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.
Still reeling from the shock of the uncanny and dark result of our national elections. Some political analysts suggest that we, the people are to blame, for the resurgence of the despicable thieves back to power. I dare say ‘NOPE’, we are not to blame, for we have done our best to protect democracy and goodness and the truth. If one argues our best is not good enough, I still say ‘Nope, our best is good enough, just that our success has been delayed this moment in time.’
The old adage goes: everything happens for a reason. We. the people, have to work on searching for that reason. The Supreme Being must have an extraordinary script for us, for I still believe that my people are the special forces that would eventually head toe to toe with the forces of darkness.
In the meantime, we do as Mother Theresa of Calcutta has advised: go home and do some good in the family. Words of wisdom from the diminutive saint who once cared for the outcasts of society, one person at a time.
So, this morning, I woke up early to prepare a heavy breakfast meal for my small family – a native concoction called kare-kare. Supposedly a tender beef viand in peanut sauce, I opted to used shrimp and vegetables instead, for my own health reasons.
The procedure is simple enough: saute garlic and onion, and simmer the shrimp and vegetables while constantly stirring the peanut/ground roasted rice saucy mix till the golden brown color comes. Or, till the talong, okra at sitaw (eggplant, lady finger, and string beans) are cooked.
Needless to say, I had to eat a second helping. Gosh, am so full.
‘Twas a dorky girl moment for me a few days ago, when I engaged in a nincompoop of a verbal battle on fb. Sigh!
I replied to a former student’s post which claimed falsities about the national elections. The intention was to correct the untruth. A troll friend of my student, a staunch supporter of the megalomaniac copycat of the tyrant of a father, bashed me outright saying I was a bitter self-entitled teacher who needed to cut down on eating bitter gourd or ampalaya. Grrrr! Hmpf! Checked even my profile, huh! Double grrrr!
Raged, I retaliated as kindly suggesting the creature must eat grains to feed its birdbrain.
I would have hoped that would stop the comments but the more I received kilometric attacks on my person, things that suggest neurosis and needing prayers. The misogynist!
Thus, to every attack, i replied as briefly, telling the troll he was the following:
Scum of the earth.
Vermin.
Hypocrite.
Bigot.
Fungus gnat.
Biting midge.
Oh well, that was how long the exchange was. The useless troll must have reeled on my tirades because the vocabulary was mentioned. Ha ha.
Do I feel good about this? Not at all. But it was necessary. About time we stand to creatures who malign others and claim ‘fakes’ as truths.
My dorky moment. Happens once in a blue, blue moon.
Love is measured not just by enduring sacrifice but also in the readiness to fight, no matter how punishing, in order to end the suffering.
The one who loves must fight for the one he/she loves.
Leonor Gerona Robredo, a gentle lady who epitomizes all Christian virtues: humble, obedient, patient, punctual, kind, honest, courageous, respectful, responsible, thoughtful, helpful, with self-control, and all heavenly virtues: faith, hope, charity, fortitude, justice, temperance and prudence.
The initial shock on the results of the elections yesterday rendered the ‘Pink Wave Revolution’ down and forlorn. There was utter disbelief as the numbers flashed putting a great margin over our candidate Leni Robredo.
Albeit I was calm, waiting for more news about election returns, somewhat hoping the tide turns in favor of our Leni. Just the same, it was already pretty obvious that the whole process was rigged! I knew already that the people had been taken for a ride. We were hoodwinked.
There were still voters at the precincts holding on their ballots till three in the morning. The counting machines were useless. Yet there was the count deemed unofficial. The cheaters couldn’t afford to let the public see how the magic manipulation was done. But such egregious tampering of counts does not escape the statistician’s eye. Necessary that an investigation commences at once.
For my part, I had to uplift the spirit of the supporters of the ‘Pink Wave.’ Young people were aghast and crying. The first taste of injustice was pretty bitter for them. Hu hu. From the hype and hope of winning, the youth were slackened in a corner dark and gloomy. A very sad sight.
Leni Robredo came up with a ‘thanksgiving speech’ and told the people that none was lost, for the seeds of hope had been planted.
On their own volition, the students were up in the streets of Manila, chanting Leni Robredo as our president and Kiko Pangilinan as our vice-president.
But during the course of my scrolling social media, I found vulgar posts insulting the ‘Pink Wave’ with corresponding pronouncements claiming the ‘unity team’ of the dictator’s son victorious. I cannot let that pass! So I responded appropriately, debunking their claims. It is imperative that we must put disclaimers right away, else evil would proliferate. There was one who tried to criticize me. I called him hypocrite and scum of the earth.
It’s Miting de Avance, the climactic rally culminating the three-month long campaign of the ‘Rosas ng Buhay,’ in support for Leonor Gerona Robredo for the presidency of our island nation, the Philippines.
It had been a joyful ninety day party all throughout the archipelago, no matter it be on thoroughfares or markets or even the lakes where the fisherfolks gathered their boats for a fluvial rally. Each person to his own contributing what one can. My former student Debbie initially brought six sorbetes carts (street ice cream) for the rallyists. She figured everyone would like something cold under the heat of the afternoon sun. The crowds did gather even before noontime in every event. For the miting de avance today, she has secured, as of last night, fifteen carts! And counting, I think…
That’s beside the bottled water that was generously given to anyone who needed thirst quenching. For those who were hungry, there was a bevy food to nibble on: puto, kutshinta, turon, mani, chicharon, kwekkwek at tusok-tusok fish and squid balls, taho, at siyempre may lugaw, at iba pa, all for free!
I watched all these from my monitor in the comforts of my home. But today, I had to be in the area where the people are and see for my self the actual jubilation of a campaign that defied political tradition.
The Rosas ng Bukas is a celebration of grace and happiness, of peace and love.
The garlic bread was supposedly my ‘baon’ to the occasion but I gobbled it up already. Ha ha. Excited!
I was so impressed with the genius and the courage of this man. He also has the gift of gab that magnetized people to come and listen to him. I was so sad for his life cut short, and sort of grieved we would not have the pleasure of listening to his ideas. his thoughts, his musings. All of a sudden, though with much prodding, his wife took over,. and ran a nation with the way she knew best: attend to the family’s needs. Little did she know that she was preparing her own son to a job his father has inadvertently loaded on his shoulders. I was shocked. or rather surprised by the brilliance of the son, his father’s legacy personified in his statesmanship. and ran the nation with utmost moral ascendancy and genius absolutely befitting to be the hero’s son. Thank you, Ninoy. for the supreme sacrifice. You gave us not only your life, but your family as well. It has brought the country to greater heights. But to Noynoy, is it too much to ask that you assist Leni. We need a leader like your father and mother again. We need you.
Your current campaign add is a no nonsense, straightforward statement, a promise every Filipino can sleep soundly to for the next six years.
To Grace Poe, this candidate is not acting. He is a natural.
To Nognog, this candidate is rich. He is honest, too. He does not steal.
To Miriam, this candidate is brilliant. He mutters his thoughts in a language people understand.
To Duterte, this man is not a killer. In fact, he has a death wish. He wants to be President.
Mar Roxas, you have my vote.
Relax a little. My educated friends, most of whom are not as expressive as I am, will cast their votes for you, too. And here’s what’s more important, even the lowly folks can now see and understand your sincerity. I talk to them. They like you.
Okay, go on with the campaign. Leave no stone unturned. Go to the barrios. To Batanes. The farmer folks and the fisher folks would love to meet the man who would be their president. You would bring a smile on their faces. Clasp their hands. That would make them happy.
And about time you bring along Korina. And your son. We need to see a beautiful Filipino family.
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.