Apo Reef, Sablayan, Mindoro

"Even after all this time, the sun never says to the earth 'you owe me'.

Look what happens with a love like that, it lights the whole sky."

- Hafiz

Captivating. Beguiling. Ethereal.
A slice of heaven here on earth.

Math 17 Diaries (I Think I'm Fallin')

Masarap… masakit ang umibig.
Remember the first time?
First meeting.
First blush.
First skip of the heart.
First heartache.
Hehe… mararamdaman mo lahat nang to pag nag Math 17 ka.

Dubbed as the “most dreaded” subject, marami nang mga pangarap ang winasak ng Math 17. Ika nga sa love, kung hindi mo kinaya ang sakit… either nagpatiwarik ka na o tuluyan ka nang nabaliw for life.

Matagal-tagal na rin akong nakipagbunuan sa Math 17. Pero kumbaga, eto talaga ang maituturing mong first love sa mga subjects na kukunin mo. Alam mo ang kasabihang first love never dies. Yes Math 17 never dies too.

Freshmen orientation pa lang naming nun, pamungad ng speaker “Good luck sa mga mag-ma-Math 17! Dahil inabot din ako ng siyam siyam bago ko yun natapos!” Shriek of terror among the audience. Tahimik lang ako. Well at least may warning na kung anong giyera ang susuungin. At humahalakhak na ang mga mata ng mga probinsyanong Math geeks na inalipusta ng mga konyong bubing sa Math kanina sa labas. Iniisip na siguro ng mga konyo “Gosh, they can’t speak proper English but they’re speaking numbers!”

Pero based on experience, 1 out of 50 lang naman talaga ang super henyo sa Math. Ganyan ang isa kong blockmate na si Paulo, exempted na kaagad sya hindi pa nagsisimula ang aming kalbaryo. And the rest of the block, first day ng class will meet new (pero sa totoo lang, old) faces – yung mga previous bagsak, take 2, take 3, take forever.

Buti na lang hindi terror ang teacher namin. Basta ang rule simple lang: Ipasa ang algebra at trigo divided into 1st, 2nd, midterms, 3rd, 4th and final exams. Kahit pasang-awa or 60%, tyak tres na sa classcard. In general, kahiya-hiya ang tres pero sa Math it’s considered a grade to die for.

First exam, takot na takot kaming lahat. Eto na ang unong suong sa gyera. 1 pm ang exam namin sa Math kaya during lunchtime pa lang bumabaligtad na ang sikmura ko, di na ako makakain ng maayos. At habang nag-eexam, ano ba to… halos lahat ng numbers present sina x at y. You need to find their values or else… Kahit na ang mga familiar characters sa word problems na “ano ang kailangang speed ni Harry Potter para maabot ang snitch na may speed na 100 km/hr doon sa may intersection” hindi ka pakakalmahin. Pero take note: joker rin ang mga Math teachers ha. Kung hindi si Harry Potter ang bida sa word problem, si Winnie d’ Pooh.

At after the exam, what’s in store? Syempre, the waiting… the waiting that’s driving you out of your mind. Dahil next meeting, malalaman mo na kung ikaw ay in or out. So syempre on that big day assured na yun 1/5 of the class ay magtatalon sa tuwa dahil sila ang mga mapipiling "chosen few" and the rest ay mapapahandusay na lang kasabay ng mga malulutong na mura at mga threats na pasasabugin ang Math Building o “Lord bakit sa akin nangyari to?” with matching luha at tumutulong sipon. Hindi ka talaga matatawa sa sight kahit funny sya. Ganun talaga ang buhay… este ang Math 17. Buti na lang naka 81% ako first exam pa lang. And the rest para na lang syang cyle. Sabi ko nga love in disguise to e.

Pag hindi ka nakasagot sa teacher, mapapa-blush ka sa hiya.
Pag naperfect mo ang assignment katumbas na rin nun ang matamis na “oo”. Oo 100% na may tama ka!
Pag nakalimutan mo ang formula, magdasal ka na.
Pag pumasa ka sa finals, ang sarap-sarap ng gising mo sa umaga.
Pag-bagsak naman, lagi mo sya naiisip… the pain, the kirot… sa shower, sa canteen, at sa mga sandaling hindi ang crush mo ang naglalaro sa kukote mo.

After the first exam hindi ko na maalala in detail ang mga scores ko, basta pasang-awa na lang ako nung midterms. Pero ang most unforgettable experience talaga… ang araw ng bigayan ng classcards. Usually I call it a day of mourning dahil maraming mga pusong masasaktan… Sa stairs pa lang marami nang bulagta dyan sa kakahagulgol. Imagine the scenario… After “This is Spartaaaaaa” natalo kayong lahat at nagkalat ang mga putol na ulo at kamay. Gross. And then a sad music starts playing in the background. Bato na lang ang di lumuha. Parang ganun. Sa mga weak-hearted, ang failing grade ay katumbas na rin ng mga gumuhong pangarap. Kahit na gusto mo man silang batukan at pagsabihang “Math lang yan, there’s always the next sem…” Pero hindi e. Di ba pag napaso ka rin sa pag-ibig parang ayaw mo na rin buksan uli ang puso mo?

Alam ko… marami pa dyang Math 17 horror stories. Mga nakick-out nang college dahil sa Math 17. Mga na-dismiss sa university dahil sa Math 17. Mga na-delay at nagkaugat na nang dahil sa Math 17. Mga umakyat pa ng Baguio para doon na lang mag Math 17. Mga nag-shift na lang sa Educ para wala nang Math 17. Mga nag Math 11 at Math 14 na lang para hindi na direktang mag Math 17.
Pero sa totoo lang maiisip mo Math 17 is not just any massive ethnic cleansing. Dahil if it doesn’t kill you… it will make you stronger. Buti na lang nakapag Math 17 ako. At least nalaman ko, kaya ko naman pala lampasan ang takot. At least may isang subject pala na wala talaga kayong choice ng mga kaklase mo but to stay, get close, huddle and pray together ke langit at lupa man ang estado nyo sa buhay.

Sabi ko nga e… pag nag-Math 17 ka para ka na ring nagmahal. Yun nga lang substitute the kilig with the nginig factor.

Bewitching Siquijor: Isla del Fuego

No wild parties. No disco lights. No rowdy people.
No fancy cars. No traffic. No pollution. No noise.
A little paradise. My little paradise.

Lazi church

San Isidro Labrador convent

Coral Cay Resort

Cantabon Cave

Salagdoong Beach

Black Magic Mary

Coco Grove Beach Resort

Siquijor has magic. Lots of it!

Many years ago, Spanish colonizers called the island “Isla de Fuego” (Island of Fire) due to the glow of the multitude of fireflies that would gather nightly, making the whole place appear like it was on fire.

Siquijor's allure and mystery is not shrouded by black magic. But in every sense, it is truly a naturally-enchanted tropical paradise.

The ABC of Life as I Silently Sing It

The following is not a children’s song but simple lessons I learned from life since kindergarten:

a.) You can’t force others to like you even if you were a bitter melon.
b.) Promises are made either to keep or… shut you up.
c.) Mother knows best… so you better listen. You don’t need though to follow all what she has to say.
d.) We don’t have to always agree. We may be looking at the same sky yet see different stars.
e.) Learn from the mistakes of others because you won’t be given the chance to commit all crimes. Otherwise, lucky you. And luckier you if you got away with all of your sins.
f.) There is nothing certain in life, except death and taxes.
g.) You don’t need earbuds to clean your ears, because your ear needs the wax. Did you hear me!?
h.) Don’t assume. It’s not your lucky day today.
i.) You have a purpose in life. Even if life is a wheel, never forget you are one of the cogs of that wheel!
j.) Not all that tastes sour is rich in Vitamin C. Take armpit for example.
k.) Love conquers all except toothache.
l.) Laugh often because it lowers levels of cortisol, a stress hormone. In addition, surround yourself with good people. Your body easily makes its own vitamin D once it is exposed to sunshine.
m.) Always take a book with you, especially when you’re going in a grocery store or LTO. Doing nothing while waiting, will drive you out of your mind.
n.) When making choices, weigh the consequences. My happiness or the world’s?
o.) Sometimes you need to lose everything for you to find out what matters most.
p.) Cream Brulee could never be Jell-O. And vice-versa.
q.) You can actually be in two places at one time. Sometimes.
r.) You can never revive the past because just like the words you uttered, it’s already dead. That’s why give importance to Now and Tomorrow before they become the Past.
s.) Once you love expect to experience joy and pain. They are a package - you don’t get the one without getting the other. As they say, love, like life, is a box of chocolates. You might get Cadbury or Tsoke-Tsoke.
t.) Stop bitching about your problems! Nobody really wants to listen.
u.) Take care of you family and friends for they last longer than lovers. Isn’t it there are moments when you miss them so much that you just want to pick them like flowers and hug them for real. But take note, no matter how close they had been there for us, the furthest they can go with us is up to our grave. Only.
v.) Let go of all your greed, anger, and hate. They are not compatible with your heart.
w.) Be honest. But you don’t need to tell them all.
x.) Learn how to swim. You’ll never know when the next Great Flood will be.
y.) Love like you’ve never loved before, even though someone you love already loves someone else. But if you can’t beat them… arrange to have them beaten. Figuratively, I mean.
z.) Don’t live as if you’ll never die, and die as though you had never lived.

Okay now… let’s sing the real ABC…

My Bilibid Days

This is the story of Bunso…

“I passed by an old man looking pensively at an old photo of a girl he loved all his life. Beside him, was a man looking so detached from this world. Nothing binds the three of us and the thousand more confined in this little space for an indefinite period of time, except for one thing we might have forever lost - freedom. How heartbreaking that my life will miserably end here. In the dead silence of the night, loneliness visits me. He has been my constant visitor for now. I suffer not so much because I’m caged within the four walls of this tiny grimy cell but because I’m separated from my loved ones. I’m a fallen bird who broke his wings in his most atrocious flight. All the cheerfulness flocked from my heart the moment I realized I could never fly that sky so blue and high. And all I could do now is gaze at it from the lowest point of my life. Living behind these bars is harsh and scary. My fellow inmates have troubles of their own enough to drive them mad. We are all brutalized by life filled with congestion, filth and vice. Life here is in the borders of a scorching hell and cold purgatory. So gloomy and dark has my world become that the slightest stirring of love, the faintest ray of light, awakens the hope I’m afraid is slowly dying within me. I wish I could still turn back the time. I’ve lost everything I loved and cared for. My only possessions left are two orange shirts, the lone letter my mother wrote to me before she died, and happy memories of innocence I safely locked in my mind. They have all forgotten me now. I am no better than a dust… forgotten and forever gone with the wind.”

I worked for some time with the Jesuit Prison Service in Bilibid - the most notorious of the seven national prisons in the country confining more than 17,000 convicts who committed grave offenses such as murder, homicide and rape. Working inside the prison may be unsafe yet fulfilling. Though fully aware that there are still inmates with antisocial behavior, there are those who have repented and changed for the better. I can’t help but feel concerned when I hear some of them dejectedly complain they haven’t had a visit for quite a while. I admire their honesty and courage for recounting to me the gruesome crimes they have committed. Somehow, I commiserated with them for the different problems they have to face everyday – lack of water, inadequate food supply, overcrowding, bribery, physical and emotional abuse, gang wars, discrimination, depression, degradation, longing, hunger for human touch, and the most dreaded moment that maybe someday they might be reintegrated into the free society. Their stories have imparted in me something – that they too are also victims… victims of poverty, illiteracy, broken home and chance. Though I condemn their sins, I couldn’t help but broaden my understanding why they have committed such crimes. When I was at the Death Row, I appreciated death convicts approaching me, shaking my hand and telling me “thank you for being here.” Though I have not uncovered all the secrets and mysteries behind bars, my volunteer service transported me to a world I had only glimpsed in Robin Padilla movies (it was claimed he was the most celebrated of all the housemates Bilibid has ever had, the crown now being passed on to Jalosjos). A world resembling a miniature of city of Manila – complete with dilapidated old buildings, churches, mosque, plaza, wet market, restaurants, sari-sari stores, hospital, rehabilitation center, furniture and industrial factories, school, museum, post office, plaza, tennis court, basketball court, beautiful garden and bartolina with swarming tambays in every corner of the place.

I have met a new family through the PJPS staff, especially Father Will. They served as my bridge to reach out to lost souls trapped in the living underworld. Funny, I could still remember the first time I entered the gates of prison… I was sweating profusely… a little terrified that I might get stabbed or lynched. Nothing of that sort happened of course. What an extra-challenge achievement for a naïve boy who doesn’t even want to hang out with friends in bars and instead spent his weekends drinking with rapists and murderers (that was drinking orange juice, by the way… trust me you’ll need extra vitamin C in dealing with them). And before I forget, Bunso is one of my three buddies in Camp Sampaguita (Bilibid is divided by security level into three camps – Maximum, Minimum/Camp Sampaguita, and Minimum/Camp Bukang-Liwayway). He was my tour guide (teaching me some useful Bilibid slang like puga, buryong and tarima) all the time I was bonding with ka-kosas. I don’t know if he would agree with Gandhi who said “Freedom is not worth having if it does not include the freedom to make mistakes.” He won’t I bet. We are just of the same age.

In Memory of Ron

Ronald Lay
One friendJune 1980 – June 2006

I never properly said goodbye to Ron. He told me once while he was hospitalized “The doctor said I might die anytime.” I said “Don’t kid me. You’ll get well.” It was my way of evading the discussion on facing mortality. Like the way we had snubbed each other the first time we met. We never really were in good terms because he snapped at me once for laughing with Manny while he was lecturing on computer programs.

And so every time we passed each other, our nostrils and eyebrows start to get bellicose. How the elevator seem to get smaller and deafeningly silent when we were riding in it together. To put everything in three words - we don’t talk. Yeah, we don’t really like each other that much. And heaven knows if we will ever be friends. Until one fine day. After he recovered from his pulmonary illness, I got the chance to talk with him. I said “You would recuperate faster if you take a long-month vacation. Go to Banaue and enjoy its beautiful scenery.” So it just started there. And every time I visited the MIS Office, he would jocosely say “You’re messing and disturbing us again!” or “Why do you miss us that much!”

In one of our office testimonial sharing, he told us to take care of our health because “it’s precious”. He had difficulty breathing then. He was hospitalized several times and was diagnosed with complications in his blood and brain. I felt sorry now that I had only visited him once for the many times he had been to different hospitals around the Metro. I was in Cabugao watching sunset, when I got a text message from Cheng “We’re here at the hospital, about to donate blood for Ron.” A week later he called and I immediately said “Sorry I wasn’t able to visit you and donate some blood.” He said “Ows you would do that for me?” I said laughing “Even though I am afraid of needles, I would gladly do it for you. I heard it makes you healthy and look good. You know I would do anything to look good no matter what it takes!”

It was the last time I heard him laugh. When he was still alive, he often complains. He told me “There was a point in my life, that I blamed almost everybody for what happened to me.” It was at this moment that I empathized with him. He was young. Athletic. Conservative. Computer genius. Without vice. Good son. And he had cats he loved more than anything inhuman-like in this world. He had dreams he will now never fulfill. How can you do everything you wanted in this life when you can barely stand up, face the world and start to lose the one thread that keeps you going - hope?

During our office’s 26th anniversary, he called really upset that he was not permitted by his mom to go to the party. A week later, he celebrated his 26th birthday with us. I swear I almost balked out of the room when I saw him. He was in a wheelchair and was twice as lanky as I am. I could see his body slowly shrinking. His family was with him and everybody was in a festive mood or trying to be, well maybe except for Ron who later complained to his Mom that we were all so annoyingly noisy. When I asked him “What’s your favorite song? We’ll sing it for you.” His head just turned left and right. I could feel he was really tired, unhappy. And If I had known that this would be the last birthday he’s going to celebrate with us, then I wish I had personally thanked him for being my friend. Even in his deathbed, we weren’t able to bid Ron farewell. When we arrived at the hospital, the doctors were hopelessly reviving him. His heart was no longer beating. Everybody was crying. His mom kept saying “God just another month please. Don’t take him away yet.”

I shed a tear that day. Despite the loss, I thanked God he took away all of Ron’s suffering. Ron was cremated, just as he wished. We got to see his baby pictures during his wake. He was really a clown. And though he’s on the other side now, I still hold on to things he left me - a cute blue shirt (which I asked during our last Christmas party) and two must-do’s in this lifetime (important things he wished he had done while he still had the chance): buy a piece of land and do everything good you want.

I know the bitterest tears shed over graves are for regrets brought about by letting go without having the chance to tell everything to someone. Farewell my friend. I am sorry. Thank you.