Netnet Camomot
MOST of us Pinoys had not heard of Chapeco in Brazil, and its football team, Chapecoense. But on Tuesday, our Facebook newsfeed was filled with the breaking news and updates on the plane crash that killed most of its players.
Not even the extrajudicial killings (EJK) here in Pinas could prepare our hearts for sad news like this. You see a photo of a body sprawled on the pavement, with the now familiar cardboard filled with words to justify its abrupt end, and this doesn’t prompt you anymore to ask how the dead’s family is dealing with their loss. And it’s not simply any other death. The words on the cardboard say he’s guilty of using or selling drugs, and that seems enough to explain everything. How the dead could respond to the accusation should disturb your conscience.
But with the estimated three million drug addicts supposedly roaming around in Pinas before the EJKs began, should there be a collective sigh of relief for the termination of one menace from society?
Justice grinds ever so slowly in this country. In this age of instant coffee and instant noodles, EJKs are instant justice.
Christmas is in the air despite plane crashes and EJKs. At least one neighbor is in the midst of a dance practice, most probably for a Christmas party. I could hear the loud music and the counting—1, 2, 1, 2. I gotta feeling that household will receive a memo from the homeowners’ association ASAP. But I love the noise—there are days when listening to chirping birds and the gigantic lizard’s booming “tuko” are not enough. And, as if it could read what I’m writing here, there’s the “tuko” now saying, “tuko, tuko…”
A dance’s rhythm is much like a newsletter’s pages—divisible by four, but the dance has eight or 16 counts only for each step, while a newsletter may have at least 20 pages. Twenty is a good number—it prevents squeezing pieces and photos into a page until they resemble a can of sardines.
That Christmas party will have lechon, of course, plus instant coffee that may inspire a Starbucks-brainwashed guest to ask, Unsa ni, kape? But pasta, instead of instant noodles, will be on the buffet table. And kinilaw, in lieu of sardines, because the lechon and dinuguan could be too much to bear without raw fish.
Life goes on, with the madlang pehpohl required to keep on moving forward. On Tuesday night, there was the usual traffic downtown, could be the result of, eat, drink, and be merry, for tomorrow is a holiday! Restos were full of happy eaters, bars were alive with post-dinner hoppers who opted for tequila in lieu of Frappuccino, and I saw this wall décor that says, “My Bucket List. 1. Buy bucket. 2. Buy wine. 3. Fill bucket with wine. 4. Drink bucket.”
Sad news, no matter how sad it is, is simply news if it’s happening far far away. The Colombia plane crash, the Battle of Aleppo, even an EJK if it’s in the other barangay. People may shed a tear or many tears, but as long as they’re not directly affected, it’s easier for them to move forward.
The sun rose the morning after on Wednesday which was Bonifacio Day. One more day to do nothing until the editor remembered the newsletter she had to finish.
Any holiday for a hero is a good day to define a hero. I can name at least two and they know who they are. If ever I have to choose between them and other people, I’ll always choose them.
A hero is that friend who saves you from rock bottom. Rock bottom, though, is a good place to be, because of this quote from the cartoon movie “Sing”: “You know what’s great about hitting rock bottom? There’s only one way left to go, and that’s up!”
It’s an oftepeated quote with many variations such as this by J.K. Rowling: “And so rock bottom became the solid foundation on which I rebuilt my life.” Part of the commencement address she delivered at the annual meeting of the Harvard Alumni Association in 2008.
Kind of “Solid as a Rock,” which is a song that goes, “And now it’s solid/Solid as a rock/That’s what this love is/That’s what we’ve got, oh, mmm/Solid/Solid as a rock/And nothing’s changed it/The thrill is still hot, hot, hot/Hot, hot, hot, hot, hot…” Oh, no, not the same thing.
But anti-Marcos protesters should have a solid-as-aock determination to transfer his remains from the Libingan ng mga Bayani to…where? Back to Batac, Ilocos Norte? And once he’s back to where the protesters believe he belongs, will the Marcoses and their loyalists also hold protests until he’s buried again as a bayani?
If we were bent on not idolizing him as a hero, he and his family should not have been allowed to return to Pinas in the first place. Gosh. How many times do I have to repeat that. “Who let the dogs out/Woof, woof, woof, woof.” Oh, no, not the same thing again?
At the height of the People Power in February 1986, our thought bubble was saying, Good riddance, to the Marcoses. Yet, here’s Pinas again, unable to move forward from the Marcos era and its ripple effect. Such a waste of time, huh. Had they not been allowed to return to Pinas, only the Marcos loyalists would be protesting against their idol’s long-term exile. The rest of the madlang pehpohl could have moved forward already, but with utmost vigilance over the possibility of having graft and corruption again in government.
Here’s President Rody Duterte now having his war on drugs, which may include graft and corruption, thanks to revelations that have managed to squeeze through the Senate and congressional hearings. Well, it’s a good start. And he recently inaugurated a huge rehab center for 10,000 patients donated by Chinese real estate billionaire Huang Rulun, inspiring the former to say, “When you are a friend, you do not treat him badly before the public. You don’t humiliate an ally, and at all cost you must save the friendship as an ally and friend so that you can help each other in the world of geopolitics.” Hmmm. Note to…
