The Wisdom of Winnie

Sabi nga ni Winnie, I am a Bear of Very Little Brain, and long words bother me.

All I know is that three years ago,  I took a trip to Bondoc Peninsula and never looked back. 

Some days when I get lost, I take that trip again in my mind’s eye (to Bondoc, to Calatagan, what does it matter?), and I find myself right where I need to be. Where everything is clear once more. Where the truths are neither nuanced nor muddled, but burn with scorching certainty.

Coron

“I’m sorry, there’s no water coming out of the faucet. We can just pump water for you,” said the kindly looking lady who met us at the entrance of the lodge, which was a rustic looking place made up of a row of huts on stilts by the river.

“Is it always like this?” I asked, biting my lip while looking at the sorry-looking gasoline container half-filled with water sitting outside our bathroom.

“No. Yesterday was the first time in several years that a water pipe broke, leaving the entire island of Coron waterless. You were unlucky.”

“Oh.”

And thus begun my weekend in Coron, after five months of planning and fifteen years of dreaming. I had wanted to go to Palawan ever since I was a kid. My aunt worked for the Parks and Wildlife Bureau and was assigned to Palawan for a time. She regaled us with stories of this last tropical paradise of the Philippines, how the lakes were the sharpest shade of blue and how the fish came to you and kissed your nose. In College, my friend JT and I were talking about going to the beach together. He had broken up with his boyfriend and was understandably forlorn. Coron came up as an option, but  as we both decided that Coron was too magical a place for banal heartbreaks, we instead went to Puerto Galera and got drunk on Mindoro Slings.

Finally, in February 2009, my friend and I found ourselves in this part of the planet, backpack in tow and 0-fare flights to be thankful for. When that water issue greeted us upon checking in at our lodge, we didn’t see much reason to be perturbed and decided to enjoy the day ahead of us.

We had signed up with Owen of Do It Yourself Coron, and it’s something I recommend for those who cannot afford the package tours offered by island resorts (around P10k average) but would not like to go solo and figure everything out from scratch. I normally have no problems figuring things out from scratch (see my Caramoan blog) but that trip was as much a time for enjoying each other’s company stress-free as it was for high adventures and intrepid explorations.

We went to Kayangan Lake first, known as the cleanest lake in the world and it was easy to see why. The lake was crystal clear and you could see the bottom of it easily. However, to go there you will need to climb up a hill to get to the lagoon on the other side. It was quite tiring but the view from the top is absolutely worth it. We spent some time taking a dip at the lake and I loved the refreshing coolness of the water and how still it was.

Afterwards, we went to Twin Lagoons where you get to the other side by diving through a narrow passageway between two boulders. Because I am the kind of girl with 12 different sets of swimsuits but who cannot swim, I stayed in our banca, threw my friend a pair of googles and waited patiently for him to come back and tell me if I could do it or not.

You can’t do it, he informed me.

And that was that.

Next we went to Barracuda Lake, which involved an even steeper climb through jagged rocks and boulders. Because my klutz tendencies are famous worldwide, I was praying under my breath that I wouldn’t fall or slip or do something stupid like let my slipper be carried off by the strong current. Supposedly, that lake was where there was a combination hot and cold water right in the middle, but I wasn’t able to find out on my own because I opted to be a wimp and just wade on the side and sit by the boulders.

We then had dinner at Bistro Coron where we had a nice dinner of steak and fish. The only bad thing about that experience was seeing an aging Caucasian guy with a group of kids, obviously minors. We were shocked when we saw him kiss one of the girls right on the lips. Pedophiles in paradise.

Since we really wanted to take a shower after a sticky day out, we decided to look for a resort that bought its own supply of water outside town. We transferred to Darayonan lodge which had, not only a decent shower, but had airconditioning and a big spacious bed.

The next day we went to another boat trip and our guide took us to Siete Pecados, which was a dive site in the middle of the sea. Supposedly, this was where they shot Diyesebel. The marine life was amazing, the guide said. My friend immediately dove down and when he came up again, he was gushing about the schools of fish in all colors of the rainbow and the pretty corals underneath. After some prodding, I decided to have a look as well, but not before extracting a solemn commitment from my friend to hold on to me as tightly as he could so I would not drown and die a nasty, unglamorous death with my corpse being feasted on by fish.

“Promise, di mo ako bibitawan?”

“Promise.”

“Hindi ako mamamatay?”

“Hindi. Para kang tanga.”

Holding on for dear life, I dared to submerge my head down the sea and it was the single most breathtaking sight I have ever seen in my entire life. There were fish in electrifying colors and entire cities made up of corals and underwater plants. It was crazy, crazy, crazy beautiful. Our guides taught us to throw small chunks of bread to the water so the fish would all swarm to you and you could see them up close. That would be my  best experience in Coron. We then transferred to another divesite where there was a shipwreck underneath. Again holding on as tightly as possible, I managed to get an underwater glimpse of the steel wreckage underneath. It was dark and ominous, and one could only wonder at the circumstances that led to that tragedy.

Then we went to Banol beach for lunch and our guides cooked for us a really yummy spread of different kinds of fish. We even had coke and mangoes for dessert. After eating, we spent some time swimming and looking around. There was a small banca by the side and my friend and I borrowed it for a while and went rowing on our own. My friend rowed and I rode.

 When we got back to shore, Adrian, one of our tour companions, asked how come if I was so afraid of water, I had no problems hopping onto a puny banca and going off on the deep end. That was when I realized I had not one ounce of fear at all during those several minutes on deep water. Maybe it was the fact that not a part of me was wet and I was on dry surface, even if that dry surface was made of rickety wood that could break down anytime. Or maybe I just knew instinctively that nothing was going to be the matter, and that I was in the best of hands at the most beautiful of places.

We capped the evening with a firefly boat ride. Unfortunately, the fireflies were too far away to be seen and we could only see their flickering from a distance. We went up a bridge to catch a better sight but they were still not as close as we had expected them to be. I was sad, I had always had a fascination for fireflies ever since I was a child. They to me were the most perfect of insects. And I wanted to get close, to touch them.

But then again, maybe that’s how fireflies should be appreciated: from afar, not near enough to grasp. Maybe their allure is that they will always be beyond reach.

Lovely, mysterious and vulnerable – like the island in which they thrive.

29

…. and still looking for my truths.

Lapu Lapu

Friday afternoon found me at the Lapu Lapu Shrine in Luneta, along with the farmers of Sumilao, Banasi and Calatagan. While we were goofing around at the foot of the statue, a group of Caucasian men approached Murin and me.

“Who is that?” one of the men asked.

“Lapu Lapu,” I replied.

“Who is he?”

“He’s the first Filipino hero. He killed Ferdinand Magellan, who wanted him to submit to Spain.”

And then, the startling reply:

“Oh. Did he eat Magellan after killing him?” He said that complete with chow-time gestures with his hands.

To which I responded, channeling Nora Aunor in “my brother is not a pig” mode:

“Our ancestors are not cannibals!”

And we walked away in a fit of fury and indignation, with the gleaming bronze statue of the brave Filipino chieftain looming larger-than-life over us and Francis M. songs playing in our head.

You Changed My Life

And now I can say this for sure.

Even if you’re John Lloyd Cruz and can have the entire Filipina population squirming in their panties faster than you can say “Sarah Geronimo for Cebuana Lhuillier”, I won’t like you if cheat your employees out of their benefits, make them work beyond the work hours sanctioned by law and espouse contractualization.

And no, free brewed coffee one morning for everyone does not cut it. I’d have preferred a scene with you, “Bebe ko”, signing a Collective Bargaining Agreement with your laundromat employees.

Because I don’t need you to change my life. I need you to embrace it. There’s nothing major in my life that needs changing, but a lot about this world that requires some tweaking.

Having said that, I still love you, John Lloyd. And I will never forget “A Very Special Love.” Oh, and “One More Chance”, too.

The Virgin

“You’re afraid of me,” he taunted.

“No way. I’m not afraid of anything,” she said, looking with an odd mixture of infuriation and curiosity at the person before her. He was not handsome in the traditional sense of the word, a dark and brooding man with the remnants of a gash on his jaw and maybe just maybe, some chips on his shoulder.

“So why don’t you want to go with me to Sagada?”

“Because.”

“Because what? You were perfectly excited to go until you found out from your friend a few minutes ago that he was backing out.”

“Just because I don’t want to go with you alone doesn’t mean I’m scared of you.” She then swerved her head subtly, looking for her gay friend.

And then.

“You remind me of that lead character in that short story. Kerima Polotan, was it?’ The virgin‘?”

She knew that story perfectly well, one of the great classics of Filipino contemporary literature. The spinster character who uses condescension and self-righteousness to conceal an aching, unexplored sexuality. Then a carpenter comes the way of the mousy Miss Mijares — “walking with an economy of movement, graceful and light, a man who knew his body and used it well” — and she responds by enumerating everything that is wrong with him.

And then comes the famous explosive ending. Studied over and over by many a freshman literary class.

“With her ruffles, wet and wilted, in the dark, she turned to him.”

“Will you and your ruffles come with me to Sagada, Miss Mijares?” his voice broke her reverie, needling her, teasing her.

“I am not Miss Mijares!” she responded icily. “And what is in Sagada anyway?”

“Big caves, brewed coffee, cold nights, nebulous clouds, morning embraces.” The last part, delivered with an alcohol-laced but gentle grin.

“I don’t do that.”

“Big caves?”

“Not that.”

“Morning embraces? Fluid relationships? My desire — right now, in fact , at this very moment, HERE if possible — to worship your body without claiming ownership over it?”

“This is a conversation a decade too late. We’re not in College, we’re not in Sarah’s, drinking beer to the strains of some pimply-faced boy’s guitar where mindless e.e. cummings-esque fucking is supposed to be cool and intellectual.”

“And because you’re a lawyer now, “mindless e.e. cummings-esque fucking” — to quote your vulgar, unlawyerly language — is out of the question? Hmmmmm….how about Keats lovemaking?”

“Not with you. Not with drunk strangers trying to impress me with Comm 1 knowledge.”

“Hmmm… wala nang Comm 1 ngayon. Anong student number mo, Miss Mijares?”

And they smiled together, hers more tremulous than his, both of them knowing that it wasn’t because of the lame age-related joke, before she retreated back to the safety of her shadows, where decisions need to be made.

Sicogon

The narrative of the Sicogon farmers is one that spans more than an entire decade. The beautiful island of Sicogon in the Municipality of Carles in Iloilo was eyed for its tourism potential  as early as the 1980’s and the Sicogon Development Corporation (SIDECO) quickly set its sights on the 809 hectare property. However, an ocular survey conducted by the DAR revealed that 334 has. of the property is agricultural land and should therefore be distributed to the farmers pursuant to the Comprehensive Agrarian Reform Program. Every step of the way, SIDECO has blocked moves to distribute the land under CARP, including the filing of one case after another against the agrarian reform petitioners.

In June 2008 last year, after Congress passed its first Joint Resolution, a Judge in Barotac Nuevo handling the injunction case filed by Sicogon against the DAR to prevent acquisition decided to archive the case on the curious ground that there is no reason to discuss the matter because CARP had expired.

Not content perhaps with how it has managed to skillfully maneuver the legal system to affirm its interests, SIDECO then rounded up all the villagers towards the end of 2008, when CARP was in limbo and there was no clear indication of whether or not a law would be passed. Ignoring the most basic concepts of law and human rights, it declared a “Huwes de Kutsiyo” and threatened physical harm and even death on those who dared go against the proposed Sicogon Island Resort Complex of SIDECO.  This resulted in an an orgy of violence, including the destruction of a training center, the razing to the ground of a shanty of a farmer-beneficiary, the demolition of the house of farmer-leader Amelia de la Cruz. Right after the declaration of “Huwes de Kutsiyo”, the remains of Thelma Padios, a farmer beneficiary from Sicogon, was discovered with multiple stab wounds and burns on her face and body, and her private parts desecrated

Shaken but with heads unbowed, one hundred peasant families voluntarily evacuated the island to seek refuge and protection from the government and the Catholic Church. Early this month, 312 farmers launched their “Exodus for Land, Life and Dignity” to condemn the oppressions they have suffered in the hands of SIDECO.

This is their story.