By Conrado de Quiros
Philippine Daily Inquirer
First Posted 22:17:00 08/25/2010
ONE, THE brother.
Frankly, I don’t understand why they brought him there at all. I’ve always thought the standard procedure in hostage situations was to bring the wife and kids to talk to the hostage-taker, not the brother. Certainly not the cop brother. It’s basic psychology. The point is to melt the heart of the hostage-taker, not to harden it. Nothing melts the heart of a hostage-taker, particularly a Filipino one, than the wife and kids.
The presence of the wife and kids jolts the hostage-taker from his tunnel vision and makes him rediscover two things. One is that there are people who love him, who depend upon him, and who will mourn his death. Two, and more importantly, his hostages are people with families too who love them, who depend upon them, and who will mourn their deaths. The point of negotiations is to wear down the hostage-taker emotionally so that he gives up, not to assault him physically so that he loses nothing by fighting back.
The absence of any psychologist on the scene last Monday is the clearest sign we have little capability to handle hostage-taking, a fairly common occurrence in these parts. Dealing with hostage-takers seems to be just a subset of dealing with terrorists. One where the overarching response, despite all talk to the contrary, is not, “Talk him out of it,” but “Take him out.”
It does take out the hostage-taker. But, as Monday’s events show, along with the hostages.
Two, the media.
Did the media contribute to the mayhem? The finger-pointing has gone its way too. The charges are that: 1. it agitated the hostage-taker, particularly with the footage of his brother being taken away, and, 2. it gave the cops’ position away.
I don’t buy it. Rolando Mendoza didn’t need TV to know his brother was being forcibly taken away, he was right there. One moment he was talking to him, the next his brother was cursing as he was being led away. And while that set him into a rage, it did not set him into a murderous rage. His response was only to fire a shot at the window.
He started shooting at his hostages only when the police started shooting at him. That is, when they mounted their assault on him. Bad reporting from the media may agitate a hostage-taker but only really bad tactics from the police can agitate him murderously. Nothing agitates a hostage-taker to murderous rage than being shot upon. That was the murderously stupid idea. The one who ordered the shooting down of the hostage-taker while he was in full command of the bus ought to be shot.
The blame for the carnage lies solely on the police. The negotiations had broken down? Then build them up again. Why should your default mode be to attack?
Having said this, however, I also would like to call for rules in the coverage of events like this. It is one thing to be enterprising, it is another to be reckless. It is one thing to be exclusive, it is another to be intrusive. It is one thing to safeguard the public’s right to know, it is another to guarantee the hostages’ right to live.
The conduct of the broadcast media last Monday night tilted violently in the direction of intrusiveness, recklessness, get-the-scoop-at-all-cost. It wasn’t just what TV was reporting, it was how TV was reporting. The tenor was emotional, shrill and at one point hysterical. The point of negotiating with a hostage-taker is to control the psychological environment to persuade him to give up his plan, which is why you need a psychologist there. You cannot control the psychological environment when people are scurrying to and fro to get closer to the hostage-taker and take shots of him (photographic ones), rushing hither and thither to get sound bites, and turning a la “Mad City” and “Dog Day Afternoon” a minor atrocity into a raging circus.
I’m not for keeping TV out of these events or incidents. That will do more harm than good, and before long we’ll be complaining from the other end: That police operations are so wrapped in secrecy you don’t know whether suspects are being killed in firefights or executed gangland-style. But I do think reporters in such coverage ought to exercise tremendous discipline, or be made to. Lives are at stake.
I agree it will take some doing. Over the last 10 years or so, TV in particular has shown a fetish for making a “reality show” out of everything. Which has really only succeeded in giving audiences an unreal view of reality, one that is grotesque, superficial and artificial. And one that’s cultivating a voyeuristic mentality. Voyeurism was the hallmark of the reportage last Monday. Big Brother meets Big Dealer.
The only problem with last Monday’s reality show was that the blood was real. But that too will soon fade into unreality as TV takes on other realities.
Three was the crowd.
That was the one that, downpour and all, rain pools and all, darkness and all, rushed to the scene of mayhem after the police ringed the bus and indicated with various signs the whole thing was over. That was the one that grew thick and fast around the bus, impeding the progress of the ambulances that were speeding their way toward the wounded, the shrill wailing of their sirens being taken as mere suggestions to get out of the way. That was the one that surged toward the door of the bus as bodies were being lifted out, that minded being pushed aside by the cops while they gaped, gawked and took pictures with their cellphones. That was the one that rushed there, surged there, and stood there unmindful of the rain, unmindful of the emergency, unmindful of the dead, staring at the blood and gore without compassion or commiseration, staring at the blood and gore only with curiosity.
You had to ask yourself: What the hell kind of people are we?
I am ashamed. Deeply, deeply ashamed.
Thursday, August 26, 2010
Tuesday, August 24, 2010
‘We’re not all like Mendoza’ By Janie Octia – August 24th, 2010
In an attempt to inform the world of the good things about Philippines following Monday’s hostage crisis, 15-year-old Reigno Jose Dilao writes a letter to the world.
Dilao, a 4th year student of Samar National High School, posted the letter at CNN’s iReport site Monday at around 10:00 P.M. after the hostage crisis ended leaving at least 10 people dead, including the gunman.
In a phone interview with Yahoo! Southeast Asia, Dilao says he was disappointed with yesterday’s turn of events.
“Sana pinag-isipan ni Mendoza yung mga ginawa nya [Mendoza should have thought twice about his actions],” Dilao said.
He believes that this incident will take its toll on the country’s tourism.
“Ang hindi magandang epekto, sa turismo natin. Ang mga turista, iniisip nila lahat, lalo na ang safety [This will have a bad effect on our tourism. Tourists think about safety],” says Dilao.
Dilao also criticized the authorities who handled the crisis.
“Parang hindi pinag-isipan ng mga police officers yung strategy [It looked like the police officers didn't think about their strategy],” Dilao said.
Dilao, a campus journalist for three years, dreams of being a journalist.
While some criticized members of the media for yesterday’s reportage, Dilao said media is just doing its job.
In his letter, Dilao defends the Filipino people and describes them as “loving and good-hearted people.”
Dilao says the Philippines is a nation of strong, remarkable and hospitable people.
As of this writing, his letter has been viewed 269 times and shared 24 times.
Dilao also expressed his apologies in the letter but also asked the world not to judge the country for this incident.
“Sana malaman ng mundo kung ano ang Pilipino, hindi lahat ng tao katulad ni Mendoza [I hope the world will know who the Filipinos are and that we're not all like Mendoza],” ends Dilao.
Here’s a copy of the letter posted on CNN iReport with Reigno Jose Dilao’s permission
As you are reading this letter, I bet that you have seen/heard about what happened earlier in our country.
Tourists were hostages of a policeman here, Rolando Mendoza. After a few hours of the horrible crime, some of the victims were dead including the hostage-taker.
I wrote this letter not just to apologize but also to let everyone know that we Filipinos are not all like Mendoza. We are loving and good-hearted people.
For so many years, our country has been standing tall and surpassing every dilemma; be it small or big. Years ago (back when I wasn’t born yet), you have watched us fight for what we think is right. We fought for the democracy of our nation.. The EDSA revolution. But that’s just one out of many.
Second. We Filipinos have been serving other countries for our families and we treat you as our own as well. With all due respect, I thank you all for giving us the trust through the years. For helping us to become what we are now.
The Philippines is more than just a group of islands. We are a nation of strong and remarkable people. A country of beauty and love known to be hospitable and well-valued. I humbly apologize for what happened tonight. No one in this world would want something like that to happen for life should be valued.
I politely ask the attention of the world. Please do not judge and mistreat us just because of what happened tonight. I have been searching the net and found terrible things. Hong Kong advices to avoid travels here, China and HK bans Filipinos and that Philippines is the worst place to go.
I can’t blame you for what you have decided but I hope that you could understand. Our country is now in a sea of problems. And I know for sure that we helped you in a way or another. Let peace and understanding reign this time.
I know that this letter will just be trash but I wish that you would understand. On behalf of the Philippine population.. WE ARE SORRY.
As a song puts it…
And I believe that in my life I will see an end to hopelessness, giving-up and suffering. And we all stand together this one time then no one will get left behind. Stand up for life. STAND UP FOR LOVE
Sincerely yours,
Reigno Jose Dilao
Dilao, a 4th year student of Samar National High School, posted the letter at CNN’s iReport site Monday at around 10:00 P.M. after the hostage crisis ended leaving at least 10 people dead, including the gunman.
In a phone interview with Yahoo! Southeast Asia, Dilao says he was disappointed with yesterday’s turn of events.
“Sana pinag-isipan ni Mendoza yung mga ginawa nya [Mendoza should have thought twice about his actions],” Dilao said.
He believes that this incident will take its toll on the country’s tourism.
“Ang hindi magandang epekto, sa turismo natin. Ang mga turista, iniisip nila lahat, lalo na ang safety [This will have a bad effect on our tourism. Tourists think about safety],” says Dilao.
Dilao also criticized the authorities who handled the crisis.
“Parang hindi pinag-isipan ng mga police officers yung strategy [It looked like the police officers didn't think about their strategy],” Dilao said.
Dilao, a campus journalist for three years, dreams of being a journalist.
While some criticized members of the media for yesterday’s reportage, Dilao said media is just doing its job.
In his letter, Dilao defends the Filipino people and describes them as “loving and good-hearted people.”
Dilao says the Philippines is a nation of strong, remarkable and hospitable people.
As of this writing, his letter has been viewed 269 times and shared 24 times.
Dilao also expressed his apologies in the letter but also asked the world not to judge the country for this incident.
“Sana malaman ng mundo kung ano ang Pilipino, hindi lahat ng tao katulad ni Mendoza [I hope the world will know who the Filipinos are and that we're not all like Mendoza],” ends Dilao.
Here’s a copy of the letter posted on CNN iReport with Reigno Jose Dilao’s permission
As you are reading this letter, I bet that you have seen/heard about what happened earlier in our country.
Tourists were hostages of a policeman here, Rolando Mendoza. After a few hours of the horrible crime, some of the victims were dead including the hostage-taker.
I wrote this letter not just to apologize but also to let everyone know that we Filipinos are not all like Mendoza. We are loving and good-hearted people.
For so many years, our country has been standing tall and surpassing every dilemma; be it small or big. Years ago (back when I wasn’t born yet), you have watched us fight for what we think is right. We fought for the democracy of our nation.. The EDSA revolution. But that’s just one out of many.
Second. We Filipinos have been serving other countries for our families and we treat you as our own as well. With all due respect, I thank you all for giving us the trust through the years. For helping us to become what we are now.
The Philippines is more than just a group of islands. We are a nation of strong and remarkable people. A country of beauty and love known to be hospitable and well-valued. I humbly apologize for what happened tonight. No one in this world would want something like that to happen for life should be valued.
I politely ask the attention of the world. Please do not judge and mistreat us just because of what happened tonight. I have been searching the net and found terrible things. Hong Kong advices to avoid travels here, China and HK bans Filipinos and that Philippines is the worst place to go.
I can’t blame you for what you have decided but I hope that you could understand. Our country is now in a sea of problems. And I know for sure that we helped you in a way or another. Let peace and understanding reign this time.
I know that this letter will just be trash but I wish that you would understand. On behalf of the Philippine population.. WE ARE SORRY.
As a song puts it…
And I believe that in my life I will see an end to hopelessness, giving-up and suffering. And we all stand together this one time then no one will get left behind. Stand up for life. STAND UP FOR LOVE
Sincerely yours,
Reigno Jose Dilao
Rizal and Ateneo
By Ambeth Ocampo
Philippine Daily Inquirer
First Posted 00:36:00 08/25/2010
WATCHING THE live television footage of the hostage drama near the Quirino Grandstand, which ended badly, kept me awake the whole night. What made things worse for me was the fact that the poor tourists who were killed in the bus were hijacked from Fort Santiago, where they had probably visited the Rizal Shrine. How and why a heavily armed man got inside Fort Santiago, and into the tourist bus is a question that will be answered after the investigation.
Over the weekend I was reading student papers on Intramuros, and it made me remember Jose Rizal’s “Memorias de un estudiante de Manila” (Memories of a Manila Student) whose title page identifies the author as a certain “P. Jacinto.” Rizal wrote under an assumed name, thinking that his diary could or would be read by someone else. Yet, he got carried away writing all his memories and impressions that he forgot about the title page and signed his name on the last page!
In the fourth chapter of this work, which covers the years 1872 to 1875, Rizal recalled his days at the Ateneo Municipal where he was not accepted: “I was introduced at the Ateneo Municipal to the Rev. Fr. Magin Ferrando. At first he did not want to admit me whether because I had come after the period of admission was over or because of my rather weak constitution and short stature: I was then 11 years old.” Then as now Rizal’s parents pulled strings and “at the request of Mr. Manuel Jerez, nephew of the ill-fated Fr. Burgos and now Licentiate in Medicine, the difficulties were removed and I was admitted.”
This forgotten line from his diary counters all textbook history that says Rizal didn’t want to be associated with Burgos. He was admitted into the Ateneo upon the intercession of the nephew of Burgos.
They had a uniform in the Ateneo and Rizal said, “I dressed like the rest, that is, I put on a coat with a ready-made necktie.”
His eye for detail, evident so early in life, is manifest in his diary:
“With what fervor I entered the chapel of the Jesuit fathers to hear Mass. After Mass I went to class where I saw a great number of children—Spaniards, mestizos and Filipinos—and a Jesuit who was the professor. He was called Fr. Jose Bech. He was a tall man, thin, with a body slightly bent forward, with hasty pace, an ascetic, severe, and inspired physiognomy, sunken, small eyes, sharp Grecian nose, fine lips forming an arch whose ends turned towards his beard. The father was somewhat lunatic so that one should not be surprised to find him sometimes disgusted and with a slightly intolerant humor while sometimes he amused himself, playing like a child.”
So detailed was Rizal’s diary that he described everything he saw and experienced in describing his classmates and other children, like those in his boarding house, including “some young Spanish mestizos, the fruits of friar love affairs.”
In 1875 Rizal became a boarder at the Ateneo and while we only have the picture of the outside of the dormitory Rizal provided us with a description of his room:
It was located “in the corner of the dormitory looking out into the sea and the embankment. It consisted of a space about two square varas [a vara being about 32 feet), an iron bedstand on which they placed my beddings, a small table with a basin which a servant filled with water, a chair, and a clothes rack. I forgot to say that in the little table I had a drawer with soap, comb, brushes for the hair and for the teeth, powder, etc. My little money, amounting to some eight pesos, I kept under my pillow.”
We know the names of his memorable Jesuit professors, both the ones he liked and disliked. His favorite was Fr. Francisco de Paula Sanchez who was sent to be with him at the beginning of his exile in Dapitan. Another professor he liked was Fr. Vilaclara who, he remembered, “liked me very much and to whom I was somewhat ungrateful. Although I was studying philosophy, physics, chemistry and natural history, and in spite of the fact that Fr. Vilaclara had told me to give up the society of the Muses and give them a last goodbye (which made me cry), in my leisure hours I continued speaking and cultivating the beautiful language of Olympus under the direction of Fr. Sanchez.”
Rizal was terrified of the world outside school. I always remind my own students of this and of the fact that university often teaches about a word that doesn’t exist, and that one must make adjustments from textbooks to the real world. Rizal himself said:
“I had entered college still a boy, possessing only a limited knowledge of the Spanish language, my intelligence only moderately developed, and my emotions scarcely cultivated. By dint of study, of self-analysis, of aspiring to ever greater heights, and of countless corrections, I began to be transformed little by little, thanks to the beneficent influence of a zealous professor.”
What is now generally known is that Rizal continued his association with the Jesuits and the Ateneo even if he was already enrolled, first for a degree in philosophy and later medicine, in the University of Santo Tomas. Before he departed for Europe in 1882, he went to the Ateneo. He wrote: “In the afternoon I said goodbye to the Jesuit fathers, who gave me strong letters of recommendation to the fathers in Barcelona. I owe a great deal to this order—almost, almost everything that I am.”
I guess the saying is true: you can take a boy out of the Ateneo, but you cannot take the Ateneo out of the boy.
Philippine Daily Inquirer
First Posted 00:36:00 08/25/2010
WATCHING THE live television footage of the hostage drama near the Quirino Grandstand, which ended badly, kept me awake the whole night. What made things worse for me was the fact that the poor tourists who were killed in the bus were hijacked from Fort Santiago, where they had probably visited the Rizal Shrine. How and why a heavily armed man got inside Fort Santiago, and into the tourist bus is a question that will be answered after the investigation.
Over the weekend I was reading student papers on Intramuros, and it made me remember Jose Rizal’s “Memorias de un estudiante de Manila” (Memories of a Manila Student) whose title page identifies the author as a certain “P. Jacinto.” Rizal wrote under an assumed name, thinking that his diary could or would be read by someone else. Yet, he got carried away writing all his memories and impressions that he forgot about the title page and signed his name on the last page!
In the fourth chapter of this work, which covers the years 1872 to 1875, Rizal recalled his days at the Ateneo Municipal where he was not accepted: “I was introduced at the Ateneo Municipal to the Rev. Fr. Magin Ferrando. At first he did not want to admit me whether because I had come after the period of admission was over or because of my rather weak constitution and short stature: I was then 11 years old.” Then as now Rizal’s parents pulled strings and “at the request of Mr. Manuel Jerez, nephew of the ill-fated Fr. Burgos and now Licentiate in Medicine, the difficulties were removed and I was admitted.”
This forgotten line from his diary counters all textbook history that says Rizal didn’t want to be associated with Burgos. He was admitted into the Ateneo upon the intercession of the nephew of Burgos.
They had a uniform in the Ateneo and Rizal said, “I dressed like the rest, that is, I put on a coat with a ready-made necktie.”
His eye for detail, evident so early in life, is manifest in his diary:
“With what fervor I entered the chapel of the Jesuit fathers to hear Mass. After Mass I went to class where I saw a great number of children—Spaniards, mestizos and Filipinos—and a Jesuit who was the professor. He was called Fr. Jose Bech. He was a tall man, thin, with a body slightly bent forward, with hasty pace, an ascetic, severe, and inspired physiognomy, sunken, small eyes, sharp Grecian nose, fine lips forming an arch whose ends turned towards his beard. The father was somewhat lunatic so that one should not be surprised to find him sometimes disgusted and with a slightly intolerant humor while sometimes he amused himself, playing like a child.”
So detailed was Rizal’s diary that he described everything he saw and experienced in describing his classmates and other children, like those in his boarding house, including “some young Spanish mestizos, the fruits of friar love affairs.”
In 1875 Rizal became a boarder at the Ateneo and while we only have the picture of the outside of the dormitory Rizal provided us with a description of his room:
It was located “in the corner of the dormitory looking out into the sea and the embankment. It consisted of a space about two square varas [a vara being about 32 feet), an iron bedstand on which they placed my beddings, a small table with a basin which a servant filled with water, a chair, and a clothes rack. I forgot to say that in the little table I had a drawer with soap, comb, brushes for the hair and for the teeth, powder, etc. My little money, amounting to some eight pesos, I kept under my pillow.”
We know the names of his memorable Jesuit professors, both the ones he liked and disliked. His favorite was Fr. Francisco de Paula Sanchez who was sent to be with him at the beginning of his exile in Dapitan. Another professor he liked was Fr. Vilaclara who, he remembered, “liked me very much and to whom I was somewhat ungrateful. Although I was studying philosophy, physics, chemistry and natural history, and in spite of the fact that Fr. Vilaclara had told me to give up the society of the Muses and give them a last goodbye (which made me cry), in my leisure hours I continued speaking and cultivating the beautiful language of Olympus under the direction of Fr. Sanchez.”
Rizal was terrified of the world outside school. I always remind my own students of this and of the fact that university often teaches about a word that doesn’t exist, and that one must make adjustments from textbooks to the real world. Rizal himself said:
“I had entered college still a boy, possessing only a limited knowledge of the Spanish language, my intelligence only moderately developed, and my emotions scarcely cultivated. By dint of study, of self-analysis, of aspiring to ever greater heights, and of countless corrections, I began to be transformed little by little, thanks to the beneficent influence of a zealous professor.”
What is now generally known is that Rizal continued his association with the Jesuits and the Ateneo even if he was already enrolled, first for a degree in philosophy and later medicine, in the University of Santo Tomas. Before he departed for Europe in 1882, he went to the Ateneo. He wrote: “In the afternoon I said goodbye to the Jesuit fathers, who gave me strong letters of recommendation to the fathers in Barcelona. I owe a great deal to this order—almost, almost everything that I am.”
I guess the saying is true: you can take a boy out of the Ateneo, but you cannot take the Ateneo out of the boy.
Ashamed
By Conrado de Quiros
Philippine Daily Inquirer
First Posted 00:43:00 08/25/2010
YOU COULDN’T have watched the last few moments of the hostage-taking last Monday without feeling weak in the knees. And violently angry. The spectacle of so many dead, among them women, when they did not need to be so, there are no words to describe the absolute idiocy of it.
Sacking the entire officialdom of the Philippine National Police won’t do justice to it. A group of ROTC trainees or village watchmen, one that hadn’t undergone any training in the art of negotiation, would have done better.
What is the first rule in hostage-taking? Secure the safety of the hostages.
What was the first thing the cops did? Act like they were in an action movie.
Why in hell couldn’t they simply agree to all the hostage-taker’s demands? Or put more brainlessly, why in hell couldn’t they simply have humored him? Was he asking for the release of the most dangerous criminals from Hong Kong? No. Was he asking for a jet that would take him to another country? No. Was he asking for a cache of weapons to be delivered to a terrorist organization? No. Was he asking for the most unreasonable, atrocious, despicable things in the world? No.
He was asking to be given back his job.
Which alone must suggest the brittle, fragile, stretched-to-breaking-point state of his mind. If you’re reasonably sane, will you possibly entertain the prospect of being reinstated after embarking on a course of action that terrorizes women and children, embarrasses the government, and threatens an international incident? You know you’re dealing with someone like that, and you don’t just go along with him the way you would a mental inmate holding a knife? What will it cost you to do it? You figure you’ll be bound by any agreement you get into that way?
The tack of humoring him, or appeasing him, or calming him down was already producing results. He asked for food, and upon being given food, he released some hostages. He asked for gas to keep the engine and air-conditioning running, and upon being given gas, he released some hostages.
He asked for the media, but that one wasn’t given to him. Now I can imagine that some anti-terrorist code book must say that terrorists should not be given the outlet to perorate on their agenda, but again what were we dealing with here? A guy who believed he was sacked unjustly. Who might have cluttered the airwaves with his views about how robbery and extortion are not just grounds for sacking a cop a few months going before retirement, but who cares? Talk is cheap.
Lives are not.
Was it so utterly inconceivable to the minds of the so-called negotiators there that if they had given him everything he asked, none of which remotely constituted murder, he would have released all his hostages?
What boggles the mind is not understanding the mind of the hostage-taker, it is understanding the mind of the hostage-freers. Later they would keep saying as though it were proof of their professionalism, skill and preparedness that one of their sharpshooters managed to take the hostage-taker out with one shot after he went on a killing spree. Big deal. The question is: Why did he have to go on a killing spree to begin with? Leaving a trail of 10 dead bodies behind, including his own?
That wasn’t unprovoked. What triggered it was the police deciding to storm the bus after “negotiations broke down.” Specifically after the hostage-taker flew into a rage after his brother, who had been brought to him and fulminated with him about the injustice of his plight, was removed from the premises, and he fired a warning shot. Why should that justify an assault? A hostage-taker flies into a rage, you wait for him to calm down. Negotiations break down, you wait for them to resume. Of course every hour that the situation drags on makes the hostages more tired and hungry and fearful. But better that than that the swift conclusion makes them dead.
It was raining like mad that night. You could barely make out anything through the television cameras. The whole day, some officials were saying on TV that if this dragged on, it could hurt tourism. It would make the country the laughing stock of the world and keep the tourists out. So rather than pitch tent, drink coffee, and wait out the darkness, the downpour and the downed talks, the cops decided to attack. Who knows? They probably saw their names in the international news as the heroes of the day. They probably saw their names in the marquees in movies made after the deed.
All they will see now is their names spattered in blood. All they ought to see now is their names spattered in blood.
The Hong Kong government has slammed Philippine authorities for bungling the crisis. The world has slammed Philippine authorities for bungling the crisis. They have every reason to. This wasn’t a case of someone who was willing to blow himself up and everybody around him if the world did not convert to his beliefs. This was not a case of someone who was willing to shoot everybody up and himself along with it for the greater glory of his God. This wasn’t a case of someone who was willing to reduce the population of this planet because he heard voices in his head.
This was a case of a deluded cop who wanted his job back. If you can bungle something like this, what can you not bungle?
But beyond the anger, all I could see in my mind last Monday night while watching the mayhem with mouth agape was the faces of the hostages. Men, women and children who had been laughing earlier that day, taking pictures of the Luneta, reveling in the vistas of another country, wondering what new wonders the day would unfold. Who had now been thrown into depths of anguish. Who were now lying in stretchers, broken in mind and body. Who were now dead.
I was ashamed. I am ashamed. Deeply, deeply ashamed.
Philippine Daily Inquirer
First Posted 00:43:00 08/25/2010
YOU COULDN’T have watched the last few moments of the hostage-taking last Monday without feeling weak in the knees. And violently angry. The spectacle of so many dead, among them women, when they did not need to be so, there are no words to describe the absolute idiocy of it.
Sacking the entire officialdom of the Philippine National Police won’t do justice to it. A group of ROTC trainees or village watchmen, one that hadn’t undergone any training in the art of negotiation, would have done better.
What is the first rule in hostage-taking? Secure the safety of the hostages.
What was the first thing the cops did? Act like they were in an action movie.
Why in hell couldn’t they simply agree to all the hostage-taker’s demands? Or put more brainlessly, why in hell couldn’t they simply have humored him? Was he asking for the release of the most dangerous criminals from Hong Kong? No. Was he asking for a jet that would take him to another country? No. Was he asking for a cache of weapons to be delivered to a terrorist organization? No. Was he asking for the most unreasonable, atrocious, despicable things in the world? No.
He was asking to be given back his job.
Which alone must suggest the brittle, fragile, stretched-to-breaking-point state of his mind. If you’re reasonably sane, will you possibly entertain the prospect of being reinstated after embarking on a course of action that terrorizes women and children, embarrasses the government, and threatens an international incident? You know you’re dealing with someone like that, and you don’t just go along with him the way you would a mental inmate holding a knife? What will it cost you to do it? You figure you’ll be bound by any agreement you get into that way?
The tack of humoring him, or appeasing him, or calming him down was already producing results. He asked for food, and upon being given food, he released some hostages. He asked for gas to keep the engine and air-conditioning running, and upon being given gas, he released some hostages.
He asked for the media, but that one wasn’t given to him. Now I can imagine that some anti-terrorist code book must say that terrorists should not be given the outlet to perorate on their agenda, but again what were we dealing with here? A guy who believed he was sacked unjustly. Who might have cluttered the airwaves with his views about how robbery and extortion are not just grounds for sacking a cop a few months going before retirement, but who cares? Talk is cheap.
Lives are not.
Was it so utterly inconceivable to the minds of the so-called negotiators there that if they had given him everything he asked, none of which remotely constituted murder, he would have released all his hostages?
What boggles the mind is not understanding the mind of the hostage-taker, it is understanding the mind of the hostage-freers. Later they would keep saying as though it were proof of their professionalism, skill and preparedness that one of their sharpshooters managed to take the hostage-taker out with one shot after he went on a killing spree. Big deal. The question is: Why did he have to go on a killing spree to begin with? Leaving a trail of 10 dead bodies behind, including his own?
That wasn’t unprovoked. What triggered it was the police deciding to storm the bus after “negotiations broke down.” Specifically after the hostage-taker flew into a rage after his brother, who had been brought to him and fulminated with him about the injustice of his plight, was removed from the premises, and he fired a warning shot. Why should that justify an assault? A hostage-taker flies into a rage, you wait for him to calm down. Negotiations break down, you wait for them to resume. Of course every hour that the situation drags on makes the hostages more tired and hungry and fearful. But better that than that the swift conclusion makes them dead.
It was raining like mad that night. You could barely make out anything through the television cameras. The whole day, some officials were saying on TV that if this dragged on, it could hurt tourism. It would make the country the laughing stock of the world and keep the tourists out. So rather than pitch tent, drink coffee, and wait out the darkness, the downpour and the downed talks, the cops decided to attack. Who knows? They probably saw their names in the international news as the heroes of the day. They probably saw their names in the marquees in movies made after the deed.
All they will see now is their names spattered in blood. All they ought to see now is their names spattered in blood.
The Hong Kong government has slammed Philippine authorities for bungling the crisis. The world has slammed Philippine authorities for bungling the crisis. They have every reason to. This wasn’t a case of someone who was willing to blow himself up and everybody around him if the world did not convert to his beliefs. This was not a case of someone who was willing to shoot everybody up and himself along with it for the greater glory of his God. This wasn’t a case of someone who was willing to reduce the population of this planet because he heard voices in his head.
This was a case of a deluded cop who wanted his job back. If you can bungle something like this, what can you not bungle?
But beyond the anger, all I could see in my mind last Monday night while watching the mayhem with mouth agape was the faces of the hostages. Men, women and children who had been laughing earlier that day, taking pictures of the Luneta, reveling in the vistas of another country, wondering what new wonders the day would unfold. Who had now been thrown into depths of anguish. Who were now lying in stretchers, broken in mind and body. Who were now dead.
I was ashamed. I am ashamed. Deeply, deeply ashamed.
Saturday, August 21, 2010
Levels of Questioning
A Lesson Plan for a Poem
“Ybong Camunti Sa Pugad”
by Felipe de Jesus
Using the Dimensional Ordinary Approach (DOA)
Questions are arranged form level 1 – level 5
A Lesson Plan for a Poem
“Ybong Camunti Sa Pugad” by Felipe de Jesus
Using the Dimensional Ordinary Approach
Outcomes:
To analyze the poem and the underlying message of the author. (insight)
To imagine how helpless is a birdling without the mother bird. (emotional)
To appreciate the author’s use of simile, metaphor and symbols. (craftsmanship)
To interpret the meaning of the poem utilizing the literal, figurative, and symbolic approaches. (cognitive insight)
To create a collage of their understanding of the poem. (creative)
To discover the effective use of prepositions in utterances. (ISRAELT)
Unlocking of Difficulties
Using pictures of birds in various movements
1. Birds sitting on a branch of a tree 2. Flying bird
Picture A Picture B
Upon looking at the birds, what comes to your mind?
Describe the bird in picture A. What state of being can you infer? Does it tell contentment? Happiness? Ease?
Compare picture A with picture B. What is the movement shown in picture B? What does flying literally suggest? Symbolically suggest?
Understanding figurative language
Directions: Study the figurative expressions extracted from the poem and decide its possible meaning.
“Intense emotions are like flying embers floating high into the clouds”
What does this verse mean?
What is a flying ember? Does ember mean other thing? Discuss your intuition.
What is the common meaning of clouds? Does the color of the cloud have different meanings? How about the phrase “floating high into the sky”?
What figure of speech is used in this verse, “Intense emotions are like flying embers”? How about the phrase, “Flying embers floating high into the sky”?
Does the use of these figurative expressions help the author in expressing his thought? How?
Simile is a figure of speech that compares two different objects using their common quality with the used of the words “like”, “as”, and “seems”. Example: She looks like a real queen. The subject SHE has the characteristics of a QUEEN in terms of LOOKS.
Metaphor is a figure of speech that compares two different objects using their common quality without using the words “like”, “as”, “seems”. It is an implied comparison. Example: The man’s brain is a sponge. The man’s brain and the sponge are similar in the CAPACITY of absorption.
Symbolism is the use of familiar objects to mean another thing such as the “clouds”, “nest”, “birdling”, ember”, “ash”, and “tree” in the poem. (The meanings of these words go beyond their literal or natural meanings. Example, the clouds may mean the highest point of man’s achievement. Likewise, the word “birdling” can symbolize “man” in the cycle of life that is from birth to maturity.
Motivational Tandem
Motivation Question: What comes to your mind when you see an airplane flying in the sky?
Motive Question: In what way the birds are similar to the airplane?
Oral Reading of the Poem (Antiphonal Style: alternate reading between males and females)
Ybong Camunti Sa Pugad
By Felipe de Jesus
Tagalong Version English Version
Ybong camunti sa pugad
Sa inang inaalagad
Ay dili macalipad
Hangan di magcapacpac.
“Loob ninyong mandilacbo
Parang ningas alipato
Sa alapaaap and tongo
Ay bago hamac na abo.”
Birdling in the nest
Reared by mother bird
It cannot fly
Until its wings sprout.
“Intense emotions
Are like flying embers
Floating high into the clouds
Though really of humble dust.”
Answering the Motive Question
In what way are the birds similar to the airplane?
Discussing Questions using the DO Approach
Literal Level –directly answerable using the 5w’s and H
Describe the bird mentioned in the first stanza.
Where can you find a birdling?
Who takes care of the birdling in the nest?
What is dust?
When can the bird able to fly?
Where can you find the clouds?
Inferential Level (Grasping fully the poet’s ideas including inferred clues)
Why does not a bird fly without wings?
What is the other meaning of wings?
Why does a “ningas alipato” or “ember” fly? How far could it fly?
What are the roles of mothers to their children?
What is the meaning of “clouds”? Its colors?
What is the meaning of the word “floating”?
Aside from the inherent meaning of dust, what other meaning does it imply?
Discuss the implied sequences or events from the ‘egg to birdling to adult bird’.
How do you feel upon looking at an infant or child? Do you feel awed, amazed or nothing at all? Why?
Do you feel that mothers’ roles are simple? Why and why not?
What do you think is the poet’s message in this poem?
Critical Level (Judging the worth of ideas and effectiveness of presentation)
Do you think there is a connection between the first and the second stanza of the poem? Why do you say so?
What does the poet say about achieving or fulfilling dreams?
In human, could the word flying be applied? In what way?
Is the literary style of the poet effective? Has he expressed himself well?
Give reasons why the poet uses “c” instead of “k” in the words magcapacpac, mandilacbo, and hamac.
What are the symbols used by the author? How do these symbols relate to human being?
What should you do before you turn back to ashes?
What makes you different from and similar to the birds?
Integrative Level (Integrating ideas with previous experience)
When the birdling is already very capable of flying, it goes away and lives alone never to come back to the nest again. Is this the same case for human? Explain.
After studying the poem, have you changed your view / attitude and the way you look at birds? How and in what way?
As a student and as a person, what shall you do so that the people will remember you after you die? Please expound.
Discuss verses 7 and 8 in relation to your personal dream.
Were you inspired or intrigue by the poem? In what way?
After internalizing the importance of mothers in the lives of the children, do you change your regard to you own mother? Why then?
Creative Level
Create a collage of the poem according to your understanding. Be ready to explain your collage.
ISRAELT (Integrated Scheme for Reading and English Language Teaching)
Assumption: The students have already studied prepositions and their uses.
Presentation
Read the poem again closely and answer the questions that follow.
Ybong Camunti Sa Pugad
By Felipe de Jesus
Birdling in the nest
Reared by mother bird
It cannot fly
Until its wings sprout.
“Intense emotions
Are like flying embers
Floating high into the clouds
Though really of humble dust.”
______________
What are the prepositions used in stanzas 1 and 2? = (in, by, until, into, of)
What is the function of the preposition “in” in verse 1? = (location)
How about the functions of the prepositions in verses 2, 4 in stanza 1? = (possession, time)
Note:
Prepositions show location, direction, time, cause or reason, and possession
Prepositions can be one-word or phrase
Examples:
Prepositions for location: atop, in, inside, on, under, above, beside.
Preposition for direction: toward, forward, through, into, onto.
Preposition for time: for, since, before, after, while, when
Preposition for cause/reason: because, due to, as of, by means of
Preposition for position: in, from, by, for
Dialogue/Generalization
Identify what position the underlined prepositions suggest.
A college student shinnied up the flagpole. = location
The sun went down behind the hill. = location
The lights on the top of the trees are beautiful. = location
When he went away, we left as well. = direction
The elephant suddenly turned around and charged. = direction
We remained behind after the others had left. = location
A button on my blazer fell off. = direction
A valley lies below the sea. = location
The antique table was in good condition. = possession/state
For dinner, the couple went out and had a leisurely meal. = direction
Presentation Exercise
Identify and circle the preposition in the sentences according to the prompts given.
The pen on the table is used for writing. (reason)
We must learn to live together without being dependent to each other. (position)
You are easy on the eyes; hard on the heart. (location)
Because I could not stop for death – he kindly stopped for me – the carriage held but just ourselves – and immortality. (reason)
Memory is a crazy woman that hoards colored rags and throws away food. (direction)
The harpsichord sounds like two skeletons copulating on a corrugated tin roof. (location)
The plane flew straight through the walls of the twin towers. (direction)
Her voice is full of money. (possession)
You are the stars that shine up in the dome of the sky. (location)
You are a candle in the wind. (location)
Assimilation Exercise
Rewrite the sentences by adding a prepositional phrase that provides the information requested in the parentheses.
Example: We went to the soccer game. (time)
We went to the soccer game after school.
I longingly watched the sailing vessels. (location)
We postponed the soccer match. (cause)
The snow level topped three feet. (time)
The pungent odor assailed my nose. (position)
Railroads provide transformation. (location)
Several motel rooms were burglarized. (time)
The dog retrieved the fallen duck. (location)
We won the championship. (cause)
The bats flew erratically. (time, location)
The house had no electricity. (location, cause)
Organization/Mastery
Complete the sentences by filling in the blanks with appropriate preposition.
The cargo was lowered _______________ the hold. (in, into)
The cargo was lifted ______________ of the hold. (out, off)
The ship was driven ______________ the rocks. (to, towards)
The wood drifted _______________ from the shore. (away, at)
The people walked ______________ the bridge. (over, across)
The seabirds fly _______________ the ship. (beneath, above)
The swimmers swam _____________ the dark tunnel. (through, to)
The case fell _______________ the deck. (onto, into)
The helmsman stood _______________ the wheel. (at, on)
The chart lay ______________ the table. (on, in)
- Fin -
“Ybong Camunti Sa Pugad”
by Felipe de Jesus
Using the Dimensional Ordinary Approach (DOA)
Questions are arranged form level 1 – level 5
A Lesson Plan for a Poem
“Ybong Camunti Sa Pugad” by Felipe de Jesus
Using the Dimensional Ordinary Approach
Outcomes:
To analyze the poem and the underlying message of the author. (insight)
To imagine how helpless is a birdling without the mother bird. (emotional)
To appreciate the author’s use of simile, metaphor and symbols. (craftsmanship)
To interpret the meaning of the poem utilizing the literal, figurative, and symbolic approaches. (cognitive insight)
To create a collage of their understanding of the poem. (creative)
To discover the effective use of prepositions in utterances. (ISRAELT)
Unlocking of Difficulties
Using pictures of birds in various movements
1. Birds sitting on a branch of a tree 2. Flying bird
Picture A Picture B
Upon looking at the birds, what comes to your mind?
Describe the bird in picture A. What state of being can you infer? Does it tell contentment? Happiness? Ease?
Compare picture A with picture B. What is the movement shown in picture B? What does flying literally suggest? Symbolically suggest?
Understanding figurative language
Directions: Study the figurative expressions extracted from the poem and decide its possible meaning.
“Intense emotions are like flying embers floating high into the clouds”
What does this verse mean?
What is a flying ember? Does ember mean other thing? Discuss your intuition.
What is the common meaning of clouds? Does the color of the cloud have different meanings? How about the phrase “floating high into the sky”?
What figure of speech is used in this verse, “Intense emotions are like flying embers”? How about the phrase, “Flying embers floating high into the sky”?
Does the use of these figurative expressions help the author in expressing his thought? How?
Simile is a figure of speech that compares two different objects using their common quality with the used of the words “like”, “as”, and “seems”. Example: She looks like a real queen. The subject SHE has the characteristics of a QUEEN in terms of LOOKS.
Metaphor is a figure of speech that compares two different objects using their common quality without using the words “like”, “as”, “seems”. It is an implied comparison. Example: The man’s brain is a sponge. The man’s brain and the sponge are similar in the CAPACITY of absorption.
Symbolism is the use of familiar objects to mean another thing such as the “clouds”, “nest”, “birdling”, ember”, “ash”, and “tree” in the poem. (The meanings of these words go beyond their literal or natural meanings. Example, the clouds may mean the highest point of man’s achievement. Likewise, the word “birdling” can symbolize “man” in the cycle of life that is from birth to maturity.
Motivational Tandem
Motivation Question: What comes to your mind when you see an airplane flying in the sky?
Motive Question: In what way the birds are similar to the airplane?
Oral Reading of the Poem (Antiphonal Style: alternate reading between males and females)
Ybong Camunti Sa Pugad
By Felipe de Jesus
Tagalong Version English Version
Ybong camunti sa pugad
Sa inang inaalagad
Ay dili macalipad
Hangan di magcapacpac.
“Loob ninyong mandilacbo
Parang ningas alipato
Sa alapaaap and tongo
Ay bago hamac na abo.”
Birdling in the nest
Reared by mother bird
It cannot fly
Until its wings sprout.
“Intense emotions
Are like flying embers
Floating high into the clouds
Though really of humble dust.”
Answering the Motive Question
In what way are the birds similar to the airplane?
Discussing Questions using the DO Approach
Literal Level –directly answerable using the 5w’s and H
Describe the bird mentioned in the first stanza.
Where can you find a birdling?
Who takes care of the birdling in the nest?
What is dust?
When can the bird able to fly?
Where can you find the clouds?
Inferential Level (Grasping fully the poet’s ideas including inferred clues)
Why does not a bird fly without wings?
What is the other meaning of wings?
Why does a “ningas alipato” or “ember” fly? How far could it fly?
What are the roles of mothers to their children?
What is the meaning of “clouds”? Its colors?
What is the meaning of the word “floating”?
Aside from the inherent meaning of dust, what other meaning does it imply?
Discuss the implied sequences or events from the ‘egg to birdling to adult bird’.
How do you feel upon looking at an infant or child? Do you feel awed, amazed or nothing at all? Why?
Do you feel that mothers’ roles are simple? Why and why not?
What do you think is the poet’s message in this poem?
Critical Level (Judging the worth of ideas and effectiveness of presentation)
Do you think there is a connection between the first and the second stanza of the poem? Why do you say so?
What does the poet say about achieving or fulfilling dreams?
In human, could the word flying be applied? In what way?
Is the literary style of the poet effective? Has he expressed himself well?
Give reasons why the poet uses “c” instead of “k” in the words magcapacpac, mandilacbo, and hamac.
What are the symbols used by the author? How do these symbols relate to human being?
What should you do before you turn back to ashes?
What makes you different from and similar to the birds?
Integrative Level (Integrating ideas with previous experience)
When the birdling is already very capable of flying, it goes away and lives alone never to come back to the nest again. Is this the same case for human? Explain.
After studying the poem, have you changed your view / attitude and the way you look at birds? How and in what way?
As a student and as a person, what shall you do so that the people will remember you after you die? Please expound.
Discuss verses 7 and 8 in relation to your personal dream.
Were you inspired or intrigue by the poem? In what way?
After internalizing the importance of mothers in the lives of the children, do you change your regard to you own mother? Why then?
Creative Level
Create a collage of the poem according to your understanding. Be ready to explain your collage.
ISRAELT (Integrated Scheme for Reading and English Language Teaching)
Assumption: The students have already studied prepositions and their uses.
Presentation
Read the poem again closely and answer the questions that follow.
Ybong Camunti Sa Pugad
By Felipe de Jesus
Birdling in the nest
Reared by mother bird
It cannot fly
Until its wings sprout.
“Intense emotions
Are like flying embers
Floating high into the clouds
Though really of humble dust.”
______________
What are the prepositions used in stanzas 1 and 2? = (in, by, until, into, of)
What is the function of the preposition “in” in verse 1? = (location)
How about the functions of the prepositions in verses 2, 4 in stanza 1? = (possession, time)
Note:
Prepositions show location, direction, time, cause or reason, and possession
Prepositions can be one-word or phrase
Examples:
Prepositions for location: atop, in, inside, on, under, above, beside.
Preposition for direction: toward, forward, through, into, onto.
Preposition for time: for, since, before, after, while, when
Preposition for cause/reason: because, due to, as of, by means of
Preposition for position: in, from, by, for
Dialogue/Generalization
Identify what position the underlined prepositions suggest.
A college student shinnied up the flagpole. = location
The sun went down behind the hill. = location
The lights on the top of the trees are beautiful. = location
When he went away, we left as well. = direction
The elephant suddenly turned around and charged. = direction
We remained behind after the others had left. = location
A button on my blazer fell off. = direction
A valley lies below the sea. = location
The antique table was in good condition. = possession/state
For dinner, the couple went out and had a leisurely meal. = direction
Presentation Exercise
Identify and circle the preposition in the sentences according to the prompts given.
The pen on the table is used for writing. (reason)
We must learn to live together without being dependent to each other. (position)
You are easy on the eyes; hard on the heart. (location)
Because I could not stop for death – he kindly stopped for me – the carriage held but just ourselves – and immortality. (reason)
Memory is a crazy woman that hoards colored rags and throws away food. (direction)
The harpsichord sounds like two skeletons copulating on a corrugated tin roof. (location)
The plane flew straight through the walls of the twin towers. (direction)
Her voice is full of money. (possession)
You are the stars that shine up in the dome of the sky. (location)
You are a candle in the wind. (location)
Assimilation Exercise
Rewrite the sentences by adding a prepositional phrase that provides the information requested in the parentheses.
Example: We went to the soccer game. (time)
We went to the soccer game after school.
I longingly watched the sailing vessels. (location)
We postponed the soccer match. (cause)
The snow level topped three feet. (time)
The pungent odor assailed my nose. (position)
Railroads provide transformation. (location)
Several motel rooms were burglarized. (time)
The dog retrieved the fallen duck. (location)
We won the championship. (cause)
The bats flew erratically. (time, location)
The house had no electricity. (location, cause)
Organization/Mastery
Complete the sentences by filling in the blanks with appropriate preposition.
The cargo was lowered _______________ the hold. (in, into)
The cargo was lifted ______________ of the hold. (out, off)
The ship was driven ______________ the rocks. (to, towards)
The wood drifted _______________ from the shore. (away, at)
The people walked ______________ the bridge. (over, across)
The seabirds fly _______________ the ship. (beneath, above)
The swimmers swam _____________ the dark tunnel. (through, to)
The case fell _______________ the deck. (onto, into)
The helmsman stood _______________ the wheel. (at, on)
The chart lay ______________ the table. (on, in)
- Fin -
Tuesday, August 17, 2010
‘Hayop! Malansang isda!’ by Ambeth Ocampo
EVERY SEMESTER, after going over the syllabus and setting deadlines, I begin the course with a diagnostic test. Naturally everyone does not want to be tested on “stock knowledge” only to be declared “out of stock.” (I don’t know why people think they have to review for a diagnostic test, when the exercise is meant to help the professor size up the class and know what difficulty level to set.) But an audible sigh of relief is heard when the instructions are given out: Draw Andres Bonifacio and Jose Rizal. Many people complain that they cannot draw, so they are instructed to make a simple stick figure but to attach certain symbols that will let the viewer know that the figure is either the Great Malayan or the Great Plebeian. Everyone gets to work happily, and when the processing starts, that’s when they learn Lesson 1 in an Ambeth Ocampo class: when something looks simple, it is actually difficult, and when something is complex, it should be broken down to its simplest form.
That many college students (and teachers too!) cannot draw is a given. The drawings of the two major National Heroes are similar to those of kindergarten students for the celebration of Buwan ng Wika. The drawings are not at issue here, but their content because it shows that the history students have taken to adulthood has not progressed very much since kindergarten. Thus, Rizal is always in his black outfit, Bonifacio in white camisa de chino and red pants. Rizal always holds two books and a quill, Bonifacio always holds a bolo and a flag. Rizal is quiet, serene and brooding, Bonifacio always shouting, aggressive and inciting to rebellion. Is this the way we should remember our heroes—as caricatures?
When you go to kindergarten and elementary schools in August you will see that the children have made posters to commemorate Buwan ng Wika. They should be drawing Manuel Luis Quezon who gave us our Wikang Pambansa, the Tagalog-based language we now call Filipino. Yet the children draw Rizal and Bonifacio who may be related to Philippine history but not to the National Language.
Did Rizal really use a quill? No, he used a wooden pen with a metal nib. Did Rizal only write two books held aloft like the tablets containing the Ten Commandments? Aren’t these books considered by some as prophetic books, the Filipino Bible, with “Noli me tangere” being the Old Testament and El “Filibusterismo” being the New Testament? But Rizal actually published three books, the forgotten one, published between “Noli” (1887) and “Fili” (1891), being his annotated edition of Antonio de Morga’s “Sucesos de las islas Filipinas” (1890).
Did Bonifacio wave a flag? Perhaps. Did Bonifacio fight with a bolo? No, he probably used a gun.
All these images of our heroes we learn in school through formal classes and textbooks. We also learn of these outside school through monuments, coins, banknotes, stamps and other images.
While children should learn tales about their heroes, these stories should develop into more complex lessons in citizenship and nationhood as they grow older. Unfortunately, the drawings show that many Filipinos remember the children’s stories. Americans learn about George Washington and the cherry tree. Filipinos learn about Rizal throwing his chinelas downstream in a river. Americans learn about Benjamin Franklin, the kite, key and lightning. Filipinos learn about the orphaned Bonifacio children supported by Andres who sold canes and fans.
History can be engaging if we show the complexity of the lives and times of our Founding Fathers and Mothers. History can come alive if we flesh out our heroes instead of oversimplifying their lives into dates, names, places and events to memorize for a quiz.
Every Filipino child is reared on the most quoted line from Rizal: “Ang hindi magmahal sa sariling salita [wika]/ masahol sa hayop at malansang isda.” (One who does not love his own language is worse than a beast or a stinking fish.) These immortal lines from the poem “Sa Aking mga Kababata,” allegedly written when Rizal was 8 years old in 1869, are brought out each time we talk of the need for a National Language. Everyone knows the excerpt, but few have read this short poem where the young boy from Calamba compares Tagalog with Latin, English, Spanish and the angelic tongues (“Salitang anghel”). Tagalog is a language with its own alphabet and writing washed away. After reading this poem, we should feel awe in the face of genius, or maybe we should ask whether this poem is even by Rizal in the first place.
After having gone through many Rizal manuscripts in both private and public collections, I believe that “Sa Aking Kababata” is, at most, a poem attributed to Rizal. Unlike other writings of Rizal whose manuscripts are extant, or whose manuscripts once existed and can be verified, the poem appeared posthumously in 1902 in a book by Herminigildo Cruz. It cannot be traced directly back to Rizal, which is quite strange because almost all of Rizal’s writings were accounted for even in his lifetime. Perhaps Rizal’s name and this poem were invoked when Tagalog was chosen as the basis for the National Language?
When we rethink what we think we already know, that is the beginning of knowledge and wisdom.
That many college students (and teachers too!) cannot draw is a given. The drawings of the two major National Heroes are similar to those of kindergarten students for the celebration of Buwan ng Wika. The drawings are not at issue here, but their content because it shows that the history students have taken to adulthood has not progressed very much since kindergarten. Thus, Rizal is always in his black outfit, Bonifacio in white camisa de chino and red pants. Rizal always holds two books and a quill, Bonifacio always holds a bolo and a flag. Rizal is quiet, serene and brooding, Bonifacio always shouting, aggressive and inciting to rebellion. Is this the way we should remember our heroes—as caricatures?
When you go to kindergarten and elementary schools in August you will see that the children have made posters to commemorate Buwan ng Wika. They should be drawing Manuel Luis Quezon who gave us our Wikang Pambansa, the Tagalog-based language we now call Filipino. Yet the children draw Rizal and Bonifacio who may be related to Philippine history but not to the National Language.
Did Rizal really use a quill? No, he used a wooden pen with a metal nib. Did Rizal only write two books held aloft like the tablets containing the Ten Commandments? Aren’t these books considered by some as prophetic books, the Filipino Bible, with “Noli me tangere” being the Old Testament and El “Filibusterismo” being the New Testament? But Rizal actually published three books, the forgotten one, published between “Noli” (1887) and “Fili” (1891), being his annotated edition of Antonio de Morga’s “Sucesos de las islas Filipinas” (1890).
Did Bonifacio wave a flag? Perhaps. Did Bonifacio fight with a bolo? No, he probably used a gun.
All these images of our heroes we learn in school through formal classes and textbooks. We also learn of these outside school through monuments, coins, banknotes, stamps and other images.
While children should learn tales about their heroes, these stories should develop into more complex lessons in citizenship and nationhood as they grow older. Unfortunately, the drawings show that many Filipinos remember the children’s stories. Americans learn about George Washington and the cherry tree. Filipinos learn about Rizal throwing his chinelas downstream in a river. Americans learn about Benjamin Franklin, the kite, key and lightning. Filipinos learn about the orphaned Bonifacio children supported by Andres who sold canes and fans.
History can be engaging if we show the complexity of the lives and times of our Founding Fathers and Mothers. History can come alive if we flesh out our heroes instead of oversimplifying their lives into dates, names, places and events to memorize for a quiz.
Every Filipino child is reared on the most quoted line from Rizal: “Ang hindi magmahal sa sariling salita [wika]/ masahol sa hayop at malansang isda.” (One who does not love his own language is worse than a beast or a stinking fish.) These immortal lines from the poem “Sa Aking mga Kababata,” allegedly written when Rizal was 8 years old in 1869, are brought out each time we talk of the need for a National Language. Everyone knows the excerpt, but few have read this short poem where the young boy from Calamba compares Tagalog with Latin, English, Spanish and the angelic tongues (“Salitang anghel”). Tagalog is a language with its own alphabet and writing washed away. After reading this poem, we should feel awe in the face of genius, or maybe we should ask whether this poem is even by Rizal in the first place.
After having gone through many Rizal manuscripts in both private and public collections, I believe that “Sa Aking Kababata” is, at most, a poem attributed to Rizal. Unlike other writings of Rizal whose manuscripts are extant, or whose manuscripts once existed and can be verified, the poem appeared posthumously in 1902 in a book by Herminigildo Cruz. It cannot be traced directly back to Rizal, which is quite strange because almost all of Rizal’s writings were accounted for even in his lifetime. Perhaps Rizal’s name and this poem were invoked when Tagalog was chosen as the basis for the National Language?
When we rethink what we think we already know, that is the beginning of knowledge and wisdom.
Thursday, August 12, 2010
A Private Family Affair by: Jayson E. Parba
Ate Stella and her husband Marco eloped two days after their wedding was annulled, causing all the feeling of anguish to both mother and father.
It was the least expected event to happen in our family. Mother and father had thought my eldest sister would start getting a better life after a long hurdle of going to the court, giving testimonies, and presenting pieces of evidence in front of Judge Gomez to convince him that Ate Estella’s marriage with Marco was null; that on her part, she had suffered physical abuse and emotional stress after her husband had become a drug addict and a total wreck.
Ate Stella was a nurse. She chose to become one after too much prodding from mother who was also a nurse herself, holding a position in the Philippine Nurses Association. In the family, mother was the stronger figure compared to Papa who was always quiet, speaking only when it seemed mother was unreasonable. Papa trusted mother in the decision making, too, so that when mother declared that we were not allowed to have a relationship while still studying, nobody had the heart to refute it. It was an argument that had been decided long before hearing the other side of the story.
On my part, I tried hard not to violate mother’s decree by not entertaining suitors and by always in the company of my girl friends. Kuya Harvey who, I thought, had the most difficult time, also did his best not to break that mandate. You see, Kuya Harvey was a natural heartthrob. Girls came to him even if he did not initiate anything to attract them. But with mother prying on each of his affairs, the girls eventually learned to resist his charm.
It was different for Ate Stella. Although mother was very strict with her, monitoring her every now and then, she had learned to find a way to gain mother’s trust by devoting most of her time to her studies. In short, she excelled, topping the Dean’s List in their college. This assured mother that her eldest was not distracted by anybody or by any emotional rush most growing young adults go through. What mother missed was that someone or something was inspiring Ate Estella. While mother prepared food in the kitchen, Ate Stella and I would stay in our shared bedroom, pretending to be studying. But in truth, she was reading to me the love letters of Marco, while trying to resist her ecstasy from Marco’s lyricism by fighting back her chuckles.
A few months after Ate Stella’s graduation and on the day before she was supposed to take the Nursing Licensure Exam, Kuya Harvey and I were surprised by an uproar in the kitchen. We thought mother was scolding Yaya for doing badly again in the cooking. But when we came out of our rooms, we saw mama beating Ate Stella.
“How could you do this to us?” Mama screamed, pointing her finger to Ate when she noticed us watching the whole scene.
“He’s going to marry me,” Ate answered.
“Marry? How will he feed you?”
“We love each other. That’s more important.”
“Love cannot feed you and your child!”
Mother began to sob. She rushed out of the kitchen and went to their room. It was the first time I saw her cry. Papa was very quite the whole time. He had remained calm, maybe thinking.
The following day, mother woke up as if nothing happened. Ate, on the other hand, had also awakened early because she needed to be in the examination room before seven. I found out later on that Ate took the exam in a separate room through mother’s request. It was always possible with mother’s position as secretary of the PNA. It was to hide Ate Estella. Mother was afraid the other examinees might see the welts on Ate Stella’s arms. Despite what Ate Estella went through, she became a topnotch, landing fourth place when the results came out.
Before Ate’s swelling belly became obvious, Marco and his parents came to the house. It was then decided that Ate and Marco would have a civil wedding. Mama and Papa made sure their eldest had a good life despite the shame she had caused the family. They withdrew money from their savings and helped Ate and Marco build a house. They then lived in their newly built house located at the poblacion where Ate was also taken in as a nurse in the municipal hospital. Again, mother had to pull out some strings to make sure Ate had a work.
On weekends, Ate Stella would visit us, bringing Baby Nico with her. Mama would prepare special lunch for the family, maybe to show that she had learned to accept the reality. Papa, on the other hand, was more than glad to have another boy in the family. Kuya Harvey had remained a bachelor, maybe because until now he took to heart mother’s decree. However, I heard a rumor that Kuya was not the marriageable type. Rumors around town said he went out with men. But I learned to keep this secret from our parents. I didn’t want to become the whistleblower.
One Friday night, a year after their wedding, Ate Stella came home crying.
“That bastard!” It was the first time I heard father said something against Marco.
“Don’t go back anymore. You stay here,” mother commanded.
“I never lifted a finger to hurt any of my children. I will kill him if he dare show himself in my house,” father said.
It turned out that Ate Stella kept to herself her problem about Marco. While she appeared happy every time she came to the house on weekends, we learned later that Marco had been addicted to drugs. Ate Stella caught him when she found a small cellophane packet with sugary white powder in it. Then he eventually became violent, hurting her whenever she would confront him about his vice.
It was all mother’s idea. To put an end to everything, she suggested that my sister filed an annulment case. It took two years, exhausting almost all the savings of mother and father. During the whole duration of the case, Ate Stella and Baby Nico stayed with us. When the verdict came, our family was very happy, mother most especially.
Without our knowledge, Marco had been imploring Ate Stella to come back to him, sending her letters that showed how miserable he was without Ate and Baby Nico in his life. Sometimes, he would wait for Ate Stella at the gate of the municipal hospital where Ate worked, or sometimes he would send her flowers with a special card, bearing a letter that showed his lyrical prowess.
On the Sunday, two days after Ate Estella’s wedding had been annulled, we all awoke to the silence of Ate Estella’s and Baby Nico’s room. Excited to play with Baby Nico, who by then was almost three years old already, Kuya Harvey and I opened their room and found no one inside. The aparador was empty. Ate Stella left a note, saying thank you to all of us, especially to mother and father. At the bottom of the letter, we read:
P.S. Don’t worry about us. Baby Nico is excited to see his father again. We will be safe.
It was the least expected event to happen in our family. Mother and father had thought my eldest sister would start getting a better life after a long hurdle of going to the court, giving testimonies, and presenting pieces of evidence in front of Judge Gomez to convince him that Ate Estella’s marriage with Marco was null; that on her part, she had suffered physical abuse and emotional stress after her husband had become a drug addict and a total wreck.
Ate Stella was a nurse. She chose to become one after too much prodding from mother who was also a nurse herself, holding a position in the Philippine Nurses Association. In the family, mother was the stronger figure compared to Papa who was always quiet, speaking only when it seemed mother was unreasonable. Papa trusted mother in the decision making, too, so that when mother declared that we were not allowed to have a relationship while still studying, nobody had the heart to refute it. It was an argument that had been decided long before hearing the other side of the story.
On my part, I tried hard not to violate mother’s decree by not entertaining suitors and by always in the company of my girl friends. Kuya Harvey who, I thought, had the most difficult time, also did his best not to break that mandate. You see, Kuya Harvey was a natural heartthrob. Girls came to him even if he did not initiate anything to attract them. But with mother prying on each of his affairs, the girls eventually learned to resist his charm.
It was different for Ate Stella. Although mother was very strict with her, monitoring her every now and then, she had learned to find a way to gain mother’s trust by devoting most of her time to her studies. In short, she excelled, topping the Dean’s List in their college. This assured mother that her eldest was not distracted by anybody or by any emotional rush most growing young adults go through. What mother missed was that someone or something was inspiring Ate Estella. While mother prepared food in the kitchen, Ate Stella and I would stay in our shared bedroom, pretending to be studying. But in truth, she was reading to me the love letters of Marco, while trying to resist her ecstasy from Marco’s lyricism by fighting back her chuckles.
A few months after Ate Stella’s graduation and on the day before she was supposed to take the Nursing Licensure Exam, Kuya Harvey and I were surprised by an uproar in the kitchen. We thought mother was scolding Yaya for doing badly again in the cooking. But when we came out of our rooms, we saw mama beating Ate Stella.
“How could you do this to us?” Mama screamed, pointing her finger to Ate when she noticed us watching the whole scene.
“He’s going to marry me,” Ate answered.
“Marry? How will he feed you?”
“We love each other. That’s more important.”
“Love cannot feed you and your child!”
Mother began to sob. She rushed out of the kitchen and went to their room. It was the first time I saw her cry. Papa was very quite the whole time. He had remained calm, maybe thinking.
The following day, mother woke up as if nothing happened. Ate, on the other hand, had also awakened early because she needed to be in the examination room before seven. I found out later on that Ate took the exam in a separate room through mother’s request. It was always possible with mother’s position as secretary of the PNA. It was to hide Ate Estella. Mother was afraid the other examinees might see the welts on Ate Stella’s arms. Despite what Ate Estella went through, she became a topnotch, landing fourth place when the results came out.
Before Ate’s swelling belly became obvious, Marco and his parents came to the house. It was then decided that Ate and Marco would have a civil wedding. Mama and Papa made sure their eldest had a good life despite the shame she had caused the family. They withdrew money from their savings and helped Ate and Marco build a house. They then lived in their newly built house located at the poblacion where Ate was also taken in as a nurse in the municipal hospital. Again, mother had to pull out some strings to make sure Ate had a work.
On weekends, Ate Stella would visit us, bringing Baby Nico with her. Mama would prepare special lunch for the family, maybe to show that she had learned to accept the reality. Papa, on the other hand, was more than glad to have another boy in the family. Kuya Harvey had remained a bachelor, maybe because until now he took to heart mother’s decree. However, I heard a rumor that Kuya was not the marriageable type. Rumors around town said he went out with men. But I learned to keep this secret from our parents. I didn’t want to become the whistleblower.
One Friday night, a year after their wedding, Ate Stella came home crying.
“That bastard!” It was the first time I heard father said something against Marco.
“Don’t go back anymore. You stay here,” mother commanded.
“I never lifted a finger to hurt any of my children. I will kill him if he dare show himself in my house,” father said.
It turned out that Ate Stella kept to herself her problem about Marco. While she appeared happy every time she came to the house on weekends, we learned later that Marco had been addicted to drugs. Ate Stella caught him when she found a small cellophane packet with sugary white powder in it. Then he eventually became violent, hurting her whenever she would confront him about his vice.
It was all mother’s idea. To put an end to everything, she suggested that my sister filed an annulment case. It took two years, exhausting almost all the savings of mother and father. During the whole duration of the case, Ate Stella and Baby Nico stayed with us. When the verdict came, our family was very happy, mother most especially.
Without our knowledge, Marco had been imploring Ate Stella to come back to him, sending her letters that showed how miserable he was without Ate and Baby Nico in his life. Sometimes, he would wait for Ate Stella at the gate of the municipal hospital where Ate worked, or sometimes he would send her flowers with a special card, bearing a letter that showed his lyrical prowess.
On the Sunday, two days after Ate Estella’s wedding had been annulled, we all awoke to the silence of Ate Estella’s and Baby Nico’s room. Excited to play with Baby Nico, who by then was almost three years old already, Kuya Harvey and I opened their room and found no one inside. The aparador was empty. Ate Stella left a note, saying thank you to all of us, especially to mother and father. At the bottom of the letter, we read:
P.S. Don’t worry about us. Baby Nico is excited to see his father again. We will be safe.
Wednesday, August 4, 2010
Ga-i ko’g Itik, Parts
Parts, daghan man daw itik sa inyong tugkaran?
Naa kay mahatag nako?
Kanang nindot ug lawas, ha?
Kanang maayo mokimbot
Sa iyahang sampot.
Ayaw nang sobra katambok
Basin dali ra kayo hangoson.
Ug usa pa, di ko ana,
Kusog man gud na mokaon.
Ayaw pud nang niwang
Basin dali ra kaayo kapoyon.
Ug usa pa, di ko ana,
Wa may lami kaonon ang bukogon.
Kanang sakto lang og lawas
Para maigo sa akong kalha,
Kung asa siya akong lutoon
Aron sa kalipay ako iyang busogon.
Naa kay mahatag nako?
Kanang nindot ug lawas, ha?
Kanang maayo mokimbot
Sa iyahang sampot.
Ayaw nang sobra katambok
Basin dali ra kayo hangoson.
Ug usa pa, di ko ana,
Kusog man gud na mokaon.
Ayaw pud nang niwang
Basin dali ra kaayo kapoyon.
Ug usa pa, di ko ana,
Wa may lami kaonon ang bukogon.
Kanang sakto lang og lawas
Para maigo sa akong kalha,
Kung asa siya akong lutoon
Aron sa kalipay ako iyang busogon.
Si Maria nga Amiga ni Papa
Samtang si Mama Eva
Gatrabaho ug toa sa Hongkong,
Kami sa balay nagpabiling
Dako ang paglaom.
Apan usa ka adlaw
Si Papa nagdala sa iyang amiga
Nga ginganlan niya’g Maria.
Ingon pa niya,
Tawgon daw namo siya og Tita.
Apan sa akong katingala,
Ako nagduha-duha.
Si Tita Maria adtong gabhi-a
Didto natulog
Sa lawak ni Mama ug Papa.
Gatrabaho ug toa sa Hongkong,
Kami sa balay nagpabiling
Dako ang paglaom.
Apan usa ka adlaw
Si Papa nagdala sa iyang amiga
Nga ginganlan niya’g Maria.
Ingon pa niya,
Tawgon daw namo siya og Tita.
Apan sa akong katingala,
Ako nagduha-duha.
Si Tita Maria adtong gabhi-a
Didto natulog
Sa lawak ni Mama ug Papa.
Pahiyom ni Ninoy
Samtang si Sir Allan
Nanghatag sa grado,
Si Glenn niduko
Naglingo-lingo.
Samtang si Russell
Gapahiyom sa kalipay,
Sa langit gibayaw
Kaugmaon gilantaw.
Aw, mapahiyomon man pud si Sir Allan
Sama sa pahiyom ni Ninoy
Sa prisko ug gahing papel
Nga gikan kang Russell kada bulan.
Pastilan!
Nanghatag sa grado,
Si Glenn niduko
Naglingo-lingo.
Samtang si Russell
Gapahiyom sa kalipay,
Sa langit gibayaw
Kaugmaon gilantaw.
Aw, mapahiyomon man pud si Sir Allan
Sama sa pahiyom ni Ninoy
Sa prisko ug gahing papel
Nga gikan kang Russell kada bulan.
Pastilan!
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