Was supposed to go to Quiapo, but couldn’t get through Sta. Mesa because of the public swimming pool that appeared everytime there is a little drizzle of rain. On the way back, I was bombarded with the present reality: uneducated, unguided youth;tax-evading businesses; and slum areas that looked like garbage mountains from afar (like nightmare up close). The Social Cancer all over again. The difference? Spaniards had nothing to do with it, for you did it to yourselves.
Just a couple of weeks ago, I had seen how you can be united. But should someone die for you to become one? Congratulations, you’ve come a long way in terms of your ways of life, but look at the cost. And I understand you, I really do. I know you don’t have anything at your table, and I also experienced that. When I just finished Noli, I almost threw it into the fire because I didn’t have any money to publish it. I ate just once a day, mostly bread and coffee, not unlike the kaninbaw you’re eating right now.
What everyone needs in these times of turmoil are the Maximo Violas of the world to give hope to people. But all will be waiting, and no one will become one. You see the problem?
The Filipinos will always be colonized: by Padre Damaso, by Americans, by commercialism, by pornography, by politicians, by selfish dreams. The situation and actors will vary, but the play will remain the same.
So now what? The answer is simple. Start small. Dream. Make a difference. Register. Vote. Know your rights. Exercise your rights. Better yet, join The Good Ideas. Because when people think of better ways to improve our beautiful country, I will always be there. I am willing to die a million times for you, so I’ll see you on Whitespace.
**
P earl of the Orient, oh my grace-filled and exquisite home
I will forever live in your sweet promise of peace
N ay, no one can replace you in my heart until my life will cease
O nly you will be flourishing in this majestic throne
Y earning will I always be for your freedom until I receive Death’s kiss
Pupungas pungas, isinara ang alarm ng
cellphone. Naligo, at umalis ng walang
lingon-lingon. (Naiwan pa ang baong ri-chee.
At ang gate, nakalimutang isusi.)
Lakad, takbo, lakad. Sakay ng dyip.
Lakad, takbo, lakad. Sakay ng fx.
“Legarda po.” Sabay abot
ng bayad. “Wag sanang ma-late” sabay
hinga ng maluwag.
“Norway, norway, ano ang 2-0 mo?”
“Walang madaanan dito
Kilo, pasakayin mo na lang ng
LRT yang mga 59’s mo. Lahat
ng eskinita sarado.”
“Heavy 53 dito sa Pandacan, wala
na ko malusutan. Toyota, saan tayo?”
“Patay tayo Oscar, hindi ko din alam
to.” Palatak ng boses sa radyo.
Nakabalandra sa kalsada ang mga tumitirik
na sasakyan, nagsu-swimming sa baha
ang mga batang walang muwang. Libre
ang entrance fee! Sa resort sa Santol Ave.
Pinasukan ng tubig ang tambutso ng
motor ng tagadeliver ng dyaryo. Hindi
malalaman ng mga pobre ang
latest tungkol kay Cory.
Hay naku, kung kelan ka sinipagan
saka naman walang napakinabangan.
10:30 na, sabi ng cellphone
ko, sana may breakfast meals pa
sa McDo. Kainis talaga, nakakabanas!
Mabuti pang umuwi at manood
ng Veronica Mars.
(O mag-internalize bilang si
Lolo Pepe. Baka sakaling manalo
pa ng Noli.)
