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.

Seeing through Rembrandt in Costa Rica

After the Holy Week, I ought to write about an image that kept on flashing on my mind. An image that consumed me for 20 minutes when I saw it. I felt at that time I existed for that image, to be awed, to be still, to interrogate my faith, to see myself through that image.


My last days in Costa Rica were capped by a visit to museum. The Museo del Banco Central  de Costa Rica brought 56 original sketches of Rembrandt to San Jose, Costa Rica. It was a rare and probably once in a lifetime chance to see original Rembrandt.

It was Saturday. I was set to leave Costa Rica on Monday at 3AM. There were parties (fiestas) waiting to be crashed/attended. I chose to see Rembrandt.

Who is Rembrandt to me? I have a sketchy knowledge about Rembrandt. What I know  is that he produced images from the Bible. He brought to life some of the famous Biblical scenes.

Outside the museum, there were many people waiting and wanting to see Rembrandt. As I was waiting for my turn,  I was able to practice my scant Spanish with a Tica student. I asked her why she came to see Rembrandt. She told me that she had nothing to do. Ironically, I was there, not because I had nothing to do. In fact, I had so many things to do.

When I finally got inside the museum, I lost her company and her name too. I started to look at the sketches.. black and white…hummmm…. hmmmmm…. dark and light… hmmmmmm…. contrast.. harmony.. hmmmmmm..

Then I saw her at a distance.. then I saw an image… the three crosses.. I saw my salvation.. I saw glory, my own.. I breathed life and death… I felt heaven dawning, here, now.. I heard songs of praise.. I thought victory, triumph of good.. I thought surrender, yielding to the light from Above.. I was nothing.

Then I lost her again.. I felt I lost myself when I went out of the museum. I saw everything around the plaza de la cultura.. They all made sense, colorful. It was like seeing them the first time, like a child seeing things.
Seeing Rembrandt is seeing life in, with me; seeing life in it, with it.

I wondered what the Tica student had done after seeing Rembrandt – still had nothing to do. I doubted.

My heart is lost somewhere; have you found it?

I don’t have class today. No classes until January 10. No more late nights for reading and rushing papers to meet the deadliest deadline. No catching up with the school bus at “chepe monge” at 8:30am. No “gallo pinto” for breakfast. No gaby for lunch. No tutorials in mathematics for Hannah and Seth. No emails from the department or classmates. No more raining in the afternoon. No more use for the umbrella.

 These have been the things I am used to have for the past four months.

When I go out in the afternoon, the breeze accompanies me to where I don’t know where I am going. I walk on the same road which becomes unfamiliar to me. Even to some dogs of my neighbors, I become a stranger. They bark the way they barked the first time they had seen me four months ago. Some leaves are scattered, together with the memories of new year’s celebration. Some stones are unturned and grounded, some roll as I make contact with them. I sing the same song as I walk.  I see the lush green landscape beyond Ciudad Colon.  Some birds hover at a distance. I used to remember someone beyond the hills, at a far distance; someone’s heart beats for me. Sychronization of heartbeat with mine. The language of heartbeat breaks barriers of space and time.

Now, no more. I could not hear her heart beating for me anymore. My heart beats. It is lost somewhere, beyond the hills. The birds could not guide it.  I could not help it.

I don’t have class today. Yet I don’t feel like celebrating. I don’t feel like on vacation. I feel like… I am losing my heartbeat. For someone, or no one, out there.

If you find it, please catch it and you'll be blessed by the power of love more than you can imagine.

Tratado Libre de Commercio (TLC): 2007 Costa Rica referendum

As a graduate student of United Nations-mandated University of Peace (UPeace) in Costa Rica, I was accredited as an international electoral observer by the Tribunal Supremo de Elecciones (Electoral Tribunal) in the historic referendum in Costa Rica. It was the first referendum in the country, and also the first referendum in the world to seek the approval from the people of a free trade agreement or Tratado Libre de Commercio (TLC), in this case the Central American Free Trade Agreement (CAFTA) with the United States. 

When I was preparing to go out that Sunday morning to begin the task as an observer, my host brother told me that he had already voted. So I learned that the polling stations opened as early as 6AM, particularly in Ciudad Colon.

From Ciudad Colon where most of the 27 international observers from UPeace are staying, a bus brought us to Raddison Hotel in San Jose, the capital of Costa Rica, for a briefing. After that, we were ready to go.

Few cars were plying the streets of San Jose. Most shops were closed. Near the churches and polling stations were the cars mostly concentrated and parked that day. Most Cantones (Towns) in Costa Rica have their church, government hall, school, and plaza near each others’ location.

Polling stations were inside the schools. Outside the schools, there were the unmistakable booths of the two sides, YES and NO camps. Vendors of campaign paraphernalias, drinks and snacks were stationed near the school. People were free to express their stance on the issue by wearing campaign T-shirts, pins, caps, and henna tattoos on their faces and bellies. Voters came at the polling stations with their kids and family. I saw children and young people playing with football inside the school or simply running and playing around. People were greeting each other left and right and exchanging pleasantries, causing narrow hallways congested with people. It was a festive and jovial atmosphere.

Notably prior to the election date, I witnessed a huge gathering of those who opposed TLC at downtown San Jose. It was estimated that more than 100,000 people were in attendance – the biggest assembly in a country of more than 4 million people. Sea of people poured in the main street of San Jose wearing the flag colors. Music was coming from loud speakers and also from drum and bugle corps, and people were just bouncing to the rhythm of the music. Vendors were selling souvenirs and food. It was a festival. Yet it was also a protest against TLC. During speeches, people were attentive and applauded intermittent instances with the deafening chant of NO T-L-C which sent emotions high. I felt it when my heartbeat pumped rapidly; my bones felt weak; and sudden coldness breezed causing a certain tightness on my skin.

When voting, people had to look at their names on the list of voters posted outside a polling room. Each list had a maximum number of voters of 700. Only three voters at a time were allowed inside the room. Inside a polling room, voters presented their national ID or “cedula” with pictures. Then, they got a ballot and filled that ballot with their choice.

With my little Spanish, I was able to chat with one voter outside a school. I asked him if he lives near the polling station. The man said that his place is far, but he was waiting for a bus commissioned by the Electoral Tribunal to fetch and pick voters from far places. Incidentally, I saw a bus coming with a Si (Yes) posters infront of it and on the sides. The man got inside the bus and waved at me when he got his seat.

After visiting three schools, we decided to go to the office of the Electoral Tribunal. Inside, we saw a hundred people queuing either to have their new cedula or renew it.

In the evening, we were invited to the announcement of a preliminary result at the Electoral Tribunal office. Outside the building, there were about 20 young people who were shouting NO T-L-C. People inside the building were unmindful of what was going on outside. At 9 PM, the tribunal announced that the Si (YES) was leading the No by a slim margin of 51.6% to 48.4% of nearly 60% turn out. To make it binding, the referendum is required to have at least 40% turn out.

There was an immediate celebration of the Yes camp at the La Sabana Park while there were also some reports of disturbances like burning of posters and street signs in the city by unidentified people. But no killings related to the referendum were reported.

The president of the country and a Nobel Peace Laureate, Oscar Arias, called on the No camp for reconciliation. However, some people in the No camp rejected this and cited electoral fraud and anomalies.

            To be part of this political exercise in a foreign country especially in Costa Rica was quite an experience. I saw a fair, peaceful, and orderly election. It was what Costarincces take pride on what they have become and what they could offer to the world, aside from their abolition of their army.

  

Look up, look far, and look beyond

                                                                                     Look up!
When I was a kid, I learned to pay respect by extending my hand to hold the person’s hand and knocking that hand on my forehead while bowing. In my culture, the gesture is called “bisa” in Bikol  or “mano” in Tagalog. It is customary to bow and say “po” to the elders.

Bowing in many cultures is a sign of respect to elders. Then, colonialism bastarded the meaning of bowing as submission and sign of inferiority, regardless of age. So it was common sight to see local elders bowing to young foreign colonizers. Another notion on bowing is that it is being connected to humility (I am no worthy, plus bow! as popularized in a certain movie). It is exemplified when one is praised for doing excellently (magaling or maorag in Bikol), and usually that person will bow and denounce the praise as untrue (hindi naman o tsamba lang). I say this is not humility, nor respect. If we truly respect our skills, ourselves, and capabilities, we will not bow; instead we will look up and say, “thank you.” That is humility. That is respect.

Look far!
At times, we are so concerned of our territory. Animals as we are, we do establish our territorial dignity. We feel attached to wherever we are situated. This is shown when someone says something bad to our place, we feel offended. We build our world around that place where we are. We take pleasure and contentment in the familiarity and ordinariness of our place and people. This can be observed in the locations where students normally sit. Day after day, they will be comfortable sitting in one location. It is like the movies of our favorite actors or directors, our favorite food, our close friends. Because they are familiar, we repeatedly take refuge in the psychological continuities of our stories and boundaries of our world.

Are we missing something? For some, they believe they don’t miss anything. But I will argue that we do. We deprive ourselves of the spatial extension of ourselves, of seeing new things, of discovering, of being surprised, of detaching, and of course, of failing. So many things to learn, to do, to think, and with all those things, we can be assured that there are many more out there. Can you see them?

Look beyond!
Unknowingly for us, there exists a horizon where other people live. And when we know about that horizon and the existence of others and their differences from us, we feel scared. We are intimidated by the knowledge,  sight and sound of the uncommon. It is OK. At least, we know that we are not alone, and we are not the world.

Let me take your hand, or take my hand.. Let us together look up…. look far… and beyond