Lugod sa gulugod

GULUGOD ng lupa ang turing sa bato. Lumamig na putik na ibinuga ng bulkan, mga nagsanib nang kalansay ng bahura o coral, lastillas o mga bilugang tipak ng batong pulos mababang uring silicon ang sangkap, adobeng bulik, escombro, batong dapi o limestone na tahasang calcium carbonate at kauring pangunahing sangkap ng buto ng hayup ang taglay… hahaba ang talaan natin kapag inisa-isa ang kani-kanilang pangalan.

Gulugod kaya higit na kaalaman ang kailangan para maisalansan nang matino—haligi na’y pader pa ng ititindig na tahanan. At katuwang na ng mga nakatindig na tahanang bato ang mga angkan ng panginoong maylupa’t maunlad na mangangalakal. Nakalublob lang sa bahay kubo o dampa ang mga hapay at lupaypay ang kabuhayan.

Nagtitindig ng tahanan mula sa mga sangkap na maapuhap sa kapaligiran. Dayami’t putik ang pinaghahalo sa pamamaraang wattle-and-daub na matutunghayan sa mga dampa ng dukha sa China. Suson-susong tipak ng yelo ang kabuuan ng igloo ng mga Eskimo. Pinatuyong dayami’t putik ang mga dampa sa kabundukan ng Mexico. Tagni-tagning bahura’t bato mula dalampasigan ang karaniwang tahanan ng mga Ivatan sa Batanes.

Mga Ivatan lang yata ang nangahas na bumuo ng bahay na bato, hindi man sila mula sa angkan ng mga panginoong maylupa o maunlad na negosyante.

Pansinin na pawang bato ang mga sinaunang simbahan saanmang kuyukot at tumbong ng ating tinubuang lupa. Hindi naman siguro ipinagbawal ng mga fraile sa mga Indio ang pagpapatayo ng mga dampa na yari sa bato—na matatagpuan nga sa mga liblib na lupalop ng Mexico, na kinapadparan din ng mga fraile’t sinakop din ng España.

Mas mataas na antas ng kaalaman sa pagtitindig ang kailangan para sa masinop na pagsalansan at paghahanay ng mga tipak ng bato. At kailangan din ng malalim na imbak ng tiyaga at sigagig. Matagalan ang pagtibag mula sa mga pampangin ng ilog o dagat. Matagalan din ang paghubog sa mga tipak sa angkop na laki na magiging sangkap sa ititindig na tahanan.

Batid na natin ngayon ang pahalang na ugit ng lakas o lateral stress at pabagsak o vertical stress sa nakatindig na istruktura. Naaangkupan ngayon ng steel reinforcing bars—lalo’t buhos ang kongkreto na hindi na kailangang isalansan, titigas na lang.

Mas malalim at matalim na kaalaman ang hinihingi ng batong paninindigan.

Kaya gumagamit ng mga kasangkapan sa pagtitindig. Mauungkat na straight edge ang isa pang taguri sa ruler o panukat ng haba—no ruler can be crooked, a ruler should be always straight edged or it loses its edge and becomes a crook which isn’t useful for setting things straight.

Can the structure stand true and not collapse if the ruler is a crook?

Sa mga dampa, barong-barong at mahinang uring istruktura lang puwede ang tiwaling tindig—hindi sa istrukturang nakasandig sa batong gulugod ng daigdig.

Palaruan nga pala ng unos at daluyong ang mga dako ng kapuluan na nakaharap sa Pacific Ocean—tuwinang mahahagupit ng mahigit 20 bagyo taun-taon. Nagkalat lang ang mga tipak ng tumigas na putik na isinuka ng bulkan, mga batong buhay, escombro at nagsanib nang kalansay ng bahura sa kapaligiran doon.

Sumulong na ang materials technology pati na mga pamamaraan ng masinop na pagtabas ng bato—may carborondum at diamond-tipped cutting saws. At hitik na hitik ang kabatuhan sa paligid, nananatiling tiwangwang na para bang payo ng yumaong Dr. Jose Protacio Rizal ukol sa buhay na walang kabuluhan at pakinabang—hindi naging bahagi sa pagtatag at pagtindig ng gusali.

Hikahos pa rin talaga sa kaalaman ukol sa mga lihim ng matikas na batong pagtindig.

Iba yata ang mga Ivatan. Habang ang karamihan ay uugod-ugod, may naitindig, itinanghal sila na mga lugod mula sa gulugod.

Puzaza

HINDI naman alam ng kumag na Batman na matalim ang kanyang mga kuko’t pangil. Kaya laging mag-iiwan ng mga kalmot, galos, gurlis, pawang mababaw na sugat sa balat ang kanyang mga paglalambing sa sinuman sa amin.

Hindi naman lahat ng pusa—puzaza ang naging term of endearment namin sa kanila, halaw sa batlaya ng pamumunga na naglalakbay sa bigwas ng hangin, si Pazuzu. Hindi lahat ng pusa’y dumaraan sa ganoong yugto ng pagtuklas sa kanyang mga kapisan sa pamamahay. Lalo na ang mga tinatawag na pusang hindi ibilnilang, iniligaw o itinapon na lang dahil dagdag na bibig din na dapat paglaanan ng kahit tirang pagkain.

Pero mayroon ngang yugto ng pagtuklas sa paligid pati sa mga makakasalamuha. Kailangang mailimbag sa katawan at diwa ang mga batayan at sandigan ng mga magiging gawi’t gawa. Mas masinop nga ang pusa sa ganitong pagtatakda, sa tinatawag na biological imprinting process. Tao man ay dumaraan sa ganoong landas ng masinsinan at masinop na pagtuklas.

May mapupulot na aralin sa mga kumag na pusa—na karaniwang mas matapat sa latag at lawak ng kanilang kikilusang lupain. Feline loyalty ba ang itatawag sa ganoon dahil pusa? O napakababaw na pagmamahal sa ginagalawang at nagtutustos na lupain. Napapalapit na yata sa itinuturing natin na pagmamahal sa bayan…

“Aling pag-ibig pa ang hihigit kaya
Sa pagkadalisay at pagkadakila
Kundi pag-ibig sa tinubuang lupa
Aling pag-ibig pa?
Wala na nga, wala…”

Salpak na salpak pala sa pamantayan ng bayaning Gat Andres Bonifacio ang biological imprinting process na tinutupad ng mga pusa—lalo na ng mga pusang gala. Kapag lubusan kasing nasinop ang naturang paraan ng pagsanib ng katawan at diwa sa ginagalawang kalawakan ng lupain hanggang sa mga hangganan nito sa papawirin, lalapat naman ang pamantayan ni Loren Eiseley—“man is an expression of his landscape.” Magiging mabunying pahayag ng lawak at hangganan ng lupain ang taong tumatahan doon.

Kinukutuban tuloy na hindi naman masuyong paglalahad ang tinutupad ng lupain kundi pagsusuka lang. Hindi marahil masikmura ang mga sumampid sa pisngi ng lupalop na pawang nakatunganga, ni hindi nagtatangka na tuklasin, sinupin at pagyamanin ang himaymay ng buhay ng lupa.

Kaya heto na nga, nakaamba na ang Taiwan at China na himukin ang ating bansa sa matagalang lease agreement. Uupahan ang mga nagkalat na tiwangwang na lupain sa napakaraming panig ng Pilipinas. Dayuhan na ang magsisinop, magpupunla ng mga mapapakinabangang halaman para matustusan ang kani-kanilang pamayanan.

Ah, igiit ang pagiging makabayan. Ipangalandakan sa kung saan-saan ang masidhing pagmamahal sa tinubuang lupa na kung ihahambing sa singkapan ng sinta, tigang na tigang pala’t uhaw na uhaw sa umaatikabo’t umuusok sa pusok na kaplugan.

Kapag itinustos ang pagmamahal, tutumbasan o susuklian, hihigitan pa ang inialay na pagmamahal.

Kaya dapat na sigurong itaktak, ipukpok na bundok sa ating tuktok ang tumitining nang tanong.

Mahal naman kaya tayo ng sariling tinubuang lupa? Baka naman pare-pareho lang tayong sampid na hindi na masikmura’t tahasang isinusuka na ng ating lupain?

Sandosena na ang pusa naming alaga. Bawat isa sa kanila’y nagdaan nga sa biological imprinting process. Nag-iwan sila ng mga galos at gurlis na pawang mababaw na sugat sa balat—madaling maghilom, mumunti ang naiiwang pilat na pawang lagda ng pagligwak ng galak at sigwa ng tuwa.

Pero may mga napupulot na aralin at kabatiran sa mga kumag na pusa. Mas mahapdi kaysa sugat sa laman dahil bumabaon at umaarok sa lalim ng aming kaalaman.

Ah, love those adorable pussies…

Dalit sa dalita

SANGKILOMETRO ang layo ng sambahayan ng mga sampid pero araw-araw na may tatlo hanggang lima na nagmumula doon para umamot ng talbos ng kamote o malunggay na nakalatag sa bakuran nina Luz. Sa habilin “Sana magtanim na lang din kayo sa bakuran ninyo” itutugon ng sinuman ng nanghingi na “Wala kaming bakurang tatamnan.” O magkikibit-balikat. Hindi na lang kikibo. Pero tuloy lang din sa pamumupol ng talbos.

Napasigasig namang magpanibagong usbong ang tagpi ng kamote’t tulos ng malunggay kina Luz. Walang humpay sa pag-aalay ng matatalbos. Masarap ang inabraw na kamote’t malunggay na nilahukan ng dinikdik na luya, ilang tipak na kamatis, sandakot na tuyong tagunton at santasang malabnaw na kanaw ng bagoong—lalo na’t kagayak ng kaiinin lang na kanin.

Higit sa sandipa ang lupa sa magkabilang gilid ng lansangan—na tumatakbo ng higit pa sa tatlong kilometro, paagos na dadaanan at lalampasan pa ang sambahayan ng mga sampid. Pulos damong mutha lang ang nakatihayang tila suson-susong parausang pokpok na naghihintay ng mga babarukbok, inot na kumakaway sa hampas ng hangin at hamog.

Hindi kaya nasisipat o nakikita ng mga sampid, hindi kaya sila naaakit o nahahalina o nalilibugan sa hubad na magkabilang baywang ng lansangan?

Nang simulan daw nitong isang may katok yata sa tuktok ng pandalas na kaplog ng dulos at gulok sa nakabukakang tipak-tipak na kamunduhan sa magkabilang panig ng lansangan, tumanggap daw ng katakut-takot na libak at kantiyaw sa mga nagdaraang sampid.

Sa hindi madaling sabihing sabi, tinarakan ng mga buhay na muhon—tigtatlong magulang na tangkay ng kamote at taba-habang tarugo ng malunggay—ang baywang ng lansangan. Humayo, lumayo’t nakarami ng kantot.

Sarap ng pakiramdam talaga kapag tumatagaktak ang pawis lalo’t humaharurot sa ganoong pagbarurot.

Nakatikom man na hiwang mahiwaga ang alinmang lupa, tiyak na kakatas at maglalawa kapag tinarakan ng punla.

Huwag nang ungkatin sinuman ang utuging santo na gumawa ng ganoong kalibog-libog na himala.

Pero dahil walang kalibog-libog ang mga nakatungangang sampid at dukha, hindi naman pinamarisan, tinularan o ginaya ang naturang ginawa. Lalo lang silang nagsumigasig sa paggawa ng marami pang bata. Na kailangang palamunin marahil ng bunton-buntong talbos ng kamote’t malunggay.

O kung isasaalang-alang ang pananaw sa umiiral na kalagayan ng kahirapan daw, dapat lang silang sampid na maging mayaman dahil yumayaman ang lupa kapag doon sila tinabunan.

Samantala, unti-unting nagsilago ang mga itinulos na punla. Na basta na lang tinuwaran ng sinumang hinayupak na iyong may katok yata sa tuktok at tatlo ang taling sa ulo ng uten—aba apat pala ang nunal kaya sagad-buto’t sa kung saan-saang pook, lupa’t lupalop umiilandang at humuhulagpos ang iwing libog.

Kasagsagan ng tagtuyot noon sa Mindanao nang umagos ang mga ulat na namamatay daw sa gutom ang mga bata sa mga liblib na lalawigan. Maghapon daw naghahagilap ng mahuhukay na lamang-ugat na name-- na nagtataglay ng mabagsik na lasong oxalic acid at hindi pa matukoy na alkaloids at steroids. Ginagayat sa maninipis na tipak ang name, isisilid sa sako saka tatlo hanggang limang araw na ibinababad sa ilog para mapalis ang lason. Gawgaw lang ang malalabi sa mga tipak ng name-- isasaing na tila kanin, gagawing maruya o puto kaya. Maraming paslit at matanda ang namatay. Nalason sa name.

Opo, tatlo hanggang limang araw na dapat nakababad ang isinakong name sa agos ng ilog.

Opo, marami pong ilog doon na mapagsasalukan ng tubig.

Maididilig naman ang tubig sa mga tangkay ng ipupunlang kamote— hindi ito nakakalason.

Hindi pa po endangered species ang kamote. Maraming mapagkukunan ng maipupunlang tangkay. Hindi na kailangan pang dumayo sa bakuran nina Luz na kalapit ng Antipolo Christian Fellowship Church para humakot ng punla.

No thanks for the mammary

WHEN personal medical history is plied out to kindle earnest conversation or friendly banter strays into citing an array of exotic ills, allergies or hypochondriac infirmities one’s body wears like a swathe of military service decorations, such talk might be fashionable confession. Or much of it is bellyaching in lieu of breast-beating, maybe lavish indulgence to solicit sympathies or draw attention.

New York-based science fiction and fantasy writer Steve Carper plunged himself into earnest research after learning in 1978 that milk, dairy products and milk-laced food wouldn’t agree with his tummy. He learned a lot more about the quaint condition he suffers from. By 1996, he had turned up a volume, a 330-page straight-teller called Milk is Not for Everybody (Living with Lactose Intolerance) that is a joy to read.

Lactose intolerance isn’t a unique fad he picked up from any of about 3 billion people in the world that are lactose intolerant—virtual sitting ducks caught in the crossfire of a multi-million dollar advertising battle as two multinationals seek to corner a $100-million market in products for the lactose intolerant.

So there’s much lucre to be made from lactose intolerance which, as Carper had it worded "is not a disease, not a syndrome, not a disorder. It is the normal state of humanity and always has been throughout history."

Normal it is for one’s innards suddenly turning into a catastrophe zone: "Rumblings, gases, noises, explosions, rushing water and general commotion—a bout of lactose intolerance makes my insides feel like Tokyo in the midst of an attack by Godzilla. Amazingly, all that sound and fury comes not from a 100-foot-tall monster, but from a mere fraction of an ounce of (milk) sugar hidden in a delicious and nutritious meal."

Now, that makes sense with a sense of humor shining through.

Milk sugar-induced agony seems nothing to carp about: "You can define lactose intolerance simply as letting your lactose intake exceed the production of an enzyme called lactase, but that’s like dismissing the national deficit as nothing more than letting spending exceed taxes. It’s true as far as it goes, but if you want to do anything about the deficit it helps to know some basics about economics, party politics and what a trillion is. Digestion, fortunately is somewhat simpler to explain."

Carper lets out punch lines at himself and the whacked-out state of national affairs. But to even out, he takes a dig at doctors predisposed to brewing names in medical journals to latch a tab on what they thought to be a disease.

For convenience, he settles for "lactose intolerance" since no such "popular equivalent name exists for the ability to digest lactose, just as there is no term for the state of having a broken leg."

Water, vitamins and minerals are tolerable goodies directly absorbed in the digestive tracts— but other food molecules are too large and too complex in their biochemistry to be similarly processed. The body produces specialized proteins called enzymes to render molecules of protein, fat and carbohydrates into less complicated basic components—amino acids, fatty acids and simple sugars that can now be sifted into the bloodstream. This is what digestion boils down to.

Milk is water-doused sugar technically called lactose, thanks to mom’s mammary, we’re all born with a sweet tooth. Each molecule of lactose in milk is a fusion of two simple sugars glucose and galactose. Lactase is the digestive enzyme assigned the task of tearing down lactose into tenable bits fit for absorption into the bloodstream. If lactase isn’t there or its production has been stopped in the digestive tract, milk intake spells tummy trouble.

As last and weakest among intestinal enzymes, lactase is also the first to go: "The lactase-making ability of a few may diminish in their first year of life. Many more will keep their lactase high enough through age five and only then see a drop. And many more people simply keep producing sufficient lactase and never have lactose intolerance at any time in their lives."

About one fifth to one in every three people with lactose intolerance wreak havoc on their alimentary by taking a full glass of milk—and two glasses a day, as a TV ad prescribes will trigger a riot of sorts in tummies of nine among 10 lactose intolerance sufferers.

That doesn’t mean sufferers have to avoid milk and milk-based products like the plague. Say, butter is almost entirely milk fat—and is likely to inflict greater horrors on the circulatory system. Cheese is from milk protein and sheds off lactose remains via processing and aging—it takes two kilos of milk or cheese to equal the lactose content in two glasses of milk, a famished gourmand might as well eat a horse than dump two kilos of butter or cheese down his gullet.

And there are traditional sour milk preparations—yogurt, kumiss, kefir and acidophilus milk—with beneficial bacterial colonies swimming in them and churning out lactase of their own to break down up to 40% of milk’s lactose content.

Milk squeezed out of a cow’s teats is a niggardly 5% lactose, mom’s is 7% but dried milk products pack up to 80% that the sufferer need not inflict on his insides.

Despite those ads that bombard the sound bite "You never outgrow your need for milk," the hankering for milk can be outgrown and serious thought should give way to a craving for teats. Thus, Carper lets out a caveat: "If you believe everything you read, lactose intolerance may be the most widespread medical condition in the U.S."

He cites a veteran in gastrointestinal research who dismisses the hype about lactose intolerance: "Marketers are overdoing the severity of the problem."

The woes can be downright alimentary but there’s mounds of monies that can be realized from lactose intolerance— sales of lactase enzyme pills, reduced-lactose milk products and nondairy milk alternatives now exceed a fat $200 million a year in the U.S. alone.

Lactose intolerance can spawn such social gaffes as farting in sweet sorrow or too many a visit to the comfort room but, as Carper asserts, "adults do not die from lactose intolerance, nor do they need extensive testing, prescription drugs, or hospitalization.

"From a doctor’s point of view, lactose intolerance is hardly a sexy issue (nor a very profitable one, if you want to be cynical). Doctors can’t fairly be blamed for fir considering lactose intolerance to be a relatively minor concern."

And in the Philippines in which one of every five Filipinos make do with less than P50 a day for three square meals, pay for the semblance of a roof over his head and a quilt work of rags to clothe himself, lactose intolerance might be taken for a luxury food item that only the moneyed can enjoy.

Sleeping with the enemy, grappling with “he-manity”

Santa Clarang pinong-pino
Kami po sana’y bigyan n’yo
Ng asawang labingwalo
Sa gulpe walang reklamo.

Saint Clare most mild
Please do give us
Eighteen spouses
Who won’t gripe if they’re mauled.

LOVELORN males on a pilgrimage to Obando town in Bulacan some 30 kilometers north of Manila pray and sway skip and hop to a lilting folk tune in homage to Sta. Clara. The patron saint is believed to listen to requests for a fiancé. A reworked version of the same folk tune is often sung in booze binges of Filipino men folk—the drinking devotee brashly asks for a retinue of wives, a harem to serve him without qualm or complaint even if he thrashes anyone in such a string of mistresses in his fold.

That reworked folk tune betrays a mindset that afflicts the Filipino male. It is an affliction that may likely have been ingrained by some 300 years of convent trysts with fat padres and over 50 years of necking in cinema shadows with film demigods—it’s an acculturation process that reduced women to the level of chattels and playthings. We may have grappled with it in a try to struggle and prevail. Or we must have lost badly, embraced and acquiesced to our conquerors. So we took to their ways. Adopt their norms we unwittingly did.

Well-stacked Roma Batarra (not her real name) doesn’t look her age— flirty-something, maybe in her “thrifties” as she tightly holds the purse strings to a thriving publication business. She defied norms, typified the strong woman of substance who runs a tight household and a weekly tabloid. But she sounded like a lost waif as she sobbed a torrent about how her much younger live-in partner beat her black and blue.

Batarra caught him in flagrante with a much younger lover. But he wasn’t sorry getting caught. He was sore at Batarra for getting in his way and whims.

So she caught most of the blows the live-in partner rained at her. Nearly bashed to a pulp, Batarra bawled him out of the house, which she owns. The young man stormed out, still heaping verbal abuse and threats at her.

Batarra wielded her influence as a crusty tabloid journalist and got back at the errant partner whose threats of bodily harm were carried out on him. That interesting story how she got even didn’t break as news. She confided to an erstwhile editor how she got even, got herself together and moved on, sense of self-esteem intact. Body bruises can heal.

Not all bruises heal as seen in this bit lifted off a police blotter: “Insp. Mario Monilar, homicide section chief told this newspaper that they are still waiting for the documents such as marriage contract and death certificate before they could file a parricide case against the husband.

“The wife’s remains are now at the St. Ignatius Chapel… She left behind a one-year old girl.

“The girl’s aunt told investigators the dead woman was a battered wife and had long been taking the abuses.”

Cases of violence against women (VAW) that found their way into police blotters bloated from 1,100 cases in 1996 to 7,383 by 2004. The highest recorded number of VAW cases in the police department peaked in 2001 at 10,343. Both the 2004 police and social welfare records show that battering and rape are the most common types of reported cases.

Battery cases could be construed as attempts to induce abortion: six of ten battered women were brutalized during pregnancy. While a child sired on the missus can be living proof of male potency, an additional mouth to feed can wreak havoc on the man’s earning capacity.

Every now and then Eileen Corporal (not her real name) meets up with advertising honchos, looking like she had gone through 12 rounds with a wannabe Manny Pacquiao to whom she had been married for 20 years. She’d rather not talk about those bouts. She can leave her man anytime she wishes to—she is an heiress to extensive farmlands in Bulacan, she has a stable job that pays well—but she’d rather tough it out. She was brought up, her mindset shaped in time-honored values, maybe quite feudal but she hasn’t outgrown that. She isn’t looking forward to recurring return bouts to count her mounting losses. She can take the beatings.

Unlike Eileen, Siglynd (an alias) snapped after three children and 18 years of toughing it out as a human punching bag totally dependent on her tormentor for financial support: "I thought, if I got past the experience of being a battered wife for so many years, then I could cope with any other trials that come my way."

She sought help from a non-government organization espousing women’s rights. The NGO taught her about her rights and helped her obtain a court-issued restraining order for the husband to cease and desist from mauling her. She now runs a thriving cargo hauling business and sends all her children to school on her own.

In unflinching reminiscence, she muses: "My inspiration are my children. They were also my source of strength during the times that my husband was beating me up. I cannot afford to be weak since my children and I have no one to depend on but myself. I also give credit to the NGOs that not only helped me to stand on my own, but more importantly, helped me banish the trauma from my experience through counseling. Being finally free from my husband, I've now learned to appreciate my self-worth."

In recent years lawmakers have arrayed a legal arsenal to stem the rising tide of violence perpetrated on women and children. The weaponry includes:

RA 7877 Anti-Sexual Harassment Law:
RA 8353 Anti-Rape law - elevation of rape as crime against person; expanding the definition of rape to include marital rape-- 9 of 10 battered women experienced marital rape:
RA 8505 Rape Victim Assistance Act;
RA 6955 Anti-Mail Order Bride Law:
RA 9262 Anti-Violence Against Women and Children Law: and
RA 9208 Anti-trafficking in Persons Act.

Buried in Congress is a bill throttled to death by so-called Pro-Life lobbyists and their lawmaker minions, the Responsible Parenthood and Population Management Act. It is grounded on obligations of national and local governments to deliver basic services including basic health, reproductive health and family planning, with penalties for public officials who shall prohibit or intentionally restrict the delivery of legal, medically safe reproductive health care services including family planning. The bill doesn’t prescribe two-child family as ideal family size.

Legal weaponry aside, women’s rights advocates such as the Cebu-based Lihok Pilipina Foundation have also helped battered women to stand their ground, regain their bearings, and assert their humanity. Tessie Banaynal Fernandez brought the organization to life in 1985 as a group of 20 women to discuss among themselves primary health care, herbal medicines and family problems.

While a clutch of statutes can be wielded in defense of women’s rights, chucking off Jurassic thinking and repressive cultural norms ought to be the more telling tack: "The propensity to do violence begets more violence. When children witness violence, they grow up thinking that it is okay to found a family where violence exists.

"I think one significant indicator of development and all of the things we are fighting for is being able to uphold the personal integrity of each person. Until we have that, violence in the homes, in the fight for properties or land, and everything else cannot be entirely solved," she points out.

Palayain ang mga bihag!

“SANDOSENANG tangke ng saxitoxin ‘tong bihag ko ngayon dito sa buwangan, este, buwagin, oops, bulwagan ng Casa de Hijodiputados. Magkakaubusan dito kapag hindi ninyo ibibigay ang mga kursunada ko. Binabalaan ko kayo! Sumunod kayo sa mga sasabihin ko. Kung hindi—magkakaubusan dito!”

Sa dagundong ng kulog na babala, nabahala ang mga sumugod na kawagad ng pulisya. Nagkatinginan sa isa’t isa habang tinatahip ng kaba ang mga dibdib nila.

“Pa’no ba ‘to, bossing? Pulos seksi daw ang hostage niya. Sandosena. Sapak ‘yan! Katakamtakamtakamtakam…”

“Baka mga pin up na artista sa kalendaryo, ser. Isang hubo tabong 36-24-36 na kukuwentahin ang mga kurbada bawat 30 araw—365 araw na kaligayahang makikita santaon.”

“Seksi na, oks in pa ang sabi. Ibig sabihin, pwedeng pwede nating pasukan.”

“Oo nga. Hinayupak din talaga ‘tong hostage-taker. Parang alam ang weakness natin. Talagang malambot ang mga puso natin kahit iigkas sa tigas ang… Men, we have to cordon the area. Let no meddling media muddle this crisis. Lalala lang ang sitwasyon kapag pumapel ‘yang mga hindot na taga-media.”

Nalalagas ang mga maigting na sandali. Humahaginit na pagong ang usad ng isang oras. Rumaragasang tila alon sa imburnal ang pagdagsa ng mga usyoso sa paligid ng Casa de Hijodiputados. Kasunod na bumuhos ang mga nagtitinda ng taho, nilagang mais, inihaw na isaw, fishballs, sorbetes, kendi, yosi, mani, balut, chicharon, pati na ahente ng punerarya.

“Baka pakawala ‘yan ng kandidatong barangay kakawat o kupitan de barangay na mababa ang ratings sa voters survey. Magpapakodak lang sa mga fotog ng diyaryo. Papakuha sa mga taga-TV. Libreng media mileage nga naman.”

“Ba’t hindi pa humihirit ng gusto n’ya?”

“Hindi naman civil engineer o may-ari ng iskul bukol na gaya no’ng Armando Ducat. Pero kapag humirit ‘yan na kailangang tiyakin na makakatapos sa kolehiyo ‘yung mga seksing hostage, babakas na ‘ko kahit sa isang scholar. Bibigyan natin ng special tutoring.”

“Baka naman talent manager ng mga isasalya sa Japan. O baka fashion designer na may alagang rumarampa. Kaya siguro pulos seksi ang bihag ng hinayupak na ‘yan. Ni hindi nga pumapalag ‘yung hostages. Ni walang pumipiyok.”

“Kapag hiniling niyan na maging hostage negotiator si Kris Aquino o si Joey de Leon nalintikan na tayo. Basta kailangang makakuha tayo ng autograph saka magpapakodak tayo. Group picture para masaya.”

Kulog na dumagundong ang tinig mula sa public address system. Tinig ng hostage taker. Kalmadong kalmado.

“Pakakawalan ko ang mga bihag na saxitoxin dito sa session hall. Meron ditong special session para paghati-hatian nila ang pork barrel na ibubuhos sa huling linggo ng kampanya bago maghalalan. Tiyak na dadanak dito sa low density lipoproteins, babaha sa karumal-dumal na cholesterol! Tiyakin ninyo na walang makakalabas dito! Walang makakalabas!”

Kunot-noo ang bawat pulis na nakatutok sa krisis. Mahirap nga namang mahiwatigan ang katuturan ng low density lipoproteins na tila malapit na kamag-anak ng liposuction.

Kumakagat na ang dilim nang mag-ikaanim ng gabi. Walang maulinig ni masagap na ingay mula sa mga pinid na pintuan ng Casa de Hijodiputados. Biglang-bigla, nakarinig ng malakas na pagaspas ng pakpak mula sa itaas. Bigwas ng bagwis na lumikha ng mga mumunting buhawi. Hindi magkamayaw sa gitla ang mga miron, media at pulisya. Isang nagliliwanag na anyo ang palayo, patungo sa kaitaasan, pasagasa sa araw—hindi matiyak kung manananggal ba o anghel kaya.

Limang oras matapos makatakas paitaas ang inaakalang hostage taker, inihayag ng sumuring forensic pathologist ang sanhi ng pagkamatay ng mahigit 250 kinatawan sa Casa de Hijodiputados.

“Paralytic shellfish poisoning— ghastly death induced by STX. Saxitoxin. A dose of 0.2 milligram can kill a man of average weight. A thousand times deadlier than nerve gas. The STX released in that chamber was more than enough to kill thousands…”

Gone to seed

MANONG Willie Baun insists that Republic has been rated substandard. It wouldn’t set or cure properly. More appropriate for mixing tough mortar suitable for construction purposes would be the old-fashioned quicklime or apog made from burnt, pulverized seashells and corals, usually wrapped in peppery betel leaf plus a bit or two of areca nut for the traditional chew—nganga-- that is believed to toughen fangs.

We thought that brand name of Portland cement suggested a stwrong republic. Stwrong may take out the sting and honey of spelling bees but it has a nice wring to it.

Now we have to make do with quicklime as we chew like ruminants at the cud of such sound bite or insufferable cackle as “Itanim sa Senado.” That last term refers to a major branch of the national government that draws up, reviews, amends, or chucks outright certain laws. That fat branch is housed in a building that stands on a Pasay City landfill site, more likely on shifting sands or fine aggregate that usually go into mortar or concrete mixture for pouring.

Rustic old-timers, the simon-pure, and the naïve will likely take such a behest of planting something into a major branch as a job strictly for horticulturists—most voters aren’t exactly into that line of work that calls for a certain technique in asexual propagation. We shudder at the repercussions and implications of such a mode of propagation…

Such mode of asexual propagation is called grafting.

Just maybe an undertaking like that calls for the expertise of, well, undertakers.

Why, quicklime or apog is used to cover rotting corpses to stanch the stench. Talagang pakapalan ng apog ang kailangan upang matakpan ang karima-rimarim na sansang at alingasaw.

Centuries back, parishioners were asked by curates to bring eggs to the parish—the albumin was mixed with burnt seashells and corals—apog—as binder for huge blocks of adobeng bulik cut off river banks or hewn off mountains, and piled high upon another without reinforcing steel bars that became the enduring architecture of ages old churches. Yolks turned up as must ingredient for chocolate espesso or were made as custard that went into equally yummy leche flan, tocino del cielo, or brazo de Mercedes.

With an ubiquitous cackle like “Itanim sa Senado,” we can pore over the fond memories of yesteryears when we went out for some hormone-tugging task as paniningalang pugad, that is, gazing up at some heavenly yet downy dark delights nestling between the thighs of an unsuspecting chick. A hen sounds out a cackle after laying an egg, does she not?

The cackle must have been a hen’s cry of apprehension and protestation over the prospect of its unhatched young getting spirited to the local parish. And the unborn is spilled out, its white thrown into a gooey amalgam of powdered burnt shells and corals, the fetus-to-be whipped up into a potage of custard that faintly echoes through the centuries the Church’s unflinching stand against family planning and women’s reproductive rights.

So how do we make sense of that cackle, “Itanim sa Senado?”

One, it calls for a lot of quicklime or apog.

Two, an undertaker ought to be called for such an undertaking.

Three, all it takes is 60 days for bok choi, pak choi or hakusai—Brassica rapa-- to grow from seed and go to seed. This crap, oops, we mean crop needs a lot of manure.

Four, whatever ye sow ye shall reap a thousandfold.

Five, that’s GO in both Cantonese and Nihongo, mwa-ha-ha-haw!