Bayaning 3rd World (Movie Review)

This paper was a requirement for my PI 100 (Life and Works of Rizal and other Heroes) and basically asks the questions: How did the movie portray Rizal as a son? a brother? a lover? and a propagandist?

“Kung kasalanan ang pagdudahan ang kabayanihan ni Rizal, mukhang magkakasala kami sa pelikulang ito.”

Ito ay isa sa mga pambungad na salita ng pelikula/dokumentaryong Bayaning 3rd World. Pero isipin natin, kasalanan nga bang maituturing ang pagdudahan ang kabayanihan ni Rizal? Marahil kung kakausapin mo si Gregorio Aglipay at ang ibang miyembro ng mga samahang Rizalista, oo, kasalanan ang pagdudahan ang pagkabayani ni Rizal. Sa pelikula, gumawa ang mga tauhan (na director at manunulat ng script ng isang pelikula) ng isang imbestigasyon kung saan babalikan nila ang nakaraan upang kausapin ang mga mahahalagang tao sa buhay ni Rizal. Kinausap nila ang ina ni Rizal na si Donya Teodora, si Paciano, si Trinidad, si Josephine, si Narcisa at si Rizal mismo. Hindi man nasagot ang lahat ng kanilang mga katanungan, masasabi naman natin na marami tayong mapupulot na mahahalagang bahagi ng kasaysayan na hindi natin malalaman kung hindi natin papanuorin ang pelikulang ito. (at kung hindi ka kumukuha ng PI 100 class.)

Sa pagkausap ng mga tauhan sa mga mahahalagang tao sa buhay ni Rizal, maraming argumento at mga kuro-kuro ang naipabatid ng mga gumawa ng pelikula. Sa malikhaing paraan, naipakita nila kung sino si Rizal bilang isang anak, kapatid at mangingibig. Bilang anak, masasabi nating si Rizal ay isang mapagmahal na anak. Hindi niya nakakalimutang sulatan ang kanyang mga magulang. Pero marahil nag dulot din si Rizal ng ilang sama ng loob sa kanyang ina dahil sa pagtalikod nito sa kanyang nakagisnang relihiyon. Ang kristiyanismo. Matatandaan natin na si Rizal ay isang mason na taliwas sa turo ng kanyang ina. Nagpahayag din ang kanyang ina sa pelikula na nakakalimutan na daw ni Rizal ang kaniyang mga tungkulin bilang isang katoliko.

Pangalawa, ipinakita din si Rizal bilang isang kapatid. Sa pelikula, ipinakita na hindi na gaanong malapit si Rizal sa kanyang kuya Paciano at higit na naging mas malapit siya sa kanyang mga kapatid na babae marahil na rin sa mga pagkakataong binibisita siya ng kanyang mga kapatid ng siya ay ipatapon sa Dapitan. Hindi rin naman natin masasabi na isang perpektong kapatid si Rizal dahil, oo nga’t mapagmahal siyang kapatid pero marami ring hindi napagkasunduan ang mga magkakapatid na Rizal. Isa na diyan ang pagpapakasal di umano ni Rizal kay Josephine Bracken.

Ipinakita din naman sa pelikula ang pagiging isang mangingibig ni Rizal. Dito din pumapasok ang kanyang kontrobersyal na retraction letter. Higit na ngang mapalad si Josephine Bracken kung tunay nga ang naging retraction letter ni Rizal. Mantakin mo, handang isuko ni Rizal ang lahat ng ipinaglaban niya, lahat ng pinanindigan niya, lahat ng pinaniwalaan niya buong buhay niya para lamang pakasalan ang isang babae. Hindi ba iyon maituturing na dakilang pag-ibig? Para kay Josephine, isa lang ang masasabi ko: “Haba ng hair mo, teh!”

Bilang isang propagandista naman, ipinakita ang pagsusulat ni Rizal sa iba’t ibang tula at nobela niya habang naglalakbay pero higit na nagbigay tuon sa buhay niya sa Dapitan. Sa Dapitan, tila umurong na ang dila ni Rizal. Naging mas maamo o banayad sa kanyang pagsasalita si Rizal na makikita natin sa kanyang mga lika noong nasa Dapitan tulad ng Mi Retiro, Dapitan, at iba pa. Pero hindi pa rin sumangayon si Rizal sa gagawing pag aalsa ng mga rebolusyonaryo. Muli, mapapaisip ka. Kasalanan nga bang pagdudahan ang kabayanihan ni Rizal? Sa tingin ko, hindi naman. Dahil ika nga ng mga gumawa ng pelikula, tayo ay may “kanya-kanyang Rizal”. Lahat may interpretasyon ng mga kaganapan sa buhay niya. Pero ang punto ko, tinalikuran ni Rizal ang rebolusyon, at kung totoo man ang retraction letter niya, tinalikuran din niya ang kung ano mang mga bagay o dahilan kung bakit natin siya itinuturing na bayani: ang pagsulat niya ng kanyang Noli Me Tangere at El Filibusterismo. Nasabi nga ni Renato Constantino sa kanyang artikulong Veneration Without Understanding, kung ibang tao na may mas mababang katayuan sa buhay ang gumawa nito, marahil ituturing natin siyang traydor o taksil sa ipinaglalaban ng masang Pilipino. Pero hindi. Dahil si Jose Rizal ang pinag uusapan, hindi natin masasabi ito ng deretsahan.

Sa tingin ko din naman ay medyo hindi patas ang pagtingin ko kay Rizal. Akin ding napagtanto na kahit nag retract si Rizal, hindi nito nabawasan ang naging epekto ng kanyang mga akda noon. Ito ang nagsimula ng apoy sa mga puso ng bawat Pilipino na oras na nga upang umaksyon laban sa mga Kastila. Na labis na ang ginagawa nilang mga pang aabuso. Sa isang parte, marahil tama ang sinabi ng mga mang uusig ni Rizal. Sa tingin ko, siya nga ang kaluluwa ng insureksyon dahil siya ang nanggising sa mga mamayang Pilipino upang umaksyon laban sa mga Kastila.

Hindi na marahil maisasara ang isyu tungkol sa retraction letter ni Rizal. Wala naman na tayong paraan para malaman kung tunay nga ito. Patay na si Rizal at sa tingin ko, siya lang ang tunay na nakakaalam ng kasagutan sa mga tanong na ito. Pero hindi rin natin maikakaila na naging mahusay ang pagkakagawa ng pelikula. Ginawa nitong mas kainti-intindi ang mga bagay na kung babasahin sa libro ay iisipin nating nakakainip kaagad. Mahusay ang pagkakahayag ng bawat detalye at mahuhusay ang mga aktor at aktres na gumanap sa pelikula. Maganda rin ang cinematography ngunit hindi ko gaanong nagustuhan na ang buong pelikula ay black and white. Marahil, ito ay para sa effects pero mas maganda sana kung ginawa nilang black and white yung mga tagpo kung saan sila bumalik sa nakaraan at may kulay naman yung mga tagpo sa kasalukuyan. Bukod doon, masasabi kong maganda ang pelikula at maraming mapupulot dito. Mapalad ako na napanuod ko ito. Nakalulungkot lamang na kakaunti lamang sa ating mga kababayan ang nakapanuod nito. At kahit na nanalo ito ng maraming parangal at papremyo, hindi ito pumatok sa takilya kaya agad tinanggal sa mga sinehan, at kaya kakaunti lamang ang nakapanuod nito. Nakalulungkot din na madalas, mas pinipili natin ang mga banyagang pelikula kaysa sa mga pelikulang sariling atin. Nasaan ang nasyonalismo doon?

On Child Labor in Brazil

          “To force a child to work is to steal the future of that child” – Brazil’s President Luiz Inácio Lula da Silva

          The president of Brazil, who also started to work at a young age (11 y/o) made abolishing child labor in Brazil a priority back in 2004. Despite the government, the UN and some other NGO’s efforts, still, more than 7 million children in Brazil are child laborers. And more than half of them work under hazardous conditions, of these, working in the dump site. The United Nations website shares the story of Leandra, a child who works in a dump site with her mother and her brothers. When the supermarket truck appears, men, women and children scramble to get the best garbage. The children who try to climb on board the trucks often fall off or are run over. Although Leandra was never hurt, her 8-year old brother was once thrown off a truck. Yet for all the drudgery and hazards, Leandra barely earned the equivalent of $3 a day selling the collected bottles to a middleman, who makes money exploiting child workers. It is illegal for children in Brazil to work in such dangerous conditions, but the pressures of poverty force parents to take risks to feed their families.

          Yes, the main reason is that child labor in Brazil is fuelled by poverty. In many low-income Brazilian communities, children constitute a reserve army of labor. When the adult members in the household do not generate sufficient income, children are usually expected to work. Brazilian children are often employed in places where they can work with their hands, such as in sugar, orange, coffee, or cocoa plantations. Since field workers are often paid according to their output rather than an hourly rate, parents are often tempted to make their children work with them to increase the family’s earnings. As a result, an important indicator for child labor is whether a mother has a paid job or not, as children are likely to work with their mothers. This is particularly the case for young children, especially girls, and children living in rural areas.
In addition to poverty, cultural habits in Brazil also play a significant role in child labor. In the impoverished northern areas of Brazil, most of the people who are parents today started working before they were eight years old. Since child labor was very familiar to them as they were growing up, these Brazilians often fail to view child labor as a serious problem, in contrast to their wealthier western counterparts. The problem of child labor thus becomes trapped in a generational cycle.

          I’ve mentioned before that there are several efforts or programs that are implemented to help abolish child labor. A problem faced by government officials is that if they ban child labor immediately and completely may in fact worsen conditions for Brazil’s poorest citizens. It would be a mistake to assume that parents would ensure that their children attend school regularly if they expected harsh legal consequences for allowing them to carry a paid job. Were the government outlaw child labor, parents would likely force their children to work in even less regulated and less visible jobs. Certain areas of work, such as jobs in private households, cannot be effectively regulated by the Brazilian state, and if children work in the home, it is nearly impossible to protect them from abuses.

          Again, what does the government do? One, President Lula in cooperation with the UN International Labor Organization (ILO) and the United Nations Children’s Fund (UNICEF), in attempt to abolish child labor, implemented Bolsa Familia, a financial assistance to needy citizens.  The program goes beyond the prohibition of child labor, it also includes giving incentives to those families who ensure that their children goes to school and gets vaccinations. Families who have an income of less than 140 reals per month, are given a monthly stipend of 22 reals and families whose income is 70 reals per month are given 68 reals per month.

          Another program of this cooperation is the Bolsa Escola or the “School Scholarship” where the UNICEF grants monetary funding to families below poverty line to help parents send children back to school “where they belong”, because UNICEF recognizes that “education is the best way to fight poverty”.
 The number of working children in Brazil has been declining in recent years, due in part to Lula’s commendable efforts to reduce extreme poverty, which is demonstrably the main cause of child labor. Nevertheless, 25.8 percent of families are still classified as very poor in Brazil and are likely to continue to depend on child labor. Consequently, ensuring that children are attending good schools on a regular basis and do not fall into a cycle of child labor must remain as an issue of highest priority in the hearts and minds of Brazilians across the country.

Data from the UN Website

Salamat at Paalam

          Ngayong araw, nakita kong yakap yakap ng pamangkin ko si Roar. Nakakatuwa kasi ang saya saya niya tignan. Nakabungisngis at mahigpit ang yakap sa stuffed lion. Naalala ko tuloy noong una kong nakita si Roar. Ganun din ang naging reaksyon ko. Napag isip-isip ko, oras na ata na pakawalan si Roar. Para naman makapagbigay siya ng saya sa ibang tao gaya ng pagbibigay niya ng saya sakin. Nang hindi naman siya napapabayaan at natatambak lang sa isang lugar dahil lang ayoko na siyang tignan kasi nasasaktan ako tuwing nakikita ko siya. Napag  isip-isip ko, oras na para pakawalan ka ng tuluyan.

          Lagi ko namang trinato si Roar na parang may buhay siya. Minsan bilang isang alaga pero mas madalas, bilang anak natin. Nagtatampo ka minsan kasi mas love ko siya kaysa sayo. Pinagseselosan mo pa nga siya minsan kasi mas madalas kaming magkasama. Naalala mo ba nung bininyagan natin siya? Nangingiti pa rin ako hanggang ngayon tuwing naaalala ko yun kasi naaalala ko yung pagkasimple ng mga bagay bagay. Napaka naive at bata natin, nakakatawa at nakakatuwa. Andami ng nagbago ngayon. Hindi na tayo parang dati. Nagbago ka, nagbago ako. Pero hindi ko alam kung gusto ko kung sino ka ngayon.

          Andami na naming pinagsamahan ni Roar. Ginagawa ko pa nga siyang pampunas ng luha eh. Minsan, iniisip ko na ikaw siya, na connected kayo somehow kaya ko siya kinakausap para lang mailabas ko yung mga gusto kong sabihin sayo. Siya yung lagi kong kayakap kapag malungkot ako. Madaming mga alaala ang nakakonekta sa kanya. Madaming maganda pero sa ngayon hindi ko pa kayang balikan yun ng hindi naiiyak. Kaya baby Roar, pasensya ka na at napakahina ko, ibibigay na kita sa taong alam kong mapapasaya mo din. Sobrang napasaya mo ko. Sobrang laki ng naitulong mo sakin kasi naging ikaw ang aking munting therapist. Sorry at ipamimigay na kita, hindi na kita kayang alagaan eh.  Salamat at Paalam.

Puta

(We were asked to write a short story for our Humanities II class. Here's mine :)

            You’ve probably heard a lot of stories like mine. Yes, pictured in popular movies, TV shows, books, a story like mine is not uncommon. It has always been a question whether it is to be told. But I believe that my story, although not pleasant shouldn't be left unheard.  My name is Ella. Beautiful name, no? My mother told me that I was named after Cinderella. I have always dreamt of being Cinderella. After suffering under her step mother and step sisters, she has somehow escaped that life, swept away from her feet by a handsome prince that loves her. All she has to do was become a beautiful princess. I've been told by my clients, patrons and workmates that I am beautiful. With long black hair that tapers just above my waist, huge brown eyes, slightly plump lips, a heart shaped face and a slim body. But no, I don’t see myself as beautiful.  All I see when I look in the mirror is a girl, too young, forced to see the world in a different light, robbed of her childhood, robbed of emotions, somehow incapable of feeling. Yes, all I see when I look in the mirror is a machine, set only to survive.

            Let me take you back. My mother has always been conservative, born in a rich family, raised by my strict grandmother. My grandmother has been active in the service of her church, someone people look up to and ask for advices. She claims to be holy and all that, but most often than not, she is hateful to all those people who doesn’t share the same values or see the world in a different way. I’ve always wondered why or how or what my mother saw in my father that made her fall in love with him. You see, my father was a bastard, a drunkard, obviously someone with no direction in life. They were frantically in love, they ran away and as was foreseen, my mother became pregnant. My mother tried to ask help, she returned home but my grandmother, believing that my mother’s sin was too great, unforgivable and that God has already cursed them, sent her away. My father, filled with so much sweet words at that time, promised my mother that they will live a good life. I pity my mother. She’s just too sweet and innocent. She never knew what would happen next and with no one to hold on to; she put all her hopes in my father, drowning in disappointment.

Disappointment perhaps is too mild to describe what my mother’s been put up to. My mother, a quiet woman, raised me up with the same values she was raised with but with less strictness. As I was growing up, all I saw in my mother is a patient and caring woman who did nothing but put up with my father’s beating, rants, drinking and other shamelessness.  I was 10 years old at that time when my father first brought his concubine home. My mother just kept quiet and I knew that she was silently cursing them.  My mother would cry every time my father touched her knowing he touched another woman. But no, it didn’t stop there. He continued beating her to a pulp then raping her until she can no longer walk. One night, I awoke early. It was pretty unusual for me to be awake at that time and unusual for my mother to be asleep at that time. It was the night before that my father's beatings were the worst and my mother was bleeding and my father refused to bring her to the hospital. I went to her room to cuddle with her, to comfort her somehow but to my horror, she was no longer breathing.

I had no problem with the woman at first because she was actually nice to me. None of those cruel step mother things in fairy tales. But after I somehow correlated her presence with my mother's death, hatred grew on me, clung to me and bore a hole at my chest. I wanted to kill her. I started going out with friends to divert my attention and probably get my father’s attention. My father probably thought that I was going through a teenage rebellion phase. I wanted to run away. My boyfriend at that time, Leonard, a year older than me convinced me it was the right thing to do. We planned to but I didn’t have the strength to do so. So I vented out my anger on the “new wife” as our neighbors call her. One night, I went home late. The new wife got mad at me, scolded me for being so irresponsible. I laughed at her. What gives her the right to talk to me like that, she wasn’t my mother. She killed my mother. I laughed at the irony. And then my father came home. Drunk, as usual. Then he started beating the shit out of us. Crazy nights like that continued until the new wife, not so new by this time, decided to leave us for good.

I stopped schooling and I was left with my no good father. Leonard was forbidden by his parents to meet up with me because of my father’s reputation. But sometimes, he would still visit me secretly and we’d spend the day together whenever my father was not around.  I never actually had someone like Leonard before: Someone who finally makes me happy, someone who makes me feel secured, someone who doesn’t care about what other people say about me and us and someone who loves me. I was ready to give up everything for him, I knew, well I hoped that he was also ready to give up everything for me. I was happy until my father learned about our relationship. He threatened him. We were afraid. He promised he’ll be back for me.

That night after my father knew about our relationship, he visited my room. He told me I was beautiful, how much I looked like my mother and how much he loves me. He said he loves me very much and that it would pain him if I had gone with Leonard. It was the first time he said those kinds of things to me. I was happy. I thought that this would change everything. But then he touched my breast and starts kissing me. He started touching me in a place where only my fingers have touched. I was not wrong when I thought that it would change everything. The touching continued and I began to protest. I tried to bat away his arms but I couldn’t, he still continued. He starts stripping my clothes and unzipping his trousers. I couldn’t fight him off. I started screaming but he was just too strong. I was in so much pain that night that I tried killing myself several hundreds of time, each time failing. Believe me I tried, slashing my wrists til no space was not covered in scars, starving myself, overdosing, no. It just didn’t work. I was not wrong when I thought that it would change everything. He visits my room every other night or so. At first it was painful, humiliating even, but somehow, I just found myself disconnected from my body every time he uses me for pleasure. It’s been two years. I’ve been living in hell for two years. Still no sign of my prince charming.

The drunken nights continued. I was starting to lose hope. I had no one to cling on to and I just don’t know where to go. One night, after he was finished with me, I went outside and ran as fast as I could. I ran and ran and ran and ran and ran until I don’t know where I was. I had no resources, I had no one to cling to and I just didn’t know where to go.  But somehow, it felt better because I was away from that pig who treated me like a toy. The night went on and I found bits of card board to rest my head on. I started scavenging for food, I started begging. There were lucky days when I will find a half-eaten burger on the trash can or perhaps, some lady would hand me 50 pesos equivalent to a day’s food.

One day, I met Mama Rose. Mama Rose was a short woman, probably in her late 50s or early 60s but still very beautiful. She offered me a job because she believed I was pretty enough. I was practically willing to do everything at that time to get decent clothes, shelter and food. Mama Rose gave me that. She gave me what I needed; she helped me become beautiful and trained me for the job. Mama Rose has been in the trade for long and she decided to build her own bar. You could probably guess what that job is by now. Yes. I am a prostitute. I know it’s something I shouldn’t be proud of, but I was getting what I needed so I couldn’t complain. Various men of all ages went in line to have a taste of me. Rich men, business men, average men, but never poor men, handsome, ugly, old, young, fat, thin, they all wanted to have me. All because I was new and beautiful. I was the new toy of the house. Mama Rose treated me like a commodity but I couldn’t complain. Many of these men were actually good in bed and many of them really take time to pleasure me as I do, them. The disassociation I feel whenever they use my body was still there but there was pleasure. It was addictive. Many of these men gave me more than what I could have asked for. Money, money and more money, jewelry, exotic fruits, flowers, stuff toys, chocolates, a car and even a villa, all these were given to me just to prove the man’s affection. I had everything I wanted. But I was not happy. There was something missing. And all along I knew what it was. Or rather, who it was.

I started to feel sick and asked Mama Rose if I could rest for the day. She agreed but I didn’t get well. It continued for weeks and Mama Rose was starting to worry. Customers were looking for me. We then consulted the doctor, underwent some tests and found out that I had AIDS. We were both devastated by this, me, with the degree of the disease and Mama Rose with the fact that I would have lesser clients. Mama Rose told the patrons that I had AIDS. True enough, the demand for me declined. There was this one old man that still asks for me whenever he visits. I liked this old man. We never really went to action because all he wanted to do was talk to me. He gives me the feeling that we are old friends, keeps me relaxed and somehow knows my issues without me even telling him so. I really didn’t know what he sees in me that makes him come back to me. One day, he asked me to marry him. He said that he would die soon and all he wanted to have is a friend to accompany him in the last pages of his life. He knew that I had nowhere to go to and because of my disease, I couldn’t continue being in this business. Who am I to refuse? He was a good friend and although I didn’t love him and I was still waiting for Leonard to come back as he promised, I wouldn’t mind being a friend to someone who needs me and was there when I needed someone. It was not love. It was never love. Although it is not quite the same, no flushed cheeks, heart thumping, blank minds, goofy smiles and the like. Not quite like the fairy tales I have been dreaming of complete with the prince and his white horse, and me being the beautiful princess. He keeps me happy. I know that for him, I am the most beautiful princess, the fairest of them all. And now as I rest in his arms while on his rocking chair after our afternoon tea, the ringing of his tenor echoing through the room, as the scent of his favourite lavender fills the air, I knew that somehow, deep inside, this was where I was supposed to be.

And it was good enough for me.

Bilang

(Post is in Kapampangan. Will post a Filipino/ English version kapag sinipag. :) )

Metung. Metung ka kareng kaklase ku. E naka man pogi. E naka man masanting. Niyang mumuna da kang ikit e daka man pin buring lawen pero ngeni ika namu. Ika namung ika ing iisipan ku.

Adwa. Adwa nang banua mula niyang sinabi mung kaluguran(v) mu ku. Adwa ng banua niyang muna tamung mi uma. Adwa tana sang banuang mikakalugud ngeni nung emu ku likwan. Nung emu ku liwan. Nung.

Atlu. Atlung banua na kung magaral UP. Atlung banua na kung magaral Nursing. Atlung banwa da na kang kilala. Atlung banua da na kang kaluguran (n). 

Walu. Walu nang bulan mula anyang sinabi mu na emu naku kaluguran (v). Anggang ngeni manasakit ku pa rin patse iisipan ku na emu naku kaluguran. Anggang ngeni manasakit ku patse atin kang kayabeng aliwa, patse kukwentu mu kekami detang aliwang babayi na abuburyan mu. Ala kung agawa nung ali maki ayli namu at e papakit na apektadu ku parin. Walu nang bulan at mamasa ku na kaluguran (v) mu ku pa rin, na aku pa rin, aku namu ulit.

Labing apat. Labing apat na bulan tamu mung miyabe. Sabi da reng aliwa, dapat kanu emu bibilangan nung pilan kayung bulan miyabe pero asisi mu ku wari? Buri ku mu namang isipan ampo alalahanan detang masasayang panaun miyabe tamu.

Dinalan. Dinalan a beses na ku sigurung megmakalunus keka na magbalik na ka kanaku. Dinalan a beses mu rin sinabi mu na e naka magbalik, na para kaku mu rin ini. Dinalan a beses sinabi ku keng sarili ku na e da na ka kaluguran (v). Dinalan a beses sinabi ku kareng aliwang tau na okay na ku, masalese na ku. Dinalan a beses da kang ginagan. Maigit pa pin siguru. Dinalan a beses megsinungaling ku keng sarili ku. Dinalan a beses peglokwan ke ing sarili ku kasi balu ku hanggang ngeni kaluguran da ka pa rin. Maplas pero tutu.

Libu. Libung beses kung sinabi keka, kaluguran daka. Libung beses mu rin sinabi mu kanaku kaluguran mu ku naman. Libung beses din sinabi mu na e magbayu ing pamaglugud mu kanaku. Libung beses pegmaragul mu na keka ku, kaku ka. Libung beses sinabi mung malagu ku, na yaku mung kaluguran (v) mu. Libung beses ta na sigurung mipate. Libung beses na rin misabi ulit kasi mikalugud ka ta pin. Libung beses sibukan tana umulit, na samasnan itang gulu tamu, ot itang pagkakataun ay ta sinuku ka? Ot e mu ku peglaban? Sabi mu ale, alang magbayu? O neng nang milyari? Nang migbayu? Eku balung sabyan.

Karakal na megbayu keng kilub ning adwang banua. Detang planu tamu, hangga na la talagang planu. Ala na ka, e naka magbalik.