Ang mga dakilang sugarol

Nagsimula ang lahat noong isang linggo. Kami ni C-- ay nagkaroon ng pagnanasang maglaro ng baraha. Kulang na lang na magpunta kami sa National Bookstore para lang makahanap ng baraha. ADIK! Eh 'yun pala hindi lang kami, pati sina T--, M-- at A-- rin. Grabe. Halos kada libreng oras namin sa eskwelahan, maliban sa oras ng pagkain at pagbisita sa palikuran, eh ginugol namin sa paglalaro ng baraha. Ayaw naming magpaawat! Ewan ko ba kung anong espiritu ang sumapi sa amin... eh lalo na ngayong araw na ito, wala kaming Nat Sci at nagayos lang kami ng grado sa Histo. Nahilo na ako sa kakalaro. Pero masaya. At buti nama'y hindi ako laging talunan. Hehehe. Nangalawang na rin kasi ang kakayanan ko sa sugal, kung maaaring tawaging sugal ang ginagawa namin. Wala naman kaming ipinupustang pera. Kaya nga nagtaka ako nang sitahin kami sa aming paglalaro noong gwardyang sadyang mahaba ang mukha, mabilis manita ng estudyante, at pawang laging sinusundan ang klase namin sa pagroronda. 'Yung medyo kalbo ang pagkagupit sa buhok. Ngunit kami, ang mga dakilang sugarol, ay nagumpisa muli ng aming paglalaro ng pusoi dos nang tumalikod siya. Ang katwiran namin, totoo ngang labag sa patakaran ng pamantasan ang pagsugal. pero hindi nga namang mababansagang pagsugal ang ginagawa namin, tulad nga ng napaliwanag ko. At hindi naman si manong gwardya ang pinakamataas na maykapangyarihan upang kami'y pagbawalan. Eh mismong mga guro eh tumitingin lamang sa aming paglaro at hindi man lang umimik. Kaya nga mayroon na kaming bansag sa aming grupo na unti-unting lumalaki-- ang pamagat ng pahayag na ito--"Ang mga Dakilang Sugarol." Mantakin mo nga naman, sadyang nalulong na kami sa paglalaro. Balak ko na ngang hindi na dalhin ang mga baraha, ngunit ito ri'y pampalipas-oras. Nakatutulong sa pag-pawi ng pagkabagot. Pero naisip ko na rin na maiigi nang bawasan ang passamba sa diyos ng papel. Kung tutuusin kakatwa ang kapalaran ng tao: halos lahat ng mahahalagang karanasan o pangangailangan, may piraso ng papel na katumbas. Pera, classcard, diploma, baraha, libro-- lahat ng mga ito'y gawa lamang sa papel, walang halaga bagkus sa binigay na halaga ng gobyerno, ng paaralan, ng may-akda at kalakalan, at ng mismong tao na nakikinabang sa mga bagay na ito. Masyado tayong nakasalalay sa papel; at kahit ano pang sabihin ng nakararami, ang paggamit ng papel ay hindi agad mapapalitan ng makabagong teknolohiya ng computer. Magmula nang maimbento ang papel noong sinaunang panahon sa Tsina, samu't saring yari, kapal, kulay, at gamit ng papel ay natuklasan at sinusuri ng sangkatauhan. Akalain mong nanggagaling lamang ang papel sa kahoy na tinadtad ng pino, na galing sa mga puno ng mga kagubatang ating kinakalbo. Kung hindi tayo mag-iingat, marahil na kapag naglaon ay mawawalan tayo ng isa sa ating pinakamahalaga ngunit kalimita'y binabalewala na kagamitan... ang papel. At iyon na ang magbabadya ng panibagong kabanata sa kasaysayan ng sangkatauhan. At sa huli, ang maitatanong tungkol sa atin ng ating mga apo ay, "Ano nga bang ginawa ng mga tao nang malaman nila na ang papel, isa sa pinakamahalagang bahagi ng kanilang pamumuhay, ay tuluyang nawala?" Sana, hindi naman natin maikwento na sinubasta natin ang mga pira-pirasong papel na natira sa pagaari natin, o kaya'y nabaliw tayo't kumain ng papel, o kaya'y naluluong tayo sa pagsugal para sa perang nawala na sa kakilanlan. Sana'y makasagot tayo na ginawa natin ang tama, na nakahanap tayo ng mainam na kapalit para sa papel. Sana nga. Kung hindi pa tayo patay pagdating ng panahon na iyon.

Poetic Injustice

(The following account is quite vitriolic. But hey, isn't the blog entitled I Sound My Monstrous Yawp? I think it's only right for me to air my opinions, as the issue concerns me very much.)

If you ride on the Light Rail Transit, you will notice the "Berso sa Metro" posters. These posters have poems printed in the original Spanish and in Tagalog. On the other side of the aisle there is another poster, an advertisement from the Instituto Cervantes. It's more likely that people will pay more attention to the Instituto posters, because they're more conspicuous, and the font on the "Berso" posters are small enough that you have to squint to read the poems. I hate this ad campaign. For one thing, they only got the idea from the New York subway. Then, too, they're encouraging colonial mentality by ignoring our own poets. It would be somewhat justified were they to post the poems of, say, Lorca, or any of the great Spanish poets, but the only author of note featured is Pablo Neruda. And why Spanish? We've had enough of that language for three hundred-odd years. Why not German, so that Filipinos can read Schiller (translated into Tagalog) and think about things a little more profoundly? Why not Chinese, so that the Tang poets can gain a wider audience in the Philippines? Better yet, why not advocate our National Artists? Even in the tiniest details of our existence, the government shows just what a pack of cringing toadies it is. We are not yet free. If we were, there would be poems about nationalism, or some such theme relevant to us, instead of sentimental Spanish poetry about sampaguitas. I'm not against freedom of expression, nor am I against foreign poetry, which I avidly read; the monopoly of the Spanish Instituto, however, shows the pervasive disparity in our country, and makes us underrepresented on our own turf. When you consider the burden of oppression and its long existence, isn't it time to throw it off and sever all ties with it?

Random Ramblings

Well, it's uncanny the way intuition works. There are times when I feel I could make a living as a fortune-teller, or at least predict events in my life, or win at cards or dice just by this weird feeling; a mix of apprehension and elation, it vivifies the moments of life and lets you recover them when you need to. The end has come; The Poisonwood Bible is resting(both figuratively and literally) on my shelf at the moment. What do you know, Adah and I are more alike than I imagined at first. She became a doctor(!), decided not to marry(!) and learned to speak and walk normally. So it all went well for her in the end. Ruth May died, because she wouldn't take her malaria pills. Leah and Anatole got married and had children, with Leah leaving her father's shadow behind; Orleanna worked for a relief organization, and Rachel married thrice and finally set up a hotel at the border of Zaire. Oh, and Nathan went mad and got burned in a tower, as described in the last verse of the Apocrypha. (What an oddity, a right-wing Baptist preacher who advocated the Apocrypha. That's Life for you.) So the family saga ends. The thing is, "I do not want to discuss it" is the phrase that comes to mind, so I won't. (I recently disovered that I like a lot of the novels on the Oprah's Book Club List. Gave me quite a shock, when I viewed the list for the first time. I own six of the books and read two others that I've borrowed. I had no idea.)
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I don't know if you've noticed that some of the most delicious food items and condiments are brown--or at least with a brownish tinge. Adobo, bagoong, chocolate, patis, dark vinegar, coffee, black(?) tea, beef, soy sauce, sesame oil, chico, cooking wine( sherry, xiao xing), spice mixes, natto, beans, kalamay, tamarinds, lechon, gula melaka, muscovado, etc. (My love of salty food will be the death of my kidneys someday; I can't help it though. I love patis,soy sauce, adobo and bagoong!) Brown is such a fabulous shade, even though that means it can camouflage any discrepancies in the food. But most of the brown ingredients bring out the best dimensions of food. For instance, just this night I made a paste out of tamarinds and paired that with the tilapia we were having for dinner. The result: yummy with double knobs. I usually don't like the fishy taste of tilapia, but the combination worked due to the refreshing sourness of the tamnarinds paired with the sweetness of the fish. And speaking of fish: just found the heartiest fish head stew in a small restaurant in Binondo. I just devoured half of the food set on the table.The waiters were probably a-gossiping, but they can stuff themselves for all I care. The bastards. I was hungry; Binondo usually makes people hungry and that's why it's chock-full of food establishments.

What I don't get is the scarcity of Filipino food in other countries, which contributes to Filipino homesickness; other cultures are so well-represented. It's a pity because Filipino culture is nothing if not 60% food. You give food to guests, you bring food from trips as pasalubong, you take home food from festivities, you make special food for birthdays and holidays. The food in our culture has such an influence on us: it shapes our memories and consciousness of our diversity. We should really be more proud of it instead of taking all this fandangled French way of cooking too seriously. Desosser, rechauffer, flambe-- all very well and good; you can cook for all these exacting palates, you are established as a chef, but what have you to show for your country? Another form of colonial triumph. I know that for Filipino food to succeed abroad it needs to be certified safe to eat so that you won't go out of business, because some people are so finicky and lily-livered when it comes to food. They'll eat escargot and raw oysters, but not kare-kare. Really, though, when it all unravels, overeating is what kills you, not the food. We should aim to minimize this effacement of our culture by keeping our food traditions intact. It's such a waste to relinquish so willingly a part of our culture so vital to us, so representative of us as Filipinos, so distinctive from any other kind of cuisine. Perhaps the way to our hearts is through our stomachs, after all.