The Witch Called Snow White
By: Maria Reylan M. Garcia
And they lived happily ever after, this phrase sounds awfully and redundantly familiar. The moment you hear this cluster of words, figures of princes riding handsome stallions and princesses singing in the enchanted forest with her animal friends, comes to life just as flicking as a wave of a magic wand. After readers put down the magical tales that left them spellbound, their dreams that night would be of pumpkin carriages traveling towards a promising kingdom’s silhouette in the nearing horizon. Less did most of us fairytale aficionados know that there were some supporting roles left in the gloominess of the backstage. As Snow White became a cadaver no more, no news was heard of her stepmother after she fell from the vulture trodden cliff. As Cinderella lost her obsession with glass slippers, the other three party crashers never made headlines after their huge feet can’t fit in a size four. Yes, I’m referring to these villains, to these antagonists, to these characters that made all the princesses look good in the pages of our bedtime stories. True, that we never get to here their side of the story. True, that we never get to hear why they envy red rosy cheeks and hairs black as ebony. True, that we became villains to them.
The explosion at the House of Representatives was not at any extent near to the sugary sweet land of fairy tales. This is real life, most people say. But I see the same villain in the witch who tempted for a poisoned apple as that in the insolent fool who planted the bomb and caused some regretted casualties. Whoever spearheaded this grave of a prank is certainly worth a basket of poisoned apples stuck in the linings of his esophagus. I am in deep sorrow and sympathized the afflicted of the rampant fire show display of violence, and at all angles believe that what was done marquees the word terrorism. Yet as I remembered my younger self scanning the pages of my now dust covered fairy tale classics, I could help but gobble some fist of air and think, should everything be blamed on them? We never heard their side of the story in the first place, although it was law violating but the distribution of the blame seems slightly unfair and one sided.
I rally in the silence of my heart together with the families of those who tasted the venom of terrorism and political revolts. They should be convicted accordingly with due legitimate processes and justice served right. But throughout the course, I hope we can find it in our hearts to take a time out of our quest for justice and not forget to give the same human justice this astray ones deserve. They might carry the greater ton of weight, but let us not get to engrossed in pointing with our fingers, because we are unaware that on our backpacks are the less seen ounces of weight that contributed to an loathsome event. We just heard our stories, let us not get too excited and rush up justice, for the word itself entails balance coming from both sides, fairness to both sides.
Sometimes we are unaware that we’re the ones making our enemies. The government might be unaware that they could be the very factory of these rejected deviants in our society. Could the government may have once forgotten their needs, abused their authority over them, gave them less benefits and incentives; all of these may have triggered the once subtle tigers within this ruthless violent groups. Snow White was portrayed to be all gentle and sublime because it was her story. Her stepmother was rubbished with awful characteristics, not knowing what may have been the very roots of her envy with Snow White. Could Snow White may have selfishly devoured the time of her late father leaving none to the queen, bullied her stepmother as she was still in the defense of his loving father; both of these may have triggered the queen to drink some potion struck by lightning and detoxified herself into an old hag. We spectators may appear innocent, the government may appear victimized but all the televisions, emails, text messages and print media contain our stories. How about those stories left unprinted in the hearts of the leftists, those stories that because we never listened to was storytelled to us in a bloody and violent manner. Mother Goose would certainly get Goosebumps when she finds out.
Sometimes we have to pull the entire rope outside the box to entirely know its length than just to simply imply. We have to look at the other side of the street. Really, we have to avoid being so one sided. I know someone who was accused of verbal harassment and having an unhealthy growth of envy over a competitor. He was under surveillance and was threatened to accept right there and then all the allegations, not even hearing out what he has to say, not even hearing out why he let the competitor taste some spicy and fierce words. It was because that someone was quite unlucky, everyone was looking on the other side of the box and failed to see his own side that he’s left with a bitter fate.
I hope time will come when we get to settle things. This had been a cliché, I know. But I still hold on to this unsure but relevant hope of collaborative efforts for simple national prosperity. I hope we’ll not only depend on our stories. If we do, we might find our books thrown outside the window the very next day.
There will always be hundreds and thousands of ugly witches and vile stepsisters who’ll let you eat up some rotten apples, gate crash your party and not to mention rip off your vintage dress. Yet, remember it is only in your story where they appear as villains.
In their fairytales you could be the reason why their lives turned astray.
You could be their villain.
Francis and Ester (November 20,2007)
Francis and Ester
By: Maria Reylan M. Garcia
Francis was his name, and Ester was hers. They roamed the streets of the cemetery stopping at every grave where living relatives dwell. They handed out pieces of paper holding some words that brought a leap of horror. They muttered phrases of fear that aroused the goose bumps to every inch of the skin. Francis and Ester reminded the still breathing and alive that sooner and later they will be the ones to be visited in the cemetery. Although, Francis and Ester appear to be angels of death, they weren’t. Francis and Ester are just among the many, that flooded the cemeteries last All Souls Day, they were estate agents. Those pieces of paper they gave out weren’t promissory notes of one’s life expectancy, they were just simple brochures of the lots they sell and printed along are their contact numbers. Those phrases of fear weren’t revelations of the end; they were negotiating words gearing towards the selling out of their products.
Beside from the truth that we are all going to die, Francis and Ester were reminders that a lot has changed since the previous commemorations of All Souls Day. In the colonial times, the friars or the Spanish priests were the only ones who sold lots in the cemetery. There were still no sign of existence of any ancestral lineage that Francis and Ester might be having. The flower shops and boutiques weren’t flourishing as they do now. People settled for freshly picked flowers along the sides of the kalesa ridden streets. The day for the dead was even strictly observed as a commemoration rather than what we all see now as a celebration. There were no food stalls, concessionaire stands that made the memorial parks a carnival ground. There were no magic shows nor fireworks display during the day for the dead, those days were usually quiet and solemn. But, I believe the respect and worth of such day wasn’t subtracted even a single soul up to this day. The dead were still special from the time of Padre Damaso to the time of Francis and Ester. Though the tribute seem at different ends of the rope, the very thought of remembering the dead still remains as rock hard as the gravestones.
Each family had their own ways of paying tribute to their dead. Some thought they might as well have a family reunion along the way, and a food festival while they’re at it. Tons of plastic wares filled with Pinoy food favorites made the cemeteries similar to a food convention. Some planted their own tents and brought some folding beds, sleeping bags and native mats to transform the cemetery into a camping site. Some let free their little kids running through the large field of the memorial park, with some trinkets of light they wave along side, morphing the place alike to an amusement center. It was a feat for the eyes; it wasn’t a day for the dead after all. Everybody felt the day was a gathering of both our kind and those in the fourth dimension, our departed loved ones. There was a variation of party ideas for every visiting relative, each had their own gig, and each had their own way of letting their dead feel unforgotten. But, there will always be a time when every one kneels down in front of the gravestones and hush a simple prayer; this is in itself the very meaning of the day.
This is life. We were born, we live, and then we die. There will be only just one part of our existence where we get to change what was used to be, where we get to feel the pain necessary to feel the joy, where we get to realize the importance of life earlier than when it is gone. That part, is neither when we were born nor when we die, but when we are living. I am afraid of death, a lot of us are, even how much our faith would promise us a life after our own here on earth, and we still tremble to the very experience of dying. That is why everybody exercises, why everybody takes in medicine, why everybody does everything to slow the gaining of profit for Francis and Ester.
A lot has change in the world since the Adam ate that stupid apple, and it will continue to long after we die. We have to savor the moments; to live like no one has lived before. Because we will never know, the next year, the next All Souls Day, we will be the ones visited.
Continue to live.
Because soon we will be making use of the lots we bought from Francis and Ester.
By: Maria Reylan M. Garcia
Francis was his name, and Ester was hers. They roamed the streets of the cemetery stopping at every grave where living relatives dwell. They handed out pieces of paper holding some words that brought a leap of horror. They muttered phrases of fear that aroused the goose bumps to every inch of the skin. Francis and Ester reminded the still breathing and alive that sooner and later they will be the ones to be visited in the cemetery. Although, Francis and Ester appear to be angels of death, they weren’t. Francis and Ester are just among the many, that flooded the cemeteries last All Souls Day, they were estate agents. Those pieces of paper they gave out weren’t promissory notes of one’s life expectancy, they were just simple brochures of the lots they sell and printed along are their contact numbers. Those phrases of fear weren’t revelations of the end; they were negotiating words gearing towards the selling out of their products.
Beside from the truth that we are all going to die, Francis and Ester were reminders that a lot has changed since the previous commemorations of All Souls Day. In the colonial times, the friars or the Spanish priests were the only ones who sold lots in the cemetery. There were still no sign of existence of any ancestral lineage that Francis and Ester might be having. The flower shops and boutiques weren’t flourishing as they do now. People settled for freshly picked flowers along the sides of the kalesa ridden streets. The day for the dead was even strictly observed as a commemoration rather than what we all see now as a celebration. There were no food stalls, concessionaire stands that made the memorial parks a carnival ground. There were no magic shows nor fireworks display during the day for the dead, those days were usually quiet and solemn. But, I believe the respect and worth of such day wasn’t subtracted even a single soul up to this day. The dead were still special from the time of Padre Damaso to the time of Francis and Ester. Though the tribute seem at different ends of the rope, the very thought of remembering the dead still remains as rock hard as the gravestones.
Each family had their own ways of paying tribute to their dead. Some thought they might as well have a family reunion along the way, and a food festival while they’re at it. Tons of plastic wares filled with Pinoy food favorites made the cemeteries similar to a food convention. Some planted their own tents and brought some folding beds, sleeping bags and native mats to transform the cemetery into a camping site. Some let free their little kids running through the large field of the memorial park, with some trinkets of light they wave along side, morphing the place alike to an amusement center. It was a feat for the eyes; it wasn’t a day for the dead after all. Everybody felt the day was a gathering of both our kind and those in the fourth dimension, our departed loved ones. There was a variation of party ideas for every visiting relative, each had their own gig, and each had their own way of letting their dead feel unforgotten. But, there will always be a time when every one kneels down in front of the gravestones and hush a simple prayer; this is in itself the very meaning of the day.
This is life. We were born, we live, and then we die. There will be only just one part of our existence where we get to change what was used to be, where we get to feel the pain necessary to feel the joy, where we get to realize the importance of life earlier than when it is gone. That part, is neither when we were born nor when we die, but when we are living. I am afraid of death, a lot of us are, even how much our faith would promise us a life after our own here on earth, and we still tremble to the very experience of dying. That is why everybody exercises, why everybody takes in medicine, why everybody does everything to slow the gaining of profit for Francis and Ester.
A lot has change in the world since the Adam ate that stupid apple, and it will continue to long after we die. We have to savor the moments; to live like no one has lived before. Because we will never know, the next year, the next All Souls Day, we will be the ones visited.
Continue to live.
Because soon we will be making use of the lots we bought from Francis and Ester.
PGMA: The Second Saint of the Philippines (November 13,2007)
PGMA: The Second Saint of the Philippines
by Maria Reylan M. Garcia
Define forgiveness.
The Holy Bible tells of the Parable of the Prodigal Son. A wealthy man had two sons. The younger son asked for his share of inheritance, left the house and spent this irresponsibly on gambling and women. When he had nothing left, he was left feeding on the pigs' food. He realized his mistake, thus went back to his father and was ready to be treated as one of the slaves. When he was reunited with his father he asked for forgiveness. The father prepared a feast for him and welcome him.
The parable had long been associated with the unconditional love of a father to his son, but within the harmony of words blooms a recipe for the most desired dish of our souls --- forgiveness. There are actually four ingredients presented in the story towards brewing the scrumptious fullness of absolution. First, the acceptance of one's shortcomings. Second, the willingness to change. For without the desire to start anew, how can one begin his race to forgiveness. Third, the apology. This marks the promise of cleaning all the dirt done. Fourth, the pardon. This is the part when someone tells you, "It is okay. Let those just be bygones. "
Now, could you grant a person forgiveness even if he did not apologize, or accepted his fault to the very lest? Definitely not. The whole process follows a consecutive chain, where the links have to be detached one by one in consecutive order until a person can ultimately be free. President Gloria Macapagal Arroyo skipped the process and treated former President Joseph Estrada's case like nothing happened. How martyr-like of President Arroyo to forgive without being asked to. If you ask me, our President has some plans for her early canonization as the second saint of the Philippines . For the past six years and six months, never did Mr. Estrada mutter a phrase of being sorry for his accused crimes. If I'm not mistaken, he even said in his speech right after he was freed from Tanay, Rizal that he never fooled the Filipino people in the infamous crime of plunder. The Philippines has to fill in the blanks why President Arroyo pardoned him.
I had always admired President Arroyo, she had been strong amid the controversies rocking her administration. Her economic plans are flourishing to new heights, thus our country is peeping out of the shadows. But what she did, I'm afraid was certainly reckless and too shallow of reasons. President Arroyo believes that giving pardon to Mr. Estrada would do him well as he is already in his late 70's and that he has to be with his ailing mother. I would applaud your display of genuine concern to a senior citizen and a fearing son, President Arroyo. Let's say the other eighty million Filipinos committed the same crime the former president was convicted of, and they are in their late 70's and they also have dying mothers, would you also give them pardon?
To forgive is but a noble act, but knowing when to forgive is even nobler. The six years and six months of plain torture of brainstorming amongst the prosecutors, attorneys and lawmakers involved in Estrada's case were nothing after the President's several minutes of speech. Imagine how mathematically impossible six years and six months is to some 10 minutes of speech? I'm sorry President Arroyo, but what were you thinking?
Though it is not in my position to judge, as I may have no legal grounds to do so, but I'm talking about morality here. When I go to confession I have to do a lot of apologies to the priest, accept all my sins and pray the act of contrition before I am forgiven. Why is it you, Mrs. President became more forgiving than the priest now?
I guess my theory is right; our president is planning to be the second saint of the Philippines .
I hope she succeeds.
(For comments and reactions please send an email to reylangarcia@yahoo.com an SMS to 09186363090. Visit my blog at http://www.theyoungvoice.blogspot.com)
by Maria Reylan M. Garcia
Define forgiveness.
The Holy Bible tells of the Parable of the Prodigal Son. A wealthy man had two sons. The younger son asked for his share of inheritance, left the house and spent this irresponsibly on gambling and women. When he had nothing left, he was left feeding on the pigs' food. He realized his mistake, thus went back to his father and was ready to be treated as one of the slaves. When he was reunited with his father he asked for forgiveness. The father prepared a feast for him and welcome him.
The parable had long been associated with the unconditional love of a father to his son, but within the harmony of words blooms a recipe for the most desired dish of our souls --- forgiveness. There are actually four ingredients presented in the story towards brewing the scrumptious fullness of absolution. First, the acceptance of one's shortcomings. Second, the willingness to change. For without the desire to start anew, how can one begin his race to forgiveness. Third, the apology. This marks the promise of cleaning all the dirt done. Fourth, the pardon. This is the part when someone tells you, "It is okay. Let those just be bygones. "
Now, could you grant a person forgiveness even if he did not apologize, or accepted his fault to the very lest? Definitely not. The whole process follows a consecutive chain, where the links have to be detached one by one in consecutive order until a person can ultimately be free. President Gloria Macapagal Arroyo skipped the process and treated former President Joseph Estrada's case like nothing happened. How martyr-like of President Arroyo to forgive without being asked to. If you ask me, our President has some plans for her early canonization as the second saint of the Philippines . For the past six years and six months, never did Mr. Estrada mutter a phrase of being sorry for his accused crimes. If I'm not mistaken, he even said in his speech right after he was freed from Tanay, Rizal that he never fooled the Filipino people in the infamous crime of plunder. The Philippines has to fill in the blanks why President Arroyo pardoned him.
I had always admired President Arroyo, she had been strong amid the controversies rocking her administration. Her economic plans are flourishing to new heights, thus our country is peeping out of the shadows. But what she did, I'm afraid was certainly reckless and too shallow of reasons. President Arroyo believes that giving pardon to Mr. Estrada would do him well as he is already in his late 70's and that he has to be with his ailing mother. I would applaud your display of genuine concern to a senior citizen and a fearing son, President Arroyo. Let's say the other eighty million Filipinos committed the same crime the former president was convicted of, and they are in their late 70's and they also have dying mothers, would you also give them pardon?
To forgive is but a noble act, but knowing when to forgive is even nobler. The six years and six months of plain torture of brainstorming amongst the prosecutors, attorneys and lawmakers involved in Estrada's case were nothing after the President's several minutes of speech. Imagine how mathematically impossible six years and six months is to some 10 minutes of speech? I'm sorry President Arroyo, but what were you thinking?
Though it is not in my position to judge, as I may have no legal grounds to do so, but I'm talking about morality here. When I go to confession I have to do a lot of apologies to the priest, accept all my sins and pray the act of contrition before I am forgiven. Why is it you, Mrs. President became more forgiving than the priest now?
I guess my theory is right; our president is planning to be the second saint of the Philippines .
I hope she succeeds.
(For comments and reactions please send an email to reylangarcia@yahoo.com an SMS to 09186363090. Visit my blog at http://www.theyoungvoice.blogspot.com)
Your Comments
Hi!
If you want to leave some comments, please click on the links for comments at the bottom of every post.
I would really appreciate every comment you'd post.
Thanks for visiting...
-Reylan
If you want to leave some comments, please click on the links for comments at the bottom of every post.
I would really appreciate every comment you'd post.
Thanks for visiting...
-Reylan
One Discriminating Message Received (October 30,2007)
One discriminating message received
by: Maria Reylan M. Garcia
"I love it when people judge me negatively, especially the part where they find out they were wrong." This is a simple text message I happen to store in my inbox, because I believe this is one of the few of the millions of SMS sent by Filipinos each day which is not a waste of their peso.
A lot of people are guilty of making hasty conclusions resulting to false accusations. A lot are also guilty of prejudice.
Racial discrimination has long been a sensitive topic addressed by many international peace organizations that dreamt of eradicating cultural ethnocentrism, or the tendency of comparing and criticizing a different race from one's own.
Filipino doctors, nurses, engineers, teachers and even domestic helpers have planted roots of exemplary service to the international community. From the intense academic preparation for a degree of one's choice, to the laborious sifting of board passers in licensure exams, certainly what we import to other countries are among the best the Philippines has. Yet, I grieve on how the world pays back our hospitality, of how the world steps on our fingers after shining their shoes, of how they could discriminate us for being a Third World country.
Imagine, preparing such an appetizing banquet for a visitor, you polish your house with dozens of floor wax, took out all the best kitchen wares and utensils for the visitor to use, cooked all the delicious specialties you could think of. Then, your visitor pear-shapes the fiesta with a simple, "Your party stinks."
I had my share of discrimination. A while back when I was frail and weak, a group of people I called friends misjudged me and kept on pushing me down, poisoning me to the foul pit of depression, drowning me to an ocean of helplessness.
The bad part is, I'm no loser. I get high grades and graduate as top of the class. I share my notes with them; even homework. I had no regrets helping them and being a sincere friend. But what do I get? Sheer backbiting and getting a chance to play the game of one versus one hundred. I was the one, and the one hundred was after me. It came to a point when I gave up and accepted their accusations. But my will to conquer my fear is there. I have become stronger and realized that they were against me because they were jealous of me.
True, one has the urge to discriminate because he doesn't want the other one to get past him, to be better than he is. It's like running in a marathon; because he can't catch up with you he'll just do all the means to slow you down.
Actually, we Filipinos have much more than those discriminating fools have. Let me cite some examples. We speak their language while they can't speak ours. We hire our own nurses and doctors and amazingly they hire our own as well. We have values. So what if they have snowmen? We have thousands of islands and they only have one or a few.
I would be a hypocrite if I deny that I took up Nursing so I could go out of the country and give more financial support to my family.
But I will never forget my roots and the soil that nourished me. I'll defend my birthplace. I am and will always be proud of being a Filipino. Just as proud as I am of myself now, amid the continuing discrimination of other peers, the backbiting and issues they build against me.
That message I received is undoubtedly true in any way. You'll feel more delighted when people get the impression that you are dumb and idiotic but end up finding out you're the brains of your class. Rather than people already know you're smart, there's no thrill in its discovery.
The next time someone will look down on you, insult you, discriminate you or call you a loser, just smile and realize that someone is just jealous of you.
Those people pull us down because they can't push themselves up.
One discriminating message received.
Erase message?
Okay.
(For comments and reactions please send an email to reylangarcia@yahoo.com or an SMS to 09186363090. View http://www.theyoungvoice.blogspot.com)
by: Maria Reylan M. Garcia
"I love it when people judge me negatively, especially the part where they find out they were wrong." This is a simple text message I happen to store in my inbox, because I believe this is one of the few of the millions of SMS sent by Filipinos each day which is not a waste of their peso.
A lot of people are guilty of making hasty conclusions resulting to false accusations. A lot are also guilty of prejudice.
Racial discrimination has long been a sensitive topic addressed by many international peace organizations that dreamt of eradicating cultural ethnocentrism, or the tendency of comparing and criticizing a different race from one's own.
Filipino doctors, nurses, engineers, teachers and even domestic helpers have planted roots of exemplary service to the international community. From the intense academic preparation for a degree of one's choice, to the laborious sifting of board passers in licensure exams, certainly what we import to other countries are among the best the Philippines has. Yet, I grieve on how the world pays back our hospitality, of how the world steps on our fingers after shining their shoes, of how they could discriminate us for being a Third World country.
Imagine, preparing such an appetizing banquet for a visitor, you polish your house with dozens of floor wax, took out all the best kitchen wares and utensils for the visitor to use, cooked all the delicious specialties you could think of. Then, your visitor pear-shapes the fiesta with a simple, "Your party stinks."
I had my share of discrimination. A while back when I was frail and weak, a group of people I called friends misjudged me and kept on pushing me down, poisoning me to the foul pit of depression, drowning me to an ocean of helplessness.
The bad part is, I'm no loser. I get high grades and graduate as top of the class. I share my notes with them; even homework. I had no regrets helping them and being a sincere friend. But what do I get? Sheer backbiting and getting a chance to play the game of one versus one hundred. I was the one, and the one hundred was after me. It came to a point when I gave up and accepted their accusations. But my will to conquer my fear is there. I have become stronger and realized that they were against me because they were jealous of me.
True, one has the urge to discriminate because he doesn't want the other one to get past him, to be better than he is. It's like running in a marathon; because he can't catch up with you he'll just do all the means to slow you down.
Actually, we Filipinos have much more than those discriminating fools have. Let me cite some examples. We speak their language while they can't speak ours. We hire our own nurses and doctors and amazingly they hire our own as well. We have values. So what if they have snowmen? We have thousands of islands and they only have one or a few.
I would be a hypocrite if I deny that I took up Nursing so I could go out of the country and give more financial support to my family.
But I will never forget my roots and the soil that nourished me. I'll defend my birthplace. I am and will always be proud of being a Filipino. Just as proud as I am of myself now, amid the continuing discrimination of other peers, the backbiting and issues they build against me.
That message I received is undoubtedly true in any way. You'll feel more delighted when people get the impression that you are dumb and idiotic but end up finding out you're the brains of your class. Rather than people already know you're smart, there's no thrill in its discovery.
The next time someone will look down on you, insult you, discriminate you or call you a loser, just smile and realize that someone is just jealous of you.
Those people pull us down because they can't push themselves up.
One discriminating message received.
Erase message?
Okay.
(For comments and reactions please send an email to reylangarcia@yahoo.com or an SMS to 09186363090. View http://www.theyoungvoice.blogspot.com)
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