This blog has moved out from this site and into its new home at http://redeemed-spirit.blogspot.com. Hope to see you there too. Thanks - Daxi Weida
Saturday, August 15, 2009
Wednesday, August 5, 2009
Five days of "Cory 101"
I was about to post some nice (and happy)-looking photos in Facebook the morning of Saturday when greeted by the very sad news about President Cory's passing. I admit I still had to let it sink in for a while - Cory is gone. Though the worst had been expected since terrible news began leaking out from her latest hospitalization, one cannot really prepare completely for such a moment. I had to postpone the posting of the photos.
If you are wondering where the profound grief is coming from, then I conclude that either (1) you were not around in the 1980s, (2) you were but were simply a disinterested person (3) you have not been reading your history, or (4) you have been locking yourself up inside your media-less room the last five days, or in times you were out, have been walking with ears plugged and head stooped, your eyes oblivious to the yellowed environs. The last five days saw the most comprehensive (and free) lecture series about President Cory (and the ideals she stood for) and you just missed it.
I remember exactly a week ago when a neighbor approached and asked while we (my family) were wheeling into our garage, what's with the yellow ribbons (tied to your gate and car)? We greeted him with a smile while my wife responded, it's for Cory. We did not seriously put malice on (the innocence of) his query. I just thought then, it won't be long, you will know why.
I myself would want to know more, why.
I am not a super avid fan of Cory Aquino for me to be a good source of discourse that can fully qualify the anguish of her passing and justify the adoration and honor bestowed on her. Well, I know her to be the first sitting president I saw in person. I will never forget the image of her visiting the wake of another equally consummate freedom-fighter Lean Alejandro whom I also adore but who was murdered in 1987. That image conveyed to me a lot about the sincerity of the once "grieving widow" who was now the leader of the country.
That must be the closest window I have had to knowing Cory's persona. The rest I happened to know only as it had been demonstrated in the way she courageously took up the challenge to lead the campaign against Marcos in 1985-86 and in her precarious but unwavering 6-year leadership of a country which was trying to recover from the ravages of dictatorship while continuously being besieged by extremists.
I have to admit too that I was among those who ended their romance with Cory's administration early: The unsolved double-murder of labor leader Ka Lando Olalia and Leonor Alay-ay right in the first year of Cory's reign; the massacre of farmers at Mendiola in January 1987 and its associated issue of the watered-down agrarian reform program; the retention of the American military bases; Lean's murder and the seeming baby treatment of military right-wingers. I was far less liberal; the disillusionment was overwhelming. [But I did advocate a critical YES to the 1987 Constitution; if only to show I was still hoping against hope].
Yet I was among the "early grievers" who began feeling the pain of the prospect of losing a leader whose virtues we sorely miss in these dire times, when news about her ailment came out. Yet I am among those deeply saddened by her eventual demise.
I was sure there were more things about Cory that I only knew of subconsciously which somehow made me mourn affectingly her loss. And I can only thank those who helped me confirm these through their personal testimonies given throughout the last five days - from the day she died; through her wake at La Salle and the Manila Cathedral; until her interment just a few moments ago - and broadcasted via the different media.
Yes, Cory's selflessness, her unwavering faith and purity of heart [Arevalo, 2009]. Virtues that served as the very foundation of her legacy of freedom and democracy to us Filipinos; a legacy now constantly being threatened by the continuing degradation of the very same virtues that founded it.
I can only thank Cory's family, colleagues, friends (and even foes) for sharing to us who really Cory was. The last five days was a much needed refresher, an enlightenment most wanted. I am sure our neighbor knows a lot better now. The people know a lot better now.
Good reads:
"We give her back to You, with grateful but breaking hearts" by Catalino Arevalo, SJ [video version here]
Cory Aquino and our Magical Democracy by Sheila Coronel
The Cory I Know by Paulynn P. Sicam
Presidentita vs the Brat Pack by Malou Mangahas
Who President Cory was to this martial-law baby by Veronica Uy
One Good Person by Conrado de Quiros
Our better selves - EMOTIONAL WEATHER REPORT by Jessica Zafra
Teddy Locsin's Eulogy for President Cory Aquino
The Day They Buried Cory Aquino by Virginia M. Moncrieff
Beyond Aquino's contradictory legacies by Herbert Docena
Celebrate what Cory truly represents by Emmanuel M. Hizon
Posted by Daxi Weida at 9:55 PM 1 comments
Labels Cory, Filipinos, government, politics
Monday, July 27, 2009
SONA 2009: PGMA in the zone but missing the point
I give the President's latest SONA a rating of 1 on a scale of 1-10. The piece was poorly written; the delivery more pathetic; its content unwanted.
I know a SONA traditionally follows an expected format. To borrow from UP professor Alex Magno, a SONA is basically a technical report (of accomplishments and broad plans) delivered by the country's chief executive to its board (which is Congress).
No one reports a grim picture to the board. And indeed much like in previous SONAs it went that PGMA delivered her latest filled with graphs of climbing bars and arrows and pictures of smiling faces of people. It was even supplemented by live exhibits well positioned in the gallery, among them the now world-renowned Manny Pacquiao (just about the only thing that lent credibility to the whole oral exhibition even if the Pacman's own accomplishments has got nothing to do with PGMA's administration at all).
PGMA may have succeeded in eliciting rounds of applause from her own bunch of eunuchs and harems. But for the nth time she again missed the whole point of truly reporting to the people upon whom is rested the whole rationale of her presidency (or the government for that matter). Perhaps, she thought she only needed to report to her harem and eunuchs.
The people do not need figures and pictures. They used to but not anymore. They have all the right senses working at ground level to tell them if the country is doing good or not. In a SONA, they now need to see, hear or feel something else beyond the numbers and graphs; something more reassuring.
This afternoon I chose to watch the SONA over doing Farm Town in Facebook; not in order to know how many roadges have been built but to try to peek through the eyes of the person and find out if the sincerity and truthfulness that were once lost among the words "I am sorry" (and "I will not run" before that) have eventually found their way back to her soul in this final stretch of her reign. I failed.
Maybe my eyes were blinded by the weak signal of ANC channel on my cable TV so that the genuineness I was looking for went by unnoticed. Maybe I should indeed blame the said TV Network for showing rushes of former President Cory Aquino's own ultimate SONA in 1991 beforehand; for these raised the standards of sincerity so well for any level of it to be found in PGMA's speech.
The basics of sincerity, truthfulness and all the other associated virtues of credibility, integrity, honesty, transparency, and delicadeza in governance, have been ravaged down to its smallest fabric by this dispensation since it began in 2001. Yet again the latest SONA reported nothing on the status of the nation along these criteria.
After listening to the SONA, perhaps some of you have asked yourselves the same question that I had asked myself: "If everything in our country is doing ok, then what's our problem?"
GMA, period.
But hey, maybe there's hope. With elections in the horizon, the President actually hit the point with a hue of sincerity when she advised her critics to "stop saying bad words in public". It was like saying, "be more discreet and use the phone; just be sure the lines are not tapped... right, Garci?"
I know a SONA traditionally follows an expected format. To borrow from UP professor Alex Magno, a SONA is basically a technical report (of accomplishments and broad plans) delivered by the country's chief executive to its board (which is Congress).
No one reports a grim picture to the board. And indeed much like in previous SONAs it went that PGMA delivered her latest filled with graphs of climbing bars and arrows and pictures of smiling faces of people. It was even supplemented by live exhibits well positioned in the gallery, among them the now world-renowned Manny Pacquiao (just about the only thing that lent credibility to the whole oral exhibition even if the Pacman's own accomplishments has got nothing to do with PGMA's administration at all).
PGMA may have succeeded in eliciting rounds of applause from her own bunch of eunuchs and harems. But for the nth time she again missed the whole point of truly reporting to the people upon whom is rested the whole rationale of her presidency (or the government for that matter). Perhaps, she thought she only needed to report to her harem and eunuchs.
The people do not need figures and pictures. They used to but not anymore. They have all the right senses working at ground level to tell them if the country is doing good or not. In a SONA, they now need to see, hear or feel something else beyond the numbers and graphs; something more reassuring.
This afternoon I chose to watch the SONA over doing Farm Town in Facebook; not in order to know how many roadges have been built but to try to peek through the eyes of the person and find out if the sincerity and truthfulness that were once lost among the words "I am sorry" (and "I will not run" before that) have eventually found their way back to her soul in this final stretch of her reign. I failed.
Maybe my eyes were blinded by the weak signal of ANC channel on my cable TV so that the genuineness I was looking for went by unnoticed. Maybe I should indeed blame the said TV Network for showing rushes of former President Cory Aquino's own ultimate SONA in 1991 beforehand; for these raised the standards of sincerity so well for any level of it to be found in PGMA's speech.
The basics of sincerity, truthfulness and all the other associated virtues of credibility, integrity, honesty, transparency, and delicadeza in governance, have been ravaged down to its smallest fabric by this dispensation since it began in 2001. Yet again the latest SONA reported nothing on the status of the nation along these criteria.
After listening to the SONA, perhaps some of you have asked yourselves the same question that I had asked myself: "If everything in our country is doing ok, then what's our problem?"
GMA, period.
But hey, maybe there's hope. With elections in the horizon, the President actually hit the point with a hue of sincerity when she advised her critics to "stop saying bad words in public". It was like saying, "be more discreet and use the phone; just be sure the lines are not tapped... right, Garci?"
Posted by Daxi Weida at 5:51 PM 3 comments
Labels government, politics
Sunday, July 19, 2009
A.S.D.: Episode V
[Episode IV here]
Happy Birthday to me!
Today is my second birthday. No, I did not turn two today. I meant today is my "other" birthday. At about this time two years ago, I began feeling the first sensations of life once again after a warped journey into complete blankness. I began hearing voices: "Sir, gising na po kayo. Okey na po".
Earlier that morning at about 6:00 a.m., some hospital orderly wheeled me out of my room at PGH into the hospital's surgery room. Now I reckon that period was the time when I was at my most relaxed state in this whole story of my atrial septal defect. It helped that my doctors much earlier had oft-repeatedly described, albeit in general terms, what was going to happen once I get inside the operating room. My surgeon, in his usual jovial self, had likened the proceedings as "gagawin ka lang namang Christmas tree, sasabitan ng kung anu-ano". Most importantly it helped that by that time, I had already built my Faith at its sturdiest level (at least to my mortal mind and spirit) in the run up towards this nodal point of my life.
The experience inside the operating room was nothing short of the surreal. I now realize I have watched too many movies and TV. I expected the OR to be some shiny place like those in House or E.R. It turned out to be just a little up-step than St. Elsewhere. That did nothing to bother me nonetheless; I have always believed of the proof of the pudding being in the... cooking!
Indeed, doctors and aides (couldn't figure who's who since they all looked alike in their scrubs) began decorating me like Christmas tree: "Sir, tagilid ko lang kayo ng konti ha? Kabit lang natin 'to"... "Sir inject na po natin ang anesthesia, dito lang po sa I.V. natin idadaan..." The hustle went on for about 15 minutes. Then I opted to close my eyes lest I began seeing scythe-wielding hooded figures. Then came what would become the fastest 5-6 hours in my mortal existence, I was transported into a post-surgery scenario in less than a nanosecond. Everything went from "Sir, relax lang po idadaan lang po natin sa swero nyo yung anesthesia..." to "Sir, okey na po. Tapos na, gising na po kayo. Ililipat na po namin kayo sa recovery room..."
Five to six hours of deep dark slumber minus the dream. Five to six hours of life with virtually no record of it in any neuron; not a single byte. Five to six hours of... death; all contained in a split moment. If there was proof that everything runs fast in God's time, that was it.
Indeed it was for me a second birth (or probably a third as I have been trying to reconstruct a near-fatal accident I got into when I was still this small; but that would be another story). I had everything to thank for when I woke up about this time two years ago. Family, friends and kins; medicine and science; The Almighty.
[Episode VI coming soon]
Happy Birthday to me!
Today is my second birthday. No, I did not turn two today. I meant today is my "other" birthday. At about this time two years ago, I began feeling the first sensations of life once again after a warped journey into complete blankness. I began hearing voices: "Sir, gising na po kayo. Okey na po".
Earlier that morning at about 6:00 a.m., some hospital orderly wheeled me out of my room at PGH into the hospital's surgery room. Now I reckon that period was the time when I was at my most relaxed state in this whole story of my atrial septal defect. It helped that my doctors much earlier had oft-repeatedly described, albeit in general terms, what was going to happen once I get inside the operating room. My surgeon, in his usual jovial self, had likened the proceedings as "gagawin ka lang namang Christmas tree, sasabitan ng kung anu-ano". Most importantly it helped that by that time, I had already built my Faith at its sturdiest level (at least to my mortal mind and spirit) in the run up towards this nodal point of my life.
The experience inside the operating room was nothing short of the surreal. I now realize I have watched too many movies and TV. I expected the OR to be some shiny place like those in House or E.R. It turned out to be just a little up-step than St. Elsewhere. That did nothing to bother me nonetheless; I have always believed of the proof of the pudding being in the... cooking!
Indeed, doctors and aides (couldn't figure who's who since they all looked alike in their scrubs) began decorating me like Christmas tree: "Sir, tagilid ko lang kayo ng konti ha? Kabit lang natin 'to"... "Sir inject na po natin ang anesthesia, dito lang po sa I.V. natin idadaan..." The hustle went on for about 15 minutes. Then I opted to close my eyes lest I began seeing scythe-wielding hooded figures. Then came what would become the fastest 5-6 hours in my mortal existence, I was transported into a post-surgery scenario in less than a nanosecond. Everything went from "Sir, relax lang po idadaan lang po natin sa swero nyo yung anesthesia..." to "Sir, okey na po. Tapos na, gising na po kayo. Ililipat na po namin kayo sa recovery room..."
Five to six hours of deep dark slumber minus the dream. Five to six hours of life with virtually no record of it in any neuron; not a single byte. Five to six hours of... death; all contained in a split moment. If there was proof that everything runs fast in God's time, that was it.
Indeed it was for me a second birth (or probably a third as I have been trying to reconstruct a near-fatal accident I got into when I was still this small; but that would be another story). I had everything to thank for when I woke up about this time two years ago. Family, friends and kins; medicine and science; The Almighty.
[Episode VI coming soon]
