The Day I Saw Her Last

We were classmates since first grade. Every recess period, we would hang out by the school’s main gate to get a glimpse of the Mayor’s son. One day, she excitedly ran towards me and with panting breath said, “Yami! Yami! Iyang si Marlou Ro****?¹ Adoptation iyan!(sic)”². From that day on as far as I can remember, we stopped hanging out by the school’s main gate. We were seven years old.

We spent most of our times together when we were kids. She taught me how to collect stamps and stationeries, including hello kitty and snoopy stuffs. She was a regular in our house while I never knew where she lived until we were in high school. It was only later when I learned that she was the eldest of three siblings and that she lost her father when she was 5 years old. Her mother remarried shortly after her father’s death. With a bubbly person like her, it’s hard to believe she has been through so much at such an early age.

We lost contact after high school. I heard she married a drunkard and had two kids with him. Regularly she’d take in laundry from her neighbors and got battered by her husband every once in a while. Talk has it that her husband once brought home a mistress which resulted in a heated argument and ended in violent beatings. Knowing her, I dismissed the talks as an exaggeration of something completely unbelievable.

Years later when I was home on vacation, a woman almost stumbled as she made her way towards me. She was so skinny with bulging big eyes and two of her front teeth were missing. I guess it took me a lifetime to recognize it was her. She literally looked like a beggar that day. Her dress worn out from too much and prolonged use. I felt she was surprised when I hugged her the instant I realized it was her talking in front of me . She cried while I was speechless all throughout our conversation. The talks were all true.

Every time I remember the day we last met, guilt strikes me no end. I was so sorry I saw two big bulging eyes instead of the sadness that was in it. I was so stupid her old faded clothes caught my attention instead of the ailing body underneath it. I was a fool when I observed a skinny body instead of the dying spirit within her. My insensitivity was simply unforgivable.

I’m sorry I was not much of a friend to someone who was in need. If only I could find her boys and see what I can do to help. Maybe that would ease my burden of guilt. Somehow.

CHERYL GRACE C. de JESUS, 1976–2006. In memoriam.

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¹ I’m sorry Marlou, but it is really necessary to mention your name. Peace.
² Yami! Yami! Marlou Ro**** is adoptation! (she meant Marlou Ro**** was an adopted son)

Wedding Vows For A Friend

After spending time with a friend I haven’t seen for 17 years, he had to leave to make preparations for his June wedding somewhere in the land of the sweetest people. Days after he left, he sent me the following text message:

“Yam, I intend to ask you personally but it skipped me because we talked non-stop. Can you please make my wedding vows? I want you to have a special part in my wedding. Thanks.”

It’s the most unusual favor I’ve ever been asked to do. Never in my wildest dream did I ever think that I’d write a wedding vow for someone else. I’ve done so many unimaginable things for my friends in the past, things that would make my family gasp in horror should they ever find out. But writing a wedding vow for someone is a totally different thing.

Don’t get me wrong. I am very honored to write his wedding vows. I am more honored on the thought that I’d be a part of his wedding despite my physical absence. It indicates how he cared for our friendship the way that I do. But, man, I have no idea how to do it. I am, literally, facing a blank wall, er, a blank monitor.

I know I need to have it done before his wedding otherwise it won’t be making any sense. And so, as a gesture of affection for a friend on his wedding day, I summoned all sides of my brain to come up with words (and numbers!) befitting for a man who is in love and is ready to march down the road so frequently traveled by people who frequently lost their minds. Harharhar! Honestly, it took me days and weeks to finish his three-sentenced-one-paragraph wedding vows. He didnt know what kind of hell I have been through doing it that I swear if he'll ask for the same favor again, I will kick his sorry ass. Hehehehe!

My friend, as you march down the aisle today, I cheer and rejoice and clap my hands at your new found life and love. This day marks the end of your Palaboy days. Somehow, I am sad about it but, friend, I’m happy because at last you are home. Please don’t falter as you say your wedding vows, I’ve been through so much hell doing it, just…just do it right, ok?

Best Wishes and God Bless you and your bride.

The First Man I Loved Forever

We used to gather driftwoods by the bay. While I was busy daring the waves to catch me, he’d gather driftwoods nearby while whistling his favorite novelty song. Occasionally, he’d teach me how to catch crablets using a loop made from the skin of a dried banana trunk

Mostly on weekends, we would leave early for a day-long trip to the woods. The long walk was not always fun. It always sent me sleeping inside a make-shift little camp made of dried coconut leaves while he tended to his own business. On the later part of the year, we would board a little bangka and head to the farm for the durian harvest – one of those trips I always looked forward to.

I was less than 12 years old then. I rarely went with him on those trips when I reached 13. I guess, it was my restless fluctuating hormones that did it. Or maybe, my time was up and it was my two younger sibling’s turn to experience the ritual (my Kuya underwent the same ritual before me). Then he went away.

Sometimes, I wondered if he had known that he was going away early. I know those trips we had on the bay and in the woods were ways to spend quality time with us. In between paddles or strides, he’d patiently answer every childish question that got into my head. And he always ended up carrying me in his back half way through the trip.

Later in life when I was on my own, those childhood experiences carried me through so many storms. When the law of gravity was pulling me way down until I reached rock bottom, the memories I have of my father always pulled me up and kept me afloat. I have always known I am special by the way I was loved by my father.

He has showed us overflowing love more than anything in the world. In his short time in this world, he has taught four little souls how to be as strong and smart as he was. He was a wise man to have spent the last part of his life preparing his children how to face life confidently.

There aren’t enough words to tell him how much I missed him all through these years. He has always been an inspiration to keep going if only to show him how grateful I am that I was blessed with a father like him. There will always be a part of me that is exclusively for him.

Happy Father’s Day, Pa. I know you have been watching us everyday but I would still want you to know that we are all doing well. Mama’s sugar has been erratic these past few days but don’t worry, she is in good four pair of hands you trained so well. Pa, it’s Kuya’s first wedding anniversary today and we are suspecting a little angel is on the way. Hehehehe!!!

The Passion Fruits

I was in the terminal waiting for my ride when I saw a high school classmate I haven’t seen for a long time. While I was with my backpack, she was with her big luggage suggesting a travel that is far and possibly a long stay in her destination.

We talked like old times, smiled like school children as we chatted about our own lives and the lives of our other high school classmates. She is still the same the way I have known her since two decades ago. Only this time, she is now married with two children all boys ages 7 and 5 and her husband is in Manila looking for a job. She left her two boys with her mother. She is now bound for Manila to rejoin her husband while waiting for a call from an agency for a possible job deployment in the Middle East.

I heaved a deep sigh and remembered my friend who is now languishing in jail somewhere in Kuwait.

She did all the talking for the rest of our conversation while I constrained myself to monosyllabic words to keep her going. To sum it all up, all she wants is a comfortable life for her family. And she was all too convinced that it is worth all the risks. Before we ended, I told her that if she thinks that they can live here although not comfortably but together, maybe she can reconsider her decision to go abroad. I thought I saw some tears slowly gathering in the corner of her eyes. She looked down and scraped off some dirt under her fingernails and said, “ You know Yam, last night I was thinking maybe I should apply for a job in the City Hall and forget this silly idea about going abroad. My boys begged me not to go but all I can do is write them a letter so that they can read it anytime they want when I will be far away.”

On the bus, I kept thinking about her invitation for me to seek employment abroad. She was not the first and I’m sure there will be more who will try to convince me to "jump in" on the bandwagon. I’m not really closing my doors about the idea, but for a person who wants her hands dirty, a job somewhere outside the country is unnecessary.

As I unboarded, I was thinking of the seeds of the passion fruits I planted weeks ago. They are already sprouting and I want to see them grow every step of the way.

The sun is already up and my granny is waiting and her farm is not so far away.

The Ball Is In My Court

Days of watching the recently concluded French Open was spectacular. It sent me falling out of my seat many times while screaming inaudible expletives and/or praises constantly irritating my housemates. Never mind. They’ll never understand. The only person who understood my wild jubilations and/or frustrations was five million miles away- a tennis aficionado like myself.

So, while we watched the French Open from different places, it felt like we watched on the same television and was sitting on the same sofa. Thanks to the inventor of cellphone! I thought I could hear us screamed together and clapped together while cheering for Justine and Fed. Text messages were sent immediately as soon as breaks or commercials were called. Opinion exchanges automatically sets in when the players were on their seats. Hahahaha!!! Thanks to the inventor of cellphone. Although it felt awkward to be enjoying alone with something I am passionate about, it felt better to be connected with someone with the same interest as mine even if distance gets in the way.

Two beautiful things happened during the French Open. Justine, the Queen of Clay, won again. And, someone guaranteed me a front seat ticket to the next Australian Open! Guys, my eyes rolled unceasingly! I was stunned for a moment and thought of banging my head on the wall to see if I was dreaming. I was lucky my brain warned me on time otherwise I’ll be attending the Australian Open with a patch on my head because of a cracked skull. Hehehehe!!!

So, guys! If you happen to watch the next Australian Open, look for me. I’ll be sitting in the front seat. Bwahahahaha!!!

Sarap mabuhay, noh?

And, hey! The Wimbledon is on.

Formaldehyde In My Shampoo and Conditioner

A friend brought my attention to the Formaldehyde content of my shampoo and conditioner, Sunsilk and Creamsilk, respectively. The first thing that came to my mind was that my shampoo and conditioner has Formalin! Dammit, Unilever!

My first affair with the formalin was when I was in second year high biology class. I dissected a lonely unfortunate frog and injected some formalin all over its body. That would have been enough but I went a bit too far out of my mind and put the helpless frog in a jar and soaked it with formalin. My teacher made a little tongue lashing and said my frog is not a human fetus and soaking it with formalin was cruel. Hehehehe! Sorry. She suggested I try preserving a mollusk – to which I did.

Imagine my horror when read the back label of my Sunsilk and Creamsilk and realized I got a daily dose of formalin in my hair. The unfortunate frog must have been screaming “Karma” wherever it is. Dammit, Unilever!

My horror brought me to my knight in shining armor, Mr. Google. Mr. Google said, formaldehyde is a colorless, flammable gas that has a distinct, pungent smell. It is also known as methanal, methylene oxide, oxymethyline, methylaldehyde, and oxomethane. Formaldehyde is naturally produced in small amounts in our bodies.
It is used in the production of fertilizer, paper, plywood, and urea-formaldehyde resins. It is also used as a preservative in some foods and in many products used around the house, such as antiseptics, medicines, and cosmetics. Formaldehyde can cause irritation of the skin, eyes, nose, and throat. High levels of exposure may cause some types of cancers. Also, Formaldehyde is well known as a preservative in medical laboratories, as an embalming fluid, and as a sterilizer.

Beat this, I stupidly embalmed myself everyday, I mean, my hair. I got the privilege of embalming my hair before I die. Thank you very much, Unilever. I expect a long, straight and shiny black hair when I am in my coffin.

And thanks for the cancer, too. High level of exposure to formaldehyde causes cancer. With my daily use of Sunsilk and Creamsilk, I wouldn’t be surprised if I will be diagnosed with cancer of the hair! There goes my crowning glory! So, I die of cancer and I’m tucked inside a coffin hairless! Dammit, Unilever!

Moral lesson of the story : Check the labels. Always be conscious of the chemical contents of every products we put our hands into. I read the contents of formaldehyde in Sunsilk’s Summer Fresh product. I checked the other shampoos and conditioners and saw no similar contents. I have long since abandoned using Sunsilk and Creamsilk. Unilever has got to do some explaining.

And Guys, sorry I informed you about it this late.

Peace.

Life of a Friend

She was a high school friend. One of my best and closest barkada. She married her boyfriend right after our high school graduation and delivered their first son seven months after . Another son followed December of the same year. While the rest of the barkada attended college, she worked as a clerk in a cosmetics laboratory which eventually ceased to operate due to huge business losses. Her husband was perpetually in and out of job during the whole time.

Before their financial crisis took its toll on her, she decided to go to Manila to try her luck. Guess there ain’t no luck when one works in a sardines factory and lived in a shanty while painfully separated from her family. Years later, she boarded a plane bound for Kuwait to work as a domestic helper. Everybody thought that finally luck smiled at her. Little did we know that the nightmare has just began.

Serving a rich family with ten children all minors, she’d wake up at three in the morning and sleep around midnight each day. Locked from the outside and her passport confiscated, she’d cry alone every single day, missing her family and her home, begging God to change her fate.

She was skin and bones when she escaped from her hell. When she was rescued, she looked like she was in her forties when in fact she was only in her mid-twenties. Her tears welled from her eyes out of immeasurable pain. Her wrinkles are traces of sacrifices beyond human imagination. But the thought of a comfortable life for her family kept her alive.

Refusing to go back to the Philippines empty-handed, she lived in a foreign land avoiding contact with the authorities on a daily basis. For a few years, she managed to send money back home, constantly supporting the needs of her family and her still jobless husband.

Everything was well until she disappeared strangely. A friend informed me that she was caught, arrested and detained. Being an illegal alien, she would be lucky if she would be deported without lashes and not raped.

My heart goes out to my friend. There are thousands of OFW abroad who are similarly situated as her. Maybe even more and worse than her plight. In their bid to escape from their misery, they not only left their family and friends, they also divested themselves of their self-respect and dignity. For me, that is the worst tragedy.

I’m hoping for the day when my friend doesn’t have to be a slave of others just so she can put food on her table. I’m hoping for the day when a Filipino doesn’t have to go abroad to have a comfortable life. I want to live in a time when a Filipino has his self-respect and dignity intact.

Diamonds Are Forever

I’m still not over with the Ms. Universe pageant. I salivated each time I remember the prizes Ms. Japan ran away with. One lucky hell of a woman who perhaps right now is still in cloud 9 at her sudden fame and fortune. Arigato must be her favorite word right now. And, Moshi! Moshi!

One prize disturbed me, though. A crown with custom diamond and pearl crown designed by MIKIMOTO valued at $250,000.00. The crown has 800 diamonds, almost 18 karats. If the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach, diamonds are lady's best friend. Right now, I’m still without a best friend. Harharhar!

What are diamonds? Diamonds are small pieces of carbon with no great intrinsic value –and have been the cause of thousands of death, oppression and poverty in Sierra Leone, a West African country. For more than a decade, Sierra Leone was ravaged with civil war highlighted with drug-crazed child soldiers chopping limbs off civilian victims. The center of conflict? DIAMONDS. Diamonds are often traded to finance purchase of arms, drugs and other illegal activities. In Sierra Leone, whoever holds the most diamonds, rules.





Source of Pics: www.un.org

When most of us fought for the rights of panda bear, the whales, dogs, chicken and God-knows-what, thousands of lives are wasted just so we can wear diamonds and feel good about ourselves. When J. Lo was met with so much protest for wearing a fur coat, nobody said a word when Ben Affleck decorated her finger with a million dollar diamond ring. Funny, huh? And for an organization like the Miss Universe who advocates on the eradication of poverty, promotes the rights of women and children and other social and humanitarian missions and causes, what are those diamonds doing in the head of its ambassadress?

Diamonds are classified as legal diamonds, conflict diamonds and illicit diamonds. Buyers are warned to be careful and buy only legal diamonds. But there are always one thousand and one ways to mix conflict and illicit diamonds with the legal ones. Truth be told, there is only one way to stop the trade of blood diamonds, STOP BUYING DIAMONDS.

Diamond is a useless piece of mineral whose only role is to adorn a lady’s finger. We can live without diamond. If the value of diamond is like that of oil, water and food, maybe, it will be easy to understand why bloodshed happened in Sierra Leone. A diamond is forever but a human life is not.

I’m glad I never owned a diamond in my entire life. My resolve not to watch any Miss Universe pageant in the future is a statement of protest and is to take effect immediately. Maybe, Miss Earth is a lot better pageant. I have a very high chance of being crowned – Miss Earthquake!

Peace.