PERSONAL ESSAY: REFUGE

By Calleja, F. S.
December 6, 2004


My mother has always been tightly knit with her family. Even after I was born, Lola, my Lola’s sister, and my cousin continued to live with us.

Nonetheless, I was not that close with my real Lola (my mother’s mother) because she was always drunk and minded her own business. She would often go to the store, stay there the whole day, return by 5:00 pm, and then sleep.

But she was very proud of me, saying it was a miracle for her, a worn-out, dark-skinned, probinsyana-looking Waray to have such a good-looking apo (she said that, not me).

She was also extremely generous and easy to please. Sometimes, she took me to the store and bought me anything I wanted. However, I did not really have quality time to spend with her other than that.

On the other hand, I really bonded with Lala Margie (my mother’s aunt, my Lola’s sister, whom I called this way ever since) because we spent a lot of time together. Mama was working in Makati. Papa was always abroad. My cousin, Ate Rowena, was always in school. It also took a long time before I had a brother. So, it makes sense for me to say she influenced me the most.

Lala did not have a place to live before. None of her children made her permanently stay in their homes. That’s the primary reason why Mama wanted her to live with us.

Lala was quite different from my Lola. She did not indulge in drinking, but was obsessed with gambling. I learned how to play solitaire (animan and pituhan) and jueteng through her.

But I wouldn’t care less! I owe a lot more to her. In my preschool years, she always rode with me in the school bus and patiently waited in the playground of our school until dismissal. She always checked if I had neatly-ironed uniforms. At night, she made sure I was asleep before she slept herself. She was actually my refuge… the person I could always rely on.

She was also my “kakampi.” She always defended me. She never spanked me if I couldn’t bring myself to sleep in the afternoon (for some reason, they all wanted me to sleep after Eat Bulaga) and never forced me to eat ampalaya. I think she did spoil me a bit. That’s why I got super close with her.

I remember when she would take me to Binondo, Tondo, or Quiapo to visit her children. I enjoyed riding antique buses in Manila with Lala (we rode those vehicles because she had no money).

Those experiences I missed dearly when she did not come with us to Naga. She said she couldn’t be too far from her children, and she doesn’t know anyone there. So, she lived with her son in Binondo. I tried to convince her to come with us, but her mind was made up.

But it was okay. We always visited her. And, I always gave her money when we visit (as she had no money as usual, which she termed as “zero-zero balance”). There was even a time when she stayed in Naga for two months for a vacation. The important thing is that we never lost contact.

However, the sad news came in 2003 when I learned she died in a road accident. The jeepney she was riding bumped into a truck, which made her fall from her seat and hit her head causing internal hemorrhage. I was devastated. She was a really healthy lady, so I thought death was far away.

We got the chance to visit her grave when we took a vacation in Las Piñas in the summer of 2004.

I don’t know if she realized it, but she had a lasting impact on me. Who I am now is in a way due to her. Some of my life’s first lessons, joys, and experiences were shared with her. I would always treasure her memories. And I hope that through me, whom she treated like a son, Lala’s legacy lives on…

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Biboy Calleja is from Journals. He also is a Storyteller of the Writers Guild.

PERSONAL ESSAY: EYE SPY WITH MY THIRD EYE

by Mahros Abaño


When I was in elementary, I used to spend my afternoons at the local public library near the town hall. In it there was this collection of occult books entitled, Encyclopedia of the Occult, the Esoteric and the Supernatural (Stein & Day, New York, 1980). It is a fantastic set of books, 10 in all, filled with stories of all things about ghosts, witchcraft, and all things extraordinary that for a 9-year-old kid will find truly magnificent. I guess my love for the weird was fueled with those trips to the library to finish the entire volume.

One of my favorites among the collection is the volume on psychics and fortunetellers. Of course, this was the first time I’ve heard of Nostradamus or Jeanne Dixon (She claimed to predict the assassination of John F. Kennedy), among others. I find it odd that people can predict the future based on looking at tea leaves, crystal balls, tarot cards or even blank space. As with the ghosts and other supernatural phenomena, it was an exciting read because of the way these psychics presented their predictions. And from my catbird seat, it is all that, a lovely read. Then again, some people are more fanatical about it than I am.

To those living under a rock for years, a psychic is defined by Merriam-Webster.com as, “a person apparently sensitive to nonphysical forces,” while psychic phenomena is defined as, “phenomena that appear to contradict physical laws and suggest the possibility of causation by mental processes (Dictionary.com).” A fortune teller is “one that professes to foretell future events (Merriam-Webster.com).”

Outside the realm of the dusty pages, the psychic phenomena, in my opinion, is all just a set of generalized idea about the complex nature of man weaved into a spectacular yarn of equally-generalized ideas supplanted by the fertile imaginations of the fortuneteller and the person being “read” his or her “future”.

I love talking about myself and hearing about myself as much as the next person and from what I realized, that is the basic premise of this practice, i.e., psychic readings. Case in point, let’s begin with the popular daily horoscopes. The idea of this is that each person according to his date of birth is under a specific sign of the zodiac, which is basically a group of stars. It is one of the oldest practices of looking into someone’s future or even a person’s attitude according to the position of the stars.

In a world filled with billions of people (not counting China because they use the Chinese horoscope, ha ha), how many are under the sign of Libra such as myself? Millions, I suppose. So, I googled my horoscope at Horoscope.com and this was my horoscope for May 25, 2007:

“The truth shall set you free. The problem is, you're not sure you can handle it. Take heart: You're stronger than you know. After you see the reality of the situation, you'll realize your fear was larger than necessary.”

This is somewhat general. I mean, how does that person know that a particular Libran, let’s say myself, is suffering from a particular setback since from the last time I heard, these astute people from horoscope.com are not my friends? So the answer will be, no. Hence, the use of the painfully overwrought, “The truth shall set you free,” maxim to emphasize whatever it is that I might be having issues with whether it would be I am not coming to terms of what to have for dinner or if will I eventually break off my relationship with Brad Pitt since that hag Angelina Jolie is coming between us.

Now, some really firm believer would say that my horoscope means that this is a “sign,” a favorite term among believers of this practice, that I should bring myself to the warm and enlightening embrace of the believers of psychics. Given the fact that it was pointed out that, “fear was larger than necessary,” it may be surmised that I fear what I don’t understand that is why I am criticizing it, which is a moot point by the way. Or the truth that all of these “predictions” are mere play of words and that I should not fear being kicked in the ass by the people who believe in all of this.

Since reading about it is fun, experiencing the phenomena for me is the next step. So one weekend, my friends told me their “suking” psychic is having a “reading” and I agreed to have a “reading” as well. I have been infinitely curious about the whole thing. Not to be converted but to see what really makes psychics tick or what my reading would be like. Would I be pretty or would I be rich? Que sera sera.

This is not my first time to have my fortune told but this is the first time I would be paying to get my fortune told. I am the biggest cheapskate around so doing this is clearly a big thing for me. I psyched (pun intended!) myself that this is for empirical purposes and to see what the fuss was all about.

It was a big disappointment. The “suking” psychic gave what were to be the most general predictions in my life. An example was the very first thing he told me was I should not take a bath at evenings because an illness would befall my person. How, very motherly of him! My mother always tells me that and it’s free.

Then one of the funny moments during the entire reading was when he told me that I am bound to go to a foreign land through the auspices of a relative or friend from that particular country that I am supposed to be headed. Then he asked me if I have a relative or a friend abroad; when I said no, he made a 180-degree turn by saying that a friend whom I have not been in touch for a while will be the one helping me to get a job abroad. Before the reading was over, another turn happened as he said that the company that I am with right now will send me abroad for a seminar or a training. I’ll say, how convenient!

To level off the tarot reading that I have had, I googled “free tarot reading” and I was directed to http://www.usefultrivia.com/astrology/ and I got the following reading:

“This card indicates physical movement in your short-term outlook--departure, absence, flight, emigration, or a change of residence. A dark young man is involved.”

So what does that tell me? Nothing, it turned out. I am particularly disgusted that I could get the same prediction at the click of the mouse. It doesn’t tell me anything extraordinary as well. At least the one I got online has the impending involvement with a “dark young man.”

Suffice to say that my little experiment proves that we all love a good story and it is more enticing when we are the ones starring in it. In the course of our humdrum existence, the idea of a better, far more exciting life in the future is a guiltless pleasure we all indulge in and we grasp it wherever we may find it, even it was just told to us by a pack of cards and an old man with a bag of tales.


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About the author

Mahros Abaño writes because she was absolutely useless in her Home Economics’ classes; she wishes to learn how to knit a tablecloth in the future, preferably before hell freezes over because of global warming. She used to be from Healthcare, and now had returned to her first love - teaching.

PERSONAL ESSAY: IT'S NOT EASY

By Rohit Wad



“With great power comes great responsibility.”

For a long time, I've always admired the superheroes in stories and comics, those who leap to the rescue at the first sign of trouble and save the day. More often than not, they tend to lead dual lives, wearing masks at "work," then reverting back to their own selves after the danger is over. It always made me wish that I had superpowers, be it X-ray vision, super-strength, enhanced agility, etc.

I always will admire these superheroes, no matter what my age; doing heroic deeds probably does wonders for one's own conscience, if not ego. However, my view on superheroes has changed somewhat, especially after listening to the song "Superman," by the music group Five for Fighting.

I've come to look at the lives of superheroes differently, at the trials they have to go through everyday. These people have to fight not just to maintain not only peace and justice in their surroundings, but also for the stability of their personal lives, which have been made more complicated because of their newfound powers. It makes me wonder how drastically my life would change, if I were a superhero. For example, new questions would arise.

How will I be able to keep my identity secret? If people knew who I was, how will they behave? Will my friends still be my friends? Will my loved ones be in danger, now that I'm a superhero? Will I be able to watch over everybody 24/7? If I had kids, how will they be treated by others, knowing that their father/mother is a superhero? Do I really want all this responsibility? How can I take a vacation, knowing that there are always people who will need my help, no matter what day or time it is?

The questions probably don't end there, and probably never will. From my point of view, being a superhero will entail not so much rescuing people and saving the day, but answering questions similar to those I just mentioned, and probably a whole lot more questions than that.

On top of that, not all of those questions can be easily answered by anybody, superhero or not. Some of those questions might be answered by actions, and not by words. The rest of those questions might not even have answers at all, and will forever remain questions.

Given all this, the song "Superman" probably speaks a lot more to a superhero's true self than Brandon Routh or Christopher Reeve saving the day on the silverscreen.
William Shakespeare once said that there are three kinds of people, with regards to power. Some are born with power, some gain power on their own, and the remainder have power thrust upon them. I suppose the same thing applies to superheroes.

However, considering all that being a superhero might entail, being Clark Kent instead of Superman doesn't sound like such a bad idea.


About the author
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Rohit Wad was born and raised in the Philippines, but being half-Filipino, half-Indian, he was exposed to Indian culture as well. This was mainly manifested in his frequent childhood indulgences of reading stories from Indian mythology, such as the famous epics, the Mahabharata and the Ramayana. Rohit’s love of reading continued to grow, with much of his time being spent in his school library. Fancying himself as a modern-day kid detective, he frequently indulged in Encyclopedia Brown books (by Donald J. Sobol), as well as the occasional Sherlock Holmes book (meerschaum pipe not included). In high school, however, Sherlock Holmes soon retired as science later dominated his literary tastes, Star Trek books becoming his favorite pastime, and with Spock and Captain Kirk “taking command” of his reading interests. Rohit’s personal reading interests at present still include historical fiction, although he occasionally reads general fiction novels, usually by bestselling authors such as Michael Crichton and Tom Clancy.

PERSONAL: SIESTA MADNESS

by Mahros Abaño

I don’t know if you would agree with me that the most noted Filipino tradition that is by far the most hated by any kid age 5 to 12, is the siesta. Okay, some do-gooder will raise his hand and say that siesta was a Spanish tradition and was just passed on to us Pinoys; then again, it as important as a Filipino quirk as say, calling toothpaste of any brand, Colgate.

When I was a kid, I absolutely hated siestas. I would prefer watching television rather than taking a nap. Since I went to a public elementary school, I only have classes in the morning. My grandmother and our yaya would be the ones watching my sister and I, since both of our parents work. So after I got my lunch and the final credits for Eat Bulaga (they still have credits streaming up the television then) appear on the screen, it could only mean one thing, its time to take a nap. My sister would immediately follow our yaya to our room. I surmise this was because she’s still a baby at that time.

Now, being the argumentative kid that I was, I never took it quite lightly. My grandmother, a feisty woman of Waray descent, never took to tantrums well. Every afternoon, neighbors would hear our arguments on the issue of my taking a nap. Our debates would usually sound like this:

“Ok, Eat Bulaga is now through. It’s time for you to sleep,” Lola would say.

“Can I just stay for Agila?” I would plea.

“No, you have to sleep now.”

“Could I stay until “Ang Nakaraan”?”

“No.”

“Why do we need to sleep?”

“It is because kids need to sleep to grow.”

“Can I just stay for Agila?”

“No.”

“Why don’t you take a nap as well?”

“When you grow old, you cannot get as much sleep as you wanted. So you go and sleep now.”

“Can I just stay for Agila?”

“No.” By this time, she would begin to stand and slowly walk to the kitchen. “If you don’t get to your room, I am coming back with the walis tingting.”

When this comes on cue, I would immediately run to my room. I would then feign sleeping for a few minutes but I keep my ears open as I listen intently as the theme song of the then-popular afternoon soap, Agila, was playing. As soon as the commercials were over, I would slowly stand up and pretend that I was sleeping for awhile and head for the living room.

By this time, my grandmother was usually sleeping on the sofa, but my yaya was usually up watching television. She would then begin the usual banter that usually sounds like this:

“Oi, oi, why are you up already?”

“Umm, I need to go to the bathroom.” I would say.

“Then go to the bathroom.”

“I’ll just watch until the commercial.”

“Ok, only after this commercial, ha. Your lola wants you to go to islip (she pronounces it that way).” My yaya is not as terse as my grandmother who was now snoring at the couch. By the third commercial (not necessarily always but jut in the middle of the program), my grandmother would stir and find me awake and watching television.

“Why are you up already?”

“I’m going to the bathroom.”

“Then go to the bathroom.” Unlike my yaya, she would watch and wait until I get into my room again. Usually, she would go back to sleep but there are times she would watch the programs. During these times that she would go back to sleep, I would again do my “going to the bathroom routine” to be able to watch TV.

After a few months, my parents got worried because my yaya told them I would go to the bathroom often. They took me to the doctor and had several tests. It was horrible. After that, I never tried that trick again.

Years later, my grandmother moved to my aunt’s house to help when aunt had my cousin. We also got a more lenient yaya who lets us watch TV and drink soft drinks in the afternoons until my father fired her because my sister got sick. After that, things got back to the same routine when my grandmother moved back in with us.

After my grandmother died two years ago, my sister and I were talking about how we tried to avoid taking siestas when we were kids. We laughed at how we tried all the palusot in the book just to not take them.

It was ironic that we are now clamoring for a few more minutes of sleep that as kids we totally threw away. I, for one, could now look back to those days with fondness, for they were not just fun times but times well spent with my grandmother; and bit of regret, because if I have just listened to my grandmother when she made me take siestas then, I should have been tall by now.


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Mahros Abaño is a part-time eccentric, full-time neurotic. She currently scratches her gray matter for the uses of punctuation marks she learned in elementary school as she is an English Editor for HDI. She is also on a Holy Grail pursuit for the best hopia on earth.

Painting: The Siesta, Vincent van Gogh

PERSONAL: TAKE IT FROM ME

Kami nAPO Muna: A Tribute to APO Hiking Society

By Perps Poblador

“Nandito kami ang iyong barkada mong tunay, aawit sa’yo. Sa lungkot, at ligaya, hirap at ginhawa kami kasama mo.”




The decision of Jim Paredes in 2005 to migrate to Australia with his family left me flabbergasted. I thought this would surely be APO Hiking Society’s final bow. The first bow was in 1998 when their show, Sa Linggo nAPO Sila, which ran for only three years went off the air. Just like other artists who became famous and simply disappeared into thin air, I thought I won’t be seeing them after conceding defeat to their noontime show rival. I was really saddened by the first. I was about to surrender my high hopes after the second.

I had not told anyone else until today that yes, I am an avid fan of Danny Javier, Buboy Garovillo and Jim Parades, more known as the APO Hiking Society, since I heard their song Batang-Bata Ka Pa the first time when I was seven. I had been very discreet about this, fearing I’d be stigmatized by my peers as being baduy or old-fashioned. Finally, I’ve found the source of strength to say it all today when the Kami nAPO Muna: Tribute to APO Hiking Society album was released!

It is said that never shall the twain meet but this album simply disproved that. It is really like bringing the legends and the newbies to meet halfway. This 2-CD tribute album comes not only with a compilation of renditions of today’s famous rock bands, but also with another CD showcasing the original versions of APO, albeit digitally re-mastered. Interestingly enough, the “new age” CD is designed with repetitive illustrations of Danny’s, Jim’s and Buboy’s faces superimposed on a blood red background while the “premiere” CD is in black and gold colors. This was done for the benefit of younger audiences who may not be familiar with APO music. The compilation suggests listening to the black CD first before they move on and headbang to their idol band’s versions. No matter how excited you may be to check out Parokya ni Edgar, Kitchie Nadal, or The Dawn’s versions in the album, I highly recommend you play the original version first. Iba pa rin ang orig!

Performing popular songs with a new twist would have been easy but not if it is a tribute to OPM icons like the APO. Anything less would be an insult to them and to APO diehards like me. The album, overall, has achieved its utmost purpose of paying tribute without compromising the unique stylistics of each band. Kamikazee, for that matter, keeps its unruly and stubborn performance style of singing Doo Bidoo. At the same time, they keep some differential sparks that APO was known for—the feel-good, at times perky tempo, their voices unified in oftentimes satirical yet optimistic interplay of trials and triumphs inherent in the lyrics.

For more top picks, Orange and Lemons’ version of Yakap sa Dilim was a hit with me. This band can truly render their listeners breathless while listening to their own rendition of this APO classic hit. Even the distinct 70’s sound of this song has so enamored Orange and Lemons that they could have done this tribute as a solo gig. Itchiworm’s attempts at combining varying music genres plus the very candid and funny dialogues with peers while performing all paid off in giving justice to Awit ng Barkada. Doo Bidoo is a trademark hit of APO; thus the version that Kamikaze came out with was likewise spiced with expected wackiness and hilarity, very entertaining and was done in good taste! Kitchie Nadal, on the other hand, gives a soothing, feel-good rendition of Pag-ibig. Barbie Almalbis experiments as she applies her distinct singing style to the only English APO song included in the album, When I Met You.

Truly, the APO Hiking Society is a story of three brave souls who have taken risks in their musical and personal lives to write and perform their songs even if fear, apprehensions, and frustrations came along their way. As fate would have it, they also are the best mentors to the young bands featured in the album who are lucky enough to be inheritors of these immortal APO songs. As one of the possibly few younger people who admire their work, I salute Danny, Buboy and Jim for bringing to life songs which have given color to our lives.

Kampay!

Get to know the APO Hiking Society by visiting their web site at www.apohikingsociety.org.

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Perps Poblador is a graduate of BS Information Technology from the University of Asia and the Pacific. She’s currently the Operations Support Supervisor at HDI. The Immediate Past President of Toastmasters Club of SPi, she is currently aiming to achieve her Competent Leader and Advanced Communicator - Bronze norms, plans to dabble more on photography, graphics design, web development and to achieve that ideal 120 pounds on or before First Quarter of 2007. She’s now single.