Saturday, December 30, 2006

New Year sa Saipan

First and Last New Year ko dito sa Saipan. Nakaraos naman ng maluwalhati.

Naimbitahan kami ng mommy ni April to welcome the New Year at their house. So, Alex, April and I stayed there. Kainan. Kantahan (kaya umulan ng malakas). Kulitan. Nood ng DVD. Laro ng cards at billiards. And of course, I learned how to play Tekken. April's little brother taught me how. He got a PSP last Christmas. Nakaka-addict pala maglaro ng Tekken. (hmmm, para tuloy gusto kong bumili ng PSP).

After that, attend naman kami ng company party nina April. The New Year's party is part of their company's tradition, where (almost) all the employees are invited to the bosses' house. Of course, food and drinks were overflowing (typical Chamorro party), music is provided by a local band (cha-cha siyempre ang tugtog). I saw some acquaintances and exchanged new year greetings. There was a "talent" show by employees and children of employees.

The raffle draw is the highlight of the party. Prizes at stake were refrigerators, TVs, dining set, sofa, bed, and other consolation prizes. April won a phone.

There was also a fireworks display. We went home at around 10pm, tired and exhausted.

Hay, one month na lang ako dito sa Saipan. I am quietly saying goodbye to all these.

Here are some photos I took during the party.



Talent Show. Employees dancing "Boom Tarat"



Take your pick. Coke. Sprite. Oolong Tea. Iced-tea.



Ice box for alcoholics. Bud light. Miller. Corona.



At the Buffet Table. Java Rice. Meat. Meat. Meat. Meat.



Fish with Veggies and Pepper. Hot!hot!hot!



Consolation Prizes for the Raffle.



Lois with the major prizes.



Salad.



Employees at the party. 98% of them, Pinoys!




Employees enjoying their dinner.



Alex and April. Beautiful couple.



Haven for the Dehydrated! Ice-box for water.



Giant Pumpkin on Display at one of the supermarkets here in Saipan. (Taken during the Halloween.)




Mother of all kalabasas!










525,600 minutes

I am sitting in front of my computer trying to evaluate the year that was. The year 2006. I have made major changes in my life. I've switched jobs, left home and worked abroad (isa na akong buhay na bayani), experienced new things, learned how to navigate in a new jungle, learned how to drive, owned a car, fell in and out of love, gained new friends and met acquaintances.

One year is equivalent to 525,600 minutes. What have I done to those minutes?

I would like to measure the year 2006 in love! Being away from home made me realize how lucky am I to have my family who loves me. How lucky I am to have Tes, Dina, Elay, Arlene, Pops, Jeff, Margaret, Mariz, Marivic, Jocon, Lilibeth, CA, Mel, CY, Rosel, Lorna, Raffy, Lorie (i hope i didn't miss anyone. he!he!) who have been my friends for years. Lynvi, Beng, Josette, Mona, Jojo, Joyce. I could go on and on. I have a lot of loyal and trusted friends. How lucky I was to have worked in BPI. A really world class bank, where professionalism and integrity mark every transaction.

But I was lucky too, to have come to Saipan. It made me compare what I had before and what I have now. The experiences (both good and bad) I had here would surely enrich me as a person.

I am posting my favorite song from the musical Rent. How do we really measure a year?

Let's measure it in LOVE!

Seasons of Love

525,600 minutes
525,000 moments so dear
525,600 minutes
how do you measure
measure a year?


In daylights, in sunsets,
In midnights, in cups of coffee.

In inches, in miles, in laughter, in strife

In 525,600 minutes - how do you measure a year in the life?

How about love? How about love? How about love? Measure in love.

Seasons of love.

525,600 minutes
525,000 journeys to plan.
525,600 minustes - how can you measure the life of a woman or man?

In truths that she learned
or in times that he cried?
In bridges he burned or
the way that she died?

It's time now to sing out, though the story never ends
Let's celebrate remember a year in the life of friends.

Remember the love! Remember the love! Remember the love!
Measure in love.

Seasons of love!
Seasons of love.

Wednesday, December 27, 2006

Of Poker Houses and Pawnshops


A Typical Poker House


One of the Pawnshops along the Beach Road



Dito sa Saipan, madaming "Pokeran" at Pawnshops.

Ang "Pokeran" ay ang mga Poker Houses. Kung sa Pilipinas, bawat kanto may sari-sari store, sa Saipan, Poker House naman ang makikita mo bawat kanto.

24 hours, 7-days a week ang operations ng Poker House. Minsan may guard na nagbabantay, minsan wala.

Nakapasok na ako sa loob ng Poker House. Ang dati kong landlady ay naglalaro ng Poker, at minsan hinanap ko siya para manghiram ng susi. Aba, nasa loob sya ng Poker House!

Madilim ang loob ng Poker House. Malakas ang aircon kaya malamig. Sa loob ng Poker House ay may mga Poker machines at duon naglalaro ang mga Poker addicts.

Para kang maglalaro ng slot machine. Maghuhulog ka ng pera, tapos pipindutin mo ang buton. Kapag nanalo ka, lalabas sa machine ang perang mapapanalunan mo. Sa machine ay nakalagay ang mga choices. 2 of a kind. Full HOuse. Flush. Royal Flush. Ewan. Hindi ko maintindihan kasi hindi naman ako madunong maglaro ng poker.

Sa Poker House na napasukan ko, may limang poker machines. Ang landlady ko ay naglalaro sa isang dulo. Samantalang may isang mama na naglalaro sa kabilang dulo. May dala-dala siyang pagkain. Mcdonald's burger at isang large coke. Sa palagay, matagal na siyang naglalaro. Addict siguro.

Sabi ng mga nakakausap ko, karaniwang walang tao sa Poker House kapag umaga. Sa madaling araw daw napupuno ang Poker Houses.

"Bakit?"

"Kasi nagtatago sa mga kamag-anak ang mga naglalaro ng Poker. Kaya sa madaling araw sila nagpupunta."

"Mga addict nga."

Maraming kwento din akong narinig na maraming mga kapwa OFW ang nalulong sa Poker. Kumakain na lang ng "soba" (instant noodles) para makapaglaro lang ng poker. Naisip ko, na kung ang isang construction worker na sumasahod ng minimum wage ($3.05/hour), tapos puro soba lang ang kinakain dahil lulong na sa Poker, aba, hind malayong mangyari na magkasakit at mapauwi sa Pilipinas ang taong iyon.

Katabi halos ng mga Poker Houses ay mga Pawnshop naman. Dito sa Saipan, lahat pwede mong isanla. Bukod sa alahas pwede kang magsanla ng aircon, gitara, microwave at Wow! Magic Sing. (Minsan naimbitahan kami sa opening ng isang pawnshop. Aba, ang daming magic sing na nakasanla! Lahat ng models meron. Mula sa pinakaluma hanggang sa pinakabagong modelo.)

It makes perfect sense hindi ba? Maglaro ka ng Poker, tapos kapag natatalo ka na at nauubusan na ng pera, pumunta ka sa pawnshop para magsanla. Dagdag pondo para sa poker game. Tuloy ang ligaya. Panandaliang aliw para kahit sa ilang mga sandali makalimutan ang lungkot. Makalimutan ang problema. Makalimutan ang dahilan kung bakit nangibang-bansa.







Monday, December 25, 2006

Images


Pictures ng mga "celebrities" at ordinaryong tao dito sa Saipan.


Mga lola at lolo. Tito at Tita. Mga manang sa simbahan.

The Bishop and the Troops.


The Governor

The Telephone Directory

The Korean Newspaper

The Procession


The Newspapers in Saipan. Marianas Variety and The Tribune

The Beauty Queens of Saipan


The Senators


The Contestants of Ms. Gay Pacific


Talent Portion


Ang Diyosa ng mga Gays in the Pacific. Si Venus! (kasama ako syempre.)


Ang mga talented na Ms. Gay Contestants. Pinoy lahat yan!










Tuesday, December 19, 2006

Kuru-Kuro Ulit

Madalas sumasagi sa isip ko ang mga tanong na ito:

1. Kung nanatili kaya tayo sa ilalim ng gobyerno ng Amerika nung panahon ng Commonwealth, magiging katulad din kaya ng mga Chamorro ang lifestyle nating mga Pinoy?


2. Magiging payak din kaya tayong mag-isip?


3. Sa trabaho, magiging tamad din kaya tayo? Tamad magsumikap at tamad matuto ng higit pa sa simpleng kaalaman?


4. Magiging masidhi pa rin ba ang pangarap nating makarating sa Amerika?


5. Marami pa rin kaya ang corrupt na pulitiko sa atin?


6. Maniniwala pa rin kaya ang karamihan sa atin sa sinabi ni Pres. Quezon na, "I prefer a government run like hell by Filipinos than a government run like heaven by the Americans?"

Kung nasa ilalim tayo ng gobyerno ng Amerika at kabilang sa Commonwealth government, siguro tulad din tayo ng mga Chamorro. Magiging madali sa atin ang mga bagay na katulad ng mga ito.


1. Madali bumili ng sasakyan, bahay at pagkain dahil mataas ang sweldo at kakayanin ng isang simpleng manggagawa ang magpundar ng mga ito.


2. Ang pulis at mga teachers ay matataas ang sweldo kasi Federal funds ang magbabayad ng sahod nila. Ang police car natin magiging Ford Expedition at hindi Tamaraw FX o Toyota Corolla o stainless jeep. Ang school bus yung kulay yellow-gold na kadalasan nakikita sa mga Hollywood movies.


3. Ang mga pagkain natin, pagkain ng Kano. Steak, burger, cake, ice-cream, salad etc. Malalaki ang servings. Siguro, mapagwaldas din tayo sa pagkain. Bibili ng madami tapos itatapon ang sobra. Takaw-mata sabi nga ng nanay ko.


4. Mas dadami pa ang tamad sa atin kasi kapag walang trabaho may government aid naman. May food stamps kaya hindi ka mamamatay sa gutom.


5. Libre ang pag-aaral simula elementarya hanggang high-school. Maganda ang facilities at up to date sa technology.


6. Siguro, lahat ng Pinoy may katulong na Chinese o di kaya Bangladeshi. Mga OCW mula sa mahihirap na bansa. Pagmamalupitan din kaya natin sila tulad ng mga pagmamalupit na nararanasan ng mga DH natin sa iba't-ibang bansa?


7. Konti lang siguro ang mangangarap na mangibang-bansa. Siguro ang mga pangarap ng ordinaryong Pinoy, makapunta ng Amerika para mamasyal lang sa Disneyland o di kaya sa Universal Studios. Hindi na tayo mangangarap tumira doon kasi mga American citizens na tayo. May tatak agila ang passport natin at hindi na kailangan ng visa sa halos lahat ng bansa sa mapa. Mga Kano tayo na nakatira sa Pilipinas. Kapag gusto nating makakita ng snow, pupunta tayo sa New York or sa Chicago para makapaglaro sa snow. Magiging madali lang sa atin ang magbiyahe.

Pero naiisip ko rin na kahit kelan hindi tayo magiging katulad ng mga Chamorro kahit na nasa Commonwealth government tayo.


Sa tingin ko nga eh, siguro tatalunin natin ang mga Kano sa Amerika. Dahil sa likas na talento at talino ng Pinoy, siguro puro Pinoy ang mangunguna sa larangan ng negosyo, siyensya, relihiyon at maging sa sining.


Hmmmm.....kaya siguro pumayag ang mga Kano nung ipaglaban ng mga ninuno natin na tumiwalag tayo sa Commonwealth.


Natakot si Uncle Sam! he!he!he!

Thursday, December 14, 2006

Kuru-kuro ng isang OCW sa Saipan


Poster at the OWWA Transit Lounge at the Ninoy Aquino International Airport in Manila showing President Gloria Macapagal Arroyo wishing contract workers a safe trip.




I've been an Overseas Contract Worker for almost a year. I got a job as an auditor in one of the companies here in Saipan.

Saipan is an island in the middle of the Pacific Ocean. A US territory, it is the largest of the 3 major islands that comprise the Commonwealth of the Northern Marianas Islands (CNMI).

I arrived in Saipan in February of 2006. The island is no different from a Class C province in the Philippines. The weather is tropical and except for the currency which was in US Dollars, it was being like home, or so I thought.

As I continued my stay and met fellow OFWs, I became aware of the peculiarity of this island specifically about relationships most OFWs here have.

Most OFWs here have families in the Philippines, but they also have another family here in Saipan. I've met them. I've known them. I've seen their faces. They've told me their stories.

"Wife" "Girlfriend" "Husband" "Boyfriend" "Fwend" are the terms used to introduce one another. It's easy to involve oneself in these kinds of relationships. The locals - Chamorros they are called - most often than not have multiple partners. With a population of just 70,000, exchanging partners is not uncommon. Most locals have 2 or 3 partners because divorce is allowed here. A husband is different from a boyfriend and a boyfriend is different from a lover. Having an affair is no big deal. It's pretty much the norm.

Having been raised in a conservative family and having been surrounded by friends who held on to their marriage vows in sacred reverence, I was shocked to come face to face with this sad fact.

Saipan is one lonely island for an OFW. The place is so tiny that you can go from end to end in just 3 hours. There are no shopping malls here and everybody knows each other. The place is ideal for romantic tryst. White sand beaches and clear blue waters by day and balmy, warm sea breeze with starlit sky at night.

Married people are more vulnerable to the deep loneliness of Saipan. I guess it's because married people are used to having someone around. Someone to do things with, someone to go to bed with or just someone to talk to. Being single and used to being alone and independent in Manila, I felt pressured in Saipan. I had a lot of time in my hands. I had nothing to do and I was lonely. Battling homesickness which really peaked on my 6th month here, I became scared of the possibility and the choices that laid before me. I had my own share of men who made a pass at me but I was lucky. I had badminton and writing to help me keep my focus.

I think of the others who failed to keep theirs. I knew them. They had faces. They were not just one-dimensional characters in gossip columns or films. They were ordinary people like me.

Having gone through the experience of deep loneliness and homesickness, I understand the "Le Affairs" of Saipan. The need to have a special someone regardless of whether one is married or not is a basic human need. Don't get me wrong, I am not justifying the affairs but I guess these are all part of the human struggle. The human condition. In fact one of the running jokes here in Saipan is, "Don't drink the rainwater of Saipan because if you do, you'll forget your family back home."

If Saipan OFWs are a microcosm of the OFW phenomenon, I am sure that these "Le Affairs" also happen in Singapore, in Hongkong, in Milan, in Barcelona, in Dubai and in all other places where there are OFWs. Different circumstances but the same stories. Different places but the same brown faces. Same loneliness. Same solution.

The Peso continues to appreciate due to the remittances of OFWs. In fact, the Peso is now pegged at P49.30 to a Dollar. Last year, it was more than P50 to a dollar. As of August 2006, total OFW remittances was $5B. We are the heroes of our economy. The price - emotional struggle. We endure loneliness. We silently cry ourselves to sleep. We drown ourselves in alcohol. We live in the fleeting happiness of affairs. We seek shelter in our psychotic belief of religion. We scrub our bathroom floors till our hands are raw. We stay until midnight in the office.

Movies are now being made to show our plight. Various NGOs have dedicated themselves to protect our interests. Various government agencies have been set-up to help (?) us in times of need. Certain products are marketed to us and even certain advertisements have defined us as target markets. We have become a force.

While on vacation in the Philippines last month, I was at the parlor to have my hair done. The hairdresser's (he was a guy and he said he was not gay) phone rang. He took the call and then told me, "Mama ko yun."

The way he said it, the mama didn't sound like he was talking about his mother. He continued his story by telling me that the "mama" is a married woman whose husband is an engineer in Malaysia.

Another fascinating story I heard was a comment of the wife who was in the Philippines. When she heard that her OFW husband was having an affair in Dubai, "OK lang iyon. At least may nag-aalaga sa kanya dun."

Is this the price the Philippines has to pay for the strength of the Peso?




Pagbabalik Bayan

When the captain announced that the plane is about to touch down, my excitement reached its peak.

Finally, after 10 months in the lonely island of Saipan, I am going back home!

As the plane was on its last approach for landing, I wanted to scream at the top of my lungs, "Civilization! Bumalik ako sa sibilisasyon!"

When I saw the lights of Manila, I was grinning from ear to ear.

I waited for my baggage for what seemed like an eternity, I was a bit dizzy and hungry but I was so happy to be affected.

I was chatting with Ruby who sat beside me on the plane. She is to go home in Pangasinan right after.

I was just so glad to be back home. I was happy to be in the middle of the noise and confusion of my beloved city. I was looking at Manila in a new light.

The hotel taxi fetched me at the airport. I was back in EDSA. The drivers were driving the usual Manila style, unmindful of lanes and signals. Tricycles and pedicabs were on the main road in Pasay. The chaos was mine. This is my city. I was just ecstatic to be back in the chaotic confusion of my Manila.

Makati is now decked with Christmas lights. My eyes opened wide with awe as we passed by Rustan's, Glorietta and SM. "The malls! The malls!"

The malls which I missed so much. The fashion. The pop culture. The old life I had.

My company has arranged for my accomodation at the Hotel Nikko for 2 days. One of the perks of the job so to speak. It felt strange being the middle of expats. I am now one of them. Experiencing the life of the rich because my company can afford to send me to these places. I was treated well and it felt different. I remember when I was still working in my previous company, where I have to haggle for discounts during our out of town assignments because our hotel allowance could only afford a cheap room. (The junior executive suite at the Nikko where I was billeted was a disappointment but that is another story.)


I kept asking myself, "Is this how it feels to be able to afford the finer things of life?"


The following day, while my family and I went shopping, I looked around for the new trends in fashion. What the rich and sheltered people of Makati were wearing. The mall rats of Glorietta and SM were sporting boleros. Mini skirts with leggings. Layering is in. The usual jeans and shirts are now adorned with big belts. Longer shirts with garters at the hips. The metallic and shiny shoes. The latest gadgets were on display. The latest cellphone models. I felt odd with my Nokia 3310. And of course, it felt great to watch all the slim, fair and cono crowd I don't usually see in Saipan. Manila people are really far more sophisticated, fashionable and beautiful than the whole population of the jologs island. The only difference is, the people of jologs island are dollar earners and are American citizens. A cosmic joke with a political twist perhaps.


After 10 months of being away from Manila, everything seemed so new. Cubao with its million Christmas lights was more beautiful and could compete with Makati. My old apartment felt comfortable. I felt peaceful. I slept soundly although I didn't have airconditioners. My family was there beside me.


Malling was easier this time. I could afford things I couldn't before. It was easier to buy things now. Things seem cheaper and more reasonably priced. I was in the middle of the shoe section in SM Makati and I was amazed at the endless styles and unlimited choices. In Saipan, shoe stores carry limited styles and choices and are generally more expensive. I wanted to do an Imelda and shop till I drop but the practical side of me prevailed. Of course, I still bought 3 pairs which my sisters critized. They think the shoes were unfashionable. Have I imbibed the Saipan fashion sense? Arrgghh!!! Oh no!


My vacation was not solely spent in shopping of course. I met friends. I went back to my old bank to say hello to my officemates and my former bosses. It felt great to be back. Riding the elevator to the 12th floor again. Greeting Mang Loloy our guard. Drinking the P10 (2 dimes) coffee from the vending machine again. Endless stories and updates. The changes I've noticed from my bosses (the thinning hair). The level of comfort while talking to my old and trusted friends was more heartfelt. I was braver to show my affection. I kept hugging them. I wanted to hoard all the memories so that when I go back to the jologs island, I could endure homesickness better. I am comforted by the fact that I only have a few months left in my contract and I am going home again.


It really is true. Absence makes the heart grow fonder.

Monday, December 11, 2006

Silence

I lived alone in my tiny apartment in Garapan area for 8 months. Being alone for such a long time have made me look deep inside myself. The long periods of silence was just like a retreat from the noisy confusion of the world. I learned to live with my silence. I sometimes hated it but most often than not, I was happy to soak in it. I came across this essay from the travel writer - Pico Iyer - who eloquently decribed the mystery of silence. I am sharing it to you.

Silence

Every one of us knows the sensation of going up, on retreat, to a high place, and feeling ourselves so lifted up that we can hardly imagine the circumstances of our usual lives, or all the things that make us fret. In such a place, in such a state, we start to recite the standard litany: that silence is sunshine, where company is clouds; that silence is rapture, where company is doubt; that silence is golden, where company is brass.

But silence is not so easily won. And before we race off to go prospecting in those hills, we might usefully recall that fool's gold is much more common, and that gold has to be panned for, dug out from other substances. "All profound things and emotions of things are preceded and attended by Silence," wrote Herman Merville, one of the loftiest and most eloquent of souls. Working himself up to an ever more thunderous cry of affirmation, he went on: "Silence is the general consecration of the universe. Silence is the invisible laying on of the Divine Pontiff's hands upon the world. Silence is the only Voice of our God." For Melville, though, silence finally meant darkness and hopelessness and self-annihilation. Devastated by the silence that greeted his heartfelt novels, he retired into public silence from which he did not emerge for more than thirty years. Then, just before his death, he came forth with his final utterance - the luminous tale of Billy Budd - and showed that silence is only as worthy as what we can bring back from it.


We have to earn silence, then, to work for it: to make it not an absence but a presence; not emptiness but repletion. Silence is something more than just a pause; it is that enchanted place where space is cleared and time is stayed and the horizon itself expands. In silence, we often say, we can hear ourselves think; but what is truer to say is that in silence we can hear ourselves not think, and so sink below our selves into a place far deeper than mere thought allows. In silence, we might better say, we can hear someone else think.


Or simply breathe. For silence is responsiveness, and in silence we can listen to something behind the clamor of the world. "As soon as you are alone, you are with God," wrote Thomas Merton, who was, as a Trappist, a connoisseur, a caretaker of silences. It is no coincidence that places of worship are places of silence: if idleness is the devil's playground, silence may be the angels'. It is no surprise that "silence" is an anagram of "license." And it is only right that Quakers all but worship silence, for it is the place where everyone finds his God, however, he may express it. Silence is an ecumenical state, beyond the doctrines and divisions created by the mind. If everyone has a spiritual story to tell of his life, everyone has a spiritual silence to preserve.


So it is that we might almost say that silence is the tribute that we pay to holiness; we slip off words when we enter a sacred space, just as we slip off shoes. A "moment of silence" is the highest honor we can pay someone; it is the point at which the mind stops, and something else takes over (words run out when feelings rush in). A "vow of silence" is for holy men the highest devotional act. We hold our breath, we hold our words; we suspend our chatterings selves and let ourselves "fall silent" and fall into the highest place of all.


It often seems that the world is getting noisier these days: in Japan, which may be a model of our future, cars and buses have voices, doors and elevators speak. The answering machine talks to us, and for us, somewhere above the din of the TV; the Walkman preserves a public silence but ensures that we need never - in the bathtub, on a mountaintop, even at our desks- be without the clangor of the world. White noise becomes that aural equivalent of the clash of images, the nonstop blast of fragments that increasingly agitates our minds. As Ben Okri, the young Nigerian novelist puts it, "Where chaos is the god of an era, clamorous music is the deity's chief instrument."


There is - of course - a place of noise, as there is for daily lives. There is a place for roaring, for the shouting exultation of a baseball game, for hymns and cries of pleasure. The great charm of noise, however, is when it ceases. In silence, suddenly, it seems as if all the windows of the world are thrown open, and everything is as clear as on a morning after rain. Silence, ideally, hums. It charges the air. In Tibet, where the silence has a tragic cause, it is still quickened by the fluttering of prayer flags, the tolling of temple bells, the roar of wind across the plains, the memory of chant.


Silence, then, could be said to be the ultimate province of trust: it is the place where we trust ourselves to be alone; where we trust others to understand the things we do not say; where we trust a higher harmony to assert itself. We all know how treacherous are words, and how often we use them to paper over embarrassment, or emptiness, or fear of the larger spaces that silence brings. "Words, words, words" commit us to positions we do not really hold, the imperatives of chatter; words are what we use for lies, false promises, and gossip. We babble with strangers; with intimates we can be silent. We "make conversation" when we are at a loss; we unmake it when we are alone, or with those so close to us that we can afford to be alone with them.


In love, we are speechless; in awe, we say, words fail us.