Ka-Blog!

Ka Bel, Mayo na naman

Wala ka man noong a-uno sa Liwasan

Nasa isip at puso ka

Ng buong sambayanan.

Ka Bel, buwan na naman ng Mayo

Sa unang anibersaryo ng iyong pagyao

Walang nagbabang-luksa

Sa mga nagmartsa sa Miranda

Tatlong araw matapos ang anibersaryo

Ika-dalawampu’t dalawa ng Mayo

Binuwag ng pulis ang kampo

Ng mga magsasaka sa Kongreso

Sumugod ang mga palamunin

Nagwasiwas ng batuta ang mga walang silbi

Nambasa ang mga bumberong inutil

Hanggang madurog ang kampo ng nagpapakain

Ka Bel, Mayo na naman

Patuloy pa rin ang iyong laban

Dahil ang pangako namin sa dakilang yumao

Buong taon ay buwan ng Mayo

6:32 n.g.

22 Mayo 2009

Lungsod Quezon

Apo, naimbag nga rabii

Let us in, we are tired and soaked by the rain

Your hearth is lively

Welcoming us with its warmth

Inang, this watercress soup is delicious

We do not have this back home

Your upland rice is sweet

Ours are soft yet tasteless

Ading, please move over

Forgive us but we must rest

Do not worry, our feet are clean

Washed by your cold water outside

Tomorrow, apo, inang, ading

Tell us your story over coffee

We know that people of the hudhud

Have many to tell us lowlanders

Play the gangsa, dance the pattong

Look into the camera

Speak to the microphone

For we do not know much

Tell us of the time when the mountains were green

And the streams were clear

Show us where the wild boars roamed

Where you picked gold from stones

We will be back some months from now

We hope to bring good news

More importantly, we hope to see you

Still home, up here, among the clouds

We shall dine on watercress soup

Drink coffee, eat red rice

We will dance to the gangsa

In solidarity, in victory.

May 16, 2009

Alimit, Kasibu, Nueva Vizcaya

2:25 p.m.

* Apo—a salutation to elder persons / Naimbag nga rabii—good evening / Inang—mother / Ading—younger sibling / Hudhud—Ifugao folk song sung by Ifugao women while harvesting rice / gangsa—brass gongs / pattong—traditional Cordilleran dance

Our dear camera was stolen from Pom in Mindanao recently.  Yes, the camera we saved up for in years; the camera I dreamed of while feeling envious of the other photographers in rallies; the camera that gave us much joy; the camera that I wiped clean after every coverage; the camera that took many good pictures and affirmed my uncle’s suspicion I could be a photographer when he gave me an old Petri decades back.

My family, friends and comrades know how much I loved that camera.  Aside from its kit lens, it had three other lenses from my old film cameras and another lent one from Onin Tagaro.  When my friend Leighton Wood gave us money to buy a top-of-the-line flash, a proper tripod and a wicked battery grip, I still bought more accessories for it.  I bought rechargeable batteries for the flash.  I bought Onin’s Tamrac camera-laptop bag for it on top of two others I bought from Ron Papag and Henry Sy.  I bought lens polarizers, hoods and caps.  I bought a wrist strap for it in Hong Kong.

I taught photography workshops with it.  I earned another media card with it.  I never earned from it but I got praises for some of the pictures I took with it.  It was more than just a toy; it helped me a lot in my chosen political work.

This is depressing as hell.  I miss that camera so much.

Despite efforts to find out who stole it from my in-laws’ house, I am no longer hopeful we’d get it back.  Even if we can get it back, in what condition would it be?  Did the bastard make sure it was dry where he keeps it?  If already fenced, didn’t the asshole buyer play with it too much already?  I don’t think many people where it was stolen know how to figure it out quickly without its manual.

So we are left with four lenses, a flash and the other peripherals, in addition to one film and one APS SLR cam bodies.  I don’t know when and how we can get a DSLR replacement but I will do my best.  It might take months, even years.  But remembering how much fun I had taking pictures, I will do my best, for sure.  I am thinking of asking donations from friends and family but am a bit shy about doing it.  (But if my friends and family are not shy about commiserating by donating, that’s okay by me.  All they have to do is hit me so I can send them my bank account details.  Hint!  Hint!)

Bahala na. Canon’s new live view feature seems nice.  Hosto services, anyone?

I missed the May 1^st celebrations for the first time in 17 years this year.  Instead, I went to Bislig, Surigao del Sur where the great late labor leader Crispin “Ka Bel” Beltran spent some weeks leading the workers in their strike against the biggest Asian paper mill, Picop Resources Inc. some years back.  Pom’s nephew was getting married and my in-laws were hosting the annual Cahilog-Gamulo Grand Clan Reunion.

It is testament of how Mindanao is so marginalized in terms of development when, at four in the afternoon, there was no longer a bus to Bislig from Davao.  We were forced to hire a van to take us a couple hundred of kilometers.  A short distance off the Davao-Butuan highway the scenic yet rough road was more hellish than I remember nine years since I last traveled it.  It had as many deep craters as the face of gma’s most trusted economic adviser (the one who called her a bitch).  At eleven in the evening, in the middle of the jungle, we came to where two log haulers were very nearly on their sides and stuck hopelessly on the ruts, preventing all the other vehicles from passing.  We paid an 18-wheeler to pull our 4-wheel drive vehicle through a muddy shoulder so we can be back on our way.  Fifteen minutes later, we came to a spot where the ambulance that came ahead of us got stuck in the mud.  Its driver tried hard while its passengers where trying to pull or push it.  But all he did was to burn rubber while the van’s wheel just kept spinning.   Painted on the ambulance’s side was this announcement: “A public service of (Surigao del Sur) governor Vicente Padilla Jr.  Some service.  His ambulances could not even assure that its patients can get to a hospital alive.We tried our luck but we were stuck ourselves.  It took a lot of human power rather than machine power to get us out of that rut.  What should have been a four hour trip on paved roads took us seven hours.

Since Picop closed shop there have been no maintenance work done on the road despite the presence of several heavy equipment we passed along the way.  The road was heavily forested, unlit and, for long stretches, uninhabited.  There were nearly no traffic signs, except near the boundary between Agusan del Sur and Surigao del Sur where there are hundreds of directional signs placed three meters apart when a pair could have sufficed.  I wish to congratulate the governors, congressmen and the public works directors of these two provinces as well as the national government.  They’ve managed to clearly show they are the most stupid public officials on the planet.

(The road from Bislig to a congressman’s resort about ten kilometers away, on the other hand, is smooth concrete.  Go figure.)

On my third day in Bislig I insisted we go visit Tinuy-An Falls, this sleepy-city’s gem (aside from my wife’s family, of course).  Waterfalls are almost always nice, but Tinuy-An is on another level altogether.  “Tinuy-An” is a local term which means “designed” or “intended to be this way”.  No human can design or equal how beautiful this seven-layered waterfall is.  (Wait for my photos of the falls on my Facebook photos to see what I mean.)

But as beautiful Tinuy-An is, the road going there is the exact opposite.  It is one ugly ride from the highway to the falls.  There is a shorter road going to the place but the local government just had to construct a bridge that rots as easily as the government’s soul so we were forced to take a very circuitous route through logging roads.  All along the very narrow roads we took we saw piles of freshly cut trees and not a few hauling trucks full of timber.  They are the ones responsible for the very deep and muddy ruts, of course.  On both sides of the road, what once was very lush forest has become so bare and scarred that it is now like the skin of a very scabby dog that is about to die.

My father-in-law then told me that the environment officials are powerless to stop the loggers.  Two of them were killed in the line of duty some time ago.  And they have stopped caring since then.  Not very far from all these is a Philippine Army Battalion camp (yes, the same camp who abducted and harassed a Methodist pastor some months back), but is not doing anything to stop this rape.  In fact, because of this, I am sure the battalion commander is on the take himself.

I again wish to express my heartfelt gratitude to this country’s government for letting this happen.

I always wish I could go to Bislig at least once a year.  But that is just me.  There’s my wife’s family and Tinuy-An Falls I have to go home to.  Bislig was paradise-like just a few years ago.  Now, it is a disaster-area in its infancy, midwife-d by diabolical roads of government neglect, stupidity and corruption.