I Want My Deschooled, Reluctant and Unassuming Self

First stop of this journey: Hanoi, Vietnam

I found this unfinished blog entry I wrote last December entitled "All I Want for Christmas is My Deschooled, Reluctant and Unassuming Self" which I was supposed to publish as my official year ender post. It is new year now but I believe this musing is never too late to translate into actions.

Wishing to be deschooled, reluctant and unassuming, I am NOT the type of person who is about to give up at any rate now. As a matter of fact, I am still in the ball games. Perhaps I just want to lie low a bit and live life simply as it comes.

I want to deschool my self, just learning things out of natural curiosities rather than being pressured to the usual "learn something new" piece of advice. I want to just explore and discover any thing that piques my curiosity most at the moment.

I want to play reluctant. There is nothing wrong with being self assured as a person, but I would rather want now to just observe people and things rather than join the the bandwagons and their hooplas. I want to reserve to my self my thoughts about them and learn out of observing them. 

I want to remain unassuming. I want to deal people and mean things just the way they are. I want to be objective with situations and emotions. No assumptions and judgements. Just pure and simple thoughts.

We all have fair share of being deschooled, reluctant and unassuming once in our lives. I am bringing back mine this time for good.

Falling in Love with George Town, Malaysia

I feel brave and creative after my recent side trip to this UNESCO World Heritage Site of George Town, Penang, Malaysia. It is not popular for many travellers to hop to this underrated colonial village. Maybe also because I am just one of those few weird culture junkies who love old structures and is willing to endure long, long distance travels and searches just to see an old grandeur! 

It was morning of the next day when I arrived in George Town after twelve hours of bus ride crossing the borders between Singapore and Malaysia. I did not catch some good sleep while seated in the bus the whole time but I felt my adrenaline rushed as I saw and heard the bustle of the old town coming near! I just heard my inner self scream: I am finally in George Town!

I have read about the famous street arts scattered around the old city, but my original interest really was exploring the old structures that wonderfully make up the city. However, after some strolls, I did not expect that these old structures are not as old as I expected. They sure are every where but most of them were built only as recent as 1930s, much like those old buildings in Singapore.

I know that comparing Vigan and George Town is useless like comparing apple and orange because each of them is uniquely beautiful by the virtue of their own cultures and histories. But since I have been both to these quaint colonial cities, I am indulging myself to placing them side by side for some good reasons.

I can say that Vigan gives that wonderful vibe of a classical colonial charm. The horse drawn carriages, cobbled stone paths and gleaming street lamps simply add elegance and vibrance to Vigan. George Town, on the other hand, is a colourful blend. One can see Bhuddism, Hinduism, Muslim and Christian influences in the style of its houses and other structures. 

I must agree though that what makes both charming is its people. Everyone I rubbed elbows in George Town was just welcoming. The moment I arrived in George Town, the lady who drove me to my hotel was very helpful. She even helped me buy ticket back to KL. The man I asked in the street was also very informative. He guided me which museum to go. I saw sunshine in every nook I go as people were just smiling.

Meet my new Malaysian friends!

But perhaps the most exciting activity indeed in George Town is art hunting. And mind you these art pieces adorning the streets and alleys of the city are no ordinary paintings. These murals were installed in 2012 by a Lithuanian artist with the help of Penang government council. What makes the paintings unconventional for pretty amazing reason is the fact that selected parts of the art pieces are real objects – some props set up against the wooden door, window or wall!

Some of my favorite art pieces aside from the Brother and Sister on a Swing featured in the picture above are: Little Children on a Bicycle, The Real Bruce Lee Would Never Do This, Boy in the Bike, Reaching Up, Children Playing Basketball, I Want Pau, Skippy Comes to Penang, and a lot more! If you are interested to check my own trail of musings to these artistic objects, kindly visit my album here.

I must confess that, after side tripping to George Town, I fell deeply in love not only with its rich culture, but also with the creativity and tenacity of its people. There are a few cities in the word that maintains its old character as much as George Town does. It continues to reinvent itself but without altering its old self. On a more retrospective thought, I can only hope that George Town is much like we to our old selves.

Terima kasih for the wonderful experience, George Town! This is not the last visit surely, I vow!

A Twist in My Indonesian Trip: Tracing the Malay Roots of Philippines

How can I thank "words" for giving our minds and hearts the expression of thoughts and emotions? And for reconnecting our heritage?

I must confess though that I am a Hispanist. I have leaning on associating Filipino towards Spanish - architecture, language, music, fashion, cuisine. When it comes to language, just think about Filipino words related to kitchen items, clothing articles, school materials, family names, technical jargons, and even curses! Chance would be they are mostly Spanish loan words. 

But my recent trip mainly to Indonesia with side stop in Malaysia and another sojourn in Brunei illuminated my cultural understanding. It was a trip not only to the ancient Borobudur Temple or the majestic Sultan Hassanil Bolkiah Mosque but to the distant and almost forgotten connection between Philippines and the Malay world.

A Malay commoner :)

I disclaim to be a linguist as I have long abandoned my undergraduate discipline, but my personal observations of languages - Filipino and Bahasa Indonesia - led this reflection that Spanish may have clothed us or named us, but the Filipino soul will always be Malay in core.

One would feel at least at home in Indonesia reading and hearing familiar words virtually in every nook and cranny of Indonesia. A friend later informed me that a study did identify at least 300 related Filipino and Indonesian words. This statistics, I believe, could be higher. Based on my personal encounters, here are some of those words I amusingly discovered.

Filipino and Indonesian words with the same words and meanings:

right - Fil. kanan; Indo. kanan    child - Fil. anak; Indo. anak
sky - Fil. langit; Indo. langit        white - Fil. puti; Indo. puti
cheap - Fil. mura; Indo. mura    sickness - Fil. sakit; Indo. sakit
eye - Fil. mata; Indo. mata

Filipino and Indonesian words with slight variations but with the same meanings:

push - Fil. tulak; Indo. tolak        open - Fil. bukas; Indo. buka
stone - Fil. bato; Indo. batu        kitten - Fil. kuting; Indo. kuching
year - Fil. taon; Indo. tahun        enter - Fil. pasok; Indo. masuk
door - Fil. pinto; Indo. pintu

Filipino and Indonesian words that are false friends, the same words but different meanings:

bunga - Fil. fruit; Indo. flower
manok - Fil. chicken; Indo. bird
halaman - Fil. plants; Indo. park

Because I also speak Cebuano, Hiligaynon and Ilocano, I discovered these some interesting words same or similar to Indonesian:

street - Ceb. dalan; Indo. jalan
wall - Hil. dingding; Indo. dingding
food - Iloc. makan; Indo. makan

I recall there were instances when we proudly counted in Filipino much to the delight of our Indonesian friends! They told us that we could learn Indonesian in a month and survive in Indonesia!

On a more retrospective side, I wonder how Philippines has grown apart and differently in many aspects with its cousins from the rest of Malay archipelago. But thanks to these wonderful words as they serve as immortal evidences to our Malay heritage connection.

Terima kasih, Indonesia!

Japan Spring: A Celebration of Things Old and New

A celebration of things old and new - this is the insight that made a significant mark to my mind soon after my Japan trip for eleven days. I think that it is an appropriate phrase for a sojourn to heritage places -  a symbol for things old; for a journey on spring time - a symbol for things new.

One of the most exciting part of our trip was seeing the famous cherry blossoms or sakura, especially when we are about two weeks late from the blooming season. Luckily and delightfully, we found some last cherry trees that bore flowers abundantly - pink, white and green. Every time we found one, our company swarmed around these natural beauties and take many photographs. 

I have not lived in Japan long enough, but I think that when cherry trees bloom, they are the most beautiful on earth. And when they do, they only bloom so for a certain short period. As what some romantic poets have celebrated on spring, cherry blossom is the best reminder that life is wonderful but only momentary.

Celebration of spring!

I also appreciate how Japanese people are passionate about for their culture. Japan is a testament that a country can go forward to progress without disregarding culture. Going to some of their cities, we found their ancient castles, temples and other historical landmarks exceptionally well preserved. One could see how love is written all over these old structures.

One time, we visited the quaint Kintai Bridge. I was touched about the past story behind the old bridge. I learned that locals once built protective structure around the bridge to save it from the raging typhoon one time. However, the bridge did not survive; locals tearfully watched the it get washed away by the great flood. But in a short span of time, the locals amazingly rebuilt the bridge piece by piece as a remembrance to the old heritage.

Japanese culture is also famous for the origami, the ancient art of paper folding. Japanese children learn origami early at the lap of their mothers. While some people may think it is just a plain paper folding, it actually reflects the ingenuity and aesthetics of Japanese culture. This is a unique art of living – a reminder of patience, resilience and discipline - values which are written and reflected all over Japan. 

This art forms a part of Japanese curriculum. Aside from integrating a uniquely Japanese trademark to their education, I am amazed how actually paper folding does cognitive advantages for learners. Aside from developing fine motor skills, origami is a pictorial learning through repeatable actions, and by transforming a flat piece of paper into a three dimensional crane, it is also a cognitive stimulation of spatial reasoning. Now, I wonder not why Japanese are very good in mathematics and science!

While they have proved their world leadership when it comes to technology and economy, I am amazed as well to know that they have maintained their communion with nature. I think that Japanese people are one of the few most passionate people about living with nature as we all are from nature and forever interconnected to nature.

Visiting some cities, I marveled at how organized are the spaces. Just a few kilometers from the urban center, one would feel like being transported to a completely different place because the outer villages still maintain their rural vibes. Trees are well taken cared and animals, like deer, turtle and bird, live in harmony with people.

This article is not enough to vicariously contain all the wonderful memories I gained but personally, Japan will always be a special place in the world being a perfect blend of heritage and progress... of environment and culture... of old and new....

Sayonara, Japan! Until I see you again!

A City Frozen in Time

It is an irony that though I am a self confessed culture junkie myself, I have never been to many cultural places. So, when this summer road trip came, I took the liberty to witness at large the heritage treasures of our country that I have always wanted to visit.

We reached the world famous Spanish colonial town of Vigan on the third day of our road trip to the north. Vigan City was such a welcome twist from the nature adventure we had in Baguio City after five hours of butt burning travel.

Vigan was the seat of politics, religion, culture, economy and education in the north during the Spanish colonial times. As we entered the town, I felt I was transported back to the past with its cobbled stone streets, crumbling pillars side by side, and imposing house architectures. We were toured by a horse drawn carriage and everything just felt nostalgic.

We saw old houses, many of which were converted into hotels, restaurants, botiques and shops. The city government though has taken care of these treasures. According to a resident whom we had a small talk, any house repair by the owner has to secure permit and acquire design from the city. Thanks heavens for this kind of preservation efforts.

And although there are a number of modern Spanish inspired buildings around Vigan notably the fastfood chains like Jollibee, Chowking and McDonalds, there are a good number of authentic Spanish era houses dotting all over the city. The best preserved ones are those that are located in Calle Crisologo, a seemingly time frozen section of the city that tourists should never miss.

Aside from Calle Crisologo, another corner any visitor should never miss is the pueblo, a plan itself so characteristic of Spanish towns of the olden times. It is where the public plaza, the city hall, and the central church could be found. Until this day, this planning can be attested exceptionally conserved in this old city.

Well loved cultural and educational destinations in the city also include museums. The house of Father Jose Burgos, one of the three priest martyrs, and the mansions of famous illustrado families of Syquia and Quirino were converted into museums. It was only unfortunate for us to visit them late in the afternoon and they were closed for public.

We stopped a while at Bantay Church, another well preserved religious structure. At first I thought it was only a reconstruction of an original old church because its facade looked very intact, but viewing its colossal pillars I confirmed it was authentic. Beside the church, the iconic century old bell tower located on top of the hill is a must view.

It was dark when we went back to the downtown. What made Plaza Salcedo buzzing was the multitude of spectators and alike waiting for the spectacular dancing fountain show which I can only describe as world class.

Having toured the entire heritage city, I realized that its real charm is more than its material culture, but the tenacity of its people to safeguard a historical treasure that remains remarkably well preserved amidst the challenge of time.

Strange realization but that was how it felt Vigan for the first time, and I vowed it will not certainly be the last.

Totsiens en Dankie, Nelson Mandela

The whole world is mourning over the recent succumb to death of Nelson Mandela in Johannesburg, South Africa. Once accused as a terrorist by his enemies who put him behind the bars, he became popular as a leader in his country and a world renowned statesman.

His life is an inspiration of triumph and tragedy. He is the foremost modern hero of liberation of his country from political turmoils and social crisis, giving the world an admirable inspiration. 

The world really feels like it lost a feather by his death. His presence may have gone but surely his wisdom will linger for as long as people remember his heroism. Totsiens en dankie, Nelson Mandela. Farewell and thank you for making the world a little better.

If you talk to a man in a language he understands, that goes to his head. If you talk to him in his language, that goes to his heart.

A good head and good heart are always a formidable combination. But when you add to that a literate tongue or pen, then you have something very special.

I am not a saint, unless you think of a saint as a sinner who keeps on trying.

As I have said, the first thing is to be honest with yourself. You can never have an impact on society if you have not changed yourself... Great peacemakers are all people of integrity, of honesty, but humility.

As we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same.

A leader is like a shepherd. He stays behind the flock, letting the most nimble go out ahead, whereupon the others follow, not realizing that all along they are being directed from behind.

When a man has done what he considers to be his duty to his people and his country, he can rest in peace.

Everyone can rise above their circumstances and achieve success if they are dedicated to and passionate about what they do.

Do not judge me by my successes, judge me by how many times I fell down and got back up again.

We must use time wisely and forever realize that the time is always ripe to do right.

There is no passion to be found playing small - in settling for a life that is less than the one you are capable of living.

No one is born hating another person because of the color of his skin, or his background, or his religion. People must learn to hate, and if they can learn to hate, they can be taught to love, for love comes more naturally to the human heart than its opposite.

We ask ourselves, who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, handsome, talented and fabulous? Actually, who are you not to be?

Difficulties break some men but make others. No axe is sharp enough to cut the soul of a sinner who keeps on trying, one armed with the hope that he will rise even in the end.

For to be free is not merely to cast off one's chains, but to live in a way that respects and enhances the freedom of others.

I have walked that long road to freedom. I have tried not to falter; I have made missteps along the way. But I have discovered the secret that after climbing a great hill, one only finds that there are many more hills to climb. I have taken a moment here to rest, to steal a view of the glorious vista that surrounds me, to look back on the distance I have come. But I can only rest for a moment, for with freedom come responsibilities, and I dare not linger, for my long walk is not ended.

The Lips of Napoles and Eye of Yolanda

NAPOLES and YOLANDA are two names that will forever be etched in the catacomb of our minds , if not in the pages of history books of this nation.

The official mugshot. Photo credit: en.wikipedia.org.

Janeth Lim Napoles, a businesswoman, became a national sensation after being pointed out as the mastermind of the alleged pork barrel brouhaha involving five other senators in a financial fiasco.

She faced the senate yesterday where she was stewed in juice of queries, cajoled to divulge the truth, and interrogated to drop bomb by naming the people believed to be behind the pork barrel scandal. 

But all the efforts of the senate fell flat as the matron played her game with all her nicely put denials against accusations, well crafted tendencies to forget details and invoking her right against self incrimination again. After all, it was her show.

It is a good move that we are slowly tracking this bandwagon of people with negative motives over the common good, so that this malpractice can be nipped in the bud before it becomes an unspoken norm in the world of politics.

But in the end, we only got more delusion than justice. I agree with the sentiments of the common people. A person like Napoles betraying her country by lying under oath and insulting its people in the process deserves to be thrown behind the bars forever. That would be fair for a gross transgression of justice to our nation.

And as frustrating as that senate proceeding, we are also disheartened by the super typhoon locally named as Yolanda whipping and devastating the provinces in central part of our country at the moment.

According to ask.com, a super typhoon is a classification given to a very strong storm that can be paralleled to five hurricanes by severity. It means that its wind can reach up to sixty five miles per hour.

I am personally desolated to witness the destruction made by Yolanda, washing away not only trees and homes but also lives of many innocent people. My heart goes out for all the victims of typhoon and my fervent prayer is for them to recover very soon.

There's a rainbow always after the storm. Photo credit: www.globalpost.com.

But sadder even is amidst this test of resiliency where our government units and good samaritans extend their hands to our depressed countrymen, there have been reports of lawlessness with people taking advantage by pillaging commercial establishments.

This case of Yolanda brings the bright and dark of the affected people as much as that case of Napoles shows the good and bad of this sad, sad country.

Stay Strong, Bohol and Cebu

After the Zamboanga City siege, another tragedy struck our country after a 7.2 earthquake devastated Bohol and some parts of Cebu, putting both tourism provinces in a state of calamity.

Photo Credit: gmanetwork.com.

Aside from the rising death toll, another thing that really saddened me is the destruction of several world famous historical churches, mostly in Bohol. I have never personally seen any of them  but I have been in deep interest about these cultural heritages that are living grand stands to our colorful past.

But since these living grand stands of our past have crumbled into pieces on the ground, will they also be just dead remnants now? I really hope that these once revered national treasures will be restored back to their old glories. We surely can't afford to lose them forever just that way.

Pray for the people of Bohol and Cebu. Naghinaot mi sa inyong usab nga pagbarog tunga sa mga pagtilaw sa kinabuhi. Ang Ginoo magatabang kaninyo.

Guro Ka Ba?

Do you know that the very Filipino word GURO is not originally Tagalog at all? As a matter of fact, it came a long, long way - geographically and historically. Thus, to describe the origin of this term is a long path to traverse.

The common term guro is used in Filipino as a noun to mean a teacher, who celebrate their special month this moment. For example, a punong guro of a school is a head teacher.

This may have origin form the word "guru" that means a teacher, master or mentor in Sanskrit and other borrowing languages like Tamil, Hindi, Bengali and Nepali. 

Greza (2004) elaborates that the word has roots in the term gri that denotes action of invoking or to praising, and may have a relation to the word gur, that refers to the act of  raising up or lifting up.

The Indian and Filipino connection is not surprising though. The Indians traded with the Filipinos through some indirect proximal empires and consequently influenced the local culture. Its influence to the Filipino language found its way to terms in folk heroes, social strata, religious faith, moral operations, and even traditional attire.

I found this fitting explanation of our term GURO from a collection of philosophical text of Hindu religion:

The syllable gu means shadows
The syllable ru, he who disperses them.
Because of the power to disperse darkness
The guru is thus named.

So, I am saying that we must live to the very mold of the word we are called and may we continue to be instrument of enlightenment to the lives of the young ones. Guro, we are.

Heal, Ciudad de Zamboanga

As a language enthusiast, I have high fascination about Zamboanga City, which is still in the remnants of war today. It is home to Chabacano - the only Spanish creole language of its kind in Asia that had developed and survived for over four hundred years of trades and conquests, migrations and policies.

A creole language, like Chabacano, is a conglomeration of different languages that have evolved into a native tongue of a new generation of speaker. On the case of Chabacano, it is 75% Spanish morphology with grammar and structure from local languages. Linguists continue to be mystified and baffled with the presence of Portuguese, Italian and Mexican lexical terms in this creole language.

In the past decade, language purists of Zamboanga were worried with the continuing borrowing of their language from Cebuano and Tagalog, leaning away from its Spanish superstrate. However, linguists defend and consider this phenomenon as rather dynamism which is natural to all languages. 

Recent incorporations of modern Spanish words are mainly attributed to the Spanish standardization efforts of media, establishment of Spanish call centers in the region, and the reintroduction of Spanish subject in selected schools.

There are over two million Spanish speakers in the country, large bulk of which comes form the Latin City of Asia - a sobriquet given to Zamboanga City due to the fact that it is the only Spanish speaking city in the continent. 

Among the six Chabacano dialects in the country, it is in Zamboanga City that has remained alive and kicking, so it is my opinion that this unique language should be preserved, and there is no other best way than to take care its speakers and the environment where they speak it.

What Is Pork Barrel?

I know that this recent public washing of linen all boils down into a thing called PORK BARREL, but I really wonder about the literal reference of this phrase. I asked a few people around who might be able to suffice my nosiness before it all became a dirty slogan among the protesters and a sickening headline among the news. While I scratched my head hard, they neither really know the answer.

The recently scandalized term pork barrel is also known as Priority Development Assistance Fund or PDAF in our country. It is a monetary budget allocated for each congressman to spend on projects or any matter where it is due without going through budgetary process. If you are a teacher, you would surely relate it to Maintenance and Other Operating Expenses or MOOE of a school.

I browsed some articles and here are some highlights of the things that I learned with regard to the origin of the term. They are really eye opener.

The term originated from the time when refrigeration was not yet a household thing for keeping pork and it was preserved in big wooden barrel of brine. The political usage may have been taken from the distribution of ration of salt pork to slaves in the plantation.  

A journalist C. C. Maxey commented that oftentimes the eagerness of slaves would result to rush upon pork barrel in which every slave would strive to grab for himself. Our modern day politicians, in their eagerness to take their local appropriation items, behaved so much the same as the slaves would for pork in the barrel.

Moreover, a barrel of pork is also used in the olden times as a measure of social status of a family. An eighteen hundreds literary document, for example, J. S. Cooper once wrote "I hold a family to be in a desperate way, when the mother can see the bottom of the pork barrel."

As I write and read this post, the picture that came in my mind from the metaphor above is that of a bunch of greedy politicians wearing a decent barong but in the middle of a stampede in the court with the others who are equally hungry, although not every one, to take the money of the people into their own pockets and cases.

I wonder how these same money we pay as our taxes could have helped so many needy people in our country if our politicians were just honest at all times. It's really a dirty business in a race of dogs, and a really dirty picture I can visualize.

How about you?

Whatever Happened To Amelia Earhart?

Recently we were randomly humming and singing. One of the things that intrigued our curiosity was the line from the song Someday We'll Know by Mandy Moore. It was the hit song during our high school days but it really never piqued nosy minds that time until this day.

The line of sudden interest says "Whatever happened to Amelia Earhart who holds the stars up in the sky?" I am sure that the song composer used name of a legendary person as a literary device in order to convey something but leave to the listeners to make actual connection.

So, the question is: Who is Amelia Earhart by the way? I consulted the livescience.com and I want to quote some parts verbatim of what I interestingly learned:

Photo credit: www.deathandtaxesmag.com.

AMELIA EARHART was an American aviator, author and women’s rights activist. She was the first woman to fly solo across the Atlantic. Her disappearance in 1937 during an attempt to fly around the world is a mystery that continues to intrigue people worldwide.

Biography

Amelia Mary Earhart was born in Atchison, Kansas, on July 24, 1897. During Christmas vacation in 1917, she went to visit her sister in Toronto. One day, at an aviation exposition, a pilot flew his plane near her. Later, she said, “I believe that little red airplane said something to me as it swished by."

In December 1920, Earhart attended an air show in Long Beach, California. She took a short plane ride, and that ten minute flight changed her life. “By the time I had got two or three hundred feet off the ground, I knew I had to fly,” she said.

Just six months after she began flying lessons, she purchased her first plane, a bright yellow, second-hand biplane that she named The Canary. She soon achieved the world altitude record for women pilots.

Earhart’s last flight

Nearing her 40th birthday, Earhart said, “I have a feeling that there is just about one more good flight left in my system…” She hoped that it would be a flight around the world. She wanted to be the first woman to do it.

On June 1, 1937, Earhart and her navigator, Fred Noonan, departed from Miami with great fanfare. They began the journey heading east. After twenty nine days of flight, they touched down in Lae, New Guinea. The remaining miles would be done over the Pacific.

The plan required landing on Howland Island, located between Hawaii and Australia. At only one and half miles long and half a mile wide, Howland Island was a difficult spot for landing. Special navigation precautions were taken, including establishing radio communication with US Coast Guard Ship Itasca off Howland Island.

At 10 a.m., Earhart and Noonan took off from Lae. They encountered problems with overcast skies and rain showers early on. Some witnesses reported that the radio antenna may have been damaged, and other experts suggest that their maps may have been inaccurate.

As they neared Howland Island, they were unable to make sufficient connection with the Itasca or to land on the island. Earhart’s last communication was at 8:43 a.m.: “We are running north and south.”

Though the Itasca began a rescue attempt immediately and the search continued for weeks, nothing was found. On January 5, 1939, Earhart was declared legally dead.

Theories about disappearance

For a long time, the most likely explanation was that the plane ran out of fuel and the flyers ditched or crashed and then died at sea. More recently, another theory has gained some traction. It holds that the flyers landed on uninhabited Nikumaroro Island, formerly called Gardner Island.

According to the International Group for Historic Aircraft Recovery, Earhart and Noonan survived on the island for several weeks. They caught fish, seabirds and turtles and collected rainwater. Earhart died at a campsite on the island's southeast end. Noonan's fate is unknown.

This theory is based on on-site investigations that have revealed improvised tools, bits of clothing, plexiglass and an aluminum panel. In May 2012, investigators found a jar of freckle cream that some believe could have belonged to Earhart. Additionally, reports of lost distress calls have been reported.

Also, in 1940, a British Colonial Service officer found a partial skeleton on the island, as well as a campfire, animal bones, a sextant box and remnants of a man's shoe and a woman's shoe. The officer thought he may have discovered Earhart's remains, but a doctor believed the skeleton to be male, and American authorities were not notified. The bones were later lost. Recent computerized analysis of the skeleton's measurements suggests that the skeleton was probably that of a white, northern European female.

So, everytime we sing her name, we might as well wonder: Whatever happened to Amelia Earhart who holds the sky up in the sky? I can only conjecture that only heaven really knows and maybe we'll never know at all.

Sipat and Other Glimpses

SIPAT, from which the seminar was key worded, is a Filipino word that means "a glimpse into something".

Between the days of my shameful hiatus from this blog, I was tasked to attend a seminar glimpsing into our local culture and literature in relation to our teaching craft. At first, I was a little negative about going to the event because of the weekend hassle it would entail. But in the end, I realized that the experiences I gained from the said seminar exceeded my expectations. 

It went like a group of old friends getting so engrossed in an interesting conversation, not minding the time. It was the first time in ages that I attended a seminar that didn't feel like a seminar at all because the speakers were really entertaining and their presentations were just awesome. I felt fortunate to be a part of the group that is genuinely passionate about the development of our own literature.

The first topic was about the situation of children's literature in our country. One thing I've learned is the "pandesal" mentality when it comes to the production of literary pieces. If we are going to evaluate the story books for children in the shelves, we would notice the gross imitation of plots and styles currently trending in the literary market. Hence, we have the same old stories told and our literature is becoming so commercialized.

On the other side of things, it is still a surprise though to rediscover a few brilliant pieces of literary works that we just don't take pride or simply take for granted. Of these were the local films that has proved their worth in the international scene. We were treated to some previews but the funny thing though is I've never seen any of them in full. Talk about guilt and my movie civilian life.

Another topic was about the folk stories of the City of Koronadal. As reiterated by the speaker in the lecture, one would wonder how we can find a bulk of Greek literature, American literature, Egyptian literature, Indian literature, Japanese literature, but never the literature of our own country. We have the same old stories told and the foreign ones are headway compared to our own.

We realized that nobody dares and initiates to write about the rich heritage of our own city. The songs, poems, legends and myths of our countrysides remain as murky as the water of the river. The fairies, witches, vampires and spirits of our imaginations are still undocumented testaments of our unique culture. The large difference is the fact that nobody puts them into writing and permanently etch them in our material culture.

After each lecture, we had workshops on writing the folk stories of our respective stations and applying it as a spring board of our lesson planning. The hours of brainstorming was worth the squeeze because we were able to produce a legendary tale that we can call original and authentic. I believe that nobody could write the first hand story of our community better than we the people of our community.

We are a country of gregarious people who love to listen and tell stories, but these stories have remained traditionally in our mouths. The challenge now is how to preserve these stories in written form to be passed on the next generation. This kind of passion should be instilled in our hearts.

The Stinky Fish And Others That Stink

I organize my thoughts in English. I love to read literary pieces in English. I prefer to write this blog in English.

As a puzzled person for having been raised in a diverse linguistic community, I have always believed that English is the superior language. This must be the most reason why, no matter how patriotic I am supposed to be as a Filipino citizen, I choose not to use the Filipino language in many instances.

For the most part, Filipino is not considered as the language of prestige in this country. It is not always the language spoken in the court rooms, medical fields, print labels. It is not also the language written in most of our legal documents. Our constitution, which is the very soul of our government system, is the big proof of this. 

Filipino is not considered as the language of the learned. Many of the affluent families in our social strata prefer to speak to their children in the considered international language. As such, we are raising a generation who are speaking of the foreign tongue and in the process marginalizing our own language in the street and market.

Filipino is also not the language of national consensus. While the declaration is in the law, there are still bitter traces of antagonism among our elder and purist brothers in the region. As such, not so many regional morphological items were successfully integrated in our national language to promote national unity and corporate ownership of it.

I remember back during my junior year in college, I studied on language attitudes for my thesis. Results showed that English is considered as superior language compared to our national language. As I also qualitatively observed through the years, English is also the language more preferred in many formal situations.

But, any language, including our very own Filipino language, is a language equal to any language in the world like English. It has its own phonology, morphology, grammar and syntax to suffice our various purposes to communicate. Would have it fallen short for our needs for us to largely fail in the daily affairs of our living, it should have been extinct and buried forever to oblivion.

Filipino language by "default" is still the spoken language in the most part of our life. Those who have marginalized Filipino by speaking the foreign tongues, by no means, still think and speak the soul of Filipino language whether they like it or not. As such, we have developed and even invented local meanings to foreign vocabularies like "salvage", "back to back", "blow out", "comfort room", "peg" and many others.

I appreciate the developing class of new parents in our social strata that communicates in Filipino to their children, making it their mother tongue. For example, the tenants of my flat who are both Cebuano but consider Filipino as the formal language. When I converse with our learned Muslim brothers, the lingua franca that connects our minds together is nothing less than the Filipino language.

So, unless we do not swallow our pride whole and lift our national language to the pedestal of intellectualism like what other nations did to their respective national languages, we will never stop degrading our own linguistic heritage as we have actually crushed our national identity consciously or unconsciously. 

I don't know how much spartan determination or unselfish time it would take for a change in our attitudes toward our own language, but these I hope to have in myself, too.

Filipinos, this is the time to realize how worse we smell than a stinky fish.

Photo credit: www.thisisdevon.co.uk.

Of Letters F's and P's

The end of the PHILIPPINES?

One of the current bones of contention in the cultural and political aspect of our country is the urge of the Komisyon ng Wikang Filipino to replace the country's name from Philippines or Pilipinas to Filipinas.

If "Philippines" is a vestige of continuing American imperialism, then logically "Filipinas" is a symbol of Spanish colonialism. Truth be told in the first place that it was a Spanish conqueror who named our islands as "Filipinas" in honor for their king.

For me, with so many fuss surrounding this issue, the three names - Philippines, Filipinas, and Pilipinas - are as valid as anyone's opinion. We just have to use them in the proper context - Philippines in English; Filipinas in Spanish; Pilipinas in our own.

By still using "Pilipinas" and not "Filipinas" in our local parlance, we indiginized the original Spanish name by writing and uttering it in the comfort of our native tongue, that is by using P instead of F - a letter that did not exist in our original alphabet and does not exist so much in our present manner of speaking.

We adopted "Pilipinas" from the original spelling because we wanted an identity that is uniquely our own - a sign that though we cannot deny a colonial past, we still embrace an independent present. Nothing has to be changed at all - nothing really in the stamps, documents, universities.

Photo credit: www.gmanetwork.com.

As a conclusion, I stick to this rule:

Say PHILIPPINES in the international usage. Say FILIPINAS if you are in the Spanish world. Say PILIPINAS when you are speaking in the native tongue.

And by stating that rule, I may just declare: Longlive Philippines! Viva Filipinas! Mabuhay Pilipinas!

The Grass of Imelda Marcos

When somebody mentions General Santos City, the visual imagery that comes in my mind is that of wide plains of yellow creeping plants. 

Photo credit: www.dpi.nsw.gov.

These weeds are locally called "imelda grass" and "yellow creepers". It has small leaves, yellow petals, and spiny nuts. In college, I remember avoiding them on the way to the university for its sharp thorns especially during summer season when they thrive most. 

It can also be found in some parts of the world, notably in arid and hot places. A legend says that the plant was pegged from Imelda Marcos who bought and thought it would thrive best in the once barren area of General Santos City for its warm climate.

Aside form the tuna, why not make this peculiar golden plant a symbol of the city? I have never seen them in any place around the region.

Another Film Review of Jose Rizal

It was Jose Rizal's birthday last 19th. Better late than never, as our own way of dealing this historical day, we watched the film entitled "Jose Rizal" today. Actually it was my second time; the first being part of the requirements in one of my college subjects years ago.

Just a few cents pointing out twists in this second film review.

In my college review, I really didn't like the way that the inorganic plot was employed in the film, most especially the reverts to novel metaphors. As I have reasoned out, it made the film vague and that the novel metaphors should be a separate plot to deal.

But now I really appreciate having Jose Rizal's novel protagonist Simon Ibarra in El Filibusterismo occasionally appear, because it was one good justification how deep was the patriotism of Jose Rizal, stemming from his personal inspiration to rise against the Spanish colonialism.

Another is that, having learned the sequence of Rizal's life and works back in college, I pride myself on being compulsive when it comes to the idea of life of Rizal. We had "Jose Rizal: Life, Works, and Writings of a Genius, Writer, Scientist, and National Hero" by Gregorio F. Zaide as the class bible in studying the subject and I was used to glean the bare bones of our national hero from it.

However, going beyond the reference material, I appreciate how the film depicted Rizal's cause even more clear through additional scenes - like the one with a native janitor who could be best classified as a literary "round character" who challenges Rizal's principles but ultimately brings the best of Rizal's thoughts on that purpose.

Furthermore, years back, I thought that the script of the film, especially that of lines of Rizal, were just all too bland. I enjoyed the Spanish pronunciations and accents but I really just forgot his words in the film before, not even leaving something intense psychological impact in myself.

Yet, this time, I like the how each line that Rizal threw was full of intense lessons and added a sense of humanity to myself while watching it. It seemed that every sentence he said encapsulated something meaningful that would make one get affected deep within, evaluating political and moral principles.

As a whole, the film is no plain old story. I have always proclaimed myself as a movie civilian, someone who has under appreciation of movies; but rather than an effect of viewing the film twice, I would love to assume that the positive twist on my second film review must have been due to my more mature "taste" nowadays. Oh, really, it must have been.

Anyways, belated happy 152nd birthday, Pepe!

War Of Our Fathers

One of the few things that piqued my attention during my recent wanderlust at SM City GenSan was the ongoing exhibit of Philippine Veterans Bank at the 2nd floor.

Dubbed as "War of our Fathers", the exhibit shows different artifacts and photographs from the American and Japanese occupations of the country. Looking at the exhibit panels and stands is one of the best ways to walk down the lane of our history and appreciate the sacrifices of the great freedom fighters.

The words that follow below were printed in a banner displayed at the facade of the exhibit. Funny, I typed with might and main all these in my phone since I didn't have a pen or camera when I dropped by.

A Tribute to the Freedom Fighters

When those of us, who lived through those days, die... the world will forget. -James Reuter, S.J.

In darker days, one can easily forget to live. But in the brighter days, one would not easily forget how during the dark times, not everyone forgot to live.

As Filipino guerillas fought for freedom, doctors, nurses and volunteers healed the wounded. As priests, nuns and lay ministers provided refuge, men, women and children from all walks of life struggled to reclaim a nation that fell into darkness.

They are the freedom fighters, the bearers of light, the dreamers and redeemers of the Filipino soul, our fathers who knew how to live and when to die for country and for its people...

And for us, the sons and daughters, and grandchildren of those who suffered and fought valiantly in that infamous war, we, who now live in brighter days, enjoying the freedom they so dearly paid for with life and limb.

Six decades or a lifetime is never enough to forget, and we remember with gratitude and pride... The War of our Fathers.

Just how many of us can look back with thankful hearts to our forefathers who gave us this freedom that we all now enjoy, and some even abuse? It's about time to. 

Uncle Bonie's Day

We surely know why it will be a national holiday tomorrow as we celebrate the 149th birth anniversary of the light that guided the revolution - Andres Bonifacio.

Among the hometown men in our history, my sympathy goes to the supreme katipunero. I think that he was too robbed of life, being born in a humble family and died in an unfair circumstance.

A difficult early life sparked Bonifacio the courage to face the tall odds of life. He was the eldest of six broods of a poor couple named Santiago Bonifacio and  Catalina de Castro.

When he turned fourteen years old, he was orphaned and had to take his younger siblings under his wings. To make both ends meet, he had to sacrifice his schooling.

Yet even if Bonifacio stopped going to school, he continued reading novels about ideals of freedom. He had read a great deal and had a library but was destroyed at the time his house burned down.

Bonifacio's cry: "Bring out your cedulas and tear them to pieces to symbolize our determination to take up arms!" signified the Filipino outbreak of uprising against the long colonial occupation.

One early morning midst the revolution, an another group of Filipino soldiers brought Bonifacio and his brother to the mountains. One of the soldiers opened the sealed letter from the Filipino general, which secretly ordered to kill the two men. Using bayonets and bolos, the soldiers dug a shallow grave, covered the two dead bodies with weeds, and hurriedly left to escape.

Anyone who knows our history will understand why Bonifacio is remembered on his birthday, November 30, rather than the date of his death, May 10. Unlike Rizal who was executed by the enemy, Bonifacio was executed by fellow countrymen.

Oh, poor Uncle Bonie! Tomorrow will be that day 149 years ago when you came into this vale of tears! They betrayed you but you proved that even a plebeian can make a big difference and give his motherland the gift of heroism!