Meet the Red Lions of the UAE

After more than two weeks of hewing and hawing, finally I’m sitting before my PC, attempting to fill up the white space with words to narrate how we were able to rein in the Red Lions in the UAE.

So we finally did it!

The San Beda College Alumni Association of the United Arab Emirates has finally emerged from its cocoon and is well on it’s way to conquer the Pridelands of the UAE.

Hayup a!

It took almost two years before this idea of gathering all the Bedans in the desert came into being.

First things first, be it on record that the SBAA-UAE came to life on the night of September 25, 2008 when 35 Bedans of all shapes and sizes from across two decades of batches descended into Continental Star Restaurant in Karama and ratified the charter that formally gave life to this Red and White organization. If I’m not mistaken, this is the first overseas chapter of the San Beda Alumni Association outside the United States.

Paano nga ba ‘to nagsimula?

In my impromptu stand-upper before a bevy of red-shirts, I briefly recalled the twists and turns that led to history. But here's the long version.

When I finally set foot in the sands of the emirates two and a half years ago, I have no known friends except for Jay Hilotin and Adonis Durado whom I’ve met when I first came in for testing and interview in September 2005.


I was like Simba. All alone, lost and far away from where I really belong. Adonis and Jay were my Timon and Pumba.


While I’ve met and somewhat built relations with some people here, I was still longing for the friendship and genuine, no frills camaraderie that only real Bedans can dish out.



From Day 1, I’ve been looking for Bedans in the desert. I surfed the net. Googling the key words “Dubai” and “San Beda”. It was like looking for a needle in a haystack. The search led me to one email address of somebody who is apparently working here and had studied in San Beda. I sent him an email, but my message bounced back.

But that didn't dampen my spirit, I have the gut feel that I was not alone here.

From time to time, I’d wear my “Behold I’m A Bedan” shirt or my “Brotherhood of the Red Lions” hood, hoping that a fellow Red Lion would tap me.

Then one day, Earl Andre Vergara – my art editor at The Bedan – sent me an email and told me that he’s also relocating to Dubai to work as a flash animation developer.

I was ecstatic. Magiging dalawa na kami!

But when Earl finally planed in, the closest encounter that we had was just over the phone as our skeds -- "timings" to long-timers -- would not let us see each other.

***

Several months later, I attended a birthday bash for Marcos Castro – a former colleague in the defunct Manila Chronicle – which was held in a bar in Al Nasr Leisureland.

From afar, I saw a familiar silhouette, but before I could come closer to get a clear view, I was immediately led to a table across the hall. A few minutes after, I heard a familiar voice asking: “Pare, 'di ba taga-San Beda ka?”

When I turned to where the voice was coming from, it was my college buddy!

“Aba oo naman! Ikaw si Jojo Amparado ‘di ba?”

Jojo is a dyed-in-the-wool expat. He went to St Mary’s Catholic School in Oud Metha for high school and took up Management in San Beda. He flew back to Dubai and settled down with his family immediately after graduation. His brother, Jeffrey, a former Peace Retreat Auxie, is also here and is one of the leading lights of the Filipino Divers' Club.

***

When the Red Lions campaigned to end it’s 28 year NCAA senior basketball title drought, Jojo and I burned the lines updating each other on the match – he was watching the game from The Filipino Channel, while I was glued on the Bedista.com shoutbox.

A few days after the tumultuous game, Jojo and I went to the Airport Millenium Hotel to toast the Red Lions’ success. Kahit dalawa lang kami, umaalingawngaw ang “Go San Beda Fight!” sa loob ng bar.

But our celebration was short-lived. We just downed our first pint of lager and we were going for the next when the waiter signaled that it’s time for us to go as the first hour of Ramadan has set in.




Before that, I met another Bedan online. Joselito “Joey” Hidalgo, a fashion designer from Abu Dhabi. We got connected after I ran a teeny-weeny boxed announcement in the Filipino Expat magazine, simply titled: “Bedista ka ba?” Joey wasted no time getting in touch with me. I told Joey that I was still trying to look for the rest of the pack.

November 5, 2006, I had to rush back home. My father in law died. After burying him in Dauis, I went home to Manila to spend two weeks with my family. In one of my final days in Manila, I picked up Ara from Holy Spirit and we went next door to San Beda.

Meeting my old friend and professor, Joffre Alajar, at the Alumni Office where he sits as executive director, I told him about my desire to look for my fellow Bedans in the Middle East and eventually, we’ll form a chapter in the region. He gave me his “blessings”.

Now that there were four of us – do we have the numbers to form an association?

I went to the Philippine Consulate and sought Consul Butch Bandillo's wise counsel.

Me: “Butch, paano ba magpa-accredit ng isang group sa
Consulate?”
Consul Bandillo: “Basta you must have your own
charter and set of rules and bylaws, list of officers and members, calendar of
activities then the Consulate will recognize you.”
Me: “Ah ganun ba?”
Consul Bandillo:
“Bakit, ilan na ba kayo?”
Me: “Hmmm mga hmmm apat
pa lang e.”
Butch: “Ahhhh... magparami muna kayo.”

“Marami” pala is at least 20 heads. So, it was back to the salt mines for me to look for at least 16 more Bedans.

***

My friend and colleague Jay Hilotin was the founding president of the Filipino Press Club in Dubai. He used to tag me along the club’s meetings and activities although I was – and until now – not a member by choice.

Jay had asked me and Adonis to help the Club produce the “Kalayaan” souvenir programme for the Filipino community’s 2006 and 2007 Independence Day celebrations.

In one meeting, I met Albert Alba, then the FPC’s vice president, who was a correspondent for Business Weekly. When Abet and I shook hands, magaan agad ang loob ko sa kaniya. Like me, Abet toiled the beats in Manila. He used to work for Yomiuri Shimbun. We have a couple of common friends in the industry and we knew urban legends and battle stories that only legit journos are privy to.

Pero may ugali si Abet na kakaiba. There’s a familiar timbre to his wit and humour. I see red.

Me (left) and Abet (in green) with Jay Hilotin (2nd from right) at the UIPS event


One day when we were in one FPC activity – as judges to an essay writing contest at the United Integrated Private School – Abet asked me: “Pare, bakit ba lagi kang nakapula?”

My standard retort to that question was simply that red is my favourite and lucky colour, but this time, I also told Abet that it was my way of honouring my alma mater, San Beda College.

Abet’s chinky eyes lit up. “San Beda rin ako e. Class 82, batch ko sila Duane Salvatierra yung team na nag-champion sa NCAA!”






No wonder we are tuned to the same frequency.

***

The search continues.

Summer of 2008 came. Honestly, my mission had long been in the backburner and my attention was focused more at the time on my concerns at the office and on where to let Ara go for college.

Ara was setting her sights on San Beda, which is no longer an all-boy’s school.

Sa totoo lang, I was thrilled with the prospects of finally having my offspring continue my Bedan lineage. But things were apparently not well in Mendiola.

My batchmate Raffy Dolor, who used to chair San Beda’s Philosophy Department, dissuaded me from letting Ara – his inaanak – pursue her desire.

San Beda is in the dark ages. Our alma mater is said to be presently being ruled by Sith-like characters. Raffy asked me if I want my daughter to thrive in an environment where academic freedom is dead. Things came to a head when San Beda’s high and mighty abolished Raffy’s department. Prior to that, the Siths ordered the slow death of The Bedan by cutting off its funding source and freezing whatever is left of the mananambol’s war chest.

The net – particularly, Bedista.com – was abuzz with threads of facts and rumours on what’s happening in Mendiola. It was also during this period when the Bedan Watcher, a white paper, was circulated online (Dom Venard would later tell me that the Siths would identify us as the co-authors of the Bedan Watcher -- we're flattered!).

These developments kept me glued to Bedista.com. Although thousands of miles away from home, I suddenly found myself back on the saddle – from running after “hamsters” during my time, it was now time to join a crusade against the dark forces.

It was while Bedista.com was heating up when a thread calling on “Bedans in Dubai” was posted at the Life After San Beda section.

“Longbow’s” message reads:

If you're a Bedan who's staying in Dubai or it's neighboring cities, or if
you're planning to go here, please provide us (through pm) your personnal
details (name, phone number, email address, batch, course, etc) and we'll get in
touch with you. We're going to have gatherings at least once a month and
it will be a pleasure if you could join us. You'd be glad to know that Dom
Venard is here in Dubai as well, and will be joining the monthly
gatherings. Hope to see you!

Bigla akong nabuhayan! I too wasted no time in making my move. I replied to LongBow’s call and in one sweep, more Bedans emerged – Ryan Mirandilla, Bhoy Balbin, Michael Ramos, among others.

Aabot na kami ng sampu!

***

While it’s good to know na marami na palang Bedista dito sa UAE, herding them into one roof is another task to accomplish.

When the Red Lions were penalized with one game after Sam Ekwe wore the wrong jersey and the prospects for a Final Four berth was jittery, the small, still ununited Bedan community in the UAE exchanged text and email messages.

The embers of a once burning desire to gather was fanned. It’s time to sound the clarion call.

So the call for all Bedans to meet on September 25, 2008 was made:

Hello guys…it's been a long time and long overdue for us Bedans here in Dubai to
really get to know each other
I propose we meet up on the evening of
September 25 (Thursday) ,,,that is, kung available ang majority sa grupo, If we
can agree on the date and venue, baka maisama natin yung mga nasa Abu Dhabi .
The venue depends on what you guys want to do… dinner or coffee? Next time
na lang yung inom in deference to Ramadan
Topmost objective – as mentioned –
is for us Bedan brothers to get to know each other. Eventually, we want to
formalize our group as an overseas chapter of the San Beda Alumni Association
similar to those initiated in Southen California and Washington DC .
Please
forward this note to other Bedans you know who are not yet in the loop.
Go San Beda Fight!

In just three days after the first message was sent, my inbox was flooded with messages of more Simbas and a Nala (Shawie, ikaw yun) wanting to come home.

It came to a point that we could no longer wait for the D-Day, that we had at least four pre-powwows where more names came up.

In one pre-powwow, Barry Canlas (HS ’90) showed up and told us something each one of us initially thought and felt. “Akala ko ako lang ang Bedista dito. Ang dami pala natin!”

D-Day September 25. I was already near the venue as early as 5pm. I holed myself up in an internet café, checking on post-mortem reports of Game 1 of the NCAA Finals between the Red Lions and the Heavy Bombers.

My grade school and college big brother Michael Abasolo of Inboundpass was on YM, giving me inside snippets of the game. Our powwow was between Games 1 and 2 of the NCAA Finals.

“The boys will definitely go for it tomorrow man,” a confident Mike said (n.b.: the Lions lost Game 2, but came back to win Game 3 and the crown by 16 points).

Our chest-thumping chat session further charged me up as I inched my way to Continental.




Zero-hour of D-Day, Bedans coming up the resto’s 2nd floor function hall would meet Michael "Chubby" Ramos who served as our one-man secretariat.

A nervous Ryan Mirandilla (a bona fide CIA - Certified Internal Auditor) and an equally nervous me kept on making a headcount. Sino nang dumating, sinong wala.




Dom Venard would later rib us that the Benedictine spirit of community is really within us dahil di raw kami mapakali kung may nawawala.



Most of us were hovering near the buffet table, prompting Abet Alba to shout” “Mga Bedista talaga oo, laging malapit kung saan naroon ang pagkain!”




As more Bedans arrived, the function room was beginning to flare up with red.




The scene was somewhat similar to what you'd find at Mang Roger’s area of responsibility, or as the younger batches would call as the “Hepa Lane.”

How Joey Hidalgo (left) and Abet Alba looked like as grade schoolers

One sidelight that I highlighted to Manay Ellie of TFC, who was there with Manoy Art Los Banos to cover our gig, was the reunion of Abet and Joey Hidalgo who haven’t seen each other since grade school – in my count, 30 years! They belong to Grade School Class of 1978.

Eto na silang dalawa ngayon in full colour. Kung dati piso lang baon nila, ngayon 1 dirham na!

Food was flowing by Bedan standards. There really was no formal program to follow. Everything was impromptu. I was the emcee and sound system operator.

Jenkins Mesina – the most recognizable Bedan being a former King Cub -- led the opening prayer.





Spirits were further set high when we did the Indian Yell and sung the Red and White song.

Manay Ellie would later tell me that they haven’t seen anything like it. Kitang-kita daw sa camera how electrifying the moment was. As if, everyone were thrown back in time, back to Mendiola.

Dom Venard delivered a message calling on the Bedans to support the SBAA-UAE.

Abet – being the most senior alumnus – reflected on the Bedan Hymn.

“Natural sa Bedista ang magkita-kita at magsama. Sa opening pa lang ng Bedan Hymn, nandun na e: ‘Herald the Bedans coming, may their fellowship never cease’.”

Abet said a mouthful, but we'd rather keep the things he said to ourselves at baka ma-impeach sya sa pagiging presidente ng UP Alumni Association sa UAE.

We capped the night, singing the Bedan Hymn.




Now that we’ve hit the ground running, I can now go back to Consul Bandillo and tell him:

"Butch, 35 na kami! Marami na kami!"





GO SAN BEDA FIGHT! LET THE RED LIONS ROAR!

Lessons in Office Politics and Management

(forwarded by my good friend Eli Semine)

Lesson 1
A man is getting into the shower just as his wife is finishing up her shower, when the doorbell rings.

The wife quickly wraps herself in a towel and runs downstairs.
When she opens the door, there stands Bob, the next-door neighbor.
Before she says a word, Bob says, 'I'll give you $800 to drop that towel.'

After thinking for a moment, the woman drops her towel and stands naked in front of Bob, after a few seconds, Bob hands her $800 and leaves.

The woman wraps back up in the towel and goes back upstairs.
When she gets to the bathroom, her husband asks, 'Who was that?'
'It was Bob the next door neighbor,' she replies.
'Great,' the husband says, 'did he say anything about the $800 he owes me?'

Moral of the story:
If you share critical information pertaining to credit and risk with your shareholders in time, you may be in a position to prevent avoidable exposure.

Lesson 2:
A priest offered a Nun a lift.
She got in and crossed her legs, forcing her gown to reveal a leg.
The priest nearly had an accident.

After controlling the car, he stealthily slid his hand up her leg.
The nun said, 'Father, remember Psalm 129?'

The priest removed his hand. But, changing gears, he let his hand slide up her leg again.
The nun once again said, 'Father, remember Psalm 129?'

The priest apologized 'Sorry sister but the flesh is weak.'
Arriving at the convent, the nun sighed heavily
and went on her way.

On his arrival at the church, the priest rushed to look up Psalm 129. It said, 'Go forth and seek, further up, you will find glory.'

Moral of the story:
If you are not well informed in your job, you might miss a great opportunity.

Lesson 3:
A sales rep, an administration clerk, and the manager are walking to lunch when they find an antique oil lamp.

They rub it and a Genie comes out.

The Genie says, 'I'll give each of you just one wish.'

'Me first! Me first!' says the admin clerk. 'I want to be in the Bahamas, driving a speedboat, without a care in the world.'

Puff! She's gone.

'Me next! Me next!' says the sales rep. 'I want to be in Hawaii , relaxing on the beach with my personal masseuse, an endless supply of Pina Coladas and the love of my life.'

Puff! He's gone.

'OK, you're up,' the Genie says to the manager.

The manager says, 'I want those two back in the office after lunch.'

Moral of the story:
Always let your boss have the first say.

Lesson 4
An eagle was sitting on a tree resting, doing nothing.

A small rabbit saw the eagle and asked him, 'Can I also sit like you and do nothing?'
The eagle answered: 'Sure, why not.'

So, the rabbit sat on the ground below the eagle and rested. All of a sudden, a fox appeared, jumped on the rabbit and ate it.

Moral of the story:
To be sitting and doing nothing, you must be sitting very, very high up.

Lesson 5
A turkey was chatting with a bull.

'I would love to be able to get to the top of that tree' sighed the turkey, 'but I haven't got the energy.'

'Well, why don't you nibble on some of my droppings?' replied the bull. They're packed with nutrients.'

The turkey pecked at a lump of dung, and found it actually gave him enough strength to reach the lowest branch of the tree.

The next day, after eating some more dung, he reached the second branch.

Finally after a fourth night, the turkey was proudly perched at the top of the tree.

He was promptly spotted by a farmer, who shot him out of the tree.

Moral of the story:
Bull shit might get you to the top, but it won't keep you there.

Lesson 6
A little bird was flying south for the winter. It was so cold the bird froze and fell to the ground into a large field.

While he was lying there, a cow came by and dropped some dung on him.

As the frozen bird lay there in the pile of cow dung, he began to realize how warm he was.
The dung was actually thawing him out!

He lay there all warm and happy, and soon began to sing for joy.

A passing cat heard the bird singing and came to investigate.

Following the sound, the cat discovered the bird under the pile of cow dung, and promptly dug him out and ate him.

Morals of the story:
(1) Not everyone who shits on you is your enemy.
(2) Not everyone who gets you out of shit is your friend.
(3) And when you're in deep shit, it's best to keep your mouth shut!

Tita's home

Getting assigned to write obituaries is figuratively and literally a dead beat.

Dead men tell no tales, but somebody has to tell a tale or two about the one who passed away.

Bearing the bad news is not a pleasant thing to do – and multiply the feeling a million times over when you have a personal connection to the subject.

It’s the end of Ramadan and the Muslim world is celebrating Eid. But here I am with my team, labouring in our bunker so that those waking up after a night of booze will have something to read on a lazy Thursday morning.

It was almost 7pm and I’ve just finished producing my assigned page.

I lingered at the sport sections – reading and forwarding post-mortem reports of the winner-take-all match between my alma mater, the San Beda Red Lions and the Jose Rizal Heavy Bombers – as I browsed at various news site while waiting for my next assignment.

Landing on the Inquirer’s site, I skimmed through the news stories.

I usually skip the Metrobriefs section, but at that moment, something, somewhere just pushed me to click on it.

I was dumb-struck on reading the headline:

Marietta “Tita” Giron, 67

The story goes:

“Journalist Marietta “Tita” Giron, who used to write a consumer column for
the Inquirer, passed away Tuesday at the age of 67.

“She wrote for the defunct Manila Chronicle before joining the
Inquirer. Giron, who also wrote for several magazines, was a staunch advocate of
environmental protection and consumer rights. She was a member of several
organizations like the Philippine Environmental Journalists, Inc., Philippine
Agriculture Journalists and Philippine Orchid Society.

“Giron is survived by son Joey, daughter-in-law Gie, granddaughter Nikki
and sisters Elena and Corazon.

“Her husband, Eric, who was also a journalist, died on Aug. 31.

“Giron’s body lies in Chapel 1, Funeraria Paz, Araneta Avenue, Quezon City
where she will be cremated on Oct. 5 at 2 p.m.”

‘Tita’ Tita was a friend from way back.

I first met her in a staff party at the defunct Manila Chronicle where she used to write for Thelma San Juan’s section and I was a rookie correspondent in the late Caloy Santos's turf.

We’d bump into each other during news conferences and events organized by the Center for International Trade Expositions and Missions. Media relations people would seat us together as we carry the same press credentials.

I’d still see Tita when I moved to First Asia Venture Capital where I was assigned to oversee the editorial department of its subsidiary, Basic Publishing, which produces Parents Magazine and Agriscope.

Tita was a “fixture” at Parents under Nini Yarte. She wrote a consumer and environment column. I later asked her to spice up Agriscope by writing a column on gardening.

Tita and the late agriculture journalist Thor S. Orig were the “stars” in my stable. The three of us would later had a photo op with President Ramos as co-awardees of the Binhi Agriculture Journalism Awards.

I managed to maintain warm relations with both Tita and Thor even after I left First Asia.

Being dyed-in-the-wool journos, we speak, breathe, and walk the same language – but Tita was more on the fine side.

Tita was there to support me when I tried dipping my hands in National Press Club politics.

Being a Giron, Tita commands respect and influence among the lifetimers. She endorsed me – a virtual unknown -- to some of her friends. But the NPC was not for me.

Tita and I would continue finding ourselves treading the “DevComm” path.

We’d join trips and events organized by DOST – the most memorable of which was a nuclear energy convention where waiters thought we were mad scientists out to duplicate a Hiroshima.

A few months after landing in Dubai, I dropped Linda Bolido an email asking her why Tita’s column is no longer coming out in the Inquirer. She then told me the sad news that Tita suffered a stroke and had to stop writing.

Her son Joey later sent me an email telling me that her mom’s fine and was happy to know that I tried to keep in touch.

Several months back, I tried sending Joey a mail to ask about his mom, but the message bounced.

Tita probably knew that she has a place in my heart.

Knowing that I was incommunicado, she made me click the Inquirer’s Metrobriefs entry to tell me that she’s on her way home.

Daddy's girl turns 12

I’m struggling for the right words and thoughts about my other daughter – Stella Marie Isabelle or Aia.

Writing between deadlines is tough for someone who is not an essayist.

Several months back, I wrote about my son Andre – when he turned 8 last March – and later my eldest princess, Ara – on the eve of her graduation from high school.

Aia wryly asked: “Bakit ako wala, Dad?”

To soothe her ruffled feelings, I assured her that she’ll have hers on her birthday which is about an hour away from now in Philippine standard time.

My Aia is turning 12.

I’d dare say that my baby girl is his “Daddy’s Girl” as she’s always there to lift me up when I’m down.

It was Aia who’d always ask me if I’m OK. She could sense when I’m in low gear and she’d spring up and try to flag my sagging spirit.

When I grew my hair long to reflect how indignant I was with the way things are going my way here, Aia would egg me to get a haircut. And when I reasoned out that I can’t find a good barber here in Dubai, she told me that, “bukas, may darating nang magaling na Filipinong barber dyan” and she’ll be praying for it to become a reality.

And that became the cue for me to reconsider and give in to my family's wishes. I just waited for the right time to finally shed my locks and mark a new beginning.

No wonder, my little Miss Congeniality was selected to join her school’s cheering squad and was even chosen as “muse” of an all-girls school.

But looking back, Aia really has the charm built into her system.

When she was still in her nursery years at the Little Angels of St. Therese School in Galas and at St. Joseph’s College, she already got ribbons for being “Most Friendly.”

When she moved to Angelicum and later to the Holy Spirit School in Quezon City, her classmates would gravitate around her as her warm and cheerful disposition was infectious.

I saw her former mates at Angelicum jump for joy and bust their lungs out when they saw Aia at the Sto. Domingo courtyard where we waited for Andre last January.

My baby girl has also taken over and is continuing my life-long relations with the Labayos where – like me – she was “adopted” as a member of the family.

Ara, who was so aloof when she was a kid, has made a turnaround. She was even described in her yearbook as someone who has “built a friendship with almost every being”. I suspect that Aia’s charm had rubbed on to her big sister.

Aia is also somebody who is full of surprises.

Emerging from the shadows of her ate, Aia surprised many in the family circle when she excelled in taekwondo where she rose to become a red belter at the age of 10.

A few days before I left for Dubai in February 2006, she came home with a bronze medal after competing in the Women’s NCAA (WNCAA) where she represented her school.

Unfortunately, her enthusiasm for the sport died down. But her feat still remains my source of pride and joy.

How I wish it was easy for me to get teleported back home just to kiss my baby girl and wish her well as she starts her last year as a pre-teener.

I may be thousands of miles away but deep in Aia’s heart – Daddy’s at home.

Happy birthday Daday!

Tumatanda ka na, Batch!!!

My back aches and my knees wobble as I limp back to my personal jungle in a bunker somewhere in the deserts of the Arabian Gulf.

A small amber bottle of Colchicine is parked on my desk, flanked by a cheap mug, a Sherlock Holmes-like magnifier and my baby Andre's B-daman. The med standing by in case my uric acid unexpectedly shoots up.

When I first came to Dubai, I only pop a caplet of Enervon C. After seeing my doctor last December, my pillbox menu now includes Colchicine (an anti-gout drug), Allopurinol (to flush out excess uric acid), Lipitor -- Pfizer's best-seller -- (to lower my cholesterol level) and Metformin -- which Doc Europa said was meant to help me slim down. Later I'd found out that this is an anti-diabetes drug.

I still blame the poor quality of water that comes out from the tap for the brittleness of my hair, which has turned salt and pepperish -- highlights as others describe it -- after spending (some say, wasting) over two and half years in this part of the world.

About a year ago, I was flabbergasted when a former colleague, who was in her 20s, didn't have an idea what the hell is Tears for Fears when she asked me what's playing on my iPod. I even had to tell another that Spandau Ballet doesn't have anything to do with Swan Lake or The Nutcracker.

Not to be outdone, I nearly dropped dead laughing when the same pa-cutesy (read: tanga) 20-something thought that Bananarama was a concoction at Baskin-Robbins.

Geez, the icons of my youth gone and forgotten -- and terribly recalled by today's youngsters!

When Ara and Aia asked me to let them watch the Fall Out Boy concert, my memory bank retrieved images of Lee Majors, who became the Fall Guy after making a successful run as the Six Million Dollar Man.

I see my presumptuous, eternally youthful "friends" snickering.

The reason behind these LOL moments suddenly got rammed into my face when my high school batchmate Joel Valencia forwarded a mail to our Yahoogroup which had the title of this entry.

"Tumatanda ka na, Batch!!!"

Ka-boom...aaargh! Reality bites!

Am I really getting that old? Have I already graduated into the Jurassic list?

I'll be clocking the last year of my third decade of existence in a few weeks' time and I'm still on denial mode that soon, I'll be joining the age of the "Life Beginners".

But come to think of it, hindi lang naman ako ang tumatanda.

My mom -- the heartthrob of her generation -- turned 70 last May.

My Tito Pito, who was the macho guwapito during his prime, has turned silver and gray.

My Ate Marichi -- the eldest among my first cousins -- is now a lola.

Some nephews and nieces whom I used to carry in my arms have either joined the work force or are about to get their rolled up cartolinas for the last time.

From wearing booties, my Ara is now going to school in stilletos. I dropped a tear when Mara texted me that my baby girl Aia is "dalaga na" and "Dadoy" Andre now has a love interest in school.

Life goes on.

The Greek philosopher Heraclitus was right -- change is central to the universe.

"Everything flows, nothing stands still. Nothing endures but change."

And here's what Joel had sent me ...

Tumatanda ka na, Batch!!! (author unknown)

Nasa Friday Magic Madness na yung mga paborito mong kanta.

Nakaka-relate ka na sa Classic MTV.

Lesbiana na yung kinaaaliwan mong child star dati.

Nanay na lagi ang role ng crush na crush mong matinee idol noon.

Dati, pag may panot, sisigaw ka agad ng "PENDONG!".Ngayon, pag may sumisigaw nun, ikaw na yung napapraning.

Parang botika na ang cabinet mo. May multivitamins, vitamin E, vitamin C, royal jelly, tsaka ginko biloba.

Dati, laging may inuman. Sa inuman, may lechon, sisig, kaldereta, inihaw na liempo, pusit, at kung anu-ano pa. Ngayon, nagkukumpulan na lang kayo ng mga kasama mo sa Starbucks at oorder ng tea.

Wala na ang mga kaibigan mo noon. Ang dating masasayang tawanan ng barkada sa canteen,napalitan na ng walang katapusang pagrereklamo tungkol sa kumpanya ninyo.

Wala na ang best friend mo na lagi mong pinupuntahan kapag may problema ka. Ang lagi mo na lang kausap ngayon e ang kaopisina mong hindi ka sigurado kung binebenta ka sa iba pag nakatalikod ka. Ang hirap nang magtiwala!

Mahirap nang makahanap ng totoong kaibigan. Hindi mo kayang pagkatiwalaan ang kasama mo araw-araw sa opisina. Kung sabagay, nagkakilala lang kayo dahil gusto ninyong kumita ng pera at umakyat sa tinatawag nilang "corporate ladder".

Anumang pagkakaibigang umusbong galing sa pera at ambisyon ay hindi talaga totoong pagkakaibigan. Pera din at ambisyon ang sisira sa inyong dalawa.

Pera na ang nagpapatakbo ng buhay mo.

Alipin ka na ng Meralco, PLDT, SkyCable, Globe, Smart, at Sun.

Alipin ka ng Midnight Madness.

Alipin ka ng tollgate sa expressway.

Alipin ka ng credit card mo.

Alipin ka ng ATM. Alipin ka ng BIR.

Dati-rati masaya ka na sa isang platong instant pancit canton. Ngayon, dapat may kasamang Italian chicken ang fettucine alfredo mo..

Masaya ka na noon pag nakakapag-ober- da-bakod kayo para makapag--swimming. Ngayon, ayaw mong lumangoy kung hindi Boracay o Puerto Galera ang lugar.

Dati, sulit na sulit na sa yo ang gin pomelo. Ngayon, pagkatapos ng ilang bote ng red wine, maghahanap ka ng San Mig Light o Vodka Cruiser.

Wala ka nang magawa. Sumasabay ang lifestyle mo sa income mo.

Nagtataka ka kung bakit hindi ka pa rin nakakaipon kahit tumataas ang sweldo mo. Yung mga bagay na gusto mong bilhin dati na sinasabi mong hindi mo kailangan, abot-kamay mo na.

Pero kahit nasa iyo na ang mga gusto mong bilhin, hindi ka pa rin makuntento. Saan ka ba papunta?

Friend, gumising ka.

Hindi ka nabuhay sa mundong ito para maging isa lang sa mga baterya ng mga machines sa Matrix.

Hanapin mo ang dahilan kung bakit nilagay ka rito.

Kung ang buhay mo ngayon ay uulit-ulit lang hanggang maging singkwenta anyos ka na, magsisisi ka.

Lumingon ka kung paano ka nagsimula, isipin ang mga tao at mga bagay na nagpasaya sa yo.

Balikan mo sila.

Ikaw ang nagbago, hindi ang mundo.

My Daddy and Mommy

Today is GRANDPARENTS DAY and I remember my Daddy and Mommy (my mom’s parents) who – more than 20 after their passing -- are still regarded with awe and referred to with utmost respect by friends and relatives in our hometown in Dauis, Bohol.

Daddy (Valeriano Aranas Penales) was a public servant. He worked for the General Auditing Office (now the Commission on Audit) where he rose from clerk to provincial auditor. He was often referred to as the “first Filipino auditor,” but I won’t take that hook-line-and-sinker until I get that fact confirmed. The nomadic nature of his work prompted Daddy to take his family – and countless numbers of nephews and nieces and extended family members in his entourage– to places where he was posted (Lanao, Leyte, Cebu, Capiz, Negros) while Mommy (Clara Aba Reyes of Tanjay, Negros Oriental) managed the huge household.

Daddy – fondly called as Tiyo Ano – was the “godfather” of the Penales clan. He was the youngest in a brood of 16 and as expected outlived his siblings.

He was a tall mestizo with a statesmanlike bearing and charisma. He was always dressed to the nines with a Dick Tracy hat and two-toned Fred Astaire shoes. His Zippo was secured by a silver chain attached to his belt loop. His porma was accented by a cigar or a pipe (Mixture #79 was his favourite). Godfather na godfather ang dating!

When I was about two years old, I thought Daddy was part of the detective series “Streets of San Francisco” and I was made to believe that my Kuya Lou (Penales) was Michael Douglas (Karl Malden’s sidekick in the series). My confusion – or excitement – was heightened everytime the show Kojak goes on air as my Daddy shares the same hair-state with Telly Savalas.

Daddy was so simpatico, gentlemanly and affable. He could make women swoon even while already way past the golden age. Tita Moni once told that when Daddy went to Congress to visit his friend, Speaker Cornelio Villareal, he was mistaken for US President Dwight Eisenhower when he stepped out of the fin-tailed limo that took him there.

My late Tita Susing (My mom’s elder sis) would sometimes refer to Daddy as “Valentino” – punctuated with a naughty wink for whatever reason I yet have to discover. But true enough, Daddy died on St. Valentine’s Day in 1986 when he was 85.

Mommy Car – we were told -- was a “super OC”. She’d always win the “cleanest and most orderly” house contest wherever they lived. I remember Mommy – although she with a failing eyesight – dutifully inspecting all rooms in our ancestral house in Dauis every morning and directing whoever was at hand to fix this or that, making sure that not a speck of dust was on the ledge or furniture. Daddy and Mommy’s house could pass as a living proof for Johnson’s Floor Wax for having the shiniest floor and banisters in town. While leading the nightly orasyon – where all members of the household are gathered before the family altar when the bells toll at 6pm – the series of “Maghimaya ka Maria” (Hail Mary) would sometimes be cut to give way to sudden instructions on how to cook our dinner or to ask if all the Petromax (paraffin lamp) were already lit up (there was no electricity in Dauis until the late 1970s).

Unfortunately, I have faint memory of my paternal grandparents. I only saw my lolo (Brigido Gutierrez of San Jacinto, Masbate) once when he went to Manila for a visit when I was about 2-3 years old. He died about a year after Papa died in 1980. I never saw my lola who passed away before I was born. A giant picture of my lola adorned my Papa’s study. One of my paternal aunts asked for lola’s portrait when Papa died.

My kids are fortunate to have their grandparents – my Mama and Tita Moni -- looking after them and from afar, their Lola Sita and Tiya Perlita (Mara’s mum and auntie).

Me and my Mama

The kids with their Lolo Orling in 2002. The old man died in Nov. 5, 2006, a year after seeing all his grandchildren (including Arlene's kids) in one roof.

With my Ate Luisa- my mom's cousin. She took care of me when I was a kid.

To cap this entry, I’m reposting the following piece which I first read on its English version (I presume, it was the original). The essay was written on a hand-made poster displayed at the visitor’s lounge of the St. Joseph’s Home – the retirement home of nuns belonging to the Religious of the Virgin Mary congregation – which I saw while visiting my dear auntie, Sister Diosdada Loquellano. It was after reading this piece that I came to value more and understand my Mama, Tita Moni, Tito Pito and my aunties and uncles and even cousins who are now ageing gracefully.

My mom and Tita Moni (3rd and 4th from left) with my dear aunties Sis. Zenaida Cinches and Sis. Diosdada Loquellano at St Joseph's Home

Sa Aking Pagtanda
Rev. Fr. Ariel F. Robles

Sa aking pagtanda, unawain mo sana ako at pagpasensiyahan.

Kapag dala ng kalabuan ng mata ay nakabasag ako ng pinggan o nakatapon ng sabaw sa hapag kainan, huwag mo sana akong kagagalitan.

Maramdamin ang isang matanda. Nagse-self-pity ako sa tuwing sisigawan mo ako.

Kapag mahina na ang tainga ko at hindi ko maintindihan ang sinasabi mo, huwag mo naman sana akong sabihan ng “bingi!” Paki-ulit nalang ang sinabi mo o pakisulat na lang.

Pasensiya ka na, anak, matanda na talaga ako.

Kapag mahina na ang tuhod ko, pagtiyagaan mo sana akong tulungang tumayo, katulad nang pag-aalalay ko sa iyo noong nag-aaral ka pa lamang lumakad.

Pagpasensiyahan mo sana ako kung ako man ay nagiging makulit at paulit-ulit na parang sirang plaka. Basta pakinggan mo na lang ako. Huwag mo sana akong pagtatawanan o pagsasawaang pakinggan.

Natatandaan mo pa ba anak noong bata ka pa? Kapag gusto mo ng lobo, paulit-ulit mo ‘yong sasabihin, maghapon kang nangungulit hangga’t hindi mo nakukuha ang gusto mo. Pinagtiyagaan ko ang kakulitan mo.

Pagpasensiyahan mo na rin sana ang aking amoy. Amoy matanda, amoy lupa. Huwag mo sana akong piliting maligo. Mahina na ang katawan ko. Madaling magkasakit kapag nalamigan, huwag mo sana akong pandirihan.

Natatandaan mo pa ba noong bata ka pa? Pinagtiyagaan kitang habulin sa ilalim ng kama kapag ayaw mong maligo.

Pagpasensyahan mo sana kung madalas ako’y masungit, dala na marahil ito ng katandaan. Pagtanda mo, maiintindihan mo rin.

Kapag may konti kang panahon, magkuwentuhan naman tayo, kahit sandali lang. Inip na ako sa bahay, maghapong nag-iisa. Walang kausap. Alam kong busy ka sa trabaho, subalit nais kong malaman mo na sabik na sabik na akong makakuwentuhan ka, kahit alam kong hindi ka interesado sa mga kuwento ko.

Natatandaan mo ba anak noong bata ka pa, pinagtiyagaan kong pakinggan at intindihin ang pautal-utal mong kuwento tungkol sa iyong teddy bear.

At kapag dumating ang sandali na ako’y magkakasakit at maratay sa banig ng karamdaman, huwag mo sana akong pagsawaang alagaan.

Pagpasensiyahan mo na sana kung ako man ay maihi o madumi sa higaan, pagtiyagaan mo sana akong alagaan sa mga huling sandali ng aking buhay. Tutal hindi na naman ako magtatagal.

Kapag dumating ang sandali ng aking pagpanaw, hawakan mo sana ang aking kamay at bigyan mo ako ng lakas ng loob na harapin ang kamatayan.

At huwag kang mag-alala, kapag kaharap ko na ang Diyos na lumikha, ibubulong ko sa kaniya na pagapalain ka sana … dahil naging mapagmahal ka sa iyong ama’t ina…

28 years ago

…. Mountain Dew was first introduced in the Philippines

…. The municipality of Makati had a bank called Bangko Makati and its ad campaign tagline was “Basta Kayo Oo…sa Bangko Makati”

…. “Ibalik ang Swerti” was the buzz word popularized by the houseboy “Estong”

… John Lennon was fatally shot in New York

…. Iran and Iraq were at war

….Ronald Reagan defeated Jimmy Carter in the US presidential race

… Eat Bulaga was giving top-rating noontime show Student Canteen a run for its money

….Flor de Luna and Annaliza were the rival primetime soaps

…. Our Grade 4 batch performed a Thai dance during the Pista ng Sto Nino sa San Beda (Frolics) field demonstration

…. Bedan scouts took a Philippine Navy troop transport ship (LT-38) and went on a field trip to Corregidor

…. For school year 1980-81, section 32 (my block from Grade 1 to Grade 4) was dissolved and the class members were distributed to different sections. I went to section 21 for Grade 5 under Mr Daniel Dino

… was the last academic year that San Beda had Mr Ricardo Liwanag as principal. He was the last laity headmaster of San Beda Grade School.

…. You’d easily bump into Chito and Joey Loyzaga in campus

… President Marcos ordered the Board of Censors to take the likes of Voltes V, Mazinger Z, UFO Grendizer, Mekanda Robot, Daimos and Danguard Ace off the air for “excessive violence” on TV

… Jollibee was an ice cream parlor in Cubao

…Manila COD Department Store and Rustan’s were the places to be in Cubao.

….Shoemart was a simple shoe store along Aurora Boulevard. They also sell Boy Scouts paraphernalia.

… Our neighbor Itoy Esguerra was the “sparkplug” of the Letran Knights and the national basketball team

…. Papa hosted a general meeting of the Penales clan at Daddy’s house in Dauis, Bohol where plans for a grand clan reunion was hatched

…. Papa and Mama took me on my first trip to Bicol (Legaspi and Sorsogon)

… Papa was admitted to the Philippine Heart Center a few days after we arrived from Bicol. Mama stayed with him in the hospital. Coming to the hospital from school was a daily routine for me from June to August.

And on this very day 28 years ago at 1am (Philippine standard time), Papa breathed his last.

A rat's life in Dubai

I hear buzzes, hisses, clicks and taps and the occasional hum of the printer as it labours to deliver a page. I see the silhouette of a four-eyed sub from across my monitor and now I hear incomprehensible mumbles from a running-order meeting a click away from where I sit.

I’m trying to keep myself from dozing off. I feel like a sock puppet forcibly being propped up on a barbecue stick.

I need to type words on this screen to prevent the white space before me from teleporting me to the world I desire to be in right this very moment.

What I’m scribbling right now will perhaps eventually make it to my blog as a regular entry – or maybe, will totally disappear with just a click of the mouse.

A cocktail of meds prescribed by my doc over the weekend for my pharyngitis, a 15-minute catnap in lieu of the required 8-hour nighttime sleep and the nagging question whether I’ll be homeless again at the end of the day are working in unison to try to zap the lights out of me.

Wuz slipping in and out consciousness when my CPE came over and unloaded my day’s share of trash that needs to be spun into gold.

Like a battle-weary infantryman, I slowly swung into action, summoning whatever strength left to push my page through.

Along the way, I’d get updates from FB like Pocholo Lagniton announcing that he’s cheering for the old Chronicle pack whose libel suit was quashed by the Court of Appeals, Bing Orosa craving for a cuppa, Bocap being “committed” to work for a “good man” till 2010, and Joel Saracho needing a kneading. Syet, buti pa mga “miserable” friends ko may life.

Dubai pala has more than 860,000 registered vehicles or 541 cars for every 1,000 residents. Meaning, there are roughly 400 of us lowly slaves running after or waiting for eternity for buses and taxis while being baked to perfection inside D-shaped toasters that are supposed to make commuting a desirable option.

Page done. Time check 1645. Sabi ni Tata, power will be restored daw by 1700 but just like last night, nakapako pa rin ang pangako. So pano ‘to, I’ll just again prepare to face the eventuality that I’ll be spending the night in the bunker for the 2nd straight night. Pusang ina!

Eto another flash from Outlook: “Bro, pwede paki-edit?” wat is dis? Ay hayup, farewell letter ni alleged dahil nag-resign na nga pala ang hitad at lilipat na ng ibang disyerto.

“Now is my last day here in Gulf News after two and half years, what I can say is...THANK YOU (from the bottom of my heart)..........I don't want to say goodbye........but just want to say see you later guys!..........I will definitely miss you all!!!!”

Hmmmm…nabasa ko na to dati. Aha! copy-pasting na naman to. Pati ba naman mga ganyan kasimpleng bagay pine-plagiarise na rin? Sige oks na yan. Low-batt na low-batt na ko. Pilot light na lang power ko.

Sporadic clicks punctuated by the lift’s bell and isolated bantering are the only signs of life here in the bunker. Everyone’s waiting for the cannon to pop, to signal the break of fast – and bye-bye time.

Lucky bastards….they have houses to come home to while here I am, homeless and clueless.

Two and a half years sa Dubai and I now live like a rat. Eto na nga siguro ang karma ko.

Remembering Ninoy

Note: I posted this topic on bedista.com's forum. Later on, I realised I have a blog that has been blank for weeks. So here it goes...with some additions/revisions from my original b.com post.

Of course, we all know Ninoy Aquino.

He's the glum-looking guy on the 500 peso bill.

He's Kris Aquino's dad -- whether it's a Deal or No Deal.

He "owns" the airport. (I heard this once)

(this is the actual gate where Ninoy was gunned down. Picture posted in flickr by brownpau)


Officially, he's the country's first First Gentleman -- his wife, of course, being the country's first woman President.


"Wala kaming pasok kasi Ninoy Day" -- is the expected quip of today's student or yuppie (do they still use this term?) when asked why they had a long weekend.




To the "oldies" like us, we remember Ninoy as the "subversive" who dared run -- and expectedly "lost" - against Imelda Marcos in the Interim Batasang Pambansa elections. I remembered that I was hushed with a collective and quick "shhhhhhhhhhhhh" when I asked my elders who this "Ninoy" is.

We were then in Grade 2 (San Beda was still fresh from successfully defending its NCAA basketball crown) and a "subversive" classmate secretly gave us "Laban" stickers, which we proudly displayed on our "Six Million Dollar Man" lunch boxes.

At that time, Manila stood still and all tellys were tuned in to Channel 4 to watch a rare live interview of Ninoy, who singlehandedly matched wits and openly traded barbs with Marcos propagandists like JV Cruz and Ronnie Nathanielsz (yup, the Sri Lankan smart aleck you see calling basketball games and boxing matches and writing sports columns for the Manila Standard Today). Laban's iconic 1978 campaign was capped with a Metro-wide "noise barrage" where everyone came out banging pots and pans in symbolic defiance of Marcos' strong-arm rule.





My generation was already in high school when the gunshot that reverberated around the world and changed the nation's history was fired on Aug 21, 1983 (a time when most b.com members were not yet even part of their parents' consciousness).

Lagi rin kaming walang pasok noon because Mendiola became a battleground immediately after Ninoy was buried and rallies became an "in" thing before the bridge over the estero was named after Don Chino Roces.

When I was active with the CAS-SC, Mike Abasolo (of inboundpass fame) and I initiated an annual memorial week for Ninoy Aquino - the Great Bedan. We held the first one in November 1986 in time for Ninoy's birth anniversary and the following year -- the SC under now Atty Boks Lauron -- we did it in August.

Fr. Tarsi (then HS principal) and Fr Paul de Vera allowed us to take Ninoy's bronze bust from the HS library and put it on display at the mini memorial set up at the main driveway. We were told it was the first time that the bust was allowed out of the library named after the hero who is a member of HS Class 1948.

The late Atty Juan Cabrieto, then registrar, opened San Beda's archives and allowed us to reproduce Ninoy's school records. We invited Ninoy's siblings -- Butz Aquino and Mila Aquino Albert -- to come over and meet Ninoy's "present" generation of Bedan brothers. We held extemporaneous speaking and art contests, and a host of other activities.

The black spot then was somebody stole the yellow "Ninoy" banner which our predecessors in the SC had used during the pre-EDSA 86 anti-Marcos demonstrations.

I wonder if San Beda continues to have Ninoy-related activities. After all, we're the only school that could rightfully claim him as a full-fledged alumnus.

***

The Ninoy Aquino Foundation is launching an "I Am Ninoy" campaign...addressed to the youth... here's Ichu Villanueva account on how the project goes.

For this alone, there is a reason for me to sometimes drop red and turn yellow.

I am Ninoy
COMMONSENSE
By Marichu A. Villanueva
Monday, August 18, 2008 (Philippine Star)

She may be in the thick of battling the most serious threat to her life but former President Corazon "Cory" Cojuangco Aquino has not allowed it to slow her down from her latest pet project for the Benigno "Ninoy" Aquino Jr. Foundation.

Currently undergoing chemotherapy for her colon cancer, Mrs.Aquino has actively kept running the affairs of the Foundation as its founding chairperson.

The Foundation, named after her slain husband, is in the middle of preparations for the 25th death anniversary of the late Senator who was assassinated on Aug.21,1983.

The slay of the late Sen.Aquino is considered as the turning point in the hard-fought battle of Filipino leaders like him to regain our country?s democracy from the shackles of two decade-long of martial rule imposed by the late President Ferdinand Marcos.

Aquino's widow subsequently became the country's first woman President after the February 1986 EDSA People Power Revolution. And as they say, the rest is history.

But 25 years later, the sacrifice of the slain Senator to restore our country's democratic institutions seemed to have been relegated to annual commemoration of his death anniversary as Ninoy Aquino Day officially declared as a national holiday.

In line, though, with the "holiday economics" policy of the government, we just had a long weekend because this nationwide holiday was moved today.

Mrs.Aquino, now 75, in one of her rare media interviews, expressed her sentiments about how she would like the country's younger generation to remember the heroism of Ninoy.

"I hope our fellow Filipinos, especially the young, will continue to appreciate how much Ninoy suffered for our country. I hope they will ask themselves what they offer, too, to help this country move forward. Ninoy showed the way. I hope they will be inspired by him," Mrs.Aquino was quoted as saying in People Asia Magazine in its July 2008 edition.

It is in this light that the prime movers behind the latest project of the Foundation apparently came up with such a catchy slogan "I am Ninoy."

This project is spearheaded by businessman, Rafael "Rafa" C. Lopa. The 45-year old nephew of Mrs.Aquino is the executive director of the Foundation.

The Foundation will formally launch the "I am Ninoy" campaign this Thursday in a press conference after the Holy Mass for the 25th death anniversary of the late Senator to be held at the Don Bosco Chapel in Makati City.

"My auntie Cory will just attend the Mass but she will not join us in the press conference," Rafa told me over the weekend.

At the launching of the "I am Ninoy" campaign, Rafa disclosed the Foundation will present the "brand partners" that will carry this slogan and the figure of eyeglasses of Ninoy in their signature T-shirt and other apparel products.

Of course, most of these apparels would come in yellow color associated with Mrs.Aquino.

The "brand partners" include such popular youth-oriented apparel-makers like Bench, Penshoppe, Team Manila, and Analog Soul. Under their partnership agreement with the Foundation, a certain percentage of every product of "I am Ninoy" sold will be donated to their chosen charitable institution.

The "I am Ninoy" campaign is actually geared to re-introduce to the young generation of Filipinos the ideals of democracy that the late Senator stood for and died for.

"The Filipinos are worth dying for," was the blurb made famous by Ninoy in the face of death.

The idea of this national campaign is to impress upon the Filipino youth his heroism. But they need not die, too, to become heroes in their own rights.

"We?re talking about a kind of dying of our old selves, our old habits and find a new and better way of doing things that will improve our country for the better," Rafa pointed out.

"We bring Ninoy into the picture and hopefully other people will be inspired to do what he has done for our country without really having to die like him," he quipped.

Another version of the "I am Ninoy" project will be launched in November on the birth anniversary of the late Senator when he would have turned 76 years old. Rafa said he is still working out the details of this project with PLDT, Smart and Globe Telecom as sponsors.

Picture credits: wikimedia, inquirer.net. flickr, beda7882.com