There's no denying this... that there is this large majority among us that has turned blind and deaf with the plight of the people around us, especially the things that our poor brethren face in their daily. The society has taught us, as always, to be insensitive and to justify our actions by saying that they may just be con artists; thieves who use deceit to steal. In a world were we don't give a damn about others and only care only about our own needs, what could you expect?
There is this large lack of love, a large gap in our compassionate actions; we choose who to help, who to understand and who to share our pain with -- things that command that we help only those we can trust in this country so ironically called as the only "Christian" country in this region surrounded by peoples of different beliefs... a twist that just says that we are a people that's full of talk but lacks in any action. Religion aside, Christian or not, why do we not care about the people around us?
We say do this, share this, give this and that to help... but behind this mask of "kindness" what have we become? We only help the poor when everyone is looking at us, judging our every movement but when the spotlight is gone, how many among us could shed a light in this dark alley of hunger? We only help the people that we consider as friends, but how many among us care about the outcasts, those faces that we see each day but don't even bother to know?
We only care when people see.
How blind have we become!
We only hear once the worst has come.
How deaf of us!
We only act when disaster has struck... when the visible disaster has happened. But, beyond that, we make ourselves useless.
Why, oh, why would you start fixing the roads and making solutions to our flooding problems only when the need for it arises?
The problem in our society is that we fail to foresee the future, and in doing so we are risking it for the pleasures (or problems) of now. We only act once the worse of the beast has shown itself, when the enemy has arrived and has carted its victims away and thus we are never truly prepared for anything. Look at Manila, the "great" capital of this dear country, it has been facing floods for decades now and still, there is no concrete action to fix this problem.
And now, as always, there's always the blame game for every situation that arises: The people that prided themselves as heads and chairmen of departments pointing fingers at each other in the quest to finding the culprit! The drainage system of most of Manila, and probably the general islands of this country, are terribly inadequate to the amount of rainfall these areas face annually. Far too inadequate!
Moving on, why do the problems persist? Or why in goth's sake do we fix the roads of Aguinaldo Highway over and over again at that very crucial area that dictates the outcome of the traffic in Cavite? Yearly, we do nothing! Or what we do is just not enough. Those living in esteros and the areas near it continue to throw waste to the waterways, the people continue on using plastic recklessly and we keep on using an inferior system in drainage.
"Hunyo a-dose, huwad na kalayaan!" (12th of June, fake independence!) They shouted as I looked forward. A sudden burst of noise in the somber celebration of the 115th anniversary of the declaration of Philippine Independence. Being the nosy person that I am, a news writer for some time for my school, I rushed to the back of the crowd to see the protesters being carted away and captured. (The video is on top)
What is freedom? The man being driven away by the police shouted at how we were not free. That this day is nothing more than a sham. That this day is nothing more than a show because how can we ever free if we cannot speak? To voice our problems, so he claims. They continued to shout, the teenagers struggled even as the cameras of different news networks pointed at them and even as the people blocked their faces, their mouths.
"Are we free?" The question lingered on as the speech of Senator Drilon blared through the speakers of the whole plaza of the Emilio Aguinaldo Shrine, once a simple home where independence was proclaimed from a humble window; the only act that I would ever admire from the man who killed and took the power of the masses for his own selfish purposes.
Back to the 28th of May, there was nothing more than a small celebration for the rest of the country, a big party for the people of the City of Imus. Flag Day, so they called it, as it was the very day a century ago that the current Philippine flag was raised after the victory in the battle of Alapan; A marker and statue barely known to many stands proudly in the quiet of the school that now stands on what was once a battlefield.
Flags waved, the colors the embodying what blares inside my chest: That want for a united Philippines that moves forward collectively and does not forget those that died when the light of independence was still dawning in the horizon. And that I am proud of me and the blood that flows through my veins, the blood of the heroes, the blood that flows through each and every pinoy's body.
I celebrated Flag Day with my flag. I waved it from my home to Imus City where I proudly waved it from my flag: some cheered, others murmured and some still sang the National Anthem as I passed by. From Alapan I biked on to Baldomero Aguinaldo's home: The home of the general-cousin of Emilio Aguinaldo, the falsely recognized first president of the country.
The first thing that greeted me are the flags the filled the outside of the house. And the flag that hung inside.
Both flags being were from the war, the Old Glory and the Philippine Flag, I stood at gazed at it reverently... feeling the presence of the people that fought for it and died for the sake of this piece of cloth that embodies the body and soul of this humble nation and thought about the reverence people had for this flag: depending it and even displaying it even if went against the law of the American's during the occupation.
And now... well...
After that I went to the old city hall of the city of Imus, an old building from the days when the Americans governed this country, an evidence of this was the old seal of the commonwealth of the Philippines of the ceiling above the hall of the mayor. Everywhere, all around the city square there were flags that waved proudly atop every pole and every fence, they were there.
Part of the celebrations, as always, was the performances and the concerts. The night lights glowed on the plaza dedicated to General Topacio, who would've been the candidate for presidency if he had not backed down. It was once beautiful, declared as one of the most magnificent ones in the whole archipelago the time it was built. Now it was the battlefield in the recent power struggles, defaced by the personal whims of the people that ruled the land.
I wondered, from my view of everything from the city hall's balcony, if they really understood what they were celebrating? Is this nothing more than a show of who is in power now like what they did later that night, announcing the winners of the recent elections on that very day? I went home, thinking about all this as I waved my flag, the flag that I loved for 11 years since I was a kid.
I was now used to the whispers. The ugly things they said as I passed by. But one comment stuck with me, and just hit me dead on: "Basahan lang yan (That's just a dirty cloth)." Something that a random citizen; a tricycle driver said as I passed by him. I dreaded it. Dead on, I just heard how some people see the flag I so much adored, this thing that people have fought for just to keep flying!
It pains me. Really. I asked to myself and to others: "What, to you, is this flag? Does it mean anything to you?"
Fast forward to the 12th of June. I wore my blue polo and leather shoes as I stepped on the wet ground, watching the parades as it passed in front of the crowds and the TV crews, carrying flags and banners of their own.
But what is freedom? Is it nothing more than a symbol? Are we, now, truly free?
There were still many questions from the crowds: From the internet and the people that protested there on the June 12th in Kawit, from moving the independence to the 4th of July once more to the protests of dismantling the government and the "imperialistic" system of this country.
For me, freedom is defined and can only be defined by the individual itself.
Just like most things under the sun, we can define anything by our own standards. If we keep on defending the view that the government is at fault for the big number of unemployed people, does that not show a sense that you are dependent on the system? Then, in a sense, you are what makes you a prisoner. If you keep on blaming the system on your current financial standing, if you keep on saying that the government is why you are poor, then you are still dependent.
Because an individual is freed only by action made by oneself. We are what makes us free; but we are also what makes us prisoners, shackled by our own hands and made slave by our own desires. In the end, we are the key to freedom. If we keep on waiting for someone else to free us, then what's the point of seeking freedom?
To end this article, I would like to mention that the great Supremo, Andres Bonifacio, acted towards that. He was radical enough to see that change is in our hands. We can stop making the flag and the days that we celebrate as mere symbols, we have what we need to make them meaningful. We can have change ONLY if we move towards it.
We are change. We are freedom.
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Comedy as always is the key to the heart of the Filipino
It is so evident in the films that gain popularity in today's silver screen: Ranging from fantasy films and drama interlaced with humor to the slapstick comedy of the yesteryears. It lives, it is praised and it is remembered by the countless of the youth and the old alike. We even praise the kings of the art of comedy! But it is very rare that a film so filled with humor would scream the harsh realities at your face at the same time.
Juana C. The Movie is probably the most perfect comedy for my taste. It truly is. With its frank description of the political scene and of how we Filipinos truly are. It calls for action beyond the theatre and makes you feel the need to make a change in a society that has lost all hope for change. Frankly, it caters the taste for humor of the typical Filipino (as judged by the laughter of my sister) and the part that looks for something deeper, something more behind all this comedy... though I particularly regret how only a few are watching this film.
It just says we need change: both in our ways and in our society... and our taste for films. How I wish all films were like this!
It is not shallow. It is more than a movie about laughs. And for that, I love it. Kudos to the people behind this film!
T'was confirmed: They're saving the theater, but not the building.
The theater, with its near perfect acoustics, has long been the beloved home of the artists: singers and actors, will be "saved" by the company that bought the place. "Save" is too big a word, who knows what their plans really are after news broke out that SMDC, the property arm of the largest mall chain in the country, is planning and going to build another condo in the heart of the metro.
For what? Do we not have enough condominiums? And can a condominium match the beauty of the present one there?
The building will be torn down. That modern looking building from the 1960s that was once featured in an architecture magazine in it's glory days due to its wonderful design that incorporates a harmony between the metal of industry and the greenery of nature will be gone forever and be replaced by the generic looking condo that SM is too proud of: I wonder, now that this will be a condo, will they even make it a decent looking condominium?
Because they build boxes to live in, not beautiful homes but boxes.
In my train of thought, when the condos reign in the metro, what character would we have? Will we be someday be a city without character, no colorful past nor soul? Will we be soon known as the city of boxes? Or will we, truly, continue our march into becoming the real "Gates of Hell" described in Dan Brown's "Inferno."
So now, I say, good-bye, Philamlife Building. And Hello, un-interesting condo-addition to the gates of hell.
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SOUTH BIKE fully supports any inquiries on the facts noted on this page or for any question regarding this article, the pictures and other materials on this blog. All pictures are property of South Bike and Midsummer Daydreams Film & Photography and may be used for any non-profit material, post and/or article. Information stated here in this blog have been culminated from research.
MIDSUMMER DAYDREAMS FILM & PHOTOGRAPHY is the official amateur photography blog/page used by the administrator of South Bike blogs. It also runs as an unofficial photography company of above-mentioned individual and may be hired for any local photography shoots for assorted purposes. For details regarding this, e-mail MDF&P at jhonlerygorme@gmail.com
