Left of Centre

He was an anachronism in that his solipsism was not borne of the egocentrism of his times. 

It was just that he was brought up to believe the world revolved around him, and that everything that existed in it was relative to his wants and needs, nothing more, nothing less.

And who would blame his family? He was beautiful. He was brilliant. He had the disposition of a saint. He was perfect. Too perfect. Which is why I made it my life's mission to make him hate himself and self annihilate.

Why do I speak of him in the past tense? Because he is no longer in my life, disappeared to God knows where. Even his family's money, rank and privilege could not make him come out of the woodwork. And now I take the blame for his disappearance.

His childhood companion, who always harboured a secret envy for his charmed life, has been tried and will now be executed for the loss of the world's most charming man from its face. An innocent, nay not so innocent, who needed to prove her worth by destroying and desecrating his beauty and goodness. At least, attempting to.

As I look back, I see now how I died a little at a time as I sought to fulfil my life's mission. How the anger, hatred, and jealousy gnawed at my soul until all that was left was an acrimonious remainder incapable of joy and love.

I will burn in hell, I know, for what I tried to do, to erase God's favourite from the face of the Earth. But perhaps it was my fate, as it was Judas Iscariot's to betray Jesus so that he could realise the prophesy of  Salvation.

Funny that I should think that now, a really funny thought for someone who always believed that we are the authors of our lives, that destiny is not determined, that our life is what we make of it. I almost died laughing at the thought.

Sad that I did not expire then. That I will have to face the firing squad, dying a traitor's death after they discovered my plot to extinguish the man who has been an offence to my sensibilities from the day I first set eyes on him all those decades ago.

It was a pity that my cell in solitary confinement did not have a mirror. I'd have loved to see my visage, if only for the last time. My requests for one have been denied. I'd have loved to see the face that once was the object of many a man's desire in my youth now distorted into one of horrendous disfigurement. The object of repulsion of anyone who sees it, as is evidenced by the attendants who try to fudge the duty of bringing me my daily rations because it meant seeing me. I even reek of rotten onions, and there is no respite from the smell. Perhaps my rotten soul is eating up my flesh too, now.

Daylight filtered through the eastern window of my cell, the only light that comes in every day. Today is the day I die. I was told I'd be given a chance to bathe and indulge my ablutions for one last time, in lieu of a last meal as I could not keep my food down anymore, and it would have meant nothing.

But they tied my arms and wrists in hemp ropes as the sun rose full on, and put a ball and chain on my left ankle  and led me to the executioner's field in the middle of the prison. I uttered a prayer but it felt like God answered in mock jest with a small thunderstorm that showed my bald spots where the rain wet my sparse hair.

I faced the firing squad before the execution. To my horror, I saw my nemesis' face in each of the thirteen drummer boys who will give the signal to fire the gun, each of the 26 men in the firing squad, the chief executioner, and the guards. Even the audience, his family members, be they male or female, sported his visage.

I swallowed in quiet horror. I was mistaken. I thought I had erased him from the face of the Earth. He never disappeared. In the battle between love and hate, love won, he did not disappear.

He did not disappear, for everyone became him.

The solipsism, after all, was real. He was love, and nothing existed but love.

-30-

Ordinarily Random

It was a butt fuck to the heart, the way he sneaked in. 

Totally unexpected, an earthquake of magnificent proportions that left nothing the same in its aftermath.

They were in a cafe, late afternoon to early evening, because the fight between light and dark left her nervous, and this anxiety gave her a high she hasn't experienced since high school when she competed in tae kwon do. She never liked bars, the smoke and the noise and the overall horny air of the patrons repulsed her finer sensibilities.

He was there, with his Down syndrome face, a five year old with his foster mother, sitting quietly, peering at a dinosaur book with utmost curiosity, as if it was the most important thing in the world to do.

She was 19, in college, at the top of the world, yet with a gnawing hole in her heart.

His name was Lucas, his foster mother told her. His mother died from ovarian cancer and his father had to work abroad to keep up with the expense of educating him and having him treated. She is actually his second cousin.

"Hi," she smiled at him as she joined their table.

Lucas peered at her with minor curiosity, her beautiful form was no match to the dinosaurs in his book. 

However, he deigned to smile at her shyly and offered her a bite of his macadamia cookie.

"Do you want juice? I have some money left over from my allowance. I could buy you a glass."

"No. No thank you," he said. "But you could tell me their names," the child told her, pointing to the creatures in his book.

They spent half an hour huddled over his book while Minda, his foster mother took the time to enjoy her double shot espresso and banoffee pie.

"Well, this is rare. Wanna do this again?" Minda asked her. She was more than willing. They exchanged numbers and arranged to meet the following week same time, same place.

The weekly meetings became routine for both women and Lucas, with her arranging her school schedule around Lucas and Minda. But there were no home visits. It was strictly a cafe date, with Lucas graduating to more sophisticated books over the years. Her company, and her cultivated taste in books seemed to rub off well on him, as he did not manifest the acute symptoms that usually attended his condition.

On the fourth year after their meeting, one year after her college graduation, she applied for an offshore job to beef up her resume so she can pursue graduate studies. She broke the news to Minda on the weekend after she got news she was qualified for an interview with the company. "Oh," she said, looking crestfallen. "I don't know how Luke would take the news though," she mumbled.

"Hey, Luke. What if I were to go somewhere far? Would that be alright by you?"

"I don't know. Would it make you happy?"

"Maybe. I'll have to find out. Nothing's ever sure, right?"

"Well, we have to find out!" Then he squealed. "Send me picture books where you're from!"

She laughed through her tears and kissed the top of the boy's head. "Very well, we have a deal. Be a good boy while I'm gone, ya hear?"

Then he was all serious. "I promise," he said, hand on heart. "Pinky swear?"

She hooked her smallest finger in his. "Pinky swear."

She got the job and spent all of two weeks in her new workplace. The emptiness she felt from before she met mother and son came creeping  back and she knew, her place was with them.

-30-

 

choice

you don't say!

;)

Panda!

This cutie likes to interact with humans and doesn't mind being held and cuddled. She's one of the office pets, one of the reasons why I love my work place--there's no shortage of people and animals to give and take love from. :)

The Role of Contraception in the Developing Catholic World

I consider myself a Catholic first, then a woman second. 

However, I am aware that many do not share such a view, or could not; especially if one is mired in poverty, and trapped in a hand to mouth existence. Certainly, options to keep one's body healthy, and to have a semblance of control over one's reproductive health, should be available.

I can only surmise what it is to not have the luxury of being able to support as many children as one wants to have in comfort, for admittedly, I have been born into a family that enjoys material comfort.

However, as I posited, many women in the post modern world continue to be considered second class citizens, chattel and property, without inalienable human rights, specifically with respect to their bodies. I have seen this scenario played out several times over, in different places of the world, in different societies, under different religions, and political regimes. Women who live in servility to their men, used as sex objects, bearing so many children, taking care of them, and still being expected to contribute to the family livelihood. 

And I thought, certainly, there is something wrong with this equation.

While I would not personally espouse the use of contraception, and would attack this situation from a different angle, I have nothing against the Gates couple's, particularly Melinda's, efforts to make it a ubiquitous option for women living in poverty across the world. I think it would be a great complement, actually, to our efforts to eradicate poverty through debt relief, micro-financing and livelihood assistance, as well as decent housing projects for the marginalised. I admire Melinda for her courage to take on the role of champion of such a touchy subject with Church authorities.

I see a number of benefits stemming from the availability of reproductive health options to women across the world. I deliberately call it "reproductive health" instead of "contraception" because it is my dear hope that as we make such options available to women, we take into account the fact that these options, as with other medical interventions, have the potential to cause harmful side effects on those who take them as well. Thus, I recommend a holistic approach to the dispensation of such options to these women, always taking into account their current state of health, their reaction to the medication or contraception, their financial capability (we do not want to engender a culture of skivvies among these women: they should learn that "aid" is not equivalent to "freebies" and that availing of such would entail a certain commitment on their part as well), and their partner's views on the matter.

Social change management should come into play as well, for introducing reproductive health concepts to a certain society changes its dynamic as pertains to the family, to husband and wife relationships, and views on child bearing and child rearing. We should be careful about the messages we send in educating women about reproductive health and their rights with their respect to their bodies, always emphasising that contraceptive use does not give them an excuse to engage in promiscuous and bigamous behaviour. We should be careful to preserve the moral structure and strictures of the communities in which we will introduce contraception, always emphasising its use in the moral context, which is primarily to limit procreation to ensure that all the children in the family will not be neglected, and thus assured of a secure future, and that the mother will remain healthy and live to an old age to be present in her children's lives, around long enough to nurture them and give them guidance.

If in case society looks upon woman as a second class citizen, then the male perspective should be recalibrated, but not through hostile and abrasive measures. The value of women in society should be pointed out, without being jingoistic or sexist about it. Among others, they ensure the continuity of society by their biological ability to procreate. They are the children's first teachers and role models, and thus they should be taught self-respect, moral values, and provided with adequate, if not exceptional education, to equip them fully for this role.

I am, however, of the view that contraceptives, as a component of reproductive health awareness and education, should be a mere stopgap measure, so that when society rights itself, it should not be considered as a top option for family planning. I am a firm believer in submitting oneself to God's plan. I speak from experience. My mother had me quite early in life, when she was 18, and there are only three of us siblings. She has never used contraceptives in her life. But her body's rhythm adjusted to her lifestyle after she had my youngest brother Henry, and thus, she no longer bore children after his birth. She did not undergo artificial measures to achieve such, it just happened.  My Dad wanted a large family, five children at the very least, but they accepted this situation with grace and gratitude.

Each child that comes into the family should be considered a Blessing from Heaven, and thus it should be the parents that prepares themselves for their birth. If they are unexpected or unplanned, it is my dearest prayer that we do not espouse termination. It was not the child's choice to be conceived in the first place, whether he or she be the product of rape or incest or some other such unfortunate occurrence. One can always carry the child to full term and have them adopted. The world is rife with childless couples, who I am sure would welcome such a gift. Remember, that child in the womb is helpless and still dependent on adults for mere survival. If you want to terminate them, then at least give them a fighting chance and wait until they are old and strong enough to defend themselves.     

one fine day

Bestie Carla, whom I met in Journalism school at the University of the Philippines-Diliman more than 20 years ago as a college freshman. We don't live in each other's pockets, but her friendship has been a constant source of support, strength, and inspiration to me. Here at the Ayala Triangle Gardens on Dia Del Libros where we had a nice lunch, a wonderful chat, and a promise to see each other soon. :)

coffee addict

at a nearby Starbucks on a morning waiting for my lunch date with my bestie, Carla

the office

window composition. the spool of ribbon is a found object. I hold office in the Occupational Therapy area of a hospital. It's fun to be surrounded by cataclysms of creativity!

pop up

the Ortigas Foundation Pop-Up Library at the Ayala Triangle Gardens. Had a nice time reading a borrowed book here and was inspired to share some of mine.

kapitolyo

At Estancia Capitol Commons on a slow morning. I love opening time as there aren't too many people at the mall at that hour yet. A good time to meander and meditate. :)

foundling

this Coke bottle was hanging out in a truck yard we went to in Laguna. It was a hot day and I wished the bottle wasn't empty! :)

from February

a photo I took at Kenny Rogers Megamall. I love taking photos of patterns and iterations. It calmed me to look at this architectural detail.

Si Elvis

Dalawa lang ang lalaki sa buhay niya: si Elvis Presley at si Martin Nievera.

Isa siyang bakla, beki kung tatawagin  sa lenggwahe ngayon.

Maliit siya, isa sa mga kakaunting katangian na gusto niya sa sarili. Wala pa siyang limang talampakan, balingkinitan ang katawan, makinis ang kayumangging kutis, at malantik ang mga pilikmatang kumukubli sa nangungusap na mga mata.

Nakilala niya ang batang palaboy na si Marie sa labas ng simbahan ng Quiapo sa Maynila. Mukhang tomboy dahil kalaro ang mga batang lalaki, at karaniwa'y natatalo niya ang mga ito sa larong tex, tumbang preso, at mataya-taya. Nangangalakal ng bote at diyaryo ang ama, at ang ina naman niya ay nakaratay dahil sa sakit na TB.

Bago siya sa Kalye Villalobos, bagong salta sa siyudad. Tumakas siya sa probinsya nang mahuli siya ng ama na nakikipagniig kay Mariang Palad habang hinihiyaw ang pangalan ni Elvis Presley.

"Bakit?" tanong ng kanyang ama, "bakit lalaki ang pinagpapantasyahan mo habang nagsasalsal ka? Bakla ka ba?" Umamin siya, na, oo, pusong babae siya, at nais niyang maging asawa ang sikat na manganganta sa kabilang buhay. Noong araw ding iyon ay nilisan niya ang marangyang buhay sa Batangas dahil sa pagtakwil ng kanyang pamilya.

Sa isang kabataan ay maaaring maituring na isang masayang karanasan ang pakikipagsapalaran sa Maynila. Maraming sinehan, maraming pasyalan, maraming tao. Tila dito malilimutan mo lahat ng suliranin at dalahin mo sa buhay.

Ngunit di siya karaniwang kabataan. Gustong-gusto niya ang payak na buhay sa probinsya. Ang magising sa tilaok ng manok, ang magpastol ng mga baka, gumapas ng palay tuwing tag-ani. Ang maligo sa dagat tuwing tag-araw. Mangisda at mabuhay sa matinding paniwala na lahat ng iyong pangangailangan ay ipagkakaloob ng Butihing Poong Maykapal.  

Si Marie: "Bakla, palit tayo. Noodles para sa isa sa mga kahel mo!" Hinitsa ng siyam na taong gulang na gusgusing bata ang balot ng Maggi chicken noodles na alam niyang inumit sa Bumbay sa kanto, at kumuha ng pinakasariwa at pinakamatingkad na kahel sa kumpol sa kanyang bilao.

Tila siya lamang ang ginagalang ng batang ito sa hanay ng mga nagtitinda dito sa kalye sa gilid ng simbahan ng Quiapo. Hindi siya pinag-uumitan ng kahit ano, kahit yung mga patapon na niyang kalakal ay tila sagrado sa batang ito. Nakikipag-barter lang ito sa kanya sa mga araw na prutas ang tinitinda niya.

"O, dalawa na kunin mo! Eto pa," sigaw niya ngunit palayo na ang bata. Nagkibit balikat siya. Tila lucky charm sa kanya ang bata dahil pagsalta pa lamang niya sa pagtitinda ay ito ang nag-buena mano sa kanyang tindang mansanas. Mabilis na bumenta ang kanyang paninda at kapapananghalian pa lamang ay nakauwi na siya sa bed space sa likod ng mga tindahan sa Raon.

Ang unang pinag-ipunan niya sa tubo sa pagtitinda ay cassette tape ng mga kanta ni Martin Nievera. Medyo hindi pa niya kayang pakinggan ang mga kanta ni Elvis. Sariwa pa sa kanyang alaala ang mapait na karanasang idinulot sa kanya ng pagnanasa sa manganganta.

Si Martin. Malasutla ang boses. Ayos lang na baluktot ang Tagalog. Cute sa turing niya kapag kinakapanayam ito sa mga noontime show sa TV na pinapanood nila sa panciteria kapag matumal ang benta.

Pinapakinggan niya sa kaniyang baong radyo ang tape ni Martin bago matulog. Masarap ang tulog niya at maganda ang gising kinabukasan dahil sa ritwal na ito. Hindi siya masyadong nangungulila sa naiwang buhay sa probinsya.

"Bakla! Punta ka sa amin. Kaarawan ko. Bibili kami ng pancit at monay mamaya. Ikaw lang ang bisita ko. Wag kang mawawala!" Si Marie. Malungkot ang mukha nito, tila di mukha ng batang babaeng magdiriwang ng ika-sampung kaarawan.

"Sige. Utang muna regalo ko ha!" Ngunit gaya ng gawi nito, ay di hinintay ang sagot niya at tumatakbo na palayo.

Halatang ukay-ukay ang bestida ni Marie nang bumalik alas cuatro ng hapong iyon. Ang lampas balikat na buhok ay sinalansan sa magulong pony tail. Bago ang pares ng Spartan na tsinelas nito. May bahid ng luha ang kaniyang malumbay na mga mata.

"Tara na Bakla! Wala ka bang kahel para sa akin?" tila pinapalakas na lamang niya ang kaniyang loob.

"O, eto. Tsaka mansanas at ubas. Birthday mo naman. Bigay ko na sa iyo yan. Wag mo nang palitan." Nakabihis siya ng malinis na T-shirt na may tatak ng mukha ni Diana Ross, at maiksing maong na shorts na pinaggupitan sa pantalon. "Teka, ha." Hinila niya ang goma sa buhok ni Marie at nilabas ang suklay sa Via Venetto na bag niya, na regalo ng matalik na kaibigan sa Batangas.

Sinuklayan niya ng buhok ang bata. Halatang hindi ito sanay na inaayusan siya. Mahigpit ang mga balikat nito at tensiyonado ang buong katawan ng bata habang inaayos niya sa isang French braid ang buhok nito. "Hayan, mukha ka nang prinsesa. Tara na sa inyo."

"Medyo malayo ang lalakarin natin, Bakla. Pasensya na wala akong pera pamasahe."

 Ang bali-balita sa Villalobos ay sa ilalim ng tulay nakatira ang pamilya ni Marie. Ngunit nagulat siya nang huminto sila sa tapat ng lagusan ng Hospicio De San Jose. Binati sila ng isang madre. "Ah, Marie. Iyan ba ang bisita mo? Patuluyin mo siya." 

Maraming tao sa maluwang na bulwagan nang hapong iyon. Pinagmamasdan niya si Marie, at sa unang pagkakataon ay nakita niya kung paano ito iwan ng angas na nakasanayan na niya sa kalye ng Quiapo. Kiming-kimi ito na tila ayaw igalaw ang katawan. Panay ang kuskos sa ilong, na sa malunan ay matutukoy niyang gawain ng bata pag kinakabahan ito.  

"Halika, ano nga ba ang pangalan mo? Kuha ka ng plato. May nagdala kasi ng pagkain. Di namin inaasahan," paanyaya sa kanya ng madre.

"Marie, halika, kain tayo." Ngayon ay naipagpasalamat niya ang kinalakihang alta sociedad sa Batangas. Kahit shorts at T-shirt lamang ang suot ay maayos siyang nakisalamuha sa mga mayayamang bisita ng mga madre, na nalaman niya ay umaambag sa Hospicio.

Kinuha niya ng plato ang bata, at tinanong kung alin sa mga putaheng nakahain sa buffet ang nais niyang kainin.

Umupo sila sa mesa sa isang tagong sulok ng bulwagan at matapos ng masinsinang pag-usisa ay nalaman niyang namatay na ang ina ni Marie at iniwan siya ng ama sa bahay  ampunan. Ang mga prutas na hinihingi ng bata sa kanya ay pinapasalubong sa inang maysakit.

"Uy. Fan ka rin?" may umantala sa paghuhuntahan nila. Napanganga siya. Si Fanny Serrano. Stylist to the stars. Pagdaka'y ngumiti siya. "Ah, opo. 'When You Tell Me That You Love Me'. Kinakanta ko sa mga amateur dito," pakiramdam niya'y masyadong personal ang kwento niya, pero si Fanny Serrano ito!

"Naku iha. Mas maraming pera sa make up art. Masyado nang maraming beauty queen sa hanay natin. Ikaw nag-ayos sa kanya?"

"Opo."

"Oh, eto tarheta ko. Punta ka sa shop ko sa Makati kung interesado ka. Marami kaming opening ngayon. Libre training, may allowance ka. Tapos may commission sa mga customer pag nakapasa ka."

"Talaga po?"

"Mukha ba akong nagbibiro?"

"Marie, siya ba yung sinasabi mo?" turing nito sa bata. Tumango ito at sa unang pagkakataon sa gabing iyon ay nakita niyang ngumiti ang bata. "O sige. Aasahan kita sa shop, ha?" baling nito sa kanya. 

"Ano yun?"

"Si Madam Fanny. Tuwing Biyernes nagsisimba siya sa Quiapo. Dinadalhan niya kami ng groceries. Sa kanya galing yung noodles na pinagpapalit ko sa prutas mo. Tinatabi ko talaga yon. Ayokong uwian ng nakaw si Inay," paliwanag ng bata.

"Naku. Bruha ka talaga. Akala ko kinukuha mo kay Bumbay yung Maggi."

"Ano ba! Expired lahat ng paninda no'n! Hindi ko papatusin yun!" biro ni Marie. Nagtawanan sila.

"Bakit alam ni Madam Fanny kung sino ako?"

"Kasi, nagdadasal ako sa Poong Nazareno. Sabi ko, bigyan niya ako ng kaibigan. Yung mga kalaro ko, parati akong inaaway kasi babae ako. Babae lang daw. Di ko raw kaya yung mga kaya nila. Binubuska nila ako pag natatalo ko sila sa laro. Nandadaya lang daw ako kaya ako nananalo. Tapos si Inay maysakit. Tapos si Itay tila kakambal na ng sama ng loob. Matagal ko nang gustong sumama sa mga madre. Kaya lang kailangan kong alagaan si Inay. Kaya nung namatay siya, sabi ko kay Itay, dito na lang ako. Wala naman siyang pakialam. Ayos lang. Kahit papaano, dito nakakapag-aral ako," kibit balikat siya.

"O. Tapos?"

"Nu'ng unang araw mong magtinda, Biyernes noon. Tapos nakasuot ka ng Elvis Presley na T-shirt. Tapos, hindi ka lalaki. Kaya ko nalaman na ikaw yung kaibigan na pinadala ng Nazareno para sa akin. Nahihiya nga lang akong lumapit, baka isipin mo gusto ko lang humingi ng paninda mo," sabi pa ni Marie.

"Bruha ka talaga. Lika nga dito. Puede ka bang yakapin ng kaibigan mo?" Kumukurap siya nang mabilis para hindi tumulo ang luhang nangingilid sa mga mata niya.

Mahigpit at matagal na nagyakap ang dalawa.

"Mmmm. Marie, bilang kaibigan mo, puede ka bang turuan ng tamang paraan ng paliligo? Nakakasulasok 'tong buhok mo. Tapos pag pumapasok na ako kay Fanny Serrano, gugupitan kita ng maayos. Tapos shopping tayo sa Quad."

"Teka, teka, ano ka? Evil stepmother?" biro ng bata.

"Hindi. Fairy godmother!"