War as a Human Product: Wars, Conflicts and The Writers’ Imagination

Nonfiction by | October 23, 2016

(Paper read during the Annual Congress of the Philippine Center for International PEN, December 3-4, 2013, De La Salle University, Manila)

Introduction

Former British Prime Minister Neville Chamberlain said that “In war, whichever side may call itself the victor, there are no winners, but all are losers.” This statement is a gospel truth when we talk about wars and conflicts.

It is a fact that human existence, or human history, has been replete with wars and conflicts. In the Bible, we can read stories about wars and conflicts. In History books, we can likewise read stories about war and conflicts, which lead me to believe that as long as man is man, there will always be wars and conflicts. There are small wars and conflicts as there are also big wars and conflicts. And no matter how small or big it is, it is always disturbing. Along the way, there is always a collateral damage—innocent people including children, die as result thereof. These flaring conflicts and wars also create economic hardships, dire refugee problems, and a sustain sense of despair.

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Ode to Garlic

Poetry by | October 16, 2016

(for Janice)

He doesn’t want you.
Not with your pungent scent
marking the strength
of your personality.
He wants that onion-
head with her pale skin
and purple highlights.
Her sly manipulations
move him to tears,
make him want to
peel back her layers and
save her from herself.
But, you, Garlic, are
your own leading lady.
You don’t need a knight
in armor or Viking
prince or Scot in a kilt,
or any odd alpha male
to carry your burdens.
You are no weakling.
Not you, dear bulbous
heroine of the Kitchen.
You, who saved us from
vampires and toothaches.
Nightingale of the World
Wars, how many heroes
survived thanks to your
antiseptic intervention?
It’s not your loss,
dear Garlic, if he
wants a drama
queen in his life.
Come, let us peel away
your thin, fragile skin.
Crush your cloves
and toss you into
the vat of burning
oil, until you become
the gold that spices up
this bland world.
He may not
want you, but
we appreciate
your virgin sacrifice.

Genevieve Mae Aquino was born in Manila but calls Davao her home. She has a clutch of diplomas in molecular biology and genetics. She was fellow for Poetry in English at several national creative writing workshops. She currently works as a university researcher at the University of the Philippines.

Call for Submissions to a Northern Mindanao Literary Anthology

Editor's Note | October 16, 2016

The Project. The editors are interested in pieces that evoke a strong sense of place, its landscapes, history, and diversity of cultures in Northern Mindanao—Misamis Oriental, Misamis Occidental, Bukidnon, Camiguin, and Lanao del Norte.The anthology is open to both established and emerging writers (1) who live in Northern Mindanao, (2) who live elsewhere but grew up in Northern Mindanao, OR (3) have spent a good period of time in Northern Mindanao enough to inspire memories and feelings. The project is spearheaded by the Department of English of Xavier University-Ateneo de Cagayan, Cagayan de Oro City.

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Pamalandong Bahin sa Panuwat, Pinulongang Binisaya, ug Mindanawon Writing by a Former English Spakaner

Nonfiction by | October 16, 2016

(Gibatbat ni sa Forum sa Mindanawon Writing katong 16 September 2016 sa Central Mindanao University, Musuan, Bukidnon.)

To tell you the truth, I don’t have the wisdom and know-how to discuss the topic because “Mindanawon Writing” is so vast. However, what I can share is a part of Mindanao that I’m more familiar with which is Cagayan de Oro because I was born and raised there as well as my affair with Binisaya. Ever since I wore diapers, I was trained to speak English. I also studied in a school where English and Filipino are absolute, though the latter language and I never seem to get along.

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Amirah

Fiction by | October 9, 2016

My neighbors are throwing sharp words at each other, piercing the wall that separates us. Very Manila, I tell myself. Sleep is becoming elusive the past days. The least I need are loud people crudely airing their dirty laundry at 1:30 in the morning while I prepare to do my Tahajjud. At this time at home in the province, everyone is halfway finished with individual supplications–no commotions in the neighborhood at all. After the prayer they would go eat the food that is already served in abundance. I glance at the table my househelp made.

Ya Allah, please bestow upon my parents a longer, healthier life. Please grant us a harmonious relationship within our family and relatives. Ameen ya Rabbul alameen.

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Gatsby Wears Levi’s (Part 2)

Nonfiction by | October 2, 2016

It always appeared to me that introducing my future fiancée to my dad would not be a problem given the circumstance he had back then; yet I have been engaged for almost five years now and dad knows nothing about it.

They did marry, right after dad convinced my mom’s family that he would become a licensed engineer; and that he would also give her more than the Tamaraw FX that the other suitor promised. I smile when I see a picture of me as a baby held by my dad, in his toga beside my mom. The vastness of the MSU golf course filled the background.

Getting his license was an elusive thing. Dad was already teaching as a part-time instructor when he started his review for the board exam. During daytime, he taught disinterested engineering majors. At noon, he dealt with death threats from failing seniors. At night, he studied for his board and was in-charge of getting me to sleep. Mom told me that dad used to read his reviewer out loud while carrying me in one arm. I had heard of circuit theorems first before fables and fairy tales.

Dad never got any result, whether pass or fail, from the first board exam. No one in that batch did. All the test papers were burnt in a fire, which the examiners said was an “accident”. Dad would have left his dreams to die like the extinguished flame had he not met mom. With his wife, plus the baby that rested in his arm getting heavier, dad brushed the ashes off and was determined to do it all over again.

The examiners made sure to keep the test papers safe. Dad had his result the second time around.

He passed.

Continue reading Gatsby Wears Levi’s (Part 2)

Nanga Sa?

Poetry by | October 2, 2016

“Madayaw na araw!”, kadaig mga utaw ga-laong.
Pero sa bus pag awon magtiyab ng dinabaw o mandaya,
Gina-laong nilan, “nanga sa yaan siya?”
Yawala da gyud ang lingwahe nami na ngani yaghuya.
Awon mga okasyon, sa siyudad o hain man,
Mga bado nami, ginagamit, “identity ng Mindanao” laong nilan
Pero pag gamiton da ni Juan, awon stereotyping da uman,
Kag prejudice isab, murmur nilan as if, taga ibang bayan.
Todo deny isab minsan, pero tribal motif ang restaurant
Kadaigay customer, “no spoon” rule, dahon kanila pigka-anan,
Aduy! Maputi man o mga elite na awon, pigaganahan
Sana singud-saan da permanente, total kita-kita man lang.
Awon gani yag-ugpa ngadto Manobo o b’laan,
Few flapos da uman, sa radio ko yaan nadunggan,
Bisaya man ang accent, todo deny brethren ko kana-an,
Aduy! Nanga sa yaan silan, si Juan man isab mismo yagtago man.

Fraulein Bosch Silva obtained B.S. Psychology in Guidance and Counseling from Cor Jesu College in 1997. She enrolled and graduated M.A. Psychology in Counseling Psychology from Negros Oriental State University in 2005. She is currently taking up Ph. D. Psychology in Counseling Psychology at the Ateneo de Davao University. She is an Associate Member of the Psychological Association of the Philippines (PAP) and a former member of Philippine Guidance and Counseling Association (PGCA). She has written novels and recent inspirational and reference books entitled ‘Overcoming Anger’ and ‘Understanding the Self’ that will be out of market this year under Cronica Books publications.