“We should not shed tears. That is a surrender of the body to the heart. It is only proof that we are beings that do not know what to do with our hearts.”

- Rukia Kuchiki

The Philippine Bus and Miss Universe

by daniel wagner, the huffington post



This week two noteworthy events involving the Philippines made headlines: the botched rescue of Chinese tourists taken hostage by a disgruntled former policeman, and a botched response to a question by Miss Philippines in the finals for the Miss Universe contest. You might ask, what do these two things have in common? Separately, not much, but taken together, they represent both the peril and promise of the Philippines today.

For many years pundits have commented that the Philippines appears to be heading backwards economically and politically, while many parts of Asia barrel toward middle income status and have maturing democracies. Yes, other countries have disputed elections, other countries' leaders do questionable things, and other developing countries struggle to achieve sustainable economic growth. And, yes, there are recent examples of fresh political turmoil and economic hardship not only in Asia, but throughout the world.

The difference here is, many of the countries experiencing political instability and economic dislocation don't have the things the Philippines has: agricultural self-sufficiency, a high literacy rate, and a largely homogeneous population. One Asian country that possesses these qualities - Indonesia - has managed to transcend monumental political turmoil, turn its situation around, get on the path to democracy, stay there, and become a darling of the international investment community. The Philippines had this in the 1960s. Why can't it have it now?

When I lived in the Philippines from 2003 to 2007, I was asked, what is the difference between the Philippines and Indonesia? My answer was, "In Indonesia, they have hope." I came to the conclusion that in spite of all the things the Philippines has going for it, its people didn't demand enough of themselves, or of their government. Political apathy and a willingness to accept a low common denominator of performance have taken their toll on the psyche of the Philippine people.

Filipinos should not therefore be surprised that the Philippine police tried to negotiate with the hijacker of the Chinese tourist bus well after a reasonable period of time had passed, negotiations had failed, and the lives of the tourists were clearly in jeopardy. Police from a variety of other nations would have simply killed him at the first opportunity, regardless of the fact that he was a former colleague. This SWAT team knew how to get the results that were required, but they failed to do so. Why? Their priorities were misaligned. The safety of the hostages should have been paramount - not the fanciful notion that a man who is desperate enough to take hostages would somehow come to his senses at the height of the crisis.

The result of actions like this are unfortunately consistent with the expectations many people have of performance in other areas. Politically, the Philippines has descended into an ongoing competition between political dynasties: Marcos, Arroyo, and yes, Aquino. What I don't understand is, why do Filipinos continue to vote them in, election after election? Is it because of a lack of viable alternatives? No. Is it because of political apathy? Possibly. Or is it because they have no expectations that anything will change, regardless of who is in power? Definitely. What does this say about the country's future? Nothing good.

Which brings me to the Miss Universe contest. Miss Philippines, Maria Venus Raj, is by anyone's definition fantastically beautiful, poised, and graceful. Many believe she should have won the competition, and she deserves a lot of credit for being the first Filipina since 1999 to make it to the finals. But her flubbed response to the question of what mistake she had made in her life and what would she have done differently apparently cost her the crown. How could this 22-year-old woman, who so diligently prepared herself for that moment -- at great personal sacrifice her whole life - not have come up with a better response?

She was nervous, she said. Well, who among the finalists wasn't? Other Filipinos have said English wasn't her first language so she had difficulty coming up with the right words. Really? How come no other Philippine contestant in the Miss Universe pageant ever had an interpreter? In preparation for this event it never occurred to her or anyone around her that such a question might be asked? Had she come up with a better response, it is likely the crown would have been hers, and the Philippines would be basking in her glow. Instead, it's just another instance of a missed opportunity, and Filipinos are making excuses.

If the Philippines wants to get its act together and live up to its potential, it needs to demand more of itself. It can achieve this by stopping making excuses for its failures and ending its acceptance of the lowest common denominator. President Aquino promised to put an end to nepotism and corruption in government. The people should make sure he does this. When the police screw up a hostage rescue, the people responsible should be fired. And when a beauty queen blows an attempt to become the glory of the Philippine people, it should be recognized as such.

nice, naive and beautiful by plumb

Well there's a life outside of this madness
And there's a face behind every scar
But there's a love overflowing with gladness
Get out of that place that's restraining your love
I said get out of that place
That's restraining your love

4 in the morning, after you said good night

i wanted to get you away from the things i was afraid of.

i feel
my fragile bones break with your softest whisper,
you called me yours with blindfolds on
and everything was fine.

what a beautiful, beautiful heartache you are going to make
so you watched
as i put my heart on the ground and step on it
with accuracy and great care.

ah, yes
i will let you take me away
peacefully, brutally and sacredly
together we will stay
and wait on who fades first.

i lied about my name when you first asked me,
but i didn't
when i said i love you.

i will regret all about this, but later.

Postcripts To A BloodBath

by Eric Po


Mr. Mendoza was already upset even before he saw on television what the policemen did to his brother. The other tourists who remained inside the bus were complaining. Wei Ji Jiang wanted to go to the bathroom. Dao Chi Yu was hungry and the rest were just groaning and whining like they have forgotten that our lives rest in Mr. Mendoza's hands. The hostage taker, as you know him was really nice. He treated us okay and even let the elders and the children leave the bus. He said your policemen treated him unfairly. He was a policeman too and was accused of doing something he had no knowledge of. But your government didn't listen so he used us to get everyone's attention. Things would have never turned for the worst if he didn't see how his family was dragged out of their house and taken into custody. He was watching the news all the time as we huddled around each other behind the bus. He shouted some words in your language then started shooting in the air. A girl about my age started screaming. Mr. Mendoza demanded her to stop but she didn't understand English. God, he had to slash her neck with a knife just to put her to rest. Her boyfriend who tried to hit him was shot in the head. Tension was rising. You can see in his face how scared and confused he was. The bus driver ran away leaving him alone with strangers from a distant land. I can see him walking across the aisle, sometimes pointing his machine gun to one of the tourists. But he tried his best not to hurt us, especially those who really cooperate. I guess its in your nature not to inflict pain on others unless it was necessary. I remember him saying that he will free us before sundown and implored us to forget everything when we return home. But his words don't matter now. The policemen were trying to force their way in, while we all lied down to shield ourselves from bullets. Mister Mendoza blindly shoots at his enemies which I think kept them from rescuing us. I hear sobs under the chairs. Some were even shouting the names of their loved ones even when the air merely eat their words. Kevin Tang tried to escape when the glass door was was shattered, but one shot and he slumped on the floor with blood gushing from his mouth. Heavy rain pitter-pattered on the rooftop. In old Chinese saying, it means an end to a struggle. Finally, somebody was able to open the escape hatch at the back of the bus. Freedom. But I knew Mister Mendoza was still alive. I knew he was just waiting for a chance to strike back at his enemies. So I told those around me not to escape. Let the authorities come for us instead. Then there was gunfire. He was firing at his enemies with a machine gun. Those who were at the escape hatch fled abandoning us once again. It's like a nightmare with no end and to wake up means a certain death. Then somebody from outside the bus threw a canister. It forced out a black smoke that is so painful to the eyes and putrid smelling to the nose. People started screaming. We cannot breathe. Some ran in front of the bus but Mister Mendoza warned them of stray bullets. It was too late. One was hit on the head, the other was hit on the shoulders. Bullets were now flying. Its like the authorities thought we were all dead. Mister Mendoza finally admits his mistake and said sorry to everyone, dead or alive. He then ran towards the front of the bus where he would meet his maker. As he passed by my chair with bullets whistling overhead, I clutched my hand on the velvet curtain and wrapped it around my face. All I could think of was to stay alive - for my child who is waiting for me back in Xinjang.
I know I will survive, I will come home.


Bang Lu Min Survivor, Quirino Bloodbath

it's okay by land of talk

i give you some thing that no one's gonna to give you
my sleepin' skin and my heart deep down in you
i'll never tell you, but you're my little scar
goodbyes are hard and they're hard and they're hard

luggage bag

i bought my luggage bag today. it's durable, pretty and flexible. it's huge, but not huge enough to fit my life in. i would have to leave a huge part of it home.

i was intending of buying my luggage bag the last minute. this mall, however, is having a huge sale and the stocks of that bag was fast running out. my mother sort of dragged me into buying it today.

while i held it on my lap on my way home in the cab, it all started to sink in. i really am going. i really am.

here is another series of me letting go. maybe, just maybe, when they all start coming in, i will find it easier to let go. i hope.

10 things in bacolod i wanna take with me to manila

1. my room. the mess, my collection of cd's, the very old huge cabinet and how things are arranged
2. the clean streets
3. sander's coffee and sausages and the early morning drunk talks
4. my internet connection
5. the music and the nonsensical conversations i share with friends
6. the food. God, i will miss the food here
7. lacson street, and the late afternoon walks on flip flops
8. the beach
9. my mother's sewing machine
10. my coffee maker

all good things come with a consequence.

anywhere but here by safety suit

imheremovie

well, here goes. i get varied reactions with this short film, which i won't elaborate on.

this film, if put in a nutshell, is all just about being here. i'm telling you just in case it isn't obvious enough. personally though, goodbyes for me are healthy. the more painful it gets, the stronger you become afterwards.

find it here: www.imheremovie.com

my funeral

a couple of days ago, it was our neighbor's funeral. it was raining quite badly, and my mother had woken me up at least 3 times already. truth be told, i felt lazy so i just pretended to be asleep. as simple as that, i missed the funeral.

ordinarily, my guilt should have already struck me dead. i never miss a neighbor's funeral. i came to think of it though, that dead neighbor and i were not really chummy. my memory of him that stood out the most is of him kicking my dog when it got in his way. i was a little kid back then. i cried.

now, when i think about it further, i start wondering what memories i'll leave to people when i die. will they be happy memories, biatchy, awesome? most of them would be happy memories, i think, since everyone knows i am usually happy whether forced or not. although, i won't be surprised if people would remember me for my sarcasm. ehm.

happy memories. nice. but exactly what do we know of what people say about us behind our backs, eh?

my teacher in college once gave this exercise- he told us to imagine ourselves attending our own funeral and what could people be saying as we are being lowered to the ground. whatever we want to hear them say about us at that time, we should live our lives working on that. my teacher wanted to be remembered as a good dancer. he is working on that his whole life, and i think he's doing pretty good at that.

i remember my friend marcy and i talk about this over coffee once. we talked about people that are likely to attend our funerals. aside from playing george harrison's all things must pass, i also want my funeral to be held at 4 in the morning. i want that day to be attended only by people who truly care about me. at 4 in the morning, i will know who would actually bother.

i would like to have an epitaph too. i don't care if no one has that here in the philippines anymore. i want i want an epitaph. and as my friend kalani would say, my epitaph should say 'in here lies a small body which is too huge for the world to contain.' or something like that.

death fascinates me. it does, really. dead people don't, though.