Sunday, August 30, 2020

The Mutes



By Denise Levertov

Those groans men use
passing a woman on the street
or on the steps of the subway

to tell her she is a female
and their flesh knows it,

are they a sort of tune,
an ugly enough song, sung
by a bird with a slit tongue

but meant for music?

Or are they the muffled roaring
of deafmutes trapped in a building that is
slowly filling with smoke?

Perhaps both.

Such men most often
look as if groan were all they could do,
yet a woman, in spite of herself,

knows it’s a tribute:
if she were lacking all grace
they’d pass her in silence:

so it’s not only to say she’s
a warm hole. It’s a word

in grief-language, nothing to do with
primitive, not an ur-language;
language stricken, sickened, cast down

in decrepitude. She wants to
throw the tribute away, dis-
gusted, and can’t,

it goes on buzzing in her ear,
it changes the pace of her walk,
the torn posters in echoing corridors

spell it out, it
quakes and gnashes as the train comes in.
Her pulse sullenly

had picked up speed,
but the cars slow down and
jar to a stop while her understanding

keeps on translating:
‘Life after life after life goes by

without poetry,
without seemliness,
without love.’

Friday, May 15, 2020

Motherhood in the Time of Coronavirus (Or Not)






I really find this video laughing-out-loud funny: A mother (I presume) goes out to take the trash while carrying her baby. Comes back with the trash. Realizes her mistake and panics.

I find it funny perhaps because it's so real. Not that I've actually done it myself. Something close.

Maybe it was about 21 years ago, I don't remember the exact date or year, but I remember it was when my kids were very small.

Because my shift started in the afternoon, I tried to spend bonding moments with my three (yes, three) kids in the morning. I would feed them, give them baths, play with them, then prepare for work.

One day, as I was about to leave for work, one of them pooped. So I took off my pants (because I didn't want them to get wet), went to the bathroom, and washed and cleaned the baby.

With my mind already on the work ahead, I took my bag and rushed out of the house. Just as I was about to open the gate and walk out the street, my daughter, who was about three then, asked, "You're going out without pants?"

"No pants!"

If it hadn't been for her, how far would I have walked before realizing how under-dressed I was?






Saturday, May 09, 2020

TRIBUTE | Diplomat and public servant exemplar: Ambassador Doy Lucenario




(It's been five years since you left. This remembrance first came out in InterAksyon, 13 May 2015. I found it in https://migrante.eu/tribute-diplomat-and-public-servant-exemplar-ambassador-doy-lucenario/)



Often between media and source is conflict. And conflict was what brought me to meet Filipino diplomat and public servant exemplar Domingo “Doy” Lucenario.

Before 2007, the Philippine passport was largely disrespected for its easy “fake-ability” (remember being called for a longer immigration interview at your destination?) because the Philippine passport system was in shambles (remember how the lines were long and disorderly, with fixers everywhere misguiding the already exhausted and confused applicant?) and a contract to upgrade the Philippine passport to world-class level is in the legal dustbin.

But then Asec Doy did not wait for those bureaucratic and legal obstacles to correct themselves before he fixed what he could. He patiently, deftly, and systematically put things in order. Anyone who’s worked in or with government and is familiar with its turtle pace (especially if additional budget is needed) has called his accomplishments at the passport division nothing short of a miracle. Migrant workers’ rights advocate Ellene Sana recalls how Doy turned the once much-cursed passport division into an “efficient, person-friendly” office that “delivers in its services.”

His solutions were simple but effective, products of a frank observation of the system: “big visible signages with the name of the DFA passport office and arrows pointing to the passport office; continuous play on the loudspeaker/public address system of announcement to inform the applicants of what to do/requirements to apply/renew the passport and also to warn against fixers; and courteous guards and personnel attending to and guiding the applicants, providing accurate information and advice.”

He was at the frontline DFA service that other diplomats were reluctant or unwilling to manage as it was not about the more glamorous “foreign policy.” He recognized the importance of this service to ordinary folk. At that time, at least 6,000 passports were processed every day!

He used time-and-motion studies to determine how many staff were needed for each step of the passport process. He hired and trained young, eager-to-help people to face this tired, impatient, and perhaps hungry crowd. He also found a place for the not so easily employable and hired the hearing-impaired for data encoding.

On top of these efforts at the DFA main office and the regional passport offices, he introduced the mobile outreach passport program to remote municipalities where applications are processed within the day.

He was a systems man. He viewed the problematic situation as a system and fixed it as a system — no piecemeal tweaking for him.

While he was doing all these, he was also working with other agencies: a one-stop passport processing station at the POEA for OFWs; removing the MalacaƱang verification for authentication of documents; and an on-line database of the National Statistics Office to facilitate verification of birth certificates (I know he helped work it out so the NSO would have an office near the DFA for faster service).

A key goal was to work on getting a machine-readable passport for all Filipino travelers. He successfully got the bosses to sign up on the plan — I’m sure not without much jumping through all kinds of legal hoops. Now we have more than that — an electronic passport (e-passport) that gets us through most foreign destinations with no more shameful invites for side interviews by immigration officers.

At the core, he was a pro-people public servant. While many in government service would refuse to work with sometimes irascible leftist groups like Migrante, he did. In fact, Migrante’s Eman Villanueva got him as ninong at his wedding.

Lingkod-bayan

Like Villanueva, I have asked for his help with passport applications and releases (many for bosses, officemates, and colleagues, and several for relatives). With his good nature (ang gaang gaang dalhin, so easygoing), you know he’s not going to take it against you or count it as a favor he would call back on.

“Pana-panahon, nakakatagpo tayo ng mga tao sa gobyerno na tunay at sinserong naglilingkod sa ating mga kababayan. Walang inaasahang kapalit, parangal, o pagkilala. Bukas ang isip at handang makinig sa ating mga karaingan kahit magkaminsan ay hindi kapareho ng palagay at pananaw sa ibang mga bagay,” says Villanueva.

“Gumagawa siya ng paraan para matugunan ang ilang kagyat na pangangailangan ng ating mga kababayan sa kabila ng mga kakapusan at limitasyong kakabit ng kanyang katungkulan o ng burukratikong sistema ng pamahalaan. Mabilis na tumutugon kapag nilalapitan. Ilang beses din na kami sa Migrante ay may inilapit at kagyat niyang tinulungan.”

(“Sometimes, we encounter people in government who are true and sincere in serving our people. No expectation of recognition or honor in return. Open-minded, ready to listen to the people’s complaints, even if sometimes his views and yours are not the same.”)

(“He found ways to respond to the urgent needs of the people despite the lack and limitations attached to his position or the bureaucracy. He quickly responded when approached. Many times, we in Migrante approached him, and he immediately responded.”)

He was toward the end of his tour in dangerous Pakistan when he died, looking after the welfare of thousands of OFWs still in US and NATO military bases in Afghanistan, including the Samahang ng Filipinos (SAF) and the Pinoy Bunker/Filipinos in Afghanistan who called him their “link to the Department of Foreign Affairs.” As there is no DFA presence in Afghanistan, he was “the eyes and ears of the Philippine government” there, able to guide the Philippine government in the raising or lowering of alert levels in that country.

According to Roberto Tabloc, who has his own construction company in Afghanistan, Amba Doy was able to persuade the powers-that-be to expand the exemptions for OFWs in Afghanistan. He hopes that this will be announced this month to enable more Filipinos working in that country to come home for vacations and be documented by the POEA.

What was the source of this passion and leadership to serve? According to my boss Chuchay Fernandez, Doy was one of the original recruits of the late World Press Freedom icon Jose Burgos Jr. Doy was among the student leaders he mentored in the mid-1970s, way back when Doy was just a UE high school student.

To fellow workers in government, he was not boss (even after he became ambassador), he was colleague. Faith Bautista recalls their days in Iran for a NAM meeting. “I was the only female in the delegation and I am the non-officer. I have to do staff work. But you were always there. Be it at 12 midnight to get the badges or to take notes for the big boss while I arrange his next meetings. You need not be there. But you were there! You were also there at 4 in the morning to see if we were alright while preparing for the next day of the Coordination Workshop for SNAMMM heads.”

And which reporter does not appreciate a great news source? Amba Doy was. To this reporter he always had stories. If he could not go on record, he would point to another source (inside or outside the DFA, a person or a document) that could confirm his stories.

After the shock of the news of his death, my Facebook newsfeed had a lot of posts thanking him for his service. Indeed, he had been an exemplary diplomat, bridging people and ideas, and a true public servant, going beyond the call of duty. A happy worker. Salamat, Amba Doy.

Salamat sa lahat.


Friday, May 08, 2020

Huling Paalam ni Jose Rizal (isinalin ni Andres Bonifacio)

Pinipintuho kong Bayan ay paalam,

Lupang iniirog ng sikat ng araw,
mutyang mahalaga sa dagat Silangan,
kaluwalhatiang sa ami’y pumanaw.
Masayang sa iyo’y aking idudulot
ang lanta kong buhay na lubhang malungkot;
maging maringal man at labis ang alindog
sa kagalingan mo ay akin ding handog.
Sa pakikidigma at pamimiyapis
ang alay ng iba’y ang buhay na kipkip,
walang agam-agam, maluwag sa dibdib,
matamis sa puso at di ikahahapis.
Saan man mautas ay di kailangan,
cipres o laurel, lirio ma’y patungan
pakikipaghamok, at ang bibitayan,
yaon ay gayon din kung hiling ng Bayan.
Ako’y mamamatay, ngayong namamalas
na sa Silanganan ay namamanaag
yaong maligayang araw na sisikat
sa likod ng luksang nagtabing na ulap.
Ang kulay na pula kung kinakailangan
na maitina sa iyong liwayway,
dugo ko’y isaboy at siyang ikikinang
ng kislap ng iyong maningning na ilaw.
Ang aking adhika sapul magkaisip
noong kasalukuyang bata pang maliit,
ay ang tanghaling ka at minsang masilip
sa dagat Silangan hiyas na marikit.
Natuyo ang luhang sa mata’y nunukal,
taas na ang noo’t walang kapootan,
walang bakas kunot ng kapighatian
gabahid man dungis niyong kahihiyan.
Sa kabuhayan ko ang laging gunita
maningas na aking ninanasa-nasa
ay guminhawa ka ang hiyas ng diwa
paghingang papanaw ngayong biglang-bigla.
Ikaw’y guminhawa laking kagandahang
akoy malugmok, at ikaw ay matanghal,
hininga’y malagot, mabuhay ka lamang
bangkay ko’y maisilong sa iyong Kalangitan.

Kung sa libingan ko’y tumubong mamalas
sa malagong damo mahinhing bulaklak,
sa mga labi mo’y mangyayaring ilapat,
sa kaluluwa ko halik ay igawad.
At sa aking noo nawa’y iparamdam,
sa lamig ng lupa ng aking libingan,
ang init ng iyong paghingang dalisay
at simoy ng iyong paggiliw na tunay.
Bayaang ang buwan sa aki’y ititig
ang liwanag niyang lamlam at tahimik,
liwayway bayaang sa aki’y ihatid
magalaw na sinag at hanging hagibis.
Kung sakasakaling bumabang humantong
sa krus ko’y dumapo kahit isang ibon,
doon ay bayaan humuning hinahon
at dalitin niya payapang panahon.
Bayaan ang ningas ng sikat ng araw
ula’y pasingawin noong kainitan,
magbalik sa langit ng buong dalisay
kalakip ng aking pagdaing na hiyaw.
Bayaang sino man sa katotong giliw
tangisang maagang sa buhay pagkitil;
kung tungkol sa akin ay may manalangin
idalangin, Bayan, yaring pagkahimbing.
Idalanging lahat yaong nangamatay,
Nangag-tiis hirap na walang kapantay;
mga ina naming walang kapalaran
na inihihibik ay kapighatian.
Ang mga balo’t pinapangulila,
ang mga bilanggong nagsisipagdusa;
dalanginin namang kanilang makita
ang kalayaan mong ikagiginhawa.
At kung ang madilim na gabing mapanglaw
ay lumaganap na doon sa libinga’t
tanging mga patay ang nangaglalamay,
huwag bagabagin ang katahimikan.
Ang kanyang hiwaga’y huwag gambalain;
kaipala’y marinig doon ang taginting,
tunog ng gitara’t salterio’y magsaliw,
ako, Bayan yao’t kita’y aawitan.
Kung ang libingan ko’y limot na ng lahat
at wala ng kurus at batong mabakas,
bayaang linangin ng taong masipag,
lupa’y asarolin at kahuya’y ikalat.
Ang mga buto ko ay bago matunaw,
mauwi sa wala at kusang maparam,
alabok na iyong latag ay bayaang
siya ang babalang doo’y makipisan.
Kung magkagayon ma’y, alintanahin
na ako sa limot iyong ihabilin,
pagka’t himpapawid at ang panganorin,
mga lansangan mo’y aking lilibutin.
Matining na tunog ako sa dinig mo,
ilaw, mga kulay, masamyong pabango,
ang ugong at awit, paghibik ko sa iyo,
pag-asang dalisay ng pananalig ko.
Bayang iniirog, sakit niyaring hirap,
Katagalugan kong pinakaliliyag,
dinggin mo ang aking pagpapahimakas;
diya’y iiwan ko sa iyo ang lahat.
Ako’y patutungo sa walang busabos,
walang umiinis at berdugong hayop;
pananalig doo’y di nakasasalot,
si Bathala lamang doo’y haring lubos.
Paalam, magulang at mga kapatid
kapilas ng aking kaluluwa’t dibdib
mga kaibigan, bata pang maliit,
sa aking tahanan di na masisilip.
Pag-papasalamat at napahinga rin,
paalam estranherang kasuyo ko’t aliw,
paalam sa inyo, mga ginigiliw;
mamatay ay siyang pagkakagupiling!

Si Andres Bonifacio ang nagsalin nito sa orihinal na Mi Ultimo Adios ni Jose Rizal. 

Monday, April 27, 2020

Happy birthday, happy boy





Kulas, 2013
16 years ago today, i said a quick hello and goodbye to death.
it was a difficult childbirth. we didn't plan on a second caesarean delivery in a little more than two years, but the baby was in breech. (the head-first position is called normal for a reason: the baby helps deliver himself out by instinctively kicking and pushing himself out of the womb.) 
but even if i was already cut several layers open, the doctors could not get him out, he was kicking himself up to my thoracic cavity. i remember people pressing on my chest to push him down. 
after much struggle, he finally came out. they showed him to me. oh, he looks like mike (my brother). and then i passed out (my ob-gyne and i agreed that i would be awake the entire process, the drug doctor to work her magic only after i've seen proof of life).
when i came to, i was being wheeled into the recovery room. 
but i was shaking, the gurney noisily vibrating with me. the nurse who was wheeling me stopped and tried to take my blood pressure. it was dropping fast. she couldn't hear the blood pumps that would measure it. a stupid suggestion made in panic: please stop shaking, ma'am. i can't hear your bp. it was my body's reaction to the trauma. 
i was very cold. she put a towel over me to keep me warm. before going off to look for a doctor, she reminds me: misis, don't sleep, please. i won't. i want to raise my child. i won't sleep.
next thing i know i was in my room, where my mother and sister were anxiously waiting for me. my chest and arms were bruised, like i was in a boxing match.
that was my third life. this cat is on her fifth life now, nourished and encouraged by 16 years of the gentlest, sweetest love.

(From 27 April 2013)

Sunday, April 26, 2020

Moving on




BONNARD: Peindre L’Arcadie

It was my last day in Paris, the free time after the air show coverage (more a junket but I welcomed it). S suggested Musee d’Orsay and I saw that Bonnard (Peindre L’Arcadie) was on exhibit. I know that it was home to the other impressionists but I was only after Bonnard, whom Mary Gordon introduced me in her “Still Life,” which I re-read writing this. The ideas and connections she made between her mother’s life (of memorylessness) and Bonnard’s paintings.

We went to D’Orsay with dejected me. I just lost my cellphone to skillful pickpockets and my enthusiasm to see Bonnard was dampened by less of the loss but more of the sense of violation and victimization I felt. I had to shake it off. “The sooner you shake it off, the sooner you can move on” was a traveling companion’s earlier unrelated suggestion to another in a conversation on lost loves.

The line was long. S found a way for us to skip the line: She’s a journalist, pointing to me. I showed them my press card and we were let in. But the museum banned backpacks and I was getting attached to my things, particularly my passport and wallet. With much internal struggle to enjoy the rest of the day, I went in with S.

Such a gorgeous structure, with its huge clocks, ornate steel bars, and glass ceilings: D’Orsay. There was another line to the rooms for Bonnard. I was prepared to be taken to his world.

It must be the crowd but I felt insufficiently reverent before his paintings. This is after all my first actual encounter with Bonnard. I wanted the Mary Gordon experience, but I was more captivated by the texts on his personal life scattered throughout the exhibition area. His mistress’ suicide particularly. For someone who has contemplated it and decided that suicide is the option for when the pain seems unbearable (although I’ve also learned that pain eases and suicide is too painful to inflict on those who love me).

I looked for the whites in his paintings, as Mary Gordon had noted Bonnard’s fascination for it. And I discovered his bursts of happy hues of yellows, oranges, and blues. S pointed out not only how his wife Marthe is his model for most of the paintings, but also of the cats that were also among the most ubiquitous in them.



I like the impressionists because of the blurring of borders, as if I wasn’t wearing my eyeglasses. Like memories, fuzzy. Like being drunk, or on a boat for a long time, or experiencing jetlag, your head floating.

I did not buy any Bonnard books after. We went to the see Monet, Manet, Cezanne, and Degas at the top floors. You can have too much beauty. But the dejection has lifted. I’m glad I moved on quickly.

The church on the mountain: Sacre Couer, was on our itinerary, but we were exhausted. That would be for another time. There will be another time.

We went back to my hotel to get my things, go to the R’s, have an Algerian dinner near their place, and get a two-hour sleep before leaving for Berlin, where I headed to alone to go see the wall.


(from 28 June 2015, actually an email to a friend)

Thursday, March 19, 2020

My 10 everyday to-dos for 2020






Family time, before end 2019


Love in the Time of Coronavirus, 2



For the first time in a long time, magkakasama kaming buong pamilya nang matagal-tagal. That is a gift. Kahit noong Pasko, oras lang ang magkakasama kami kasi may pasok si kuya. We tried to extend that time together by taking him to work before his shift began at 12 midnight.

Kaya notoriously praning me was chill. Nag regular grocery kami (madaming nabili ng tissue at alcohol). Meron pa kaming sabon kaya di naman kami bumili ng cleaning items.

Chill lang. Sarap kasama ng mga anak ko.

Those of us who are so privileged (oo, privilege ang makapagtrabaho at sumweldo habang kumakalat ang epidemya) can take the time to rethink our lifestyles, especially the drink-drink-drink, gobble-gobble-gobble, and buy-buy-buy mindset.

Despite Greta Thunberg’s successful campaign against the climate crisis, its impact was nothing to the coronavirus’s. How many tons of carbon did we (as humanity) not release to the atmosphere because of China’s manufacturing and transport slowdown alone?

Modern living (on-demand electricity, water, food) is again, a privilege in our lupang hinirang. But they all cost something to Mother Nature. (Tinatawag natin siyang nanay, pero kung abusuhin natin, parang hindi).

Dating-dati pa, tinanong ako ni Tyago, why is our excretory organ so close to our reproductive organ?

Hanggang ngayon, palaisipan pa rin sa akin ang tanong niya. Inisip at hinahanap ko pa rin ang sagot. Isang insight lang sa pagmumuni-muni: We view our waste (fecal waste especially) with disgust when its release only means we’re healthy.

Moving our bowels is a must. So in my new year’s daily list of 10 to-dos, it is number one.

The list, which is essentially about being a healthy human, includes: 

2. Exercise (I try to do yoga via YouTube which allows me to stretch, breathe, focus). 
3. Drink at least 8 glasses of water. 
4. Sleep at least 8 hours a day. 
5. Eat on time. 
6. Appreciate art (music or poetry or fiction). 
7. Do one household chore (Fixing everybody’s bed is automatic to me now). 
8. Re-connect to a dear one (sister, mother, old friend). 
9. Learn something new (Signed up to an online Data Science course na dalawang buwan ko na atang di nababalikan). 
10. Write something for myself (Ngayon lang nangyari 'to 75 days into 2020, wee hours of March 16).





Tuesday, March 17, 2020

Magaling ang Pinoy, Palpak ang Pinuno



Pag-ibig sa Panahon ng Coronavirus, 1




May mga nagpapakalat na buset daw ang mamamayang Pilipino.

Mas buset ang liderato, o ang kakulangan nito.

Wala pa namang isang siglo ang ating self-governance so siguro nga nasa trial-and-error stage pa tayo. Di pa natin alam paano papanagutin ang kinauukulan.

Pero kaya tayo nandito sa kalugmok-lugmok na sitwasyong ito, leadership talaga ang kulang sa Pilipinas.

Ang argumento ko lang, ito: Pag nasa labas ng Pinas,

1. Sumusunod sa batas ang Pilipino. Bakit?

Kasi, alam niya na ipinapatupad ang batas nang patas. Walang anting-anting na ID o calling card ang mga gustong exempted sa batas.  

Kasi, malinaw rin ang “bakit” ng batas. Halimbawa, bawal tumawid sa highway kasi malamang na masagasaan ka ng mabibilis na mga sasakyan.

Kasi, merong doable na alternatibo sa mga nilalayon mong gawin. Halimbawa, may ligtas at maayos na tawiran.

2. Umuunlad. Bakit? Kasi, alam niya na may karampatang balik ang pagod. Dito pagod din ang sukli.

Sino po ang nagpapatupad ng batas? Ang nasa kapangyarihan. Ang liderato.

Sabi nila, ang bata, sinusundan ang ginagawa, hindi ang sinasabi, ng matanda.

Kaya pag sinasabi ng may kapangyarihan na kailangan ng disiplina ng Pilipino, sinasabi ko sa kanila. Sabihin mo yan sa salamin.

Kasi ang liderato ang dapat may disiplina sa sariling ipatupad ang batas.

Kung yung batas niyo na kayo ang nagpapatupad ang unang lalabag, kung kayo mismo exempted sa batas, sino’ng maniniwala sa inyo? Sino’ng susunod?

Kung ano ang puno, siyang bunga. Kayong nasa liderato ang puno, ang mamamayan ang bunga.

Kaya ang panawagan ko: Disiplina sa mga namumuno.  



10 essential lessons in political communication

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