There was a numbing feeling in May when the son of the deposed dictator was declared winner of the national elections. It was the unimaginable that shocked the people. Who would have believed that it would only take three decades and a six years to lose again what we fought for with all our hearts, our minds, and our spirits, our strength.
The EDSA Revolution of 1986 was a four day sacrifice of Filipinos willing to give up their lives just to eradicate the despicable evil that loomed long enough in the people’s palace squeezing the blood of the masa through the coffers. Two million people, young and old, rich and poor, beckoned by an old cardinal of the Catholic Church called by the name of Sin – His Eminence Cardinal Jaime Sin – to protect the soldiers turned rogue holed up at the twin camps: Camp Aguinaldo and Camp Crame, separated by EDSA, or Epifanio delos Santos Avenue. The call came in at night but the people heard and heeded. They walked the distance from Aurora Boulevard knowing that the march to the camps could mean the end of their very lives. By morning, the masa filled every foot of the wide avenue in a festive but tense mood. Soldiers and tanks were ordered to take on the people while helicopters and planes patrol the sky. A bomb could simply finish it all. But by Divine Providence, the soldiers accepted the roses and the food the nuns and the people offered. The pilot ordered to annihilate the mass refused command. He saw the Cross at EDSA.
The people turned jubilant upon hearing the flight to Hawaii of the deposed dictator. That was when the NEVER AGAIN was chanted. The people believed it in their hearts and swore it in their very soul. NEVER AGAIN.
Yet the rogues the people protected remained. And they wanted power, too. So they attempted several putsches to overthrow the woman president – Corazon Cojuangco Aquino, the widow of Ninoy Aquino, the man imprisoned and technically exiled, but when he chose to come back, was shot at the back of the head by armed guards at the airport. The rogues did not succeed. The people protected the widow president.
The political situation was still brittle and economic condition of the country was dwindling. The coffers were empty. The widow needed to seek foreign help to put the country in order. With a little success, the country breezed through the hard times. Or so it seemed.
Just when the people were beginning to feel some stability, the earthquake of July 1990 shook the very being of the nation. Little children were seen trapped underneath their school buildings. Many perished in the rubbles.
Barely has the people recovered from the shock, the tiny Mount Pinatubo unleashed an eruption the volcanic ash of which covered the skies. It was like the biblical day of darkness.
With the powerful typhoons that lashed the country came the roaring lahar of 1992 that enveloped the rice fields of the Central Plain of Luzon, including the residential houses, be it nipa huts or bungalows or two storey mansions.
The people was already down on their knees at the natural disasters that shook them to the core but the problems increased like nightmares that never stopped.
In 1992, with a military man for president, the power outage created a discomfort perilous enough. There was no electricity for twenty-four hours every other day. With that came water rationing.
By 1996, climate change could already be felt. The storms took the huge acacia trees down that we could see the trees indeed have anuses. Amusing but true.
But there was nothing more shocking when a womanizer/gambler/actor/mayor became president in 1998. It was a time of distrust that led the country to the new millennium, and political unrest. The people came to power again to shove off the unfit president, only to be exchanged to the hands of a diminutive woman who cunningly abused the country for ten long years. That deceitful woman was imprisoned for six long years. As was her predecessor also, for a number of years, but was pardoned.
By 2010, the Filipino was given a reprieve from all concerns and worries with the presidency held by the Noynoy Aquino, the lone son of Ninoy and Cory Aquino. PNoy, as he was called, built roads and bridges, school buildings and by-ways, and installed formidable health and education plans for the welfare of the people. The country became the new tiger of Asia.
But then again, the very first super typhoon of the world, an intensity 5 Yolanda, internationally named Haiyan, smashed the archipelago to a mind-boggling zombie-like aftermath in 2013 after claiming the lives of six thousand or more.
Another untoward incident called the Masasapano Massacre also happened during PNoy’s administration that left the country gripping with unbelief.
But what was to come was gut wrenching when a blood thirsty creature came to power and created the Tokhang, a salvaging of poor people in guise of a drug war.
For six years I shut my eyes and ears from the local news. See no evil, hear no evil, speak no evil.
And only the first quarter of this year did I tune again, for in spite of the war Russia has imposed on Ukraine that caused me troubled nights, here in the islands, there was much hyper street parties for candidacy of Leni Robredo for the presidency. It was rose themed, for a brighter and happier tomorrow.
Alas it was not to be, for somewhere in the computerized counting, the people had again been hoodwinked.
Never thought this would happen in my lifetime. NEVER AGAIN! NEVER AGAIN? Sigh, it’s here again.
Yet, in my memory pictures I saw the picture of Mayon Volcano, the perfect cone of a mountain in the Bicol Region. My daughter saw the mountain for her self when she was a teen and told me of its breathtaking beauty, I cannot recall who took the picture of Mount Mayon but am grateful for the image.
So many ugly things had happened to the Philippines and perhaps more is in the offing, but I’d like to believe the Filipino is like the Mayon, forever formidable in beauty and resolve despite anything.
Promised my self not to sip caffeine again but yesterday, at the mall, I grew cold and had to order a cup of cappuccino. I would have opted for some green tea or English tea but soothing beverage was not in the menu. Thus, another promise to one’s self broken. Sigh!
Oh well, perhaps it is not too bad. A cup every now and then, or as they say, anything done or taken in moderation is not a bad thing. Sigh, again! Who am I fooling but my self. And it is irritating.
Just a few minutes ago, I broke the promise a second time. Gosh, it is cold. Brrr. The hot ramen I had for lunch was not enough. I still am cold. The coffee was so inviting and I gave in to the temptation. Besides, I reasoned, at least it’s not popcorn or some cookie snack that are more detrimental to the health. The coffee seemed to jibe with my viewing of The Gray Man, a netflix offering starring Ryan Gosling in the lead role and Chris Evans as the antagonist.
Neflix must be losing hard, as reported, that the flix lost more than a million subscribers. Can’t blame the subscribers, I was also disgusted with flix for limiting the spectacular watchable movies. The flix has become a repository of thrash stories. But today, I was surprised that there’s another movie that appears viewable – Molly’s Game. I just have to rest my eyes for a while.
Yup, that’s a health consideration – ,my vision. The last laser session would be in August and am hoping that that would finally restore my sight to twenty-twenty. As it is, the sugar and the pressure are erratic. Am not very disciplined when it comes to food intake. And as this confession post says, the caffeine self-restriction lasted only six months, so, the liquid intake as well.
Vietnamese Seafood Stir FryFilipino grilled pusit Udon Noodles from HongkongSweet and Sour Fish Filipino StyleHongkong HacaoPeking Duck
Didn’t realize I was touring Southeast Asia right in my own city via the food hubs that sprouted round my neighborhood. Literally just a kilometer or two away, or three perhaps, one can have a variety of choices that caters to one’s taste.
Had I known there’s quite an enriching eating experience in the stop overs we made, I would have seriously taken pictures of the delicacies. Even the spicy Pad Thai food, I was surprised, was very palatable to my own taste. The Vietnamese stir fry is a bit strong but tolerable. The shrimp hacao is a favorite, as well as the sweet and sour fish. At the rate we are eating, I would be doubly fat before Christmas.
My childhood was made wonderful not only with available comics: Wakasan at Itutuloy in the vernacular, Archie and Charlie Brown in English; science journals like OMNI, magazines which we cut out for pop-up play, encyclopedia which must be handled with care, textbooks, and books, the best of which, I deemed, was the huge atlas that showcased maps of the world and the universe.
There was so much information in that hard-bound atlas but my child’s eyes was satisfied with the pictures of the solar system with our home planet Earth, the constellations of the stars, the Milky Way, our galaxy, and other amazing images of the great, infinite universe.
Nope, there was no Big Bang Theory to bother my simple mind. I was all right knowing the universe was vast and if I close my eyes and travel through the great out there, I would experience a vision of creation and probably say hello to its Maker, our God.
The other day, the news was filled with images of the great beyond captured by James Webb’s telescope. The astrophysicists and science was ultra or mega jubilant with finally seeing what man has never seen before – a stun of jewels of the great universe.
Grateful to have seen it while I am still alive, probably a full circle of my childhood wonder.
Pretty hectic week as my little family go through the hustle and bustle of chores, errands, and calls of duty. Time is definitely a very precious and expensive commodity. Once lost, cannot be retrieved. So, my daughters and I juggled with the multi-tasking to get things done.
The board exams for the Obstetrics and Gynecology doctors took place Sunday morning at the Ateneo de Manila University. My daughter reviewed to heart the past month and a half, ever since she received advisement that her logbook research was accepted by the OB-Gyne Society, meaning she qualified for the test for diplomate.
With butterflies in her stomach, she awaited the result in the quiet hours of the evening, but it did not come.
Monday morning was a toxic one with mothers awaiting birthing.
It was late in the afternoon when her fellow doctor sent message they passed the test. Sadly, many others failed.
It wasn’t till the following morning that I was able to quickly fry a buttered salmon for breakfast. It was the quickest fix I could make before bringing my daughter to hospital duty again in the adjacent province of San Mateo.
The fried dish was sumptuous, salmon always tasted good.
The world is chaotic enough that we sigh each day hoping things would become better again. The other day, Japan was shocked by the senseless assassination of former Prime Minister Shinzo Abe, a statesman who sought friendship and peace with many leaders of different countries, whether these leaders are good or of questionable character.
It seems there is not a day of reprieve when we cease hearing bad breaking news. Protesters stormed the president’s residence in economically forsaken Sri Lanka. In Nicaragua, the nuns who had been caring for the down-trodden were expelled. In Africa, priests are being killed.
Yet, today. I was reminded that the breaking bad news are blatant because of the horrifying nature of the evil acts, despicable enough to shock and disturb the senses. That is the nature of evil – to horrify.
A challenge to the opposite force – counter these sinister events with little acts of kindness.
How do we do that?
Just by being a prayer your self.
Each day we see greetings on social media wishing celebrators ‘Happy Birthday!’ That is a prayer. Bidding one ‘Take care!’ or ‘Safe travel!’ or ‘Godspeed’ are also prayers. Whispering ejaculations such as ‘Good morning’ or ‘Good day’ already bring the positive vibration for others. And when one goes about the ordinary tasks and chores with gladness in the heart, that is a powerful act of prayer.
Calling a family or a friend to say ‘Hi! How are you?’ is beautiful gesture of goodness. A prayer.
Cooking for your loved ones three times a day is a prayer. As well as just thinking about them that they be safe and well.
Preparing something to give to another person in need is also a prayer. When you give fifty bucks or even a hundred pesos to a food delivery driver, that is a prayer. Or just anything: a bottle of water, an energy drink, a piece of bread, cookies or biscuits, or anything that will put a smile on their faces. Already a prayer. Often, when you see the joy in receiving, that is already an answered prayer.
These ordinary acts of kindness are already prayers which are not advertised in the breaking news. Brings me to conclude that with the quiet people still praying, there’s hope for our wounded world.
My Mother and My Sister Kept Each Other Company. A prayer.
It’s my daughter’s way of supporting the local farmers – buying fruits directly from the struggling farmer folks who take time to bring their produce to the city and someone would put it online that the fruits are available by the bulk, or a minimum of a few kilos.
That is why we’ve had the best of watermelon, pomelos or ;suha,’ and all kinds of native fruits during the pandemic time.
Yesterday, I was surprised to see the magical dragon fruit on the counter top. Not often offered in the local grocer, the dragon fruit actually costs a pretty good sum. Much that I wanted to buy a piece or two, kinda expensive on my budget.
Imagine my surprise now that I’ve been consuming a whole fruit in one sitting. Such a pleasant taste the dragon fruit has and it comes in vivid red, something I can’t reconcile because the taste and color don’t jibe. Wine red must be a tat salty or bitter, but the dragon fruit is almost tasteless.
A friend commented a piece costs five dollars in the United States. All the more I enjoyed the eating.
Woke up early this morning, grabbed my phone to check messages of import from family, and before getting to chat mode, saw this paper quilling artwork with my name on it. Put a smile on my face but thought that I could be presuming too much. Could just be the name of my young artist friend’s name of her friend also. So I asked permission if I could copy the artwork and make it my cover photo. Turned out it was really an advance birthday gift for me.
Now, now, my natal day is ages away yet. The artist’s mother, a private chef who once lived with us in our ancestral home and remained in touch with us through the decades like family, asked her daughter, the artist, to simply post it on fb and surprise me. Such a sweet, sweet surprise indeed.
Has anyone made a work of art for you? If so, ain’t it a Mona Lisa feeling that someone found it in his/her heart to immortalize thee? I surely felt that way.
Thank you, Rochelle Telesforo, and to your loving mother, Emilda Gaa.
Eileen C. Leyva 
A short story of what happened to my beautiful Philippines?
31 Jul 2022 Leave a comment
by eileenleyva in Commentary, Educational, Personal Journal, politics, Reflections, Society
There was a numbing feeling in May when the son of the deposed dictator was declared winner of the national elections. It was the unimaginable that shocked the people. Who would have believed that it would only take three decades and a six years to lose again what we fought for with all our hearts, our minds, and our spirits, our strength.
The EDSA Revolution of 1986 was a four day sacrifice of Filipinos willing to give up their lives just to eradicate the despicable evil that loomed long enough in the people’s palace squeezing the blood of the masa through the coffers. Two million people, young and old, rich and poor, beckoned by an old cardinal of the Catholic Church called by the name of Sin – His Eminence Cardinal Jaime Sin – to protect the soldiers turned rogue holed up at the twin camps: Camp Aguinaldo and Camp Crame, separated by EDSA, or Epifanio delos Santos Avenue. The call came in at night but the people heard and heeded. They walked the distance from Aurora Boulevard knowing that the march to the camps could mean the end of their very lives. By morning, the masa filled every foot of the wide avenue in a festive but tense mood. Soldiers and tanks were ordered to take on the people while helicopters and planes patrol the sky. A bomb could simply finish it all. But by Divine Providence, the soldiers accepted the roses and the food the nuns and the people offered. The pilot ordered to annihilate the mass refused command. He saw the Cross at EDSA.
The people turned jubilant upon hearing the flight to Hawaii of the deposed dictator. That was when the NEVER AGAIN was chanted. The people believed it in their hearts and swore it in their very soul. NEVER AGAIN.
Yet the rogues the people protected remained. And they wanted power, too. So they attempted several putsches to overthrow the woman president – Corazon Cojuangco Aquino, the widow of Ninoy Aquino, the man imprisoned and technically exiled, but when he chose to come back, was shot at the back of the head by armed guards at the airport. The rogues did not succeed. The people protected the widow president.
The political situation was still brittle and economic condition of the country was dwindling. The coffers were empty. The widow needed to seek foreign help to put the country in order. With a little success, the country breezed through the hard times. Or so it seemed.
Just when the people were beginning to feel some stability, the earthquake of July 1990 shook the very being of the nation. Little children were seen trapped underneath their school buildings. Many perished in the rubbles.
Barely has the people recovered from the shock, the tiny Mount Pinatubo unleashed an eruption the volcanic ash of which covered the skies. It was like the biblical day of darkness.
With the powerful typhoons that lashed the country came the roaring lahar of 1992 that enveloped the rice fields of the Central Plain of Luzon, including the residential houses, be it nipa huts or bungalows or two storey mansions.
The people was already down on their knees at the natural disasters that shook them to the core but the problems increased like nightmares that never stopped.
In 1992, with a military man for president, the power outage created a discomfort perilous enough. There was no electricity for twenty-four hours every other day. With that came water rationing.
By 1996, climate change could already be felt. The storms took the huge acacia trees down that we could see the trees indeed have anuses. Amusing but true.
But there was nothing more shocking when a womanizer/gambler/actor/mayor became president in 1998. It was a time of distrust that led the country to the new millennium, and political unrest. The people came to power again to shove off the unfit president, only to be exchanged to the hands of a diminutive woman who cunningly abused the country for ten long years. That deceitful woman was imprisoned for six long years. As was her predecessor also, for a number of years, but was pardoned.
By 2010, the Filipino was given a reprieve from all concerns and worries with the presidency held by the Noynoy Aquino, the lone son of Ninoy and Cory Aquino. PNoy, as he was called, built roads and bridges, school buildings and by-ways, and installed formidable health and education plans for the welfare of the people. The country became the new tiger of Asia.
But then again, the very first super typhoon of the world, an intensity 5 Yolanda, internationally named Haiyan, smashed the archipelago to a mind-boggling zombie-like aftermath in 2013 after claiming the lives of six thousand or more.
Another untoward incident called the Masasapano Massacre also happened during PNoy’s administration that left the country gripping with unbelief.
But what was to come was gut wrenching when a blood thirsty creature came to power and created the Tokhang, a salvaging of poor people in guise of a drug war.
For six years I shut my eyes and ears from the local news. See no evil, hear no evil, speak no evil.
And only the first quarter of this year did I tune again, for in spite of the war Russia has imposed on Ukraine that caused me troubled nights, here in the islands, there was much hyper street parties for candidacy of Leni Robredo for the presidency. It was rose themed, for a brighter and happier tomorrow.
Alas it was not to be, for somewhere in the computerized counting, the people had again been hoodwinked.
Never thought this would happen in my lifetime. NEVER AGAIN! NEVER AGAIN? Sigh, it’s here again.
Yet, in my memory pictures I saw the picture of Mayon Volcano, the perfect cone of a mountain in the Bicol Region. My daughter saw the mountain for her self when she was a teen and told me of its breathtaking beauty, I cannot recall who took the picture of Mount Mayon but am grateful for the image.
So many ugly things had happened to the Philippines and perhaps more is in the offing, but I’d like to believe the Filipino is like the Mayon, forever formidable in beauty and resolve despite anything.