Masculinity Crisis in Government

First and foremost, this piece is about Rodrigo Duterte and Women's Month.  About Duterte because I see him as a sign that the masculinity crisis in government would be over once he takes his oath as President.  About Women’s Month because – well, some women don’t like him but a lot more, do. 

I’d like to tell you in advance that what you will read is just some light Sunday banter kasi mahina ako sa debate haha.  Halaka debate na man diay karong hapon sa Cebu. 

If my words don’t make history, just call it Hard Core Poetry[1].

The question is like: Why have women’s groups mushroomed?  My street person answer is simple: It’s because the men in government did not take good care of the women!

You know the issues: early marriage, rape, trafficking, unfair labor practices, poor health services, lack of education, having to work abroad leaving the family behind – name it.  The men in government just did not give a damn about the security and protection of women.  Pasensya na, men.  Nagkataon lang talaga that you held powerful positions in this country for the longest time and things just went from bad to worse for us women.

Let me share with you my favorite quote from Dr Philip J Mango, President of St Michael's Institute for Psychological Sciences (www.stmichael.net):  "There is a masculinity crisis in society today.  Men are not doing what they are supposed to do, because we are not training boys to be the men they are supposed to be.  Men have to be heroes, persons who transcend their egos, fears and selfishness, and make sacrifices of themselves as a gift for those they have been called to protect." (Why We Need Heroes, Faith & Family Magazine, Spring 2003).

While Dr Mango talks about the masculinity crisis in society, let us just focus on the masculinity crisis in the Philippine context; and narrow it down further to the masculinity crisis in Philippine government.  We can’t really tackle everything in five pages, you think so?  And while it is true some women possess these traits attributed to men, for now let’s just zero in on men in government.  Mamaya may mag-a-out of topic na naman dyan J.

How did the men in government fare in the way they ran the country’s affairs?  If Dr Mango illustrates masculine men as persons who “transcend their egos, fears and selfishness, and make sacrifices of themselves as a gift for those they have been called to protect” – surely we have a masculinity crisis!  What then do you call men who cannot transcend their egos, make sacrifices as a gift for those they have been called to protect?  Bayot[2] noh?!

If those men in government where what Dr Mango described, would there have been a proliferation of women’s advocacy groups? Advocacy groups for Children’s Rights? Human Rights? Workers’ Rights?  Indigenous Peoples’ Rights?  Etc Rights? Were these men in government listening to the countless cries these groups dished out on paper and on the streets? Were they even able to listen to those who could not cry?  Maybe they heard but refused to listen? Bayot gyud.

When no one was man enough to take over the place of Ferdinand Marcos (yeah, that prominent egocentric government man who made a new batch of elites happy and old elites green with envy while the rest of us suffered immensely), the men tossed an elite housewife to do a government man’s job. 

Then these men all around her continued to secure their haciendas, their cartels, and their monopolies while (hold your breath) being in government at the same time!  They even squeezed themselves into coming up with a constitution that will cloak favors unto the usual elite and big business. Talk about corporate greed and sense of entitlement nga naman.

When one elite government man did not have the guts to handle the peace process, he sent women to the frontlines.  While many expressed exuberant hopes that these women will deliver, having men to decide under so many layers in the communication channel still proved to be disastrous.

While men bickered in congress and senate, they didn’t realize how many men, women and old people waited for them to decide and not just sit on their balls.  When laws were indeed drafted (and sometimes with insertions) where were the men who were supposed to implement it?

How can there be transcendence of the ego when all you see around you are faces of politicians plastered everywhere announcing to all and sundry what they think they have accomplished? There’s so many of these faces[3] all around no one could really tell what they were there for other than pollution.  Bayots can only raise their eyebrows toward a fellow government man who does not want to have his name and face splashed in every government project and property.[4]        

Funny that while I’m in the middle of writing this article, a survey (na naman???) comes up showing Duterte to have a macho vote[5].  Labeling it as a macho vote is I think a sneaky way of an elite-controlled TV network to divide public opinion once more in another angle.  Macho ha. Makita na nato karon kinsa tong mga bayot.

The analyst in the news says that maybe people no longer wanted a woman president, among other reasons.  She also says that it could also mean that Duterte is the embodiment of willfulness and decisiveness. 

Oh, so men deeply identify themselves with willfulness and decisiveness.  Thing is, they are not in government.  Or if they are, those who have lost their masculinity are in the decision-making positions. Or – did they lose their masculinity when they joined the ranks of the decision makers?

Of course Duterte is macho:  he smoked, drank, rode bikes, drove inexpensive (sometimes badass vehicles like a taxi, yes?), flew light aircraft, loved guns, shot lawbreakers, read tons of books, knew the law, taught the law, didn’t mince words – maginoo pero medyo bastos[6]. 

He is also masculine.  He did not need any imaging stylist to be groomed and photographed, to be made to reply to media questions like a movie actor.  He was not lured to the trappings of power (houses, cars, businesses, high-society functions, travels) and had that character strong enough to live within his means.  Many bayots in government transacted businesses from their own budgets to provide shopping money to their wives, send their progeny to expensive schools here and abroad, and bask in money that could have fed and educated countless other children.    

Beneath Duterte’s Binisayȃ is his good command of the English language that nobody would really want to make the mistake of lashing incomprehensible adjectives towards him.

While the macho traits must have made him attractive to men, the masculine traits, I’d like to believe, made him very attractive to women which makes him a contradiction in more ways than one.  What woman indeed, cannot love a man who takes good care of women?  What woman indeed, would not love a man na walang arte?   Be it known that yeah, women honor this type of man, also known as the honorary woman. 

Those who can’t stand his personality perceive his having had women in his life as womanizing.  I remember a conversation between two women where one woman despised Duterte for having had many relationships with women.  The other one quipped, “You are looking for a president, not a husband! Cmon…”

Whatever his flaws, he put to good use.  When he saw how smoking affected one’s health by getting sick himself, he banned smoking in public.  As a night owl he saw how the underground world operated so he set curfews.  He made parents responsible for their own children (ang ginikanan ang presohon kung madakpan sa gawas sa balay ang ilang mga anak inig ka gabii).  By imposing a curfew on alcoholic drinks he actually looked after the welfare of ordinary people who have to work nights.  Really now, how can one yuppie be productive at work during the day after drinking till dawn? If this can’t be called taking collective care of families and human resources I wonder what it is. 

Duterte used his love for guns (if that is indeed a flaw) for eradicating criminals and the public felt safer.  Who now, among the presidential candidates actually knows police operations, procedures, rules of engagement and face criminals in a running gun battle?  Some people mouth extrajudicial killings and due process like they can melt druglords and kidnappers with their intellectual sophistication.

Without him going around listening about the prospects of Federalism do you really think there wouldn’t be another bloody confrontation in Mindanao with the collapse of the BBL? 

His marital life was far from ideal but his collective concern over women is proven by passing the country’s first gender code among others, free legal support for victims of domestic violence, free day-care services for children of working single moms, dignified facilities for women prisoners, to name a few.  (At this point I am trying to figure out why some women’s rights advocates still abhor him when his programs on women and children are actual translations of their advocacies). 

His track record on both in legislation and actual implementation is accessible with communications technology for those who are really bent on finding out. 

He keeps his spirituality to himself but can you really miss it when he mentions that his bid for the Presidency is only by God’s will whether he makes it or not?  Can you really miss out the fact that he is the only presidential candidate who mentions love of God and Country in his speeches?  And without squirming?  Can you really miss how deeply respected he is among religious organizations but never renounced his own?  Can you really miss out the tears he shed after seeing the human toll on Yolanda?  He refused to be interviewed providing relief services saying “Mahibal-an ra ninyo na unya (You will know about it later).”  

I remember one Sunday sermon saying: A man shall be judged by the results of his work; not his work[7].  Any government man of lesser masculine stuff would grab at the opportunity to be interviewed on TV even without having accomplished anything; and worse, when they do, they look blah. Papogi lang bisag wa pa’y agi.  Actually, di na na papogi.  Binayot na na. Sige na la’g paporma.  In English, those things are only for wimps.

It takes a man with strong masculine characteristics to bring out the masculinity in other men.  Duterte’s strategy of providing decent salaries to the police and the armed forces is not picked out of thin air.  It is putting back the dignity of a security force that had to resort all these years to sidelines just to keep body and soul together.  Decent salaries would already free them from worrying where to look for the means to feed their family as their main mandate is to protect a bigger community of people. 

Why are some people afraid of giving decent salaries to police and soldiers?  Shouldn’t we all be happy for each other’s blessings knowing that it’s just a matter of time that our turn will come?

It takes a man with strong masculine characteristics to bring the men out of boys and pull them out of virtual war rooms.   How indeed can you have a defense system without real men to man them with? 

I gotta stop now.  There’s more to discuss in a Duterte presidency. 

In parting, let me leave with you this quote from a movie.  We owe the next generation the protection they need by ending the masculinity crisis.

Happy Palm Sunday!

* * * *

“There are three types of people in this world.  Sheep, wolves and sheepdogs.  Now, some people prefer to believe that evil doesn’t exist in the world.  And if it ever darkened their doorstep, they wouldn’t know how to protect themselves.  Those are the sheep. 

And then you got predators.  They use violence to prey on the weak.  They are the wolves. 

And then there are those who have been blessed with the gift of aggression; and the overpowering need to protect the flock.  These men are a rare breed that live to confront the wolf.  They are the sheepdog. 

We’re not raising any sheep in this family.  I will whip your ass if you turn into a wolf.  But we protect our own.  If someone tries to fight you, or tries to bully your little brother, you have my permission to finish it.”

Wayne Kyle to son Cris, The American Sniper.

* * * * *

Aveen Acuña-Gulo posts herself on Facebook as a Monumental Operations Manager (MOM).  She is a Bukidnon-born Cebuano mother of three (3) Maguindanao-Ilonggo-Cotabateño children; who will always be a child at heart even if she is a hundred years old.

She wrote a column “The Voice” for the Mindanao Cross from 1991-2006. 

She likes to challenge stereotypes.  “Don’t worry about my opinions.  It won’t make a dent to the conventional,” she says.

---

[1] https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pjH2-BMIKHE&ebc=ANyPxKoGB3OIK3owMDHeoxxOXtSbcUAXFHnDYe6-g-dLq70IEKu1BvIDHUtMwptt11OmXukaOvRgPGbgTndRghQRhXRJYHihbg

[2] Bayot in bisayȃ means either of two things: a) a male who is attracted to another male; or b) sissy, coward, wimp, indecisive.  This article is about the second definition. If you think you belong to the first definition, take heart: the second definition actually spells global doom than the first.

[3] http://www.mindanews.com/mindaviews/2012/12/04/the-voice-why-peace-campaigns-didnt-work/

[4] EPAL – a person who strongly believes his face and name is loved by everyone else except others.

[5] http://news.abs-cbn.com/halalan2016/video/nation/03/16/16/pulse-asia-survey-shows-duterte-has-macho-vote

[6] In Bisaya, bastos can either mean lewd or foul-mouthed.  Duterte fits into the second definition.

[7] I also remember Bianca Gonzalez tweeting: Talk about the Eiffel Tower after you’ve been there (something like that).        

Friday Du30 and Ninja DuTurtles

When you live in a household where most members are movie buffs and have a term of endearment for practically anything, you must have taken name-calling and labeling to the next level.

Ever since that willful mayor from Davao City built a no-nonsense reputation, Raj called him Friday Du30.  Like the movie, Duterte must have sown horror in the hearts of those who broke the law.  (Ram on the other hand called that pockmarked-mask movie character "Mushroom".  Let's see if there's is some interesting association there),

Fast forward several years.  The country's political landscape changed when the man who horrified criminals ran for president.  So horrifying was he that even those who are not criminals were so blinded with fear they did not hear!  And because he does not fit the traditional mould, his supporters are called DuterTards, a word play around "retarded" aka dimwits, halfwits, nincompoops.  (There's always google to fill in what's left in the thesaurus).  Someone defined a DuterTard to be a person who says he will vote for Duterte because he hears everybody else saying so.  Herd behavior kumbaga.  Sunod-sunod lang sa uso.  Another offered the label DuterTista -- one who supports the candidacy of Duterte through thick or thin, come hell or high water, sa hirap at ginhawa.

Whatever the definition, the man has caught the public's attention.

Conversations over dinner in the Gulo Household is never complete without Duterte as the topic in the last couple of years or so.  While I abhor personality-based politics and Jun ever hopeless about Philippine elections, Raj and Ram (and even Josh, their cousin) kept sharing posts and articles about the man on our FB accounts; sometimes mentioning our names as a heads up for those they cannot catch up sharing.  (I figured their generation must be trying to associate themselves with the diminishing number of men-leaders who protect the weak and the oppressed).

"Ninja DuTurtle: that's him. Ninja DuTurtles: that's him and us," declares Raj.

(Bulb lights).  Indeed, don't ninja turtles protect their city from criminals?

The new year is just a few days old and in a few months elections will be held.  Those who are confident say: DuTurtle would win in 2016.  Those who are confident with a heart say: if elections were held this moment and 2016, DuTurtle would still win.  And because criminals do not want a non-trapo like DuTurtle, high chance they would do everything to cheat him.

Well, many things have been said about him.  Here's my layperson aka ordinary citizen's assessment of my favorite DuTurtle. There may be more but we can start with these:

Change Is Here

1.  Duterte is anything but conventional.  He defies stereotypes.  He wears the same type of shirts.  He is not epal.  He shuns awards.  You don't see his face and name splashed on every billboard announcing this is where your taxes go; or aping this and that slogan. (Funny how 2016 is called The Year of the Monkey: politicians have aped each other's strategies without really offering anything new).  If ever you see Duterte in the news, it's rarely partying, socializing, this launching or that inauguration, the works.  That's a change from and a total opposite of the usual strategy of politicians who hire publicists and trainers on how to project a polished image to the public, spending taxpayers' money on airtime, newspaper space and tarpaulins.

2.  Duterte does not smooth-talk his way just to get good press.  When he gets angry at kidnappers, drug pushers, unruly taxi driver/operators etc, he is not bothered if media catches him in his element oncam or on audio recordings.  Many politicians wouldn't dare snap at media people or in the presence of media people lest they would suffer unilateral warfare of loose talk.  Duterte talks the way he does in a language understood by criminals and lawbreakers but grates the senses of those who have not fought the underworld toe-to-toe eyeball-to-eyeball.  And because Davao media sees that his work in making a city rise from a cesspool of crime is more important than the way he speaks, they report on relevant issues that affect the collective good rather than on his manners or his personal life.  In short, don't ask Duterte stupid questions or you will get stupid answers.  He even helped you understand his quirks: "If it sounds ridiculous, it must be a joke!"  I think if he is putting his tongue on his cheek he is testing your wits. Bantayi ba.  And if you still take his jokes and his sarcasm literally, your problem must have something to do with transcending the ego.

3.  Duterte does not come from a landed clan.  Neither did he enrich himself in office.  In short, he does not have private money nor money from taxpayers -- to fund a presidential campaign.

Bumalik Ang Piso

In the early 2000s a taxi driver gave me change for my fare.  I didn't want to take it but he insisted because "mao'y sulti ni Mayor."  Interesting.  According to him, Digong said that they taxi drivers are the first faces of Davao that a visitor will see.  How they treat their passengers will reflect the character of the city.  Makes sense, huh?

(I think calling their mayor just "Digong" is also very endearing; the way some people also call Pope Francis "Lolo Kiko".  It gives one the feeling that this person is one of you or one among you).

Since then it became public knowledge that Davao taxi drivers give back fare change to the last peso.  Lately though I just tell the driver how much change I want back as a token of gratitude to their good manners.  It feels good to be generous when you are not extorted.

While many people were still convincing him to run, Duterte shared his predicament of having no money to oil a full-blown campaign.  What's happening now is that people are using their own money and resources to make wrist ballers / wrist bands, tshirts, caps; to have tarpaulins printed; wood scraps to make billboards -- all bearing Duterte's name.  Musicians and artists composed songs, held concerts; netizens produced their own videos and uploaded it on youtube.  The graphically endowed made memes of notable Duterte quotes -- without having Duterte pay them for it.  FB pages and blogs are dedicated to the good that he had done for the people of Davao over the years.  I wonder how much these would all cost if given monetary equivalent.

I say that the good energies that came with the last peso of taxi fare change were returned back to Duterte exponentially.  Other politicians can learn from this lesson on how to fund a campaign without really trying.

Protecting their ranks

Taxi drivers seem to be a good barometer of life that we don't see on mainstream media.  One time Kuyang Taxi Driver told me they just mauled a fellow driver the night before.

"Kay ngano man pud?" I ask.

"Naa man gu'y ni-text Ma'am nga iyang hut-hotan ang pasahero (Someone texted that he wanted to fleece a passenger)," he answered.

"Unya?"

"Gihulat lang namo siya mogarahe Maam unya kaming mga drayber tagsa-tagsa mi ka sumbag niya (We just waited for him to return the taxi after his shift and all of us who were there gave him a punch each."

"Nah, wa sya mo balos? (Didn't he fight back?)"

"Di man sya kabalos Maam kay daghan man mi (He can't fight back because there were many of us)."

"Di kaha mo adto dumtan? (Don't you think he will make a revenge?)"

"Di to modumot Maam kay kabalo man sya nga sad-an sya (He won't because he knew he committed something bad).

Wow.  Gives credence to the saying "The pace of the leader determines the speed of the pack" or something like that.  Self-correction and protecting one's ranks are a hallmark of law and order.

The new year is just barely a week old and I am grateful that Manny Pinol on his FB page provided an advice of brotherly correction not to intimidate Duterte non-believers.  Even that has to change.  Positive campaigning is the change.

Mudslinging has become a conventional thus very boring, thing.   You cannot blame a person's lack of knowledge for being so sure of the wrong things about Duterte.  Deepak Chopra says that people will do their best according to their level of awareness.  It would really be unfair for us to keep non-believers in the dark.  Factual information would beat falsehood anytime.  Whatever unfounded fear non-believers had in their hearts would hopefully be assuaged.  Reminding each other to be compassionate towards those who still need to know more about Duterte is a good way of protecting the ranks.

For my part, it was not difficult to see the benchmarks, the progress on how Duterte transformed Davao City.   Through the years, I have always used him as a reference to question myself on theories/ideas I encountered on peacebuilding, governance, accountability, conflict resolution, law enforcement -- all those lofty concepts.  Nine out of ten he still defies conventional beliefs of being prim and proper, using peaceful language, living a righteous life, having monotheistic spirituality, etc when faced with the magnitude of work Davao had then.

By now, any self-respecting netizen would have already been able to detect how paid hacks and fictitious accounts look like on Facebook or Twitter (I just learned they are also called Trolls); not unlike the press releases of falsehoods and half-truths PR Agencies of yore used to destroy an opponent.  Rather than sharing nonsense, there are a lot of credible sites that can multiply understanding rather than confusion.

You may find these useful too: On Facebook I follow Davao Dailynews Service, Peter Tiu Lavina, Inday Sara Duterte, Thinking Pinoy, and Carmen Navarro Pedrosa.  And because of Duterte I saw more substance and objective reporting on CNN Philippines, Rappler and InterAksyon compared to the two TV giants who are always at loggerheads with each other as to who dishes out more cut-and-dried no-brainers on primetime.

Gikan Sa Masa Para Sa Masa on YouTube is the nearest you can get to his answers to questions; compared to articles, interpretations and opinions written about what he said.  Searching Duterte on YouTube also generates plenty of material, not to mention the city's official web page.

I really do not have an idea how Ninja Turtles ended; but win or lose, I'm sure Digong DuTurtle would be a good case study on effective governance for years to come.

Cotabato City
January 2, 2016

* * * * *

Aveen Acuña-Gulo posts herself on Facebook as a Monumental Operations Manager (MOM).  She is a Bukidnon-born Cebuano mother of three (3) Maguindanao-Ilonggo-Cotabateño children; who will always be a child at heart even if she is a hundred years old.

She wrote a column “The Voice” for the Mindanao Cross from 1991-2006. 

She likes to challenge stereotypes.  “Don’t worry about my opinions.  It won’t make a dent to the conventional,” she says.

Salamat, Fr Joe Ante, OMI

I was billeted at the guest house of the Notre Dame of Jolo College at that time.  This was 2007 and I was in Jolo to monitor rice distributions of the UN World Food Program (WFP) to persons displaced by armed conflict.

The Guest House was just separated by a high wall from the Jolo Airport and I could see the runway from my 2nd floor window.

The whole time I was there (11 days), I had the opportunity to hear the early morning mass in the nearby chapel.  This was where I first met Fr Jose Ante, OMI, known to many as Fr Ante, whom I know only through name.

I introduced myself after mass; and told him the nature of my mission in the island.  We prayed together for continued blessings and more importantly, Divine Protection.  I was able to attend two more masses with him as celebrant after that.

Then last Friday afternoon I read an article by Edwin Fernandez on ndbc.news.ph of Fr Ante's demise.  It was a sad day.

I can't thank God enough for your gift of self, Fr Joe.

Blessed journey.

Vultures On Wheels Story 1

A couple of Grab Taxis already cancelled my booking because they cannot come to where I stood at SM Aura in Taguig due to traffic.  The guard suggested I use the taxi lane, meaning, I will be taking a regular taxi.

I told the driver to go to a certain subdivision in Paranaque, and mentioned the street.

"Saan tayo dadaan, Maam," he asked.

"Di ba Kuya kayo ang driver?" I asked back glancing at Google Maps on my phone.

"Di ko po kabisado papunta doon."

"Ganon ba. Ilang taon na po ba kayong drayber?" I told him which road to take.

"Di ko po kabisado yang lugar na yan, Maam eh."

He heard my phone giving directions.

"Mag GPS na lang tayo, Maam."

Hell yeah, I thought.

"Mas mabuti pa kuya palit tayo. Ako mag drayb ikaw maupo dito."

Silence.

The roads the map told us to take were clear, but we have no way of knowing which one is two-way or one way.  We had to go back.  Traffic was slow; and the driver was already expressing exasperation, to put it mildly.

"Galit ka kuya?"

He mumbled things like lugi ang byahe, mahal gasolina, ek ek bodbod.

"Nag drayber pa kayo."

Silence for a few meters.

Grumbling again.

"Buti di ka pinagkakainteresan ng pasahero mo nyan Kuya.  Kung nasa Davao ka lang baka di ka na makakauwi sa pamilya mo hanggat di ka umayos."

Long silence.

"Taga-Davao pala kayo, Maam?"

I didn't answer.

"Gusto ko si Duterte maging presidente eh."

"Ah ganon ba Kuya? Magpakabait ka para di ka mareport kay Duterte.  Huwag kang balasubas sa pasahero."

We found my destination and I paid what was in the meter and asked for a receipt.

Date. Check. Time. Check. Number of kilometers. Check.  Time picked up and time dropped off.  Check.  Clear printout. Check.

"Pasensya na Maam ha.  Minsan inaabutan din tayo ng init ng ulo dahil sa trapik."

"Ok lang Kuya.  Magbago din ang bansa natin."

And this was yet August.


* * * * * *
Metro Manila
8 August 2015

Eighteen and More

The priest concluded the mass by praying over Gel.  It was a beautiful feeling – so much to thank for this beautiful person in front of me who, eighteen years ago, fought for life in the emergency room of the Cotabato Regional Hospital.

The night before Gel was born, I felt a certain tightness in my tummy; but my date with the stork was still a month away so I did not worry a bit.  I had a prayer meeting to attend and Brod Nerio of the Elim Community offered me a ride on his motorcycle.  Jun didn’t like the idea but I justified it was more convenient than walking to the highway to get a jeepney and walking further to reach the venue.

By around two in the morning I was awakened by active labor.  I had to rouse Jun from his sleep to call my mother-in-law.  After examining me, Mamang said I would be giving birth anytime.  Doeh gave us a ride to Auntie Annabelle’s clinic; who said there was not much time so we went straight to the hospital. 

I sat on the passenger seat, with the backrest reclined all the way down.  Doeh sped while Jun at the back comforted me as I mustered all my strength with every contraction.  On instinct I raised my feet on the dashboard. Somewhere along the way everything that wiggled from my insides were caught by my nightdress.

Upon reaching the emergency room I said with the loudest voice I could gather: “Unahin ang bata, unahin ang bata!”  Only then did everybody else realize I already gave birth.

There it was – a slimy little creature, full of superfluous hair, swimming in amniotic fluid on a cold stainless steel tray.  For what seemed like endless millions of seconds I waited for a cry, a whimper – the faintest sound to tell me that my baby is alive.  No, I did not wait for anything to tell me she was alive: Deep in my heart I knew that my baby was alive.  All that came out from my mouth were praises and thanks to God for the gift of life.  There was no room in my mind for anything except life for my little one.

“Baby Girl!” Doeh announced to everybody.  We were all happy.  My baby girl looked like a wet kitten, motionless while hospital staff put tubes into her tiny nostrils.  I was whisked off to the delivery room separating me from my newborn infant.  I was confused.  I was told I had a “precipitate baby.” What’s that?  I just want my baby beside me!

In the delivery room Dr Redoble removed my placenta and told me they would dress me up soon.  Remember we were not able to bring anything in the flurry of things.

Shortly afterward Jun came with a change of clothes and told me that Gel weighed 1.9 kilos and is doing well.  But she needs to be incubated.  The nursery was being renovated and the incubator is in the nursery.

After I was sewn up and cleaned by Auntie Annabelle I was transferred to another room with three other mothers who also just gave birth.  I was the only one who did not have my baby with me.  I soon found out that there is a different protocol for “precipitate babies.”  In layperson terms, that means hospitals follow a different set of steps for babies who are born outside the hospital.

I was getting upset.  I requested for a wheelchair that did not come even after an hour.  I did not have slippers so I borrowed from one of the moms.  Holding my jelly-like tummy, I hobbled to the other end of the long building or else I would go berserk if I will not see my baby.

Finally at around 9 o’clock, I saw Gel again.  Rather, I had to find her from under the sheets.  She was so tiny she was a far contrast from her two brothers when they were born.  I often compared Gel’s body to a pint-sized Selecta cup topped with a dollop of ice cream for the head.  That small.  I sang her a lullabye whose title I now miss – but the lyrics were “I Stand In Awe of You”.  I was that.  Literally.

She was sleeping – serenely as an angel.  Her mittens fell off when she moved because it was too big for her fists even if the laces were tied.  An overhead bulb provided the warmth she needed.  She had a dextrose needle stuck to her tiny foot.  Jun had to scrounge the pharmacies in the city because the needle number Gel needed was so small it was rare. 

Angeline.  Such a fitting name for something so beautiful.  Everything about her was complete – except for her size and number of months she was supposed to stay in my tummy.  I have always dreamt of naming my daughter after my maternal grandmother Angelina who is also my namesake.  At least one of my four official first names.   

Sahadia was supposed to be her second name in Arabic like her two brothers -- but in the rush we were able to register only Angeline.

There were perhaps a dozen more beds in the public ward.  All baby patients and their mothers.  There were also watchers who slept under the patients’ beds.  Gel’s bed was beside the window.  Ram who was just six suddenly looked like a giant beside his little sister.  Then we called Raj who was a sixth-grader in Cebu.  We were a happy bunch.

By 630 in the evening a heavy rain fell.  One of the panes on the window was missing, sending strong winds and rain spray on us.  Other mothers helped us move (Jun was running errands) to an empty bed near the door, away from the missing pane.

Late in the evening Gel was fitful and started crying.  Wow she had strong lungs!  She’s healthy!  When I cradled her in my arms she quieted down; but shortly after I put her back on the bed, she was crying again.  After a couple of visits, the nurse turned off the 500watt lamp.  Gel went back to sleep.  So it was the heat from the bulb. 

By dawn she was fitful again; and the nurse suggested I breastfeed her.  Gel suckled, but I wasn’t giving any milk.  I was almost in tears, feeling so inadequate.  The nurse came back with a small plastic disposable container and a medicine dropper.  It was breastmilk from the hospital’s milk bank! We fed Gel drops at a time.  Praise God for breastmilk from other moms.  It helped us through until my own milk flowed in the afternoon.  

Gel was given antibiotics intravenously every now and then.  She had to be observed by her pediatrician and I was impatient for us to go home.  The hospital was never a place for me to heal and be back in one piece.  I also badly needed a bath.  More than a dozen people in the ward at any given time did not help dissipate the heat.  Finally after two days and two nights in the hospital we were discharged.  This was the longest I stayed in a hospital after giving birth. 

From then on it was a life of constant visits to doctors.  Confinements in the hospital and other challenges made babyhood for Gel opposite from that of Raj and Ram.  She was born in a public facility (Notre Dame was razed by a fire in September of that year).  She didn’t suckle my breastmilk much.  She was lactose-intolerant we had to always be on the lookout for a steady supply of lactose-free infant formula.  We took jeeps or multi-cabs to rush her to the hospital when she was sick; or even traysikad to have her immunizations.   

I worked outside of the house before she was a year old; and I was an absentee mother for most of her formative and character-building years.  Jun and Mamang filled in the gaps.

I always dreaded Monday mornings when Gel would chime, "Alis ka na, Nanay?"  Not "Alis ka na naman, Nanay?"   There was no "naman".  A child's pure heart did not set conditions.  Despite security restrictions on traveling after 5pm, I found ways to travel Friday evenings and be home on weekends.

Then Gel went to boarding school for secondary education.  Remote control supervision was the next best thing to motherly presence.

Coming of Age

To think she is now eighteen.  Boodz reminded me that not one of us four sisters had a celebration when we turned that age.  Shouldn’t it be time for us to be thankful for the next generation?  Gel is so special since she is the first in her generation to continue the DNA of Avelin, our mother; and yes further up – of Angelina, our maternal grandmother.

The celebration need not be fancy.  A mass and an intimate dinner after that would be fine.  In many societies, when a girl reaches a certain age (15 for some; 18 for others), it is expected that she should have already been armed with the rudiments to face life ahead.  Life skills, so to speak.  Interestingly though, presenting our girls to society for marriage does not fit into our family’s idea of coming of age. 

And so it was.  Fr Caabay of Sta Monica Parish was available for the 630pm family mass on the day of Gel’s birthday.  It would be at Fat Tony’s for at most twenty guests.  Fat Tony’s just launched a day before and it has an impressive menu of healthy, organic ingredients and they do not use MSG.  The place is also non-smoking and has a patio.

Pink roses were not available as direct flights to Puerto Princesa were canceled for the APEC Meeting in Manila.  But chrysanthemums in three shades of pink were just perfect for the celebrant’s bouquet.  The Red Velvet Cake from Heavenly Desserts was just – yes, heavenly with 18 lighted candles.  

My heart was just full of gratitude for Gel and how she has grown despite my constant absence.  When she was a baby, we loved to ask her: “Sino ang baby na hinatid ni Lord sa highway?” She would answer with glee: “Gel!”  Her birth certificate cannot indicate the name of the hospital because technically, she was not born there.  So the name of Sinsuat Avenue, a highway, is filled in the blank.

With Jun in Cotabato, Raj in Davao, and Ram in Saudi – physically, there was only Gel and I for her coming of age.  But we celebrated it together with loved ones and friends who sent their love, prayers, well-wishes and positive thoughts, transcending space and distance.

The preemie who once slept face down on my tummy is now tall and lanky.  There’d more multiples of 18 birthdays ahead of her. 

I thank God for this day and more.

*****
Puerto Princesa City
19 November 2015

Aveen Acuña-Gulo posts herself on Facebook as a Monumental Operations Manager (MOM) and is now vacationing in Palawan not as a tourist.  She is a Bukidnon-born Cebuano mother of three (3) Maguindanao-Ilonggo-Cotabateño children; who will always be a child at heart even if she is a hundred years old.

She wrote a column “The Voice” for the Mindanao Cross from 1991-2006. 

She likes to challenge stereotypes.  “Don’t worry about my opinions.  It won’t make a dent to the conventional,” she says.

        

Heneral Luna: Reflections

Why look for unity when it's not there...?

My eyes still stung long after Gel, Ruby and I left the movie house.  It's been ages since I last saw one memorable movie; much less one memorable Filipino movie.

Raj texted Friday that we should watch Heneral Luna.  Okay...movies cost a fortune – well, maybe pittance – but it’s hard to part with hard-earned money on scripts and plots that just change titles, producers, locations and actors.  Maybe I could wait for the DVD; and since I abhor many things that occupy space – maybe an e-copy will do.

Ever the loving firstborn who makes things happen without being disagreeable, Raj just lets his movie-bored mom be.

With time on my hands I googled (where else to go but virtual) Heneral Luna.  Why, it's been on FB at the time when Pacquiao and Mayweather were pummeling each other, and I didn't see it?  Shame.  Unfolding in front of me were reviews that led to another; and another; and so on and so forth.  This may be worth my time so Sunday was a date; after church.

*****

The ticket girl told us that religious services are held every Sunday at the same cinema where Heneral Luna was assigned.  I told her to convey to management that their schedules on the internet should be updated so as not to fool patrons.  Who cares if the message got across.  

People were forming a beeline to another cinema dedicated to some movie – again, Filipino (arrgghhh) – about confused relationships.  Why do they love to create problems where there's none, no...? So so first world let's just discuss that later.

We had no choice but take the first screening the next day Monday.  And be there an hour early.

*****

I can make out mostly silvery crowns from the audience; and under low lights I figure that Gel and Ruby were the only young people among dual citizens (Filipino and Senior), Honorary Seniors and oh, quite a number of Caucasians, too.  Heneral Luna was only on its 5th showing day and at least 60% of cinemas nationwide have pulled it out in exchange for run-of-the-mill high-grossing films.  We almost missed it then.

I was too dumbstruck to applaud on how fine a movie it was.  Images kept running in my head even after the closing credits.  No, I wasn't watching a movie – I was watching history.  And when one is part of and in the midst of history, tears are not enough.  A hundred and fifteen years after the assassination, apparently more sweat and blood still did not unite the nation.  Hack and bullet wounds on a general did little to change the country's politics and power struggles to date.  Like movies with boring themes, only the names and faces have changed in present-day Philippine governance.  

So “The only real Filipino General” was a hot-head.  I can almost see fire spewing from his mouth as he squeezed patriotism among peers; and extracted discipline from soldiers.  I can only surmise that the characteristic of the Filipino of “ayaw magpasabi a.k.a. di magpatudlo, di magpasulti” already existed in those days.  What I know is that in my generation even ROTC commanders got shot for giving, er, shouting orders.  Mother Teresa couldn’t have built more than 150 houses of charity had she not given orders, as one author described her, like a drill sergeant.  Nah… she’s from another country.  Back to the Philippines…

Forget tribalism – this trait of aversion for being corrected is common among us.  Bless you if you don’t get slighted when someone comes across as brash, abrasive, dominant, loud-mouthed blah-blah even if you both have the same goals.  Whether ilustrado, bagong-yaman o masa – walang pagkakaiba.  What do you think is the reason people spin off into factions? 

Luna's killers must have been oozing with hatred when they delivered those deadly blows and bullets.  I looked up the English equivalent of the word “dumot” and what came up on google translate was “hatred” which doesn’t quite give the intensity.

In Bisaya, dumot can be described as that kind of nagging need to get even for being wronged, or for feeling threatened.  It can stay suppressed until it sees the opportunity for revenge, usually bloody.  A person can act in a cordial manner towards his offender all this time the opportunity has not yet come.  I still have to come across written or oral accounts on how satisfied one got after executing revenge.  Can he now sleep well?  Will he always be on his toes?  Isn't he scared for his kin?

The Filipino regionalism is attributed to why the dream of one-nationhood is elusive.  This is projected quite clearly in the movie that anyone who wants to conquer the Philippines need not lift a finger that much because Filipinos will bicker among themselves and implode. The same strategy is still being applied now by well-placed Filipinos towards their constituents by dangling millions in the guise of freedom from want (Negosyo o Kalayaan – HL).

Loyalty to one’s family, clan, tribe, party or organization has been said to get in the way to achieve collective good; in the same manner that many crimes have been committed in the name of the family, clan, tribe, party or organization.

                                                                                      

If honesty is such a lonely word, peace is the most abused.  Peace is usually interpreted as something that benefits one’s interests only.  To think that almost everybody has interests! And sometimes one can only see the value of peace if he sees its contrast which is violence.  Appreciation of peace cannot always be pabebe, pa-sweet-sweet, beating around the bush so as not to graze sensibilities, shielding young people from harsh realities with the beautiful, the well-scrubbed and images of perfection.  Why then, have we raised generations of wimps, generations who would rather stay in their comfort zones?  To borrow more words: Pacification by Cappuccino?  (Hindi panlalait ang pagsabi ng katotohanan – HL).

I believe many who watched Heneral Luna transcended the blood, the brutality and the bed scenes.  Come on, children and young people these days are not naive having been exposed to these same B's on digital gaming and computer generated movies.  Gel shared that Heneral Luna was very much like Game of Thrones.  And because Mom doesn’t have an idea what GOT is, she gets a crash course from this highly-wired teen.

What should scare us parents to shielding children from historical accounts executed on screen?  Paint them a rosy world?  Maybe the only possible reason that we will prevent our children and young people to watch it is when we can't provide them with backgrounders and answers to their why's.

I have long given up on Philippine movies that I don’t even bother reading reviews. In the same manner, I have long given up on hearing about and witnessing Philippine politics that no personality-centered news catches my attention anymore.  I have let others do the looking so that my mantra has become, “Wake me up when something is happening.” It better be really good for me to be convinced; and if someone has to convince me, it has to be someone credible.  It took my son to wake me up with Heneral Luna and spark some hope – at least on Philippine Movies.

One final note: It is striking to note that an actor was willing to play a relative who is written down in history as a traitor.  Will the rest of us have that magnanimity to be cognizant of past mistakes?  How far can we go not to take it against a contrite descendant the sins of his forefathers?  The word is contrite.  As Saladin told Balian in the movie Kingdom of Heaven, “I am not one of those men.”

For public outcry to compel the movie to be back in theaters is something.  Could it be that the Filipino audience had to settle for mediocrity on film (throw in TV and politics) is because only more of the same is offered?  Why do lousy productions get more promotion than substantial ones?  Will the Heneral Luna experience push producers to crowd-source promotions for better quality films? 

It won’t be long -- knowing our national penchant for euphoria – that the Lunacy that held a precarious spell on national consciousness will face the danger of being set aside for the next trending topic.

Unless we shed our misplaced loyalties to family, clan, tribe, party or organization, I’m afraid The Fiery General would still be shouting --

“Punyeta!”

* * * * * 

Puerto Princesa City

21 September 2015

Aveen Acuña-Gulo posts herself on Facebook as a Monumental Operations Manager (MOM) and is now vacationing in Palawan not as a tourist.  She is a Bukidnon-born Cebuano mother of three (3) Maguindanao-Ilonggo-Cotabateño children; who will always be a child at heart even if she is a hundred years old.

She wrote a column “The Voice” for the Mindanao Cross from 1991-2006. 

She likes to challenge stereotypes.  “Don’t worry about my opinions.  It won’t make a dent to the conventional,” she says.  "But don't you think, too, that I should now remove those tribal identifications?"

Fathers & Sons

(The following article first appeared on the June 14, 2003 issue of the Mindanao Cross).

* * * * * * *

Fathers and Sons

There is this story of a Manobo family starting its day before daybreak.  The family stove is at the center of the cogon-roofed house.  As the mother goes about preparing breakfast of root crops and a few fish, the children gather around the fire for some warmth.

The father gets his bolo, maybe a spear or a bow and arrow, and joins the children.  He tells stories about how he gathered food the day before; assigns the eldest son for some tasks so that he will be a good food gatherer by the time he grows up.  The rest of the children are assigned tasks that are fit for their respective ages -- who will feed the chickens, etc.  They talk about how they want to see the day ahead.

Ah, some corporate meeting in a different setting.  The challenge for the present-day father has never changed -- no, it has changed.  The challenge has grown bigger.  Blessed is the family whose fathers can gather his children and discuss matters that directly affect them.  It is a rarity these days where fathers run corporate or organizational meetings and meet the family for the same purposes.  

The third Sunday of June is celebrated as Father's Day.  The call of the times is for fathers to save their families from disintegrating.  There are just too many temptations around that threaten the family.  The father should now go back to being in charge -- and raise sons who will also be in turn good fathers when their time will come.  

According to Dr Philip J Mango, President of St Michael's Institute for Psychological Sciences (www.stmichael.net):  "There is a masculinity crisis in society today.  Men are not doing what they are supposed to do, because we are not training boys to be the men they are supposed to be.  Men have to be heroes, persons who transcend their egos, fears and selfishness, and make sacrifices of themselves as a gift for those they have been called to protect." (Why We Need Heroes, Faith & Family Magazine, Spring 2003).  

Thank God, many fathers will be spending Father's Day with their sons doing what men are supposed to do: go to church, have brisk physical exertion like basketball, swimming, horseback riding, hiking, helping Mom around the house with some carpentry work, do some gardening, do some volunteer work, etc.  Much better than a seemingly more feminine pastime of hanging out in the mall or shopping.  (Ah, look what advertising has done to males).

To all the Fathers in the world revive the masculine tradition. God Bless You!


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