Sorting thoughts and memories whenever paraesthesiae strikes — that prickling rumpus on your skin that you just have to scratch, scrape and scuff — and cannot leave well enough alone, scrubbing at that tingling sensation that refuses to recede. Nope, not a medical condition, just the itch to write. Photo taken aboard a Staten Island Ferry with Manhattan's skyline in the background.
From age 55 onwards, I have always looked
at each additional birthday as a bonus.
This year’s bonus was the most unique. I
did not travel as I usually would. I broke bread with nobody. I was unable to
do my usual birthday project. The most painful, I was not able to go to church
although I was able to hear mass online.
Those of us who lived through this pandemic
are bound to never forget our experiences, our misadventures, the challenges,
and difficulties. And those of us who celebrated birthdays, anniversaries and
other memorable days might consider this a peak experience. Unfortunately, the
light at the end of the tunnel is a flicker of optimism, but from a distance, not
yet a beacon of hope.
Those of us who lived through this
pandemic, made more difficult by natural calamities, had a double whammy. Areas
repeatedly hit by several storms on top of a volcanic eruption over just a
short period of respite, have, instead of that flicker of optimism, an
emergency flare fluttering in the distance – one that hissed and shone for a
very brief period and then died.
We have all had lessons. Or at least one lesson.
Mine is: should we ever decide to throw all our problems and worries in a communal
heap and see for ourselves how lucky we still are, seeing how others miserably fared,
we would grab our piles back, swiftly.
Hence, I have never complained. I still
have more to be thankful for.
I bet you never knew that Nanay's nickname, Lully, was taken from this Coventry Carol:
She never liked her given name, Dolores, which in Spanish meant pain/grief/sorrow and I never heard her mother, Lola Towa, ever call her that. Lola admitted to it being her biggest mistake in life as it somehow became true, Nanay lost her father on her first birthday.
Today would have been Nanay’s 90th Birthday. She passed on on Niños Inocentes Day in 2002 (Fiesta de los Santos Inocentes) at the age of 72.
Nanay in her mid-twenties, taken from a Leica, their first camera.
Yesterday, Jee Jan, Binggot and I were joking around and one of Nanay’s traits was brought up – punctuality. She was never late for an appointment, something that my sister and I inherited. When she says we leave at 8:45, you would best be ready and in the garage by 8:43 or you will be left behind.
Nanay with Edlouglen at Rizal Park in the late 60s. Tatay was using his new toy, a Hasselblad
One weird thing Nanay practiced was when she was going to play mahjong (usually on weekends), she would not leave the house until the dining table was cleared and the dishes were done with the sink empty and spotless. So, the moment that lunch was announced, everyone had to eat right away. She was not into ‘speed eating’ but the moment she was done (because she did not want to be assigned to a different mahjong table, preferring to play with her usual group), everyone else should be finished with lunch, too, lest your plate, with one’s unfinished lunch, be swiped off the table. Table cleared, dishes hurriedly washed, and she was off. Fortunately, none of Edlouglen inherited the desire to play mahjong on a regular basis. Yes, we learned, from a young age, but would only get to play during wakes and other special occasions. Louella gets complementary rooms in some casinos near where they live but they only go there at the most, once a month, to wrestle with the one-armed bandits.
When she died, Nanay just learned how to use a celfone. Social media was not yet a thing then. Had she lived to do Facebook, for example, she would have blown her top and given a piece of her mind to people who lacked reading comprehension.
I can almost see her, with my mind’s eye, reacting to these situations:
A grieving son posting on Facebook: “Daddy passed away this morning at 89. COVID-19 is not the cause of death so we will have a wake for him.” A relative’s immediate reaction: “Isolate yourselves. Do not spread the virus.”
A single mother lost her job and to make both ends meet, is offering to sell her car online: “Toyata Vios 2018 A/T, first owner, well maintained, only PhP450 thousand.” A prospective buyer responds: “How much?”
She was, in retrospect, a mix of patience and impatience. She was very patient with tasks to the point of being meticulous. Darning her knitted materials, she would take to the task and finish what needed to be done and you would not know it was even damaged and repaired. Her crochet and knitting skills were so expert she could carry a conversation or watch television and not miss a count.
Oh but do not ever make her wait. If, for example, you had a meeting and you come in late, she will poke holes in your body with eyes that are unmistakably angry, not just offended. No contrite looks will appease her, she will inevitably talk you down.
This cómoda con espejo (more popularly known as an aparador) and matching tocador were Tatay's 24th Birthday Gift to Nanay, the same month she gave birth to Manong. On the aparador was inscribed: "To My Darling Lully, 1954."
Louella had these heirloom pieces restored.
I hated having to fly with her because when ETA’s are not complied with, she would walk her frustration off up and down the pre-departure area with a sullen look on her face and woe to whoever says hello to her because she would start a tirade on how unprofessional the airline is. It was only funny until she walks up to the airline’s service counter and then, in a very soft voice, she would give them a piece of her mind and if anyone there dares to interrupt, she’d start again from the beginning of her spiel.
She was not averse to sitting in the very back of the bus on the condition that nobody near her triggered her hyperosmia. Oh yes, she had such a keen sense of smell that anyone who was intoxicated, had malodorous sweating, or breathed
like an unemptied ash tray better be ready to get off the bus.
She was one of the few who earned four beads as a Wood Badger. The Wood Badge is an internationally recognized leadership course for Scouting volunteers and professionals. When she passed on, she was Council Commissioner for Leader Training and was honored with a Scouter’s Burial.
That was my Nanay. There was definitely more to her that meets the eye.
This piece by no means sums up her life. But I could always go scot-free ribbing her, sometimes calling her Dolyares. Well, almost always, because if you knew her and look closely at me, you know I am her spitting image, and she took after me!
Twenty-five years passed I can still see you clearly Your voice still booming
This is my favorite photograph of my father, taken right before the Lion's Club Induction at the Aklan Cultural Center. It was an opportunity to use the word "isputing" which was street talk for 'dressed to impress'. He was tasked to introduce their Guest of Honor and I, a Grade V pupil, wrote his spiel.
Though I literally am the spitting image of Nanay, I was closer to Tatay, a World War II veteran and a boxing aficionado who absolutely had no qualms about my being gay.
This was taken after I won my first writing competition when I was a High School Junior.
He always insisted on getting a copy of all my published articles and when I became a correspondent for a Singapore-based publishing firm producing lifestyle magazines exclusively for a major credit card company's Gold Account holders, I had a problem because I only get one copy per issue. Of course he had them. Frustrated that he could not give away copies to relatives and friends, I was compelled to write Entertainment features for Manila Bulletin's Panorama Magazine which came out on Sundays. He bought them by the dozen.
People are invariably surprised to find out that Tatay served as Chairman of the Poblacion Barangay Council of our hometown, Libacao. And let me hasten to add, he was elected, not appointed, the latter being what people always assumed, because, though he understood the language and it nuances, he could not speak Aklanon. This is inscribed on the marker of their project, The Cry of Balintawak, a triangular shaped monument at the entrance of Poblacion proper.
When the campaign period began in 2016, we decided to support different candidates but vowed to remain friends. When Digong won, you invited me to eat out. I love that you were magnanimous in victory (but stingy because you did not allow me to have steak). That night, we avoided politics and talked about anything and everything else until we both had to report for work -- no showers, no change of clothes.
Since then we have had numerous impassioned discussions and fiery debates over our body politics. Even if we felt like killing each other several times over, we have remained friends.
Lately, we have not had a chance to sit down for coffee or break bread because of the pandemic. I miss arguing with you.
For almost 2 months now, we have not had a chance to even talk because you are always bushed now that your Mom and Dad’s Alzheimer’s are in Stages 5 and 7, respectively. Good thing you can work from home and your faithful kasambahay is still, well, loyal.
Boy was I shocked when, from out of the blue, you texted to taunt me about the non-renewal of ABS-CBN’s franchise. I did not respond. But we both know I will not remain quiet.
So here goes. Is your life any better now that Congress has slammed the lid on ABS-CBN?
There are a lot of new items I wish to discuss with you, but I know better than rile you at a time when you barely have time to call your very patient and understanding fiancée.
Let me pause and give you time to catch your breath.
I must admit I really am itching to debate with you, but I love you too much to be either a rock or a hard place (or both) when you have been so sleep-deprived. I know that for the first time in your privileged life, you wish you were not an only child.
Do not worry, you will not be alone much longer. And yes, I will still be the program host for your wedding reception next year. I have not done that in over a decade but even if the butterflies in my stomach morph into a stampede of elephants, there is no backing out.
I so look forward to your having children. Your first child, as promised, will call me Ninong. Carla wants 5 kids. Five kids who will have to pay the debts incurred by your Idol Digong.
#TumorYears dear friend. And 7 months as a bachelor.
Love from your friend who is twice your age plus 4.
Herminio
Lopez Roque, Jr., more popularly known as Harry Roque, Presidential Spokesperson (with a Cabinet position) as well
as the head of the Strategic Communications Task Group of the National Task
Force COVID-19, once again figured in another controversy, this time by going
on a “side-trip” to Ocean Adventure, thereby violating health protocols to
prevent the spread of the China (Wuhan) Coronavirus aka COVID-19.
People
found out about this ‘misadventure’ when Ocean Adventure posted pictures of Roque’s
visit on their social media account, which were subsequently deleted immediately
when social media went buzzing with negative reactions. But people were quick
to take and save screenshots, aptly called “resibo” (an expression popularized
by Joven Laurio of Pinoy Ako Blog [PAB]) as proof of what has transpired.
Ocean
Adventure, where dolphins, sea lions and various other animals are trained to ‘work
for a living’ is a park with a marine theme. Located inside the Subic Bay
Freeport Zone (the former US Naval Base), it is operated by Subic Bay Marine
Exploratorium, Inc (“SBMEI”).
In
his defense, Roque emphasized the point that he posed with dolphins, hence no
violations were committed. According to him, the side trip was done while en
route to his Bataan farm. He avers that he has APOR status (authorized person
outside residence) and granted permission to travel to enable him to attend to
his agri–business.
#CTTO, grabbed from a post on Twitter
However, at the time this happened, unnecessary
travel and leisure trips are still banned despite the easing of quarantine measures in Metro
Manila.
Crafted in
response to the pandemic, the current rules have penalized the marginalized,
some of whom, including a 72 year old jeepney driver, were immediately jailed, but prominent personalities/government officials such as Senator Koko Pimentel, OWWA Deputy Executive
Director Mocha Uson, and General Debold Sinas have violated the same health and
quarantine protocols but have not been punished for their infringements.
Harry
Roque just added his name to this list of The Untouchables.
Pangungulila
is one of those words that is difficult to translate to English. Using google
search, dictionary.com gave the word bereavement. But bereavement is too
generic, referring to being deprived of a close relation or friend through
their death. The definition does not do justice to pangungulila that comes
after death. I tried if melancholy
applies but it does not need an obvious cause, so there. Desolation on the
other hand is complete emptiness or destruction which does not really cut it
even if there is indeed emptiness and destruction combined. Longing does not
quite fit even if it refers to that strong, persistent desire or craving,
especially for something unattainable or distant, i.e. a longing for home. I
would not even settle for yearning which is an intense longing for
something—see, pangungulila cannot be placated with an ice cream cone.
And
then I remembered a Portuguese word, SAUDADE. It too does not readily translate
to English but is defined as a deep emotional state of nostalgic or profound
melancholic longing for an absent something or someone that one cares for
and/or loves. Moreover, it often carries a repressed knowledge that the object
of longing might never be had again.
This
feeling has repeatedly overwhelmed me during the lockdown (brought about by the
pandemic that the Sino leaders forbade to be referred to as the Chinese [Wuhan]
Coronavirus) as the grim reaper took the lives of a teacher/Lola; a
cousin; a dear friend; the 15-year-old daughter of a cousin; an erstwhile
lover; a fellow correspondent; and the most overwhelming, an Aunt/favorite Godmother.
The
specter that is mortality was busy, and I was stuck in my crib, unable to pay
my last respects. The nearest was Pasig, but I could not possibly walk that
far. Three were in LA, my hometown (Libacao, Aklan) and of course I could not
fly or alternately swim freestyle and backstroke that great distance nor walk
on Manila Bay to Verde Island Passage to Tablas Strait and finally to Sibuyan
Sea. Besides, I would have to go on voluntary 14-day home quarantine/isolation
the moment I get there, so what’s the bloody ruse, err use.
Even
among those who had closure with physical presence during the wake and the
interment/cremation, the pangungulila still hits them in the gut and messes
with their emotions. Compelled to deal with grief from a distance, the
pangungulila zaps one’s energy, leaving a depressed Eveready Bunny.
When
God calls on His faithful, we should celebrate. Although grief and anxiety may
be overwhelming, we surrender to God’s wisdom and embrace our faith even more
closely, snugly. Our dear departed is with God.
However,
as it is written: What no eye has seen, what no ear has heard, and what no
human mind has conceived — the things God has prepared for those who love him. — 1 Corinthians 2:9
Lilian
Aguila Besana Inosanto has entered into the joy of God and
death shall be no more.
Dilectis in Paradisum, our beloved is in paradise.
The look of love... (no favoritism [char], jut that in this particular photograph, she exudes that look of love, appreciation and bliss beyond measure)
When
I learned of Maninay Lily’s passing, two things immediately came to mind: firstly,
she has finally been liberated from her sickbed, thanks be to God; secondly,
I was worried about her children who will, will greater probability, not be
able to come home because of the lockdown due to the pandemic.
The
first thought was absolute joy; the second, unadulterated misery.
Maninay
Lily is survived by her nine progeny: Scarlett (Lipa); Suzette (Sue); Roselle
(Bebop); Carolita (Bibim); Florence (Flogs); Florencio Paterno (Toto); Lilynette
(Lynette, I didn’t know her first name until today); Florante (Nono) and Christine
(Ninky).
Maninay Lily conducts an attendance check, but keep your hands off her bag!
Anang
Lipa, Nono and Ninky are in Toronto; Nang Suzette is in New Jersey; Nang Flogs
is in Cebu; Nang Bebop & Nang Lynette are in Quezon City; but fortunately,
Nang Bibim and Manong Toto are in Libacao.
Being
the nearest in proximity, Nang Bibim, who lives in Roxas City, is able to come
home to Libacao with ease and regularity. Manong Toto, who comes home as often
as he can, got stranded in Libacao during the pandemic. He was supposed to go
back to New York by the end of April.
As of
this writing, there is no interment schedule just yet with travel still
restricted.
There
are no regular international flights and the Kalibo International Airport is
closed. All other airports on Panay Island are closed, except for the Category
2 Evelio Javier Airport in San Jose, Antique which only accommodates propeller
aircraft.
Another
consideration that makes going home difficult is the mandatory 14-day quarantine,
which makes no sense in this situation, no offense to the authorities as we
submit to the health protocols.
This
unusual situation confounds and multiplies the already complicated grief that
they feel. The siblings are hoping for the best yet are prepared for the
possibility that they will not be able to come home for the funeral.
I
enjoin Maninay Lily’s family, relatives, and friends to please pray, if it be
God’s will, that her immediate family be able to come home for her funeral.
Let us, altogether, storm heaven with our plea.
The
immediate family, those who are not in Libacao, organized a prayer vigil, reciting the Novena for the
Dead, organized by Nang Sue’s son Cookie. They also appreciate, and join whenever
they can, the 9-Day Novena Masses offered by Amy Villorente Lim in Toronto.
She was really beautiful inside and out...
Maninay
Lily was 98. She was bedridden for a decade and a half. Nobody might want to openly
admit it, but it was definitely difficult for everyone.
My
sister, who never failed to visit whenever she was home in Aklan, always
expressed her appreciation and awe at the excellent and very competent care
Maninay Lily had all those years she was bedridden. Louella believed that had
it been otherwise, she would have died a long time ago.
People
who are unfamiliar with such a situation do not understand the physical and
emotional demands on those who provide care and comfort at the end of life. May
St. John the Evangelist, patron saint of caregivers, intercede for them and
grant them special blessings.
And
may our Almighty Father, source of forgiveness and salvation, grant Lillian Aguila
Besana Inosanto, through the intercession of the Blessed Virgin Mary and of all
the saints, that she may share your Eternal happiness through Christ our Lord. Amen.
Come,
let us celebrate the life of our beloved Lily. It was a well-lived, inspired,
and inspiring life, one that left us indelible memories to remember her by. Let
us cherish her love and share it with the world. We should never allow her
smile to fade.
The Lucban Municipal Police Station, by posting a
message on social media asking girls not to wear short shorts, fanned the
flames of an already simmering frustration over a predominantly misogynistic
sentiment regarding rape and subsequent victim-blaming and shaming. Their Chief,
perhaps unwittingly, stoked the controversy by trying to justify their deed, which singed their
credibility even more.
In Metro Manila, Ben Tulfo’s allegedly minuscule
but proud member stood up and spew a conflagration by saying that the manner by
which women dress gives men an opportunity to commit rape, In the process, he
belittled the opinion (on the Lucban Police controversy) of Frankie Pangilinan,
outspoken daughter of Senator Kiko Pangilinan and Megastar Sharon Cuneta, by
calling her hija, a pejorative term in this instance, thereby sparking an
online tumult on social media.
In the safety of her lair, Senator Pia Cayetano, a
self-proclaimed women’s advocate, was quiet. Not even a gasp came as a
statement from her office. Meanwhile, the rest of the country was in the
firestorm. In the melee, Claro Ganac, a part-time professor at De la Salle
University got fired for insinuating that Senator Risa Hontiveros, the feisty and
staunch feminist, should be raped by Bilibid inmates.
The nub of the controversy is the mistaken notion that
people get raped because of the clothes they wear. This is what the Lucban
Police openly emphasized. This is what Ben Tulfo accentuates. This insolence is
the weapon of choice of misogynists who, in their impertinence, invariably
shame the victims of rape.
Hontiveros asserts: "There is no dress code for rape. Or for sexual harassment. Instead of teaching women how to dress, we should teach men not to rape".
Note that women do not have exclusive sway as rape victims. Men also get raped, the latest in the news is a newbie OFW in the Middle East. In the current scheme of things, as propounded by Lucban Police, Ben Tulfo, and their ilk, one wonders what he must have worn. The apogee here is the extremely revolting fact that even infants get raped.
It should be emphasized that our Revised Penal Code
does not recognize the clothing of the victim as an element of rape. In an
exhibit aptly called “Don’t Tell Me How to Dress” organized by CNN Philippines,
clothes worn by 11 Filipina survivors of sexual harassment or abuse were
featured. None of the 11 clothes that we displayed could be described as provocative.
Suddenly, there is a spate of bestiality occurring with
alarming frequency, including a man who had sex with two cows. In an online
discussion, people were asking Ben Tulfo and the Lucban Police: “What were the
cows wearing?”
We seriously need to change our perception of rape
and help educate people, raise awareness of the dangers of misogyny and the
reality of men as rape victims. We should, as individuals and members of
groups, not only fight for justice but proactively promote sensitivity to the
plight of victims of sexual harassment or abuse.
Struggling
with how to begin this article, I only had the title staring back at me, cursor
blinking, egging me on. But my mind was shooting blanks, so I had to resort to
an old technique, putting in random, disconnected thoughts and ideas that I
would then sew together.
Frustrated,
I gave it a rest, went to Facebook and boom – saw my niece Tweepy’s post that
her Lola Mommy, my Auntie/Ninang Lily (Lillian Aguila Besana Inosanto) passed away today, 13 June 2020 at 2:10 pm, in our hometown, LA (Libacao, Aklan). She was 98.
Maninay Lily was the Guidance Counselor of Libacao Elementary School, and much to her chagrin, this imp was a regular in her office.
The
worst timing for it to happen, during this lockdown caused by the Chinese
(Wuhan) Coronavirus. The lockdown already caused grief beyond the common
experience. I have had relatives and friends who have died without me being
able to physically pay my last respects.
“Dying
is like the ocean, sometimes the tide comes in gently with soft, delicate waves
quietly working in the background. Other days, the waves violently crash into
explosions, demanding to be noticed but regardless of how it chooses to do its
job, the tide will always come in.” – Sarah
Riad, The Sharp Knife of a Short Life
My late
mother, Dolores Bolivar Inosanto Jereza, always made it a point to condole with
the bereaved and would make time to do so. It is a duty she etched, no, seared,
in my character. And I have always tried to oblige.
But these
are trying times made even more so by the lockdown to control the spread of the
pandemic. Travel is restricted, and so, the death of people we love (and there
is quite a long list during this pandemic) leave us compelled to deal with our
grief literally from a distance.
Complete family, save of course for Maninoy Pater who has since passed on. From left: Ninky, Nono, Lynette, Toto, Flogs, Bibim, Bebop, Suzette and Lipa. #CTTO: Manong Toto's Facebook.
There
is an altogether different level of frustration and disappointment in this
particular instance because Maninay Lily’s children: Anang Lipa, Nang Sue, Nang
Bebop, Mare Bibim, Nang Flogs, Manong Toto, Nang Lynette, Nono, and Ninky, and
their respective families, have been with us in the best and worst times. The
fact that I cannot be with you to somehow, in some way, assuage your pain, is frustrating
and heartrending beyond words.
I visited her in January when I came home for the Ati-atihan. She was, as usual, very sweet (and funny).
Maninay,
may you rest in the arms of the Lord who formed you from the dust of the earth,
May Holy Mary, the angels and all the saints welcome you now that you have gone
forth from this life. May Christ who was crucified for you, bring you freedom
and peace. May Christ who died for you admit you into his garden of paradise. Amen.
Could not log in to this blog for a long time because of an email address associated with this that I no longer had access to. It took a while to regain control... the anguish of a frustrating wait. But now that I have sway over this once again, yes, I really am taking control and will readily, eagerly scratch that itch to write. My fingers are ready to dance on the keyboard.
I
have just been labeled a non-conformist. No, I did not take offense. No umbrage
at all, in fact, I just laughed.
The
person who called me that must have been at a loss for words, literally. That
did not surprise me at all. He has, in the past, described me as: “mabulaklak
magsalita, ayaw gumamit nang ordinaryong kataga para mas maintindihan” (flowery
speaker who will not use simple words to be better understood).
The
words I use convey my thoughts with as much precision as I can muster. I will
not call you dense when you are a dimwit. I will not admit to being lonely when
I am just bored. I know the difference between hard and difficult. Why should I
abuse the word beautiful to refer to a woman, a flower, or a sunset when I have
an idiolect for an arsenal?
Oh
but I digress.
Now,
why was I called a non-conformist? I was quiet amidst the brouhaha over a dog
meat festival. To me, the controversy had to do with one plain and simple fact:
dogs are the most popular pets worldwide, bar none, unless of course you happen
to be Chavit Singson who can afford to literally house more exotic animals.
I
love dogs, too, but I do not have a problem with people who eat dog meat. It is
a cultural thing; hence I do not find it repugnant.
Unfortunately,
the controversy was heightened by gruesome, perturbing pictures that agitated a
lot of people once they were posted online. Dogs in cages that are not really
different from our overcrowded city jails, just like other animals in
industrial farms, living in cramped spaces, suffering until they reach
maturity, and then killed with swift, merciless precision.
Come
to think of it, what are 10,000 dogs butchered for a dog meat festival in one
hemisphere compared to 1.2 million dogs euthanised on an annual basis in
another hemisphere?
In
retrospect, it probably was not the dog meat itself, but the manner by which
the dogs were killed (the dogs are hit on the head and torched) that became
controversial.
Those
who raised a howl must not have heard of the Pinikpikan.
The Supreme Court of the United States has affirmed the
legality of same sex marriage.
The LGBT communities around the world rejoiced and
celebrated the groundbreaking, if not earth-shattering decision by the world’s
most powerful country … while a Pastor who promised to set himself on fire as
the day came to pass promptly said his statement was not supposed to be taken
literally or was misquoted — or was just lame.
As the rainbow appeared everywhere, especially in social
media, the ultra-conservatives mourned, going through a breast-beating
catharsis.
Will same sex marriage ever be allowed in the Philippines? If
it does, it will be a long time coming.
But there is always hope.
What am I happy about? Moving forward, it will not just be
tolerance or lip service. Rights have been upheld for the LGBTs in the United
States.
And then it occurred to me: I have a visa but don’t have a
boyfie. Bummer.
