I'm back from field work and data gathering for my research. There are still gaps and contradictions of data from the same government agency. Now that's very frustrating-- it is the backbone for my analysis yet it is lacking. I was often being passed from one office to another, from one staff to another. And when I went to the responsible person since that's what his/her designation is, I was told he/she is not allowed to disclose the budget since they have a memorandum not to give the exact amount as how much they get for their rice sufficiency budget. It's a public document and as a taxpayer I do have the right to know where my taxes are going. But they do have a different idea of 'transparency.' They can give me other data except for the budget. Now that smells fishy, right?

I could not push the person since she's only a staff and the order was from the Region. Now, I am having headache. But well, it was also a memorable experience as to how I would use my creativity just to make a subtle coercion on getting the needed data. Ha!

Love is an epidemic. (Much like the AH1N1 virus or HIV AIDS, that caught the world lately). More so, it becomes dangerous especially when it comes to a point of obsession. A cataclysmic upsurge of brainwaves that no science can find immediate remedy except time. Time can be an ally or nemesis in the blossoming and/or fading out of true love. It is a choice.

Love is like cholera. Akin to the symptoms of cholera, basic symptoms of love is palpitations, muscle cramps, shock, (okay this might sounds OA but believe me, if you are irrevocably in love with the other person, you would even want to end your life, right? Especially in the case of failed relationships) and sometimes it has no almost no remedy. And to attest to this, it is chronicled by Gabriel Garcia Marquez' in his novel Love in the Time of Cholera. A love that blossomed, faded and eventually finds its 'resurrection' in the tumultuous time of a pandemic.



I was cautioned by Mom Jeni of the novel's sensuality (“It is not for your age! Bata ka pa.” *eyes roll* thanks for the 'overprotected stance, professor dear') since I have been badgering her to lent me a copy. But she lost it. Thank goodness, friend listened to my parinig so he gave me this book on my birthday.

True to her (Jeni's) words, the novel indeed is sensual much like the courtesan's account of her lovers. But it's ending is somewhat offhand but oh well, I can forgive it. I can liken it to Nicholas Spark's The Notebook but lesser in surge of emotions. It is the story of Florentino Artiza's “contraction of the diseases of the heart” for Fermina Daza that spans for decades. Now, that's something sweet, or even frightening. A story of young love that blossomed under difficult circumstances, but individual dreams and social status interfered. A simple conversation put an end to the relationship. After 52 years, nine months and 662 affairs, Florentino decided to reclaim what he thinks is solely his- Florentina's heart.

The language used in the novel is fluid, would keep you reading, for the tales of the past is intertwined with the current undertakings of the main characters. Chronicles of a love lost and reclaimed, of lovers who seek refuge in each others arms just to feel the love, or semblance of love without the problems of love.

Likening love to cholera is not sweet, right. So when I texted the giver of the book about his idea of likening Love to cholera, he replied, "it only tells us that it (falling in love) is an epidemic, worse there's no specialist for that and no particular medicine or treatment such,..some survived , some were left lifeless, some are in coma..”

This for me, is the most memorable line in the book, The Kite Runner written by Khaled Hosseini.

I heard about the book when it was already being filmed and there was a controversy about the “rape scene” part since it is haram . One of my colleagues told me it was an emotional book. So when a friend asked me what book I want for my birthday, I said The Kite Runner (although I was thinking of Twilight saga that time). And I had no regrets of choosing this over Twilight.

Kite Runner described the age-old tradition of kite flying and running after the defeated kites in Afghanistan. It is a story about Amir’s childhood and his friendship with Hassan, the son of their servant. Amir and Hassan grew up together. Despite the differences in social status (second generation of master and servant relationship), religion (Amir’s a Sunni, Hassan’s a Shi’a), in education and almost about everything still, the two young boys developed friendship that goes beyond all of these. They also shared commonalities- they both have the same wet nurse since they both have lost their mothers.

I had a hard time reading it since the book is really too personal for the author that I could not help but stop those tears from rolling. Amir, though an only son of a businessman, yearns for his father’s attention. He thinks that his father even loves their servant’s son more than him. Because of his yearning to be recognized, he let down and gave up the person who is willing to give him more than what he asks.

On the day of the kite flying competition, Amir decided to beat everyone. He got what he wanted and wanted more. He also wanted to get the blue kite he defeated. And Hassan, the greatest kite runner on their neighborhood promised him to get the blue kite shouting, “for you, a thousand times over!”

Hassan disappeared for several hours. He was cornered by the middle-class bullies. They wanted to get the blue kite. But Hassan said no, and was severely beaten. Instead of giving up the blue kite, he gave up himself, his dignity and suffered in silence. Rape, here is oppression. Worse, Amir saw it all and decided to do nothing.


With my other books given by my benevolent friend. Super thanks!

What’s the best of this novel is usage of contrasts. To show what loyalty is, the author portrayed betrayal. To show bravery, he showed how Amir cowered in fear. To show remorse, he described the build-up of guilt and the way for repentance in the most difficult way.

I don’t expect the twist and it made me wanting to flip eagerly. Amir and Hassan are after all, half-brothers. The revelations alongside with the ‘flashbacks’ of their childhood, are very heartwarming. With the war and atrocities committed by the Taliban government to its people, Amir has to go back after fifteen years and save the only link to his past- Sohrab, Hassan’s son. He also has to face his greatest nemesis- Assef and to seek retribution of the latter’s crime committed to Hassan and to Sohrab.

What moved me is the difficulty that Sohrab has to go through. The children caught in war are very vulnerable. The psychological trauma of being used by pedophiles, and the added trauma he has to go through in the grueling process of adoption. The bureaucratic adoption process takes toll on him that at the young age he decided to commit suicide! Now that’s a very terrifying thought!

The ending is very promising. With Sohrab flying the kite and Amir running after the defeated kite, it’s a reverse picture of the past--A past that is slowly healing.

The Kite Runner is about friendship, of age-old traditions, hypocrisy, discrimination and cross-cultural adaptation. For now, I’m looking for the DVD of the movie adaptation.

Lovers come and go. There are pains you thought you wouldn’t be able overcome, but later on learned to live with it; forgiving but not forgetting. For forgetting means never learning the lesson from that experience.

And as the parting became a part of the past, you reminisce as how that love affair started in the first place. You muse. Laugh at your idiocy. You told yourself that it’s a part of gaining experience. It helps you to be mature on the next relationship. That there are lessons in tears.

Albeit that short love affair I was able to recover. Thanks to my other lover. A love affair that I could and would not let go. A love affair that started eons ago. A love affair with a great lover.

Tatay Boy used to tell me that one must use his/her head in making decisions. That’s why it was put above, over the heart. It is there to keep the balance, when the heart becomes irrational. That’s why he always says it is very crucial what you put in your head. He always emphasized the importance of reading and writing. It’s the best exercise for the brain, he said. I did not understand what it meant back then.

To show his point, he rewards me with books and notebooks and the complete colorful crayola whenever I learn new words. He gave me the power to decide what’s the next ulam for the night. He brought me the first composition notebook where I wrote the alphabet and copied the numbers and holidays from the calendar. He taught me to write even before I could comprehend what words I have formed on the notebook

I learned reading not through the perennial ABAKADA booklet but on calendars and Helen Merez’ pocketbooks from our neighbor’s collection. When I went to Iloilo, I marveled at Archie, Veronica and Betty from my second cousin’s collection. I learned reading the clock when I was threatened not to get hold of Archie comics for a week.

When it comes to fairytales, I was a late-bloomer. I have heard and marvel at the folklore of aswangs, fables and legends of Mt. Kanlaon first before I heard and read about Snow White, Cinderella and Rapunzel. I only read about the damsels in distress and the knight in shining armor in the Collection of Fairytales from our neighbor’s encyclopedia set. I was enthralled by the magical world of Thumbelina, Little Red Riding Hood and Goldilocks and I never returned the book until I finished reading the stories for the nth time.


Gay Placer, an elementary classmate was my favorite then. She always let me to tag along with her when she goes to her grandfather’s place. I got to borrow books from their family’s collection. During high school, I adore Roan Salanga and her father’s National Geographic collection. I will always remember getting hold of the first Harry Potter book in school, way before it was adapted on the big screen. I will always remember being reprimanded on our Chemistry class, for getting lost inside Hogwart’s Charms lesson. Roan’s younger sister, Valeene has a collection of Witch and Candy mags that were our “bring home/ official on loan” whenever we crash their house for our weekly movie marathon.

When I received my first salary as library student assistant, I bought Harry Potter 6 immediately. Never mind if that entails cutting off my weeklong meal allowance. When Paulo Freire was introduced on our development communication class, I wanted to get hold of his books. I looked for it on bookstores. Sadly our bookstores do not have copies of his works. I posted a query on book lovers web and second hand books site. A fellow member on the site posted reply and asked for my email address. Thought he’ll send an e-copy of the book. But I was wrong. Three weeks later, a new copy of Pedagogy of the Oppressed arrived. The thrill of receiving a book from a total stranger will forever be etched on my memory.



Angely Chi,’s The Great Gatsby, Pearl Dy’s Break Away and Momsie Charlen’s A Lion’s Heart are one of the best gifts; the primary start up of my modest book collection.

Fresh pages of books amazes me,yet the smell of old books never cease to capture my imagination. That distinct woody starchy smell of books. I love scrounging the second book shops, ecstatic on the adventure and thinking of the hands who first owned the books. While most girls would love to receive flowers and chocolates from their partners, I prefer books. My former boyfriend and I might have changed our paths but the books he sent along with the chocolates will always be treasured.

The sensual Love in the Time of Cholera, a gift on my 22nd birthday will remain as a big part of the bittersweet memories of 2009. Sex and the Media in Asia is part of the collection from the best mentor one could only wish for. Bob Ong will remain as my close ally especially on my gloomy mood- the best anti-depressant.

Anne Rice, Kurt Cobain, Jodi Picoult and Michael Ondaatje serve as appetizers for the sully mood. Haruki Murakami, a very expensive one remains to be my most sought after pleasure read.

As one booklover friend said, unlike in books where you can always see the ending, in relationships both parties have to work out to write a better ending of their own romance. Relationships takes a lot of complexities that sometimes you would opt to read than to deal with it in the real life.


Books tackling Mindanao issues. My bedside companion when I was still starting on my work.



What's on my list? My mini book collection. Still upgrading.


Our relationship with our physical lovers may end but we should keep the love affair with great lover...


BOOKS.



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Read for life, all your life.

It's 2010.
It's the year of the tiger.

A new year to fill our memories, to learn more and make decisions. I pray and wish for hopeful and blessed year for us. Hope and yes WORK for change, in our governemnt and most of all in ourselves.