First Post Challenge: “Luisita’s Motherhood”


Michelle of Book Chat counted me as the sixth nominee of this first blog post challenge (even though the original maximum number of nominees is only five)! My first post is entitled Luisita’s Motherhood — a featurette (short feature article) that seeks to find the similarity of a typical mother to Hacienda Luisita and that calls for people to act as soon as possible and defend those who are marginalized and oppressed, such as the farmers. This is my first post, because my experience in that large parcel of land is unique, for my visit there is my very first Basic Masses Integration — a usual part of our semestral requirements in my degree program — and because I knew by the fact that going there is one of those moments in my life in which I never had any regrets.

Sad Note: A week after our visit at the Hacienda Luisita, I received a piece of news, reporting that several barrios/barangays, including those that our NSTP class had visited, were bulldozed and the locals were driven and chased out of their lands, which helped sustain their livelihood for decades. This is, apparently, because of the greed of the landlords, who never really wanted to distribute the land to the farmers, despite the PH Supreme Court ruling.

Luisita’s Motherhood

Luisita is a rich mother. She is a woman bestowed by Nature a power, a power to nurture tiny seeds until they all grow roots to courageously stand up, taking pride of their fresh, green leaves against the sun of Central Luzon. She provides her children an advantage to harvest tons of sugar canes, rice, and corn for the feeding of their hungry stomachs. She bathes with the irrigation from a nearby dam or with the calmly flowing water from the river that rages during a storm. She likes catching the rain even during a plaguing summer, giving her grandchildren the opportunity to play with and appreciate a common yet great blessing from the skies. She wants the heart of her land to be distributed to her children.

Luisita is indeed a lighthearted mother. She could be seen patiently waiting along the main road leading to the expressway, welcoming her beloved visitors with her breath of hope, which touches their skins with soft, blissful wind. When these people drop off from their vehicles, she would let them stare at her in open-mouthed wonder and snap photos of her. Oftentimes most of her visitors are students, but she is never bothered of their disturbing laughter. In fact, she would laugh with them too, though she couldn’t be heard. With her grandsons and granddaughters who naively ask you, “Where is U.P.? Is that a school?” she would request their parents to be the foster parents of these students and tell them stories of her happiness and struggle.

But Luisita became an enraged and depressed mother. She is a slave of the elites and the President’s family in Tarlac. She never hides behind tall grasses because she wishes for her soil to be inherited and cultivated by her poor children and grandchildren. She doesn’t recognize the dirt at the corners of her shirt and wields banners and placards instead of guns and swords. Like other women, she was abused and hurt; and her rights were overlooked. Her children were driven out of their place with huge bulldozers so she was even more saddled.

But her children won’t leave her side and are willing to fight for her. And she wishes that her once young visitors will come again to hear her cheerful stories.

Let’s then fight for her.

Here are the rules:

  • Copy-paste, link, pingback or whatever way you want to, your first post.
  • State what type of post that was. G. Introduction, Story, Poem
  • Explain why that was your first post.
  • Nominate 5 other bloggers. Five because I know the pain of opening a lot of tabs at once.

My five nominees are:

1. Random Writings on the Bathroom Wall

2. Margaret Mathews

3. Beautiful Life with Cancer

4. Surrendering My Shield

5. Power Plant Men


Trickle down economics is wrong, says IMF


But the IMF study’s five authors say we should instead focus on raising the income of the poor and the middle class. “Widening income inequality is the defining challenge of our time,” they write. “In advanced economies, the gap between the rich and poor is at its highest level in decades.” “But the IMF study’s five authors say we should instead focus on raising the income of the poor and the middle class. “Widening income inequality is the defining challenge of our time,” they write. “In advanced economies, the gap between the rich and poor is at its highest level in decades.”” I can’t believe that this kind of study came from the IMF itself. End income inequality! Struggle against labor contractualization!

400M lack access to basic health services, says WHO-World Bank report


Now World Bank, tell the people if the structural adjustment programs that you are imposing on the Third World countries have done anything good for the welfare of the poor!

Link: 400M lack access to basic health services, says WHO-World Bank report.

On Fantines, railroads, and perished dreams


This essay was published as the runner up of the recently concluded online essay writing contest, Imagining My Future,  hosted by Kendii, in partnership with The Immigrant Entrepreneur.  If you wish, you may check my essay at Kendii’s site, through this link: Imagining My Future.

Every morning, by the time sunlight shines and enters my eyes, I am constantly reminded of how exhausted I was the day before, while struggling over the pain cycling within my arms and my knees, as if I did a lengthy fitness routine for hours. Every time I ride the train leading to the university, thoughts of failing constantly reign over my head, while trying to recall the main points of the political and economic books I read over the past weekend.

But then, while I was contemplating about my academic fate and about my social responsibilities, my mp3 player began transmitting a popular jazz tone through my earphones. It was ‘I Dreamed a Dream’ of Les Miserables musical playing all over again; then I harassed the replay button and sang the famous song despite the noisy, torrid environment inside the train. Even if the other commuters were either merely observing or were already judging me, I did not halt my singing, because, for me, that moment was, but destined to release all my negative feelings.

When I pushed the magnetic ticket towards the tiny hole of the ticket gate and pursued a short, successful exit from a 10-minute worth of hell, I recalled Fantine in that particular scene — alone and depressed, wearing rugged clothes, starving and ailing — delivering powerful stanzas with her lungs out, as if that moment could be her last to decry all the curses the world had cost her.

Moreover, at that very moment, I pitied her fate and began rethinking about mine. I began thinking about what had brought me to acquiring great dreams and taking the railroad that is full of inevitable obstacles. This long road, soon, has led me to higher expectations as I conquer each level of serious challenges and eventually, to more paths of reality and uncertainty.

Years before my high school graduation, I cited a variety of careers I wished to make as effective ways to prosper, beginning from public health research or civil engineering to business administration and accountancy; but changes in the course of time also paved way for my advancement in other areas, such as mathematics and literature. I even wrote in our Class Prophecy, which was published at our school’s commencement exercises souvenir program, that I will be a Bangkok-based landscape photographer someday!

But sadly, annoyingly, and unfortunately, in the end, when I decided to choose UP Manila to be a political science major, my ‘dreams’  dashed away in a cold instant. All my desires to solve math and physics problems all my life abruptly perished; and when my first try for love failed, I gave up capturing photons and stopped turning them to high-quality masterpieces.

My first semester in UP flew by; and my only consolation for not landing over my preferred study track was the strong fact that I am studying in the country’s premier state university. The prestige kept me within the rooms of happiness, but when winds of second semester entered swiftly like a thief, I am not anymore satisfied with whatever I was studying. And as I spent sitting on the same wooden chair day by day, my desire to shift to another degree program —and even to transfer to another campus — bloomed, after which I tried to garner the grades necessary to fulfill my aim.

But little did I realize that my almost two years of stay in the university had been instrumental for me to visualize my future self and that the people around me had been supporting me for whatever I truly desire. My degree program and my university indeed had been my inspiration to spark change in the society I currently live in. I remember that sometimes, my friends ask me, “When will you be transferring to BS Math or BS Biology?” but I most of the time respond with only either a nod or a smile. Whenever I feel the hardships of life, I remember how the farmers of Hacienda Luisita fight for their rights to land ownership, despite the fear that has been haunting them for decades. Whenever I feel oppressed, I remember the Aeta children of Mabalacat, Pampanga, who welcomed our medical mission-team with open arms, without the thought that we might be just another line of oppressors, preparing to take everything that they have, including their identity. Whenever I feel sick due to the sickening environment inside and outside the campus, I remember the dying patients, whose voices are seldom heard, inside the Philippine General Hospital, and the ailing children and elderly, who travel distances to reach health centers or hospitals, residing at the country’s far-flung areas.

Thus, after several series of realizations, I became more determined to finish this undertaking. I began planning to enter medical school, to practice community medicine upon graduation, and to finally serve my fellowmen.

But, what if one day, I would be like Fantine whose dream never came true? What if everything would be just a dream – a dream never fulfilled? What if every challenge I encounter along the road would soon lead to my downfall?

Sometimes, I pray to God that I do not want to suffer the same fate Fantine had experienced. Perhaps, I may sometimes feel ostracized because of the career path I chose, but I know someone out there is willing to help me out whenever I ought to surrender. The tuition and other fees in medical school are probably high, but now, I am studying very hard to maintain the grade necessary to obtain a scholarship. The road towards my graduation and entrance to medical school may be tough, but I am determined to do my very best, because the true of state of our nation serves as a calling for me to serve the under-served and represent those who are often neglected by the government.

Perhaps, people around me may never be proud or contented for my choices that are divergent from theirs, but I hope that in the near or far future, all of our hearts will soon converge, like the railroads of a train terminal, in pursuit of a common, beneficial goal.

I hope that someday, Fantines can no longer be found on the streets and begging for alms and sympathy of the passers-by. I envision a world that is unified in curing the diseases of our society, in raising the discourse, and in building better relationships for all people, regardless of our countless differences.


Louisiana Teachers Are Using The Bible in Science Class | IFLScience


I believe in God, but the Lousianian law is a blatant idiocracy!

Link: Louisiana Teachers Are Using The Bible in Science Class | IFLScience.

Moral poverty


Indeed, the problem is so unimaginably massive that it’s tempting to chuck it somewhere dark and unseen and thereafter ignore its existence. But we can’t strangle our empathy. We can’t hide or escape from this. I know, it is far more pleasant to forget that other people like you and me are starving in a city that gorges itself in eat-all-you-can buffets and other feats of remarkable extravagance. It is a sad reality to accept. But this is where it starts: in us, with us. We can change this only if we care enough to.

Link: Moral poverty.

Speech 11, fun, and underlying lessons



Before I lined up and enrolled for my fourth semester of stay in the University, I already predicted that the next five months would be academically toxic and crucial. Furthermore, finding a course that will serve as the best avenue to release this debilitating mixture of feelings induced by repetitious moments of failures — or to at least partially unload a burden of another intense semester — was another challenge I had to face. Adding up to my frustration towards my ineptness in the social sciences (but I am still struggling), unfortunately and annoyingly, is the plain fulfillment of this prediction, for, even if I began changing my study habits, most of the courses I took acted like machine guns showering students with bullets of written requirements — if not, with brain-draining exams or quizzes.

However, on the positive side, there is this one course/subject — which typical students may overlook — that I never planned to take, but I enjoyed the most. In that class, everyone was obliged, individually, to deliver their chosen pieces and to unite as a group to come up with a meaningful performance. Yes, this class may sound like your ordinary high school literature subjects, but for me, every second I spared was enough to turn my life towards abrupt changes.

I hate whatever performance that compels me to stand on stage with all eyes fixing on my actions, but the Course is more than a matter of (re)building confidence and/or self-esteem. When we delivered our narratives, I realized that each one of us presented a unique, personal revelation — words that hold the key to our real-life character and to our present understanding of prevailing circumstances. It could be the same memory that shifts us back to the horrible pain caused by a bitter lost, a beloved’s death, heartbreak, deprivation of second chances, and constant failures. It could also be the mere joy we feel as we journey towards our chosen destinations. It could be the stories hidden within the depths of our hearts, waiting for the right time to be unearthed.

Moreover, as the term slowly progressed, I realized that my Revelation lies behind the lines of written in the short bond paper intended for my Narrative. I fathomed that, undeniably, there exists a thin thread connecting heaven and earth, and that even though there are situations that impale us with sorrow, there are still countless reasons to be happy.

And perhaps, the best thing I ever observed throughout the semester is the burning passion among the members of the class and that, whenever we are called to act, no one ceased to cooperate. Whatever will be the result of this term, I surely will heave sighs of relief, for I know that I’ve gone into a very interactive class, with our one-and-only lovely and passionate Speech 11 professor and lots of crazy people!


Photos are from my lovely Speech 11 classmates, Tanya Mindo and Jara Rogacion.

5 Ways To Pick Yourself Up After The End Of A Long-Term Relationship


A post full of insights. I really loved the first way!

He’s getting married


“Fate definitely took its course, and I’m glad we let it through in our own separate ways.

He is getting married. And that for me is the best news ever.”

Link: He’s getting married.

The Ninth Coffin


“If we do not continue this debate, it will be treading on a dangerous path to a democracy that gives a free pass to a government whose system has allowed so many of us to die.
If we do not continue this debate, we may as well have let Mary Jane take that bullet to the heart on the dawn of April 29.”

Stories in Between

Her death was set.

Nine coffins were brought to Nusakambangan island in Central Java earlier that day; they were to be filled with bodies of whom Indonesia considers the worst criminals.

So bad that they deserved to face a firing squad of 10 and have a bullet pierce through their heart, and then through the head at close range should their bodies survive the first blow.

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Kabataang Makabayan, Paglingkuran ang Sambayanan: A Theatrical Production Review



The Kabataang Makabayan (KM), being the “national seeding machine for the Philippine revolution” (Reyes, 2014) and one of the “critical forces of the Philippine revolution” (Communist Party of the Philippines, 2014), serves as the crucial opponent of the “semi-colonial and semi-feudal conditions” (Sison, 2013) prevalent in the country. And as a part of the organization’s celebration for its Bonifacio Day-inspired establishment in November 30 (Bagong Alyansang Makabayan, 2014; Reyes, 2014), around five decades ago, it organized a theatrical production entitled “Kabataang Makabayan, Paglingkuran ang Sambayanan!” held last January 30, 2015 at the University Theater, University of the Philippines, Diliman.

With 20 or 50 PHP-worth of ticket in the audience’s hands, the atmosphere among those who were unaware of KM’s nature was marked with lowered expectations in terms of the event’s form and with an apparent chaotic behavior as the crowd rapidly grew in numbers.

The production staff did well with writing the script, because it vividly portrayed the history of the KM, from the advent of the First Quarter Storm and the Diliman Commune up to its continuing nationalistic struggles against imperialism, feudalism, and bureaucrat-capitalism.

However, one must note that ordinary students comprised almost half of the total horde of viewers, and the observer, despite being fully-attentive in watching the scenes shown on the stage, might had heard of the repetitive questions regarding the three concepts mentioned at the previous paragraph, which are, of course, difficult to grasp or understand. However, such act should not be rendered annoying, because one may witness that the play had sparked interests among the youth attenders, thus paving a way for further encouragement.

The costume could have passed the standards of the viewers, and it was obvious that the staff had been so much resourceful with their wardrobe. But the main problems of the production were the lack of acting skills, of smooth transitions, and of a good sound system. There were times when the actors failed to effortlessly recall their lines, thus creating short lapses. The transitions at the first and the second parts were partly messy, but the actors managed to impress the audience with the performance of the singers at the latter parts of the play. Lastly, the sound system was pretty terrible, as one could hardly comprehend the dialogues, especially of the lead characters.

However, it is also important for people to understand that despite the slight muddle in some parts of the production, the KM proudly voiced out their history by means of communicating with the audience, therefore leaving them with an impression that they must focus on the content rather than the form.

The beliefs of the KM are the foundations of modern activism, which, in turn, made the relevance of the organization brightly highlighted as the problems that occurred in 1964 and during the Martial Law remained as undying plagues to the Filipinos, because, corruption and poverty were never erased as generation changes (Tan, 2015). The actions of the KM went beyond armed uprisings, as they also delivered educational discussions to the vulnerable, marginalized and oppressed masses, leading to the highly-inspired formation of other organizations that courageously protect the inherent rights of these people. Therefore, the KM has been a valid living reminder to the youth that as long as the state continues to be an instrument in exploiting the masses and the nation, the struggle has not come to an end yet.


Bagong Alyansang Makabayan. (2014). Rise Up! Celebrating Kabataang Makabayan and 50  Years of Youth Organizing. Retrieved from

Communist Party of the Philippines. (2014). Long live the Kabataang Makabayan on its 50th  anniversary! Retrieved from

Reyes, N. (2014). 10 Awesome Facts about the Kabataang Makabayan. Like a Rolling Stone. Retrieved from

Sison, J.M. (2013). Kabataang Makabayan and its Relevance Today: Message to the League of Filipino Students and the Nagkahiusang Kusog sa Estudyante. Retrieved from

Tan, M. (2015). KM@50. Philippine Daily Inquirer. Retrieved from

Identity Crisis


I had been in this kind of issue before. I hope the author of this post will soon get out of this dilemma, and find his/her own identity.


I am having a lot of issues. Not serious issues but just the ones that can make you feel a little crazy.
I’m struggling between the thought of being on medication vs not. Why I have to shave? Why society thinks that being feminine means I need to spend longer getting ready and maintaining this fictional appearance. I bought an eco friendly car (so says the sticker on the back), not wearing a bra, been smoking more, not wearing makeup, and not shaving.
I am still having issues with thinking about Bella the dog dying. She’s like 8ish and eats senior food and it’s inevitable. I would like to enjoy the time she has left. Why am I so obsessed with this thought?
My clothes aren’t really fitting and shoes are stupid.
I don’t know what to do like normal. I’ve decided that a lot of the things I am…

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A Blogger Evolution


This is something I really had learned from OM. Every blogger must read this.

In praise of WordPress’s like button


I have the same opinion as the author of this post. Sometimes, I wait for the “likes” than comments, especially when my post doesn’t invite any comments at all. Like what she implies, the like button of WordPress is far different from that of Facebook, because in the former we spare a little of our time to read what others have to say, i.e. their experiences.

Scribblings from the Bluegrass

Italiano: versione ombreggiata e ingrandita de... Italiano: versione ombreggiata e ingrandita del simboletto “like” di FB (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Note:  the following remarks are entirely my personal opinion.  I make no assumptions as to what other bloggers prefer. I’m not suggesting that anyone else needs to pay heed to my thoughts.

Whenever I have occasion to follow lots of links to blogs on other hosts, I’m reminded of how much I appreciate the WordPress like button.  I have the impression the other hosts don’t offer one as an option (based on NEVER having encountered one on another blog host).

I like it from both sides.  As a blog writer, I’m pleased by every like I see on a post.  Every one leaves me warm and smiling inside.  I love the reminder that familiar faces are reading and I love seeing a new face in the list of those who have clicked like.  And yes, I know…

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DifficuIt Family


I have been experiencing the scenarios stated in this tiny piece. My relatives were not so close to us, because apparently, most of them are so aggressive and desperate over the family’s distribution of wealth. This essay brings out a piece of advice that I surely can apply with our situation today.

April's Perspective

Hard as we try to avoid them, sometimes we must confront difficult people and tricky social situations, maybe even at a holiday dinner. To insist on thinking that a reasonable person can overcome any and all obstacles, making all parties equally happy is to sacrifice your self-esteem, because the reality is that sometimes there is nothing you can do to make everyone happy. Holiday time will bring family together, and sadly old conflicts could also come up.

Hiding from conflict doesn’t help. Sitting in the background, keeping quiet, staying out of the way, is not going to solve anything. Instead, passively withdrawing from interaction is likely to backfire with an angry outburst that can be aggressive, leaving you feeling victimized and everyone involved with hurt feelings, making already strained relationships even weaker.

Aggressiveness can vary from disrespectful, manipulative, or demeaning, to abusive. Aggressive people need to win, and fail to…

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Lifestyle education – Key to raising Nigeria rural dwellers out of poverty


Lifestyle education is needed in my country, the Philippines, too, aside from finding solutions to poverty.


Lots have been written/said to be the contributing factors for rural Nigeria poverty so as the long list of ways in which the government could help to bridge the gap between the poor and the rich Nigerians. In the last decade, Nigeria government have been investing in agriculture partly due to reality of dwindling demands for oil also because of the massive wasted opportunity in farming.

There is one area that has been ignored in the reports which we can not afford to leave out – villagers having second home as contributing factor to poverty in the rural areas. There are different levels of poverty, some are more of the mind than material.

In my village in Osun State for example at least 50% of inhabitants whose main job is in the farm have a second home in town and at any given festival/events such as Eid, Easter, and Christmas 70% of the villagers are out to town to…

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Road to democracy: the unfolding of Hong Kong’s umbrella revolution


Featured Image -- 615Student activism at its finest. I idolize Joshua Wong so much, especially how he showed courage despite the danger that he is currently facing, just to prove that youth can take part in socio-political issues and that the Hong Kong government should start making wide reforms for the benefit of their constituents.

Pixie Dust Beach

Why are Hong Kong students on the streets? Why aren’t university students and high-schoolers attending classes, and instead studying on make-shift tables on the once busy streets of Hong Kong? Why are they camping out on tram tracks and bus routes instead of sleeping at home? A lot of them 15 to 18 year olds. The best time of their lives. A time for learning, choosing their majors, going out with friends. What are they doing hogging the streets and disrupting quotidian life?   

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Nigeria – We are not all homophobia


As an LGBT advocate, I agree with this author’s opinions and to her friendly experience with a homosexual. I hope that one day in our lives, hatred will be stopped, and gender equality will dominate. The issues of the LGBT represent the other current issues on Earth, such as human rights violations.


Universally, we evolve day after day. Laws change, people adjust and life goes on.

If we were to solve our many social issues in Nigeria, we need to start looking inwards, pulling examples from amongst our own people of today. This could only be achieved by investing in research. To lead the country, one needs to make decision based on the facts arrived at through extensive research of the people.

At Obafemi Awolowo University, Ife campus where I was worked in mid 1990’s was a young man, I’ll call him Yemi. He attracted quite a lot of attention because of his femininity gestures, cross dressing and heavy makeups. He was a transvestite based on my physical assessment of him. Yemi was polite, usually on his own and smiled a lot. To me, he did me no harm, pays for his purchases and have never seen him get in argument with…

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At a snail’s pace



I used the snail as a fresh metaphor to describe the progress of our country in terms of different aspects and the most recent news, about our country’s average Internet speed. Photo Courtesy of Google.

This youngblood article of mine was published in the opinion page of the May 27, 2014 issue of the broadsheet, Philippine Daily Inquirer .

Almost a decade ago, during my grade school years, a typical summer day with my companions meant gathering together and roaming around Fort Bonifacio (now called Bonifacio Global City, but we usually called it “Kampo”). It would be a bit of luck if the sky was filled with cumulus clouds, which at least could reduce the threat of a torrid, almost deadly, atmosphere.

The main conflict of my character as a chief explorer of our group was how to escape the very sight of my parents because they always wanted me to stay at home and hit the books. I was thankful for the highly-popular afternoon show at that time (which was also their favorite), for it gave me the chance to run off as quickly as possible.

The narrow street leading to Kampo was near ours, so I had to improve my speed and agility whenever I learned that either my father or my mother was chasing after me. The street was sandwiched by rows of old wooden houses with thin steel roofs, and the murkiness of the water in the small canals indicated the presence of pollution in the urban area. But my mind and my body were already habituated to the stinky odors and the peculiar marks of a poor community due to my desperate goal of eluding these two “house cops.”

At the end of the street, my friends would be patiently waiting for me to arrive; exhilaration would grow among us as one by one we saw one other’s shadow. A challenge I had to overcome was climbing the enormous gray wall facing Kampo. It was a piece of cake, but honestly and ironically, up until now I still have a hard time climbing up to a sturdy branch of a small mango tree. I believe it is the adrenaline in our body that allows us to behave like ninjas even for a while.

After the struggle with the obstacles, without any more decision-making, we would automatically travel along the hot pavements and roads. Often we went up the hill and gathered wood and other materials for a tent. An inquisitive boy, I “hunted” for tadpoles and my favorite mollusks and put them in separate jars. Whenever a traffic marshal appeared, we would run as fast as we could, if possible ignoring all, even the itchiness inflicted by the tall talahib.

One time when I was caught, my excuse was that I was conducting an experiment for a science project. And I murmured to myself: “You’ve always been moving like a snail.”

A month after my encounter with the marshal—sometime around June—I did the same routine by myself. But this time, neither of my parents blocked my way, and they were no longer surprised by the jars of snails I brought home and stashed under the plastic dining table. (I abruptly stopped catching tadpoles when frogs began multiplying inside our compound. It was indeed a chore to try to drive them out completely.) As I keenly watched a snail moving to and fro in the miniature muddy environment that I had created, my father would tease me and laughingly say: “Snail soup will be your breakfast tomorrow morning.”

I actually never did a thorough study of these mollusks. I only observed them slowly flashing back and forth from the corners of my eyes for I was not an expert in malacology.

The years that quickly flew with the changing wind have transformed me into an older version of who I was 10 years ago. The hills where I had found the snails are no longer there. The grasses cannot anymore contain the small white butterflies I once chased and enclosed within my hands. In short, modernization began to revolutionize the area.

Recently I visited a park in Bonifacio Global City and my heart hopped with amazement and joy when I saw and observed a snail hiding itself behind a plant’s tiny, leafy stem.

Suddenly I realized that our country’s progress has been moving at a snail’s pace.

From all over the world, we have been crowned as one of the slowest in almost everything. We are known for having slow service in government agencies because of the employees being underpaid, and the long lines in their offices are obvious evidence. Who can forget the sluggish pace of justice for the victims of the 2009 Maguindanao massacre and their families, as well as those in other cases? And most of us may see a development in a certain part of the metropolis, but does that development include and benefit the urban poor?

Some of our not-so-honorable government officials keep insisting that our country is rapidly progressing. They also crow that the economy is improving due to the increments in our GDP and GNP, and that some surveys indicate that the poverty rate is declining. But we are saddled by the burden of thieves in the government, who, while professing to be public servants, are servants of their own greed and luxury.

Reality will always be reality, and the more we rely on statistics than the actual conditions of our countrymen, the more we deviate from the actuality of their conditions and their being trapped in a slow, chaotic society.

A recent piece of news is that the Philippines, with an average Internet speed of 3.6 mbps, is ranked the slowest among the members of the Association of Southeast Asian Nations and 155th of 190 countries in the world. Some of us who easily get riled by this type of connection express anger and disappointment through wordy rants and meaningful protests.

But I know that being branded as the “slowest” is no longer new to our ears.

I have wondered even before whether the snail possesses the virtue of patience because it has to take a long time to crawl from one side to another. I can see it also in my countrymen: that although we progress ever so slowly, like a snail, we still manage to adapt to our conditions and live. But I know that patiently waiting and thinking and acting like a snail will never be enough; it is the perfect time for us to find a long-term solution and speak up for our rights.

I am hoping that someday we will all manage to finish this race at the end of this empty street, but not anymore at a snail’s pace.

Link: Youngblood-Philippine Daily Inquirer 

Sueju Takeshi 武