MOB RULE

[March 7, 2012 at 7:00pm]

As time goes by, I think the world’s super-spy James Bond would hit it right, the world is not enough. There are now officially more than seven billion people on Earth as of the latest estimates in the rough.

Look around you, it seems that all places in this fragile world are already engaged, occupied and taken. It makes you wonder if there are some forests left in the planet that could be truly considered as virgin. See the malls, the marketplaces, and town plazas among others during a fiesta and we can see that people are everywhere. And they fight on the beaches, they fight on the landing grounds, they fight in the fields and in the streets, they fight in the hills, they never surrender.

Time will come when gold and silver will never amount anymore to anything. And the only stuff of great value would be no other than food, shelter and clothing. We spend a great deal of wasted time in our lifetime just to push and shove and queue in a crowd so maddening. Soon comes the time when men would kill each other no longer for honor or filthy lucre, but only for crumbs and morsel to meet and satisfy a mortal’s primary need and survive their hunger.

Everyone will admit that it’s a dreadful scenario and the most difficult situation. Surely, when that happened, love, honor, pride and compassion will become a forgotten emotion. And anarchy will reign in the streets, as the game will be the survival of the fittest. Or the fiercest. And the mob will rule at its best.

Like what happened during one Friday night in a public terminal where, as the idling last trip bus full-packed with passengers was waiting for its driver, every minute passed it seemed that it was quickly filled to the rafters. People inside were hustling and mixed up like sardines and everybody could hear everybody ‘coz everybody was complaining. Even the entrance door could not be closed as there were still six bodies finely compact therein where one man’s left leg was dangling.

When another hurrying man tried to squeeze in, he was pushed back by a hulking passenger and the former dropped his body to the ground where he smashed his chin. With blood dripping on his shirt, he tried to get up and held again the outside railing of the bus and forced himself to fit his small frame in any small opening between rubbing bodies. But the same angry big man, who dropped his right leg on the ground when the insisting fellow elbowed his back as he climbed again, suddenly punched the hapless thin man and shattered his teeth when he was hit in the face.

He fell to the ground again and rolled over. Yet with his full spirit intact, he went on, he did never retreat nor surrender. He grabbed the door’s hold-rail anew to get in but this time the huge puncher kicked him. And when he slammed his body on earth again, the hulk followed up with a barrage of jabs, hooks and straights and kicks until the man’s face went beyond recognition with cuts and sores so severe.

But my heart bled so much after the dying man replied when he’d been asked why he was so insistent to get in despite everything: “I…am… the driver.”

THE ROAD

[March 5, 2013 at 4:17pm]

About two years ago, after a long, long time probably, I came to visit once again my cousins in Molino, Bacoor, Cavite. They are the first caretaker of mine when I first arrived in Metro Manila for the very first time. They were still renting then an apartment somewhere in Alabang because during that period there was still scarcity of dime.

I also treasure my moments in Alabang, for in there I had my first experience in any “karnabal,” in “Big Bang.” Long before those notoriety, or popularity, your call, of those society-privileged Alabang Boys, I already called myself by that name, as the only hang-out we had in there then was the Ayala Alabang where Alabang Girls’ beauties did hoist.

Our eyes may despise unintentionally those goodfellas with a home along the “riles,” yet in there they had their rules religiously followed more in spite of having in life less. I am referring to the light wooden trolley “cab” which served as transportation mode, hired by residents and visitors of those informal settlers living beside the railroad.

At first I wondered how those “cabs” would pass each other in a single set of railway. And I saw that their rule of thumb was whichever had fewer passengers would be the one to give way. That means, when two “cabs” from opposite direction were about to face each other which would happen of course normally, the one with, say, two passengers, had to get off the “cab” that its “operator” would lift it to let the other “cab” with three persons proceed its way.

Molino is now a vastly populated area, unlike before when it was still, as my cousins put it, “probinsyang-probinsya.” I took the old route from Zapote Bacoor heading to it like what I used to take, since I didn’t know beforehand all other routes which are now more accessible and free from traffic.

Well, it happens always in our life when due to lack of knowledge sometimes we take the long and winding road, instead of the straight and narrow path, popularized by P-noy as “daang matuwid,” like the old reliable, but safer, railroad.

That’s why to my Christ as The Road, I’m always thankful, because through Him our lives now are being made simple. Imagine if we still live in the Old Testament era of burnt offering and sacrificial offering, when every time we commit iniquity and displeasure before God in heaven, we had to find lambs and cattle for the atonement of each sin?

Today, just by talking to Him even in prayer of the mind but in repentant spirit, all sins would be totally forgiven. Whether you call yourself Catholic or Non-Catholic or Muslim, He wouldn’t mind, the moment you believe in Him.

THE AWARDING

[March 7, 2014 at 1:28pm]

For the second straight year, I’ve missed watching as it happened on TV the Oscars. I have proven anew the sayings are true, when you’re old, opportunities get sparse. Since June 1998, I’d always find ways in allotting time for indulgence with Hollywood’s live feed. Blame it to James Cameron’s “Titanic,” well, as well as that young, charming British beauty named Kate Winslet.

The movie romped away that year with almost all statuettes in almost all categories. The reason probably why I dug up the old files to compare it with ‘Gone With The Wind’ with Scarlett. And I’d say both movies are indeed fabulous. They’re well-crafted and astoundingly marvelous.

I’m happy colored people are now officially admitted to and respected in Hollywood with the victory of Steve McQueen’s “12 Years A Slave.” I just knew that it was the first Best Picture Oscar for an entry which a non-white person directed. I’d say, nice putting of icing on the cake was another victory in Best Supporting Actress category by McQueen’s fellow, an amazing African woman who, “ang lupit ng performance” in that winning film, has carved a name as Lupita Nyong’o. I would have wanted though to remind Lupita, in Hollywood, the devil wears Prada.

The die is now cast, so to speak, with the major categories won in full, at last, at least once, by the Ku Klux Klan tagged as black people. It goes into saying that Hollywood would now be completely recognizing that, indeed, like life, black is beautiful. But of course, we should remember that nowadays calling black people black would be politically incorrect. Especially if you are a pot calling a kettle like it because it would be deemed by the civilized society that you discriminate.

Sometimes I’m tempted to say that here in the Philippines, how “lucky” those so-called “blacks” could be. It’s because Filipinos don’t usually call “black” persons black but “Egoy,” “Murag Ngitngit” or “A-ti.” In fact in my generation, we normally addressed them as “White” in obvious, supreme irony. It’s for the reason that we don’t want to hurt people through literal words or hit ‘em directly.

Learn to be considerate, like did in “Iskul Bukol” by the country’s most popular trio, Tito, Vic and Joey. There was this male character therein whose skin was “itim” but they reversed it and called him Mang Tim-i (teem-eeh).

Time will come when there would be some great gathering somewhere of all people. And there would be no difference at all if you are white, brown, black or colored purple. This gathering for awarding and rewarding ceremony will have far more glitz, class and grandeur, than any Oscars ceremony ever organized in this world and we’ve had witnessed like a detestable voyeur.

Time will come when what we want to be told would be by Someone saying these words: “Well done, good and faithful servant. . . . enter thou into the joy of thy Lord” (Matthew 25:23).

THE MESSENGER

[March 7, 2016]

“You shall not lie with a male as one lies with a female; it is an abomination” (Lev. 18:22 NASB)

One of the hassles of the job of being a messenger of the court sent to defendant is that you cannot avoid sometimes to be misinterpreted as belonging to the side of the complainant. Right in my very first time ever to deliver a judicial message in Brgy. Taculing of Bacolod in Negros Island, I didn’t expect that I’d be chased by a respondent’s sword called Kampilan.

Whew, had the merciful Lord ran out of mercy at the time, the least I would have had been was becoming another chop-chop victim. But the God of Abraham, of Isaac, of Jacob and of anyone who believes in Him, has other plans for me that are definitely somewhat different.

Almost the same thing happened as well a few years after in a remote village somewhere in the mountainous area of San Joaquin. After traversing the ricefields and wading through the brooks for over an hour I was in near exhaustion when my man had I seen.

After he heard yet still a little fraction about the matter, in his tiny bamboo-and-nipa hut, he did let me first enter, his teeth gritted when I took a wooden seat because I was then so weak and exhausted. He immediately closed the door, his long bolo a.k.a. ‘Ginunting’ he unsheathed, and told me like in paraphrased Hotel California’s lyrics, you can pass out anytime you like but you can never leave.

Instantly, I never had a doubt that moment could be the end of my days, so I scrambled for my final say, being trapped completely. And as I started to feel tremor in my body, I told him back, “Before you kill me, please give me first something to eat for I’m so hungry.”

His attack mode automatically shifted to conventional compassion of a farmer to a complete stranger as his cooked rice and well-kept can of Ligo sardines to me he did offer. And while I was munching slowly but surely, I explained to him everything including the fact that I was a person of no interest in his case being a mere court messenger.

I remember these experiences of mine especially at the height of flurry of punches from gays and lesbians, bisexuals and transgenders that Pacquiao had received after he was asked of his opinion about them. How unfair are these GLBT’s, they are always the ones demanding freedom for everyone, and of everything, but upon hearing Pacquaio expressing his freedom of expression, why would the world crucify him?

When Vice Ganda would spiel, for fun and money, his free vulgar expression on national TV, I don’t know of an average certified male or female who raises a mad howl as they just let it be.

And besides, the so-called People’s Champ Manny did not say it purely on his own as, above it all, he referred to the Bible. He only conveyed the message of The Most Powerful, of what he read and believed as a mere messenger, plain and simple. Like Pacquiao, Ben Carson compared same-sex relationship too to bestiality when he was still a US presidential aspirant. And it caused his withdrawal from the race within the Republicans but he gained respect because he remains on his stand.

Like the way we do them, our gay friends should understand that even we Christians, by the Word of God are deeply hurt, that is when we continue in sin. for the Truth is many times painful than a piercing dart.  As what Paul wrote, “For the word of God is alive and active. Sharper than any double-edged sword, it penetrates even to dividing soul and spirit, joints and marrow; it judges the thoughts and attitudes of the heart” (Hebrews 4:12 NIV).

FIRST LOVE

[March 4, 2014]

“There is always a first time.”

I murmured this phrase anew when, for the very first time in my life as far as I can remember, I was assigned to the front-est seat by an airline officer in their plane on my way back here. I tell you, the air upfront was really different; I became uneasy as if my seat was uneven. Imagine, guys like me rubbing elbows with I presumed to be politicians or VIP’s then, bureaucrats and moneyed men?

I didn’t know at first if that choice of seat location was truly cool because in the first few minutes I was very uncomfortable. I asked myself if this was what Psalms 1 had written about, “Blessed is the man that walketh not in the counsel of the ungodly… nor sitteth in the seat of the scornful”?

However, quite a little later, like a flexible chameleon or some kind, I quickly adapted myself to my environment where rest did I finally find through that seat the belt did safely bind.

Besides, who would not find comfort when sitting face to face, eye to eye and smile to smile, with a parade of mesmerizing beauties sitting fronting you like those nymphs and fairies working for the airline? The war of the flesh and the spirit erupted since you are tempted to pretend you’re having flight sickness, and take a step further, grab opportunity like this, by asking from anyone of them some hot water every five minutes.

When I left Iloilo a few days ago, I have had also my first time. I was given a go signal at ten A.M. to leave for a flight at ten thirty-five. Of course, ordinarily, I’d like to fume mad, for I’d no chance to bring an undergarment or toothbrush. But knowing it was a normal part of the job, I had to go my way and find a taxicab. Like a good soldier of fortune, though not in my favor were the odds, still, I had to desperately try my ‘luck.’

And my first problem was, how could a taxi in the middle of a weekday and traffic make it to the airport from Atrium in at least twenty minutes? Would you tell the driver you still left with several bullets, thus, if he’d fail your “simple” wish, you’d turn his head into several pieces?

But like I said here in my first line, “There is always a first time.”

Like the first time you had an inexplicable feeling upon hearing your name repeatedly mentioned in a public address system, while you jump-run up the escalator like Jacky Chan or Owen being chased by the mob everyone a killing machine.

But there’s more than just an inexplicable feeling when, since you are the last person to enter the plane, you quickly noticed those piercing stares from the sitting men and women, since you had no idea how long did you keep everyone waiting.

But being an ex-streetboy, you know the rules: never say a word. Savor the moment of you and yourself against the world.

The first time is always a memory that lasts. Just like the first time you felt the love. I always believe that for those who’ve had already truly experienced God’s love for the first time, they would always go their way to find it back once they’d lost it to worldly cares of life.

That’s why the Scriptures would remind us the displeasure of God: “…I have somewhat against thee, because thou hast left thy first love” (Rev. 2:4). It’s because He would never forget not to leave His, for He committed Himself right away when He first loved us (I John 4:19).

With the kind of first love that bought us with a price (I Cor. 7:23). With the kind of first love that truly never dies.

A FATHER’S WOE

[March 3, 2015]

“Woe is me for my hurt! my wound is grievous: but I said, Truly this is a grief, and I must bear it” (Jeremiah 10:19).

A colleague at work but from different department, who also has a seventh grader like my boy enrolled in the same school but in different section and in different sector, was too enthusiastic to realize only a few schooldays more and it’d be a year down, five to go, so he didn’t mind we were then inside our building’s defective elevator.

His daughter is consistent topnotcher in her class and I’d say she is a potential future sage. His topic shifted to my son, and I curtly told him, “Oh, I’m so happy he maintains his grades.” He quickly nodded in genuine happiness because since last year’s enrollment we always compare notes as we become friends. Little did he know what I meant of “maintain” was, like in the previous grading period, my son’s ratings still have three “line-of-seven’s.”

Being a struggling parent, you can’t help but feel frustrated if not despondent upon seeing your child having his studies only taken for granted. But what else is new? Even Jay Leno admitted American studies revealed nine out of ten doctors agree that one out of ten doctors is stupid.

The sad part there is after you did evaluate things from the start, you horribly found out you didn’t actually do your best part. You finally recognized yourself you lack the most important virtue of all which is patience, and now that the result consequently turned out this way you begin to be bothered by conscience.

Sometimes you don’t realize it that deep inside you there’s a part blaming the stars to escape culpability. When in troth and in fact everything rests on your shoulders since day one when you started a family. It’s really hard to accept the truth you can’t simply inspire a young mind. You speak things you think are helpful to them but eventually, they don’t mind.

The scariest part here is if you are not aware you bombastically preach things perfectly contrary to what you usually practice in your life all year through. As if you are an alcoholic preacher or a suicidal lung doctor who, with regards to smoking and drinking, tells you to follow what they say and not what they do.

Or say, maybe there’s a little bit of karma factor in here as you had this feeling it involves some genetic issue. Like, he may have inherited your then constant motto, “Why strive for ninety-five when seventy-five will do?”

As time goes by you are shown of biting reality you’re slowly losing grip on him because sooner or later he’d definitely demand total freedom like anyone else did during his own era. Like what you had cried then to your parents, “Give me liberty, or give me death!” and they gave you the former for they thought you were referring then to Liberty Condensada.

Ahh, the great circle of life, yesterday you were a player, but now you are relegated to a mere spectator. And the more you feel those diminishing cells in your body, the more you reconfirm your need for a Savior.

And you understand James now than before. For today you agree: life indeed is like a vapor (James 4:14).

HOW PATHETIC

 [March 2, 2014 at 12:37am]

I do not deny that about anything under the sun, I would love to make a pun. I do it though not out of malice but just purely to have some fun. How pathetic isn’t it? But wait till I share a story about it: There said to have a pathetic punster who’d never cease, despite his previous entries had been repeatedly rejected, to join in an annual prestigious pun-writing contest.

This year, he submitted ten puns wishing at least one would be selected. However, when came the judges’ verdict, to his much dismay, no pun in ten did.

When I travel by bus within Metro Manila ever since, what annoys me a bit and leaves me no choice but to just shake my head, is when a dapper man in dashing outfit gets on a bus where I too ride in, gets his Bible, prays and starts to preach.

I have no problem with any of his chosen and discretionary subjects, especially with his personal judgment in picking a place or prospects. For I also firmly believe that the Word of God should be preached, whether in a house or in the streets, in a mountain or in the beach.

And in the bus or internet. Even if you say it’s pathetic.

My problem lies with those bus preachers’ S.O.P. after each and every preaching, when they would pass around the hat, envelope or sling bag, allegedly for ‘love offering.’  Could you blame the thinking crowd if they would end up instead so very frustrated, and develop a mindset that in believing in God, one would become a beggar instead?

Was it not Jesus Himself said that in preaching the Kingdom, “…Take nothing for your journey, neither staves nor scrip, neither bread, neither money; neither have two coats apiece” (Luke 9:3)?

How can you make one believe that God is love actually, when for that love you preach you make him involuntarily pay? I thought salvation is free. Then how can you convince someone that the Lord is the God of all riches on Earth, in Heaven and afar, when His followers and preachers turn out to be a professional beggar?

Yeah, Paul may have had said that Christ would be preached even of goodwill or strife and envy, notwithstanding likewise of pretense or truth, every way (Philippians 1:15-18). But there is a conflict if one preaches for any other motive and agenda, squeezing the Word to suit his purposes rather than vice versa.

And worse, sometimes, pun intended, men would subtly add a new rule in the already established laws without being immediately seen. Like, although it’s practically true, I must not agree with a concocted “11th” commandment that “Thou shalt not eat salt because it is a sin (asin).”

How pathetic.