Achieving Happiness

Maliwanag na sa banyo namin, at hindi ito dahil nilagyan ng mister ko ng 26-watt na bumbilya ang kisame nito.

Natanggal ang bubong sa banyo namin. Nilipad ng bagyo, at mula kahapon nang humampas ang bagyong Milenyo, open-air na ang palikuran namin at kitang-kita na kami ng kahit sinong dadaan na naka-helicopter.Parang confetti na nagkalat sa bubong naming kalawangin ang mga nalagas na dahon.  Bumagsak na rin ang matandang puno ng kaimito sa bakod namin. Hindi pa namin alam kung paano buong huhugutin ang puno dahil matibay ang kabit ng mga ugat nito sa lupa at semento.

Sa Apacible, Paco, nabuwal ang mga puno ng acacia. Nagsitumabahan na rin ang mga barong-barong ng mga squatter na nakatira sa gilid ng maduming creek na, ayon sa mga lumang kwento, ay dating malinis. Sa baranggay namin, tiba-tiba ang mga karpintero at mga maliliit na hardware store. Sumugod sa kanila ang mga kapitbahay ko para bumili ng mga pako at yerong bubong. Yung may mas malaking badyet, bumili ng semento, buhangin at graba (naghihintay ng mas maaliwalas na panahon at pagsikat ng araw).

Kakaiba ang reaksyon ng mister ko sa coverage ng bagyo. Kakaiba, pero pag nag-isip-isip ka, makikita mo ring kauna-unawa ito.

Sa mga ulat sa radyo, tv at dyaryo, sinasabing matindi ang pagkasira ng maraming mga bahay, palayan, ari-arian sa mga lugar na dinaanan ng bagyo. Nagliparan daw ang mga bubong, maraming ine-vacuate mula sa Tondo, umapaw ang baha at maraming na-stranded. Dalawang araw na ring walang kuryente sa maraming kabahayan sa Kamaynilaan. 

Masahol ang naging epekto ng bagyo sa buhay, kabuhayan at pag-aari ng daan-daan at maaring libo-libong Pilipino.

Ano ang comment ng mister ko sa lahat ng ito?

"Kuu,  laging ganyan ang nagyayari sa probinsya pag may bagyo. Hindi lang mga bubong ang lumilipad kundi buo-buong bahay."

Aniya, sa probinsya, sa mga lugar na hindi abot ng midya, mas matindi ang pananalanta ng mga bagyo at iba pang delubyo’t kalamidad. Masakit at hindi nabibigyan ng coverage o sapat na pansin kasi nga malayo sa Maynila, malayo sa Sentro.

Haaay. Ang bayan kong bigo. Hanggang kailan ba ang kabiguang ito sa kamay ng mga kalamidad na gawa ng kalikasan, na hindi rin naman kayang pigilan o ibsan ng mga nasa kapangyarihan?

Ayaw ko nang magkwento tungkol sa mga karanasan ko sa bagyo sa Hong Kong. Kung paano dalawang buong araw bago dumating ang anumang bagyo, napaalam na sa mamamayan, at inaasikaso na ng gobyerno ang mga rescue operations (na naka-standby) at pagse-scure ng mga pampublikong lugar, mga reservoir, at mga lagusan ng maaring umapaw na tubig baha. Nakakainis lang dahil nakakainggit. 

I haven’t written in a week,but I’ve had so much to write (more like rant and rage) about in the interim.

I’ve spent the last few days watching over my mom in the hospital — the Philippine General Hospital to be specific. My sister Majalla insisted that mom be confined either at the Makati Med or St.Luke where,my sister said, the amenities were a thousand times better and our mother would be more comfortable (this in keeping with our departed tatay’s wishes that we do everything to make sure his wife would always be taken care of,etc etc); but in the end it all boiled down to where mom’s doctor mostly kept hours (along with the other creme de la creme doctors still practicing in the Philippines).

Kahit ano daw mangyari, nasa PGH pa rin ang pinakamagagaling na doktor sa Pilipinas.

Anyways, it’s been something of a nightmare. The true plight of the nation and the Filipino people can be seen and analyzed after an hour or two’s stroll through the halls of what’s touted to be the premier public hospital in the country. Staying in PGH or being a ‘watcher’ for a patient there also makes one achieve a shocked understanding of how backward, neglected and sorry the national healthcare system is.

Walang bulak.

Walang thermometer.

Bibili ka ng sariling syringe.

Isang buong araw ang dadaan bago bumalik ang resulta ng bloodtests mo.

Two days in advance ang reservation para sa ultrasound;isang araw para sa ibang radiology tests gaya ng x-ray.

Isang oras ang pila sa admissions kahit para sa payward. Isipin na lang kung sa charity ward ka– pasko na, nakapila ka pa rin.

Tanggal ang mga pindutan ng elevators.

May sariling utak ang mga gulong ng mga trolley at wheelchair:hindi sila susunod sa iyo kapag tinutulak mo sila;kung pakanan ka, pakaliwa naman sila.

Tangke de gerang typewriter ang ginagamit sa admittance office pag ginagawa nila ang records.

Ang dilim ng mga hallway (talagang nagtitipid. Kung ayaw madapa o bumangga sa pader, magdala ng flashlight).

Nagninisnis ang mga kobre kama,kumot at punda.

Sa kaunting bilang ng mga duktor at nars, bawat isang bisita nila ay nagmamadaling tiglima-o sampung minuto kada pasyente.

When something went awary with my mom’s IV drip (the blood started to go up the tube),we couldn’t immediately locate a nurse and my sister and I panicked a little and said that hell, we should start learning to do the tasks that nurses do like pricking for veins, taking out blood, and  straightening out tangled IV tubes).

I’m shocked and angry,and to think that I didn’t even go to the charity or the emergency wards (although I’ve been to both years ago, to the latter when my dad was rushed to the emergency because of an allergy attack; and to the former when I went to visit a neighbor’s little daughter).

I don’t blame the nurses, the doctors or the administrative staff of the PGH for the sorry state of the hospital. Why should I? I know they get peanuts for working there, and I know that the remaining doctors have already pledged some sort of commitment of service to UP Manila,the Philippines,or the Filipino people and that’s the main reason why they stay on instead of flying off to LA or San Francisco or Canada and study again and then later practice there. 

Again, gad, aren’t you sick and tired of hearing it from me?, it’s the effing government, the effing government that’s to blame for this holocaust of a healthcare system. If the PGH is in such a horrid state, we can be dead-certain that the situation in the hospitals in the regions and provinces is much, much worse.

And I haven’t even written anything about the cost of medicine! Holy heck, the antibiotics alone cost P1,245 per IV bottle,and in the last few days,we’ve bought at least six. In private and out of our mother’s earshot, my sister and I joked tiredly,"Juice me, di ka mamatay sa sakit,mamamatay ka sa shock sa laki ng babayaran mo pag magaling ka na…"

Definitely  not Grey’s Anatomy hospital conditions. More like the situations faced by M*A*S*H*s during the Korean war.

I attended the September Twenty-One Protest (Oust Gloria!) yesterday, and it was a good way to restart my life here. I was very happy to see my friends and people I’ve admired and emulated for most of my life; but at the same time, there was an underlining of sadness to everything. Why? Because, well, I noticed that some of the leaders of the people’s organizations looked so…exhausted and older than their actual ages.

These are very hard and trying times. As I shook hands and hugged friends, some of them asked, seriously and kindly, if I was returning to Hong Kong any time soon.

The first few times I was asked that, I felt a little bad. I mean, did they want me to leave the Philippines again? They didn’t want me back?  I didn’t ask that they jump up and down at seeing me again, but I thought they’d at least be a little glad.

Later on, I realized the reason behind the query: they wished me well, and since I looked better compared to before I left Hong Kong (I was less thin and sickly looking; I looked more cheerful and hopeful), living in Hong Kong did me good and I can’t be blamed if I wanted to go back.

I’m home, and I’ll stay home. I’m seeing my country and the Movement through new eyes now, and I am hoping so much that this time I will be stronger. I have with me the lessons of the last nine months — lessons on what the weaknesses in my nature are; what truly matters to me; and what I really, sincerely and truly need to be happy. I had to leave to realize all these things, and though I am still far from being an ideal specimen of humanity, I feel more confident that my next attempts to be a better person won’t fail so terribly.

The world is changing so fast even as we feel that nothing changes (poverty, exploitation, war and greed). I feel that my knowing how it is to live in an infinitely more developed place like Hong Kong helps me to be more objective in how I do my work and how I make my decisions, lay down my judgments. I will be more patient, even I try to be more resilient.

I have my friends in Hong Kong to thank for helping me make these realizations, particularly Raymond. There is never any need to feel hopeless or helpless: we just need to always be creative, always focused on our goals and to go around (not always through) the barriers that stand in our way. I’ll be less confrontational, and be more result-oriented; even as I grieve and rage against the injustice that has my country in a stranglehold, I will not weaken myself by dwelling on to much on the grief and anger. I will try to be more patient, circumspect, and care much less about the petty things that disappoint me about work and the people I work with.

No hot water

Traffic jams

flash floods

everything is so expensive!

old people begging for alms

naked two-month old baby crawling on the pavement

drinking coffee at Starbucks is a status symbol

Wearing Giordano means you’re cool

Billabong merchandise is sold at Rustan’s (In Hong Kong, they’re sold on the streets by hawkers, almost the same way the staff at Giordano sell their shirts, intoning with their Cantonese accents ‘Pili na suki, bili na, mura-mura lang’)

————

  I wonder what thoughts are running through Macapagal-Arroyo’s twisted mind as she reads and hears of news of what happened to former Thai Prime Minister Thaksin Shinawatra. She’s putting up a brave front despite the embarrasing results of her European trip; and now she’s pretending to be completely unaffected by what’s happening in Thaksin and giving the safe and generic reaction that she supports all moves to restore democracy in Thailand. Stupid woman, trying to project strength and confidence by saying that the US is looking into stepping in and settling the conflict in Thailand. What, she saying that if similar actions were launched by the military in tandem with the people’s movement, Washington will swoop in and save her teeny butt?!

The smartest political minds in the country not allied with Malacanang must throw up every day, frustrated at the truth that everything that goes on in the current political struggle in the country is so transparently clear. Black and white contrasts, and the gray areas are very minimal.

The country has a president who has failed her mandate, who cheated during the 2006 elections, and has refused to acknoweldge that she has fallen so low from the public’s favor that her every word is considered either a lie or an annoying sound. She insists on staying in office out of sheer pride, and greed for  power.

What’s so difficult to see about this situation?

What’s necessary now, the most important is to muster the greatest strength, the biggest number of people demanding that she step down NOW. History has taught this lesson twice already; and elsewhere in the world, the same lesson is being lived out against oppressive governments and systems: in Thailand, in Taiwan, in countries in Africa and the Middle East.

———–

Indigo Girls - Let It Be Me

Sticks and stones battle zones a single light bulb on a single
thread for the black sirens wail history fails, rose-colored glass begins to age and crack while the politicians shadowbox the power ring in an endless split decision never solve anything from a neighbor’s distant land i heard the strain of the common
man let it be me (this is not a fighting song) let it be me (not
a wrong for a wrong) let it be me, if the world is night shine
my life like a light well the world seems spent and the
president has no good idea of who the masses are well i’m one of
them and i’m among friends trying to see beyond the fences of
our own backyard i’ve seen kingdoms blow like ashes in the winds
of change but the power of truth is the fuel for the flame so
the darker the ages get there’s a stronger beacon yet let it be
me (this is not a fighting song) let it be me (not a wrong for a
wrong) let it be me, if the world is night shine my life like a
light in the kind word you speak in the turn of the cheek when
your vision stays clear in the face of your fear then you see turning off a
light switch is their only power when we stand like spotlights
in a mighty tower all for one and one for all then we sing the
common call let it be me (this is not a fighting song) let it be
me (not a wrong for a wrong) let it be me, if the world is night
shine my life like a light

This is my last night in Hong Kong, and tomorrow I fly home to the Philippines. I’ve been away for nine months, and for nine whole months I was able to write and write to my heart’s content (although never to my soul and mind’s satisfaction). I’ve missed my family and my friends and my dogs, and I’ve missed my work (although not the stress that went hand-in-hand with it).

I just came from a small dinner with my friends Chi and Cherry Brotonel at the IFC, and they kept asking me if I felt sad about leaving.

In all honesty, I don’t.

Well sure, I’ll miss the friends I’ve made here in Hong Kong — Raymond, the Brotonels, Jey, Ms. Belle, the other staff of Hong Kong News and the mother company Owtel; but on the whole, I feel relieved that I’m going home.

I know that this sounds strange to my friends here, given how violent and difficult life is in the Philippines (the traffic jams the least of the countless problems) and how seemingly endless the possibilities are for me for self-development; but I am too stubborn; I’m too set in my ways, inflexible even; I cannot survive very long away from my main source of personal strength and self-fulfillment.

My friends shake their hands and wonder.

I can only say that I miss my country and, despite my many shortcomings and weaknesses when I do it, I miss my real work.

I do not blame the Filipinos to choose to leave the country and build lives elsewhere. If I lived only for myself, I would, too. It’s the only way that I can explain it — a life I didn’t choose, chose me — and I cannot see any other life but this. The last nine months have been somewhat surreal to me, living on my own, deciding for myself, being physically removed from most things that gave me emotional and  psychological exhaustion. I enjoyed myself, I was able to rest, I learned much. Now it is time to go home.

Am I a changed person?

Yes and no.

No because, well, I’m still me, silliness and seriousness intact; neurotic tendencies still present and accounted for.

Yes because I’ve become even more independent; more critical of what really counts in life, and less…prone to wanting material things. That’s quite ironic considering that Hong Kong is touted to be the shopping capital of the world; but after the first few weeks of going to market places and department stores and shopping arcades (Ocean Terminal is my favorite), I realized that I really don’t require much to be happy. The two boxes I had packed and sent home last week contained mostly books and CDs — second-hand and pirated copies.

All the furniture in the flat I rented in Lamma came from the garbage bins. Cherry’s mom, Tita Cynthia, dragged me out early mornings or late evenings to  haul a dining table, two bureau-type drawers and a small cabinet from her neighbors’ trash pile. My second-hand television (which I gave to ate Wena, the Brotonel’s helper), was a gift from a friend.

The museums are free and open to the public; and so are the galleries and the Central Library. Some days I just sat in the park and ate take-out, watched middle-aged businessmen play with their model speedboats or their electronic cars. I watched movies at 9:30 am during weekends, when movies are half-priced.

I must, however, admit that I bought so many books and some of them weren’t cheap. I also ate out a lot because it was just too sad to eat at home alone. Aaaaargh. Oh well.

——-

What I will miss most

1. My friends

2. Toasted fruit sandwiches

3. TVB Pearl and Freddie the weather forecast cartoon mascot

4. Hot water from the shower

5. Flow, the second-hand bookstore

6. The big dogs in Lamma

7. The view of Hong Kong harbor as seen from the Central ferry station

8. IKEA
9. The toy stores in Wan Chai

10. Pok Fu Lam mountain trails

11. Fresh fruit (very cheap)

12. Eating lunch with my friends

13. Cake from St. Honore and Arome Bakery

14. Cinnamon rolls from Little Mermaid Bakery

15. Walch Freshenel body wash

16. HK Mag and the weekend editions of the South China Morning Post

17. The efficiency of the government offices!!!

18. The MTR that runs on time

19. Checking out Asiaexpat.com every morning and late afternoon.

20. The security guards and cleaning ladies of Shun Tak Centre.

Last night I dreamt that I was walking with two small children, one was a little girl, maybe two years; and the other a young boy, around four.

We were walking near the embankment of some strange reservoir where the water flowed angrily like a river or a waterfall. There were massive rocks lining  the cement embankment, and they were made slippery because of the moss and lichen that grew on them.

In the dream I felt very worried — I had with me two children; and it was the most important thing that I had ever done; to be walking with two fragile beings, innocent of the cruelties and terrors of the world, helpless and unable to defend themselves against anything, tiger, drunk driver, dengue-carrying mosquitoes, war. I felt cold and sweaty at the same time, and I clutched their little hands so tightly they sometimes cried out in their baby voices.

I woke up crying; and I don’t even know why.

—————

I haven’t outgrown introspective music. This is what I call music that makes me think about the way I am and why the way I am, on my own and with other people. The music I like best (or find necessary)

Gad, ang kapal talaga ng mukha ni Gloria Macapagal-Arroyo. There is no phrase in English that’s more apt than that to describe her and how she conducts herself in the meetings with the leaders of the European Commission. She’s such a liar ,it’s a miracle that her nose doesn’t stretch all the way back to the Philippines. Everytime she opens her mouth, locusts and cockroaches and earthworms should be poring out along with her lies.

"I, too, am outraged over the killings."

Ang kapal ng mukha mo. Malamang nagdidiwang ka sa bawat isang aktibistang pinatay ng mga ahente at berdugo mo; pinangaralan mo pa ang demonyong si Palparan.

She applauds Jovito Palparan and insists on keeping around, protecting him from investigations and she says she’s outraged over the killings?! What a liar, I could throw up.  It’s unreal how she can say all those things and not die of shame. She should be struck down by lightning.

Okay, so maybe I’m not all that surprised; after all, the woman has a track record of lying. — she’s lied about winning the 2004 elections; she lied about ordering Garcillano to maipulate the elections results; and every year since 2001 she’s been lying about the state of the nation.

But to lie about how she really feels about the extra-judicial killings! And to lie in front of the leaders of the international community and say that she’s essentially clueless about the killings and who’s behind them!

It’s all a matter of keeping a diplomatic front, I know; but jeez, I wish even just one of the EC leaders would deliver a more pointed statement and say that since 2001, political activists and human rights activists have been the target of the AFP’s campaign of terror and it’s already 2006 so is Mrs. Arroyo insane when she says that she has no clue about all these killings?!

I am, however, relieved and thankful that the leaders of the EC are strongly recommending (and even demanding) that representatives be sent to the Philippines to monitor the developments on the human rights front. International observers should come in and conduct their own investigations and fact-finding missions; and by just going around the areas where the killings have been taking place and talking to community residents, they will already get a stronger — and shocked — understanding of the situation in the Philippines.

————–

The Arroyo adminsitration is justifying its refusal to sign the covenant for the establishment of the International Criminal Court (ICC) by saying that if the RP becomes a signatory, the US government will stop giving military and even economic aid.

Where the hell does all the military and economic aid go anyways? Do Filipinos benefit any from it? Every single cent and dollar should be accounted for; development aid that doesn’t really go into genuine development projects for the poor; for sectors that need financial and structural support.

It’s insane, the US gets away with genocide everyday, and all the Macapagal-Arroyo government is concerned about is losing aid from the US. Macapagal-Arroyo, like her predecessors, are very  willing, eager to turn a blind eye to all the crimes against humanity that the US government does day in, day out  in exchange for a a few million dollars. That, in a nutshell, is the kind of president Macapagal-Arroyo is — mercenary.

MALAKI ang papel ng comedy sa kulturang Pilipino. Sinasabi nga na  sa gitna ng matinding kagipitan at pagsubok, nagagawa pa rin ng mga Pinoy na ngumiti at tumawa. Kayang pagtawanan ng Pinoy ang kanyang sariling kalagayan, gaano man kasaklap o kapait.

        May good side ito at bad side. Mabuti dahil nagagawa ng Pinoy na pagaanin ang sariling loob (at ang kalooban na rin ng ibang tao); pero masama dahil minsan, kahit seryoso na ang sitwasyon at dapat nang harapin, tinatawanan pa rin hanggang sa lumala na ang problema.

          Kung ano’t-ano man, may lugar at panahon para sa comedy; at may silbi ang comedy lampas sa simpleng papapatawa.

            Bilang isang elemento ng kultura, sinasalamin ng comedy ng anumang bansa at mamamayan nito ang kalagayan sa lipunan; ang pananaw ng taumbayan; at maging ang posibleng hinaharap. Sa simpleng salita, isang instrumento rin ng pagpapalaganap ng makabuluhang mga mensahe ang comedy. Makabuluhang mga ideya na binabahagi sa magaan, nakakatawa, pero nakaka-pagpaisip na paraan.

              Sa Pilipinas, ilang beses na ring nagkaroon ng mga comedy na palabas sa  telebisyon na naglayong magpatawa pero maghatid din ng mensahe.

Kinikilala nang ‘classic’ ang ‘Sic o clock News’ na pinalabas noon sa IBC channel 13, panahon pa ng diktaduryang Marcos. Sa pamamagitan ng comedy show na iyon na  pinagbidahan nina Jaime Fabregas at Ces Quesada bilang mga pekeng newscasters, pinatawa ang manood ngunit pinag-isip din tungkol sa mga kaganapan.

          Pangunahing feature ng  Sic o clock News ang mga pekeng news report na nagpaparinig, nagpapahaging tungkol sa mga katiwalian ng gobyernong Marcos. Maliliit ngunit matatatalim na mensahe ang hinatid ng palabas: kasabay ng iyong pagtawa, napapaisip ka tungkol sa kurapsyon, kagipitang pampulitika, matinding kahirapan sa lipunan, at kawalan ng pag-asa sa ilalim ng diktadurya.

         Noong panahon ding iyon hanggang sa panahon ng EDSA 2, may ilan pang mga palabas na komedya na nagpatawa at nagpaisip sa taumbayan gaya ng Champoy, Sitak ni Jack at TODAS.

Kung ang kasalukuyang mga palabas naman ang pag-uusapan, hindi masasabing may talas ang mga comedy shows. Kalakhan sa mga comedy shows ngayon sa Pilipina ay kinatatampukan ng mga pa-sexy at slapstick na tipo ng pagpapatawa. Mga situational comedies (sitcom) na simple ang plot o istorya: mga bangayan ng magkakapitbahay; mga palpak na relasyon ng magkasintahan o mag-asawa; pasiklaban ng mga magkakaibigan. May halong kabastusan at kalaswaan ang ilang palabas; at hindi rin masasabing gayun kahusay o katalino ang mga script.

         Dito naiiba ang  isang gag show, ang ‘Bubble Gang.’

            Binuo ang Bubble Gang may halos 11 na taon nang nakakaraan. Kolaborasyon iyon ni Michael V at ng singer-composer at aktor na si Ogie Alcasid. Nauna na silang nagkasama sa isa pang gaga show, ang naging matagumpay ding ‘Tropang Trumpo’ sa ABC 5; ngunit nang maisip nilang palawakin ang kanilang mga kakayanan at maging manunulat din bukod sa pagiging mga performers, tinaguyod nila sa GMA 7 ang ‘Bubble Gang.’

Naunang napansin ang palabas dahil sa segments nito na Myusik Tagalog Bersyon (MTB) at  Music English Version (MEV). Pag Pilipino ang kanta, ini-Ingles; pag Ingles, ginagawang Pilipino; kinakabag sa kakatawa. Noon namang 1998, gumawa sila ng spoof ng kilalang religious program, ‘Ang Dating Daan’ at ginawa nilang ‘Ang Dating Doon.’ Nakilala din dito si Isko Salvador o si ‘Brod Pete.’

            Mula pa sa mga unang taon ng Bubble Gang, nakita na agad ang versatility o husay sa pag-arte at paggampan ng iba’t-ibang papel at personahe ng pangunahing aktor ng palabas na si Michael V.

Kaya niyang umarte bilang isang baliw na duktor; makulit na paslit; matabang babae na alembong; matandang lalaki na manyakis; at kung ano-ano pa. Kumpleto costume, boses, at posture ng katawan. Kayang-kaya din niyang gumanap bilang si Gloria Macapagal-Arroyo, at sobrang kapani-paniwala at nakakatawa ang kanyang pagganap na pinagbawalan siya (umano) ng tv network sa tulak na rin ng mga malalapit sa Malacanang.

Nagkaroon na rin ng ilang awards mula sa iba’t-ibang institusyon ang Bubble Gang. (Best Gag Show, 1996;  PMPC Star Awards for Television; Best Comedy Program, first USTV Student’s Choice Award; Highly Commended, Best Comedy Programme category - Asian Television Awards 2003 at 2005).

Umaapaw sa creativity ang palabas at kitang-kita ito sa pagiging varied ng mga skits at sketches; mga spoof ng mga commercial, mga game shows, at maging ng mga music videos ng mga popular na banda.

Kinilala na rin  ang 35-na taong gulang na si Michael V bilang isa sa Ten Outstanding Young Men of the Philippines (TOYM) noong 2005. Ang prestihiyosong award-giving body ay nagbigay pugay sa kanya at sa kanyang kontribusyon sa industriya ng entertainment at telebisyon.

Siya rin ang host-performer ng top-rating na palabas na  ‘Bitoy’s Funniest Videos’ at isa rin sa mga regular na host sa long-running, noon-time variety show na ‘Eat Bulaga.’

Ang sumusunod ay isang maikling panayam ng Hong Kong News kay Michael V:

HK News: Madali bang magpatawa?

MV: Mas mahirap magpatawa kaysa magpa-iyak. Mahira mag-isip kung ano ang magpapatawa sa tao; kung ano ang kukuha sa kiliti nila.

HK News: Saan ninyo kinukuha ang mga ideya ninyo para sa Bubble Gang?

MV: Research. Nanood kami ng telebisyon, ng balita; nagbabasa ng diyaryo, lahat ng klaseng media pinag-aaralan namin. We conduct personal research – nagtatanong sa mga tao, ano ba ang in? Ano ba ang uso? Ano ang iniisip ngayon ng karaniwang tao? Tapos, dun kami magsisimula na mag-isip ng skit o sketch. We get our ideas from watching a lot of tv, visual din kasi ang humor namin.

HK News: Kinikilala ang Bubble Gang bilang pinaka-mahusay na comedy/gag show ngayon sa bansa; pero in recent months, kapansin-pansin na nagkaroon na rin ang show ng ilang skits na may halong pulitika.

MV: (Natawa) Napansin ninyo din pala iyon?! A, oo. Like I said, inaalam din namin kung ano ang nangyayari sa society at-large. Sa ngayon, kitang-kita naman kung gano katindi ang pulitika sa Pilipinas. As writers, we have opinions din, at lumalabas iyon sa sinusulat namin for the show. Pointed ang opinions.

            We use satire. Hindi naman straight satire – papitik-pitik lang; saka opinyon ng masa, ng mga manonood ang nire-reflect namin. May opinyon ang mga Pinoy sa mga nangyayari. Some of the opinions are serious, pero may funny element pa rin. Conscious naman kami kapag nagkakaroon na ng kulay ang sketch so we have self-censorship.

            In any case, mayaman talagang source ng humor and comedy ang pulitika, lalo na ang pulitika sa Pilipinas.

HK News: Nagkaroon na ba ng time na na-censor kayo mula sa labas?

MV: (natawa ulit) Oo! Minsan kasi naiisip namin, hindi gaanong mapapansin yung political overtones, yung opinion namin on certain issues; pero lumalabas pa rin. May mga nakakapansin. Gusto din namin ito, pero mainly, pananaw ng masa ang gusto naming ilabas; ano ang iniisip nila.

HK News: Hindi ka ba minsan natatakot na mauubusan kayo ng ideya?

MV: Hindi naman. There are seven of us  writers sa team — Caesar Cosme, Chito Francisco, Mon Rocco, Henry Maceda, Romel Lalata at si many Pavia. Pag nasaid na ang ideas ng anim, may isa pang natitira. Kahit maliit na ideya, idedevelop namin. Teamwork is the main key to the success of the show.

            My biggest fear is this: that I might not be really funny. Nag-aalala ako na corny o flat o hindi mage-gets ang jokes ko.

MV: Comedy is not easy. It’s hard work, and I take my work seriously. We write the opposite of what we really feel about certain issue, halimbawa yung mga political issues. Nagpapatawa na lang kami kasi talagang hindi na nakakatawa ang mga nangyayari. In a sense, we try to highlight alternatives – to be calm, to try to find a positive resolution -  what can be done about an unhappy situation kahit paano Madumi ang pulitika, pero we should not give up because of it. That we can get something positive out of a bad thing. Kami ay nagpapatawa lang naman. Kung may tamaan naman sa mga parinig, e di good.”

Bukod kay Michael V at Ogie, regular din sa Bubble Gang sina Rufa Mae Quinto, Ara Mina, Wendell Ramos, Antonio Aquitania, Maureen Larazabal, Diana Zubiri, Francine Prieto, at Boy 2 Quizon. Ang beteranong si  Uro de la Cruz ang direktor ng show.

I rejoice — reading Patricia Evangelista does me good. Her evolution both as a writer and a person is so evident in her recent columns. A personal and a political transformation that’s unfolding in the opinion pages of the Philippine Daily Inquirer. This young woman who used to write fluff– well-written fluff, but candy floss all the same — now writes about social realities in a way that reveals her heart and how she is affected by the things she is learning and seeing.

          To truly know what is happening in your country, to your people, one must really go out and speak and learn from those who experience the harshest and most brutal conditions; the victims of social circumstances and the ruthlessness of those who call themselves rulers. Belief is tested, theories verified or junked, and one begins to see more clearly because the contrast is provided, the differences between facts and allegations; truth and fabrications.

          It is always a journey of self-discovery when one chooses to learn about the history and the current circumstances and condition of one’s nation and people. What we are  and what made us us stand out in relief against a background of our new understanding of what is and what needs to be done in a country where those who speak out in defense of their rights are — with the ease of a hot knife cutting through butter — silenced with bullets.

      It’s also an awakening, but it’s not the kind that one gladly welcomes. It’s like sleeping during high noon and being rudely awakened at the middle of the night, and you wonder why there is no light anywhere. You begin to try find a way to see through the darkness, carefully, cautiously; and then you find that there are others too who wish the darkness to end and you become a little braver. Soon, however, your courage is replaced by something stronger — indignation, outrage, the shock of learning the truth is a force that takes over you and directs your throughts, your actions, and how you feel about the world.

           It’s to be hoped that Ms. Evangelista will continue to analyze Philippine society with her new eyes, with her senses and logic and empathy honed and sharpened by her new awareness of the harsh reality faced by most Filipinos. We wish her well on her journey.

         Why do we choose to write about the tragedies that happen on a daily basis? Why be harbingers of doom?

       Well, here’s a simple answer: for every writer/reporter/columnist who writes about political, economic events from the standpoint of patriots and nationalists and with a strong bias for the poor, exploited and politically disenfranchised, there are maybe 2,000, 3,000 other writers/reporters/columnists who toe the government/military/business elite line  and support the maintenance of the oppressive status quo.

It’s like trying to write short stories on a concrete wall the length of the Great Wall of China. With a pencil.

————-

This is my last issue as editor of Hong Kong News. Hence I have filled the pages of the features section with reports about the human rights situation — I included Alexander Martin Remollino’s article on Palparan.

Is there anything worse than seeing Palparan feted as a hero of democracy? I can think of a handful of things, but just a handful.

It’s a twisted Twilight Zone story, Palparan being hailed and showered with praises. It makes one’s stomach turn. It’s like being witness to a Black Mass, and the hooded congregants are laying down live sacrifices at the feet of the high priest with the inverted crucifix.

How dare he say that he defends human life? How dare he speak a word about freedom and democracy and righteousness?

How dare he say that he bled for the people he ordered killed!

“I value human life, the very essence of what we protect as soldiers,” he insisted. “I bleed for lives lost as collateral damage in armed conflicts. Yet, I cannot be waylaid by the use of human rights to cover up armed attempts to destroy and grab power from the state.”

The maturity and humanity (as well as the immaturity and cold inhumanity) of  the Philippine government can be gauged in the kind of people that run it — their values and methods, and how they justify their acts and decisions and policies.

The Macapagal-Arroyo government uses the most barbaric methods, employ the most twisted logic, and the most stupid, transparently self-serving arguments to defend itself, its greed and lust for power. Palparan is its symbol, Palparan stands for everything the Macapagal-Arroyo administration believes in.

I am against torture, but whenever I think of Palparan and what should be done to him, my stand on torture collapses like a sand castle.

———-

It’s also my luck (gad am so lucky) that David is going to Malaysia tomorrow and won’t be back til next week. I’ll be home by then and I will never have to deal with him again

oh heck — he just walked in.

———–

If the American people have a tremendous reason to rage and mourn every September 11, so do the Filipino people– and not just in solidarity with Americans over the bombing of the World Trade Center.

On Monday September 11,  Jovito Palparan will be having his 56th birthday, and he’s been assigned as deputy for anti-insurgency operations at the National Security Council. The bastard has been given yet another feather in a headdress already stained by the blood of the  hundreds of civilians and political activists he has ordered killed in the last five years.

What does this say about Macapagal-Arroyo and the kind of person, the kind of leader she is?

She promotes killers. She agrees with the means and methods that completely violate human rights and rules of war. She supports the summary execution of civilians and mass activists. She has no qualms about shaking hands with monsters like Palparan. She’s a monster herself.

I can’t even think straight as I write this. It’s like watching Hitler giving out  medals to the SS, and they’re still stinking from the fumes of the gas chambers of Auschwitz or Sibibor.

Arroyo should be pelted with rotten eggs and squishy tomatoes and potatoes hard as rocks everywhere she goes in Europe. She should be served with expired milk, stale bread, contaminated shellfish, beef with Mad Cow disease, vegetables infested with caterpillars, tainted water in all the restaurants or public functions she goes to (am being juvenile and  thinking of the members of the Mischief Committee of Fight Club).

How can she? How can she?!

Because she can, and because she’s evil.

I am not thinking straight. I have a mental stutter right now and it’s because I can’t get beyond the idea that Arroyo, in the midst of this  gigantic hurricane of criticism against her government’s human rights record and the endless series of brutal murders her main man Palparan us perpetrating - assigns Palaparan to the NSC.

———

I’m more lucid now.

I told a friend today how upset I was over Palparan’s appointment. He looked at Palparan’s picture and that he was ’subhuman.’

"The guy looks like he was sexually-abused as a child. There’s something psychotic about the way he looks, the expression in his eyes."

Yes yes yes. Palparan is a serial killer in uniform. If psychiatrists made a profile of how his brain works and how his id and ego are, they’d most likely discover that he’s no different from the likes of Jack the Ripper and Hiter. Completely demented, killing calmly and coldly.

If I were in any way related to this monster, I would disown him a million times over.

I can see no end to this agenda of mostrosity and brutality. The government kills with impunity, without the slightest remorse and consideration for any law, human or divine. It’s a mindless animal, killing out of viciousness and not so much for defense or self-preservation. Since it cannot defend itself by logic or reason, or by convincing the public of its innocence and blamelessness, it reveals its true character, a many-fanged creature of nightmares with the face of Gloria Macapagal-Arroyo.

Who will stop this killing spree? Who will stand in the way of this brutality? How can the deaths of all the human rights advocates, progressives, political activists and civilian sympathizers be given justice?

What can be done?

I pray yet again, and again, for a blessed bullet.

If I were to fall in love with a person because of how he writes, I would fall in love with Dave Eggers.

When I first read his autobiographical work ‘A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius," I was rendered speechless. It was a heartbreaking work of staggering genius. He writes the way some rivers have miraculously maintained their waters clear and untainted by flowing with graceful but powerful force.

I remember pestering my mom, begging her to listen while I read a few paragraphs from the book, wanting desperately to share my amazement, my awe at how prose so simply written can be both poetic and pure.

Eggers writes with a wealth of feeling, but he is never goopey. AHWSG is his narrative about how he and his siblings lived after their parents died one month after each other– the mother of stomach cancer, and the father of a sudden stroke. The mother had been suffering for a long time, but they all sought to make things appear and feel normal though nothing was: she stayed on the couch all day,the stomach acid dripping out through a small hose; her nose bleeding intermittently. She loved her children, and they loved her; and the family’s happiness was like a fragile Christmas tree ornament that hung precariously from the edge of a cliff.

The shock was, the father died first, suddenly, far-from-expectedly — he fell  to his knees as if moved by a need to pray, the garage pavement his sudden chapel, his eyes closing with the last image of gray concrete.

One realizes that the words come from a person who has experienced a lang-drawn tragedy that culminated gently, but it did not in any way lose any of is devastating effects. He is a chronicler of pain that pierces like steel, cold and focused; the kind that doesn’t spread, but stays intact within, never leaving, never waning, and becomes a permanent part of you the way your heart is.

His first (fiction) novel, You Shall Know Our Velocity, is about journeys people take, the ones where we carry with us bags and suitcases filled with memories that will never lighten; the kind we can only learn to carry if we grow stronger with time and  the gift of occasional forgetting. 

In the book, Will (the narrator), travels around the world with is friend Hand with the mission to give away $38,000. They money became Will’s when his bestfriend Jack was crushed in a car accident. 

I find certain truths in it, how we sometimes try to run away from pain, not fully realizing that we carry it with us, that it actually shapes us and we will never be the same after it. This isn’t necessarily a bad thing, and in most cases, if we only accept the pain and learn from it and how it affects us, we could be the better for it.

Everything is sublimated; and pain is something we should all learn from.We learn more things from pain than from happiness; and surviving pain strengthens us.

——————–

It has been three years today since my father died. I carry the pain of losing him with me everywhere, and I feel it everyday. Time does not dull this pain, but I am grateful that I’ve become stronger and more able to bear it. It’s baggage I can never lose.

—————-

More dead activists. I’ve lost track of how many have been killed since last week.  I get confused by the reports, the whos and wheres and whens, but I will never make the mistake about the whys.

He was killed because he spoke up and against the government.

She was killed because she refused to be afraid and insisted on being heard.

He was killed because he did not believe in the lies of the government and sought to seek the truth.

She was killed because she wrote about the truth.

He was killed because he wanted to help poor people fight back.

She was killed because she began fighting back.

He was killed because he had started to become an activist.

She was killed because she was an activist.

He was killed because other people listened to what he was saying about how the government destroys lives and why it was not only a right but a duty to speak out against this.

She was killed because she listened to him and wanted to do what he did.

The same themes over and over. The stories of men and women, Filipinos who chose not to live as victims but as arbiters of their own personal histories, makers of their country’s history.