Category Archive for: pulitika

komentaryo

an ongoing saga: or why Edu has some explaining to do

and no, i don’t mean in relation to pinky webb, though that would be interesting ‘no? why oh why would any sane individual choose to run under GMA’s party. and what would be so compelling that he would choose it over love?

but no, this is more about Edu Manzano, he who’s running as Gibo Teodoro‘s Vice President, being the Social Security System‘s endorser. yeah, Captain Barbel sells SSS with his Lucky son — the strangeness of that statement isn’t lost on me.

elsewhere i’ve talked about the worst times i’ve had with SSS, and yet, it could only really get worse ‘no?

and so in the age of Duds selling SSS, i try (in vain, i might add) to get money that’s due me. the difficulty of course lies, not simply in its lack of a system, but in its downright disregard for a woman’s right to her name.

it is my maternity benefit that i dream of receiving from SSS, one which requires that i show my child’s birth certificate, and which apparently gives any SSS employee the power to change my name. yes, ladies and gentlemen, while the law provides that i may keep my maiden name (an amendment to an existing law by Miriam Defensor Santiago — this is the one time i thank the heavens for her), in the SSS offices across this country, you are presumed to want to use your husband’s surname — you won’t be asked if you want it done.

if this seems petty, then try it with some of this: none of my IDs have my married name on ’em. and if this seems irrelevant, then try this on for size: you need two IDs for your request for (your own!) money to be even processed by the fantastic SSS office.

add to this the fact that the SSS people DO NOT tell you that they have changed your name, so you can’t even throw the law at their faces.  and so after waiting two weeks for the SSS computer to accept your change in name, you come with your old IDs and you’re told: “ay ma’am, hindi po kayo ito e, magkaiba ang pangalan.”

and you only say watdapak! because really, this same woman knows you to be the woman with the maiden name, and you have in your hands every document to prove that you are one and the same person as that woman with a spanking new married name. instead of SSS acknowledging its mistake here, they tell you to get IDs that have your married name. otherwise, wala ka nang benefits. benefits na dapat ay sa’yo naman talaga.

and so after about two months, you finally have these IDs (a postal ID which costs way too much in Mandaluyong) and a police clearance from the cityhall. you brace yourself for the well-mannered SSS lady who will make you feel like you don’t deserve your money. instead you face someone who says, “o, bakit kailangan pa ng bagong ID, e ang tagal nang approved nito ha, tingnan mo.” and when you say that you were told by the woman in the next desk to get these IDs, she says, “naku naman, pinahihirapan ka pa.”

you want to scream: “po.tang.inaaaaaaaa!”

but you don’t. instead you wait a month, which is the promise SSS makes: a cheque will be delivered to your house by the end of one month at most.

it has been two months and a half of waiting. for money that’s mine mine mine. for SSS to get its fluggin’ act together, and DELIVER — literally and figuratively. the SSS Mandaluyong branch, being the great office that it is, doesn’t help at all when it says: “na-release na po sa main office, in transit na ‘yon, hindi niyo na mafa-follow-up kase wala na kaming alam don, wala na kayong puwedeng tawagan.”

ah ganon. wala nang follow up. wala na kong powers. e pera ko yon.

enter Duds, he who has the gall to run for VP after selling SSS as the greatest thing an individual could have in this country. come on Captain Barbell, you have gotta save this woman’s day.

kultura

kawayan de guia: no compromises

a version of this was published in the Philippine Daily Inquirer, October 26 2009.

Kawayan de Guia is clear about his art. It’s his way of talking to the world, engaging it in dialogue, transcending its limits. It’s his upbringing, his lifeblood, his provincial context that is Baguio. It’s his grounding in history, his way of telling stories, his political stance.

Speaking this concretely and categorically about his art, Kawayan just might be the more uncompromising of our contemporary young artists. To explain one’s art may after all be seen as violent to one’s works, if not the end to one’s career: isn’t the appeal of art precisely its lack of clear reason?

But Kawayan tells it otherwise. The human condition is central to his work, cutting across the tragic and comic towards the boastful, highlighting the notions of progress and development as falsities, bringing to the fore the need to see a bigger picture. To Kawayan, the structures that abound in our world are but perspectives that need to be broken down into pieces, if only to take discussions to another place, that’s anywhere but here. (more…)

kultura

N.O.A.H. survives the flood

a version of this was published in the Philippine Daily Inquirer, in the Arts and Books Section, September 21 2009.

There is nothing like a Christian musical for kids that can get any adult-with-a-heart clapping with glee and stomping her foot to the beat. Trumpets’ N.O.A.H., No Ordinary Aquatic Habitat surprisingly did just this. I had braced myself for a born-again musical, i.e., one with a lot of preaching and conventional praise songs. Yet, despite some of these, Trumpets still managed to surprise me, what with its wit and humor, and even more so with some political consciousness – in a Christian musical? God forbid!

In N.O.A.H., while God might have been everywhere and anywhere, speaking to Noah from the heavens, he was also quite political. Case in point: when the flood finally cleans up the world, the narrator (Sam Concepcion) doesn’t just talk about the literal trash and decadence that was washed away, he also mentions corruption and politicking. Add to this the fact that one of the antagonists who first appears onstage looks like GMA, complete with the hairdo and the mole, as well as a placard that screams “Vote Me!” and you’ve got a whole lotta politics going on here. (more…)

kultura

The Truth and Raya Martin

Though admittedly not the best of speakers, it was difficult not to be enamored by young independent filmmaker Raya Martin on a Saturday afternoon at the Lopez Museum. Even when he sometimes lost his train of thought, and dared speak of filmmaking as an ultimately personal thing – almost a refusal to consider us as audience.

What Martin had going for him wasn’t just his youth and its contingent rebellious streak, but a consciousness about his craft that was surprising. Here, Martin proved he wasn’t just your run-of-the-mill indie filmmaker who’s wont to churn out the now familiar movie on slums and sex, violence and volatility. For this lecture, which had a mix of film practitioners and students as audience, Martin revealed why he was more than just a kid with a digital camera.

Because he spoke of history and the personal. Cinema as image. Sound as a distinct element. There is the interest in film versus the digital. There is the project of the anti-narrative. There is the reinvention of genre – from documentaries to the autobiography. There is the dream of making a commercial film.

It is clear that Martin has more than just all those international grants going for him and his films. There is a thought process to Martin’s creativity that he admits comes from his upbringing, but also is borne of wanting to go against this upbringing and everything that this requires.

No rebel without a cause

And yet this is no stereotypical rebellion. In the case of Martin, this is about a critical mind’s resistance to the conventional ways of seeing and speaking. He hated the way in which history was taught in school, where his grades were dependent on how many names and dates he could memorize. The product of this has been a conscious effort at creating films about and of history, with a very personal perspective. (more…)

radikalchick.lit

cory and (lost) memory

the only thing that links me to Cory Aquino is really memory. because while yes, it has been about these images of yellow my grandfather and mother carried, as her death sinks in it’s also about many other images in my head.

of Butz Aquino and ATOM, and an uncle who was part of it. of Kuya at 13 asking that he be allowed to go with our older cousins to EDSA because, as he told my mother, what if there are 999,999 people there? he would make it one million! of a lola who scolded my lolo waving a huge foam laban sign at helicopters hovering over their house: friend! baka mabaril ka!

of being 10 years old, and not knowing much, really. except that three years earlier, Mama was so depressed that Ninoy Aquino was murdered. of finally seeing Cory, his widow, and of watching her campaign with Doy Laurel, and of the yellow and green fighting it out with the red and blue. of crazy elections, and walking with my father to Sto. Domingo Church to see who was winning in our district.

but too, i remember how at a certain point, there were no bottles of San Miguel Beer at our reunions. and the blue tubs of Magnolia Ice Cream were conspicuously absent, too. i imagine now that the adults must have had some Gold Eagle Beer, because what the kids had were Selecta Ice Cream, the less famous, therefore we presumed, less tasty choice.

but it must have tasted the same. after all ice cream is just ice cream to a kid.

what was different, i realize now, was how that unfamiliar tub of ube ice cream was a symbol of a nation coming together. of supporting this woman battling it out with the masculine dictatorship. of believing that it was possible to change things by choosing a different ice cream — or beer — brand. i realize now that this belief in Cory’s call for a civil disobedience campaign, did bank on innocence. a naivete about how capitalism works, and how a boycott rarely does.

that it was successful is also so telling of why our collective memory as articulated by the media has yet to remember this aspect of Cory’s rise as the widow who beat a dictatorship. maybe we have become afraid of remembering that it is possible to hold capitalism by the balls. maybe we have also ceased to appreciate our capacity at believing in one person enough, to change our lifestyles around her cause. maybe we have lost all innocence.

and with Cory dying, in the midst of another dictatorship, maybe even all hope.