Of conviction and aspirations: Corona uncrowned

Though I want to see Chief Justice Corona convicted, I am not really happy that the Senator Judges did – 20 to 3.

I cannot rejoice when I know that a man who believes till the very end that he has done nothing wrong will be from now on branded as the exact opposite of an honest public official.

I cannot rejoice because a proud family name and reputation is ruined permanently.  This will be a curse that would be unfairly handed down to even the young Coronas who have nothing to do with their relative’s shortcoming.

I cannot rejoice because I don’t find joy in spitting on a beaten man.  Everyone has his failure; everyone has a weakness.  Unfortunately for Corona his position requires an unassailable character to which he was found lacking.

What I am however is hopeful.  Hopeful that the next Chief Justice will shudder at the thought of having the mantle of unassailability; let this verdict serve as the sword of Damocles to compel the powers that be to exhibit the highest standard, and not merely bask in the sheen of the highest title in the land.

I am hopeful that this will signal a fresh start in the political landscape where accountability is practiced and not merely discussed, and dishonesty is considered wrong and should be punished, and not perceived as the rule which can be tolerated.

I am hopeful that when a politician or a government official swears to serve the people that he would really do so and not allow his title to become his battering ram to get what he wants.

I am hopeful that this painful episode in our nation’s history will heal and leave a scar so that we are forever reminded that we inflict ourselves harm every time we say that it is alright for our government officials to blatantly disregard their sworn duties and obligations as public servants.

Chief Justice Corona walks out of the Impeachment Court

He walked out! The accused, after mouthing self serving statements and leaving a trail of vile accusations that he himself knows he cannot prove in any credible court of law, has just walked out on the Impeachment Court; without being cross examined and without presenting documentary evidences that would prove his claim of innocence.

I am floored that the Chief of the Supreme Court could behave like that.  He was dramatic, senseless, and ultimately, scheming – laying down a trap that he knows will put everyone in a bind.  He signed a waiver then sets a condition for its submission; that everyone signs a similar document.  Scheming.

And his entire defense rests on his boo-hoo story of how he and his wife were thrifty to a fault such that the millions that the court has found in bank accounts, and which he was being asked to explain, were only because of such aversion to spending.  Come on.

And he tries to explain how the amounts in his dollar accounts were amassed because he began to invest in dollars as early as the late 1960s; having the foresight to correctly predict that the Philippine peso would weaken.  What a pessimist, don’t you think so?  Betting against your country? My, he was not only a brilliant lawyer but a shrewd financial expert.  Wow!

And he does not show proof or amounts.  He just walks out

And he said he knowingly did not declare these dollar accounts because, according to his interpretation of the laws, dollar deposits should not appear on the SALN.  Aren’t we in trouble if the highest magistrate of the land thinks along the lines of crooks who agree that dollar deposits are safe from scrutiny? Wow!

The Chief Justice of the land, walks out; without being made to explain for his statements or to answer the questions which everyone is begging to be answered.  He just walks out, without showing respect for the court that has given his title the respect that it deserves.  Wow!

Pa-pa-ra-pa-pa… Miss ko to!

I’ve never been fond of fastfood.  So when McDonalds Lipa Highway closed for total store renovation early this year, I was not bothered except for the eye sore that the non-stop construction presented whenever I passed by.

Today May 16, 2012 the store reopened.

I promised my wife that when the store opens we would drop by to get her some fries.  I can count with my fingers the number of times I’ve been inside this particular McDonalds store and I’ve never seen, outside of an ongoing birthday party, so many people so excited to be inside the store.  The excitement just seems to be palpable.

Well, the store layout did not change much but the interior did, and it is quite impressive if I may say so.  Gone were the cafeteria-like tables and molded chairs, in place were minimalist-style block tables and interesting seats, some padded singles, some benches, others couches.  The walls too sport trendy wall paper designs that thankfully treat the eyes with interesting pop art works; I suppose this will keep solo diners entertained, at the very least.

We entered the store at 2 in the afternoon.  Normally, there won’t be much of a crowd at this time of the day.  But today, we barely found a table to occupy, and we even had to share it with another customer.

The counter had long lines and the store crew never seemed to stop moving about.  There were familiar faces inside the store but most were complete strangers.  But I observed one thing in common – everyone seemed to be in a happy mood.

I bet this ditty plays in everyone’s head: Pa-pa-ra-pa-pa… Miss ko to.  

My Nanay is not important

My mother knows she is not important.  Growing up in a large patriarchal family where his two male brothers, especially his eldest Manong, get the most attention and resource allocation, my mother learned early on that whatever she thought she needed, can wait. 

She had to stop her studies because her elder siblings’ education required the money that must be spent on hers.  And when she finally got the chance to go to college, she had to make do with a few blouses and a pair of underwear which she alternately used.

She did not have the luxury of an extra penny, let alone money to buy her a decent meal.  All the allowances go to his Manong, whom she also served like a dutiful servant.  Despite her situation, my Nanay persevered and graduated with a degree in Mathematics; by then she was already ahead in years of her batchmates.

My Nanay gravitated to a job that put others first before herself.  She became a teacher.  Though she was earning a little money, it was not for her because her whims were not important.  Her younger sister, Amanda, was still in school and she wanted to help her with her schooling needs until she finished nursing.

By the time my mother found the time for herself, she was already in her 30s.  That was when she met my Tatay, a soldier.  So she started a family and another chapter of being unimportant.

Nanay and Tatay begot six children, all boys.  Raising six boys is no joke and Nanay certainly wasn’t laughing.  It did not help that Tatay, though a loyal husband and a loving father, was an alcoholic who spent a large part of his pay check on booze.

I don’t recall ever seeing my Nanay treating herself to a new dress; whatever she wore she sewn.  She was not important enough to buy something from the store.  But we always stayed in school, yes with the smallest of allowances and the barest of things, but we were in school – that was important for her.

I did not grow up in a family that was comfortable with showing emotions.  My Nanay considered it was not important that she show her vulnerable side.  She needed to be strong for us and not show any sign that she was ready to give up on our future.  She complained a lot about how tired she was but she always woke up earliest every morning to prepare breakfast and our meager packed lunch – this even if Tatay arrived at 3 in the morning, mad drunk.

She did not rest even during summer breaks.  She did not want to recharge her energy for the next school year.  She was much too unimportant for that.  My elder brothers were going one after the other to college and she needed the summer break to make money to send us all to school.  So she taught summer classes, on top of moonlighting as a surveyor for a research group and tutoring weak students after class.

When money was not enough, which was always the case, Nanay would swallow her pride and go to her friends to borrow some with the promise that she would return it on a particular date, which she always kept.

One by one, my elder brothers finished college and found work but Nanay refused to stop working.  She did not dream to see three children finish school, but it was her mission to see six.

When at last Nanay fulfilled her covenant to her children, you would think that she would have reason to celebrate herself.  She did not.  There was always something more important than her, and they were coming out one after the other – grandchildren.

You discover people’s values by the things that they hold dear, and the things that make them happy.  Nanay showed that it is neither the self nor anything material that would make her truly happy.  It is me.  It is my brothers.  It is her family.

 For showing me what selfless love is, my Nanay is the most important woman in my life.

Love for work and the half empty glass

I just don’t understand how some minds work.  I know a lot of people who make the most of what they have, even finding contentment in the meager.  And I also come across people who just don’t appreciate the blessings that are placed right in front of them.  I believe that if work cannot bring joy, then at least it must be a source of pride and dignity.

This is a story of everyday men and women whose attitudes toward their work may just very well be a reflection of how they view their life – half full or half empty.

Meet Marimar, our neighborhood’s favorite recyclable trash collector.  Everyone who is from our place is familiar with her pinched voiced as she hollers “Bote…dyaro…bakal…yeRROOO……… plastic…laTA!
 

Marimar looks every bit a hard worker.  She is barely 5 feet tall.  But with her squinted eyes that she hides behind sleek sun shades, high cheek bones, and strong jaw line that gathers into a pointed chin, she has that tough, defiant look about her.  But everyone in our neighborhood likes her, my wife included, who would patiently segregate recyclables in a plastic bag which she would hand over to me, “Ito, para kay Marimar.”

Unlike other recyclable trash collectors who circle our small village, Marimar does not crane her neck to see what else is available for her, neither does she ask for more.  She simply accepts what is given her, smiles, says thank you, and proceeds to her next stop.

With her present occupation, and unless she hits the lotto jackpot, Marimar is never ever going to be rich.  And she knows it.  But you would never see it in her face or in the way the she carries herself that she is the least bit worried about her lot in life.  She simply works hard every day, pedaling her BMX bike rigged with a sidecar that contains her collected recyclables.  And on Saturdays, she would attend our community’s anticipated mass undoubtedly praying, just like any of us, that tomorrow may bring a better day.  At times, I see a tad of lipstick on her.  She is a picture of simple bliss.

At the other end of the contentment meter are men that I would call Mr. Driver and Mr. Deejay who, despite the opportunities given them still manage to find reasons to belittle their circumstances.  I met them on different occasions at El Grande Resort where I set up a zipline for summer.

Meet Mr. Driver, originally from Lanao del Norte in Mindanao but now residing in Quezon City.  He owns and operates a van for hire.  He seems like a nice man until he opens his mouth.  He complains how in the last two weeks he had barely enough time to rest as people wanting to go places rent his van left and right.  In the last week alone he has driven to Rizal, Bicol, and now here in Lipa.  There was no hint of excitement or accomplishment in his voice as he narrates his laborious journey.

Mr. Driver turns his attention at the people weaving and bobbing at the wave pool below us.  He says that swimming in the pool is no fun because the sun is hot, and the water too. To prove his point he identifies a chubby child from the pool, “Tignan mo pare yung batang yun, para nang litson ang balat sa init ng araw.  Hay naku, paano ka mage-enjoy nyan?”

Mistaking my silence for approval, Mr. Driver continues his rant, targeting the wave pool this time. “Pare, di naman totoong alon yan eh.  Pati yang tubig, artificial din, ‘di gaya ng alon at tubig sa dagat o di kaya sa ilog man lang.  Tsaka pare, naghalo na ang ihi at pawis dyan sa pool na yan eh kaya ‘di masayang mag-swimming dyan.”  He was saying this as more than a hundred people are faking delight as they are heaved up and down by the artificial waves.  I simply kept quiet for I didn’t know that having fun in a pool during summer must have a valid explanation.

Meet Mr. Deejay.  A slight man with bangs parted in the middle. The resort hired him to “operate” its sound system during weekends.  He does not have a regular job but he moonlights as a sales agent for an internet provider.

His gig was simple enough.  He must clock in from 9 to 5, pump up guests with lively music, and play a pre-recorded track of the resort’s safety guidelines.  In return he gets P500 a day, free lunch and snacks, and unlimited access to the pools. I thought playing music in a resort and getting paid for it is a sweet deal.  At least that’s how I see it.

During a break from his “work” Mr. Deejay visited my zipline perch.  It was my first time to interact with him but it did not take long for him to break into a tirade about how he feels he is being made to do things that he did not sign up for. 

Once, he said, he was made to carry the console to another location as the sound system had to be relocated to a more strategic post.  I asked him if he carried everything by himself, he said no he did not, but the resort should have transferred it beforehand because it was not part of his job to do so.  That’s when I realized that Mr. Deejay is a special person.

There must be something in me that makes complete strangers continue talking even if I don’t encourage them to.  He adds that he was given a piece of paper to read over the microphone which basically says: The wave pool is now open, please leave your slippers outside of the wave pool area.

 

Yeah, I heard him announce it alright, in a voice that lacked neither enthusiasm nor the desire to attract excitement, which I would have expected from a hired deejay.  After all, this is  “the”wave pool – the resort’s main attraction -- it only opens twice in the day, once in the morning and another in the afternoon.

I was caught off guard; I can’t believe the rant that I just heard.  I never thought that a deejay must be told to use the mic whenever necessary.  I could try to understand where he is coming from if only I could see that he was being overworked, but he was not.  In fact, I think he is shortchanging the resort.  He played very little music.  And when he did his entire collection was limited to new wave songs from the 80s and 90s and that irritating Pusong bato, and he turned on the volume so low that you would think that he was only playing to himself, not for an entire resort 3 hectares big.

I just don’t get it.  Here’s a man who doesn’t look like he can afford not to have a job, but who finds misery in little things that are non-issues to begin with.  He has successfully managed to turn an otherwise sweet little gig into a miserable burden.  I wonder if he could ever find a job that would make him happy,  let alone motivated enough to do the small things that need not be discussed in the contract signing.

After letting his grievances out Mr Deejay felt that we were close enough to be drinking buddies.  So he extends an invitation to her sister’s place; it was his new nephew’s christening the following day.  I just smiled.  Honestly, I choose my friends carefully and I don’t surround myself with negative people.  I choose to be happy.

China: Anatomy of a Bully

A bully is someone who threatens, pushes and mistreats another just because he could.  He doesn't understand nor listen to reason but demands that the victim listen and subscribe to his line of thinking; even if it does not make sense, or is even worth listening to in the first place.  To him, whatever he says is reasonable and whatever he does is justifiable.  He is a bully after all.

China is a bully of the first degree.  That’s why its government belongs to the lowest kind, along with those of Cambodia which stifle freedom, and North Korea which has converted an entire population into one big cult following, devoid of the right to even dream simple dreams.

China claims it owns Scarborough Shoals, the Spratlys and Kalayaan Islands because they are located in a sea called South China.  Oh wait, they also have historical basis for such claims.  For centuries, they have moored their ships in those islands that barely protruded from the sea, in between ravaging the marine resources that abound the surrounding areas.  They have become so familiar with these fishing grounds that they have given the islands names that sound Chinese.  And they even have ancient cartographic documents to prove that they have exploited these islands.

So what if the Philippines is literally a stone’s throw away from the disputed islands?  So what if modern laws of the seas clearly indicate that the islands fall inside the natural territorial line of the Philippines?  So what if you raise a howl in the international community?

So what?

The Philippines must make counter claims.  We should claim that we own China.  Well, our ancestors have traded with them.  That means our products, if not our men, have reached their shores.  We have also labeled them singkit.  That gives us the right to claim them as our subordinates.

Symbols of the Filipino lifestyle SM and Jollibee have risen in Chinese soil.  It gives us the right to claim that we have Filipinized China.  The dog breed Shih Tzu, which originally came from China, is the Filipino's favorite pet.  If these dogs are subservient in our laps then their original owners should also lick our hands when we bade them to.

I know these are all absurd suggestions.  But they only reflect the skewed line of reasoning of the Chinese government.

Even the Chinese ambassador to the Philippines demanded, in our own shore, that the Philippines stop claiming sovereignty over the islands.  How can such insult happen in our very own backyard?

The answer: China is a bully.

They have 1.3 billion people compared to our 100 million.  They also have superior military might which, in the game of bluff, almost always guarantees that they wouldn't be the first to blink.  This is not new to them.  They have bullied Tibet and its peace-loving Dalai Lama; perhaps they want sole claim to the world’s highest mountain – the Everest.  And they still continue to call Taiwan, a breakaway republic, its own; threatening other countries who would as much try to build a diplomatic relationship with the small island nation with either economic sanction, verbal assault or the collective stare of more than a billion people – whichever bullies best.  If nothing works, then there is always China’s military might to deal with.

Bully.

So we stand up against a giant knowing fully well that, at any moment, it may use its enormous feet to stomp us to the ground.  Just make sure my Filipino friends that when they do, you carry a small needle to prick those rotten soles as they try to step on us. 

Even bullies bleed.

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