By the Jal-o River

A screen copy of my entry at WCJ I received a notice from the publisher of my other personal blog informing me of the following: Dear author,     After nearly 5 years and more than 7 million words written, WcJ is ceasing service. In order to give you a chance to retrieve your writings if you so desire, WCJ is now available again until the end of 2011. To retrieve the contents of your journal(s), you should visit the site and login and then select the journal you'd like to retrieve. Then click the Print button, and a new page will be shown with all your journal entries, in "New to old" order. If you'd prefer to see them in the order you wrote them, just click "Old to new" at the top of the page. When you're happy with how that looks, you can use your web browser to save the contents of the page, or you can click Print to print it, or to save it as a PDF if you have that functionality available. Kindest regards, The Team Reading it, something ins

A police officer came over my office the other day to ask if the Sanggunian has any relevant legislation regulating the selling or display of firecrackers especially during the Christmas season. I responded in the negative. Balete ranks among the few municipalities in Aklan to have the "luxury" of  having a firetruck and more importantly, the presence of personnel from the Bureau of Fire Protectio n. Armed with a Comprehensive Land Use Plan and Zoning Ordinance, and the mandate of the BFP to implement and enforce the provisions of the Fire Code , the Sanggunian is spared from legislating "more" ordinances concerning the regulation of those firecrackers that stray into our quiet town in this time of the year. It may of archival interest however to mention that the Municipal Council has an ordinance on the matter as early as 1956. On February 1, 1956, the Municipal Council of Balete, then part of the Province of Capiz, and composed of the following: Mr. Apolin

A lot of people have decided to postpone their long planned Christmas parties and in lieu thereof, donated their entire budget to augment the rehabilitation fund/relief of those victimized by the shocking flashflood that washed out Cagayan de Oro and Iligan City. Apart from the shock is the seemingly lost of appetite to celebrate the season. "How could you have Christmas party when your countrymen down south are grieving for their lost?", they rhetorically asked. The President got lambasted in the process for going out of his way to attend such a party at the height of the tragedy (for how one could refuse if you have a Valerie Concepcion as guest performer?) Often times, we fall into the assumption that Christmas is Christmas party, or garish decorations, lavish food and exotic gifts. Christmas has to be merry and bright otherwise it is not Christmas. Then when we find ourselves in such unfavorable situation, we qualify ours as "bleak Christmas"," mamae

Merry Christmas. Bleak Christmas. Are there such a thing?  Last week, I asked my friend, Lagumbay, if he can spare me sometime to a bottle of Emperador. He profusely excused himself for the moment, disclosing in the process that he has to attend a retreat at Sibaguan, Capiz.  The invitation was meant to process his traumatic experience. Lagumbay and his family have barely recovered from the flood of November 15. His house was one of the eight houses washed out by the raging waters off the Jal-o. I was entertaining to sense some tinge of resentment on his voice. But his was placid. He promised me in a placating tone to make out some time of talking out some things over a bottle of brandy after the retreat. It is a priority: to confront his Creator of the miseries and trials of his life. He wanted to give his God the benefit of doubt. Like the prophet Job, my friend fight on to keep the faith: "Naked I came forth from my mother's womb and naked shall I die. The Lord gives

Today is the feast of St. Nicolas of Myra (December 6). Of course, only a handful know about it. Less even cared about it. Saints are no longer popular these days. Much more their feast days. What people cared is that Piolo Pascual, their idol set upon a pedestal, remains true to the image he let his fans made of him all these years. As for old St. Nick, well, (pardon the word) he stinks--unless we reinvent him and call him by his popular name. And of course, by presenting him as the one who makes dreams and wishes come true, especially this Yuletide season. Balete LGU employees sing Christmas carols for the poor Take for instance our Paskwa sa Banwa. Considering that Balete was the first in the Aklan to stage a grand Christmas decoration by lighting trees within the Municipal Park and Plaza, we deemed it proper that the Baleten-on constituencies have a responsibility in sustaining this laudable pageantry through collaboration with the local government and the various civil soc

Behold, the Katueanga! "Tay, sueanga ako makaron", my daughter requested me. What she meant to say is that I send her off and in my tongue, it should be put, "Tay, hatdan ako hu." The other day, she inquired when I asked her to cook rice, "Hay sin-o ma-obra it kaeayo?" Her mind is constructing the question in English and literally translated it, unaware of the idioms, "Who will make fire?" It is sad to note that the younger generation is becoming alienated from our native tongue. It is sadder to discover that their minds work and construct images in weltanschauung far different from our own. Even then, I got some opportunity especially when there are power interruptions and the kids are forced to huddle together on my lap asking for stories or some old folk songs to sing. From my point of view, brownouts are blessings in disguise, freeing us from our dependence of electronic gadgets that otherwise steal us our attention. For instance, the

A historic high, however one might take it, is what the inundation of the Jal-o River yesterday morning is all about (by Balete's standard). Here are some of the factors to consider this assertion:    a.  No storm was forecasted by the PAG-ASA; a night before, only an inter-tropical convergence zone was reported to have been spotted off the Surigao provinces;    b. A sustained downpour for the entire morning of November 15 and sporadic rains in the afternoon;    c. Flashflood soaked the low lying portions of the Poblacion and the floodplains of the contiguous barangays along the Jal-o in a matter of time;    d. Fatal landslides took place in several barangays, notably in Barangay Feliciano (God bless the soul of Herminia Cuales);    e. The raging waters washed out several houses abutting the banks of the Jal-o, forcing more than a hundred souls to seek refuge at the Uphill, my friend Lagumbay and his entire household included;    f. Hundreds of motorists (and perhaps

      Besides me today are some photocopied manuscripts culled from a bundle called " Elecciones de Gobernadorcillos de Capiz ". With it is my handy magnifying glass and a newly sharpened Mongol. I've just read the whole bulk of it and now am appreciating their relevance.     When I discovered their existence at the National Archives, I just can't believe my eyes. But the truth of the matter is, in my hands are the official ballots of the May 8, 1893 elections of gobernadorcillo. I read and I quote one: " D. Ambrocio Aranas, gobernadorcillo actual de este pueblo, propone para succederle on el bienio de 1893 al 95. a. D. Toribio Oquendo D. Eulalio Feliciano       Balete 8. de Mayo de 1893      (the signature of the voter) "     In my possession are some 15 ballots duly signed by the voters--all officials of the pueblo in their capacities as either "cabeza actuales" (there were 11 barangays in 1893) or "capitan pasado".  Don

Right after the priest gave the final blessing, the throng of faithful rushed into the street that leads to the public cemetery. It was already nine o’ clock in the morning of November 1, 2000 and the crowded graveyard was, as it has always been on All Saints’ Day, venue to the festive mood. The juxtaposition of women lighting candles as they murmured verses of prayers for their dearly departed relatives and the carousing of Tanduay by men were common scenes on this time of the year.  But what was unusual on that fateful Wednesday morning was Ray, armed with a .45 automatic, half-naked, shouting to the top of his voice: “INAWAY!” The tradition of drinking intoxicating liquor in the cemetery every All Saints’ Day is not unique of Balete alone. Almost everywhere throughout the country, All Saints’ Day celebration has been observed to include unrestrained drinking. The Sanggunian Bayan of the Municipality of Balete, Aklan, notwithstanding its respect for the tradition of celeb

The following entry was originally written sometime in January 11, 2008 as a press release during the Higante Parade in Kalibo, Aklan to inform the public of the Baleten-on senator. Madyaas Pen later decided to publish it on its own initiative.  In 1998, the Sangguniang Bayan of the Municipality of Balete , Aklan adopted Resolution No. 98-37 requesting the National Historical Institute to set up a historical marker in memory of the late Senator Jose Cortes Altavas. Ten years after, the NHI has yet to act on such request. The LGU though would not be dithered by the intricacies of the bureaucracy. Somehow, it finds the occasion to provide it the opportunity to communicate to its constituency the richness of its history and its contribution to national and local politics. That is why, when it was invited to participate in the Higante Contest and Aklan Festivals Parade 2008 on January 16, 2008 in Kalibo, Aklan, it readily commissioned the fabrication of a higante figure of it

Psalm 91 You who dwell in the shelter of the Most High and abide in the shade of the Almighty Say to the Lord: "My refuge, my stronghold, my God in whom I trust!" It is he who will free you from the snare of the fowler who seeks to destroy you; He will conceal you with His pinions and under his wings you will find refuge. You will not fear the terror of the night nor the arrow that flies by day, Nor the plague that prowls in the darkness nor the scourge that lays waste at noon. A thousand may fall at your side, ten thousand fall at your right, You, it will never approach; his faithfulness is buckler and shield. Your eyes have only to look to see how the wicked are repaid. You who have said: "Lord, my refuge!" and have made the Most High your dwelling. Upon you no evil shall fall, no plague approach where you dwell. For you has he commanded his angels, to keep you in all your ways. They shall bear you upon their hands lest you strike your

How one defines something which is in flux? Has anyone tried? What is the sound of the clap of one hand?, a disciple was asked by his master. He got slap when he failed to answer and that was it. He had an awakening. He just knew what is the sound of the clap of one hand. But what about becoming? Well, let me define it today--It is a motorcycle parking by the road. I am however afraid that it might be different tomorrow.

A philosopher opted to spend seven years by the Jal-o with a hook, a line and a sinker to contemplate on the meaning of life. On his seventh year, he chanced upon a beautiful lass doing laundry by the bank of the river who asked him what he's been doing all those years. "Oh, fishing." he answered, and added to keep the conversation going. "I wanted to know what life really is." "And have you got the answer?" "Yes," he answered. "Life is like the Jal-o." "That's nice," she responded. "But can you explain it to me more clearly how is that that life is like the Jal-o?" "Ah," he finally replied after some thought. "I really don't want to argue with you. And maybe you're right. Perhaps, life is not like the Jal-o after all."

I love books. I love books that delve on values most especially. Thirteen of my favorites, i.e., something that I've read more than three times and cared enough to hand out as gifts or lend to my friends are as follows: First You Have to Row a Little Boat: Reflections on Life and Living by Richard Bode; Availability: The Problem and the Gift by Robert J. Wicks The Road Less Traveled: A New Psychology of Love, Traditional Values and Spiritual Growth by M. Scott Peck Conjectures of a Guilty Bystander by Thomas Merton The Little Prince by Antoine de Saint Exupery Hope for the Flowers by Trina Paulus The Alchemist  by Paolo Coelho Small is Beautiful: Economics as if People Mattered by E.F. Schumacher  Myth of Sisyphus, and Other Essays  by Albert Camus Jesus Before Christianity by Albert Nolan Tuesdays with Morrie: An Old Man, A Young Man and Life's Greatest Lesson  by Mitch Albom Voices of Silence: The Lives of Trappists Today by Frank Bianco All I Really Need

Photo courtesy of Catholic Online I have been hunting down my old notes, photo albums and journals these past few days. I was particularly interested on those memorabilia associated with the last visit of the late Pope John Paul II who is due to be beatified on May 1 to coincide the celebration of the Divine Mercy Sunday. I was unlucky finding my journal of 1995 though. Nanay helped me out digging up the dusty bulks of photo albums in a nook behind the altar of our house. The activity though had her sent back through those captured moments into some bygone years when life was simple and quiet.  Pope John II addressing the faithful at the UST ground in 1995 on the occasion of the 10th World Youth Day. But I was a single-minded mule, determined at finding just anything that is associated with Blessed Lolek. I take anything by that degree as something worthwhile to pan on the dying embers in the hearts of men, mine primarily. After a while and a few sneeze, I got my price

Balete's unique Rizal Monument after Rodin's The Thinker (Distorted in Photoshop) We used to hear it often said. Children sing-song among their peers: " Tik, pak, bong, binuno, inaswang !" And the children would scamper to find a safe place to hide as the " aswang " (the "it") hunts them down in the shadows of pasaw , lumboy and the bandstand. The game is called Bong, a variation of Paeanagu-an (Hide and Seek). The home base is an empty tin can that the players have to kick to save their ass from the "hungry witch" whose attention is diverted to retrieving the misplaced tin can. But I missed playing it in my "brief" childhood. We were not allowed to stay late outside of our house. Orasyon , aside from being a moment of prayer, was meant to mark the start of our curfew. Tatay never explained why and we dared not question his policy. Perhaps, he was afraid of the aswang prowling in the dark. Old people believe in its exi

Entrance to the "Uphill" (Balete Elementary School) The program cum invitation proclaims, "Au revoir!" and then subtitled by a quote: "The mediocre teachers tells (sic). The good teacher explains. The superior teacher demonstrates. The great teacher inspires." The Department of Education in the District of Balete is honoring Mr. Raul M. Jimera, its District Supervisor for more than a decade who is due to retire today. All of the school heads, principals and those who were close to him have been asked to deliver their "reflections" while the schools, both elementary and secondary are expected to come up with some presentations. I was invited to witness the event but is still undecided. Mr. Jimera was one of the "effective" mentors during my elementary years. He taught Industrial Education to us boys and was our worthy Scout Master. My batch and my contemporaries were proud that in our time, the District of Balete won the most awa

        The Asylum story of Kahlil Gibran at Paolo Coelho's Blog reminded me of the "classic" encounter of Leticia and Tikboy years back.         Leticia is a well known character in rural Balete. She is one of those "itinerant" mentally sick people roaming about the town's small urban area. What made her standout from among the rest is her genial and engaging personality. Tikboy on the other hand was an organic member of the community's peacekeeping force. He was equally popular for being a huge man with a small soprano voice. He is now retired and has devoted his life to farming. A view of the town of Balete from the Municipal Cemetery. (A sketch done in 4 January 1999)         Now, about the so called "classic" conversation these two characters had when Tikboy was still on active duty. He was manning the station one summer afternoon when there and about came Leticia with her characteristic grin flashing her yellow brownish teeth in f

A friend sends invite to a concert featuring multi-awarded French pianist Laure Favre-Kahn . She says that it is for the girls of Chameleon Association in Passi, Iloilo, Philippines. A piano interpretation on the ouvre of Chopin and Schumann by the association's ambassadress to raise fund for the abused and the marginalized children being housed and cared for in the 600-square meter compound in Passi City. The concert is set on 27 April 2011 at the auditorium of the University of the Philippines Iloilo City campus. Then on the next day, Ms. Favre-Kahn will do another at the PhilAm Life Theater at UN Avenue, Ermita, Manila. A similar concert was held earlier at Abracadabar, Paris. The concert is a collective efforts by French and Filipino friends of Laurence Ligier and by the members and supporters of the Chameleon Association, notably by the French Alliance in Manila, Ros Music Center and the French Embassy. Some years back, Ms. Favre-Kahn's concert for the association

Apart from the crowd but perfectly in communion with all . "What a waste of time and talent", a French economist once remarked after his brief stay in Anao years back. He was reacting to the way things were going on where he perceived that a lot of brilliant minds were available most especially in civil society and church-based organizations but in the government. The reaction was raised after somebody "local" handed him a copy of E.F. Schumacher 's Small is Beautiful . Apparently, he has not heard of it. Reading it in two setting while reclining on a hammock hanging under the shades of coconut palms, he stood up and paced back and forth like a Peripatetic and suddenly blurted out loud,"You Filipinos have great minds but you are not in the government! You are indifferent to your government. You waste your time on your religiosity and outlandish preoccupation.There is too much heaven than earth on your mind." The Filipinos he was referring to were lowly

_ To come to the quiet in search for the Beloved, let us set a week apart from the rest. A holy week to reflect on the Paschal mysteries of the Beloved. A holy week of gathering the broken pieces to reform them into whole. A holy week for renewal. Come, exiles, come to the quiet to witness the first full moon of springtime. Come to sing, "Hosannas" in the wilderness as we are not welcome in the urban caves because we are Samaritans. Come let us pursue the Beloved in the mountains of Benitinan and the hills of Agtawagon and Eumati. Come, let us wash each others feet by the Jal-o River in the spirit of brotherhood and break bread with the least amongst us. Stay with us even for one hour in the Garden. Let us pray unceasingly even for an hour that we may not succumb to betraying the Beloved. The moon is waning but let our hearts be waxing in vigilance for the hour is come. And when they caught up with us, be at peace. Be not afraid. Come to the quiet and trust in the Beloved'

Madueom ro agahon. Halin pa kabii hasta makaron, sige rong tangis ku eangit. Hambae abi kung PAG-ASA hay umpisa eon it tigsieilak. Hapan-uhan man ngani ni Totog nga madasig maatas rong tubi sa sapa daea ku tayuyon nga silak ku pilang adlaw eon nga nagtaliwan. Nagakaeangkag eon ngani imaw nga hisug-an na ro anang ginahitan ku Pebrero pat a ngato. Rong binhi it mais halin sa opisina kung Municipal Agriculturist hay owa ta gihapon hadapog. Abi na tayuyon eon rong silak. Pero hara, sige eo mat-a rong uean. Madueom ro agahon. Halin pa kabii hasta makaron, sige rong tangis ku eangit. Owa kasaot it mayad rong mga daeaga ag meron sa Baylihan. Besperas it Fiesta kabii idto sa Arcangel. May reyna nga ginkoronahan si Konsehal. Matawhay mat-a pero hay nagamueomueo ro sambilog nga meron ay kuno hay owa nat-a hisaoti ro anang crush ay sige 'ta ro asaw-asaw. Kanugon. Madueom gid a ro agahon. Halin pa abi kabii rong uean. Naghueaw man lang it madali kainang aga-aga pero tumangis eo mat a ro eangit

So you want to know the art of playing pitiw . That you are reading this piece tells me so. Pitiw, my friend, is my old folks' version of the western world's baseball or softball, only that we don't use a ball but a stick. The knowledgeable will surely react at my simile (for it is actually a "snake game"), but let me finish. Let me describe it by laying down the materials and rules. First, the materials: 1 stick, 2 cm diameter x 50 cm long - Kamagon is preferred but Coffee or Guava stem will do--they don't easily crack (This one serves as your bat) 1 stick, 2 cm diameter x 16 cm long - of the same wood with the bat (This serves as the ball or originally, the snake) Second, the venue: Find an open field to play--we used to play on the streets when the traffic was almost zero during our bygone years. Today, the Ceres Bus and the " Ro-Ro " are making a lot of cracks on the newly paved road which are ideal for playing Pitiw but the busy traffic wo

Of course you don't know what it is. Anaea-taea , my old neighbor called it. A seasonal plant thriving along the banks of nameless creek passing my place, I discovered it accidentally one Sunday afternoon while exploring my orchard. I stepped on it and it defused a sweet palatable scent akin to the aroma of star anise and some other menthol herbs. To my amusement and curiosity, I collected a handful, washed them and courageously diced and sprinkled them on a pansit . Wow, my wife loved it!

Vicente Manansala's Luksong Tinik (1973)  Summer indeed is come. All the schools at all levels in Balete are done with their respective culminating activities for the SY 2010-2011. Congratulatory speeches and valedictions had been delivered. Gifts were given and enjoyed by the recipients. The binakoe and inubaran and pansit were feasted upon. Tanduay and Ginebra were emptied and talks of brawls of the intoxicated were repeated to the amusement of those "honorable drunks". Summer indeed is come. Nowhere are the typical boisterous loiterers hanging around the plaza. Suddenly its emptiness and the silence permeating the streets paint a desolate town. But not entirely. The Narra trees are abloom, their fallen yellow flowers adorning the streets and the birds are nesting. Cloudless sky and the once soaked ground dried up fast. Despite the sunny days, children preferred staying at home watching tv or at Juris playing CounterStrike or Plants vs. Zombies .