Tribeless

Pips,
I think this is worth posting in everyone’s blog. Kung hindi niyo pa idol sa de Quiros, read on para maging idol nyo na rin sya. I-email nyo rin sa mga friends nyo. patok talaga. Sa tingin ko, Conrado de Quiros would want this story posted all over para marindi na lang si Gloria at mapwersa na siyang basahin. Or, on second thought, para basahin ito ng mga nag-iisip para kay Gloria. Enjoy and enlighten! hehe
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There’s The Rub : I refuse, Part 2

First posted 02:31am (Mla time) Sept 26, 2005

By  Conrado      de Quiros
Inquirer News Service

Published on page A14 of the September 26, 2005 issue of the Philippine Daily Inquirer

DEAR MADAM,

You
will notice that I do not say, “Madam President.” That is because I do
not consider you my president. As-to go by the surveys and the number
of decent Filipinos who are dying or getting sick from seeing you on
TV-do most citizens of this country.

I refuse to obey your order
for me to desist from gathering with other citizens in Makati and
elsewhere. If Jojo Binay were to defy your order and call for a rally
in his favorite city to call for your ouster, I will be there.

Notwithstanding
that I am hard pressed these days to meet deadlines, given the
never-ending meetings that the never-ending divisiveness you have
wrought upon this country compels me to attend.

Had your
predecessor, Joseph Estrada, ordered this in his time, I would have
refused to obey his order too. To his credit, he never did so,
notwithstanding that he made noises to that effect. He drew the line at
certain things, one of them being the rights of the citizens. To his
credit also,he was an elected president-he left Jose de Venecia,
who like you knows only how to manipulate things, biting his dust. If
he had ordered a crackdown on those who were trying to oust him, he
could at least have claimed to do so in the name of the people.

To
your discredit, you have more than made noises to that effect, you have
done it. To your bigger discredit, you are not even the president.

You
say “The commuters, the pedestrians, the students and the business
sectors have complained about the inconvenience and the disruption of
the businesses resulting in economic losses.” How can the commuters,
pedestrians, students, and businessmen complain about these rallies
when they are the ones who are swelling their ranks? You tend to
confuse yourself, your hangers-on in Malacañang, your Pagcor-enriched
friends in the Church, and your toadies in Congress, with them. But
then you’ve always been confused about a great many things, including
who is the president of this country.

But that is nothing. What
is astounding is that you should forget how you got to be in Malacañang
to begin with, which allowed you to stay on after last year by helloing
Garci. You did so because we defied Estrada and did what we had to do.
I’d like to emphasize the “we” because I never saw you there. It is a
testament to how saintly Pope John Paul II is that he has not
importuned his Creator to send a lightning bolt your way for using his
name to justify your paralysis. You got to Malacañang on our blood,
sweat, and tears, not on yours. The most you can do is appreciate
protest, the least you can do is not stifle it.

If we did not
inconvenience the commuters, the pedestrians, the students and the
businessmen then-though I never heard any complaints from them, they
were busy swelling the ranks of the rallies too-you would never have
slipped into the Palace by the River and been free to torment us. If
you listen close enough to the complaints emanating from the commuters,
pedestrians, students and businessmen, you will hear that they have
nothing to do with traffic, they have everything to do with the
humongous inconvenience of having you still around to disrupt not just
the economy, not just the normal processes of democracy, but the
natural flow of life itself.

I am glad that you decided to ban
rallies against you in Jojo Binay’s city-though I have yet to hear you
ban as well rallies for you in Lito Atienza’s and Sonny Belmonte’s
cities-shortly after the anniversary of martial law. It is a very good
reminder of it. Though as I said last week, Marcos was still the
president when he declared it, having a year more to go. You are
imposing a de facto martial law without ever having been voted to power.

You
say you’re “tired of chasing the bully around the schoolyard.” I say
you are just as confused about your metaphors as you are about your
mandate. The normal course is for the bully to chase the smaller kids
around the yard, not for the smaller kids to chase the bully around the
yard. The normal course, too, is for the other kids to want to stop
being bullied and fight back. Guess who’s who in this equation.

You
say we are abusing your policy of maximum tolerance. I say you are
fraying our nerves and taxing our patience more than anything in the
expanded VAT. You are not tolerating us, we are tolerating you. A
democracy, in case you have forgotten, is one where power resides in
the will of the people, not in the will of the president, and certainly
not in the whim of a putative one. A tyranny is one where the ruler
rules without the consent of the governed. That consent is gotten
through the vote, not through Garci.

You say the people fighting
you are not good for the country. That is your opinion. But this is not
a matter of who is good or bad for the country, this is a matter of who
the people want to rule them. If this were just a question of who is
good for the country, I’d pick Nicky Perlas or Ting Roxas over you
anytime. Unlike you, they have a sound vision of the future and the
integrity to realize it. But like you, they have not been voted into
power, and so can’t be president.

I demand to know what moral
authority you have to conscript my loyalty as a citizen. As I said a
couple of months ago, I refuse to give it. I refuse to be a good
citizen to a bad president. “Bad” in the sense of lame or fake-my
apologies to the lame and fake. I refuse to serve, I refuse to defend,
I refuse to pay my taxes. Feel free to consider me a destabilizer. I
was, I am, I will always be. If I weren’t so, you would never have
tasted the power you now use so wantonly.

Feel free to arrest me
as well. I can always admit that anxious as I was to protect my
country, I called up people who sounded like Jojo Binay. For this:

I… am…not…sorry.

[alas-6:30, mensahe sa celfone]
Binaril si Ka Fort kaninang alas-sais.
2 tama ng bala sa
kanyang likod.

[Nalilito ang mga kasama sa opisina.
Anong nangyari kay Ka
Fort?
Tumawag tayo sa mga
kasama sa region.
Sana buhay pa siya.
Sinong nag-text?
Kumpirmahin natin.
Hindi magandang biro
yan?
Anong nangyari kay Ka
Fort?]

Nangyari na ito
Ilang ulit na rin

Ikinukubli natin ang mga luha sa pagtatanong
Maaaring nagkamali ang balita
Maaaring nagbibiro ang naghatid
Maaaring buhay pa siya
Ngunit, hindi.

Makailang-ulit nang nangyari ‘to
Pero nagtatanong pa rin tayo

Bakit nila pinapatay ang mga busilak ang puso?
Bakit nilulugmok ang nangahas tumayo?
Bakit dinidilig ang lupa ng dugo ng mga bayaning
Dinadakila ng maraming tao?

Sa gitna ng pagkalito at lungkot
Batid naman natin ang sagot
Dahil ilang beses na tayong nagtanong
At sila mismo ang may tugon,

Dahil walang kasing-itim ang kanilang budhi.
Dahil duwag sila sa patas na laban
Dahil alam nilang sa timbangan ng kasaysayan
Kaybigat tumbasan ang kanilang kalaban

Nagtatanong tayo’t sumisigaw
Sumisigaw tayong may kapasyahan
Katarungan!

Katarungan para kay Ka Fort
At sa lahat ng bayani ng masang anakpawis!

12/18/2004 areyendiway

Nais
kung bilangin ang bawat butil ng asukal
Na
nadampot ng aking kutsara,
Isang
umagang almusal ko ang balita
Ng
masaker sa mga welgista
Sa
isang dambuhalang asyenda

 
Ngunit anong palaisipan ang tumambad!
Iniikutan ng isang langgam
Ang bunganga ng garapong sisidlan
Sa likod niya’y nakapasan
Ang isang butil ng asukal

Habang nakaligid ang laksang bangaw
Maingay sa paglipad
Nangungutya, nanlilibak
Handang-handa, sa asukal ay aagaw 

Ilang saglit pa’y inundayan
Ng sutil na hukbo ng bangaw
Ang nagpapagal na langgam
Hanggang sa ito’y sa hapag humandusay
Sa tabi ng mumong asukal
Na inipon sa buong araw na paggampan

Sa di-kalayua’y nagmamartsa
Ang hanay ng mga langgam
Nagdadalamhati, nagngangalit
Sa pagpanaw ng kauri
At kasamang dinuhagi

 

Isang katanungan –
Paanong ang nagpagal ay pinagkakaitan
Ng kanyang mga pinaghirapan?
Bakit inangkin ng nakapangyayaring gahaman
Ang kanyang laong pinagpaguran? 

Walang katarungan sa isang sistemang
Karapata’y’ siil, kalayaa’y  salat
Mananatili ang pang-aapi at panghahamak
Hangga’t hindi maapula
Ang mga ganid na bangaw
Ang mga nang-aagaw

Kumukulo
na ang kapeng
gawa
sa sinunog na bigas
Hinihintay
ang pagsanib
Ng
tamis sa pait
Bago
dumampi sa sikmura kong nanlalamig
Ang
init ng inuming mapanggising

I belong to a
generation that ousted two presidents.

I started schooling in 1986. Totally ignorant of the world
around me, my usual day was sleep, eat, go to school, eat, sleep… and so on.

But, I can still remember how envious I was seeing my neighbors wearing yellow
shirts bearing the face of a smart-looking man. They said, they wear joining a
revolution in EDSA. I didn’t mind what they were going to do. I just hoped I
can get one of those shirts.

Months later, I saw the same yellow shirts already worn-out hanging over my
neighbor’s fence. They moved for a new place to live. I don’t think those
shirts were “in” anymore. They were better off as rags. I thought,
all things end up like that. It is only a matter of time.

I didn’t know that I was conceived and borne at a rather disturbing period of
history. My parents used to believe that the Marcos years were one of the best
years for our economy (although they never felt it themselves). I even remember
standing-up in front of class during a debate where I chose to defend martial
law and Marcos. My classmates, and even my teacher, were quite disturbed by my
position. I felt awkward but someone’s got to play the devil’s advocate.
Looking back, I wish that that someone was not me.

As far as I can recall, my grade school years were the years of UFO sightings,
manananggals, constant brownouts, coup d’etat, massacres. Hell, i thought,
what’s new? Martial law or not, darkness remains.

Now that I have become conscious of my
place in society, I see things more differently.

I just attended a liturgical service in the Bantayog ng mga
Bayani. I saw the names of martyrs engraved in a big black marble wall etched
in gold. It inspired me to look back to my own awakening. What was my place
during the Martial law years? Uhm, well, I was just a kid then so my apathy is
excused.

So, I moved on to ask, what’s my place now? Definitely, I do
not want to be a devil’s advocate once more – I’m way over that. But don’t get
me wrong, I do not yearn to be a name in that marble wall (but who knows?). This
time, I choose to wear that worn-out shirt. Although, not the kind with the
face of a politician. I choose to find the light amidst the darkness.

Whenever I get the chance to ride a taxi cab, I usually talk
to the driver to ask his views on current issues. I find it effective since
they are some of the most opinionated people around having the chance to meet
different people while working. Last night, this old taxi driver struck me. His
old face was a good invitation for my curiosity. I asked him the usual
questions. What time he works? How much he earns each day? What his sentiments
are about Gloria? Then, I asked him if he still finds hope for his family. He
urgently replied, “Kung mag-pi-people power.” He was quick and strong in his
answer.

An old man, who had probably seen many uprisings in his
lifetime and seen things unchanged after that, still firmly believes in the
power of a united people. That old man believes there is still hope. Will I
fail him? Will I fail all the others, just as old but as hopeful?

Many governments dread even the slightest idea of a popular
uprising. It makes them insecure of their hold in power. That’s why they
downplay every attempt by the people to launch another people power. They even
arrogantly say that the people are tired of going to the streets, ousting
presidents all the time. Indeed, the people are tired but not of marching to
the streets. Rather, the people are tired of going through people power only
for greedy politicians to take their victory away from them. Now, we learned
our lessons well.

Things change, people
learn. We have our destiny in our hands.

I do not know how to end this. One thing is sure. I am not
tired, nor pessimistic. I will join the people power 4, 5, 6 ‘til infinity. I
know, darkness has no place here.

Hayaan nyong simulan ko ang pagba-blog sa tulang ito na sinulat ng isa sa pinakakinilalang makata at bayani ng henerasyon ngayon.

Open Letters to Filipino
Artists
Emmanuel Lacaba

A poet must also learn

how to lead an attack

- Ho Chi Minh

I

Invisible the mountain routes to strangers:

For rushing toes an inch-wide strip on boulders

And for the hand that’s free a twig to grasp,

Or else we headlong fall below to rocks

And waterfalls of death so instant that

Too soon they’re red with skulls of carabaos.

But patient guides and teachers are the masses:

Of forty mountains and a hundred rivers;

Of plowing, planting, weeding, and the harvest;

And of a dozen dialects that dwarf

This foreign tongue we write each other in

Who must transcend our bourgeois origins.

South Cotabato

May 1, 1975

II

You want to know, companions of my youth

How much has changed the wild but shy young poet

Forever writing last poem after last poem;

You hear he’s dark as earth, barefoot,

A turban round his head, a bolo at his side,

His ballpen blown up to a long-barreled gun:

Deeper still the struggling change inside.

Like husks of coconut he tears away

The billion layers of his selfishness.

Or learns to cage his longing like the bird

Of legend, fire, and song within his chest.

Now of consequence is his anemia

From lack of sleep: no longer for Bohemia,

The lumpen culturati, but for the people, yes.

He mixes metaphors but values more

A holographic and geometric memory

For mountains: not because they are there

But because the masses are there where

Routes are jigsaw puzzles he must piece together.

Though he has been called a brown Rimbaud,

He is no bandit but a people’s warrior.

South Cotabato and Davao del Norte

November 1975

III

We are tribeless and all tribes are ours.

We are homeless and all homes are ours.

We are nameless and all names are ours.

To the fascists we are the faceless enemy

Who come like thieves in the night, angels of death:

The ever moving, shining, secret eye of the storm.

The road less traveled by we’ve taken-

And that has made all the difference:

The barefoot army of the wilderness

We all should be in time.  Awakened, the masses are
Messiah.

Here among workers and peasants our lost

Generation has found its true, its only home.

Davao del Norte

January 1976