Go, celebrate the gift of life!

Salipawpaw

nortehanon — Thu, 26 Aug 2010 16:09:29 +0000

Gusto ko iyon. Kung paanong tila humahalik ito sa langit. Kung paanong nakikipagtaguan ito sa mga ulap. Kung paanong mas malayo pa sa guryon ang nararating nito. Kung paanong nakikita nito ang hiwagang nakikita ng mga ibong malaya kung lumilipad.

Kung mabibigyan ako ng pagkakataon, gusto ko iyon. Gusto kong gawin iyon. Ang lumipad na parang isang salipawpaw.

Nemo

nortehanon — Wed, 25 Aug 2010 02:36:34 +0000

Dirty and stinky. He had just traveled all the way from Batangas, all soaked up in his urine and vomit. But when he licked my hands and looked me in the eyes with the most hopeful gaze in the universe, I knew he had me on that first day we met.

He was four months old then. It has been 8 years since that first meeting and it has been a lot of fun. The cute little guy I took home in a shoebox is now all grown up. Sometimes he’s stubborn, makulit. But most of the time he makes me smile with his antics and melts my heart when we share our small moments of bliss.

Once, on a summer day, I took him to the park. After a little while he was surrounded by children. He enjoys it, the attention he gets from children wherever he goes. He seems so sure if the person he’s meeting is a child or an adult. I noticed he wags his tail more when he sees a child. I must have rubbed off on him my having a soft spot for children hehehe

“Neee-mo?” the children at the park said almost in chorus when they asked me for his name. They looked a little confused. I was sure they were wondering why they’re seeing a dog and not a fish

And The Journey Begins #1

nortehanon — Tue, 17 Aug 2010 09:16:53 +0000

Too often, I wonder how long the rivers can give us fish; how long the earth can sustain our growing needs…

And The Journey Begins: A Series

nortehanon — Fri, 13 Aug 2010 01:35:52 +0000

Being able to take pictures is a gift. It is painting a scene. It is capturing random beautiful things. It is freezing moments. It is capturing the details of life around us. As my blog nears its second year of existence, I am starting a series of posts with photos. How are these posts going to be different from my regular posts? Let me count the ways:

1. Each post will contain only 1 photo.
2. The photo will be a bit bigger than those in the regular posts.
3. The title of the post will only be numbers. This is for no other reason than to keep track of the number of photos that I have posted in the series.
4. The post will not contain stories or explanation or any kind of lengthy texts. Each post will only have a short text, one or two lines maybe. I’ll leave to you, my read the talking about the picture if you want to. You may interpret the picture or make a story about it.

Why did I come up with this series? I am hoping that with this I will be “pushed” to take more pictures. And with this, I hope, will come new learnings in taking photographs and new realizations on the life that presents itself in front of my lens.

So wish me luck as my journey—painting a scene, capturing random beautiful things, freezing moments, and capturing details of life around us—begins.

(Photo above is not mine. It is owned by a generous guy over at photo8.com.)

You

nortehanon — Wed, 04 Aug 2010 12:05:45 +0000

You called my name and somehow I knew that it was the moment. Oh, don’t be flattered yet. I have fought your presence. I have fought the swelling emotions inside me. They were tugging me towards you, drawing me closer to you every second of every day. I have fought them hard. In fact, I have thought that I’ve won the battle inside me. But I was wrong. The force was stronger, so much stronger. Somewhere between your smiles I lost and I surrendered, and that was when I found my heart’s songs.

So I stepped into a world which we both started to create. It is a beautiful, beautiful space where we unravel many mysteries; where we share the same passions; where we seek solace from our everyday storms; where we dance to the fluid rhythm of our beating hearts. In many moments of stillness and solitude, I have wished for this dance to never end, for the music of our hearts to never stop.

Because you make me happy. You make me mad. You make me madly happy. You make me happily mad. Thank you for putting up with a crazy mortal that is me.

Happy birthday! Cheers!

(Accompanying image is not mine. It’s from a forwarded email.)

Hard Work

nortehanon — Sat, 24 Jul 2010 08:41:33 +0000

Before the sun rises, before the first rooster crows early in the morning, this man sets out to work.

While other parents and children are still cuddled in bed, comforted by a thick blanket on a cold morning, he and his son are already out in the river. On a bamboo raft, they transport loads of eggplants from a vegetable plantation upstream.

After almost an hour journey down the river, he unloads the eggplants from the bamboo raft, then he brings some loads down a steep hill where clients already wait. Since he could not carry all the loads of eggplants, his 4-year-old son stays behind and “guards” the eggplants until his father is back and ready to bring them downhill. This has become their routine almost every day.

The man does not own the vegetables. He is just a “transporter.” He is paid a measly amount for his services. Yet, there was something in his attitude that inspired me when I met him one Sunday morning. He was sporting a sunny disposition. He was smiling. He seemed happy. And content.

God sends us angels in the men and women we meet along the way. On that Sunday morning, God sent this man to remind me that hard work brings us to the ground and makes us appreciate the simpler things in life.

Pedicab Boys

nortehanon — Mon, 12 Jul 2010 07:49:23 +0000

I met these boys while I was tending my mother’s sari-sari store.

“Maupay!” they called out. “Maupay“, in Waray dialect, means “good.” But when we visit another person’s house or go to a store to buy something, “Maupay” means “Tao po.”

The boys wanted to buy “ice water,” or simply, cold water. Since we do not sell “ice water,” I offered to give them water from our fridge.

While they were drinking, I noticed a pedicab parked in front of the store.

“You drove that pedicab here? Namamasahero kam?” I asked them.

Their answer, a “Yes”, felt like a stab in my heart.

“Who drives it?” I asked.

“Ako,” answered the older one. He was thin and I estimated he was not tall enough to reach the bicycle’s pedal when seated properly on the driver’s seat. How could he maneuver a pedicab? I could only imagine how hard he pedals when he is going uphill or on a steep road. Pedicabs in my province are different from the ones you see in Metro Manila. Mas mataas ang bicycle na gamit sa pedicab sa amin, minsan nga parang racer bike.

I offered them some packs of biscuits. I learned that they are brothers and they have 2 younger sisters. They are orphans so their sickly grandmother, a labandera, is taking care of them. The older one drives a pedicab to help bring food to the table.

“I help him sometimes. I go with him. I push the pedicab when he is having a hard time, especially if the load is heavy,” said the younger one.

I took a photo of them as they pedaled away after our short conversation. I noticed the driver did not sit properly as he drove. His legs were still short for the pedals. He managed to look back and give a shy smile. Beyond his smile, I know there are a thousand more hardships he could not tell me…in words.

I wonder how long they will have to do this. I wonder how long their young, fragile bodies will endure. While other boys their age are probably enjoying at the mall or busy playing war games on computers or PSPs, these brothers are out in the streets fighting their own war, pedaling to keep their family afloat.

June

nortehanon — Mon, 05 Jul 2010 09:24:44 +0000

Buwan ng Hunyo nang una akong makipagsapalaran sa Maynila. Trese anyos lang ako noon. Naglakas-loob akong lumuwas ng Maynila dahil nanghihinayang ako sa isang magandang opurtunidad. My uncle had offered to help out with my schooling. In return, I was expected to help with the household chores. Naging katulong ako ng kanilang kasambahay sa paglilinis, paglalaba, pag-aalaga ng bata at pamamalantsa, at kasama-kasama ako ng auntie ko sa pamamalengke. Bale, all-around ako hehehe, maliban sa pagluluto.

Life away from home was hard, especially that I was only thirteen. I was living with relatives but it felt like I was living on my own. Ang mag-asawang tinirhan ko kasi ay hindi katulad ng nakasanayan kong nanay at tatay na pwede mong kausapin tungkol sa lahat ng bagay, Most of the time, they were stiff and strict. I can not remember being asked, even once, how my day in school was. Bagay na madalas kong ma-miss kina Nanay at Tatay. Madalas kasi sa probinsya, tuwing pagkakatapos ng hapunan, ay tinatanong kami nina Nanay at Tatay kung kumusta sa school, kung meron bang lesson na nahihirapan kami. Pagkatapos nun, tuturuan na nila kami sa mga assignment namin.

Pagtuntong ko ng Maynila ay walang ganun: walang nangungumusta sa akin, walang nagtuturo sa assignment ko, walang nagtuturo sa mahirap na lesson. Ako lahat ang gumagawa para sa sarili ko.

Dalawang aspeto ng buhay ko ang nangailangan ng major adjustment: sa school at sa bahay.

Sa school, araw-araw ay nakikibaka ako sa mga classmate kong kung hindi valedictorian ay salutatorian o kaya naman ay accelerated sa elementary. Natanggap ako sa isa sa mga public school sa Manila na may malaking populasyon. Noong unang araw ng pasukan ay nagimbal ako sa dami ng mga estudyante. Ang first year ay umabot ng section 33 at bawat section ay may average na 50 students. Sa first year pa lang ay umabot na kami ng mahigit 1,650 na estudyante. Sa pagdaan ng mga taon, unti-unti itong nabawasan.

Pinalad akong mag-qualify sa tinawag nilang star section o Section One. Sa probinsya kasi, wala kaming star section noon sa eskwelahan namin, sapagkat iisa lang naman ang section sa bawat grade level. Haluhalo ang miyembro ng klase namin noon sa probinsya. Magkakasama ang slow learner at fast learner. Magkakasama ang mga nasa tamang gulang at mga 16 at 17 gulang na ngunit nasa Grade 6 pa lang. Ang iba nga sa kanila, pagka-graduate ng elementary ay agad nang nag-asawa.

Balik tayo sa mga kaklase ko dito sa Maynila. Lahat sila ay marurunong. Lahat yata ay gustong mapunta sa honor roll, parang mga kandidatong nag-aagawan sa pwesto. Ako’y madalas tahimik lang sa klase. Ito ay sa dahilang madalas nila akong bansagang promdi at bisaya. Palibhasa’y bata pa noon kaya kahit paano ay dinamdam ko ang ganung mga panunukso. Ngunit nang lumaon ay hindi ko na rin ito pinansin. Ang tanging nasa isip ko lang ay makatapos ng high school. Unti-unti rin namang nag-mature ang mga kaklase ko at hindi na lang puro honor ang iniisip nila.

Nasa high school ako nang pumutok ang Mt. Pinatubo (O, wag ka ng magkwenta ng edad ko. Alam ko nag-Google ka agad kung kelan pumutok at Mt. Pinatubo hahaha ). Nasa high school din ako nang maganap ang pinakaseryoso at huling coup d’etat laban sa Aquino administration na pinangunahan ng Reform the Armed Forces Movement o RAM (O, sinabi nang wag mag-Google eh!) At the time, hindi pa uso ang celphone. Walang landline sa bahay. The fastest way you could communicate with people far away from you was through telegram. Letters from Manila took 2 to 3 weeks to arrive in Samar. And letters from Samar took the same length of time to arrive in Manila. Madalas, kapag may problema ako sa school o sa tinutuluyan kong bahay, sa simbahan ang takbo ko. Doon ako iiyak, nang iiyak, nang iiyak at magdadasal, magdadasal, at magdadasal. Kung ikaw ay taga-Maynila at mapapadaan ka sa simbahan ng Sto. Niño sa Pandacan, ingiti mo ako sa simbahang iyan na naging kanlungan ko sa loob ng maraming taon.

Sa high school ko natutuhang makibaka sa buhay. Sa high school ako maraming beses na sinubok ng tadhana. Sa high school din ako natutong maging matatag. Sa high school, lalo kong pinagtibay sa sarili ko ang kagustuhan na makapagtapos ng pag-aaral para naman hindi mabalewala ang lahat.

Sa PICC ginanap ang graduation namin nung high school.Mula sa 33 sections noong first year ay naging 28 sections na lamang kami. Kasama ko sina Nanay at Tatay nang umakyat ako ng entablado. At sa araw na iyon ay tuwang-tuwa ako.

Ikinuwento ko ang episode na ito ng buhay ko para kapulutan ng kahit na munting aral, lalo’t kasisimula pa lang ng pasukan.

Una, sa mga magulang at mga taong nagpapaaral, I hope you will take time out para kumustahin ang mga estudyante ninyo after a day in school. I tell you, it matters A LOT to them. Sana’y wag kayong tumigil sa pagtaguyod ng inyong mga mag-aaral

Sa mga mag-aaral na hindi na kinakailangan pang mahiwalay sa pamilya para lang makapag-aral, I hope you’ll feel grateful for that. Hindi madali ang mawalay sa pamilya.

Sa mga mag-aaral naman na katulad kong nawalay sa pamilya, sana’y matutuhan ninyo ang patuloy na pagtitiis at pagpapasensya. Patuloy kayong magsikap.

Alam kong may magtatanong kung nandyan ako sa picture, opo, nandyan ako, pakihanap na lang. Ang makakahanap ay may premyong trip to Boracay Davao Palawan Jerusalem hehehe.

Little Drummer Boy

nortehanon — Tue, 29 Jun 2010 11:03:39 +0000

You excitedly put on your parade uniform, turned to me, and said, “Dako ak drum.” (My drum is big.) I just smiled back at you. Secretly, I glanced at your drum. Yes, I think it is big for you. And it is a bit heavy for you. But I knew you could go on with the parade with it.

Look at you now, all grown up. Soon, you’ll be a man, a big man, like you’ve always wanted to become. When I think of you crawling in bed six or seven years ago, I wonder what happened to all the years in between. They just flew by like a blur. I think you suddenly grew up.

I picked up your shoes and cleaned them and you thanked me. I felt a tug in my heart. My heart was broken into very, very small pieces and it felt like the pieces were drained right out of me, like the dry sands that fell from the soles of your shoes.

I looked at you as your turned to walk away, I wondered how it would have made you feel if it was your mother who cleaned your shoes.

Sometimes, I wonder how you manage to go on experiencing life without a mother. Yes, I do love you. Lolo and Lola love you. Tita H, Tito T, Tito N, and Tatay A love you. But I wonder if our love is enough, if it’s ever enough to take the place of a mother’s love.

Sometimes, I wonder if beyond your smiles you keep a secret longing for a mother’s warm hug.

Sometimes, I wonder if your mother ever remembers you. I am hoping she does.

At the parade, you smiled at me while your little hands, covered in white gloves, repeatedly beat the drum with those blue sticks. I am happy to be part of moments like this—your little happy moments, your little proud moments. And I will be happy to be part of more moments like this in your life.

You might someday ask me why your mother have left you. To be honest, I don’t know what I will tell you when that day comes, because I do not know the answer. I would also like to ask her the same question. I myself have always believed na walang inang natitiis ang anak. But in your case, sometimes I doubt the truth of this.

I always hope and pray that you grow up to be a good man. In the meantime, I will try to protect your tender heart from all the harshness of the world until you become strong enough to fight life’s evils on your own.

Silent Days, Silent Nights

nortehanon — Tue, 22 Jun 2010 05:07:14 +0000

Let’s sit a while in the park and imagine some things. Imagine seeing the trees dance to the breeze. Imagine seeing lots of birds on tree branches. Imagine seeing a dog barking at the birds up the tree.

Now, imagine that the world around you is mute—you’re seeing the trees dance but you can’t hear the sound of the breeze, you’re seeing lots of birds but you can’t hear them sing, you’re seeing a dog looking at the birds up the tree but you can’t actually hear it bark.

Such is the world of deaf or hard of hearing people. They do not hear anything or if they do, they only hear teeny-weenie fuzzy vibrations of sounds. One time, I just sat in a corner watching them, contemplating on how blessed they are in their silent world, for they can not hear the rattles of the earth nor the cries and the sighs of the hearing world.

But how silent really is their world?

They may not hear with their ears but they do with their eyes. They can see colors, movements, and feelings. For almost every sound that they can not hear, they can see or feel something associated to the sound.

They may not speak with their lips but their facial expression and body language say as much as the human voice. And when they speak with their hands, they do it beautifully. Every time I see them sign, I see rhythm, I see patterns. I see fluid movements. I see beauty. I even see the elements of dance. Wait, did I just write ‘dance’? Oh yes, they do dance. They can dance! Even to the music that they can’t hear.

They may not hear with their ears but I’m sure they can clearly hear sounds with their heart —sounds that are even better than that of an orchestra. These are the sounds of friendship, love, and concern. These are the sounds of hearts beating for them—hearts of their family and friends, hearts of those who do not judge them, hearts of those who support their cause, and hearts of smiling strangers they meet as they journey in life every single day.

I hope we’ll all find in our hearts a sincere appreciation of our brothers and sisters who are hearing impaired.

(My gratitude to the Hands for Praise community for the experience. Congratulations on your 10th anniversary. Congratulations, too, to the graduates! Keep signing and keep serving. Keep supporting deaf awareness. For more pics, click here.)