Shattered lives

WHILE the government and the Moro Islamic Liberation Front (MILF) talk peace, at least 200,000 people in central Mindanao continue to be threatened with torture, enforced disappearances and extrajudicial executions.

This was the gist of the latest report released by Amnesty International yesterday. Titled “Philippines: Shattered lives, beyond the 2008 – 2009 Mindanao armed conflict,” the book (which was held for almost a week by the Bureau of Customs) details the risks that people in Mindanao face as they are forced to live in camps or makeshift shelters surrounded by soldiers.

Dr. Aurora Parong, AI section director for the Philippines, observed that a year after the armed conflict in Central Mindanao escalated in August 2008, “no perpetrators of the human rights abuses and violations of international humanitarian law are known to have been brought to justice.”

AI’s report highlights the desperate conditions of civilians living in crowded camps with limited access to food and livelihoods. It also provides information about human rights abuses by both the government forces and the MILF rebels against villagers in Maguindanao.

In January, for instance, a group of soldiers entered the village of Ungap in the town of Sultan Kudarat and arrested 10 men. The soldiers forced their way into houses, pointing their guns and destroying the belongings of villagers.

A woman later said the arrested men, including her husband, were later given electric shocks. Of those arrested, nine were released but the woman’s husband remains in detention. Another man said the soldiers detained and questioned him for 10 weeks while administering electric shocks and beating him.

Other testimonies found in the book details incidents of arbitrary arrests and severe beatings of civilians at the hands of the Philippine Army, the MILF and local militias.

The recent conflict in Mindanao between the government and the MILF intensified in August 2008 after the Supreme Court prevented the implementation of the proposed Memorandum of Agreement on Ancestral Domain, which had been designed to pave the way to peace, by expanding the Autonomous Region in Muslim Mindanao.

In October, the High Court ruled that the MOA-AD was unconstitutional. Fighting erupted and continued sporadically until a ceasefire agreement was reached in July 2009.

Over 700,000 people were displaced during the year-long conflict, a situation reminiscent of the early 1970s when a full-scale armed conflict erupted between the government and the Moro National Liberation Front.

In 1978 the MILF broke away from the MNLF, with which the government subsequently signed a peace agreement in 1996. Fighting broke out intermittently between the military and the MILF.

Last month, the government and the MILF agreed to suspend military operations and work to establish a protection mechanism for civilians. Further talks between the two parties have yet to resume.

Meanwhile, people suffer.

Some are ‘luckier’ than others

SOME people are just “luckier” than others.

In recent months, some groups, most of them bidders, have been complaining that one information technology company has been “luckier” than them, or anyone else for that matter, in winning government contracts.

The beef of the losing bidders: the winning contractor supposedly failed to meet bid requirements but still got the projects. The latest controversy involves the P3-billion identification card project of the Social Security System.

The lucky group that won the project is a consortium of Stradcom, All Card and Teco. Representatives of the group said they were “able to substantially comply” with the bidding requirements.

All Card is a card manufacturing firm, while Teco is a company based in Taiwan.

The issue is far from being resolved and some sectors are looking into the “luck” of Stradcom in getting government contracts despite its supposed record in implementing projects.

Among the projects Stradcom “implemented” in the past are the supposed “cleansing” of the existing registry of land titles at the Land Registration Authority and the issuance of machine-readable passports and visas under the Foreign Affairs department.

The company failed to implement the DFA project that led to its cancellation.

Stradcom supposedly also submitted a bid for the automation of the 2010 elections but lost. However, it was one of only two companies that submitted a bid for the P1.5-billion project of cleansing the Comelec’s voters’ list.

Stradcom started as a consortium that won a contract with the Land Transportation Office-Information Technology (LTO-IT) Project. It covered the development of an integrated IT system that links LTO offices around the country. It also aims to integrate LTO’s processes, such as the issuance of driver’s licenses and motor vehicle registration.

The government awarded the project on December 15, 1997, to a company that was still to be incorporated. Stradcom was incorporated on January 6, 1998, under SEC Registration Number A1997- 24063, to serve as the vehicle company for the consortium that won the bidding for the LTO-IT Project.

The company is wholly owned by Stradcom International Holdings, Inc. (SIHI), a holding corporation. Its tockholders include Strategic Alliance Development Corporation (STRADEC) and Comfac Corporation, through United Information Technologies, Inc. (UNITE), and by ePLDT, Inc. and International Finance Corporation (IFC), part of the World Bank Group.

The LTO-IT project was implemented sometime in 2003 and Stradcom supposedly erned P6 billion from the contract, according to a report by the Commission on Audit. The tax collected from the company was only P275 million.

That would be a lot of money for the company. However, what happened to the project. Did the government benefit from it? These are some of the questions some sectors have been raising in recent weeks.

Thank you, Tita Cory

IN 2005, former President Cory Aquino delivered a speech at the annual Ninoy Aquino Fellowship Awards. It was a speech that my friend Yasmin and I will always treasure. Below are excerpts from that speech:

“Today I am honored to meet and proud to welcome into the distinguished company of Ninoy Aquino Fellows, a feminist, Yasmin Busran-Lao, and a journalist, Jose Torres, Jr. Both of them are barely in their forties and already they are so accomplished in the service of our country and our people.

“Yasmin’s inspiring courage and creativity in taking the Koran and relating it to the challenges that face Muslim women today is matched by Joe Torres’ intrepid advocacy and enterprise as a reporter.

“Both have authored groundbreaking publications. Yasmin’s ‘Handbook on Gender Sensitivity Training’ introduced for the first time the revolutionary concept of gender to Filipino Muslim women. And Joe’s ‘Into the Mountain: Hostaged by the Abu Sayyaf,’ told in painful detail the story of the kidnapping by the Abu Sayyaf of dozens of school children and their teachers in Basilan and the execution of their school director, Father Roel Gallardo. Another book edited by Mr. Torres on gambling has shed light on how the scourge of gambling has affected the lives of ordinary Filipinos and Philippine politics itself.”

o0o

“To Yasmin and Joe, the road you will be taking during the Fellowship is a well-traveled road. Thirty other deserving Filipino men and women were given this unique and generous grant in recognition of their achievements in the service of our country and people. Use this privilege well and carry Ninoy’s name and that of our country with pride.

“You both represent sectors that figure prominently in the public’s consciousness. Muslim women, especially those who like Yasmin, are engaged in the promotion of peace and understanding; and journalists, especially those who, like Joe, tackle difficult and dangerous topics that have of late cost many of his colleagues their lives.

“I pray that both of you may achieve more success in your endeavors and that you be safe from harm. One gauge of a working democracy is that people are able to pursue their work without fear of being killed. I once dreamed that after Ninoy, no other Filipino pursuing peace, freedom, justice and democracy ought to have to lose his life for the cause.

“However, I have come to realize that democracy is a work in progress, and I thank both of you for your contributions toward a completion of this work in our country.”

o0o

Thank you, Madam President. There will be ups and downs in our journey toward the achievement of your and Ninoy’s dreams, but we will do our best to work, in our small ways, to make it happen. Farewell, Madam President. Thank you.

What Arroyo must tell Obama

IF only President Arroyo has the balls, then she will tell US President Barack Obama to stop talking and start acting on issues that the United States must face in our part of the world.

The environmental group Greenpeace hit the nail on the head when it said: “The US must take responsibility for the problem (of climate change) for which they are largely responsible and to which they continue to contribute excessively in comparison to developing countries.”

President Arroyo is the first head of state from Southeast Asia, a region “most vulnerable and least prepared for the ravages of climate change,” to visit Obama.

Greenpeace’s wish is for our President to tell Obama to agree to “legally-binding, ambitious and deep emissions reduction obligations, and also to make available public and private funding for climate change mitigation and adaptation actions to help developing countries.”

The group believes that “massive funding” for forest protection in Southeast Asia is key in winning the global battle against climate change. The Philippines is among countries most at risk to climate change impacts, such as extreme weather conditions and sea level rise.

Climate change is a “safe” issue that Mrs. Arroyo can raise during her meeting with Obama. If only she has the balls to speak first before Obama starts enumerating issues like human and economic rights that would most likely embarrass our President.

If not the President, then someone from her party should raise a howl in Washington over climate change. What are the 30 or so lawmakers with Mrs. Arroyo doing anyway in Washington? They can actually hold a picket outside the White House to dramatize the demand. They can shout: “We are dying of floods and high water, give us the money to save our islands.” Anyway, our lawmakers are used to asking money.

By the way, Malacanang announced that only five government officials are expected to join President Arroyo in her meeting with Obama. These are Ambassador to the US Willy Gaa, Foreign Affairs Secretary Alberto Romulo, Senator Miriam Defensor-Santiago, Speaker Prospero Nograles and Executive Secretary Eduardo Ermita.

Where will the other members of the party go? Maybe to some party sponsored by the Filipino community somewhere in Georgetown? I am still wondering what first-time party-list lawmakers, especially those who have just taken their oath, doing in the President’s entourage in Washington. Is it some kind of gift from the Palace? During the time of Speaker De Venecia, newly proclaimed party-list lawmakers who take their oath would only receive P50,000 as gift. Times are now a-changing.

Human rights on the agenda

When President Arroyo meets with US President Obama later this week, she will be confronted with issues on human rights, thanks to the lobbying of US-based human rights advocates.

The US State Department had reportedly confirmed that human rights “would be brought up by President Obama during Arroyo’s visit.” One of the issues that will most likely be raised is the plight of Melissa Roxas, a Filipino-American activist who claimed she was abducted and tortured by the Philippine military.

Philippine human rights groups have been claiming through the years that the Arroyo administration has no human rights agenda, except for statements that it would end what has been dubbed as a “culture of impunity” in the country.

Victims of human rights violations during the Marcos regime have also claimed that the government’s effort to deliver the just compensation due the victims is wanting. The Arroyo administration also failed to pass measures in Congress against torture, enforced disappearance and extra-judicial killings.

The government issued in the past Executive Order 464, which human rights advocates said blocked the people’s right to information by preventing members of her Cabinet from testifying before congressional inquiries.

Farmers claimed that the government’s failure to implement genuine agrarian reform blocked their right to food and their right to development and contributed to the killings of peasant leaders.

Despite the supposedly rapid economic growth from 2001-2007, the Philippines has been facing the problem of joblessness that affects at least 10 percent of the people’s right to work, thus pushing Filipinos to seek employment abroad.

The Philippine Alliance of Human Rights Advocates said 66 percent of pre-primary children are without access to education due to low investments for teachers of Early Child Care and Education.

Mrs. Arroyo’s critics said that low priority for social services compared to debt servicing affects the quality of life and the enjoyment of economic, social and cultural rights.

In the 2009 national budget, the government plans to spend P7,391.54 per person for debt servicing while allotting only P2,050.98 per person for education, P301.52 for health, P57.48 for housing and P112.80 for social services.

These are among the issues Mrs. Arroyo will have to answer when she meets with Obama. The President will surely have her own figures. Mrs. Arroyo, the teacher, will lecture the US President on the Philippine situation. The US President will most likely “understand” and will offer an unsolicited advise that the time for change has come.

Not a game of chance

This is a first. After 20 years in journalism – as a reporter, photographer, editor, broadcaster – and after trying almost all the media – print (broadsheet), radio, television, online – I have decided to embark into a new experiment, nay, life experience: the tabloid.

This is no game of chance. Life should not be a game of chance. Even poker is not a game of chance. (More of that later.) This is calculated risk. What awaits us, we do not know. What we want to achieve, we are sure. We want to reach out to more people, to a wider audience.

I have been writing for 20 years now. I have written two books, have been published in so many publications here and abroad, and have been interviewed for various television shows. But all for what? All those years, nobody among those I claimed to have championed for heard, read or watched the issues I raised.

I wrote about the poor, the displaced, the victims of human rights violation and injustices who have no TV sets, could not afford to buy a broadsheet, much more the glossy magazines and books of so-called civil society groups. There’s the tabloid, supposedly the paper of choice of the masses.

Nobody in the so-called mainstream of society wanted to have a part of the “industry” of gore and sex. But as some friends say, “If you want to be senator or president, make sure the tabloids are on your side.”

The broadsheets can help in the promotion of a public official or in “mainstreaming” an issue, but the tabloids can make or unmake a politician or make issue an “issue of the people,” a “cry of the masses” if need be.

Life, or journalism in this case, is like poker. It is not a game of chance. In poker, losing a hand is not a matter of not having the right cards. This is what I learned after wasting hours trying to raise hundreds of dollars of play money online.

Politicians running in 2010, or journalists covering the race, can learn a lot from the game. Philippine politics, like the Philippine media, is no numbers game. Neither is it solely a money game. Strategy is a must. Aside from having the right cards, bluffing, calling at the right time and raising the ante need mathematical precision.

Unlike chess, where nothing is hidden, poker is a game of “imperfect information.” So is politics. Much more, journalism. There’s so much information concealed from other players. Winning does not depend on luck alone.

Manny Villar may have the money, Chiz Escudero the numbers and Mar Roxas the cards, but the game will depend on how they will play.

Poker-playing strategists, like many Filipino journalists, are now in the employ of politicians, especially those running for high office. I have seen some of them joining tables online and betting thousands of dollar of play money. Some are careless, others are trying to learn the ropes, many have flawless but predictable strategies.

It would be exciting how they would play for real in the coming days. Meanwhile, let me go back to the games. Este, to the editorial room for some serious journalism. Remate Tonight has a lot to do.

Adobong Bisaya

Living in the city deprives me of a lot of things, especially food. (And real friends, too, who welcome you any time of the day even without an invitation, sometimes even inviting you to partake with what little food they have.)

I thought about food and remembered the “Adobong Bisaya” my friends in my hometown used to share especially on the feast day of St. John the Baptist. My friends used to raid our kitchen – the bahaw in the kaldero, the three-day old adobo my Nana tries to save for the next meal, the ginamos in the Nescafe glass – despite the half-hearted protest of my mother.

My friends would bring everything, including the kaldero to the beach. The family has no choice but to follow and to hold an instant piknik with “Nonoy’s barkada“.

In our province, my friends are my parents’ friends, my friends’ friends are also our friends and so on and so forth. We would always become a happy family of friends. That’s why Mayo’s home is my home, Marvin’s bed is my bed, Meiko’s mom is our mom, Divina’s husband is our barkada and we eat together, sleep together and many of us, I know, would die together, nay, almost at the same time, like our parents, grandparents and great-grandparents.

(By the way, wakes are a happy moment for our community. Although we shed tears, we also share happy moments together. When we were kids, we used to sleep under the coffin of a friend’s dead grandfather or father or mother. November 1 is a grand reunion of the community in the cemetery. It’s the only time when we account who were dead and who are still alive. The next time we buy candles for the tombs or submit a list of names of the dead for the priest to mention during the dedication of the mass, we would know how much to spend.)

Adobo is cooked in various ways. In my hometown, our adobo is dry and oily. I think it’s just appropriate because we don’t have a refrigerator. The oil preserves the meat for it to last weeks.

During fiestas, we cook a lot of adobo for friends and relatives to bring home. We call it “bring house.” We put the adobo with a lot of mantika inside cans of biscuits, milk, anything that we find in our kitchen or backyard. Sometimes, weeks after the fiesta, when we visit friends in their homes during mealtime, the nanay or the lola would proudly offer the adobo. “Gikan pa ni sa inyo. Lami kaayo mao nga gihinay-hinay namo,” the friend’s mother would say. “Kanus-a man mag-adobo og usob si nanay mo?” would always be the next question. “Sa piyesta tingali kung magpatay mi og baboy,” I would answer.

It has been a long time since I’ve eaten our adobo. It has been a long time I have been with friends. The day of the fiesta is coming. I don’t know if the adobo would be the same.

Si Richard, OFW

Tila may lambong na madilim na ulap ang mukha ni Richard nang una kong makita sa loob ng eroplano sa Frankfurt airport. Tila wala siyang pakiaalam sa kanyang paligid, nakalagay sa tenga ang earphone ng kanyang ipod, malayo ang kanyang paningin, ni hindi ako kinibo nang tabihan ko siya.

“Pauwi ka?” basag ko sa katahimikan habang umupo ako sa kanyang tabi. Huli na nang naisip ko na malaking katangahan ang tanong ko. Siyempre, wala sana siya sa loob ng eroplano kung hindi siya pauwi sa Pilipinas.

Subalit tumango si Richard bago ibaling ang paningin sa labas ng bintana ng eroplano. Nanahimik na rin ako. Malamig ang hangin at gusto ko ring matulog. Subalit makalipas ang ilang minuto, tinanggal ni Richard ang earphone, at nakipag-usap sa akin.

“Ilang taon kang di umuwi, sir?” tanong niya.

“Ilang linggo lang akong nawala. May pinuntahan lang na miting,” sabi ko sa kanya.

“Noong November din lang ako huling nasa atin. May emergency lang kaya ako uuwi,” sabi ni Richard, sabay lagay muli ng earphone sa tenga.

Umusad na ang eroplano at nagsimulang sumahimpapawid.

“Ayokong sumakay nang eroplano. Nakakatakot,” sabi ng aking katabi.

“Richard. Richard pala ang pangalan ko,” sabay abot ng kamay. Malamig ang kanyang palad, kasing lamig ng mga palad ko.

“Kinakabahan ka rin?” tanong niya.

Tumango ako. Takot din akong sumakay ng eroplano, amin ko sa kanya. “Nai-imagine ko kasi kung ano ang feeling kung bumagsak ang eroplano.”

“Nakakatakot talaga,” sabi niya. “Siguro, biglaan lang at wala na tayong mararamdaman.”

“Sana nga, para ‘di masakit,” sabi ko.

“May pamilya ka?” muling pagbasag ko sa katahimikan habang hinihintay ang flight attendant na namimigay ng tinapay.

“Meron. Kaya ako uuwi,” sagot niya.

Nanatili akong tahimik. Nanahimik na rin si Richard. Nang lumingon ako, nakita kong humihikbi siya.

“Nanganak ang misis ko noong May 21,” kwento niya.

“Congrats,” sabi ko.

‘Di siya kumibo.

“Kaya ako uuwi. Ayoko na sana e. Wala naman akong magawa at ayaw ng kumpanya ko. Pero naiisip ko ang asawa ko. Iyak siya ng iyak. Matagal na rin naming planong mag-kaanak. Pang-apat na-attempt na namin ito. Ngayon lang nakabuo. Kaya nga ako nag-abroad, para sa bata. Para sa kinabukasan niya,” sabi ni Richard, sabay punas ng luha na dahan-dahang nangilid sa kanyang mga mata.

Ayaw sana siyang pauwiin ng kanyang kumpanya, pero nang makita raw na umiiyak siya sa telepono, ang kanyang mga kasamahan na ang nakiusap na pababain na siya sa barko. Sa Russia sana siya bababa, sa St. Petersburg, pero delikado raw doon, kaya sa Helsinki na lang siya hinatid. Sumakay siya ng eroplano papuntang Frankfurt at doon kami nagkita.

Tatlumpung-isang taong gulang lang si Richard, dalawamput-pitong taon naman ang kanyang asawa. Halos limang taon na silang mag-asawa at maraming beses na silang nangarap na magkaroon ng anak.

“Tatlong beses na siyang nakunan,” sabi ni Richard.

Hotel and Restaurant Management ang natapos ni Richard, nalimutan ko naman kung ano ang kurso ng kanyang asawa, pero meron siyang trabaho hanggang umalis si Richard at nagdesisyon sila na huminto na lang muna sa trabaho si misis dahil maselan ang kanyang pagbubuntis.

Marami nang napasukang trabaho si Richard. Nakapunta na nga siya sa Singapore para mamasukan sa isang hotel. Pero nang magbuntis ang asawa, kailangan nila ng mas malaking pera. Kailangang paghandaan ang panganganak.

Sa tulong ng isang tiyuhin, nakasakay si Richard noong Nobyembre sa isang cruise ship na bumibiyahe sa Caribbean.

“Marami akong napasyalan na lugar, kahit na apat na oras lang siguro sa bawat pagdaong ng barko. Para nga kaming mga baliw, takbo ng takbo, pa-picture ng pa-picture para masabing napuntahan namin ang isang sikat na siyudad,” kwento niya sa akin.

Mahirap ang trabaho, sabi niya. ‘Di raw maiwasan na minsan merong diskriminasyon. May panahon naman na halos lumubog daw ang barko dahil sa lakas ng alon. Akala niya mamamatay na raw siya.

Subalit dahil sa pagsisikap, na-promote si Richard at naging attendant sa upper deck. Nakakaitim nga lang daw dahil laging naiinitan at dumidikit ang tubig-dagat sa balat.

Para maaliw ang sarili at malimutan ang hirap sa trabaho, ang malalakas na alon na minsan ay humahampas sa barko, at ang pag-iisa, laging iniisip ni Richard na nasa tabi ang asawa at ang ‘di pa isinilang na anak.

Kapag nakababa sa daungan, tumatakbo siya sa pinakamalapit na public phone para tumawag sa Pilipinas. Mahal daw kasi ang cell phone at kailangan niyang magtipid.

“Lagi kong ini-imagine na sa pag-uwi ko sa Disyembre, sasalubungin ako ni misis at karga ang anak namin. Ano kaya ang amoy ng ulo niya? Sino kaya ang kahawig? Kasing pogi ko kaya, sir?” sabi niya, sabay ngiti.

Hindi maipinta ang kanyang kaligayahan nang habang nasa laot ay nakatanggap siya ng tawag noong Mayo 21 na nanganak na nga ang asawa. Malaki ang gastos pero tiniis ni Richard. Naitago naman daw niya lahat ng kanyang kinita. Para raw ayaw lumubog ng araw ng gabing ‘yon.

Premature ang bata nang lumabas. Maselan ang kalagayan ng asawa at ng sanggol. Halos isang-daang libong piso ang kanilang nagasta sa panganganak. Naka-incubator pa ang bata ng halos dalawang linggo.

Makalipas ang ilang araw, isang linggo mahigit, naideklara na maayos na ang lahat. Inilabas sa incubator ang bata at pinainom ng gatas ng nars.

At nangyari ang trahedya. Nasobrahan daw sa pagpainom ng gatas ang bata, ayon sa natanggap na ulat ni Richard. Meron namang nagsabi na may sakit daw sa baga ang bata. Hindi malaman ng batang ama ang mararamdaman.

“Naisip kong nababaliw na yata ako. Paano nangyari ‘yon? Ni hindi ko man lang siya nakita,” naiipit sa dibdib ni Richard ang mga salita. Nadurog ang kanyang mga pangarap, dumilim ang langit, sabi niya. Hindi niya malaman ang gagawin.

“Anong gagawin ko, sir?”

Mahigit limang oras kaming nagpalitan ng mga karanasan ni Richard. Sinabayan ko ang pagbaha ng kanyang luha. Iba man ang dahilan ng sakit ng aking dibdib, pilit kong dinama ang kanyang naramdaman. May luha pang nangilid sa kanyang mga mata nang huli kong silipin ang kanyan mukha.

Ginising ako ni Richard nang nasa China na kami para mag-refuel ang eroplano. Sabay na lang daw ako sa kanya dahil sasalubungin siya ng kanyang asawa at pamilya sa pagdating sa Maynila.

Sige, sabi ko. Gusto kong makilala ang kanyang mga mahal sa buhay, sabi ko sa kanya.

Nang nasa airport na kami, umatras ako. Hindi na mapalagay si Richard at naduwag na rin akong maging saksi sa mga luha at pigil na paghiyaw ng kanyang mga mahal sa buhay.

Ni hindi kami nagkapalitan ng mga contact number. Sabi niya taga-Valenzuela sila pero nasa Tondo nakaburol ang sanggol.

Huli kong nakita si Richard na yakap ang isang babaeng umiiyak. Haplos-haplos ng kaibigan ko ang likod ng kanyang asawa, habang lumuluha sa paligid ang sa tingin ko ay mga kamag-anak na hawak-hawak ang laylayan ng jacket ni Richard at ang bitbit niyang bag.

Naglakad ako palabas sa airport, sa gitna ng madilim na gabi. Maulap ang langit at tila nagbabadya ang malakas na ulan.

Bye, Manong Jules

I really don’t know him, but he was like a father to me every time we see each other. He would hold my hand, pat my shoulder, whisper jokes, ask about the latest rumors, about friends, about family, about the world and life in general.

He was always a father to everybody – waiters, waitresses, activists, aspiring communists, journalists, aspiring journalists, and even those who think that they are journalists or communists. He was a “father of perpetual help,” always there to lend a helping hand, ika nga.

The last time I met Manong Julius Fortuna was at Burger King on Timog Avenue. He frequented the place in the past months. I’m sure not because of the wi-fi connection. He knew the girls at the counter and the masseuse, and they knew him too.  The first time we saw each other there he invited me to have breakfast with him “every Thursday or Friday.”

The last time we met was a Monday. I later learned that he went there almost every day. Was it because of the beautiful girls or the masseuse’s hands? I hate their corn beef, but I love the wi-fi connection and the good-morning-sir-with-a-smile greetings.

I just brought my daughter to school and I was hungry. I had not taken a bath yet and I planned to go back to sleep after a quick bite. But there was Manong, calling out from his table as I entered the fastfood and was about to ogle the girls with their early morning smile and I-just-took-a-bath look.

I approached Manong and kissed his hand in jest. It was always my way of greeting him. “Gusto mong magpamasahe?” he asked. I said no. He said I better get my breakfast first. A smiling girl approached us. Manong Jules told the girl to give me a back rub and a massage after breakfast. The girl smiled. Manong Jules looked at me and said: “She’s good.” He was like a father trying to convince a first-grader son to take his medicine early in the morning.

I really don’t know Manong Jules. When I started as a reporter for the alternative news agency Philippine News and Features, he was with the Daily Globe (I think). He introduced himself to me and asked for my name when we first met. He was always like that to everybody. When I said I’m with PNF, he smiled and said “good.”

People said he was a communist. He was supposed to be one of the most powerful cadres of the underground movement during his time. Some call him “the commissar.” I am not privy to those stories.

What I know is that everybody respect him – the left, the right, the government, politicians, civil society groups, people he encounter. He always had a way of making people comfortable with him. He always understood the stories behind the stories, the reasons behind things and situations. He would give a knowing smile when you share a secret. He would always understand. Most of all, he was the first one to offer a helping hand. “Just tell me how I may be able to help,” he would say every time I told him about a project-in-the-making.

I haven’t had the opportunity to attend his Christmas parties for the media every December. But I heard that everybody who would go would receive a gift. He would offer to look for a job for jobless friends. He would encourage everybody to work and think of ways to help those in need.

I heard a lot of stories about Manong Jules – how he planned to escape from detention during the years of martial law, how he brought a provinciano uncle to a movie house, how he ordered soup, just soup, for everybody during a reunion with friends, how promdi he was, etc.

There would be no end to stories about Manong Jules. There is no doubt that he touched the lives, in whatever way, of those he met. He would be a loss to the media, to the people – the mighty and the downtrodden – that he helped in ways that only he can do.

Goodbye, Manong Jules. Send my regards to those you will meet up there, wherever you are in the great beyond. I will send your regards to the girls of Burger King, and maybe, if there’s a chance I will meet them someday, to the waiters and waitresses of Tubbataha on Tomas Morato, where we used to drown the issues of the day with the beer you always offered.

Si Rizal, noon at ngayon

Malapit na ang “birthday” ni Rizal, kaya naisip kong halungkatin ang baul ng mga nasulat ko noon at ilabas muli ang karanasan sa bayaning limot na yata ng marami.

Natutuwa ako kay Rizal dahil siya lang ang “sikat” na taong kilala ko at binasa’t pinag-aralan ang mga sinulat kahit na noong bata pa ako.

Sa aming bayan, doon sa Dapitan, kung saan ang lahat na daan ay nakapangalan sa mga tauhan ng mga nobela ni Rizal o mga sinulat niya (Mi Ultimo Adios Street ang daan papuntang sementeryo, Mi Retiro Street ang daan papasok sa sementeryo, at Maria Clara Street naman ang daan kung saan nanirahan ang maraming matandang dalaga), ang mamang taga-Laguna ay naging idolo naming mga batang naging tao noong panahon ng martial law.

Ipinanganak at tinuli ako sa Rizal Memorial Hospital, nag-aral sa Rizal Memorial Institute, nakaranas ng unang halik sa loob ng simbahan sa tabi ng marker na nagsasabing doon si Rizal tumatayo kapag nagsisimba sa araw ng Linggo, nakaunang yakap sa iniirog sa loob ng replica ng clinic ni Rizal sa Rizal Shrine, at nakaunang halik sa labi ng sinta sa “foot trails” ng Rizal Park.

Matindi ang tama ni Rizal sa buhay naming mga taga-Dapitan. At kahit na nagtitinda lang ako noon ng kangkong at nag-sasakristan sa simbahan, pinangarap kong sa University of Santo Tomas mag-aral para masundan ang yapak ng bayani. Pinagtawanan lang ako noon ng tatay ko.

Nakapag-aral nga ako sa unibersidad sa Espanya, Manila, sa tulong ng mga misyonerong Claretiano. Nang makuha ko ang “second prize” ng annual literary contest sa UST, tuwang-tuwa ako. “Second prize” din lang si Rizal noong sumali siya. Nadaya raw kasi. Baka nga ako gano’n din.

Nang tanungin ako ng mga pari kung saan ko gustong mag-aral ng Teyolohiya matapos ang aking kursong Pilosopiya, sabi ko sa Ateneo. “Bakit?” tanong ng mga pari. “Kasi nag-aral si Rizal doon.”

Noong bagong salta pa lang akong Maynila, Fort Santiago at Luneta agad ang gustong kong puntahan. Doon nakulong at pinatay si idol e. ‘Di ko rin pinalampas ang pagkakataon noon na madalaw ang bahay ni Rizal sa Laguna. Gusto ko pa nga sanang hanapin ang tsinelas na itinapon niya sa ilog nang minsang lumuwas sila ng Kuya Paciano niya sa Maynila.

At kahit na namulat na ang aking isipan sa buhay ng ibang mga bayani tulad nila Bonifacio, Del Pilar, Mabini, at iba pa, bumabalik pa rin ang mga aral na nakuha ko sa mga sinulat ni Rizal. Habang maraming aktibista ang nagsasabing si Bonifacio ang dapat maging idolo ng mga nakikibaka, si Rizal pa rin ang kumikiliti sa isipan ko.

Naging bahagi si Rizal ng aking paglaki. Siguro kong tinuli ako sa Bonifacio Memorial Hospital o kaya’y kasing laki ng bolo ni Bonifacio ang ipinang-tuli sa akin, baka si Boni ang aking maging idolo. Kahit nga ‘pag nagsindi ako ng lampara sa gitna ng gabi para dumumi (third year high school na kasi ako nang magka-kuryente sa bayan namin), si Rizal pa rin ang nakikita ko – sa posporo.

Noong nasa ibang bansa naman ako nakipagsapalaran, naiisip ko pa rin si Rizal. Sa Chicago nalaman ko na nag-stop over pala ang mama noong panahon niya, sa Vienna naman hinanap ko sa archives ng isang unibersidad ang isang textbook sa medisina kung saan nandoon ang pangalan ni Rizal na nagkaroon pala ng ka-penpal sa Austria noon.

At kahit na nasa Middle East ako at nakipaglaban sa lumbay, naisip ko pa rin si Rizal. Siguro, tulad ng maraming OFW, naisip din ng ating bayani ang kanyang pamilya at mga mahal sa buhay na naiwan sa Maynila at Binan.

Sa Europa, kung saan naranasan ko ang lamig at napasyalan ang magagandang hardin, naalaala ko ang mga tulang ginawa ni Rizal. At kapag nakakakita ako ng mala-manika at matatangkad na mga dalaga sa ibang bansa, naitatanong ko sa sarili paano kaya nang-tsiks ang ating bida, e punggok naman siya.

Isa sa mga paborito kung tula na memoryado ko ang English version mula noong bata pa ako ay ang “Awit Ng Manlalakbay.” Kung babasahin nyo ng mabuti, mapapansin nyo na kahit lumipas na ang mahigit isang-daang taon, ganon pa rin ang kalagayan ng mga Pinoy na nangingibang-bansa, ganon pa rin tulad sa panahon ni Rizal.