Distraction
Ang gulo!!!
Supreme Court upholds constitutionality of the national ID system.
Supreme Court thumbs down EO 464 gag order on government officials.
I wonder how the minds of these justices work. You want to have them pilloried one moment, then you laud them the next. Talk about political schizophrenia.
Here in Hong Kong, the progressive people’s groups led by the United Filipinos in HK (UNIFIL) are on the move to gather the biggest number of signatures AGAINST charter change.
They really have their work cut out for them — they’re also gearing up for a campaign against the anti-terrorism bill and the national ID system.
Back at home, the likes of BAYAN and its allied organizations are all in a tizzy, busy organizing campaigns on the same issues. Really, when it rains, it floods; and the government is really striking hard while the iron is hot (yeah, yeah, am thinking in terms of cliches right now. Gad. The Arroyo government is really such a cliche– a living breathing parody of a dictatorship refusing to admit that it is one.)
It’s a wonder that the Philippines hasn’t become like Nepal — massive rallies everyday, teachers, professors, lawyers coming out and joining the protests in droves and facing down battalions of police and military. "Down with the monarchy!," Nepalese cry out. "Down with Arroyo!", Filipinos demand.
I think of these things and I get headache.
Pero this last three days, I almost rejoice that I have these things to think about. Distracts me from the cavernous grief I feel over my Lola’s passing.
I called my mom yesterday. She’s already in Isabela, at my Lola’s wake. Our conversation lasted less than a minute.
"Hi, Mom."
"O, anak…"
"I don’t want to talk about it, ok?"
"Oo,anak…"
Silence.
"I don’t want to hear details."
"I’m not saying anything, anak. Do you want to talk to your Uncle Paul?"
"No, no. I have to go. Bye, Mom. Love you."
I have not said a single word to my friends here about my grandmother’s death.
I really can’t talk about it. Literally.
I just write about how I feel, and somehow it eases this nolessthanagony that I feel.
My Lola.
Academic (College Dean, high school principal, university professor)
Incorruptible politician (councilor, vice-mayor. Stole not a single centavo. We’re the poorest Silverios, really).
Doting grandmother (all my life she pronounced my name "Eena," and it always made me feel special. Basta. She always encouraged me to write, to speak out. She was the one who kept insisting that I was the most Silverio of the Silverio kids. Hmmm.)
My Lola, who had a small-scale bahay kubo built for me and my cousins when we were children. A real bahay kubo made of nipa and bamboo- complete with hagdanan and batalan. Only two of us fit in the kubo, and it was always a tight fit. Oh, and we couldn’t stand up inside it! We could only crouch, crone-like.
My Lola, and whose head a coconut fell on — tonk!- while she stood in the garden watching us, her grandchildren, play habulan. When the coconut dropped like a small bomb — tonk!– straight on her noggin, she fell down but didn’t lose consciousness. We rushed to her, worried sick; but she kept her poise. She was more embarassed than anything. She blamed herself for getting in the way of the coconut’s rendevous with gravity.
I loved, love and will always love my Lola very, very much.
