5 Things I miss about Sri Lanka

Egg hoppers

1.   Regular walking exercises. Since I was eating a lot of rice because of the good rice quality that Sri Lanka has, I had to offset the intake of carbohydrates with some exercise walking that I regularly did – walking to the office instead of taking the trishaw and be caught in traffic jams, walking to and around independence monument and walking to and along the Galle Face Green. The walking exercises kept my weight on check.

2.   Food and drinks! I especially miss biryani, kottu and egg hoppers. They are to me what appealed most in the otherwise curry-filled Sri Lankan cuisine. The Elephant ginger beer is unique, and I drank a lot while I was there.

Mt. Lavinia beach

3.   Travels around Sri Lanka. It is a small country but it has a lot to offer to the adventurous traveller – whether you want to see some mountains or beaches, artifacts or temples, culture or relaxation. What’s more, since it is a small country, you can actually travel around the whole country in just one week.

4.   Friends. I have very good friends and gained more friends in the short time that I stayed there. And they are one lovely and sweet bunch of people.

Water falls in the tea mountains

5.    Holidays. Sri Lanka has a lot of holidays, so one has a lot of vacations from work or university. Every month there is always a holiday. Unfortunately for those who use their holidays to party and drink, it is forbidden to sell alcohol during holidays. One can only drink and relax in the privacy of their homes during these holidays. For those who love sweets – these are abundant during some of the holidays like Vesak.

I am an Igorot

Gone were the days when Igorots[1] were unjustly  looked down and wrongly perceived as filthy barbaric savages with tails like that of monkeys. The discriminatory perception of Igorots before even resulted to an attitude of disclaiming any relation or affiliation to the Igorot people. Today, much have changed as Igorots find their niche all over the social, political and economic spectrum and the awareness of the mainstream population have been considerably enlightened.

Still, a lot of people in the Philippines have little knowledge about the Igorots or where they come from, their culture and traditions. One of the usual questions when Filipinos meet other people, aside from asking their names, is “taga-saan probinsiya ka?” (which province do you come from?) When I respond with, “Mountain Province”, I get a lot of perplexed facial reactions that can only mean they do not know where the hell that place is; and when I say, “Sagada”, I get a lot of “ahhhs” and “ohhhs” for those who have been to Sagada or who have heard about it and have it on their list of places to visit. Still, a lot of Filipinos do not also know where Sagada is. But if one mentions Baguio, people respond with so much familiarity. This may be attributed to the fact that it has always been a famous destination since the American colonization, and has been so popularly promoted especially when it was referred to as the “Summer Capital” of the Philippines. The familiarity of almost all Filipinos with Baguio City inclined me to just respond with “Baguio City” when people asked me where I come from. Not only that I am legitimately a resident of Baguio City, but more because I wanted to avoid the exasperation of having to deal with people who did not know their geography.

But as I went into the advocacy of indigenous peoples’ rights, I told myself that if I, an Igorot,  was not an instrument in raising the awareness of people about my place and my culture, then who do I expect to do it for me? How would the non-Igorots know about the Igorot people if I did not tell them about it? Since then, every time I get the question, “taga saan ka?”, I always responded with “Sagada, Mt. Province” and sometimes, I would add, “the Cordilleras”. I did not mind if I had to answer more questions of the curious few or the inquisitive bunch or explain that this place is located north of the Philippines to which I get another question – “malapit sa Baguio?” and I would always say, it is six hours away by public bus from Baguio, 4-5 hours if by private car. And guess what? It always does not stop there. The next question would always be, “ahh, so ilocana[2] ka?” (Oh so you are an Ilocana?) To which I would always respond – “No, I am not an Ilocana but I know how to speak the Ilocano[3] language. I am an Igorot.”

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[1] The word Igorot, according to the late William Henry Scott, comes from the Spanish words “y” (from the/dwellers of the) “golote” (mountains).

[2] Feminine term for people from the Ilocos Region, North Western part of the Philippines.

[3] Ilocano is the lingua franca in the northern Philippines.

Jaded!

Pen doodles
   Eyes pall
      shoulders slouch

grabbed from google

               room blurs......

(Manja, Sept. 18, 2013)

MRT Fare Hike: Use this to solve problems

One early morning while preparing for an appointment in Makati, I was arguing with myself whether to take the bus or the Manila Rail Transit (MRT). I was trying to decide which is the type of transport that will provide better convenience and comfort, if at all these two words can be used when referring to transportation in Metro Manila. I was coming from Quezon City and the traffic along EDSA in the morning is just unimaginable. There are air-conditioned buses which is a relief considering the Manila heat. But these buses, aside from being stuck in heavy traffic, stop at every corner loading and unloading passengers, and it takes between 1 hour to 2 hours to get to Makati from Quezon City – a distance that on a traffic-free hour can be traversed in 20 minutes. These buses would often overload, taking in passengers even if the bus is full, and making extra passengers balance themselves and hang on to rails or hooks while standing along the aisle. Taking the MRT is much worse. While it takes the MRT probably 30-40 minutes from its first station at SM North to Ayala station in Makati, the difficulty that one has to go through to get into the MRT and the situation the one has to bear while inside the MRT, is implausible. Taking the MRT is like joining thousands of ant colonies elbowing each other for space, squeezing themselves to fit into small spaces, and smelling each other’s arm pits while the train goes chug chug chug to the next station. But with the recent issue on MRT fare hike, I decided to take the MRT to see if there is basis for the increase.

MRT Commuters at North Station

I took the MRT from its first station at North EDSA. The queues spilled over to EDSA and it was moving at a snail’s pace up to the third floor. The escalators were not working. The elevator has a very long queue. The station was teeming with thousands of morning travellers. The MRT, which comes at intervals of 20-30 minutes, gets filled up so fast and it leaves the first station jam-packed with passengers. Despite this, it stops at every station to take in more passengers until it is almost bursting with people inside. At every station, thousands of passengers await their opportunity to squeeze into full trains. Most of the time, they have to wait for the next one in the hope that it is less full. But the next train is the same as the previous one and so is the train after that. Passengers have no choice but to force themselves into trains so they can get to their destination. Never mind that they have to cling on to nothing to keep their balance, or smell other people’s armpits and feel other people’s butts behind or in front them, as long as they don't run in late to their works or classes, or appointments.

The MRT fare hike should address this basic problem and provide more convenience and comfort to the riding public. Even if the fare is increased, if the riding public had to go through the same hell like experiences everyday, then the MRT management is not delivering well on its mandate. How can MRT possibly address this everyday dilemma? Certainly, the MRT can devise means like:

1.              But more trains to cater to the growing number of the riding public. This will justify the fare hike.

2.              Use 2-story trains to accommodate more people.  One might argue that the present infrastructure of the MRT line cannot accommodate a 2-story train. However, if we can lose 10 Billion pesos in pork barrel scam, certainly the government has enough money to fix the structure so that 2-story trains can be accommodated.

3.              Each train should have limited stops so that not every train will stop at every station. This will lessen passengers on each train.

The MRT is raking in millions of pesos everyday. It has no excuse to implement practical solutions to address issues especially the decongestion of the trains and provision of better convenience to the riding public.

Farewell, Artus....

 

The revolution has lost a petal

But more will bloom in your stead.

You are now one with our ancestors,

United with our skies

Joined with the moon, the sun, the stars.

Will you continue to stand

On the looming mountains?

Be in every first light of dawn

And in every dancing cloud?

 

Adieu my brother, my comrade,

You are now the fire that forever burns

And now forever roam our lands

Forever, your spirit, we shall seek

In every prayer we make.

Manja, Sri Lanka, 06/03/2013

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I cannot forget the unkempt hair as if he never owned a comb. Nor will I forget his famous beard, which he used to make funny faces that made us laugh. I clearly remember how he said “orgashem” instead of “agashem”. I still can recall his old black coat, which I think was the only one he owned.

I still hear his songs of love and revolution - in the streets, on the stage, between boring educational discussions or around a warm bonfire on cold winter nights. My memory is so vivid of his graceful theatrical leaps as he tried, hope not in vain, to teach us the basics of acting and dancing and music. As skilled as he was in his guitar, on the drums and the gongs, who would forget how deft he was with the nose flute?

I can never forget one time, while he was busy making some propaganda paintings with those big angry and scary faces of the President, I asked him to make one that is beautiful to see. Using pointillism, he made me a bookmark - of my face and of a gun, and emblazoned with ‘rosas ng digma’ (rose of the revolution).

He was always a patient man, a kind man.  I never heard him raise his voice at anyone. His patience helped turn stubborn, cynical and mischievous girls like me into instruments of freedom, justice and peace.

When we met in the midst of the lush Cordillera forests in a not so distant past, I wouldn’t know it would be the last. Although when he made that decision to offer his life to the peoples’ struggle, I knew that every rare meeting could be the last. And rare it was, as rare as when the moon was blue. But as the “The Little Prince” would teach us, you will forever be in one of those bright stars shining and watching over us, always. ##