineering Student at ADDU.