By the Jal-o River

The exigencies of life--money, time, work, distance, family--have been the prime reasons for my failure to spend a couple of days at the Trappist Monastery in Guimaras for my annual retreat this year. The abbey has been my place of refuge since the time I distance myself from the "urban caves" some years past. It is some place I long to be but can't. It is the distant home I want to return to but not yet. My heart is pulled towards it, only that the corporal body resists. Yet, my spirit soars often into it and is made well by just the sound of its silence and sighing of its monks. But I pass on this Lent without having gone there, physically. And I'm sad. My consolation is provided by the net. I goggled "Virtual Retreat" and it showed me thousands of options. I tried to be specific with my search, encoding the phrase, "Virtual Retreat for the Holy Week" in the search frame and the result was almost akin. Some of the finds which have attracted my e

I'm home alone starting today. My family, together with my household help left for the big city to attend the Manocan family reunion. So for a while, I'm a bachelor (again) or almost feeling that way. But aside from feeling that way, I find myself burdened with myriads of household obligations. My wife has this real farmville right in our compound and beyond in our orchard. Just this morning I realize that maintaining a farm for a part-time farmer is difficult. Take a look at my morning schedule for you to appreciate: 4:15 a.m. - Rising/Lauds 4:30 - House Chores Doing beds/Tidying up my room 5:30 - Herding and Shepherding of Farm Animals (Goats, Swine, Chicken and Fowls) - Feeding/Tidying up of Pets (Lovebirds, Hamsters, Bunnies, Dogs) - Soaking the ornamentals and the lawn 6:30 - Shower 6:45 - Breakfast prep (Reheating leftovers) 7:00 - Breakfa

Totog is our tenant. He lives uphill in my wife's property, just some 50 meters behind our house. He and his wife have lived in that quiet small valley when they had only a couple of children. Now, their marriage have been blessed with four boys and a girl, all working though irregularly. Soon, he will be a grandfather by his eldest, For quite sometime now, he cleared a small area behind our home and planted it with corn. He's aware of the impending shortage of foodstuff so in his own little way, labored to produce some corn for the market. Although he's been blessed with occasional rain the summer breeze and the noonday heat scorched the soil dramatically. Most of the kernels have already sprouted, I saw them one morning some weekend past. But when I made another ocular visit yesterday, I was saddened that the plants have barely grown. Totog complained of the erratic weather. He reported too that most of the area is acidic. Finally, he proclaimed that the kernels were made

Restlessness keeps me searching for more--no, for something else which may not be necessarily more. What it is, I don't know. But the longing is best expressed at looking at something far off and away. The distant scene attracts. The elusive seems desirous. The not-here tickles the mind and sets the heart aflame. And a flaming heart reveals the emptiness inside. Becoming but never be. Overflowing and yet empty. Mobile though not seeing the things passed by. Perhaps, I'm moving that fast. Perhaps, I rush frantically into the morrow without having enjoyed today. Just this afternoon, I stumbled upon a Jesuit website which proffered a 3-minute retreat . Without so much ado, I clicked on the button hoping that my soul's hunger will be satisfied. But it didn't. I was too preoccupied to internalize the device, too restless to sit down and still my soul, even for just three minutes.

Summer heats up. The kids subconsciously complained of the heat. So we decided sleeping in the living room instead. But tonight, rain came unexpectedly. And as they say in tropical countries, when it rains, it pours! So the kids have a good night sleep and I supposed, Totog, our tenant, will be happy to hope that the kernels he planted in our orchard last Sunday will sprout out exultantly in days to come. The Department of Agriculture forecasts a shortage in rice, so I prodded Totog to clear the wasteland behind our house so that we could plant corn to supplement the diminishing supply. With the promise of an equitable share and additional cash incentives, Totog was happy to comply.

Summer heats up. Our lawn is turning brownish. Vita and Vida are busy each afternoon watering the ornamentals in the yard while Vera is always excited taking a bath. The other day, she discovered the old well into which pristine water from the spring within our orchard flow. She beckoned to plunge into its depth oblivious of the danger that might befall her frail body. Her persistence won over our reluctance prompting us to commission our tenant's sons to clean up the plunge pool and its environs. Thus, just this morning, the entire family had a "picnic" of Skyflakes and ice-cold Nestea beside our improvised pool as the kids bathe into the hole.

Apol Cleope has another story he loves to tell. Tay Polding was the inspector of CBCo (not so sure if it is spelled correctly, but what I mean is the bus during their time which was the predecessor of 606 ) and his buddy, Jepe Roding, was asking him to produce beer. The opportunity came when a bus of the company he worked with passed by. As the bus stopped over for its routine inspection, the inspector flailed the conductor and asked him how much money he had in hand. When upon showing the money, he requested that the said amount be turned over to him as he badly needed it. He promised the conductor though that he will return it by the morrow. And so the conductor obliged and Tay Roding and Tay Polding went into their usual carousing session. That one particular day passed idly over several bottles of San Miguel and suddenly the next day was hailed by Tay Polding's rooster. The morning was wonderfully gay and yet Tay Polding was cranky. He voiced out his worry to Tay R

The Christian communities in the Parish of Our Lady of the Immaculate Conception in Batan, Aklan are experiencing a sort of aggiornamento in practicing their faith through renewed catechesis. This sort of revitalized witnessing to the Word evolved out of the introduction of monthly masses in the chapels and schools all throughout the jurisdictional bounds of the parish. Today, all public schools within the Batan parish, both elementary and secondary, have appropriated 90-minute catechetical instructions given voluntarily by the teachers themselves for their pupils or students. The transformation though did not come that easy. Sometime in August 2007, the Batan parish welcomed Msgr. Pedro C. Frac as its parish priest. The Bishop of Kalibo also appointed as the monsignor’s associates a couple of priests (right now, Fr. Charles V. Isagan and Fr. Antonio C. Supranes). Together, these dedicated servants of God, reached out to their people through consistently holding masses in th

Sometime in 2002, Msgr. Pedro C. Frac, then the parish priest of the Balete Parish, invited scholars from the Hohenheim University in Stuttgart Germany to conduct onsite study concerning the upland rice in Balete. Prof. Klaus Becker of the Institute of Animal Production in the Tropics and Subtropics under the Department of Aquaculture System and Animal Nutrition of that university responded by sending in doctoral student, Michael Frei, to conduct research in the uplands of Oquendo, Guanko, Cortes and Arcangel. The project pushed through immediately upon the arrival of the researcher. For several weeks Mr. Frei interacted with farmers and some parish workers/volunteers and managed to collect samples of almost all of the upland rice variety available. Those samples were sent for laboratory analysis in Stuttgart while Mr. Frei wrote his dissertation . Much later on, Prof. Becker himself came over to see for himself the place. He tried to interact with several group of people co

The Municipal Election Registrar has scheduled a series of Voters Information/Education Campaign concerning the forthcoming automated elections. The activity is geared to heighten the awareness of the voting public to these historic state-of-the-art local and national elections. The voting public had been invited and the turn out surprised the Provincial Election Registrar who noted that in other municipalities where the COMELEC had conducted similar activity attendance was diminutive. For their part, the uncontested local candidates (a historic one for the municipal level in Aklan or even perhaps in the entire Visayan regions) want to complement the effort of the MER. It was suggested that instead of campaigning, they would educate their constituents concerning the mechanics of the automated elections. That way, they could keep themselves busy and satisfy their preconditioned minds of keeping in touch with their people during the entire campaign period. I supposed that this li

Si Juan Bautista hay ro naga-aman ku daean nga dapat naton agyan agod nga makasueod kita sa espiritu ku pahanon it Quaresma. Kilaeahon ta ro atong kaugalingon, ro atong kakueangan ag rong kamatuoran nga responsable kita tanan sa mga makakueogmat nga bagay-bagay nga nagakahanabo makaron sa atong sosyudad. Dapat eang nga ako-on ta nga makasasaea kita ag nga nagakinahang-eang kung kapatawaran it Dios. Raya ra hay indi guid man makapabag-o sa atong kalibutanan pero hay mangin daean ra katon paadto sa matuod-tuod nga kahilwayan ag kaeuwasan. Ro katilingban nga nagapangayo it kapatawaran sa Dios hay magahimakas nga makabaeay it sosyudad nga bag-o ag hamueain sa rayang kinaandan naton makaron o sa ratong guinahandum nga tukuron ku mangin-aeamon nga mga ideyalista. Rong katilingban nga nagahangop it kapatawaran hay magahimakas nga mabaeay rong sosyudad it pag-iegmanghuran it tanan kay Kristo-Jesus kon siin ro minatuod-tuod nga hustisya, paghidaet, kabuganaan ag pag-eaeangay hay ma

Apol Cleope loves to tell of an incident involving Tay Roding and La' Narsie. Tay Roding was then the Chief of Police of Balete and La' Narsie ran a store somewhere in Ilawod along the unpaved National Road. Tay Roding and a batch of friends were early into a carousing session and the remaining bottles were drying up. Considering the animated discussion vis-a-vis the empty pocket, he sent an errand to the store owner with a note: Dear Nay Narsie: Piyari ay it sang ka kaha nga beer ro gadaea it sueat ngara. Impas man ron kon hibayran. Sa guihapon, Roding

One late afternoon early in March, the ricefield by the Balete Elementary School was oozing with golden glow. From a distance, one could smell the aroma of ripening ricestalks, its hays gently dancing to the tune of the cool summer breeze. The setting sun painted a somber scene as if telling me that this day will never be again.