Second class language?

I was reading a friend’s blog last week where she made quite an interesting point about the Visayan language: It is a language spoken by a great majority in the country, yet it has become relegated to a sort of second-class tongue.

I’ve stressed in previous columns that the Visayan language or Binisaya is, as languages go, more evolved than most major languages in existence, according to language scholars. The fact that Binisaya is a couple of hundred words larger than, say, Tagalog or English is proof enough of its age and flexibility (just the other day, my barkada was wracking our brains trying to translate the Visayan word “hata” to English. Finding no direct translation, the closest we got was “feint,” though we had to note that to feint is more of a movement meant to mislead or to deceive, while hata is a movement more related to indecisiveness rather than deception).

Some would argue that there is no such thing as a “superior” language. I’d actually tend to agree, since the idea of a language is to communicate ideas. Though one has to admit that certain languages make the transfer of ideas easier and faster than other languages. However, for the transfer of ideas to work, one particular language has to be common between two or more people. So, logically, if a language is spoken by more people, then more people can share ideas, and an idea can spread faster. Right?

Well then, here’s the premise in the Philippines: Tagalog is taught in school. English is taught in school. But when it comes to sheer population, there are more natural Visayan speakers in the country than there are natural Tagalog speakers or English speakers.

So then why, oh why, isn’t Visayan – one of the most beautiful, most evolved, most ancient, and most widely spoken languages in the Philippines – NOT taught in school?

In fact, over the past few decades, Visayan has, unfortunately, been given a stigma or sorts as something inferior. Even some of us Visayan natives refer to something as “Bisaya kaayo” to derogate something. In fact, in many schools, speaking Visayan is practically banned, sometimes with a fine imposed on every instance a student speaks Binisaya.

Can someone please tell me when Binisaya or being Bisaya became something so “wrong” that we have to be fined for it?

It would be easy to blame “imperialist Manila” for the state of Visayan today. Tagalog is spoken in the capital city of Manila, hence, the capital city’s language should be the language of the entire country. I could also easily blame the influences of those who sought to colonize us: The Spanish and the Americans. In attempting to establish a colony here, they had to impose their own culture and language on the natives. No doubt, these things are partly to blame.

But I also blame the Visayans themselves, among whose number I am included, for slipping over the past few decades. I would hardly say that we Visayans were quick to abandon our own in lieu of something new and foreign. If that were so, Binisaya would have been lost to history generations ago. But neither have I seen any major effort for us to retain and educate ourselves of our own native culture. Not Asian culture, not Filipino culture, but Visayan culture.

Now I’m not saying we all start tattooing ourselves and make like our Pintados ancestors; for a culture to survive, it must also evolve. But at the very least, we should teach ourselves our own history, and we should especially teach ourselves our own language. But in this aspect, we are slipping. We’re slipping so much, in fact, that Cebuano, a dialect of the Visayan language, is already so full of words from other languages that while native Cebuano speakers can still understand pure Binisaya, most Cebuanos can’t speak Binisaya fluently.

Don’t get me wrong. I’m not saying that we should stop teaching English in school. English is already the widely accepted “global” language and without it, we miss out on the world. I’m not even saying we stop teaching Tagalog (or what some would like to call “Filipino,” though any Filipino worth his tongue knows that the Filipino language is just what they call Tagalog in an attempt to make it more nationally appealing… emphasis on “attempt”).

What I’m saying is that we Bisayas should not leave out our own native tongue when it comes to the languages we teach our children in school. I’m not merely proposing to allow, or even standardize the use of Bisaya as a language of instruction wherever Bisaya is natively spoken. I say we should have Bisaya classes, where students are TAUGHT proper Binisaya in all its native glory. It’s the most widely used language in the country. WHY NOT?!

And by extension, along with teaching ourselves the proper way to SPEAK Binisaya, perhaps we should even teach ourselves the proper way to WRITE Binisaya. That’s right: Alibata classes, which is applicable to both Binisaya and Tagalog. From my meager experience with Alibata (or Baybayin as it was called in olden times), I’ve discovered that one is actually able to preserve intonations and stress points in the written words through visual representations where it would otherwise be lost if Bisaya words were written in the Roman alphabet (compensated only by a reader’s actual knowledge in Binisaya).

But as it is, no schools I know of teach Binisaya. And I suspect only the most specialized of libraries have literature that teaches a person Alibata.

Well, here’s a factoid for you all: UNESCO estimates that half of the world’s languages are endangered because they are no longer taught or spoken.

When was the last time anyone remembers having Bisaya classes?

Anyone?

More than meets the eye (Part 2)

The big screen was where it would all be decided. After two years of waiting, researching, ogling the Cybertronians’ new designs and resisting the urge to read spoilers, Transformers finally hit the big screen. But because of all this anticipation and knowledge I had already accumulated about the movie, I was afraid I might have set my standards too high. I could have set myself up for a disappointment, even if the movie did turn out to be good. So now, there was only one thing to do: Watch the dang movie.

I’m glad to say, I was not disappointed.

And based on the reactions of almost everyone I’ve talked, to, I wasn’t the only one who gave three thumbs up for the movie. So, since everyone seems to be in agreement that the movie rocked, I shall then skip my two cents on that and instead concentrate on the little details that just made the movie so amusing for me.

For one, I didn’t expect it to be so funny! But nothing cracked me up more than the scene where the Autobots tried several ways to hide from Spike’s parents at their house. No words can justify just how much of a crack-up that scene was! You have to see it to appreciate it.

Another was the character Frenzy. While the character was important plot-wise, Frenzy also provided much of the comic relief for the movie. I particularly loved that scene when he disembarked from Air Force One, hiding his face from the police using nothing more than his hands, as if it would help. It bears noting that this character was originally to be called Soundwave, after the character in the series that transformed into a stereo. It’s a good thing producers changed the name, considering that this character was just so much of a contrast from the serious “Megatron’s right hand man”/intelligence/logistics officer in the original TV series.

Another thing that greatly amused me (not in a “Haha!” way, probably more in a “Ngeee” way) was the product placements. First and foremost, the whole movie was a big, expensive advertisement for General Motors Corp. The Cybertronians who transform into non-military vehicles all take their forms from car brands owned by GMC, like Chevrolet, Ford, and Pontiac.

But apart from that, I just couldn’t help but notice the focus on so many brands within the movie, that they might as well have just mentioned them in dialog! For example:

Girl communications expert: “There’s only one man on the planet who can crack a code like this… so I’m going to save the data into my 2-gigabyte Panasonic SD card and bring it over to his house!”

Secretary of Defense: “What’s wrong? What’s interfering with all our Hewlett Packard LCD Monitors?”

Panicking civilian in the fight scene: “Oh, my gawd, the Mountain Dew dispenser is alive!”

In fact, they did just that for Nokia, with a whole dialog exchange dedicated to the Finish (not Japanese!) cellular phone manufacturer. While the N93i is my current dream phone, after watching that this movie, I swear I’ll never look at those phones in the same way again.

Story-wise, I had expected it to be more Cybertronian-driven than human-driven, as with the TV series. While this was not so, I wasn’t disappointed, since a movie that takes place on Earth will definitely have to concentrate on the humans’ importance, especially since it’s just a two-hour movie, not a TV series spanning three years. I admit disappointment, however, with the fact that most of the Decepticons were practically cannon fodder and only appeared in fight scenes. Of the seven Decepticons, only Megatron, Barricade, Frenzy, and Starscream had any sort of significant screen time, and even then, I felt Starscream could have been given a bit more exposure to really convey his “I’m better than any of you” attitude.

The same goes with the Autobots, with only Optimus Prime and Bumblebee getting most of the screen time. All in all, however, the other Autobots – Ironhide, Jazz and Ratchet – still had more screen time than the Decepticons. Sure, the Autobots may be the good guys, but I still would have loved to see more of Decepticons Bonecrusher, Devastator, and Blackout.

Also, I opposed the use of the name Devastator for the tank. Originally referred to as “Brawl” during production, producers said they renamed the character to give a better impression of the character’s fighting prowess. Die-hard Transformers TV series fans, however, know the character Devastator as one of the largest, meanest Decepticons, formed when five normal-sized Decepticons (collectively called the Constructicons) combine to form one giant robot. The use of the Devastator name for a single Decepticon in this movie basically prevents the Constructicons from making appearances in future movies, something a lot of fans hoped to see.

Plot-wise, I’d say the movie was a bit predictable. When Optimus Prime said that as a last ditch-effort, he was willing to destroy the Allspark by shoving it into the power source in his chest, I knew that was the way Megatron was going to die, either by Optimus’ or Spike’s hand. Not too many surprising twists and turns. Still, how the story was presented made all the difference, not just in terms of special effects, but in dramatic timing and force.

After a three-year wait, I was certainly not disappointed with Michael Bay/Steven Spielberg production. I only watched it once, but boy would I like to see it again before it closes in the theaters.

More than meets the eye (Part 1).

Warning: Some plot spoilers. For those who haven't seen the Transformers movie: Read at your own risk.

Ever since I first saw the Transformers TV series, I always wondered how it would be like if someone actually made a live action movie out of it. Lo and behold, two decades after the cartoon, Steven Spielberg announces he was going to do just that. And ever since he made that announcement in 2005, I’ve been anticipating this movie – bookmarked the movie website, Googled up some inside info, even read up on the history of the franchise just to give myself a refresher. The only thing I actually resisted researching was the plot. No spoilers; that would be for when I watched the movie itself.

Over the next two years, I’d be amazed, sometimes disappointed, then be re-amazed at the things that disappointed me. One thing in particular that I and numerous other Transformers fans thought would make or break the movie would be their portrayal of the Cybertronians in how they transformed, and especially in what they transformed into.

Producers announced early on that they would NOT duplicate the transformation sequences of the cartoons. They said they experimented with making the transformations faithful to how they were portrayed in the cartoon, but the Cybertronians turned out too clunky and kinesthetically difficult to render. For example: In the cartoons, when Bumblebee transforms from Volkswagen Beetle to robot, his hood and most front areas extend forward and split to become his feet, his head pops out from his trunk, and his arms fold out from the sides of the car. Conceptually, this was quite simple, and in 2-D cartoons, the flexibility of merely drawing the robot characters allowed for many body movements that need not be explained mechanically. But portraying that in a realistic 3-D manner would be asking for so much trouble, producers said. So, producers instead opted to render the Cybertronians’ transformation in a more complex manner, wherein the Cybertronians practically disassemble into a hundred moving parts. While rendering something like this is difficult from the point of view of computer-generated graphics, it would allow for more realistic kinesthetics for the mechanical beings. The consequence, however, is a drastic change in appearance for the Transformers, which die-hard fans might not appreciate.

The second, and perhaps more significant change that die-hard fans frowned upon was the “Earth modes” of the Cybertronians. They were not going to be the vehicles/objects that were portrayed in the series. Prime would be a long-nosed truck and not a flat-nosed one, Ironhide would be a pickup and not a van, Megatron would be a Cybertronian jet and not a gun, and, perhaps the most debated of all, Bumblebee would not be a Volkswagen Beetle, but a Chevrolet Camero. It would be this aspect of the movie that would gain much criticism, and the very aspect that could make or break the movie once it hit the theaters.

I tried to keep an open mind, however. And as the months passed, I was both shocked and amazed at the designs with which they had come up for the Cybertronians. While the complexity of the designs did indeed change the way the characters looked, producers were still able to capture the essence of the original cartoon characters, save a few. Either way, they all looked “logically realistic” as I would like to call it: the “new” Optimus Prime is easily associated with his cartoon equivalent, so is Bumblebee, despite not being a Beetle. While Starscream looks radically different from his cartoon equivalent, his robot mode still does seem appropriate for his F-22 Raptor alternate mode. And while Megatron was not going to be a Welther P38 pistol, his new look for the movie was menacing enough to deserve the character’s name, yet there were still subtle design elements that associated the movie design with the cartoon design.

All in all, from a pre-production point of view, I had little to complain about, and I couldn't wait to see the movie.

Keeping it professional

As much as I am annoyed with the squabble between Cebu City Mayor Tomas Osmeña and Cebu Gov. Gwendolyn Garcia, I think some good may actually come out of all of it.

For all this fighting over land, the city government and the provincial government are finally getting to be familiar with which properties belong exactly to which government, in some cases ending possession conflicts that may be decades or even centuries old. And in case of confusion or dispute in cases where ownership or rights over a property is doubted, the courts may always be invoked. But nonetheless, it will all end up in one thing: resolution.

Both Osmeña and Garcia said they are doing what they are doing not for themselves, but for the good of their constituents. All right, I’d believe that. But then, why all the name-calling? As a resident of Cebu City and a proud Cebuano, there's nothing more I deplore more than finding two of my island’s leaders making a personal fight over something that’s not even theirs to begin with. While I’d say both parties would be guilty of treating the people’s property like it was their own, I have to admit that one party acts this way a lot more than the other. This has been pointed out countless times, but it still needs pointing out again and again until both chief executives get the point.

To Mayor Osmeña and Governor Garcia: Fight over land all you want. That’s part of your job. But please, don’t make it personal. You’re supposed to be statesmen. Act like it. Deal, buy, sell, trade, swap, go to court, do whatever you have to do resolve these land issues. But trade jabs, and you’re already out of line. All these problems can be resolved by keeping it professional. Things may even be resolved quicker that way. Once all ownership/lease/donation issues are threshed out and settled, then the two governments may be able to pursue more permanent solutions, such as permanent transfer of ownership of certain lots. And when that’s all done, you two can go back to more important things, like running your respective governments.

* * *

Cebu City is the capital of Cebu Province. The seat of provincial government, the Capitol, is located in Cebu City. The city and the province even share the same name.

I find it quite ironic then that Cebu City residents have absolutely no say in choosing provincial leaders, even though almost every move of the province affects the city. I understand why Cebu City was made independent of the province – because dictator Ferdinand Marcos knew he couldn't control Cebu City, so he chopped it off from the rest of the province, which could be more easily manipulated at the time of his rule.

But that was then. This is now. And the “now” is making it really obvious that Cebu City will always be affected by the provincial government's actions. So shouldn’t it only be fair that Cebu City residents also have a say in the choice of provincial leadership?

By law, not by numbers

I like this idea of a Special Independent Prosecutor floated by senator-elect Kiko Pangilinan. The idea of a specialized group of lawmen tasked to look into offenses by high-ranking public servants sounds so much better than the whole of Congress screeching to a halt, with each member delivering one long-winded speech after another in an attempt to stress the merits of a case, even when these members’ lack of a law background renders their speeches totally inane and nonsensical.

Already, we have a good example in Antonio Trillanes IV, a person who would fashion himself President Gloria Macapagal-Arroyo’s overthrower. Even when his seat in the Senate was still unsure, he said one of his first tasks would be to commence impeachment proceedings against the President. Apparently, the senator-elect isn’t aware that the House of Representatives starts impeachment proceedings, not the Senate. The guy fails in a coup attempt, so he runs for the Senate thinking he’ll do a better task at toppling the President.

With a Special Independent Prosecutor, that office can do the job of looking into cases such as a possible impeachment case against the President while Congress, both the House and the Senate, can do the jobs they were tasked to do: Create laws to make the lives of the Filipinos better, not bicker about issues best decided by a branch of government neither of them belong to: The judiciary.

The office of a Special Independent Prosecutor, of course, sounds good in principle. But it’ll all be useless if its chief is partisan. The person in charge has to be a lawful, but neutral. My vote goes to former chief Hilario Davide Jr., but the guy seems content with his retirement. Chief Justice Reynato Puno? He’s a fine chap, but making him the Special Independent Prosecutor would be an added burden on him, the position of Chief Justice being complicated enough.

This raises another question: Who should choose the Special Independent Prosecutor? The House? That place isn’t run by principle, but by numbers and party loyalty. The Senate? Same thing. The President? We ARE talking about making the office non-partisan, aren’t we?

The only way I can see how a just and reliable person could be placed into the position would be to hold a special election for it. Costly and hell to organize, but it’s the only way a person the people trust can be put there. Perhaps during the barangay elections in October, the electorate could also choose a Special Independent Prosecutor. While this necessitates another canvassing at the national level, at least, logistically, it won’t be as complicated as organizing a separate election just to fill one position.

Besides, as I always like to say, nothing worth doing is ever easy.

I hope our lawmakers take the proposal to create the office of the Special Independent Prosecutor into consideration. An office like this would expedite the resolution of cases filed against high-ranking government officials and prevent our lawmakers from droning on and on or engaging in mindless bickering over issues that should be resolved by its merits, not by how many allies the accused has.

* * *

Who exactly do our congressmen serve?

Ask the congressmen themselves and they claim it’s the people that they serve. However, when it’s time to come to a decision, most congressmen reveal their true loyalties – their political party.

Take for example the issue regarding the Speakership. When media asks congressmen who they intend to support, they have a common answer. It’s nothing to the effect of “who my constituents support,” or “who has done/can do the most good.” The most common answer I hear is: “I’ll support whoever my party supports.”

Spineless. Thank God not all congressmen think this way.

This just goes to show what really goes on in most lawmakers’ minds.

* * *

To call Antonio Trillanes IV “honorable” is hard. It’s almost an oxymoron. Sure, I’ll call him Senator. He won fair and square (as far as I know) in an election after all. But honor is something you earn. Honor is something you gain from your actions. Nothing I have seen Trillanes do of late has been honorable. From betraying his commander in chief in an attempt to cease power through illegal means, to his attempt to continue his personal goals through the Senate. There’s nothing wrong with wanting change in government, to rid ourselves of the corruption that has plagued this country for so long. But to do it in a manner befitting a rebel?

He’s not the kind of man I want sitting in my Senate. Many people think otherwise, however. I just hope he doesn’t make a fool of himself in the Senate as he did in Oakwood.

Iba na ang mga bata ngayon

This article was written by my friend Mia Borja, a linguistics instructor at an Iligan-based state university. It was first published on June 8 on her blog site at barrioheiress.multiply.com.

I found this piece very touching, and I would like to share it with you all. It should encourage all of us to rethink our priorities, and be thankful for our blessings.

This piece and her other written works can be found on her site.

This article is reprinted with permission.

* * *

I remember saying this the first time I taught in a classroom: “Iba na ang mga bata ngayon.” I said it when I was barely 22. Now, four years later, I still find myself saying the same thing, but meaning it differently. So much differently.

One can easily blame the Internet, free porn, text messaging, Kris Aquino, or those questionable “stars” on Pinoy Big Brother. My classes this semester easily look like a reflection of that thought: 320 wide-eyed, horribly impressionable, amazingly troubled teens divided into six classes, all held in the most dilapidated and hottest buildings of the campus.

Yesterday was my university’s first day of school. I surveyed my classroom and I must say, it is always an interesting sight. I teach no less than 40 students per room, and I usually expect the usual combination of Muslims, pretty private school girls, astig public school kids, punks, hip-hop boys, and some international/half-something kids.

But yesterday was different than the other first days of school.

I took a look at the sea of faces frantically fanning themselves in the lunchtime heat, and thought that I would once again embark on an uphill climb – teaching these kids English they may never use, correcting pronunciation of words that they barely need, or conversation skills they will hastily put away at the end of the semester. So, resigned to that fact, I checked attendance and asked where these kids were from.

I was shocked to hear many of their stories. Only when I called attendance did I realize the harsh truth about what many of my kids really go through just to get an education. The usual introduction went like this:

“Hi, my name is Gail. I’m a graduate from a public high school in Zamboanga del Norte. It takes me 24 hours to go there from here. I have to ride five buses to get to my home town.”

“Hello, my name is Steven. I’m a scholar. My father was a policeman who got shot. My mother, I don’t know where she is. I am here with my two younger brothers, and I want to be an engineer someday.”

“Hi, my name is Mary. I am a scholar in this university. My father sent me here because he said it was like Ateneo.”

“My name is Jun. I live an hour from here but I have to live with my aunt. I hope that you will not assign many xerox expenses ma’am because I do not have enough money for the jeep sometimes.”

“Hi, I am Josef, and I am a scholar. I walk here everyday. My mother, she is in Hong Kong but I have to be a scholar because she cannot give enough money for me and my three sisters.”

I knew from the beginning that my students, being in a public school, would usually come from the lower ends of the social spectrum. But as to how low, I would still be amazed. A 23-unit semester costs only P2,000 at most, and yet many of them still have to be scholars because P2,000 is a figure that is still far too much for their families. There were almost a hundred students of mine who were from mountain villages that barely have electricity, from where they had to carry baon to school in banana leaves. Some were from lumad tribes who were forced to come down to the city by their elders because their lands had been taken from them. Some of them had seen armed conflict and had their barangays burned down. Some easily admitted to having friends in rogue extremist groups. Their parents sold calamansi and salt in the market. All of them had a story to tell.

These kids were the stuff I would only see in documentaries and ethnic spectacles.

Someone once told me that the Philippines was a rich country pretending to be poor. I could’ve slapped reality in that person’s face today. The Philippines is not pretending to be anything. We are poor. We are very poor. If that person could have the balls to trade one day of his air-conditioned life for an hour in suffocating heat with my kids, maybe then he would never again gripe at the pseudo-mess his life was in. There are bigger decisions in life, much bigger than deciding on whether to have a café latte or mochaccino. Much bigger than which Havaianas to wear tomorrow. Much bigger than my broken heart.

One cannot look at these kids’ trusting eyes and say they were not shaken.

These kids make me ashamed of complaining about why I can’t go to Boracay next month, or why I can’t find my way back to the private corporate ladder. These kids show me the face of poverty everyday at 7:30 a.m., lest I forget that the latest eyeshadow palette can easily pay for their entire semester’s tuition. Every time I come across colleagues who have made a better life for themselves in big cities and drinking martinis, I stop wishing to have their “fabulous, glamorous” existence.

These kids make me feel small, shallow, and hollow. How I wished I never had them in my class so I never would have to face the truth about poverty. How I wish I could ignore the brittle hair, the tattered shoes, the faded and oversized T-shirts. Their struggles make my neurosis superficial; they make my quarter-life crisis seem luxurious.

Now I am branded with an inconvenient conscience, and I am afraid.

As a public school teacher, I am afraid I cannot deliver. I am afraid that by September, that by next year, that in four years, their lives will still not be any different than today’s; that they will not be able to make ends meet. After all, poverty typically breeds poverty.

There is so much to fear, but fear is a luxury no one in my classroom can afford. If they can carry a bayong-full of clothes and ride on the topload of a jeep down to this university, then I could very well probably step up and teach them a thing or two about job interviews and how to carry a decent conversation.

Iba na ang mga bata ngayon. They are poorer, hungrier, and much more disillusioned than before. But they are also tougher, more determined, and more eager to better their lives because they know the cold truth: No one will help them do so. Not the government, not the fancy charity events, not non-government organizations who brag of “youth empowerment” and do not deliver, not peace relief organizations that have yet to have something to show.

So they take it upon themselves to ride five buses and three habal-habals for 24 hours just to sit in infuriatingly hot classrooms where they might at least see a faint glimmer of hope. They are different.

Iba na talaga ang mga bata ngayon. They are amazing.

The power of symbols

I drive a particularly large, black, environmentally unfriendly sedan. Because of it’s styling, my friends describe it to be “executive-looking” or “limousine-ish.” One even described it as a “mafia car.” But in a city like Cebu, cars like mine don’t stand out. At least, not by much. Definitely, it is not the kind that would turn heads everywhere it passes, contrary to, say, a Porsche or a Lamborghini.

That changed a few days ago.

I bought two Philippine flaglets from a street vendor to commemorate Independence Day. The flaglets were nothing particularly special – just the usual colored cloth sewn together and mounted on a bamboo stick. Playing on the inherent “VIP” styling of my car, I mounted one flag on each front corner of the vehicle. The result was a sort of personal joke I’ve always wanted to play since I got that car: With its size, color and styling, and now with two flags mounted in front, it looked somewhat like the kind of vehicle that would typically carry a visiting dignitary.

I was amused with the result. What I didn’t expect was the kind of reaction I’d get from the public once I started driving around with the flaglets.

The reactions were immediate. Right after I turned the corner that brought me out of my village, people who were walking along the sidewalk stopped and shuffled themselves farther from the road, staring at my car before I could even complete the turn. As I continued driving, pedestrians, jeepney passengers and other motorists would turn their heads as I drive along. I even noticed that some motorcycle drivers, after seeing my car on their side view mirror, would pull over to the side to let me pass. Some, of course, get the joke and smile as I drive along. Others really stare, sometimes even attempting to take a peak at the back seat in an attempt to see who the VIP was. Nobody was in the back, of course.

Sometimes, my little “in-joke” gets the best of me and I just drive around with a large, goofy grin on my face after seeing people’s reactions, proud of the effect the flags did to my car.

All these, just because I put teeny, tiny Philippine flags on the hood.

It’s amazing what a flag, even a small one, can do to give an object a certain distinction. And I’m not just talking about cars, but everything that could or should bear a flag, such as government buildings, aircraft, even private buildings, whether it’s just a company banner or the nation’s flag.

It’s no surprise then that if there’s anything all the countries in the world have in common, it’s a flag. Once any people in any particular territory declare themselves independent or free, one of the very first things they do is raise a flag into the sky for all to see. The feelings that a flag evokes is unmistakable. It’s a symbol of authority. A symbol of unity. A symbol of power.

But most of all, it is a symbol of independence.

To borrow a line from a popular sci-fi movie, “Today, we celebrate our independence Day.” And while I still debate on whether or not we truly did gain our independence on June 12, 1898 (I still think it’s July 4, 1945, when the Americans left the country and allowed the Filipinos their own sovereign authority after World War II), the fact remains that we Filipinos did earn our independence at some point in time. Whether or not we’ve been responsible with our independence is another story. Regardless, we are, more or less, a free country and a people who have our destiny in our own hands.

Today, let us then show our pride in our hard-fought freedom, whether from the Spanish in 1898 or the Japanese and Americans in 1945. Let us fly our country’s colors on our cars, our homes, and our businesses, even just for a few days. It’s a symbol our ancestors made. It’s a symbol our forebears marched into war in a bid for our independence. It is what our heroes died for.

It is because of that flag that we now enjoy a democratic, independent republic. It is because of that flag that we are free.

You don’t appreciate it until you lose it

During the campaign period, Lahug barangay captain Mary Ann delos Santos told media and residents of Lahug that she wanted to become mayor because Tomas Osmeña was neglecting certain areas of the city, including her barangay.

I may not be a resident of Lahug, but I do pass by the place with some frequency. And from what I can see, Delos Santos’ statements aren’t entirely accurate. The roads in the area have greatly improved, the long-awaited traffic lights at the intersection of Gorordo Avenue and Salinas Drive have finally been installed, and who knows what other improvements City Hall has done in other nooks of the barangay that I’ve never been to.

Captain Delos Santos apparently didn’t see what I and many others saw. For her, City Hall has done nothing for the barangay. And all the improvements were, what, miracles?

Now, fiction has turned into fact. Osmeña, in his classic vindictiveness, twisted Delos Santos’ election propaganda against her: She said City Hall has done nothing for Lahug, then City Hall will do nothing for Lahug.

And now, Lahug residents are paying the price for Mary Ann’s brand of electioneering.

It’s true that you don’t appreciate it until you lose it. Lahug lost an elementary school and allowances for its workers, both City Hall-funded. And now Mary Ann is realizing City Hall has indeed been doing something for the barangay.

Her justification? She did not know about the projects because they were not coursed through her. But there’s a whole world’s difference between “no projects” and “I don’t know because no projects were coursed through me.” Besides, how can a barangay captain not know of City Hall projects in his or her own barangay? Is this the method of a person who thought herself mayor material? To make conclusions without getting the facts straight?

And now, here she is, setting up fund-raising drives for the construction of a school her own words caused to grind to a halt. Why? Is it so hard for a person who already essentially admitted she was wrong to just apologize for her actions? Why try to raise P15 million for a school when it’s already there ready for the taking? All she needs to do is take the logical step up from her “I didn’t know” statement and just plainly apologize for her less than accurate election propaganda.

For all Mayor Osmeña’s vindictiveness, he’s also quite reasonable. While I dislike the mayor’s actions just as much as the next person, I do understand his point. He’s not looking for gratitude for the school or the allowances or whatever else City Hall has done for barangay. He’s not out for vengeance on barangay Lahug for not supporting him in his elections (if he did, I’d imagine he’d have stopped any projects in the barangay long ago). He just wants Delos Santos to admit her mistake and fess up that what she’s told people about City Hall was not exactly the truth, whether or not those statements were based on lack of information on her part.

Osmeña has already opened his door enough for Delos Santos: If she wants anything for the barangay, such as money for the school, request for it in writing. That way, she’ll stay informed of what City Hall is doing for the barangay and perhaps avoid making inaccurate statements in the future. Now the ball is in Delos Santos’ court. Will she continue to let pride get the best of her, or will she swallow it and just simply admit her mistake?

You reap what you sow. What goes around, comes around. Delos Santos wanted people to believe that the mayor won’t do anything for the barangay, and now she has it. The only person who can fix this is Delos Santos herself. She can continue badmouthing the mayor, and the mayor can keep on retaliating. We already know that retaliation is one of the things the mayor does best. Or Delos Santos can show statesmanship worthy of a potential mayor and simply right a wrong she made herself. And let’s hope she does it soon before the mayor decides to do something else, like rip out the new asphalt on Gorordo Avenue.

Delos Santos said the mayor’s actions were childish and unreasonable. I agree completely. However, I’d also say that publishing propaganda based on ignorance and inaccurate information is childish and unreasonable. So now, we have two childish and unreasonable people at each other’s throats. I can’t wait for these people to grow up.

As for the mayor, I do not wish to justify his actions. To involve schoolchildren in political squabbling like this is just uncalled for. But one has to admit, however, that halting the construction of the school, at least for a few days, won’t matter in the long run. School already started yesterday and the building has yet to take shape. If construction had continued, I doubt the building would be usable within the school year unless it was made completely out of wood (in which case, I doubt it would cost P15 million unless it was super-huge). Still, I hope the mayor isn’t relying on the fact that July marks the start of his last consecutive term as mayor and, as such, feels he might not have anything to lose by acting in a manner not befitting a chief executive.

Most of all, however, I hope these two politicians will be reminded that the school or the money allocated to build it is not theirs to mess around with. It belongs to the residents of Cebu City, including – and especially – the residents of barangay Lahug, who probably need it more than anyone else in the city.

Haste makes waste

Boy, is there now a lot of waste lining the streets of Mandaue, Lapu-Lapu, and Cebu cities.

And no, I'm not talking about leftover campaign posters from the elections. I'm talking about those decorative lampposts bought and installed for the 12th Association of Southeast Asian Nations (ASEAN) Summit.

Taxpayers' money, just sitting along the sidewalk, doing nothing. For weeks now, I drive to and from work, and I see those lampposts, designed to make certain streets in the metropolis look nice, doing nothing. As if the purchase of these items wasn't controversial enough, now I just find it obscene that these things – millions of pesos in taxpayers' money – are serving no purpose whatsoever. Dark as the night they were meant to light up.

What's worse, with no electricity flowing through these lampposts, vandals are no longer afraid to reach into these things and grab anything salvageable, from the electric wires to light bulbs.

And why are these lampposts now so dark? Simply because nobody's paying the electric bill for them. Why? Because nobody wants to take responsibility for them. Why? Nobody knows who to pin the responsibility on. Why? Because there's now the question of whether these lampposts are worth the P300,000+ that was spent to buy each of them. Why? Because those who wanted to put these lampposts up bought them by skipping all the checks and balances that's supposedly designed to avoid this kind of trouble in the first place!

Procurement laws, bidding processes, everything that should have made sure that taxpayers got every bang for their buck was set aside to buy these lampposts. Emergency clauses were cited, stating a need for haste due to lack of time to go through all the niceties of proper procurement. And because our leaders were all so excited about the ASEAN Summit, almost all of them gave their thumbs up to the idea.

And now that the summit is over, look what all these lampposts are doing: Absolutely nothing. And not just that, now we have an electric bill worth millions because of these lampposts. It's a bill nobody wants to pay for, mainly because electricity distributors are also confused on who to give the bill!

Over P300 million worth of decorative lampposts not decorating anything. And to think that whole bunch may not actually cost P300 million. The “extra” money could have been spent on other, more useful things, like livelihoods for those who don't have any. Heck, the entire amount spend on the lampposts could have served a better, long-term purpose.

Haste makes waste, they say. And boy, did the government's haste produce big, stinking piles of waste along our sidewalks. It would have been good at least if all the resources lost in the haste still ended up with something tangible. As it is, all those lampposts are doing is taking up space.

With the elections over, I hope our leaders, new and reelected, learn something from this. Heck, I hope they'll DO something about this, starting with the continued investigation of alleged overpricing. In the long run, I hope our leaders also learn the value of starting things early, and not rushing to complete a project by skipping established rules. Because whenever that happens, you'll just get another “lamppost controversy.”

One counts

In every election period, there are many unavoidable, annoying truths: campaign jingles, posters where they shouldn’t be, votes bought for P50, dead people voting, the living unable to vote because their names have disappeared.

There are may reasons to be annoyed with the elections. But one thing that annoys me the most is how some people talk about how voting is useless and that they won’t bother because it won’t make a difference.

They claim disillusionment. These kinds of people usually say there’s nobody worth voting for. Some say there needs to be radical change in society before voting can really matter. Some talk about how they’ll vote only if “the system” – both the government and election procedures – are more reliable and only then will their votes really count. Others complain about how practicing their right of suffrage is useless because corrupted officials in power will find ways to rig the numbers in their favor. Most go into long eulogies about how their one vote won’t count in the sea of millions of other people’s votes.

After so many elections and hearing so many excuses, I think I’ve finally figured out why people who chose not to vote really don’t vote.

They’re not disillusioned. They’re just lazy.

The highfalutin excuses are just that – excuses. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out that there does exist people worth voting for. And unless someone wants to stage an armed revolt to take over the government, then talks about immediate, radical change is just hot air. “The system” and corrupted officials? They’ll always be there unless people vote them out of there. The people were the ones who placed them there in the first place.

And one vote not counting among millions? How do they think votes go into the millions in the first place unless one vote is added with another?

While I pity those who really can’t vote because of circumstances beyond their control, I can’t help but think irresponsible those who have all the ability and capacity to vote, but chose not to. And you know what? They seem to know it themselves, as well.

Those people who talk about not voting because it won’t make a difference sometimes attempt ridicule at the “idealism” of those who do vote. Anything from slight teasing to engaging the voter to a full blown debate. But no matter what they say, just take a look at them and you’ll see that deep down, they’re only envious that the voter did something they knew they should have as well. It’s in their faces. It’s in their eyes. It’s in their body language. They’ll hide their envy and the guilt of their own irresponsibility by exaggerating their own actions. I’ve seen enough of them to be certain. Deep down, they know their one vote could have made a difference. They know they failed not so much their country, but themselves.

So let them make fun of how you practiced your right – your civic duty – to suffrage. In the end, everyone, even those who talk about how useless voting is, knows you did good.

Ever since I was old enough to vote, I did. And I say that not to brag, but because I’m darned proud of showing off that little dark purple splotch on my index finger every three years that says to the world, “I voted.” “I counted.” “I made a difference.”

Yesterday, it was encouraging to see the precincts in the school where I voted. As I entered the school, I was among many trying to enter the gates, clashing head on with the just as many coming out with dark marks already on their index fingers. It was refreshing to see that many people still believe that their one voice, small as it may be, still matters in the bigger picture.

In the end, 100 is only 99 if you take out 1. 1,000 is only 999 if you take out 1. If you have P1 million pesos, you’re a millionaire, but take out just P1 and you’re not a millionaire.

In the end, one of anything counts. One vote for a just candidate is one vote against a lousy politico. One clean vote is one vote a cheating candidate is going to have to fight for. One vote for the right person is one vote in the direction of a better nation.

One vote does count. Sometimes, one vote is all that matters.

The devil in the (lack of) details

The comparative presentation of Cebu Gov. Gwendolyn Garcia among the Cebu International Convention Center (CICC), other similar buildings in nearby provinces and industry standards for such structures seemed to satisfy many people who have been wanting to know about the Cebu provincial government’s expenditures on the controversial building.

I, however, can’t help but feel a little shortchanged. Sure, the governor’s presentation answered many questions. And the fact that the CICC came out so cheap (regardless of criticisms on its design) should be applauded.

However, Garcia’s presentation didn’t seem to answer the questions that really needed answering, and that is: How exactly was each taxpayer centavo spent on the CICC?

The governor said she purposely didn’t want to go into the nitty-gritty details so as not to confuse the public. While her consideration is much appreciated, I do have to point out that there are some of us Cebuanos who don’t get confused with such details, particularly, architects and engineers who will know exactly how to interpret a highly detailed accounting of the money spent on the CICC – down to the cost of each nail. And before anyone in the Capitol says it’s impossible to make that detailed an accounting, let me point out that if ancient Chinese architects were able to predict the exact number of bricks they’d use for a temple before they even built it, then any modern Filipino architect worth his or her T-square should be able to do the same for any modern building. As a matter of fact, the whole job of an architect revolves around that, and before a building is even made (considering some adjustments along the way while the building is being built, of course).

Sure, it may be true that the CICC was a good deal compared to other buildings, but what about compared to itself? Sure, P581 million for a building of that size ain’t bad at all. But without a detailed accounting, how are we to know that each material, each component of the building was worth each peso? Let me emphasize that I am not accusing anyone of cheating or being untruthful. But theoretically speaking, without a detailed accounting, how are we to know that a lightbulb in that building may actually be worth just P30, but P40 was actually spent on it? Multiply that with the exact number of lightbulbs in the CICC, and the difference between a P30 and P40 quickly becomes significant. The same for any iron bar, every length of wire, every concrete slab that was placed in that building. A detailed accounting would put all of that to rest. And “detailed” shouldn’t just go “Lightbulb: P40,” but instead look like “General Electric 10-watt incandescent lightbulb: P40.” That way, us nitty-gritty nitpickers know exactly what item the Capitol spent on, how good that item is (whether or not it was up to specifications), and allow us to compare it with prices at our local hardware store. We’ll know if a General Electric 10-watt incandescent lightbulb is really worth P40.

But even now, over a year after the plans for the CICC were drawn up, an accounting of the building still isn’t available. And contrary to what some people involved in the CICC’s construction would say, CICC documents are supposed to public property and, as such, should be available for public scrutiny.

For all we know, with all this talk that the CICC is already cheap at P581 million, the building may actually cost even less. Unless a detailed accounting is presented, we’ll never know, and the questions will just keep on coming. The Capitol can just keep on dodging the issue, or they can simply just show an accounting – a document that should have already existed a whole year ago. If the provincial government can’t present the public a document that should already have existed before the CICC was ever built, then someone in the Capitol has a lot of explaining to do.

They say the devil is in the details. In this case, the devil might just be in the lack of it. And unless the Capitol coughs up an accounting of how much each nail, each kilogram of cement, each pane of glass, and each brick cost the Cebuano people, the issues hounding the CICC will never be over.

* * *

Allow me to send a shoutout to my brother, Gerard, who is celebrating his birthday today. Happy birthday, ‘Doy!

And to all you Mandauehanons out there (where the CICC stands), a happy fiesta!

Hard choices

It's only two weeks until the May 14 midterm elections. Yet even now, I'm still not certain of which candidates I should deem worthy of my vote for the Senate.

The local candidates are easy enough pickings. As a resident of Cebu City, my choice for mayor and city councilors go to those who are not beholden to has-been politicians and/or political neophytes trying to get as much media mileage as possible by making mountains out of molehills.

The senate, on the other hand, is a different story. At least, for once, there are actually two distinct forerunner parties to choose from – the administration's Team Unity (TU) and the Genuine Opposition (GO). While these two are technically coalitions since members of each side also have their own parties, taking either group's slate as a whole does help simplify things. At least there's no more need to try to figure out which candidate belongs to which side anymore.

Or is there? While the whole Team Unity vs Genuine Opposition fight makes things simpler, I feel there is a need to look at each individual candidate from each side closely. Unfortunately, when I do, I get confused again.

Team Unity is pro-administration. Yet looking closely, one can see members of that slate who once members of the opposition, critics of President Gloria Macapagal-Arroyo, and even staunch supporters of deposed president Joseph Estrada. Have we conveniently forgotten how one Team Unity member danced with glee at how she and her cohorts roadblocked impeachment efforts against Estrada in 2001? Heck, I credit that dance as the trigger for People Power II. Another Team Unity candidate has his name stained by controversies over illegal gambling that supposedly proliferated in his home province during the time, and allegedly with the blessing, of ex-president Estrada. Other Team Unity members have their own skeletons in their own closets as well. But that's not to say there aren't any good people in Team Unity. As a matter of fact, I'd say a lot of Team Unity's slate are good fruits. I'm just wondering how so many bad fruits ended up in the same tree.

On the other hand, we have candidates in the Genuine Opposition. When I look at this bunch, I see has-beens trying desperately to come back to power, rebels and iron-fisted authoritarians trying legal where their old illegal means failed them, and politicians whose only distinction so far was talking and criticizing others while they themselves sat in their comfy offices doing practically nothing. Yet among the Genuine Opposition are also people of integrity and credibility, such as one ex-senator who served the country with distinction but ended up insulting the whole of Cebu when she demanded a recount of our votes in the 2004 elections (essentially telling us we were idiots in the way we voted). Another Genuine Opposition candidate also served the country well while holding one of the highest positions in the land. Again, good eggs and bad eggs in one basket.

Then, of course, there are the independents. They have their own merits and flaws as well. One in particular is experienced and has an all-around good standing and chose to avoid partisan politics and declined invitations from both Team Unity and the Genuine Opposition, preferring to go at it on his own. This lack of a clear stand on recent government issues, however, could work against him. Other independents have their popularity going for them, but they are untested as leaders and may not deserve our votes for a senate position just yet.

Even official surveys seem confusing. Since January, senate standings change almost weekly, with people at the top of one survey dropping out of the “Magic 12” in the next survey. Seems I'm not the only one confused on who to vote for.

I suppose this is an indication that among our candidates, especially for the Senate, much is still left to be desired. Let's just hope that in the next two weeks, we'll get a clearer view of whom to vote for. Maybe the candidates themselves could help by advertising what they've done for the country or what they plan to do, instead of trying to push how popular they are or how “cool” they claim to be.