Ruby: A Tale of Two Women

Dolor is a Spanish word which means pain, grief, or sorrow. Its plural form is dolores, and it is said that a woman bearing such a name is bound for many heartaches. Indeed, in the past week, that is pretty much the feeling or sentiment prevailing among the residents of Dolores, Eastern Samar. The cause for such overwhelming sorrow is another female name, Ruby.

It’s unfortunate that such a lovely and seemingly innocent name could cause this much grief to an entire rural community. The people of Dolores are hardly heard of, especially when it comes to controversial issues. At most, they are quiet but hardworking, typical of people living in the countryside where major political scandals can hardly be discussed given the more serious problem of where to get the next daily meal.

Yet, Ruby has found Dolores to be the perfect albeit unwilling target of her wrath which she has since unleashed in several other largely rural areas. Why she has done so remains unexplained and unacceptable especially for the people who were directly hit by her fury.

For many ungodly hours last week, Dolores and her inhabitants were beyond the reach of human help. The enterprising members of media though have found ways of getting through to them. This allowed the public to get a first-hand glimpse of the kind of destruction that one woman’s wrath can inflict on those who dare stand in her path.

These days, Dolores continues to grope through the pile of debris that Ruby has left for her.  Damage all across the town can easily reach hundreds of thousands even as the more painful process is dealing with the loss of innocent lives.

Ruby has already left, surprisingly showing significant weakness after dumping all her raging anger on the hapless Dolores. There is simply no place for sorrow during this most joyous season of the year; unfortunately, Ruby found it fitting for Dolores to live up to her name.

The Ghost of Bonifacio

Yesterday, the nation commemorated the 151^st birth anniversary of Katipunan founder Andres Bonifacio. As has always been the tradition, controversy reared its ugly head again as we pay tribute to one of the Philippines’ original heroes.

As the actual manner in which he died remains shrouded in mystery, still another issue has come out regarding Bonifacio. This time, his actual birth place is being debated upon. Many prominent and esteemed historians tell us that the Great Plebeian was born in Tondo, in a street that is now home to Tutuban Station. This is the reason a statue of Bonifacio was erected in the area.

Unfortunately, just like many other things about Bonifacio, this information about his birth place is turning out to be nothing but a big lie. Even more unfortunate is the fact that the government itself, courtesy of the National Historical Institute, now referred to as the National Historical Commission of the Philippines, has allowed itself to be part of this continued distortion of historical facts.

A recent news article that appeared in Inquirer.net entitled “Andres Bonifacio: A monument of lies”, showed that Binondo, and not Tondo, was the birthplace of the Katipunan founder. This fact is contained in “Andres Bonifacio y El Katipunan”, the first biography of Bonifacio written by Manuel Artigas which came out in 1911.

How and why this mistake was committed remains unexplained, but what is more troubling is the fact that prominent and respected figures were the ones who committed them. Even sadder is the fact that owning up to the mistake has not been made to date.

Should it come as a surprise then why a growing number of Filipinos have come to view national leaders as a bunch of 4)@$##u @$$313@@!!@!!!?

One reason why the Philippines remains a poor country is because we have yet to learn from history. The case of Marcos is a glowing example.

The adage “those who refuse to learn from the lessons of history are doomed to repeat it” might eventually hold true in our case….unless our leaders make the needed correction.

Family Distrust

The sense of family distrust is uncommon, but it does exist.

A few days ago, options for my cancer-stricken mother were discussed during a serious family meeting as the possibility of an operation was highly likely. An option that was considered is the possible sale of the ancestral home where the family is currently living in.

This was what my mother previously wanted, a desire which my sister-in-law communicated to me and my wife, saying the idea was good as there will be money to finance my mother’s possible operation. The remaining proceeds can then be equally divided between me and my brother as per the explanation of my sister-in-law; an idea that we nodded in agreement, but adding that the final decision remains with my mother. Little did I know that hiding behind this issue is family distrust.

A week before the meeting, my brother-in-law who flew in from the US along with my elder sister, suddenly asked me why I was seeking my share of the possible sale of the ancestral house, an act which I strongly denied doing. My mother asked me the same question the next day during a separate talk where I could sense an air of family distrust in her tone. Nevertheless, I denied the accusation, adding that it was my sister-in-law who opened the topic about proceeds from the possible sale.

During the meeting, which my sister requested, she asked me the same question. I and my wife stood by my original reply despite the air of family distrust hanging above my head. Ultimately, though, my sister-in-law admitted that she initially brought up the issue but clarified that it was innocent talk.

Despite the clarification, the meeting continued and soon became a family trial with me and my wife standing as the accused. Various actions that we were doing were brought up, with my sister pointing out that these were not benefitting our children. I will not go into the details of these supposedly non-beneficial actions; suffice to say that ever since I was a kid, there has always been this awkward family distrust towards me.

The problem with my family is that ever since I can remember, I was hardly listened to. Given my physical condition (I was a polio victim), they have this preconceived notion that my views were not worth considering or at most filled with flaws.

As I grew up, I learned to keep things to myself and would often shut out any idea slowly developing in my mind. I have come to accept, with great disappointment, that no one in his right mind would ever look into its possible merits, assuming there was any.

It has often been said that when push comes to shove, you can always turn to your family. My family has proven to be different. I grew up in an environment where you are solely responsible for everything that you do. When problems crop up, you are expected to find the solution yourself.

Under this set-up, I have learned to be independent in many things, even in doing hard and difficult school assignments. Seldom do I ask for help from my family as I will only be turned away, saying ‘you’re a bright kid, solve it yourself’.

Unfortunately, this often comes at a price, because given my limitations, I often falter when attempting to accomplish something. Those are the times when my parents would come to learn of my failure and emphasize the fact that this should be expected from me. I guess that’s where this family distrust somehow developed.

I am now trying to raise a family of my own composed of a loving wife, three beautiful daughters, and an only begotten son. At times, I would see them, especially my two older daughters, trying hard to work on their assignments on their own, and memories of my painful childhood years would flash back in my mind. That’s when I would come near and help them out, telling them that they can always come to me if they need help in anything.

On a regular basis, I give them all a hug, giving them the assurance that I love and trust them. In doing so, I am hoping that family distrust will be non-existent in my family, and my kids, when they come of age, will not have to remember a difficult childhood where trust is hardly extended.

Love Stories Are For Normal People

I had a good friend way back in high school who told me that given myphysical handicap, getting a girl to fall in love with me would be next toimpossible.

My friend was, of course, being frank and simply telling the truth. Still, the stubborn part of me ignored the above statement, and went on courting several girls. Take note, these are not your ordinary, run-of-the-mill women. They are particularly attractive and can easily stand out in a crowd.

In all of these courtships, the results were naturally not to my disadvantage. Thus, I always ended up nursing a broken heart over and over.

The heartbreaks finally stopped ten years ago when one special girl entered my life. She was, like all the other girls I have courted, particularly attractive, but she had one single difference. She actually said 'yes'.

This girl eventually became my wife, to the dismay of my mother who believes that this girl is not really serious with me. She said that given mydisability, it will not come as a surprise if this girl will one day decide to look for a more normal guy and have a more normal life.

I refused to believe this, confident in the fact that my wife is faithful and completely in love with me.

There are times though when I can see her looking at other men. When confronted, she would deny this.

Still, those are rare occasions, and my wife would often assure me that she is not the playgirl type and that she will never do anything that will bring ruin to our family.

We now have four children, and are still living happily together. Last weekend, however, a chance encounter with another man awakened me to a dark reality in my life.

My wife was then playing at the arcade while carrying our one-year-old son. I was by her left side looking after our two-month-old baby. To her right was a young man in t-shirt and who was wearing  a white cap. He was quietly watching her play although I believe that they do not know each other.

At that point, my wife was on a winning streak, having earned several arcade tickets. I could see that she was particularly happy as arcade victories came rarely to her.

I was half-expecting her to look at me and smile. To my surprise, however, she looked at the man to her right, smiled at him and said something about being particularly lucky that day. The man smiled back, and then hesitantlywalked away.

My wife then looked at me innocently. I asked her if she knew the guy and she said no. I then asked her why she smiled at him, and she jokingly said it's because I was not looking at her.

To others, this may pass off as something of no value at all. To me though, it was a wake-up call, a pat on the back to help me keep in mind that fordisabled people like me, love can never be a long-lasting experience. That one incident alone is a clear indication that I could easily lose my wife anytime if ever a 'normal' and good -looking man should come in to her life.

In all the years that we have been together, I have known her to be extra friendly, even to men. That is why many of them are drawn to her. We have a small sari-sari store, and  I often notice that whenever the customer is a guy, my wife would make the first move to be of service even if I'm the one tending the store.

Many of our customers also happen to be men as there is a car wash outlet located in front of our store. Practically all of its male employees know my wife by name and often look for her whenever they come to us to buy something.

This has somehow put a dent on our marriage since I usually end up gettingjealous. My wife continues to assure me of her love, but her many actionsoften contradict this. Secretly, I feel that it is only a matter of time before she falls for someone else.

I'm keeping my fingers crossed that the day will never come, if only for my children's sake. Still, when I recall my old friend's declaration and my mother's belief, I can only bow in agreement.

Whoever said that fairy tales do come true is probably living in dream land. And whoever said that all is fair in love is probably one who has never shed a tear for a badly broken heart.

Payment received

I'm not really sure if anyone out there is reading this blog, much more add me in their list of followed blogs.

In any case, sometime last year, I wrote a blog about getting a legitimate online income. Guess what? I just found one.

The website is donkeymail, and you can access it through this link: http://www.donkeymails.com/pages/index.php?refid=simon430

The job is a simple pay-to-click routine. You receive emails in your donkeymail inbox, click the paid ad links, view the webpage for a few seconds and you get paid.

The routine can be quite boring, and if you are the impatient type, you might find the payout requirement of just $1.00, a little too hard to reach. This is partly true as you get paid only $0.001 per click. Still, once you reach the threshold, payout is practically guaranteed. I waited for only about two weeks or more and I got my payment in my paypal account.

You do have to check your paypal account though. For some reasons, donkeymail did not send me a confirmation email to say that my payout request has already been processed. I'm not sure if this was the same with the other members who requested for payout.

Still, you should check out donkeymails since they really pay their members. Just access it here: http://www.donkeymails.com/pages/index.php?refid=simon430

Days of Old

In decades past, Holy Week was a very solemn event. As little boys, we were not allowed to laugh out loud, play with our toys, or even watch TV. We were even made to believe that getting a scratch or a wound during Holy Week, particularly on Good Friday, would mean that the wound will take quite a while before getting healed because the Great Healer is dead.

Being disallowed to watch TV at the time was not really that hard to accept, for there was hardly any show on the boob tube. Most of the TV networks then would go off the air, starting on Maundy Thursday all the way to Black Saturday, with regular programming resuming only on Easter Sunday.

The few daring stations who opt to go on air during this time would offer only religious programs, usually old movies depicting the life and suffering of Jesus.

In short, Holy Week was a lonely period for kids like me for it meant being removed, albeit temporarily, from all the things that I love to do all year round.

Yet, it was also a time for reflection, particularly for grown-ups. For three straight days, people then would pre-ocupy themselves with religious activities: joining the 'pabasa'; watching the senakulo; going to confession; or simply praying at home.

These days, however, people no longer see Holy Week for what it is. The event is now regarded by many as a regular but extended holiday. A time for fun and enjoyment. So, instead of visiting places of worship, we now go to resorts and beaches. Rather than be stuck with old and replayed religious films, we can opt for a marathon of our favorite movies through rented dvd's.

TV has also gone into a make-over vis-a-vis the Holy Week. There are now movie specials and modern-day takes on the redemption of mankind, but if you prefer to enjoy your daily dose of TV watching, there is now cable TV to keep you satisfied.

As it is, young people these days no longer know how it is to observe Holy Week. A sad note really, considering that its essence is the very foundation of the faith that we now practice.

Terminal Terms

For those of you who might be reading this from a foreign country or from another planet, we have just celebrated a special event in our nation's history several days ago. The event was the phenomenal People Power Revolt wherein an overstaying leader was overthrown through bloodless means.

Traditionally, the occasion was marked by a street party on historic EDSA where the life-changing revolution took place. This naturally called for the declaration of a special holiday all across the country.

This brings me to the heart of this blog. For this year, the day was declared as not a working holiday. The term was rather vague, so to the ordinary man, it can only be assumed that it was a working holiday.

Now, the term 'working holiday' is also somewhat vague, if not a contradiction of terms. When one says holiday, it obviously means there is no work; thus, if there is work, then it simply means it's not a holiday. So why come up with such a mind-boggling term such as a 'working holiday'?

There is also the 'non-working holiday' phrase. This is likewise a contradiction of terms. As I stated from above, a holiday infers there is no work, so why does one need to say 'non-working holiday'? There has to be some form of redundancy here somewhere.

This is not really a matter for experts to discuss. Even the ordinary college graduate can distinguish that non-working and holiday need not go hand-in-hand.

Why do we have this penchant for making simple things extremely complicated? Just like at EDSA 25 years ago, let's make everything clear and simple, and not go into the complexities of keeping things beyond the comprehension of the ordinary man.