by Maria Eleanor Elape Valeros
June 7, 2004; posted at www.thefreeman.com

TO stand rapt in awe, to always wonder that though heavenly bodies are untacked they behave in a manner more sensible than those I voted for in the recent elections. These were whirlings on my mind when I watched the earth cast its shadow on the surface of the moon. Einstein’s words, etched on my mind, pained me to have felt all this without being able to pen my feelings.

I’m glad am back. I lost this space for sometime now. It had to go, shelved, canned! It pained because it was the only space that made for logical writing. The rest was outright madness. The rest of the pieces I did were like playing jigsaw puzzle, trying hard to fit one piece of detail just to complete a form. This space gave me the freedom to read and write about the world the way I see, feel, hear, touch and taste it.

“The most beautiful thing we can witness is the mysterious. He to whom this emotion is a stranger, who can no longer pause to wonder and stand rapt in awe, is as good as dead; eyes closed.” Physicist and father of relativity, Albert Einstein, said.

It is believed that man has inhabited planet Earth for some two million years, probably longer. Yet even now that he is able to conquer disease, wield vast destructive power and even reach out to his planetary neighbors, man remains divided on the most vital questions: Is there a God? Is God male or female, or both? What is human life? What is its purpose? What is its significance, its ultimate destiny? And if there can be found any answers to the seemingly endless tangle of questions confronting us, those answers should satisfy all religions, all philosophies, all sciences, all peoples.

To stand rapt in awe. To always be mesmerized. To never stop believing of the possibility of another life form other than us in this universe, and of other universes alongside our own. As good as dead. As good as being a vegetable. As good as nothing.

Dead people don’t question, dead people
don’t think anymore of the future, dead people can never be pleased by the small rewards of life. Dead people are not taken aback by the ebbs and flows of tide, by the twittering of birds, by the rapping of tropical rain, by an awesome sunset.

It was just one moon. One good old moon cast upon by the earth’s shadow. Maybe nothing spectacular about it anymore as lunar eclipses are natural phenomena. But for a time, my life stood still. I was out there on the street looking up at the sky outside my working place, rapt in awe, admiring a cloudless sky, a rotund moon momentarily darkened by our planet’s shadow. For a time, I forgot about how agonizing life can become in this country, divided by contradicting ideologies. For a while, I felt some sense of renewal awash my soul.

There was one harvest moon and an old fellow Einstein to inspire me for this comeback, for this space I thought I had already lost to cost-cutting measures.©

by Maria Eleanor Elape Valeros
June 14, 2004; posted at www.thefreeman.com

This column is at an advantage coming out on a Monday, the youth issue, because I have long wanted to deal on the issues of this particular sector. Lemme start with the way parents are reacting to our youth swooning to nu or speed metal and hooked to the grooowwwling stuff in their MP3s.

The youth’s admiration for Linkin’ Park of Hybrid Theory (2000) and Meteora (2003) fame stems from moving about in their angst-ridden world.

Linkin’ is coming for its Meteora Tour in Manila, tomorrow, June 15. Your adolescent children will be trooping to ticketrons, grabbing a place in a river of all-standing, head-banging audience to get a glimpse of Chester Bennington (vocals), Roub Bourdon (drums), Brad Delson (guitars), Phoenix Farrell (bass), Mike Shinoda (emcee, vocals, sampling) with Joseph Hahn (records, sampling).
Refrain from casting aspersions. Linkin doesn’t even use any curses or swear-words in its lyrics.

Instead of pumpin’ up your inner volume, why not take a trip down Meteora lane, splice up some song lines, focus on the music’s fibers. Music mirrors a nation’s psyche. The lyrics assault a filthy world that is slowly choking our youth. Hear them despise parental shortcomings. Listen to their complaints on some elders who haven’t given them examples worthy of respect and emulation. Our young people are responding to stimuli.

The youth find it Easier to Run: "Sometimes I remember/the darkness of my past/ bringing back these memories/I wish I didn’t have/sometimes I think of letting go/and never looking back/and never moving forward/so there would never be a past."

Do you think our youth rejoice in our leader’s decision on crucial issues affecting the nation’s future? About the things this country reaped after the recent electoral exercise? Have we noticed that many of them are slowly losing their nationalist pride?

Most of our children are facing helplessness (broken families, deterioration of cultural and family values, widespread corruption in the education system), displacement-misplacement (tired of seeing family exported to some foreign labor forces, work opportunities are scarce, so are concrete programs on development of technical skills and the proper forum for healthy discussions and debates on their topmost concern—sex and sexuality). Numbness replaces pain, teaching them that retreat is so much easier than facing the issues squarely.

And so they take everything From the Inside: "I take everything from the inside/and throw it all away/‘cause I swear/for the last time/I won’t trust myself with you."

Our youth aren’t that dumb to trust their future in a government that is not even so sure of its direction, or to entrust their pride to a nation adrift and decaying.

Linkin' Park is coming. Should the elders smirk at how our youth swoon to the music they find too loud? Should they sneer at such genre of music the young ones find appealing?

Linkin’ is the amplification of our young children’s stories, issues, concerns. Most of the time, the youth have been seen, but never heard. Now, they growl and they scream against the numbness in the world. Why are the parents complaining?

Our young people are just screaming back at us for things we could have taught them gently. They have found in our raised voices the wrong way of commanding respect; of trails we could have blazed for them but never had the time; of paths we could have bushwhacked if only we sincerely cared.

And they sang Numb: "I’ve become so numb/I can’t feel you there/I become so tired/so much more aware/I’m becoming this/All I want to do/is be more like me/and be less like you."

Our youth definitely want to be heard! And taken seriously.©

by Maria Eleanor Elape Valeros
June 21, 2004; posted at www.thefreeman.com

THE northeastern ranges of Mt.Magdiwata in San Francisco, Agusan del Sur, were deep green that morning of June 14. Covered with mist, they seem to tell me exploring three caves out of literally a hundred for the 2nd Datu Lipus Makapandong Caving Adventure would not only be cloudy but would also be wet and muddy. Hosted by the San Francisco Mountaineers Club in line with the Naliyagan Festival that highlights the Agusanons’ history and culture, the trek was tricky.

But am ready for the rain and the mud and the snakes and bats – sights, sounds, experiences a spelunker finds rewarding. I love the thought of heavy rain falling down on us participants, on our guides – the datus or purok leaders and lumads and government officials. Moving about inside the forests of Agusan with the pelting rain on us could be a chillin’ but beautiful story.

It never dawned on me that completing a 20-kilometer walk from one cave to the next and going back to town via a Manobo tribal village, passing by the provincial capital of Prosperidad, and surviving it all with one and a half pieces of handed down doughnuts and the thought of ambushing one man’s kitchen in search for "bahaw" (left-over rice) would be the real story. It carried a lesson.

Before the walk to the first cave began, we were briefed that San Franz has literally a hundred caves. That we have to belly-crawl, slither and walk through three of these.

Seemed to me, I had waited for eternity to experience an adventure this extreme. I couldn't seem to wait for that moment I would be in Magdiwata’s belly.

Then we came to Aningaw Cave, the Manobo term for “echo”. The cave is characterized by big chambers made more awesome by century-old stalactite and stalagmite formations. Then, there was the Sinking Cave, one with a vertical passageway where one caver is at the mercy of the rope. And then the Datu Anawa Kalipay Cave, also known as the Inepan cave (from the Manobo term “inepan” which means “subterranean").

I’ll be telling more of these stupendous caves in a future article. Meantime, back to the experience of getting hunger pangs inside the forest. My buddy Ronnie Chris Animo of San Franz shoved from his pack three pieces of apple and cherry-glazed doughnuts. And there I was mesmerized by those sweet salvation of a grumbling tummy.

Am never a fan of doughnuts but those sweet round things given to me by an acquaintance to appease hunger pangs marked the entire experience. What could be more beautiful than sharing three pieces of doughnuts with my buddy at the heart of the forest of the Magdiwata Ranges in San Francisco, Agusan del Sur? Of course, I didn’t grab everything. Ronnie Chris demanded for a system: "hating-kapatid!"

After that, we came across children going home from school. I said: “houses aren’t that far away anymore. There must be somebody’s kitchen we can ambush for a piece of bahaw”.

Some of our companions who went ahead of us were already resting on the verandah of one house in the Manobo tribal community. I immediately asked the owner if I could ask for some "bahaw" to go with Ronnie Chris’ can of corned beef. The man ordered us to check the cauldrons. Ronnie Chris and I rushed to the dirty kitchen and opened pans, cauldrons and pots to seek for anything edible.

Ronnie Chris ran to this variety store where he was able to buy three packs of bread. I took all the "bahaw." One of our guides opened the can of corned beef for me. He found me pale and trembling and I told him am dead tired and famished, ready to gobble up anything that would pacify my hunger.

After getting a good night's sleep, my mind kept drifting to the thought of the doughnuts I never cared for on the previous day's experience. Sure, there are things you wouldn’t give a second look because you never find the tiniest importance in them...yet. But when tides turn, you find these unimportant things your only key to survival. Then I thought of Ronnie Chris and how he had extended not only a hand, but the wrist-to-wrist assistance – the trademark of how mountaineers take good care of people who share with them the same passion.

Ah! The wonders mountaineering taught me! I look forward to more doughnuts and "bahaw" manifesting their significance in more lives as each of us gracefully take our course... a day at a time.©

by Maria Eleanor Elape Valeros
June 28, 2004; posted at www.thefreeman.com

MY online buddy iceman_00, who’s into computer studies, dropped a note in my email box days after my first article for this column saw print. His letter went: “…please talk on contraceptives aron makahibalo nang mga youth nato ron unsaon nga mamenosan ang nangabuntis kay kulang man gud sa edukar mao nang daghan ang nangamabdos nga wala sa panahon.”

I would like to thank him for cranking up one of my addies, and I do hope that the rest of you would also be flooding my wild_pechay@yahoo.com e-box. I would be very glad to hear from you.

Certainly iceman_00 raised one of general concerns of the youth not only of this age but way, way before this generation had come to experience sexual awakening. But to talk about contraceptives is not my forté because the idea of contraceptives in itself has failed to impress me.

Unwanted pregnancies and teen motherhood are not direct results of the failure to digest sex education. These circumstances occur because the topic of human sexuality has always suffered from incredible ignorance, confusion and misinformation; the youth become products of and prey to the social forces that have attached an irrational stigma of guilt and fear to sex.

Sex is a subject we rarely find treated directly, openly and honestly. We don’t often get the opportunity to watch normal sexual behavior. And most parents may never talk about it, ever. Of course, we have friends who tell us about “it” and have varied amounts of experience that often are clearly influenced by myths that abound in our society. And the media too are filled with stereotypes - men are pictured as sadistic aggressors and women as subhuman sex objects.

iceman_00’s note took me back to one of the sex therapists I read, Dr. Helen Singer Kaplan, author of “Making Sense of Sex”. It was from her I learned that society’s negative attitudes toward sex are more potent than ignorance in stunting the sexual and emotional lives of so many of our children.

Kaplan went, “information will merely inform, but it takes a 'heart'—an encouraging, reassuring and positive attitude—to convey to the young person the message that sex is a natural and beautiful human function.”

This message is the most active ingredient in the prevention of problems, in enhancing a person’s ability to love and to enjoy a sexual relationship.

I think to address the problem of unwanted pregnancies and teen motherhood is to give our adolescents the reassurance that their sexual feelings are normal, but that they have to respond to erotic feelings responsibly. Unfortunately, young people in our society often enter this critical period ignorant, confused and guilty about sex for the idea is not regarded by our society as a natural biological function. Sex has always been thought of as sinful, evil, and dangerous – the topic a taboo.

Youngsters should have been taught—no less than by their very own parents—that sex is a major area of vulnerability. That they should be encouraged to be sensitive to the feelings of others, and to never ever use sex destructively or exploitively.©

by Maria Eleanor Elape Valeros
July 5, 2004; posted at www.thefreeman.com

LAST WEEK, hours before Gloria Macapagal-Arroyo was sworn into office as the 14th President of the Philippine Republic, a governance strengthened by popular choice, she was seen delivering her ten-point agenda at the Quirino Grandstand in Manila.

Arroyo vowed tough economic reforms seen “to hurt the rich to benefit millions of poor”.As I was watching her on national television, I had fancied butting in with the line “Food security for the nation, Mrs. President. Above all”.

Agriculture is the bulwark of this country’s economy, but greater agricultural productivity has been hampered through the years by bottlenecks such as a weak technology base, price distortions, weak property rights structure, constraints on land market operations, insufficient public support services and poor governance.
Reports show that the virtual abdication of past governments from agriculture is indicated by the fact that while most of the country’s work force was employed in agriculture and the sector contributed about 21.5 percent to gross value-added, the budget allocation for agriculture in 2001 was only P12.8 billion or 3.4 percent of government spending.

Of the annual budgetary appropriations, less than 40 percent “have been historically allocated for productivity-enhancing expenditures such as irrigation, research and development, fishery extension, and other support services”.

The Bureau of Agricultural Statistics recently posted the industry’s 8.16 percent growth in the first quarter of 2004, the highest rate recorded over the past 15 years. At current prices, gross value of output reached P192 billion, up by 13.83 percent from last year’s level. This is good news, but the challenge here is to have this phenomenal growth felt by the country’s 26.5 million hungry mouths.

Arroyo won the Cebuanos’ trust because we see her as a working president. After giving her a fresh mandate, the Cebuanos are now looking forward to her decisiveness translating into programs for food security.

The nation hungers for real development programs bent on increasing the country’s capacity to be self-sufficient in food and providing land to the landless as these are linked to national security, and of government policies that do not discriminate against farmers.

Reports say the country has had rice shortages due to typhoons, flooding and drought, forcing it to import vast quantities of the staple. Her leadership must realize that conversion of agricultural lands into either subdivisions or industrial estates to skirt land reform, coupled with unsustainable farming practices like the use of chemicals, contribute further to the drop in rice production.

This leadership must also realize that without massive government financial support, there is simply no way that the Philippines can launch significant production of high value crops, much less attain comparative advantage in producing them.©

by Maria Eleanor Elape Valeros
July 12, 2004; posted at www.thefreeman.com

GLORIA Macapagal-Arroyo has secured the Presidency; Gwendolyn Garcia takes Cebu province’s gubernatorial seat. Arroyo had the blessing of the Visayan populace. For a first-timer like Gwen, it was written upon her star.

Many women have already secured important posts in both public and private sectors, as vital as decision-making positions. Throughout history, significant women had manifested efforts to become social agents of change, empowering and inspiring generations after. Teresa Magbanua, Teodora Alonso, Marcela Agoncillo, Gabriela Silang, Josefa Llanes Escoda, Gregoria de Jesus, Melchora Aquino, among others, had left behind indelible marks.

In each of the generation unfolding, women are playing an ever more active role, assuming leadership responsibilities and taking a share from the pie of reconstruction and of building societies.

The Arroyo-Garcia phenomenon in Philippine politics must be accompanied by sustained measures that would promote ghurl power.Ghurl power is about women serving as peacemakers.

As United Nations Secretary-General Kofi Annan puts it: “Women must serve as peace educators, both in their families and in their societies; must be instrumental in building bridges instead of walls, of making quantum leaps from lives in the private sphere to leading the way in reshaping a society through democratic tools.”

Women leaders today are expected to study local, national and international affairs in depth, to be most articulate and committed global citizens negotiating peace. They should pursue intensive development programs with longstanding commitment to social justice, human rights, ethnic and or racial equality, and peace. Programs that would help define the priorities of their people; and move the nation’s economic productivity by addressing persistent problems of long-term and structural unemployment and underemployment.

With the rise of more and more women securing a foothold at the threshold of governance in the country, it is hoped that they may give the work for peace credibility. It has already been said: “There will come a time when nations will be judged not by their military or economic strength, nor by the splendor of their capital cities and public buildings, but by the well-being of their people, by their levels of health, nutrition and education; by their opportunities to earn a fair reward for their labors; by their ability to participate in the decisions that affect their lives; by the respect that is shown for their civil and political liberties; by the provision that is made for those who are vulnerable and disadvantaged; and by the protection that is afforded to the growing minds and bodies of their children.”

Sure, women have this overwhelming power to transform society. Ghurl power rules!

***

CEBU-based women-climbers… errrrmmm… ghurl-climbers shone in the 2nd Datu Lipus Makapandong Climb to Mt. Magdiwata in San Francisco, Agusan del Sur, when they completed a 6-hour trek to the peak, at over 2,000 feet passing by 14 waterfalls—7 are major ones—using a moderate-to-difficult trail. Marites Jumalon Arañas of Johndorf Ventures, Cerna Jagonal of The Freeman, Dowella Demetillo of Innodata, Miss Minda Jumarito of International Pharmaceuticals, Inc. and this columnist had witnessed the bounty of San Franz’ forests guarded by the hunter-god Mighty Magdiwata. Lezz do more of this, ghurlz, to promote the sport, and of our-kind-of-peace when we do bond with nature. Ghurl power rocks!©

In covering women’s health: Are the media afraid of the church?
by Maria Eleanor Elape Valeros
July 19, 2004; posted at www.thefreeman.com

IN a multimedia discussion on women, religion and reproductive health initiated by Women’s Feature Service, an international wire agency reporting on women’s issues and concerns with support from the Ford Foundation, one concern of women-media practitioners became selected topic: “In covering women’s health, are the media afraid of the church?”

It has been said that "in the media, the medium is language—words (written and spoken)”. These words cause conflict because of misinterpretation, misunderstanding and miscommunication. Today, we ask the church and the media to try to see these words from the eyes of girls, ladies, women, and the world in which they live in.
Titus Brandsma Research Center, a participant to the forum, noted that “to understand the Filipino, it is important to appreciate the powerful undertones of the so-called popular religiosity. These take more and more shape recently in a great variety of non-mainstream Christian movements—a phenomenon that is especially significant because of the often-aggressive presence of sects in the media landscape”.

“The church figures often as high profile in the setting of the national agenda, and thus in the media, on certain politically sensitive issues, like in elections; in the charter change, or in the public debate on death penalty,” so goes the research.

Media practitioners are being challenged by the problems of “neutrality," that media should not go against the right of the audience to information by making the media the instrument to promote certain financial or political interests without the knowledge of the audience.

The commitment to this “neutrality” puts pressure on media practitioners. This pressure is connected with many factors, such as economic dependence, the need to make a career, time pressure (and therefore, often lack of study and research), and confusion on basic standards of decency and justice.

Domini Torrevillas, columnist of The Philippine Star, wrote that “there are many issues in which the clergy and the laity — media practitioners specifically—do not see eye to eye. But two areas which are inextricably linked that continuously stir up passionate and emotional debate are reproductive health and women’s rights.”

The term reproductive health is considered by the Catholic church as abortion, sterilization and contraception. No matter how painstakingly reproductive health advocates explain reproductive health as being neither of the three—but covering a spectrum of concerns—from maternal and child health to reproductive tract infections: HIV/AIDS; to adolescent reproductive health, abortion, men’s reproductive health, prevention of cancers and sexuality education – the church turns a deaf ear to their arguments.

Most media practitioners are Roman Catholic, but many of them feel that the church is unrealistic in its position on family planning, Torrevillas noted.

Can church and the media ever be friends? While media are expected to be fair and accurate in the reporting of events, media should also take on an adversarial role in fighting elements that refuse to accept and respect gender equality and the reproductive rights of women.

But while the choice is between the devil and the deep blue sea, it is interesting to note that Pope John Paul II spoke on this concern in the 35th World Communications Day.

The Pope said that the “Church cannot fail to be ever more deeply involved in the burgeoning world of communications because the media are having an increasing visible effect on culture and its transmission.
“The world of the media can sometimes seem indifferent and even hostile to Christian faith and morality. This is partly because media culture is so deeply imbued with a typically postmodern sense that the only absolute truth is that there are no absolute truths,” the Pope adds.

“Or that, if there were, they would be inaccessible to human reasons and therefore irrelevant. Yet as much as the world of the media may at times seem at odds with the Christian message, it also offers unique opportunities for proclaiming the saving truth of Christ to the whole human family.

Consider, for instance, satellite telecast of religious ceremonies which often reach a global audience, or the positive capacities of the Internet to carry religious information and teaching beyond all barriers and frontiers.”
To sum up the inputs of the forum: “churches" should develop a pastoral presence in the media world, rather than build a counter force.©

by Maria Eleanor Elape Valeros
August 2, 2004; posted at the www.thefreeman.com

CALL this writer’s itch—the “Asenion bug”. Lemme explain. Five hours ago before I penned down this article, I was pricked by the thought of getting my personal NS5 robot.

Yesireee, you read me right! A personal NS5 robot, not for the sole purpose of security or domestic work, but a feel of Isaac Asimov and his one great love for robotics with which the science fiction-thriller-action-adventure Will Smith-starrer “I, Robot” had drawn inspiration.

If I were teaching in school today, I would have made “I, Robot” a required viewing material for my students who I know will equally get the same burning sensation of the Asenion bug’s bites that openly attack the mind but stealthily assault the spirit, the emotions.

Well, 19th-century science-fictionist Isaac Asimov (pronounced EYE’zik AA’zi-mov) had his name misspelled when in 1939 he submitted works to Planet Stories which printed his name as “Isaac Asenion”. A friend took great delight in referring to him as “Asenion” thereafter. Later on, he referred to positronic robots (with The Three Laws) in one of his works as “Asenion” robots.

Now why would I want the youngsters to have a feel of the Asenion bug? One bite allows the audience to ponder on the call to have some sensitivity, substantiality and sensibility in humanity’s dealings with the problems of society.

The Asenion bug goes past flashy computer gimmickry and the unfathomable existence of a God or of the afterlife. It expounds on man’s responsibility for all of the problems of society as well as the great achievements throughout history. It leaves behind the sting of the hard-to-accept fact that neither good nor evil is produced by supernatural beings, and that the solution to the problems of humankind can be found without divine intervention.

This Asenion bug is a strong proponent of scientific reasoning, adamantly opposed creationists, religious zealots, pseudo-sciences and mysticism. But this doesn’t mean that Asimov opposed genuine religious feeling in others. The bug will show that he is an atheist, alright, but he wouldn’t want superstition to masquerade as religion either. He still had a great interest in the Bible, and wrote several books about it, most notable are the two-volume Asimov’s Guide to the Bible and The Story of Ruth.

And well, the Asenion bug pricks us with the fact that robots have become inevitable because we crave to have them to co-exist with us. Whether these machines are destructive as we might program them to have the power to wage a war against us, or whether they are safe as they are non-rational, the main concern here is how far would our inventions lead us. How much good will our quest to develop and integrate artificial intelligence do in our lives?

The Asenion bug bit me. There’s so much more to ALEC (Access Linkage to Electronic Computers of the Compu-Wiz Series), to DARYL (Data Analyzing Robot Youth Lifeform of Terminator I), to VIKI (Virtual Interactive Kinetic Intelligence) and Sonny both of I, Robot. Indeed, there is so much power in man’s imagination, but there is also sanity that we have to properly harness to preserve ourselves.©

by Maria Eleanor Elape Valeros
August 9, 2004; posted at www.thefreeman.com

THE Naliyagan Festival of the province of Agusan del Sur brought over thirty youngsters to the Agusan Marshland as part of the 2nd Datu Lipus Macapandong Climb, Caving and Marshland Adventure which is one of the highlights of the said festivity.

I believe the province prefer the young to be there because of our infectious adventurous spirit. It is indeed an honor to be part of that crowd because only those who are proverbial children in their hearts could rejoice at the sights of purple herons, of water lilies and water spinachs; of floating huts and of visitor-waving kids at a humble waterworld settlement - the Sabang Gibong community.

The participants maneuvered in the snaking, writhing Agusan river on a three-hour motor banca ride, painting expectations on river water the color of mocha; entertaining the hope of visiting seven lakes within the marshland; and, of course, the experience to see upclose some endemic crocodile species like the Crocodylus porosus and the Crocodylus mindorensis, as well as the snailfin lizard which is also endemic in the area.

The Agusan Marshland is one of the biggest wetlands in Asia, in terms of area, that is about 19,196.558 hectares. It is the wintering ground of the migratory water and wetland birds from the Southeast Asia Region, taking the East Asian Flyway to Australia. It is also host to a wide array of rare, threatened and endangered species and is considered the most significant wetland in the Philippines.

Found in the middle of the Agusan River Basin, the Agusan Marsh is the third largest river basin the country, within the municipalities of San Francisco, Loreto, La Paz, Veruela and Rosario.

There are about 33 species of flowering plants found at the Agusan Marsh and a total of 102 bird species were identified by the 1991 wetland survey team. Among the endangered bird species found in the area are the oriental darter (Anhinga melonogaster) and the purple heron (Area purpurea).

The marshland is also noted for its high population of wandering whistling ducks (Dendrocygna arcuata) and small fruit bats. There are also 22 lizard species and seven snake species including the reticulater phyton and the Philippine cobra (Naja naja).

The tour provided vital information on how important wetlands are to the ecosystem, how they are classified and how they are affected by human intrusion. Freshwater wetlands can be classified into swamps, marshes, prairie potholes and bogs.

Above all, the trip to the Agusan marshland showcased the simplicity of the Sabang Gibong dwellers who delight in their mudfish-drying industry.

These are people who possess a more infectious spirit, people who delight in their utter contentment and who revel in their waterworld, one that gives and provides them a life and sustains that life abundantly. (/30)

by Maria Eleanor Elape Valeros
August 16, 2004; posted at www.thefreeman.com

ONE of the most important pieces I delivered as an orator back in high school was on the International Youth Year. As far as my memory could take me, my line blazing with youthful idealism went went: “The international youth year emphasizes primary importance on what the youth can do towards active participation in nation building. Ask any youth what he can do for a better government, he will request you: Direct and I will obey, guide and I will follow”.

August 12 was declared International Youth Day. By choosing “Youth in an intergenerational society” for a theme, the United Nations reportedly wants to stress the importance of solidarity between generations at all levels - in families, communities, and nations.

United Nations secretary-general Kofi Annan points out that in the future, the interdependence of younger and older people would increase. Youth development is a prerequisite to meeting the growing care demands of older people, and a condition for the development of society as a whole.

It maybe true that today’s society is the youngest ever, at almost 50% of the world’s population as 25 years or under, but Annan says “societies are slowly aging”.

An estimate shows that by 2050, the population of people older than 65 will have almost quadrupled, while the proportion of children will have declined by a third. This estimate implies that by the middle of this century, the old and the young will represent an equal share of the world’s population.

What is asked of today’s youth is not only to be cool, but to be very, very cool! And being cool is to take to heart intergenerational issues such as participation in an aging society where youth development is a necessity to meet the growing demands of the older population and to take a role in related voluntary works.

Another is having an intergenerational perspective on HIV and AIDS as these are youth problems too. With five new victims per minute, young people are the most effected by the epidemic. And unlike most diseases, HIV and AIDS are reported generally to kill not just one, but both parents. Millions of children are orphaned as a result of AIDS. Grandparents are often tasked with the care of their grandchildren. And many youth with HIV and AIDS suffer from the stigma and the discrimination from outside and within their families.

Above all, the youth of today are called to combat transmission of poverty from one generation to the next. In combating poverty, generations within families depend on each other. Without interventions related to education, health and employment, poverty tends to deepen when one gets older.

The band P.O.D’s carrier track blurted out the anthem “We know we are the youth of the nation”. It may be well applauded. But the real and cool score should be “We are! We are! Yes, we are the youth, and we take responsibility for those who came before us.We are not only youths of this nation, but of the world!”

Our hopes, our views, the kind of life we will choose will have a domino effect on other sectors of society we must learn to live interdependently with.(/30)

by Maria Eleanor Elape Valeros
August 23, 2004; posted at www.thefreeman.com

CHERUBIC Fabela is a Filipina grade school teacher in Thailand. She popped up on main room of Cebu Tambayan 6, one of few chat rooms I frequent, introduced to me by another chat mate in Dubai as Bicchuchu.
We exchanged pleasantries online and later figured out we come from the same grade school—Andres Soriano Memorial School—de la Salle in barangay Don Andres Soriano, Toledo City.

From our four-hour conversation till the break of dawn, I learned that Bicchuchu left the Philippines for obvious reasons —to escape poverty, to find self fulfillment, and to experience career development.

I posed Bicchuchu a challenge. There is nothing ever more special to a teacher than the chalk she utilizes to gain command over an illiterate world. But I think there is nothing more important too than the chalk dust that make up for the entirety of the chalk.

You see when I was young, I also considered the teaching stint. But a joke about teachers hurt much too much: “Maestra? TB-hon, sige hanggap ug abog sa chalk”. Oh, chalk dust! They are like cinders in space. Without dust there couldn’t be any heavenly body, I suppose. There has to be minute parts to create one big mass.
Chalk dust—like the atom in each molecule. Dust holds and/or fastens every particle of a youth’s dream; gives that dream the possibility to soar under one sky. Dust from a teacher’s chalk inspire more flights than that at Kitty Hawk, more satellite launchings, more moon landings, films and researches, computers, mobile phones, roads and bridges, airplanes and submarines, housing projects and food production.Chalk dust. Very much like the blood that pumps up every fiber and every system in our body to make them work in synergy, in synchrony—all functional.

Oh, chalk dust! I used to watch them admiringly as they fall onto the blackboard ledge. But I would want to tell the story not from my eyes. This time, it would be from Bicchuchu, a youth on my Yahoo Messenger Buddy List. One youth who found the realization of her dreams in Muang Thai (Land of the Free), an Asian country my teacher told me as, “it used to be Siam back in the old days”.

And Bicchuchu wrote:“One straight line, the next a loop; one small line topped with a dot; one cursive stroke and a horn and I am teaching the world to write. At my back are thirty-four pupils mimicking the strokes, mastering the alphabet that would fill up the spaces in their notebooks, occupy all the blue-to-blues and red-to-reds on pad papers, and flush out all the ink their pens could contain.

The dust taken off slowly from the humble piece of chalk I am using to lead my pupils from the plight of illiteracy reminds me of the efforts my grade school teachers exerted in shaping me and thousands of other children. Now, I am taking the course to educate the many children that have come after us.

But who would ever think that I, an idealistic girl at 12—and still so at 26—would head for a journey far from home, far from the children of the nation I so long to serve. Here I am wielding my own battle, down south of Thailand, as an educator, nurturing the minds and the hopes of Siam’s children.

Here, I saw all the chalk dust carried by the air of old, old Siam into the brains of the Thai children who I know will one day have a grip of the world. But boy, it pains! For these should be the children of home, the Filipino children for whom my heart truly, deeply, madly beats. I desire to be a teacher of my people, but there are sound reasons why I set foot away from home.

With a four-year teaching experience in the Philippines, hopping from one private school to the next, the bug of reality bit me. The compensation just wouldn’t suffice especially when you’re a breadwinner.

Then came the opportunity for a job outside of the country where plane fare, and food and accommodation were made free. I grabbed the blessed chance even if my decision meant leaving behind my family, my friends, a culture, a lifestyle, and the country I should have served. The grass is always greener on the other side of the fence.

Buzzzz…there goes the bell again. Class is over! As my pupils each walked out of the room, I pondered on how I had touched their lives today. And as I play with my fingers the chalk dust left on the blackboard ledge, I would imagine these children’s dreams as if they are my own. This mound of dust—the very witness to every stroke that succumbs to silent death in my country with the many teachers turning as domestic help to be able to survive and feed a family, or send their children to school.

Teaching in Thailand is challenging, the compensation good. As I play with chalk dust, I chuckle at the thought of counting more young people following my footsteps. Not taking anymore the risk of nobleness, but the risk of the coldness out of home. You know what I mean.

I miss home, who wouldn’t? But it is better to be homesick and lonely than to be famished.”

Bicchuchu is just one of a lot of young people who have found work out of the country. The incumbent administration promised the creation of 6-10 million jobs for Filipinos in a six-year period. But it never dawned on me that the effort would be focused more on overseas employment. What I am expecting is for sound economic policies to be implemented to generate this figure here in the Philippines. I would want Bicchuchu home.

If the exportation of our trained or skilled people to the labor force of other countries would continue that would mean draining the country’s human resources and strengthening other country’s economies, not ours.
And I thought all the while we can have a strong republic made through sound development strategies. Oh well maybe, am still a dreamy-eyed youth who hasn’t outgrown yet the images of fantasy. (crank up my addy: wild_pechay@yahoo.com, and I’ll buy you coffee)©

by Maria Eleanor Elape Valeros
August 30, 2004; posted at www.thefreeman.com

HANDLING some thingies of the young crowd is tough. You can just imagine the archives I had to dig into to be able to understand what Hunter X Series is all about. Sign of old age, awright! But the one positive effect chatting online has given me is this opportunity to interact with plenty of young people—who, errrmmm, keep me from fussing over quarter-life concerns (hee hee).

These are the young people of today, gaga over animation and or animatronics. But wait, say, animé please. That’s the jargon!This bunch of youngsters has replenished some childhood spirit in me that from time to time go down the drain because of this workload, this lifestyle, that pulls me out of the couch, away from some idiot box I once admired.

One of these animé fanatics is Killuazolbick. He’s twenty years old, just somewhere in Mandaue, hanging out at this Internet café run by a relative. He prefers to be called Xham, though—from his family name Samson—when conversing online. He chose Killuazolbick for a screen name as it is one animé character he so adores. Killua defends animés aren’t avenues of violence. Rather, they are vehicles for young people to understand that, really, crime doesn’t pay.

“Ngano man ma-violent ang mga child viewers ana nga kanang mga characters dinha pareha ra man na sa ubang teevee shows. Naay bida, naa pud kontrabida. Ang bida modefend, ang kontrabida mopatay. Then magbasol man pud na ang nakapatay. Maningkamot sad na sila mag-usab from bad to good. Hapit tanan in-ana man ang dagan sa mga stories ma-animé or dili. Ngano man gyud initan ang animé?,” Killua went.

I was supposed to tackle on the issue of violence relative to the influence of animated teevee series on the youngsters. But then the moment Killua confirmed that Pinoy animators were responsible for the original production of Dragonball Z, and that this was only sold to a Japanese market for lack of government support, boy, was I furious? Another product of Filipino ingenuity made basket case. Tsk! tsk!Huhum! What else could be new? Is there a future for Pinoy animators here, by the way? Now I wonder why the government couldn’t catapult the Pinoy visual arts industry into heights when, in fact, it so loves “pakatok” and “kakengkoyan”. I mean, plenty of legislators took the images of cartoon characters, mind you! So, I think, with them into the construction of laws, there certainly would be a bright future for the animation industry here.

If indeed they are bent on a paradigm shift to realize a 9-point agenda, then this administration should have sustained the Philippine Animation Festival, last February. It could have supported free animation film viewing, workshops, and seminars on animation, and of the activities aimed at upholding the skills of local animators and encouraging them to do more original productions.

It’s also good that Killua brought to my attention the local animation industry because the curiosity helped me realize that this particular industry “has long been providing the warm bodies for existing foreign animation studios like Disney”.

This I learned from Han Bacher, retired Walt Disney animator, and former production designer of full-length animation features like Mulan and Roger Rabbit who is bound to set up a company in the Philippines.
By the way, here’s an archived piece: a Filipino visual artist won the Visual Effects Society Award or Vesy, the Oscar in the field of special effects animation this year. Anthony Ocampo became the first Filipino to win the Vesy in the category Outstanding Models and Miniatures in a Televised Program, Music Video or Commercial. Isn’t that a feat? Now for endeavors in animation, would the government please give some form of subsidy to those starting young, say Killuazolbick? Animation and/or animatronics artists should be allowed to knock on government’s door for subsidies that would enable them to put up production houses. If other countries could give our people the opportunity to bloom, then there’s no reason why the incumbent administration can’t take a chance on them.

It would be nice to see this country nurturing 3D lead artists, in the league of Ocampo. The guy now does animation work for top US TV programs such as “CSI”, and animation and special effects for “ER”.
If government subsidies are in the offing, there will be more Killuazolbicks in the making. I would love to see my friend Xham come up with his stories. He said he doesn’t draw, but he has a knack for developing storylines. Oh, we are on same league.

It would be nice to watch Xham—my Killuazolbick—credited after a full-length animated film of his creation.(crank up my addy: wild_pechay@yahoo.com, and I’ll buy you coffee)©

Maria Eleanor Elape Valeros
September 6, 2004; posted at www.thefreeman.com

SEPTEMBER 1 to 7 is International Enthusiasm Week. I dunno how most of you will respond to such a call for celebration. I personally believe what is there to be enthusiastic about other than being alive? What’s there to have at this very moment is this zest for life—for this one, borrowed, fleeting life.

I have in my diary two entries on how to get a life and how to go about celebrating it. With the world’s backbreaking round of drudgery or whatchamacallit, life remains to be very, very beautiful.

This issue is dedicated to Joshua, to Kristoffori, to those baby mills who dump cherubims anywhere, anytime; and to those who almost give up on life. Read on:Diary entry # 1: “Many times I’ve noticed that glow in Kristoffori’s eyes. I could read that very human need to belong. Countless moments I’ve seen those lips of his curve into a smile wanting to make friends, but he barely talks. Except when drunk, though, he has all the nerve to babble things, finding solace in alcohol.Kristoffori never brags about a string of girlfriends he had dated out and had French-kissed with – topic of interest of most young boys I know in this Alumnos neighborhood. Never heard him talk of his brushes with siblings or parents, wonderin\g if he lives a normal life.

But, one night he came bringing into my rented pad a good heap of cassette discs that ignited the rapper’s delight in my head. He started talking about Puff Daddy, Cypress Hill, LL Cool J, Tupak Shakur and, of course, the artist’s tragic death; and Marshall Mathers or the glory of Eminem.

The topic moved on to how it took him this long to finish school just to give way to two siblings. He bared his soul to me by sharing how he had just broken up with his seventh girlfriend in a span of five years; his whirlwind romances with pretty young gals after that, of girls just “wanting to have fun”.

Kristoffori is young and ambitious, gorgeous and interesting. But like most introverts, he is always mistaken as cold and assuming.

But truth is, he would not take the idea of being alone. He is very human, wanting and needing so much to grasp the real meaning of life.

“I’m at the verge of giving up on life,” he said. “Life’s just not fair. See, some guys have all the luck. Like they don’t have to worry on how to finish the damn schooling and how to get a moneymaking job,” he chuckled and shook his head. I could relate.

Sure, reality bites and is nauseating. But I moved on to convince him it is still worth all the zest.

“Life’s a ball, you heard that many times. Don’t you believe?” I asked him.

“What ball are you talking about? Life’s a mess…,” he paused to wipe sweaty palms at the hem of his royal blue cargo pants. “Don’t you think?” he’d thrown back the question at me.

“Don’t be so quick to give up on life, sweetie,” I soothed him with praises, giving notice of his good looks and assuring him of his wit and - uhhmmm - sex appeal. “You are one of those guys blessed with a loving family, with an opportunity to step into college, and with those good looks that’s to die for,” this I recited with the delight of watching him turn lobster red. Kristoffori was already blushing.

I’d thrown at him a wink and then we shared high fives. “Di matabang ang description, sa?” I was giggling.

“Puwerte,” he was laughing.

Most of us, I think, are impatient. Very impatient. You, Kristoffori and I want results and would want every situation to work out for us. We try to blab “if others can, why can’t I?,” but we aren’t willing to pay the price of success. The truth is it is this bulldog tenacity of purpose that wins the battles of life, whether fought in the field or in the forum. Most of us zero in on life being bitter when what truly makes life is the very definition we give it.

Life is all about struggles. Why do we have to conceive of a monument as enduring as the pyramids of Egypt when we are not bound to expend the efforts required to build them?

Whoever has forgotten that it takes three days of hard work and perseverance for a tiny silkworm to spin a cocoon using a kilometer of thread. And can we overlook the insights and inspiration from the oyster that turns grains of sands after it is wounded into a gem?

Life can only be a mess if one loses his belief in it. It has been said “there may be epics in men’s brains, just as there are oaks in acorns, but the book and the tree must come out before we can measure them. For one to appreciate life, one must first get a life.

Diary entry # 2: My former high school classmates were shocked. Downright shocked upon seeing me cuddle the baby Ymarrie, swaddled in immaculate linen, sleeping in peace, her angelic countenance painting roseate cheeks, subtle fair skin. Ah! The miracle of life.

They couldn’t believe I got a daughter so soon. I was in my mid-twenties that time and many friends thought I was so straight, I wouldn’t end up having a baby when opportunities, career-wise, are flowing like milk and honey. But I did! How I long to have a baby, if only time so soon allowed. Ymarrie is a bouncing 5.7-pound infant with curly ebony hair, a cute nose, subtle rosy cheeks and chinky eyes. She is a cutie, a little bundle of joy.

The thought of having four little boys running around the house or out there on the yard on their make-believe stallions chasing after bandits, or them bouncing basketballs or hitting balls with bats crossed my mind once.
But instead of quadruplets, out came a little baby girl with tiny hands reaching out to me as if wanting me to own her, this little baby Ymarrie.

Before the eyes of God, in the holy sacrament of baptism, I received Ymarrie when I lighted one of the candles for her. I became a mother instantly. A godmother at that! Today, the baby is already a young schoolgirl. And she sweetly addresses me as nanay.

I had longed to have a child of my own. I prayed that my womb wouldn’t die too soon, and would let me experience the joy of motherhood.

If I’ll be given that blessed chance to deliver an angel, I wouldn’t dare even in my mind, to put him in a safety deposit box or place the little angel at any stranger’s doorsteps. Not one of my children will share the fate of those who were left outside of church premises waiting to be picked and cuddled, and owned and loved.

When I’ll have that blessed chance to conceive a baby, in or out of wedlock, I will nurture him and give him love and show him there are plenty of reasons to celebrate life. For every time a baby is born, his shrieks will remind me to believe in love and life always.

Every time a baby shouts his powerful uha, it will remind me of those times I also did mine. For every time a baby is brought out into this world, a ray of hope flickers.

Just imagine this world of ours without the chatting, the giggling, the chortling, the garbling, the yelling, and the crying of earthly angels. Just imagine if there was no child in that Manger.

***
Here’s a note from Madagascar. You may crank up my addy wild_pechay@yahoo.com.
Dear MS. VALEROS, I have read today (on The Freeman’s Lifestyle online version) your write-up entitled “Chalk dust in Siam”, where you describe the plight of your chatmate aliased Bicchuchu. It was very encouraging and inspiring. I come from a poor family too and modesty aside, I too have that above average talent that can be of great help if I had been working in the Philippines even just in the government.

Because of low income, poor motivation, and the “palakasan” system, I opted to find my way for a dream come true here in this very far away Africa. Today I am managing a French Aquaculture Company, employing a little more than a thousand workers here in Madagascar. I had managed so well that this is now my 3rd successful year in this company. At times along the line of my work I have imparted some valuable help too in this country of poverty. I managed to insert community services and basic help programs as part of the company’s concern. I have built and donated (using company and company suppliers resources) churches, schools, bridges, etc. that the poor people here can use. With these and many more, I too have my own reflection with a wish that I could have done all that to my country. Although my story is a little bit different, but it’s quite just the same; it somehow reflects what kind of government (and of people running it), that we have. Thank you and more power.

Best of my personal regards,Leonido C. TALA Project Manager AQUAMEN EF (Aquaculture Du Menabe - Enterprise Franche) BP 7715, Bat F2, Village des jeux, Ankorondrano, Antanarivo 101, MADAGASCAR Tel +26120 2263701 Fax +26120 2267960 e-mail: leonidoctala@hotmail.com/ futuretangub@yahoo.com. ©

by Maria Eleanor Elape Valeros
September 20, 2004; posted at www.thefreeman.com

Was supposed to be cheering in this column for JM Cobarrubias (former The Probe Team reporter), Avi Siwa and Jigs Mayuga—three young, smart, honest and courageous people who fought for their space in space—as they fully anchor Channel 7’s Out. It’s the first TV magazine show that showcases the lifestyle of gays, lesbians and the like. Pilot telecast was last 9/11 at 11pm.

Out in the box, I would also want to talk about how the program has touched me and, finally, convinced me to come out in the open and confirm to the whole wide world I’m a swinger. Only a few people know this, those I’m pretty comfortable with (excluding my family). I know this would hurt them, but keeping this, for too long now, in the box even cuts so, so, so deeply.

But, voila out also in my other box – yes, my email box – is a note that read: “Hi! I read The Freeman on a certain day and happened to reach a page in the Lifestyle section. It’s a youth page and I saw your email ad at the end. I thought of contributing ‘Bringin’ it on!’ Thank you and God bless! - Cris Evert Berdin Lato evert17_up@yahoo.com.

Thanks Cris for crankin’ up my addy. Gotta set aside the swinging stuff first and give my readers a piece of your beautiful mind:“School pressures and problems? Yes, a truly stale topic but indeed mirrors the current dilemma of students. As a student, one gets to face countless pressures and interminable problems. Added to all these is the big problem of time management. What type of school pressures and problems are you encountering? Read and see if you can change that doomed fate.

When you feel that Mr. Know-It-All or Ms. Blah-Blah doesn’t like you, never accept the treatment. Fight! Fighting doesn’t mean that you have to use your hands or your physical prowess. Go back to how the Karate Kid was trained: “To subdue the enemy without physical fighting is the highest skill.”Use your talents, your intelligence. Show the world what you’ve got. Outplay. Outwit.

Outlast. For instance, if he’s giving you low marks in your speech class even if you’re doing good, show him more of that debater mouth or express that Aristotle mind. Remember to prepare well. One more thing: Be cautious of what you’re saying and how you say it. Too much bluffing may be the antithesis to your destined success.

“I got a low score in an exam, am I dumb?” Many ask this question. The answer is, of course, you’re not. Maybe you weren’t that prepared for the examination. Think about what you did the night before the exam. Did you go out with your friends instead of doing the much-needed studying? If that’s the case, better change the attitude.

Scoring low in an exam does not mean you’re dumb. It may be connected to some other “disabilities”. Oh well, nobody’s perfect as they say. But frequent low scores are indicative of something serious. Do watch out!
If in any case you are the best student in class, never depend on the title. If you do, you might wake up one day losing that crown.

Plenty of people out there are willing to give a good grab. Study even more! Read more books and interact with people. For sure, you’ll get to learn plenty of things, for always people will have their own, interesting stories. Being on topnotch is not an assurance that you’re going to be the best in everything.

You think popular kiddos are the best? You’re definitely wrong. You can be better than them. Know your talents. Explore your individuality. Ask yourself and discover which area are you in tune. You might be a good dancer, gifted with that songbird voice or might have that Hollywood-quality acting prowess. What are glee clubs, dance troupes and theater groups for without people like you?

Your reaction, research, position, and concept papers are all due tomorrow and you haven’t started typing in even your name? What’s the matter? Why not create a timetable? This will guide you in doing the tasks that you ought to do. For instance, you might want to study Biology from 4:00 to 6:00 in the evening, take your dinner at 6:15 and type you reaction paper by 7:00. This way, you’re up to being organized.

What’s more you’ll get to pass your papers on time without asking your dear instructors to extend another deadliest deadline.

If all else fails, why not try to relax for a while and give yourself a break. Eat a sumptuous meal, treat yourself to a heart-warming movie, or go out on a date (if you can get one). You just have to loosen up sometimes. Don’t be too hard on yourself. That might just be one reason why you’re facing and encountering all those pressures and problems.

The key to success is not just hard work. Being happy in what you’re doing is another ingredient. Put your heart in whatever you do. Couple that with your mental acumen and you’re off to beat those pressures and problems. Bring it on guys and gals and you’ll surely touch the sky!

(Hiyah, young people! Whuzz the hush-hush over skate and skim boarding, and “your” other thingie, huh? Give me a clue. Drop your contributions at wild_pechay@yahoo.com. Celebrate your space in space.)

by Maria Eleanor Elape Valeros
September 27, 2004; posted at www.thefreeman.com

“SA pag-pangapply og trabaho, guts gyod ang mo-play og important role,” says Leonido ‘Dodong’ Tala, a Filipino aquaculture project manager in Madagascar, Africa, in answer to the first set of questions I sent him through my yahoo email box.

I convinced this gentleman from Tangub City, Misamis Occidental, one of avid readers of The Freeman online version, to let me borrow his story for this column to give my readers an idea on how in the world was Dodong able to get a space in that part of the Dark Continent.

“I remember when I applied for my very first job, I arrived in the office late for the preliminary screening,” he noted in bold letters. I could read through the capitalized message a mixture of embarrassment and pride that despite being tardy he still got the job. Read: The glory that guts won!

Dodong mentioned of ten applicants out of nearly a hundred who were already up for an interview before the Malaysian consultant.

“The ordeal was exhausting kay sudlonon pa kaayo ang farm, plus sugaton pa ka’g unpleasant information that the screening was already done. I decided to sit next to the last interviewee, mapping out in my mind my next move as I’m already in the area,” he recounted.

Dodong said he wanted the job so badly that he thought of befriending the last guy scheduled for the interview.
“I implored the guy to tell the Malaysian consultant that I would like to talk to him.My wish was granted and when I spoke to the consultant, I told him if he could let me work sans pay as I was not on the list of applicants that he was supposed to interview. I told him it would be nice to gain some exposure in the industry, “Dodong recounted.

The line “working without pay” worked wonders.

Dodong got the job ahead of those on the list. The Malaysian assured him he would be paid, of course.

Dodong and I shared a common denominator. We took some unpopular jobs before ending up in our present workstations today. I worked as messenger for an old, ill Briton national in Gun-ob, Lapu-Lapu City; an English tutor to a Japanese kid in Bacayan, Talamban; an encoder for an Australian water service provider consultant in Sto. Niño Village in Banilad; and a bookkeeper for a resort gift shop in Buyong, Lapu-Lapu City before I made my way to the first-ever data capture company in Cebu, and finally to the editorial section of The Freeman.

“Like you, Eleanor, dili sab gyud ko mauwaw mo trabaho and mangita ug panguwarta. I did odd jobs back then from being a shoeshine boy to construction helper. When I was in college I was with the test paper printing facility of the school,” Dodong wrote.

I thanked Dodong for letting me borrow his story for this column. Having been born a poor child, he said it made him strong and tough against difficulties. In my case, having been firstborn and poor, it dawned on me to bushwhack for a clearer path in life.

And then I found myself smiling at Dodong’s formula of getting a good job. “Find the smallest and less attractive job first. You can easily get it kay menos man ang competition. Then from there, work on to get the next best job. It would be easier to apply for another job if you already have some work experiences.”

Regarding the shrimp industry of which I have a special interest on and of which Dodong has loads of technical expertise, I found him chuckling at the thought on why the Philippine government just “allowed the shrimp industry to be destroyed by the so— called technology transfer in aqua-farming”.

The importation of the P. vanamei or the Pacific shrimp specie hurts the industry, says Dodong, “Kay kuno ang P. vanamei specific pathogen free nga dili daw mataptan ug sakit? I find it ridiculous. Logically, any organism for that matter is always capable of contracting a disease. Take note that the resistance to disease is developed in a monitored condition. It’s totally different in ponds, particularly in commercial culture,” he reasoned out.

“Misleading propositions regarding aquaculture makalusot sa Pilipinas because of politics ug sa kawalay expertise nga mo-handle ug deep analytical study that would help in decision making before programs are pushed,” he pointed out.

Asked on what could be the best measure to adopt in order to preserve our shrimp culture, Dodong keyed in “simply go back to basics”. Traditional or backyard culture should be given an emphasis coupled with strong government support. Laws should be enacted on the protection of endemic shrimp species and on intensive shrimp farming.

(For your comments, reactions, suggestions, and contributions crank up my addy wild_pechay@yahoo.com. Celebrate your space in space!)

-OO-

Addy buddies. “Hello! I read your article on The Freeman, “Chalk dust in Siam”. That was great! (Writer’s note: Thank you very much!). It amazes me a lot because I will be a future teacher. I’m now on my fourth year in the education discipline.” - Girlie girly_fariola@yahoo.com.

“Hi! I’m Cito, a nautical science student. Thanks for coming up with the article “Having sense of sex”. I find it helpful for us young people on our attitude towards sex and our response to this natural biological function. Plenty of us young people are confused on the significance of sex in our lives. And I really appreciate the article as it presented a healthy view about sex. Thank you for the attention given to this note. I’ll be looking forward to your next write-up.” - Lucito Pacaldo vj_cito2000@yahoo.com.

“Hi there! Good day Ms. Ma. Eleanor E. Valeros, just wondering how long have you been writing or contributing? (Writer’s Note: At The Freeman, almost seven years now.) - Art Ramos .

by Maria Eleanor Elape Valeros
October 4, 2004; posted at www.thefreeman.com

The Alibata moderator of the Ancient Baybayin Scripts Network sent me an invitation for membership the other week which makes me wonder how many people back here had received the same message and are familiar with alibata, ermmm...let me use the appropriate term, baybayin (“to spell” in Tagalog).

The ancient script is often referred to as alibata, a term coined inexplicably to mimic the first two letters of the alphabet of the Maguindanao people - alif and bet - derived from Arabic.

Hope many out there are into the study of the baybayin script, interested to perhaps initiate a forum, discussion, or a conference with assistance from ABSN. The network hopes to encourage new opportunities to interact with enthusiasts on learning the ancient writing scripts and writing systems of the Philippines, and languages with different syllabic, alphabetic, and logographic writing systems, and be able to trace how these had affected the evolution of the baybayin scripts.

On top of it all, ABSN is encouraging new methods on deciphering archaelogical baybayin artifacts, pottery, inscriptions, rock art, petroglyphics, and pictograph characters found throughout the archipelago, so that when this hits bottom every baybayin disciple would know that ABSN is here to promote understanding among different communities.

Now why am I bringing this up? My fascination for baybayin came at such an early age. Though back in grade 4, the lessons were limited, one trivia stuck in my head that other loads of information were not able to overwrite through time. That of knowing that though major languages (yes dear! languages, not dialects!) in the Philippines are now written using the Roman alphabet, these languages were first represented using a script related to and directly or indirectly derived from the Bugis and Makassar scripts of Celebes.

I remember one advertising congress held here in Cebu some years back when George Escalona of Tattoo Museum painted my name in henna using the baybayin script. I went gaga over those pretty fascinating strokes of graceful loops, crooked lines, wavy arrows, cute zigzags, and an inverted fat heart beautifully tattooed in the native script on my left arm. Those spoke so much of the beautiful past of my Tribu Zzubu people, and of the Pintados, as well. It is so sad though that the two forms of these indigenous scripts that still survive to date are not used here in Sugbu. The scripts are used by the Tagbanwa of Palawan and Mangyans of Mindoro today.
It is believed that the Philippine scripts were derived from Kavi script or old Javanese, perhaps indirectly through the Buginese. The Buginese origin of the Philippine scripts best accounts for the fact that the latter cannot represent the final consonants of syllables since Buginese has the same limitation.

With the help of a web baybayin translator - www.eaglescorner.com/baybayin - that could work out well on Tagalog words only, I had “Baybayin (Alibata)” translated which gave the equivalent set of Buginese syllables ba ba ye a le ba ta. Another example, my name maria eleanor elape valeros written in pidgin-style mariya elinor elape baleros when translated gave ma de ya e le no e la pe ba le do as some letters like “r” was replaced with a “d” and the last consont “s” was dropped. When written, there would be 12 symbols to correspondent 12 syllables, meaning to say one symbol for each syllable.

This I brought up in the hope that many of us most especially the young people would take interest in promoting advocacy for linguistic rights, ancestral rights, cultural rights, indigenous rights, and cultural revival.

(For your comments, reactions, suggestions and contributions, crank up my addy: wild_pechay@yahoo.com) -00-

Addy buddies. I was on my usual editing of prayer texts in Philippine languages/dialects when an Ibanag/Itawes word (connected somehow to prayers) entered the scene. The word is MABALLO/MABALLAT = salamat. In Bikol, it is MABALOS. There are other words surprisingly “cognate” among northern Luzon languages & the southern Bikol ones, especially along the Sierra Madre side: ATANAN (Yogad) = TANAN (Sorsogon, Gubat Bikol); NGAMIN (Ibanag/Itawes) = NGAMIN (Iriga Rinconada Bikol); DUMAN (Umirey Dumagat) = DUMAN (Naga Bikol); BITIS (Pampango) = BITIS (Naga Bikol). There are others, I know. Truly, north meets south. - Dante Ferry danteferry@yahoo.com.

“Hi Alibata friends, we have to promote a culture of excellence in the Philippines. I wrote a book entitled “Called to Excel” which seeks to inspire Filipinos to do something to help our country rise again.” Rex Resurreccion of Passion for Perfection-Philippines .

Maria Eleanor Elape Valeros
October 11, 2004; posted at www.thefreeman.com

Countless white frangipanis have started to come off the temple tree now. One by one, the wind’s unseen hands pluck them off their niche. Soon, more would be joining a pile of these white blooms on a journey to decay, blown beyond the concrete high fence where I believe they chose to lie.

This has been the umpteenth time I have been watching those fallen frangipanis ten meters away from the verandah of this rented space I have in San Antonio Village, Mambaling. If only frangipanis have the eyes of today’s youth, certainly those would hold the stories of the hurt and anxiety of a lifetime.

If frangipanis could stand to symbolize the young generation, for sure they would have cried out loud to the winds to never ever stop from blowing so as to cut themselves off from the temple tree that has long been attacked by some frangipani rust and has caused them misery.

It would be impossible to attempt a count on how many frangipanis had fallen to the ground haplessly, or had chosen to be, or had preferred to be with the decaying ones since I arrived here six years ago. Maybe, seventy times seven. What I’m pretty sure of is that one, or two, or ten of these frangipanis would celebrate a thousand deaths than to be shaken or confronted by the country’s pressing issues.

If frangipanis are the youth of today, they are suffering the complications of frangipani rust. They have felt the acceleration of free trade and investment that opened doors not only to one but more countries to further rape our country’s natural resources. Sure, frangipanis do shudder at the thought of the easy entry of multinational corporations that further rape our hills, mountains, and pollute our rivers.

Again I watched the fallen frangipanis. Towards the end of the rainy season, most temple trees become deciduous and drop their leaves. The rainy season has only begun and yet a handful of frangipanis were already taken to the ground like some fallen soldiers. I liken frangipanis to our crop of young people - so delicate, so fresh, so beautiful, so full of life and vigor and vitality, but so vulnerable.

The youth of the nation today have been suffering the brunt of a government working on the ethos of “profit for profit’s sake”, implementing programs and pursuits that are delinked from social, cultural, and environmental considerations.

Most frangipanis do become beautiful blooms as they respond well to fertilizers, horticulturists say. I think what makes them beautiful is this ability to respond so well to human touch. Give a slight brush of your hand over those tricolor blossoms of white, rose and yellow lying on top of narrow leaves rolled backwards at the margins and they will sing soulful hymns of thanksgiving. To make the youth obey their leaders, this would require sound direction.To make them follow, leaders must guide. They are very much like frangipanis. They respond well to human touch.

But confronted by the talons that subject them to becoming preys of the illegal hiring of casuals for regular jobs and the unlawful subcontracting that deny them their right to security of tenure, and other issues like the lack of chairs and desks in schools, lack of work opportunities, broken homes, and many more—they respond with rebellion.

Of what good are the fertilizers of good laws authored by well-educated and intelligent legislators, when the ones who make the laws are the ones who first break them? Of what good would it make being attached to a temple tree when all that it has offered these years is suffering?The drug menace tops the list of frangipani rust, killing softly one beautiful temple tree. It has its tentacles of contagion slowly disabling the youth sector.

About 80% of the crimes committed in the country are related to drug abuse. It is deemed impossible to cut the head of the monster because of the illegal drug trade. Being a very profitable business with an earning of over P30B a year, it is being backed up by legislators, elected officials, hoodlums in robes.

All the frangipanis have started to come off the temple tree now. One by one, they prefer to be plucked off a decaying niche by the wind’s unseen hands. One by one, they choose to shut eyes that hold stories of hurt and anxiety of a lifetime. There are plenty of concerns to blah about, yet all the frangipanis prefer to lay their cases back to the dust.

(For your comments, reactions, suggestions and contributions, crank up my addies: wild_pechay@yahoo.com or pinay_mangatkatay@yahoo.com)

***Addy buddies. “Good day to you! I have read the Monday issue of The Freeman newspaper and admired the article you wrote “…And Dodong got the job”. It really takes confidence and determination to get what you want. The article gives me a whole perspective of how am I gonna be dealing with the challenges of being a struggling advertising student. I have always looked up to these people who really work hard. Dodong should serve as inspiration to those who are at the verge of giving up. He is such a hard worker and delivered well, and yet his feet remain planted on the ground all through these years - willing to help other people in need and serve as inspiration. Well, I should know because he is my dad. More power and kudos to your next articles! – squeezed orange <rainetala@hotmail.com.>

“Sinubukan kong pag-aralan ang pagsusulat ng alibata noong mga huling yugto ng 1998. Ginagamit ko yata iyon para ikoda ang mga “sikreto” sa mga talaan ko, para hindi agad mabasa ng mga mapag-usisang mga mata. Sayang at hindi ko tinuloy ang paggamit pa nito. Nakakatuwa rin kasing mapaalalahanan na napakayaman na ng kultura ng mga katutubong Pilipino noong panahon bago dumating ang mga Kastila. Kinakatawan ng sarili nating sistema ng pagsusulat: tulad ng alibata, na may potensyal na sana sa pag-unlad ang mga katutubo noon pa. Pinagmamalaki ko ang mga katutubong kulturang Pilipino, at di mabilang na yaman nito. Mabuhay ang kulturang katutubo!” – Mouse “Bubwit” de la Torre .

by Maria Eleanor Elape Valeros
October 18, 2004; posted at www.thefreeman.com

It was Friday, 1 pm. I was preparing for my health tips and trivia segments for a weekly one-hour radio program over dyLA produced by Women’s Feature Service, an international wire agency that works to place into mainstream media the pressing issues faced by women and children across continents and walks of life, when my co-anchor Marivir Montebon-Auxilio called to inform me that I don’t have to arrange for another guest for our 3 pm program. Marivir got somebody to talk on the issue of women dragged into virtual prostitution by a Caucasian who operated an Internet café here that allowed customers online pleasure (as in cybersex) with the women.

The guest’s name was something like “Anna Yongco”.

She was introduced to me by Marivir when I arrived at the radio station. But since that was the first time we met, Marivir took care of introducing her on air. She was Attorney Arbet Sta. Ana-Yongco who worked on cases involving violations against women and children, and an advocate working to address major global concerns such as women trafficking or modern-day slavery, child prostitution and pornography.

She shone in her field without that air of arrogance most lawyers have. She was expounding on women trafficking, emphatic but never intimidating. In her soft-spoken unassuming manner, she was able to put the message across that women are pressed with the major issue of “the struggle for power”. She cited that feminist advocates should be alarmed that Cebu has unfortunately become both the main passage and destination point in the trafficking of women and children. Her point was recently supported by the survey released by a non-government advocacy group, which stated that no less than 1.2 million children have been trafficked for prostitution, child labor and domestic servitude in 2003 alone.

Yesterday, ‘torni Arbet was laid to rest after four bullets took her precious life on the morning of October 11 inside her office at the corner of Alcohol and Sikatuna streets in barangay Zapatera. She handled mostly pro bono cases, particularly the Ecleo parricide case, and others, like that of the shooting of a prominent Danao city businessman, of a man sentenced to 26 counts of death penalty for raping his own twin daughters, and another case involving a girl rescued from sex slavery.

Sharing ‘torni Arbet’s feminist advocacy, I can’t help but be angered by such a senseless killing. “Kon naglagot man diay, dapat mokiha! Ayaw lang patya! The person killed was a good woman, wife, sister, and lawyer alone in her fight.” She was the lone prosecutor in the Ecleo case. With that one-hour she spent with us over the radio, she showed us how firm she was in her stand to free women from the claws of virtual prostitution. ‘torni Arbet told me it is part of the fight, to educate women so they will have options and/or alternatives other than trading their flesh in exchange for cold cash, including the virtual flesh vending.

She said some women don’t know the quagmire they are in because they simply don’t realize they are victims. Expounding this stand, but without imposing, she left behind a message that the best thing an educated woman can do is to get a fellow woman out of that quagmire of ignorance, to walk with her another mile, and show her there are better paths for women to take.

‘torni Arbet was shot while she was reading her Bible at her office. You can just imagine the ruthlessness of the gunman! Her death is indeed a loss to the legal profession, an attack against the judicial system, a loss to our feminist advocacy. I remember her words well “the attack on women and children is an issue involving people enslaved by their struggle for power”.

Even in her death, she carried the issue of being attacked by people enslaved by their hunger for power, of people who enjoy moving around brandishing their arrogance, happy at phasing out good people from the face of the earth to whitewash their guilt, cowards who can’t overpower a woman’s wit in the sala of justice other than to silence her with a gun.

As for ‘torni Arbet, vaya con Dios! You fought a good fight. They had taken your body, but not your spirit. They might have tipped the weighing scales, but never will they have power over it! They will continue with their arrogance, fanning the fires of their malevolence, but good shall triumph in the end. It has been written, it shall come to pass!

(For comments, reactions, suggestions and contributions, crank up my addies: wild_pechay@yahoo.com or pinay_mangatkatay@yahoo.com)

by Maria Eleanor Elape Valeros
October 25, 2004; posted at www.thefreeman.com

Lanky Mark is obviously obsessed with his skimboard (skiffle to Americans, skidboard to Aussies and Kiwis). He is in love with the offshore wind that playfully tussled his unkempt hair before he headed out to sea. His eyes were admiring the frothy seashore, lapped endlessly by the waves he had fallen head over heels with. And then he ran to pick up the right wave – the very secret of skimming.

To have good wave judgment, say, employing some spectral profile to decipher the contents of the sea's brains, would lead to a successful flip or a headstand. Using such technique, Mark amazed me with an “ollie” bringing his body to a turnaround with skimboard magically glued to his feet like iron fillings attached to a horseshoe magnet. I was left there, some distance from him, shaking my head and clapping like another Chapman wild over Lennon, my eyes deep ocean green with envy.

I happened to bump into lanky, bubbly Mark and his crowd of skimmers at the remaining minutes of my stay in Agusan. I was walking my way from Trianggulo in Nasipit, Agusan del Norte, to the port to catch the boat back to Cebu after a successful climb in Mt. Magdiwata, a caving activity and a trip to the Agusan marshland in line with the Naliyagan festivity of Prosperidad, Agusan del Sur, when a guy named Rich called my attention.

"Miss, climber ka?" he asked. He was there sitting on this bench in a carenderia. I was slowing down my pace some minutes before he had thrown at me the question. I was hoping to feast on adobong dabong (stir-fried bamboo shoot) for lunch at the eatery.

After we went through that rite of exchanging halllleerrrrs, and after getting my serving of the tempting bamboo shoot strips fried in soy sauce, made all the more palatable by the aroma of crushed garlic, Rich ushered me to his motorbike and we sped away to their office in barangay Talisay, close to the Nasipit wharf. I met the rest of the gang – fellow nature freaks, I would say - skimmers Bryan, Ronky, and Mark.

It was so easy to connect with them as we shared the same passion and love for the great outdoors. We easily jibed, except that though I love the surf, sand, sea, sun and the froth at the breaking of seawaters, I am a total stranger indeed to skimboarding. Well, it’s because my being uncoordinated remains a strong force to reckon with.

Mark was the most talkative. Oh, well, they all talked about lots of "nature stuff", but Mark had the most stories. I spent most of the afternoon with him, while waiting for the Cebu-bound ship. He did an “aerial” to begin with, catching the air off a wave and landing back on the face of the wave.

And there I was etching on the sand, what I believe am only good at, figuring out this relationship between the art of skimming on waves and the art of skimming the waters of life. Mark said that it would be best to choose a flat beach. Of course, of what good will bumps and humps and jagged and rocky areas do to your board and skimming pursuit? The sight of dents and the pain of failure, for sure.

"See here, L (my name shortened)," Mark shouted like a pro-skim instructor waving his skim and pointing to the surf "the best time to begin running for a wave is right after the wave breaks. Once we reach the water or wet sand, we throw down the board so we can jump on it."

He did the act with so much ease and grace that for a beginner like me would give tummy knots. Somewhat physically challenging! I learned that it is more difficult than it looks at first and many people don’t stick with skimboarding because learning to ride the skag is too hard. However, with persistence and patience, even the most uncoordinated person can learn to skimboard.

That's what am told, so I bank on the encouragement (*smile!). Well, all aspirants have to take a few bruises learning how to get themselves first on the board. Close to the real picture. We do have our brushes with the bruise-inducing, pressing issues of our lives. The art of gliding through either harsh or tamed waves is for us to muster.

To skim through life, we must be prepared for the waves and learn to inhale the offshore winds and exhale inshore winds. To deal with our skims, we must keep our weight centered over the board, keeping it pointed towards the ocean. Talking of balancing our priorities, our schedules, our decisions, our quality time. Toward the ocean. Not against it. Toward the sun. Not against it.

There might be instances when nature would call us to go against the elements. Say, fly a kite against the winds or be like the pink salmons traveling back home against the currents. But with skim, we learn both to face the harshness and the friendliness of the oceans. With life, we bring ourselves to look at our concerns squarely. It is common to accelerate too quickly and lose control in skimming so that it is important not to run too fast. That brings us closer to the facts of life: Man can play neurotic and can be one. With fame, fortune and wealth all fleeting he easily loses control. So skimboarding rule applies to life as a rule of thumb: Don’t run too fast. Just run this race. Run and arrive somewhere.

Then the skimboard meets the ocean, the riders' weight must be on their back foot so the nose of the board does not catch on the water. If this is applied to how we deal with life, we would be neatly gliding up over the waters of challenges instead of plowing through it.

By being insistent, persistent and consistent, the rest of the moves would be executed flawlessly. If the rider has enough speed, balance and ability to turn, he can do various maneuvers while banking off the wave and riding toward the shore. Unlike surfing, skimboarding allows for the ability to spin, greatly increasing the rest of the possibilities on moves.

Skimming I think is not just awesome. But incredibly so! No wonder it has won popular approval even in the absence of early records and even if its history is shrouded in mystery. Here in Cebu, how the sport was introduced to local folks is not annotated but there is the Liloan Skimmers Club headed by Daisy Senido creating waves in this kind of aquasport. It is expected then that this art of riding a board across water or wet sand would take more beach buffs creating more tricks where there’s about an inch of water.

After that ceremonial rite of tying around my right ankle a piece of his life and culture – his Manobo tribal necklace – Mark encouraged me to take an idyll with the waves through skimming, to have my own magical transport to some other horizon through the skimboard, and to love the psyche of every skimboarder. Well, I am beginning to love the sport long before I can even do my very first ollie. Matter of fact is, I have been beautifully skimming through my life's waters all these years.

(For your comments, reactions, suggestions and contributions crank up my addy: pinay_mangatkatay@yahoo.com).***

Below is an e-mail from my alibata yahoo groupmate:

ADDY BUDDIES. "Ang sining ay buhay at mulat na kalayaan, lahat ng bagay ay magkakaugnay, hindi kailan man tayo makakalikha kung wala tayong kalayaan at mismong tayo ang kumakahon sa ating mga isipan, bukas man na nakakaalam o hindi self censorship. Ito ang mga norm, ethics na isinaksak sa kaisipan ng mga edukadong takot humarap sa katotohanan dahil sa makasariling interes at ang tingin sa nakararami lalo na ang mga katutubo ay mga mangmang, at ang iniluluwal ng lipunan na virus ay mga taong grasa at street people, gayong ang lipunan ng mga unggoy ay walang ganitong mga nilalang, eskwater at lipunang pinagsasamantalahan na ang pangako ay ang abstraktong langit na inilalako ng maraming relihiyon habang nagpapakasasa sa yamang pamana ng tunay na may likha.

Ang mga kaisipang de lata o de kahon ay hinulma ng mahabang panahong sistema ng edukasyon na virus ng mga sininsay na kaalaman sa bayan sa malayong silangan, karamihan sa mga edukado sa kanluraning institusyon ay may bias agad sa mga kaalamang hinulma ng karanasan ang mga edukasyon ng mga pagkakaugnay-ugnay ay hindi nila nauunawaan at kung maunawaan naman ay wala itong pakinabang sa kanilang makasariling interes dahil ang natutuhan nilang edukasyon ay ang abstraktong indibidwalistang aroganteng mapanakop at itinuturing nilang superior subalit wala ng kalamnan ng pagiging tao ito ay malinaw na matrix ng nabubulok na mapanakop na digma na nakasalalay sa industriyang pangwasak sa tunay na sining ng buhay. Takot na takot silang magkaroon ng talakayan sa mga bagay na tutumbok sa kanilang bulok na sistema dahil ito ang magbubukas sa tunay na anyo ng kanluraning edukasyong mapanakop na nagkakanlong sa huwad na kaunlaran ng iilan na sinsay sa tunay na sustenableng kaunlaran na makikita natin sa pag-inog na kalikasan. Mabuhay ang patuloy na pag-aaral natin sa baybayin (alibata)." – Gene de Loyola

Maria Eleanor Elape Valeros
November 1, 2004; posted at www.thefreeman.com

The candle flames dance freakily to some kind of rhythm made by wafts of air from the Grim Reaper’s busted lungs. His shadow is partly buried in hardening tallow, but his eyes are lunar orbs staring lustily at the wick of life, slowly devoured by the flame of age, of weariness, of disintegration.

He frequents this place, loiters around here, hangs about, struts with the smell of death, teases prospect with his shimmering scythe. His hood hasn’t successfully concealed that sarcastic grin stuck like slime at the side of his mouth. He is taunting, mocking: “Of what good have all your worldly struggles done you? You all fall on bent knees before me, defeated and equal in the face of death”.

Strange journey! We are confronted with the reality of a “special trip to the afterlife”, but not given enough time to pack some bags. Where our hearts are supposed to find eternal comfort, we lust for it with an indescribable longing. We wait for the assuring “so long, farewell” to come by, and not the disheartening “goodbye”, that we might channel properly the thought of safely bringing back the craft to its Maker. But death is a gift given by one night crawler in his stealth, surreptitious manner.

We drain brains to accomplish big things – from the fusion and fission of atoms and space voyages to stem cell research and the regeneration of species, but that same energy exerted in the unlocking of quarks doesn’t come easily in formulating an elixir for immortality. And even if we are promised to die is gain or that we would have our taste of resurrection and or a serving of that Great Rapture, to slip through another phase in space or another dimension in time is something we entertain in thoughts, but rarely deal for real.

We drool over the idea of peace found only in eternal rest. But it’s crazy to want death without yielding to the judgment call of the Grim Reaper. Here we are holding on to the last knot of dear life, banking on the shadow of the future that comes silhouetted as the “now, the present, the today”. Come to think of it: If we could only touch death first before it engulfs us, maybe then we would be okay. And it is easier for us to hie off sans the satchel of our worries or the backpack of our cares.

Much of what we see are the dazzling, titillating, hypnotic, disorientating threads of materialism unraveling before our naked eyes, and then woven to clothe us with the promises of comfort and vows of flower-strewn pathways. This form of subtle seduction makes it hard for us to accept we are but cinders in space that have emanated from and would succumb to one Divine Shadow.

We salivate at the flavor of fame, and dip our fingers into the cream of wealth, though they create for us nothing but spiritual carcinogens. With the way the world views the kaleidoscope of materialism taking awesome patterns, there’s no sense anymore on pondering why it is so difficult to draw humanity together. In fact, it would be very nice to have snapshots of our emotions when faced with the tempting calls of materialism, and to try to de-scramble that later on to find out what temporal messages were expressed there. Might be too complex.

Might be a venue for denial. Might be too complicated. Might be sending our lids flipping with the things we associate with death – frustration, sadness, guilt, and rage. But we are to drink from the chalice of death, to make a contact into the void.We maybe are young, beautiful, wealthy and famous, but who and what can spare us from the inevitability of death? We all shudder at the sight of the Grim Reaper brandishing the blade of his scythe, sending our blood curling at his guttural cry. We see death by the sickle a shameful way to fade away.

The Grim Reaper went on with his song: “Human beings trapped by happenstance in a dark and bitter cold. There was one who possessed a stick of wood. The dying fire is in need of logs, but the human held her stick back. For on the faces around the fire, she noticed one was black. The next man looking across the way, saw one not of his church, and couldn’t bring himself to give the fire his stick of birch. The third one sat in tattered clothes, he gave his coat a hitch. Why should his log be put to use, to warm the idle rich? The rich man just sat back and thought of the wealth he had in store. And how to keep what he had earned from the lazy, shiftless poor. The black man’s face bespoke revenge, as the fire passed from sight, for all he saw in his stick of wood was a chance to spite the white. The last man of this forlorn group did give only to those who gave was how he played the game. The logs held tight in death’s still hands was proof of human sin. They didn’t die from the cold without, they died from - THE COLD WITHIN.”

Jump in. Be counted. We have so much coldness within. We delight in some hardened, frozen craft come home to its Maker, and we never ever go ashamed of our folly. How queer indeed to be this chilled within, to be this damn frigid, but to be greeting each other in the netherworld: “Todos los muertos!”

(For your deadly comments, fatal reactions, lethal suggestions or death-inducing contributions, crank up my cybertomb: pinay_mangatkatay@yahoo.com. Happy Halloween, mortals and immortals alike!)

by Maria Eleanor Elape Valeros
November 8, 2004

Sharing my four-year stint as a volunteer for the Rescue 160 of the Bureau of Fire Protection here is inspired by the John Travolta and Joaquin Phoenix starrer, "Ladder 49".

A co-volunteer of Rescue 160 coined the _expression "ladder for life" during one of the seminars we were required to attend. It was actually a pun for "slide for life" which he used to refer to the ladder techniques taught to us. The phrase was coined primarily to give us the kick.

Though "ladder for life" was at first a very awkward phrase, we have come to adopt it to refer to our romance with ladders in rescue drills. Later on, we have also come to embrace the fact that the ladder indeed is made to extend not only the capacity to do work, but life itself. At some points, we are challenged to cling on to the ladder – for dear life!

Ladders come in handy, and when locked on the rung, it can be adaptable to jobs of any size – from window cleaning, to tree cutting, vine pruning, decorating, painting, cleaning out gutters – and in fire fighting, most especially high angle evacuation procedures in search and rescue/retrieve missions.

Ladders, may be simple machines, but they come in for the purpose of accomplishing things in an easy, safe and secured manner. Of course, they vary according to purpose.

There are the aluminum and timber step ladders and loft ladders and double and triple aluminum extension ladders for various trades, spiral and space-saving staircases at homes, schools and offices, durable and strong towers for buildings, and of course, the specialist ladders for surveying roof work and for fire escapes.

How did I come to appreciate these "ladders for life"? An experience back in childhood sent me on a journey to the Bureau of Fire Protection as volunteer for the Rescue 160 group. I threw myself into a group of novice rescuers and firefighters in the earnest hope I would be able to deal with pyrophobia after I almost had our family house reduced to ashes.

I was only about ten years old when tasked to prepare supper. I had to stir-fry tomatoes in heated cooking oil. But as soon as the dripping tomatoes sizzled on the smoky fat, flames from the firewood consumed everything on the frying pan. It happened so fast that the ball of flame sitting on the pan danced before me and began licking the nipa-thatched roof. I was quick to grab a gallon of water and poured the contents into the fire-consumed pan. I contained the flame, and put off any bigger damage but the experience really left me trembling, both in literally and figuratively.

My parents are both advocates of safety. They would tell us never to mess around with matchsticks, to never leave the house without putting down the lever of the fuse box, or to always make sure cords for the teevee and that of other appliances are always unplugged after use. For a time, I wouldn’t want to go near that dirty stove that gave my spine burning sensations.

So I decided the time to deal with pyrophobia is to be near the fire - to dance to the tune of the flames and to do a romance with the heat, to literally play with the blaze. At the bureau, I met men who "rush into burning and collapsing structures when everyone else are running out.”

Seeing those men do the opposite thing — straight into the hands of peril — gives me a feeling of being grateful to strangers who do the dirtiest, hardest, most stressful work in the world because they believe they should.
Right there and then, I have come to witness the nobility of a goal and the love of work made visible. And from there, I have come to realize that the ladder, simple as it is, is the most difficult thing to handle in rescue operations.

All the while, I thought it was the rope techniques for I find doing it so complicated. To deal with the ladder, one must learn to climb it with an erect body, without holding on to it, so as to free the hands. This training allows the body to carry a victim or patient or other tools up and down the ladder. The next technique to master is sliding, facing the ladder, touching its smooth sides. This comes in handy whenever one wants to save time in the descent. I had my share of bruises and gashes on my hands, arms, and even on my chin (hee hee) before I learned to accomplish this technique with the grace of a pro firefighter.

"Ayaw lagi suwanga, Nor. Don’t hold on too tight and don’t get your face near that thing. Slip lightly at the sides," my mentor would scold me.

Firemen are rescuers who at any moment could swap roles with those being rescued. This happened to Joaquin Phoenix (Fireman Jack Morrison) in Ladder 49, my mentor would relate. At the ladder team, he once worked on checking the roof, thudding it with the head of his axe, but the structure was already gutted by fire and was too weak to hold his weight. He slipped through the ceiling and was, within seconds, gobbled up by the blaze.

Thanks to a fire-resistant suit and a quick mind that’s been seasoned to handle a situation like that, he was able to bring himself to a portion away from the lapping flames. Eventually, he was lying on his tummy, making good use of fresh air available a foot from the floor, while waiting for his teammates to locate him. Reversal of roles! That is a dazzling fact, and my mentor says every firefighter must come to work with this biting reality.

Fire fighting could not be that popular a career back here and firemen are not at all times given the full honors accorded to three of John Travolta’s (Engine 33 Captain Mike Kennedy) men in funeral rites. But I would somehow recommend to young men and women to go and pursue fire fighting. It is a career able to exalt man’s purpose: made for service!

Firemen have this contagious passion for the ladder. Love and service performed on a ladder connects them to people clinging on to an endangered life that’s bound to change. Because, however risky fire fighting may be, there has to be somebody willing to give up his very own life for a job that has to be done!

(For your fiery comments, flaming reactions, blazing suggestions and razing contributions, burn up my addy: pinay_mangatkatay@yahoo.com. Celebrate firemen’s spaces in space!)

Maria Eleanor Elape Valeros
November 15, 2004; posted at www.thefreeman.com

Today the 15th marks the end of Ramadan, the 9th month of the Islamic calendar spent in fasting in commemoration of the prophet Muhammad’s enlightenment in 610 AD – a time he had received revelations from God that later became the basis for Islam’s holy book, the Quran (Koran).

Today ushers in the Id-ul-Fitr or “festival of breaking the fast”. Though we live in a predominantly Christian country, we take today as a non-working holiday primarily to give importance to a celebration significant to the Muslims we have come to co-exist with even if at the back of our minds we continue to ask why does a believer of a faith said to be as peaceful as Islam would wage a global war spelled j-i-h-ad to subdue another conviction?

I am not at all exempted from having a set of biases for Muslims that stem from a failure to understand them. A hand can count a few close encounters I had with them – in traders market when I do purchase some pirated audio cassette discs (sorry VRB!), talked to some of them when few became seatmates back in college, and met in Women’s Congresses in Manila like Elisa Capal Guru, a Meranao teacher.

“Islam is a peaceful religion. For the Muslim, Islam is more than just a religion. It is the sum total of his cultural heritage,” Elisa Capal Guru said, “the ones shaping suicide bombers out to reduce skyscrapers to cinders are extremists.”

In a bid to understand Muslims, a booklet written by Kalafi Moala entitled “God loves the Muslims” proved to be very helpful.

Moala said that at the mention of the word, what comes to our minds are the images of garbed, bearded men with piercing cold steel eyes; of women in black chadors, only their eyes showing above their veil, and the terrorism and violence that issue from the Middle East.

Moala explained that Islam is an all-encompassing way of life. Literally translated, “Islam” means “Submission to the will of God”.

Unlike Christians who see this submission in terms of a child submitting to his father, Muslims see themselves as slaves of Allah. Whatever their circumstances in this life, such is Allah’s will, and must be accepted. As a result, Muslims can be fatalistic in their view of life,” Moala went.

Further, Moala said that Islam teaches that there is one God and Muhammad or Mohammed was his greatest prophet. A Muslim is taught that he has two angels watching over him, one to record his bad deeds, and the other to record his good deeds. On the Day of Judgment, the deeds of every Muslim will be weighed. If the good deeds outweigh the bad then he will enjoy life in paradise. However, if the bad outweighs the good, he will endure an eternity of suffering and torture at the hands of Satan. Redemption in Islam rests squarely with the individual.

Moala also went presenting figures to show that Islam is one of the world’s fastest growing religions with nearly one billion adherents. One out of every five people on earth is a Muslim. The Islamic world stretches across North Africa, Asia and Europe and includes not only such countries as Saudi Arabia, Iran, Turkey, Libya and part of what was the Soviet Union, but also India, China and Indonesia. Indeed, Asia has the four largest Muslim countries in the world: Indonesia, India, Pakistan, and Bangladesh. The Muslim countries of Eastern Europe, formerly part of the Soviet Union, together make up the world’s fifth largest bloc of Muslim believers.

Islam is also the fastest growing religion in Europe. In 1949 the first mosque in the Netherlands began operation, and today in the Netherlands there are over 200 Islamic places of worship. Muslims account for 2.1% of the Dutch population. In Germany, there are an estimated 1.9 million Muslims. A large part of the growth in Europe is due to immigration from Muslim nations, but in the spiritual vacuum of Europe an increasing number of Europeans are converting to Islam, particularly women who marry Muslims.

Recently, the Libyan-based “Society for the Preaching and Spreading of Islam” opened in Bonn, West Germany. The aim of this organization, which has an annual budget of $100 million, is to promote the building of Islamic cultural centers and training establishments in the West.

Islam is also on the increase in Southern Africa. Kuwait has taken on the responsibility of saturating the nation of Malawi with Islam and establishing mosques. The intention is to cover the nation of mosques built twenty kilometers apart in every direction. Saudi Arabia has likewise taken on a similar project in Zambia. And we should not forget our Muslim neighbors here in our own land. Throughout the world, Islam is on the move.

Now back to the Id-ul-Fitr which breaks the Ramadan with special prayers and festivities. After a 30-day fasting, the Muslims are to partake in a revelry. They would embrace each other three times, as is laid down in the Quran. The festival originated when after proclaiming Ramadan as the period of fasting and austerity, prophet Muhammad announced a day for celebration to reaffirm the feeling of Id-ul-Fitr brotherhood.

Muslims then go for Id get together and socializing. Some people visit cemeteries and stay there for some hours, even camping out overnight. This is perhaps to honor their ancestors and to be with their spirits. To a devout Muslim, Id is a time to forget all past grievances.

Today, (and hope to move on from now to forever!) we Christians, celebrate with Muslims in putting aside all those grievances. For sure Muslims do feel Christianity has nothing to offer them. As they look back through their history, they find that Christianity has all too often brought persecution to their people – the Crusades that left tens of thousands of Muslims dead as the Holy Land was reclaimed for Christians. They look to the more recent past and their treatment at the hands of ruthless Christian colonial powers. And they look at the state of today’s so-called Christian nations that do the worst filth in the world and pour this around the globe.

Beginning today, we Christians must have to get a feel of the Id-ul-Fitr brotherhood and start setting aside our apathy toward the Muslim world. Maybe, just maybe, we were the ones who really started the fire.

(For your comments, reactions, suggestions and contributions, crank up my addy: pinay_mangatkatay @yahoo.com)

by Maria Eleanor Elape Valeros
November 22, 2004; posted at www.thefreeman.com

Piece of news to chuckle at: “Every Filipino university graduate could have qualified for a key level position in the country’s call center industry and the international jobs market had he only been proficient in both written and oral communication using the English language.”

Piece of alarming news: “Teacher examinees who took the regular qualifying examinations for the post of school principals failed. It was not until the Department of Education lowered the mark set for the regional qualifying examinations for the post of school principals that they got teachers to successfully pass the exams. Even then, they still had only 561 teachers of 1,800 who took the examination at the Abellana National High School last September, or a measly 30% passing said test. Original passing score for the 200-item test was set at 150, but not one of the examinees passed, so the officials had to lower it to only 100, or at least 50% of the possible perfect score.”

Piece of thought to ponder on: “A lawyer puts his mistake behind bars. A doctor buries it six feet below the ground. But the mistake of a teacher leads to the mistake of the entire humanity.”

Most teachers today have a hard time keeping up with the specific need in the international jobs market - that of being proficient in the English language. This is mainly because most teachers have created the biggest mistake in their career - to have never developed the culture of reading. So what do we expect from their students?

Back in the graders, our Booklovers Club adviser told us to read Keene. Carolyn Keene was a popular author in the 70s, the brain behind the fictitious characters of young sleuth Nancy Drew and her chums Bess Marvin and George Fayne along with their dates Ned Nickerson, Dave Evans and Burt Eddleton who are all prominent figures of the Emerson College campus.

I still have in possession hardbound book numbers 9 - The Sign of the Twisted Candles, 46 - The Invisible Intruder and 51 - Mystery of the Glowing Eye that hold all those memories with fellow booklovers who would outdo each other in mentally devouring all 55 books, from The Secret of the Old Clock to the Mystery of Crocodile Island.

Carolyn Keene is not really that big-time an author when compared to Jo Kathleen Rowling or John Reuel Ronald Tolkien. But Keene was one thinking tool our curriculum moderators employed to develop in us a culture of reading.

The Booklovers Club adviser told us if we could retain at least two new words off each leaf of the Nancy Drew Mystery Stories series, each book having about 175 pages, this would enrich our vocabulary with 350 new words per book. And since there are 55 books from Strange Message in the Parchment to The Hidden Staircase, the entire collection would give us 19,250 English words. The club adviser said it only takes 12,000 to 15,000 English words for an adult, average individual to speak and write in English fluently.

To have over 19,000 English words in every Filipino university graduate’s vocabulary, correct usage and pronunciation given, would open the windows to global opportunities. For a teacher taking some qualifying examination for the post of school principal to save his face from going “page one-nable” on a community newspaper would only need the initiative to treasure some 19,000 English words.

The culture of reading English was a specific objective of the Individually Guided Education system our school adopted. Creating the Booklovers Club developed in us students an appreciation for reading that had equipped us with skills in composition using the English language, as well as the ability to converse in the same medium.

Historical accounts would give weight that one of the first and most far-reaching decisions made by the American educational authorities in the Philippines during the American Regime was to give all instruction in English. Indeed, the English language became the greatest single unifying factor among peoples and culture during the American period. For a time, this relatively high standard and high regard for the English language in the Philippines gave the Filipinos a comparative advantage in an increasingly globalized, knowledge-based economy. But with the unfolding of the years, the Philippines allowed the “gift” that gave it a comparative advantage over neighboring Asian countries to become the “missing link” in creating a strong republic.

Back in the graders, Keene was our Thomasite. Providing us with Keene’s works is more than skimming through the pages and watching codes cracked, parchments deciphered, or mysteries solved. The Nancy Drew Mystery Stories had helped foster cohesiveness and unity among us students grouped in pods. It prepared us to embrace English as a medium of instruction, aside from the regional languages Sugbuano and Filipino of which we were told never to set aside so to retain our identities as “bisdak” and “Pinoy sa puso’t diwa”.

Reading Keene continues to influence us with its dramatic impact, with its highly positive effects. Reading Keene makes it easy to write and interact with the world, without really trying.

(For your comments, reactions, suggestions and contributions, crank up my addy: pinay_mangatkatay@yahoo.com.)

by Maria Eleanor Elape Valeros
November 29, 2004; posted at www.thefreeman.com

The sustained efforts in bringing the youth closer to matters affecting the barangay as shown by the blueprint of the city’s youth-oriented programs and projects brought back all the memory of my participation in political affairs as city councilor, for a day, in the “Know Your City” activity.

We only had a day to simulate the duties and responsibilities of an elected official.

Today, some 80 selected pupils from Cebu City’s public elementary schools in the urban and mountain barangays have taken their oath of office as they assume the post of a barangay captain (punong barangay) for 30 days.

I gushed at the opportunity for our young leaders to be given an orientation and the experience in governance. They are not only to learn governance, but to experience it as well - to get a feel of it; that kind of governance that is at the grassroots level, at the very core of the political structure.

Beginning last November 22, boy and girl officials are holding office and performing duties and conducting activities as outlined by the provisions of Republic Act 7160, a law providing for a local government code that defines the work scope of a barangay captain.

Through the “Know Your Barangay” activity which banners the theme: “Children empowerment through knowledge and understanding of the barangay as a local government unit”, initiated by the Cebu City Youth Development Commission, pupil-barangay captains are introduced to matters affecting the barangay, it being the smallest political unit at the core of the local government structure.

At the smallest local government unit in the Philippines, the barangay captain leads the barangay council (sangguniang barangay) composed of barangay councilors (kagawads).

Historically, the term barangay refers to a community of around 50 to 100 families. The word itself is derived from an ancient Malay boat called “balangay”. This connection between community and boat supports certain theories on the history of pre-colonial Philippines, specifically, that each original coastal barangay was formed as a result of settlers arriving by boat from other places in Southeast Asia.

Tracing its etymological derivation, balangay is an appropriate root term for naming the smallest political unit in the country because barangay could stand for both “collectivity,“ as in the group of families in boats, and “connectivity,” as in the nuclear family system.

As the basic political unit, the barangay serves as the primary planning and implementing unit of government policies, plans, programs, projects, and activities in the community, and as a forum wherein the collective views of the people may be expressed, crystallized and considered, and where disputes may be amicably settled.

Pupil-barangay captains get a hand on how a barangay should be created out of a contiguous territory that has a population of at least 2,000 inhabitants, learning that the state supports the creation of barangays through an Act of Congress, if this is deemed necessary to be able to enhance the delivery of basic services at the grassroots level, with emphasis on indigenous cultural communities.

I find the “Know Your Barangay’ activity as a breather after having been suffocated by reports of children becoming preys of abuse almost everyday as splattered on news banners. The trend is sickening! Before, suspicious personalities and or characters were pinpointed as culprits of abuse to minors. Lately, children have started crying foul at how a school principal and a teacher had carried out their “hands-on” lessons. Pun intended!

Recently, a 14-year-old student of the Luray High School in Toledo City reported to the police that the school principal of Lower Tubod Elementary School raped her last March when she was at the principal’s office to get her elementary diploma. The principal, who succeeded in raping her, gave her a small white tablet to take which her parents believe was an abortificant. The minor gave birth last November 13 to a deformed child who died a few days later.

Meanwhile, at the Tamañas Elementary School in San Fernando town, twelve pupils alleged that their teacher in Music, Arts, Physical Education and Health (MAPEH) molested them by touching their private parts and mashing their breasts while taking their height measurements as a class requirement.

The “Know Your Barangay” activity gives our children a chance to study barangay matters, the kind of national and regional political system we have and how have these affected them, and how they could pool in their resources to create a better world for themselves. Yes, they really have to be street-smart nowadays as they could not expect that every elder they meet along life’s highway would be of any help to them.

I mean, “iya-iya la’g pabadlong ang mga tiguwang ron!” Some elected officials have already turned drug lord protectors. There are school heads becoming suspects of rape and child abuse. Quite a number of teachers already jam with students in drug sessions.

We hope that this avenue given to the selected few would help them create for themselves a better world, and not as training ground for crooks, hoodlums, and perverts next in line.

ADDY BUDDY. “Dear Eleanor: Hi, my name’s veronica, i’m a 20 year-old student currently residing in germany. what can i say about your article in the freeman (i always read the freeman online, every single day) entitled “Reading Keene”? a lot and nothing! it was touché. thank you for bringing this ironically glaring problem to light.

i also grew up reading keene, nancy drew was just an all-time favorite of mine. my first book was the secret of shadow ranch and from then on, i just had to read the nancy drew series! i am still a certified book worm until now and i have to say it was largely due to my mom’s influence who didn’t always give in to our whims (toys, etc.) but never saved on good books.

i agree that our country and the system needs a serious revamp. i am only glad that my teachers during high school in stc were very well-versed in english, i don’t have anything to complain about. but what’s really shocking is the quality of education in public schools and eventually private schools, too. not only are they incompetent in the language, as a consequence, they are also incompetent for the job! my school-life in cebu hasn’t always been immaculately clean but since i’ve been here in germany (3 years and counting), i can see or should i say i am deeply troubled—— we people in the philippines still have a LONG, LONG, LONG , LONG way to go.

i wish for the best for our country, i know every filipino does.....it hurts me to see waves of talented pinoys going abroad. maybe they have no idea what awaits them or maybe they all still believe in the “american” dream.......even if life is a lot better here in europe, nothing replaces home.” -
veronica

(For your comments, reactions, suggestions and contributions, crank up my addy: pinay_mangatkatay@yahoo.com)

by Maria Eleanor Elape Valeros
December 6, 2004, posted at www.thefreeman.com

If I could only give one zildjian_tjuk90715432 a good spanking, I would gladly help him to some serving he so deserves. Imagine on message boards, while I was asking some of my online friends to support Music Television’s call to “Spread the Message, Not the Virus” last December 1 in line with World AIDS Day, he came barging in with his moronic blah: “Blame HIV to the faggots, the homos and the black promiscuous people of Cameroon”.

It was the “crappiest” thing I’d ever read on my message board!

Obviously, he missed a point here. We are not to trace who created what virus, who first started spreading the HIV, or who’s to be burned on the stake. To eradicate ignorance about HIV/AIDS would be to refrain from dismissing that it is a Western evil confined to drug users, homosexuals, and prostitutes only.

The world can no longer afford to ignore the enormity of the HIV epidemic, says Antonio Costa, executive director of the United Nations Office on Drugs and Crime. The disease is real and we are all prone to contract it. Yes, it is incurable, but it could be controllable. This depends upon a conscious effort from among various sectors – and the youth, most especially, because this is our issue!

HIV/AIDS is a youth problem because we are the ones most sexually active and only we can solve this problem.

Should we continue to point a finger at philandering husbands spreading HIV among women and girls, as the most vulnerable group? Should we continue to watch at how our society allow those inflicted with HIV/AIDS to deal with the stigma all by themselves, and their uneasiness on opening up on sexual matters? Or could we possibly join hands to commit in this fight against a silent adversary?

HIV/AIDS comes with large societal issues that need our active participation to confront. The time has come to strike back at a killer that is transmitted by drug use and sex, as well as by ignorance and denial.

So far, it seems many of us are treating this issue as a joke, not realizing that we could be next in line spreading HIV/AIDS and will destroy not only other people’s lives but that of the nation, as well.

We could choose to live in chastity or abstinence. We could opt to have only one sex partner, or practice protected sex — weapons against the spread of HIV/AIDS.

We, the youth, have the power to spread the message, not the virus!

* * *

VAYA CON DIOS, ‘BOKI!

I would like to devote this little space in space in memory of THE FREEMAN/BANAT photojournalist Allan Nillas Dizon, a colleague. I endearingly call him ‘Boki, a play-up of “tambok” because of his built.

Of all the travel assignments I had in my two-year stint as a writer for the marketing department of this paper, I only pulled him out of his beat once and he showed commitment upon learning the assignment would take us to Badian island (Zaragoza island) with another colleague, Niño Roberto Gonzales. He just wanted some respite, he said. A lighter subject to photograph. A relaxing coverage.

Allan, Niño, and I shared a king-size bed that time. I would just want to make mention of his “kakulitan,” insisting he would want to share the blanket with me. Niño was left there, tickled to the bone at the sight of us fighting over the linen when in fact we had been issued a sheet each.

After saying “Vaya con Dios” to ‘torni Arbet Yongco some weeks back in this column, now I have to say same again to Boki gunned down by four bullets on a Saturday. He was interred yesterday. The night before he was slain, he teased me about my mobile phone not having the benefits of a camera.

“Sus ilisi na imong phone oi. Palit gud kanang naay cam. Editor? Nya karaan ug cellphone,” those were the last of his blahs of which I had retorted: “Sige lang Boki, madato gani ko paliton tika! Ikaw ang akong camera!”

Little did I know that was the last of our conversations. No more Boki clicking and tinkering with his camera. No more Boki checking shutter speeds and all at the photographer’s pool.

While groping for some conclusion to this article, I glanced at the printer connected to my workstation where photographers give their shoots some hard copies. Boki won’t be standing there anymore to solicit my ideas on how to go about with his photo captions.

Boki now has claimed a space in space. May his soul then rest in eternal peace!

(For your comments, reactions, suggestions, and contributions, crank up my addy: pinay_mangatkatay@yahoo.com.)

by Maria Eleanor Elape Valeros
December 13, 2004, posted at www.thefreeman.com

An awaited perigee moon finally rose from a celestial horizon one breezy Saturday evening when I had all the opportunity to shift through my dream catcher the gorgeous silhouette of Buhisan’s mountain ridges that were all divine temptations.

“The Mahatma must have been waiting for me at this very minute,” I muttered to myself as my dreamy thoughts traversed a serpentine path of fallen leaves cracking crisply beneath each hurried footstep, far from the comforts of my pillow where my head chose to lie.

I saw myself hurriedly stuffing my backpack with provision, found my way to the reforestation’s campsite, and there pitched my tent and spread the earth pad a good few meters from the lake which was a painting of careening clouds, the star-spangled sky and one effulgent new age moon.

I caught sight of the stupendous raining moonshine sweeping the glades where The Mahatma maintained his calm and quiet in a squatting position.

“You just arrived at the very right time for your most-desired interview,” he looked at me and gestured for me to sit on the stump beside him.

“What do you want to know from a man who is humbler than the dust?” he nailed his deep-set eyes on me with a blinding shimmer of his spectacles hit by a moon ray.

“I know, Sir, you too appreciate the stars,” I pointed at the glittering skies covering us. “Most stars, though beautiful, fade to die; but there’s this star in the north that is unwavering, very much like your faith. That amazes me, Mr. Gandhi…I read your works on your experiments with Truth and find that writing an autobiography is a practice peculiar to the West. I know of nobody in the East having written one, except among those who have come under Western influence.

I would like to know what has set you on this adventure?”

He turned his gaze straight into the lake as if scanning its depths with his mind.

“I had considered what a God-fearing friend of mine said: Supposing you reject tomorrow the things you hold as principles today, or supposing you revise in the future your plans of today, is it not likely that the men who shape their conduct on the authority of your word, spoken or written, may be misled?’ This argument had some effect on me. But, it is not my purpose to attempt a real autobiography. I simply want to tell the story of my numerous experiments with Truth, and as my life consists of nothing but those experiments, the story took the shape of an autobiography,” he said. And there was a deafening silence.

I attempted to break it by asking, “Your experiments in the political fields are known not only in India, but the civilized world, and you have been aptly given the title ‘Mahatma’.”

He was still intently looking at the placid lake. “Aptly? For me, this has not much value,” then he smiled sheepishly. “The title ‘Mahatma” that they bestowed on me means less. Often the title has deeply pained me; and there is not a moment I can recall when it may be said to have tickled me. The more I reflect and look back at the past, the more vividly do I feel my limitations.” Again there was that deafening silence that made thunderous my heartbeat.

“Really? But you just can’t imagine the positive magnitude of your so-called ‘limitation”, Mr. Gandhi. Your passivity has eventually changed the face of one society! This, I suppose, is what you’ve been dying to achieve,” a second time I had attempted to break the silence by throwing in the question which I had only groped a second ago.

He gave me a drilling look into my eyes. “What I have been striving and pining to achieve all these years is self-realization. To see God face to face, to attain moksha – the Christian equivalent of salvation. There are some things which are known only to oneself and one’s Maker. These are clearly incommunicable. The experiments I had undertaken were about relating to Him.

But they are spiritual or rather moral; for I firmly believe that the essence of religion is morality,” he then folded his hands and whispered the rest of the answers to himself, leaving me gaping.

But I still faked composure amid the whining sensation that had now gutted my inner recesses, “At least, now I know I can relate for we share the same desire to see the Supreme face to face. It doesn’t even matter to me if He is Jesus, Yahweh, or Allah, or Jehovah. But tell me, Sir, what is Truth?

“Truth? Ah well…,” he was thumping his fingers on his lap, “I see it as the sovereign principle which includes numerous other principles. This Truth is not only truthfulness in word, but truthfulness in thoughts also, and not only the relative truth of our conception, but the Absolute Truth, the Eternal Principle that is God.”

It was a relief to see him turn to me and motioned to have me come closer with that innocent smile from a man British Prime Minister Winston Churchill once tagged as a “naked, little fakir”.

At the height of this shared bonding, I said: “We see God differently. While I profess I’m a Christian by indoctrination, for sure, you would insist that nothing could be better than being a Hindu. How will I know, then, what Truth is when what is True to you may not be True to me at all?”

The Mahatma retorted: “There are innumerable definitions of God because His manifestations are innumerable. They overwhelm me with wonder and awe and for a moment stun me. But I worship God as Truth only. I have not yet found Him, but I am seeking after Him. I am prepared to sacrifice the things dearest to me in pursuit of this quest. Even if the sacrifice demanded my very life. I hope I may be prepared to give it. But as long as I have not realized this Absolute Truth, so long must I hold by the relative truth as I have conceived it. That relative truth must, meanwhile, be my beacon, my shield, and buckler. That relative truth is straight and narrow and sharp as the razor’s edge, but for me it has been the quickest and easiest.”

But I had my own issue to deal with: “What I mean is that how can I determine if the path I’m walking on leads me to the Absolute Truth.”

Yet, he had a knack for reading minds because he had the quick reply: “Test your conviction. Daily the conviction on the Absolute Truth, God, must grow. It is growing upon me that He alone is Real and all else is unreal. The quest of truth is as simple as it is difficult. And so I tell you, what’s your name again?”

“Eleanor, sir!,” I answered.

“Ah yeah, Eleanor…I remember now my friend Franklin’s wife. A namesake. So I must tell you that the seeker after Truth should be humbler than the dust. The world crushes the dust under its feet, but the seeker after Truth should so humble himself that even the dust could crush him. Only then, and not till then, will he have a glimpse of Truth.”

And I was now comfortable to say this line to him: “You know what Mr. Gandhi, the thread of our thoughts may not intertwine today, but I believe the world will come to terms with that example of passivity you left behind. As long as we have this life blowing within us, spirituality will continue to groan deep. I do feel that God is still relevant in my generation.”

To which he retorted: “It groans deep inside, very much. It is an unbroken fortune to me that I am still so far from Him who, as I fully know, governs every breath of my life and whose offspring I am.”

(For your comments, reactions, suggestions, and contributions, crank up my addy: pinay_mangatkatay@yahoo.com. Celebrate the relevance of your God in this generation!)

by Maria Eleanor Elape Valeros
December 20, 2004, posted at www.thefreeman.com

My senior editor and I were talking about a recent call of Cebu Archbishop Ricardo Cardinal Vidal on the playing of Christmas carols. The Cardinal urged all parishioners to play or listen to Christmas jingles that convey the significance of the Advent season.
As one big fan of ethnic/indigenous/tribal music, our conversations led me to sharing a collection of “lumad” songs I have which for five years now had replaced “I’m dreaming of a white Christmas” (blah!), Rudolph the red-nosed reindeer (whew! Haven’t even seen the “pilandok” in all of my life, reindeer pa kaha?), and “I saw mommy kissing Santa Claus underneath the mistletoe last night”.

Oh well! I have only been up close and personal with the bagrass tree – an endemic specie - once. So okey, I just decided to literally burn those CDs that are “inappropriate” for someone to keep who takes pride in being “lumad” (*grin!)

“Pasko sa Pilipinas” – a collector’s item – was released in 1999. It is a collection of traditional Filipino Christmas carols from Luzon, Visayas and Mindanao. It has been produced with the trademark that probably best characterizes us Filipinos - our being great singers! All over the world, we are indeed admired for our singing talent. Unfortunately, we almost always perform tunes of the dominant culture.

To celebrate Christmas here in “my space in space”, I would like to share SGS Far East Ltd. Economic Affairs Division’s effort in paying tribute to the Filipinos through the recording of native Christmas songs and carols belonging to us and embodying our culture – all wrapped up in “Pasko sa Pilipinas”.

To realize a project Serge Guillaume of the Manila Liaison Office called “ambitious”, he collaborated with Mike “Mitu” Tupas, a musician/craftsman and producer of a recording outfit, whom he admired as a great musician, and a Filipino who has taken to heart the mission of making the voices of Filipino heritage heard.

The compilation of songs stirs up the kind of emotion that only authenticity is able to generate. This is SGS’ modest way of sharing some undiscovered jewels of music, sounds and voices, of songs never ever before been recorded.

“Pasko sa Pilipinas” gives each listener the opportunity to explore the Philippines and embrace countless groups of musicians from all over. The carols, melodies, and arrangements of the album can be considered raw by modern standards, but the beauty of the songs lies in their simplicity and uniqueness.

To start with, there is Grupo Isabeleños of Isabela, Negros Occidental. Already in their 60s and 70s, the Grupo Isabeleños have been singing Christmas carols for more than 50 years. As virtuosos in guitar and homemade musical instruments, they are sought after during the Christmas season and other church activities. Their Christmas carols, being sung in what is known as “daigon” (caroling in Ilonggo), have been passed on from generation to generation. Their masterpiece “Yari Kami” (Here We Are) goes a little something like this: “Yari kami/Sa tion ag amon pagdaigon/ Kabay unta sa inyo indi makatublaw/Paskwa karon panahon, panahon sang kalipay/ Kay natawo na ang manonobos sang kalibutan/ Sing may alas dose ang gabi-i/May natawo sa pasungan/Gintakda kag ginatuohan/Nga manunubos sang kalibutan”. The Grupo Isabeleños is so grateful their songs are recorded to reveal the beauty of Ilonggo music.

The Tugawe, Dauin Rondalla took its name from barrio Tugawe which is about 5-km uphill from Dauin, 15 km. south of Dumaguete City where they reside. Founded by Brigido Alama in 1951, they have been pursuing tribal music throughout the province and in some areas in Mindanao. They were bonded by an original composition “Maglipay Kitang Tanan” : Maglipay kitang tanan/Sa ibabaw ning kalibutan/ Kay karon natawo na/ Ang Manunubos sa sala ta/ Kay tiaw pa bang pag-antos/ Ni Maria ug ni Jose/ Ilang gilikay si Jesus/ Kay si Jerudes naga susi.

The Popong Landero Organization is a collective group of musicians based in Davao City. They are known as one of the alternative musicians in town doing both theater and concerts. Popong Landero, the leader of the group had made three albums under his name. A composer, theater actor and a researcher of Filipino culture especially in the field of music, he formed this group to express the innermost soul of the Mindanao “lumads”, and make music inspired by their roots. The group continues to give workshops in some schools about songwriting and music composition to promote Filipino cultural heritage.

“Mikaransay” (Ringing) is one of the jolliest tunes in the album – one of my fave picks - Mikaransay ang lingganay/Ug mikagay sa kalipay/ Ang kagahub, ang kasaba/ Nga migitik kay Bag-ong Tuig/ Yayay mikaransay ang lingganay/ Sa tumang kalipay/ Ayayayay pagkasaba/ Nga migitik kay Bag-ong Tuig.

The JAMS Musicians are award-winning Kundiman singers. They said that the strong collective musical force brought them together to make beautiful nostalgic Christmas music. The thought of recording Ilocano Christmas songs together is a dream for them. All come from remote, but neighboring barrios chosen by their leaders to represent Ilocano musical ingenuity. Each member feels proud, challenged and excited about the project. This inspired them to research more on their long forgotten ancestral songs. JAMS members are hoping that the local government can help them preserve their rich and unique songs through more compilations of Christmas carols in an album.

And since I am Ilocana by lineage, I love “jammin’” with them to the tune of “Dios Ti Mangted Ti Naimbag a Rabiiyo”: Dios Ti Mangted Ti Naimbag a Rabiiyo/ Apo bumalay naimbag a paskuayo/Buenas Noches a la mano/ Umagep kam ta dakulap yo/ Agragraksak kam a padapada/ A mangiyebkas ken mangikankanta/ Ta buyugan tay timek ti musika/Ti nagasat a pannakayanak ni Jesus, Viva.

From the misty mountains and sunny island of Palawan, a homegrown cultural group has emerged and gained recognition for its unique repertoire of traditional folk song, and ethnic inspired original compositions. Its name SINIKA is derived from “Sining ng mga Katutubo” or Indigenous People’s Art.
The group has impressed both Filipino and international audiences with their numerous performances in Palawan and in Manila.

In the CD collection of Philippine carols, they performed the “Tabora” – the carols of the island that tell of the birth of Christ as introduced by the Spaniards in their pursuit to spread Christianity. In recent years, these songs are seldom heard because of the strong undeniable presence of another culture. Tabora is SINIKA’s contribution to revive and popularize the native carols.

“Vamos, Vamos Pastores”, which is their contribution to the project, depicts the ancient form of animation utilizing the domestic animals in the farm. Sounds of the carabao, cow, goat, chicken, and birds are mimicked in their songs for the Lord: Vamos, vamos pastores/ vamos sa Belen/ Ateng ing dadayao/ Si Hesus mi ang birhen/ Dagi kaming kebes/ Nga mga pastores/ Agalin sa bukid/ Ag pakon sa Belen/ Sa pag laao ki Hesus/ Nga bagong ing bata/ ateng manunubos/ Ang mga baka aga kanta maa maa maa/Sa mabael nga pasalamat nga natao ang mesias/ Ang mga kambing aga kanta mei mei mei/Sa mabael nga pasalamat nga natao ang Mesias.

And then there’s Mitu’s Tribe. Mitu, the album’s production guru, gathered this group of alternative singers and musicians. Mitu’s Tribe, similarly love the idea of preserving the richness of Filipino Christmas heritage. The group’s rendition of the famous Pinoy carol “Pasko Na” is a fusion of contemporary lyrics and melody with the mixture of tribal musical instruments like the kubing (Jew’s harp), tambol (skin drum), Tboli bells, flute, and more.

Musicians who took part in the completion of the album include Bayang Barrios and Noel Cabangon of “Kanlungan” fame. Our support to this compilation of Pinoy Christmas carols is our upholding of tribal wisdom.

(For your comments, reactions, suggestions, and contributions, crank up my addy: pinay_mangatkatay@yahoo.com. Maayong Pasko ug Mabulahanong Bag-ong Tuig Kanatong Tanan!)

The heart of THE FREEMAN newspaper
by Maria Eleanor Elape Valeros
December 27, 2004, posted at www.thefreeman.com and at www.4architects.ph.tc

For a decade now, THE FREEMAN Foundation – the heart of the 85-year-old THE FREEMAN community newspaper – has catered to The Freeman’s public-spirited efforts.

It is a privilege to be a member of THE FREEMAN Foundation volunteer team. Its community outreach programs brought me close to the foundation’s beneficiaries. It makes all my almost seven-year stay at THE FREEMAN meaningful – a path I would always cherish because each new experience allows for selflessness, unfailing sympathy and undying love. I am all the more convinced that I am not a fluke of nature, that I am by no means an astronomical random chance in the universe. That together with the rest of the members of the TFF core group, we all share in this purpose of connecting THE FREEMAN Foundation’s donors to their beneficiaries.

Through this column, I would like to give a salute to all of those who have supported the foundation’s humanitarian efforts. THE FREEMAN Foundation, through this paper’s public service section, will have its yearend inventory of donations that have been significant, even life-saving, to all the beneficiaries.

Been there, done that!

Forty days after tragedy struck three municipalities in Southern Leyte, THE FREEMAN Foundation Team moved donations in cash and in kind generated from a campaign drive intended for the families of Pinut-an, San Ricardo in Panaon Island. Pinut-an was identified as “priority area” by Romana Cuizon, Provincial Social Welfare Development Officer of the Province of Southern Leyte.

THE FREEMAN management and foundation administrator Dr. Remedios Bacasmas wish to thank all of those who responded to the urgent call for assistance for those families who survived such massive and devastating landslides; and to Cokaliong Shipping Lines, Inc. for facilitating the movement of cargoes, free of charge! List of donors include former Rep. Jose Gullas, Lancer Security Agency, anonymous donors and concerned citizens and groups, the UP-TAO, Atty. Joseph Baduel, Rudy and Lilian Monte de Ramos, Royeca family, Mayor Tomas Osmeña, Margot, Miguel and friends, Philippine Airlines-Mactan station; Dodo Canoy, Melanie Velez, Sumampong family, CSCST-Main Campus Student Teachers, Antonio Cohon, Lilia Lasola, Global Carrier Phils. Inc.; Employees of Global Carrier, Maximiano Sumaoy, Cherubim Security Agency, Asian Park Tower, Sinulog Foundation, Inc. Cash and check donations amounted to PhP162,050.

Barangay Pinut-an is the biggest barangay in San Ricardo, described by its punong barangay as the “center of trade and commerce” in the southeastern side of Panaon island. It has an estimated population of 1,961 with 366 households. Casualty was placed at 24 with a total of 102 damaged houses, and 292 partially damaged houses.

Hospital tour

I also had the blessed task of distributing bundles of joy to sick indigent children-patients of the Vicente Sotto Memorial Medical Center, Cebu City Medical Center, and Talisay District Hospital, as well as the Parian Drop-In Center last December 5 on a pre-Christmas gift-giving activity.

Headed by TF General Manager Melandro “Boy” Mendoza, the core group gave away some 200 gift bags to nine children at the neurological ward of the VSMMC, 70 kids at the pediatric ward, and 40 at the communicable diseases ward, 42 children-patients at the CCMC, 22 in Talisay, and 16 at the Parian Drop-In Center.

The giving of the bundles of joy was enlivened by the presence of another volunteer, Canadian Byran Bellamy, who played Santa Claus at Ratsky at the Ayala Center Cebu to help raise P150,000 for the sick children beneficiaries of THE FREEMAN Foundation.

Christmas with the Ati tribe

I was moved by another work of charity last December 13 when I played host to a short program wherein over eighty children of the Ati tribe grabbed toys in a game of “pabitin”, smashed a clay pot full of candies in a game of “hampas palayok”, and danced to the familiar beat of the Ati-Atihan.

THE FREEMAN Foundation tied up with Ratsky – Ayala Center Cebu to distribute 80 Christmas bundles of joy and gift packs to some 56 Ati families relocated in South Poblacion, Naga town.

I learned from Ati tribe chieftain Manuel Sanger, 49, that real estate developments in their hometown in Iloilo had snatched away from them their ancestral domain.

Sanger said they arrived in this new settlement in 1996 from Iloilo after the National Commission on Indigenous People facilitated their “exodus out of home” to the proverbial “promised land” in the municipality of Naga.

To date, THE FREEMAN Foundation has received P14,960 from Friends from Connecticut for Adam Taboada, nine years old, who has cyanosis and heart disease.

The foundation acknowledges that the solid base of donors and sponsors has been its lifeblood. It could not have functioned efficiently in saving lives if it weren’t for charitable readers, young and old, from basically all walks of life.

Donations that continue pouring in at THE FREEMAN Foundation give us the hope to touch more lives and the energy to move on with these humanitarian efforts.

(For your donations either in cash or checks please call (032) 255-0926 to 27 and ask for Arlene for questions or comments. Official receipts are issued and acknowledged publicly in this paper’s public service section. For reactions, comments, suggestions and contributions to this column, crank up my addy:
pinay_mangatkatay@yahoo.com. Walking an extra mile through THE FREEMAN foundation wouldn’t hurt, because after all we are helping our brothers. They ain’t heavy!)

by Maria Eleanor Elape Valeros
January 3, 2005, posted at www.thefreeman.com and also at the message board of www.4architects.ph.tc (YELL window)

As an opening salvo to mark the ushering in of 2005, I would like to give space to a concern raised by my junior architect-cyber chum, Cymurai, relative to the information drive initiated by the United Architects of the Philippines on its two-day exhibit dubbed “Why hire an architect?” at the Ayala Center-Cebu last month.

I took on the challenge of helping in the carrying out of the information campaign to the “building” public through this column.
Through a heap of notes passed on to me by Cymurai in my electronic mailbox, it has been noted that the best way to begin a new building/construction project is for the would-be owner to reflect on what he wants to bring to it: knowledge, experience, needs, desires, aspirations, and personal opinions, as well as the resources to realize expectations.

As an outsider to the industry, I took sometime for this draft. But let me start by recognizing that architects with their professional expertise help would-be building owners establish a project. They are people one can rely on when it comes to dealing with the following questions: What activities does one expect to take place in the building? Does one have specific ideas on how to translate these activities into specific spaces and areas? An architect with experience in a particular building type can help one immensely refine a design program (the collection of parameters from which design is derived).

Good architects challenge the client’s program, schedule and budget. Even when these have been developed through painstaking effort, it is in the client’s best interest to encourage this challenge.

In this way, the architect comes to understand the project requirements in detail. The analysis may also reveal latent problems or opportunities.

Another very important point on the need to hire architects is that as design proceeds, important issues will surface. The architect’s services bring increased client understanding of the project, as the project evolves. Each step should be to assure continuing consensus on project scope, levels of quality, time constraints, estimated cost, and safeguard the owner’s budget. It may also be necessary to adjust the services required from the architect at certain points.

At the awarding of the contract for construction, the architect administers the implementation of the blueprints. This includes evaluating the work for compliance with the contract documents, checking shop drawings and other submittals to confirm the contractor’s understanding of the design.

Architects make design changes during construction. These changes may be required due to unexpected conditions in the field, and the need for further refinements in the design.

Architects inspect the facility to determine that it is complete and ready for use, and that the contractor is entitled to final payment.

The architect’s involvement with the project does not end there. As a design professional, the architect has a continuing interest in knowing that his building works or that it serves its purpose. At post-construction stages, architects are necessary for the start-up, for the review of operations, for tenant-related services, or for later alterations and modifications.

In short, the architect - who knows the mind, heart, and soul of his building best—will be there to offer post-construction services.

To clarify, an architect is to a building project as a fashion designer is to a dress, providing not only the shape to the creation, but also the drama and other intricate details in tune with trends.

Another message the United Architects of the Philippines would want to send across in last month’s 2-day exhibit, is the compensation scheme for architects in this country.

It is a pity that most of our architects are demoralized when it comes to the method of compensation. Cost and value go hand in hand, therefore it is but appropriate that their efforts should be matched with just compensation.

The building public is urged to recognize that adequate compensation for the architect works for their best interest, as this ensures the type and level of services needed to fulfill their expectations.

The amount of payment for architects depends on the types and levels of professional services provided. More extensive services or a more complex or experimental project will require more effort by the architect and add more value to the project. Would-be building owners should budget accordingly for architectural services, based on total cost of the project. There is in fact a fixed architectural fee pegged at 17% of project cost.

(For comments, reactions, suggestions, and contributions, crank up my addy: pinay_mangatkatay@yahoo.com. Happy New Year everyone!)

"Feminism is the radical notion that women are people."
by Maria Eleanor Elape Valeros
January 10, 2005, posted at www.thefreeman.com

Women struggle for the recognition of their human rights - political, economic, and including reproductive rights - has marked its centenary this year.

Women have already been fighting a hundred years, facing challenges that gave birth of the right to suffrage and or their participation in electoral politics, and the equal employment opportunities they are now enjoying amid a double-standard society.

It has been a hundred years of living the life, love and examples of Visayas’ Joan of Arc: Teresa “Nay Isa” Magbanua who went before us women in a revolutionary act that showcased a Filipina’s courage, patriotism, and military prowess. Nay Isa enlisted herself in the fight for Philippine independence when the 1899 Revolution spread in Iloilo, even though her move went against her husband’s wishes and — conventional wisdom.

2005 is the Centennial Year of the Feminist Movement in the Philippines.

This year’s celebration banners the theme: “Celebrating the past, inspiring the future” which is emblazoned in every feminist’s heart. The centenary celebration is coupled with the goal of recreating and rekindling a passionate love of our country, our people, and our culture by remembering and recognizing the vital role of Filipino women in history, and by reclaiming for the future our pride in women’s courage and creativity.

Delia Aguilar, associate professor of Women’s Studies and Comparative American Cultures at Washington State University and Bowling Green State University in one of her treatises wrote: “The Philippine women’s movement is currently considered one of the most vigorous in the developing world.

“Feminism calls for struggle against all forms of oppression, helps raise questions about national self-determination and then hits at the very core of our sense of ourselves as a people. The intertwining of these two motifs - feminism and the quest for national identity- constitutes the imperatives for the women’s movement in the country at the moment.

“Women formed groups, alliances, organizations, and/or federations in the earnest hope of achieving genuine independence and dismantling patriarchy. The women’s movement here has both established its presence and attained an autonomy that is rare in Third World nations.

“The proliferation of women’s organizations in the last few years, including the setting up of Women’s Studies programs, has brought to the public consciousness a range of issues heretofore unacknowledged, a primary one being domestic violence against women.

“It can no longer be said that the women’s movement simply obeys Party dictates, privileging the economic over the cultural or ideological. In fact it is in the realm of culture in which women have been most energetic and most passionate. The publication of books and journals, staging of plays, music composition, the visual arts, performances on radio and TV — in these the utilization of women’s talent, imagination, creativity and resources has been both remarkable and inspiring.”

Government and non-government organizations—the National Network of the Feminist Centennial in coordination with the Cultural Center of the Philippines, the National Commission on Culture and the Arts, the National Historical Institute, the National Commission on the Role of Filipino Women, the Department of Local Governments, the National Anti-Poverty Commission, and the Technological Sciences Development Authority—are the proponents of the centenary celebration of feminism this year.

Special events scheduled in 2005 include the NGOs’ celebration of the beginning of the centennial this month, a Testimonial Dinner for Women Heroes in February, Commemoration of the Plebiscite on Women’s Suffrage on April 30, a Feminist Centennial Gala Night on May 27, The Centennial Celebration of the Associacion Feminista Filipina on June 30, the All Women’s Bike Ride in July to be led by Sen. Pia Cayetano; Signing of Law on Women’s Suffrage on September 15, and the Launching of the Commemorative Stamp of the Centennial of the Feminist Movement in October.

The Turn-over/Dedication of Restored Gabaldon School Houses in Bulacan, Pangasinan, Iloilo and Baguio will take on various dates.

Festivals include International Women’s Film Festival at the University of the Philippines Film Institute in Quezon City in March, the Iloilo Feminist Centennial Festival in Iloilo City in October, the Women’s Short Film and Video Festival and Competition at the Cultural Center of the Philippines in November, and the Babaylan Culture and Arts Festival at the St. Scholastica’s College in Manila sometime December.

Conferences are to be supported by Women’s Book Fairs and Feminists Exhibits. These are the National Conference on Women and Work in May, National Conference on Gender-Fair Education in July, The Mars and Venus Dialogues: Young Women talk to Young Men about Women in August, Ilocano Women’s Conference on Feminism and Love of Country in September, Asia-Pacific Symposium on Media and Gender Issues in October, Asia-Pacific Youth Conference on Gender Issues-National Young Women’s Conference in November, and the International Babaylan Conference in December.

The centenary celebration will also hold exhibits and productions of CD recording like Awit Pangalim: Songs of Healing by Grace Nono with babaylans and healers, Dance Theater Order for Masks: A Multi-Media Piece based on the Poetry of Virginia Moreno by Myra Beltran, and a Dance Forum.

There will also be a drama musical on The Life of Teresa Magbanua by Ruby Azanza and Gantimpala Theatre Productions, travelling exhibit on The Grand Calling: Young Feminists of a Hundred Years by Ani de Leon and Lupon Inc.; an Essay-Writing Contest for Schools on the Importance of the Feminist Movement in the Philippines, an Open-air Concert featuring Empower: Young Women Celebrate the Feminist Centennial.

Video documentary would feature From Priestess to President: The Third Wave Documenting the Women’s Movement over 100 Years by the Women’s Media Circle; and a sampling of publications like Centennial Passages: Women’s Words across a Hundred Years, Women in Politics: Short biographies of women pioneers in electoral politics, The Story of Suffrage and Feminism as Counter-Memory: An alternative history, and Dear Daughter: Letters and Columns of a Half-Century.

More information may be obtained by joining Feministcentennialcebu at Yahoo Groups. Get in touch with the ministcentennialcebumoderator at .

For comments, reactions, suggestions, and contributions, crank up my addy: pinay_mangatkatay@yahoo.com.

by Maria Eleanor Elape Valeros
January 17, 2005 posted at www.thefreeman.com

The selection process for the 3rd Triennial Awards initiated by the Ramon Aboitiz Foundation, Inc. to honor outstanding institutions and exemplary individuals in the Visayas and Mindanao will begin after schedule for nomination closed last Friday.

The awards will be given in two categories: The Ramon Aboitiz Award for Exemplary Individual and The Eduardo Aboitiz Award for Outstanding Institution, both in the field of social development.

These awards were established to give recognition and encourage individuals and institutions who, through their efforts in bringing about hope and change for the better in the lives of the less-privileged, greatly reflect the philanthropic, humanitarian, and holistic ideals of Don Ramon and Eduardo Aboitiz.

It is with the hope that the winners of the Triennial Awards would inspire more individuals to exhibit leadership in responsible development advocacy and serve as catalysts of change; and also to develop strong partnership with government organizations, non-government organizations, civic and peoples organizations in bringing about desired, holistic societal change; and establish self-reliant communities whose values are responsive to the well-being of their members through the process of participation, capacity and institutional building, people empowerment and gender equity.

Through the efforts of RAFI, more and more individuals will dip their fingers in people-centered development as the foundation encourages the dynamic interplay between government, business, and civil society in the process of social development using the strategies of community organizing, coalition building, networking and linkages, capability building, and advocacy work.

ADDY BUDDY. “Hi! I am Archt. Loloy Castro, UAP, from Mandaue City. I read your article “Why hire an architect?” on THE FREEMAN, and I just can’t stop myself from sharing a few reactions. Hope you don’t mind. Point # 1. The Architecture profession is indeed demoralized in some ways. But before we blame anybody for anything, there are some things I noticed around with my colleagues. I had a chance to bid for a design project with a professional fee of 40+K, only to find out later that it was already awarded to another architect whose fee was 8K flat. Man, talk about professional practice and code of ethics! For sure, I can’t blame that guy if he needed money. But let’s face it, we were talking of an 8-bedroom ancestral home. I never knew how he came up with plans, blueprints, engineering fees, etc for 8K. And here’s the kicker: the house was to be built in Alcoy - some hundred kilometers away from where he lived. Again, talk about traveling expenses, etc.

2. A lot of architects are going into construction, which is a deadly word for our code of ethics. I once saw an ad on a national broadsheet in 2002 of a contractor advertising his firm. Below his name was the line “FREE DESIGN”. Terrible bulls**t, and he is an architect.

3. Young architects (like me, in my mid 20’s; I work on my own) work in larger offices, mainly for experience, and the small amount of monthly income they receive, just to break even with daily expenses. A starting architect receives a net monthly salary of P6K, while doing all the works (design, CAD, models, presentations, etc) and the big fish gets all the credit. Some friends I know burn 9 hours a day at work, and spend another 9 working on sidelines just to keep things going. Again, they blame it on the economy. While some young ones become sales agents for building supplies and materials, others go to Saudi and Dubai for something bigger. And some resort to networking herbals and vitamins. Obviously, there’s nothing wrong with it. I guess it’s just all about the experience, and the thrill of the journey. But aren’t we supposed to be promoting this profession? And that involves veterans boosting the morale of new architects. I have an apprentice that I pay for P250 a day, + SSS and Philhealth, and overtime fee. I don’t have many projects, but we made a vow and took an oath to uphold this profession and be responsible mentors to our neophytes.

4. I am proud to be a graduate of a good university, and I should say, I’ve had a great deal of training under my mentors. What bothers me is the term “professional practice”. Some schools I know devote more units on drafting and drawing courses, than professional practice and ethics. In some points, the architecture profession being demoralized starts at the root of the academics. No wonder you have 8K architects, or those promoting “free services”. I believe that architects should help each other first and not play blind about our own professional issues. There is more to this profession than charging the right fees, getting hired and recognized, etc. I am truly inspired by the moves of the UAP to promote the profession, and I’m also happy that finally, the society is beginning to sink in. Thanks too for your article, it’s giving us more confidence this time. Peace! – Panfilo “Loloy” Castro, Jr. .

For your comments, reactions, suggestions, and contributions crank up my addy: pinay_mangatkatay@yahoo.com.

by Maria Eleanor Elape Valeros
January 31, 2005 posted at www.thefreeman.com

The Cebu City government has some piece of good news beneficial to out-of-school youth as well as to the other sectors in society interconnected with them with the declaration of 16 urban barangays as pilot areas for the neighborhood scouting program that aims to provide a scheme for community organizations offering effective character, citizenship, and personal fitness training for young boys aged 12 to 17 years old.

The scouting movement expands from being school-based to now include the out-of-school-youths through informal scouting.

A report said that two representatives from each of the 16 city barangays would serve as troop leaders in their respective communities in Tejero, Lorega, Hipodromo, Capitol Site, Kalubihan, Luz, San Nicolas Proper, Carreta, T. Padilla, Sta. Cruz, Suba, Mabolo, Camputhaw, Sambag II, San Roque, and Ermita.

Kudos to those who pushed for the program as this supports a worldwide movement that’s “never to perish from under the sky” (a phrase from the scouts chant “Scouting alone shall live!”).

It is already nearly a decade since the Boy Scouting movement began at an encampment on Brownsea Island, Poole Harbor, England with a group of 22 boys brought together by Lieutenant General Robert Stephenson Smyth Baden-Powell who had captured the imagination of the youth of Great Britain through his military exploits and book “Aids to Scouting”.

The scouting movement later on spread through America and the rest of the continents successfully started programs for boys based on nature lore, pioneering skills, hiking, and camping.

But above this, the neighborhood scouting program to be tested in the city’s pilot sites hopes to engage the youth not only in outdoor endeavors or challenge courses. Through experiential education, the young boys’ skills are developed and tapped to create livelihood opportunities that would fight off the destructive domino effect of socio-economic issues and pressures.

Though it has been reported that there was a decrease in the figure of juvenile offenders from 1,895 in 2003 to 1,543 last year based on the 2004 city police records, it is still alarming to be seeing our youth being steered by lawless elements into the illegal drug trade as peddlers and or couriers; to see them roam our streets begging; engaged in theft or to be sniffing from cellophanes some milliliters of adhesive liquid. Our children’s predicaments are reflections of our society’s sores and nonchalance. Something has to be done, indeed! The supposed backbone of the next generation is on the verge of decay.

The scouting program has for decades been here, this program for the out-of-school-youths is long overdue.

While it is true that a strong outdoor program is the core of the boy scouting movement, the neighborhood scouting program must go far beyond the camping and hiking stuff. What outdoor service is called for here is the boys’ involvement in their communities in times of emergencies, natural disasters, and civic events.
The first set of World War scouts were instrumental in the selling of Liberty Bonds and Stamps, they collected metal and paper to be recycled, distributed literature, planted Victory gardens, collected wood, served as Civil Defense messengers, organized emergency corps to serve the community and aided the Red Cross.

We are now called to nurture the out-of-school-youths by tapping their potentials that are by no means of lesser value to that of those who are in formal school. These people out of school have all the time resources. The recognition of their value, their precious contribution to building a Strong Republic, and an appreciation for their availability in civic action would save the future backbone of the economy from fading into waste.

(For your comments, reactions, suggestions, and contributions, crank up my addy: pinay_mangatkatay@yahoo.com. All things must perish from under the sky, scouting alone shall live!)

by Maria. Eleanor Elape Valeros
February 14, 2005

What do you know about love?

Today is Valentine’s Day, a time of the year best spent delving into matters of the heart, and the things that one can spin when blinded by love’s passions!It’s already my 7th V-Day here in front of this rickety, virus-hounded computer, still cranking up the keys in the hope of documenting again the raging of romantic words that are spilling all over my mind.

Still, I always have a hard time catching up with that tumbling of thoughts, persistently fighting for every delicious word to survive, carefully tracking beautiful words justifying how I felt about being hit by the arrows of love – that kind of love that consumes with its fierce, intense and passionate throbbing – weaving them all into a thousand and one love poems.

It’s my 7th V-Day at work and again pictures of friends who can sing to their beaus over and over again old romantic notes with all of the outpouring of emotions flash before my monitor like screensavers. Another image is that of a foster grandfather who can still make that serenade of the immortal Maala-ala Mo Kaya before his wife, now gray, wrinkled and bent, whom he had promised to love, care and cherish for the rest of his life – “for richer and for poorer, in sickness and in health, till death do them part”!

Love, oh love! It’s my 7th V-Day at work and am still struck with the bolts of being a sentimental, romantic fool. Indeed, the heart has its reasons that Reason itself cannot even reason out why. The heart has its own principles, and only those who are hit by Cupid’s arrows can understand how potent its influences are.

We are created because of love. We are born out of love. We are made to love by a God, who is Himself, Love. Who can be cynical about love? It is the cosmos’ fifth element sustaining life. It is the central theme of songs, movies and stories reflecting our own lives made complete and whole by this ability to love. Who can go against its raging, wild forces? Love is the principle of our existence and its only end. But then, like God, love can never be realized by one who is not pure of heart.

Through super-segments of time, the magniloquent expressions of true love will be as bright as the million stars sprinkled by the Awesome who designed love for all of the world to explore and enjoy. It will rise above its opposing current, which is lust. It’s the kind of love that will make one see her as attractive even if she’s weird, or see him adorable even if he is stupid, or see her as lovable even if she is gross. True love will never fade. Like gold, it is tested best with fire.

¤ ¤ ¤Let me take a space in space to give way to my Valentine greetings for the people I am in love with, all these years. Thank you folks for teaching me how to love: The Awesome God (my Alpha and Omega), Papa Vic (I miss our bible debates), Mama Rose (I miss our scrabble sessions), my sister Nanette who has grown to be a fine woman, my brother Darwin who has his own space in space now, my best friend Helen Galolo-Malusay (bring me sometime to Ground Zero, please), my soulmate Winley Alueta, my chatmate Joshua Sumignan (thanks for real time), my colleague Garry Blanco Lao (belated happy 25th birthday), my soul buddies Vener Bueno Albao, Jocelyn Ulla, Maribeth Berongan and Baylon Lampaug. And to my chatmates j_dream, willvin, jazzpogs, mastaclyde, kelvin_waffito, mackie_extreme, aprilsatchje, sweetjuicygirl, jad3ph, cotone, shirvinbry, kisselyme, hotmaria, dako_nga_taas, romeo, war_ningdbh, cymurai, slash_and_burn, simply_jessie, tweetie_gurl, prince_of_darkness, prince_achilles, killuazoldick, stripesandsolid, pacwoman, ikong_budlat, cutie_cool, maria, loctob, vills44, v_ezra, cris_maler, mikkyboi, goats_eye, clifford_jaca, dhwardex, american_idiot, fzanoria, spug_devon, randell_mcthrow, pusang_iring_strike, tekwa_80, gayon_bryan, darling27villarba, psychotron, poyet60, lordtoshin, mahigugmaon, and d_original_sigbin; and my bosom buddy in the making - visualman.

Thank you for my column “reactors” anggwaponi, vj_cito, caelihan, sir loloy of cebucreations, sir dodong of madagascar, africa; cotone, j_dream, fancy_face, and lover. And of course to my fellow climbers (trekkers, backpackers), you’re all my Valentine! Mountaineering gave me back my life, this you should know. Thanks Sir Boy D, Marites, Jack, Boyet, Cris, Richard, Cerna, Leila, Minda, Papa Neil, Jeffrey, Fordz, Peter Mark, Mark Waray, Anthony Winey, Alex, Joseph Lyndon and Bing. LET ME SAY I LOVE YOU ALL BEFORE DOING SUCH WOULD BE TOO LATE.

(For your comments, reactions, suggestions, and contributions crank up my addy: pinay_mangatkatay @yahoo.com.)

The dark side of real time chattin’

by Maria Eleanor Elape Valeros
February 7, 2005

Real time chatting has its dire consequences.

Bertrand Russell in his Skeptical Essays said, “machines are worshipped because they are beautiful and valued, because they confer power; they are also hated because they are hideous, and loathed because they impose slavery”.

I have my share of online chatting addiction that’s now outwitting my virtues I must admit. Since 1997, I’m hooked with the ICQ, MSN, and Faceparty; and recently at the Yahoo chatrooms - Cebu Tambayan 1, 2 and 6 - where I met all my virtual boyfriends before they became real ones (ahem! met some, lost some). This passion for chatting leads to attachment.

Some nights ago, THE FREEMAN Courts reporter Mitchelle Calipayan singled me out to edit her story on the conviction of a man to imprisonment of reclusion perpetua for raping his 20-year-old Boholana chatmate on June 8, 2000 (Mitchelle considers me an authority when it comes to chat lingo, thanks!).

Criminal Case No. DU – 8337

In a 15-page decision, Dexter – a former information technology manager – was sentenced to the penalty of life imprisonment by Regional Trial Court branch 28 presiding judge Marilyn Yap for raping Bernadette, a lass from Garcia Hernandez, Bohol.

Mitch’s report read: “Dexter and Bernadette began knowing each other through real time chatting on May 2000. On June 8, the two met at a shopping mall for the first time wherein the accused invited her to use his personal computer with Internet connection in his house in Pitogo, Consolacion, Cebu.

“Bernadette, being an online chatting enthusiast, acceded to the invitation. She used the computer for 30 minutes, after which the accused lifted her from the chair and brought her inside his room where the accused consummated his carnal knowledge despite of the struggle made by the victim.

“Dexter during the trial admitted having sexual intercourse with the victim, but vehemently denied using force upon her, claiming they are lovers. But the court, however, found Dexter’s denial unconvincing against the direct testimony of the victim.

“A sweetheart defense to be credible should be substantiated by some documentary or other evidence of the relationship like live mementos, love letters, notes, pictures and the like, which the accused failed to provide to prove the truthfulness of his claim,” the court said.

“Bernadette was forced to tell her relatives and mother about her fate when she discovered that she was impregnated by Dexter, who at that time was also being charged for another rape case of another chatmate, which is still pending before the same sala.

The court had ordered the accused to pay Bernadette the amount of P50,000 as civil indemnity and the amount of P50,000 as moral damages; and to provide support to his 3-year-old child by Bernadette, subject to the amount and terms to be determined by the trial court in a proper proceeding.”

“Be wary of the true motives of some men chatting on the Internet. A computer will do what man tell it to do, but that may be much different from what he has in mind,” this was Yap’s advice to real time chatters as embodied in her decision convicting Dexter for raping Bernadette.”

Cyberwanderlust

I have my share of eyeballs (chat lingo for meeting up), and I find my crowd at the United Chatters of Cebu Tambayan 1 a blessing because what I shared with them first time we gathered during the Sinulog festivity is a kind of bonding anchored on what we have intimately shared – agreed upon, fought for or argued - online. I would say that it is every chatter’s responsibility to be wary of the true motives of his or her chatmate at the other end of the cyberhighway. Or else I could raise an eyebrow, and blurt out: “Ngano man kang ni-enter?”

My mother told me the Internet has been one of the “devil’s potent inventions” destroying every good man inch by inch. This I considered a sweeping statement as I find myself strengthened by the weaknesses of chatters I find in cyberspace. I have never been destroyed a bit by the likes of Reynan alias kris_coral from whom I learned the challenges of rearing a special child; of Cyrus alias cymurai who taught me to move around a message board he created (guys, visit www.4architects.ph.tc please!); of Celxham alias killuazoldick who helped me outline my article on animé thingy; of Achi alias prince_achilles who babbles about Ragnarok, an online game; of James alias slash_and_burn who still believes in the beauty of reconciliation even when he is a product of a broken home; of Walter alias villagantol who left his hometown Zamboanga City for greener pastures as back home offered nothing but poverty brought about by the never-ending clashes of ideologies (tsk! tsk!); and of course my special friend Josh alias byte_lick who shielded me for a while from the attacks of room booters (these are chatters who have a dose of programs that allow them to kick fellow chatters out of the chatroom).

At every chatroom, there’s a mix of “races” too – from the conservative to the perverts; from the smart alecks to the morons; from royals to the oppressed. Bottomline is that the chatroom becomes an avenue for the shy to speak his or her mind, for the not-so-confident to expound on his ideas, for the weakling to find strength, for the “torpe” to get a sweeatheart, for the strong to be overpowered by the weak, for the egocentric to be up and about, for the spartan to live the same.

The chatroom is a melting pot of personalities that either make you laugh, cry, go mad, irate, compassionate, indifferent, attentive - all.

Every chatter must just make it a point to never ever lose his good self in the Internetherworld!

(For comments, reactions, suggestions, and contributions, crank up my addy: pinay_mangatkatay@yahoo.com. C yah @ Cebu Tambayan 1 — Chat rules!)

Ponhik sa Magdiwata
Maria Eleanor Elape Valeros
July 7, 2004 visit www.thefreeman.com too and find me there

SAN FRANCISCO,AGUSAN DEL SUR --- The towering mountain ranges shielding the municipality of San Francisco, Agusan del Sur, from devastating typhoons are believed to have been the homes of enchanted beings – Magbabaja, maker of the world; Inojow, good spirit of the skies; Manandada-oy, killer and bad spirit; Sogojon, god of hunting and fishing; Agkoy, indecent spirit; Makahansay, wasteful spirit; Higadanon, spirit of the rivers and lakes; Tagbosow, spirit living in forest and trees; Sognodan, spirit of the dead; Manibuyan, spirit that takes off the spirit of the dead; Ibobosok, god of harvest; and the legendary hunter-giant Magdiwata.
Magdiwata is god to the Manobos - our tribal brothers prominent in their colorful necklaces and wristbands of white symbolizing purity, red for courage, yellow for royalty and black for the unfathomable wonders of the wilderness.

Magdiwata blessed the wilderness of San Francisco with so much promise for every passionate climber. It became a trail museum during the 2nd Ponhik to Magdiwata Climb organized by the San Francisco Mountaineers Club in time for the Naliyagan Festival celebrated from June 12 to 17 at the Government Center of Prosperidad, the provincial capital of Agusan del Sur.

I’d never been so challenged in all my life in completing the Ponhik (Manobo for “climb”), otherwise known as the 2nd Datu Lipus Macapandong Climb, Caving Adventure and Agusan Marshland Trip which all transpired in three days. I was with my team and other eager beaver-climbers from San Francisco, Butuan City, Mati City, and Digos City – participants who are equally passionate about the great outdoors, discovering and rediscovering about the ways of nature, learning and relearning indigenous knowledge systems that direct man to live in harmony with his environment; vital lessons we had imbibed with the help of our guide, Jeffrey Octaviano, Municipal Tourism Officer Juancho Vicente and Municipal Environment and Natural Resources Officer Samuel Dandan with communications group, Karancho, among many others.

The San Francisco Mountaineers Club deemed it best to host fellow mountaineers, finding the potential of mountaineering as a popular sport to help in the promotion of Agusan del Sur as an eco-tourism and research destination in the southern part of the Caraga Region in Mindanao.

Mystical Mt. Magdiwata stands 633 meters high, or approximately 2,126 feet, with moderate to difficult climbing trails, which I consider every regular mountaineers’ heaven. The Ponhik to Magdiwata experience, our tribute to the mighty hunter-god, may be considered a mobile method of imbibing the beauty of the great outdoors, using for visual materials seven major falls, the Bees’ Haven trail, and Nature’s Sandayong all set in a forest replete with varied endemic species of both fauna and flora, like the century-old bagrass trees considered the region’s “sequoias”.

Ponhik to Magdiwata provided a deeper understanding of our brother Agusanons’ culture and history, as well as a literal immersion into Mighty Magdiwata’s belly that began in Cave City in barangay Bitan-agan.

This to the lumads is the Aningaw Cave (Manobo for “echo”). It is here I discovered how bats nurture their young through natural incubators that parent bats carved on cave ceilings. These incubators resemble those of inverted pestles.

The second cave we visited was the Sinking Cave, obviously because it is vertical. Beto, as it is popularly called, required the rope dangles. It is generally a dry cave.

The third and last cave of literally a hundred is located in barangay Lucac. It is named in memory of Datu Anawa Kalipay or Faustino España, Sr. He died sometime in 1999 reportedly leaving behind a corpse that had not undergone decomposition. Its other name is Inepan Cave (Manobo for “subterranean”). To the lumads, this is a place for rituals of the baylan (priest). The cave is about 800 meters from the main entrance to the exit with the main chamber unexplored as river flows out of its mouth.©

For comments, reactions, suggestions, and contributions crank up my addy: pinay_mangatkatay@yahoo.com. Climbing rules! Do also check on our foundation for corporal works of mercy. www.thefreeman.com PUBLIC SERVICE section. your donation could go a long, long, long way to assist sick children. please help us reach out to them.

Lake Danao, Mt. Cabalian, Southern Leyte

Placid Lake
by Maria Eleanor Elape Valeros
pinay_mangatkatay@yahoo.com
YANIPZ (pinay_mangatkatay) on cebu tambayan 1&2
published for THE FREEMAN lifestyle section last October 27, 2004 visit www.thefreeman.com

For 17 hours, my soul sister Marites and I, together with one of our close friends, Billy Jack, had Lake Danao to ourselves - serene waters held by a caldera formed after a volcanic activity decades back. The lake is nestled a few feet below the summit of Mt. Cabalian in barangay Anahawan, San Juan town, Southern Leyte. The locals call this mountain Kantaytok. The lake’s tranquil water was momentarily ruffled by playing carps and other freshwater fish varieties. Lake Danao (stress on the first syllable) is a placid lake.

Aboard a slow boat that charged us only P220 each for upper deck accommodations, we were mapping out things to do in our overnight campout up there on Mt. Cabalian - over 2,400 feet high. The slow marine vessel took us sailing for 13 hours from Cebu down to the tip of southern Leyte, maneuvering back up the eastern side of the province facing the Philippine Deep.

During the sea trip, we’ve been treated to sights of awesome immaculate seabirds hunting for fish, sometimes taking flight above us as if teasing us with the powerful flapping of their wings. Verdant coconut groves dominate the mountainside of Pana-on island, a teardrop-shaped mass of land connected to mainland Leyte by Wawa bridge in Liloan, a town named after the eddies formed by the movement of surface currents and undercurrents.

It was my second time to see Pana-on. The first time was when The Freeman Foundation launched a relief drive for the landslide victims of the towns of San Francisco, Liloan and San Ricardo early this year. From afar, there were still memories of devastation marked by destroyed seawalls, torn-down jetty, and the big white cross in memory of those buried beneath boulders and mud.

For 13 hours, we waited for that chance to step on the small port of San Juan (Cabalian in the old days) enlivened by warm people.

Mt. Cabalian was visible from afar, though most of its peak was covered with rain clouds. It has a 30-degree slope vivid from afar, not drawing an established hump or jagged peaks or cuernos (thorns) or tiaras unlike most mountain summit formations.

The first time I glimpsed Mt. Cabalian was when I was on my way to deliver the relief goods to San Ricardo aboard a navy boat with Southern Leyte’s governor Rosette Yñiguez-Lerias (she was concerned to find me perched near the vessel’s prow).

“Mahulog ka ‘day kon maigo kas dagkong balud dinha,” she warned me.

“Mobalhin ra ko Madam kon mabusog na kog tinan-aw aning Mt. Cabalian,” I answered back. After oogling the mountain’s ridges and peak, I swore to the heavens, “Balikon jud tika ba! Katkaton jud tika!”

After six months, my companions and I set foot in San Juan for the trek. We were told by locals to look for eskina PNOC, about a kilometer away to the right from the port, past a condemned bridge. The Philippine National Oil Corporation had an exploration there years back for geothermal energy sources, but closed the project site as research continued. Pipes reportedly failed to withstand the earth’s heat so that PNOC folded up temporarily to conduct further studies on stronger materials, this we learned from one Lea Alfaro, a resident.

We walked our way three kilometers up when we started feeling the effects of high altitude, our ears felt as though they were clogged up with air giving us this zing in our brains. From over a thousand feet of gradual assault, we feasted on the sight of beautiful Sogod Bay, in the interior portion of the Wawa bridge. Southern Leyte is one vast land with beautiful mountain peaks that seem to wear crowns. If only this country isn’t bound by the shackles of a rotten system, most Leyteño coconut farmers could have been among the wealthiest people in the Philippines - into the mass production of tons of virgin coconut oil not only for the country’s use but also for the international market, as well. Not to mention the harnessing of car oil that’s alternative to the barrels of fuel we have been importing all these years. These would have also breathed life to many other industries.
From Porferio “Puto” Sibonga, a native of the place, we learned that after a 6-kilometer uphill walk, we are still two kilometers away from the lake. He said the PNOC people made a signage pointing to the direction up, past the forest line. One thing nice about Leyteños is their willingness to be of service to strangers. I had experienced this kind of hospitality in Maasin City when we were unloading the relief goods for the landslide victims early this year. I think the best adjective would be “matinud-anon”. Worried that the sign might not be there at all, which might make us first-timers get lost, Puto then volunteered to be our guide. On our way, he shared his happy memories in Cebu while working as a waiter for the Magellan International Hotel before it was reduced to ashes in the late 80s.

Puto showed us the way to the bosom of the forest. It was a 2-kilometer assault, of winding paths that seemed to lead us to eternity. Each stopover, I call leg, was an opportunity to appreciate the white anthuriums that flooded our path, a chance to get excited at the chattering of chimps which he estimated to have weighed about 5 kilograms each. Sights of moss-covered tree trunks, lovely birds hovering from time to time above us, the smell of forest litter, and the brush with the fog all excited us. Time just stood still before us and the life we left behind was frozen.

As we took a few downhill steps into the middle of nowhere, the mist engulfed us. A few more steps and there we began to realize – water!

We were shouting and praising at the site of the lake partly covered with the afternoon curtain of mist, its banks sprinkled with groves of amamangpang (a variety of ferns).
The lake took an elongated shape on the face of the earth. We arrived at about 2 pm, but didn’t pitch our tent immediately. Ugly site of scattered trash – plastic water bottles, cans of sardines, candy wrappers, empty liquor bottles, and smelly fish entrails with partying maggots were left there by, Puto believed, locals who go up there to fish and picnic. Marites and I were on to a cleanup first while Billy Jack pitched the two tents we brought along. Puto then left us, wishing us the best of memories in that idyll with Lake Danao.

At sundown, flying foxes with wingspans of five feet long, set flight away from their dwelling places to hunt for food. We were clapping at the site of the giant fruit bats hovering above us, about two hundred of them—beautiful animals. After a sumptuous dinner of Halcon Steak, we hit the sack deciding to catch the moon rising at 10pm. Then, the strong winds came, carrying this droning sound like water in a whirlpool. We secured our dome tents to the ground with more skewer pegs, and just enjoyed the music created by the rustling of the trees. At 10 pm, the lake was bright with the presence of a lovely moon. Lake Danao painted with the silhouettes of the lush trees surrounding it. We were once again captive to such wondrous display of nature at her finest.
Then, we thanked each other for the company, exchanged bear hugs and planted tender “mwahs” on each other’s cheeks.

By 5 am, the lake was enveloped with the mist, the breeze created ripples on the water like air blown into a mug of steaming coffee. In between sips of hot chocolate and spoonfuls of cereal, we went gaga over those giant fruit bats flying low beneath the mist, taking on the angles of kamikazes.
Early in the morning, we three silly-goofies took turns in shouting our names that reverberated back to us in echoes.

Before thanking the lake for accepting us, we also took turns in freezing those moments in photographs, and then imbibing the lessons Lake Danao has for us – to live this borrowed life in borrowed time placidly, amid the crazy world’s noise and haste. (For comments, reactions, suggestions, and contributions crank up my addy: pinay_mangatkatay@yahoo.com. Climbing rules! To help our foundation for corporal works of mercy, please check www.thefreeman.com PUBLIC SERVICE section. The Freeman Foundation is the heart of the newspaper engaged in saving lives most especially the children. Thanks for your kind hearts.)