Sheep's Intestines
By: Maria Reylan M. Garcia
Once upon a time in the 17th century, Charles II had a problem with his ever growing number of children. Unable to find a solution, he called for his physician Dr. Condom and asked him to prevent the increasing number of probable heirs to his throne. It is still uncertain if it were fairy godmother’s magic or the sparkle from Cinderella’s glass slippers that led Dr. Condom to discover that the intestines of lambs can prevent the excited wriggling sperms to infiltrate a woman’s vagina. From then on, condoms were mass produced in this libido oriented society, not any more from sheep’s guts but using vulcanized rubber and such are available in all leading drugstores worldwide. Interesting as the story may appear, condoms are still contraceptives. Condoms prevent the birth of unwanted children. Condoms are still inhibitory tools for fertility that has jeopardized not only a sheep’s digestive system but also the very foundations of human morality.
Some say that our country is growing more and more crowded each day, and counting all those mouths to feed during a never ceasing economic crisis, they believe we couldn’t get any more populated. I may not be a virtuoso in demographics, but this little head of mine assertively tells me that our country is not overpopulated. As I understand, we have to consider not just the number of people in that place but also the land area. We have 300,000 sq. km of land to spare and realistically speaking it is more than enough for some eighty plus million Filipinos. The problem is not all of this 300,000 sq. km of land is habituated by people causing visible congestion in the urban areas of our country. I am not proposing we force every citizen to live in equal proportions of land that would be too ideal. But, I am stressing the point that we are certainly not overpopulated; so why prevent innocent lives from coming to this tropical paradise we call the Philippines?
Most of our government leaders say that our resources are too deficient to satisfy the population. Life’s tough, I know. But, why decrease the recipients of these resources, can we not find ways to increase the resources itself? This notion of preventing fertility from increasing tells an agitated seventeen-year old, who has just seen a condom once in her life to believe that resources are far more important than the lives of the people supposed to receive them. But still many support the Reproductive Health and Population Development Act of 2007 to be strictly enforced as an approved law. According to this bill, contraceptives shall be used as essential medicines being totally accessible with the belief of improving the quality of life of families. The lesser mouths to feed, the lesser the problem; this statement is certainly true and logical but this doesn’t give us the right to prevent the existence of life and most importantly endanger the much treasured moral values.
Those who are pro to contraception would say premarital pregnancies among unwed couples especially with the youth will eventually decrease due to accessibility to birth control pills, condoms, IUDs and diaphragms. Yes, it may indeed lessen premarital pregnancies but will it solve the case of premarital sex? Because of the assurance of being spared from the responsibility of bearing children, unwed couples would be even more enticed to have sex freely. The moral sanctity of sex, being a tool for procreation and a gift exclusive for legally wed couples has been diminished by some sheep’s intestine. However great and splendid the economic consequences of enforcing contraceptive usage may be, it doesn’t give even just a tiny drop of justification of preventing the life of innocent beings and loosing grip the very foundations of morality. This is more than just following religious rules and commandments. I don’t want to bring in religion as I may be biased to others’ beliefs. Rather, this is a moral issue that deals with a universal truth and decorum that life and its procreation is very precious and should be given high regard. Everyone knows and believes that killing an innocent life, or to the very least preventing an innocent life from taking place is unfair and unjust to such minute and helpless being.
Look at Singapore, its population density is 7,093 people living in a span of one sq. km. Look at the Philippines; our population density is 289 people per sq. km. We have much lesser population density than Singapore, but the economic progress of Singapore is by far exemplary and out of our third world league right now. This only shows that population has a minute effect on the economic progress of a country. The distribution of resources needs to be taken care of, not the people receiving them. Food can still be bought even after it spoils but lives can never be revived after it ceases or wasn’t even given a chance to exist.
Let us be more practical and moral about our decisions. Life is not a matter of control; it is given as a gift. You might not know the innocent baby who was prevented to be born could have been the deliverer of the struggling nation.
Morality is far more important than sheep intestines.
Save Lives.
Amoeba Diaries (July 22,2008)
Amoeba Diaries
By: Maria Reylan M. Garcia
Acute Gastroenteritis with mild Dehydration and Amoebiasis. This was my doctor’s diagnosis. This was the reason why I was absent from school for several days. This was the cause of my week’s worth of misery and downheartedness. Half of me wanted to grab my schoolbag and temporarily forget about my 40°C fever, abdominal pains and irregular bowel; but the other half wouldn’t even give me the force to get up from bed. I didn’t exactly know what hurt more, my wounded intestine or the anxiety of missing some hours of lecture. Illness jumps in front of you without any preliminaries, the next minute you’ll see yourself shivering in bed, a thermometer on your underarms and doting parents pacing back and forth twice as worried. But for me it was different, I knew I was going towards that stage, I knew I was overstraining myself, I knew I was overdoing it.
A week before the menacing amoeba made his multimillion family within my intestines, was a week of exams. I slept an average of two hours per day and did nothing more but eat, breathe and study. I was too insensitive of my personal needs as I was too focused on my personal aims. My parents never forgot to remind me, but there I was deceivingly reassuring them that I can still handle things. Because of my reckless and imprudent dreams of gaining high grades, I ended up making a waste of everything I have prepared for. Studying is absolutely a good thing, who doesn’t want to earn honors and distinctions. But taking care of one’s health is of higher importance. Thus, I failed to prioritize.
Needs, everybody has them. But in order to keep everybody in tip top shape and balance, everybody has to know what needs are to be satisfied first. I need to pass my course and I also need to watch out for my health. Both of them are certainly and without question vital to my life. But health weighs more, and must be fulfilled before I could start fulfilling my dreams of becoming a professional. How would it be possible for me to continue studying piles of study notes if I couldn’t even open my tired—exhausted eyes to begin with? The same goes to any circumstance; it is rightful and most important to prioritize. Here is a lawmaker assertively passing some ridiculous bill on birth control while his hometown is now a barren wasteland after a calamity. He might have overlooked that the country is not overpopulated, and his people is in need of basic commodities. Like me, the lawmaker failed to prioritize.
We have a lot to face everyday, and I must admit that long before my gastric pains I believed I could finish everything up all at once. I had that fantasy of studying two chapters of Microbiology, another two lectures of my Nursing subject and a chapter of Philippine History all at the same time. I had that delusion of spending the rest of my college days within the perimeters of my study table doing only two things, breathing and studying. I had that hallucination that I could gobble every subject and squeeze them inside my brain so I could get a high grade every exam. But those were just fantasies, delusions and hallucinations of an amoeba infected seventeen-year old. It’s about time I should refresh myself about the existence of the words schedule and organize; who apparently are first-cousins with the word prioritize.
We fail to prioritize once in a while; from choosing a pack of junk food over a nutritious piece of apple to choosing to spend the rest of one’s life unemployed over a blissful working career. Yet, the unmistakable point is, there is always a choice and we must base this choice according to what we perceive to be more important and much more essential for us to carry on with life. It took me several days off my routine and a lingering threat of missing such a number of schoolwork to realize an ironic thought. What I’ve been anxiously working for brought me to the exact situation I was trying to avoid. Now, I’m back to almost square one, I know it would be hard as I have a lot of catching up to do.
Yet, as of the moment, I’ve learned better.
Thanks to that intestine invading amoeba.
By: Maria Reylan M. Garcia
Acute Gastroenteritis with mild Dehydration and Amoebiasis. This was my doctor’s diagnosis. This was the reason why I was absent from school for several days. This was the cause of my week’s worth of misery and downheartedness. Half of me wanted to grab my schoolbag and temporarily forget about my 40°C fever, abdominal pains and irregular bowel; but the other half wouldn’t even give me the force to get up from bed. I didn’t exactly know what hurt more, my wounded intestine or the anxiety of missing some hours of lecture. Illness jumps in front of you without any preliminaries, the next minute you’ll see yourself shivering in bed, a thermometer on your underarms and doting parents pacing back and forth twice as worried. But for me it was different, I knew I was going towards that stage, I knew I was overstraining myself, I knew I was overdoing it.
A week before the menacing amoeba made his multimillion family within my intestines, was a week of exams. I slept an average of two hours per day and did nothing more but eat, breathe and study. I was too insensitive of my personal needs as I was too focused on my personal aims. My parents never forgot to remind me, but there I was deceivingly reassuring them that I can still handle things. Because of my reckless and imprudent dreams of gaining high grades, I ended up making a waste of everything I have prepared for. Studying is absolutely a good thing, who doesn’t want to earn honors and distinctions. But taking care of one’s health is of higher importance. Thus, I failed to prioritize.
Needs, everybody has them. But in order to keep everybody in tip top shape and balance, everybody has to know what needs are to be satisfied first. I need to pass my course and I also need to watch out for my health. Both of them are certainly and without question vital to my life. But health weighs more, and must be fulfilled before I could start fulfilling my dreams of becoming a professional. How would it be possible for me to continue studying piles of study notes if I couldn’t even open my tired—exhausted eyes to begin with? The same goes to any circumstance; it is rightful and most important to prioritize. Here is a lawmaker assertively passing some ridiculous bill on birth control while his hometown is now a barren wasteland after a calamity. He might have overlooked that the country is not overpopulated, and his people is in need of basic commodities. Like me, the lawmaker failed to prioritize.
We have a lot to face everyday, and I must admit that long before my gastric pains I believed I could finish everything up all at once. I had that fantasy of studying two chapters of Microbiology, another two lectures of my Nursing subject and a chapter of Philippine History all at the same time. I had that delusion of spending the rest of my college days within the perimeters of my study table doing only two things, breathing and studying. I had that hallucination that I could gobble every subject and squeeze them inside my brain so I could get a high grade every exam. But those were just fantasies, delusions and hallucinations of an amoeba infected seventeen-year old. It’s about time I should refresh myself about the existence of the words schedule and organize; who apparently are first-cousins with the word prioritize.
We fail to prioritize once in a while; from choosing a pack of junk food over a nutritious piece of apple to choosing to spend the rest of one’s life unemployed over a blissful working career. Yet, the unmistakable point is, there is always a choice and we must base this choice according to what we perceive to be more important and much more essential for us to carry on with life. It took me several days off my routine and a lingering threat of missing such a number of schoolwork to realize an ironic thought. What I’ve been anxiously working for brought me to the exact situation I was trying to avoid. Now, I’m back to almost square one, I know it would be hard as I have a lot of catching up to do.
Yet, as of the moment, I’ve learned better.
Thanks to that intestine invading amoeba.
Angels (July 15,2008)
Angels
by: Maria Reylan M. Garcia
It was heavy. The plastic bag was as if filled with a ton’s weight of boulders. My hands were getting redder and redder and my muscles seemed to be tearing apart slowly forcing me to stop and catch my breath every five seconds. It was too much to bear, if it weren’t for our Nutrition class, I wouldn’t have drove myself all the way into this sheer torture. We were assigned by our instructor to bring ten different fruits and vegetables by group for our next meeting. Personally, I am not sure if it is virtuous concern or pious martyrdom that lured the three of us, Nilo, Ian and myself, to volunteer the marketing for the whole class. We might not have considered the idea that there were six groups in our class, and if sixty fruits and vegetables carried around the sidewalks of Iloilo City aren’t enough to drain even the last drop of endurance you have, I don’t know what would. But as I was heaving the strength out of my innards, a simple clumsy accident led me in finding refuge and quenching energy from an angel.
The plastic bag betrayed me as it timidly ripped itself without any preliminary warning. Six apples rolled along the mud laden street, turning their red shiny color into a repulsive murky brown. I retrieved the apples instantly but am still confused where to contain them. Just out of nowhere, a middle aged woman carrying a stockpile of hand towels approached me, offered a plastic bag for the forsaken apples and left with a sweet smile. This experience lasted for some seconds, but the impact it poured over me was certainly lifelong. Soon, the plastic bags the three of us were carrying didn’t seem to trouble us at all, everything was lighter. The woman was certainly an angel on earth, though she didn’t appear to be fluttering in midair with cherubim wings, her simple act of kindness is already more than enough to prove so.
I believe in heavenly angels, even if I can’t exactly see them, I just know that for as long as I’m safe and alive, my heavenly angel is guarding me and watching my every move. Acts of kindness should be like that of angels; they can’t be exactly seen but could leave a permanent imprint in our lives. There are some people who are dressed like angels, tending to every need a less fortunate has but brings along a studio set of cameras taking images of the planned outreach program. Kindness would lose its very meaning if it would be made known to the world, as the focus would not be on the act per se, but will be on the actor, the self proclaimed angel. If one’s real motif is helping and nothing more but helping, even if how small it may be, the value would still exceed that of a carefully strategized propaganda. An angel isn’t like a genie that excludes in extravagance promising to grant your every whim but turns out you only get to have three wishes. An angel simply does the sincerest of actions that is kept secret between the both of you, being kind with no boundaries.
There are some people who call themselves angels, but whose kindness has expiration dates. They generously squander their money for relief missions, educational programs and civil services, telecast live their activities and later on would either advertise their products to the recipients or gather some loyal voters. I couldn’t give the most picturesque view of a real angel lingering among us, for their kindness is silent and unconditional. The woman selling hand towels could have used the plastic bag for her own benefit, or could have given me the plastic bag and tried to force me to buy her towels in return. But she did not. It was just a simple plastic bag that saved a matter of six muddy apples but for me, it was worth more than the helicopters of relief goods and shiploads of donations.
It is hard to be truly kind, the kindness that doesn’t require anything in return. A lot of times, we are kind in order to be liked and praised by every one. But real kindness is unconscious. We all had at least once been truly kind in our lives, but I am sure that those instances some of us even fail to remember because they were so simple and ordinary, not televised or headlined, just as simple as offering a plastic bag for six muddy apples.
Angels are among us.
Ma’am with hand towels, wherever you are. Thank You.
by: Maria Reylan M. Garcia
It was heavy. The plastic bag was as if filled with a ton’s weight of boulders. My hands were getting redder and redder and my muscles seemed to be tearing apart slowly forcing me to stop and catch my breath every five seconds. It was too much to bear, if it weren’t for our Nutrition class, I wouldn’t have drove myself all the way into this sheer torture. We were assigned by our instructor to bring ten different fruits and vegetables by group for our next meeting. Personally, I am not sure if it is virtuous concern or pious martyrdom that lured the three of us, Nilo, Ian and myself, to volunteer the marketing for the whole class. We might not have considered the idea that there were six groups in our class, and if sixty fruits and vegetables carried around the sidewalks of Iloilo City aren’t enough to drain even the last drop of endurance you have, I don’t know what would. But as I was heaving the strength out of my innards, a simple clumsy accident led me in finding refuge and quenching energy from an angel.
The plastic bag betrayed me as it timidly ripped itself without any preliminary warning. Six apples rolled along the mud laden street, turning their red shiny color into a repulsive murky brown. I retrieved the apples instantly but am still confused where to contain them. Just out of nowhere, a middle aged woman carrying a stockpile of hand towels approached me, offered a plastic bag for the forsaken apples and left with a sweet smile. This experience lasted for some seconds, but the impact it poured over me was certainly lifelong. Soon, the plastic bags the three of us were carrying didn’t seem to trouble us at all, everything was lighter. The woman was certainly an angel on earth, though she didn’t appear to be fluttering in midair with cherubim wings, her simple act of kindness is already more than enough to prove so.
I believe in heavenly angels, even if I can’t exactly see them, I just know that for as long as I’m safe and alive, my heavenly angel is guarding me and watching my every move. Acts of kindness should be like that of angels; they can’t be exactly seen but could leave a permanent imprint in our lives. There are some people who are dressed like angels, tending to every need a less fortunate has but brings along a studio set of cameras taking images of the planned outreach program. Kindness would lose its very meaning if it would be made known to the world, as the focus would not be on the act per se, but will be on the actor, the self proclaimed angel. If one’s real motif is helping and nothing more but helping, even if how small it may be, the value would still exceed that of a carefully strategized propaganda. An angel isn’t like a genie that excludes in extravagance promising to grant your every whim but turns out you only get to have three wishes. An angel simply does the sincerest of actions that is kept secret between the both of you, being kind with no boundaries.
There are some people who call themselves angels, but whose kindness has expiration dates. They generously squander their money for relief missions, educational programs and civil services, telecast live their activities and later on would either advertise their products to the recipients or gather some loyal voters. I couldn’t give the most picturesque view of a real angel lingering among us, for their kindness is silent and unconditional. The woman selling hand towels could have used the plastic bag for her own benefit, or could have given me the plastic bag and tried to force me to buy her towels in return. But she did not. It was just a simple plastic bag that saved a matter of six muddy apples but for me, it was worth more than the helicopters of relief goods and shiploads of donations.
It is hard to be truly kind, the kindness that doesn’t require anything in return. A lot of times, we are kind in order to be liked and praised by every one. But real kindness is unconscious. We all had at least once been truly kind in our lives, but I am sure that those instances some of us even fail to remember because they were so simple and ordinary, not televised or headlined, just as simple as offering a plastic bag for six muddy apples.
Angels are among us.
Ma’am with hand towels, wherever you are. Thank You.
Benjamin's Kite (July 8,2008)
Benjamin’s Kite
by: Maria Reylan M. Garcia
And then there was light. It would seem almost a century that I have long been missing the glow from a fluorescent lamp. But turns out, it was just one dim and depressing week. It was like being taken back in time, way back before Benjamin Franklin’s grandmother’s mother existed. My eyes became accustomed to candle light evenings even if I don’t intend to be romantic. For one week, I lived without electricity. For one week, I suffered the stressful dilemma most of us commonly call brown out. I felt helpless after hearing the power company’s report that 18 electrical posts were down after typhoon Frank’s acrobatic display. I could not imagine myself surviving a whole week without booting on my computer or simply read my books under a bug-attracting yellow orange flare. But I had to, and quite surprisingly there were strange yet valuable lessons I’ve come to ponder on while the lights were off, literally.
The whole experience of forced isolation from the bounties of electricity made me prove right the proverb, “You’ll never miss the water until the well runs dry.” There were many instances when electrical supply was abundant and I tend to ignore its presence. I began to feel ashamed as I remembered my foolish self walking pass a largely lit yet unused room; I could have switched off the light. I began to be clothed with guilt as I recalled my silly self ignoring the boisterous noise of the television though no one was watching; I could have pushed the off button on the remote. After one week of studying with several fluttering insects and missing five episodes from a must-watch drama series, I felt nothing more but regret and wished to have been wiser. Conserve Electricity. Soon, it could be more than just a week without it.
Young Benjamin loved flying kites, when he grew older and a little bit insane he took it to a higher level, flying kites while hunting for lightning. Since then, people had been very much dependent on electricity and the technologies that innovated after its discovery. It is not so surprising that their absence could paralyze the daily routines of almost every one. Without electricity, one can not charge his cell phone, without his cell phone hundreds of possibilities may happen ranging from a furious girlfriend to a disappointed business partner. But, come to think of it, people had long existed harmoniously and with ample comfort even before Benjamin decided to fly his kite. People pre-electricity, to my own opinion, were more creative and resourceful. They thought of everyday garden spices preserving food. Pity us the post-electricity people, ending up with smelly refrigerators after a week’s worth of power failure.
With no televisions to goggle your eyes on, with no electric fans or air conditioners to cradle you to sleep it would at first appear to be nothing more but frustrating. But not having any drama series to watch on television extends the happy talking hours of dinner time with the family. You’ll appreciate more the primitive entertainment of chitchats and friendly gossips, from your brother’s dance practice at school or your mother’s dilemma with getting the laundry done without the washing machine. Yes, it was a week of humid and warm nights; perspiration was all over the place, but this paved way for family’s fanning each other to sleep with cut out cartons and lulling lullabies along the way. It’s a pity, after the power is back, dinner times will be cut short to “please pass the rice” and the cool breeze of air conditioners will be tucking us all to bed. I guess it wouldn’t hurt if power failures would visit us occasionally.
I wouldn’t let this article end without sighting some negatives. I always believe that nothing in the world stays one sided. The week without electricity had indeed been troublesome; fetching pails of water from a manual pump, eating all sorts of canned goods all week thereby drowning your body with preservatives, and finding all means to charge the multifunctional cell phones. Forgive my impulsive spirit, but I have come to known that some selfish money grabbing fools charges cell phones for around eighty pesos. Who are they kidding? Even a six year old would know that is too much. Some people couldn’t hold their greed much longer and decided to take advantage of the situation. Shame on you!
Yes, it was a week that I had come to think about all these random ideas. Yes, it was a week that I had come to learn all these important and practical lessons. Yes, it was a week that I had come to know the significance of my new friend, Benjamin Franklin.
The next time there’s a “brown out”, don’t despair.
You’ve got loads to learn and discover.
But for the meantime, Conserve Electricity.
by: Maria Reylan M. Garcia
And then there was light. It would seem almost a century that I have long been missing the glow from a fluorescent lamp. But turns out, it was just one dim and depressing week. It was like being taken back in time, way back before Benjamin Franklin’s grandmother’s mother existed. My eyes became accustomed to candle light evenings even if I don’t intend to be romantic. For one week, I lived without electricity. For one week, I suffered the stressful dilemma most of us commonly call brown out. I felt helpless after hearing the power company’s report that 18 electrical posts were down after typhoon Frank’s acrobatic display. I could not imagine myself surviving a whole week without booting on my computer or simply read my books under a bug-attracting yellow orange flare. But I had to, and quite surprisingly there were strange yet valuable lessons I’ve come to ponder on while the lights were off, literally.
The whole experience of forced isolation from the bounties of electricity made me prove right the proverb, “You’ll never miss the water until the well runs dry.” There were many instances when electrical supply was abundant and I tend to ignore its presence. I began to feel ashamed as I remembered my foolish self walking pass a largely lit yet unused room; I could have switched off the light. I began to be clothed with guilt as I recalled my silly self ignoring the boisterous noise of the television though no one was watching; I could have pushed the off button on the remote. After one week of studying with several fluttering insects and missing five episodes from a must-watch drama series, I felt nothing more but regret and wished to have been wiser. Conserve Electricity. Soon, it could be more than just a week without it.
Young Benjamin loved flying kites, when he grew older and a little bit insane he took it to a higher level, flying kites while hunting for lightning. Since then, people had been very much dependent on electricity and the technologies that innovated after its discovery. It is not so surprising that their absence could paralyze the daily routines of almost every one. Without electricity, one can not charge his cell phone, without his cell phone hundreds of possibilities may happen ranging from a furious girlfriend to a disappointed business partner. But, come to think of it, people had long existed harmoniously and with ample comfort even before Benjamin decided to fly his kite. People pre-electricity, to my own opinion, were more creative and resourceful. They thought of everyday garden spices preserving food. Pity us the post-electricity people, ending up with smelly refrigerators after a week’s worth of power failure.
With no televisions to goggle your eyes on, with no electric fans or air conditioners to cradle you to sleep it would at first appear to be nothing more but frustrating. But not having any drama series to watch on television extends the happy talking hours of dinner time with the family. You’ll appreciate more the primitive entertainment of chitchats and friendly gossips, from your brother’s dance practice at school or your mother’s dilemma with getting the laundry done without the washing machine. Yes, it was a week of humid and warm nights; perspiration was all over the place, but this paved way for family’s fanning each other to sleep with cut out cartons and lulling lullabies along the way. It’s a pity, after the power is back, dinner times will be cut short to “please pass the rice” and the cool breeze of air conditioners will be tucking us all to bed. I guess it wouldn’t hurt if power failures would visit us occasionally.
I wouldn’t let this article end without sighting some negatives. I always believe that nothing in the world stays one sided. The week without electricity had indeed been troublesome; fetching pails of water from a manual pump, eating all sorts of canned goods all week thereby drowning your body with preservatives, and finding all means to charge the multifunctional cell phones. Forgive my impulsive spirit, but I have come to known that some selfish money grabbing fools charges cell phones for around eighty pesos. Who are they kidding? Even a six year old would know that is too much. Some people couldn’t hold their greed much longer and decided to take advantage of the situation. Shame on you!
Yes, it was a week that I had come to think about all these random ideas. Yes, it was a week that I had come to learn all these important and practical lessons. Yes, it was a week that I had come to know the significance of my new friend, Benjamin Franklin.
The next time there’s a “brown out”, don’t despair.
You’ve got loads to learn and discover.
But for the meantime, Conserve Electricity.
Picking Gum Wrappers (July 1,2008)
Picking Gum Wrappers
By: Maria Reylan M. Garcia
I leaned my head against the car’s cold and foggy window. Thick drops of rain stricken in ticking unison, smearing the once clear view of fiber glass. The windshield was no match as the heavens continue to wail in hysteria. The road ahead was awfully misty. Wherever I look, left or right, the sidewalk became refuge to muddy pink pigs and soaked clothes bundled inside basins. As the radio narrated the sorry site, my ears could only deafen itself and cease to hear that Iloilo is now in a state of calamity. Murky water paid a visit inside helpless homes and decided to linger for a while. Ruthless winds swept away more than roofs and billboard frames; gone were the dreams, hopes and lives of the unfortunate, trapped in a twister of calamities. Children flooded the streets with the sound of their shaking plastic containers, asking for some coins to spare from passing vehicles.
A few weeks ago, the province of Iloilo paused from its usual soft melodic whispers and drumbeating chants of cheer. I used to watch these scenarios in documentaries or read about them in newspapers and then cry a bucketful. But, seeing these upfront, seeing roofless homes, seeing mothers and children soaked in murky water; my tears wouldn’t be enough to wash the muddy water off their feet. I sighed because our ceiling leaks, several others sighed because half of their homes are submerged in water. I clamored because I couldn’t type my homework and print it due to a five-day power failure; several others clamored because their schools are used as evacuation centers. I felt lonely because I couldn’t do much at home but bore myself because classes are suspended, several others felt lonely because they couldn’t do much after seeing someone they love, lifeless and cold.
There’s no one to be blamed with what had happened rather than our selves. We are the menacing culprits and the hopeless victims at the same time. Who clogged the drainage systems with unthinkable amount of wastes, but we? Who caused the flash floods because of troublesome illegal logging, but we? Who refused to vacate out of possible calamity sites because of downright pride, but we? Nature has long been here before we did, and could long exist without us. It is too ideal for me to dream of a society where everyone cares to be advocates of the environment. As we are all seeking for progress, for high rise buildings and towering flyovers, it is expected that due sacrifices were undertaken. I guess all we could practically do right now is to clean up the mess. Let’s go away with pride for a while. We haven’t seen anything yet. There’s certainly more to come.
This may be a cliché and be nothing more than redundant, but the situation calls for it to be stated once more, save the environment. The other day, I was sitting on the same bench as the doting mother, sharing headliner gossips with her friends while her child was running back and forth along the pavement. I admit, I was quite annoyed with her unusual snorts and distracting laughs. I would have planned to leave and be at peace on my own, but in doing so I wouldn’t have witnessed a simple message of hope that my idealistic mind have longed to see. The child stepped on a piece of gum wrapper, paused for a while, ignored it and went on with her careless running. The mother who was able to see what had happened, willingly excused herself from an engrossed conversation and called her child’s attention. She asked her child to pick the piece of gum wrapper up and throw it inside the trash can. The child, at first, refused and reasoned out that it didn’t belong to her. I smiled after hearing these words. The mother said, “Ta, sige lang miskan indi na imo, puluta lang.” (My dear, even if it doesn’t belong to you, still, pick it up.). Let us not limit ourselves to picking pieces of gum wrappers on the streets, let us tell others to pick them up as well. Our growing society needs utmost education, we need not only to plant trees, but also to plant love and concern in the hearts of the many.
I leaned my head against the car’s cold and foggy window. Although what I saw were above all pitiful, there were some untainted smiles of hope that after the end of the rain, a rainbow will surely be somewhere near.
Let us not let the same thing happen again.
It all starts with picking gum wrappers.
Even if it isn’t yours.
By: Maria Reylan M. Garcia
I leaned my head against the car’s cold and foggy window. Thick drops of rain stricken in ticking unison, smearing the once clear view of fiber glass. The windshield was no match as the heavens continue to wail in hysteria. The road ahead was awfully misty. Wherever I look, left or right, the sidewalk became refuge to muddy pink pigs and soaked clothes bundled inside basins. As the radio narrated the sorry site, my ears could only deafen itself and cease to hear that Iloilo is now in a state of calamity. Murky water paid a visit inside helpless homes and decided to linger for a while. Ruthless winds swept away more than roofs and billboard frames; gone were the dreams, hopes and lives of the unfortunate, trapped in a twister of calamities. Children flooded the streets with the sound of their shaking plastic containers, asking for some coins to spare from passing vehicles.
A few weeks ago, the province of Iloilo paused from its usual soft melodic whispers and drumbeating chants of cheer. I used to watch these scenarios in documentaries or read about them in newspapers and then cry a bucketful. But, seeing these upfront, seeing roofless homes, seeing mothers and children soaked in murky water; my tears wouldn’t be enough to wash the muddy water off their feet. I sighed because our ceiling leaks, several others sighed because half of their homes are submerged in water. I clamored because I couldn’t type my homework and print it due to a five-day power failure; several others clamored because their schools are used as evacuation centers. I felt lonely because I couldn’t do much at home but bore myself because classes are suspended, several others felt lonely because they couldn’t do much after seeing someone they love, lifeless and cold.
There’s no one to be blamed with what had happened rather than our selves. We are the menacing culprits and the hopeless victims at the same time. Who clogged the drainage systems with unthinkable amount of wastes, but we? Who caused the flash floods because of troublesome illegal logging, but we? Who refused to vacate out of possible calamity sites because of downright pride, but we? Nature has long been here before we did, and could long exist without us. It is too ideal for me to dream of a society where everyone cares to be advocates of the environment. As we are all seeking for progress, for high rise buildings and towering flyovers, it is expected that due sacrifices were undertaken. I guess all we could practically do right now is to clean up the mess. Let’s go away with pride for a while. We haven’t seen anything yet. There’s certainly more to come.
This may be a cliché and be nothing more than redundant, but the situation calls for it to be stated once more, save the environment. The other day, I was sitting on the same bench as the doting mother, sharing headliner gossips with her friends while her child was running back and forth along the pavement. I admit, I was quite annoyed with her unusual snorts and distracting laughs. I would have planned to leave and be at peace on my own, but in doing so I wouldn’t have witnessed a simple message of hope that my idealistic mind have longed to see. The child stepped on a piece of gum wrapper, paused for a while, ignored it and went on with her careless running. The mother who was able to see what had happened, willingly excused herself from an engrossed conversation and called her child’s attention. She asked her child to pick the piece of gum wrapper up and throw it inside the trash can. The child, at first, refused and reasoned out that it didn’t belong to her. I smiled after hearing these words. The mother said, “Ta, sige lang miskan indi na imo, puluta lang.” (My dear, even if it doesn’t belong to you, still, pick it up.). Let us not limit ourselves to picking pieces of gum wrappers on the streets, let us tell others to pick them up as well. Our growing society needs utmost education, we need not only to plant trees, but also to plant love and concern in the hearts of the many.
I leaned my head against the car’s cold and foggy window. Although what I saw were above all pitiful, there were some untainted smiles of hope that after the end of the rain, a rainbow will surely be somewhere near.
Let us not let the same thing happen again.
It all starts with picking gum wrappers.
Even if it isn’t yours.
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