Its Rizal's birthday!

I was really impressed when my wife texted me on the 19th to remind me of Jose Rizal's birthday. She was listening to my Rizal stories after all! I almost wept! How I wish I could also interest all those people who stopped caring about Rizal.

For many, Rizal is a street or a monument, a plaza somewhere, a holiday, the one peso coin (a peso of decreasing value), a school subject, sometimes a research paper, a relative (in my office there is one), a university, his everywhere, but nowhere - his been victimized by his own reputation.

I appreciate the works of Ambeth Ocampo for he made Rizal human again, because that's what he is. His not Christ! his not perfect but he never stopped improving himself - and his motivation for this is his desire to improve his country.

He sacrificed his life (most of it even in his early years)a prosperous life waited for him, free from all the worries, closer to the luxuries of life, but he loved his nation so much that he gave away everything he could have possess. Today, we try to gain knowledge so we can progress in our professional lives, dreams of good finances, a better life for our family. For Rizal it was a better life, for his country men.

We're lucky to have him, i see no point in the arguments raised by some people questioning his status as a national hero (rest in peace Sir Constantino). Sometimes this unending debates (this exchanges can be entertaining!) seem to confuse the our nation's children more. How can I answer a child who has been taught that Rizal is a coward, while Bonifacio is a better (braver) hero? (a question asked by a niece once). Now we ask how we could get them to read Rizal?

If we teach Rizal subjects properly we could make patriots out of our youth. The hero had faith in our youth, according to him they are our future, and its true. Just imagine young Filipino's devoting their lives for their fellow Filipino. Aspire for knowledge so they can learn and share it. Isn't that what Rizal wanted?

Theres just so much to improve in our educational system in terms of how we teach Rizal to our students. At this time our schools have different ways of teaching Rizal subjects( I heard some schools even making Rizal an optional subject). We can't afford ill prepared educators handing out their own versions of his life and works.

I remember when I was in college I had an exchange of verbal toss with my professor who insisted that Rizal is gay, he was basing this in his interpretation of Rizal relations with women and friends, I wonder how many student bought in to his argument (an argument that I never understood!). It's one thing to act like him another to interpret him. I think its better to try to emulate his success in the fields that he pursued. We all should stick to that.

The hero is a complex individual, that we know. His writtings has somehow added to what already is a difficult subject. There's a lot to cover when you read Rizal. There's so much printed materials out there, that I admit standardizing our education of him would not be easy. The lease we could do is focus on the things that mattered.

This has been the story of our country, a history in dispute. A great heritage being wasted on books and classrooms that should carry one message to our youth, instead we chose to question our founding father's intention, with popular academes even trying to revise history. How can we unite if we can't even agree on Rizal's importance to this nation's history?

Happy birthday Señor Joe!

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"A hero is one who kindles a great light in the world, who sets up blazing torches in the dark streets of life for men to see by."

Ambeth O. @ Powerbooks Greenbelt

Philippine History professor, now NHI head Ambeth Ocampo would be in powerbooks greenbelt in Makati this coming Wednesday, June 25 for a meet & greet session. Have those books signed!

Alabang: story behind the name

My friend and I were trying to find an interesting article that we could come up with to be published in our company's journal a few months back. Unfortunately we still haven't been able to put up anything there, for some this tid bits of ancient days is something not to be bothered with.

Anyways he came up with this topic out of his head, the origin of the name of this prosperous baranggay, Alabang, Muntinlupa's financial district - where our office stands. He told me of a map he found in Calamba that showed that the river that runs through is name Rio de Alban. The crazy people that we are, visited Calamba and true enough the river was called Rio de Alban, this is the small river you'd see if ever you visited Filinvest Festival mall. I'm not sure why its now known Mangangati, I did look at some modern maps where it is referred to as Alabang river.

A visit to the Muntinlupa Public library, one can grab a copy of the History of Muntinlupa. Funded by then Mayor Fresnedi, it was more of a campaign brochure than a history book with all the picture of the Mayor and his aides doing public service in different area of the city. It did provide some helpful information, like theories of the origins of names of all the baranggays and other places in the city. Alabang according to the book was from the tagalog word 'Abang' - the town according to old accounts was teeming with bandits. They would wait in patiently (abang) to ambush hapless villagers and traders in the road leading to Manila.

Alban is of latin origin, meaning 'from Alba' - the ancient Roman ethnic city of Alba (whites). Its also the name of the 1st british christian martyr, St. Alban. But I doubt if the mostly Spanish Augustinian's in Tunasan gave him the honor.

Reason led me to believe that the Alban is the true origin of word Alabang. My friend was right. In this town, one could notice the usual changing of the spelling of last name and some places - efforts to convert into tagalog letters name's originally of Spanish beginning, like the popular last name Buñe becoming Bunyi, the town name from Monte to Munting. This has resulted to losing the words inceptive meaning. There was a time when Muntilupeños found it convinient to get rid of their Spanish sounding last name, the attitude of repulsion towards anything Spanish.

Origins of words and name's of places tells us stories of the past. It would make me really happy that a day would come when none of us can change this names no more. Let's keep this name for they will tell the future generation what we were like. Sometimes the name tells it all.

A rare visit: Nuestra Señora de Gracia

I was born in Santa Ana, Manila but I have spent most of my childhood in Makati, this wonderful places has become part of who I am - I've always felt priviledged for having them as my home!

Unfamiliar to many, Macati have a incredibly rich historic past. I was reminded to brush up with the local history upon attending a wedding of a friend. The links from the past is in all places, we'll just have to look closer.

Written history of Makati started when Lopez de Legaspi arrived. Macati was tagalog, 'waning tide', there were many accounts of the origin of the town's name, the most accepted among researchers since it was cited that de Legazpi himself gave it. It was once part of the domain of a Lakan, seated in what is now Santa Ana.

The towns of my childhood connected.

This church was once the hub of Spanish management, the quest to put the local inhabitants in order to put up a town of it proved to be difficult. Inhabitants resided close to the river, they were unwilling to be uprooted for obvious reasons. The indigents were tentative to convert to Christianity, a frequent problem faced at that time by the religious and the early pioneers. Reducing the town into submission was a tall order, one could only imagine the difficult plight of the indigents, people who possess no knowledge of the world that exist outside their known environment. In the end, Christianity has won them - so if the end justify the process used, one could accept history as it is.

Between 1578 to 1670, Macati was a visita under the district of Santa Ana de Sapa under the jurisdiction of the Franciscan De Alfaro. San Pedro de Makati, as it was known to honor the patron saint.

Makati was a marshland then, it was auctioned for P1400 in 1589, a retired Spanish army who made his fortune in the galleon trade once owned this modern city. This man, Capitan de Brito a known royalist and a devout Catholic directly took steps to expedite the catholization of the locals. Providing the religious a fine hand in evangelizing the inhabitants, de Brito now an unknown name, without even a esquinita name after him, once owner of what we now call our nation's financial center.

The Augustinian's are credited for bringing Macati 'under the bells'. The iglesia of Nuestra Señora de Gracia was originally made of bamboo and palm, the only accessible construction materials at the early days of colonization. In 1601a convent was built. The earnings of the land provided the resource to build stronger foundations with more solid materials, construction was officially finished in 1629.

The Church also served as a refuge for the orphans of the 1882 cholera epedemic.

Fortunately, the church was spared during WWII but it had been damaged by earthquakes of 1645, 1658, 1754 and 1863. the convent and the church was damaged during the American wars in 1898 but was repaired again the years that followed.

Upon entering the church, I could smell the old stone and the burning candles. It was fair in dimension, much of its aged interior was left as it was built. The Pasig river was close by so one can observe the murky and polluted waters of what was once the source of living of the original inhabitants of Macati.

The nearby neighbourhood is a typical suburb, overpopulated and polluted. The bridge is also visible, the huge Ads along the EDSA providing an unlikable background.

Being in this place, is like being in a time capsule. You could see the old and get lost in the world of beauty and madness, times that shaped our nation, the beauty of our people and our religion, culture and heritage, while on the outside you could visibly view the modernity of the times and the unpleasant spectacle it produced.

my telemarketing days

i posted this at my other blog recently, it was fun trying to remember what work was like more than 4 years ago...

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The Outbound that was APAC

A few years ago a call center transferee with hopes of earning more and being close at home moved into a four storey building on the isolated portion of Alabang – the newly developed Filinvest area, now a quintessential place of the country’s outsourcing business structure and technology. I just stepped into APAC country.

Before other corporations even began planning and constructing their own sites – like “Convergys”, “HSBC”, “GE” and “First Source” – APAC was already in business, operating on a single deck located on the 4t floor, it was composed of pocket groups that represented the company in sales and medical insurance.

After a year, the sales segment was dissolved; talented outbound agents were merged with what the company would convert itself into, an absolute, customer service contact center. In the process some friends elected to leave, probably unable to envision themselves in the new title the company extended for them.

Gone were the days of product marketing, the festal celebrations, the solicitations, ‘cantiaoan’s’, colleague heckling, tribal like dancing after each completed sale and what I liked the most, the announcement, made famous by the deafening voices of the outbound team leaders, proclaiming to the world who just made a sale. I never heard my name that often though.

The place felt like it was hacked out of the meadows, building C stood alone facing the Bellevue hotel. Surrounded by talahibs and some trees, one could see as far as the road that leads to the Filinvest exit on a clear day. Tricycles were the only means of transport. Rare birds are heard chirping in the morning occasionally disturbed by sudden laughter and shouts of profanity by some childish chum, an askal who frequents the ground floor for scraps of food became the unofficial mascot of the employees. It was almost rustic, I use to enjoy the stroll going home – the smell of freshly cut grass, the windy breeze, rarity of passing cars – the rural feel, yes here, where all this towering buildings now stands.

If you desire to buy cheap meals there was this guy who sells pre packed lunch, it clears out pretty fast, so it was always a good idea to make a reservation, they’ll inscribe your initials on the styro pack so you can come back later to claim it. If you’re a little more adventurous and you have wheels, you can go to some village in Las Piñas where one can buy a heavy tapsi meal for lunch. For me I’m contented with the gas station half kilometer away, buying sodas and snacks, which by the time I get back my break has almost run out. Some would be seen with their baon, leftovers possibly from their diner tables at home -- there was a time when people would have to fall in line to use the microwave, the fridge piled to the rafters.

Then during dawn, when the sun is about to rise, I would feast my eyes on the abundance of color appearing from the sky, the bay and the hills providing the picturesque backdrop, sunrise tinted -- proclaiming the coming of a new day on the east side, which is where we are, beauty a great God can only create.

This would also mark the warming of the environment inside for at that time the building had an issue maintaining a constant cool but this, we really didn’t mind since we are all headed home in the coming hours. All are just about ready to hit the clock and smoke outside, ever eager to share the shifts unforgettable and forgettable incidents. Some would even go as far as going someplace to drink beer and play some rounds of billiards.

During Christmas time the company would hand out keso de bolas. People really know each other then, the gift of a small world. The guards were strict and stiff then but in time they adapted, just like everybody else– it felt like family. An issue would affect everyone, a resignation, pay dispute, system failures, terminations – it was a knitted community of employees.

We loved the free coffee that the vending machine dispenses, people would brag about their excessively priced coffee mugs, if I have some change then I would go for the 10 peso chocolate drink and huff about it inside. The station is home, not uniform, untidy, the creature comfort it provide made people treat it as if it was their own room – with spades of faith it did turn into little kingdoms. There was even this cubicle of a friend, which he decorated with his semi-nude female fantasies – only to be taken down the next day by our overly zealous team leader, who did nothing but scold us with our scant statistics.

In the outbound campaign, people would play music, sometimes forgetting that the floor is a place of business. There were no ipods then just cd players hooked with tin-sounding puny speakers. Ample idle time did gave us periods to pursue our pastime, I spent mine reading and listening to my very own play list, others chit chatting, ironing hair, playing chess, fidgeting some new gadget -- it just didn’t look busy enough to be a call center more like a civic center. The informality has spawned a homelike taste. This I’m sure will never be seen again at such level. It was crazy, wacky and yes amusing.

Every second Friday we would all collect our paycheck, this is my favorite day of the week. Depending on the company that you keep you could get drunk and wasted during the weekend or spend it shopping with your dearly beloved, with all the money and commission money they worked hard to get, this is how people then release their stress, I’m quite sure not much has change. Then everybody starts anew come Monday shift.

When new business arrived, waves of people were hired. The company began constructing new cubicles, offices, meeting rooms and pantries –there was the 3^rd, the 2^nd and finally the 1^st floor – finished all in a short span of time. It won’t be long that the next building would be annexed, and then there was talk of a rising Cubao office -- now already a created site. Changes I just heard from the grapevine turn out to be the company’s future. So much progress accomplished, almost instant. Somewhere along the way, the old has been forgotten, everyone was in the fast lane. The new created a fresh path, on ward with dreams that aspires to be bigger than what it already is.

Yes, this was APAC, such as it was. Life changed after the years of expansion, if it was any consolation, the sacrifices made by the pioneers paved the way to the creation of opportunities both for the organization and employees. I haven’t check who still among those people I knew then stuck by, I’m afraid that there’s not much left but that plays little importance for the mirthful memories of the old APAC lives – inside all of us who were there when it all began.

Rizal and Judo

It is possible that Rizal could be the very first Filipino practitioner of Judo. The kodokan style-Judo was introduced to him by the father of his Japanese female friend, the fabled Japanese lady in his brief Japanese visit.

Being a practitioner of an offshoot of jiu jitsu (Brazilian Jiu Jitsu) I was very much impressed with Rizal showing interest, for this is a very physical sport. His well known for his small stature and weak physical constitution. Though I’m quite sure that he did not progress as he might’ve wanted to in the sport because of the constraints present at that time, I give him all the credit in the world for giving it a try.

Here Rizal displayed yet again how his mind works. Everyone who understands Judo & Jiu Jitsu knows that it utilizes leverage not strength which Rizal lacks. He probably learned about this and embraced the concept, the beauty and art in its motion. For the very tenet of the discipline is to submit, not to kill. This however, is not his first martial art discipline – for he fell in love with fencing first, the made shooting a hobby later on.

Judo was a modification of Kano’s, his creation based on the concept of the deadly art of Japanese Jiu Jitsu. His deep study started in 1882 after researching the different styles of Jiu Jitsu. The father of Osei San was a well known Judoka, a samurai descendant, proponent of the Kadoka style. It is unknown how much exposure Rizal had with this man. Jaylo, the former Judo head, attested that Rizal learned the rudiments of the sport from this man.

Being passionate about teaching, he imparted the concepts of Judo to his students in Dapitan. Taking advantage of the soft sand by the beach, his student probably had a grand time wrestling with each other – the first ever sparring of in a no-gi form. How interesting it was to see, unfortunately due the lack of written accounts of how he taught the subject, the practitioner in me can only imagine.

In Dapitan, the hero provided the country with its first unofficial Judoka’s, grappler’s in our modern times – there was no continuation however, since he was not a sensei of the discipline, he does not possess the technical knowledge, not a belter but definitely a true admirer. He only provided key concepts to his students. No one is even sure if he educated his student what it was, that it was Judo - he probably referred to it as lucha libre, a free form of wrestling now popular in Latin nations.

In the history of the sport of Judo in our country, John Baylon is considered the greatest of all time, the winningest of all competitors. He was an Olympian three times, and currently one of our instructors – he share’s technique and humility. A great guy, who probably would be grateful for the hero’s effort.

He hails from Zamboanga, the province where Rizal first taught the celebrated sport!

San Pedro's jasmine

A friend referred me to this Inquirer article. Its about the withering sampaguita trade here in San Pedro and how the local government plan to take measures to revive it. It is in danger of becoming a lost trade.

i could clearly remember when I first visited the town in 1992. We arrived early at around 7am at the bridge when the plantation right beneath caught my attention. My father then later told me that backyard plantation of our national flower is very popular among the residents. I was very young then and I thought it was beautiful how people would work to harvest this buds off the thick shrubs. Little did I know that the labor of this kind has been in existence for centuries.

The history of this humble trade started way back, San Pedro was then called Tabuko part of Kabulaw (Cabuyao). Even then the town has been favored grounds to this charming flower. People then were making garlands for adoration and decorative purposes for the local and nearby churches. The popularity reached its peak when the American's came. The whole town was producing garlands, some say people would sell it to Americans at a higher price. The Americans probably saw some traditional beauty on this - this is when production was at its peak for it provided residents with substantial monetary returns. The town was then delivering its bounty outside its town limits - thanks to the towns reputation as the premier producer. Regrettably it was on the decline from then on. Sampaguita cultivation in San Pedro is the town's heritage, similar to that of woodcarving is to Paete, shoe making is to Marikeños - just imagine what would it mean if the trade completely dies.

It is also interesting that this particular shrub can only be found in India, Sri Lanka, Myanmar and our country, other variety exist throughout Asia, in 1990 Melati variety was adopted by the Indonesians as their national flower. How it landed here in San Pedro is unknown but its popularity could be attributed to its use as an ornament in the Catholic festivities and masses.

Now, the trade is on the brink of its final days, most of the areas where sampaguitas are planted are now subdivisions, the small area that I bought in the hilly area of San Pedro I heard was once a plantation. I could only imagine how big business it was on its heyday. Aside from the urbanization of the town, the neighbouring towns in Laguna and Cavite are producing more sampaguitas, competition has begun to take its toll on the diminishing sampaguitas of San Pedro coupled with an unappreciative local government who lacks the vision to advance the cultivation and trade - a festival is a great idea but providing incentives for the people who still strives to make a living out of cultivating this plant should be prioritized - this only make sense if we intend to keep it alive. The prospects of getting back to its old form, unfortunately is bleak.

In time only the Sampaguita festival would reminds its residence of what use to be the towns pride, its very own jasmine. The plantation that I saw in 1992 are now all gone, replaced by the squatter shanties right beneath the bridge. The sampaguita's we see at the intersections and at the plaza's are descendants of the old shrubs that once dominated the fields and hills of the town. Whenever I drive pass by one in our village, where the old time residents still find time to cultivate for recreational purpose the humble flower producing shrubs, I'm reminded of its celebrated and glorious past.