The Best and the Worst of Times

Within the last three weeks my spirit soared to high heavens with so much pride being a Filipino over the magnificent feats of Manny Pacquaio and CNN 2009 hero Efren Penaflorida, Jr. But, suddenly my heart flipped from joy to terrible sorrow. The soaring spirit crashed in tailspin to the ground burdened with so much grief, agony and shame over the gory and senseless killing of innocent civilians in Maguindanao.

Manny proved that a Filipino can reach great heights in his chosen field if he wants to and works hard for it. Manny’s labor as a prizefighter has been adequately rewarded: On 15 November 2009, he took home the welterweight championship belt from Miguel Cotto and became the first boxer in history to have been crowned in seven divisions, namely: flyweight (112 lb), super bantamweight (122 lb)), featherweight (126 lb), super flyweight (130), lightweight (135), light welterweight (140 lb), and welterweight (145lb).

The unequaled accomplishment of Manny Pacquaio has brought honors and glory to the Filipino people. The euphoria over his win lingered sweetly for weeks here and outside the country.

According to the PNP, the crime rate in the country plunges almost to zero every time Manny fights. The streets are almost free of traffic jams and accidents, the thieves stop thieving, the hold-uppers and kidnappers suspend their noxious trade, the rebels and the military declare an informal ceasefire, and the politicians stop their nasty mud-slinging – all is glued on the TV set for some 6 hours. Peace thus reigns over the land, albeit temporarily, because of the Pacman. Manny deserves more than the Order of Sikatuna Award. If I were a member of the Philippine Congress, I would introduce a resolution declaring Manny Pacquaio a living Filipino hero.

While Manny has to smash the face of an individual, batter the body and soul of his opponent to bring honors and glory to his country, from nowhere another Filipino put his country into the limelight for his unique effort, his soft approach of touching the hearts and transforming the lives of the poor and forgotten slum and street children through his “pushcart” education. On 21 November 2009, 28-year-old Efren Penaflorida, Jr. of Cavite was declared the CNN Hero of 2009. A multitude was awed by the rare and unprecedented community service Efren does in bringing transformative education to the young and downtrodden that snatches their lives from the claws of drugs, alcohol and gangsterism. In his speech in accepting the award, Efren encouraged everyone to be an instrument of selfless service to those in need:

"Each person has a hidden hero within…, you just have to look inside you and search it in your heart, and be the hero to the next one in need.

So to each and every person inside this theater and for those who are watching at home, the hero in you is waiting to be unleashed. Serve, serve well, serve others above yourself and be happy to serve. As I always tell to my co-volunteers ... you are the change that you dream, as I am the change that I dream, and collectively we are the change that this world needs to be."

I was extremely moved by the life and achievement of Efren. So young and yet so dedicated and determined to change the world of the helpless and hopeless. My heart swelled with pride for the young man. I told my wife who was nearby also watching the triumph of Efren on television: “You know, if I were the President of this Republic, I would immediately appoint Efren the Secretary of the Department of Education. No one has ever done what the young man dared to do. The guy, I believe, has still a lot to offer to improve the plight of our youth.”

The joy over Manny and Efren was dampened, however, and was quickly replaced by heart-gripping sorrow when on Monday, 23 November 2009, the news on the Maguindanao massacre filled the airwaves, splashed on TV and occupied the front pages of the print media in the days to follow, sending chills throughout the world on the magnitude of its bestiality unprecedented in recent memory.

I could not understand how I felt the very moment I learned about it. My immediate reaction was that of disbelief. As the details of the tragedy began to unfold, I became very angry and sad at the same time and then frustrated by my inability to do anything. It’s difficult to imagine how such inhumanity of man to his kind could happen in this modern time. But there it was, wasted and bastardized, scattered on the grounds or buried beneath, innocent and harmless women and men, whose only mistake, if it was, was to secure the participation of some people in the electoral contest in 2010, or for some, to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Warned of possible harm to come to him if he pursued his challenge to the family of those in power, the primary political challenger sent his wife and relatives and their legal counsels to the COMELEC for the filing of candidacy, inviting the various media of communication to accompany them, relying on the traditional belief that women, particularly Muslim women, would be spared by the atrocities of men, so much so that some 30 media people would cover the event. The traditional wisdom and belief fell into broken pieces. The unexpected happened. Fifty-seven lives were lost (latest count) in an orgy of sadism and bestiality. Maguindanao will never be the same again.

Tomorrow evening, MSUans worldwide are invited to light a candle to show our solidarity with the families of the victims, most especially with the family of fellow MSUan Cynthia Oquendo and her dear father. At daytime, I will plant 3 hardy native Tugas trees in memory of Cynthia, her father, and the rest of the victims.

Cyns, you were the dream you wanted to. Goodbye.

Statement of Concern of the Mindanao State University Alumni Association on the Maguindanao Massacre

The Mindanao State University Alumni Association (MSUAA) condemns in no uncertain terms the tragic, gruesome carnage obtaining in Maguindanao, Mindanao Island, Philippines, last Monday, 23 November 2009. The bestiality of the act committed against innocent civilians - harmless women, their unarmed escorts, journalists and legal counsels, whose only mistake, if ever, was in helping sustain the fragile democracy in the area by their effort to ascertain the participation of some people in the incoming electoral processes, is unparalleled in the history of modern times, and has even eclipsed the equally condemnable senseless killings in Iraq, Afghanistan, Pakistan, and Somalia.

We salute the victims for their courage in pursuing their respective role in their chosen professions, and as faithful citizens of the land who dreamed and believed that democracy may still blossom and bear fruits even in an arid and hostile environment.

The Association is aghast, however, by the very slow, tentative and unproductive actions of the government authorities in pursuing and bringing into justice the perpetrators of the heinous crime. It is therefore encouraging all sectors of society, the civil societies, the churches, those in academe and professional organizations to put more pressure on the government to prevent a whitewash, a fading action, and eventual amnesia of the event. The Association urges everybody to be vigilant on this matter and never to let this pass until justice is brought to the victims and their families.

The members of the Association are truly saddened by this unfortunate development in Mindanao. The people have already suffered so much from poverty, inequality, social and political uncertainty, and violence that grip the Island. The government ought to put an end to this, stop playing patronage politics, exercise political will and use its iron hand to restore order and sanity in the broken land.

The members of the Association condole with the families and kin of the victims with deepest and sincerest sympathy in this soul-wrenching time of their lives. But we are requesting them to remain calm and sober and to let the law and divine justice take their own courses so as not to escalate the crisis in our midst.

We pray to God to listen to the wails of those who grieve over the untimely death of their loved ones and to comfort and assure everyone whose heart has been seared by the tragedy that justice and peace will ultimately prevail in our beloved Mindanao.

SALAM!

Atty. Halil A. Lucman

President

William R. Adan, Ph.D.

President-in-Waiting

Boxing and Money Pakyaw

When I was in the grade school we had this neighbor who was already a good barber at age 14 named Manny. Manny was short and stocky and wanted so much to become a boxer. When he had no customer at his open barbershop under the mango tree, he would be hitting his punching bag and doing shadow boxing. He would give us, boys, free haircut on condition that we had to go into a round or two of boxing with him as referee. Inasmuch as he had no weighing scale the pairing of his fighters was made on the basis of the claimed ages, within a difference of 1 -2 years, regardless of the size and height of the contenders. As he had no kid gloves, he would just wrap securely the fists of his young boxers with his worn-out t-shirts. The pairs of boxers on line and the bystanders would form a circle around the fighters to serve as the boxing ring. The human boxing ring was mobile; it kept on moving away from a boxer who would back track unto it during the fight. We always looked forward with excitement to Saturday and Sunday afternoons where the scheduled fights were held on the grounds of his barbershop.

I was genetically smaller than anyone in my age group and was always naturally paired with bigger and taller opponents. But I developed a sort of strategy in overcoming my disadvantage and brought almost all of my opponents to the ground: At the start of the fight I would immediately rush like a flash of lightning to my opponent and pummeled him with head and body shots not-stop until he would drop to the ground or until the referee found it necessary to stop the fight. Of course after some time, my opponents recognized my trick and used it against me. But unlike them I refused to yield my ground and would engage any of them in an exchange of blows until exhaustion took its toll on the lesser mortal. Toe-in-toe in-fighting requires strong stomach and great stamina. I developed mine by running every time I was sent an errand to the market which was about a kilometer from our place. My younger but taller brother and I had also regularly sparred in the house sometime with our bare knuckles. After a while, we run out of opponents in the neighborhood; the barber-referee would be compelled to pit my brother against me in some Saturday or Sunday boxing afternoons. At times, the two of us went home with bloody noses or with a black eye.

That was how I was initiated into the art and science of boxing. The possible career in said sports never, however, had an opportunity to blossom. But the initiation has made me a boxing aficionado. I would never miss a Gabriel Flash Elorde fight in the radio. I followed on the boxing career of Cassius Clay, later re-named Mohammad Ali. I requested our professor in UP Los Banos to suspend our exam in a graduate course on the very hour of the Mohammad Ali-Joe Frazier “Thrilla in Manila” in 1975. She willingly obliged, and all of us in the examination room rushed to her apartment nearby to see the legendary heavyweight fight of all time. I loved the fights of Sugar Ray Leonard, Thomas Hearns, and Marvelous Marvin Hagler, three great clean fighters in the welterweight division in the 80s. But no Filipino boxer captured my interest after Flash Elorde until I saw Manny Pacquiao’s fights on TV.

I started watching Manny’s four-rounder encounters on TV recorded from those Tanduay Rum-sponsored afternoon fights in some street corners in Marikina and other places in Metro-Manila. Manny was lanky and probably weighed only a little over 100 lb when he first entered the ring as a prize fighter. Manny, despite his size, was an aggressive fighter who, like Mike Tyson, overwhelmed and put his opponents off balance with an endless barrage of brute punches. His obvious lack in boxing skill was compensated by an amazing inner power, speed, focus and determination to crush his opponent. Of course, power, speed, focus and determination alone would not make a sustainable champion. Manny’s rise continued but was held suspect by many for lack of boxing skills. When he met Freddie Roach his prospect for eternity started to unfold.

We found in Freddie and Manny the almost perfect model of a relationship between a great teacher and a very talented student who is very eager to learn. Manny’s speed and firepower have been equipped by Roach with a different fighting strategy for every different opponent in the ring. I watched at noontime today (Philippine Time) how Manny pulverized the vaunted power tank and ferocious natural welterweight warrior Miguel Cotto. Manny effectively put off the Puerto Rican’s fire just after the fourth round. It was to Cotto’s credit that he was still gallantly standing some seconds in the 12 rounds after receiving probably the greatest punishment in his profession. Manny’s demolition of Cotto obviously showed some variation in style and approach to what he did to de la Hoya, Diaz and Hatton.

So one by one, all the great legends in seven different weight divisions in boxing – flyweight (112 lb), super bantamweight (122 lb)), featherweight (126 lb), super flyweight (130), lightweight (135), light welterweight (140 lb), and welterweight (145lb), fell on the wayside struck by the lightning called Manny Pacquiao. Manny has not been called Pacman for any reason at all. He has gobbled his opponents like nobody’s business, as well as the megabucks in the boxing world unparalleled in the history of any sports. The Pacman may now also be called “Money Pakyaw” by the way he rakes millions of dollars into his coffer.

All Souls Day

As kids in our early elementary years we always looked forward to All Souls Day. It meant a sumptuous eat-all-you-can fare of native delicacies: biko, suman or budbod, puto maya, and the cold-looking but deceivingly hot tsokolate. The neighbors would always have any of the preparations, and the practice then was to exchange what specialty was prepared among nearest households.

Even if we didn’t have any relatives buried in the cemetery, we would go there just the same because some friends were visiting theirs’. It was a pleasure to troop to the cemetery bringing a bolo, a walis tingting, a rake or whatever cleaning materials at hand to help our friends clean the final resting place of their loved ones. Some enterprising boys much bigger than us would carry around a gallon of cheap white paint and offer their services to visitors to repaint the tombs of their departed ones. We could only marvel at their skill of haggling for the price of their labor and their ability to finish the task at no time at all.

My friends and I were still too young then to concern ourselves with making money. It was enough for us to be rewarded for our collective labor with biko or suman, sometimes with coke or ice-drops. When our task was done we moved around the cemetery jumping from one tomb to another observing what people were doing in remembrance of the departed ones.

Moods in the cemetery differed. Many were happy and jubilant, especially those families and relatives who came in band, bringing with them food and other goodies. The gathering in the cemetery was a reunion of sort, a time to update everyone on the social, economic and even probably the political plight of relatives, or the health, the travails and pains of others. Tents were set up, and then there would be eating and drinking, and even some singing till nightfall.

But there would be others who either came alone or with company of one or two with so much sadness, remorse and depression swathed in their faces. They would kneel on the mound of earth that could be the burial site of the departed and pour out their anguish in silent cry. Children as we were yet the sight and melancholy rubbed on us and made us forlorn for some moments.

At night when the moon was round and bright we would gather in the barangay waiting shed and exchanged exaggerated stories about ghosts, kalag, multo and aswang until all of us were too scared to go home.