Skip to main content

There must be a phony somewhere (PJI editorial 27 June 2005)

FINDING himself in a house full of toys, one child infected with a terminal case of pessimism dragged himself into a corner, sulked, and let out a bellyache: “I can’t play with any of these, one or two will break sooner or later and I’ll feel rotten!”

Another kid oozing with optimism was locked in a stable full of horse manure—and he screamed with delight, “With all this shit, there ought to be a pony hidden somewhere here. It’ll be fun finding and riding it out of here!”

We’re probably up to our necks in dung these days.

But nobody has taken the pains to seek out the pony, cow, horse, mule, sheep, goat or any such dung layer to ride off and have fun. There ought to be people who’ll feed the stacks of manure into a sealed tank, turn out loads of natural gas to fuel cooking stoves, turbines, and automotive engines. There should be people brimming with a sense of humus—they’ll spread shit on impoverished soil then grow lush roses and nutrient-rich vegetables on that compost-enriched ground.

There has to be two or three mad scientists wallowing in the dung heap. They’re probably culling anthrax bacteria or any such exotic plague, multiplying colonies of the microorganisms, harvesting spores with an eye for global marketing of dirt-cheap biological weapons. Or, if they’re not inclined to sell or they’re too shy to compete with their foreign counterparts, they might do some decimation tests on the local populace or in high-profile government offices tabbed as bulwarks of graft and corruption…

So we overstretched our gone-amok imagination.

We’re just stuck. Maybe, we just love to wallow in dung.

Maybe we’re living in a nightmare and we’re enjoying the deep slumber.

It’s probably the national karma—whatever karma is. We’ve stumbled into certain passages from that antique book that explains what karma is. Karma is what one does and its backlash. Check out Manu samhita – literally, “laws of man” – that alleges one sixth of a nation’s karma is somehow rubbed off on the nation’s leader. That means the populace has to bear 5/6 of that lousy burden.

So let’s do crude arithmetic: Gloria Macapagal-Arroyo has to endure the brickbats hurled her way as she bears 1/6th of an unseen burden; bearers of the remaining 5/6th of the burden have had enough of her, they’ll just look for another to carry that weight.

Maybe our imagination has gone amok, it’s echoing something from Mahatma Gandhi who had pored over those Manu samhita texts: “You must be the change you wish to see. “

Maybe there’s a pony or two hidden in the dung heap that we could ride. Maybe there’s a pony or there are millions of phonies in this neck of the compost pile.

------------------------------------

Tiyak na may buriko

NATAGPUAN ng musmos na may madilim na pananaw ang kanyang sarili sa bahay na puno ng mga laruan. Nagmukmok siya sa sulok at nagreklamo: “Hindi ako makapaglalaro ng kahit alin dito, tiyak na may masisira, sasama lang ang loob ko.”

Paslit na umaapaw sa pag-asa ang ikinulong sa kuwadra na puno ng dumi ng kabayo—napahiyaw agad sa tuwa. “Tiyak na may nagtatagong kabayo sa bunton ng tae. Hahanapin ko. Sasakyan ko palabas dito!”

Baka tayo nakalublob na hanggang leeg sa likas na abono mula puwit ng animal.

Pero wala yatang naghahagilap sa kabayo, baka, kalabaw, buriko, tupa, kambing o kauring hayup para may masakyan papalabas. Dapat yata na may magkakarga ng mga dumi sa saradong imbakan, para makalikha ng gas na panggatong sa lutuan, sa mga turbina’t makina para umandar. Dapat yata na may mga masikap na kamay—ilalatag ang dumi sa mga nabaog na lupain, magpapatubo ng mga marikit na bulaklak o siksik-sustansiyang gulay.

Dapat din na may dalawa o tatlong baliw na kampon ng agham na nakalublob. Baka magsasala ng bakterya ng anthrax o anumang salot-pamuksa, magpapalago ng ganoong mikroorganismo, aani ng binhi niyon habang pinupuntirya ang pagbebenta sa pandaigdigang pamilihan sa biological weapons—o kung andap sila sa mga banyagang kakumpetensiya, baka subukin nilang puksain ang ilang milyon sa lokal na populasyon o ‘yung mga nasa tanggapan ng gobyerno na nabansagang balwarte ng kabulukan at pangungurakot.

Umalagwa yata ang aming imahinasyon.

Baka nakalublob pa rin tayo. Baka naliligayahan tayo sa paglublob sa dumi.

Maaaring lahat tayo’y binabangungot at nasisiyahan tayo sa pananatiling tulog.

Baka ganoon talaga ang ating karma—anuman ang karma. Nahapyawan na yata natin ang isang antigong aklat na naglilinaw kung ano ang karma—kung ano ang ginawa at ang sukli nito. Bungkalin ang Manu samhita—o “Mga batas-pantao” – na iginigiit na 1/6 ng pambansang karma ay sumasalin-salpak sa balikat ng pinuno ng bansa. Nasa balikat ng taumbayan ang 5/6 ng ganoong bigat ng dalahin.

Subukan nating magkuwenta. Dapat tiisin ni Gloria Macapagal-Arroyo ang mga ipinupukol na inidoro’t poso negro habang pasan niya ang 1/6 na bigat-karma. Ayaw na sa kanya ng sambayanang nagpapasan ng 5/6 na bigat-karma at naghahanap ng bagong pagpapasahan ng pasan.

Naghuramentado na yata ang aming imahinasyon, nauulinig tuloy ang nawika ni Mahatma Gandhi na pumasada na sa mga nakasaad sa Manu samhita: “Ikaw ang dapat maging pagbabago na nais mo.”

Baka may nakatagong buriko sa bunton ng dumi para masakyan palabas. Baka naman milyun-milyon ang buriko na nakasubsob lang sa bunton ng tae.



Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Every single cell of my body's happy

I got this one from Carmelite Sisters from whose school three of my kids were graduated from. They have this snatch of a song that packs a fusion metal and liebeslaud beat and whose lyrics go like this: "Every single cell of my body is happy. Every single cell of my body is well. I thank you, Lord. I feel so good. Every single cell of my body is well." Biology-sharp nerds would readily agree with me in this digression... Over their lifetimes, cells are assaulted by a host of biological insults and injuries. The cells go through such ordeals as infection, trauma, extremes of temperature, exposure to toxins in the environment, and damage from metabolic processes-- this last item is often self-inflicted and includes a merry motley medley of smoking a deck a day of Philip Morris menthols, drinking currant-flavored vodka or suds, overindulgence in red meat or the choicest fat-marbled cuts of poultry and such carcass. When the damage gets to a certain point, cells self-de

ALAMAT NG TAHONG

SAKBIBI ng agam-agam sa kalagayan ng butihing kabiyak-- at kabiyakan, opo-- na nakaratay sa karamdaman, ang pumalaot na mangingisda ay napagawi sa paanan ng dambuhalang Waczim-- isang bathala na nagkakaloob sa sinuman anumang ibulwak ng bibig mula sa bukal ng dibdib. Pangangailangan sa salapi na pambili ng gamot ng kapilas-pusong maysakit ang nakasaklot sa puso ng matandang mangingisda. 'Di kaginsa-ginsa'y bumundol ang kanyang bangka sa paanan ng Waczim. Kagy at umigkas ang katagang kimkim noon sa kanyang dibdib: "Salapi!" Bumuhos ng salapi-- mga butil at gilit ng ginto-- mula papawirin. At halos umapaw sa ginto ang bangka ng nagulantang na mangingisda, walang pagsidlan ang galak, at walang humpay ang pasasalamat sa mga bathala. Nanumbalik ang kalusugan ng kabiyak ng mangingisda. At lumago ang kabuhayan, naging mariwasa ang magkapilas-puso na dating maralita. Nilasing ng kanyang mga dating kalapit-bahay ang mangingisda-- na hindi ikina

Wealth garden

‘TWAS CRUEL as smashing a budding green thumb: some years back, an abuela warned me about letting any clump of katigbi (Job’s tears or Coix lachrymal jobi for you botanists) from growing in our homeyard. That grass with rapier-like leaves that smelled of freshly pounded pinipig supposedly invited bad luck and sorrows—why, that biblical character Job wailed and howled a lot, didn’t he? (But was later rewarded with oodles of goodies, wasn’t he?) Then, I came across some arcane text that practically goaded folks to grow katigbi in their gardens—why, there’s a starchy kernel wrapped shut in the seed’s shiny coat. A handful or more of kernels could be cooked as porridge. Too, one could whisper a wish upon seven seed pods, throw ‘em pods in running water—a river or stream—and the wish would be granted! I was warned, too, about planting kapok or talisay trees right in the homeyard—these trees form a cross-like branching pattern. Pasang-krus daw ang bahay na kalapit sa puno ng kapok, tal