By the Jal-o River

The graduates of Class 1970 of the Balete Elementary School with School, Town Officials and other distinguished guests The Aklan State University has a new President in the person of Dr. Danilo E. Abayon. He has been appointed by the CHED Chairperson and ASU Governing Board chair, Dr. Patricia Licuanan last March 15, 2011 to serve as such commencing on March 16, 2011 to March 15, 2015. He is the third President of ASU since its elevation as a state university in 2001. But what is notable of it is the fact that he is the first Aklanon to hold the helm of that well respected university which humble beginning dates back to 1918 as a farm school. Unknown to most, Dr. Danilo Abayon is a true blue Baleten-on. He was born on November 12, 1956 in Sitio Adgawan, Barangay Feliciano. His immediate families are the Abayons, Eliserios, Peraltas and Corteses. He is part of the cream of the influential Class of 1970 of the Balete Elementary School and the Valedictorian of Class 1974 of the Bale

Nagkalimog rong kubos: Bisan pa nga imoe ako sa imong panueok saylo sa ang payag ay i-ambit ko kimo rong dupoy-dupoy nga presca bugana una halin sa bintana. Reflect on the wisdom of Ryokan at http://www.hermitary.com/articles/ryokan.html

Speechless. Becoming. Being. Hearing sobs of pain as old hands pray. Photo credit goes to : The Haiga Pages

She again paid me a visit in my dream last night-that elfin lady who has enchanted this restless heart. She was crying as the rain and was presaging of an eminent destruction as men continue destroying the woods and contaminating the rivers. She complained of the pain she's enduring in her bosom and was becoming impatient of the indifference of men over God's creation. I tried to placate her, to reach out to her, to touch her. But I fear that by my touching I may defile her delicate beauty. I wanted to assure her that I will do something about it but I hesitated for fear that she may sense the lack of conviction in my words. In silence, I let her speak her heart's complaints and when I had the courage to give her my word, she was gone. As I sip coffee the morning after, I played on Jim Chappell's Gone and contemplated the dream's message vis-a-vis the planning workshop scheduled for tomorrow concerning Disaster Risk Reduction and Search and Rescue Plan of the local

Beautiful Monday morning. The sun finally gives us a peek today and the farmers go out of their huts carrying their sacks of rice for the drying. My spirit exults in jubilation as I watch Totog spreads out his moistened harvest by the roadside. If the sun consistently shines throughout the day, Totog and his kind will be able to have their palay milled the next day. Then the hungry will have their fill and we will be singing, "Glory and praise to our God..." in the spirit of John Michael Talbot. Post Script: If you're interested in the music of John Michael Talbot or of his way of life, you might find these links helpful: http://www.johnmichaeltalbot.com/ http://www.facebook.com/johnmichaeltalbot http://www.johnmichaeltalbot.com/music.php

Today's Gospel ( John 4:4-26 ) and several queries from my friends online concerning my blog entry of March 24, 2011 led me to remember a Samaritan woman I met by a spring well in Aranas. She has been hailed as a woman of substance by several media outlets both local and international. Her laurels include among others the following: Founded the Chameleon Association, a Franco-Filipino Humanitarian organization which shelters young girls who suffered from physical/sexual and psychological abuse Distinction of merit of Knight of the French National Order of Legion of Honor ( Chevalier de l'Ordre National du Merite ) in October 2008 French National Award for Community Involvement and Devotion ( Le Prix de Civisme et de Devouement) from the President of the Republic of France, M. Jacques Chirac Honorary Medal ( Medaille d'Or ) from the town of Chalon/Saone Presidential Distinction of Exception for Foreigners making a significant contribution to the d

" These tales make rivers run with wine only to make us remember, for one wild moment, that they run with water. " (G.K. Chesterton, Orthodoxy [The Ethics of Elfland]) Mars burst out in laughter exclaiming, "What?" "That's weird", said a woman in pink in front of me. I can't recall her name but if I'm not mistaken she is from Numancia. "Well, that can be done." Art remarked in a placating tone. "Maybe." Ms. Rose echoed softly. I traced some pessimism in her voice though. The rest of the group held their opinions to themselves as I end up my presentation. The workshop delved on our approaches in communicating Natural Family Planning to the ordinary masses. We were asked to outline our strategies in reaching out to husbands as partners of their wives in planning out their family through the natural means. The group were complaining of the indifference of men when it comes to that issue. They said that such macho mentality pre

As we were rowing down the stretch of the Jal-o River one summer morning, I intimated to my friend, Laurence, that all I aspire for is to lead a quiet simple life away from the hassle and bustle of the urban civilization. Looking up around the lush green, the serene surroundings and a solitary hut abutting the bank of the river as our boat passed by, she innocently assured me that I can achieve my dream as it is bereft of any competition. I smiled at her lovingly yet at the back of my mind I concluded that her Occidental Weltanschauung had conditioned her to assume that leading the simple life is just a cakewalk. More than 15 years have elapsed since our tete-a-tete aboard that nameless boat and Laurence and I have parted ways. She has dedicated her life to caring for street children and Filipina girls who have been sexually and psychologically abused in some depressed community in Iloilo while from time to time travel back home rallying the European communities to lend her a h

Sleepless night. Sartre came with a bottle of brandy. From the house of Pedro Domeq, I like to believe. I prepared and served grilled cured tapas-- a product of my inquisitive mind and something that he won't find nauseating. By and by, Camus' Facel Vega parked rather dramatically on the road shoulder in front of my house. With him was rather an unusual companion--Sisyphus who is still burdened with a load of rock! So I stood up and produced two extra glasses for the new arrival. "Wow! What a company I have tonight," I said to myself.  I wonder how will it be if Nietzsche and Prometheus join us. The beauty of being human is that one can always reconsider, take time out, socialize, recreate, wait and see for things to manifest themselves.  The quality of something is best tested by time. Wine for instance. But tapas, oh you have it consumed while it is still warm. Otherwise, Sartre will vomit it with the diluted ale. And oh, forget about the Facel Vega and try c

A recent incident disturbed my quiet existence. Somebody who has a big name in local media made use of one of my entries in this blog in her paper without acknowledging authorship. She's big and this blogger is just a nobody; ergo, she may have assumed that she can do whatever she wanted. She should have known the ethical standards of journalism as she is an editor-in-chief of her paper. And yet she published it under her name without batting an eyelid. I am sadden though as she used to be someone I look up to. Be that as it may, I'll just humor myself by recalling Paulino's quote on plagiarism. He says and I quote "When someone copies from a book, it is called plagiarism; When someone copies from a couple of books, it is called comparative study; When someone copies from three books, it is in-depth analysis; When someone copies from four books, it is thesis writing; When someone copies from five books, it is dissertation." But how would you call a deed by an ed

To whom shall I turn to To whose ears shall I cry it out This dirge of pained heart, Bewitched and led on By an elfin lady so fair and enigmatic Whose laughter of dawn Has awakened my weary mind And whose eyes of star Has mirrored my wounded soul, I shall wail out at Jenly’s Store And sob shall I In a quiet Marble Hall On the resting hill of the fallen and the forgotten But will the Jae -o remember its sad rhymes Will the Balete tree understand its haunting sighs Shall I then have my vindication Once I uttered the Seven Last Words atop the hill of Agtawagon ?

My colleagues from other towns of Aklan have been asking about my research on local history. In one of our quarterly meetings, I got the chance to acquaint them on some principles on historical scholarship. My outline on that presentation is as follows: I - Introduction/Clarification History = histo, a Greek word meaning "know this" = historeo, i.e. "know or learn by inquiry" = historia or investigation (Herodotus defines history as such) II - Essences of History Historical knowledge is based on evidence (such as artifacts, written accounts and oral tradition) History is not just a story. It is my story, your story, his story, our stories taken as a collective whole An approximation of factual events that took place in the past that impacted on the present III - Sources of Local History Family trees Old photographs Diaries and journals Documents/Manuscripts Artifacts/antique collections Oral tradition The National Archives of

March is unconsciously a special month in Balete. No. That's an understatement. March is an event in Balete. Here are the supporting facts to consider if you don't get the picture: Caravan Sales. Appliance stores in Kalibo go out of their comport zone setting up caravan sales at the grand stand and/or the civic center Heavier traffic during Saturday mornings along the J. Barrios St. (formerly Mercado St.) Harvest season Binayle (Benefit Dance) Recognition Days and Commencement Exercises The joy of the parents especially after a bountiful harvest (farmers are perennially complaining though of the diminishing returns) is capped by the graduation, the honors and the awards received by their children after months and years of struggle and persistence. Attending such special occasions then is a must not only to give their children the moral support they so deserve but also as a break from the routines and the humdrum of their simple lives. They prepare for such event.

...because primarily, it is your backup memory when your mental hard drive bugged down. The following illustration (actually, from my electronic journal of 16 January 2009) drives this point. Journal Entry 16 January 2009 21:53 GMT +8: "I attended for the first time a supposed regular reunion of the Batch 84 of the long gone Roxas Memorial College of Arts and Trades. It was grand as it was our silver alumni homecoming. We prided ourselves to be the last graduate of RMSAT and the first of RMCAT ( Batas Pambansa 471 was signed into law by Marcos on June 10, 1983. Ma'am Tupas however noted that another reason that we should be proud of our batch is the fact that with us are two of the richest few personalities in Aklan--don't name them please). Our school (the Related Subjects Bldg) got burned when Tay Celoy was the administrator. It was later on absorbed by the Aklan Agricultural State College when by a republic act ( RA 9055 ) the latter was made into a university making

Executive Director Ludovico D. Badoy of the National Historical Commission of the Philippines has provided us with additional references to farther our research on our historic past. Some of those he outlined can be electronically read, although the would be researcher has to have at least elementary background in Spanish language (I wonder what happened to the proposal of incorporating again the Spanish language in our school curricula. Was it included in the purported 12-year educational cycle?). Abella y Casariego, Enrique. Descripcion fisica, geologica y minera en bosquejo de la isla de Panay . Manila:Tipo-lit de Chofre y ca., 1890. Page 66 lists down the physical/geological description of the Jal-o River and points out that its source is at Igmailig mountain which is also where the headwaters of Panay and Aklan rivers spring from. I am not yet through reading it though. Annual Report of the Bureau of Education. (Vol. 1, no. 21). Manila:Bureau of Printing, 1921. Census of the Phil

The following poems were written after the Guinsaugon event some years back. I deem it fitting to rededicate them to the victims and the relatives of those who suffered from the tragic event in Japan. Burial of Hopes The brown avalanche Smashed on the green roofed Magsaysay building Suppressing the laughter Of young hopes Painting Guinsaugon A horrible scenery! Misery I’m a withered leaf Fallen early from a sturdy Balete tree; I’m a juvenile caterpillar Yet tired with this business of eating And crawling and struggling for the top; I’m an insignificant dirt Trampled upon by busy feet Along Ayala Avenue Solitary and hopeless Doubtful even of the dawn of another day. The Sprouting of Hopes Paint me a somber sky Of sad purple clouds on a yellow canvass And a horizon of velvety field Of magenta red stained on a lonely land Remember to detail a hazy mountain Defaced but distant Raging still on the rescue team

God of Life, we are confronting this reality that at times life is not just an 8.9 magnitude earthquake and an overwhelming 10-meter tsunami, but a meltdown of our internal uranium. It is being forced into our psyche that it is a wildfire suddenly swiped by a flash flood then finished off by a mudslide. Alas, life is an insane rapist armed with a submachine gun, unrestrained and indifferently spraying bullets of fire into the innocent and the unborn. It is some rabid dogs hunting in packs or a prowling lion waiting for an ambush or a Damocles sword hanging on our heads. Oh, Wisdom Augustine was tempted to contain but could not, our reason dictates: Be afraid. Build walls. Legislate more laws. Create armies and manufacture weapons of mass distraction. Subdue the earth. Tame nature. Exploit resources. Get insurance policy. Please forgive our unbelief, oh faithful Creator. We are a proud creature. We prided our will and our intellect. We deem ourselves creators and lords of the Earth. We

( This was originally entered as the foreword to the souvenir program of the 2nd Grand Alumni Homecoming of the Balete Elementary School way back in 2008. I am releasing it here again in anticipation to the 3rd homecoming hopefully this October 2011 ) " I shall be telling this with a sigh Somewhere ages and ages hence: Two roads diverged in a wood, and I-- I took the one less traveled by, And that has made the difference. " -Robert Frost "The Road Not Taken" Marlon who wore his hair soaked in Sunflower pomade epitomized the "proper kid next door". He carried his Golden Gate notebooks in a plastic envelop with care as if a treasure of great worth. Despite his poverty, he was always trim and smart-looking. He was often seen on stage interpreting Fandango sa Ilaw. That perhaps won the esteem of his teachers and classmates that he consistently got elected as class president. He seemed dignified and responsible, he being y

This is a postscript to my blog entry last March 4. I just discovered that I can share YouTube videos on Blogger. So grateful, I am. This reminds me of the Spanish dictum: " No te acostaras sin saber una cosa mas ." Yes, so glad and grateful to have learned something before to-day ends.

What used to be the road leading up to Barangay Arcangel Balete, Aklan (the LGU has this rehabilitated) In the silence of my office, the ears of my remembrance hear echoes of Enya' s song of sigh of a heart being free... Under the heaves we journey far On the roads of life we are wanderers So let love rise, let love depart For there is hope in the lover's heart. If you search for love search with your heart And having found it give it wings to fly if it wants to leave But if love is meant to be, Hope is home and the heart is free.

Behold! I'm alive, breathing the fresh air of hope. I'm overwhelmed by a dream of fatta a lan' as Lennie Small puts it. I long to get there sooner. In great anticipation, I played on Neil Young's haunting rendition of Home On The Range acappella. It sounded great that I had played it again and again today. Good thing is my daughters tolerated the "alien music" (read, oldie soundtrack) beating on their music box. Late in the night, as my youngest lay on her bed, she asked me to sing it to her one more time. Reading Steinbeck: http://www.amazon.com/Mice-Penguin-Great-Books-Century/dp/0140177396

Bisan sa hapunanon eon lang Ikaw makaibahan Banwang tinubuan Sa guihapon, Engkantada sa akong panumduman. Kultura Balete was introduced purposely to inspire Baleten-ons, the young ones most especially to appreciate our heritage as a people and as a community with its own unique and diverse culture and tradition. It aims to awaken the creative in each of us and for us to articulate those innate germs playing in our heads and hearts. The celebration last February 21 was a success by our own standards keeping in mind that it was our first to launch such a program. Hon. Lachica and the rest of the Municipal Tourism and Development Council are to recreate it next year and hope to God that it will be a lot better than that one we had. Hopefully, more will contribute pieces and ouvre to add up colors and diversity to our collections. We encourage young artists and poets to use indigenous media and expressed themselves in our language for its own development. Underneath are some of my experime

(The following article is my daughter's piece--her entry to the BFP sponsored Feature Writing Contest for Elementary pupils as part of the Fire Prevention Awareness Month. The original title is, "Befriending Fire" and this is her third attempt in interpreting the theme: Fire Prevention Towards Development) Fire is one of nature’s best gifts to mankind. Having tamed it, men of old set themselves apart from the wild beasts. It opened men to the vast possibilities that lesser animals failed to have. Befriending fire ushers them to greater heights. Before, men are like the tigers and the wolves. They were both predators. They hunted their games and ate them raw. They never learned to cook. They never heard of beefsteaks and sunny sideup. “Ew,” says my little sister. “Cavemen were like the aswang and the momo . They ate uncooked foods.” The lazy ones are like the cavemen too because they don’t know how to cook. They just buy hamburger at Jollibee. They never learn how to us

That's a statement of fact: A JS Prom is not a prom when a president dies. Let me take you back to Balete Academy in March of 1957. The plans were all set. The 4th year students were to play hosts as they were about to initiate the juniors of their pivotal roles as the incoming seniors comes SY 1957-1958. They had the schedule set on March 25, 1957 and all (that is, the juniors and the seniors) were excited. The ballroom was readied and sparkling. The program was already in place and committees were created and constituted. At home, my mother who was in her junior year then was busy sewing her dress for the event during weekends as my grandfather can't afford the services of a professional dressmaker. Then came the grim news. Mt. Pinatubo exploded. No. Not the volcano. I mean the airplane that carried the most popular President of the Philippine Government, the late Ramon Magsaysay. Barely a few minutes taking off from Cebu Airport early that morning of March 17, 1957, the