Mansanas

Si Gino ay katulad din ng ibang bata. Mahilig maglaro, takot sa indeksiyon at dentista, nababato sa klase. Ngunit siya ay may kakaiba pananaw sa ibang bagay. Siya ay naniniwalang si Santa Clause ay dumadaan sa tubo ng tubig, palabas sa gripo sa kanilang kusina dahil wala naman daw silang chimney.  Isa pa, isa rin siyang rebelde. Sa murang edad ay madalas na siyang magpakita ng kanyang pagiging likas na rebelde. Kung ano ang ipagbawal mo, ay siya namang gustong-gusto niyang gawin.

Isang araw, binuksan niya ang refrigerator nila. Ayun..nakita niya ang isang napakalaking mansanas. Ito’y makintab at mapula, tila ba kinakatawan niya ang Miss Universe ng mga mansananas. Nagutom bigla si Gino. Bumalik siya sa hapag kainan upang hilahin ang plastic na upuan. Dahan-dahan niyang ipinatong ang kanyang malilit na paa, at mariin niyang kinuyom ang kanyang palad sa hawakan ng ref at mabilis na nakapatong sa silya. Ngayon ay abot na niya ang mansanas. Dali-dali niya itong kinuha, mabilis na tumalon mula sa silya at sabik na sabik siyang kunin ang kutsilyo upang hiwain na ito.

Ang batang ito nga naman, ang napili niyang gawing tadtaran ng mansanas ay ang kanyang palad. Ito kasi ang madalas niyang nakikita kapag nagbabalat ng mangga ang kanyang yaya. Malinaw na malinaw ang pananbik sa mata ni Gino habang maingat niyang tinusok ang matalim na kutsilyo sa mansanas. Sa bawat pag unat ng kutsilyo ay siya naming pagduga nito. Nakakagat labi na nga siya ngayong halos nakakalahati na niya itong mahiwa. Nang malapit na malapit na itong tuluyang mahiwa ay biglang dumating ang kanyang ate.

Napasigaw ang kanyang ate sa takot na masugatan si Gino. Ngunit si Gino ay hindi nakinig, patuloy parin ito sa paghiwa ng mansanas, gamit ang matalim na kutsilyo at ang kanyang palad. Lumapit na ang kanyang ate at nagsumamong siya na lang ang magpapatuloy ng paghiwa nito. Sinabihan pa nitong hihiwain niya ang mansanas sa korte ng mga malilit na tala. Ngunit ayaw parin itong ibigay ni Gino. Sa isang mabilis na saglit, napasigaw ang batang makulit. Dumaloy ang dugong mas mapula kaysa sa mansanas mula sa kanyang munting palad. Sa hapdi at sakit, at marahil na rin dahil sa pagkagulat, ay binitawan ni Gino ang mansanas at kutsilyo.

Umiyak lang siya ng umiyak habang ang kamay ay duguan, at tila tutang maamo ay tumakbo sa naghihintay na yakap ng kanyang ate.

(alay sa mansanas ng aking buhay)

For Lolo

Being in the 3rd year of my college studies, with writing as my usual school exercise, you must have expected me to have written this piece with all ease. I have written numerous personality profile articles, all of which are praises to famous people, and I thought that writing those was difficult. But to tell you with all honesty, to write and talk about lolo is way much harder than I expected it to be.

I realized that when you talk or write about a person who’s closest to your heart, it is when you realize that all words and phrases will never be enough to let other people understand how beautiful your experience was with this person…in fact, it will never be enough for them to have even the slightest idea what the person really means to you.

Simply said, it is when you realize that the person you are writing about is simply beyond compare.

Lolo’s image can somehow be considered as multi-faceted. For some, he might have been the very responsible husband and father, the good child and brother, the generous and kind amo, the respectable lawyer, the very kind father-in-law among many other things. But for me, he was simply the ultimate definition of what an ideal lolo is.

Unlike my other cousins, i didn’t have the opportunity to spend most of my days with him and lola. However, God still have me the chance to spend my early childhood weekends with them in Saray. i remember spending the night with auntie Belen and then waking up to an early breakfast with lolo and lola in the table. I was small and little, with only me head peeping out of the dining table. I was the youngest of all the cousins at that time, and if he wanted to, he could have just ignored me– but that he never did. I don’t remember what we talked about, but in my young mind, i surely do remember the security and love I felt on those times he asked me to dance for him, or just to sit on his lap.

When i grew older, visits to their house became relatively rare. But even so, i have never lost the feeling of anticipation and excitement of having to visit their house every time he and lola would come to Iligan. Sitting on the green carpet in their bedroom, my cousins and I would look up at him while he told us stories of his adventures in Australia, and in his practice as a police and as a lawyer. I marveled at his intelligence, the way he kept himself very adept with local, national, and international events. Believe it or not, he was even more up to date with the latest movies released in Hollywood compared to us his grandchildren. We even ended up borrowing the books, CDs and DVDs he bought.

The last time I talked with him was last November, before I left for Dumagute City. I told him to get better so that when I get home for the Christmas break, we wont have to celebrate Christmas eve with him while he lay on a cold hospital bed.

He was already weak. And it really broke my heart to see my beloved Santa Clause, sick and very weak. Yes, childish at it may seem, but he is really the Santa Clause image I have in my head. Santa doesn’t have to have a long white beard or pink plump cheeks. A child would only need a lolo like him to have real Santa Clause. Lolo was very loving to all his grandchildren, all warmly welcome to sit on his lap and ask for some little gift we wanted.

But really seriously, if there is only one word that I’d like to know about him, it is that he is the most generous person I have ever known. He may not have as much money as Bill Gates but he surely had the heart of a philanthropist.

After Christmas, I can only spend some lonely New Years’ night thinking of the lolo I’ll never get to share a Media Noche with, ever again. But somehow, I know that lolo, the only Santa Ill ever have, is resting with the Lord.

Like others perhaps who are here, I do have my regrets. One of which is that i never got to him some sort of gift. Yes, it is a shame to admit, but I haven’t given him one. Another is that i never got to say how special he was to me and how much I loved him. The closest I have said to him was: "Ayo2x mo ‘lo." But now, as I look back, I realize that "ayo2" is not "I love you."

To you lolo, if you might get to see or hear us now, i hope you do realize how much you will be missed. Forever, we’ll keep your memory alive as we’ll try to keep up with your request to get together as a family every December. we love you, lolo…

The Recruit

         The
dark blue horizon has already swallowed the ruthless sun and the
comforting darkness of November night sky blanketed Dumaguete. He has
talked to his nanay
about this, and despite her protests, he has decided for himself to
join the guerrillas in the mountains. As he explained to his mother,
“I will not sit and wait for this Japs to slit our throats open.”

He
shared the room with his only brother, Daniel. Six years younger than
him, he has been performing the role of a playful and mischievous
brother quite pretty well that it even pained him now to leave.

Stooping
down to the woven sleeping mat to where his brother lay, he left him
a letter, tucked in his loosely clasped hands. Victor folded it like
a paper plane; in it he wrote:

Daniel,

I
borrowed your favorite
marble so that you won’t lose it to Berto or Timoy. I will be home
again to play marbles with you soon. If I hear that you’re giving
nanay a headache, I’ll shove your marble into the Japs’ nostril.
You don’t want that, right? So be good. 

Manong
Bitoy. 

Next,
Victor went inside the adjacent room, where his nanay
was sleeping. He looked at her, sprawled and worn-out from the chores
in the house and in the tiangge
and he almost regretted coming in to watch her sleep, seemingly
oblivious of his planned departure. He kissed her head, crowned with
fine silver hair of age. Surprise caught up in his throat when she
said to him,” Just come home. Daniel and I will be waiting.”
Words evaded him so he just kissed her again, tenderly this time, in
reply.

Pssstttt!
Pssssstttt! It was Theo, impatiently waiting for him to come out.
Somehow he had the feeling that someone was following his tracks.
Victor heard it, and he whistled in response.

That
night, Victor who is armed with nothing but the smuggled gun given to
him by a fellow guerrilla and the raw idealism of fighting for his
country, walked silently across their room to take the blue faded
rosary beads from their altar and left their home.

“Bitoy,
let’s hurry. I think someone is following—Why wear a white
shirt?!” Theo whispered his fear and frustration between his
gritted teeth.

“You
sure?” Victor asked, unmindful of his best friends query. His dark
brown eyes rolled swiftly to the tilting chicken coop.

“Not
really. But let’s not take chances. Let’s split.”

“Meet
you at Pulangtubig.”

“You
take care, ‘toy.”

“Toto,
you’re my best friend, but what you just said is totally
disgusting.”

With
that, they both chuckled and parted ways.

Theo,
nicknamed as Toto, took the rocky footpath which leads to the stream
while Victor started to run towards the thicket. His throat was
already parched as his heart thumped wildly in his chest. He could
not even bring his head to turn and see if indeed someone was
following them. He muttered under his shallow and rugged breath, “You
wanna play, eh? Let’s play hide-and-seek.” And he started to run
like a madman.

————

Brown
crisp leaves crunched under Toto’s heels and the bushes rustled
about. Only the crickets and the toads croaked in the night and the
fruit bats squeaked in their search for food. With only the soft glow
of the moon to light his path, he squinted his already slit-like eyes
in an effort to catch movements other than his own.

Rustling.
He stopped on his tracks, listening to the seemingly harmless rusting
of the bushes nearby. His eyes were now tightly shut and his fingers
slowly inched toward his paltik while
uttering a silent prayer. The leaves stopped rustling and again,
everything was as silent as their crazy-mute neighbor,
Miloy. With eyes still closed, he started to pull his gun out of the
holster. Keeping still, he took a deep breath and swiftly turned
around, tightly holding and aiming the gun to the now unmoving bush. 

“Shit.
I haven’t been to our hideout yet and I’m about to die already,”
Theo thought to himself.

Squeaakk!
His head turned around, almost simultaneously in all directions,
ready to fire his gun. And before he knew it, a piece of soft papaya
pulp landed on his temple. It was just the poor bat. It was probably
startled at Theo’s presence too, that it carelessly dropped its
meal.

Placing
his gun back to the holster, he went to the cold flowing stream
that’s only a stone’s throw away. He kneeled and cupped his hands
to scoop fresh water to wash his sweaty face and to quench his
thirst, too. Just as he was about to lift his hands to his
anticipating lips, he felt a cold metallic thing pressed on his nape.
   

“Hah!
Scared you, didn’t I?”

Hearing
the too-familiar
voice, Theo then stood and turned around to punch Victor on the
stomach. But Victor, who always knew how his best friend would react,
was able to dodge.

“What’d
you do that for, huh?” Theo demanded.

“Hey,
relax! I just wanted to test how prepared
you were for any attack. You shouldn’t let your defenses down, you
know.”

“What
if I was able to pull my gun and fire it between your ears, huh?”

“Nah.
I knew you weren’t that prepared that’s why I pounced at you. But
anyway, I decided to change route and follow you at a distance
instead. I was thinking that Pulantubig
would be a common place for us to meet some might even be already
waiting for us there for an ambush,” Victor, now guilty of the fear
he caused Theo, said, in order to change the topic. 

“Still
you shouldn’t have done that, Bitoy. We’re not playing games
anymore here.”

“I’m
not stupid not to know that, To. Now, get a grip on that gun and
let’s get going. We don’t want the sun to catch up on us.”

They
took turns in drinking water from the stream and started to go on
their way to the hideout. As new recruits, their first challenge was
to get to the hideout, untracked and of course, alive. Almost two
hours have passed and all was well with their journey through the now
unfamiliar territory. The deafening silence between them only caused
more tension and nervousness.

Since
their little spat by the stream, it was Toto who spoke first.

“Six
times eight?”

“Forty-two.”

“You
haven’t memorized the multiplication table yet?”

“Do
you still have plans of sneaking in to Ma’am Fely’s class?”

“Why
not? She’s the prettiest teacher in town. And besides, didn’t
Ma’am Kilat tell us that it’s wrong to answer a question with a
question?”

“Huh?
I didn’t know that answering a question was wrong…”

“No!
I said, it’s wrong to answer a question—“

“See?
I heard you right!”

“No,
wait! You cut me—“

“Nonsense!
Both of you are talking nonsense!” A tall lean Japanese soldier
suddenly jumped from the acacia tree in front of them. And before
Victor could even continue calculating what 6×8 was in his mind, two
more Japs jumped from the nearby trees.

———————-

He
didn’t want to die alone in the forest that he welcomed even the
thought of being stabbed to death with the jagged bayonet. Or even to
have a dead comrade by his side was more desirable. Theo saved his
life but his poor friend was taken away by the soldiers. He probably
was going to be tortured and questioned…every bit of his joint will
be twisted just to squeeze information about the guerrilla movement.
However, this silent wish was unheard and only his body drenched in
sweat, blood and mud, lay almost lifeless in the moss covered ground.

Ants,
red, black, winged or otherwise, marched proud on the swollen wounded
flesh of his thigh. They bit him and indeed the itch was almost more
than he could bear, but unable to move for the moment, his fingers,
long and bony from the battle, feel the rough surface of the chipped
marble in his pocket. His vision was blurred that closing his lids
would make no difference. But the images of his nanay
and
younger brother, Daniel, were very clear; they were waiting for him
to come home.

My Name Is

Celeste June. But people call me different names. Ummm..well, the same name actually, just different pronunciations.

When I was in  elementary, i mispronounced my name as "Si-les-ti." Nobody told me that i got it wrong so my classmates called me ‘Silesti’ too. My teachers probably got confused so they called me June instead. Even now when i would come home to Iligan, I would always know if i met a certain person in elementary whenever she/he calls me "Silesti.’

In high school, my history teacher bothered to ask how I should pronounce my name; "Selest" or "Seleste." I never thought it could be said with a silent ‘e’. But she explained since it’s a French name, then that’s how it should be. Nobody got too comfortable speaking French’-like so  through high school, i was Celeste with an ‘e’.
others called me June and only one called me ‘Ces.’

In college, i introduced my self as Celeste with an ‘e’ but some insisted on calling me Celeste with the silent ‘e.’  I let them be. Until finally, they just agreed upon themselves to call me Cessy and then finally, Ces.

NOw, whenever i’m asked for my name, i use the celeste with an ‘e’ and only to add later on, "Just call me June or Ces."

“Bread is Satan” and the Likes

After watching the play “The Good Body” by Eve Ensler, memories of my yesteryears came rushing to me. I laughed at the silly remarks the characters made like “Bread is Satan!” But more than that, what made me laugh was that I can’t believe that I took those “silly remarks” by heart when I was young. And fat.

           Eight years ago, I had a hard time fitting in the most trendy jeans and tops. Thankfully, there were stretchable and baggy pants and plus-sized shirts so I didn’t really come to a point where I would walk along the street naked because nothing would fit me. But even so, I was unhappy wearing those things. I ended up looking like a college student when I was yet in the fifth grade.

            When I would ride the jeepney, drivers wouldn’t give me a student discount without a fight. I always had to take out my ID before they give me that discount. Actually, it wasn’t the discount I was after; it was the recognition that I am younger than they think. It didn’t stop there. Sometimes, my siblings would bring their classmates at home for a project or school work and when they’d see me, they’d always ask if I am the elder, or worse, the eldest, sister.

            Aside from that, my mother’s friends would always comment on how much weight I’ve gained. I remember this one particular woman. She was old, you could see the crow’s feet around her eyes and the wrinkles on her forehead, but she was slender as a bamboo pole. And for me, she was Aphrodite personified. She took hold of my arm, just below my shoulder, and squeezed it several times while saying, “Oh, June, you have to lose these baby fats. Remember, you aren’t a baby anymore. How else can you have guys court you if you remain that way?” and then I heard her resounding evil laugh. I was entering high school then and I knew my parents rules about not having a boyfriend yet, until I reach college. But the thought of not having anyone courting me was even more terrible.

            On the enrolment day for high school, I went to the school clinic to submit the results of my physical exam. I handed the brown envelop, containing my medical records, to the secretary. And without looking at the picture pasted on top of the paper, she said to me,” You should really let your sister (she meant younger sister) enrol herself. After all, she’ll be in high school so she has to learn to be independent.” I was puzzled at her privilege speech and when she was done, I took the paper from her hand and showed to her my picture. I told her, “Ma’am, I am the enrolee.” She just laughed and said a mumbled “Oh, I’m sorry.”

I can list more embarrassing experiences related to my bulging stomach, flabby limbs, plump cheeks—my being overweight but that particular incident made me decide to I really work off the extra pounds.

For the next few weeks, I went on a hunger strike. I read magazines and surfed up for articles in the internet on how to lose weight at the fastest rate. I started out by drinking a glass of water before meal time to curb my appetite. I only ate one cup of rice, a small serving of viand and I swore off chocolates and sweets. Since our house was just a fifteen-minute walk from school, I would walk my way home and that would serve as my warm up. I wouldn’t change my school uniform, just my leather shoes into the rubber ones, and I would hit the tread mill like there’s no tomorrow. I did that 30-40 minutes daily on weekdays and 40 mins to an hour on weekends. In three week’s time, I lost more than 10 kilos. From 52 kilos, I was down to 40.

Not long after, I have stopped eating altogether. I loathed food. Every bite I took was as agonizing as climbing up a mountain with three-inch high heels. If I ate more than a cup of rice or gave in to the enticing swirl of chocolate marble ice cream, I felt guilty. I was angry at my self for being careless with what I put in my mouth. So what I put in, I puked out. It was a secret thing I never told anyone. At night, I would brush my teeth in the comfort room and then stick my toothbrush in my throat. My eyes were hot with tears the first time I did it, but I felt a sense of satisfaction, almost a sense of triumph, that I was able to purge hell out my stomach. And it was a new thing I liked because I could just eat anything I wanted. After all, I found it easy to puke than to stop my self from eating my favorite foods.

I started to hear the praises from the people around me and I basked at that ephemeral happiness. I saw my self and I could really tell I am not the same June two years ago. My eyes were sunken, my cheek bones were jutting out my face, my ribs were delicately outlined by my skin and my stomach was as flat as a placid lake. And to me, I have never felt more beautiful. Some said that I looked younger when I had more flesh but now, I looked womanly. Foolishly, I preferred to believe the latter. Ironically, I wasn’t after looking young anymore, I was after looking beautiful and society dictates what beauty is. After all, only the stick-figured women got printed on the cover of the glossy magazines.

Almost six months into that crazy routine, I started getting sick. The doctor told my parents to monitor my food intake because I was losing weight rapidly and abnormally. My mother and I would have a spat over my unfinished and almost untouched meals. She mostly won over our squabble so I was forced to eat again normally. Against my will, I finally gained weight and I was at 45 kilos. At that time, I hated to admit that I enjoyed the normal eating habits.

            Summer time came and I was as idle as a lamppost. Without much physical activity to do, I gained more weight than I would’ve wanted. Actually, those rude people commenting on my weight and how I looked weren’t around anymore. But their voices were already imbedded in my young mind. Their voices would simultaneously sing their songs of ridicule, criticism, and mockery for me. My self esteem was so low it was better left anchored deep in the Mariana’s Trench. So I enrolled my self to a summer dance workshop. From Monday to Friday I would dance almost non-stop for three hours. Not content with that, I enrolled my self to a daily swimming clinic along with a friend I met in the dance class. So five times a week, I swam several lapses for an hour or two and then dance the hours away in the afternoon.

             For the following months, I drove my self to the limit. People’s praises for my new figure came rushing, almost in torrents. But I didn’t realize that I went overboard when my brother and I had a spat one lunch time when told me I was so vain with my body and that I wasn’t pretty at all. “You think you’re getting beautiful? Look at yourself in the mirror. You look like a famished mother with 7 children to feed,” I heard him say. It hurt me so much to hear those words from my brother. But it did give me something to think about.

            By the grace of God, my family was very supportive of helping me cope with my eating disorder. I realized that I can be healthy and beautiful without starving myself to death. And that the key is to eat a healthy diet and do a regular exercise. When I decided to follow through this process, losing weight was harder to do. On the brighter side, I wasn’t miserable anymore, unlike those days when I would vomit whatever I ate. The assurance of my close friends helped me fix my wrong notion of what a beautiful body should be like. Looking back, I realized that never did I have a suitor those days when I flaunted my stick-like figure. What the wafer-like woman said was after all, so untrue. Of course, how else could I smile and have a positive disposition those days when I was so full of insecurities? I tell you, no one in an intensive diet and an eating disorder is genuinely happy. I found the beauty of my body by recognizing all the things that I can do with it and not with the amount of fat that covers it.

           Now, whenever somebody would tell me that I’ve gained some weight, I smile. Genuinely smile. Really, getting into this state where I would no longer panic at the very thought of me gaining weight was a painfully hard process. That’s probably the reason why I already had the heart to laugh at those silly remarks in the play. If before, those used to be my mantra, now, it simply remains as they truly are—silly remarks.

My First Phone Call

I will never forget the first time I answered a telephone. I was in the first grade then and we have just installed our telephone and whenever we are at home, all of us are excited to hear it ring.

It all happened on a humid afternoon. Manang Flora,our household help, was busy preparing my merienda and I was watching T.V. Suddenly, the phone rang and my heart raced! I stared at it for some time until my little feet finally took the steps towards it.

"Hello, Good afternoon," I mustered.

"Hello! ‘Day, kinsa ni?" the voice on the other line said.

"Si June"

"Naa imong mama og papa?"

"wala ra ba. Ngano diay?"

"Police ko. Naay bata diri sa inyong hi-way, gahilak. Imo man dawng gi-away!"

"Hala! Wala man ko nigawas sa balay!" By this time, my voice was shaking.

"Nah, mo anha nami diha sa inyong balay kay dakpon ka namo. Ikaw jud daw ang ga away niya…"

–silence–

sniff..sniff..sniff…"Wala lagi ko nangaway og bata…Gikan man ko natulog..huhuhuhu" =*(

Tears welled up in my eyes and they finally flowed like hot river on my young cheeks. I just helplessly cried while clutching the handset to my ear.

While I was crying in fear, the voice on the other line started to laugh heartily.

After allowing me to cry for some tim,he said,"June? June! Ayaw na’g hilak oi! Si Papa ni nimo!Gisulayan ra man nako if naminaw jud ka sa akong instruction. Sige na,ayaw na hilak,ha? Kita ra ta unya inig uli nako…" He said it in a very soothing manner that by the time I place the receiver down, I was already smiling.

That was my very first phone call. It is already 12 years ago and yet, it has never left my memory. If you ask me, that is one of the best memories I have with my father.He was the first man to give me a call and he did very well in making it the most memorable one,too.

Bulsa

Ako ay may mahiwagang bulsa. Oo,maniwala kayo! Kulang ang sabihing ito’y mahiwaga. Sa totoo lang ay wala pa akong mahanap na mga salitang makakapaglarawan sa misteryoso at nakamamanghang bagay na ito. Hindi ko alam kung namumulubi lang ba ang aking talasalitaan o sadyang hindi talaga kayang balutin ito ng mga salita.

Kung titignang mabuti ay maliit lang ang bulsa kong ‘to. Ngunit dahil sa ito’y mahiwaga nga, hindi mo aakalaing malawak ang loob nito! Maraming maraming bagay akong naipagkakasya dito! Sa tuwing ipinipikit ko ang aking mga mata ay nagkakaroon ako ng mahiwagang kamay na siyang tanging nakakadukot sa mahiwang bulsa. At sa bawat pagkakataon ay may madudukot ako ditong makakatulong sa bawat pangangailangan ko.

Daig din ng bulsa kong ‘to ang sikmura ng pinakamasibang tao sa buong mundo! Kaya man niyang lamunin ang makakain sa isang piyestahan ay may kakayahan naman ang bulsa kong humaba, lumalim, at lumaki patungo sa lahat ng direksyon para lang maipagkasya ang mga ipinapasok ko dito! Oo,nga, walang biro! Wala yang bubble gum mo sa kakayahan ng bulsa kong umunat.

Hindi rin napupunit ang bulsa kong ‘to. Umm…sige na nga, pagbibigyan ko ang pagdududa mo. Oo,napupunit.. Ngunit, eto na,makinig ka ha? Ngunit kaya niyang tahiin ang kanyang sarili! Minsan kasi ay di ko ito naaalagaang mabuti. Minsan naman,naipapahiram ko ito sa iba, ngunit sila naman ang ‘di nag iingat dito kaya tuloy napupunit. Ngunit sadyang mahiwaga nga dahil sa kung gaano man ka laki ng punit ay kusang nabubuhay ang mga hibla nito para mabuo ulit.

Sa haba ng panahong pinagmamayarian ko ang bulsang ‘to ay pabago-bago din ang disenyo nito. Payak na payak ito dati eh…walang marka, matingkad na matingkad ang kulay, at talagang walang ni kakarampot na marka ng dumi. Ngunit sa bawat pagpasok-labas ng mga bagay-bagay ko dito ay nabuo ang napakagulong mga marka.

Magulong tingnan ang mga paekis-ekis na linya, lalong lalo na ang mga naiwang marka ng pagkapunit. May mga naka istamp na larawan, mantsa ng tsokolate, lipstick ni mama, balahibo ng manok, patak ng kandila at samut-saring mga kung anu-anong pampagulo. Pero, magulo lang ito sa mga matang ‘di nakakaalam sa pinagmulan ng bawat marka. Para sa akin, ito’y nakapagandang burda ng aking buhay. Sa likod ng bawat detalye, linya, kurba, at iskema sa disenyo ng bulsa ko.ay isang kuwento. Custom-made kumbaga. Natatangi. Walang katulad. 

Kung ang manok ay may scientific name na galeos galeos ang bulsa ko naman ay meron din! Ito ay H-E-A-R-T. Puso.

Ang puso ng bawat isa ay parang bulsa din. Kaya nga lang, ito’y mahiwaga! Sa kalungkutan ay maaaring balikan ang alin man sa mga naipong magagandang ala-ala. Naisasapuso natin ang mga mahalagang tao, bagay, o pangyayaring nakapagpabago sa ating buhay. At ang bawat tawang dumaloy sa hangin o luhang pumatak sa mainit na pisngi ay detalyadong nakaukit dito.

Sinabi ko ngang napupunit din ang puso. Nasasaktan at napapagod. Hindi man kaagad nawawala ang hapdi ay pansamantala lang ang pagkabato nito. Tila ba bukal ito ng buhay na walang hanggan at paulit-ulit pa ring naghihilom. Hiwalayan, pagtaksilan, o tuluyang iwan man tayo ng ating pinakamamahal ay patuloy na magmamahal at magmamahal parin ito. Maaaring sa parehong tao o sa iba man natin ialay ang panibagong pag-ibig, ganun parin, ito’y pagbangon sa isang kasawian. Isang pagsusulsi sa isang punit sa bulsa.

Ang hiwaga ng puso ay wala sa anyo at pisikal na kakayahan nito. Mas nakamamangha ang kakayahan nitong bigyan ng kahulugan ang bawat pag-gising natin sa umaga. At higit sa lahat, ang kakayahan nitong magmahal ng walang hinihintay na kapalit… ang mamatay at mapunit ng paulit-ulit para lamang mabuo at maging handa sa panibagong pag-ibig.

Adobong Pusit

Ang bango! Hhhhmmmm…..Ang bango ng sibuyas at bawang na ginigisa! Naghahalong amoy ng nalulutong karne at alat ng asin. Kumukulo na ang sabaw…ang maitim at mamantikang sabaw. Unti-unti kong binaba ang makintab kong kutsara at para bang sabik na sabik pang dumaloy dito ang itim na sabaw. Nang inangat ko ito sa natutuyo kong mga labi, marahan ko itong inihapan..wwhhoooohhh… At dahan dahang nilasap ang manamis-namis at maalat na sabaw.

Hindi pa ako nakunteto’t tinidor naman ang kinuha ko. Ang talim nito’y hinayaan kong tumuhog sa malambot at mamula-mulang laman. Matigas at puting mga bilog ang mga mata nito ngunit wala ng silbi. Walang nakikita.  Maliban sa patay na’y lubog na rin kasi sa sariling dugo at tinta.

Ang ng mga galamay nito’y mahahaba at maninipis. Naisip ko kung ilang isda na kaya ang nahuli nito o ilang corals na ang nakayanan nitong akyatin para takasan ang kalaban niya. Pero sa pagkakataon ito ay laylay na siya, walang lakas, at walang pagkakataong tumakas sa kumakalam kong bituka.Iniangat ko ang tuhog na niyang laman sa aking bibig at walang awang kinagat.

Paulit-ulit ko itong nginuya at sa bawat kagat ay lumalabas ang masarap na sabaw na naiwan sa kasulok-sulukan ng  mga galamay nito. UUmmm…ang sarap! Nangiti ako sa saya. Ang kulay roses kong mga labi ay itim na, at ang mala perlas na nginpin at itim na rin. Sa mala kremang ngipin ay putik-puntik na mantsa ng itim na sabaw ang makikita..Nagmistulang mga malilit na dalamatian o di kaya’y domino tiles. 

Click! Ah..yan ang pamilyar na tunog ng rice cooker. Ibig sabihin ay luto na ang kanin. Mala ulap ang puti nito, umuusok sa init at nasasamyo ko ang bango ng dahon ng pandan! Hinain ko ito sa isang malapad na pinggan at hinanda na ang mesa. At parang batang sabik sa pagmamantsa sa puting damit ay binuhos ko ang itim na sabaw sa  puting kanin. Huminga ako ng malalim at muling inamoy ang bango ng aking pananghalian.

Lahat ay tahimik at payapa sa pagbuka ng aking mga mata. Tandang magsisimula pa lamang ang madugo’t matintang digmaan.

Batayan ng Tunay na Liwanag

Kung ikaw ay
magbibigay liwanag, anong klaseng liwanag ang ibibigay mo? Ito ba’y isang
maliit at payapang apoy ng kandila sa simbahan o isang nagliliyab na apoy sa
camping ng mga boyskawt? Magiging sing liwanag ba nito ang flashlight ng mga
Search and Rescue Team o sing tahimik ng kutitap ng mga alitaptap sa masukal na
gubat?

Kung pipiliin
mong ikalat sa sanlibutan ang silahis ng araw o ang maputlang sinag ng buwan at
mga bituin, ay iisipin mo bang walang silbi at aba ang mga natatabunan ng iyong
anino? 

Sa alin man sa
mga sumusnod ay walang nakahihigit o nakalalamang. Lahat ay patas at
pantay-pantay sa mata ng mga taong nangangapa sa dilim. Kung sino ang mas
maliwanag at mas maraming naiilawan ay hindi mahalaga. Higit na mahalaga ang dedikasyon
sa tungkuling magbigay liwanag ng hindi inaalintana ang kawalang papuri sa ginagampanang
tungkulin.

Madaling
magyabang at umastang nakalalamang kapag maliwanag na maliwanag ang ilaw na ating
naiibibigay. Tila ba may salamin sa ating harap kaya nabubulag tayo sa totoong
dahilan ng ating pagkalalang. Ang kakayahang magbigay liwanag ay alay sa mga
nangangailangan nito at hindi upang tayo’y ulanin ng papuri. Ang tunay na
nagbibigay ng liwanag ay malinis ang puso’t hangarin at ang mga paa’y nakaapak
sa lupa.

Sadyang may mga
pagkakataong mas natutulungan tayo ng mga mumunting ilaw sa ating buhay. Katulad
na lang sa isang taong naliligaw sa madilim na gubat. Magpapasalamat siya sa
Diyos sa mga mumunting alitaptap at hindi sa araw na nakasabit sa kabilang
kalangitan. Kung ilaw mo ma’y ang maliit at payapang apoy ng kandila sa
simbahan, walang katumbas din naman ang pag-asang naibibigay mo sa taong
taimtim na nagdarasal. Lampara ka ma’t nauubusan ng ga-as ay ilaw ka naman sa
batang nais mag-aral. Maging ang asul na apoy sa lutuan na sinliit lang ng mga
ngipin ng pusa ay nakaluluto pa rin ng isang pata ng baboy.

Ibig sabihin,
hindi natin kailangang maging sikat, over-achiever,
maimpluwensiya, matalino, mayaman, politiko, abogado, doctor o kung ano paman.
Maging presidente ka man ng kumpanya o dyanitor sa isang gusali ay tapat at
totong serbisyo lamang ang kailangan. Ang bawat kakayahan, dunong, oras, at
yamang ating taglay ay mga kasangkapan natin upang magbigay liwanag sa ating
kapwa. At

sana

,
kahit gaano man kaliit ang liwanag na ating naibibigay ay maging salamin parin
ito sa pinagmumulan ng walang hanggang liwanag ng ating buhay, kaluluwa, at
pagkatao- ang Diyos Maykapal.

Alay kay Pakwan Girl

Ako’y hindi na talaga nadala. Isang blog article ko nanaman ang aksidente kong nabura at sa kasamaang palad ay hindi ko pa nasi-save. Pambhira…

<sniff..sniff..> ano yun? Amoy pakwan ah… Ahh….okay,katabi ko pala. Humahagikhik habang nag si-spray ng kanyang cologne. Cologne pero pakwan??? Paborito ko ang pakwan. Ano kaya’t kagatin ko siya hanggang sa dumugo ang kanyang balat noh? At napapansin kong ako din ay paboritong kagatin ng pagkakataon habang sumusulat ako ng blog.

hehehehe Aba,biglang lumayo! Huli sa akto…sabi ko na nga ba…binabasa nya ang nakasulat sa screen ko at tinatawanan niya ang kamalasan ko. Hikhikhikhik Natakot nga siya. Sa bagay, hindi rin naman biro ang may makatabing labas na ang mga pangil at mata’y nanlilisik na.

Hahahahahah Salamat Pakwan Girl! Ako’y natuwa sa iyo. Sana’y muli kang lumapit sa akin at lihim mong basahin ang nasa screen ko at nang malaman mong ikaw ang naging inspirasyon ko upang patuloy na pumindot sa sira-sirang keyboard ng internet cafe na ‘to.