Farmville in Balete

When Panay Telecommunication Company (Pantelco) finally set foot in Balete on October of last year (2009), it brought along with it a virtual reality called "Farmville". Those Baleten-ons with access to the internet and who happened to have a Facebook account know what it is--or at least those who were innocently enticed by the gifts received from some "friends" or by those who invited them to be "neighbors".

The game, I supposed, was developed for the city-dwellers who dreamed of the idyllic life in the farm, who are exhausted with the hustle and bustle of the urban setting, oppressed by the monstrous traffic and the indifference of crowd to the affairs of each person. A form of escapism actually; something to entertain or distract boredom and angst out of one's psyche.

But the Farmville mania has invaded Balete, a rural/agricultural community which is regarded by those who visited it, both local and foreign as "paradise", "a beautiful place to retire", "simply beautiful". Why is this so could perhaps be attributed to its familiarity to these "farmers". While for those passersby, Balete's beauty maybe is a treat, to them, it is just ordinary--something they got to endure everyday, just like traffic.

Yet if that is so, why Farmville when they could choose some other virtual realities far different from the rural setting of Balete? Could it be that by their playing it they unconsciously satisfy their innate desire to have lands to till and call their own? (Some sort of transference, so to speak.) Could it be taken then as a social indicators for policymakers to consider?

I was amused to receive a note in my homepage from the Municipal Treasurer commenting concerning Farmville. His comment will surely elicit a lot of reactions.

The Gift of Jal-o to the Tinagong Dagat

Msgr. Frac paid me a "brief" (by the Msgr's standards) visit this morning. He was asking if I can help him and his parish in documenting his catechetical program (this one is a good story by itself) which he believe to be the first in the Diocese of Kalibo, if not in the ecclesiastical region of Panay. As we conversed, Vice Mayor Ric joined us and an animated exchange of ideas ensued comprising of a varied topics. One interesting story concerns the volume of oysters being harvested out of the Tinagong Dagat by oyster farm growers.

The topic reminded me of a documentary shown on a government-owned TV network about Oyster Forest. When I saw the schedule on the screen, I was thinking of an oyster forest underneath the sea. I later realized that oyster farmers in the Kesennuma Bay of Japan's Miyagi Prefecture have committed themselves to planting trees up in the Kitakami Highland as a means of preserving the gifts of the seas. The trees up in Mt. Murone was thus called Oyster Forest as they found out that broadleaf tree leaves that decay on the forest floor of the highlands make for a good humus. During rainy season, these humus are washed into the Okawa River down to the Kesennuma Bay. Oyster farmers in that area believed that humus plays a vital role in oyster farming. Hence, these oyster growers committed themselves to planting trees as well.

As I was explaining this point of view to my parish priest, he responded with so much interest. He noted that this technology would be very beneficial to his parishioners in Batan. He thus, requested me to surf the net about the matter as he believe that it could be replicated not only in Batan but within the Jal-o River watershed.

I was just glad to oblige as I subscribed to its beneficence. It took me several attempt however to find this link: http://www.epfnetwork.org/gifts.htm

Vita, Vida et Vera

People from all over called them, "tres marias"; my three daughters by my wife. Vita's full name is Vita Aurora. She was born at dawn on May of 2000 in our nipa hut. Her mother labored for more than 12 hours and was so weak when she finally decided to say hi to life at daybreak. Life at dawn, that's the literal meaning of her name.

My second child is named Alia Vida--the other life, in our lives. She got out from her mother's womb in a matter of a few minutes thus catching me off-guard. I supposed that Mae would labor long just as when she did with Vita. So when she was brought to the Labor Room of the hospital, I walked the corridors down to a store to buy some candies. The setting sun was kissing the Kalibo horizon when I ventured out of the hospital door. I was worried to see no familiar faces waiting by the Labor Room upon my return. The worries vanished though when somebody informed me that my unconscious wife and her baby girl were already brought to her room and the nursery respectively.

The third is Aurea Vera, Golden Truth, in Latin. She got her name as a reaction to the issue of the elusiveness in ferreting out the truths about so many controversies affecting the administration of Gloria Macapagal-Arroyo.

My tres Marias! My Life's saving grace! God's gift and signs along life's road.

A 40-Day Intramural Against the Devil at his Homecourt

Ash Wednesday is the beginning of the Quaresma, i.e., the forty days of Lent in the Liturgical Calendar. Basing on tradition, it is the season of asceticism, of mastering the flesh by practicing puasa (fasting) and paumod (abstinence) and of recognizing one's sinfulness and making amend for them through the practice of penitencia (penance through flagellation).

My daughter, Vita, reported that she had her forehead marked with ashes by her Public Schools District Supervisor. She's 9 and claimed that she can't eat meat today as she had the ashes on her forehead. She further explained that through it, her sins will be washed away.

Now, I am tempted to put the blame on bad catechism by ill-informed catechists. My sophisticated faith is too proud to bring me to my knees to admit that I was failing in my duties as the father to my daughters. The truth of the matter is that I am guilty of failing to teach my children the ways of following Christ.

I remember making a solemn vow of teaching my children the rudiments of Christianity. I've initiated the step, but always, I wander into the bush and failed to sustain the instructions. Thus, my daughter claimed that the ashes in her head will wash away her sins.

So I am renewing my vow today as we begin our forty-day intramural against the devil right at his homecourt. A good start would be an elementary exegesis into Mark's account of the baptism of Jesus by John at the River Jordan (Mark 1: 9-11); of Jesus being led by the Spirit into the desert where he will wrestle with Satan for forty days (Mark 1:12-13) and his eventual victory and proclamation of his mission (Mark 1:14-15).

Hence, I pray, call me again, Oh Lord, and in my paths in the world, make me for my daughters a channel of your peace. Amen.

A Mountain Crab Called Oeangkas

Oeangkas is a minuscule land crab which thrives in mountainous region of Balete, particularly in Benitinan. In dense forested areas, perceptive eyes could notice reddish pebble-like moving objects scavenging underneath fallen leaves. At a closer inspection, one would be surprised to note that said pebble-like reddish moving objects are small mountain crabs. Residents claimed that they are not edible one reason being they are too small for one to pay attention to.

Excerpts from My Journal of 1994

You say you want to meet your God. Alas, what you are after is not an easy task! It's a dangerous one as a matter of fact. Meeting God is a dangerous event.

But if by chance you meet him, don't let go of him. Hold him tight; wrestle with your God--until daybreak. For it is likely that you'll meet him at the twilight of your life. So let go of him only when it is already dawn, when the first streak of the sun awakens your sleeping heart.

A Stranger Named Aina

She came without a warning.

I was taking a break from what I called an alienating work in Ayala sometime in 1994. A few months back, I left the seminary with a bitter mind, a rationalizing heart and an agnostic spirit.
I thought that making myself busy in the Philippine prime financial district will distract me from the growing indifference--I used to call it my forlorn existence in an otherwise meaningless world. But I was mistaken. I found the wealth of Paseo de Roxas nauseating. Makati, while I was within its bosom for seven years was now strange and overwhelming. I just need to get out from her. At least for a while.

So I decided to take a break and went home to Balete. A vacation of two months would do, so I thought. I need her freshness and silence to sort out things. I need her shade as I rethink my perspectives and values in life. I while the days and they became months. Fr. Tito (my parish priest and mentor) was concerned and so he suggested that I volunteer myself in some people's organization. I heeded his advice and found myself in Our Lady of Providence, a community of women in an isolated Sitio Anao, Aranas. As they were into handmade paper making, I brought with me my watercolor and some old Chinese brushes. Just in case. It turned out that they proved to be handy.

For some ten months, I was their resident artist. What I failed to notice though was that gently, the Spirit of God exorcised that existentialist pretense out of my mind. Quietly, I found myself leading the community's Panimbahon (quasi-mass) on Sundays and teaching catechisms to children on Saturdays. The thought of going back to Manila was now remote. I was planning to take on another route.

Then she came. She belonged to a peer group of Assumptionistas on immersion program. I learned that she and her friends had just concluded their month long immersion in some depressed communities in Luzon (or was it in Iloilo?). They came to cap their experience with a week of spiritual retreat in Anao. In themselves, they were joy to behold. Their smiles and animated interactions attracted me most. I wonder what they got that they exuded an aura of freshness and hope. But of them, she stood out the most. There was something in her that made her special. She was such a special lady that I was inspired to sketch her enamoring smile in one of the pages of my journal. As I got to know her better (from third party), I scribbled atop my drawing my impressions of her. To me, her existence is indeed a miracle of God.

Who is Aina by the way? Why is she special?

For a start, Aina had a cancer. One of her limbs was ravaged by skin cancer. Every now and then she would undergo chemotherapy. I learned too that her parents got separated and that she and her younger brother had to schedule their time with them especially during vacations.

Amidst these defined evil, Aina affirms life and goodness. Not a trace of bitterness in her pretty face or a hint of it in her laughter I did notice during our brief encounters. She considered going back in Anao to help the women raise the quality of their produce. She got talents too in drawing--and she made use of it to advance the cause of others, the poor and the marginalized sectors most especially. But she failed to come back.

I later learned that she was doing cartoons in the Lifestyle section of the Philippine Daily Inquirer. I heard too that she was a cancer survivor and continued to affirm life by doing volunteer works with cancer victims in Migi's Corner and other centers.

I'd left Anao more than ten years ago. Much of the personal events that took place in that solitary place (the Frenchmen who visited it called it paradise) were hidden from my conscious mind and are kept in several notebooks which either now attracting silverfishes or gaining dusts in my attic. What lingers though in my heart is the memory of that stranger named Aina whom God so love unconditionally and whom he has made into his instrument of love for others to meet.

Happy Valentine's Day, Aina, wherever you may be!