Busay (Year 44) by Pagbutlak

Introduction 9 Poetry Hinggil sa Kamatayan 15 Island-Boy Syndrome 16 Obitwaryo sa Wala 18 Panahon ng Taglimot 20 A Trek to Sitio Taroytoy 21 A Queer Poem after the Colony 24 Ang Paalala ni Kabola, at iba pang tula 26 Mamâ 27 To the Land Forgotten 28 Migration, Birds 29 Invocation 30 Ikaw nga Babaye 32 Nakawan 33 Dead Dictator’s Apology 34 Kagamo, a! 35 Los Felipos 36 Mall sang Squatters 38 PALAGI KANG HINDI NAKAHUHUMA 40 SA HARAP NG KARAHASAN Kung paano nagsisimula ang lahat 43 sa basag na bintana SA PABRIKA 44 Gulpi lang nag uran 45 ang buhay ay nasa kamay ng manggagawa 52 Ang Musmos 53 Konpesyon sa Poon 55 Ilongga, s’ya bala? 57

Prose Ang Wastong Paghuhugas ng Kamay 59 Kaya Pala 60 IN THE YEAR 536 61 HOMEBOUND LUIS 67 Indi Ikaw Buang 83 THE CASE OF THE DISAPPEARING 89 AngWHEELCHAIREspektakulo at Paghamon sa Nasyonalismo 98 sa Panahon ng Pagtsatsapstik at Subtitle Ang Pagkahumaling ng mga Tauhan 104 sa Tagapagligtas na Imahe ni Bobby Contributors 113

Nagbukas ang pasahan ng ika 44 na bolyum ng Busay nitong nakaraang Pebrero, mahigit dalawang taon na nang nagsimula ang sigalot ng pandemya, iilang linggo bago ang national election, at halos apat na buwan bago bumaba si Duterte at gayon ang pagkakaluklok ni Marcos Jr. Ang kaligiran ng mga likhang napabilang sa lathalaing ito ay tinatalunton ang mga sari-saring pagninilay at pagdadalumat ng mga manunulat, marahil sa mga lumipas na taon pa, patungo sa mga linggong ginugol ng karamihan sa pangangampanya, hanggang sa mga pagkakataong sinisiyasat ang sarili sa gitna ng pagdududa sa mga bagay bagay at sa ilalim ng lumalalang pulitika at ekonomiya ng bansa.

Kung sa gayon, may mabigat na pasanin ang mga manunulat kung paano babaybayin ng kanilang mga sarili ang balikukong panlipunang naratibo at konteksto ng ating bayan at kung paano nila hahayumain ang mga ito sa isang konkreto at tuwid na pagpapahayag sa kanilang gawa; tunay at walang ikinakait na kahit katiting mang katotohanan samgamambabasasagitnang napapanahongdistorsyon ng atingSakasaysayan.kompilasyong ito, umuunat ang mga pagsasalaysay mula sa eksistensyal na paghimay sa kasalukyang hinaharap ng manunulat patungo sa putitikal at historikal na paglalantad ng mga karanasan ng bawatisa saatin. Mayroong elemento ng pagkokomprontangpersona sa antak ng pagdadalamhati. Katulad lamang ng Hinggil sa Kamatayan ni Paul Joshua Morante na tinatampok ang kamatayan, bagamat ay isang natural na proseso ng buhay, ay isang konseptong destiyero pa rin sa ating mga pandama. Lumilitaw ito sa ordinaryong tagpuan ng pang-araw-araw nating pagsuong sa buhay, sa mga karaniwang imaheng nasasalubong natin, ngunit, kailanman ay wala tayong buong kahandaan para harapin ito.

Komikal namang inilahad ni Rhyne Adrielle Roxas, sa kaniyang dagling Kaya Pala, ang nakakalungkot na reyalidad ng late stage capitalism, kung paanong ang repetitive labor at ang mahigpit na kapitngkapitalismo ay nilalamon ang pang araw araw nating mga

Mall sang Squatters, inilarawan naman ni Glenn Ivan Macitas kung paanong may mahalagang relasyon ang pampublikong espasyo sa paghulma ng ating kabataan, ang espasyo bilang tanghalan ng iba’t ibang posibilidad ng mga inaasam ng isang musmos. Ngunit ang malaking hamon ay nginangatngat ng pribatisasyon ang espasyong ito, at ipinagkakait ang mga maaalwang posibilidad na iyon. Subalit, maaaring panandaliang napapawi ang mga pagkabigong ito ng mga ikonong tinitingala ng karamihan sa telebisyon, ang artista bilang napapanahong opyum ng masa sa dagling Ang Wastong Paghuhugas ng Kamay ni Christian Balagoza

10 Binigyang diin naman ni Theodore Ricardo Bautista, sa kaniyang tulang A Trek to Sitio Taroytoy, ang sarili, bilang hindi lamang taga-obserba ng espektakulo ng kaniyang paligid, kundi ang sarili at ang eksternal ay may matimtimang kontradiksyon. Sa kaniyangmala biblikalnapagpapahiwatigngpaglalakbay ng persona patungong Sitio Taroytoy, buhat buhat ng manunulat ang pasanin para sa ating mga taga labas na mambabasa upang ipaalam na ang kabundukan at katalunan ay isang masukal at walang habag na paysahe para sa ating mga indigenous peoples, sapagkat lugar ito ng pakikipagbuno at pakikibaka nila sa pang-araw-araw. Lalo pang pinag-ugnay ang grabedad ng kontradiksyong ito sa tulang A Queer Poem after the Colony ni Jomer Malonosan sa pamamagitan ng isang eksistensyalathistorikalnapagsasalugarng sekswalidad atidentidad. May similaridad ito sa konseptwalisasyon ng dula ni Rody Vera na “Indigo Child” na tumutukoy sa mga pagtatangka ng tinatawag na “anak ng kontradiksyon” na hawanan ang kagulumihanan sa pagkakakilanlan nito sa pamamagitan ng paghahanap ng sarili sa kasaysayan.Satulang

11 kilos sa pamamagitan ng paglusaw ng hangganan ng prupesyunal at personal nating espasyo. At kung ilulugar naman ang personal sa panorama ng politikal, isinalaysay ni Luis Sidney Mariano sa kanyang film rebyu, Ang Pagkahumaling ng mga Tauhan sa Tagapagligtas na Imahe ni Bobby, ang dilema ng tunggalian sa pagitan ng personal na adhikain at ang layunin ng isang kilusan. Ginagaygay ngkaniyang sanaysay angpakikibakangisangpetiburgis sa liberalismo, ang laging paalala na dapat umigpaw sa personal na kaluguran at pagnanasa. Sumasangguni ito sa diskusyong hinggil sa ideyang hindi dapat pinapangunahan o binubuntutan ang masa. Ipinahayag naman ang konsepto ng pag-usad sa magaang tula ni Hezekiah Louie Zaraspe na Migration, Birds, ang mga ibon bilang mga pangarap nating tinutubuan na ng pakpak na may pagtáhur sa konsepto ng nasyonalismo. Kinikilala rin nito ang gahum ng pananampalataya sa pagsasakahulugan ng nasyong ito, lalo na sa mahalagang konteksto ng kasalukyang inhustisya, impunidad, at paglipol ng katotohanan. Sa kabilang banda naman, magkatugma ang pundasyon ng tula ni Jan Andrew Magluyan na Los Felipos, at Toshiro Hiroshi na In The Year 536, sa paraang may intimasiya ang mga akda nila sa pwersa ng nakaraan sa kung paano hinaharap ang kasalukuyan. Ipinahiwatig ni Magluyan naang mgapolitikal na mito ay nagbibigay daan sa mistipikasyon ng ating nakaraan. Ang mga ganitong sirkumstansiya ay nilalabnaw ang mga mahahalagang naratibo sa ating kasaysayan, at binibigyang lehitimo ang mga naratibong iniimbento ng mga naghaharing uri. Samantala, sinasalaysay ni Yankin ang pagkompronta ng karakter sa kaniyang kuwento sa dilemang kinahaharap nito buhat ng isolasyon, at kung paanong ang mga nangyari sa kasaysayan ng sangkatauhan ay kaniyang pinaghugutan upang umigpaw palabas sa hawla ng kaniyang pang agam agam.

Karamihan sa mga likha sa panibagong lathala ng Busay ay binubuo ng mga naratibong tinutudla ang panlipunang relasyon ng sarili, sa mga pagmumuni-muni ng manunulat, na kahit ang katiting mang kaluguran ang tinatamasa nila ay gumagalaw sa mas malaking espasyo sa pinagsasaluhan nating lahat. May kuwento ng pakikibaka, existential crises, kabaklaan, pagkabalaka, moving on, at kung ano ano pang mga makamundong bagay nainilalarawan ang panorama ng ating napapanahong lipunan. At sa pagsasalaysay natin ng sarili, lipunan, at politika, nawa ay humahabi tayo ng mga reyalisasyon upang makaalpas sa sakit ng indibidwalismo habang kinahaharap ang banta ng bagong (at makalumang) pamumuno.

Magbasa. Lumikha. Padayon! Mark

ReyLiteraryDoradoEditorMarkParanEditor-in-Chief

Hindi mo makikilala ang kamatayan hanggang isang araw ay kumatok ito sa iyong pintuan at makiinom. Hanggang paupuin mo ito sa lumang sofa sa iyong sala, mapapatitig siya sa iyong lumang kurtina kung saan malayang isinasayaw ng hangin ang liwanag. Makikipagtitigan sa iyo. Hindi ka kikibuin, ni hindi tatanungin ang iyong pangalan. Dumarating na hindi kinukumbida at lumilisan na bitbit ang iyong mga buto na nakasilid sa kahon sa ilalim ng kama. Tatawagin mo ang kaniyang pangalan at bibitin ito sa iyong dila, maglalaro sa pagitan ng iyong ipin. Hindi mo maibulalas. Hindi mo matawag. Dumarating ang kamatayan sa mga tagpong hindi mo inaasahan. Tulad ng gulatin kang isang tawag habang sakay ng bagon sa kahabaan ng EDSA, pinapalabo ng buga ng aircon ang salaming bintana, tinutupokngalinsangan anglabas. Tumatagosang iyong titig sa mga bilding at komyuter. Sinabi ng iyong kapatid na wala na inyong ina. Hindi ka makahuhuma. Sasabihin niya sa iyo ang pangalan ng ospital habang inaantala ng kaniyang hikbi`t iyak. Baba ka sa Shaw at mauupo sa hagdan. Hindi mo alam kung saan pupunta at magsisimula. Dumarating ang kamatayan sa mga pagkakataong hindi mo inaasahan. Tititigan mo ang katawang nakabalot sa puting tela. Walang paggalaw at paghinga. Tahimik na tinatanuran ng katahimikan. Walang imik at pakiramdam. Marahan mong tatanggalin ang takip na kumotsa bandang ulo. Handaka sa mukhang masisilayan. Hanggang ilang taon matapos iyon. Dadalhin ka ng iyong paa sa parehong lugar at tagpo. Inaakala na handa ka na. Naninikip ang iyong dibdib. Nakikipagtalaban ang lumipas sa iyong harapan. Mag uumpisa ka muli sa simula.

Minsan, bakit pakiramdam ko, pinaliliyab ko ang aking sarili, sa pag asang makita man lamang. Ngunit, ang tanging ginawa ko ay matupok. Tulad ng isang kulisap na naglalagalag kakahanap ng liwanag na sa aki’y maghahandog ng lugód at panganib.

Minsan napapaisip ako, ano kaya ang pakiramdam na hindi ka kílala ng mga galos ng sariling balat. Maging isang dayuhan sa mga ‘di pamilyar na pigurang tagapamagitan sa kaharian ng banal at karnal.

Minsan napapaisip ako, na sa pagitan ng aking mga daliri ay may mga espasyo kapara ng puwang at guwang ng aking puso. tila, mga patlang na pilit tinatapalan ng mga tinagpi-tagping berso na dadamay sa nagluluksa kong kaluluwa. Minsan napapatanong ako, anong salamangka kaya ang papawi sa mga huwad na asam at pagkabalisa? Ano kaya ang lunas sa mga sugat

na kinalawang dala ng panahon kung wala ng luhang ipanglalanggas sa mga ito?

Minsan, tayo’y mga ligaw na damo sa mga basag na aspalto sa biyak ng daan. At sa puntong ito, napakaliit ko lamang. Sa kabila ng di tiyak na hinaharap liliyab ang kugon kakalabit ang gatilyo kukupas ang mga pananabik Ngunit minsan, hahabulin mo pa ‘yong batang nakahanap ng kaligtasan sa isla, at hindi ito mauunawaan ng mga nagdadalamhati.

"Kailangan ko lang umihi" at bilang isang mabuting mangingibig, sinamahan kita sa dakong likuran ng makabagong kapíhan na tumutugtog ng musikong diyas. Alas-tres na ng hapon at ang oras ay isang pasista, sa iyong muling pagsisinungaling. Alam kong huyong ka sa liwanag ko kaya binalot kita hindi dahil sa awa, kundi bilang kabayaran sa iyong mga bahagi na hiniram ko. At habang hawak mo ang init sinadya mong iwan ang bahagi mo sa aking kayumangging kardigan upang magkaroon ka ng katwiran para sa iyong muling pagsisinungaling. Hindi mo matandaan ang unang pagkakataon na nagsimula kang uminom ng kape o ang huling yakap ng iyong ina. Ngunit, hindi mo pa rin naman ito maaalala, alam mo lang na magkasingkahulugan sila. Hindi mo maaalala ang wikang bigkas ng iyong ama at habang mas natututo ka nito ay mas lalong wala kang naiintindihan. Ngunit, habang ikaw ay tumatanda, ang nilagang kari ng manok ay isang gawa ng pag-aalay isang paglilipat ng kaluluha sa ibang katawan. Oh irog, (pagwawalang-dangal), "Ito ay nakasalalay na sa iyo" ay walang kabuluhan kapag lagi kong nahahanap ang daan pabalik sa tadyang mo. Babatiin mo ba ako sa

‘Pagkat nailimbag na pala ang obitwaryo sa wala.

pangangaral ng katapatan ng isang musmos? Batid kong alam mo na hindi mo mahanap ang ginto sa akin, tanging ang mga hiyas lamang na hinayaan kong mahukay mo. Ngunit, natatakot ka na baka gumuho ang kuweba, at natatakot ako na hindi ito bumagsak. Alas-siete na ng gabi, at ang oras ay isang pasista, para magsinungaling ka muli. Naiskong ang iyong lumbayaymapaloob sa aking mgakamay. Ngunit, pareho tayong lupaypay. “Kaya mo ba akong patawarin sa mga bagay na hindi ko ginawa?”

Masalimuot ang kapintasan ng pangungulila, ang alikabok sa baga’t lalamunang naninikip sa pabalik balik na dalahik. Marahil, gusto nang mamahinga ng kahapon. sa kasalukuyang inaagiw ng maling kasaysayan.

Ang kahapong ikaw ay ang bigat at tanikalang araw-araw kong kinakaladkad sa mundong gumuguho sa pagkatupok.

Inaagiw na ang larawan mo sa aking aparador, balot sa ligalig ng inuuod na lunggati, ang matagal nang umaalingasaw na langsa ng galimgim, May digmaan ngayon sa malayong Europa. May kasamang pinatay ng mga militar. May tatakbong anak ng diktador. Ayaw ko na sanang magpakasasa pa sa alwang pagtatamasa ng burgis na sawi sa pag ibig sa mga dekadenteng kaluguran ng buhay.

On top of a mountain in Sitio Mayniyog, you can hear the Manika GushingRiver, below, an ancient voice that guided the forefathers of these Here,Tumandok,beyond the sound of the church bells, at the end of the paved Liesroad,the first step to our journey to Taroytoy, We descended along a narrow and rugged path, With each step, my soles sank into the clayish soil, I looked up and saw the silhouettes of the mountain peaks, And behind me, the river valley of Akean, We reached the end of sitio of Mayniyog, Where there were small rice terraces and huts, Groups of men would pass by, carrying bundles of abaca, 40 kilos each against their backs, held by linen strapped to their Theirforeheads,lean bodies glistened with sweat, While their feet, with each step, latched firmly to the ground, And their Talibong blades, fastened to their waists, Swayed side to side, with the tip of their sheaths almost kissing the Furtherground,down the path, under the shade of trees and abaca, Are footpaths with ankle-deep mud, Then a stream emerges from the clearings, We followed it, as it emptied into the Manika River, After jumping from one rock to the next, Climbing boulders the size of small houses,

And crossing the same river, God knows how many times, We arrived at Sitio Kanluyon, We took a short rest near a store beside a river crossing, In this sitio there is no electricity, no posts, no cables, But the store offered lukewarm Coca Cola in pet bottles, I gladly quenched my thirst and the cravings of my colonized palate, Angkol Ariel then pulled out a plastic bag containing tobacco leaves, Unsheathing his Sanduko, he pointed the cutting edge upwards, Then carefully cut the dried leaves into small pieces, Finally rolling them inside a small strip of newspaper, “Hay, Ma ma, rugi kami” said angkol Ariel to the elder who owned the Westore,refilled our water bottles and left, following the murky river, After more than two hours we arrived at Sitio Hilwan, a cluster of 10 to 15 houses, I was by then dripping with sweat, and had emptied my two water Afterbottles,afew minutes rest, we went to the houseof an elder, a ma-aram, Who, though struggling with tuberculosis, greeted us warmly, With an ambahan chanted in the archaic language, The strange tongue from which the age old tales of Panay Sugidanon were Fromtold,Hilwan, we finally reached a creek they called Maasin, Its clear and cool waters caressed my sore feet, A common resting place, it had remains of a recent fire place, Ian took out our pack of cooked rice, While angkol Ariel once again unsheathed his Sanduko, Effortlessly, with a slight motion of the wrist, cut us two banana leaves,

We filled our stomachs then drank from a nearby spring, After finishing a stick of tobacco, our assault on Baklayan Thoughcommenced,theroots of the trees seemed to form natural staircases, The ascent was still steep and seemingly endless, My hamstrings gave way to cramps and my lungs screamed, What water I took in immediately left my body as streams of sweat, With each stride, I kissed my knees, While my hands clung desperately to roots, outgrowth, and ferns, Seeing no end, I sank by the edge of the path and asked, “may pasaka pa ra Angkolkol?”Ariel, who did not seem to break a sweat, calmly replied, “wa dun”, I dragged my legs, until we reached a narrow pass, In our descent, we stopped midway for a drink at another spring, Clear water flowed down this slope, trickling over the mossy rocks, It led to a stream Taroytoy, Following its course, we arrive at the sitio, A few scattered houses on a hill encircled by mountains, So, here lies Sitio Taroytoy, a frontier of Libacao, One of the “free areas” of our colonial past; home of the “othered” people.

In my university, the books tell me that before the white men arrived there were men who could become women who talked to the spirits and the earth

In my town, the boys played in mud and dreamed of becoming soldiers in America while I made crowns from santan flowers and played house and dreamed of marrying a boy with a gun. For my tenderness, I am called bakla.

In my country, men from the land of milk and honey with streets paved in gold devour our women, children, and men who look and dress like Thewomen.news tells me of a transwoman killed by a foreign man with olive eyes and sunburnt arms. Just like me, she was called ganda. In Grindr, a white man tells me that I am an exotic beauty with brown skin like soil and dark hair like an oil spill. He does not know that I would give the world to look like him. He makes fun of my broken English but calls me mahal.

In this poem, I try to salvage my identity. But in the end, I am the contradiction of white and brown of man and woman of foreign and native. In the end, there is no name for me after the colony.

25 who were adored like the saints in my mother’s altar. My parents and history do not speak of them.

PAGKATAPOS NG WELGA, 1927 Walang silbi ang selda para sa ’sang gerilya, kung mag-isa ang musa’y tila ’sang komadrona.

KALAYAAN Kinain ng bartolína ang isang matandang báka, sa bintana’y isinúka mga bagong pisang máya.

Di dahil naglipanà ang maya sa dambanà ay pipi ang kampanà.

26 ANG PAALALA NI KABOLA

This growsmouthinita forest birthed from the very spit of the gods of my thethatchewsland;awildfireblackensstumpsofmy teeth; hums the serenade of our greatest hunters. This mouth can utter to life the many names of our ancestors the conquerors could never, ever get their tongue around, for they spat them with regret as their teeth disintegrated, and they choked on the sharp inflections of the many names of our ofOh,guerillas.mountains,oceans,tospeakloveandfreedom is a cruelty to a white man’s tongue.

28 When will our Sampaguitas bloom? Will it be after the emerald leaves drop All their dews and withered to death? Or will it be after all their nectar sated The starving proboscis of sanguine butterflies? Who knows? Or will it be when the stomach of worms is full? After all, we are the one Who planted them.

I liked sketching birds as a Theychild.often perched on the branches of trees, roosting, resting their tired wings, cupping them to their sides. They sense the beauty they possess, and, with brazenness, offer them to Theseunmoving.still,me,arethe birds of Todayyesteryear.theyare different. Today they spread their Todaywings.theytake flight to the Country of my Spirit, a nation of warmth, sunned by Truth and Grace in perpetual, ceaseless Icarus Flight.

To that archipelago of 7,107 islands, Born from the wombs of blood and tears, From the sacrifices of unsung heroes, We of the present, bid Our deepest sympathies, To the child of this nation yet to be conceived. Your forebearers have forsaken you And have caged themselves in the crocodile’s lair.

While their faithful servants labor and toil Over empty and ransacked soil As the new dawn break on the horizon, We can only pray for your salvation For a hope of a future, albeit so bleak, Under the hands of a stout, yet gentle ruler.

Babaye, ikaw bulahan

Babaye, ikaw dungganon Indi lamang ang imo katahum ang dalayawon

Indi ka sumulunod lamang, kay ikaw may panindugan kag handom Tindugi ang imo lugar sa sosyodad naton

Bitbit mo ang hustisya nga ginalaum kang tanan Pas-an mo ang katawhan Ang kabuhi naghalin sa imo taguangkan

Apang indi ka garatasan lamang Maghinugyaw ka sa imo ikasarang

Isang tunog sa gabing mapayapa, ang gigising sa natutulog na diwa. Sa paghupa ng buwan at mga tala, Pipiliting buksan ang mga bintana. Ngunit, ano pa ang silbi ng umaga, kung ang mga mata'y di na didilat pa? Sila na kumitil sa bagong pag asa, nawa'y di rin pagbuksan ni Bathala.

Under the aegis of justice, how glorious it would be should the son exhume the father from his undeserving grave? A corpse in EDSA. The long-awaited apology. The original sin be laved.

Bloodshed is the blanket that bosoms the adversary. Slyly pillaged the land of servitude. Yet we scratch our heads and deem them with gratitude. Death sends no chills on him for while alive he’s living in a grave. No remorse, no apology from the heirs of guns, goons, and gold.

The sin of the father is not the sin of the son, though both hold great appetite for power. No apology for the dispossessed for the restless nights of that decade.

Lapak lamang sa patarum

Ahay! Urihi imo hinulsol sa baid

Kay sa tagkiriwi, wara’t kut on Indi madara sa huyop Ukon basya kang tubig

Gamu-gamo,ang paminsarun

Gamu gamo, sa kingki nagaparapit

Hinali nga magsigrab ang pakpak

Naamag sa kasanag Nahidlaw sa kainit

Gamu-gamo, ang paminsarun Ang iwag nga ginahandum

Kalayo nagaparanglapaw sa binit

Pundido nga sulu sa madulum nga dalanun

Gamu gamo, sa kingki nagaparapit

O gapakuno-kuno nga halangdon Kay hambal nila, lima kuno ang barko ni Magellan Nga nagsurong sa dalagko nga balod sang Pasipiko San Antonio, Concepcion, Victoria, Trinidad, kag Santiago

Kag ang tampuhaw nga Juan Elcano ang nagbulos nga kapitan AmoNahadlok!Gakudog.saiya pagpuli, gapalak kaangay sang paka nga bago lumpat sa sapa.

Pinakasahi! Sa kawayan kag bulawan natakpan Los Felipos ang ginpangalan! Tanda sang ila kabubut on nga pag abyanay sa mga Katsila kag UgalingGinoo kay si Magellan, ginpatay sang mga tumandok

Nawigit gilayon ang barko Ang barko nga ginhuman sang mga indio. Sa karon ang ining barko, nangin puyuan na lamang sang mga Apangtamawosa pagpanglakaton sang tinuig

Sa mga istorya sang una nga ginsulat kag ginpasa May isa nga wala kalab ot kay Pigafetta

Ni wala ka sayod ang haruson nga Blaire kag Robertson

Kag ini amo ang ginhuman sang mga indio

Sa kaisot sang ila kaalam, wala sila kabalo

Sugid ni lolo, may isa pa ka barko

Ukon bisan sin-o man nga historyador

Amo man ang pagbugsay sa panganod sang barko nga bulawan

Angay sa subong nga tyempo, ang barko nga bulawan Nga ginhuman sang mga indio, ginapuy-an sang tamawo Gabutwa-butwa sa suba sang Sibalom

Lunsay gahulat anuron paadto sa baybayon O basi gahulat lang man sang ayuda Sa palaabuton nga eleksyon.

Kag amo man ini ang barko nga nagadul ong sang puti nga bato sa totoy sa Malacañang

Isot lang ang nakahibalo, amo ini ang barko nga ginsakyan ni McArthur bag-o siya magtapak sa Panay. Amo man nga barko ang nagdul ong kay Marcos sa Hawaii

Maghampang sa truck nga gahakot balas, nay!

Himuon ini nila mall, ‘Ga.

Nagatulo ang balhas nga daw bangkiling ka dalagko.

Ikaduha nga Dominggo magutok, magahod, gamo.

Ikatatlo nga Dominggo mahawan, magal-umon, linaw. Una ang hinalay, sunod ang kudal, sunod ang panimalay. Ngaa ginaguba nila balay ta, nay?

Nasalapay pa ang tawo nga galibod.

Nay, nay, nay, sin-o ato ang lalaki naka-polo?

Dalagan diri, dalagan didto.

Ano gusto mo, ‘Ga?, pakiana sang iloy nga inanay.

‘Ga, engineer ina sya. Nagaubra taytay, dalan, mall, kag building nga tag asan.

Una nga Dominggo mapaang, magin ot, mainit. Sa gamay nga eskinita, may lalaki nga naka polo, may babayi nga nagawaswas sang iya abaniko, ang tigulang nagasid-ing agod mang-usyoso.

Yab ukon ang magtimbang nga butkon Humalin alima pa siko Balas ang bulong sa pilas sa tuhod.

Nay, higko kamot ko. Manghinaw ko. Didto lang sa tiya mo kay wala kita tubi. Sige, nay, mabalik lang ko ‘Ga, ano gusto mo?

Wow! Gusto ko man mag amo na para indi na ta brownout pirmi, nay.

Gusto ko man maging engineer, nay!

Wow, gusto ko magkadto sa mall, ambit sang bata. Amat-amat, amat-amat ang pangguba tubtob wala na ang pumuluyo tungod wala na ang puluy-an Hawan na ang duta nga gindak-an. Ang daan nga harak harak kag naandan nga siot ginbayluhan na sang pugada kang yab ok ‘Ga, ano gusto mo? Maglagaw sa mall nga balay naton, nay.

Nakatulos ka sa harapan at hindi mo maunawaan ang karahasan. Dati sa probinsya naalala mo ang Lola at ang kaniyang mga kuwento ng Ginagaygaydigmaanniyoang bukirin at sinabi niyang ilang bomba ang nahukay rito Mga bombang nagmula sa malayong digmaan ng kaniyang Kumakapalkamusmusanna ang kaniyang katarata. Malitid at kulubot ang kaniyang butuhang kamay. Natutulog sila at nag aabang. Tinutukoy niya ang bomba. Nakalibing sa aming bakuran.Tahimik na nahihimbing. Kaya'tNaghihintay.kunggabi at naalimpungatan ay sasakmalin ka ng hindi maunawaang lagim. Naalala mo ang Tatang na binaril nang paulit ulit

Sa tv paulit ulit na ipinalabas ang pagbaril ng isang pulis sa isang ginang at anak nito Naririnig mo ang putok at nagpapawis ang iyong kamay

ang pobreng aso bago malagutan ng hininga.

Natulog kayong bitbit ang kilabot, nakasingit ang putik sa daliri ng inyong mga paa.

nagmamaneho ka ng sasakyan at hindi inaasahan ay may nakagitgitan sa daan.

Bukas ang mata at bibig na wari naantala sa nais sasabihin.

Palagi kang hindi nakahuhuma sa karahasan.

Hanggang isang umagang maaliwalas ang sikat ng araw,

Nagpapaliwanag ka at humihingi ng tawad nang bumunot sa likuran ang mama. Ibinaon sa bungo mo ang bala.

Pinatag ng inyong talampakan ang lupang libingan.

ang asong bagong panganak na ilang gabi nang alulong nang Nangisayalulong.

Palagi kang hindi nakakahuma sa harap ng karahasan.

Inilibing niyo ang pobreng aso sa bakuran

Lumabas ang may-ari ng sasakyan. Nagpalitan kayo ng sigaw at mura.

42 Hindi ka nakahuma. Palagi kang hindi nakahuhuma sa harap ng karahasan.

Nasanay ka na sa basag niyong bintana, sa lantad na paninilip at pakikiusyosu nila. Alam nila ang lahat, pilit inaalam, ang alinmang dinarapuan ng anino ng inyong bubong. Sa pagitan niyo, ikaw at ang nanlilisik nilang mata, ay ang tuluyan mong pagsuko sa mga di pangkaraniwan na nagiging karaniwan na. Marahil, bukas o sa makalawa, isang bintana na naman ang babasagin. Kakalampagin. Babaklasin ang inyong pintuan. Hindi bale. Nasanay kana. ParangApatiko.putang inaalipin ng espektakulo ng pagkawasak.

Nagulantang ang buong production nang basagin ng sigaw na wari kinakatay na hayop ang Nilunokkatahimikan.ngmakina na parang kendi ang kanyang kamay Ng bakal na makinang walang panginoong kinikilala.

Ngayong nalimutantanghalian,naangaksidente kaninang umaga.

Bumalong ang mainit na asido, gumuhit sa lalamunan Bumulwak ang kanina pa pinipigilan.

Nakatitig ako sa nadurog na tilapiang sharshado sa aking plato. Nagpapawis ang iyong kamay, tinatambol ang iyong dibdib.

Tinanggal ang kamay na nilamon at nilasog-lasog.

Dahil sa sakit at hilakbot na sumaklob.

Isinugod sa ospital ang kawawang katrabaho. Dumating ang mga pulis.

Habang naghahalo ng kemikal sa processor ng goma na ginagamit sa pagbuo ng tsinelas.

Nagtulong-tulong kaming hilain, iligtas. Agawin ang pinapanawan ng ulirat na katrabaho

Nilamon ang kamay ng kaniyang katrabaho kaninang umaga

Kinausap ang management. Agad ding umalis. Pinalinis ang makina.

dahil ang kaniyang palad ay nahulma sa paggawa at pagdamdam, na ang kariktan sa ebolusyon ng kamay ay nakatuon, hindi sa pagbitaw, kundi sa pagkapit. kung paanong kayang isaklob ng sariling palad ang dasal ng kabiyak at supling na walang tingga o patalim ang tatalab sa kamay na nagpapayuko ng bakal. dahil kung ang puso ng ninuman ay nasa kamay ng Maykapal, ang buhay naman ay nasa manggagawa bawat lihis ng kalsada at pagbaon ng gusali, siyang magtatakda, ang tagalikha at taga sira.

sinuongdalampasiganangkaragatannakumukuloang tiyan ii. animo’y laro ang pagtatambabinulabog ang bahura upang sa lambat mapunta mga isdang

nang maitaboy ang pangamba sa panganib na paparating iingatan ang pangarap at habilin ng kaninu ninuan usisa bullet dumas angi. musmos sa dagat bitbit sana’y aklat ngunit lulan sa balikat ang itinahing lambat hindi pa nga nginitian ng banaag sa

angkinawawapaslítaygalaksakaposna hulíng hawak pagkat kanyang natitiyak may salaping mahahatak lakasiii. ay hindi pa nalulusawaalipinin muna ng araw ang paslít na muling dadalaw umaasang ang karagatan mapukaw ang kamusmusa’y minarkos ng mundo maswerte na ‘pag sa eskwela’y ganado

55 mailalayo muna sa larong delikado at upang ganid ng sistema’y pansamantalang burado \\

Inuuyam ng hikab at buntong-hininga, na ipapakawala, gustuhin mang kumawala, sa hangin na puntod ng napupudpod na muta, laway, langib, kulangot at bangkay ng komyuter, walang pumapagitan na puwang, dikit-dikit,

Araw araw nagkukonpesyon ang sumasagitsit na goma ng dragon sa kongkreto ng minimelangkolyang lungsod at ang libo pang ibang sumasagitsit na goma ng dragon sa kongkreto ng minimelangkolyang lungsod. Nananaginip ng lunggati.

SaInaantok.MakinangDambuhalangdugtong-dugtong.orgiyangmakina.makupadatpumapalya.Iniibig.Pinapasmo.Pinapasismo.lungsodnabunghalitmangahasangkamay:

umaabot ng barya; kumikimkim; bumabali ng bakal ang kamay na bumabali ng kamay na bakal. Yumayanig ng imperyong salaula.

Erehe ng kabilyang kapilya. Sapagkat, hindi habambuhay sa paradahan maghihintay. sa idlip bubuhatin ang bigat ng antok, sa baga mananahanan ang alikabok. Ang kagalkal ng makinang kinakalawang hasaan ng patalim ng higmagsikan. At itatarak ang balaraw ng konpesyon sa mahimbing na pagkaka-idlip ng bakal na poon. Titibagin ng sumasagitsit na goma ng dragon ang kongkreto ng minimelangkolyang lungsod at ng libo pang ibang sumasagitsit na goma ng dragon sa kongkreto ng minimelangkolyang lungsod.

58 SiyaI. bala ang Teresa Magbanua ? Siya bala ang Patrocinio Gamboa ? Siya bala ang Coronacion Chiva ? Ay! makakululba nga mag ulbo-ulbo daw "tandu tando sa diin bukid" kag lupad lupad saylo saylo sa mga sanga ang isa ka doble cara nga kuyayha ! Nadula liwat ang aton pangalibutan: kita mga amaranhig, mga patay nga buhi, nalunod sa panatisismo sang huwad nga paglaum agud kaugalingon lang Makabugtawluwasongid sa ulihe ang mga lipong Makatibawas gid sa ulihe ang mga pigos Makabungkaras sa ulihe ang mga ginlupig Magadaug ang aton Hublag sa Pagbag-o Kita na dapat ang Teresa Magbanua ! Kita na dapat ang Patrocinio Gamboa ! Kita na dapat ang Coronacion Chiva ! S'yaII. babae nga timon sang panimalay S'ya ang iloy nga nag ili ili kag nagdapulay S'ya manunudlo nga maugdang kag mauti S'ya ang nagsabud agud kita may maani

59 Saulog kaadlawan masako sa paghuman Manamit nga kalan-on ginakahidlawan: Suman, linupak kag mahamot nga binayo Sang tudlo nga matanus hanas sa gatilyo S'ya nga pas an ang binugkos nga utan Naga nagataklos sang malaba nga clip sa dughan S'ya nga nagadihon sang mga binalaybay Sang M203 gihapon tindugon nga gauribay.

"Happy Birthday to you..." panimula ni Melay. Nanatili ang sabon sa lalagyan, perosaisipan niMelay mayroongbumubuhosnatubig mula sa gripo at sabay silang naghuhugas ng kamay ng kaniyang idolo.

"Hindi na nga natin alam kung saan tayo kukuha ng ipambabayad sa kuryente wala nang trabaho ang papa niyo." Dagdag na himutok pa ng kaniyang ina sa kanila bago tuluyang patayin ang TV. Natahimik ang kanilang bahay. Nagtungo salababongkanilang maliitnakusinasiMelay, kinuhaang sabon sa loob ng CR at binuksan ang gripo. Pumugak-pugak ang gripo at hangin lang ang lumabas.

Kaya nang magsimula ang artista na si Sofia sa pagkanta at paggalaw ng kamay na nakasahod sa gripo, ginaya niya ito. May pakulot-kulot pa ang kaniyang boses dahilan para asarin siya ni KungJimbo.ano ang malapit sa kaniya ay hinablot nito at binato sa kapatid. Umiyak silang dalawa.

"Ma! Walang tulo!" sigaw niya. Hinintay niyang sumagot ang ina ngunit wala siyang narinig matapos ang ilang segundo.

"Ma' nanonood pa ako..." pigil ni Melay.

"Mama si Jimbo!" Sumbong ni Melay sa pagitan ng mga paghikbi. Masama pa rin ang tingin niya sa kapatid. Parehas silang inabot ng tsinelas ng ina. "Wala na nga tayong makain! Tapos dadagdag pa kayo?" Natahimik ang dalawang bata.

Maririnig ang a capellaversion ng 'HappyBirthday' saTV. Kinakanta ito ng isang child star na bida sa isang soap opera na paborito ni Melay.

Napahintongayon."siya.Doon lamangsiyanatauhan.Kayapala. Kaya pala walang tao. Kaya pala wala siyang nakakasabay na katrabaho. Linggo nga pala.

Biglang tumunog ang kaniyang cellphone. May tumatawag. Sinagot niya "Hello?"ito."Ate?Asan ka na?" "O bunso. Heto, papuntanasa opisina. Latena ngaako. Bakit ka napatawag?""Ha?Eh akala ko po ba mamamasyal tayo? Sabi mo kahapon wala kang pasok

Ilang minuto na lang, male late na siya. Wala nang taong pumapasok sa gate. Wala siyang nakakasabay na katrabaho. Malamang nakapasok na. Unti-unti nang tumataas ang araw. Binilisan pa niya ang lakad. Kung hindi ba naman kasi sa mga tambak-tambak na papeles na pinagawa sa kaniya, hindi sana siya inabot ng tanghali. Patay na naman siya sa boss niya. Pagagalitan na naman siya nito mamaya.

You wake up first thing in the morning and realize that someone is knocking on your front door. A most unusual predicament, you presume as you rub the morning glory off of your tired eyes, but it mightbeurgent. Who elsemightgiveyourdoorafew taps if thenews isn’t urgent? You linger on the thought for a few more moments before you decided at once to getoutof bed, wear your room slippers, exit the bedroom, and head down the stairs to the front door. But for some reason, you are afraid. Yes, you. You are afraid, afraid to open that door. You might be thinking to yourself, why? Why am I afraid? And to justify your irrational fear, you begin to think of alternate scenarios to maintain your psychological stability for as long as possible. You think it might be a trap, but no, who would want to entrap you? You think that someone must be out looking for you, but no, who would want to look for you at this time? You think that you might have committed a crime in your sleep, but now, isn’t that a ridiculous thing to assume? You think that it must be the cops, but no, because you should hear the appropriate sirens along with the obligatory, “Open up, this is the police, wouldn’t you?” You think that your mind is playing tricks on you, but no, are you sure about that? You think that nobody was there and that knock was just a daydream, some meaningless illusion manufactured by your hippocampus, because why not? But when you hear another dry wooden beat, another audible thump from theother side, clear as day, you snap back to reality and end your ceaseless spiraling. Once more, you stand before the brass knob, listening to the dry wooden beats, unsure of what exactly to do. Open the door! Open it, for crying out loud! You think over and over to yourself, and when you do, the thumping outside grows even louder and louder. Open the door, open the goddamn door! You don’t know what to do. Open it! The brass

64 knob grows weary, as does the front door that has to endure the loud hollow rapping. Open the fucking door! And all of a sudden, you hear the things around you. You hear the things around you start to talk the brass knob, the front door, the vase by the entrance, the pictures on the wall, the keys hanging by a thread and say the same thing over and over. Open it! Open the goddamn door, for god’s sake! You can’t take it you can’t take it anymore. And all those voices. All of them arein yourhead, from yourhead, whereveryou mightthink they are, but you can’t take the sound of their monotonous commands. Strangely enough, you don’t seem to be terrified of any of this not the hollow thumping nor the ethereal voices from previously lifeless objects instead, you find it all amusing to an extent. Life is absurd, afterall. Why should you justify theneed to feelanything in any way? You keep this up for another minute or two, but by then, you have already reached your limit, so you finally open the door and find… a banana?And just like that, the cryptic dream ends, and you wake up in the real world in a whitewashed room surrounded by necessities, with plain curtains covering one side and a single-window floating in the other. Upon realizing these mundane minutiae, you begin to weep in silence weep in small batches of tears. And in that moment of weakness, you realize that you are alone. You are aware of the fear thatyou arefeeling. Youdon’tknow whatto do in thenexttwo weeks or after. Or rather, you don’t know if you’re going to survive this at all. All you could do is stay in bed, maybe get up every once in a while to do some stretching to stay somewhat active, or check your phone to see if you have any missed calls or unread messages. The ones dressed in white protective gear are coming to visit you every otherhourto seehow you aredoing check your temperature, change your sheets, maybe bring you food, all that. This is a fatiguing affair, to say the least, but what more could you do? They took you away two days ago and brought you here because you came into contact.

This was your fault always has been. If you were careful, this wouldn’t have happened to you. You think about these things as you wipe your fresh tears away and look up to the ceiling that blank ceiling made of sheetrock assembled in a hurry. You think about whether or not it would give way and fall right down on you. Would

people die if that happened? You pondered on the trivial subject for a while, but you aren’t sure. All you are sure about is that you have twelve more days. Three more days have passed since then (meaning you only have nine days left to go), and you find that you are running out of things to do. Nowisn’tthatstrange? Whathappened toyourplanofstaying inbed? What happened to getting up and doing mild stretching? And you have your phone, don’t you? What happened? Well, after much considerable thought, you gather that time is complicated. It is an abstract concept, no doubt about it. But what you don’t understand is why we all of us as a species allow it to dictate our existential affairs. People have mechanical devices to rouse them from their slumber every consecutive morning. Normal occurrences such as meetings and gatherings and events always have set dates consulted from cheap paper calendars. Fossilized remains and weathered minerals unearthed from the stratified ground are placed in particle accelerators to determine how old they are. History happens the moment it happens, and as we record it, many angular permutations and variations exist in fractured states. Such are the things that you think about time. Yet oddly enough, you don’t know enough about time. You have only lived in this world for nineteen years and counting. You don’t know enough about time it's a fact. You know that much. But why are you thinking about it? Why are you thinking about time? And since you find yourself thinking about time, why not

66 think about history instead? After all, you could say that history is a byproduct of time, isn’t it? As you stare out the window into the yellowed fields of rolling grass, you begin to think about history. To you, Gao Xingjian immediately comes to mind. According to him, history is a lot of things lies, nonsense, prediction, sour fruit, clangs like iron, balls of wheat flour dumplings, shrouds for wrapping corpses, a drug to induce sweating, ghosts banging on walls, antiques, rational thinking, experience, proof, a dish of scattered pearls, a sequence of cause and effect, analogy, a state of mind, history, absolutely nothing, sad sighs, and more. In a sense, history can be read in any way! But you ask yourself, what kind of way is the right way? You are unsure. And what kind of history will you think about? You are unsure about that, either. Only time will tell you what their answers would be. A few moments pass, and you think about what the worst year of all time might be. There you go. Now you are off to a great start. And of course, being none the wiser, you jump to the conclusion that the worst year of all time is 2020. A likely candidate, you think to yourself, but is it? Well, is it? Finding yourself to be equally as unreliable as a Thomas Pynchon novel, you resolve to use yourphone to look for answers. After clicking on Google Chrome, you begin to type out the words, What is the worst year of all time? Feeling cocky, you are banking on the year 2020. You can attest to the fact that a lot of things have happened this year. These uneventful occurrences are better off as supplementary footnotes. The way you see it, you and seven point six billion other people in the world have earned the right to say that this year is the worst year of all time. But is it fact? At that point, your thoughts screech to a halt. And then you notice that you forgot to press the enter key on the screen. Why feel cocky when you have not even confirmed your hypothesis? The moment you press enter and see the search results, you realize at once that your answer is wrong. You find that 2020 is not the worst year of all time. And

instead, you find that the worst year of all time is, in fact, the year 536. Why the year 536? You wonder why that is and resolve to learn all there is to know about it. You scroll a little further down and go to Wikipedia for the brief blow by blows. And after you have read the article, you deduce that the problems people faced back then boiled down to three essential categories war, famine, and freak weather. You notice that Eastern Roman geopolitics was the norm during this time. Belisarius is a name that comes up frequently. You find out that he played a significant role in the early years of the Gothic War (circa 535-554). He was the man who had reclaimed Italy for the Byzantine Empire (specifically the cities of Rhegium, Naples, and Rome during this year). You think about the odds of surviving the effects of empire in this tumultuous time. You conclude that you are better off living in the present as an ordinary person decommissioned for nine more days instead of living in the moment as a vulnerable member of the comitatenses. You think of famine. You think of the reason why people might have starved during the year 536. Harvest seasons must be delayed. One case in point was China, a territory that experienced heavy snowfall. But that wasn’t all you found. It turned out the better part of the Northern Hemisphere was affected by crop failure. Poor folks. This line of thinking leads you to the final category.

Finally, you arrive at freak weather. You open up a separate tab and look for more evidence until you stumble upon another random article with a quote from Byzantine historian Procopius for the sun gave forth its light without brightness, like the moon, during the whole year. That is when you find out about a mysterious fog that affected significant parts of Europe, Asia, and the Middle East for over eighteen months. Furthermore, you find the following information from the same article. Temperatures in the summer of 536 fell 1.5°C to 2.5°C, initiating the coldest decade in the past 2300 years. Snow fell that summer in China; crops failed; people starved.

The Irish chronicles record a failure of bread from the years 536 539. Then, in 541, bubonic plague struck the Roman port of Pelusium in Egypt. What came to be called the Plague of Justinian spread rapidly, wiping out one-third to one-half of the population of the eastern Roman Empire and hastening its collapse.1 You cross reference this to the Wikipedia article and find that everything is aligned. Satisfied with your findings, you close Google Chrome, put the phone back in your pocket, and look out the window again to see the same rolling fields of yellowed grass. Why the year 536? You ask yourself again. Only this time, you gain a new understanding and realize that the situation you are in is temporary. They had it worse, you think to yourself. You sigh a deep long sigh and watch thewaning sunset. Everything istemporary, so why worry?

You take the following snippet of information from sourcethatfiction,alivhttps://www.science.org/news/2018/11/why-536-was-worst-year-be-e.Youfigurethatevenifthisstorywouldonlybeaworkofitisaresponsiblepracticetoquotetheexactsourceofthetextyouhavetakenfrom,foritshowsthatyouareattributingtheinthespiritofmetafictionandnotovertlyplagiarizingit.

HE KNEW HE didn’t belong here. The atmosphere of ideologies that cycled in this house terrified Luis since then. From his father whom he didn’t love opposite to what he did back when he was a child, and had frequently insulted his intonation and choice of words and even his minimalist bodily movements － which his father demanded that all of those should be attributed to masculinity. And his mother who only went home after every two years working abroad and only staying for two, or three, weeks and whom hehadn’t felt the motherly love that was deficient, since his childhood, in their home. He was aware that there was a lapse in his core. But the magnitude of the value that books of all sorts supplied to the vacuum in Luis was beyond priceless. He could nowadays spit physical pain through the therapeutic sensation incited by writing. Only books understood what Luis mind was imagining: a world of his own, parentless yet independently alone. Luis maintained his devotion to prose and poetry, unearthing paperbacks in school or municipal libraries rarely, but in most cases, in bookshops. Only then he could bring a beautiful meaning to his isolation away from relationships with his parents whose dictatorship spell dominant heterosexuality. Afraid to reside unprepared with the dictator, Luis planted in his tongue scripted replies to his father’s homophobic spiels over and over again.Ithappened to Luis when he was already in college, when his aspiration to finish his education inflated, prompted by the individualist attitude he had had established during his own-decided exclusion. It was his dream: to have a house away from his father’s bombardments. He couldn’t tolerate the unequal philosophy that his father was inculcating to him. I have my own life, he would often

At this point of time, the focal point of all his imaginations pointed towards “real” men － men he spotted at the campus, in his community, and one time, in the public market when he, all alone, bought groceries early in the afternoon. The man’s feature, Luis guessed, was not endemic. The man’s face, so unreal and fantasizing, encouraged Luis to draw multiple hypotheses. The man’s beauty was ethereal, and fairly as hunk as the models of underwear and clothing magazinesLuishad collected before, hidingunderthebeduntiltoday. The man was so pure that it made the sunlight bow down onto him. On his hand, a plastic bag weighed with what looked like nothing but lofty bottlesofwine. Luisremembered hehad passed by aliquorshop once andprocured only onethen joined the line of customers who had more bottles ordered than him. When it was his turn, the cashier examined him, and Luis supposed “You’re so cheap” was what the cashier was thinking. He drank the red wine at home. But his grandmother summoned him to give her a glass from time to time. Luis regretted letting her know that he had bought a wine. How he wished to only have it on his own. But he tolerated his grandmother’s unwanted decree and handed her a half full glass of that sour cum sugary liquor.

70 argue when his father corrected his actions and said to him, “Don’t be so lame.” “What God created you so gay?”

NOW THAT HIS body had evolved to a manly physique, his penis hungered for someone worthy to daydream. Luis, from buying YA fiction novels, altered to erotic genre, but he hadn’t fingered a book in the store that contained magnificent writing style plus dense population of story ideas, which he doomed as a novelty.

Luis turned his back as soon as he passed the man. His tongue raced against time in memorizing the name printed on the back of the man’s jersey shirt: “Emilio Combatir” and under was a number “12”. “Emilio Combatir 12,” he named. “An auspicious number,” he beamed and pictured the man taking a leak or nude in front of him. That night, Luis spent his residual hours. But he didn’t pray to any godto seehim again and again.Face, bosom, midpoints, andhips, and every sensual part, Luis challenged his imagination to draw such intricate mankind that instigated his libido to simmer. Butthateventually stoppedwhenhisfathermeddled inhishead. One time, when his father went home lopsided, Luis reprimanded him, but his father further justified, “Nah. It’s just vertigo” but Luis of course didn’t believe it. In his father’s eyes, reddish translucence marked a sign of loaded alcohol in his body. Luis hated that notorious drink which was the force that drove his father to initiate verbal castigations to him in relation to his hidden sexuality. His ears were filled up by warnings, yet he fought back and convinced his father: “No. I’m not.” But his father answered, “I’m going to keep my eye on you. A waste ….”

KNOWING THE IMMINENT schedule of the opening of classes, Luis skimmed notes he had borrowed from his prior friends, his eyes evenly memorizing those possible words that would come out from the veteran teacher’s all-knowing mouth on the First Day of Class. Then books － this one particular science book the municipal librarian allowed him to bring to his home for the whole summer, his eyelids had almost drooped, scanning eight to ten pages a day. Had Luis done a hundred more flipping of pages, his hands could almost cripple. Luis rushed to the stationery shop and fiddled with oceans of

Luis went to school. But as he left the house, he said nothing to his father, just gave him coins and cash. Right inside the gate, a surge of student population dumbfounded him. Too many to count, too many beautiful men in uniform stood all around, too many smiles and hunk torsos to thirst for. Despite the too-many, he proceeded to the field where his pal was awaiting for him. While doing it, he stole glances at those too-many, trying to point out which one had the most captivating shine. Hitherto he hadn’t caught any faces that could surpass the man’s, the one he saw in the market. The man from the market versus the men in school, he said to himself.

72 notebooks and pad papers scrambled over the counter. Those thickinked black pens were fished by his fingers, priced at less than PHP10.00. But what he prioritized over those economical pens was this: a costly specialized pen, ideally for persons working in the office, with a tag of PHP98.67.

Yet Luis knew that “same shit”, “I don’t want to smell sour” would be what those people might speak against the dance routine. Propitious were those bystanders at the back: less participation in the activity, thus more energy in their metabolism － saving them from the stink like a plumber’s whole day’s sweat.

“Oh, hello, students, transferees, and anyone present here.” This one was coming from thevoice from themicrophone. It sounded antique, still the same as the last year’s emcee － a teacher Luis encountered all the time since he was schooled here, but never had an occurrence to teach their own class. Music followed the moment, which turned the first-in-line studs dancing on their own..

There, his pal he’d been searching for a while was in the line of girls at the front. From that instance, Luis insisted he shouldn't be

“Here, still alive, alert, awake, enthusiastic, girl!” he shook his chest as he did with his open arms. Maria inserted under his umbrella. “Ooohhh . . . OK,” she exhaled her most tired pants, then, “let me relax.”

73 near that spot, or else he’d be obliged to dance too. Just as Luis was thinking of ignoring her, Maria projected her widest smile at him and waved a hand. He replied, nothing but a smile with a less enormity than hers. She turned her back from the stage where the emcee was leading the dance and moved towards where Luis was: under the shade of his own umbrella some students had influenced him to do the same. It had been almost fifteen minutes since they were all moving in rhythm with the music, but Maria still had her jolliness as if she had stored surplus oomph during the very brief vacation. It was exactly the same personality Luis had observed in Maria since last school year. There he was sure that Maria would be among the scarce individuals whom he felt at home. More than what all his books could offer him, Maria always had had this friendly radiation whom he felt equivalent as his. “Oh, dear Luis. How’s life with you huh?” she began.

Luis heard her speech, but acted as if he didn’t. He experienced déjà vu, engrossed somewhere at the front where a human figure struck him. Luis squinted, and now it seemed much sheer to him. An epitome of what he had recognized some significant day. His face, his skin color, his physique: all of these were memorable. He moved forward, snubbing the continuing talk of the raucous Maria, leaving her bare under the fiery morning sky. Despite Maria trying to block her, Luis was unresponsive. He elbowed all the beings along his lane watching the stage. And with his umbrella, its

74 circumference converged with other students’ heads, converting their faces to disgruntlement. Still, Luis was as if pulled by the power coming from that epitome. Nearing it, the image seemed to be more and more lucid to him. He caught his face, and merely through it, he had finally assured that it was Emilio Combatir 12 whom he had seen a few days ago.

Then again, through reflecting conversely to what his father had cautioned him about his gay endeavor, Luis terminated his intention to make himself visible in Emilio’s prospect.

“Luis!”Mariasaid. Then Luis’sconsciousness stirred up, and all of a sudden, he heard, detail by detail, the current noise. “What were you seeing?” Maria pulled his hand holding the umbrella.

“What were you saying a while ago?” Luis faced her, bewildered.

“Asking that line there,” the emcee pointed at Emilio’s direction. It summoned the audience to stare at the vicinity. “Why aren’t you dancing? Shake those inactive leg and arm muscles.” Then the students embarked on a bustle of coercion.

In contrast, Luis, in the face of the vehement weather, felt heaven was on earth. It wasn’t Emilio he perceived, but it was God himself. With all light pinpointing at him, and considering everyone around as nothing butghosts and souls, hewas speechless. He viewed Emilio doing taps and dances for the first time. Grains of sweat percolated from Luis’s forehead, not because of the scorching temperature, but due to the promulgation of hunger for amusement and temptation.

“Can I just buy and have my own house?” he said while they were on a walk. “Can’t wait to work and have my own income.”

HE HATED EVERY dismissal, even by just simply walking, even by just simply thinking about the route leading to his address. Departing from this home that always had been welcoming to him, saddened Luis. Ever since, the presence of ostracism in this institution was down to zero. And hours from now, Luis would be sheltered in his parents’, the one he wasn’t used to being at. He talked about that with Maria the whole morning class － his father, disgraced if ever he’d be totally gay, and his mother, too.

The clouds were orange-red, the sky a classic canvass. And under it was a mass of studs about to go home, others about to stroll somewhere at the park. The highway was filled by the continuous eject and deportation of transport vehicles, so Luis and Maria elapsed beneath the underpass. Their bags helped yoke their speed, but they liked it. More time to chat, Maria said minutes after Luis refused to agree with her a while ago; his contradiction: he was somehow troubled by dust, by those miniscule soil particles, inhabiting his vamp.

“Just continue with the books and your writing.” Then Maria remembered Emilio whom Luis had been telling him all throughout lunchtime onwards. She imagined the words and descriptions he had given him. Those were so vivid and utter and tender that she found it so swift to sketch Emilio in her head. While Luis was reciting that incident to her, his voice erupted with vibrancy and on his face was a portrayal of innocence and genuine delight from having found such foreign attractiveness only in Emilio. Maria concluded that Luis at long last had found himself again after a series of hostility his family instilled within their domicile. It was as if Luis was born for another

while－ this time, the bona fide Luis, liberated and secure. She remembered during their childhood: Luis was often beaten with a bastinado for being caught most of the time playing Jackstone and Chinese Garter with her and some girls.

While they had gone beyond the underpass, Maria didn’t reply to Luis all through the time. “I need to buy something.” Luis continued, counting the residual coins hehad for this day. In her mind was a conundrum she would like to answer for him. Then she stumbled upon the name “Emilio” whom Luis couldn’t ban his lips from pronouncing it until now.

Luis straightened up and tallied all the coins hepicked up before he turned out to be as erected and astonished as Maria. He felt all around him paused and he locked his sight forward, at where the man he’d envisioned and romanticized and met days before and lately. His tongue fashioned into “Oh my god! Tell me this isn’t a coincidence

Maria had one time scanned an essay that he wrote. She started with words unknown to her tongue, yet she wasn’t dumb to not fully comprehend the message in that paper. And from that, she knew Luis needed help or something to hold on to as everything in his life began to dishevel now. Luis dreamed of having his own novel, she remembered, and to have someone whom he could call “home” and whom he could share every detail of his past and present life.

For a time, Maria skimmed the surroundings and saw the usual array of uniforms and heads and faces. Maria nailed her position, withholding Luis’ arm where the coins were. And just as she did, the coins rained on the ground, and Luis squabbled.

“Are you seeing what I am seeing, girl?”

Luis knew from that flash he had to bid good bye to Maria. It was his father who fetched him unpredictably. Everyone close to his bubble gawked at them. Luis was certain that his father came to make sure that everything on his part was doing okay and aligned to his father’s control. Maria eyed at them, hoping that Luis would be fine at home.

Almostallofhisrelativesdoubtedhissincerity whenLuisspoke about his sexual identity. Not even a single name among them did he dare to liken, not to mention their faces and the antagonistic strikes of

Everything his eyes could reach stopped dead. Even the engine noise and choir of voices were too hushed. Only what Luis could spot was the leisurely movement of Emilio, his smile as he was about to turn back tohis friend behind. And Luis fired back his own smile, too.

HE ALWAYS PREDICTED the pose in this house. And once Luis stepped inside, he pinned his thoughts to the same habit he’d been doing since then: reading outstanding prose, in the hope that those words would outgrow the amassing cloud of fear stuck in his head.

As time advanced, the whole scene collapsed into motion. A motorcycle halted near him. A browned skin driver, wearing ragged denim and dull shirt, darted at him like a killer.

“I don’t want you to avoid some family occasions,” his father said. But Luis disregarded the imperative.

77 Maria. Tell me that the world isn't too tiny for us to see each other again.”

78 their eyes. Last month, their family clan held a shindig, and Luis couldn’thelphimselflooking atthosehandsometeensand adultsnear and afar his table. Their faces were brand new to him, and so was he to them. A comrade of his father signaled him to approach them, and after Luis introduced his name and lineage, and the comrade asked Luis, “Are you gay? You kept looking at my son. You like him, don’t you?” Anyone from the table laughed. Even the bottles of whiskies atop the surface echoed the insulting tone, with the plates, spoons and forks, convinced to join. His father expressed disapproval to Luis which Luis marked to be the one of the worst gatherings he had ever attended. And from then, he made alibis to excuse himself from the sameInpeople.hisroom, his books accompanied Luis from burying his existence from his father downstairs. He only stayed there when his father called him for a meal or some delivery guy was outdoors with bubble wrapped soft backs and hardbacks. In the evening, he had no adjectives that could equal and describe the darkness engulfed in the sky. Through the window, the moon, depressed as it had always been, was obstructed by the clouds, giving him more space to fill up the vacuum in his heart. Luis estimated how far the stars fly and how much does it cost for him to travel from a place remote from this setting. It was, as he approximated, the nth time he had inquired the galaxy for this.

A couple of knocks on the door alarmed him, and it was with no doubt his father. Despite its full-bodied volume, Luis paid no heed to it. It was his father’s routine each night, checking if he was already asleep, but, this time, Luis locked thedoor. Itwas this argumentwhile they were at dinner a while ago that prompted him to close access.

Luis pampered himself. Emotionsflooded hishead, yet hecould control the flow. Intense, scorching words piled over him, yet he could carry them with ease. “I’m not gay, father.” Finally, this statement lessened the amount of ferocity his father was emitting.

“She is a friend to me.”

“Who was that lady, Luis?”

“Do I have to slap you to make you change into a man!”

“I hope so.” His father resumed his consumption, clasping the spoonful with much perilous might revealed by his fists resting on the other side of the table, coupled by the temper expelled through his eyes. “Continue eating.”

EVER SINCE, SCHOOL saved Luis from his temperamental habitat’s unfriendliness and by his father’s cruelty. It was this unexpected appearance of his father always stalking him anywhere he would go all by himself or with Maria. At dusk in school, since that day when his father fetched him, Luis would rather choose to ride transport to not suddenly encounter his father again along the road and guard anyone who was with him and next bring him homebound. Or when he was at a coffee bar or milk tea shop, he was sometimes bowled over to grasp his father along the street: his head alternated side by side, his eyes alert at the passers on the sidewalk, making sure it wasn’t his son. When Luis came home later than usual, his father accosted him in the living room with his drunkenness. Behind him was a table drenched by cold containers of alcohol. On the floor was a fallen

Luis, by his thorough examination of the area, was affirmative that his father was in the highest possible intoxication, and Luis was at risk to dig for any alibi for this kind of level. His father arose from his seat then walked bacchanalian. Before Luis plunged his foot forward, he gathered all the courage that was nowhere to be found within him now. Butnomatterhow much pressureLuisdeposited in his“courage box”, it didn’t prevent him to receive a compact punch like no other － after all the years they had been together under the same roof, it was the severest response he had ever obtained from his father － landing on his face, pushing him backwards and down the ground. His backpack helped make his fall so hasty and dramatic on the mud defecating on his ever-white uniform. But just how much he wanted to be concerned for his clothes, he worried more for the wound fixed on his face, commencing to squirting blood. Luis tried to get up and so didhisfather, hislegswobbling;however,hisfatherseized support from the wall. “What . . . did I just see . . . on Facebook?” his father said.

Luis, by averting his face from being drowned by his torrential emotions, took him so much strength in handling it. Soon he wept, saying, “I don’t know what you’re talking about! I don’t’ anything about that! I . . . don’t know, please. Stop beating me. Even just for today.” Luis for the first time in forever couldn’t stop himself from being himself. He let his heart control his gestures and words and cried a bucketing sum of tears and pain, heartaches and brokenness. Inside his chest was a balloon, so compelling, pumping on and off. His eyes erupted with grief hidden for decades. Because of the unrelenting scrubs and crawls of his bum and palms, the earth distorted.

80 stainless steel spoon with a fraction of meat dish scattered around it.

“Leave this house starting tonight. And I don’t want to see that fucking gay face early tomorrow. You’re a disgraceful piece of holy crap, Luis.”

It was this photo that Maria accidentally posted on Facebook: Both of them were at a parlor, and their heads touched against each other as they eye at the camera, and most undeniably, Luis’s face ornamented with cosmetics: around his eyes were colorful hues of homosexuality; and his lips, rich blood more than ever, prepared to kiss his Prince Charming; and cheeks accentuating like a Disney Princess. Maria held all the blame for the faux pas she did in secrecy that successfully resulted in pandemonium. She planned this, butLuis lost his brain whenever he’s with her doing their bailiwick.

Luis sprinted, carrying nothing except only arduousemotions that left the road with visible indications of his internal suffering. The road hetraversed, including thehouses at sides, exhibited somberness and dearth of any sign of an awakened occupant. And only what Luis could only sense was his heart: still alive, unbothered, in spite of the invasion of chaos in his mind. Luis kept running, not minding the direction of where his feet would proceed. He stopped from time to time, renewing a lungful of air before he could carry on, but what ought to be a fresh deposit of breath was fortified with smells of mud and blood raiding his nostrils.

After a long trail, Luis parked by an unguarded subdivision gate. The moon made it much clearer for him to name the place. The sound of his gasps stole silence. Yet, however dormant the surrounding was, inside Luis was opposite: mayhem of anguish with the need to shout for help.

THEY PAID FOR his hospital bills. This family, they were known for their charity. Of so many rich people, the Combatir family was suave from their values to language. When a cashier asked the matriarch who Luis was in their life, she immediately replied “someone important”.

Horrifying;thesilhouetted figuredirectly positioned facing Luis, who then lied low, shocked.

A few meters ahead, there was a two-storey house built out ofloftiness. Theluminescence ofits chandeliertranspired through the enormous glass wall where a silhouette of a human stood by it.

Luis woke up lying on a supple single bed locked in a chic white room. He was mesmerized by Mrs. Combatir, whose complexion was tantamount to her son, the same as through Mr. Combatir, whose visage, antique yet with fastidious clarity of how handsomely he was in his past years. There, on the couch was Emilio, clenching his fists and planting them in between his closed knees. Luis pinned a sweet look at him, and Emilio reciprocated it with a tiny amount of affability.

“I’ve got you covered. We’re willing to help.” Her speech sounded rehearsed, but it stabbed Luis deeply and made his muscles relax. Tears commenced to collect all over his eyes, however, his smile whipped the awkward feeling. Grateful as he was, he opened up to them and narrated the highlight of how he came there and the afflictions he suffered from his father.

83 While Emilio was eavesdropping at their discussion, his face sketched empathy. Emilio slanted frontward, about to throw his body towards them.

TWO DAYS HAD passed, yet Luis felt he was there in Combatir’s residence for so long. The aura of the house was nothing compared to his father’s. It was where he was understood and, most of all, loved that was totally absent from his parents. From breakfast to dinner, this family always spoke with immense adoration at each other. They didn’tloseconnectiondespitehowbusy theywerein each other’sjob.

Every day, he liked cleaning Emilio’s room. He tried to memorize each details stuck on the wall huge picture frames of Emilio in his childhood, his team’s win in a basketball match, and with his whole family; on the floor － yesterday’s polluted scented socks that Luis found irresistible, and plastic wrappers, strewn somewhere on the floor, invaded by red ants; and the indistinguishable flavor of ambiance that ran across the whole scope that tasted mundanely fascinating. How he wished he would be here till evening to note the whole activities Emilio would be doing all alone in his room. Butwhen Emilio was finally home, it should be the

Luis coerced Mrs. Combatir to be a worker in her house, which she soon approved, and told him, “Not to work so hard, only carry the things you can, and clean the surfaces you must. You know, you’re like a son to me, Luis.” Luis was afraid to add encumbrance in thishouseasneitherhisbloodnoranypartofhim wasrelated to them, and also Luis decided to halt his schooling and rest for a while as he was struggling to revive his impetus, adrift from the mishap. He needed to start a new life in this house with the family who had taken custody of him, the family he now chose.

84 time for Luis to leave the doorway bringing so many dirt － as if his true motive was to polish the room, when in fact, all he sought to do inside were to laze on Emilio’s bed, reminiscing the day he met him in the market, to be accustomed with the smell and disheveled image of everything placed in his room, and to feel the quintessence of having ahomeoncemorein thearmsofthe family who accepted him.

Kang sa elementarya pa lang si Maya, kada tapos kang anda nga klasi sa hapon, nagapaindi-indisanay sanda kang ana mga klasmeyt paagto sa balay nga guba sa kilid kang dalan nga anda maagyan pauli. Rugto sanda nagapamurot kang bunga kang samlagi nga nagakarahulog sa tinumpuk kang dahon nga laya.

Sugid kang anda kasimaryo, maaram da kuno si Ili. Ginadayaw gid tana kang tanan sa anda nga baryo kay tanda tana sa tanan nga bagay. Hambal kang nanay ni Maya, tana pa gani kara nag ubra kang anda nga bumba sa balay. Piro sa subra na kuno ka aram, nagliro liro ang ana nga paminsarun amo ra nga nagbuang tana.

"Gusto mo magpatas kay Ili buang nga nagapamurot na lang ka basura sa dalan?" Amo ra pirmi ang pahadluk kang mga mal-am. "Hala, diya run tana. Gapadulong dun!" Singgit naman ni Kitkit. Dali-dali man nanda nga ginsulud ang samlagi sa anda nga bulsa.

Bisan indi pa nanda makita ang landong ni Ili, man anun man sa gihapon nga nagapadulung dun tana kay nagapanimaho gid ang ana nga dapug.

“Turuka bala ang buang nga nagapamurot kang basura.”

"Dalia niyo!" singgit kang imaw na nga si Angging. Indi tungud kay gadali tana nga mag uli, kundi tungud karun burubhay maabut dun si SiIli.Ilikara, nagaistar sa balay nga gina-agtunan nanda ni Maya.

Sa masunud nga segundo, nag-alingasaw dun gid ang baho ni Ili. "Dalagan!" Singgit kang tanan.

Sanglit ra hay hapuon tana si Maya, pirmi gid tana kuligot sa dalaganay kag dugangan pa kang kabug atun kang ginapas an na nga bag. Sa una na nga pagtikang, nagkarahulug ang bunga kang samlagi nga ana pinamurutan kag nagkararapta diya sa tinumpuk kang mga laya nga dahon. Indi na maman an kung ano ang unahun: madalagan ukon purutun ang samlagi kay nakanugunan tana. Pagbalikid na, nakita na si Ili nga nagaparapit dun gid sa ana nga pwesto. Huyhuy ang ana nga abaga piro may dumot ang ana mga mata nga daw sa damang nga dalitan. Malabug ang ana nga buhok nga kutud sa ana abaga kag man-anun gid nga pira ka adlaw dun nga wara nagapanghusay. Ang ana bayo kay gisiun dun man kag sigurado gid nga wara diya malabhan kay amo mangud ang bayo nga suksuk na halin pa kang sarang simana. Dayun nga ginpili ni Maya ang ana kabuhi, gahulat dun ang ana mga amiga sa piyak nga bahin kang gabok nga kudal. Gintakras na lang diya para makaluwas kay Ili buang. Nagbalikid liwat tana sa balay nga guba pagkatapos maningkaras. Wara man gali tana ginalagas ni Ili. Nag untat lang tana sa ginpwestuhan ni Maya kaina. Ginpurot ni Ili ang ang silopin kang chichirya nga wara natalupangdan ni Maya nga nahulog gali halin sa

Kang ginturok tana ni Maya sa idalum, nagapamurot liwat si Ili kang basura. Sa ka diya nga tiyempo, may dara run tana nga itum nga "Dali,plastik.habuyon

natun tana kang bato," hambal kang sangka bata sa Nagpurutdalum kang bato ang mga bata kag hana nga batuhon ang buang garing ginlagas sanda kang nagapangluya nga si Ili para tabugon parayu. Nasadyahan gid ang mga bata sa dalum nga magpalagas kay Ili. Imbis nga magparayu, nagdugang pa gid ang anda nga sunlog.

bulsa na kaina. Dayun diya nga ginsulod ni Ili sa ana nga bulsa kag nagsulod sa ana nga balay.

Piro bag-o kato, masakit nga nagturuk sa mga bata si Ili samtang nagasampok ang mga kiray.

"Hambala nga usog usog balik kay Ili," laygay ni Putot sa mga imaw Kangna. sunod naman nga adlaw, nagsaka sa babaw kang puno kang mangga si Maya. Rugto tana namuksi kang habal nga mga bunga para daad nga may kurukan un tana mag abot ang anda nga recess. Samtang sa babaw tana kang kahoy, nadapugan na gid ang baho nga nagaalingasaw. “Baw diya naman si Ili ba!”

“Ti kay buang man gid tana mung,” sabat ni Kitkit. “A basta! Pwidi man tana nga indi mamurot kang basura. Diyan lang tana sa balay nanda para indi tana pagtawgun nga buang.” “Ay maan kanimo diyan, Maya. Mabuang ka lang kara ka panumdum. Basi mapatas timu kay Ili,” saligbat naman ni Angging. Kang hapon nga to, ginsundan nanda si Ili para maman-an kung ano ang ginaubra kang buang sa basura. Sa may bakante nga lote sa lipud nga parti kang balay ni Ili, nakita kang mga bata ang tanan nga basura nga pinamurutan ni Ili halin pa

lang nakita ni Maya nga nagyuhum si Ili kay puro lang diya kusmod kang una. “Naga haw nu? Naga ginasigi man gihapon ni Ili ang pagpamurut kang basura biskan amo ra ang kabangdanan kung naga ginatawag tana nga buang?”

Ginpabahul ni Maya ang ana nga limug kag nagsinggit, “Isa ako ka kapri, parayu kamo,” Gintungkaaw na liwat ang sa dalum kag nakita na nga nagtaral-as man ang mga bata gamay. Si Ili na lang ang nabilin nga nagatangra kag Rugtonagayuhum.kagbago

Samtang nagapang-it kang mangga si Maya, ginalantaw na ang nagkaratabo sa idalum. Nakita na nga ginatiripunan kag ginapulihan ka away kang mga bata si Ili. Ginpuksi na ang mga putot kang mangga kag ginpanghaboy sa mga bata.

Sa pagtangra ni Maya, nakita na ang bata nga imaw ni Monmon nga nagsunlog kaina kana. Malapad nga nagyuhum si Maya. Ginbayaw na ang ana nga palad kag nag apir sanda ka bata. Ginkuot ni Maya ang pocket watch sa

Nagbalikid si Maya kang nabatian na ang hambal kang bata. Wara tana ti may nabatyagan nga kahuya ukon kaugot. Nagngirit ang bata nga laki kag ginkuhit pa ang ana nga imaw.

bala daw buang nga nagapamurot kang basura.”

Ginpurut na to kag nakita ang bilog nga orasan nga daw sangka palad na lang ang kabuhulun. Ginbuol na to kag gindara pagto sa anda nga balay. “Turuka…

Piro ang nakaagaw gid kang atensiyon ni Maya amo ang nagaidlak nga bilog nga natubunan kang gamay nga lupa nga ana nalapakan.

89 kang una. Nakapain ang mga plastik nga botelya kang irimnun nga pwidi pa magamit sa mga silopin, tapos iba man ang ginabutangan kang mga burung-un nga botelya.

Imbis nga magsabat, ginliso ni Maya ang ana nga ulo kag nagduko liwat para puruton ang plastik nga botilya kang irimnun nga gindara pa kang balud sa binit baybay. Pira na run katuig diya nga ginaubra. Kada hapon ginalibut na ang binit baybay para lang mamurot kang basura kag ginasulod sa dara na nga saku. Hana nga purutun na run ang silopin sa unahan, garing may nag una ka diya. “Manang, mabulig takun kanimo. Indi tana kara pagsapaka si Monmon.”

“Para diya sa kaaraydan ninyo kag natun tanan.”

90 ana nga bulsa kag gintugru diya sa bata nga si Dodoy bilang baylo sa pagbulig kana.

“Are you sure this is going to work?” the doctor’s voice echoed out from the receiver of the answering machine of my austere study room. “They might think ”

“Be honest with me. Just how sentimental of a person are you?”

“Relax, compadre. Wag kang mag-alala. Nobody’s going to suspect a thing! You better believe it.”

“You see, the thing is, doc, as a man of the law, I know how to put on a great show always have. And knowing you personally, I have serious doubts about your integrity… or whatever’s left of it, anyway. If you don’t mind me asking, I have a question for you one question and nothing more. Just how sentimental of a person are you, really, Dr. ?” A beat. “What are you talking about?”

“Unbelievable!

“You couldn’t possibly what, hmm?”

H how is this even related to the ”

“Just answer the damn question, doc. It won’t hurt you. You’re not being held against your will here. This isn’t some interrogation. Just answer the damn question.”

The static and odd breathing pattern returned once more. And as I waited for his response, I looked out through the open French windows behind my executive office chair. There was a blank field of rolling green set against a sky of faded denim

“B but sir,” his voice was trembling (possibly with fear or anger or both), “as a practitioner of medicine a practitioner of medicine who had sworn upon the unblemished legacy of Hippocrates I couldn’t possibly ”

Blank static punctuated with heavy breathing flooded through my ears.

“You think I’m the type to bluff, doc? You better catch up…”

“W What are you t talking about? Who told you that?”

One. Two. Three.

“That’s bullshit what you just said.” “Ano ba naman yan…”

“You think I’m the type to bluff?”

“Oh yeah? Well, then why don’t you tell me about those illegal Chinese women you had holed up in your little secret room?”

“Look, doc, you don’t need to hide from me I know all about you.”“You know nothing about me.”

“I guess I I’m a… I’m a sentimental kind of person.”

And that was when I knew that I had him.

surrounded by grazing spotted chestnut brown cows and muted carabaos and dirty white sheep. How do you sleep at night knowing that you’ve just sold your soul to the man in the pinstriped suit? I wondered aloud in my mind before I heard him speak.

“Bullshit,” I said. “W “Whatwhat?”youjust said that’s bullshit.”

“I, um, err ”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“My god, doc, some goddamn Chinese informant told me, obviously!”“You’re bluffing, right?”

“You“I…” think I’m the type to bluff?”

“Look, I, uh… I had no other choice ”

A few moments passed and he sighed heavily.

“Why you lousy son of a bitch ” “Ah, yes, I remember now... There were three of them two were in their mid-twenties and one was still a teenager. Two years ago, they came knocking on your twenty-four hour clinic one rainy night with a black duffel bag stuffed with thousands of assorted yuan notes. Is that right, doc?” No response. “And they were pregnant, too, I believe? All three of them? Standing outside in the open rain without umbrellas?” And at that, I tsked into the receiver for him to hear as clear as day. “Now, how does something that unfortunate even happen in this ludicrous economy?” Still no response.

“Yes, doc? Yes, doc? What did you do about it?” He sighed. “… I let them in.”

“Oh, don’t pull that I had no other choice card with me, doc. Some decisions had to be made and you made them yourself. Now tell me.”“Well,

“And what did you do about it? What did you do, doc?” Talk, goddammit, talk! “I, uh… I ”

“I I I took the money… a a and then I asked them what they wanted from me.”

“That’s right,” I said, grinning ear to ear. “They, those dripping wet and miserable pieces of yellow meat from the street,

“That you did. And what happened after that, hmm, doc?” I heard the sound of tapping fingertips coming out from the other end.

w what was I supposed to do? They were dying.” “Wait a minute, who was dying, doc? Who was dying, doc? I don’t remember anyone dying, doc.”

Another long sigh. “… It’s true.”

“Uh-huh, right, doc. Gunshots. Duly noted, doc. Gunshots.”

“So, let me get this straight they asked for an abortion each? Just like that?”

And as Paul Bremer would say upon the capture of Saddam Hussein in the fourteenth of December 2003: ‘Ladies and gentlemen, we got him.’”

The sheep left for an emptier clearing past the carabaos. Go ahead, doc, I thought. Show me how pathetic of a person you truly are.

The sheep mingled with the carabaos. “S so naturally, I had them treated first had the bullets removed and added gauze and alcohol and everything and I thought that was the end… “… That was, until they brought up abort ”

approached you, asked for something in exchange, and you took that duffle bag right out of their hands, without question.”

Bingo! There goes a slip of the tongue.

The sheep treaded over the puddle. “For Chrissake, t t they barely escaped some underground whorehouse in Burgos Street with gunshots! Gunshots, alright!?”

The carabaos continued chewing cud without minding the sheep. No response from the other end. I sighed. The next words came out in layered staccatos timed to the dull acoustics of my mahogany desk.

“Why (tap) / did you have (tap) / to do it (tap) / doc? / It (tap) / just (tap) / makes (tap) / no (tap) / fucking (tap) / sense (tap).”

“Wait, was that was that what I thought that was? Did I hear that right?”

I looked at a sheep chewing cud next to a loose puddle of rainwater. “Look, they didn’t have much time, alright?”

“Why, doc? Enlighten me. Why didn’t they have much time?”

“Why did you have to do it, doc?” I turned around and looked away from the lonely field and closed the French windows with my free hand while I waited and waited for that fucker to crack. What’s taking you so long to admit the truth?

“So“Hmm.”Igave it to them, those fucking abortions… (Voice breaking) “… But they, they, they… they, uh, err… it was…”

And that was when I finally made him crack. I made a victorious fist pump with my free hand in the air as I heard him ugly sobbing over the line like a whimpering stray dog injured by a speeding jeepney from thousands of miles away. Another victory was secured. What more can I say? I have no shame. “You’re no better than me after all, aren’t you, doc?”

“Fine! You win, alright!? So bravo! Pesteng trapo! Tangina ka! Walang hiya!... Now, what, huh? What the fuck do you want from me? I want to get this shit over with.” I smiled. “Alright, doc… Here’s the deal ”

“Why did you have to do it, doc ” “Alright, alright, ALRIGHT! Jusko…” There we go. “Alright, look… I was broke… I was broke and the clinic wasn’t doing so hot... Those Indians…” he struggled to say, “those Indians, they had me backed up against a wall. They said, ‘Arre yaar, you have our money? It’s been few months already. No? Why not, bhai? You need a jugaad? We give you jugaad. You work hard, get my money that’s your jugaad, alright, bhai? Now, listen, we come back here same day next week, alright? If you try to hide from us, bhai, we hunt you down… That simple.’”

96 “What the fuck do you want from me!?” “Are you going to let me finish, doc? [Static] “Are you going to let me finish?” [White noise] “Good... Because I need you to cover something up.” “Cover something up?” “Cover“Exactamundo.”something up!?” “Uh… yeah… that’s right.” “COVER SOMETHING UP!?” “Jesus, for Chrissake, doc, I already said ” “COVER WHAT SOMETHING UP!?” [Radio silence] “… Here’s another question: you’ve been tuning into the news lately, right, doc?” [Electronic hum] “Alright… I’ll take that silence as a yes, then.” [Broadcast interference] “What’s that got to do with anything?” “Oh, nothing… Just checking.” “Well? Did I pass?” “Don’t be so fucking sure of yourself, doc.” “I wasn’t.” [Telephone line noises (whatever they are)] “And this… this might take a while.” “What? What might take a while.” “You’ll find out soon enough in due time.” “Please, sir.” “Please what, doc? Please Please Me?” “Please, sir, you have to let me go. Parang awa niyo na po.” “Now, why would I want to do that, doc?”

“Let me make a few things clear, doc let me make a few things crystal clear so that we’d be on the same fucking page…

“No I don’t want a check for three million pesos because I’m going on trial no I don’t want a plot of useless real estate in Batanes because I’m going on trial and no I don’t want to pick off some other guy who has nothing to do with what I’m about to ask you to do because I’M GOING ON FUCKING TRIAL!”

“And what, doc, hmm?”

Right. That should just about do it. Tanginang pota na yan walang kwenta.

“Then what!? What the fuck do I do to make us square!?” And at that, I smiled. “I need a wheelchair.” “A wheelchair!? W what the fuck do you need a wheelchair for?”

“Ah, well, you know…” “No, sir, I don’t know. I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.”

“Look, you’ve had your fun, I’ve told you everything you needed to know, so it's best that we forget about all of this and ”

“Uh, uh, alright, look, sir, I won’t tell anyone, I swear! Parang awa niyo na po. What do you want? You wanted to cover something up, right? Well, how about something else instead? Yeah, yeah something else! Want a check for a million, maybe two, three million pesos? I’ll wire it to you first thing tomorrow morning! Oh, wait, wait, how about a plot of real estate somewhere in Batanes? I own a good chunk of land there I’ll have my lawyer arrange the paperwork, no sweat! I I I’ll even throw in some other people I know, some, some, some, some other people as guilty as I am so I no, no so WE could get away scot free ” I BANGED! on the table, and he stopped his rambling immediately I sighed a long weary sigh.

Those, uh, you know, those officials they and the people know who they are, cough, cough those with all the neck braces and the arm casts and other injuries that seemed to come out of nowhere. Just like magic. You following me?”

“And w what could that be? Sir?”

[Silence] “Remember those other politicians back in the day, doc?

(Frustrated“Right.” sigh) “Look, doc, everybody knows that they’re dirty. You can smell their stink from miles away. You can’t deny it. Every single one of those sons and daughters of bitches are dirty. Hell, even I’m dirty and I’m not afraid to admit it. You know it, I know it, and every single goddamn person in this country knows that I’m a dirty sonofabitch. But there’s something something else that sets me apart from them, doc.”

“Come on, now, doc. You’re a lying dirty sonofabitch we’ve already established that. So, as that is the case, you must know why I need that wheelchair from you.”

“What are you talking about, doc? I have that whole part down in the “Thescript.”masses aren’t all stupid, you know.”

“It’s that I don’t go down without a fight.” “So,… doc…” “S “TheSir?”wheelchair, alright?” (In a flat depressing monotone) “The wheelchair. Uh huh.” “Yes, doc, and, uh, when are you free for an appointment ” (Impatient tone) “Wouldn’t it be obvious?” “Sorry, come again?” “It would be obvious, I meant you faking it in a wheelchair would be obvious. You haven’t considered that? Sir??”

“Oh, I know it, but I don’t care.”

“Ano ba naman, how the hell ”

“Simple. I will roll myself down the staircase after the call and have one of my maids witness the accident firsthand and I will tell her that I had tripped for some reason which I would conveniently forget and then she will phone an ambulance which I will pay off to take me straight to you or threaten to take me straight to you and not some public hospital lurking with the fucking paparazzi.”

(distant slam) Alright, alright, alright, fuck it.” “Do“So?”whatever you want, sir do whatever the fuck you want.” “So does this mean?”

“Of “Fuckcourse.”you!”

“For fuck’s sake, just… (sigh) Just get it done so I can move on with my “Excellent,life.” doc.” “Oh, and sir?” “Yes, “Whendoc?”thiswhole thing is over, don’t ever contact me again.”

(Slams the receiver) “Alright, doc, fuck you too, bye!” (Slams the receiver as well) Why the fuck was he getting all angry?

[Silence] “Well, what do you think, doc? Too grand? Not too grand? Fucking“It’s,stupid?”uh…

100 Sa kanyang akdang The Society of Spectacle (1967), ani ni Guy Debord, ang uri ng konsumo sa modernong lipunan ay dinodomina ng imahe ng representasyon. Ang pagpapaliwanag niya, ang pagkonsumo ng isang komoditi ay hindi kaagad nangangahulugan na ito ay dulot ng esensyal na pangangailangan; sa halip, ang pagkonsumo ay may layuning magpahiwatig. Maaring ito ay pagpapahiwatig ng estado mo sa lipunan, ang grupo o komunidad na kinabibilangan mo, ang binibitbit mong worldview, o alinmang may iginigiit na katayuan sa lipunang ginagalawan. Umiiral ito sa tinatawag niyang “spectacle” na kung saan ang panrelasyong panlipunan at komoditi ay pinamamagitan ng mga imahe. Halimbawa, ang mga masidhing tagasuporta ng mga Korean idols ay komokomyun sa pamamagitan ng kanilang pop music, pagbili ng kanilang merchandise, paglubog sa kanilang kultura, pag-aral na wikain ang kanilang lenggwahe, atbp. May nabubuong komunidad kung saan ang mga miyembro ay nagkakaisa, naggaganyak, namamangha sa espektakulo ng kulturang Koreano. Hanggang umabot sa puntong inuugnay ng tinatawag na “Adorable Representative M.C Youth” o ang “A.R.M.Y.” (isang fanbase ng Korean boy group na Bangtan Sonyeondan) ang kulay purple bilang eksklusibo lamang sa kanilang komunidad. Anumang pagtatangkang gamitin ito maliban sa representasyon ng suporta sa BTS ay agresibong kinukutya sa social media. At siyempre, hindi ito nakaligtas na gawing katatawanan ng karamihan at naging isang meme. Ngunit, sa aking pananaw, ang ganitong mga gawain ay hindi kaagad agad nabibigyan ng pagdadalumat at dumudulas lamang sa ating mga kamalayan. Nilalabnaw ito ng kadahilanang kadalasan ang

What Eating with My Hands Means to Me (and 6 Other Filipinos) (2017), pinag-usapan ang sentimyento ng mga Filipino diasporas hinggil sa paraan ng pagkain nating mga Pinoy na tinatawag na kamayan o ang pagkain gamit ang kamay. May nagsabing ang ganitong paraan ng pagkain ay literal na taktil na pagtutulayngkunganobumubusogsaatin atanglupangpinagmulan nito. Kahit na kadalasan para sa mga Kanluranin ito ay exotic at malabo, ang bigat na inaangkla rito ng mga Pinoy na naninirahan na sa ibang bansa ay dulot ng masidhing nostalgia, ang pangungulila sa mga mahal sa buhay na minsang nagpapakain sa kanila. Patunay ito na ang pagkain ay isa sa mga bumibigkis sa kolektibong pananaw nating mga Pinoy. Isang imagined community na kung saan kinikilala ng lahat na ang hapag ay sagrado sapagkat ito ay

101 pagkonsumo ng mga taga-suporta ay malalim na naroromantisa at at pawang pag-uugnay lamang sa kanilang iniidolo, kung baga ay upang lusawin ang hangganan sa kanilang pagitan. Kung kaya minsan, may mga“ultranasyonalista”nanagdududasaganitongpag-eengganyong sarili sa kultura ng iba at kinikwestyon o kinukutya ang mga Pinoy fans na humahantong sa siklaban ng debate o bardagulan sa Facebook o hindikayaay pa trendingsaTwitter. Atanongabaang implikasyon nito kung ang konsepto ng nasyonalismo ng mga Pinoy ay ang pag uugnay nito sa mga simbolo at imahe (e.g. ang Agila bilang pambansang ibon; ang paggamit muli ng Baybabayin; paphoto-op kasama ang ating mga katutubo habang suot-suot ng mga turista ang kanilang damit; o hindi kaya’y ang pagsuot ng barong at Filipiniana sa Buwan ng Wika habang nagsasalita na parang sa kapanahunan pa ni Balagtas). Kung ang pagdedeyt at pagbobonding na ngayon ay ang pagsaluhan ang unli samgyupsal at ang pagkatutong gumamit ng tsapstik? Kung naging kritikal na lalo ang usapin sa wika at nasyonalismo sa panahong nanghihimasok na ang imperyalismong pangkultura ng Korea sa mga popular na mga midya, lalo na rito sa ating bansa?Saartikulong

Nauugnay ng pagkonsumo sa kilig tuwing naaalala ang mga landian ng bidang magkasintahan sa pinanood na K drama. Mas napapalapit siya sa hinahangaan niyang idolo kung nilulubog ang sarili sa kultura nito. Hindi na ito nakabibigla sapagkat alam ng karamihan na nakakapitalan ng South Korea ang pag angkat ng kanilang kultura bilang manipestasyon ng tinatawag na softpower o uri ng pagdodomina na hindi nangangailan ng pisikal at bayolenteng pamamaraan. Ang pagkonsumo ay dulot ng commercialized na kultura ng dayuhan. Maihahantulad ito sa paggamit ng Amerika ng Coke,angtinatawag na cocacolonization, upang maslalong sagasain ngkulturanito ang tinginnitong masnakabababaang kulturaatnang mas mapatibay ang naitatag na nitong kapangyarihan. Kaya tinawag ang Coca Cola na nakabotelyang Amerika (Marling, 1996).

102 nagtatakda ng pagsalo-salo, isang imbitasyon sa pakikipagkapwa at pakikisama. Halimbawa lamang ay ang ating mga community pantries na kung saan higit nitong kinikilala ang pag-iral natin bilang isang komunidad ang pagkakaroon ng kamalayan sa dinaranas ng iba. Ngunit, sa kasalukuyan, kung mapapansin sa social media, madalas na ang pagpopost ng mga bidyu at larawang nagsasamgyup sa deyt ng mga magjojowa o hindi kaya ay mga bonding ng mga magkakaibigan. Minsan, namamangha ako sapagkat kumpiyansang ginagamit pa ang tsapstik, hindi na kamayan, at mukhang mas naging patok na ito kompara sa Mang-Inasal. Marahil dahil sa lasa, unlimited servings, o para bago naman ang karanasan, Ngunit, kadalasan, marami sa mga Pinoy ang nagsasamgyup dahil nagmumukha itong simulasyon ng Korean experience. May mga restawran na nakaayon ang interyor sa mga Korean na disenyo at napapalamutian ng mga memorabilya ng mgaK Pop na mga musika (Agarin, 2021). Ayon pa sa antropologo na si Arnel Joven, ang pagkahumaling natin mga pagkain ng mga Koreano ay humuhugot sa pagkonsumo natin sa kulturang popular nila na inihahain sa pamamgitan ng mga K-dramas at K-pop (Tupas and Lee, 2020).

103 Sa kabilang dako naman, malaki ang naiambag ng social media sa pagpapalaganap sa transmisyon ng kultura. Dito mas napahahaba ang galamay ng imperyalismo at dito rin mas madaling nahahasa ang mga pagtatangkang putulin ito. Naging plataporma ito ng diskurso kung saan may mga sulok kung saan maaring malayang makisali sa isang debate ukol sa lahat ng bagay na maaring pag usapan, kung saan dito umugat ang salitang bardagulan. Ayon sa mga posts at forums na nakita ko, ang salitang ugat ay “bardagol” na na ibig sabihin ay isang sigang walang karunungan. Ayon pa sa artikulo ng Esquire Philippines na The Nominees for the First Ever ‘Bardagulan” Awards Have Been Announce (2020), ang bardagulan ay ang pagpost ng pangungutya bilang patama sa isang tao o sa isang partikular na isyu. Kadalasan ito sa Twitter kung saan naipahahayag ng tao ang kanilang mga pagkadismaya at mga hinaing na mas lalong umigting dala ng mainit na politikal na kaganapan sa bansa. Ang punto ko lang naman ay simple lang, dito na mas natutuunan ang pagiging arbitraryo ng lenggwahe, kung sino ang dapat na magtatakda ng kahulugan ng mga salita sa ilalim ng mga kaganapan at mga pwersang nagbibigay ng bigat at lalim sa politikal at sosyal na dimension ng isang salita o wika. Kung ikokonekta sa pagpasok ng Koreanong kultura sa bansa, may mga salita rin na iniaangkop. Halimbawa ay ang salitang “oppa” na ginagamit upang itawag ng babae sa nakatatandang lalaki (Toyryla, 2021). Habang pagdating dito, nangangahulugan na itong gwapo o lalaking iniidolo. Sa pamamagitan ng social media, nagsilbi itong sistemang sirkulatoryo nanagpalaganap ng kahulugan nito. Isa itong konkretong makinarya na may kakayahang baguhin ang daloy ng kultura ng isang komunidad o grupo. Ang midya mismo, bilang lumalahok din sa reproduksyon ng kultura, malaking hakbang ang ginawa nito upang iusad ang wika. Kung iuugnay ito hinggil naman sa pagtataguyod ng wikang Koreano sa kanilang palabas at ang unti unti nilang paghasa ng kanilang kagalingan sa wikang Ingles, dulot

104 ng patuloy na reproduksyon ng mga palabas nila na nilalagyan na ng English subtitle bilang pagkilala sa maraming dayuhang tagapanood nito, dito mas lalong umusad ang kanilang kagalingan sa wikang Ingles sa mismong paggamit ng kanilang sariling lenggwahe. Makatotohanan ito lalo nasa panahong unti untinang niyayaposang ibang wika at representasyon maliban sa Ingles sa global na entablado at ang muling pag usbong ng Asyanong sinema sa global entertainment.Anongayon ang sa atin? Mas lalo itong malaking hamon. Sa kabila ng pangamba ng pagpasok ng kultura ng Koreano sa bansa, may mabuting dulot din ito bilang panghamon laban sa Kanluraning kapangyarihan. Laban sa indibidwalismong pumipilay sa bansang ito. Panatag akong may iilan ding umaalpas palabas sa espektakulo dahil dagdag pa ni Debord, itong espektakulo ang pumipigil sa ating mag isip, magbusisi, at magpuna. Umuugnay tayo sa kultura ng mga Koreano dahil malapit ito sa ating puso. Katulad ng pagsalu salo sa pagkain bilang sentimyento ng komyunal na pamumuhay kaya ang samgyupsal ay hindi lamang pang-isahang galak, may tagaluto, may tagakain, at may tagalibre. May pagpaplano at pag-iiskedyul ang pagsasamgyup dahil mahal ito kaya kailangang pag-ipunan at kailangangbuhusanngorasupangmasulitangbinayad.Ayonpakay Igno at Cenidoza (2016), ang asosasyon ng ating buhay at karanasan sa kanilang mga palabas ay dulot ng mga pagkakatulad ng pananaw natin sa buhay kung kaya’t malaki rin ang kanilang ginagampanan sapaghubogng atingmgakuwento. Higitsalahat, ang hamon saatin ay kung paano natin igigiit at ilalakip ang ating pananaw bilang mga Pilipino sapagragasang mgakulturang mgadayuhan.Hindilamang natin ito tinatawag na “samgyupsal” sa halip na “samgyeopsal” bilang pag aangkop lamang. Kabahagi na nito ay naangkin natin sapagkat may naiambag na ang ating kultura sa paghubog nito at dapat pa natin itong busisiin. Katulad lamang kung paano nagsimula ang “samgyeopsal” dulot sa kontradiksyon sa dinaranas ng mga

105 manggawa. Nagsimula ito dahil sa hindi makataong kondisyon ng mga minero na kung saan napag-isipan nilang magprito ng karne ng baboy upang matanggal ng mantika ang alikabok sa kanilang lalamunan (Arirang Issue, 2016). Mahalagang sabihin na sa kontradiskyon ng karanasan nahuhubog ang mga kahulugan at ang ating relasyon sa bayan. Ngayon, ang samgyupsal o kadalasa’y tinatawag na nating “samgyup” ay isa nang imbitasyon sa pagsasama sama sa hapag bagay na ipinagkait sa mga minerong masaluhan man lang ang kanilang pamilya.

106 Ang The Kundiman Party ay ang pantapos na season ng UP Playwrights’ Theatre sa ika-26 na season nito noong 2018 (TheaterFansManila, 2018). Ito ay isang dula sa direksyon ni Dexter M. Santos at musika ni Floy Quintos. Ang The Kundiman Party ay tungkol sa klimang pampulitika ng kasalukuyang panahon. Ang kuwento ay umiikot sa mga pangunahing tauhan na sina Maestra Adela Dolores, ang retiradong mang aawit, at Bobby Valderama, ang aktibista at eksperto sa social media kuno. Nang mapukaw ni Bobby ang nasyonalismo ni Maestra Adela, nagtrabaho sila pareho para gumawa ng isang politikal na bidyo na sisikat sa masa. Ang kanilang kundiman movement ay puno ng positibo atnegatibong mga bungana sumasalamin sa lipunang ginagalawan nila. Isang konsepto na lumutang ngunit maaaring hindi agad mapapansin ay ang pagtingin ng mga tauhan na sina Maestro Adela, titas (binubuo ni Helen, Mitch, at Mayen), Antoinette, Melissa, at Ludwig sa karakter ni Bobby. Nagsimula ito noong pumunta siya sa bahay ni Maestra Adela para sunduin si Antoinette, ang kaniyang kasintahan. Siya ay may aral, ilustrado kung maituturing, eksperto pagdating sa social media, matinik sa mga babae, aktibista, at ang hindi matalik na anak ni Senador Juancho Valderama (senate president pro tempore). Bukod dito, puno ng idealismo at vision ang binata na kasalungat sa kaniyang ama na agad naman nilang hinangaan, pinuri at, kahit pa nga, minahal. Ang kaniyang “tagapagligtas” na imahe o “savior” sa Ingles ang nagtulak para sina MaestraAdela atkaniyang mgakaibigan ay lumabassakani kanilang mga kumportableng pamumuhay. Binigyan niya sila ng inspirasyon

107 na nakaugat sa paghihimagsik at paglaban sa kasalukuyang administrasyon kahit pa ito ay napakaimposible na mangyari. Sa kahabaan ng dula, siya ang gumulo sa masasabing tahimik at karaniwang pamumuhay nina Maestra Adela. Si Bobby ay nagkaroon ng hindi magandang karanasan nang bata pa lamang siya. Malapit sa pansin ng madla at pinalilibutan ng mga isyu ang kaniyang tuloy-tuloy na pinagdaanan dahil politiko ang kaniyang ama. Sa lima ring magkakapatid, siya ang maituturing na “black sheep” na naiiba pagdating sa ideolohiyang pampulitika ng kaniyang pamilya. Lahat ng miyembro ng pamilya ay nakapanig sa daddy niya, kahit pa iyung mommy niya na minsang iniwan ito. Ang paniniwala niya kasi ay may pagka-leftist na pananaw sa political spectrum, habang ang daddy naman niya ay kasalungat, may pagkarightist. Bilang resulta, lumaki siya nang hindi sila kailanman nagkakasundo ng daddy niya sa isang bagay or argumento. Pagtuntong ng labing-siyam na taong gulang, lumayas siya ng bahay kasama ang mommy niya sa kadahilanan na hindi na nila makaya ang mga desisyon, babae at ugali ng daddy niya. Gayunpaman, kung mayroon man silang mag-amang pagkakapareho, iyun ay ang likas nilang pagiging “gaslighter” at mapagsamantala sa mga taong nakapaligid sa kanila. Higit pa, sa pitong taong hindi sila nagkita ng kaniyang daddy, kinailangan niyang pakainin ang sarili. Natuto siya maging independiente dahil dito pero hindi pa rin maituturing na matured ang kaniyang mga desisyon sa buhay. Dahil sa kawalan ng ama at ina (dahil bumalik na ito sa daddy niya) na mga taga-suporta, palagi niyang pinapatunayan ang kaniyang sarili sa ibang tao (Tyson, 2006), sa titas na lang halimbawa. Hinahanap-hanap niya ang yakap ng isang ina (natagpuan niya kay Maestra Adela), ng papuri (mula sa titas), at pagmamahal (kay Antoinette). Itong pagmamahal na ito,

108 subalit, ay mababaw na mamaya ay tatalakayin pa sa relasyon nila ni Antoinette. Isapang makabuluhang detalyesa kaniyaay ang pagiging

ni Bobby ay mahalagang bigyang pansin kasi ito ang nagbigay sigla para sa grupo ni Maestra Adela na pumayag sa mga gusto niya. Payak lang ang naging layunin niya, ang makuhanan ng bidyo si Maestra Adela habang galit na nagpapaliwanag tungkol sa kundiman at kaniyang mga sakripisyo noong 1986 People Power Revolution. Pagkatapos, i upload ito sa Internet. Gayunpaman, nang nagkaroon ito ng maraming views, ito ang naging “senyas” para kumbinsihin pa niya si Maestra Adela na gumawa pa ng maraming mga bidyong nagtatampok ng kundiman at mensahe tungkol sa lipunan sa pagitan ng mga ito. Sa paraan na mabilis, pasigaw at madramang pananalita niya ito ginagawa sa harap ng titas. Dito lumalabas ang kaniya pagka ”manipulative sad boy” at ginagamit niya rin ito kahit kay Antoinette. Ang “manipulative sad boy” ay terminong pambagets na ang ibig sabihan ay paggamit ng lalaki sa kaniyang emosyon at pagkasensitibo para pagmukhaing may

mulat niya sa murang edad tungkol sa mga isyung panlipunan.

Nagtulak ito sa kaniya upang maging aktibista at vocal sa kaniyang mga kritisismo patungkol sa gobyerno. Mahalaga sa kaniya na hindi tumigil at ipilit nang ipilit ang kaniyang gusto kahit mali ang paraan dahil siya ang may malawak na kaalaman sa totoong nangyayari sa Pilipinas. Hindi niya na maipikit ang kaniyang mga mata dahil bawat oras, segundong lumilipas, may namamatay na inosenteng mamamayan, may nagnanakaw sa gobyerno at may inaabusong mahirap. Kahit na ganito, tulad ng mga kaedaran niya, takot din siya para sa kaniyang buhay at kung anong posibleng mangyari sa mga taong nakapaligid sa kaniya, pero magaling lang siya magtago ng kaniyangAngemosyon.aktibismo

109 kasalanan iyung ibang tao kahit wala naman talaga. Ito ay para lang makuha ng lalaki ang gusto niya. Ano ba kay Bobby para hindi siya mahiya at patuloy na itulak sina Maestra Adela nagumawa pang mga bidyo? Mayroon siya palaging sinasabi na “Sorry for not having the luxury of time.” Ang mgakalaban naitinuturing niyaay ang mganasa kabilang spectrum ng ideolohiyang pampulitika, ang mga rightist. Mabilis sila gumawa ng mga propaganda, hindi engrande pero naiintindihan ng karamihan. Kailangan niya, nila malagpasan ang ginagawa ng kabilang kampo para maging epektibo ang ginagawa nilang kampanya na maibalik ang diwang-makabansa ng bawat mamayang Pilipino. Epektibo at natupad naman ang gusto ni Bobby pero malamang ay may kapalit ito; ang pagdakip kay Ludwig at pagbali sa kaniyang mga daliri ng isang hindi kilalang lalaki sa kalsada. Dahildito,napaisip muliangmgatauhan sabahayniMaestra Adela kung dapat pa ba nilang ituloy ang kanilang nasimulan. Bagaman ganito ang sitwasyon, kataka takang gusto pa rin ito ituloy ni Bobby sapagka’t mas malaki raw ang kalaban nila kumpara sa nangyari kay Ludwig. Sa ganitong pananaw niya nakita nina Maestra Adela at titas na wala namang siyang pakialam sa kanila kung hindi iyong gusto niya lang. Malakas ang loob niya (kahit hindi niya alam) dahil privileged pa rin siyang maituturing. Malamang ligtas siya sa mga pag target at anumang pag atake dahil sa siya ay anak pa rin ng kasalukuyang senate president pro tempore. Katulad nga ng sabi ni Mitch, nandiyan lang siya kapag madali, kapag may gusto siya, pero sa totoong laban at paggawa ng tamang desisyon, wala siya. Imbes, siya lang iyung nagsisilibing “boss” ng grupo pero hindi maituturing na “ripe” pa ang kaniyang kaalaman sa laban na pinapasukan niya. Ang pananaw niya ay “sabak lang ng sabak,” at mali ito dahil walang mangyayaringpag aalsanamatagumpaykungwalang pagpapahalaga sa moralidad. Kaya naman makikita iyung kabalintunaan ng karakter niyanahindinakaangklaangkaniyangginagawasamgadapatniyang pinaglalaban. Wala ring siyang pinagkaiba sa daddy niya at sa mga

110 taong naghaharing uri sa pamahalaan na naniniwalang ang “ilang buhay ay mas mahalaga kaysa sa iba.”

Isang kapansin pansing katangian ni Bobby ay ang pagkakaroon niya ng takot sa laguyo o kung sa Ingles ay tawaging fear of intimacy (Tyson, 2006). Ano ba ang kaniyang relasyon kay Antoinette at ano bang nagustuhan niya rito? Mayroon silang pagmamahalang puno ng pag-aaway at hindi pagkakaintindihan, kung saan si Antoinette ay hindi suportado ni Bobby sa kaniyang pagkanta ng kundiman o sa mga pangkalahatang gusto niya. Subalit, itong si Antoinette nagiging sunod-sunuran lang sa mga gusto ni Bobby, tulad na lang sa paggawa ng mga bidyo. Marahil si Antoinette lang ang may gusto kay Bobby dahil sa hindi nito natutugunan ang pagmamahal na ibinibigay niya. Maaalala nang nagtangka si Bobby na hindi niya liligawan si Antoinette kasi nalaman niyang nag iwan ito ng mensahe sa mommy niya. Sa aspektong ito, kahit hindi pa siya sinasagot ni Antoinette, kontrolado na niya ito dahil sa pagiging “manipulative sad boy” niya. Sa kabuuan ng dula, ni wala siyang nabanggit na dahilan sa kung bakit may gusto siya kay Antoinette bukod sa pagiging “maganda” nito. Kaya masasabing walang saysay lang ang kanilang relasyon dahil lagi’t lagi hindi ibibigay ni Bobby ang kaniyang buong sarili kay Antoinette kasi hindi pa siya handa (Tyson, 2006). Sang-ayon din dito si Helen na nang una ay mabait at protekdo kay Bobby pero biglang magbabago ang pakikitungo niya sa binata sa dulo dahil sa pagtrato niya kay Antoinette at sa nangyari kay Ludwig. Si Bobby ay hirado sa mga bagay bagay, nalipat ang kaniyang atensyon mula kay Antoinette papunta kina Maestra Adela at titas. Bigla siyang nawalan ng pokus sa pagkanta ni Antoinette at, sa halip, inagawan niya ito ng pansin sa bahay ni Maestra Adela. Mabilissiyamagsawaathindinakukuntento.Halimbawa, sapagiging

Angkop na pumapasok ang karakter ni Bobby sa konsepto ng tagapagligtas na imahe. Ito ay bitag para kina Maestra Adela, kaniyang mga kaibigan at estudyante. Ang taong tulad niya na may idealistikong pananaw sa hinaharap ang hinahanap ng mga tao sa panahon ng nagbabantang demokrasya. Nakitaan siya ng lahat na parang mayroong perpektong mga katangian na pasok sa naratibo ng pagiging bayani na magliligtas sa sambayanang Pilipino. Nang nalaman pa nila ang nakaraan niya, hindi sila makapaniwala na mayroon papalang katulad niya na magaling magsalita, halatang may aral, may itsura, at higit sa lahat, nanggaling sa elitistang pamilya. Habang hindiniyaito sadya, pero dahildito, nakuhaniyanang madali ang loob nina Maestra Adela at ibang mga tauhan. Gayunpaman, malaki ang pagkaunlad ni Maestra Adela na dati ay sumuko sa pagiging politikal pero unti-unti siyang naimpluwensiyahan ni Bobby sa realidad at tinanggap niya ito nang buong buo. Ang titas naman ay napaniwala sa posibilidad na baka nga puwede, na sa huli, mabalik ang nawawalang nasyonalismo ng mga Pilipino. Kasabay nitong pag igting ng pagkamakabansa ng karamihan sa social media dahil sa sinagawa nilang kampanya ay ang pagtindi rin ng pagtatangka sa kanilang seguridad. Isang gabi, bigla na lamang silang kinuyog ng hindi kilalang grupo sa mismong bahay ni Maestra Adela, kung saan

hanggang sa dulo, kaya nga nang hagkan siya ni Mitch bilang pagsubok sa kaniyang tunay na ugali, hindi siya nanlaban. Sa unang pagtinginsakaniyabilang knight in shining armor, napag alaman nila na may bahid din pala ito ng korapsyon. Dahil katulad ng daddy niya, bukod sa parehong may problema sa mga babae ay, kapag may pagkakataonnanasaharap niyana,kahitnamali, gagawinparinniya.

111 aktibista niya hangga’t hindi pa nakikita ang resulta, hindi pa tapos ang laban para sa kaniya. Hindi siya nagbago mula sa simula ng dula

112 ito dapat ang kaisa-isa nilang ligtas na lugar. Hindi nila alam kung pangungunahan sila ng takot o itutuloy pa nila ang movement. Maliit na hakbang na lang at sinong nakakaalam kung ano pa ba ang maaabot nila? Subalit, sa isang beses lang na pagkikita nina Bobby at daddy niya, mapagtatanto niya na wala ring pupuntahan ang mga ginagawa nila. Sasama siya kay Senador Valderama dahil ginamitan siyanito ng emosyon atinalokngmaginhawang buhay sarealistikong pananaw. Kahit iniwan ni Bobby ang grupo, imbis na tumigil ang movement, nagpatuloy sina Maestra Adela at iba pang mga tauhan. Samakatwid, isip bata mang maituturing ang paniniwala ni Bobby sa pagbabago, hinding hindi rin ito magtatagumpay dahil nakaugat ito sa kaniyang hindi magandang kalooban. Nagsilbi lang siyang “boss” at hindi “leader” para sumunod sa kaniya sina Maestra Adela at titas na ang tanging mga nais ay malawakan at progresibong pagbabago sa bansa. Ang tunay na pagbabago ay nanggagaling sa isang “leader” nabinibigyanngkapangyarihan angbawatisanamakiisaattumulong tungo sa iisang adhikain, at hindi lang ng iisang tao. Higit sa lahat, ang pagbabago ay nagsisimula sa loob ng sarili, at mula roon, saka ito makapagbibigay ng kaparehong pagbabago sa ibang tao. Ang ganitong konsepto ng tagapagligtas ay hindi na bago sa mga Pilipino tuwing eleksyon. Nito lang halalan sa pagkapangulo ng Pilipinas 2022, umusbong muli ang ganitong naratibo sa porma ng mga tumatakbong kandidato, lalo na ni Vice President Leni Robredo. Ayon kay Marguerite de Leon (2020), ang pinuno ng Rappler’s Life and Style, Entertainment, at Opinion na mga seksyon, sa kaniyang artikulong “Leni is not our savior” mayroon daw na tagapagligtas na imahe si VP Leni (deLeon, 2020). Higitpa rito, mahilig daw ang mga Pilipino sa mala-bayaning istorya ng mga politiko: si Cory Aquino, ang Queen of the People Power movement, at Noynoy Aquino, ang People Power Prince nanagligtassanoongmgaisyung“Hello Garci”

“president we never had” at “Force of Good” labankayBongbong Marcos, Jr. Nang halalan sa pagka-pangalawang pangulo ng Pilipinas 2016, nanalo si VP Leni hindi dahil sa kaniyang tagapagligtas na imahe bagkus ang kaniyang mga resibo ng trabaho bilang politiko rin (de Leon, 2020). Gayunpaman, makikita na natututo na ang mga Pilipino sa ganoong pagkakataon, pero inuulit ulit pa rin nila ang pagkakamali dahil mas madaling umupo na lang at may tingalaing tagapagligtas (de Leon, 2020). Gaya na lang nitong halalan sa pagkapangulo 2022, nanalo si Bongbong Marcos Jr. (kay VP Leni) dahil nakatanim ang kaniyang buong kampanya sa konsepto rin ng tagapagligtas na imahe (Kurlantzick, 2022). Mayroong karanasan si Bongbong sa lehislatibong sangay ng pamahalaan, pero bukod doon, kontrobersyal ang kaniyang kasaysayan dahil sa dala dalang apilido nito. Siya ay anak ng dating diktador Ferdinand Marcos, Sr. na may nakaraan sa batasmilitar atwalang habasnapagbaluktotsasistemang panghukuman ng bansa. Kaya ang ginamit lang ni Bongbong ay ang mga nagawang mabubuti ng kaniyang ama o ang madalas na sinasabing palsipikadong “golden era.” Siya ang magbabalik nito bilang tagapagligtas ng Pilipinas mula sa lubhang naapektuhang ekonomiya ng bansa dahil sa COVID 19 (Kurlantzick, 2022). Lahat ng mga krimen ng kaniyang tatay ay nabura nang biglaan dahil sa pagpalaganap ng kampo niya ng mga pekeng balita na nakaanggulo sa tagapagligtas na imahe ni Bongbong. Katulad sa dulang The Kundiman Party, pinaniwala sila ni Bobby sa kaniyang tagapagligtas na imahe (dito ay hindi intensyonal), ngunit kasalanan din ito ng mga tauhan na maniwala sa kaniya. Nawala iyung malinaw na pagkakaintindi sa pagitan ng respeto at pagsamba kay Bobby kaya umasa sila na siya lang atwala ng iba ang makapagliligtas sa kanilang lahat. Pakiramdam nina Maestra Adela, titas, at iba pa na wala silang kapangyarihan katulad ng kay Bobby dahil hindi ito minsan

113 at “I am sorry.” Hindi pa man nagsisimula ang eleksyon 2022 noon, si VP Leni ay mayroon ng karakter na kinatutungkulan, isang biyuda sa

pinaramdam sa kanila ni Bobby, ang kanilang “boss.” Kaya kung sakali na mawala man si Bobby, hindi na sila gagalaw dahil lagi lang silang nakaasa sa kaniya. Sa dulo ng dula, sinabi ni Mayen na hindi pa rin sila natuto sa lagim ng kasaysayan, at iyon ang mapanlinlang paniniwala sa konsepto ng tagapagligtas na imahe.

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Franque A. Gilo is currently a first year BS in Statistics student of the University of the Philippines Visayas. He is a photojournalist way back in high school. His passion includes taking photographs and writing poems. He maximizes his skills in taking good photographs and writing poems and incorporates them together to come up with his art of poetography.

Hezekiah Louie R. Zaraspe holds a Bachelor of Secondary Education, major in English, and a Master of Arts in Creative Writing, meritus, from the University of Santo Tomas. His short stories, essays, and poems in English and Filipino have been featured in Bukad:Miriam CollegeInstitutionalLiterary Portfolio, Revolt Magazine, Philippine Daily Inquirer, Luntian: Online Journal Para sa mga Malikhaing Akda ng mga Guro at Gradwadong Mag-aaral, Rappler, Locked Down, Lit Up: An Anthology of Creative Work in a Time of Quarantine (UP Press, forthcoming), and Agwat-Hilom 2 (NCCA, forthcoming). He was a creative nonfiction fellow at the 2022 UST National Writers' Workshop. His essay, "Bokasyon," won Honorable Mention at the 37th Gawad Ustetika, the longest running campus literary derby nationwide.

Igham is a BS Statistics student at UP Visayas. He has a penchant for walking

Christian L. Balagoza o C.L. Balagoza ay isang estudyantemanunulat mula sa Bulacan State University. Nasa ikatlong taon na siya ng kursong BA Malikhaing Pagsulat. Nakasama na ang ilan niyang tula at dagli sa antolohiya ng Katastropiya at Lakbay.

Jomer L. Malonosan is a nonbinary scholar who writes to crash the cis tem. When they are not reading, they violently twerk to Ariana Grande songs.

Jaymar S. Chavez is an aspiring accomplished writer. He was born on July 12, 2002 and is living in Pototan, Iloilo, Philippines. He finished his primary education in Rizal Elementary School; whereas, he completed his secondary education in Pototan National Comprehensive High School under the Academic Track - Humanities and Social Sciences. Currently, he is taking Bachelor Arts in Political Science at West Visayas State University Main Campus. He has garnered awards and recognitions in various writing contests, and also his works appeared in a literary journal and a local publication.

Luis Sidney N. Mariano is a loud and proud literature student from the University of the Philippines - Visayas. Currently, he has been organizing the Angat Buhay Dela Paz Pasig in his community. His greatest goal in life is to be a public servant and a lawyer and maybe a writer wannabe on the side. So far

Jan Andrew T. Magluyan is a BA Community Development student from UP Visayas.

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Judhea A. Java (known by the name Sane Deya) is a queer student from UP Cebu College of Fine Arts, major in Studio Arts. Her works have been exhibited in museums and Galleries around Iloilo.

Kriezel Jane M. Elbanbuena is a BS in Chemistry III student who loves writing and last minute submissions.

Rhyne Adriella C. Roxas is a first year BA in Psychology student of UP Visayas. She loves to read, especially the works of authors Rick Riordan and Julia Quinn. Her favorite book series include The Heroes of Olympus and The Bridgerton Series. She also

Lumpong Siyentista is a third year student taking up B.S. in Computer Science at the University of the Philippines Visayas. He has a wide range of interests from computational and robotics research to writing poetries in his free time.

Memo likes to sip ginger tea for breakfast

117 on his journey, he has received highly treasured accolades both in academics and extracurricular activities.

Mark P. Dorado ay isang frustrated Political Science student ng University of the Philippines sa Visayas na palaging nagtatangkang magsulat, kadalasan sa Filipino. Hindi bihasa, pero laging nagtatangka.

PaulJoshuaD.Morante ay isangbaklaatmakata. Siyanagtatrabaho bilang call center agent at kasalukuyang nakatira sa Pasay City.

Rene Boy E. Abiva ay awtor ng 12 libro, kritiko, editor, iskultor, pintor, journalist, at premyadong makata. Tumanggap ng fellowships (Palihang Rogelio Sicat, 2018; Cordillera Creative Writers Workshop, 2018; Jeremias A. Calixto Ilokano Writers Workshop, 2019; UP National Writers Workshop, 2019; at Palihang Linangan sa Imahen, Retorika at Anyo, 2021). Hinirang ng GUMIL- Filipinas, Bannawag Magazine, at NCCA bilang Pasnaan 9 Outstanding Fellow. Kasapi ng Philippine PEN, Kataga, at Gumil- Filipinas.

Salvi Armada is the pseudonym of a poet from Panay. Theodore Ricardo R. Bautista or simply "chuds" is currently a 4th year BA (History-Sociology) student from Aklan. He loves reading, writing, and drinking ice-cold pale pilsen.

118 aspires to become a writer, for she loves creating story plots. However, she cannot create dialogues or specific scenes to incorporate in them, which explains why she never gets to finish every story she writes.

Toshiro Hiroshi is the author of 9 5, Absolutely on the Pandemic, and Conversations With A Rat, out now on Shopee (@teenagehistorian).

Rodmar G. Arduo ay isang manunulat na tubong Guimaras at kasalukuyang nag-aaral sa University of the Philippines Visayas. Ang kanyang mga katha ay sinusubukang mabihag ang lalim at lawak ng damdamin at karanasang pantao.

Busay (Year 44)

Articles inside

Ilongga, s’ya bala?

Ang Musmos

Gulpi lang nag-uran

SA PABRIKA

SA HARAP NG KARAHASAN Kung paano nagsisimula ang lahat sa basag na bintana

Mall sang Squatters

PALAGI KANG HINDI NAKAHUHUMA

Ikaw nga Babaye

Nakawan

Dead Dictator’s Apology

Los Felipos

Invocation

To the Land Forgotten

Ang Paalala ni Kabola, at iba pang tula

Obitwaryo sa Wala

Mamâ

Panahon ng Taglimot

Hinggil sa Kamatayan

A Trek to Sitio Taroytoy

A Queer Poem after the Colony