By the Jal-o River

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