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An Burabod


puzzling. ambig

enig


guous. inexplicable

gma


enigma Copyright Š The Channel 2013 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. Copyright reverts to the respective authors and artists whose works appear in this issue. No part of this work covered by the copyright herein may be reproduced and/ or copied in any form without prior written permission from the copyright holders. Published and Distributed by: The Channel The Official Student Publication of the Divine Word College of Legazpi Room 125, Divine Word College of Legazpi, Rizal St., cor. Fr. Bates St., Old Albay District, Legazpi City


“Man himself is an enigma in motion; his questions never stay asked; whereas the mold, the footprint, and by natural extension, the statue itself, like the

vaults,the arches, the temples with which man records his own passing, remain immobile and fix a moment of man’s life, upon which one might endlessly meditate.�


Literary Editor’s Note

It was hard for me to think on how this folio will be conceptualized. Really. There is a pinch of jittery behind my mind on how am I supposed to present this leaf in front of my senior editors knowing that this is the very first time of executing such. All I had was fear of what this will look like and how ideas will revolve around our minds. It was indeed a tough task for me. I just closed my eyes and held my head on the wall. All I imagine are the faces of my co-writers and co-members persevering to engrave the ideas they have in their minds and devotedly extracting the enthusiasm to compose what their emotions do perceive.

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We hope to reap the harvest of our perseverance, enthusiasm and dedication to partake in revealing the secrets behind fears and failures, in solving the riddle behind social issues, in exposing the intrigue of love and lies, in concealing pain and hatred, in unravelling the surprises of dreams and happiness, in unfolding the mystery of truth, and believing in the Enigma of Life. An Burabod is a visage of experiences, emotions, situations, perceptions, dedications, aspirations, and inspirations we have and might have in preserving a positive outlook in our undertakings and holding unto the faith we have in Him despite the cruelty this dimension may bring. I opened my eyes realizing that to touch a heart, persuade a mind, and to move along is indeed a great feat of what a true-blooded writer can do to his readers. With a pool of creative hands and flexible minds of those behind this folio, together, we will all unravel the Enigma found behind the pages. Fear not. Keep nothing. Let the ink reveal the unseen notions of our minds and unveil the concealed emotions of our hearts.

Ma. Kristhel Lopez Literary/Feature Editor

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10 Art Design | Jann Paulo Matusalem


Anesthesia Ma. Kristhel Lopez

Nilisan Sugatan Luhaang pumatak. Sugat na dulot ng iyong pagkawala ang nag-iwan ng marka sa pusong lupasay at hinang- hina. Datapwat siyang nagpamanhid sa sakit na iyong iniwan. Sugat ay hinilom Pinahid ang luha Marka ay unti-unting lilisan.

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Huling Sambit Geronimo Conmigo

Hindi magkamayaw ang mga dahon na humahalik sa lupa; Tubig-alon na lumalapastangan sa dalampasigan. Sa gitna ng unos di mapayapa ang isipan. Malakas ang silakbo, madalang maapuhap ang antok. Higa. Tagilid. Bangon. Radyo. Pailaw. Panukbong. Sa gabing pinuputakte ng ulan ang tanikalang panalangin ang tanging sambit. Ngunit di mapatahan ng gaserang aandap-andap sa delubyong hatid ng bruhang ginang na sumira ng buhay ng ilan yapusin patungo sa karikman.

*Tulang handog sa mga biktima ng Bagyong Yolanda (Nov. 8, 2013)

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Pir ing Ma. Kristhel Lopez Purity swings in what they say; in what they do, praise is what they get. Names of power are countlessly known; grievances of weak pleads rather, ignored. Luring oath is their vow, wearying thirst is ours. Empty hands slowly dying from the barrelled fists of their greed.


Photo | Ylah Mar ee Espen illa


Rm 125 Ma. Kristhel Lopez Kilala hindi kilala makikilala pa lamang o nais makilala pa. Iba’t ibang mukha at ugali, Karanasan at pagkatao ang nabuklod sa silid na ito. Para sa hindi mo kilala na makikilala pa lamang at sa kilala na nais makilala pa.

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R ean imation Jidy Onesa

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“We shall never resolve the enigma of the relation between the negative foundations of greatness and that greatness itself.�

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19 Photo | neil ivan armar io


r i es a d n Bou a Beth Lladoc Khryz

swept Wind an les beg Strugg ows rd bell aos Unhea t of ch h g i n t the uls Amids lost so , s e i d o Lost b ams ed dre rains Chain een ter s n u e it, ling th Travel the lim s i e f i l . reams Where ined d a m e r s Dream

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Tomor row I’ll Sing Lupang Hinirang

Geronimo Conmigo

I seldom acquire articles from Mang Juan. I am the foster son of Uncle Sam I eat bacon, I want burger Bread and butter. But tomorrow I’ll be what I am A Filipino who eats ‘balut’ and ‘tuyo’ A Filipino who is proud and salutes every co-citizen An identity no more a riddle for all. Tomorrow and forever I’ll sing and live its anthem.

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From a long time yearning of facing the reality of my life, 30 days was just enough to change that reality into a dream-come-true tale of what I always desire.

Ma. Kristhel Lopez

nag-PM ako sa ‘yo

1st day Idonnah, my sister, asked me about my plan of looking for our long-lost dad. I just said nothing. Maybe because I realized that I had lived 20 years of my life not knowing anything about him, even his name. Or maybe I don’t want. Her question made me laugh and wonder why she suddenly asked such. I ignored it and tried to change the topic. 10th day “Ate, nag-pm ako sayo. Kindly check it.” I was irritated by that message but of course I jumped into a conclusion that it was something really important. I checked my FB account and oh, “What is this?” I mean, “Who is this?” I looked at the picture and he looked familiar but at the back of my head I knew that I know who this man is. I hurriedly logged it out and tried to ignore it until my phone rang. Here we go again, my persistent sister is calling. “Oh, ano na naman?” I answered. “Siya ba yun ate?” she asked. I tried to change the topic but she said something to break the silence. “Wala na pala siya Ate. Three years ago na.” I hang up the phone and tears fell from my eyes.

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20th day “Ate, nag’pm ako sayo. Kindly check it.” I saw a picture of that man I saw the last time. But now,he was with a woman and three ladies. “Oh no! Don’t tell me they are….” I can’t say a word. “Our sisters!” she continued. All I felt was excitement to meet them. The pain I felt with the knowledge that my Dad passed away without any chance of knowing him was renewed into something I look forward to meeting my half-sisters and asking them everything about my Dad. 30th day It’s been said and done every beautiful thoughts been already sang and I guess right now here’s another one…(ringtone ko po yan. Love you like a love song by Selena Gomez) “Hello?” “Ateeeeeeeeeeeeeee! We are meeting them very soon!” My heart jumped with joy. Finally, a long time excitement of facing the reality of my life is now dream-come-true tale of what I always desire. Indeed, God’s plan is the greatest.

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The Slave Jidy Onesa

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“It was a marvel, an enigma in abolition latitudes, that the slaves did not rise en-masse, at the beginning of hostilities.�


Dumaong na ang Mandaragat Jeric Bigueras

Hayan na ang mandaragat! Ang nilumot na balangay Humalik na sa nakabukang palad ng buhangin, Hapo, Kumakalam ang sikmura, Tagaktak ang pawis. Sinaliksik ng ama ang kahubdan ng tubig, Pahang nakipagdagit sa pangil ng mga along Kayang magbigay ng lagom sa laman. Sa ilalim ng nagngangalit na langit Paunti unting kinumpas Ang pagdampi ng mga paa sa lupa. Kumpol kumpol ang mga matang nag—aabang, Habang humahabi ng dasal ang bitak-bitak na mga labi, Hindi para sa banyerang isdang mailalambat. Sa saliw ng musika ng elihiya, Kayag-kayag ng mandaragat Ang anak na nilamon ng dagat.

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Unshaken Prayer Baby Lyn Morota

Lord, hear our prayer Heal the lives of the homeless.

Lord, hear our prayer. Heal the Earth shaken last October.

Make them realize that the home is where the heart is It’s with their family, with their friend. A home is not a building, its bond of the people. Let their spirits be enlightened and uplifted Through our smiles, encouragement and prayers whispered.

The oldest church has fallen: untrue. The people is the Church: this is the truth. The image of Virgin Mary, Your mother was left untouched. Her praying carved marble image left a lesson That anyone who believes and prays to you is saved.

Lord, hear our prayer Heal our broken hearts. To be healed through Your grace is a mystery As we let the Holy Spirit work in us and heal our broken hearts. When we are troubled, when we’re down, when we have nowhere to go Clean our minds, erase our disbeliefs. Extend your arms and help us rise. Lord, hear our prayer which cannot be shaken by any earthquake.

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clar ity Nicco Alfad

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Uncertainty. No one can tell. It’s our faith. It’s our belief.

Can You Tell? Baby Lyn Morota

Our eyes won’t see the Word made flesh Our hearts and souls would speak for us. For not everything we see is the truth; many are lies.

Uncertainty. No one can tell. Not even you. Not even me. For He will come like a thief in the night The trumpets will roar like a thunder And we will be judged to how we lived our lives.

Uncertainty. No one can tell. He is omnipotent. He Himself is mystery.

Uncertainty. No one can tell. It’s only Him. It’s only Him.

Many have claimed that the world is to end. Many say that signs are evident. But whom shall we believe? Whom shall we hold on to?

False prophets will appear Claiming they’re the Messiah. How would we know whom to believe?

Uncertainty. No one can tell. The end is near. Is the end today?

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Unsung Heroes Khryza Beth Lladoc

Took a shot of the unusual Captured, knitted together for a purpose Made known to the public Through the spectrum of flickering televisions. Never had we wondered The facts…the realities… The persons…their experiences Where the news gained its life. Mighty journalists, Even risked lives, Ready to cheat death, For a pledge indeed embodied by the worthy.

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alter ego Nicco Alfad

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Namaste Nicco Alfad

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X Conrado Gamboa III A letter prominent to all A symbolic representation of a broken love A variable in the study A multiplication of everybody A memory that has passed An axis in the graph An average in the stat A bitterness of the past Many letters in the alphabet Why “X” is the best among the rest Two diagonal lines that intersect That’s what an X represents

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Run ic

Shaila May Lucila Rune is the youngest assassin in an infamous guild named Crescent. Her parents died during a war when she was just 12. Because of her parents’ death, Rune’s aunt took Rune in her care. One day, a noblewoman was being cornered by thugs trying to make a living by stealing from people’s pockets. Rune stepped up to the delinquents and effortlessly beat them up. Brushing off her surprise, the noblewoman thanked Rune and complimented her on her skills. She introduced herself as a financial provider of a guild and offered Rune a stay at an investigation and assassination guild. The day of the mission briefing, their leader, Mia, assigned a job to assassinate the prince of the kingdom because of the prince’s significant part in a covert plan to destroy neighboring mining towns to control the

gold. Rune was given this task along with Mayer, Rune’s bestfriend in the guild. That night, Mayer talked to Rune saying what if the information the guild got was wrong, what if the prince wasn’t the culprit behind that plan. All Rune could assure was they had to do job for the guild and for the kingdom’s people. Rune bid a quick farewell to Mayer and walked back to her room. During her walk, she saw Mia talking to a nobleman. After that talk, Rune asked Mia what it was about. Mia shrugged it off as nothing so Rune just dismissed it. The day to start the mission came. Rune and Mayer made their way through the sewers which was connected to the back of the castle. They climbed up a short sewer ladder and arrived at the castle’s mini-garden. Two guards saw both of them and Mayer instantly and silently killed both of them. Mayer told Rune that he’ll distract the other guards in and out of the castle while Rune climbs the castle wall up to the prince’s room. Rune did so and carefully made sure not to fall off so as not to alert the guards. Through the window, she immediately saw the prince in his room. She cautiously opened the window and hit the prince at the back of his head. The prince opened his eyes and found out he

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was in a sewer with a young female. Rune wiped her dagger and patted the prince’s face with it. She wanted to know the truth about the plan to destroy some towns. The prince looked shocked and declared that he wasn’t involved in such a thing. He challenged Rune to assassinate him then and there only to find out after her doing so that none of that plan involved a monarch. Besides, if they even had a plan of that kind, it would be the king who would do it since a king is the most powerful. The prince then revealed that he was part of a group dedicated to finding whoever it was who would initiate the plan. Rune went wide-eyed and dropped her dagger as it made a deafening, clinking sound that echoed in the sewers. A voice called out to Rune outside. Both of them couldn’t see who it was, the light only formed the silhouette of a woman. The woman then spoke out loud and told Rune to assassinate the prince at once. Rune had a feeling that she knew this all too familiar voice of the woman. The woman unsheathed a sword and said that she’ll kill the prince herself for he obstructs them with their plans to destroy the neighboring towns. Rune only realized now that it was this woman who was the real culprit behind it all. Mayer jumped and stopped the woman from advancing any further and told Rune to hide somewhere else. Rune grabbed the prince’s hand and ran past the woman only to find out… that it was the noblewoman she saved back then. She ignored her thoughts and continued to run and wonder why.

Photo | neil ivan armar io


Photo | neil ivan armar io

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Incubus

Mark Eljohn Occidental Fear dwells into the eyes of a mourning child of a woman lying in menace forgotten of respect denied by animosity marked with wounds of jealousy and slavery from the ruthless palm of a man hiding into the coat of brutality.


Kailan Magpapantay ang mga Patlang? Jeric Bigueras

Humikab ng tinta ang pluma Sa kulay abong kwadernong ginusot Ng nakakuyom na kamao. Tuldok. Tuloy- tuloy ang pagkumpas at nagbayle Sa kaibabawan. Pumasada ang linya mula kaliwa hanggang sa kanan. Sa ibabaw. Sa ilalim. Isa, dalawa, taltlo, o higit pang mga patlang Na nilapat sa a siyeteng kwaderno ni Jun.

Nang sumayad ang tinta, Magkakaiba ang sukat ng haba. Magkakaiba ang diin. Ang espasyo, Ang marka. Kailan kaya magpapantay ang mga patlang— Ng mahirap sa nakaaangat? Ng mahina sa malalakas? Ni Eba sa mga Adan? Kailan magpapantay ang dulo Ng bawat litanya Nang walang gamit na panukat?

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Photo | bradlee futalan


Shadows Conrado Gamboa III Following me from day to night Connected to me from birth till death Super dark during the sunlight Slowly fading after the daylight Will never make you alone In darkness it will wander Light, darkness, light The feeling is mutual Will the shadows gain its freedom? Does death separate it from its host? For now, let us be one Join the journey of life.

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Gymnast Jeric Bigueras 39


Hukay

Ma. Kristhel Lopez Mangmang o walang pakialam sa pighating humubog sa kaisipang rurok sa kasinungalingan Nakaw at daya ni aninong salarin ay di mahagilap sa nagtatalukbong na kapangyarihan at pagnanasa Pera at dangal pundasyong animo’y kalansay na naaagnas at bulok na pagkataong uhaw sa kaban.

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“I’m tired of being this solemn poet of the masses, the enigma shrouded in a mystery.”

Art Design | Jann Paulo Matusalem


Spir ited Jemina Neo

Come back to me darling, come back to me Closer to the soul I used to see; Never step back to the abyss of loneliness, Come closer, to me, closer to fullness. You’ll never know how long it is The satisfaction when it’s our moment in bliss. Don’t go too fast nor walk astray; Letting me miss you is the worst feeling I’ve come to play. Come back my darling, come back. Fill me up again of the presence that I lack; Forever not only now I ask. Come back to me darling, come back.


Photo | neil ivan armar io


Escape Vincent Climacosa

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Pistol or Blood? Norlie Garbida

Scream and shout Of eyes with obscurity behind the smoke of gunpowders and dusty shoes of the army roaming the area of malady. Scream and shout Of ears deafened by the raucous riot of guns and bombs pace on the blood, armed men shot the lives of ill-fated ` Scream and shout Of what they say. . . to end the rule of anarchy.

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An Buhay Kan Tawo Rodelyn Ogao

Kapag an kulog nadaog nin boot, Alawig na kaogmahan an maidodolot. Makaskas an pulso, maluwas an daplos; Makaluluya, mapapagal maghangos. Anuman na alangaang an mamatean, An pag-iro ki kamot asin bitis dae mapupugulan. Minsan kun sain pa nakaduman, Makua sana an pigmamawot na kauswagan. Yan an kapagalan na pigaagihan, Nganing an tawo mabuhay sa kinaban, Igos digdi, tios duman; Kung mag-ugak, tigbak an padumanan.

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“A turkey is more occult and awful than all the angels and archangels. In so far as God has partly revealed to us an angelic world, he has partly told us what an angel means. But God has never told us what a turkey means. And if you go and stare at a live turkey for an hour or two, you will find by the end of it that the enigma has rather increased than diminished.�

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Thief in the Mir ror Norlie Garbida

It lies in the darkness It crawls through the gloom. As rays of hope begin to unfold, This mischievous thief took it all. Nothing left, nothing more The little joys I have kept, Stolen by a formidable foe Struggling to make it through, Breathing with this curse Something broke, something shattered. Concealed deep within my being, A culprit who must now face defeat Doubts, fear and consternation Their painful grips finally vanished.

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Everything revived, everything renewed.

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Change Vincent Climacosa


52 Photo | neil ivan armar io


Dejavu

Conrado Gamboa III The moon already reaches its peak yet my body doesn’t feel like to sleep. The breeze of the wind is the only thing that I hear. Coldness slowly wraps my feet. What a strange feeling. Roar. Silence. Roar. A strange sound, unexplainable feeling and unusual aura, I feel so scared. My heart is pumping so fast. Oh Lord, please let me fall asleep. Tok. Tok. Tok. A knock on the door. Who might it be? I’m all alone. A sudden screech, no, a voice that’s what I hear. The door slightly opens. A woman is coming towards me. I feel like I’m paralyzed, I cannot move, run nor scream. She’s close, very close, I don’t know what to do. She’s crying, she suddenly stops and sat beside me. She flicks my forehead and whisper to my ear “…” I cannot understand it. A ray of light slit through the window. I sweat all over my body and a tear drops from my eyes. It’s already 6 am in the morning. I didn’t notice I fell asleep. It was all a dream yet it feels like so real. What’s the purpose of the dream? A whisper passes through my ear. A message that conveys mystery is waiting to be unfold in reality.


Lawud Jidy Onesa


Nameless Norlie Garbida

He was nonexistent. Not until he stared at me with those piercing eyes, sparkling with tears. It cut right through me but I neglected him. Walking as far away

“Go away,� I heard myself say. He reached his puny hands towards me. All I could do was force it away. Suddenly, a crash against the skull resounded. A bloody scene enveloped the cold street. I ran away, not wanting to see. Not wanting pain, not wanting reality. Mysterious hands took him away.

He followed me with hesitant steps. I was too numb to care, and then the eerie silence was broken. We reached the corner of the street. He stood there motionless, serene.

Soundless echoes, accused me. But as the loud ringing of denial finally vanished, It was already too late.

I rested my stride. Looking at him with cold indifference and fake sympathy

He was without a name, and now without a life.

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“The wounded surgeon plies the steel That questions the distempered part; Beneath the bleeding hands we feel The sharp compassion of the healer’s art Resolving the enigma of the fever chart.”

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Time Vincent Climacosa 55


when scar let seeks Jidy Onesa

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Metanoia Norlie Garbida

Makabagong panahon, Sa atin ay humaharap Diwang nalilito Iba’t ibang tensyon Ang sumunod ay higit pa. Gyera. Pagyanig. Baha. Pangamba ay supilin. Takot ay linlangin. Sa pagdating ng umaga, Tayo ay babangon. Pipiglas, magaaklas.

Upang itayo ang bagong bukas. Tayo ang tanging lunas. Kaya’t ilabas ang liwanag, Ang tapos ay siyang simula. Hikayatin ang madla, Ngumiti, tumawa. Dahil sa guhit ng palad, Kasunod ay pag-usad. Sabay na salubungin. Ang pangako ng pag-asa. Lalampas sa karimlan, Tayo’y muling isisilang.

*Nagkamit ng Unang Gantimpala sa 4th Cris Hugo Awards in Journalism and Literature , Ateneo de Naga University, November 23, 2013

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Alter nate R eality Jemina Neo

Blurred visions that hamper the way to perfection Obstacles that drag the strength into oblivion; Will it continue to burn or will it just disappear? Tell me; is this just me or the creeping crowd of fear? You, the all knowing being, are you really there? Or a figment of man’s intricate and creative imaginative flare? This isn’t love or infatuation or curiosity This is just the reality that doesn’t exist completely.

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Art Design | Jann Paulo Matusalem


“The artist needs to understand the truth that lies at the bottom of an enigma.�

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Photo | bradlee futalan


McFloat: Six Degr ees of Separation

Baby Lyn Morota You’re only doing things out of desperation I got my iPod and earphones and played music. You’re going through six degrees of separation [Now Playing: Six Degrees of Separation] Yes, I needed to bid goodbye to the man-whocan’t-be-moved. Madness enclosed me. I was blinded by anger. I became mute so I won’t utter forgiveness. I kept my smile but heartache and bitterness is eating me up inside. Cliché but this is true. And it’s been three years [refer to McFloat: Can’t Fight This Feeling]. First, you think the worst is a broken heart What’s gonna kill you is the second part And the third, is when your world splits down the middle And the fourth, you’re gonna think that you fixed yourself Fifth, you see them out with someone else And the sixth, is when you admit that you may have messed up a little. “I think you should end this misery, “My bestfriend whispered. “I still love him, though a little less than before,” I uttered. “It’s been years. You haven’t moved on yet. You’re trapped in the past,” she said and tapped my shoulders. I crossed the street, bought a McFloat, got a stick note, and wrote – Woo, can we talk? Later. Same time, same place. The clock ticked 5:00 o’clock. I took a sip of McFloat. “Will he come? Did he get the note?” I asked myself.

First, you think the worst is a broken heart What’s gonna kill you is the second part And the third, is when your world splits down the middle And the fourth, you’re gonna think that you fixed yourself Fifth, you see them out with someone else And the sixth, is when you admit that you may have messed up a little. When I lifted my face from my iPod, I saw the same man I loved three years ago. He was staring at me. I saw his puzzled face with a weary frown. “It’s been a while since I’ve been to this place,” he said without looking at me. I just gave him a nod. “Uhm, sorry,” we said in unison. I didn’t wait him to react. Instead I continued, “I’m sorry. If only I had the courage to fight for you, I would not have let you go. But I didn’t want to make you choose because I know what your decision would be. When I told you my first choice, you said that if I chose it, it’s as if I don’t love you. I was young, not that mature, and a fool so I thought letting go is another way of saying I love you.” Tears began to fall. I felt him squeeze my hand, “We both messed up. Maybe, we loved each other but we didn’t really like each other.” I fixed my gaze at him. My tears continued to flow. I felt my knees tremble. I had so many things to tell

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him but I am drowned with tears and fears. “I knew from the start that you still like her. But I was a loser thinking that you would love me more than her. I am so pathetic. I was the one who messed up. I was selfish. I wanted to keep you beside me. But when we broke up, I realized I was the one who pushed you to her. If only I became honest with you from the start – I was insecure, I was jealous whenever you’re with her, things could have been different,” I sobbed. I heard him answer me while I was busy wiping my tears, “I also had my faults. I should have not courted you when I knew that I still liked her and I was waiting for her. Bee, I didn’t want to see you suffer. I am hurt whenever I see you cry.” I calmed myself but before I knew it, he stood up and hugged me. I heard him sob. I knew he was in tears, as well. I broke the silence, “Don’t feel and think that you gave me false hopes. I was the one who was hopeful that we’ll have a happy ever after. But just like you, I also had my shortcomings. Still, I felt your love because you were honest to me even to the extent of hurting me.” He hugged me tightly and then walked out of the restaurant. I took a deep breath. I sighed. When I looked at the table, I saw a McFloat with a note – I don’t deserve you to shelter me when the rain starts to pour. Your happiness is not with me. The mystery in goodbye is being able to open another chapter in your life. Tears started to fall again as I sipped the McFloat and sent a text message – Pain is never gone, it’s just buried deep in our hearts. I don’t have to move on, I just have to get used living without him. Now, I have finally reached the sixth degree of separation – acceptance.

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| ion t a str Illu

sa ne O y Jid


Photo | neil ivan armar io


Unveiled Far ewell

Khryza Beth Lladoc There were those days when my grandma felt like care of grandma, approached her hurriedly - running, sitting alone at her usual colompion at the front porch. screaming, crying. Grandma wad startled. The weather was at its finest, and she would let the breeze linger through her skin. “Mama! Mama!” her daughter cried harder. But before grandma could speak, her daughter said in But one time in the same setting, the day seemed tears, “Wara na si Nonoy”. different. The weather was fine, but the breeze felt colder. She knew she would not believe her daughter’s Grandma just shrugged it off, and as she was about to report. She just saw his grandson and even touched lie back, she was surprised to see his youngest grandson him. walking towards her from the fields. To her surprise, her daughter hugged her and told He rarely visits her for he and his family lived far from her the disheartening event. Nonoy’s body was found grandma’s place. So, she was really glad to see him. lifeless at the bottom of the river earlier that day. “Bisa tabi Lola”, he greeted as he approached, getting They both cried to the confirmation of the tragic his grandma’s left hand to touch his forehead. news. Grandma flinched. His hands were ice cold. His shirt was dripping. A day later, while standing near her grandson’s casket, grandma bid him her last goodbye. She “Ay salamat Nonoy. Masaen ka?” she asked anyway, remembered everything that happened the last day. setting aside what she noticed. “You showed up but you were dead,” she uttered to “Mahale na ako, La,” he answered, and not anymore herself. waiting for grandma’s reply, he walked away and It all made sense to her now. disappeared in the fields. And that was that. “Padaba takang maray Noy,” her final words was all Grandma was somehow puzzled. Her grandson didn’t she could say. even stay for long. She thought maybe he was in a hurry. The cold breeze, his cold hands, his wet shirt, his surprise visit, and his death were the unveiled mystery She lay back again, thinking how unusual it is for her of her favorite grandson’s farewell to his beloved favorite, youngest grandson to visit her in a day like that. grandmother. But then, grandma’s wonders flew off when after a few minutes, her older daughter, Nonoy’s aunt who took

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And his last words, “Mahale na ako, La”.


His Unfathomable Wrath Rodelyn Ogao

Speaks… Lexically inhumane. Acts… Personally indignant. Resembles… A hog butcher. Works as… An appetite corruptor. Accomplishes it… Fraudulently discrete. Judges… Technically inconsiderate. Appears… Superbly indifferent. Undoubtedly unreasonable.

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ser endipity Nicco Alfad

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“People are fascinating. They’re so unique and I think what’s more fascinating is the reason behind the physical characteristic, the enigma, that’s where the gold dust is.”

70 Art Design | Jann Paulo Matusalem


Not as Clear as Crystal Water Maureen Boncacas

A war that echoes the people’s rage of anger that reached its peak. A crime that angered the nation of persons ought not to tell. A land that shudders on our dismay lays life of fruitless case. A sea that waves angrily off shore by a storm that brought its state. Lives that were once buoyant shattered like a glass that braked. Fears are felt for tears that flowed of those with unseeingly hope. Many are hostile for a life to breathe on a quart chance to survive. We yearn for an answer of these things so tragic. Either punishment to mankind or a sign sought to be reflected. Is a mystery soon to be unfolded by someone only He knows.


Twisted Jemina Neo

This is what I’ve become; the man of every woman’s desire, pleasures and all the good stuff that it includes. I’m more than what they could even imagine or pray for. I’m the perfect man for the perfect woman that suits me best. My name’s Magno. I’ve lived a wonderful life being me: completely handsome from head to feet, superbly intelligent, undoubtedly rich, funny, genuinely athletic and a true gentleman. I’ve never regretted it nor boasted about the luxuries that I have; I just go with the flow and live the life that everybody would wish for. And now that I have finished my college course, taken the licensure exam and working diligently at the place I’ve always wanted, I long to be in the arms of the perfect woman that suits me. The perfect woman to the perfect Magno. She must be tall, flawless, sexy, has long hair, round medium eyes, cute nose and rosy cheeks in terms of physical standing. The rest? Oh, it’ll follow. Like the wit, poise and etiquette. That’ll be perfect for me; only for me. I do not wish to rely on destiny to find for my perfect match. It takes too long and probably wouldn’t qualify to my specifications considering that I am almost a perfectionist. So I take it my way and create my own. Yes, I, Magno, will create my perfect woman. Now would be the right time to create one to call my own, my one and only. My work ends by the afternoon of tomorrow, which by then I will begin my creation. Oh, I must be excited and thrilled and feeling the outburst of youth; and yes I am! There will be thousands of chemicals to be worked upon to create the perfect creature

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and there will be long hours of agony to combine them all and wait for the final product that I have always longed for as a man. This is it and I am not backing out. It looked at me for the first time it has been completed. Let me correct the “it” into a “she.” She directly looked at me; the evidence of my creation – my perfect creation – the woman of Magno. All my sweat, blood and energy have paid off to this beautiful perfect creature in front of me. Eureka! Eureka! And by that I shall name you Eunice. “Do you love what you see Magno?” Eunice asked suddenly. In my astonishment I replied, “I love whatever it is before my eyes, my love. You are the perfect woman for me that I love from the day I made you, and I will forever love until I breathe my last. I love what I see my love.” Eunice stared into the horizon after hearing what I’ve said. She’s wonderful, perfect, beautiful, a goddess and all good things that could be attributed to such a woman I’ve made. I succeeded in making my perfect woman, the woman that only I have, that only loves me and that I will only love back. Suddenly, Eunice twisted to look directly at me again, opened her lips and said, “I am not your perfect woman, Magno. I am not your perfect creation. Look at me. I am a complete set of artificial materials of worldly desires. What is it that you truly love about me? Nothing. I am just a superficial being in your existence. Look deeper into me, Magno, and understand what it is to be me.” I cried by those words that she spoke. I shook off the emotions and asked her why she is doing this. “I am you, Magno. We are only one.”

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Kadukhaan Conrado Gamboa III

Ginto ang katumbas ngayon Panandaliang saya ang ihahatid saiyo Palad dito, palad doon Sayang grasya din ito. Biniktima ang nangangailangan Pinagsamantalahan ang kahinaan Dinaan sa kapangyarihan Nanalo ng hindi patas ang laban Walang muwang na sila’y nalinlang Basta’t malamanan lang ang sikmura Pilit inabot ang tuktok ng piramide, Bahala na kung sino ang masagasaan Nasa itaas ako, nasa ibaba ka Napaniwala ka ng aking kasinungalingan.

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R edemption Vincent Climacosa

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Heart of apocalypse Ma.Kristhel Lopez

As the water forcefully drowns my senses, I laid my fate in a bar of steel chained at the wall inside our house- fate of seeing the sun rise again- but my consciousness slowly fades together with the hope of living life again that falls apart. I was awakened from a nap by the news that a super typhoon will probably strike the area by Friday. The report narrates how people from other provinces and cities were disturbed by its coming. My friend texted me to keep our books and belongings at the safest place and make sure that the water will not ruin it in any circumstances. I was sitting in the sala and keeping an eye on the weather. It was steady. Calm and steady. Night rushed and everything was normal. Maybe people were just panicking of what the news informs. As the sinister of dusky clouds coated the sky, light to heavy rain started to plummet and rustling wind started to blew. That was indeed a signal that the typhoon is here. Suddenly, a ferocious splash of water cast out the city and terribly awakened our minds that surge is really happening. All I see are the waves of water razing the houses while hearing their cries. A tremor slowly takes away my life. As the water forcefully drowns my senses, I laid my fate in a bar of steel chained at the wall inside our house, but the voice of my mother and her dreams echoes as if she is telling me to draw strength from my faith in Him. I prayed. My mind and my heart prayed turning the water that soaks me to death to the water that gives me another life. The next morning came as cold and grief both embraced me while seeing the devastation left up to the farthest border my eyes could see. Tears fell from my eyes, and remorse gripped my heart as I hear the weeping of a mother who embraces her cold child, of a husband who carries his dead wife, and of a grandchild who looks for his lost grandmother. All I did was to look up in the sky and slowly closed my eyes. But a consoling hand of a young boy pat my shoulder and said,�just thank Him for our life, and pray for the souls of unlucky ones.�

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79 Photo | gemma ray naz


Art Design | Jann Paulo Matusalem

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“If you understand or if you don’t If you believe or if you doubt Ther e’s a un iversal justice And the eyes of truth Ar e always watching you”


Nalumang Uso Baby Lyn Morota

Tagu-taguan maliwanag ang buwan. Makabilang ako ng sampu nakatago na kayo – 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10. Masarap alalahanin ang mga panahon ng tayo ay mga paslit pa lamang. Walang pakialam sa mundo, walang kamuwang-muwang. Ang tanging alalahanin lang natin ay ang kumain kapag gutom at matulog kapag inaantok. Uso ang taguan sa mga batang 90’s at kahit sa mga sinundan nitong henerasyon. Malawak pa nga ang espasyong nasasakop sa pagtataguan – buong bakuran, buong barangay, o di kaya ay buong eskinita. Hindi ba nakakatuwang pagala-gala tayo noon sa kalye o likod-bahay ng walang iniisip na kapahamakan? Dahil ang tanging kinakatatakutan natin noon ay ang sitsit ni Nanay at sinturon ni Tatay. Uso rin noon ang lutu-lutuan at bahay-bahayan. Wala pa tayong Houseville, The Sims 1, 2, and 3 o kaya naman ay Restaurant City. Kontento na tayo sa pagluluto ng mga dahon at pagtatayo ng bahay-bahayan sa bakuran. Minsan nga, dinadagdagan pa natin ito ng tinda-tindahan. Ang dahon ang perang papel at ang mga bato ang mga barya. At syempre. Nawala na ba sa atin ang kasal-kasalan? Sabuyan pa natin ang bagong kasal ng mga bulaklak na pinitas mula sa hardin ni Lola. Ayos lang kahit mapalo ni Lola. Uso rin ang baril-barilan noon kahit gawa ito sa kahoy o di kaya ay straw. Pero ngayon, meron na tayong World of Fun at Timezone. Bibili ka lang ng tokens, makakapaglaro ka na. Uso sa atin ang magsaya kahit brownout dahil hilig natin ang magtakutan. Nahasa rin tayo sa paglikha ng iba’t-ibang imahe gamit ang ating anino. Naalala niyo pa na uso ang anino ng aso, ibon, alimango, at kuneho gamit ang kamay? Ngunit ngayon, ilang oras na brownout pa lang hindi na mapakali. Dahil daw ito sa walang Facebook, Twitter, mainit at di makapag-upload ng Selfie. Noon, sapat na sa atin ang may pamaypay at may


lampara o kandila para maging masaya kahit matagalang brownout. Uso rin ang paglalangoy sa ilog, pamimitas ng prutas at pag-akyat ng puno. Ngayon bawal na gawin iyon ng mga bata kasi madumi na ang ilog, kulang na ang mga puno at di na masyadong uso ang pagtatanim sa likod bahay. Ayun! Mag-shopping na lang sa mall ng gulay at prutas o di kaya bumili ng fruit at veggie salad. May mga mahilig din noon sa slumbook, scrapbook, at diary. Aba, tinatago pa nga ito sa baul o kahon na ayaw ipakita kaninuman. Subalit ngayon, maari na nating sabihin ang laman ng ating isip at nararamdaman sa social media. Maliban sa Facebook at Twitter, maari tayong mag-blog sa Wordpress, Weebly o Tumblr. Isang click lang naka-post ka na at alam na ng buong mundo. Isa akong batang 90s. Mapalad akong nalanghap ko pa ang simoy ng hangin at naging masaya sa mga simpleng bagay sa kapaligiran. Hindi ko masisisi ang mga batang kahit tatlong gulang pa lang ay marunong na gumamit ng iPad at maglaro ng video games. Minsan nga nakikipag-agawan pa sa Ate at Kuya gumamit ng laptop o desktop. Iba’t-ibang henerasyon. Iba’t-ibang uso. Ngunit ngayon, ang usong nakagisnan ko sa aking kabataan ay naluma na ng panahon. Wag mong ikaila dahil kung iiwas ka sa kahapon, maaring di ka makasama sa pagusad ng mundo. Naluma man ang usong nakagisnan ko, mananatili ito sa ating mga puso at masarap balik-balikan ang kahapon na may ngiti sa ating labi at kislap sa ating mata. Kung ano ang nauuso sa bawat henerasyon ay di natin nalalaman. Ito ay produkto ng imahinasyon, karanasan, curiosity, at katalinuhan ng tao. Higit sa lahat, ang mga uso ay mula sa hindi pagiging kontento ng bawat isa sa atin. Kung ano ang uso bukas, ito ay kung ano ang pakiramdam mo ay kakulangan sa kung anong meron tayo ngayon.


Art Design | Jann Paulo Matusalem


"The whole is a r iddle, an en igma, an inexplicable mystery. Doubt, uncertainty, suspense of judgment appear the only r esult of our most accurate scrutiny, concer n ing this subject. But such is the frailty of human r eason, and such the ir r esistible contagion of opin ion, that even this deliberate doubt could scarcely be upheld; did we not enlarge our view, and opposing one species of superstition to another , set them a quar r elling; while we ourselves, dur ing their fury and contention, happily make our escape into the calm, though obscur e, r egions of philosophy."


The ChanneL Conquer to seek. Dare to speak.

The Official Student Publication of the Divine Word College of Legazpi Editorial Board Academic Year 2012-2013 EDITOR IN CHIEF Geronimo Conmigo ASSOCIATE EDITOR Baby Lyn Morota MANAGING EDITOR Jeric Bigueras NEWS EDITOR Norlie Garbida FEATURE & LITERARY EDITOR Ma. Kristhel Lopez DEVCOM EDITOR Rodelyn Ogao CREATIVE EDITOR Mark Eljohn Occidental SENIOR CARTOONIST Vincent Climacosa JUNIOR CARTOONISTS Jidy Onesa, Nicco Alfad CHIEF PHOTOJOURNALIST Gemma Ray Naz ASSITANT PHOTOJOURNALISTS Ylahh Maree Espenilla, Neil Ivan Armario SENIOR GRAPHIC ARTIST Bradlee Futalan JUNIOR GRAPHIC ARTIST Jann Paulo C. Matusalem CORRESPONDENTS Conrado Gamboa III, Khryza Beth Lladoc, Jemina Neo MODERATOR Nora N. Gallano Member: College Editors’ Guild of the Philippines Correspondence may be adressed to: The Channel, G/F, Room 125, Divine Word College of Legazpi, Rizal St., Cr. Fr. Bates St., Old Albay District, Legazpi City 4500 Like us at www.facebook.com/DWCLthechannel For comments and suggestions, e-mail us at thechannelpub@yahoo.com Front Cover Photo | Neil Ivan Armario Back Cover Photo | Gemma Ray Naz

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All the stories are pure work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, events or locales, is entirely coincidental and is used for a purpose.

An Burabod THE OFFICIAL LITERARY FOLIO OF THE CHANNEL Literary Committee Feature/Literary Editor Ma. Kristhel Lopez Associate Literary Editor Geronimo Conmigo Head Art Director Bradlee Futalan Art Director Jann Paulo Matusalem Graphic Artists Vincent Climacosa Jidy Onesa Nicco Alfad Photographers Gemma Ray Naz Ylah Maree Espenilla Neil Ivan Armario Writers Baby Lyn Morota Jeric Bigueras Norlie Garbida Rodelyn Ogao Mark Eljohn Occidental Conrado Gamboa III Khryza Beth Lladoc Jemina Neo Moderator Nora Gallano

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An Burabod IS A COLLECTION OF ORIGINAL MANUSCRIPTS, PHOTOGRAPHS, ART DESIGNS, AND ARTWORKS WRITTEN, DRAWN, AND CREATED BY THE EDITORIAL BOARD MEMBERS AND CONTRIBUTORS.


An Burabod: Enigma