Skip to main content

Alak pa!

AFTER suggesting in a focused discussion that local crop raisers curb overproduction, take after the OPEC tack of calibrated yields to provide stability to farm-gate prices for their produce, I was singled out for two-bit tactical interrogation… so it turned out to be an ugly military rigmarole for usual rebel suspects.

The gaggle of “farmers” of Belance, Dupax del Norte in the Nueva Vizcaya hinterlands I had talked to were local militia… who won’t ever have inkling on the finer points of agricultural practice and out-and-out capitalist marketing ploy… they just wanted to make me sing under mental duress, “I’m a Red rabble-rouser out to infect you locals with Leftist ideas.”

If it quacks like a capitalist duck but doesn’t waddle like one… there must be something wrong.

So we were set up prior to a round up— say, two comely education coeds of the Nueva Vizcaya State University in Bambang; a faculty of Sunhaven Academy in Bulacan; a manager for the Savory chain of restaurants out to procure raw stock for his firm; one technical assistant for erstwhile lawmaker Leticia Ramos-Shahani; an assortment of naïve do-gooders out to share time, resources, plus know-how.

They plied me with drink… 4 x 4, local term for cuatro cantos… to which I raised a perpetual toast, “In vino veritas” that ought to have wafted on their faces like a polite insult… but that won’t occur to a bunch of cunctators.

I wouldn’t fault them for mistaking me for a grizzled guerrilla… my manner of walking implied a well-drilled martial gait wont to any terrain, upright wiry body posture too soldierly or smoothly sexy coiled like steel springs about to pounce… eh dati akong sundalo.

One had posted himself an elbow strike off my left rear side, fidgety four arrayed themselves at the table to my left… uneasy interrogating officer faced me nearly lurched on a chair, in evasive maneuvers with his eyes avoiding direct visual contact and wouldn’t touch the grog, to which I freely helped myself… the village official sat on a right corner of the room with arms akimbo observing the proceedings with nary a pipsqueak… and Roy Camacho, an NLRC arbitration officer on workdays who appointed himself as my right-hand man—he sat in calm menace near the door-- had both hands tucked into his jacket’s front pockets, maybe with a pair of cocked cannons, likely itching to blast away and call it a day.

So we passed palaver. The halogen bulb over our heads just wasn’t boiling bright or glaring enough to chuck clammy coldness seeping in the room and into our bones… or in the adjacent village hall were I repaired to with the rest of our crew after, uh, did our hosts treated me and Roy to six four-by-fours and pig’s blood stew?

A Roy and a de los Reyes—those poseurs were in the company of kings who freely took their fill.

Roy himself drank some more and saw off the military officer; he was likely no lower than a major in rank as evinced by a high level of ease in spoken English and flighty demeanor… why, we ought to thank him for being a generous host… then again, his body language betrayed how he was processing proffered data only with the left brain hemisphere, strictly logical… so inadequate.

Naghanay ako ng tatlong sako ng bigas na tutulugan, yes, that sounded like a warm pile of a big ass… the middle section of that pile sagged, and goes to show I was a 24-karat Centrist, had wet dreams and must have tossed or pumped away a lot in my sleep…

Late evening of the next day, I spewed an earful at the officials of the non-government organization that took me to that place in the boondocks, no cell signal there… six four-by-fours is pittance pay for crop marketing counseling plus generous bits of comedy skit I gave out to sham farmers… and wilt thou strew pearls before swine?

Alak pa!

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-destruct. T…

Singkamas

MAYAMAN pala sa tinatawag na phytochemicals o sangkap na panlaban sa samut-saring sakit ang singkamas—na sa alias nito sa Latin ay talagang kahindik-hindik na ang dating, Pachyrhizus erosus. Tunog erotikong suso sa dulo.

Jicama ang pangalan nito sa pinagmulang lupalop. Mula pa Mexico, nakarating sa ating pampangin nitong kasagsagan ng kalakalang Manila-Acapulco. Jicama. Sumablay ang bigkas dahil kasintunog ng “higa kama.” Nabalbal. Naging singkamas sa ating wika.

Pampigil sa salakay ng kanser, pampababa ng antas ng masamang cholesterol sa dugo, likas din na antibiotic o pamuksa ng mikrobyo sa katawan. Pampalakas sa likas na panlaban ng katawan kontra sakit. Anti-oxidant o pampahupa sa pagiging amoy-lupa. Karaniwan ding gamit na sangkap sa siomai at lumpia.

Hubad na lumpia! Opo, hindi hubo’t hubad ang tawag sa naturang lutuin. Hubad lang. Masarap kung may kalahok pang budbod na mani.

Kaya nakagawian nang talupan ng mga hayok. Ilalantad ang kinis-labanos na laman na pinipithaya (kahu…

KASI NANLABAN