Fulfilling my Bucket List (2011)

2011 seems to be a year of firsts for me.  I have compiled my very own Bucket List and I am posting here the ones I have already fulfilled.
1. My pose with Superman (June 3) – Thank goodness TGIF in Abreeza, Davao City has this life-size statue of my comicbook fave! The same statue has a starting bid of P30,000 in Ebay.ph.

I and my alter-ego, Superman

2. My first zipline adventure! (June 2) – Ever since ziplining was introduced in Mindanao 2 or 3 years, I’ve been wanting to try it to conquer my fear of heights. Well, at the Bluejaz Beach Resort and Waterpark in the Island Garden City of Samal, I had my first zipline adventure. The zipline, at 400 meters length, was a good starting point to conquer my phobia. Looking forward to longer ziplines!

The rush of the wind against my face (photo by Ric Dumalay)

People Power in Gensan

(Blogger's Note: I believe that the term EDSA Revolution is misleading and reeks of Manila-centrism. People Power is more apt because while it started at EDSA, it reverberated and was felt throughout the entire nation. This blogpost is just one account of how People Power was felt in General Santos City.)



The years after Ninoy Aquino's assassination leading up to 1986 were turbulent years for me. Being a teenaged high school senior when Martial Law was declared and ten years of being bombarded with New Society slogans and jingles (Sa ikauunlad ng bayan disiplina ang kailangan, PLEDGES, Bagong Lipunan march, etc.) and relying on the government-controlled media for information, I didn't know how to react to changes wrought by Ninoy's death.

One favorite magazine, Mr. & Ms. spawned special edition issues which I followed avidly because they were reporting the news that didn't make it to the radios, newspapers and TV stations. Songs took on a different flavor as patriotic songs like Bayan Ko and Tie a yellow ribbon were played on the air by DXCP, a Catholic diocesan radio station here. The local religious community was slow and timid in criticizing the government. The local government officials were mostly Kilusan Bagong Lipunan (KBL) party members. Groups like JAJA (Justice for Aquino, Justice for All) shouted anti-government slogans as they marched on the city streets.

In the eye of this storm was a curly-haired widow - Cory Aquino. She was the opposite of then President Ferdinand Marcos. Soft-spoken where Marcos was stentorian. Tentative to his decisiveness. But she was an alternative, antidote to the strongman. She was not what one would expect of a traditional politician (trapo). What she had was the dignity, integrity and courage to stand up to the dictator.I first saw Cory in person when she and Doy Laurel campaigned in General Santos City. Onstage, while she was delivering her speech, the whole city was plunged into darkness. To us, whenever blackouts occurred, something was bound to happen. It was common to have electrical supply interruptions during election day and when the Laban group had events. The international media covering Cory's campaign immediately focused their lights on her, their TV and SLR cameras ready to shoot if anything happened. For a few minutes, there she was - the lady in yellow enveloped by the lights. And then she was whisked away from the stage and brought to a nearby car.

In the Catholic college where I taught at that time, the pro-Cory teachers were a majority. The few remaining Marcos loyalists were ribbed about their staunch support. Unlike their Manila counterparts, the priests, nuns and brothers here were cautious in showing support to Cory and the opposition. Even the Catholic schools had no clear guidelines on how fora and protest rallies were to be held. But the ordinary people started wearing yellow dresses and shirts. The L-finger sign (for Laban "fight") was being flashed everywhere. And the yellow creepers blanketed vacant lands everywhere. The yellow fever turned a pitch higher as the election day neared. Many Marcos loyalists, like rats abandoning a sinking ship, were seen joining protest marches. On the other hand, at the diocesan radio station, instead of the usual sign-off after the Rosary, I was surprised to hear two radio announcers recording KBL campaign ads! Someone conveniently forgot to turn off the transmitter.

The usual blackouts occurred on election day despite the vigilance of several groups to guard the ballots. The Jaycees, of which I was a member, were among the volunteer groups that helped the Namfrel (National Citizens Movement for Free Elections). I witnessed the incumbent mayor's people distributing campaign leaflets right outside the voting precincts. This was promptly reported to Namfrel. I reported the same on the diocesan radio station DXCP where I was also a volunteer announcer on Sundays. Later, the lady broadcaster on board and I were alerted about the presence of armed men riding a Ford Fiera. The staff helped us exit the station using the back gate. Hitching a ride, I saw the Ford Fiera and the nozzles of firearms protruding through the side windows as we passed by it. Reporting to school following the elections, I was warned by a well-meaning friend that a death threat had been issued for me. The Marist brothers allowed me to go on leave as I told them I didn't want to involve the school or my students in case the threat was carried out. Some friends acting as intermediaries asked relatives of the mayor to verify if he indeed issued a death threat for me. This he dismissed by saying that he didn't even know me at all!

The protest movement here gained momentum as cheating by the KBL was reported here and abroad. More turncoats joined the protests. When the People Power revolution started at EDSA, classes here were not cancelled as it was being played out in Metro Manila. But the fervor of People Power was also strongly felt here. The religious community was finally emboldened and openly said prayers and masses for the revolt. The technicians of DXCP were able to record the broadcasts of June Keithley over Radyo Bandido and these were replayed regularly. The two pro-Marcos announcers took a sudden leave of absence from DXCP and I volunteered to be onboard after my evening classes because the radio station started its 24-hour broadcast and it was understaffed.

After dismissing my class at 8:30, I walked to the radio station and started my duty until 5:00 the following day. We did not want for anything because listeners would drop off food items, coffee, bread and sandwiches for the 24-hour broadcasts. When we learned about the order of the military to shut down the station, a local volunteer group surrounded the transmitter and provided us protection because we also received a bomb threat.

On the fourth day, while we were broadcasting live a Holy Mass, we received confirmation that the Marcoses had left Malacanang (this after an earlier false alarm) and the priest announced this. Jubilant shouts punctuated the air from those hearing the mass and those living in the vicinity of the station. Many were jumping and almost all, including myself, were in tears. Again, food and beverages flooded the station. It was a euphoria-filled day.

Our college conducted a victory march around the city. When we approached a local station known for being critical of Cory and Laban, we heard Tie a yellow ribbon being played for us. This was met by loud boos from the students, teachers and the religious community.When President Cory came to Gensan after being named Time Magazine's Woman of the Year, I begged the local news stand owner for a copy of the large poster of the Time cover, mounted it on an illustration board, and held it high and proud for her to see during the large gathering at the plaza.

The remaining local pro-Marcos trapos, who were ousted from their positions and replaced with transition officials appointed by Cory, switched allegiance and even had the audacity to show themselves onstage to welcome Cory to our city. They were booed as expected. The few Pro-Marcos teachers in school had joined the majority. One teacher, Cory's namesake, who used to tell us she hated to be called Ma'am Cory now wanted us to call her just that and started wearing yellow lacy dresses.

After she finished her term as President, Cory remained in my mind and heart as the lady in yellow enveloped by lights. After witnessing three presidents take the helm after her, I was in turn dismayed and appalled by what they had done to our country. I may be terribly disappointed by the way the promise and potentials that Cory stood for had turned out, but Cory remains to be a shining beacon of hope to me. Following her exemplar of integrity, dignity and courage, I'm not giving up on our country - not then, not now that Cory is gone, not ever. I fervently pray that People Power and all it stands for will always prevail.

Fully Booked to open its First Mindanao branch in Gensan

Full Booked finally ventures into the shores of Mindanao by putting up its first branch in the island. With the opening of Fully Booked-Gensan in KCC Mall tentatively set in June or July this year, local bookworms are already salivating and furiously saving up. 

With 11 branches (10 in Metro Manila and 1 in Cebu City), Fully Booked-Gensan promises a novel experience for local readers. Occupying the 300-square-meter frontage of KCC Mall, the reading public will be treated to shelves and shelves of books ranging from the latest bestsellers to graphic novels, CDs,  stationery and collectible items. For those who are not contented with looking at the front and back covers of books, browsing and reading are allowed inside the store. Strategically placed couches and seats will be made available to readers.

The presence of Fully Booked will surely change the reading habits of people in the SoCCSKSarGen area by making sure that shopping for books and other items in their store will be a pleasurable experience.

Fully Booked augments the present bookstores in Gensan: Crown Bookstore, Kristan Bookstore, Roxas Crown Bookstore, Philippine Christian Bookstore, Expressions, Booksale, Rex Bookstore and the two branches of National Book Store.

So let's give a big WELCOME to Fully Booked-Gensan when it opens its doors for us in June or July!

The biggest Fully Booked branch in Bonifacio Global City, Metro Manila.

Please read this link for its scoop on Fully Booked-Gensan: Click here

Stereotyping Mindanaoans

The center of the Philippines is believed to be Manila; hence the term Manila-centric. Even now, Manila remains to be the object of every promdi's great Philippine Dream. Many Manila-based (as opposed to Manila-born) people consider themselves "superior" to people outside of Metro Manila (promdi as in from the -prom di- provinces). While Metro Manila may have all the comforts and amenities of a highly urbanized city, they also pay the price for it - pollution, high crime rate, shabby living conditions, etc. As they say, one needs money to go around Manila. To a promdi, Manila is Metro Manila, not just Manila City. Hear this - Bai, punta akong Manila. O? Saan sa Manila? Sa Las Pinas!

(Manila-centric. How else can one explain why national TV newcasts feature live Metro Manila traffic footages and reports which are of no consequence to the rest of the Philippines and the world?)

When national competitions like the Palarong Pambansa or National Schools Press Conference (NSPC) are hosted by Mindanao cities and provinces, the first thing that comes to the minds of school administrators, parents, teacher-advisers, students is: Nge! Nakakatakot dun! Daming bombing, terorista, Muslim! (Yikes! It's frightening there! Lots of bombings, terrorists, Muslims!)

We can't entirely blame these people from having these stereotypes of Mindanao as the mainstream media seem to write about Mindanao only when something bad happens. For every feel-good news coverage of Manny Pacquiao, there would be three feel-bad news of Bad Boy Navarrete's extra-marital woes.

The local government units and government offices based in Mindanao have to assure these people that the hosts won't dare volunteer their places for these national competitions if they thought the safety of the participants will be jeopardized.

To those "brave" enough to venture outside of their comfort zones, Mindanao offers a lot of eye-openers and new discoveries and lessons. Metro Manilans are awed by the abundance of fresh fruits and vegetables at prices they can only see in their dreams. In fact, one common illness experienced by participants in Mindanao is indigestion and loose bowel movement from binging on fruits and food. Try resisting fresh fish grilled over coals, not reaching for more servings of fragrant rice freshly harvested from the fields.

They discover that not ALL inhabitants of Mindanao are Muslims. There are Christians too and the Lumad (tribal people) as well. Many inhabitants are Ilocanos, Tagalogs, Visayans who flocked to Mindanao to better their lot. What the media label as War is actually a series of skirmishes between the military and rebels in the countryside far from the urban centers. True, bombings happen now and then, but these happened not only in Mindanao but also in Metro Manila and elsewhere in the country. In these terroristic times, no city, province or region is safe, at all.

Muslims are not the war freaks they were stereotyped to be. Nor are they the stab-you-in-the-back traitors. Every tribe, race and culture has its share of hotheads, trigger-happy gun-toters, and every variety of snake-in-the-grass traitors. Are there no war freaks and traitors among denizens of Luzon and Visayas? So you see, these are not monopolies of Mindanaoans. In stereotyping, it's the sweeping generalizations that hurt the most. As the Tagalogs say it, Huwag namang lalahatin. Some of my very good friends are Muslims and I have had the privilege of working with Muslim bosses and co-employees.

During their brief stay, the participants see, hear and feel for themselves the reality that their host place is not at all like the media present it to be. Their impressions of Mindanao change because of this realization.

There was one occasion when the Mindanao stereotype worked to our advantage. When I was asked to serve as head of delegation for the participants to the National Schools Press Conference (NSPC) at Rizal High School in Pasig in the 90s, we were met, not by the Filipino hospitality usually accorded guests, but by the haughty superior stance of a Metro Manilan. We were waitlisted at the Cebu airport the day before so we arrived at around 11 p.m. in Manila. We were led to our quarters on the top floor of one school building and told to register the next morning. The classroom teachers assigned to our quarters were so accommodating and immediately put all of us at ease.

At six the next morning, we were called to breakfast only to be blocked by a porcine Miss Piggy lookalike teacher in charge of our delegation's meals. She said, with her nose and chin up in the air, that we couldn't partake at the breakfast table because we were not registered yet. So I looked for the registration secretariat and was told by a janitor they would start registering at 8 a.m. yet. I went back to Miss Piggy and showed her the official list of participants and the cash for payment of the registration. NO WAY! she told me. And so I asked the rest to eat breakfast outside the school premises. I waited at the secretariat and when registration was opened for the day, I told them in a loud voice, WE went HUNGRY because the teacher in charge of the meals of the MINDANAO delegation wouldn't let us for being unregistered. WE did not COME ALL THE WAY from MINDANAO to gatecrash this conference and get free meals! If that TEACHER is still AROUND at LUNCHTIME TODAY, she will GO HOME HEADLESS!!!

The secretariat, without my asking, deducted the cost of breakfast from our registration fees and profusely apologized for such treatment. I told them, YOU SHOULD BE ASHAMED OF YOURSELVES! You pride yourselves for originating Filipino hospitality. When you go to Mindanao, you act like first class citizens entitled to all and everything you desire, but when we Mindanaoans come here, and just because we are promdis, you treat us like shit!

Suffice it to say, Miss Piggy was nowhere to be found from the time the snacks were served for that day until the time we packed up to go back to Mindanao several days later.

Dear FutureMe

Dear Gilbert in the year 2011,

I know you are not surprised why I would write you in the year 2011 when you're 55. So wipe that smile off your face because I admit, it is no accident at all - the letter and the choice of year.

We were born on November 11, 1956: 11th day of the 11th month in the year of which the last digits add up to 11. That day was a Sunday and that makes us a Sunday's child (according to an old nursery rhyme: Sunday's child is full of grace). Parang tayong si Mama Mary. :-)

In numerology 11 is equivalent to 2 (1+1) and in our life, we noticed the emerging pattern that we ran the gauntlet of our first experiences:

• first grade had to be postponed for 2 years because we were too young at 5 to be enrolled (remember how Mama used to tease us about not being able to reach our left ear with our right hand because our arm was too short going over our head?)
  
• being the firstborn son, nephew, and grandchild of our Mindanao-based clan (remember how we rebelled in sophomore college against the family simply because we got tired of being a role model for our siblings and cousins and wanted to lead our own life and assert our self and personality?)
  
• first graduation from grade school (we cried our eyes out because our parents did not make good on their promise to give you the exclusive Tupperware blue bag with multiple compartments that would have made us the envy of the freshmen class in high school)
• first love and heartbreak (our girlfriend Mae was not welcomed by the clan because our elders feared we might be forced - by shotgun - into early marriage. Remember how they would tease us about seeing her - which made our heart skip a beat - and then tell us how kinky her hair was, show short she was and how she waddled like a duck? If only they could hear our heart breaking into pieces. . .)
• first career choice and frustration (all through grade and high school, we wanted to be a doctor or writer/journalist only to be frustrated to learn that these courses were offered only in Manila-based universities and our parents couldn't afford to send us to study there)
• first college course (hunched over the astigmatism-causing accounting ledgers and worksheets in class while our teacher was busy taking furtive peeks down the blouses of our female classmates, we realized how b-o-r-i-n-g a day job as an accountant could be and promptly shifted to Management the following sem)
• first job and tyrant boss (true, we were recruited a month before graduation to work for a multinational company only to find out that the payoff for the generous pay and prestige was a slave driver of a boss who acted like a brown American to the hilt)
• first trip out of Mindanao to Manila (the Compania Maritima ship we boarded was in the eye of the typhoon lashing at Manila and tilted dangerously to the left when we approached Corregidor Island, and upon reaching Quiapo, we had to wade through waist-high floodwaters while trying to balance a large suitcase on our head and hold on to Papa's hand so we wouldn't get lost in the mad rush to ride a jeepney to Balic-balic)
• first teaching job in a private college (we had to write features for Mod and Mr. & Ms. Magazines to augment our meager income and found ourselves being suffocated by the compartmentalized thinking of the administration which refused to acknowledge that we could be a good Management teacher and writer/journalist as the same time. Remember our disbelief when all the published articles we wrote got no credit in our ranking and promotion?)

Strangely enough, after those first experiences, the ones that followed were easier to deal with. Sure, we can laugh about these first experiences now. But be assured that I brought these up because they are a significant part of the first half-century of our life which I lived through and survived, with grace, if I may say so. :-). They were my badge of courage. And I have survived those growing up years.

At 55, you are now well on your way to enjoy the second half-century of our life, your growing old years. Your face and body now bear the marks of the passing of the years. Remember that each scar, line, ache and pain are well-earned and well-deserved.

Unlike me, you will be guided by the lessons accumulated from my first half of our life. I can not give you any assurance that your second half of it will be any better than mine. But I believe in you, in us.

Always remember our ultimate goal: way beyond being a good teacher, writer or journalist, we want to be remembered as a good person.

As you start the second leg of your trip through life, I leave with you the last few lines of Desiderata: And whatever your labors and aspirations, in the noisy confusion of life, keep peace with your soul. With all its sham, drudgery & broken dreams, it is still a beautiful world. Be cheerful. Strive to be happy.

I love you, I love us!

A big bear hug from

Gilbert in the year 2007