Tacloban Moving Forward in Pedals and Wheels

With prices of diesel and gasoline hiking up from less than a hundred pesos to three hundred pesos a liter, survivors of supertyphoon Yolanda or Haiyan in Tacloban City found their way back to the power of the pedal to move from one place to another in search for food, water, shelter and missing loved ones. 

The day we arrived in the city on November 15, I couldn't help but notice the number of bicycles in different sizes and styles flocking the streets side-by-side motorcycles and cars which rely mainly on fuel. In this phenomenon caused by the drastic change of climate because of the excessive burning of fossil fuels, I hope that people in the whole world will see how important it is to reconsider their lifestyles which caused the death and suffering of the most vulnerable. 

Tacloban Rising from the Rubble

I came here expecting the worst and I did see the worst. It was early in the morning of November 15 when we arrived in Tacloban City, one of the most devastated places ravaged by supertyphoon Haiyan or Yolanda that fateful day of November 8, 2013. In the light of the day, the devastation was indescribable. 

The houses, overturned cars, debris and trash all fell into a huge pile of rubble. Cadavers in body bags lined down the streets as hoards of frenzied people pass by. Everything smelled of death and decay. It was a week after the typhoon's landfall and the situation remained depressing.

However, as we went around the city, I saw signs of both desperation and hope. We found a group of people waiting in a makeshift tent along the road with a signboard expressing their need for food, water and clothes while on the other side of the city, people were lining up to get their relief goods from the government and humanitarian organizations. In a nearby community, some were already rebuilding their homes with materials they picked up from the rubble. In Brgy. Magallanes, we already heard the giggling and laughing of children playing. 

Reminiscing our experience with tropical storm Sendong back in 2011, I know how important it is for the survivors to tell their stories so that others may know what they had gone through and what their hopes and aspirations are in the coming days and in the future.

The Waray emotionally shared their experience of the typhoon and I listened and struggled, not only to understand because of the language barrier but mostly in keeping my emotions at bay. Most of them lost their homes and family members and as they recounted those moments, I couldn't help but wonder how they remained strong. Asked how they will move on in the future, one of them said, "Babangon kami (We will rise); showing how their spirit is beginning to soar again. 

This was enough to keep me hopeful and inspired that we will be able to send help in anyway we can to our people in Tacloban City and to help them move valiantly on. 

To help, join us in our solidarity and support to the survivors of typhoon Yolanda, please reach out to MiHands (Mindanao Humanitarian Action Network against Disasters):

Tri-Peoples' Organization against Disasters (TRIPOD) Foundation, Inc. 

37 Tulingan St. Usman Subdivision, Bagua 2, Cotabato City 9600 Maguindanao

email: tripodcc@yahoo.com

Telephone No.: 064 421 1369

Ranaw Disaster, Relief and Rehabilitation Assistance Center (RDRRAC)

Door 2 Maca-agir Apartment, 6th East Rosario Heights, Tubod, Iligan City, 9200, Lanao del Norte
email: rdrrac_inc@yahoo.com

Telephone No.: 063 223 3171

The Hearts of Paris: A Reflection on Love

Chains and padlocks are displayed at the railings of the bridge in Pont de L'archeveche, Paris.

I chanced upon this bridge when I was strolling with friends in the city of Paris. It is popularly-known as the Lovers’ Bridge where a multitude of padlocks of different sizes, styles and shapes was attached to the metal railings of the bridge. For lovers who pledged their love to each other, the padlocks symbolized their eternal and everlasting love. Throwing the keys to the river Seine after represented the unbreakable bond between them.

But is this really what true love means? Can a padlock embody love? If taking its figurative sense, does undying love entail one to be endlessly devoted to someone? Does it also mean that love is too powerful to be broken?

I don’t believe so. A very special friend told me this sometime ago: Love is one great adventure. You’ll never know how it starts or how it ends. You have no control of the other person because to love someone is to love the freedom he or she possesses as an individual.

As for me, I don’t set out in this world to seek love that I locked up. I am constantly smitten by people who love their individuality: those people who love themselves first and most. These are individuals who know what they want and know how to get it, those who speak their minds, those who influence and make change, those who confront challenges and realities. They have their own dreams, hopes and aspirations and they keep on moving day by day to make these happen. I love them because they are the ones who inspire me to open my mind, boost my capacity to learn and encourage loving myself more so that I could love others freely.

As love is an adventure, one must also be confident in his or her capability to cope with its twists and turns, ups and downs and the whole 360-degree pivots and dangerous backflips. One of my favourite authors, Paulo Coelho wrote, “Love is an untamed force. When we try to control it, it destroys us. When we try to imprison it, it enslaves us. When we try to understand it, it leaves us feeling lost and confused.” Therefore, we must be able to embrace love in all its fragility and its constant risks. And above all, we must understand that at the heart of loving is freedom; the liberty to be ourselves. 

A father and his daughter checks out the various styles, shapes and sizes of the padlocks at the Lover's Bridge.

Weekend with Bernie: A Peek to my Peoples' Revolutionary Past

The warmth of the late afternoon's sun filled the living room as we lounged in the sofas and stretched our legs. It was the second day of our visit in Brussels but the summer heat and the tropical plants in the terrace made it feel like we were still in the Philippines. I would sooner find out that my country was very present in this home through Bernie.

Bernie was the "blonde white woman" as she called herself, who welcomed us in her beautiful home filled with memories of my country. And I was the Filipino who hailed from Mindanao who came to this foreign land  for the first time in my life. Two individuals from very different backgrounds who came to understand each other through one passion.

"What do you do?" This was the question I usually get from people who met me for the first time. The answer was always the same: I am a peace advocate working for a peace movement in Mindanao. This is true and I stand proud every time I say this. But that afternoon in her cozy living room, Bernie followed her question by asking me what I love doing as if she felt that there was something missing in my answer. "I love telling stories through writing and photography. It is my passion", I told her. Suddenly, there was spark on her eyes and a glow on her face which started a bond between us that I will always cherish.

Bernie used to be a photographer and a documentary film maker. And one of her memorable experiences was covering the Philippine People Power Revolution from its conception and birth in the 1980s. Soon she was opening up drawers filled with photos of the most inspiring event in my people's history that began in 1983 and commenced in 1986, the year I was born. 

As I was looking at her photos, I felt the blood pumping and rushing to my head. For the first time, I held historical images of that significant time when my people reclaimed their power to overthrow a dictator and build a just and democratic Philippines. 

The strength of the images of social movements when they filled the streets of Manila in massive demonstrations seemed to creep beneath my skin and to flow in my blood. I was completely overwhelmed. And each photo, Bernie patiently told me the stories behind. These were stories of courage, of perseverance and of solidarity to break the chains not just from the tyranny of the ruling master but mostly from the hegemonic system that oppresses and enslaves people.

This peek at my people's revolutionary past was important for me. As part of the generation who was born to a society where my rights and freedom as an individual were secured by those who made it happen, I have so much to give thanks to them. But I also have a great responsibility of sustaining the genuine gains of that revolution, however it may have turned out in the process. It is my heritage and it is also my task to continue struggling for emancipation and liberation. This is my revolution.

To the First Man I Ever Loved

For teaching me how to push and pedal
and for turning a blind eye when I sneaked out with your big old bike,
thank you.

For taking me to magical places by reading stories with me
and putting me to bed when I fell asleep on the couch,
thank you.

For comforting me when I was crying because I turned into a woman
even though you didn't have an idea how that really felt,
thank you.

For taking with me that bittersweet journey to my university campus
and for telling me to be strong when I kept calling home,
thank you.

For letting me learn from my mistakes and make my dreams come true
while being a great source of strength and understanding,
thank you.

For believing in my capacity to think and do the best for me
and for patiently allowing me to search for myself in this world,
thank you.

For your kindness, patience, humility and endearing love
that have always made me the learning woman I am today,
thank you, Papang.

To the first man I ever loved, Happy Father's Day!

Amidst Nature and Culture in Lake Sebu

The rays of the morning sun crept slowly from the mountaintop and covered the lake with golden light. As the mist vanished, water lily blooms opened leisurely to drink in the sun's radiance. Only the sound of frogs croaking, birds chirping and fish surfacing from the water greeted me as I watched life unfolds in the mystical and historical Lake Sebu.

Nestled within the Allah valley of South Cotabato, Lake Sebu is the heart of the ancestral domain of the T'boli and Ubo. Though a number of tourist resorts flocked its banks, it continuously fosters a culture and tradition that the people of the lake struggle to preserve nowadays. 

The best way to experience that culture and tradition is to explore the place and get to know its people. A short distance from the Mountain Lake Eco Resort where my colleagues and I were housed in was a village of T'boli living through farming in the hills and fishing in the lake. That magnificent morning, I laced up my running shoes, strapped on my camera and followed the trail towards the village. 

However, the I found it still sleeping so I decided to take a run beyond and to fill my lungs with the fresh mountain air. It was a beautiful trail with forest growth and corn fields in either side of the mountain. The lake was seen below and the blue mountains from afar. It was a lonely road with no cars or motorcycles passing by that hour in the morning, thus it was indeed ideal for people like me who prefers the tranquility of nature. 

On the trail, I met some farmers on their way to the fields with their warm greetings of "Maayong aga!" or good morning. I also happen to meet some T'boli children on their way to school which was obvious from their backpacks. Their shy glances and gentle smiles encouraged me to befriend them and soon enough they were posing for the camera and giggling at the sight of their photos. It was a wonderful experience and it was also a sign that the once sleeping village was stirring to life so I turned around and went back. 

The smoke billowed from the kitchens of the houses and the fragrant smell of coffee and breakfast welcomed me to the village. I was about to make my presence known when a woman's voice from inside one of the houses shouted,"Dayon!" telling me to come inside her house. 

I quickly removed my shoes and socks and climbed up the stairs of the traditional gono (house) of the T'boli. It was made of bamboo walls and floors and was built on stilts six feet from the river bank. Inside it was minimal space with wide shelves on all four sides that could serve as beds, lounge, tables and other possible uses. There was only one big window that opened to the view of the lake and our resort. The owner of the gono was very accommodating despite the chaos of the household full of little children. In all the goings-on, she introduced me to her mother who was weaving a mat near the big window. 

She could not speak any other dialect aside from her native tongue so I contented myself with watching her work. While she was weaving, she tried talking to me and somehow I heard the word monom and suddenly I got even more interested. It so happened that monom is a familiar word to me since I heard it mentioned and even saw it being done several times by the Teduray and the Lambangian of Maguindanao. Knowing that these tribes who are miles away from each other share a similar weaving tradition or monom was another stone in the pile of knowledge on the traditional kinship between and among the indigenous groups of Mindanao. 

It was an amazing learning experience indeed and as I left the gono saying my thanks and my farewells, I wondered how many people like me had braved that extra mile to reach out and get to know other people's culture and tradition and eventually strip themselves of their discrimination and biases.

Little did I know that I would find the answer to my question in the caption of a photograph of a gono hanging on the wall of our resort later that day. It said that the gono traditionally had a rolled-up ladder to keep intruders (i.e strangers like me) out. The warm welcome that the T'boli household gave me only showed the great capacity of humans to interact, accept and learn from each other. 

Tey bong nawa hu kuy, Lake Sebu! Thank you!

Positive Reinforcement: The Breakfast of our Little Champions

"Swimmers, take your mark!" I can feel the blood pumping and rushing to my head as I waited for the single beep that would start the competition. I focused my eyes on the clear blue water of the pool and the colorful lane lines that led to the end. I held my breath and as I heard the beep, I rose to my feet and shouted, "Go Ishi!" "Go Lara!" My yells were lost when the rest of the crowd went wild as the swimmers sliced through the water and raced towards the finishing line. This was the frenzy that parents and relatives of novice swimmers created during the Southern Mindanao Swimming Association's Novice Meet in Paraiso Verde Resort and Water Park in Koronadal City on June 1, 2013. 

Watching my nieces, Ishi, 10 and Lara, 8 donned training caps and swimsuits representing the
Jeorgetown Swim Club in the meet was heartwarming enough. But watching them prove their endurance and strength in the 25-meter freestyle, butterfly, breaststroke and backstroke as well as in the individual kickboard and relay events, deserved most of my adoration and respect for these girls. With just a month of training, they braved the competition with hesitation that they may fail at first. And I salute my sister, their Nanay Sherly for encouraging both of them that it is not about winning; it's about gaining experience and learning from the event. This, plus the enduring patience of their coaches and of course, the wavepool and the tour of the city factored in building their confidence to join the swimming meet. 

It was a long day with 170 swimmers and 13 heats for every event and it almost took its toll on my nieces but our support and encouragement helped them made it through the day. As I massaged Ishi's back and made her laugh with my quips, I remembered how my parents used to encouraged us to work hard and do our best in everything we do because learning comes with it. When you fail, you know you did your best and when it's time to push yourself again, you know what to do to achieve your goals. Positive encouragement, this is what it is called. And this was what their coaches, their teammates and most of all, their parents did to bring home the bronze. 

Invading the Nest: Mystical El Nido

The blue waves lapping and the boats lining at the shore, the coarse white sand and the towering limestone cliffs greeted me in that early morning of April 18, 2013. After eight gruelling hours of land travel from Puerto Princesa, finally my senses were overwhelmed by the breathtaking sights, sounds and scents of El Nido, Palawan. But the mystical experience had just begun.

Taking a guided tour, we were brought to various islands, beaches and lagoons, each with their own distinct magnificence. First of these destinations was the Helicopter Island which was famous for its shape even from afar. As soon as the boat docked on its beach, we jumped off it and explored the deserted island excitedly.

Coming very close to the foot of the famous limestone cliff, we couldn't help but looked up, scaled its height and wondered how many crevices it had. The sound of the swiftlets or balinsasayaw nesting on its crevices can be heard from where we stood. This would be the first of the many limestone cliffs that we would see and touch in the tour.

After a short dip in Helicopter Island’s beach, we hopped off to find the Hidden Beach which opening was concealed by a protruding limestone formation from the sea. The water was still high so we had to swim our way in. That’s bad news since I couldn’t bring my DSLR so I only had my eyes to take in the beauty. Maybe that’s why it got its name as well. But being Pinoy, I took the chance of taking videos of my nieces and their eagerness to swim to test their skills straight from summer swimming class.  

Next off, we invaded the Secret Lagoon which was nestled in an island filled with tourists lounging on the sand. The smell of grilled food made our mouths water as it dawned on us that it was already lunch time. While our tour guides cooked our food, we went off to find the secret lagoon. We literally had to claw our way in a small hole that could fit two persons before finding it. After that, we had our lunch under the coconut trees and then we took some time to discover the small limestone formations in front of the Secret Lagoon Beach. 

Our next destination brought us to Matinloc Shrine which required a great deal of leg muscle power to climb up the limestone cliff to the viewing deck on top. It was good to know that the tips of the pointy rocks were evened out to make steps for people to easily ascend. After the huffing and puffing, we finally reached the deck and "postcard perfect" could not even give justice to the beauty that greeted us. Overlooking blue water surrounded by limestone cliffs, it was the most heavenly feeling one can have in that place. 

But since the deck could only hold a few people, we didn't linger as more and more tourists climbed. We went down and sought the other sights. My devout Catholic parents took time in the chapel found in the area. A statue of Mama Mary inside a big crevice in a limestone cliff was also a sight to behold. 

Not long after, we sailed on to our next destination which required us to travel in a narrow sea channel bordered by limestone cliffs that made me feel like Captain Jack Sparrow in Pirates of the Caribbean. It was quite a long channel and the captain slowed down the boat intentionally for us to take in that overwhelming feeling of coming out of the narrow channel towards the Big Lagoon. The dark blue color of its water told us that it was really deep and our guides didn't allow us to jump in it without our life vests which made it easy for us to swim farther from the dock. It was tranquility at its best as I floated and absorbed the stillness of the water and the sound of birds chirping overhead. It was so serene  as well as astounding.  

Alas, we went on to the last of our tour from the Big Lagoon to the Small Lagoon. It was smaller than the Big Lagoon only because it was narrower but it was longer. Though I already felt the weariness of the day-long tour, the prospect of entering a cave which was at the end of the narrow lagoon posed a challenge to swim towards it. As I started paddling, my mini-me niece Lara tagged along the lengthy swim with other tourists. Though it was a feat, the thrill felt inside the cave was indeed a memorable prize for taking the challenge. 

As we were sailing back to the main town of El Nido with the sun about to set behind us, I basked myself in the great feeling of achieving a goal that I had been aiming since college. With a plan in hand and the passion to realize the plan, I have done it and I couldn't be more proud of myself. 

Next destination, please!

Dreams of Sugar Fields

Jasmine scent and the sun at rest

Flower pillows and blanket of mist
Horizons painted in golden light
I will dream of sugar fields tonight.

Soft whispers and fervent kisses

Cheery laughter warms empty spaces

Tangled sheets soaked in moonlight

To dreams of sugar fields tonight.

Sweet memories of those days of summer

Of music, mountain breeze and spring water

And you warm and sweet right by my side

Dreaming of us in the sugar fields tonight.