KAHAPAN

ORPHANED ROWIN NEEDS ARROYO’S HELP

David Santos, his crew and I came from a real rough ride on
board a huge dump truck loaded with people which I guess may have been infected
with mysterious disease.

We came from a sitio known as Siuya which is part of Moyo
village and we’re supposed to cover the mass exodus of patients crossing a
swelled river.

Anyway we reached the area where most of the patients were
already loaded inside another dump truck.

It was a hell high trip where I will understand if people on
board the truck would even curse the Almighty.

Its part of the main road going to several villages but just
imagine countless craters and huge wide open cracks with deep as half a meter
or more.

Anyway let’s go back to my main story about Rowin.

Soon as we reached Siayan Poblacion we went straight to
their gym that converted into a walk-in clinic for about 350 patients suffering
from all kinds of illnesses ranging from severe malnutrition, Pneumonia,
Diarrhea, headaches, fever, coughs, Filariasis, Capillariasis, Leprosy and name
it, I presumed they all have it there.

I was so engrossed taking videos and photos, focusing on
faces and expressions, movements and reactions until accidentally my lens
landed to a boy who was also closely observing me.

First I took shot of his face. I thought he was healthy
because of his high cheekbone then when I fanned the video camera down to his
legs, my God! It’s all skinny!

I tried befriending the boy but at first he appeared aloof.
He just stared at me while I was asking about his health.

When his cousin supplied the answer for him, the boy started
talking.

His name is Rowin Ebol 11 years old and Grade 1 drop out. He
dropped from school last September because he could not endure the stomach
pain, his loose bowel movement, and vomiting.

“Niungdan ku wa may
kwarta ipalit tambal, tanan man mi nagdaut,” (I have to stop my study
because we don’t have money to buy medicines besides everyone in the family is
ill) Rowin said in Bisaya.

I asked him where’s his mother inside the gym because with
the number of patients around and he has been there seated in one corner for
almost an hour, definitely he’ll not get the nurses’ attention.

But I was shocked when he told me straight that “patay na
man akung mama (my mother is
already dead)” and then I asked him about his father, “patay na sad, nagsunud lang silang duha (also dead, he died ahead,
then my mother followed him).”

 
I learned from his 12 year old cousin Roger Baneser that
Rowin’s father Pacito died last week of October and his mother Rita expired two
weeks ago (take off date from November 24).

They all died suffering from severe gastro intestinal pain
coupled with borborygmus and Chronic Diarrhea.

Rowin told me that other than him, his three other siblings
Gerry 17, Aisa 4 and Annaliza 2 and half years old manifesting the same
illness.

Rowin is informed that his parents died of severe LBM and he
feared that his youngest sister Annaliza is also suffering the same thing, “hadlok ko basin musunod akung manghud (I
am afraid that my sister will follow my parents).”

I asked Rowin how the four of them managed to deal with the
mysterious disease without medication, “gaksun
naku akong mga igsoon labi na si Liza, pag muhilak ug kalibanga siya, haplasan
naku arun maulian, usahay dugay maulian, ( I just embraced my sisters
especially Liza if she cries with loose bowel movement, I just put some oil to
her stomach so she can recover, but most of the time, it takes time before she
feel well).”

His eldest brother Gerry is considered a vegetable according
to cousin Roger, “higda na lang, wa na
may kusug, mao si Rowin ang ga-atiman sa iyahang manghud (just lying down
all the time because he has no more strength, so Rowin is the one attending to
his younger sisters.)”

I wanted to embrace Rowin because he and his cousin have to
walk more than 7 kilometers, crossed two dangerous rivers (they don’t even have
footbridges there) hoping that health officials of Siayan will give them some
mats of medicine to cure his brother and two sisters.

“Kusug-kusug pa man
ku, makalakaw pa man (I
am still strong, I can still walk,” Rowin said when
I asked him why he has to go that far.

I see in him the strength and determination to make his
siblings well. They are orphaned but Rowin showed more strength and spirit and
I wanted to cry because not a single mat of medicine was given to them.

So I asked him if in case there’s a President of the country
that would like to help them what kind of help would best address their
situation.

“Madam Presidente
Gloria, tabangi mi, hatagi mig maayong panglawas, katu ra. (Madame
President Gloria (Macapagal Arroyo) please help us, give us good health, that’s
all.)

Why good health, Rowin told me — but his eyes were all to his cousin Roger
whose mother is also positive with Capillariasis “arun wala nay mamatay sa kalibanga, aron ang ubang di mawad-an ug
ginikanan sama sa amuha (so that no one will die again of LBM and so that
no more children who’ll become orphaned like us)”

I left Siayan town with this heavy heart, I wept quietly and
I sensed that my friend David noticed my behavior.

I took video footage of Rowin hoping to submit to our news
at IBC and a clip for INQUIRER’s ipod news. I was hoping that Rowin’s message
may reach Malacanang.

When we reached Zamboanga City , I felt more bad because I
learned from Manila that Arroyo will be leaving
soon with more than three dozens of Congress Representatives as her entourage
to England
to meet the Queen. 
   
 

I guess even if I go on posting Rowin’s video, his appeal to
the President may fall on deaf ears as the President is now pre-occupied with
all state problems.

EXPRESSING MY DISGUST!!!

I am a journalist, 20 percent of my hard earned pay is remitted to a
revenue agency so I can enjoy government services including protection
from our state security forces.
But those officers enjoying my hard earned precious taxes are the ones
exploiting the rights of people… of journalists like me.

I almost puke seeing on screen DILG Secretary Ronaldo Puno indirectly…
trying to play safe with his statement… blaming media for being in the
area where there’s supposed to be a “military operation.”
Hah! Are they running after hundreds of terrorists? Are they pursuing
dangerous kidnappers, bombers?
Everyone was rounded up, well including a diva that I hated so much…
Let’s forget first this diva.

According to Puno a curfew is imposed from 12 midnight to 5 dawn…
without issuing clear guidelines especially those who are working late
or going home late.
Now what will happen to drivers with its night shift turns and duties?
Doctors, nurses, journalists, peddlers, vendors, etc.?
Say the market vendors those without proper identification cards? Those
cigarette, candy, newspapers vendors dependent on daily income and may
not have proper documents to show?
Hahahay!!!

Now back to Puno again with his barks–blaming media.
He said he acknowledges media’s obligation in performing jobs but
quickly added that state officials earlier made appeals, requests even
minute by minute calls to desk people to inform reporters to leave the
premises.

Yet media didn’t heed to their appeals and request… thus instrumental
to obstructing military operation…
With my limited perspective on the situation I insist on pointing out
some issues here.

First the government was caught off guarded with the situation.
Why? Because AFP Chief of Staff General Hermogenes Esperon Junior made
his sidetrip to Zamboanga City from Davao City this morning, November
29, 2007.
In fact the opening of joint exercise between the Philippines and
Malaysia has to set aside because Esperon called on for emergency
closed door conference at 9am.

At 11am incident in a trial court exploded leading to Trillanes-Lim led
march to Manila Peninsula.
By the way, Esperon was behaving and reacting to situations apparently
didnt expect the incident (just imagine him answering to numerous left
and right calls from his two cellular phones.)
I guess one of those calls came from President Arroyo who is in San
Pablo City for a summit.

In fact he told reporters here, “nagulat nga rin kami.”
Esperon even refused to entertain my question about how this incident
happen and if ever he has any idea or inkling of any unusual movement
within the compounds where Trillanes and Lim are detained.
It came to my mind that again, the AFP and PNP failed in its supposedly
“intelligent intelligence communities.” In Filipino, “PALPAK NA NAMAN!”

More so that some of Trillanes and Lim close in security personnel
didn’t lift a finger when they donned a casual walk away from the
courthouse to the streets.

Well, AFP and PNP reacted so quickly, dispersing more armed personnel
converting the entire Makati like Sulu island and placing everyone
within the Manila Peninsula Hotel a suspect.
That’s great ha! Job well done officers!

Watching the television its
kind of funny and at the same time disgusting seeing all the well
equipped and fully armed soldiers and police officers surrounding the
premises.

While their target inside the hotel maybe five dozens or more
people including media, I guess just a dozen or two maybe armed but not
all high powered guns as what has been shown earlier outside the hotel.

I told a friend, one of the officers there outside the hotel that
majority of the foreign news agencies are covering the incident and
most of the speakers or guests commented a somewhat “overkill
approach.”
But this friend of mine explained that in the military “there is no
such thing as overkill.”

Now what I feared most is that those rounded up… tied up inside the
hotel may face serious charges especially those who are not supposed to
be there or where not ordered to cover the event. Hahaha!!!

If this had happened in Metro Manila to national reporters what about
us in the regions, in the provinces or in the cities that are also very
serious and committed to thwarting the anomalies and corruptions on the
ground.
“Kung madali silang arestuhin sa gitna at sa milyun-milyong mata ng
publiko, then its easy to snatch more in the provinces.”

Puno accused media of obstructing their actions against Trillanes and
Lim.

If there were no media around, what do you think will happen to
Trillanes, Lim, Libayen and several others around?

Without battling my short thinning eyelashes, I expect to read the next
day’s dailies with a title like this “TRILLANES SEVERAL OTHERS KILLED
IN A SHOOT-OUT!”

Media’s presence prevented any unnecessary bloodshed in the area,
second media have prevented any possible foul play and third, media’s
presence saved the ass of some people up there from close scrutiny
and critical eyes of the international communities.

What good with media around, they discovered that government’s
“intelligent intelligence communities are not intelligent after all.”

Now going back to Puno? Who is Puno to say all those words about
legalities, about what is right and what is wrong? Just refreshing
memories of our fellow journalists covering the release of kidnapped
Italian priest Giancarlo Bossi.

Do you still remember who was revered and regarded as hero during the
release of Bossi? Yes it’s former Tuburan Mayor Hajarun Jamiri, the
same Jamiri that was arrested as suspect to the Batasan Pambansa’s
blast.

Quoting and on record the statement of Lantawan Mayor Tahira Ismael
Sansawi, Jamiri has been responsible for several kidnappings here
including that of Bossi and daughter of a university President Grace
Gonzales.

Jamiri is a close friend of Zamboanga City Police chief Sr. Supt.
Manuel Barcena and respected too by Western Mindanao Regional Police
Director Chief Superintendent Jaime Caringal.
Jamiri is regarded as the hero behind Bossi’s release and that’s what
Puno stated earlier.
Jamiri was tapped by Malacanang executive Eduardo Ermita and I found out
from Gonzales that it was also Ermita who requested Jamiri to secure
the release of Grace.

What is shocking from Bossi’s interview was… it was Jamiri who dictated
to him how much should be demanded from the government… tumataginting
na P50 Million ransom.
That’s why Bossi refused to file charges.

So for Puno, he should stop talking about legalities at this time, just
allow media to continue their coverage unhampered at least journalists
don’t make such scenario like the way our government may and capable to
do.

Peace anyone? Thats always the call, the reminder, the greetings for people who longs for pea ce  to reig n in a community full of conflicts. 

Some advoc ates even paraded the different
names of peace  like He-ping, Santiphap, Hetep etcetera showing that peace has different names according to country and culture but the advocacy and vision of people is geared on achieving better understanding, justice and respect.

I am
a product of a relationship where culture, tradition,
religion and beliefs were actually thrown away for a beautiful beginning.

My parents came from two different worlds, my Tatay was
(namahinga na po) a Catholic Batangueno while Nanay is a Samal embracing Islam
of South Laud Siasi, Sulu.

In mid-sixties, a Tagalog speaking Christian is always
advised not to have a relationship with Muslims in the south, other than dowry,
culture and tradition were reportedly opposing and accordingly the Muslims of
the south are good in making “barang.”

For my Nanay, those people in the North especially those
Tagalog speaking communities are bad people, opportunists and exploiting poor
innocent souls. They also eat dirty pigs which is “haram.”

Tatay came from a family of farmers though landed but still
poor because their properties then located near Taal was not yet commercialized
while my Nanay came from a prominent family in Siasi where one of her uncles
became one of FVR’s favorite swimmer Parson Nurulla Nabiulla whose son is an
actor Sonny Parson.

While my father was proud to own several cows, one carabao
and two horses, my mother’s family maintained two wooden vessels MV Lady of
Siasi and the other one which I already forgot the name.

When my mother eloped with father, everyone became so mad
and wanted to kill my father whom her family considered bad people while on my
father side, my aunts and uncles kept praying so Tatay could already abandon my
mother.

Nana Ising my aunt in Batangas reminded then my father that
they don’t have money to raise for a dowry, so they were hoping that Tatay will
change his mind.

Despite threats, pleas and all sorts of convincing and
coercion, my parents decided to live in a community away from two different
opposing worlds and started their lives independent and away from all sort of
beliefs, traditions and cultures.

Respect and love are the only two important reasons for
their co-existence, my father respect my mother’s “kinasanayang paniniwala.”
Nanay is literally vegetarian and never eat meat whether chicken or beef while
my father decided to contend himself with fish and vegetables. My mother
believe it or not since she got married to my father, never yet stepped on a
restaurant or even small time eateries.

Until now, whenever we want to eat ham or lechon or simple
pork adobo, we make sure that all the utensils and other kitchen items intended
solely for pork meals.

Life was not so easy for my parents having no immediate
families to hold on whenever there’s problem especially on financial matters.

Religion or any cultural practice is not a big deal to our
family. I myself decided to have a live-in relationship at first but no one
from our family raise their eyebrows or questioned my decisions.

The only thing that our family values then and until now is
the respect to people and make sure having a relationship to a person that will
make you happy and bring out the best in a partner.

I know my father was a Catholic but I hardly saw him going
to church even for birthday celebrations or Christmas or whatever special
occasions that requires every Catholic believer to pay a visit to a church.

I just realized his deep spirituality to Almighty when I
found several prayer books in his office and on his personal files two days
after his death.

I never saw my father physically hurt my mother, though
sometimes I heard them arguing over issues like where to find money for our
matriculation or for uniforms. However my mother told me once that Tatay was
able to hit her but only once throughout their 36 years of “pagsasama” when
Nanay threw out the fish (fresh dalag) which my father brought to our home for
dinner.

My mother hated killing live fish more so if it’s fresh and
coming from freshwater. She didn’t know that Tatay had a hard time catching
those “dalags” and Tatay hated people throwing food.

Whenever we all sit for dinner, we were disciplined then not
to throw a single grain of rice always reminding us then that “hindi nyo alam
kung paano pinaghirapan ng mga magsasaka ang pagtatanim,” while Nanay will
remind us that “anumang karneng pumapasok sa tiyan, isipin nyo na may buhay din
sila bago kinatay kaya hindi tayo dapat kumain ng karne.”

Funny days and I missed those days because looking back to
our foundation I can always proudly say that I have the best disciplined and
principles and thanks to my parents.

Being a journalist, it gives me a different point of view in
dealing with stories.

While several quarters shouting, chanting demanding for
peace and respect, and several organizations painstakingly holding on to peace
process like a vulnerable object I also keep wondering if they really know what
peace really is.

I am at peace to myself because I know my priorities and
guided by my own principles that I have inherited from my parents that were born
and raised in two different worlds.

Whenever I go to Siasi or meet my mother’s relatives I
always say Salaam and if I visit my relatives in Batangas I always greet them
according to what has been “kinasanayan” kissing their hands.

Katha ni Julie S. Alipala

Alay

para kay John Kenneth
S. Alipala

Sa gilid ng bintanang salamin, tahimik na pinagmamasdan ng
mag-inang gagamba ang tanawin sa labas ng bahay na kanilang tinutuluyan.

Walang imik si Inang Tarantina na yakap-yakap nitong
mahigpit ang nag-iisang anak na si Gambo, isang munting puting gagamba.

Palakas nang palakas ang hampas ng hangin sa mga berdeng
dahon ng mga puno, habang ang mga dilaw ay pilit na nalalaspag sa mga maliit na
sanga.

Wari’y nagsasampalan sa galit ang mga dahon at ang mga sanga
ng mga punong pumapalibot sa tahanan ng mga nilalang habang patindi nang
patindi ang pagluha ng langit.

Isang malaking unos muli ang dadalaw at tiyak na ilang araw
ding maglalagi ang mag-ina sa pagitan ng bakal na pangkapit sa bintanang
salamin.

Tila tulala ang mag-ina sa tanawin na minsa’y dinanas at
nagbigay buhay sa isa’t-isa.

Maya-maya’y naramdaman ni Tarantina ang hikbi ng anak.

“Bakit anak? Ano ang bumabagabag sa isipan mo?” tanong ng
inang gagamba sa kanyang anak.

“Wala po, ibig ko lang pong magpasalamat sa ginawa niyong
tulong sa akin at sa pagmamahal na minsa’y di ko nadama sa aking ina’t mga
kapatid,” sagot ni Gambo habang yakap nito ang ina.

Hindi kaila kay Gambo na si Inang Tarantina ay hindi niya
tunay na ina.

Malaki ang pagkakaiba ng dalawa.

Si Tarantina ay abuhin at bilugin ang katawan nito na may
apat na pares na katamtamang haba ng paa. Balahibuhin si Tarantina habang anak
nitong si Gambo ay puti na may manilaw-nilaw na batik sa likuran nito. Mahahaba
rin ang apat na pares nitong mga kamay at paa at halos walang balahibo.

Ganun pa man, itinuring naman ni Tarantina bilang tunay na
anak kahit kapansin-pansin ang pagkakaiba ng mag-ina.

Ramdam ni Tarantina ang dalamhati ng anak ngunit wala siyang
maibigay na katiyakan dito kundi ang tiyakin na makakabalik ang anak na si
Gambo sa tunay nitong kinalakhan ang mga tanim, ang mga luntiang dahon sa labas
ng bahay.

Habang si Tarantina naman ay mananatiling pambahay lamang
dahil ito ang kanyang kinagisnang tahanan.

Sa yapos ng isang ina, dama ni Gambo ang mga bagay na nawala
sa kanyang buhay.

Ganitong panahon rin yun nang magkahiwa-hiwalay silang
magkakapatid at ang ina nito.

Magdadapit hapon na nang maramdaman ng ina nitong may tila
malakas at malamig na hanging yumuyog sa kanilang sapot na tinitirhan.

Gulantang ang lahat pati na ang ilang itlog na naghihintay
ng pagkakataong makalaya sa loob ng puting bilog na buong sapot.

Hindi na nakasigaw ng babala ang kanyang ina dahil agad
itong nahampas ang kanilang sapot ng nagngingitngit na mga dahon at sanga.

Agad napadpad si Gambo sa bubong ng bahay ng mga nilalang
habang saksi siya sa unti-unting pagkamatay ng ina nitong nakakapit sa puting
hibla.

Kitang-kita rin niya ang pagkawasak ng isang biluging sapot
kung saan nandoon ang mga kapatid nito.

Patuloy ang iyak ni Gambo sa pagkamatay ng ina at
pagkawatak-watak ng kanyang mga kapatid na minsay di namalas ang magandang
palibot na kanilang tinitirhan.

Nakatulog si Gambo sa gilid ng bubungan at nangarap itong “sana’y
tag-araw na lang parati.”

Hindi namalayan ni Gambo ang paglapit ni Tarantina at iba
pang mga gagamba.

Sa awa ni Tarantina agad itong gumawa ng sapot upang may
matulugan ang kaawa-awang puting gagamba.

Kinabukasan habang unti-unting sumisilip ang haring araw,
patuloy pa ring naginip sa Gambo na kapiling nito ang Ina kasama sa sapot.

Ngunit nagulantang na lamang ito sa kalampagan at ingay ng
ibang gagamba.

Maraming gagamba sa loob ng bahay ngunit halos pare-pareho
ang kanilang hitsura at kulay maliban sa kanya.

“Nakatulog ka ba nang mahimbing?” tanong ni Tarantina sa
batang gagamba.

“Opo, maraming salamat po, paano po ako nakarating dito sa
loob?”

“Binuhat kita sa pamamagitan ng aking sapot,” sagot ni
Tarantina habang pinagsasabihan ito ng mga kasamang iwanan na ang munting
gagamba.

Sa halip binantayan ni Tarantina ang munting gagamba
hanggang sa akuin nito ang pagiging ina.

Batid ni Tarantina ang trahedyang naganap sa puting gagamba,
“kahit iba ang hitsura at pinanggalingan mo, isipin mo na lang na ako ang iyong
ina hanggang sa umabot ang panahon na maaari ka nang lumabas.”

Simula nuon, tinuring na ni Gambo si Tarantina bilang
kanyang ina, at tuwing papalapit ang malakas na ulan, patuloy na bumabalik si
Gambo sa loob ng bahay kasama ang kanyang ina.

REASON BEHIND THE STORY OF A WHITE SPIDER

When I brought home Kenjo (age shortly before 6 months), I realized that I need to bond more often with him to make him feel that I am his mom. I may not be his biological mother but a drive in me wants to  offer more than what he had experienced at the orphanage center.

His mother disposed him when he was day one old then and all throughout his five months existence, he spent it at the center where only a foster parent is available once in a while.

Though I frequented the center then but I felt the time spent is not enough to make him feel that I am his mother. Familiarity and matching were the among the processes that we passed through.

So the time I brought him home (August and it was drizzling then) I could hardly believe that a fragile bundle was already in my arms. He kept smiling all throughout our trip from the center to the house and he was awake then when my mother carried him around.

I guessed he too was cherishing those beautiful moments.

Its not easy for me to raise an instant little baby into my home more so with the challenging work I am with.

Keeping up with pressures on beating deadlines, pursuing sources wherever they are and trying to keep my emotions and maternal relations attached to a baby boy where overwhelming.

There were times I almost give up, but seeing the hapless and innocent face of a little angel smiling melts my heart.

Decisions have to be made and that is to unload all pressures by reducing my workloads. I resigned as radio announcer, I quit writing in local papers, I rearranged my house, I have to change the wall paint color, bring in more baby stuff like cribs, toys, clothes, milk etc., I have to remove the huge bed and sofa to give more space and install thick rubberized linoleum so that in case the baby fall down, he might not be hurt.

Its not all, I have to learn how to sing baby songs, I have to learn how to dance a few steps and buy more books, magazines and other materials about babies.

Among things I have learned then was to train babies in reading. So Kenjo was six months old but already exposed to readings.

At that age, I already started telling him his origin. Gradually I have to share with him the reality "you never came out from tummy."

Watching closely his eyes, his facial expressions, I knew then that it was painful to him. Several times I told him that "God gave you to me as a  very special gift."

My mother does not approve the way I am trying to raise Kenjo saying I am so brutal to his feelings.

I told then my mother that "it will be more brutal for him if he’ll discover later that he is not really my son, its best for him to know and understand the situation as young as he is right now."

So when he started to utter some words like "Mama" and "Lola" he is a bit more aware that he never came out from my womb.

It was then he demanded for more stories, more books and other reading items.

It was then I realized that stories we read were not enough so we started creating our own stories since there’s hardly a kiddie book for adopted kids.

Among the first stories we created stemming from Kenjo’s situation is entitled "ANG PUTING GAGAMBA" or The White Spider.

One day Nanay requested me to produce photo slides for the
family for the “Kalag-kalag” or All Soul’s Day.

She wanted to make presentation to relatives and friends
especially those who wanted to visit her in the house and of course Nanay wants
to do a flashback of all good and bad memories when we were still residing in
Barangay Baliwasan.

Along the way of preparing these slides, I encountered old
photos. While I was reviewing all the materials I can’t help but recall all the
beautiful, challenging and infuriating memories during high school and college
days.

Instead of expressing here what I actually felt while
opening moldy and moist old albums (where black ants used the albums as their
shelter), I will share some of the old shots we had during those days.

Thank you for remembering my day, it maybe special for my
mother but I consider it as one of the ordinary days in my life as I have to
move around and work harder.

Yet at the end of the day, my time is spent with my son
Kenjo where we had a plate of egg pie bought from National Bakery and Grocery,
three slices of fried Tuna (Yellow Fin), a mug of coffee for me and chocolate
drink for my son, a bowl of boiled rice and walang kamatayang Sinigang na Tuna.

ROCHELLE

                                                                                             SANDRA  

Ivan

Date: Sunday, 18 November, 2007 12:31 AM Subject: Happy Bday!!! Message:
What’s the proper way of greeting a friend on her natal day? Is it simply
"happy birthday" or "happy (plus the age) birthday".? Since
it is your special day, somehow I’m just trying to be polite. I went through
your blog. Honestly, I’m amazed. You presented the write-ups very well. No
pretentions, straight-forward and true. I wish you you all the goodness in this
world and take care always…..

localDateTimewithTimezone(”11/17/2007 8:31 AM”,”timetag1″,”PH”);

MARAMING SALAMAT DIN SA MGA NAKA-TRABAHO KO SA MINDANAO, MGA INANG MAMAMAHAYAG (JOURNALISTS) NA HINDI TUMIGIL AT NAGPAPIGIL SA DIKTA NG KULTURA AT SISTEMA SA KUNG ANO  ANG INAASAHANG TUNGKULIN SA LIPUNAN.

CES

Date: Saturday, 17 November, 2007 11:24 PM Subject: Happy birthday! Message:
Happy birthday to you! Happy birthday to you! Happy birthday! Happy
birthday…happy birthday to you!!!
At least humabol pa… Happy birthday jules!
localDateTimewithTimezone(”11/17/2007 7:24 AM”,”timetag1″,”PH”);

"NEVER LATE FOR FRIENDS WHO VALUE FRIENDSHIP, A FRIENDSHIP BINDED BY COMMONALITIES AND SITUATIONS."

MALU

Date: Thursday, 15 November, 2007 12:54 PM Subject: happy birthday Message:
hi, julie:

Happy birthday on Nov 17. Stay happy always. Share your joy to everyone. You’re
so blessed. Send my regards to your cute kid. Kasa-kasama mo siya lagi sa photo
e. Naikuwento mo na siya sa akin when we met in Davao City during the NUJP training there.

localDateTimewithTimezone(”11/14/2007 8:54 PM”,”timetag1″,”PH”);

Kumusta na siya?

MALU CADELINA MANAR

"LIKE MOTHER TALAGA YOUR DALAGITA, EVERYONE IS BLESSED, SOMETIMES WE JUST DONOT KNOW HOW TO APPRECIATE WHAT WE HAVE IN LIFE OR WE ARE JUST TOO PRE-OCCUPIED TO SEE WHAT WE HAVE IN US."

I hate covering drama situation because it makes me
emotional. I am a person that easily cries whenever I witness moving scenes.

I consider the Akbars especially the Late Basilan solon
Wahab Akbar as one of the few good sources for my stories about Basilan.

Wahab was candid, playful, threatening, dominant and hard
headed.

I remember once when he invited me to cover the arrest of a
suspected Abu Sayyaf member responsible for the blast in one of the “satti”
houses in Isabela town.

The guy a thin man with long hair was trying to hide his
face from cameras when Akbar presented him to media.

Afterwards he requested all the journalists to leave his
office at the Capitol but asked me to stay.

I was so afraid then but I kept my composure.

He sensed my uneasiness and the governor then made faces and
called me black, fat bird.

Still I felt something will go wrong then. In a few minutes,
the late police officer Colonel Baul arrived and there I was invited to
participate in their so-called conference.

I was caught in between when the governor asked me “O Julie
negra ano sa tingin mo ang magandang gawin sa putang inang Abu Sayyaf na ito?”

All the eyes of those inside the conference room were at me
and waiting for my answer.

“Eh gov, sabihin na natin na masamang tao siya pero dapat
ang korte na ang humusga kung ano ang dapat gawin sa kanya,” was my answer to
those poking damn eyes.

Akbar made a loud roar then echoed by all his followers,
police and military officers and the rest inside the room.

With that, I asked permission to go to the restroom where I
used the other exit door to escape away from that room.

The next day, a news report aired on radio that an Abu
Sayyaf captured at Isabela town was found floating at the Aguada river. I knew
it was the person where they presented to media.

Well that was a flashback to one of my many encounters with
the former governor then later elected Congressman of Basilan.

On November 14 around 7am, it was different atmosphere in
Isabela town when I joined the throng to cover the coming home of Akbar to his
hometown.

At the Zamboanga City port, I saw gloomy
faces even those people which I guess where rejoicing for Akbar’s death were
giving an impression of grief and mourning.

Then the body arrived along with his three widows and
children. If heavy faces and emotions be counted to the weight of all the
passengers then, then it could have sunk the ferry boat.

What moved me most was seeing Cherrylyn’s son who is so
close to his late father. I was taking photos then but I could hardly control
my feelings seeing the boy crying and was advised by his grandmother that
“hush…hush… please don’t cry, accept it that Amah is dead and you’ll have to
get use sleeping alone or with Mommy or brothers because Amah is no longer
here.”

One of Akbar’s trusted bodyguards and feared by many
Basilenos is Farouk Madjirul.
He’s known as all around for Akbar and the first
person to be tapped for the Congressman’s security whenever he is in Basilan or Zamboanga City.

However that morning, Farouk wept like a little boy and I
never expected such fearless man to be bursting in tears.

I know deep behind their hearts the anger, the pain, the
lost and worst the possible retaliation once they know who is behind the
Batasang Pambansa’s explosion.

Several sectors believed that said blast is intended to
terrorize even those so-called untouchables inside the House of Congress, but
for the Akbars and loyal followers here in Basilan, “Akbar was the target and
someone has to pay dearly for the loss of the Godfather of Basilan.”