IngliseraKuno

When is one to be called strong? Firm? Resolute? I ask that question because we live in a society where tears, or a simple show of emotion, is perceived to be 'weakness', 'unmanly' or 'disdainful'. I cry, not all the time, but only when I am deeply hurt. In fact, I have observed that when my tears start to fall, it is almost so spontaneous that I my brain is unable to make them stop. The trigger for those tears are really not like the ones in the movies where the scripts are spoken in unbelievable length (I again digress: I watch 'Two Wives' and the character 'Janine' once spoke the same lines over and over for about thirty minutes while crying, and the object of her pain was just there standing, listening to her with no dialogue. It made me wonder why with that anger she was feeling, why did she not just get a gun and shoot him? That would have taken less than half an hour). The triggers are one or a combination of: a simple gesture; an arm brus...

I remember the question very well: 'How do you know that a barangay is poor just by looking around?', a speaker asked us. We were all being trained for community organizing, to better prepare us for the work on the ground. Many attempted to give him intelligent answers. I did not say a thing. I was thinking deeply, bent on giving the most impressive answer. Until the speaker said, 'look at the dogs'. Ok, what the? Dogs? Then he proceeded to explain that usually, dogs under the care of families who have more than enough, are fed better, hence, not looking skin-and-bones. The poor families have barely enough to eat, thus, their dogs are not fed well. That made sense.  I recall this today because through the years in rural development, I still use that as a measure when I go to the barangays. Of course, my first impression of a good and not-good life is validated by several other things I see: there are less beautiful, young women. They all venture off to seek for a be...

The memories woven in my heart from my childhood to my teens were mostly of him. He was the voice of calm and reason in the middle of pillow fights, of fear from new pet puppies, of deep hurt from a mother's angry words, of feelings of being outcast in a large well-off family. With him, no matter how sad situations were, his warmth, his smile which engulfs you like a bear hug, his eyes, all of that would lead to, 'everything will be alright.' From the outside, it seemed that people looked at him differently: that he was stern, he drank, he was not afraid to say how he feels straight up, he would get upset openly. While in his posts as a manager, a public official, he exuded that persona such that when he enters a room, silence hangs suddenly. Of fear maybe, or respect. The teens hanging out in the public market, for example, would take off all their earrings hiply placed on their left lobes when they see him walking around to patrol, unless of course they would want to ...

After the #fallen44, I have admittedly changed the way I look at our police force. This is not to say that I did not respect their roles as peacekeepers, on the contrary. During my six-year stint in DAR Ilocos Norte, I had the privilege to be 'secured' by the PNP when I went to far-flung barangays and resolve agrarian disputes. Always, I would pay a courtesy call to the PNP Provincial Director assigned in the province (I had three officers assigned there in six years) as our office needed their assistance in security not only for resolution of disputes but also for execution of orders by our sheriff. I remember my first trip to this barangay in Pagudpud as PARO in Ilocos Norte. My presence was needed to settle a boundary dispute among farmers whose lands were covered by one title (we call these 'collective' titles). My point person on the ground advised that I coordinate with the PNP for security. Of course, that made me a bit nervous. So on the way there, I was esc...

Unlike his 'Ate', who was born to a life of milk in boxes and noodles which was all we could afford at that time, Aidan came into this world 'expensive'. It was a difficult pregnancy, and unexpected, so from the time he was in my womb, we put all our resources to 'growing' him well. Needless to say, the hospital bill hit the roof at my c-section to birth him. After, he had to endure a series of tests with a pedia-ophthalmologist, and consequently, an eye operation at 5 years old. He had his second major eye operation just last year. He loved toys, so that again, made him expensive. Hotwheels, Matchbox, Zoids, Predators. But he also loved clay, in fairness to him. And he started to read the encyclopedia at three. Plus it was not just all Cartoon Network or endless discs of Looney Tunes, he was a National Geographic channel kind of kid.  I do not remember how he came to speak English so well, with an accent of the 'sosyal'. I still have videos of him r...

I am always in search of validation, always yearning for approval, of my being. A close friend and I had this before-bedtime discussion of our tendencies to seek those, even if we both know that we have given all we have, our very best to this life. At this point, we said, we have nothing to prove anymore, yet we continue to be insecure and in constant search for self-worth. We agreed it was that one thing that made us both weak, in the face of all the tough-guy bravado we project. I was in bed during this interesting exchange, staring at nothing at the ceiling, while she was marching around our hotel room (we were in conference outside of the office, as usual) fixing her usual OCD-nightmarish stuff. I love these moments we have, she always tells me that this friendship we have? It is most unique, we have been through hell and back, and nothing really ever so much as nudge it to destruction. We live parallel lives, it seemed like the stars in the universe conspired to have each other....