I thought the day would never come when the University of the Philippines would ban a film, much less on the 40th anniversary of the declaration of martial law. And in the greatest irony and shame, the UP College of Law led the charge against the crude hack job titled “Innocence of Muslims.”
I found myself in tears again as I was reading, very belatedly, the Youngblood article “Ok luv u” by Marrian Pio Roda Ching (Inquirer, 6/16/12). I wish I had not read it, just as I constantly wish that I never get to read, see, feel, taste, or smell anything that will remind me of my mother who passed away in October 2011.
The last two weeks have seen a number of conferences focused on the topic of governance and the economy. The midyear Economic Briefing, with the theme “Good Governance is Good Economics,” was held on Sept. 17. On the same day, The Asia Society opened its 2-part series, “Philippine Transparency Forum,” which had speakers from abroad sharing their experiences in battling corruption and promoting good governance.
The Filipino teacher has many faces. For her/his learners, the teacher is more than just an educator. S/he is also a parent, caregiver, counselor, and healer all at once. We all have that one special teacher we can’t forget, who has touched our lives and contributed in a large part to making us who we are today.
I worked for a child sponsorship and development organization for more than two decades before retiring in 2011. I was based in the Philippines but travelled to 12 countries in Asia almost every year. I will always remember these scenarios: ramshackle houses, derelict schools and clinics in the city or countryside; frail children in grimy clothes chasing one another in open spaces; women and men here and there making a living, or in dark corners blankly staring at commuters; rundown buses, vans, taxis, and pedicabs belching smoke and sideswiping rickshaws or bicycles in heavy traffic; and fried rice, eggs and anchovies, fruits, juice, and yoghurt for the buffet breakfast of hotel guests.
How can we help the poor when we do not feel for them? How can we feel for them when we have no relationship? How can we relate to them when they have no names, no faces, no parents, no brothers and sisters, no children – they have all been lumped inside the word “poor.”
I was at the regional trial court of Manila recently for my court observation, and I attended a scheduled hearing for criminal cases. My attention was caught by the case of a Chinese man accused of the crime of acts of lasciviousness. The man was thin and appeared old and sickly, coughing intermittently as he waited for his turn for the information against him to be read. His health was obviously deteriorating, maybe because of the poor living conditions at the Manila City Jail.
I know you have been waiting and praying for this moment. Congratulations for passing the teeth-gnashing and knee-buckling National Licensure Exam for Nurses!
[On the pedestal of the Statue of Liberty are the words “Give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses yearning to breathe free, the wretched refuse of your teeming shore.”] On the last Sunday of July we took a night cruise around lower Manhattan, the New York harbor and the Statue [...]
September 23, 1972, was a Saturday. But at St. Theresa’s College Quezon City (STCQC), we were at school to make up for unplanned holidays owed to typhoons and mass protests. The lesson we got was unplanned, too. Scrawled on the blackboards were the words “Martial law has been declared.” Proclamation 1081, dated Sept. [...]
Kukoi was with our family for the last 13 years. She was such pure joy that the family wished that she be humanized, not to be a biped like us with arms for cuddling, but to have a larynx to at least voice her sentiments.
It’s been months since I last stepped inside a church to say my prayers and then go home like it’s an ordinary day of the week. I was born and raised Catholic; my life was packed with lessons from the Bible, meaningful time with the parish youth ministry, and faith that God is with me no matter what.
