spikes of life

Thai Language Thai Culture: Ten Steps to Learning Thai

2012-01-27T17:27:00.000+08:00

I am just pulling my hair over my homework now :(

Thai Language Thai Culture: Ten Steps to Learning Thai

Motorcycle trauma and the helmet that goes with it

2011-10-07T00:53:00.000+08:00

A few days ago, my colleague taught me the basics of... well...starting and moving a motorcycle. In a secluded street in the middle of the day it was easy to go, break, go, break, in a speed and lane of my choosing, where all the cars are parked. I was ecstatic that I learned something new yet again, so I bought a trendy new helmet to go with it, one that looks like an ordinary cap but is made with real helmet material for serious motorists. And so I wore that helmet today, my first day out on the road with the motorbike issued by the office-every staff can have one if they don't own a car or bicycle. My colleague who had lent me her bicycle rode alongside a little bit of the way on her own motorbike but soon I proceeded alone to navigate the busy roads to my gym near the Chiang Mai airport.

I realised quickly whenever I neared any intersection with a red traffic light that I have trouble coordinating the brake with the gas. To my horror, it dawned on me that the left foot pedals where one raises or lowers gears are not suited to the size of my left foot. Meanwhile the right handle bar of the motorcycle where the 'gas' is, is also where the only hand brake is. I am also completely unaccustomed to balancing my weight on a motorcycle at low speeds, such that if I try to squeeze between cars like other motorbike drivers, I WOBBLE!

By the time I got to the moat in the middle of the city I swore that I wouldn't be sweating this much from nervousness if I was on a bicycle. But pour it did, and I had no choice but to take it all the way. I had to look down to shift gears, which is extremely dangerous in these busy rush hour streets. Each time I reach for the hand brake my palm rubs against the gas too so my bike jumps instead of braking! I should have known better than to get too close to other motorists. At the intersection near the mall where my gym is, what happened was exactly as I feared: at the red light I tried to squeeze into the lane between motorcycles and cars, at the same time trying to catch the down shift and braking with the hand. I had completely forgotten my foot brake and had jumped my bike into the motorcycle in front of me, where a lady was driving her son home from school. Luckily it wasn't a hard bump as I was almost stopping already. I apologised profusely, not letting on that I am inexperienced and am driving without a license. I also asked if I was on the right lane...just to keep them from focusing on the small 'bump'.

As if this was not enough, as soon as I put my hands on the handles the bike jumped again and again it plowed into the side of the car to my right. This time a boy got out to look at the paint. I honestly don't know how I got out of that one. There was a little scratch, but it seemed that the boy was more concerned whether I dented the car. He simply went back inside and all of us started up at the green light, and went our way.

The last thing I needed, being already shaken up by the car incident, was to lose my concentration while entering the parking space at the mall. Having trouble navigating small entrances/exits I AGAIN nearly plowed into the parking lot attendant. This time I was sure they were going to call the police because they looked as shocked as I am. Surely this has never happened to them before...EVER! Finally I got my ticket and asked as casually as I can (although I could feel my voice shaking) in English-so as to be taken as the "silly foreigner" instead of the looney local, "is there a payment for parking?".

Upon reaching the gym I was physically shaking with the stress and anxiety. I never wanted to use that motorcycle again, but how will I get home? In a place where everything closes at 9:00pm wasn't I excited about having the motorbike so I could stay late and drive home any time I wanted? Wasn't the motorbike my ticket to the late night bars, night market, karaoke and far away temples and parks?

I was in a daze, like someone who was involved in an accident but couldn't believe she got out alive... I glared at my trainor in case she asks me to start with a warm up. But I found myself stepping on a warm up machine, absent mindedly doing my exercises. I was in shock. My hands were shaking on the machine bars. My eyes were unfocused. I had to compose myself because it's not like my Pilates session will calm my nerves-- in fact it will stretch my body like torture!"Should I go on with this or should I just go home--NO NO-- home means using that bike again..."

"My God I really have to get my own bicycle now because I already told my colleague she can take hers back since I've "learned" to drive the motorbike..."

I realised that one, well...one, I was praying--here-- in the middle of my exercise. Two, that I am in such a trauma to get me praying here and now. Three, I have to tell somebody and get help calming myself down. There was no one else I can call (hands still shaking too badly to hold the phone) except my trainor. So while pushing the pilates pads I told her about my ordeal. She was shocked that I could attempt to go on this 'SUV-speeding' highway on my first motorbike ride (but speed wasn't my problem, it was slowing down and navigating the narrow spaces...). The fact that she looked truly afraid for me made me doubt my decision to do this. But, as my friend Juliette says: "in my heart"... I knew I had to try it. I mean, where else will I learn? On a video game?

The tremors didn't go away during my Pilates exercise so my trainor sought to help me relax by showing me pictures of nearby lakes and parks around the city which I can visit, and by reminding me of the upcoming flower festival. But she couldn't help herself from stressing "this one is just an hour's bicycle ride...this one not 20 minutes on bicycle...here I can take you on MY motorbike". So sweet of her but also so telling of my future fate with the motorized world. I wanted to cry...she must've seen my face because finally she said: "you will get used to it and then it will get better". I wanted to hug her but my torso was entangled in the chain and bars of the...thing.

At last my training session ended and I dreaded going out to the parking lot. I did not want to stay later than 9:00 pm after all.I had dinner to buy me some more time. Finally all the shops closed. My footsteps became heavy and my heart started pounding as I made my way to the motorbike. I became wobbly again at the narrow exit gates of the parking lot and had to literally throw the parking ticket I was returning, to the attendant. I made a mental note to use the other parking lot next time, because this one surely knows by now and I can't return to it without a license.

Fortunately my ride home was less eventful and thankfully, with lesser cars on the road (Jesus, people really turn in early here). I've made a successful second run on Mahidol highway, and finally turned into the street leading to my condo. My shakes were gone by the time I reached the condo parking lot and I was able to breathe a sigh of relief. Tomorrow I am taking this motorbike to the office but will go home with the bicycle.

When I reached my room I texted my trainor to thank her for listening to me. She texted back her reassurance and confirmed that when we do go to the lake it will be my turn to help her overcome her fear of drowning by teaching her how to swim. It's a good deal.

Goodnight Trainor Cooper, I look forward to that lake.

Life in Colour

2011-02-03T18:25:00.000+08:00

I should have been a film professional. I didn't know that in the beginning, when I was starting out in the university. Although I wouldn't be listening unless people shouted "down with something!", if someone had just hinted that maybe I should shift to film journalism or something that is connected with film, I think I would have seriously considered it. Except at that time a popular actor named Richard Gomes was also in film class. I was so repelled by this actor, who was nowhere as attractive as my brother or cousins, I didn't join the class for fear of being branded a film enrolee after his attentions. During his term in college the film class swelled to four times its normal size! Of course there were also students who turned out to be well respected broadcasters and film directors with whom I was proudly acquainted in that department. But at that time yes, they were thought to have taken up film because they are fans. True, they had a unique courage to endure that kind of humiliation.

Almost twenty years hence I have not lost my interest in watching good films despite my brain's unfortunate lack of memory space to recall all the endings. Provided with almost every opportunity and convenience to go to a spa or a bar after work hours, my first impulse would still be to line up at the cinema.

Before reaching my teens we had our first betamax machine. My father immediately spent most of his small salary purchasing many classic films. Most of them he had wanted to see when he was young but was too poor to afford the cinema. My sister and I would cuddle up beside him and watch one after another until we fell asleep, but this was only done during weekends when school was out. Gradually betamax was replaced by laser disks and then VCDs then DVDs. My Dad's betamax tapes had molded over a long time ago. And before he could change the machine he had already retired. Years later when he visited me in my workplace outside the country, he saw the same films now in DVDs in my collection. He was so happy I remembered the titles, and that works of favourites like Alfred Hitchkock Mysteries and the Pink Panther had been so readily available.

It is one of my regrets that I do not work in this industry. Film has changed the world in a decade more than radio or print did in fifty. It continues to depict the realities of life in its most beautiful and terrible faces, while giving flight to humanity's greatest dreams. The so-called idiot box has become the one mass educator for people who could not go to school. It has connected us in more ways than we can imagine. Generations before could not have "pictured" a future where watching a movie in the palm of one's hand can be done while writing a letter and chatting with friends at the same time -- on the same machine. Yet this was the subject of early film makers' so called "science fiction" themes wasn't it?

So I decided that if I wasn't going to be one of its creators I could surely be an avid spectator. And keep to what I know-- writing about it.

DEVELOPMENT: East Timor, Fragile States Compare Notes on Aid - IPS ipsnews.net

2010-04-05T12:25:00.001+08:00

DEVELOPMENT: East Timor, Fragile States Compare Notes on Aid - IPS ipsnews.net

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I can see clearly now (Jimmy Cliff- Cool Runnings)

2009-11-08T22:28:00.003+08:00

I can see clearly now the rain has gone
I can see all obstacles in my way
Gone are the dark clouds that had me blind
It's gonna be a bright, bright, sun shiny day

Yes I can make it now the pain is gone
All of the bad feelings have disappeared
Here is that rainbow I've been praying for
It's gonna be a bright, bright, sun shiny day

Look all around, there's nothing but blue skies
Look straight ahead, there's nothing but blue skies

I can see clearly now the rain has gone
I can see all obstacles in my way
Here's that rainbow I've been praying for
It's gonna be a bright, bright, sun shiny day
It's gonna be a bright, bright, sun shiny day

Yeah it's gonna be a bright, bright sun shiny day

-Sunday, Nov. 8 2009 2:00-6:00 pm

Remembering Alecks

2009-10-08T19:17:00.001+08:00

Remembering Alecks

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CAW

2009-09-15T17:04:00.002+08:00

The personal is political.
Committee for Asian Women Executive Committee and Secretariat
2009

Van Morrison Afternoon

2009-09-12T22:08:00.001+08:00

Laundry goes in the tub with soap and suds

Heating up yesterday’s food on the stove

Sighing, got to really scrub the floor

Or fix the picture frames by the door

Had a 3-hour night’s sleep on a high-noon Saturday

Busy body making sure of a full day’s chore

Somewhere in the room there’s a film screen showing

That scene last night when I left, of you and her dancing

Counting my money, changing the lights

Intermittent internet signals keeping me online

Somewhere at the back of my mind

You are holding her hand instead of mine

The fruit truck has come by but there are still apples in my fridge

Maybe tomorrow I can grab the usual treats

Thinking I should be having a telephone

Somewhere some shadow wonders where you went home

There’s good music playing tonight, friends invite me to come and delight

They are the ladies’ lonely hearts club out to have a good time

I prefer to watch my videos alone to help me sleep

Whispers gossiping you’re probably giving her a kiss

Happy Birthday

2009-09-11T17:31:00.000+08:00

There is your angel, it said to me
And I saw your shadow past the door
From your breath lilies fell to pad your steps
Your eyes gazed at me and I looked at the floor

I have no angel I replied to no one in particular
As though it is the most normal thing to do
Certain that the daily demons that surround my life
Would shield me from whatever it is coming from you

“He comes from paradise” once again it spoke
Taunting me to argue “there is no such thing”
I kept my silence, and, in case you should look
whispered softly: “what does he bring?”

Just as you smiled, all is understood
This angel from paradise is only a man
Come to play with the mortals on land
So I stepped aside to let you through

Solidarity

2009-04-01T11:11:00.000+08:00

I really should be writing a solidarity message for May 1 and not a message to Stephanie Meyer, who in 2008 disclosed that a close friend has leaked 12 chapters of her draft of Midnight Sun on the internet. The heartbreaking part of her statement, issued on www.stephaniemeyer.com is when she said two plus two always makes four regardless of how you feel, but that writing is completely different, depending a lot on the writer's state of mind and emotional well being. She felt so betrayed that she did not even commit to other writing projects, saying she just wants to spend time with her family, to 'cool off'. How she kept from killing her so-called close friend I do not know. But I know how violated she must feel. Indeed, how does one go back to what was being written with all the hurt and disappointment riding one's creative space? I can understand if she would never look back on the Twilight series at all, for all the fame and fortune it created for her, only to end up like this.

Thus I am also saying goodbye to the Twilight Saga, knowing full well that the "officially disclosed" draft of Midnight Sun over the internet by Meyer herself would be the last of it. Ironically I can't decide whether to read the draft in my computer or not. Because of its very incompleteness, it has doubled if not quadrupled its value among us Twilight fans. But that is where it is most painful-- reading from page one, something which is no longer, and forever undone.

Sleepless in Bangkok

2009-03-24T15:39:00.000+08:00

Two dreams in two consecutive nights: The first one, I was sitting in the passenger front seat of a brown car. It feels as if I do not even know the driver, who is in a black leather jacket. Suddenly a motorcycle carrying two, also in black leather jackets and head bonnets comes to my side of the car, one gun pointing straight at my face. The second dream the following night finds me in the same car with the same driver, but the motorcycle riders, instead of pointing the gun at my face, insert the gun in the window and fire at something behind us. My knee tries to maneuver the window handle to slide the glass up and trap the hand with the gun. I fail in my efforts, the gun swerving to my face again....then I wake up. I thought "too hollywood, and I don't even get to see if the gunmen were cute".

A strange winter not experienced before in Thailand

2009-01-14T10:36:00.000+08:00

Kids, elderly at risk as several die from cold

Emergency declared in 41 provinces

By: BANGKOK POST REPORTERS

Published: 14/01/2009 at 12:00 AM

Newspaper section: News

Fear of hypothermia as a cold snap grips much of the country, resulting in several deaths, has forced authorities to warn the elderly and children to wrap up warmly.

Hypothermia is rare in a mainly tropical country like Thailand and authorities say those most at risk can be caught unawares when temperatures plunge unexpectedly.

Since a cold spell blew in from China last weekend, seven people have died of hypothermia caused by prolonged exposure to cold air or cold water. The number of fatalities might increase if the cold spell persists, said Yuwaret Sitthicharnbuncha, deputy head of Ramathibodi Hospital's faculty of medicine.

Children and the elderly living in the North and the Northeast are most at risk of hypothermia since their bodies are unable to maintain their core temperature in such harsh conditions.

Wearing warm clothes, staying close to the heater or bonfire as well as drinking plenty of water is recommended as a precaution against hypothermia, she said.

Last year, a baby in the North died of hypothermia according to the Public Health Ministry. Babies less than a year old have particularly low immunity. Cold weather could strike the respiratory system and the heart and cause shock.

Travellers and outdoor enthusiasts enjoying camping, fishing and boating should take precautions against hypothermia, she warned.

Meanwhile, the Interior Ministry has declared 41 provinces emergency areas because of the cold weather. Fifteen provinces are in the North, 18 in the Northeast, six in the Central Plains and two in the East.

In Phrae, residents in tambon Sob Pak in Wang Chin district are getting warm bath water from the natural hot spring managed by the tambon administration organisation.

The Sob Pak tambon administration organisation has also provided bathing facilities at the site for the villagers.

In Buri Ram, which is experiencing its coldest weather in a decade, many families complain the blankets distributed by the provincial authorities are too thin.

Pan Thippirom, 78, of tambon Chum Hed in Muang district, said the blankets were too short and of substandard quality. They were too thin to keep people warm.

His family has had to light a bonfire outside their house at night.

Some families in the tambon are demanding the authorities investigate the distribution of the blankets.

The weather bureau in nearby Nang Rong district forecast the average temperature in many areas would remain below 10 degrees celsius in the next three days.

Suwan Yuenyong, a village head in tambon Chum Hed, said winter clothing was in short supply in some villages and he has sought assistance from the province.

The cold spell has forced some fishermen and vegetable growers to stay indoors.

Why is there no public support for PAD?

2008-11-28T05:48:00.000+08:00

Fascist Thugs Terrorise Passengers at Bangkok International Airport

November 2008

Bangkok International Airport has now been closed by Fascist thugs from the anti-government PAD. The PAD are demanding that the elected government resigns. This is despite the fact that the government has the backing of the majority of the Thai population and even the majority of Bangkok citizens. This backing has been proven by repeated elections. The PAD want a dictatorship to replace democracy because they deem that the majority of the Thai electorate are too ignorant to deserve the right to vote. How did the PAD thugs manage to seize Bangkok International airport? Airports are supposed to be high security areas. Thai airports are controlled by the Thai military. It is obvious that the Thai military, who staged an illegal coup in 2006, have quietly supported the actions of the PAD. It is obvious that the military is unwilling to provide basic security to air travellers and air crew. But they are happy to rake in huge salaries associated with their control of the Airports Authority. Foreign governments and airlines should reconsider whether the authorities in Thailand are willing to provide international standards of safety and security.

Back in early October, the PAD thugs surrounded parliament to prevent the Prime Minister from making a policy speech. When the police used tear gas to try to disperse the PAD, the police were roundly condemned by the Thai media and most Middle-Class intellectuals. It is no secret that the PAD are armed with guns, bombs, knives and wooden batons. They constantly break the law with impunity. Earlier today PAD thugs were filmed by PBS ThaiTV, shooting at taxi drivers who were trying to defend their pro-democracy community radio station. The PAD thugs were holding up pictures of the King. Yesterday the PAD kicked and punched a senior policeman. The police are powerless to act.

The PAD is a Royalist Fascist mob which has powerful backing. Apart from the army, they are supported by the Queen, the so-called Democrat Party, the Courts, the mainstream media and most university academics. What these people have in common is a total contempt for the Thai electorate who are poor. They are angry that the Thai people voted for a government that gave the poor universal health care and other benefits. They want to turn the clock back to a dictatorship which they call "the New Order". They are hoping that the Courts will now dissolve the ruling party and that an authoritarian "National Government" will be set up.

It is clear that the PAD, the Military, the Democrat Party and the Conservative Establishment would rather see total chaos in Thailand rather than allow democracy to function. This is despite the fact that we face a serious economic crisis. Interestingly the anti-government groups are extreme neo-liberals with little grasp about how to deal with the economic crisis or how to stimulate the economy. Apart from opposing welfare, they have attacked Keynesian policies of the previous Thaksin government.

Where is the King in all this? Throughout the 3 year political crisis, the King has never attempted to diffuse the problem. Many Thais believe he supports the PAD, but it is more likely that the Monarch has always been too weak to intervene in any crisis.

Those who support democracy and social justice in Thailand must condemn the PAD and those advocating a dictatorship. We must be with the pro-democracy Red Shirts, while refusing to support ex-PM Thaksin, who has a record of Human Rights abuses. I hope that all those friends of Thailand abroad will support all our efforts to defend Thai democracy and to defend those of us who may face arrest in the future.

Associate Professor Giles Ji Ungpakorn

Chulalongkorn University, Bangkok

--
Giles Ji Ungpakorn
Faculty of Political Science
Chulalongkorn University
Bangkok 10330, Thailand
+66-(0)813469481
UK mobile:+44-(0)7817034432
http://www.pcpthai.org/
http://wdpress.blog.co.uk/
see YOUTUBE videos by Giles53

From a colleague who's well into her second pregnancy

2008-10-30T11:51:00.000+08:00

Our Essentials:

(Maya ANGELOU'S BEST POEM EVER)

A WOMAN SHOULD HAVE...

Enough money within her control to move out

Rent a place of her own even if she never wants

Or needs to ...

      A WOMAN SHOULD HAVE...

      Something perfect to wear if the employer or date of her

      Dreams wants to see her in an hour...

      A WOMAN SHOULD HAVE...

      a youth she's content to leave behind ...

      A WOMAN SHOULD HAVE...

      a past juicy enough that she's looking forward to

      Retelling it in her old age...

      A WOMAN SHOULD HAVE...

      a set of screwdrivers, a cordless drill, and a black lace bra...

      Lace bra

      A WOMAN SHOULD HAVE....

      One friend who always makes her laugh... And one who

      Lets her cry ...

      A WOMAN SHOULD HAVE....

      a good piece of furniture not previously owned by

 Anyone else in her family...

      A WOMAN SHOULD HAVE....

      8 eight matching plates, wine glasses with stems, and

   a      Recipe for a meal that will make her guests feel

      Honored...

      A WOMAN SHOULD HAVE ....

      a feeling of control over her destiny...

      EVERY WOMAN SHOULD KNOW...

      How to fall in love without losing herself...

      EVERY WOMAN SHOULD KNOW...

      HOW TO QUIT A JOB,

      BREAK UP WITH A LOVER,

      AND CONFRONT A FRIEND WITHOUT RUINING THE FRIENDSHIP...

      EVERY WOMAN SHOULD KNOW...

      When to try harder ... And WHEN TO WALK AWAY...

      EVERY WOMAN SHOULD KNOW...

      That she can't change the length of her calves,

      The width of her hips, or the nature of her parents...

      EVERY WOMAN SHOULD KNOW...

      That her childhood may not have been perfect ... But it's

      Over...

      EVERY WOMAN SHOULD KNOW...

      What she would and wouldn't do for love or more...

      EVERY WOMAN SHOULD KNOW...

      How to live alone ... Even if she doesn't like it...

      EVERY WOMAN SHOULD KNOW...

      Whom she can trust,

      Whom she can't,

      And why she shouldn't

      Take it personally...

      EVERY WOMAN SHOULD KNOW...

      Where to go...

      Be it to her best friend's kitchen table...

      Or a charming inn in the woods...

      When her soul needs soothing...

      EVERY WOMAN SHOULD KNOW...

   What she can and can't accomplish in a day...

      a month ... And a year ...

Vita Brevis (Life is Short)

2008-07-22T17:21:00.000+08:00

“Was I nothing more than a woman’s body to you? You know that is not true. And how can you distinguish between body and soul? Isn’t that bungling God’s work of creation? …When you clawed me with your sharp caresses, you were also tearing at my soul”.

-Floria, in her letter to St. Augustine, denying his confession that what they shared was merely lust

Jostein Gaarder’s Vita Brevis was based on letters he found in a second-hand bookstore. The letters were written by Floria Aemilia to a certain Aurel as she called St. Augustine, by that time a prominent Bishop. In her pained writings, she attacked the Church’s dogma about celibacy for the religious as an affront to the gifts of God, the gift to love and be loved. She agonized over St. Augustine’s confessions that his life of fornication included his life with her. She cried that her love kept him faithful and that they were living in happiness until the theologians decided that he should marry “abstinence”. She laughed at his invitation to abandon life’s pleasures in order to live a holy life. This, she maintained, could both be accomplished without wasting the beautiful world that God has given humankind.

“On the other side of the bridge we passed some vendors, and I stopped to look at a beautiful cameo. Then you bought it for me, and now, now I sit with it in my hand. I clasp it, tightly. So God will have to forgive me for holding on to the ‘physical’….But life is short and I know so little. What if there is no heaven above us, Aurel, imagine that this life is what we were created for!”

Fascinated by the lives of saints, I liked this ‘other’ side of a story. St. Augustine’s life is one of those drilled into Catholic girls’ minds during my schooldays. If they weren’t dead already, I’d like to throw this book at one of the nuns at St. Paul and ask them first, if it was really humanly possible to renounce all sensual feelings (apparently St. Augustine was ready to renounce the sense of smell), as was propagated during St. Augustine’s time, and not be considered ‘retarded’ today. And second, if the letters were to be believed that Augustine did in fact love only one woman and stayed with her albeit unmarried, that the Church may have been responsible for ripping a family apart (they had one son); and that this may have been the cause of tremendous trauma St. Augustine suffered during his “formation” (described by religious books as terrible bouts with the devil).

Floria cleverly cited Augustine’s wish to have all Songs of David removed from the Church. She correctly pointed the contradiction because the Songs extol everyone to laugh, sing, and dance in praise of God. Living in those times she was brave to reject the Church based on her criticisms to St. Augustine’s confessions. She claimed she already has her God who created her and he comes with no theologians who judge her happiness.

In Floria’s description of their life together, I wondered whether St. Augustine’s experience had been exaggerated by the Church to once more stress the sinfulness of sensual pleasure. Some confessions of St. Augustine quoted (translated) in the book, about the many women he took to bed, was questioned by Floria as perhaps mere boasting like of a young man among his friends. Floria thinks this may have been done to emphasize a misplaced guilt in the man. After all, wouldn’t she know whether he’s really experienced with women or not?

Towards the end of the book Floria unwittingly predicted a reality that was to claim thousands of women’s lives by the hand of the Church, when, upon meeting her (and sinning) again, Augustus beat her up and sent her away without seeing her son.

“I shiver, for I fear the day will come when women like me will be done away with by the men of the universal church. And why will they be done with, your Grace? Because they remind you that you have denied your own soul and gifts. And for whom? For a God, you all say, for him who created a heaven above you and also an earth which actually holds women who bring you into the world”.

Centuries later, the Catholic Church began the Inquisition, which tortured and killed millions of women throughout the Christian world.

Sex and the City, the Movie

2008-06-26T13:28:00.004+08:00

What struck me most was Samantha’s confession to Smith that she loves him but she loves herself more. This was after her disillusionment with the domestic life she had with “the one”. It grabbed me in its bold difference from the rest of Samantha’s friends’ dreams. She wanted to be with herself more than with the one she loves. This is honesty rarely heard of in my part of the globe. Indeed this is often considered selfish, foolish, and ‘whorish’ of her if she had been Asian. Yet I feel many women feel this way about their relationships. Even when they have the one perfect person, the life they shape with one another takes away from who they are. For majority of women I know, marriage IS shedding who you are. It is living for another forever. And if one loses oneself in the process this is considered a ‘necessary sacrifice’. No wonder so many married women grow bitter, insecure and judgmental towards others during the course of their married life. Somewhere in the back of their minds they remember what life was before the “sacrifice” yet are too ashamed to claim some of that life back.

Too often women had to see how marriage almost never changes anything for the husband, while it completely overturns the world of the wife. Indeed why should the husband go home immediately after work to a house he has been living in for twenty, thirty years? The furniture and spaces surely have not changed. Keeping house is almost automatically the responsibility of the wife. Except for the occasional chores, or during social functions or to watch the game, or indeed when there is an appointment with the wife in bed, what else is there in the house that needed getting home early to?

“I changed who I was for you”, said an angry Miranda to Steve. In order for them to get back together she had to forgive herself and her husband for that. I think this message makes the movie. It doesn’t pretend to predict a ‘happy ever after’ for the girls. It only provides glimpses of happiness from the choices that they make.

Again on the Iskolar ng Bayan

2008-06-16T11:30:00.000+08:00

Manila Standard

Friday, June 6, 2008

http://www.manilastandardtoday.com/?page=business6_june6_2008

Voyage

By Maya Baltazar Herrera

This week, I went to a meeting at the UP School of Economics and I came away with renewed belief in the value of the UP experience.

If you speak to anyone from UP—student, professor, alumnus—you will get no Latin slogans or apologies about how the school teaches values in spite of its outward materialism. This is not a student population that thinks about basketball games or memorizes school songs. This is not a school that chooses one statement to drill into the minds of its students.

This is not, of course, to say that UP does not care about values. It is that UP, in its own inimitable way, believes that values cannot be force-fed. The statue of the naked man that guards the entrance to the campus in Diliman best represents UP’s approach to all education and the respect for students that is the center of its educational philosophy. All who come to this university, regardless of origin, bring themselves naked, carrying nothing but their thirst; like the proverbial empty teacup, making an offering of self, waiting to be filled.

Adults

For many students from private schools, the first lesson that is learned here is that this is a school for adult education. There are no children here, and that is why no parents are allowed either at freshman orientation or during enlistment.

The spirit of the oblation lies not in a mother or a father offering up his child to the world, it is that of the newly adult, freely offering of his self.

I remember quite vividly that moment that drove home how different the UP education continues to be. It was my daughter’s first semester in university and she had invited a group of her high school friends to our house. One of them asked a classmate whether she had gotten her parents permission form approved for that weekend’s outreach activity. From the UP population around the table came the mock horrified responses of: “Permission?” and “Outreach?”

I thought about it and realized that all of these students were, in fact, legally adults. I thought it interesting that only the UP students appeared to appreciate this fact.

Even more interesting was the “outreach” comment. I think back to my own university years and the last three years that my daughter has been in UP and am certain there is no lack of civic activity. There are medical missions, house-building projects, tree planting, community work and barrio work and so on. I realize now that the reaction was not to the activity as much as it was to the use of the word.

One of the most important differences of the UP campus from all the other campuses my children considered going to is that this campus has no walls. Many parents fear this. They are afraid their precious children will not be protected from the ills of society in a campus that is so open to the rest of the world.

But UP is open to the world in more ways than just not having the physical walls.

Community

Being in UP means much more than being a student. This campus is enmeshed in a community. This community is made up not only of the transient population of students who go home each night. It includes the many, many students who lay their heads on dorm pillows each night, enduring time away from families in the firm belief that this campus will bring them closer to their dreams. This community includes the families of faculty and employees who live on campus. It also includes the many people who work not for the university, but nevertheless work on campus. This community includes the lady who remembers the brand of cigarette you smoke and automatically hands it to you in the morning. It includes the gentleman who remembers you like pepper on your egg sandwich or the one who knows you will dip your fish balls into two of his sauces, who patiently waits for you to eat your three sticks before being paid. It includes the woman who saw all her children through college by selling peanuts every day on campus.

To a UP student, the daily heartbeat of the school is never far away from the realities of the country. The word outreach suggests that civic activity is something outside of the normal, something you do once in a while. It must be immensely difficult to think of community as a thing apart when your campus experience brings you face to face with all of the world’s realities every day.

Character

All of this probably explains that unmistakable sense of self that you will find from students who come from this campus.

Here is a campus where all have the same opportunities to learn. But, also, here is a campus that will give all the same opportunities to fail. There are no guidance counselors who will chase after you because you have been skipping classes. The attitude this university takes is that you must take the initiative—for learning, for seeking help, for realizing you need help.

That is not to say that no help exists. But it is help that is not forced upon you.

This is a university rich in both introspection and conversation. On this campus, the student is constantly exposed to people—faculty, administrators, community members, other students—who care deeply and passionately about the world. The conversations are almost never purely cerebral. A single graph can provoke comments about government policy and its effects on people.

As a result, UP is home to a student population that looks at the world and cares. It is easy to see pictures of protesting students and dismiss it as radicalism. But there are few campuses in this country where students go beyond a passing curiosity about what is happening in the world beyond their own lives. There are even fewer universities where students not only care but also actually believe they have a responsibility to make a difference—not in some hazy future—today.

And that, I believe, is what truly forges character. Character is not molded by speeches or long classes in ethics or theology. Character grows from within. It begins by being handed the keys to your own self and being told you are in charge; you now have power over yourself and your own actions—and with that power, you take on responsibilities.

Each student in this university goes through his own unique voyage of discovery. On this voyage, as he decides what he cares about, what he will fight for and what he will sacrifice, he crafts his own personal values. That is what education is truly about.

Readers can e-mail Maya at integrations_manila@yahoo.com. Or visit her site at http://www.mayaherrera.com.

About your blog

2008-05-21T11:17:00.001+08:00

Got to read your blog. My reaction was one of
surprise because I assumed all along that you knew I
was gay (Totoo nga yata ang kasabihan na 'maraming
namamatay sa akala). But I did not feel like I was
obliged to announce it to everyone, though. And no, I
was not trying to cover this up by being 'macho' or
something. J and other friends in Bangkok know
about it.

T is deeply in love with someone else, and she
knows who I have fallen for. What you saw between us
is really just a closeness between two friends,
nothing more.

I was taken aback by your blog, and by the strong
emotions that were reflected in it, so I did not
contact you at once after I read about it. I was also
going through some emotional stuff myself because I
was then about to leave Bangkok, which has been a great
experience for me. What I will miss most are the
friendships I have made, including yours. I hope this
will not be damaged because of this obvious
misunderstanding.

Hope you are feeling a bit okay now. Please email
back.

Regards, R

Regular Coke

2008-05-12T18:56:00.002+08:00

10 May 2008

I often wondered each time I go to the gym why the Coke fridge is the first thing one sees displayed in the reception lobby. More than Coke monopolizing the gym market, I now have another answer.

Last night had been especially difficult for sleeping. I did not have a half-second of unconsciousness at all. As I rode the taxi home last night I knew this was to be expected after a particularly devastating disappointment. I organized a farewell karaoke party for a friend who was ending a research study after several months in Bangkok. What was supposed to be a chance for me to get more ‘up close and personal’ with this guy whom I’ve been attracted to for some time now, turned out to be quite a shocking turn of events because the man actually brought along a girl who was obviously crazy about him and came dressed nicely as if to indulge his last moments in the city. I met the girl weeks earlier when the man had coerced me into going to Sunday mass with him where apparently she also goes for Church services. Needless to say she completely ignored me after the polite introductions were done.

The fact that my friends suspected he might be gay made me furious with myself for not letting go right away and so ended up being slapped in the face with this awkwardness. For me the thousand dollar questions remained unanswered for life: “is he truly gay trying to cover it up by bringing along a smitten friend, or is he someone on his way to saying goodbye to Bangkok in the classic macho fashion?” As usual I vowed not to let it affect me but ended up tossing and turning in bed, growing more furious as I battled to nod off till the early dawn.

Last night I casually snubbed a last minute invitation by this friend to continue the party in Khao San road by saying I had an early morning gym session. The sleeplessness therefore added to my tension because I knew I can’t be able to do a decent workout if I did not get any sleep. It wasn’t my first late night party with gym the next morning.

It took my trainor two seconds’ glance at my face to know I will die that morning. He quickly adjusted the exercises by not adding the usual heavy weights. In the midst of a particularly sweat-drenched running exercise I kind of spilled my night’s torture. This was after he began telling me how his day started with a feeling of wanting to kill someone. “Me too!” I exclaimed. One thing about my expensive young hot trainor is that he quickly and unmistakably recognizes attraction and destruction in women. “Is it work? That’s why you had no sleep?” was the initial polite inquiry that gave options of one, answering gracefully like Aubrey Hepburn or two, bawling like Kathy Bates. He was clearly prepared for both.

“It wasn’t work, it was some asshole”, and then the dramatic misstep that made me loose a little footing. Realizing I was genuinely weak and not just trying to get out of a difficult exercise, he let me stop and rest. He urged me to entertain myself, relax and not to bother with it anymore. Because not many men are comfortable advising women about men, I felt grateful for this show of concern about my emotional well-being. But this meant that the session must end if I am to make it through the rest of the day. As I was signing out he bought me my first regular Coke drink in over five years. He said it’s an emergency energy booster as I clearly needed more sugar than usual. “And next time don’t come to work-out if you’ve had no sleep” he advised. I thought he was quite sweet to get me that Coke to renew my flagging strength. I didn’t reply that for a really shitty emotional state, the exercise somewhat helped my body to release the happy hormones.

So before showering I popped that Coke as if to save my life. My fatigue got me quite concerned as even my appetite was not working despite the workout and the fact that it was nearing lunch time. And sure enough, like an athlete who starved his body of carbohydrates several days before competition, then takes it in full measure to maximize its effects, the sugar and caffeine kicked in like a new drug. Hell, I even bought new training shoes to complement the energy boost.

And so I learned an important tip for that day. If I haven’t learned anything else this would be good enough for now.

Surin Island Underwater Paradise

2008-04-18T20:41:00.019+08:00

It takes a ten-hour bus ride to get to the Muslim-dominated province of Pha-nga. From here a large ferry takes one on a two-hour trip towards the island. Passengers are then transferred to smaller boats to reach the island itself, as big boats are not allowed near it lest they damage the corals. Koh Surin, a national park and sanctuary, sits south of the marine border of Thailand and Burma. Being on the Andaman sea it was one of the sites of the tragic tsunami that hit the country a few years back.

Additional trips to the Mogen sea gypsies community for selected toursists provide an opportunity to witness how the Thais have integrated them into society by giving them family names, a school, and some small business interaction with tourists. Several Mogen houses lined the beach if only to illustrate their way of life at sea. We were told the majority have moved inland since the tsunami.

The tour and dive guides are apparently all volunteers who were provided free food and transportation but without pay. I saw them picking up trash on the beach before everyone else awakes in the morning. They served food to the tourists. Many of them wore"Save Koh Surin" shirts that were not available in the souvenir shop. It makes perfect sense to have this kind of programme with travel agents, where young volunteers get to go along with tourists and educate them about the environment and life on the island while enjoying the trip at the same time. It's one of the more successful ecological tours I've known (the other one being the whaleshark diving trip in Donsol, Philippines) and I felt quite proud to take in more than the beautiful sights. I felt equally responsible for saving Koh Surin.

IF-- Cannes Palme D'Or 1969

2008-04-07T14:25:00.004+08:00

IF Midnight Cowboy won the Best Picture of the Oscars in my birth year, IF, by Director Lindsay Anderson is celebrated as the winner of the Cannes’ Palme D’Or of that same year. The film stars Malcolm McDowell before his Clockwork Orange fame. BBC Scotland’s feature of the film quoted British officialdom’s disdain of the film as “vulgar”. Actually if we show this to teenagers of today I’m sure many would find the narrative slow, the acting stiff and the dialogues dry, owing to a generation of films that followed, about teenage decadence that made the theme passe. To imagine how it scandalized British society of that era, I just recall my days at an exclusive girls Catholic College run by nuns. It really does create rebels.

Reel.com reviewed it thus:
Shot both in color and black and white, If …. is naturalistic and fantastical, as well as horrifying and comic, as it expresses the trio's experience of this arbitrary world. While a strong thread of homoeroticism runs through the film as the whips obsess over pretty Bobby (Rupert Webster) (though it is Wallace who captures the boy's attention with a slyly seductive gymnastics routine), But the strongest thread is violence, the soul-crushing routine violence, the hazings, bullying, and punishments (Mick and his friends are whipped, not for anything they do, but for their attitude) that make up campus life and the surreal war games the cadet corps play. Under these conditions, it should come as no surprise when Mick begins behaving in the manner that he looks when the movie begins, as a fellow student puts it, like "Guy Fawkes back from the dead."

A parallel was made of this film and the riots of May 1968 in Paris while another recalled a more recent Columbine College shooting similarity in the United States.

For my own shallow observation, having learned only through American school standards and thus utterly ignorant of the British boarding school system, the film blasted me to only one familiar setting: Hogwarts! There was the so-called Headmaster; there was the Head of House; professors in long black gowns, and even the gothic school architecture. Then there were the three misfits with their nemesis teacher and schoolmates. I won't be surprised if J.K. Rowling said IF was one of the inspirations for her famous series.

Photo by http://www.reel.com/

My Mulberry (tea) Nights

2008-03-21T13:29:00.007+08:00

UP Naming Mahal

2008-03-19T17:25:00.002+08:00

2008 marks the centennial anniversary of the University of the Philippines. This was where it all began for me. This was where I turned into who I am. The site that determined the path of my life. For many UP students this is where their eyes were opened to many realities, and many never looked back.

One of the earliest education in the university is about the UP Oblation, the statue which symbolizes selfless dedication to the people, without need for anything else but the search for knowledge in order to "serve the people". More than fifteen years since I finished my university studies I still strive to remain faithful to the ideals of the Oblation. It remains as my guide and my beacon.

The UP Hymn is memorized by every "iskolar ng bayan" but the meaning is only taken to heart by a few. It is the song that binds me to the reasons I am here.

UP Naming Mahal

U.P. naming mahal, pamantasang hirang

Ang tinig namin, sana'y iyong dinggin

Malayong lupain, amin mang marating

Di rin magbabago ang damdamin

Luntian at pula, sagisag magpakailanman

Ating ipagdiwang, bulwagan ng dangal

Humayo't itanghal, giting at tapang

Mabuhay ang pag-asa ng bayan

Mabuhay ang pag-asa ng bayan.

Incredible India

2008-03-12T17:53:00.005+08:00

From the food, the saris, transportation, music, and shopping. Whether it was 40+ degrees or not, the people and the places felt very warm and exciting.

Incredible indeed!

The Salsa Queens

2008-02-29T19:23:00.012+08:00

Flava, La Rueda, Siam at Siam, Fogo Vivo. These are salsa bars in Bangkok which I’ve never thought in my lifetime I would catch myself inside of, were it not for friends who have made these places their new church. There is never a visit to this city without salsa dancing. And I, being one of the gracious hosts of Filipinos living in Thailand who wouldn’t want to miss a chance to entertain visiting buddies, simply find myself hopping along to these places and then wondering why I went.

It wasn’t really my thing and I end up just sitting around and watching the whirl of dancers.

I love dancing. Not for anything professional, but I think I have enough passion to pull it off nicely, to enjoy the music moving my body. But this- salsa- poses a problem to my enjoyment of it. I can’t help feeling …“not independent”, “not free” to do my thing. Rules of “moving the right way”, “steps”, “following the lead” felt too controlling and macho for my taste, and so while friends gladly let themselves be led by whoever, I just drink and happily watch over the bags, in short- wallflowering. One time I was advised people in salsa bars generally ask anyone they fancy to the dance floor, and that it would be impolite to refuse, even if one could only manage simple steps (and there were guys who nicely danced like this with first timers among us). This made me tense and I've since learned not to accidentaly make eye contact with anyone outside our table.

But I enjoy seeing my friends especially with their Latino partners. They met a crowd of salsa goers who provide them a regular schedule of salsa nights in Bangkok. I just need to hint a bit that just because I go often enough, it doesn’t mean I’m looking for a Latino myself. Not my type. No inclination whatsoever….

Hm, now I wonder whether I’d ever get the chance to go to a regular bar again, like I used to do with single colleagues in my former office, and dance an ordinary dance, without the need for blowy skirts or fancy dresses, without the need for a lead.

Read the Book before watching the Film!

2008-01-23T18:40:00.000+08:00

"I had a wife. Her name is Hailey. She's gone. And so am I."

I enjoyed reading this book: laughing at the life that the main character is forced to lead after such a horrible loss, identifying with some of the torturous emotions that tore the man to pieces, understanding the viscious need to be left alone and knowing the difficulties of "getting back out there".

It's an explanation of how men generally deal with misery. It's something I'm sure none of my male friends would have shared with me. So it's good to know how they feel and the tendencies they take when they are in this phase. It's a great eye opener about real men also needing to cry.

I recommend it to my dearest friends.

Zac wears a different country code now

2007-11-21T20:02:00.000+08:00

As soon as I walked into the karaoke bar he took the remote and started lining up songs for me. Pretending it's my farewell concert for him, I sang a couple and got to order something for dinner. Funny when I spent the last six months in my home I never held a microphone nor thought of singing. It seemed that between my part time work, my mom's house and the gym I didn't need to draw a tune.
So it was fun to do again. I didn't care that new people were there, though Zac and Where were the original Thai colleagues from the first karaoke group that discovered my singing 'talent' so-called. Filipino friends just called it 'stress-busting'. This time there was no Sammy, Thess, Chian Yew, Anelyn or Pinoy. But having Zac there was enough. I was sort of glad Sam in particular was not there to harass the new interns.
And then it was over. Suddenly it was 1:00 am and the machine stopped lining up songs. Tsk, just when the Canadians were getting enough confidence to whip up some CCRs. Then came talk about what Zac would do as soon as he gets to the West, where he would live, the jobs he would take between school, where he would meet friends, who would support him there. He said he did not feel excited or happy. He simply felt anxious about leaving, and about all the packing and choosing winter clothes. I asked if he had wanted to go and he said he did. I warned him though that he would miss us terribly, and to make sure to keep in touch.
Zac is now in the airport, that is if he hasn't taken off already. I hope someone is seeing him off. I close my eyes and try to see him all wrapped up in his sweater talking to his friend or relative. I send him a hug with all my wishes of good luck and good fortune. I now realize that time in the karaoke party was the last time I will see Zac as he is now. When he comes back he will be a different person. He would surely be changed by his life there, away from all the things he's known for so long. When he comes back he'll be a different man. It brings a smile to my face but also sadness because he would've gone through some of the most difficult times in his life, meet some of the most rude people on the planet, and would surely have his heart broken there.
But he would certainly charm them out of their apathy. He'll make friends who will show him a good time and teach him how to survive in that urban jungle.
So bon voyage and all the best Zac. Here's to a grand adventure for you!

der sa pader

2007-11-07T18:10:00.000+08:00

in a restaurant in zamboanga city

Christopher Balneg, 21, poet, political prisoner

2007-10-08T13:55:00.000+08:00

BILANGGUAN
By : Christopher Balneg, 21 yrs.
La Union Provincial Jail

Mataas na bakod, kalawanging rehas
Pader na makapal, wari’y di matinag
Tanod de armas, sa lahat nakamatyag
Handang pumatay sa magtangkang kumalas.

Kayrami nang pangarap ang nilagay sa bartolina
Sa dilim at init halos di makahinga
OO nga’t kahit papaano’y nakakakain pa
Nguni’t kinabukasan at dangal ay halos mailibing na.

Hapdi ng kawalan ay lumalaganap
Sugat na idinulot ay di lang sa balat
Sa pagkatao ng masa’y walang habas ang pagyurak
Ng mga sakim na may-sala sa ating pagkakabihag.

Lipunang ginagalawan ay malaking bilangguan
Mataas na bakal ang pagitan ng mahirap at mayaman
Kalawanging batas ang nagsisilbing rehas
Hadlang sa pag-ahon sa kahirapang dinaranas.

Mamamayang bilanggo ng hirap at dusta
Apoy ng himagsikan
Pag-aalabin pa
Gupuin ang tanod ng pagsasamantala
Palayain lahat ng nagdurusa.

Bilangguang kinagisnan ay maglalaho din
Buong tatag ! Sama-sama !
Rehas ay putulin !

Tangan ang maso
Pader ay gibain
Bukas wala na ang bakod sa lupain.

Bukas wala na ang
Bilangguang mapang-alipin !

Where are they now, the brave monks of Burma?

2007-10-03T16:18:00.000+08:00

In the case of the recent crackdown of the peaceful protests in Burma, its military junta could be liable for investigation by the International Criminal Court under allegations of " attack directed against any civilian population", "extermination", "torture", "enforced disappearance" and "persecution" of the monks by the Bumese army. As of today more than 600 monks and 2,000 others are unaccounted for, mostly considered by the Asian Human Rights Commission as disappeared with serious possibilities that they are being tortured.

Buddhist monks are revered as the highest moral authority in Burma. They gave courage to Burmese people to come out in the streets again after more than a decade of silence and tolerance. Reports cite the skyrocketing cost of living as the main reason for the protests but the monks also wanted Daw Aung San Suu Kyi freed. The leader of the party overwhelmingly voted in Burma's only democratic elections in 1990 had been prevented from taking office together with elected parliamentarians from the National League for Democracy.

To put pressure on China, Burma's only supporter, to force it to end martial law and free Suu Kyi, there are calls from the west for a boycott of the 2008 Olympics. Petitions to this effect are circulating. Many believe it is now or never for Burmese democracy, with the last vestige of tolerance in protest over the military junta and therefore being exterminated themselves, who else would stand up to the junta?

But people say there is too much hardship to sustain any action, and people are starving so much that protesting with the monks meant that they had nothing left to lose but their very lives. This makes me very sad to the point of restless sleep. Surely people from around the world must help! We must stand up for them if they are crippled with hunger already. I've seen it done before, I believe it can be done again.

And so the struggle continues....

Have cause, will persevere

2007-10-02T15:47:00.000+08:00

Quote for the day:

"It is the plan of the institution which asks (non-staff) members to partake in. It would be nice to have the members participate in the planning too"-- Manny Guzman

Martial Law 35 years ago

2007-09-27T20:26:00.000+08:00

Manila, Philippines-Last Sept 21 as the world celebrated the International Day of Peace, human rights advocates here remembered the declaration of martial law 35 years ago by the late strongman Ferdinand Marcos. The Task Force Detainees of the Philippines (TFDP), one of the oldest human rights groups in the country commemmorated the lives of martyrs and heroes of that period by inaugurating a Martial Law Memorial Wall. It was a solemn and quiet event, but it brought together some of the human rights advocates we thought would never meet again. It really reminded me that we may have our differences and our lives could branch apart, but we will always have those memories of the dark past and our common love for those who sacrificed themselves, to bind us together.
The Martial Law Memorial Wall can be seen at 45 Saint Mary Street Cubao Quezon City, Philippines. TFDP's telephone numbers are +632 437-8054

Don't miss it again

2007-09-05T15:11:00.000+08:00

Repeat performance of Binky Lampano

Sept 12 Wednesday, Bistro 70s

There should be an alarm of some sort for when he is here in the Philippines

Catalina Manglinong (1916-2007)

2007-07-23T09:52:00.000+08:00

Lola Taling died in her sleep last Sunday. Her granddaughter, a good friend of mine, said there was hardly any pain- just a little difficulty in breathing, and then she was gone. The doctors at the hospital where she was taken could hardly find any cause of death other than a mild stroke. Well, she was 90 years old. Lola Taling’s lifeless face seemed to be smiling in a contended sleep. As if she didn’t mind leaving us at all. I told my friend that I don’t want to grow that old but if I did, I’d like to go that way too. Happy, fulfilled, and well-loved.

I first met Lola Taling when I ran away from home after a particularly bad fight with my mother. Ten years would pass before I’d make up with my mother again. I sought refuge at my friend’s house, where she was staying with her lola, four siblings and a dog. It was my first sojourn into life outside my parents’ house. My fascination about how different other people were brought up was equaled only by my astonishment at how they could survive in a house with no responsibilities, no rules, and no order. As a result laundry piled in one corner outside the bedrooms, dishes piled in the kitchen sink, sometimes visited by a rat, and dirt gathered all over the house. The fact that their parents were abroad trying to find enough income to sustain them aggravated the individualistic attitude among my friend’s siblings. My friend’s sister even brought her own supplies to the bathroom, and kept them when she’s finished.

The thread that kept the family together was Lola Taling, whose pension money from the Veteran’s fund provided enough for three square meals a day and paid the bills. Everything else was left to each’s creative devise. My friend’s siblings were working students but money always seemed to be short. I and my friend already had full time jobs so I shared in the marketing, groceries and cooking. Lola does the laundry, cooking, cleaning and the occasional reprimanding. Despite all the hardships Lola Taling managed to provide motherly care and concern for all of us. Whenever we were alone she’d ask me why I ran away from home or what my family was like. She never quite believed that my parents could be so harsh on us. “But then again, maybe that’s what it takes…” she’d half-whisper, looking at the dust all around her.

Lola Taling never criticized my lifestyle, and always believed one could be happy with one’s life choices. She had a sweet laugh and gentle hands. She never turned away guests, even when unexpected. She always accommodated relatives in trouble, and gave what little money she could afford to lend. She started getting depressed when one by one her own siblings or friends died. She’d go to her hometown in Santa, Ilocos Sur to recuperate, and then get right back to being our dear old Lola. Sometimes she’d play sick and ask for a box of prunes, which I’d readily buy for her at the local grocery store.

When I was able to afford my own studio room near the university I said goodbye to Lola Taling and left the house. But I’ve never forgotten the prunes Lola loved, and I always remembered her whenever I see a box at the grocery store or on a table. Somehow I thought I could always buy her a box one of these days when I wasn’t busy, until I went abroad to work for several years. There was only one Christmas party a couple of years ago at my friend’s new house where I saw Lola Taling again. That time my friend’s parents were already back in the country and had bought the house. That was the last time I would talk to Lola Taling. She had almost forgotten me.

Watching the video prepared by my friend at Lola Taling’s wake I realized that Lola truly had one happy and fulfilled life. She was loved by all her grandchildren and great grandchildren. Not many people die in their own quiet glories but Lola did. And she will be missed.

For all my fab female friends!

2007-06-01T17:24:00.000+08:00

from Corinne Bailey Rae....

Three little birds sat on my window and they told me I don’t need to worry
Summer came like cinnamon, so sweet,
Little girls double-dutch on the concrete.
Maybe sometimes, we’ve got it wrong but it’s alright,
the more things seem to change, the more they stay the same.
Oooh, don’t you hesitate
Girl put your records on, tell me your favourite song,
You go ahead let your hair down.
Sapphire and faded jeans, I hope you get your dreams,
Just go ahead let your hair down
You’re going to find yourself somewhere, somehow.

Blue as the sky, sunburnt and lonely, sipping tea in a bar by the roadside…
Just relax, just relax, don’t you let those other boys fool you.
Got to love that afro hairdo
Maybe sometimes, we feel afraid but it’s alright
The more you stay the same, the more they seem to change
Don’t you think it’s strange….

…twas more than I could take,
Pity for pity’s sake, some nights kept me awake
I thought that I was stronger,
When you going to realize that you don’t even have to try any longer?
Do what you want to, girl
Just put your records on

BUTANDING is the local name for Whale shark

2007-04-18T17:34:00.000+08:00

Pictures and signs at the tourist center run by the local government of Donsol, Sorsogon, World Wildlife Fund (WWF) and the community's NGOs refer to the marine adventure that draws thousands of tourists during summer season as "Swim with Whalesharks" experience. The "swim" part for snorkellers and divers mean the "ability to move away at a sudden change in direction or speed of the Whale Shark in order to avoid being smacked by the tail or dorsal"... and such other skills which would allow one to safely navigate the waters while seeing, because of the sheer size of the creature, only half of the Whale Shark at a time.

Not to worry, the tourist center is professionally run and provides each boat with a skipper, a spotter, and a Butanding Interaction Officer (BIO), whose job is mainly to help tourists get down into the water for a first hand look at the fish up close, steer the diver along strong currents, and, especially when one could not anticipate it, pull the diver away when the whaleshark makes a turn.

Butandings cast big shadows on the surface of the water so people can see them coming. The gentle creatures, although fully capable of overturning the boats, glide ever so quietly past them like submarines, in full view of those on the boat, as if they are so used to ogling crowds. Only the brave dare to go in and swim with them. Reminders that Butandings are wild marine creatures in their own environment, impose the sense that swimming with them is strictly an adult activity. But even adults are overwhelmed. Touching or riding Butandings are strictly prohibited although with their massiveness I cannot imagine anyone would dare.

The Lenten Holidays would be the busiest time for the Butandings as local and foreign tourists crowd the sea. Each boat allows 8 persons and each Butanding can only be followed by one boat at a time so as not to disturb them much. In peak seasons, 25 boats are allowed at sea for 3 hours at a time or shorter, to give the rest of the waiting tourists their chance. Each boat is guaranteed at least 3 sightings of Butandings-- that's how many they are during the feeding months of January to May. Taking turns diving in for that one-on-one experience with the gentle giant would be the best way to do it.

It goes without saying that Butandings are deep sea fish and therefore going out to see them means swimming in really deep waters. Fins help one to swim faster and goggles help one to see better, as plankton-rich waters of Donsol can be quite dense.

It was literally breathtaking, seeing it live. I had difficulty breathing with my equipment and I almost gave up the second and third dives because seeing one up close always shook my senses, my danger alarms keep going off, and my struggle against the "flight" instinct kept me from calmly observing the thing. Strangely, as if aware that "this one near my tail is not a fish but a human trying to swim straight and avoid my drift" the Butandings I swam with were never aggressive. When our four-year old boat-mate wanted to see what the fuss was all about, we lowered him into the water but didn't submerge him. As if curious to see what it was too, one baby Butanding, all nine meters of it, even swam by the boat, its tail showing above the water. Scared the shit out of our four-year-old of course, but we were all awed by this seeming generosity on the part of the whale.

All in all the experience was astounding. The tourist center claimed the Swim with Whalesharks as the best nature interaction adventure in the world. They even give out certificates indicating how many sightings each swimmer had. Outside the main reception office there are shops that sell shirts and souvenir items. Like the spotters, skippers and BIOs, these are local residents making a living when the fishing season is out. It's a big contribution to purchase something to help the local economy at the same time disseminate awareness about the delicate balance of life in these waters on which the existence of Whale Sharks depends.

Forum-Asia: 2000-2006

2007-03-18T10:24:00.000+08:00

I have reached an impasse in my packing. I no longer have any idea which item should go in what box. I have thrown away unused stuff, most of which at the time I acquired them seemed to be very important. For almost the whole week I’ve flipped between CNN, Star Movies, and HBO-the only English channels on my limited cable tv- watching half of Contact, Strange Days, Assault on Precinct 13, Myth of Fingerprints, etc. while stripping my walls bare and my cabinets empty. The more precious DVD films remained unwatched.

I’ve always hated packing. I always discover I have more things than I originally thought. At some point I need to decide what sentiments attached to what possessions are worth taking home, and which ones are the goodbye things. Strange that this is not so difficult when it comes to my colleagues: Anselmo, Rashid, Pia, Miwa and Ruchi are easily goodbye things. Heidi, Ruki, Zac and Sammy would be good to keep in touch with, and Chian, Susan, Rod, Victor, and Ed the ones I’d miss most.

A young staff asked me what the hell went wrong that such a mud slide of resignations of staff should happen. I could not give any one explanation as matters have reached a level of hostility and complication which may confuse him further. Yet I urged him to stay on, and learn the most that he can from the organization: the networks and alliances, issues and advocacies, initiatives and mechanisms, limitations and strengths of NGOs. These are valuable background which he needs to establish his perspective in this kind of work, despite his own frustrations within the secretariat.

As for myself, looking back at the organization I worked with for six years, I see not much has changed within us, or outside the larger world we engage in. Especially within the organization, there was still one man in charge of all matters at work; unaccountability over funds and strategies; program staff still didn’t know what the others are doing; decision-making is still non-transparent and unilateral, and the organization’s leadership are still very much engrossed with their individual gains from their friendship with the Executive Director. It’s sadly the same dog with a different leash, as we say in the Philippines.

Iin the last last two years I realized my Executive Director is in the dirty war international NGOs wage internally and externally to gain political advantage, just like any corporate boss. Lately my colleagues took to reading Dilbert comic strips to laugh about our situation. My Executive Director demonstrated that none of the strategic plans, collective management and responsible assessments matter so long as one knows the tricks to play with funders, partners and co-workers.

It’s hard to work with people like that especially when I consider myself from a grassroots background where precision and well-planned work meant the difference between concrete gains for the people and utter loss of confidence by them. Naively perhaps, I expected civil society colleagues to be at least sincere, with a genuine will to help even when skills are lacking. But Rashid justified this reality: international NGOs are in competition for funding and respect which make any means necessary to achieve this end; that NGO funding comes from the same source that exploits and aggresses on the poor economies and support militarism worldwide; that it was necessary to play and play hard to keep ahead-- and it was “better us with the money than others”. It seemed to make sense at the time but I think only to a certain extent.

So now stopping dead in my tracks, like the impasse I've reached with my packing, I told a long-time friend “I’ve got to re-wire my brain to understand again that I am still trying to make a change.” Thus to go forward I need to go back to where it all started- with friends and family and the life choices I've made a long time ago.

300

2007-03-15T21:27:00.000+08:00

Hot Damn! When did history lessons get to be so sweet?

Quick Get-away

2007-03-13T14:48:00.000+08:00

Pla smelled grilled seafood shortly after choosing a spot to sit at. Aside from being a favorite picnic area, the reservoir in Mae Sot province seemed an ideal swimming place for foreigners. The water was very inviting if one won’t mind the cold mountain breeze. But being a place away from the sea, grilling seafood seemed the ultimate feast. Pla was clearly torn between ignoring the food and introducing herself to the locals for some bite.

“Hmp, it might not even be fresh…” was her self-resolution. This helped her to pretend it’s not there at all. Pla flicked her brochure open. “This waterfall is on the way to the border area. We can swim.” she started. “How much to rent a car to go to the camp?” I asked as if I didn’t care for the waterfall. “Not much. I could share.” Pla was more into the swimming so I suggested going to the waterfall after the camp, on the way back to town.

The next day was my first refugee camp visit in Thailand. The last refugees I remembered seeing were in Palawan, Southern Philippines, where so-called “boat people”- refugees reaching the Philippines by boat- used to live. But that was hardly a ‘refugee camp’. It looked more like a settlement. Back then, Vietnamese refugees in the Philippines were completely free to roam around the city, establish businesses, and integrate with the local population. Their children were even partly supported to go to school. That was more than twenty years ago. I don’t know whether they are still there or had gone back to Vietnam or moved on to the US.

This Karen camp near the border was like a fenced in WWII prison camp where bamboo huts and thatched roofs, wholly supplied by international humanitarian agencies, crowd each other behind twisted barbed wires. Food was brought in by aid groups as well. I asked if they did some planting but Pla said they needed land for that. The most they have are small patches of garden where vegetables for house consumption were grown.

Karen refugees are not allowed to work legally in Thailand. This camp alone has immobilized more than 1000 families, so that all they could put up were small stores and handicraft shops which could not be accessible to shoppers in Mae Sot unless they intentionally visited the camp. Still I observed some activity here and there. Sunday church, laundry washing and houses being built. Volleyball and basketball courts were empty, ice cream and other refreshments were being sold, but there weren’t many buyers.

The children were very small. Yellow powdered faces wore ready smiles for any English speaking visitor but they had very small voices and very small frames for their age. Pla started giving away sweets and pencils. Pla is one of the paralegals providing training to refugees on the laws of Thailand. Her country is not a party to the refugee convention but it has a lot of bilateral agreements with neighboring countries. She is learning Karen, and has to wear Karenni shirts to be able to train more effectively. She said more than 60% of her classes are male. The few women there always had to leave early to prepare for the meals of the day.

Khun Bom, our driver, is from far northern Mae Sariang, a very skilled driver who knows the various routes where refugees enter Thailand. He can get them and secure their safe delivery to the camps quickly. He doesn’t tell me any details but it was easy to see his popularity among some of the refugees. Tea is abundant where he stops.

In one of the few open snack benches in the camp, Pla didn’t eat her roti because it was too oily. She took time stirring the milk at the bottom of her tea. I didn’t take the milk tea at all. I preferred the clear tea beside it, which went well with the roti. At another table sat some Karens which Pla guessed were on security duty, and another had youths discussing the next game. Pla once mentioned that they used to beat up Burmese suspected of spying in the camps. How they are able to enter and spy in the highly guarded camp, or how they were able to distinguish Burmese from Karens, I did not ask.

Aside from the milk tea and roti, we had fried bread as well, and clear tea each. All in all it was only forty baht. “Where was the profit in that?” I asked. “They didn’t work, remember?” Khun Bom reminded that it might as well have been a friendly visit to an old friend’s house on a Sunday afternoon.

Pla was disappointed to have to swim alone in the Nam Tok Pacharoen that afternoon. Sundays were usually spent with families inside their homes so the few swimmers there were couples. Pla refused to waddle in the water with no one to talk to. I suggested climbing the falls instead. To get to the top I had to use the foot trail ala-Indiana Jones. I don’t know why I did not swim although I loved the water. I felt a depression which made me half-regret visiting the camp first before the waterfalls. Pla made up for the short swim by eating a whole half-kilo of very sweet mangoes grown right at the park grounds. They were really heavenly (next to the Philippine species of course) and she wished she brought some ice and her mother’s blender.

My weekend visit was almost finished. On the way back to town we stopped by a couple of rose gardens. Pla bought some for her house, where her mom runs a restaurant. She knew right away which my choices were because her daughter always went for the bright colors. Her mom’s cooking was the favorite in the village. Most of the houses there were rented by international humanitarian organizations in Mae Sot so they easily cornered the market. For a while, I tried my hand at waitressing, but found that the locals were more shy with foreigners serving at their tables, so that’s the end of that career option. Later that night I wanted simple
fried rice but somehow they managed to make it a special meal for us.

In the morning I said goodbye to Pla and her mom with a sincere invitation to visit me in the Philippines. It was the one time Pla’s motorcycle conked out, maybe because it didn’t want me to go… but my empty apartment and new laptop awaits in noisy and complicated Bangkok, so we persisted. Pla took her mom’s much smaller motorcycle and, balancing my pack in the front and my weight in the back seat, we reached the station and exchanged hugs. She was on her way to work so she didn’t stay long. I whispered a quick goodbye to the Karens and Khun Bom, and prepared for the eight hour-trip back with a bottle of water, my lunch coupon and cheese sticks.

Crossing borders for gourmet helpings

2007-03-12T23:48:00.000+08:00

Tomato Salad Burmese Style

Ingredients:

Tomato (5 medium)

Onion (4 medium)

Ground Nut Powder (1/2 teacup)

Lime (1 big)

Leek (4 plants)

Vermicelli noodles (1 1/2 teacups)

Salt and sugar (to taste)

Chinese soy sauce (1 tablespoon)

Oil (4 tablespoons)

Instructions:

Take out seeds from the tomatoes and cut in any shape

Slice the onion and divide into 2 parts- one part for frying in oil

Heat ground nut and pound to make powder

Cut leeks into little rings

Fry vermicelli noodles till crispy

Mix everything together and place the crispy vermicelli on top

Makes 2 plates

Karen Pumpkin Curry

Ingredients:

Pumpkin (1/2 kilo)

Lemongrass (3 plants)

Onion (3 medium)

Garlic (1 clove-big)

Red Chili Powder ( 1 teaspoon)

Basil (2 plants)

Lime (2 pieces)

Pepper powder (1 teaspoon)

Turmeric (1/2 teaspoon)

Salt (1/2 teaspoon)

Sugar (1 teaspoon)

Oil (1/2 teacup)

Water (4 teacups)

Instructions:

Cut up pumpkin into small cubes

Pound lemongrass and twist into a knot

Pound the onion and the garlic

Put everything in a large saucepan

Add water and bring to a boil

Reduce the fire and allow to simmer until the pumpkin is soft and the oil comes to the surface

in about 15 minutes

Makes 5 servings

From "Momo and Bobo's Kitchen Cookbook", Borderline Tea Garden near Thai-Burma border; Mae Sot, Tak, Thailand. All dishes are vegetarian.

A Life of Struggle?

2007-02-22T12:14:00.000+08:00

The stranger said “when I meet people like you—and I do meet people like you from time to time—I can’t help thinking that you are only captains and majors. Beginners on the first rung of ascension. Don’t mind it. I have been in the movement, in all movements if you prefer, for thirty years, and I see no reason why I can’t go on for another thirty. If you are on your toes all the time you can’t be caught. That’s why I think of myself as a general. Or if you think that is too boastful, a brigadier.”

Willie said “How do you spend your time?”
“Avoiding capture, of course. Apart from that I am intensely bored. But in the middle of this boredom the soul never fails to sit in judgement on the world and never fails to find it worthless. It is not an easy thing to explain to outsiders. But it keeps me going”

Willie said “How did you start?”
“In the classical way. I was at the university. I wish to see how the poor lived. There was a certain amount of excited talk about them among the students. A scout for the movement—there were dozens of them around—arranged for me to see the poor. We met at a railway station and traveled through the night in a third class coach on a very slow train. I was like a tourist, and my guide was like a travel courier. We came at last to our poor village. It was very poor. It had never occurred to me to ask why my guide had chosen this particular village or how the movement found it. There was no sanitation, of course. That seemed a big thing then. And there was very little food. My guide put questions to people and translated their replies for me. One woman said ‘There has been no fire in my house for three days.’ She meant she hadn’t cooked for three days and she and her family hadn’t eaten for three days. I was immediately excited. At the end of that first evening the villagers sat around a fire in the open and sang songs. Whether they were doing that for us or for themselves, whether they did it every evening I never thought to ask. All I knew was that I passionately wished to join the movement. The movement at the time, the movement of thirty years ago. That was arranged for me by my guide. It took time. I left the university and went to a small town……”

As soon as I saw the village I saw the house of a big landlord. It was a big house with a neat thatched roof. The poor people didn’t have neat thatched roofs. Their eaves were untrimmed. The big landlord was the man I had to kill. It was quite remarkable, on my very first day seeing the house of the man I had to kill….I wasn’t to kill him myself. I was to get some peasant to do it. That was the ideology of the time, to turn the peasants into rebels, and through them to start the revolution. And would you believe it, just after seeing the house in the darkness I saw a peasant coming back from his work, late for some reason….he invited me to his hut. When we got there he offered me his cowshed. It is the classic story of the revolution…

I talked to my host about his poverty and his debt and the hardness of his life. He seemed surprised. Then invited him to kill his landlord. I was pushing it, don’t you think? My first night and everything. My peasant simply said no. I was actually quite relieved…What my peasant said was that he depended on his landlord for food and money for three months. To kill the landlord, he said, giving me some of his own wisdom in exchange for my theories, would be like killing the goose that laid the golden egg. His speech was full of sayings like that. I ran away as soon as I could the next morning. It’s a classic revolutionary story…. But I persevered. And here you see me, thirty years later. Still going among the peasants with that philosophy of murder.”

Willie said “How do you spend the day?”
“ I am in somebody’s hut. I have spent the night there. No worries about rent and insurance and utilities. I get up early and go to the fields to do my stuff. I have got used to it now…I go back to the hut, have a little of the peasants’ food. I read for a while: Marx, Trotsky, Mao, Lenin. Afterwards I visit various people in the village, arranging a meeting for some future date… I return. My host comes from the fields. We chat. Actually we don’t. It’s hard to talk. We don’t have anything to say to one another. You can’t make yourself part of the life of the village. After another day or two I am off. I don’t want my host to get tired of me and tip me off to the police. In this way everyday flows past, and everyday is like every other day.

Excerpt: MAGIC SEEDS by V. S. Naipaul 2004

Lop Buri Sunflower Farm 2 Dec 2006

2007-01-22T17:34:00.000+08:00

What's a girl to care
with so many flowers in her hair
and the laughter of friends in the high noon's sun
filling earth's valley of yellow and green

They said you looked like me when I was a baby...

2007-01-11T13:59:00.000+08:00

The milky way upon the heavens,

Is twinkling just foryou

And mr. moon, he came by,

To say goodnight toyou.

I sing for you, I sing for mother,

We're praying for the world,

And for the people everywhere

Gonna show them all we care

Oh mysleeping child, the world's so wild,

But you build your own paradise

That's one reason why I cover you sleeping child.

If all the people around theworld

They had a mind like yours,

We'd have no fighting and no wars,

There's be lasting peace on earth.

If all the kings and all the leaders

Could see you here this way,

They would hold the earth in their arms

They would learn to watch you play.

Oh my sleeping child the world's so wild

But you build your own paradise,

That's one reason why I cover you sleeping child.

When tears won't come

2006-11-19T23:36:00.000+08:00

CANDY

cry your eyes out

Sumaging Cave, Sagada

2006-11-03T16:03:00.000+08:00

Jeni,
Buti nagawa na natin habang bata pa tayo...... baka hindi na kayanin ng katawan nating ulitin pa ito.

I-N-S-O-MNIA

2006-10-19T04:40:00.000+08:00

Matulog ka naman nice, ang laki pa naman ng topak mo kapag di ka makatulog!

CBC Documentary on War Photographers

2006-10-18T11:34:00.000+08:00

4/12 CBC Documentary: BEYOND WORDS:
"[In Liberia] they stripped this man down to his underwear and we realized that they were going to execute him. It happened so fast.As I developed these pictures I thought: I hope these pictures come out because they're going to be very dynamic images. But I also felt physically sick because someone had just been murdered in front of me. I wanted for my own sense of ego to please my bosses and my organization, but on the other hand it was at the expense of a man's life." - CORRINE DUFKA

The film describes how war journalism and photography wreck one's sense of humanity as war photographers become equally shell-shocked at what they've seen. It reveals how working in war zones made them into depressed and introverted people. Adrenalin rushes freak their systems, images they've captured mess with their heads for years, some ended up divorced and live secluded lives. A few have given up the job entirely. One felt there's no more peace for them even after the war is over. You could see it in their sad aura...

Corrine filmed this video of a young man shot at the back, and lying down on the ground trying to grasp some more air, was approached by one gunman and shot in the head. All in one frame...blood spattered on the ground.

The documentary is a moving piece of history about people we never see, people that shoot the headlines. "If one person is moved into action, into doing something, then our job is done, and well done."

Bishop Alberto B. Ramento, PIC- killed in his Parish

2006-10-08T12:02:00.000+08:00

"Death's grip can break our bodies, not our souls; If death take him, I too know how to die. Let Fate do with me what she will or can; I am stronger than death and greater than my fate; My love shall outlast the world, doom falls from me Helpless against my immortality."

-Savitri

Remembering one Martial Law while living in another

2006-09-21T19:06:00.000+08:00

34th Anniversary of Martial Law in the Philippines: Ongoing Murder Spree Against Activists Underscores a Chilling Blast from the Past

Filipinos associate September 21 with one of the darkest periods in Philippine history. On this same day in 1972, the Marcos regime imposed martial law. It took 14 years of struggle to end the dictatorship’s assault on political freedoms and democratic rights. More than three decades on, however, we find our country once more confronting authoritarian rule, with no less than President Gloria Macapagal Arroyo undermining the democracy and rule of law Filipinos had fought for. State-sponsored terrorism is again rearing its ugly head in Philippine society.

Amnesty International says there have been at least 51 political killings in the Philippines in the first half of 2006 alone. Philippine-based human rights groups say that, in fact, since Arroyo took over the presidency 2001, the Philippines has suffered no less than 1,000 extrajudicial killings of community leaders including indigenous activists, student and labor activists, and journalists. The regularity with which the killings have taken place, the perpetrators’ common profile—all gun-toting men astride motorcycles--and the activist-backgrounds of the victims, suggest that “the attacks are not an unconnected series of criminal murders but constitute a politically-motivated pattern of killings,” says Amnesty international.

Indeed, blame for this frightening trend can only be lain squarely on the shoulders of the Arroyo government. Under her presidency, militarists have come to dictate peace and security policy in the country. Meanwhile, the failure of the government—from the executive to the police, military, and the courts—to punish those behind the murder spree have created a climate of impunity that further feeds into a cycle of violence and lawlessness that is spinning out of control.

The regime cannot simply feign helplessness. In the face of targeted murders that take place with almost predictable regularity, and mindful that few of the perpetrators are actually caught, much less brought to justice, it is a thin line that divides passivity and complicity.

Since February 1986 when we rose as a people to end Marcos’s rein of terror, there has been no fundamental change in Philippine society. Our experience with democratic struggles and today’s mockery of it show that we need to pursue structural changes to rid our society of injustice and inequity, alongside fighting for pro-people and democratic governance. We can no longer be content at democracy being simply the restoration of elite competition for political power. History has shown that these very same elites—those who draw support from foreign powers and state instrumentalities of coercion and violence, namely, an unreformed military—have only been too willing to put aside democratic institutions to pursue personal gains.

Arroyo’s pledge is to build a “strong republic,” yet it is creeping lawlessness, mass despair, and widespread corruption that are defining her rule. She is seeding an environment that is troublingly familiar, and that bears indictment on this particular day. More than three decades on, the shades of martial law are undeniable.

And so today, we, members of the Strategic Initiatives of Pinoys Abroad (SIPA) commemorate the 34th anniversary of the declaration of martial law, to draw lessons from the past as well as to express our commitment to ensuring that its tragedies and injustices will never come to pass again.

We demand an accounting of the Arroyo regime’s crimes against the Filipino people, and affirm the solidarity of overseas Filipinos (OFs) with our compatriots at home who continue to fight against tyranny, poverty, and illegitimate governance. On this day we remind ourselves that it remains the patriotic duty of each Filipino overseas worker to participate in the struggle for a just, free, and progressive Philippine society.

September 21, 2006
Thailand

old chinese curse

2006-09-20T20:39:00.000+08:00

may you live in exciting times.

ayam goreng

2006-09-06T13:04:00.000+08:00

sayang naman prambanan and borubudur

Don't grow up too fast sweetie....

2006-08-03T19:12:00.000+08:00

I'll see you soon....

Still cuts me wide open

2006-07-21T11:12:00.000+08:00

Slowly, stories of things past are casually recalled by friends. Years after, they still catch me by surprise and cut me open just like victims in horror movies. They are stories that they kept hidden when we were still together. When I was an idiot. Now they come out in drunken laughter and foolish banter.

I also joke about old comrades who couldn't keep their pants on, completely forgetting their past relationships, then turns out I cut someone else too.

Air China to Mongolia

2006-07-07T10:47:00.000+08:00

Air China is always a disaster when you fly it to Mongolia. From Bangkok your day will start with a two and a half-hour flight delay from 1 to 3:30 in the morning. If you happen to have a connecting two hours in between, you will surely miss it. Hence a ground staff will meet you upon your exit to the Beijing airport, telling you to stay put in halting English. The Air China staff tells you a lot of other stuff in Chinese but the only understandable thing is "please wait a moment". And then the lot of you are escorted to the immigration- not transit- counter, where you need to fill out and present before the immigration officer one entry card into China, a customs form and a departure form. But if you missed your flight and have no indication in your ticket that you are connecting to a later flight, the official will look for a visa, which of course you would not have because you were not planning on entering or staying in China.

So, without a valid onward ticket and no visa you will not be allowed inside the main airport area where you are supposed to arrange either an onward flight or a night in town. You will turn to your Air China staff (by this time there are several of them attending to other passengers of delayed flights from somewhere else) and ask them to speak to the immigration officer.

The immigration officer will argue with the staff and then turn to you to say "I told your attendant that if he cannot handle this situation, I shall call the manager of this airline to supervise the situation, would you like me to do that?"

They will speak some more and at length, none of which will be shared with you. "Er, yes please help me get their supervisor..." you will finally say.

There is another hour of waiting as Air China sends its staff down to assist. There are two kinds: Air China staff that deals with connecting Air China flights, and Air China staff that deal with connecting flights to other airlines. The most pissed people in the immigration area are those who missed their connecting flights on other airlines because they take the longest to process: they need to buy another ticket to show the immigration officer but could not enter the airport to do so.

Then the creativity of the Air China staff is displayed. They come down with wads of fake stickers that they put on your ticket to show that you have a valid flight to catch in transit. This is accepted by the immigration officer, even though she has already seen your ticket when you first got there! Other Air China staff come with wads of these fake stickers of fake flights that they start sticking on everybody's tickets- just to be able to pass immigration. You get an overnight stamp in your passport and you're inside!

The next problem is the overnight stay. Air China will not buy you another ticket to get to your destination on the same day so they have to provide overnight accommodation, but ground staff would feign ignorance of this at first. If a considerable number of passengers press on this matter, they will then be accompanied to the duty officer of the day, whose station is in the departure check-out counters, for which you need to fill up another baggage declaration form and go through at least two belts.

The staff assists in getting you to an airport hotel 10 minutes away, where you shall share a room with another passenger, and be provided dinner, of only boiled cabbage and rice, if you do not eat pork. Breakfast is not even mentionable.

The next morning, passengers scramble to fit their luggages into a small van which will only make one run in the morning and one in the afternoon to the airport, regardless of the number of passengers that need to fly out.

Fearing another flight delay, passengers in the boarding area stare out the large windows to make sure there is an airplane outside the gate. Once airborne however, the sigh of relief is greater than if one has gotten just a normal connecting flight in any other airport.

Home

2006-06-25T02:17:00.000+08:00

Social Worker to homeless: "Where are you from Sir?"
Homeless: "My home is not a place. It is people"

-- A Land of Plenty (only in DVD)

2006 Finals

2006-06-22T22:57:00.001+08:00

Hanggang sa susunod na season tayo!

www.MAVS.com

France Gabriel

2006-06-14T18:46:00.000+08:00

Welcome to the world France Gabriel. I'm your first aunt on your father's side and I can't wait to meet you. Hope they send me your first pictures right away.

Your Dad can't wait for you to kick your first football :)

finally saw a finals game

2006-06-12T18:52:00.000+08:00

it's funny how one would watch a nba fials game and hope of capturing a glimpse of greatness that would be firmly set into nba records and then witness the 5 point worst playoff total of 3 time finals mvp shaquille o'neal. cute.

the only counterweight to this is that this is the first finals game where two 4-point plays were made (stackhouse and howard) by a team. this play (making a 3 pt shot and fouled) has only been previusly done six times in the nba finals. that would do.

Glad to know everything is excellently being prepared Sir!

2006-06-07T17:47:00.000+08:00

Subject: Note 2006-25 from the Chairman
Dear Colleagues:

1. You will have become aware that in the last couple of days some uncertainty has been created as to the holding and/or content and/or order and/or extent of participation in the meetings scheduled for later this month.

2. I do not know what caused this situation to arise, but that is why I wrote again just a short time ago to Minister, endeavouring to convey a sense of continuity with all that has been discussed (even if somewhat unilaterally!) since the ISC delegation visit to him in April.

3. I had also been asked to describe who the ISC members are, which is the reason for the annexe to the message, with one-liners on each of you. If next time round I need to correct anything therein, please let me know. In fact, those of you who have not in the past sent me a c.v. are requested to do so now, for one just never knows when it may be useful to be able to tell authorities (or the world !) what an extraordinarily representative bunch you are.

4. As I said in another context, I have no reason to doubt their Government's agreements, given verbally by Minister and so I am carrying on as before with plans for arriving on June 16. I hope we will all be contacted by their Airways pretty soon.

5. Other pending matters from email exchanges in the last few days:

a. Apparently draft programme outline did not reach people on April 28. Anyway, everyone has it now and it will be a basic workpaper for the ISC Meeting (item 4.a of the agenda).

b. I'm not too concerned yet about the number of nominations received. Every event is like that: the flood comes just before - and mostly just after - the deadline. We already foresaw a two-stage selection process.

c. I hope the preparatory meeting is going well. It will be interesting to know who the "36 international experts" are.

As regards providing information on that meeting to the ISC, that could come under item 3.e of the agenda. Your proposals and paper on the effectiveness of the process could come under item 4.b

d. Everyone: I think that unless we really run up against a very tight situation on the number of nominations (i.e. great difficulaty in cutting the number down to 400) which I doubt, we should assume that the ISC members are automatic participants, and that any organization that has someone on the ISC can separately nominate another person. We will certainly review this at the ISC Meeting.

e. I am getting a great many individual queries from people who have received the General Mailings, and subsequently want further information. I am replying to all, which is time consuming, and I am not inundating you with copies, since it is mostly very routine (and sometime repetitive, since in certain cases people have simply not properly read the material). However since some of these queries have been sent to the whole ISC, I would ask that if any of you reply directly (which has happened) you send me a copy of your reply, otherwise we are going to have grey zones.
6. Keep the faith ! Will surely be back to you soon.....

Paradise Now

2006-06-01T12:02:00.000+08:00

Our Mongolian intern could not understand why a whole nation can be reduced to this. It is indeed difficult to grasp the condition under which young men and women are forced to such extreme sacrifice, while the whole world waits for the next tragedy. We found that the more we try to explain its history the more her questions grew. Soon both the night and our drinks ended.
I am sure she is now googling everything about Palestine even as I write this. I just hope she is not discouraged by the lack of a lasting solution despite all the years of international intervention.

He's playing Russian Roulette with your mind

2006-05-26T20:09:00.000+08:00

So whenever you decide to do it dear, it's your decision. I'll just be here....

2006-05-26T20:04:00.000+08:00

and even if it isn't..... so what?

Sins of Da Vinci Code

2006-05-26T20:01:00.000+08:00

What the f__K is your problem with Da Vinci Code? Unless you think the movie is horrible, IT'S ALL FICTION!!!

SBD

2006-05-24T12:10:00.000+08:00

Hetong southbeach diet, at pagiging mukhang 10 years younger at pagiging attractive sa mas bata.... tsk, dapat yata pinoproblema ko na ito ah.
Pinag-iisipan ko na nga ang sinasabi ng mga prends: "strong independent types are seen as mommy figures"- ano pala ang itsura ko? Samantha o Miranda?

"Oh, i can't believe you are 37..."
"What did you think, 27?--"
"Yes!"
"Thanks. Your next lunch is on me."
"No, seriously"
"Okay that's good, don't look so shocked"

(an hour and few conversations later)

"Wow, 37 huh? You must've learned a lot..."
("Aaaarrrrrgggghhhh!")

Friend whispering: "he might ask next if 'those' are real"
Whispering back "I could answer 'honey even if I can afford it i won't need it' but that would just convince him I'm telling the truth about my age."

Naturally formed rock bridges

2006-03-25T11:09:00.000+08:00

They've got a wall in China. It's a thousand miles long.

To keep out the foreigners they made it strong.

And i've got a wall around me that you can't even see

It took a little time to get next to me...

(Simon)

As performed by Annie Lennox

2006-03-24T11:55:00.000+08:00

They say you stand
By your man
Tell me something
I don‚Äôt understand
You said you loved me
And that‚Äôs a fact
And then you left me
Said you felt trapped

Well some things you can explain away
But the heartache‚Äôs with me till this day

Did you stand by me
No, not at all
Did you stand by me
No way

All the times
That we were close
I remember
These things the most
I‚Äôve seen all our dreams
Come tumbling down
I can‚Äôt be happy
Without you around

You didn‚Äôt stand by me
No, not at all
You didn‚Äôt stand by me
No way

So alone I keep the wolves at bay
And there‚Äôs only one thing I can say

You didn‚Äôt stand by me
No, not at all
You didn‚Äôt stand by me
No way

You must explain
Why this must be
Did you lie
When you spoke to me

Did you stand by me
No not at all

Now I got a job
But it don‚Äôt pay
I need new clothes
I need somewhere to stay
But without all these things I can do
But without your love I won‚Äôt make it through
Without your love I won‚Äôt make it through

But you don‚Äôt understand my point of view
I suppose there‚Äôs nothing I can do

Did you stand by me
No, not at all
Did you stand by me
No way

- Joe Strummer

Paalam FRIENDS

2006-03-19T23:15:00.000+08:00

Finally hindi na aalis si Rachel, bumalik na sya kay Ross at nagdecide silang magsama muli. Sina Chandler at Monica naman ay lilipat na sa isang bahay sa ibang syudad, sa araw rin mismo sana ng flight ni Rachel pa-Paris. Merong Joey room sa bahay nilang iyon. Huling eksena sa apartment nila Monica't Chandler, ngayo'y wala nang laman. Tinanong ni Joey kung matagal nang purple ang kulay ng mga dingding. Nakahilera silang anim na nangingilid ang mga luha. "So I guess this is it". Naalala ni Monica na dapat iwanan ang susi. Lahat sila'y may kopya nito kaya isa isang nilapag ang mga kopya nila sa mesa. Me oras ba kayong magkape? Tanong ni Rachel. "Sure," sabi ni Chandler..."where?" habang papalabas sila sa apartment na iyon. Tapos bumaba na sila ng hagdan. Nagpanning ang camera sa loob ng apartment, mula sa bintana kung saan nakikita ng magkakaibigan ang naghuhubo sa kabilang apartment building, hanggang sa famous refrigerator na nire-raid lagi ni Joey, tapos sa counter ng kusina ni Monica, sa anim na susing nakapatong doon na ngayo'y wala nang may-ari, finally sa pintuan na may frame sa peephole. Yun na ang last shot. Tapos na ang FRIENDS. Parang ubos na rin ang tissue ko...

Zahra's goodbye[2005]

2006-02-05T13:13:00.000+08:00

There were many times over these past eight months when I would be sitting in a taxi and forget where I am, lost in my thoughts, and suddenly I would see something unfamiliar,
or the taxi driver would say something I didn‚Äôt understand, and I would remember with a jolt ‚Äúoh yes- I‚Äôm in Thailand!‚Äù
I think that when I go back to Canada I will experience this- but in the opposite sense, like when I say (and I know I will) kup khun ka to the person at the grocery store, or the
ticket collector at the movies and they give me an odd look.
I know that every time I step outside my door (at least for the next few months) and I am hit with a chilling cold and a nasty wind, I will have to close my eyes and conjure up the
warmth of this country.
I think the saddest moments will be when I am missing all of you, and realize that I can no longer just walk one street over and find you typing furiously at your computers,
making your morning coffee in the kitchen, or discussing what good movies we should go see this weekend.
Nope, for all that I‚Äôll have to cross an ocean‚Ä¶and cross it I shall! (hopefully sometime soon, because if not I will be very sad). Don‚Äôt forget though, you all have an open invitation to come to Canada-I promise to show you all the important human rights related sites;), and off course take you out for a little fun too. I once wrote to my family and friends this about working at FORUM-ASIA:
My workplace is a house of characters so diverse and refreshing, that everyday I am so excited to see them in anticipation of what quirky and interesting things they will do or say. Our office is much too small for the amount of traffic it attracts; it‚Äôs like a funhouse with distinct, and yet extraordinary characters who pop in and out of its doors, and sometimes decide to stay awhile. I love the dynamic energy, the passionate spirit, the immense dedication, and the heartfelt kindness that all the staff seem to embody.
I will miss, ever so much, lunches together, special dinners at ZAP, the thrill of ordering food, and actually getting what I want, and the very special talks over coffee or drinks, and sometimes dessert. I am not sure how to express what my time here has meant to me, short of saying that it was, remarkable.
There are also moments with many of you that I will not forget, like the IDP conference at Pak-Moon Dam- visiting the devastated communities, the dam site, and my own personal ‚Äútrips‚Äù into the rivers (yes plural); the first day of ACSF, the KL ‚Äúexperience‚Äù, the second day of ACSF, the Where is Somchai? protest, the third day of ACSF, the weekend at Hua Hin, the last day of ACSF, and so many other unforgettable moments‚Ä¶
Please keep in touch, and if there is anything I can do for you, know that I would be thrilled, and flattered that you would ask.

2006-02-05T12:37:00.000+08:00

Zahra, Mr. Book and I, at the book fair in the Queen Sirikit Convention Center. We grabbed Mr. Book as he was passing by, poor guy didn't even know who the hell had been pulling and shoving him here and there- then flashes and flashes of the camera. We spoke to him in broken thai and english. We instructed him to face this way while physically turning him another way, and thanking him at the same time. He could not even pause long enought to take a peek at us. Soon as we finished he hurried away, like some victim of mauling. We didn't even by a single book.

Newsbreak

2006-01-20T11:25:00.000+08:00

Dec 22, 2005
Newsbreak Cafe

What an unexpected treat! Susan Fernandez and Bobby Garcia singing Leah Navarro and Basil Valdez! He let his hair down "due to insistent private demand" and, with Susan playing the guitar, both performed some of the most memorable love songs I've heard in many, many years. None of the people I was with that night realized how precious that performance was amidst all the foolery and laughter of the half drunk Joel Saracho and friends. Once again, just like my realization about Eraserheads, the more I stay out of this country, the more things I took for granted before have become very valuable to me. Antonio Banderas said it in one interview: when he left Spain, many things that he even hated, came back very beautiful for him after a long time....
I felt just like that- i mean- Leah Navarro and Basil Valdez???!!!! pshchschchhh!!! Have I ever imagined in all my life???!!!! So I jostled, drank, danced, laughed, and pretended not to listen so hard because most of my friends there have probabaly heard them a hundred times before... but i really appreciated it and wished to thank them for this wonderful performance on my homecoming. I hope they realize that they contributed a lot of 'class' to that humble cafe that night.

2005-11-04T15:47:00.000+08:00

STOP IT! HE'S TOO YOUNG!!!

office transfer for 30 staff

2005-10-22T22:47:00.000+08:00

it's the best thing we can do: realize our weakness and selfishness and then blend in with the rest

Of Arya and Jaran

2005-09-14T08:51:00.000+08:00

I‚Äôm happy for you Ami. You found out who you are before the marriage grows any older. But was it a recent discovery, or was it a knowledge that you tried to hide behind a marriage? Whatever the case you will end up hurting your husband in a way that he never deserved. I do not know what happened in the whole three years you‚Äôve spent together, I was not here for two years and not close enough with you for the last one so it‚Äôs quite a blur for me what led to all this. Still I asked you if you are happy at least. And you said yes. You said you fell in love with someone else and could not be any happier to let her know.

Ami, she is still with her girlfriend. Is this what you want? Or are you just happy to be free- just, relieved of your burden? Are you after her? Are you thinking of ‚Äòsharing‚Äô? Can‚Äôt you slow down a bit and think about your kids first‚Ä¶. I know you must‚Äôve thought about them a good deal before finally deciding, so telling me your plans for them would be more to reassure me than to help you but‚Ä¶. right now, that‚Äôs what I could handle. Sorry, your husband‚Äôs my friend too, first, before I met you. He‚Äôs a good man‚Ä¶.but I guess that‚Äôs not really a reason to stay‚Ä¶.

What bums me though is that I did not see it coming-- well, I sensed something but thought it‚Äôs just the coping with kids thing. It was obvious that you suddenly stopped working and he continued to do so, high-level and all that‚ÄîI know the feeling. But still I felt you were firmly living your choice. Heard it somewhere that living with someone is an everyday choice you know. I remembered feeling kind of out of place because I haven‚Äôt reached that stage of being a mom and how it must have been such a large change for you, knowing how you were, you know, young and wild and free‚Ä¶ and with me as a friend. Weren‚Äôt we like Rugby buddies and then suddenly you got married?

So, yeah, tell me all about it okay. I‚Äôll see you for drinks after you put the kids to bed. I‚Äôll see her with you, and maybe say hello, although I will definitely be tempted to ask about her girlfriend. It might rub on you as unfair but she was with Anothai when she suddenly took on someone else, remember? So there's a pattern whether you see it or not. What will I think of all this? Well, you did say it's painful but happy. What can I say? Firstly, maybe I‚Äôd say not to let your in-laws meddle with the custody negotiation. Second, tell him everything about the past and the present, not the future‚Äîthat will kill him. Then maybe I‚Äôd just listen the rest of the night.

gising, pasok opis, kain, pagod, uwi, nood DVD,tulog

2005-09-05T22:23:00.000+08:00

Ano ba to. Nakakahalata na yata ako. Sa susunod na linggo ikaksal na utol ko. Hindi ako inobligang umuwi para makicelebrate. May isolation na kayang namumuo sa pagitan ko at ng mga kapatid kong nasa Pinas? Tunay na bang maituturing akong OF na nalulugmok sa kawalan ng 'belonging' sa pamilya pagkatapos ng maraming taon sa ibang bansa-ibang kultura-ibang pag-uugali ng mga tao? Sabagay matagal naman nang alienated ang utol kong bunso sa akin mula nang nilayasan kong nanay niya. Simula nang nilayasan din nya ito, tila hiwalay na nga ang landas ng buhay naming magkakapatid. Ni hindi masama ang loob ko na ako lang ang wala sa kasal. Sa kabilang banda, hindi ko naman talaga maiwanan ang trabaho ko, kahit napaka-monotonous ng pattern nito: meeting, report, plan, conduct the activity, assess, propose, meeting ulit. Ang napakadalang na pamutol ng redundancy- sine, spa, karaoke, drinks. E kung walang me birthday, o anniversary, o victory, o bonus, e di wala. Meron pa kayang darating na life-changing circumstance sa buhay ko, na biglang hihila sa akin sa panibagong buhay? Yung hindi nangangahulugan ng pagkakakulong o pagkakasakit nang malala, kundi....yung.... iba. Minsan, tinitignan ko ang mga kasamahan ko sa opisina, ang pakiramdam ko sa kanila'y ganun din ang nararamdaman-waiting to exhale. Pero walang personal na usapan. Hindi namin alam ang mga sikreto ng bawat isa, kahit sumasabog sa malalalim na pakahulugan ang karamihan ng kilos at pananalita ng mga "colleagues" ko... heavy ang sense kong may kanya-kanya silang dinadala- each one of them....pero wala sa amin ang may comfort level na alamin ang anuman sa isa't isa. Or, well, dun sa mga bata, hindi siguro interesting sa matatanda kung anong preoccupation nila. But for the ex-pats, ganito rin kaya ang kundisyon ng relasyon nila sa pamilya nila?

A REFLECTIVE ANATOMY OF A SELF-DESTRUCTIVE ORGANIZATION

2005-07-11T12:13:00.000+08:00

So,‚Ä¶. we have finally come to this stage where I thought we would never reach. It‚Äôs amazing how so much has happened in the last six months of my work here, than at any other point in the life of this organization. The level of antagonism and hostility has reached a quiet, simmering point where one‚ÄîONE raised voice, could trigger a fistfight right inside my own office.

The problem is not so much that the restructuring taking place and led by the new executive director has resulted in the resignation of Thai staff that are considered inept and lacking in capacity. It is not so much that inquiries into the Forum Asia Foundation revealed irregularities in its financial transactions and organizational set-up. Nor has it anything to do with the sanctions applied on the misconduct of one particular staff. In fact, the problem really lies in Forum-Asia‚Äôs Executive Committee, whose members are handicapped by their own indecisions and inaction in the past, to make intelligent decisions at the most crucial time. Indeed the entire membership of Forum-Asia, which is represented by the Executive Committee, has to account for their approval of the creation of the Foundation, minus clear and accountable mechanisms of operation and management.

I would venture to propose that any level-headed and rational officer of any organization that has been presented with the volumes of documents and letters would quickly see that the explosion of events during the past two weeks actually started when the Executive Committee decided to look into the relations between FA and FAF. Actions to undermine the ongoing restructuring process, ranging from campaigns to vilify and remove the Executive Director, to discrediting the management team of the Secretariat, and later attacking individual Secretariat staff members for keeping to their tasks, all point to outright defiance of the ongoing process aimed to improve the organization, achieve substantial outputs and make it credible not only regionally but internationally, to earn recognition as one of the most important human rights regional organizations in Asia.

But do we have the body that can decide to bring all of these problems to their logical conclusion? In the past meeting, one South Asian ExCom member was quoted saying to an intern in an informal feedback: ‚ÄúWhat do we care what happens to this organization? We would still get to go to Bangkok anyway, sit in a two-hour meeting, and then go shopping.‚Äù This, after my fifteen years of work for human rights and navigating five continents of the world, is what I have come home to.

This is where the real destruction of Forum-Asia resides. Given tremendous power, the ExCom has not been developed to think and act in the best interests of the collective regional expression of human rights activism in Asia, whose members they represent. They have been trained to think and act in the best interests of their own personal selves. Worse, those that do not necessarily fall into this category feel inadequate to stand firm because they are either very new to the organization and do not have a clear grasp of its history, or have mistaken notions that all the trips abroad and free lunches are ‚Äúprivileges‚Äù offered by the organization, instead of work-related entitlements of members, thereby making them unwilling to compromise future opportunities for more.

And so, will it be surprising that as a result of the mud-slinging (usually only in the direction of the management team and the ED) the restructuring process would be halted, the suspended staff reinstated and the Executive Director dismissed? Is it so far to expect the investigation into the Foundation to suddenly stop? Absolutely not! As I believe in the vast advances of science and technology in today‚Äôs world, I also have firm belief in the infinite stupidity of humankind to bring destruction upon itself.

While I am on the subject, I have to register how awed I am at the entire web of deceit and ignorance generated and maintained by Somchai, among the funders, Executive Committee, and the general membership throughout his term as Secretary General. Somchai built for himself a fortress of Thai loyalists from program to administration level, a kingdom with its own wealth of funders‚Äô money, and a regional reputation designed to ensure that no one would question him.

Except‚Ä¶ FORUM-ASIA‚Äôs nature reflects a membership that has asked and acted on questions all their lives: Why are the poor always marginalized? Why are women always violated? Why does government usurp the power of the people to discriminate against them? Where are the disappeared? Who killed the just? What are we going to do about this? When do we act on our oppression? How? And Somchai as one of the leading human rights lawyers in Thailand, surely must know that once questioning starts, the end is often not too far behind.

In fact this is what I am most counting on: that the highest policy making body in between Assemblies of FA could ask and answer the right questions: what am I here for? what am I supposed to do on behalf of the members? how is my decision going to affect the entire organization‚Äîin fact the whole regional human rights movement? ‚Äì instead of ‚Äúwhat time is it?‚Äù, ‚Äúhow many people have you got on your side?‚Äù, ‚Äúhow do I get to this market?‚Äù, ‚Äúdid we really decide on this?‚Äù

The ExCom as a leadership body in FA, had never taken on a highly complex burden such as what they were confronted with in the past six months. They crammed to learn the history of Forum-Asia, the experience of other regional organizations in achieving legal status, the various ways they have been blinded into approving this and that, and how Forum-Asia could actually lose its funders. In amazing speed they had learned how plots and strategies are hatched by generating artificial delays in decision-making, how they were led to start over after going halfway into their work, how years of dependency on one Thai lawyer‚Äôs word held the entire foreign staff hostage to illegal working status, and soon, the absurdity of what had been their role in running the organization emerged, and had been realized at precisely the right moment.

Saturday was THE day. On a signal from staff through mass leaves, the Secretary General suddenly called for an early re-convening of ExCom. At least two members were immediately unavailable. One ExCom member sent a staff as representative‚Äîcompletely devoid of any sense or meaning of his representation in this meeting. When he was handed his three volumes of documents, the gentleman was understandably overwhelmed.

At the start of the meeting, when anti-management staff‚Äôs agenda had been clearly relegated aside in favor of immediate discussions on needed decisions, it so happened that one of their advisors met Rashid stepping in the elevator. Suddenly he grabbed the poor guy and knocked him around, breaking his eyeglasses and injuring his ear. The incident was reportedly used by the Secretary General to renew suggestions to allow staff to address the ExCom. He did not prevail.

The incident was however, completely unintended by the other side, as they, also in shock, quickly wrote a letter to the ExCom distancing themselves from what happened. I was also quickly approached by Noi as soon as I arrived and took it upon herself to tell me what happened. We were both almost in tears as we said: ‚ÄúLet‚Äôs promise never to slap each other no matter what happens‚Äîpromise‚Ä¶‚Äù

As the day wore on, we noted how funny it was that Chalida would stand near the toilet to wait for ExCom members stepping out, so she could ask what was going on. This was exactly how she lobbies government and international delegates in so many meetings and conferences, and now she had to do the same thing here. Then she would shuttle between the Thai staff and us to explain whatever was shared. As to why only the Executive Director and not the entire management team were allowed inside the meeting room, we were to learn later on.

At lunchtime I asked one ExCom member if it was wise to let us keep hanging outside the meeting room when there was no chance of an audience with them. I explained that what only held us in control were the remaining personal friendships holding sway over our differences. She realized that as small bits of information on the discussions reach us, one side or another would increasingly become frustrated and the situation outside could become more tense, as we grew weary with the hours. I was sure that upon resumption she would ask for a directive to send everyone home. As to whether the order was given or not, all staff nevertheless chose to still hang around. Ruki put it honestly: ‚Äúif I go home and they stay, it will not give me peace‚Äù. I guess both sides were considering this.

They finished earlier than the usual almost midnight. Some ExCom started running out and hailing taxis for the airport, saying quick goodbyes and assurances that the outcome was good. Upon learning of the excellent decisions taken finally towards a General Assembly in four months, the painful price of personal friendships with Somchai and Gothom they might have paid, and the toxic exchanges that was hurled around the meeting room (‚Äúwe were protecting both the management team and staff from witnessing the very ugly and shameful conduct of your leaders‚Äù‚Äîon why we were not allowed inside) I remembered to make sure to give them grateful embraces ‚Äîeven the overwhelmed gentleman, the next time they came to Bangkok.

Internal matters within the secretariat however, were left to the very people in question, to resolve‚Äîthe Executive Director and Secretary General. This does not sit well with us at all because it is this small group of nearly thirty people that are precisely tiptoeing on cracked ice. In the next four months, what had been left for us to do aside from preparing the membership in our own divided way, is to guard each other‚Äôs actions and document them. This would immediately prove to be untenable in the weeks ahead.

Some published articles on medicine assert that even after the suicidal mind injects the poison into his body, the body still reacts to defend itself and protect its systems from the creeping poison. This is what usually doctors hope for when trying to revive the dying person. In stark similarity with Forum-Asia, it is timing, skill and commitment to survive which could save us from certain death. Has the secretariat, acting in this sense as the Central Nervous System, the much-needed strength to survive itself?

36

2005-02-22T14:01:00.000+08:00

Today they gave me a nice birthday dinner treat: Kang, Amraa, Chayanit, Dass, Noi, Ruki, Sayeed, Sanjay, together with Sunila, newly-arrived from Sri Lanka. Pla, Amraa and Nid gave me a photo frame, my first one, wherein I put the picture of myself with Zahra and placed it on my only bookshelf. The rest gave me a new cool notebook. I was a bit drunk, a bit disoriented with the company I had, completely new people and not the usual friends I have back home, but they were very sweet. I have not realized how much they appreciated my friendship until yesterday-- even Kang, the bitch.
Earlier, friends called me from Manila to remind me it's my birthday. Korapat sang a happy birthday song in Portuguese, while others sent messages through email and phone texts. Ruki, Noi, Nid and Sunila gave me kisses and hugs. Ton greeted me in tagalog. Zahra, my dear Canadian friend was on messenger and totally regretted going back before my birthday. Zahra and me are both pisces and both of the year of the rooster. We both like the same toothbrush brand, the color blue, the same kind of cakes and ice cream, the same music and movies,the same shops-- even the same guys. I swear she's my soul sister if not for the huge gap between our weights, heh!
That the group gave me cake at the end of dinner was not because it was customary but because they knew I preferred cake to any other dessert-- especially with alcohol.
That they knew exactly where to take me for dinner-- the place where we had Zahra's farewell party-- with the live jazz singers, showed me that they notice what I liked, and they get to know things about me. So much for "keeping a low profile" during much of my stay in Bangkok. Even people I hated in the office were there-- which taught me a fairly good lesson: you fight in the office, but you drink with friends.

sullen

2005-01-17T13:44:00.000+08:00

A sullen but promising day, as most would say
as the cold morning will soon turn into warm afternoons
Birds are singing "bright and early love,for work and friends await"
It is my best season of the year, cold with no rain
But thoughts quickly turn to something a-gloom
"alas, I shall never get to know you"

Today, as tomorrow, as the future quite positively show
there's no turning back, no time to falter, or slow,
days are short and life is fleeting don't you know?
but oh so sadly, "I shall never get to know you"

N.C.

Women voting in Afghanistan

2004-12-08T13:27:00.000+08:00

Afghanistan ang punta ko, eleksyon, ika-9 ng Oktubre, 2004.

Sa Kabul city ako mismo nadestino. Ito anya ang pinaka delikadong area
sa lahat ng deployment.

Sa mga araw papalapit ng eleksyon sa Afghanistan, marami ang
nagsasabing puputulan daw ng kamay ang babaeng boboto at hindi
mananatili sa bahay. Ang mga lalaking papayagan lumabas ng bahay
ang asawa, kapatid, nanay o anak ay puputulan din ng kamay. Marami
ang ayaw sa ink na "indelible", preferring the ink na "invisible" (tulad ng
ginamit sa East Timor). Dahil sa sandaling magmarka ito sa kamay nila,
malalamang bumoto sila.
Sino ang nagpalaganap ng ganitong mga pananakot? Ang lihim na mga
ahente ng Taliban. Ang Taliban ay ang Muslim fundamentalist faction na
tumuntong sa kapangyarihan sa bansa noong 1990s sa gitna ng mga
panggigyera ng mga warlords sa isa't isa. Biglang bigla, dumating ang
mga Amerikano(2001) at pinatalsik sila sa poder. Hindi ito
nangangahulugang wala na sila sa buhay ng mga Afghani. Lalong lalo na
sa buhay ng mga kababaihan.
Kahit na ayaw ng mga mamamayang Afghan sa Taliban, ang pananaw
nila sa papel ng kababaihan sa lipunan ay pareho naman (strangely) sa
paniniwala ng mga ito. Kaya hanggang ngayon, despite repealing all
laws barring women from public life, halos laganap pa rin ang bondage.
Ang dami pa ding naka-burkah, ang dami pa din naka arranged
marriage na mga babaeng teenagers sa matatandang lalaki (yuuk), at
kulang na kulang pa din ang mga duktor, nars, teacher, at professionals
na pumapasok sa trabaho sa araw araw.
Needless to say, hindi rin kami makalabas sa guest house na walang
kasamang lalaki, kahit bibili lang ng toothpaste sa tindahan sa kanto.
Isang babaeng election observer, lumabas na walang veil, dinakma sa
pwet. At kahit me kasamang isa pang babae, ay inikutan pa rin ng
bastos na lalake, dahil pumunta sa palengke ng gabi (as in 7:00 pm lang
yun).
Kaya malakas ang apprehension namin sa papalapit na eleksyon day. Sa
Kunduz province, may underground radio station na pinatatakbo ng
kababaihan, nanawagan sa mga botante na magsuot ng burkah at
lumabas para bumoto ("hwag matakot"). Pero hanga kami sa sinasabi
ng ilan sa kanila: kung tutoong me nangyari sa "disarmament program"
ng gobyerno (pag-surrender ng mga armas ng mga warlords), e ba't
andami pa ring gumagawa ng ganitong mga pananakot? At bakit dinig
pa rin ang putukan sa labas ng syudad? Nag-iisip ang kababaihan ng
Afghanistan, kelangan lang silang pakinggan.
Dumating ang election day. Ang dami pong naglabasan na kababaihang
naka burkah, at nakasuot pa ng kanilang "sunday best", pati alahas--
kumpleto. Halos lahat ng polling stations na pinuntahan namin ay may
kababaihang nakapila para bumoto, kahit na ilublob ang daliri nila sa ink
(na hanggang ngayon ay hindi pa rin nabubura sa daliri ko-- nagtest ako
kung nabubura) at makita sa village nilang bumoto sila.
They claimed this day for themselves too, and we felt very proud.
Babaeng observers lang ang pwede mag-observe sa female polling
stations. Sa mga lalaking polling centers pumunta ang mga kasamahan
naming kalalakihan. Mas marami ang mga botanteng lalaki syempre,
pero hindi 'absent' ang kababaihan. Sabi ng Minister for Women, kung
makaboto ang 45% ng kababaihan, success na yon sa kanila. Palagay ko
naabot naman iyon at ika nga "not bad for a first time".
Matapos ang election day ay nagpa shedule ako ng meeting with the
NGOs para sa organization ko na gustong mag establish ng links sa
bansa. Aba at ang nagsidating, guess who? Mga kababaihan. Tanong
ko "nasaan ang mga lalaki sa NGOs? Palagay ko bumuhos ang funding
sa women's NGOs at ang dami nilang sabay-sabay nag-organisa.
Palagay ko din minsan lang magkasama-sama sa isang meeting ang
mga ito-- ang iingaaay, pero ang sasaya: they did not follow the
agenda, and they talked all at the same time-- tapos ang kwento tungkol
sa pamilya kahalo sa kwento tungkol sa trabaho.
Hindi pa ako tapos mag-explain tungkol sa trabaho ng Forum Asia
tungkol sa human rights e sunod-sunod na ang tanong. Napaka-aktibo at
eager na eager na silang kumilos. Nakakapanindig balahibo ang kanilang
enthusiasm.
Sana magbunga ng maganda ang ginawa nilang sakripisyo sa botohang
ito. Sana makinabang sila mula sa gobyernong iluluklok nila sa bansa,
imbes na mapahamak dahil dito.
Hanggang ngayon nag-aabang pa rin ako ng balita kung may nasaktan
dahil sa kanilang pagboto. Sa kabutihang palad ay wala naman. Sabi ng
ilan, malamang ito'y dahil protektado ng lalaking member of the family
ang kababaihang pinayagan nilang bumoto, so napaka importante sa
bansang ito ang role ng kalalakihan para iangat ang estado ng
kababaihan sa pamilya nila at sa komunidad. On the other hand nasa
interes ni Presidential candidate-favorite Karzai na ingatan ang boto ng
kababaihan.
May tinanong kaming botante, nang iangat niya ang kanyang burkah
para pumirma sa ballot registry: hindi ka ba natatakot? Ang sagot niya:
basta nakabantay kayo (ang international community), hindi kami
matatakot.
Nakakataba ng puso, pero napakalaking responsibilidad.

Why Afghanistan?

2004-09-15T16:33:00.000+08:00

14 September2004

Going to the Philippine Embassy tomorrow. The Consul wants to see me before giving the endorsement letter needed by the Pakistani Embassy to allow me a visa. They would probably ask first "why Afghanistan?"
And in a very professional manner I would answer "because nobody is giving a SHIT about that country going to the dogs, and in the midst of all the madness of the global war or terror being fought on Afghan soil, somebody should help the Afghan people claim a stake in their future. Will they be as brave as the East Timorese were? We'll see-- and that is really the point, isn't it? If I prove to be unable to contribute anything to help them, then at least I should bear witness..."
"And if you die before you can bear witness"? will most likely be the profound follow up question, and here I think I would be inclined to speak my heart though I doubt I could be so dramatic:
"Better to die doing what my convictions bid me, than to grow old and feeble not knowing what it could have felt like. Besides, if I survive it, I would have more memories to recall in my later years than just meetings, conferences, or how many hours I spent in front of the computer, or of how many activity reports I submitted, how long I had to sit through dialogues, listening to strangers talking about the same things over and over, year after year, and seriously doubting if I was helping to change the world. Because sometimes I think it would be nice to punctuate my trips: with happiness, such as in Mindanao, with fear and tension, such as in East Timor, with thrill and exhilaration, such as Sagada, with hopelessness such as Bangladesh, mischief as in Strassbourg, and friendship as in Brussels and the Hague, even the sadness of post 9-11 New York."
"Afraid?"
"Yes, as all my colleagues are. But I am more afraid of what my fear could prevent me from doing...."
"Maximize the funders' money?"
"O yea, there is that issue isn't there? The bastards are too scared to go in themselves so they pay someone else to do it. So 'buffalo soldiery' isn't it? But no, actually the correct answer is:
Seeing For Myself...."

slow dancer

2004-07-31T13:56:00.000+08:00

After almost two hours of waiting outside the Tawandeng German Brewery with a hundred other patrons patiently looking at each other's cue numbers, we finally managed to get a table on the second floor of the huge, warehouse-type bar. "Ok, it's going to be another four hours of Thai singing and a little english rendition of pop songs which I won't understand anyway--- but. . . . I AM WITH FRIENDS, I AM WITH FRIENDS" I mentally drill into my legs and feet, aching to go home and watch a video. "Besides, how many times do get to be invited to dance and drink in a place two hours away from everything?"
I force myself to push memories of Noel Cabangon, the Jerks, Putreska, Cookie Chua and Binky Lampano into the farthest shelves of my consciousness-- from now on, listening live to those personal favorites of mine will be rare and valuable opportunities that will have to be strictly squeezed in between hectic schedules of my visits back home.

Dancing to shake the alcohol, so that I can go back to the office to retrieve my bike and safely ride it home to my apartment proved to be quite a challenge when I don't particularly appreciate the music.

And then, just barely grazing my line of sight, there it was-----

the long, silky black hair, black mustache and beard on a young, smooth face with dark, dark eyes, closed to feel the beat, the rhythm. Can the night be more SAVED?

Voicelessly, he mimed the words being sung, exhilarated both by his liquor and the song. He started to dance very slowly to it, he dances slowly, even with the rock songs.

"What does the song say?" I asked my colleague.
"It's a khmer song, I don't know why she is singing it" was the strange reply. Do I pursue my curiosity and ask: "are you saying it shouldn't be sung inside a Thai bar, or are you saying she's not doing a good job of it"? Well I considered this for a few minutes, then decided to just watch my slow-dancer (thinking "she's young, she can learn about racism later").

I could immediately tell he is an artist. He is the only artist among the many friends surrounding his table. He does not realize that loud as they are, he stands out among them. While they fool around the table and throw up at each others' feet, he seemed to float above them, dancing, unmindful of their silliness. And then I did it--- I caught his eye and smiled!

Jesus, could I have been more drunk! I wasn't even trying to catch his attention, yet I gave him a smile of one who saw something cute-- like a baby or a puppy. SSSTUUUUPIIIIDDDD!!! He's been on to me ever since. I must've looked like I enjoyed watching him. And then, as if I instructed it, he took his hair band and let his hair down.

A few hours more and everyone in the bar is up and dancing (except for Freeda, who had a nice fried rice dinner and watermelon shake, like she was in the university canteen or something). We finally reached the "get them up or send them home" part of the repertoire which had gotten quite wild, that my slow-dancer and I almost faced each other on the dance floor, our clothes brushing up against each other that I could feel the heat from his body (or was it mine?)

Then some jerk friend of his tried to pull him away and take his place. "GOOD NIGHT!" I thought, borrowing an expression often used by a former colleague, and quickly turned my back to dance with my "bar mates".

He never looked directly at me anymore. I don't know if he'd grown shy or was just not feeling friendly. I never did get to deconstruct that smile of mine. Pity, he could've given me the same smile. A 'passer by's smile'-- something you give in a bus stop, or while waiting for the train or cuing in line in the bank, and seeing a toddler or a fat cat with his kid beside you-- a smile for someone you will never see again in your lifetime. But he chose to be conscious about being looked at, subdued himself because he thought somebody's flirting with him. Sad, all I would remember of him would be his hair down. And that's just until the morning.

life far away

2004-07-29T17:25:00.000+08:00

How do you do it, living in a country where people don't speak English? Ninotchka Rosca asked Evelyn and me in a subtly rebuking manner. That was when we went to New York exactly seven days after the 9/11 attacks. Ninotchka was invited by another New Yorker Pinay, Indai, to a joint dinner with us. "Simple, sign languages and lots of smiling", Evelyn replied. I didn't. I found it hard. That's because I wasn't a smiling person, neither am I friendly on a first impression. Once when I attempted to buy rice and vegetables I mispronounced "khao suay" and the guy buying exactly the same thing laughed and said something to the vendor. I looked hard at him, and almost walked away, if not for the acknowledgement of the vendor (via big nods of her head) that I was next. Later an officemate told me that "laughing it off", as it seemed to be the case, helped "extricate" me from an embarrassing situation because of my mispronounciation. "So, he actually saved me from embarrassment in front of the vendor?" I asked. "He was probably helping you explain what you wanted to eat", he said. "But he laughed!" I insisted. "He wasn't pointing at me or ribbing the people in the cue to point me to them, but he laughed..." "Laughing here," he repeated, "means very very different things to a foreigner, especially one so western-oriented as you".
So, I might have answered Ninotchka "it's not simple at all". It is so hard to look at the opposite direction when crossing the street, to memorize tongue-twisting words, read body languages, eat mouth-burning food, ride on the left side of the taxi seat, listen to your officemate's shrill traditional music all day, and face a boss who has no respect for your race.
She would've asked: why choose to stay there? and again Evelyn and I would have given very different answers.