The SONA has become an annual and grand spectacle for politicians, vis-a-vis politico de familia, and their extended families all under one roof (Batasan Pambansa) they shared with no less, La Presidenta. It is but an anticipated event for local designers to showcase their locally grown mastery in the art of fashion. Unfortunately, it is saddening to at least note that those squander and intricately designed gowns and filipinianas are but superficial typification of power and advantage in society while the rest of the Filipinos die by the day.
There's Gloria Macapagal Arroyo and spouses, family members of her cohorts, namely:
Baby Arenas
Assunta de Rossi
Dawn Zulueta
Anna York Bondoc
The rest is but a show-show. Redundancies and repetitions alike. A parade of wealth and extravagance. This upholds the mystic line of beauty in the inside.
Tuesday, July 29, 2008
Sunday, July 27, 2008
The Agony , that is Gloria
Today, her exKILLINGcy Gloria Macapal Arroyo, for the 8th time, reports on the redundancies there is to wit in this nation state. The ever grandiose and exclusive celebration of personal eulogy and conceit expedite the unassuming pain and slap of insults of Filipinos, who consistently bear the brunt of lingering poverty and hopelessness in our land. Pulse Asia survey is proof to this rigged annual tour de force by which the fellows of high society and powerful classes and clans unite as one under the roof of the 200 million worth newly-renovated Batasang Pambansa.For the past several years, this occasion is more than just a mandate by law but supposedly a celebration of good governance, of service, and trust and faith in a duly mandated leadership. But under the regime of GMA, this has transformed into a feast of lies, deceit, and pretensions. For the past several weeks, GMA's propaganda people are working heaven and earth to condition people's mind of the relief brought about by the short-term and one-time subsidies dubbed as katas ng E-VAT. But overnight, hunger and desperation persists among ordinary households. This is blatant deceit and insult to ordinary Filipinos and tax payers like me. The one time 500 peso electric and rice subsidies do not only induce short term relief , but more so, affirm the demands of people. Their valid redress of real and long terms aids is what keeps them busy in the streets.
Tuesday, July 15, 2008
The Value of the UP Experience
by Maya Baltazar Herrera*
There are no children here
This week, I went to a meeting at the UP School of Economic 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. MORE.
Sunday, July 13, 2008
Torture: Just a story
Five years ago, I wrote a story about a Muslim teenager who was imprisoned in General Santos City for allegedly being a terrorist. The boy showed signs – bruises, mainly – that he was tortured by whoever captured him.
Today, I can’t even recall the name of the teenager. I do remember this, however: I never bothered to check back to see what had happened to him.
He was, after all, just a story.
Across newsrooms in the Philippines, most journalists probably have the same mindset about their subjects. Just a story. Early on, we were taught by our superiors in the business that we should just report, that we do not advocate anything. Don’t get too close with the subject or it will compromise your objectivity.
Unfortunately, it would seem that, in the Philippines, reporting on human rights and torture can be easily equated with advocacy. Which is to say that, often, journalists who dare to write about human rights in ways different from what the mainstream press often does – that is, failure to provide context, among others – are easily pigeonholed as leftists or leftist sympathizers. We’ve heard of tales by our colleagues being ostracized in their beats and being ignored by their sources for their reportage on human rights. Sad, but true. More.
* Mr Conde is a journalist based in Manila. He is correspondent for The New York Times and International Herald Tribune. This is posted in Eye on Ethics page of the Center for Media Freedom and Responsibility (CMFR) http://www.eyeonethics.org/2008/06/27/torture-just-a-story/.
Wednesday, July 9, 2008
The Band of BRATTers
Needless to say, our country is presently under a regime of brats, and their cohorts, inc.
Despite public clout and instigating circumstance of public riots and valid redresses, here's PGMA--as the chief brat dismissing calls for the abolition of E-VAT, even for oil and electricity at the very least citing a critical downfall in the supposed 'katas ng e-vat' which is estimated to reach around a hundred billion peso per annum. Ironically, the large mass of ordinary Filipinos are grilled in their own oil, as prices oil and prime commodities consistently increase by the days but wage increase stagnates. In short, ramdam at mas lumala pa ang kahirapan! As a matter of rationale, the gains from the 12% Expanded value added tax was supposed to boost social services spending.
But see, after almost five years of its implementation, where are these services gone now. More ironically, and its depressing to realizing that at the height of the crisis, another brat in the person of House Speaker Prospero Nograles initiated a beatification project in the grounds of the Batasan Pambansa to the tune of alledgedly P200 M, which he denied by the way.Regardless of the exact amount, it is but a slap in every tax payers face for someone in govenrment to spent at least P80 M for ala-Imelda Marcos beautification project, which even House members decried as a show off to PGMA's up coming SONA later this month. Other observers meanwhile scored this action as an insult and an act of tyranny in the wisdom of public service and justice.
Now, in the wake of SSS president's Corazon dela Paz resignation, CHED Chair Romulo Neri was appointed by GMA for reasons, Neri the Brat claimed, of competence and confidence. But I'm with PDI's observation, describing it as payback for the latter's mumbling in the NBN-ZTE scandal, and coining the line, "Sec,me SSS ka dito!" (in connection with the controversial line he mentioned in the Senate hearings, "may 200 ka dito"!). regardless again of his competence, Neri above all lacks credibility to govern and manage the largest investment of private workers in forms of insurance and premiums. His appointment came also after de la Paz cited politics aside from health concerns as the reason for her leaving the reformed SSS, saying some forces are pushing for fund extraction from the government-run private funds.
Despite public clout and instigating circumstance of public riots and valid redresses, here's PGMA--as the chief brat dismissing calls for the abolition of E-VAT, even for oil and electricity at the very least citing a critical downfall in the supposed 'katas ng e-vat' which is estimated to reach around a hundred billion peso per annum. Ironically, the large mass of ordinary Filipinos are grilled in their own oil, as prices oil and prime commodities consistently increase by the days but wage increase stagnates. In short, ramdam at mas lumala pa ang kahirapan! As a matter of rationale, the gains from the 12% Expanded value added tax was supposed to boost social services spending.
But see, after almost five years of its implementation, where are these services gone now. More ironically, and its depressing to realizing that at the height of the crisis, another brat in the person of House Speaker Prospero Nograles initiated a beatification project in the grounds of the Batasan Pambansa to the tune of alledgedly P200 M, which he denied by the way.Regardless of the exact amount, it is but a slap in every tax payers face for someone in govenrment to spent at least P80 M for ala-Imelda Marcos beautification project, which even House members decried as a show off to PGMA's up coming SONA later this month. Other observers meanwhile scored this action as an insult and an act of tyranny in the wisdom of public service and justice.
Now, in the wake of SSS president's Corazon dela Paz resignation, CHED Chair Romulo Neri was appointed by GMA for reasons, Neri the Brat claimed, of competence and confidence. But I'm with PDI's observation, describing it as payback for the latter's mumbling in the NBN-ZTE scandal, and coining the line, "Sec,me SSS ka dito!" (in connection with the controversial line he mentioned in the Senate hearings, "may 200 ka dito"!). regardless again of his competence, Neri above all lacks credibility to govern and manage the largest investment of private workers in forms of insurance and premiums. His appointment came also after de la Paz cited politics aside from health concerns as the reason for her leaving the reformed SSS, saying some forces are pushing for fund extraction from the government-run private funds.
Wednesday, July 2, 2008
Quiapo vendors and Ka Bel
I had my share of a 'post-ka bel demise' account of how illustrious the man was coming from a jeepney driver. This is one humbling story. Padayon!
By Consuelo Maria G. Lucero*
Youngblood, Philippine Daily Inquirer
The day after “Ka Bel” died, my father sent me an email urging me to go to the wake for the party-list representative. He said Crispin Beltran was once his boss and one whom he deeply respected, and he felt it was his filial obligation to offer flowers and prayers at his wake. But since he was away in Maastricht, the Netherlands, on a scholarship, he asked me to go his place.
I’m no leftist; I’m not even politically inclined, as some of my schoolmates have probably noted. So when I put on my denim pants and rubber shoes to go to Manila’s Quiapo district to buy some flowers, I thought that I was merely doing what my father had asked me to do: to offer flowers and prayers for a dead man.
When I got to Quiapo, I searched the flower vendors at the side of the church, trying to imagine what colors my father would have wanted. I stopped at a nondescript stall with green, maroon and pink flowers, not just the usual yellow and white. The vendor told the white or yellow mums would cost P100, but if I picked assorted colors it would cost me P150.
I tried to bargain, and she brought down the price of the latter to P140.
I asked if the funeral wreath came with ribbons. “Extra P20 kung may ribbon,” she said.
I did not bother to haggle anymore. Then I handed her a piece of paper on which I had copied the epitaph my father wrote: “Pagpugay sa dakilang anak ng uring manggagawa, Ka Bel; Ang buhay at alaala mo’y titis ng pag-asa sa pakikibaka ng uri. — Kas. George.”
The vendor was shocked by the long message. I figured that she was used to writing only
“Condolence and sympathy” on the ribbon. But she talked so loud that the other vendors came over.
“Santissima! Kay Ka Bel mo ba ibibigay?” a vendor of Lego-like toys asked.
I nodded and smiled.
“Diyos ko, Mare, huwag mo na singilin!” she told the flower vendor. “Kay Ka Bel naman pala eh. Kapatid natin iyon sa pakikibaka.”
They called their friends, who were selling trinkets worth P10 or less. One of them offered to do the writing, declaring his handwriting was the best. Others shared their opinions about Ka Bel. Some told the flower vendor to add more flowers on the wreath.
“Nakakasama kasi namin sa rally si Ka Bel,” the friendly toy vendor explained.
“Oo, at wala siyang paki kahit mga mahihirap kami,” the man with the nice handwriting chimed in.
Some asked me if I was going alone, or if I was with a leftist group. I politely told them that I was going on behalf of my school organization.
When they asked me what school I attended, someone said, “Mabuting may mga matatalino pa ring sumusuporta sa mga mahihirap.” I did have the courage to tell them I was no leftist.
Finally they finished the wreath, beautifully done. The flower vendor told me that with all the additions, the wreath was now worth more than P200, but she was giving it to me for free as her own offering for Ka Bel. A vendor of plastic bags gave me a big red-and-white plastic free of charge. And while I was preparing to leave, a cigarette vendor came with a small bouquet of white mums and asked me to bring them to their champion. Then they all bade me a cheery goodbye, while asking me to extend their condolences to Ka Bel’s family. I rode the jeepney to Taft Avenue with a heart that was never more deeply touched.
Had my father been here, he would have gone every day to the wake. He would have go to Ka Bel’s funeral, marching with his buddies in the labor group Kilusang Mayo Uno, sharing pictures and stories of Ka Bel and the KMU. He probably would not have thought of asking me to go with him, knowing that I am not interested in rallies and leftist organizations.
But maybe it was a good thing that he was away and had to ask me to do this. I never would have come so close to the poor and neither would have known how deeply they felt about Ka Bel, their “brother in the struggle” against poverty.
Consuelo Maria G. Lucero, 17, is a third-year Bachelor of Arts in Comparative Literature student at the University of the Philippines in Diliman, Quezon City.
By Consuelo Maria G. Lucero*
Youngblood, Philippine Daily Inquirer
The day after “Ka Bel” died, my father sent me an email urging me to go to the wake for the party-list representative. He said Crispin Beltran was once his boss and one whom he deeply respected, and he felt it was his filial obligation to offer flowers and prayers at his wake. But since he was away in Maastricht, the Netherlands, on a scholarship, he asked me to go his place.
I’m no leftist; I’m not even politically inclined, as some of my schoolmates have probably noted. So when I put on my denim pants and rubber shoes to go to Manila’s Quiapo district to buy some flowers, I thought that I was merely doing what my father had asked me to do: to offer flowers and prayers for a dead man.
When I got to Quiapo, I searched the flower vendors at the side of the church, trying to imagine what colors my father would have wanted. I stopped at a nondescript stall with green, maroon and pink flowers, not just the usual yellow and white. The vendor told the white or yellow mums would cost P100, but if I picked assorted colors it would cost me P150.
I tried to bargain, and she brought down the price of the latter to P140.
I asked if the funeral wreath came with ribbons. “Extra P20 kung may ribbon,” she said.
I did not bother to haggle anymore. Then I handed her a piece of paper on which I had copied the epitaph my father wrote: “Pagpugay sa dakilang anak ng uring manggagawa, Ka Bel; Ang buhay at alaala mo’y titis ng pag-asa sa pakikibaka ng uri. — Kas. George.”
The vendor was shocked by the long message. I figured that she was used to writing only
“Condolence and sympathy” on the ribbon. But she talked so loud that the other vendors came over.
“Santissima! Kay Ka Bel mo ba ibibigay?” a vendor of Lego-like toys asked.
I nodded and smiled.
“Diyos ko, Mare, huwag mo na singilin!” she told the flower vendor. “Kay Ka Bel naman pala eh. Kapatid natin iyon sa pakikibaka.”
They called their friends, who were selling trinkets worth P10 or less. One of them offered to do the writing, declaring his handwriting was the best. Others shared their opinions about Ka Bel. Some told the flower vendor to add more flowers on the wreath.
“Nakakasama kasi namin sa rally si Ka Bel,” the friendly toy vendor explained.
“Oo, at wala siyang paki kahit mga mahihirap kami,” the man with the nice handwriting chimed in.
Some asked me if I was going alone, or if I was with a leftist group. I politely told them that I was going on behalf of my school organization.
When they asked me what school I attended, someone said, “Mabuting may mga matatalino pa ring sumusuporta sa mga mahihirap.” I did have the courage to tell them I was no leftist.
Finally they finished the wreath, beautifully done. The flower vendor told me that with all the additions, the wreath was now worth more than P200, but she was giving it to me for free as her own offering for Ka Bel. A vendor of plastic bags gave me a big red-and-white plastic free of charge. And while I was preparing to leave, a cigarette vendor came with a small bouquet of white mums and asked me to bring them to their champion. Then they all bade me a cheery goodbye, while asking me to extend their condolences to Ka Bel’s family. I rode the jeepney to Taft Avenue with a heart that was never more deeply touched.
Had my father been here, he would have gone every day to the wake. He would have go to Ka Bel’s funeral, marching with his buddies in the labor group Kilusang Mayo Uno, sharing pictures and stories of Ka Bel and the KMU. He probably would not have thought of asking me to go with him, knowing that I am not interested in rallies and leftist organizations.
But maybe it was a good thing that he was away and had to ask me to do this. I never would have come so close to the poor and neither would have known how deeply they felt about Ka Bel, their “brother in the struggle” against poverty.
Consuelo Maria G. Lucero, 17, is a third-year Bachelor of Arts in Comparative Literature student at the University of the Philippines in Diliman, Quezon City.
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