Yesterday we celebrated the International Women’s Day all over the world. Some may ask, why celebrate women. The nature of the celebration is historical and is meant to inspire global efforts to promote gender equality. For us who have enjoyed broader rights such as schooling, voting, physical mobility, and right to work, we may consider this celebration to be trivial. However, implicit discrimination on the basis of gender, race, religion and ethinicity is systemic and embedded and requires undoing of mindsets that tolerate bigotry.

I was particularly touched by slide shows of the celebration of Afghanistan, which seven years back under Taliban rule, women cannot go out of their homes, seek employment or be educated. Now, we see more women coming out to express themselves through their writing, paintings, voices and activism. Of course, a broader section of women are outside the reach of government efforts, wrestling with domestic violence, isolation from work and educational opportunities, threat of forced marriages and unilateral divorce, and lack of access to health and childcare for themselves and their children.  I have heard so much of the movie Osama, which stars an pre-teen Afghan girl who was disguised by her mother as a boy so she could seek out food and work for the family. The context was Taliban Afghanistan, where women going out to work is considered haram, and is harshly punished. The disguise worked for a while, but was discovered when the "boy" bled while undergoing military training, signalling the onset of her menstrual period. It ends in a sad note as the girl was ’sold off’ to an old merchant, who takes her to his harem. Fiction it is, but such were the horrible circumstances under which many women have to live. In old India, widows were burned to death along with their husbands in a practice called Sati. While this has long been outlawed, the practice which was justified by families to be an ultimate sign of love and loyalty for a deceased husband, was in fact society’s own way of getting rid of a widow, who is seen as a burden to the family whose chances of remarriage and whose survival outside of her family is almost nil. In China, female fetuses were aborted, creating present day problems of disparity in male and female population. In other parts of Africa, female teens face genital circumcision as a way of keeping them from committing adultery and not enjoying the pleasure derived from sex.

Although the event is celebrated to mark the continuing struggle for equality, this does not mean that men are not part of the equation. As most institutions are male dominated, one of the best ways to overcome systemic discrimination is through meaningful partnerships with men. In the past, efforts have been made to educate and empower women, leaving the men and boys out, who in everyday life rule women’s lives.

Equality is not just for women or for men. It is for everyone. A person’s well being and full contribution to society can only be possible if we can make our own choices and exercise them without fear of harassment, discrimination  and punishment.No one deserves anything but the chance to be who they are - as human beings who have same entitlements, who look up in the same sky and see the stars, and to look down to see their firm planted on the ground, ready to walk up to the ends of the earth.

I watch with fascination the primaries and debates leading up to the US presidential elections in November 2008. The Democrats and the Republicans are both swinging their way in their respective bailiwicks. While the whole world has a stake in the outcomes of the US elections, this election, however, is of particular interest to me. First, this election will happen amidst US economic meltdown, growing problem of climate change and the unresolved Iraq and mid-east problem under George W. Bush. Second, playing the Democrat Party nomination field are two striking personalities whose recent brush with each other in the campaign and debate trails have sparked controversial issues sorrounding their covert campaign slogan - race and gender. Sen. Hillary Rodham Clinton of the State of New York, former first lady of Bill Clinton famous for standing by the beleaguered president during the Monica Lewinsky scandal, is a front-runner candidate, also known (but not as known) for her brilliance and savvy as a lawyer and policy planner. Closely following her is Sen. Barack Obama from Illinois, a young Senator with a good record in community service, public law and ‘racial’ stripes on his shoulders. 

I pay close attention to the two of them because of their ability to ignite and bring to the fore key policy issues that the US needs to address if it were to resurge from the current issues, and because of their colorful personal lives and advocacy which co-mingle with that of the Americal people. Obama carries ‘race’ because of his mutiracial background - an African father and a white American mother in a white neighborhood - once a source of identity crisis and later a springboard for ambition. Hillary, on the other hand, plays up on ‘gender’, recognizing that fact that the US, despite its rhetorics, has never had a female vice-president or president and that American society has yet to achieve gender equality and eradicate sexism. Obviously also, the gender dimension is very strong, especially with the difference in the stance of Obama and Clinton in the foreign policy strategy.

Both issues of race and gender are sensitive and critical. With public polls largely tending toward a Democrat President this time around, who will eventually win the primary and become the next US President? Will people vote on the basis of race and gender or will voting on these bases be narrow for Americans?

Both platforms are valid, but maybe not enough to bring about a fair-minded US Presidency, when the wins and losses in the US stays not only in the US, but also spreads and affects much of the world and its people.

Dating luntiang dahon

Ng pag-sinta

Bakit ngayon

Nawalan ng kulay

Pagdaloy ng agos ng tubig

Galing sa kakatapos na ambon

Ay hindi na nagbibigay ng buhay

Mga matang nangungusap

Ngayon ay nakatikom

‘Di makatingin ng diretso,

Balisa, pagod, lito

Sadya bang nakatadhana

Na lumipas

Ang pagmamahalang

Sa simula ay

May hawak na pangako,

Masalimuot man ito

‘Di bat sinubukan nating

pagtagumpayan

ang unos,

Sinubukang bumalik para sa isat-isa,

Naghihinagpis ang aking diwa

Sa pag-amin na baka

Hindi na natin kayanin,

Na tumigil na tayo sa

Sa pag-asang

Sa bandang huli ay tayo pa,

Di ko na iniisip sa ngayon

Ang bukas,

’Pagkat narito ang ngayon

sa bawat araw pag-gising ng umaga

ay nandito pa ikaw.

The last three weeks I have spent going around Cabuynan, in Tanauan, Leyte conducting focus group discussions, meeting people on the street, in their homes, while working on the field, drying up humay (palay) by the roadside, drinking their shots of tuba by mid-afternoon. What I thought was a difficult task at social research became an exercise at social relations and keenness and sensitivity towards people’s attitudes, feelings and concerns. It means talking to people right where their heart is - in in their homes, on their fields, with their families.

I remember two days before my first discussion group, I was introduced to Mana Lydia, the barangay information officer, another name for the " know -it - all" in the real sense. While I did prepare letters for invitees to the gatherings, Mana Lydia advised me to personally hand carry them to the people. We agreed to meet near the village hall; it was nearly 6pm and dusk has fallen. We went around in motorbike to track people’s home. She was pointing to a house at the back of the coconut trees. From my vantage point, I can hardly see anything beyond the road. Still, she insisted we get off and walk towards the dark. Lo and behold, a house stood there, with gas lamps shimmering light from within. It was an uncomfortable feeling for me as I felt I was intruding into people’s private time. Then I uttered my first decent phrase in Waray, "Maupay na gabi (good evening)." The resident of course recognized me as "foreign, taga-Manila", but Mana Lydia’s introduction of me as a LAMP researcher was enough for them to ask and agree to come.

We strode through pitch dark from the house and went to a few more homes - some with lights, others with a number of children and grandchildren huddled around the television, a few with dogs. After the first house, I can say in broken Waray a few more lines about what my research is about, "patas na panag-iya han tuna ng lalaki ug babayi (equal ownership of land of men and women)", intermittently mixing waray with Cebuano, another local language where I am conversant.

It was 7pm when we finished distributing the letters. The highway looked deserted and quiet, save for a few vehicles passing by. The air was cool and fresh, the sky dotted with stars, and wind blowing past me as we rode back to the poblacion, or the town proper. For the first time since I came to Tacloban four days earlier, I had a sound sleep.

From that point, my approach was neither academic nor theoretical. It was practicality imbued with groundedness, ability to listen intently, to ask good questions and to observe as their world turned differently from mine.

How do you measure distance? By kilometres, a hundred or thousand of steps from a certain starting point, or by the time one has spent circling or travelling around a location or stretch? It is not by coincidence that the steamship, now the predecessor of the modern ferry; the airplane, once that seemed only possible in myths and legends as flying carpets; and the automobiles were invented. They serve as means for human’s perpetual need to bridge distance across seas, across skies, across land, across space.  They always say if you get sleepless nights, somebody somewhere is thinking about you.

How can love be measured in distance? What if, more than the actual measure, the distance is in your mind and heart, where it is simply too abstract too describe. A few hours away by plane, a few hours of chat, or a few minutes of overseas call. When every measure that renews your memory of a person you feel deeply about, you take it, however short or fleeting. When the body is constrained to physically fly, then the thought does.  I cross the distance in my dreams where the only passport I need is my hope and longing and where the vast expanse does not intimidate me but makes me bouyant, if only in my sleep.

In AIT, one of the first things a student has to have is a decent pair of bicycle. No one told me I have to learn a new skill before coming here, so I came totally unprepared. Walking was fine in my first months as my dorm was some five minutes away from my department, and at night, it is convenient and safe to walk around. . Then I met a nice guy in my first month here and knowing that I needed a bike, gifted me with a cute, small orange bike. I was elated but the task of learning it was daunting. They say that it’s never too late for "old dogs" to learn new tricks. I did try practicing for a few hours and stopped trying altogether for a long time. When i changed my dorm a semester later and moved into the "suburban" section of AIT, then walking became a chore, a dread especially in mid-day heat. Everytime friends see me walking, I get naughty smiles  and chides whenever they learn that I still am bike-illiterate.

Nearly a year after my first bike practice and after my "bike driver" has since left after his graduation that I started picking pieces of my life on my own here. I consciously decided to not use the small bike, although I keep it in sight for sentimental reasons, and took his big bike. It would be quite a challenge to maneuver it, but I was determined to try, to ride free and fast, to be independent… I took the bike for a repair, had it oiled, changed the brakes, lowered the seat and replaced it with a softer and green colored one. On the same day, I placed my right foot on the semi-raised pedal, remembering how I did it the last time, and carefully putting my other foot on the lowered pedal. I was able to go far, but not without some bumps. My heart would just skip a beat whenever a see a hump or a curve in the next corner. I did two rounds of the campus oval on my first try. On the second night, my pedaling was more consistent, but my handle still a bit unsteady. I would still skid, swerve, and stop midway when I anticipate some hurdles ahead. But the day after that, I thought I was ready for my first "flight" into the outside world, where people walk the streets and cars and other bikes pass by. I was naturally nervous, but at least I have to try. I did not take the main road on my way to the Department, and I landed safely (thank God)…

Last night, while in deep thought and in tears, I rode my way throughout the campus. The air was cool, and still fresh of the smell of grass and the rain. It was riding fast, steady, somehow lost in thoughts, and without warning, I skidded and was somewhat thrown off to the side. I had scratches all over my skin, but still I got up, and pedaled home. I realized how much biking is similar to love…

Some lessons in both love and biking:

Stage 1: Watching your steps - When you’re starting to bike, you become too conscious of your steps. Am I putting my feet where they should be? Is the pedal fine? Will I get my balance? As in love, both partners become too self-conscious about whether they are starting on the "right foot", probably because of the uncertainty and the excitement of starting a new stage with someone special

Stage 2:- Balancing your act - As you begin to pedal and balance, you swerve to the side, putting on the brakes too fast or prematurely when you feel you are going to fall or when you are unsure of your pace. Sometimes, you actually do fall because you keep thinking you will. At this stage in a love relationship, some of the self-consciousness has dropped down a bit, and you’re feeling your way through your own feelings, and your partner’s. Both partners can be too full of each other that one party may put on the brakes, while the other charges ahead, and vice-versa.

Stage 3: Pacing - After acquiring balance and control of both your body and the pedal, it is time to ride through humps and bumps, the normal roads if possible, small streets.. This is an exciting time when you have become ‘more confident’, you look towards the road ahead, not on your feet; your hands are not as tense, you sort of know when to pull on the brakes, and where and when to approach the bumps. This is a time when you feel free and enjoy the rush of the wind. There are still challenges like getting past the narrow lane between AIT’s ponds (don’t want to get soaked!) but I am slowly managing that course. In love, it is these times in the relationship when you both have a good sense of each other, what you want, the "gravity" and meaning of the relationship, and building memories and activities that are unique to the two of you. You enjoy the ride, the together. Everyday, there are things to discover - both good and bad - the "side streets" of each other’s character. But this time, you don’t abruptly turn yourself away; you face the challenge as it comes; you don’t clam up when there are changes in your partner.

Stage 4: Adjusting, shifting gears – Now that you have mastered the basic skills and you are familiar with your directions, you now know what makes you comfortable, when and in what manner, what will make you happy, when to stop and rest. In a relationship, a couple decides on some fundamental issues like the direction of the relationship, how far both will and can take it, whether you see your partner in the long-term. At this time also, you both have devised your coping strategies. You’re both changing everyday. Sometimes, the emotions can be so high, at times, down and low. Then, you both take turns in steering things – to take it slow, ride it fast, plan ahead, or just ride your way through without reference to the future.

Stage 5: Resting place/Letting Go – A bike, like all other machines, need its own “nesting and resting” place. Some days, you have to oil it, rest it for a while, dress it up, and check it for repairs. Maybe the seat is worn out, or the brake is tough to handle, or simply, you need to give your bike away. This stage is the make or break deal of the relationship. Having been with someone for sometime and having been more enlightened about each other, hard work and commitment come in more urgently as the relationship needs all the help it can get – reworking, “oiling”, and understanding, planning for the future. Otherwise, if it’s too broken to be fixed, the hardest part is coming to a point when you have to let go.

Bu then again, while riding a bike is a skill with its own thrills to impart, love is unique and meaningful and being successful at it consists not of avoiding the bumps but facing them head on, standing every time you fall, and taking each other’s hand when both are tired from the journey. It is easy to give up a bike when it has served its usefulness; with love, the most difficult part is knowing when to stop and to give up. It’s maddening at times, but the experience of loving is very soulful and intimate for those who have truly loved at least once.

For now, I am enjoying my flight, nursing my bruises, but often finding myself smiling at this new found lithe. Each time I ride my bike, I am reunited with myself, the wind and the man who owns this.

Chilly winds

Overcast skies

Snow flakes about to fall on earth

As you watch from your window

Empty gravel streets,

Dusk that is soon to come

The sound of birds breaks the silence

As I watch from my window                                     

Nights filled with memories

Of you standing next to me as we

Sway our feet and clasp our hands

The Hindi songs that play in the background

Of movies whose images stand vivid in my mind

Of new and old loves, of a love that never fades,

Of a love that believes and perseveres

Last night, you saw me in a dream

Where I was with you in your homeland

Walking in the same ground you are walking,

Seeing your part of the world

Hoping I will soon be part of it

Last night, I heard your voice across the line

I imagine you with me as if you have not left

Orchids that adorn my side remind me of the

Last time I saw you,

Orchids that remind me of your return.

As night comes, I watch from my window again

In between words and thoughts, I look up the sky

And feel the chilly winds that touch you

As if they are also touching my face,

I send to you in return

The smell of grass from my room

The sound of birds,

The ray of sun that flashes burning on my skin

The aroma of coffee in the night

My thoughts as I end the day and begin a new one

‘Til your return.

K.H.S./feb.14.2007

September 19 - A few minutes before midnight, my friend’s colleague stormed inside the room where we were working to tell of us the "latest happenings" in Bangkok. He was talking about tanks around the Government House, and a strong military faction demanding for Thaksin Shinawatra’s resignation. By 2am of September 20, there was a news black out and no real-time coverage, except for earlier reports by international news agencies like BBC and CNN. Four hours later, I was awakened by 6am morning call from a friend in Bangkok, informing me of the events around the city,the suspension of classes and work, and the presence of police everywhere. The news came even before AIT made an official announcement of a "holiday."

I could not believe what I was hearing. I know that there were questions of legitimacy to his mandate as prime minister following the controversial April parliamentary elections, but to hear the crisis escalate to such proportion was surprising.

Coup d’tats are dime a dozen
As a citizen of a country where coup d’etat rumours and attempts are commonplace, I should have not have been fettered by yet another Southeasian political crisis. My early childhood was marked by memories by what was then called the EDSA People Power revolution in 1986 - a bloodless revolution that ended a 20-year dictatorship. All is not well after the revolution, though, as military factions attempted smaller coups to seize power from the new government. I vividly remember the exhange of gunfights between government soldiers and the "rebels" on TV. We could hear planes hovering around the skies of Manila. In 2001, when I was old enough to decide on my brand of politics, I joined the 2nd second people power "revolt" to ask for the resignation of then former President Estrada. Groups from political left to right gathered in the streets of EDSA for days, while different influential factions from the parliament, political parties and military broker a peaceful cessation of power.

I am not sure if it’s a stroke of luck or bad luck that such fate came to Thailand at a time when it is enjoying some semblance of democratic and economic stability. After it has pulled itself from the Asian financial crisis of 1997, Thailand found an important place in Southeast Asian political and economic geography. The Philippines, for instance, had a lot to learn from Thailand’s recovery, although there are many socio-cultural and political factors that can account for the difference in the pace of recovery. In the last three years, people cannot help but talk about Thailand - how it has well-positioned itself as a services hub, a tourism haven, a central spot in the region. I have to admit that I, too, am enamored by these images and wonder, at times, how my country can do just as well, maybe even better.

That night changed my idyllic view of Thailand - now my host country in the next 20 months of my graduate study. It’s not that I think of it less as a democracy or as a viable player in SEA. Somehow, I feel guilty for sliding into apathy since coming to AIT. I was not reading and watching news. My first month was devoted to seeing through a small part of my existence in Thailand and rightly so. I come here as a student,then as a citizen, then, maybe, as a social activist. These events however remind me that AIT is not just some institution nestled safely somewhere in the outskirt of Bangkok, confident that no harm will come to the place and to the students because of its international status. Students, on the other hand, are always told not to bother with events outside since we are not supposed to take part in any partisan activities. People can choose to mind or not mind about what’s happening.

As a social observer, I am disturbed by the consistent threat to civilian rule and the extent to which the military has mediated power turn-overs not just in Thailand but in many countries in Asia, Latin America and Africa. Many questions play in my mind as I closely watch events unfold. Will Thaksin gracefully resign and accept military pressure? Will Gen Sonthi Boonyaratglin live up to his words to cede powers when a new Parliament will have been elected? What is the implication a military-mediated turn-over for Thai democracy?

I hope to get these answers as I view the events from my AIT tower, this time with a heightened sense of awareness.

(with apologies to singer Joey Albert)

Since my affinity with this man revolves around conversations and writing, I cannot think of a better gift than my own words. It has been 15 years since we met in Baesa, a place that is situated beside a cemetery park and surrounded by a solid Adventist community, as wide-eyed, competitive first year high school students. He wore a kind of optimism and determination that not many youngsters in my batch had. In a way, he was typical, yet no so typical.

He was what one would regard as a well-rounded student. He was the choir tenor, the little church deacon and a math and science enthusiast. He also had the privilege of shouting at the top of his voice during CAT. I did not quite occur to me, though, that he had the makings of an athlete. Life in Baesa was very modest. Our lives centered on school, close friends and Sabbath activities. Together with close friends, we would relish going around churches, singing our hearts out, debating, walking around Eternal Gardens and lingering until the sun faded from view. As the official batch dissenter, I would occasionally come to a head with him on things as simple as playing scrabble. I think it was during my second and third years while I was undergoing my own intellectual transformation and he with academics and a budding love affair that we grew up to the realities of life.

Somehow, our own dreams started taking shape towards senior year, especially with the preoccupation with college entrance exams and choice of college course. We even exchanged SAT reviewers (I got the thicker US version SAT and he took the locally printed one!) Who would not forget those obligatory “what I want to become” that is definitely yearbook material. I remember saying I wanted to be the Chief Justice of the Supreme Court. I did not know what he said about his destiny, but whatever it was, he must have fulfilled in it some way. 

College was a different ball game – new friends, new environment, and new ways of seeing the world. At first, the separation anxiety was there as we would constantly meet during weekends but we soon had to give in to the demands of our new life. 

He left in 1997 for the United States to partake of the American dream. We were out of touch during the first 2 or 3 years as I had my own life battles to fight at that time. In 2000, he managed to get my e-mail (thank God for the email) and our correspondence has continued from then on.  I know he had his share of struggles at the beginning. In a 2001 email, he wrote: “I feel like a ghost; sometimes present, sometimes not.” But being the determined and goal-oriented being that he is, he had his hands full in time. He entered the navy, attended UC San Diego as an engineering student and attended to his sisters, who followed soon after he left. When I was in Japan in 2001, we managed to talk quite extensively. At that time, he was distressed about the death of his very close friend, Harry. He asked me to write a short eulogy for him. Year after year, we would have some important collaboration going on. After a brief correspondence hiatus, which resumed in late 2004, I learned that he has since graduated from university and is now working as an engineer. His mom is now in the US with them.

As he makes his rounds as an aerospace engineer; as he shuttles within and between Europe and North America; and enjoys the rewards of painstaking work, I know that this man has really taken flight and embraced the journey of life. As for me, I would gladly share a cup of coffee with him in Paris or a cruise dinner set up in, to borrow his words, a teakwood rice barge by the Chao Praya River.

Author’s note: Name of the person described herein deliberately omitted. He will immediately identify himself when he reads the text. The author tried to be succinct and at the same time accurate with the remembrance of details.