Achieving Happiness

Yesterday, September 7, marked the 2nd death anniversary of my father Florentino Silverio. The grief I feel at the thought that I am half an orphan is still quite sharp — it is as if no minute has passed since that afternoon in 2003 when my sister Majalla called me up to say that Papa was gone, dead of an aneurysm.

I wanted to spend the entire day honoring my grief, remembering my father whom I loved fiercely and who called me his Little One and Little Princess, nevermind if I was 15 or 27. I wanted to buy yellow roses and put in a crystal vase in front of his pictures in the living room, play the Beatles and Motown music, read poetry out-loud and offer everything to his memory. But I couldn’t do any of those things.

I wasn’t able to do any of those things because I had to join the massive anti-GMA protest in Ortigas led by the Solidarity Movement, the Gloria Step Down! Movement and the Bagong Alyansang Makabayan. Instead of staying at home, in bed, weeping my eyes out and feeling this pain which never leaves but thankfully sometimes retreats, I was marching down EDSA alongside thousands of other Filipinos disgusted with the government and determined to remove a corrupt and illegitimate presidency.

The last two days have been exhausting. Last Monday I kept up all night with my staff monitoring the murder of the impeachment complaint at the hands of Pres. Gloria Macapagal-Arroyo’s allies in Congress. The weak and pathetic excuses, the filthy lies issued by these so-called lawmakers reverberated through the entire Batasan Complex, and it was nothing short of a miracle that the plenary hall wasn’t struck by lightning, or these men and women turned into pillars of salt ala Sodom and Gommorah.

It was freezing cold in the session hall, what with  the airconditioning turned up (maybe to help people keep their cool and help them control their anger). The upper wings were filled with uban poor cmmunity residents who were bused in by Environment Sec. Mike Defensor and paid roughly ( we heard) P200 each to pretend they were for GMA and to heckle the Opposition and the pro-impeachment representatives.

Near where we sat were…old biddies…dressed in turquoise, their leathery faced caked with layers of make-up and their wrists jangling with gold bracelets. They were (we heard) wives of the anti-impeachment solons– Congressional Spouses. They planned to serenade the impeachment solons with "If we hold on together" by Diana Ross. They gossiped loudly about various impeahcment lawmakers, making nasty and malicous comments about them and their backgrounds.

Ummm. Oh well. Patawarin na lang sila ng kasaysayan. But we sang (yep, we did) "Tamad na Burgis" within their earshot. But if they ever so much as said a disparaging word about Ka Bel, Ka Satur, Teddy, Ka Paeng, Liza or Ka Joel…

Let’s put it this way, my staff has no qualms about raising their voices.

So they killed the impeachment complaint. Big deal. It wasn’t like we didn’t know that was gonna happen. Now the rallies will start, and they will be bigger in scope!

Two days later, September 7.

I didn’t tell any of my friends whom I saw and ran into yesterday. It just didn’t feel right to   mention how important that day was to me as an anecdote or an FYI in passing. We talked about various congressmen - Chiz Escudero, Alan Peter Cayetano, that fool of an old man Villafuerte.  I kept mum on my dad’s death anniversary, while inside, well, so many thoughts about how much I miss my father and how many days  I spent working and attending fora and rallies but i couldn’t even spare one single day, alone by myself or with my mom and sister, to visit my dad’s grave in Santiago City, Isabela. I wasn’t bitter, but I was sad.

Despite this, I know my father would’ve understood. I have the rest of my life to to remember him and love his memory. My dad who taught me to be friends with dogs, appreciate music and be in awe of great literature. My dad who loved my mom the way most people dream of being loved. He raised me to be an activist, and my commitment to this cause is in part a tribute to him and how he raised me. I would’ve been so happy if he were still here and discuss political developments with me; or even just to tease and make fun of my sometimes overwhelming anger directed against this corrupt government. In the last few years he had begun to, however grudgingly, admit that his little girl really knows what she’s talking about when it comes to current events (beyond the usual ranting and raging).  But he’s gone now, and all I can do is miss him and hug his memory to myself. #

Late last night I had it in my head to write something light and funny. I wanted to write about how Tonyo and I went off and brought two inflatable orange slices (they looked like orange slices — not segments, but how an orange would look if it were cut right across  its center) which, when blown up, were five feet in diameter each and one could comfortably sit and lie down on them as if one were on a regular sofa.

I wanted to write about how hilarious it was the way we tried to inflate one  of the slices with a bicycle pump, and there we were giving our shoulders, necks and arms a brutal workout while it took forever for the air to get into the orange. We were turning blue and then pale by turns, both of us out of shape, one of us a nicotine fiend, the other a semi-klutz, both sweating like pigs while the orange slice just lay there on the floor looking flat and bored.

I wanted to write how fervently and desperately I wanted for the slice to turn out looking like the one on the cover of the box it came in — solid but comfy-looking; a perfectly juicy, fresh orange slice I could collapse on after a hard day at the office or a horribly humid day after a rally.I was thinking I’d sit on the slice while in one hand I’d be holding a tall glass of, well, orange juice choked with ice cubes, and on the other a book by Camus or Sartre (but most likely something by Stephen King) while Tchaikovsky played on the CD player (but in reality it would be closer to say, Rivermaya or The All American Rejects).

I wanted to write how fun and funny it was to have such a simple goal (to inflate an industrial-strength plastic pouf) but for the process to reach it to be so exasperatingly difficult (have you ever tried blowing up a 5-ft in diameter poof with a bicycle pump? It’s not easy, man).

Well, I’m not going to write about any of these things. Am too angry and pissed off.

It’s official, the Supreme Court has upheld the constitutionality of the EVAT law.

What were these freaking old men and women thinking?!!!!!

The expanded VAT puts an end to tax exemptions on the sale of electricity and oil products; coal, natural gas and indigenous fuels; cotton, cotton seeds and non-food agricultural products; domestic air and sea transport; medical and legal services; works of art and literary works.

Constitutional?! There is nothing in the Philippine Constitution that says the government can impose laws that will drive Filipinos to even greater depths of penury! This decision of the SC is an unforgivable attack against the welfare of the Filipino people, and the judges who agreed to the EVAT’s constitutionality have become party to Malacanang’s relentless undermining of the economic welfare of the poor and the ever-shrinking middle class.

I watch movies in the actual theaters a maximum of three times year (with exemptions if somebody else is paying for me) because movies are a freaking luxury already.I don’t bloody care what the regulatory agencies and the PNP say — I love the bootleg DVDs and CDs in Quiapo. They’re all I can afford!

I’ve been taking the long route to work because the transport fares are cheaper. I get to save a whopping P2.50, nevermind that I have to travel 15 minutes longer (yes, I timed it).

I haven’t been ironing my clothes. Sometimes I go to work looking fresh out of the dryer, my blouses on the rumply side, my slacks with little bits of fluff on them.

I buy generic bands of tissue paper, laundry detergent, dishwashing liquid, garbage bags. My clothes are courtesy of the ukay-ukay stores in Anonas and Cubao. At night I read by candlelight, I don’t turn on the electric fan and instead I light mosquito coils whose fumes I’ve become weirdly addicted to. I’ve switched to the Sun cellular network (cheaper, really). Most of my books are from Booksale or have been seriously marked down from Powerbooks. Whenever I can, I walk instead of riding public transport because holy freaking hell a 5-minute ride costs P7.50!

There have been nights when my dinner came right of a series of cans — tinned tuna, tinned vegetables, tinned everything.Why? Cheaper than take-out or having to cook for one (when my husband gets back he’ll be the one to cook; but right now,it’s Delata Deluxe for me).

And despite all this, I am well aware I am still living a charmed life compared to majority of Filipinos who don’t even have jobs, homes, or healthcare. Who will bear the brunt of the EVAT but the already suffering majority? If I’m complaining, would’t they have the even greater right and reason to do so?

And the justified reason to fight back.

The wretched  Supreme Court’s timing of the release of the decision favoring the EVAT and the disgusting government that legislated it is  suspicious. It coincided with the cold-blooded murder of the amended impeachment complaint against Pres.Gloria Macapagal-Arroyo in the hands of the Arroyo’s brainless and/or soulless/conscienceless (if there isn’t such a word, I’m inventing it) allies in the Justice Committee.

The people aren’t dumb. It’s hard not to connect two and two together. Malacanang has been working overtime these past months to orchestrate the dismissal of the impeachment complaint and to literally buy Mrs. Arroyo some time and a fighting chance. The SC’s previous decision to declare a  TRO on the VAT has also been exposed as a product of Malacanang’s behind-the-scenes tacticizing to deflect a little heat away from the  ^&*%#%* executive.

HAH!!! But they’re mistaken. Whatever relief or time the murder of the impeachment complaint has brought Mrs. Arroyo is also immediately negated by EVAT decision. Without doubt, the outrage the pending implementation of the infamous law will be great, and the political backlash will also be severe on the already highly unpopular and illegitimate presidency.

It’s only big business and the foreign creditors who are having a field day over the EVAT; but they won’t be rejoicing long. Something’s got to give. And it won’t be the militant ranks of the Filipino people. There’ll be more protest actions including transport strikes and, I’m crossing my fingers and toes, a Welgang Bayan. By its own doing, the government is forcing Filipinos out into the streets.

I’m an awfully impatient person; but I’m determined to wait for the day when the Filpino people’s problems will only have the seriousness of, say, inflating orange slices with a bicycle pump. I cannot and will not accept this state of things. It goes against everything that is good and pure in humanity to allow such a government, such a system to remain in power.(Hmm, I really do think that all those hours spent watching  cartoons of various superheroes battling against the forces of evil have had their impact on me.)

I don’t care if it takes 30 more years, or 50, or even if I don’t see the balance of power tip in favor of the exploited: it’s enough for me to know that this will be inevitable.

In the meantime, I have to go home later and try to drag my plastic pouf to the vulcanizing shop to have it fully inflated. If you see a girl dragging a giant orange slice down the street and looking harassed, that would be me.