Closure

“There are certain things that you become fond of, and you welcome them and resent the new things.” – Ernest Hemingway, The Gambler The Nun The Radio

            For hundreds of people from Milaor  who commute everyday, going home is always a trip like no other.Understandably, after a hard day’s work, home is the place where one wants to be.

            Since the abrupt closure of the old terminal in Tabuco, Naga City for jeepneys plying Naga-Milaor and its transfer to the Central Business District (CBD) and LCC, catching a ride has become as elusive as gold in the Olympics. Yet there were jeepneys that managed to squeeze through the closed down area of the old terminal, ignoring the sign and wood obstruction that interlocked the passageway. So if the Abu Sayyaf was able to escape the cordon of the military, that would not be news because people are used with getting through no matter what. Well the change of terminal is expected somehow because new things and innovations will eventually come.

(Unlike the terminal, we do not have to wait, for change. We can  proactively go ahead with faith and confidence in our hearts.)

            However, at this point in time, the change of terminal site has confused the people of Milaor. They are torn between two terminals; one in the CBD or LCC and the other in the old terminal in Tabuco. The choice could be plain and simple. But how I wished that come this election, our choice would be that plain and simple as in choosing between good and evil. The fact is we are always forced to choose among evils so we pick the lesser evil wishing that someday he/she would become good. Anyway, I have yet to find a genie in a battle for my wish to come true.

            Because there are jeepneys willing to load commuters, they precisely continue to flock the old terminal. Not discounting, though, that the people might have developed the routine and too much attachment to the place that is why they keep on coming back. Or it might be convenience that continues to draw them to the old terminal. If not, the people might be resisting change and stick to whatever they are used to.

And this could be a case of a disconnection which is a not as effortless to let go as the goodbye kiss. Something, however, is left worthy to cherish and to keep yet the act of moving forward is inevitable.

            A friend of mine taught me the essence of how to end any relationship that might have unpleasant hang-ups caused by fateful departure by one or the other. One may associate the end of relationship with healing but the two are of distinct characteristics since the latter presupposes a hurt feeling. In this case, there is no hurt feeling engendered instead a sense of attachment. End of relationship or cycle is said to be sine qua non to make progress with one’s life without unmasking the bitterness and harsh lies of the relationship. It is about the painful truths of realities – the doomed farewell, letting go of something part of oneself, unexpressed love or hate – to be able to accept those and carry on.

            After more than a week now whenever I happen to pass by that closed terminal in the morning, I sense a bit of my peoples’ history. I could still hear the whispers of the town’s secret, the grumbles of life’s complaint, the surprise of meeting old friends, the amusement of various stories, the relief of finding an acquaintance, all being drowned by the resounding shout of the name of a hometown.

            No matter what the reasons are why the people continue to insist in coming to the old terminal, I think what is paramount to their consideration is the significance of going home. Wherever the terminal is, the people of Milaor are not going anywhere but home.

Boda de Oro (Golden wedding anniversary of Mama and Tatay)

Fifty years ago (November 24, 1960), my mother and father said to each other, "I do."

On that day, they pledged their love and commitment to be together for better or worse, for poorer or richer, in health or in sickness, to cherish their companionship until death forced them to part .

My father parted last year. He was 71.

He left behind his 68-year old lifetime partner, seven children, and fourteen grandchildren.

Had he survived until this year, he and my mother could have had a grand boda de oro or golden wedding anniversary. Very few couples are able to have this kind of celebration in their lifetimes. My parents missed it by just a year.  But forty-nine (49) years of togetherness is enough reason to celebrate and be thankful for.

That togetherness produced seven children. I am the sixth one in a relatively poor family. Each day, as I remember, was a struggle to cope with insufficiencies. However, it was in those difficulties and struggles that we held each other closer to our hearts. The bonding brought about by daily challenges and shared hardships in life could never make us who we are. And yes, those times were dificult and yet meaningful to live by and with.

Imagine if the Reproductive Health Bill (RHB) that encourages a 2-child policy was enforced at that time; you would not be reading this. Primarily because I would not be here. And many of us would not be here. This is one of my major reasons why I challenge the bill. Another major reason why I resist RHB is that Filipino couples nowadays are reproducing less babies than ever before. And the trend is going down and down, even without the RHB. In 2008, the population growth rate stands at 1.8 as compared to 3.08 in 1970s. Thus, what will the RHB do to our population when our population growth rate is already going down?

To provide couples the freedom to choose their family size is the best our government can do, rather than strongly encouraging a 2-child policy . Having small or big family size has benefits and costs. Our experiences and education cause us to be wise to know what is better for us. Who else know this better than ourselves?

In my family, this is very evident in the number of children of my brothers and sisters. The most number of children in one family is four while others have either two or one. This phenomenon and/or trend is observed in communities I visited, my friends' families, and relatives.

I  feel so blessed to be born in the generation without a bill that encourages contraceptions and 2-child policy. And I would like to extend this blessing to the future generations of my country in the way I know how and as long as I can. I believe each child is a gift to humanity as parents are gifts to children.

Thank you Mama and Tatay. You are such wonderful gifts to us, your children. I love you.

“We've learned by teaching”

Below is an article written in 2006 about the volunteer work of Ateneo de Naga college students in a rural elementary school in Nabua, Camarines Sur, Philippines. I found it stored in my e-mail. CCD-Volts days..
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“There were also other activities I could get involved with this summer, but everything just led me here.” 

This is what Pat Ursua, an incoming 4th year college student and a member of Education Honors Program of Ateneo de Naga University, said after spending a week in Inapatan Elementary School in Nabua, Camarines Sur.

Pat was one of the 64 student volunteers who opted to give a week of their summer break with some 200 kids of Inapatan, Nabua, some 45 kms. south of Naga City.  The Center for Community Development (CCD) of Ateneo de Naga University organized and facilitated the activity dubbed as Tulong-Dunong which is now on its 4th year as an extension service.

The student volunteers made their own modules and lesson plans for the kids who were grouped according to their grade level in the next opening of classes. Kids got advanced lessons to prepare them  for the regular classes this coming June. Instead of just playing around, the kids were treated to a variety of activities including the tutorials of subjects taught in the regular classes, basic skills in art painting, computer operations, guitar lessons, singing, modern and folk dancing, sports (arnis, volleyball, and football), and other structured-learning experiences.

“To teach young children was our main task,” Karen Bigay, another Education Honors Program's member, added. While teaching science, she discovered splendid pictures of contentment – the children of Inapatan. What amazed her was the detachment of the children on the wordly things, and yet flashing the faces and smiles of genuine human aspirations – to be happy.

For these teachers to-be, teaching kids was really challenging especially that they are  still studying, and struggling sometimes, to become a real and licenced teacher someday. But it was also rewarding for them to see the kids learned, appreciated and enjoyed what they did for that one week.

At first, coming from a city and going to a rural barangay, they had a feeling of superiority since they were going to render service and teach. Then they felt privileged and fortunate to be in that position to serve. Pat shared this view. She said, “It is ironic that these children would look up to me as an “ate” or a teacher but no one of them knew that despite their age, I am learning a lot from them. The children taught me the simplicity of life.”

Likewise Karen said, “factual knowledge taught us to enrich our intelligence but it is with other people's experiences and interaction with them where we find real learning. We were not the only persons who touched their lives but they too, left marks in us.”

Pat, Karen and the rest of the student volunteers who taught the kids in Inapatan, and in the process, the Inapatan kids teaching them too a lesson or two can put the lesson plans and modules aside until they return next year for another Tulong-Dunong for the Inapatan kids. This time they will be more prepared to teach and learn too.

Pak Frans Huskens (1945 - 2010)

I am privileged to have met and actually listened to a man who was esteemed for his intellectual generosity and immense and genuine human curiosity by his peers, students, and friends.

I first met Pak Frans when he came to the Philippines to interview me for a slot in the NWO-funded Ethno-Religious Conflict in Indonesia and the Philippines (ERCIP) program at Radboud University Nijmegen, Netherlands. My interview schedule was at 8:30 AM at the Philippine Social Science Center (PSSC) in Quezon City, Metro Manila, Philippines.

It was a Monday of Oct. 26, 2009. On that day, I had to report to the office in Laguna, about 55 kilometers away from Quezon City. But I was happy to have that panel interview on Monday morning.

During the interview, I remember Pak Frans was seated at the far left of a relatively long table. I was prodded to take the center seat. All throughout the interview, I noticed that Pak Frans was listening perceptively, writing once in a while on his notebook, and nodding intermittently. I remember him saying that I had a good background on theories of conflict. Of course, that made me feel good.

I believe that Pak Frans had this special gift to make people feel good about their work and themselves. He truly believed in the ability of individuals to make and do things possible and turn them into a reality, in their own volition.

When I arrived in Nijmegen from the Philippines, I received an email from Pak Frans welcoming me to his country and city. That was really comforting to have in the midst of new weather, culture, and all other things that made feel strange and isolated inside and even outside my 14-square meter room.

Then, our first scheduled meeting as a research team came. The students were supposed to submit a paper, but he said that a simple presentation of our ideas would be enough for our next meeting. He understood students' adjustments, struggles, personal situations, and pacing of writing. Or he understood us too much that he blurred the distinction between him and students.

After that meeting, in our small conversation, he wondered why Asians study Asia, why not Asians study Europe. In a way, he was challenging me. And in his words, he even encouraged me to write about Europe, to visit as many places in Europe, to enjoy my stay in Holland. "There is so much more here than your studies."

I guess he was then talking from his experiences. During his fieldwork in Indonesia and academic career in the Netherlands, he made personal ties and friendships that would last beyond his lifetime.

I remember that the first set of books that Pak Frans gave us as students were fiction books mostly by Sidney Sheldon. They were not non-fiction books, nor ethnographies. They were novels.

Indeed, there is so much more here. There is so much more.. Thank you Pak Frans.

Bullfighting, World Cup, and Libertad

Bullfighting is a Spanish passion. And in Barcelona, anything in and with Spanish is unwelcome.That's why bullfighting will be banned in 2012 in Catalonia region in which Barcelona is the capital. On top of the argument that it displays cruelty to and torture on animals.


In Barcelona, there is a growing call for a Catalan "country," a separate entity and an act of distancing from Spain. In July 2010, more than a million Catalans showed up in demonstration of their desire have a greater autonomy, just short of independence from Spain. There was a strong expression of Catalan pride, apart from what is of Spain.


Then a day after that, Spain won the 2010 World Cup in South Africa for the first time. The whole country including Catalonia region celebrated the win of the biggest title of all team sports. The Catalan pride was somewhat subdued by the Spanish victory. How could Barcelona not celebrate when the core of the Spanish football team are players of the famed FC Barca (read as Barsa). It was a national feat shared by all in Spain and all that was Spanish.


Two weeks after that huge demonstration and World Cup celebration, I was in Barcelona. Conspicuous and hanging outside the buildings were Catalan flags and posters of the national footbal players. It was the peak of summer holidays. So many tourists came to enjoy what Barcelona could offer.


With an invitation from a friend, I joined him to watch a bullfight in Plaza de Toros Monumental. It was Sunday. From the Monumental train station, we walked to the popular bullfight ring arena. Just across the street opposite the arena, there was a group of protesters calling to stop cruelty to animals and bloodshed. Then on the other side along the arena, a group of supporters of bullfighting was gathered and heckling the anti-bullfighting protesters. Police officers stood on the street separating the two sides.


We went in the arena after paying 23 euros each. It was huge and  an old structure. A band was playing when we got into our seats. Most of what I saw in the seats were foreigners with their camcorders and cameras. Many seats were still unoccupied when the ceremony started.



The first bull came out roaring, and looking for anything that got into its way. Bullfighters ran behind their safe cover. Except for one, he stayed and did what he was supposed to do - beat the bull and entertain the crowd.


I must admit that there were moments of excitement, thrill, suspense, boredom, and compassion. These were strong and intermittent feelings.


It was like watching Mike Tyson during his prime. We knew that Tyson would win, and yet thousands came to see him fight and millions watched him fight on TV. And thesepeople paid to see how Tyson would destroy and knockout his opponents.


Or it was like watching Michael Jordan during the Chicago Bull's championship run. We watched Jordan making shots after shots, including the game winning shots. When Jordan had the ball in dying seconds, our heartbeat rose and our breathing could hardly catch up.


In bullfighting, whenever the torero turned his back on the tired and bloodied bull in a very close goring range, I felt a certain stoppage of my heartbeat and breathing. I did not want to look, but I could not keep my eyes off.


I did not want the torero to get hurt, neither the bull. I just wanted to see the spectacle of man and animal in synchronized movements. The rising of emotions as man evades the goring attempts of the bull that keeps on trying and going. It is beautiful, sans the bloodshed. Ole!



It could have stopped at that moment. It should stop there. I did not come to see the harming and killing of bulls. I came to see the courage and grace of toreros in facing grave danger and risk, and the persistence of the determined bull to hit a target.


I would say that entertainment-wise, bullfighting tops other spectators' events. There must be a way to keep the spectacle without a bloodshed. There must be..



And I anticipate that it will come from Catalonia region. Then, libertad, from many things including cruelty to animals, will truly emerge in Catalan country. Libertad, libertad, libertad..

Rainbow friends in Ateneo

I once asked my mother why there was a rainbow after the rain. She just looked at me, a look dismissing any further inquiries from a curious kid. I assumed it was another topic old folks wanted to keep only for themselves, off-limits to kids. Since then, I never knew or asked why. For me, rainbows became babies; they appeared after the howl of the skies or a pregnant woman.

Not until I met Lanie, Mgee, Armie, Den-den, Nikki, and Chilet. Through them, I came to know the rainbow I regarded as of of life’s secrets. It was like reading the last few pages of a mystery book. Questions, doubts and complexities started to simmer down leading to a point of seizing the metaphor. I came to understand its fleeting beauty, its real temporariness, its colored prominence, and its metaphysical advent. Of course, I don’t mean the scientific side of the rainbow.

They provided me the awe I once had at the sight of a rainbow. “How come all those colors find their right places every time it appears? How each one carries its own uniqueness to a larger analogy. How they make sense together.”

After the Colloquium, we have been gathering as a group in our effort to sustain the chosen ministry. How it made me feel belonging to a wonderful creation. It’s lofty and earthly at the same time. Each one shines not to outshine each other but to highlight its own shining moment. My synergetic radiance does not shade the others instead it brightens them more.

Not all after-rain scenes promise a rainbow. In the same instance that not all the opportunities and chances to meet bring up togetherness. Casual, by chance meeting, we have to be content with that. In fact, we seldom meet now. Yet each meeting provides and/or revives the rainbow feeling in us. “Light and bubbly, refreshingly cool, heavenly joy, born to be wild.”

Presently, we work in one university in Naga City. We represent different offices doing dissimilar jobs. Though faced with a day-to-day job and individual tasks and activities, we can still squeeze out material time together to delight in the ordinariness of the day, to talk about what’s going on with us, to share the nuance and significance of our daily undertaking, and to render one’s self to others.

Though not a kid anymore, some rainbow questions still persist and linger like, “Is there a rainbow at night? Or is the end of a rainbow geographically raceable, thus gold can be found?” With or without, yes or no, amidst the rainbow confusion, I will never lose the connection of me with the rainbow “out there.” I am comforted and assured by the sight and company of my rainbow friends. With them, I feel connected with the beautiful creation and wonderful gift called rainbow, now no more a life’s secret.  11/20/01

Denied (again) or postponed for 2014: World Cup victory celebration in the Netherlands

It would have been historic! It would have been amazingly great! And I would have been part of it. Had the Dutch team won the World Cup 2010 in South Africa.

After booking a ticket in the finals by beating Paraguay in the semifinals, the Netherlands came to a great anticipation mood. Days leading to the final game against Spain were a drag. It was one of those longest five (5) days in history of the Netherlands. People busied themselves with just anything. But primary to their minds was the final match, the dreaded and exciting Sunday match of reckoning.

Then, the day dawned. Each second of time synchronized with the beating of millions of Dutch hearts. Stories had been told and shared. Twice in history, the Netherlands came so close to winning the most prestigious football cup in the world. This time, people were telling different stories. They seemed to be ready for another history in the making. It was a beautiful and special day.

The country breathed in orange. TVs were set. Beers were chilling in the fridge. Centrums were packed with orange-clad people congregating in front of wide-screen monitors. Bars, cafes, and restaurants were tuned in to unmistakably world cup bee-like sound of vulvuzuelas.

Shouts and claps for each Dutch player. But some players were more equal than others. People sang mightily and heartily the national anthem.

The game started.

It was clear that this match was going to be close. People were waiting for that one strong hurrah where they could release all the built-up emotions. First half was tense.

Second half was more straining to nerves as both teams had chances of scoring goals. The hurrah and jump were always subdued by the missed opportunities. It ended with sighs.

Extra time. It was a prolonged emotional strain. Then, a goal, by the other side. It pushed down the screams inside. But some more time left, hope was diminishing, vanishing as the time expired.

For the first time in the tournament. No goal. No hurrahs. No release of excited emotions. It was an involution of disbelief, sigh of a nation denied again.

As it is said, the loser in the championship match has the worst feeling of losing.

There is yet another chance in 2014. It may be another long wait, but a worthy wait for a victory celebration.

Mother's gift: love and life

I know that I have received enough and too much from my mother. I could never thank her adequately. Let this space and entry be for her, my way of truly appreciating a person that makes me human and continues to shape me.


In an unexpected time, my mother comes to touch me in a special way. When there are confusions and difficulties that beset me, my mother seems to have a radar to know my situation. She seems to have a magic wand that eases any heaviness in my heart and mind. Her presence and words shove away the insecurities and fears that cloud my heart and mind. When she holds my hand, I feel like she is holding my wounded heart in her hand. When she hugs me, I feel like she is taking away the heaviness in my chest and owning it as hers too. She sees me as hers but not as a possession, a blessing to appreciate, take care and nourish.

Two years ago, she gave me two polos. It would have been any other gifts I had received from her, but these had been polos with instructions from her. She put one on me and said, “You should learn how to fix yourself. Look at you; no girls will like you.” I retorted, “It’s OK. I don’t like girls who will like me only because of how I look, I would like a girl who will like me as I am.” Then she said with some wishing tone, “Yeah, I know that. But I would like you to have a girl.” I simply hugged her without saying a word anymore. I thought and believed that I already have the best girl I could ever find. When I finally spoke, “thank you ma” were the words I could muster to say.

Erap Estrada at the inauguration of President Noynoy Aquino

Former president and movie star Joseph Estrada (Erap) of the Philippines is a freed man.

He was sitting in front row during the swearing-in of President Noynoy Aquino.  Erap had run in the last election in which Aquino won. He was the last to concede defeat and the closest rival of the President in the last election.

As the first former president in Southeast Asia to be convicted of corruption (two counts of plunder) on September 12, 2007 and sentenced for 40 years of imprisonment, Estrada was granted pardon by President Gloria Macapagal-Arroyo (GMA) on October 25, just 43 days after the conviction. And now he sits with the President that vows to fight corruption.

The explanations given for the pardon were that Estrada was already 70 years old, had been in house arrest for six and a half years, and had committed not to seek any elective positions in the country. The last one is brazenly a mockery of the intent of GMA's controversial pardon.

Justifying the pardon, GMA in a speech before the Philippine Business Conference said that "national unity, rule of law, justice with accountability" were the reasons behind the pardon. Again, the last reason is a disgrace to "justice with accountability."

Various sectors and personalities were divided on the issue of pardon to Estrada. Asserting that justice and fairness should prevail, the influential Catholic Bishops Conference of the Philippines (CBCP) expressed opposition to the pardon while few bishops backed pardoning the ex-president. Former president Fidel Ramos (1992-1998) warned the Arroyo government that the pardon could be the start of its downfall while former president Corazon Aquino (1986-1992) who came to power through the first people power revolution welcomed the pardon for the deposed president. The loudest opposition to pardon came from the civil society and left-leaning groups that toppled Estrada from power while the most vocal supporters of the pardon were allies of the former president.

Estrada was ousted from power in 2001 by the second people power revolution over corruption and lavish lifestyle scandals. Noynoy's mother, Cory Aquino, was at the forefront of both people power 1 and 2 revolutions. In the second one, GMA who was then the Vice-President assumed the presidency and was declared winner in the controversial 2004 presidential election despite evidences of widespread cheating and electoral fraud.

As predecessor of Estrada, GMA is also facing and hounded by various corruption charges and scandals in the impeachment cases filed against her since 2005, 2006, and 2007. Critics of the Arroyo administration interpreted the pardon to ex-president Estrada as precedent to GMA if she is found guilty of the charges after her term of office. Her incumbency as President provides her immunity and shields her from being charged in a trial court.


Now President Aquino is forming a commission to formally investigate GMA for her various "lapses" in judgment. This time, "I'm sorry" is not sufficient to get her away from her culpability and accountability of her alleged sins to the Filipinos and Filipinas.

Meanwhile, Erap was greeted by some of his supporters and fans during the inauguration of President Aquino. As a popular movie star, he draws his main following from the masses. Just like in the movies he usually portrayed, he was in the limelight. The typical endings of his movies thread on the redemption of the protagonist.

Will it be the same in real life? Noynoy can change the script.

Cory chant and magic bring Benigno "Noynoy" Aquino III to power

June 30, 2010. Benigno "Noynoy" Aquino III is officially the 15th President of the Republic of the Philippines.

Just a year ago, Noynoy had no inclination to become one. He was, then, a senator whose term will end on 2013. However, one incident put him to the best position to aim the highest political position in the country of 90 million people. An incident that united in grief the whole country. A death of a mother, an icon of democracy, a symbol of hope and what remains good in the country.

Without her, the whole country became an orphan. Then, the big "kuya" in Noynoy was called forth by the orphaned public clamoring for change. Noynoy responded.

The tide of change steadily breaks and breaks until it reaches Malacanang Palace.

Let us remember what started it all, with a chant in 1986 and the loudest in August 2009. The magic still works.

Cory! Cory! Cory! This has been chant of two people power revolutions in the Philippines.

It is a chant that reverberates in the souls of every freedom-loving Filipino/Filipina, drawing power from within and consolidating in the rhythm of the pulsating heartbeats of the millions caged in martial rule, injustice, poverty, and oppression. The chant is liberating. It is enchanting.

Cory is an expression of an ideal and yet common to many of us. Cory is a sound reminiscent of a classic accepted and well loved. An ordinariness exemplifying an extraordinary will in extraordinary times. An extraordinariness in the midst of ordinary and basic value of a loving mother and wife. Cory is a resolute vibration sending quivers and tremors to powers that-be. Cory echoes the sincere human desire of a better future. Cory reciprocates our energies to demand accountability and transparency in the face of threatened democracy.

And Cory is a name of a person, a woman.

Since mid-1980s, when I was too young to remember, Cory has symbolized the struggle against the strongman and threats to democracy. The assassination of her husband left a vacuum in the struggle to solidify voices subduedly shouting their aspirations for freedom and participation in governance. Cory filled that space like a bass sound that shakes and penetrates the foundations and walls of the dictatorship. That was in the mid-1980s.

From then on, Cory has been a steady cry for good governance and democracy. Rallying for and with Filipinos/Filipinas, Cory has woken up the lethargic spirits of a country slowly slipping to submission to the ill will of a strong family occupying the Palace in the 1980s, early 2000s, and now.

The deadening chant has reached the peak of volume. It is fading. And gone.

Soon or sooner enough... Those who have witnessed and experienced the magic and power of the chant, we will undauntingly start to chant again.. Because we believe.. because we are with her... because she will forever  be with us... Of all the good things that happened to us, Cory was one of them. We are blessed to have been part of the generation when the chant has the most compelling and chilling effect, in us, to them - positively.

Cory! Cory! Cory!

My future son/daughter will learn to chant things. I'll make sure this is one of them. Because I am grateful, I believe, I remember.

Mr. President, you have been brought to power by this chant; may the chant and magic guide and power you in your endeavors and challenges as the big "kuya" of not just Kris, also of the brothers and sisters in the whole country and elsewhere.

Homecoming and homegoing

 I woke up today with an eerily silence in the flat. I was alone. My flatmates are gone and one is homeward-bound. 

There is a force within that compel us to return home, to seek the familiar and comfortable environment called home. It may be a longing for companionship, a return to a refuge, and a trip to memory lane of childhood years. This force is particularly strong during holidays when there is a break from workaday world. There is one place, one group of people we desire to visit and to be with - the place is known as home and the group of people is known as family.

Christmas, Independence, Thanksgiving, New Year, summer vacation, etc., these are the days that we troop to our homes. There is a sense of calling beyond obligation to travel back to our roots, where the sense of belongingness to that certain realm is bringing back the yesteryears. No matter how long we have been absent or away from home, we go back simply because it is there waiting for our homecoming.

Maybe after many years of being separated, the expected strange feeling of disconnect somehow causes us to reconnect with what is readily available that is familiar. Indeed, people grow old, places and surroundings change; the same as we do. We dig on the remembered shared history with the place and its people. Then, slowly things make sense into our consciousness. The place and its people become ours and we become theirs.

Or for some, a regular trip back home may feel routinary and taken for granted. But the sense of solidarity for celebration in a place where memorable events have taken place and with the family that understands our happiness and loneliness is ever present and haunting us when big holidays such as Christmas and New Year's days.

Homecoming is a tradition. It is not an obligation nor expectation from us. It is a willful act of one's heart. Our home is always there waiting for us, within reach, never been away from us. Why not be home this holidays or summer vacation? The warmth of embraces, the lively stories, unending updates and remembrances, the shelter of an old house, and the spirit of family seem to strike a chord in our hearts that we can hardly resist. The force is always upon us. Then, we realize it is we that have been away from where we belong - home.

Transition is hope: Keep up

Transition is a fact of life. It is not all about change, nor a continuation. It is a movement, a shift from one to another. It provides an opportunity to constructively change or creatively continue a status quo.

Every transition carries a hope.

For Noynoy Aquino, it is a firm hope for change that catapulted him to power. For Gloria Arroyo, it is a hope for a forgiving history that will view her. For Iraqis, it is a hope for improved security and self-rule. For Afghans, it is a hope for keeping on hoping. For Gazans, it is a hope for a peaceful surrounding and lifting of blockade.For the rest of the world, it is a hope to revive the slumping global economy from the financial crisis. For the average worker, it is a hope find or keep a job that will support their living decently. For French, South African, Cameroonian footbal teams, it is a hope that there is World Cup 2014 in Brazil.

From Arroyo to Aquino, from the US troops to Iraqi forces that will oversee the security of Iraq, from hundreds of thousands of foreign troops to more additional foreign troops in Afghanistan, from the rocket fires to ceasefire in Gaza, from Europe, US and Japan which are being hit by economic woes to China which reported a slight growth rate, from job termination to job placement, these transitions are images of hope which touch our common humanity with the rest of the world.

As for me, it is a hope for continued blessings in life. From studies to work and studies again, my transition is in the hope of contributing to sustain the hopefulness that now pervades amongst us, in spite of and/or because of the global financial crisis and difficulties in general.

In a recent Philipine survey, more that 60% of Filipinos remain hopeful that life will be better. I hope to see and keep that hope in spite of and/or because of the current administration. It is a pity that the rest do not see hope.

We hope in spite of our limitations, of our slumping economy, and of our frustrations and disappointments.

We hope because of our family, of our love for our country, and of our aspirations and dreams of a better tomorrow.

Indonesia's Independence Day: Freedom of a new Nation to Birth of a new Region

In August 2008, I was in Jakarta, Indonesia celebrating the Independence Day (Hari Kemerdekaan) with the villagers in Mampang Prapatan, Jakarta Selatan. It was a fun-filled and grassroot celebration of games and dancing to mark an important day in the history of the nation.

Sixty-five years ago, Indonesia gained its independence from the Dutch authority. It was to mark the birth of a new nation, rebuilding it with its own peoples' creative minds and determined hands, according to its own design, identity, and aspiration. Nationalism was at its peak. The pride of being Indonesian and of all that was Indonesian reverberated in the bones and marrows of those who waited, struggled, and won for the newly-independent nation. That was sixty-three years ago.

After sixty-three years, is Indonesia getting closer to the design that the proponents of independent Indonesia have imagined? Does the nation's current situation have a tinge of their aspiration? Have the peoples become more Indonesian or less? These questions are necessary to rethink and reflect on the direction of the country. But it is likewise necessary to consider who we are, historically and culturally, if we want to discern what our place in this globalizing world is.

Indonesia is composed of multiethnic and multireligious population. The mosaic of the country is rooted in the variety of food and languages, diversity of performing arts and customs, wealth of heritage and history, and archipelagic landscape. There is so much to be proud of in the country. And that pride is entrenched in the hearts and minds of Indonesians and expressed in their daily lives.

Remember sixty-three years ago. Indonesia should never be the same as it was.

This year saw the declaration of Kosovo as an independent country. Kosovars who are mainly ethnic Albanians and Muslims celebrated frantically the historic moment of separation from Serbia, a predominantly Christian country. The new republic of Kosovo promised to embrace everyone in Kosovo regardless of their ethnicity and religion. Nationalism drove the peoples of both Kosovo and Serbia on the streets; one celebrating, the other protesting.

Imagine Kosovo sixty-three years from now.

Certainly, Kosovo will be part of the European Union. And most likely, Serbia will also join the EU. Nationalism which drove these two countries to go at each other will be replaced by regionalism which is a key in dealing with the challenges of the globalizing world.

Indonesia is a founding member of ASEAN which has a binding Charter for all member-states to ratify to be integrated more into one dynamic community. Sadly, Indonesia has yet to ratify the ASEAN Charter, along with the Philippines and Thailand. The ASEAN Charter is gearing up the Southeast Asian regional organization towards a rule-based association.

Timor Leste which gained independence from Indonesia in 1999 has expressed its desire to join ASEAN. Both countries have a hostile past of each other. Both will be integrated into one regional organization, one vision, one identity, and one community working for peace, stability and prosperity for the peoples of ASEAN which recently celebrated its 41st founding anniversary.

In the celebration of ASEAN's anniversary, the current Secretary-General of ASEAN, Dr. Surin Pitsuwan, mentioned that the world is excited about the prospects of ASEAN with the Charter at hand. The prospects present a region that can stand and take care of its own affairs effectively and peacefully. That means, "one region less a problem to the world," he said.

As the host country of ASEAN Secretariat and a third of the region's population, Indonesia is vital to the process of attaining the vibrant prospect of ASEAN. Thus, Indonesia's independence must move its design, identity and aspiration towards working with its neighbors, its partners for peace, stability and prosperity in the region. It has to take the lead in the integration bid when other ASEAN members are facing their own internal and political problems.

Like nation-building, regional structures have to start building in the grassroots where people identify themselves. ASEAN can look at the way Indonesians celebrate their Independence Day. And be inspired from the historical and cultural bond that peoples take pride on.

Fieldwork: A cultural encounter

 “The use of traveling is to regulate imagination by reality, and instead of thinking how things may be, to see them as they are."                                                                                       -   Samuel Johnson 

       It is said that traveling expands our horizon. We get to know and learn new things by “being there.” For some reasons, we want to see and discover for ourselves what we already know, read and are told about a particular place or event that’s why we travel.

      A group of Japanese students and faculty from the Department of Studies on Global Citizenship of Seisen University in Tokyo, Japan traveled to various parts of Bicol according to their preselected communities, such as, farming (Pacol, Naga City), fishing (Sogod, Tinambac), and mining (Tugos, Paracale) from July 28 to August 4, 2006. They went to these communities and lived among the people. And they called their travel to Bicol – fieldwork.

      Some questions people asked about the activity; what brought the Japanese here and lived among the people? What is fieldwork? Why is it undertaken? What do we get out of fieldwork?

      Answers to these questions may just form part of the truth of what of interest to us. The totality of what happened during fieldwork days and nights could not possibly and adequately be presented and explained by questions and answers of this sort. But our questions and answers here would present the observed and interpreted reality which none of us could assail to have happened.

     Thus, rather than merely answering the questions posed, we need to look at, through and behind what happens in a fieldwork. In this way, it is hoped that we will learn more from this than the answers to the questions.

     Directly observing a reality is a vantage for us who want to understand a reality. Moreover, it will be a more fruitful understanding of reality if we do not only observe but participate in a setting. Fieldwork entails a combination of observation and participation, also known as participant-observation. Since reality is embedded with meanings, observing or participating may not discover, decipher and discern what it truly is, but the coupling of the two may do the work. For example in the fieldwork, we saw farmers performing some farming activities such as transplanting, weeding, or harvesting, etc., yet when some of us did those things, we gained the “feeling” of being farmers with which greater understanding of the farming ways took place. The knee-deep mud of a prepared field, back pain for too much bending , puzzling shortcuts to the field, and silence of people working on the field (or just the difficulty of communicating in an understandable language) form new meanings to us. Mere observations and interviews would bring about insights of the activities and events, but not the kind of insight we could gain from actual performance of or participation in the activities and events.

     Understanding “lived” reality is best done by going and “being there” for quite some time. But the reality is changed the moment we enter it. We bring foreign factors in the environment which reproduce another reality, alien or different from the reality prior to our presence. When we came to Pacol with the Japanese, we became part of Pacol but never of the lived reality of Pacol. Farmers tried to speak English which is not their lingua franca. Children were amazed by the sight of these “different” people and so they stopped playing their usual games. Instead, they followed these “different” people whom they were seeing the first time. In the after-wedding ceremony which we attended at the house of the bride in Pacol, the locals were interrupted of their usual behaviors. Even the after-wedding rituals such as pantomina and release of doves were timed for us to see, and not for the ritual’s sake and meaning. The people’s attention shifted from the newly-wed couple to us. What happened in that wedding since our arrival was not the “lived” reality of a traditional Bicolano wedding. The locals were conscious of our presence, and our being “outsiders” prevented us from seeing the wedding event in an insider’s view. We had yet to acquire the locals’ perspectives, attachments, norms, and values of that particular event. In order to do so, it would take a certain length of time and level of acceptance and acculturation to start to look, behave, speak and think like locals do. We might not come close to seeing and doing it the locals’ way like the dancing of pantomina, but what we saw and did in the event gave us nonetheless a sense and perception of the wedding event in Pacol.

     Notably, the University’s department where the Japanese students come from is Department of Studies on Global Citizenship. Fieldwork provides an insight on human diversity with which global citizens must acknowledge and appreciate in a rapidly globalizing world. The recognition of this human diversity would enable them to have a view and contexture of the world characterized by the plurality of ethnicity, class, gender, language, and culture. There is no better approach to do this than fieldwork.

     The Japanese formally interviewed farmers, land-owners, tenants, miners, fishers, women, children, public officials, urban poor, and students to add on to the raw data gathered from their observation. They listened to people’s constructed life stories and observed the reproduced reality. The synthesis they get out of what they gathered will form part of the “thick description” of the various communities they visited.

     Hopefully, the exposure to our cultural differences strengthen our understanding of our own cultural identities. As Henry Miller says, “One’s destination is never a place but rather a new way of looking at things.” When we travel, we never lose our cultural perspectives which might have drowned us into the common, familiar,  and taken-for-granted world, rather we use them as lens to enrich and expand our perspectives by having seen and been in places that surprise and jolt us. Our shared experiences with the Japanese and the communities locate us from an imagined reality of what we read, heard, and are told to a lived reality – our own life stories.

     From this fieldwork, we are encouraged to share what we saw, found, and learned because we are privileged to gain insights and learnings unknown to many who will also learn from what we saw, found, and learned. It is amazing to realize how far we have traveled and how long we have been traveling, and yet we haven’t really seen and been into the world after all. The world never fails to awe and surprise us however we try to make sense of it. And traveling through fieldwork is an invitation to see and experience the world again and again.

Motorcycles reign on Jakarta Streets

Let me begin by saying that I have been a pedestrian for so long as I could remember, and I am proud of it. Pedestrians, unite and walk!

One thing I could not miss noticing in Jakarta is the ubiquitous motorcycles. Every morning when I am on the way to ASEAN by a Metro Mini (mini-bus Jakarta style), a herd of black helmet and jacket-wearing motorcycle  riders swarms the streets of the eight-lane Mampang Prapatan up to the four-lane Kap Tendean. Mampang Prapatan's two-lanes in the middle are reserved for the exclusive use of TransJakarta buses.

One good thing about the Metro Mini buses is that they are loads of them with designated numbers. My bus is number 75. I have not seen number 1 though. But I saw number 610. There must be lots of them here. Creatively, they have the same color (combination of orange and blue). That's why I don't have to miss my number or else I will get somewhere in Jakarta, not my destination. I think I should try to be somewhere I don't know. Hmmmmm...

There is another Metro Mini buses named Kopaja. They are colored green and white. They have numbers too. They distract me whenever I am looking and waiting for my bus 75. I have the bus number on my wallet, cellfone, notebook, and on the first day, on my palm. Great way not to forget huh! Trust me, it works.

Anyway, from my house, I ride on a motorcycle or I have to walk 25 minutes in a "business causal" attire. Wow, you should see how Jakarta has changed me! I look good and feel good. Believe me, otherwise you're not my friend. Coincidentally, "Yakob" usually drives me to the busway. It costs me 5,000 rupiahs (1 peso = 200 rupiahs). It costs me more than riding a Metro Mini which charges 2,500 rupiahs. When "Yakob" learned that I am Filipino, he immediately blurted with a closed fist while driving, "Manny Pacquiao." He loves Pacquiao more than I do, I think. What's not to love in Pacquiao? He won again another title. This time in the lightweight division, and distinguishing himself as the only Asian to win championship titles in four different weight divisions.

Every corner of the streets in Mampang area has a pool of motorcycles waiting for passengers to take them somewhere. In my house, there are seven motorcycles and five cars parked inside the compound. We are, in my unofficial count, 15 tenants in the house. So only me and two more pedestrians who do not drive a fuel-powered transportation machine.

Based on a news report in Kompas June 6, 2008, there were about 45,948,747 motorcycles in Indonesia in 2007. It is almost 46 million motorcycles spread across the archipelago. With 222.1 million population, Indonesia has 1 motorcycle for every 5 persons. So Indonesia is basically running on motorcycles.

Whenever I go, I see very few people walk on the sidewalks or streets of Jakarta. Motorcycles become people's convention to move from one place to another. I understand that motorcycles move fast and can navigate the streets on their own way. Besides, they consume less gas than cars.

In the portion of Jakarta where I pass, deserted sidewalks are typical scenes. I and Biney (my classmate and co-intern in ASEAN) use the sidewalk with ease and leisure in the afternoon for strolling, under the shade of trees and cloud of gas-smoke. I look around.

Where have all the pedestrians gone?

They have taken over the streets of Jakarta, on their motorcycles.

Coming of Age: A boy's story

Recently, I watched a critically-acclaimed and socially informed Mexican movie, Y tu mama tambien (And your mother too). The movie follows the story of two adolescent boys as they get to know more of the world and themselves. The movie brought back good, fun-filled, and naughty memories of my youthful years, a quintessential journey from boyhood to manhood. In short, my youthful years were my coming of age, a rupture of innocence, a break of dawn, an awakening of impulse, a discovery of innate and group power, a redefinition of the meaning of existence, and a question of whys and why nots.

This is my story.

Attending an all-male high school, I was introduced to adam's fantasy and eve's physical beauty. Freudian id was the usual suspect in the pursuit of pleasure and happiness (most of the time, I mean the other for the other and vice-versa). This is characteristically of an adolescent state in which unfathomable energies, persistent urges, and indescribable excitements toward pleasure, anti-establishment, rule-breaking, and ground-testing and experimenting dominate the experiential reality of the growing adolescents. An association to a peer-group furthers and multiplies the energies, urges, and excitements of the unassuming adolescents. I joined and associated myself with varied groups I deemed helpful in my journey to immortality of the significance of the present.

I was initiated to enter adam's fantasy by an older eve. Indeed, the apple was very inviting to be taken and I did bite a bit of it. The swiftness of the bite and the size of it caused me to wonder, "that was it." I had been to the "heaven's mouth." I wanted more to explore, I longed to be in it again and again. But I could not. One time, two time, three time... I could not fill the feeling of emptiness and meaninglessness afterwards. That was my fall from paradise to a wordly living. That was a good fall, a surrender. I suddenly felt I was living a life, my own, my only one.

Since the fall, everyday has become a struggle, to find meaning in what I do, what I think, I become. My God has provided me one. That is enough, more than enough.

I was made to believe that I am different. I am no ordinary. Sadly, the dailiness of living reminds me of everyday's lost opportunities to be different, to be unordinary. At times, it is easy to be ordinary, to swim

 like a fish in an aquarium, to be a star with a borrowed glitter.

I was taught that excellence is what should drive me to be able to become and be. Service to others is where I can express this drive to excellence. I believe so. And I intend to do so.

And so I am living my story. There is no given line, no advanced script, only the character and the Writer; y mi mama tambien.

One day in the life of a Desaparecido: Remembering Jonas Burgos and others who disappeared fighting, believing

It’s been many nights since you last saw me. And I am not sure if you will see me ever again. I am somewhere here. Between the sky and earth, I live in my memory of life outside here, underneath the resplendent sky, on the goodness of the earth. You brought me outside and made me see the beauty of life and the world. Unlike here, devoid of what is outside, of life, of vibrant life.

I am somewhere here. Bound by darkness and solitude, I cling to the sound of your prayers. I could sense in the silence of this wickedness, your deep concern on me. For I feel consolation when I close my eyes and see your face near me, touching mine. Your hands bring warmth, your breath brings life. I could die in that thought, but you keep me going.

“You shall overcome this.”

That voice is my food, my nourishment, my hope. 

I am still somewhere here. Could you hear me?

I think they have taken away my voice. I could not even remember the sound of my name. The last time I shouted, my mind and heart were full of cries I could not express. I could only cry, but my tears have long been dried.

I am somewhere here. Please find me.

I would like to be back to your arms. To fight the coldness, I crumple myself like when I was inside you. The coldness has numbed me. I could not move from here. Each day, faintly I could say with all my will.

Here. Me.

I am not angry. I am not vengeful. No, I am not, forgotten.

Travel by studying abroad

Are you thinking of learning new language, meeting different people and culture, advancing your expertise and knowledge, and specializing in a field of your interest? Well, why not study abroad?

Studying abroad will provide you opportunities and possibilities of becoming better as a person regardless whether you are new graduate or working professionally. If you decide to pursue your thoughts, here are some practical steps to plan your graduate studies abroad.

First, know your interest and field that you want specialize on. You may already have these interest and field as your undergraduate course. This is important because interest and background will help in deciding which graduate course you plan to take. Second, search for universities that offer the specific course you want. The Times Higher Education (THE) has a yearly world university rankings. You may check on potential











universities and if they are particularly strong on the field you have chosen in the first step. You may ask your former teachers about your plan and seek their advice on what possible universities will be good for you. This initial contact with your former teachers will also serve as way of getting good letters of recommendations from them. Universities require such letters from former teachers to be admitted in the university. Third, if you have chosen a particular university, visit its website and know the facts, history, student population, professors, admission process, scholarships, accommodation and the city where it is located. You may pay a visit to the university if possible to feel its environment, people, and community. It will be great if you have relatives living in the area. They will become your connection to the city. Can you imagine yourself in that university and city? If not, go back to step 2. Fourth, get the information and details of admission processes especially the deadline. If you can apply online, go ahead. Make a checklist of the requirements. Many universities require some tests, such as English proficiency and Graduate Record Examination (GRE). You may contact the nearest test centers in your area for these examinations. Fifth and last, tell a friend or family member about your plan. This person will be your source of encouragement and assistance. S/he may even be more excited than you because s/he wants the best for you. And studying abroad is like a path leading to your best and the actualization of your potentials.

Do these practical steps in sequence. Do not dwell too much time on any of the steps. In graduate studies, time is essential because a graduate course programs can last up to two to three years for full-time students. Goodluck to you!

Tips and motivations for money savings: Travel with loved one

The first half of the year is over. The other half is just starting. One of my resolutions for this year is to save more money. I recognize that in order for me to save more, I must have a steady income stream. I may get it from my regular job, stipend from scholarship, online earnings, research and writing works, and tutorial jobs. Once I have this steady income stream, only then I can save money from my income sources.


We all have our own reasons why we need to save. In my case, I want to travel around Europe with my loved one. That is not at all a bad motivation to save some money.

I have three strategies to achieve my goal of saving more. One strategy is to cut my spending without compromising the necessities and some indulgencies of my own. I have identified various expenditures that can give me automatic savings if I dissuade myself from them. First, lunch meals are quite expensive at the university cafeteria. I can ask my host mother to prepare lunch for me or I can prepare sandwiches once a week. The potential amount saved for this is $50 a month or $600 in a year. Second, I will bring bottled water from my house to spare me from buying beverages at the cafeteria or elsewhere. Savings for this can be $15 a month or $150 in one year. Third, I will rent or borrow DVDs for movies to do away with going to the theaters. This will also lessen my transportation expenses of going to the movies. Estimated savings can reach at $10 a month or $120 in a year. Fourth, I will not drink more than two canned beers. It is good that I don't smoke but I can minimize it if I do. Approximate savings for this can be $10 monthly or $120 in one year. Fifth, I will use more the internet for its various free online services such as newspapers, SMS, messenger, banking, paying bills, and entertainment. Out of these things, the savings can run as much as $60 monthly or $720 in one year. Thus for the first strategy, it can make me save $145 monthly or $1710 in one year.

Another strategy which requires a rigid discipline is to have a buy-nothing or spend-nothing day in a week. So there will 48 days without spending cash out of the 365 days in one year. This will enable me to save about $500 in one year.

The last strategy is to open and maintain a bank account. There will be a fixed monthly deposit in the account to build up the savings while earning a decent interest. Estimated account balance at the end of the year is $3000.

All in all at the end of the year, the approximate savings due to these strategies will give me $5210. That is not bad for the first year of my personal savings build-up. Of course, for the next year, it will even be bigger and more. I will be on my way to an early, comfortable and worry-free retirement years.

But hey, I want to travel first, free of financial worries. See you around.

A Heartful Responsibility

I am the sixth child in a family. For a Filipino family, it was the average size at that time (now it becomes a little less than that). As the sixth child, my family called me “bunso” which means the youngest or last child. I was comfortable and got used with the name. I liked the idea of having most of the attention and less responsibility.

Then after six years, she came. My family did not take away my title as “bunso.” For the 7th child, they named her “darling.” Truly she is the darling of the family.

I had mixed feelings when she came. Disturbed.. anxious.. worried.. excited.. happy..

A year after as I watched her sleeping, I saw a sister, my little sister, my family’s darling. I had a singular feeling of light-heartedness, joy and cheerfulness. It was overwhelming. I wanted to touch her for the first time. I moved closer. I tipped her hand with my point finger. She held my finger tightly. I felt my sister. Her fragile hand gripped me as if telling me to stay. I did. That day the warmth and fragility of her hand, the calmness of her face, I felt responsiblity to another human being.

April 10, 2007… I joined 28 other Asians for the first batch of the Dual-Campus Intenational Peace Studies Program of the University for Peace and Ateneo de Manila University.

It only took a year that another batch came. I was simply glad to see another batch joining the program of Nippon Foundation. Classmate Y commented that the new batch looks “fresh.” Her comment made me wonder, what happened in a year to me? Have I become “old” or “matured” or “unfresh?”

Jack Maresca and Fr. Ben Nebres, S.J. highlighted my possible role as agents of change in the world. Indeed, my studies, lectures, discussions, readings at UPeace and Ateneo have provided a lens and mind to view the world. Somehow, I have come to make sense of the geohistorical contexts of the many conflicts and violence in the world. The expansion and deepening of my knowledge on these contextual factors corresponds to my growing desire to make a difference in the world. The world becomes my world, our world. It also becomes smaller, closer, and real, just like my sister.  It dawned on me this sense of responsibility to the world. It motivates me to understand more. And with understanding, it calls for my actions.

What I lack though is the heart. This can’t be provided by my studies. Openess and acceptance have led me to have a heart for my sister. I believe openess and acceptance of the mision and calling can be the key to awaken my heart to the reality of the mision and calling.

I think this makes me “unfresh.” A year after being in this program, I am disturbed.. anxious.. worried.. excited.. happy. Disturbed because new knowledge and insight everyday.. Anxious because of the unclear yearend ahead of me (what will I do and become).. Worried because of the challenge of the world possibly unmet.. Excited because of the clarity of our calling, mision.. Happy because of the coming of another batch in the program (which means I have companions).

I am part of the first batch of the program. A year after the opening of the program, I like the situation of seeing the second batch getting the most attention.  And I like too the feeling of having  responsibility, to the world including the next batch.

Here comes the Groom: Man's inside thoughts on marriage

When a man in his 30s has a girl, thoughts on marriage are inevitable. And it does not help that friends and families bring the question in the open; when will you marry her? 

I am in 30s now. Ten years ago, a thought like this was unimaginable to cross my mind. Now, this unimaginable thought is able to penetrate my radar of thoughts. It becomes real. And it demands serious thinking. I will have to settle down and find a partner in life. After flying and roaming around, the idea of settling down becomes a reasonable option. In short, marriage is a looming and emerging reality thought for me.
 
What is marriage for a man in his 30s? It brings clarity to what he wants in life. It is companionship in the tumultuous journey of self-fulfillment and maturity. It is a rite of passage from a free-spirited man to a responsible husband. And more importantly, it is a decision to be with someone for the rest of his life.Yes, I am in 30s. By this time, I was told, that I should have known what I wanted to become and I should be on my way of becoming what I wanted. The distractions of being single do not help in clearing and simplifying what I wanted. Most of my friends are now married and few are planning to get married soon. In gatherings such as class reunions, family get-togethers, church and organization meetings, one common question I frequently encounter is, “Are you married?” It is a question that I could easily dismiss and answer, “No!” But now the thought of marriage is more real than the question asked and the answer given. 
 
Being in 30s carries a bundle of considerations before making the decision. One of which is my friends. If I get married, I will spend less time with them. I remember the time when my mother invited me to go with her to go shopping. I declined to go with her. My mother noticed that I was spending less time with her. Well, I did not notice that. I thought it was part of growing up. So probably, marriage too is part of growing up since i will be spending less time with my friends. Another consideration is my dream. I wanted to write a book. I believe that I have saved enough materials in my mind to begin writing it. The materials have even started to wake me in the middle of the nights and come to life to disturb my consciousness. I have doubts if a woman out there can share that dream with me and understand my passion for sharing my ideas and experiences through writing.   
    
The thought has so far brought me here and now. They say that I am not getting any younger anymore. I admit that the thought has made me thinking. I believe that the true measure of a man is to translate this thought into action and reality. Allow me to think about that.

Yes, I will marry her, soon.