OFW Phenomenon, Mail-order Brides, Prostitues, and More

Domestic helpers. Mail-order brides. Exporters of human labor. Phony businessmen.
These are how people the world over have come to know us, Filipinos. And I can’t blame them. For though it’s not completely true that these are what constitute us as a people, it’s not completely false either.

A big chunk of our population — roughly ten percent — are Overseas Filipino Contract Workers (OFWs), many of whom are working abroad either as domestic helpers, construction or factory workers, or health workers. Our OFWs are our modern-day heroes, so they say, because they have saved the country’s economy many times over through their remittances. Without our OFWs, our economy would have long gone under.

And we do have mail-order brides — women who have become wives or girlfriends of foreign nationals through dating sites. I do not think this phenomenon is true only among Filipinos, or SouthEast Asian women for that matter, but our case seems to be out of proportion. Just type in the word “Filipina” in the search engine, and you’d see sites advertising Filipinas as if we were commodities. Being a Filipina, this situation affects me greatly, more so because I cannot claim that the conception that Filipinas are mail-order-brides is entirely false. Many Filipinas have actually taken the easy road to financial security — by marrying a foreign national they met only through the internet, and who they have never met before tying the knot, and someone they don’t — or at least, didn’t at first — love.

And so that’s what our women have come to be known — not just mail-order brides, but brides for sale.

When I was a sophomore student in the university, one of my professors, a tall, young, and light-skinned mestiza-looking woman once related to class one of her experiences in an Asian country during a get-to-know party among international scholars. A friend jokingly introduced her as a European, and everybody believed him. Then this friend introduced her as Chinese, and again, everyone believed him. Then Latin American. Again, everybody believed him. Until this professor told her friend to cut the game out, to tell everyone the truth: that she was a Filipina. So they did; but this time, no one believed them. They thought they were joking. No, it wasn’t because she didn’t look like a Filipina, but because they couldn’t believe there’s a Filipina who would be intelligent enough to be part of that group. They thought Filipinas were only either nannies or prostitutes.

Just recently, a friend of mine who works as a marketing assistant in Qatar told me that if only she had a job to come back to in the country, if she weren’t thinking about how difficult their financial situation back home was, she would have quitted her job. “It’s different here, Sis,” she told me. “They have very poor opinion about Filipinos. They would tell you face to face that Filipinos are stupid, and loose. It’s degrading. But you know what? Sometimes, you couldn’t blame them. There are really quite a number of Filipinas here who are… uhmm… misbehaving.”

There are many other related stories about discrimination and misconceptions about our country’s womenfolk; all disheartening. Though Mary’s sin is not necessarily Ann’s, their common denomination — nationality — make other nationals think they are the same. Logically speaking, this thinking is fallacious, but perception is not the domain of logic. Right or wrong, logical or not, this perception remains, and we shall be viewed through the lens of that perception, whether we like it or not.

We can’t blame other nationals for their misconceptions about us. We do have mail-order brides. We do have women who have become victims of the sex trade. We also have countrymen who have falsified their documents to gain entry to other countries. There are also those who do fishy business. We have women who would shamelessly ask (demand?) financial support from their foreign boyfriends. We have bar girls who do dirty tricks on their costumers. But still, I can’t help but wish that when others look at us as a people, they would look deeper than the skin color, beyond the one-word entry in the passport that reads Filipino. Because while it is true that a number of our people had made mistakes in the past, and are committing the same mistake now, it doesn’t mean we are all the same. We share many things, but every person’s actions reflect the choices he made alone, not the choices his comrades made, are making, or shall make.

That we export labor is a sad thing. But I don’t think it should make me hang my face in shame. And no matter how “lowly” the jobs Filipinos hold abroad, I don’t think we should be ashamed of them. OFWs have gone to work overseas to do the things their employers hate doing, or can’t do. They care for their employer’s elders. They fix their mess. These jobs, though seemingly lowly and menial, are respectable. They care for their employers’ children, while inside they are hurting… hurting that own their children back home whom they left long before they were old enough to memorize their parents’ faces, are left uncared for. And the OFWs wonder, and hope, and pray, that the money they send their kids would be enough to pay for their absences (though knowing full well they it won’t be), that the material comfort their remittances could buy their children would be enough to nurture them until they go back back home to care for them, never to leave them again.

There are thousands of OFW success stories, but for every thousand happy endings, is another thousand of wrecked home and children gone wild. Very sad, indeed. But sadder still is the fact that our government is doing nothing to solve the problem. Instead of creating jobs right at home, our government encourages its people to leave and find work abroad. And to send remittances back home.

Yes, we Filipinos are up for sale. And we’re a bargain. We have medical specialists who work as nurses abroad. Lawyers who work as hotel janitors. Professionals who work as nannies.
Ah, I wonder… I wonder what I’m worth in the international market. And what I’d be doing abroad had I, too, chose to leave.

//Sherma E. Benosa
03 August 2008


Check out my other blogs:
Bard and Brain
Bilingual Pen
Photo.Graphic Thoughts
Taeng ni Ayat

Surrender

You hold me
captive in your quiet
stares. Your arms
reaching out
though they are
still.

And as words
keep their silence,
I hear
your soul’s oration
and your heart’s
whispers.

I allow a tinge
of smile to
paint itself
on my lips.

The sun
is most
captivating
when in its softest
shades.

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//Sherma E. Benosa
14 September 2008; 12:10pm

Check out my other blogs:

Bard and Brain
Bilingual Pen
Photo.Graphic Thoughts
Taeng ni Ayat

Tell Me Your Song

I was not originally tagged to do it (I guess my friend Salve is tired of tagging me because I seldom do what I’ve been tagged to do, and on the only one occasion that I did a tag I even changed the rule and failed to tag someone else (rolling eye emoticon here). But, in fairness to ME, that was back when I still did not know I could get out of this little blog of mine and become friends with other bloggers (yeah, I was THAT slow). I thought, "who should I tag? I don't know of anyone who would play along!"

I guess I've changed because now, I can think of more than 10 friends who I can tag. I just don't know the rule as to how many I could tag, so I simply named two friends at the end.

Anyway, as I was saying, I wasn't asked to do this. I just stumbled upon it in one of Salve's friends' blog, which is also now my friend (yeah, I'm a friend grabber, hehehe). I loved the game so much, that I hinted at my new-found friend, Sonnet, that I want to do it. Mercifully, she got the not-so-subtle hint and she tagged me. (Wink emoticon here)

So here I am, doing a tagging game even if I was not asked, bullied, coerced, or forced to do it. But of course, like I usually do, I again broke some rules. But don't worry. I’ve been breaking some little rules for as long as I remember, and this one wouldn’t cause my banning in the blogosphere. I hope. (Another wink emoticon here.)

Here’s the rule: Answer the questions with song titles (your fave songs or songs that you like to play most of the time). No side comments please. Let the song titles explain your answer.

[The rule I broke: Not all the songs listed here my favorites. I researched some! Hehe! ]


1. How am I feeling today? Bluer than Blue by Regine Velasquez

2. Where/when will I get married? Quando, Quando, Quando by Engelbert Humperdinck

3. What is my best friend’s theme song? Wonderful World by Louis Armstrong and Breakaway by Kelly Clarkson

4. What is/was highschool like? Sana Maulit Muli by Regine Velasquez

5. What is the best thing about me? Honesty by Billy Joel

6. How is today going to be? Waiting by Mariah Carey

7. What is in store for this weekend? There’s a Kind of Hush by Karen Carpenter

8. What song describes my parents? Endless Love by Lionel Richie

9. How is my life going? Constant Change by Jose Mari Chan

10. What song will they play at my funeral? As I Lay Me Down To Sleep by Sophie B. Hawkins

11. How does the world see me? A Ray of Sunshine by George Michael

12. What do my friends really think of me? Wind Beneath my Wings by Bette Midler

13. Do people secretly lust after me? Maybe by Sheryn Regis

14. How can I make myself happy? The Voice Within by Christina Aguilera

15. What should I do with my life? Follow you Dream by Sheryn Regis

16. Will I ever have children? Little Girl by Christina Aguilera

17. What is some good advice? Tell Him by Celine Dion and Barbra Streisand

18. What does everyone else think of my current life? Isn’t it a Wonder? by Boyzone

19. What type of men/women do you like? Honesty by Billy Joel

20. Will you get married? I Do by 98 Degrees

21. Where will you live? The Town I Love so Well by Ronan Keating

22. What will your dying words be? Lift up your Hands to God by Gary Valenciano


Ok. I’m tagging Tam because she might think it’s fun and Salve because I know she's gonna do it! Hehehehehe!

_______________________________
Check out my other blogs:
Brainteaser
Photo.Graphic Thoughts
Taeng ni Ayat

Lamentation of the Dream Un-Winged

From a distance, Dream watched Man staring out his tiny window, a glass of liquor in his hand. Man was gazing unseeingly at the clouds almost completely concealing the rising moon, sadness hugging him tightly. The soft breeze was sighing, and the crickets were eerily quiet.

Dream’s heart went out to Man, despite himself. After all, they used to be inseparable, the best of friends. A tear threatened to fall down Dream’s cheeks, which he was quick to control. He was surprised to find that it was such an effort to fight off his tears.

“Ah, my friend,” Dream whispered through the air. “It saddens me to see that the bright light you once had has considerably dimmed. I would so much want to comfort you, if I could. But I need comforting, too. Because like you, I am also feeling wretched, for I failed to become what destiny designed me to be.”

Dream paused, feeling silly. He knew Man couldn’t hear him. But then, he thought he saw Man look in his direction, but maybe he didn’t.

After some time, Dream continued with his anguished whispering.

“I feel bad that you failed, because your failure is mine, too. But what can I do? I did everything to steer you in the right direction. I made myself your inspiration, your driving force. I always accompanied you in your youth; I used to sit by your side as you planned your moves back when you still thought that the future looked so bright. Wasn’t I the one who kept whispering in your ears to keep going whenever you were down? I held the torch for you every time you walked along dark alleys.

“We were such a team. We could have reached very far. Yes, I had no doubt about that, especially when you cloaked me with hope and armed yourself with potential. I thought we would soon take off. And I believe we would have made it, if only you didn’t back out at the last minute; if only you didn’t chain yourself and me to your fears.

“You should have let me spread my wings across the vast sky because I was meant to fly, to soar. I was meant to grow up and transform into reality. But you didn’t let me. Instead, you un-winged me. Look at me, look at me. Look and see how shattered I’ve become, with my wings now broken and useless." Then, losing his control, Dream let out his anguish, as rivers upon rivers of tears flowed down his cheeks.

In his tiny window, Man was pitying and cursing the weakling that he was, as sighs capped his frustration, and alcohol was drowning his mind.

Outside, there was still an eerie stillness. The wind was refusing to move, and the leaves were afraid to stir. The crickets had gone to sleep. The moon was still hidden behind the dark clouds, afraid to shine.

Then there was lightning, followed by a loud thunder. But Man was already too drunk to notice. He didn't know it was Dream howling.

[seb/20 June, 2008; 10:46pm]

Check out my other blogs:
Brainteaser
Photo.Graphic Thoughts
Taeng ni Ayat

Let’s Do a Van Gogh

After Picasso head, Mandy has again discovered another thing that is sure to be a hit in the blogosphere. It’s called bomomo.

Like Mr. Picasso Head, this also lets non-artists to unleash their hidden creativity using lines and colors. Now, folks who cannot even differentiate an oil painting from a watercolor, like me, can become “painters” in the almost-real sense of the word.

I am very excited about this ‘discovery’ because I see a vast potential in it. I can now ‘paint’ images for my poems. You see, there are times when I wish I have pictures that go well with my poems. I do have good pictures, and I use them. But there are just some poems that cannot be accompanied just by any picture. I think, this interactive site solves my problem. I can just make abstract ‘paintings’ and presto! My layout is already perfect.

And what’s more, it’s also fun. I’ve tried it and I couldn’t stop. Hah! I suggest you try it. Better yet, do it with your kids. I’m sure they’ll love it!

What are you waiting for? Click HERE and begin unleashing your pent-up creativity!

Have fun...

[PS: The pictures here are my very first abstract ‘paintings.’ Don’t ask me what they mean, though. ;-) ]

Again, you are welcome to post your creations here. (Please do!)Just use the code below.



Simply upload your creations, then copy the URL. Using the code above, put the URL of your painting at the URL section (red font) and type in the words you want to appear in your link at the green part of the code.

Picasso Your Head

There is some craze in my ‘little’ community in the bloggosphere about the interactive site, Mr. Picasso Head, where anyone, with or without any artistic inclination, can ‘draw’ his or his friends’ heads with easy-to-use tools.

When it was first posted by Mandy, everyone, me included, had lots of fun doing it. It became an instant craze. But I guess it was another blogger-friend, Michelle, who got the worst Picasso-head bug. She actually drew each of her blogger-friends! And oh, boy! She is so talented that most of her drawings are recognizable!

Michelle also ‘drew’ me and I love her Picasso version of me very much. I think she was looking at my avatar through eyes that highlight what’s beautiful in everyone when she was making my Picasso head (or perhaps all the time), that’s why I came out looking very beautiful in her drawing. I haven’t looked that beautiful in a long while. ;-)

Here is Michelle’s drawing of me:

Cool, isn’t it?

Come on folks, try it too and have loads of fun. It’s something you can do to pass the time, or to have fun with your little kids and even with friends and loved ones who are kids at heart!

And oh, do show me your drawings by giving the links at the comment section. Please....

Here's my very first attempt: http://www.mrpicassohead.com/canvas.html?id=ca5f7ff&skin=original

(PS: Moments after my post, my Buddy, VF, tried his hand at the Picasso Head and look, he's got some artistic talent, too! Wow! Here's one of his drawings of me:

I love his drawings so much. ;-) Now, I understand why he had been pestering me to wear ponytails this afternoon, hehehe!

(Don't you think I should be asking for my model's fee? Not that I modeled for him. But then, it's my beautiful face that's giving him inspiration, right?)

Here's another PS: If you're wondering how to create a link at the comments section, like I'm doing, please use this code:

Simply copy the code, put the URL of your picasso head drawing at the URL section (red font) and type in the words you want to appear in your link at the green part of the code.

Wisdom in Hot Chocolate

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Ever thought why contentment seems to elude man? When we get that which we’ve always wanted, we are happy and seemingly content for a while. But soon, we will find ourselves wanting something else. Our needs, our wants, just keep coming. We are never content.

I am sure you’ve heard that to live life to the fullest, we should concentrate only on the essentials. But how do we know which of the things we have, or want, are essential, and which aren’t, when we tend to measure life by the non-essentials that we have?

The following article which was sent to me via email this morning illustrates this point very well.

Wisdom in Hot Chocolate
(Author Unknown)

A group of graduates, well-established in their career, were talking at a reunion and decided to visit their old university professor, now retired.

During their visit, the conversation turned to complaints about stress in their work and lives.

Offering his guests hot chocolate, the professor went to the kitchen and returned with a large pot of hot chocolate and an assortment of cups — porcelain, glass, crystal, some plain-looking, some expensive, some exquisite — telling them to help themselves to the hot chocolate.

When they all had a cup of hot chocolate in hand, the professor said: “Notice that the nice-looking, expensive cups were taken, leaving behind the plain and cheap ones. While it is normal for you to want only the best for yourselves, that is the source of your problems and stress. The cup you’re drinking from adds nothing to the quality of the hot chocolate. In most cases, it is just more expensive, and in some cases, even hides what we drink.

“What all of you really wanted was hot chocolate, not the cup. But you consciously went for the best cups. And then, you began eyeing each other’s cups. Now, consider this: Life is the hot chocolate; your money, job, position in society are the cups. They are just the tools to hold and contain life. The cup you have does not define nor change the quality of life you have. Sometimes, by concentrating only on the cup, we fail to enjoy the hot chocolate God has provided us. God made the hot chocolate; man chooses the cup. The happiest of people do not have everything. They make the best of everything they have.”



So, how’s your hot chocolate? How many of us can say, “it’s very good” and truly mean it?
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BrainTeaser

It's been a while since I posted a puzzle. So I thought of re-posting this puzzle I made for my other blog. I hope you like it.

HERE WE GO:

I am looking for a two-word phrase that consists of eleven letters (first word, five letters; second word, six letters). What is this phrase?

Step 1: Finding the letters:

1. The 19th letter of the English alphabet = __
2. The 4th letter in the first name of the current USA president = __
3. The first vowel of the four-letter word that completes this expression: _____ of passage = __
4. The last letter of the word that completes this biblical phrase: Alpha and ______ =
5. The first letter of the word that refers to singers, painters, writers, and sculptors = __
6. The first letter of the five-letter word that means iconic image or symbol = __
7. The letter that is common to the first, sixth, and eleventh months of the year = __
8. The chemical symbol of the number five element in the periodic table = __
9. The first letter in the six-letter English word that contains no vowel = __
10. The most used vowel in English = __
11. First letter in the title of the Shakespearian play whose main characters are Katherine, Bianca and Petrucio = __
The eleven letters are: ______________________.

Congratulations. You are done with the first step. Now, onto the second.


Step 2: Word Play/Arranging the Letters

First clue: From the eleven-letter, two-word phrase I am looking for, the following words can be formed:

• (From the first word) The four-letter word that means “drops of fresh water that fall as precipitation from clouds”
• (From the second word) The four-letter word that refers to the opposite of “difficulty”

Put first four-letter word here: ______
Put second four-letter word here: ______

Try to guess the phrase. If you still cannot, see the next clues.

Second clue: From the eleven-letter, two-word phrase I am looking for, you could form the word that refers to “that thing you use when you want to remove pencil marks” by inserting the second letter of the first word between the second letter and the third letter of the second word.


Final clue: Verse play

Oh, am I not exciting, and I not fun?
The old love me, so do the young.
The logical and those with clever mind
They seek me, they think I’m fun.
Solve me, find my pieces, watch my trails
I leave clues, I give hints. Come on, think.
Tell me, tell me, what’s my name?

The phrase I am looking for is? _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _


Extra question: At what stage were you able to solve the puzzle/riddle?

You may answer here, or in my OTHER BLOG where it was originally posted.



//Sherma E. Benosa; 29 May 2008

Mining Issue in NV

Would you dare destroy such splendor of Mother Nature?
Photo taken at Abinganan, Bambang, Nueva Vizcaya

As a Novo Vizcayano, I may already be a bit too late in speaking up about the mining issue in our province. This is because I don’t know much about the technicalities involved, and I'd rather keep quiet than speak up about something I do not wholly understand. But I have been following the developments of the mining project, and I am not very happy with how things are turning out.

As a backgrounder, our inconspicuous province has been thrown into the limelight during the past few months because of the Kasibu residents’ continuous resistance against Oceana Gold, the Australian firm who has out-bidded other mining companies to mine Dipidio, Kasibu, Nueva Vizcaya for gold and copper. The Dipidio project is a 320 million US dollar project, and is described by Oceana CEO Steve Orr as "one of the highest grade gold-copper porphyries in the world today,” according to a news report by Yahoo News Asia. Kasibu is located east of Bambang (my hometown), and about 200 kilometers north of Metro Manila.

The Philippine government has given the Australian group the go signal to proceed with the project, but the local government and the Kasibu residents are still barricading the site for different reasons. The local government wants to collect taxes, whereas the residents do not want the work to ever proceed, not only because they will be displaced, but more so because they fear that the project would destroy the province’s natural resources.

I am not one who cares much about gold; I do care more about the preservation of our natural resources. So personally, I do not want the work to proceed.

Many of you may not agree with me, but that’s how I feel about the issue. Nueva Vizcaya is not much of a tourist spot because it’s not well-promoted, but it boasts of a beautiful landscape that only the hand of nature could paint. A land-locked province, it boasts of clear springs, green surroundings, winding rivers, mountains and hills and valleys, rice fields and a cave system. It is the place a weary soul would want to go home to, to get in touched with nature, and to be closer to God.

It is the place I go home to.

No, I would not want to exchange the beauty of my hometown to any amount of gold.

Truth vs. Deceit: A Tale

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Deeply confused and utterly sad, Truth decided to consult with the Lord.

“Lord," he said in a barely audible voice. "I am confused. You said that I am beautiful, but why is it that when I present myself to people, they would not look at me directly, and would rather look the other way? You said I am good, but why can’t I help hurting people? You said that Deceit is evil, but why is he capable of making people feel better, even if there are times he hurt them as well? You said Deceit is ugly, but why do people stare at him with so much awe?”

The Lord smiled sympathetically. He walked over to Truth, and held him by his shoulders. “My child," He said softly, looking deeply into Truth's troubled eyes. "Do not despair. You are beautiful and pure. You shine so brightly, people cannot bear to look at you directly. They either put a veil over their eyes to see you, or use a mirror to get a glimpse of you, not realizing that though these instruments aid them, they blur you, hence they don’t see you in your full splendor.

“You are good; you do not really hurt people, you just crush their egos. Indeed, Deceit is ugly, but don’t forget that he is a master of disguise. He can change his black cloak into a rainbow, so that those who have not seen your grandeur are amazed at how lovely he seems, and they stare at him with great admiration.

“He is evil, because by not showing his real self to people, he dims you. But do not fret, my child. There are those who are brave enough who choose to look at you directly, without any veil, without the need for mirrors. They see you, and they love you. And to them, your beauty is beyond compare." The Lord patted Truth in the back. "Go forth my child, for you are loved.”

Feeling better, Truth thanked the Lord then walked happily back to his world, where he shone and shone brightly, giving light to the whole world. He’s still there, standing magnificently for all of us to see. Sometimes we see him, sometimes we don’t.

Often, we profess our love for him. But... do we really?


//Sherma E. Benosa
19 May 2008; 11:40am

Hymn Within Me

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There is a hymn inside my heart that begs to be sung,
Waiting for my wobbly fingers to strum
The strings of my soul’s discordant melody.

But my lips refuse to sing the notes
That would pull my soul out of the void;
For though it badly needs to hear the music
It fears the thundering boom of the drums.

So I sit around, hoping for someone to play a song
All the while knowing it’s got to be me;
I wait here, daydreaming for a concerto
All the while knowing my ears have become deaf
To the music of the life around me.

Tell me, how can I sing my heart’s tune
Without first fixing the pitch of my thoughts?
I’ve forgotten my lines, I can’t relate to the melody;
Sing to me, sing to me so that I may remember
That there is a hymn that begs to be sung within me.


//Sherma E. Benosa
18 May 2008; 5:46pm
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Kuliapis nga Ay-ay

It's been a while since I last posted an Ilokano (my mother tongue) piece here. Allow me please.





Makasiram ti apuy a sumgiab iti kaunggan ni ngata-ngata
Ket puoranna ti simbeng ti panagdaliasat ti agduadua a kararua
Dagiti agkatangkatang a dapan nga inulila ti nailibay a darepdep
Nga indaramudom ti kasipngetan, inadipen nagkaadu a derrep.

‘Di madaeran kuyep a mata ti makipinnerreng iti masakbayan
A tagtagibien aliaw impasngay kalman a di man la nagbalasang
Iduduayyan’ pilay nga agdama a nagpanawan narasi a namnama
Ilallallay saning-i ti dung-aw dagiti umar-arubayan nga aligaga.

Madaeranto ngata ti kired ni Elpis ti bang-i ti espiritu ni Moros
A nangkaras ubbog ni talinaay, nangruros sabong ti kurkuros
Idinto nga agsung-aben dagiti kalman a ramut a baglan ni puot
A dalanen koma dagiti sagibsib ngem inalun-on metten ni pungtot?

Uray la agallangogan dagiti sennay ti nakas-ang a pannakapaay
Ngem saan met a sumngaw dagiti boses ti kuliapis nga ay-ay.


Check out other version HERE. Or, read my other ATTEMPTS at poetry HERE.

//Sherma E. Benosa
09 May 2008; 10:15pm

Only When

Dreams. They are the fruits we envision the plants we sow would bear. But many of us dream without planting a seed. Some of us do, but we fail to water our plants, to fertilize them. So our plants die. And when they do, we wonder what happened to them, to our dreams. We blame everything. We blame the sun, we blame the rains, we blame the insects, yet we forget to blame ourselves.

//Sherma E. Benosa
09 May 2008; 10:10am

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ANNOUNCEMENT: I have opened a photo-blog over at wordpress.com. Unlike my other blogs, this latest baby of mine contains photos. BUt unlike ordinary photo-blogs, the photos posted here contain my thoughts and reflections. Check it out: PhotoGraphic Thoughts.

Winged

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When we give our souls some wings, they will surely soar, up above the clouds, to the stars, to the heavens, and to dimensions beyond the reach of time. My soul is here, with me, yet it is really gone. It's somewhere beyond the depths of the deepest sea, above the highest mountain, in a plane indefinable by me.

//Sherma E. Benosa
08 May 2008; 2:25pm

Sick and Twisted

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There’s something that’s gravely ailing the world today. And it’s not global warming. It’s our hearts turning cold and unfeeling.


The culprits probably thought it was a good joke, so they took video footage of it and uploaded it in the internet. After all, it’s not often that one would “be lucky” enough to witness an operation to get a perfume canister out of a poor fellow’s anus. But right now, I can hear the “lucky” fellows’ jeers turned into sobs, and see their jeering faces ‘sorrily’ contorted as they scamper away for cover.

I am talking about the scandal at a Visayan hospital where a team of doctors and nurses and (a) nursing student(s) took photo and video footages of an operation done on a male patient who had a perfume canister stuck on his anus during a sexual act. The video footage was then said to be uploaded in youtube for all the world to see (the video has since been removed from the file sharing site after the scandal broke out). But according to bloggers who have seen the video and to some news report, the video showed several people in the operating room jeering as the perfume canister was being removed, making disrespectful comments, calling the canister “baby,” and spraying perfume after the canister was removed. All these while the patient was lying helpless and unconscious.

Before this offensive event, I was of the opinion that there are two kinds of fun: clean and dirty. But apparently I’m wrong. There’s a third one: sick.

I think it’s sick that some people could get a kick from other people’s grave embarrassment. I think it’s sick that some people could actually laugh at other people’s pain. I think it’s sick that the people we turn to for help would extend their right hand to assist us, only to stab us with their left. I think it’s sick that professionals would act in an unprofessional way in times of crisis. I think it’s sick that we would choose to add insult to the injury when we could opt to ease the pain. Ah, yes, the world we live in can sometimes be so sick. (Or shall I say, we can sometimes be so sick.)


Condemn him not

It’s true, it’s unhealthy to use sex toys during sexual intercourse; but if others decide to use them, to engage in different kind of sex, who are we to condemn them? It is their business as it is their lives. It is not for us to judge them. But reading some blog posts, I realized that some folks put the blame on the poor victim, their reasoning being, “things would not have happened if he did not engage in “abnormal” sexual behavior, if he weren’t gay.

That got me a little lost, because the issue, in my humble opinion, is not the victim’s sexual preference, nor is it his sexual behavior. The issue is that the medical professionals involved violated his rights as a patient, as a person.

He went to the doctors to seek help, but what did he get? Sure, the doctors relieved him of the proof of his physical ‘rape,’ but they raped his soul in return, inflicting upon him a kind of pain that no medicine could relieve nor cure; no expert could surgically remove.

And then, as he prepares to seek justice, someone from the Catholic Church comes forward to condemn him. That, I think, is hypocricy to the highest level. The last thing the victim needs and deserves is for us to be moralistic about it, to play self-righteous and pass judgment upon him. His rights, his person had been gravely violated, and the least thing we can do is to help him stand as he struggles to carry the cross that was suddenly put on his shoulders, and not to whip his back as the Judeans would.


Going back to the basics

I will no longer talk about malpractice, about how legally liable the people involved in the scandal are. News reports and many blog posts about the issue have tackled them. I’d rather focus on the basics of human relationships.

The culprits did not just break the code of their professions’ ethics; they broke the very basic code of social ethics: RESPECT. One need not have a medical degree to know if what he or she is about to do is right or wrong. I do not see any excuse why the people involved in the scandal could not have realized that jeering at their patient and taking footages of the operation and then uploading them in the internet was a grave violation. All they needed to have done was put themselves in the patient’s shoe and they would have known what was proper and what was not.
As a proverb, the commandment, “Do not do unto others what you do not want others do unto you” is now trite. And as a code of conduct, it is very basic. But somehow, it is sorely ‘underpracticed.’ To think that practicing it could reduce a lot of wrongs. Ah, humans…



Justice

It would be a long, unpaved road, I know. But I guess the only way the victim would heal is by getting the justice that he deserves. I think he must walk the long and hard road to justice, not just to right what is wrong, but also to set example to other offenders and victims.

I would not be sorry to see the licenses of those involved in the scandal revoked, for though it’s true that we have a dearth of healthcare professionals in the country, we are not so desperate so as to allow these vacancies be filled by abusive folks who might just put our medical system in (more) jeopardy.

Because if justice in this case is not achieved, it will surely hurt our bid for a slice in the medical tourism, for we will not just become known as the country where horrible things such as this could happen, but a country that tolerated such things. God forbid!



Some relevant thoughts

As an ex-medical journalist, I’ve written and read a lot of medical articles, a good number of them dealt with male sexual dysfunction.

According to the literature I’ve read, and to some of the doctors I’ve interviewed, many forms of sexual dysfunction can be treated and managed if only the sufferers would seek treatment. But very few men would actually dare talk to their doctors about their problems. It is hypothesized that it may be a natural tendency for the male to never admit to his sexual incapacities because his sexuality is him, to admit sexual problem is to admit to the world that he is less of a person.

In a way, that hypothesis might be right. But I think that there is also another thing that keeps the male population from talking to their doctors about their sexual problems: the fear, rightly or wrongly, that their doctor might jeer at them at their back. I think — or shall I say, I used to think — that that is very remote, given that doctors have heard a lot of stories about this problem, as sexual dysfunction is becoming very common, especially among the elderly.

But now I am thinking that maybe it’s not so remote after all.


//Sherma E. Benosa
27 April 2008; 10:50pm
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An Open Letter to Humanity

We often wonder about the why’s of life, especially when we are in the middle of a tribulation, whether or not it is of our own doing. We wonder why we have to go through things, why we must suffer, why life sometimes must be bleak, why things we think we can do better without happen.

I’ve asked the same questions, too. And below are the answers I’ve come up with. I hope they make sense.

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[Text and image design, concept and layout by SEB]


//Sherma E. Benosa
29 December 2007; 11:10am
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Humanity vs Opportunity: A Short Tale

Opportunity and Humanity faced each other at the Chieftain Hall. This was to resolve Humanity’s complaint against Opportunity. Humanity claimed that Opportunity was not doing his job, which was to regularly present himself to Humanity and his people, and give them all the chances in life that they deserved.

After proper introductions were made, the chieftain asked the gentlemen to take a seat. Humanity took the chair on the left of the chieftain’s desk; Opportunity took the one on the right. When both gentlemen were seated, the chieftain asked Humanity to speak to formally lodge his complaint.

“Well, Sir,” Humanity looked at the chieftain, then glanced at Opportunity. “Mr. Opportunity here has not been doing his job. My people and I have been encountering all sorts of troubles because of him. His negligence has been hindering us from realizing our full potentials. We’ve been complaining about this for a long time, and we had been reduced to repeatedly begging him to come to us, but he just wouldn’t.”

The chieftain nodded his understanding of Humanity’s predicament. He signaled Opportunity to defend himself.

Opportunity cleared his throat. “I am sorry that Mr. Humanity and his people have been encountering problems, Mr. Chieftain, but I beg to disagree that it is because of my failure to perform my duty. The truth is that I keep knocking at their door but they don’t always open their doors for me. There are times that they would, but they often hesitate to let me in. It takes them a long time to decide whether or not to invite me, that by the time they’d made up their mind, it’s time for me to leave for someone else’s house. So…”

“But how do we know it’s indeed you who’s on the door?” Humanity interjected. “You show up looking differently each time. You just love disguises. How can we be sure it’s indeed you and not a prankster who’s at our door, when many times you’d come in the company of those shady creatures, Deception and Betrayal?”

Opportunity calmly replied, “There are no disguises, Mr. Humanity. I always come to you looking the same way I always do. And I don’t come with Deception and Betrayal. You always see them whenever you open your door because they live in your neighborhood. And knowing that they always spell trouble, I try not to stop them from accompanying me to your house, as long as they don’t hurt me, or interfere with me. It’s your family members Fear and Distrust that often lodge themselves between you and me, so that you won’t see me clearly.”

Humanity looked blankly at Opportunity, not having a ready and acceptable retort. He was afraid of incriminating members of his family if he’d speak further. The truth is that he would always ask Fear and Distrust to accompany him whenever he would open his door, fearing that Deception and Betrayal would hurt him if they’d see that he was alone and vulnerable.

Having heard both sides, the chieftain instructed Humanity to resolve the matter within his household, especially the problem with Fear and Distrust. He concluded that only when this matter is resolved will they see more of Opportunity. Until then, they will always have a hard time recognizing Opportunity when he knocks on their door, and continue not being able to seize the chances that Opportunity always brings.

Apparently, the matter with Fear and Distrust was a deep-rooted problem with Humanity and his people. They always felt vulnerable without Fear and Distrust by their side, that to this day, his people still keep blaming Opportunity for their circumstances, claiming that he wasn’t doing his job, when the truth is that they just fail to see Opportunity when he shows up, or, if they do, Fear and Distrust would stop them from seizing the chances Opportunity was giving them.

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Inspired by a piece I wrote in 2005, entitled Knocking on Your Door. Click here to read it. This is my take on the question on whether or not there are not many opportunities around.

This morning, I have written a children’s story based from this story. I hope it will be good enough for publication in a children’s book. I’m crossing my fingers! :-)

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//Sherma E. Benosa
11 February 2008

Autumn in Summer

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It’s summer; the sun’s smiling brightly

But autumn reigns inside me.
Like a tree who just lost a leaf
Inside me, there is grief.
I am a vast sky on stormy nights
Forsaken by the moon, bereft of stars.

Help me feel I am no tree
And you are not a leaf;
You are a river, and I am a creek.
From different springs, we came together
To flow side by side
But the time has come that we must travel apart.

I flow on by, as I know you would.
Have faith, let us both believe
We will entwine somewhere, someday again.
And when we each reach destiny’s ocean
Trust that we will be one water again, my friend.
Until then..

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For my good friends, Chie, Jing, and Tayns who have left this summer: Jing to join her husband in Canada; Tayns to pursue her MA in Japan, and Chie to seek a greener pasture in Qatar. Good luck to all of you. I am deeply saddened that we must live far from each other, but you are always in my heart. Don’t forget I am just a click away. I love you.

Written at the Relaksasi Spa @ Park Square I while waiting for my turn. The music is calming, and the scent is soothing to the soul.
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The Portrait that is the Filipina

La Madre Filipina (A statue at the Luneta Park)
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The Filipina of today is a life-size, full-length oil painting on canvas. She is a tableau that can be hung and appreciated, with pride or prejudice, depending on who the audience is. She is a multi-dimensional portrait. The background, shaped by the epochs in which she slowly evolved, greatly influences the main element, which is a mixture of diverse yet solid colors.

To fully understand the whole painting that is the Filipina, we need to scrutinize both the background and the main element. The background shows us a dynamic picture of the Filipina of yesteryears. She was a babaylan or katalonan (chief priestess) during the pre-Hispanic period, an active participant of the revolution, a committed member of the suffrage movement in the 19th century, and now a strong force in every sector of the society.1

She has always enjoyed equality with men, and has always sought and received education. That is, until the coming of the Spaniards that underlined man’s superiority and the woman’s limited capacity², thus forcing the Filipina to take a supporting role in society.

She was typecast as meek and submissive, but was she ever really? Even the world-fabled Maria Clara showed glimpses of an inner strength and a resilient spirit — qualities that always came to the fore whenever circumstances would pit the Filipina against social and personal turmoil. She got through the dark ages of her past — her repression and the rape of her soul and spirit by the colonizers — stronger than ever. She took an active part in building the nation, and in becoming what she is today.

The main element of the portrait, on the other hand, is the modern Filipina — her evolved self. Having recaptured her previous role in the society, that is, her man’s equal, she is busier than ever, charting not just her own destiny but that of the whole nation. She has become the country’s chief executive and a commissioned officer in the armed forces. She now holds major seats in the government, chairs executive meetings in offices, launches civic activities, moulds the young, and lords over her internal and external struggles, among others. She has braved foreign cultures in foreign lands, and is braving them still.

The modern Filipina is multi-faceted. Gifted with an open, compassionate heart, she is loyal and unselfish. She values love and friendship, adores her family, and does not mind putting her loved ones’ needs ahead of her own.

Blessed with a good mind, she loves learning and enjoys getting the kind of education she deserves. Social issues and intellectual debates are as much a staple for her as are talks about movies, social events, and shopping and beauty products. She can enjoy the company of logic and common sense, and get cozy with introspection. She can do anything she sets her mind on and can excel in her own field. She is the sail and rudder of her own ship; she knows what she wants, and does her best to achieve it. She knows and speaks her mind and asserts her views, although at times — when she sees fit — she is willing to hold her tongue to give the platform to her husband.

Endowed with a compassionate soul, hers are the hands that reach out to friends and loved ones in need. Her shoulders, strong yet comfortable, are always ready to caress wounded spirits. She may be quick to tears, but as she pours her heart out, an inner strength surges to the surface, and a new resolve comes over her. She has the resilience of the bamboo that allows her to thrive even in the harshest of conditions. She may bend and sway with the direction of the wind during stormy weathers, and she may cry rivers when her existence is jolted by life’s earthquakes, but she never gives up; she strives not to fall.

Bestowed with a happy spirit and shiny disposition in life, she smiles a warm smile, and laughs an infectious kind of laughter. She deals with life with the necessary amount of seriousness, and licks her wounds with good humor.

Being human, she too commits mistakes. She also stumbles and errs. But her weaknesses do not warrant removal of her portrait from the world gallery of respectable and strong women. It should continue to hang there; it is the spotlight that has been focused on the tiny blemish on her portrait for so long that should be finally properly angled so that the viewers may, hopefully, learn to admire the masterpiece that the Filipina really is.


Notes:

1www.kababaihan.org
²(Roxas-Aleta, 1977:13)


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//Sherma E. Benosa;
12 March 2008; 11:01pm
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Philippine Encyclopedia

Filipina

Transparency in an Opaque World

We are not just black or white; often, we are shades of gray. We cannot not just be one thing or the other. Often, we are both.

Dynamic, evolving… that’s what we humans are. Never static, never the same. Like clouds, we continually move across the continuum that is our life.

Definitely, we are not just a single snapshot. Not even a series of snapshots. But most people think we are. How many times have we heard the comment, “You’ve changed!” with a tinge of surprise as if we were supposed to stay the same forever?

Indeed, it would be great if we were gifted with the ability to see each of us as we really are; to understand our depths, to appreciate both what is inside and outside of each of us.

But humans have limitations. They only see what they want to see. Sometimes, they just see the good. At other times, only the bad. Often, they do not see both. And, on rare occasions that they do, they find it hard to understand the tangled dichotomies that make up each person.

Humans are multi-faceted, multi-dimensional, but with very limited view of the things around them. Often, they do not see the whole picture, and cannot dig deep to fathom what’s inside other people. They see only what they want to see, or what they think they are seeing. Unfortunately, too, they are quick to make conclusions based solely on their perceptions, which are very limited to begin with. So they see others as all-beautiful or all-good, then be shocked to find later on that the others too have weaknesses of their own. The reverse is also true. Sometimes, people are sure that one is bad through and through, not knowing that that person is simply misunderstood.

If only everyone could look at a single thing and be able to look at it in its entirety and view it from every angle possible, then what a better existence we would have. And if only we try to understand every aspect of a thing first, before we make conclusions, then how much easier life on earth would be.

The Rolling Stone

“Rolling stones catch no moss,” my father always reminds me every time I tell him of my plans to resign from my current job for another.

Dad always supports my decision, but as a father, he feels compelled to remind me of the things I might be forgetting. Often, we would discuss the pros and cons of my plans and end up agreeing. But not before we tease each other at length. The last time we talked about my resigning from my job in 2004, he again quoted that cliché he loves drumming into my head. That time, I answered, “at least they can go somewhere probably better.” Dad simply laughed, and called me “pilosopo nga ubing.”

But now I wonder what Dad would have said had I answered, “Dad, what made you think I’d like to collect mosses?” I guess the discussion would have been much longer.

Mosses for me are a sign of stagnation, of being in one place too long that one accumulated only the things that came one’s way. If I were a stone, I think I would want to be moss-free, to be rolling whenever I feel like it. I see myself as very rough at the start but would become smoother and smoother as I roll along unpaved highways and swim with or against the flow of life’s rivers.

The smoothing process would surely hurt. Like a clay pot that must be spun to be shaped and burnt to become strong, the stone that is me would also be thrust into necessary frictions until I become smooth enough in the eyes of The One shaping me.

Right now, I am still rolling this way and that. And as I do, I hope that the frictions of my experience will help me become a better person. For if not to become better, to be polished and molded into the shape He had in mind for me, what on Earth am I here for?

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I look forward to hearing Dad defend his moss-covered stone. I wonder what meaning he would ascribe to the moss. Hmmm…

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//Sherma E. Benosa
12 December 2007; 11:58pm
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Ringlet

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Life isn’t a circle; it is a line dotted with circles. The seemingly never-ending cycles, like the setting and rising of the sun, the settling of night and dawning of a new tomorrow, the change in seasons, and the New Years and Christmases and birthdays are actually just events that have the same names and share some characteristics in a linear timeline. After this summer there will be other summers, but this year’s summer is different from last year’s, and those of the years before it; and will be different from next year’s and those of the years thereafter.

Each moment is fleeting and will never come back. We may be gifted with many more moments, but we can never again have the one we now have, or those that had passed, for each moment is different from all the other moments.

I see the year 2007 as a ringlet in my life’s timeline that is now gone and completed — a chapter lived and is now just a part of memory; and the year 2008 as a new ringlet I must try to fill with dots and lines. I pray that the lines and dots I’ll be drawing in my new ringlet will be in accordance with the Master’s specifications.

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//Sherma E. Benosa
04 January 2008; 12:50am
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On medical tourism

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I sit in front of my PC, thinking how best to ‘attack’ the assignment I had been given. I’ve conducted the necessary interviews, and I already have with me the pictures as well as the literature that I need. All I have to do now is to decide how best to present the topic, in the most reader-friendly way. It should really be easy, as the topic — facilities in our hospitals for medical tourism — has already been narrowed down, I no longer need to think of story angle.

But somehow, I find it difficult to start. At first I thought it’s because my mind is still drained, having just finished the marketing plan I was commissioned to do. But having had a good night’s sleep, it’s quite unlikely for my mind to be still so dried-up. I refuse to let my mind off the hook because I want to finish this article today, so that tomorrow I can write things that would bring me pleasure. So I force my mind to concentrate on medical tourism, but as I do, I realize what’s wrong; my mind does think about medical tourism, but not within the confines of my topic.

‘Medical tourism is an irony,’ my mind keeps shouting. She argues that it’s so ironic that our country offers quality health care to foreigners, but cannot even provide the basic medical needs of millions of its people; and that our best hospitals have the capability to perform the most delicate of operations, as we do have the facilities and equipment, as well as human capability (most of the doctors in our top hospitals are trained and certified abroad), yet our politicians and the rich would opt to have their treatments abroad (Remember Erap’s knee operation? It can easily be done in the country.).

I shake my head, willing it to focus on the good things medical tourism can bring to the country. It will be good for the economy, because it will be bringing in more tourists, and of course, dollars.

But what will make the medical tourists choose the Philippines, instead of our neighbors, what with the negative picture we have allowed our country to have? I still remember the comment about medical schools in the country in Desperate Housewives. And I still have to read a positive write-up about the country in international magazines, like Time and Newsweek.

Sometimes — just sometimes — I can’t help but think that the country joining in the medical tourism bandwagon is a joke. But I should not like to let the cynic in me prevail; I would want to see this industry grow in our country, and for us to have a share of the market our neighbors have been enjoying for years.

But for that to actually happen, a lot of things need to be done. We have to have an objective look at our country and at our selves, determine the things we can improve on, and build on our strengths, which our neighbors lack. Because if all we can name as our assets now are our ‘world-class’ medical service, good tourist spots, and our ‘tender-loving care,’ then we will find that we don’t have much to offer, because our neighbors also have the first two, and the third is slipping away, and in some cases, now comes with a tag price.


(Now that these distractions are out, I think I am ready to write what I’ve been asked to write.
Thank you for reading; I am now signing out.)


//Sherma E. Benosa
20 February 2008; 11:21am

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Collector’s Items

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There is a game in the blogosphere that has been going on for some time, called tagging, where bloggers tag other bloggers. This is how it works. One blogger would start a topic, usually something about himself or herself, say, ‘three weird things about me.’ The blogger would make a list with some explanations. At the end of the list, the blogger would tag some of his blogger friends. Those tagged are expected to do the same.

I have been tagged many times by my good friend, Salve, but I haven’t done some tagging yet (until now, that is), because I can’t think of someone to victimize, hehehe. But with or without victims, I think I should do some of the games.

First up: three addictions. (Although I am more inclined to call it ‘collections.’ I don’t think I am addicted to anything besides my ‘Dungngo.’ Also, I am listing more than three. Hehehe Pasaway talaga ako. Sowi…)

My Collections

Books. I love books very much. Whenever I have free time, I read. When I want to de-stress, I read. When I travel, I read. I spend a big chunk of my time reading.

As to what I read, well, it varies depending on my mood, but my all-time favorites are those of James Clavell, Paolo Coehlo, Richard Paul Evans, Jeffrey Archer, Nicolas Sparks, and James Grisham, Leon Uris, JK Rowling and Mark Twain.

Of late, I have been buying lots of books, sometimes 3 to 5 titles at a time. My collection is not yet vast from the standard of a real bookworm (just about 200 titles), but then, I started only last year (I used to just borrow books from my friends). I know it would take years, even a lifetime, to build a mini-library of my own, but part of the fun is seeing my collection slowly grow.

Coins. When OFW relatives and friends ask me what I want for pasalubong, I always ask for low-denomination coins. They usually laugh at me, saying I don’t ask much. But I definitely treasure these kinds of gifts (I can’t collect them on my own).

I also collect old coins. I’ve been pestering my grandmother to look for the olds coins she must have kept, but to date, she hadn’t produced any! Huh!

So far, I now have coins from Hong Kong, Belgium, US, UAE, Australia, Singapore, Mauritius.

Bead jewelry. What girl in her right mind would not love those beautiful accessories, especially those made of crystal and glass? I am just into beads that I make mine myself. They’re just so lovely that when people ask me where I bought them, I am always proud to say I made them. :-)

Wedding/debut giveaways. I know they are inexpensive, but there’s something about them that I just love. Maybe it’s because they remind me of friends’ happy times. Maybe because they’re pretty. Or maybe because, like trophies, they are things you can afford to buy for yourself, but won’t (of course).

Ribbons and cords. I find ribbons and colored cords very lovely. I collect ribbons from ribboned gifts, from the flower bouquets my Dungngo sends me, and even from ribboned merchandizes. I also buy from gift shops for the gifts I wrap (Although I must admit, there are times that I would debate with myself whether or not to use the ribbons I’d bought. The ribbon lover part of me would want to keep them for myself. Hehehe).

Other things I like: Boxes, abaca bags/wrappers, and paper bags. When I am given gifts that come with beautiful boxes or paper bags, I am as excited of the container as I am with what’s inside. :-) Yeah… most of the times, mababaw ang kalikayahan ko. Hehehe!

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//Sherma E. Benosa

The Brain Teaser
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IRONY: A COLLECTION OF SHORTIES

Short Stories of 300 words or less: A Valentine Special

"I Love You"

He is an Adonis, the Kilabot ng mga Kolehiyala in the university. He sees women as nothing but conquests. For him, the words ‘I love you’ mean no more than a means to get to bed any woman he wants. He boasts to anyone who would listen that there are times when he manages without uttering the words.

His life is just perfect; that is, until he finally gets bitten by the love bug. She is everything he has never seen before; the realization of his dreams. Suddenly, the words 'I Love You' have taken an utterly different meaning.

When she accepts his dinner invitation, he feels he is the happiest man alive. He knows he had never been happier in his life. But when he whispers to her the words — this time, meaning it — she just laughs at him, not believing a single word he says. And worse, she confesses she is in love with someone else.

When she bids him goodbye after thanking him for the nice dinner, he lets out a heavy sigh, as tears flow out of his ailing heart. As he watches her leave, he asks himself how it could have happened that just when he finally learns what love means, love turns its back on him. He closes his eyes, wondering if he would utter the words 'I love you' ever again.

Man Hater

“Man hater” is everyone’s opinion of her at work. Not only hasn’t she ever had a boyfriend, as far as her co-workers know, but she also turns down everyone who asks her for a date. She also doesn’t show any affinity toward the opposite sex. But the truth is that she likes Allan, an officemate who has been courting her for three years. He only stopped months ago, after she told him for the nth time to find someone else. No, she has no plans of letting him know of her feelings for him. Never again will she give her love to someone, only to cry in the end, which she is sure to happen. Statistics show that a great number of relationships don’t last, and she has been part of the statistics once. She had loved deeply a lifetime ago, and all she got from that relationship was a shattered heart. No, she’s not going to love again. She’s not going to have her heart broken again.

She was sure she was right not to entertain her feelings for Allan. Until this morning, when she saw him walking hand in hand with someone else. She did not feel the tears flowing freely down her cheeks, but she was well aware of the searing pain that was gnawing at her heart.

Campus Queen

In college, she was a campus queen, not just because of her beautiful face and shapely body, but mainly because of what’s inside her pretty head. Later, when she started work, almost every single man in the company wanted to court her. Everywhere she goes, admiring eyes would follow her. Every other week, she gets a marriage proposal, none of which she took seriously. Until she met Ben. He has everything she looks for in a boyfriend. Good looks, above-average IQ, and compassion. They hit it off immediately, and she knew it’s just a matter of time before he’d court her. When one day Ben asked to speak with her in private, telling her he has something to confess to her, she knew this was it. She noticed the beads of sweat on Ben’s forehead when they were talking face to face. She rejoiced inside. She leaned over, held his hand and encouraged him to talk. When finally Ben opened his mouth, her heart skipped a beat.

“Myla,” he started. “I know Edgardo likes you very much…”

“Don’t worry about him, Ben," she cuts him off. "I don’t feel anything for him.”

Ben’s face considerably brightened.“Great! Look, Myla… do you think there’s something I can do to make him notice me instead?”

The Right Man

Almost all of the people who deeply loved Ella shook their heads and uttered a prayer when she and Anthony walked down the isle. Both her parents cried, which she knew was not out of happiness for her, but for fear of a bleak future which they were almost sure would befall her. Ben was a product of a broken marriage; her father left them for another woman when he was 10, and his younger sister was only 8. Five years later, his mother took in another man. Anthony was left to look after himself and his sister, as the other man turned out to be a beast. It took him 6 years to juggle high school and work as a gasoline boy. He decided to forego college and instead put up a small stall in the downtown market. Ella’s parents had tried to talk her out of her relationship with Anthony because they preferred Marco, the English teacher in the town’s high school who was a product of good family. They were sure she would have a fulfilling marriage with him. But she didn’t listen to them.

Ella looked up from the local paper she was reading at the sound of footsteps coming toward her. It was Anthony. As he approached, Ella studied her husband of thirty blissful years. He now looked much older, with gray hair randomly speckled on his head.

“Aren't you coming to bed yet?” he asked.

“I am,” she smiled up at her husband, folding the paper which was carrying a news item about a fatal car accident involving a man and his second mistress. The man was Marco.


//Sherma E. Benosa
07 February 2008; 7:43pm*

Love Paradox

(Seven reasons people are so crazy about (and go crazier because of) love

//Text, photos and graphic design by SEB.

Text was written in 2001.

Recognizing Stroke and Heart Attack

In the morning he was driving to town in his tricycle to visit his daughter and son-in-law. Several hours later, his wife was being told by his attending physician he had very low chances of survival. The next day, he was dead. The culprit? Stroke.

When I heard of the story, I commented, knowing full well how minutes matter in cases of heart and stroke attack, that maybe the man wasn’t rushed to the hospital immediately, that’s why he died on his first attack.

It turned out I was right.

Dad recounted that the morning before the man died, he and the man nearly had an accident along a narrow barangay road, as neither saw the other approaching. Dad was driving his owner-type jeep, and the man was driving a tricycle. It was when they were already very close that they saw each other. When finally, both of them maneuvered so that they could pass each other, Dad said to the other man, “Pasensiakan kabagis. Di ka napasungadan.”
The other man replied, “Uray siak ngarud, kabagis. Di ka nakita a sumungsungad.” The two men saluted each other, and drove off.

Dad recalled much later that the other man’s voice was indistinct, as if it was coming from a tunnel. It seemed the man might already be having a stroke at that time, but still managed to get to his daughter’s house which was about 15 minutes’ drive from where Dad met him. As soon as the produce he had brought was unloaded from his tricycle, the man asked his son-in-law to drive him back to the barrio as he wasn’t feeling well. “Naam-amlinganak sa,” he complained.

The son-in-law later narrated that when he and his father-in-law got to the barrio, the fqther-in-law could hardly walk to the house; he was staggering like a drunk. Later that day, they brought him to a clinic, where they were advised by the doctor to bring him to a hospital where there are facilities that might save him.

At the hospital much later in the afternoon, the man's wife was briefed by the doctor of the prognosis. The following morning, the man breathed his last.


Major killer diseases

Heart attacks and strokes are among the top ten causes of death around the world. Coronary heart disease, which includes heart attack, ranks first; whereas, stroke ranks second (WHO, 2007).

This is unsettling, especially if you or someone you love becomes part of the statistics. That’s why it is becoming more important that we become very vigilant, especially when we are with high-risk people. Studies say that people who are considered high-risk are those who are above 40 (although there are now folks who experience attacks in their late 20s and early 30s), smokers, leading a stressful lifestyle, fond of unhealthy food, and have a sedentary lifestyle.

However, an even sadder revelation is that not many would recognize stroke and heart attack if they stare them in the face, and would not know what to do in case they happen. So I thought, I should compile some information I could find about these, translate them to Ilokano, and distribute them among family members and friends.

Here is the first installment of the things I’ve gathered:


Heart Attack Warning Signs

According to the American Heart Association (AHA), not all heart attacks are strong and sudden. In fact, most are slow, with only mild pain or discomfort. People having this kind of heart attack are not sure what’s wrong, so they often wait long before seeking help.

Here are the signs (Lifted from the AHA website):

• Chest discomfort. Most heart attacks involve discomfort in the center of the chest that lasts more than a few minutes, or that goes away and comes back. It can feel like uncomfortable pressure, squeezing, fullness or pain.
• Discomfort in other areas of the upper body. Symptoms can include pain or discomfort in one or both arms, the back, neck, jaw or stomach.
• Shortness of breath with or without chest discomfort.
• Other signs may include breaking out in a cold sweat, nausea or lightheadedness.
  As with men, women's most common heart attack symptom is chest pain or discomfort. But women are somewhat more likely than men to experience some of the other common symptoms, particularly shortness of breath, nausea/vomiting, and back or jaw pain.

Stroke Warning Signs (Lifted from the AHA website):

• Sudden numbness or weakness of the face, arm or leg, especially on one side of the body
• Sudden confusion, trouble speaking or understanding
• Sudden trouble seeing in one or both eyes
• Sudden trouble walking, dizziness, loss of balance or coordination
• Sudden, severe headache with no known cause

Cardiac Arrest Warning Signs (Lifted from AHA website):

• Sudden loss of responsiveness (no response to tapping on shoulders).
• No normal breathing (the victim does not take a normal breath when you tilt the head up and check for at least five seconds).

When you or your loved one experiences any of the signs above (not all signs will manifest during an attack), AHA advises that you should seek medical help, even if the symptoms are very mild, and seem to go away. The association likewise advises calling 911, but for folks in the Philippines, especially in the barrios where it takes time before an ambulance could come to you, asking a loved one to bring you or the patient to the hospital might be the wisest course of action instead of simply lying down to rest. As they say, better sure than dead.

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Personal Note

I have always wanted to write a “premier” about recognizing heart and stoke attacks when I realized my folks are getting old and are now at risk of having any of these attacks. My plan had been to gather data, write, have my write-up checked by a specialist, then translate my article to Ilokano so that everyone in the household would understand it, and hopefully do the right thing when something like this happen. But somehow I always forgot about actually doing it. But having heard of the recent attack in our barrio, I was spurred to action, realizing that I must do it NOW, not LATER. So here is the first step.

If you’d notice, I lifted a part from the American Heart Association website verbatim, as I am afraid of making a mistake in re-stating them. (I would when I am ready to show it to a specialist).

I hope this article would be of help. For more information about stroke and heart disease, I advise that you go directly to the AMERICAN HEART ASSOCIATION website. Thank you.


References

American Heart Association. (n.d.) Heart Attack, Stroke, and Cardiac Arrest Warning Signs. Accessed February 6, 2008 from http://www.americanheart.org/presenter.jhtml?identifier=3053#Heart_Attack

World Health Organization. (February, 2007). Top Ten Causes of Death. Accessed February 6, 2008 from http://www.who.int/mediacentre/factsheets/fs310.pdf

//Sherma E. Benosa; 06 February 2008

Also posted in the IMAGES AND LINES page of my ILUKO.COM BLOG

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Life is a Performing Art (Story on Slide)

Please click the minus (-) sign on the bottom left of the "TV" screen to slowdown the slide; plus (+) sign to make the slides move faster; and the pause sign to, well, make the current slide pause.

To appreciate the story, please start viewing from page one (the page number is at the bottom right of each page).

Frst posted in my iluko.com blog.

“I Do”

Saturday, January 26, 2008. 5:05 pm. I was still writing like crazy, trying to beat the 8pm deadline for my article. The article was done, actually, but it was a page short. I’ve put everything I needed to write, so I was finding it hard to add more, for although I can be very wordy when it comes to blog posts and other personal stuff, I am very concise when it comes to academic and journalistic writing.

I paused for a while to stretch my arms and to figure out what more I could add to the piece I was writing. I was about to hit the computer keys again when a message popped up in my ym.

“Hi luv! How are you?”

It was from my Dungngo. A huge smile spread across my face. I wasn’t expecting him to be back yet. Immediately, I rang him and greeted him with glee. He explained he was home just to feed his cat, and of course talk to me, but he needed to be back to the hospital where he is receiving treatment in less than two hours. I was disappointed, of course, but I focused on the fact that at least we were able to talk before I was to travel for home that night.

Then the day and time hit me. Without preamble, I said: “Love, I do.” It took him a short time to figure what I was talking about. He let out a sigh before answering: “I do, too, Darling.”

Puzzled? Let me explain.

Last Saturday should have been our wedding day. The wedding march should have started at 4:30pm so I imagine that by the time my darling’s message popped up at 5:05pm, we should already be in front of our family and friends, exchanging I do’s.

There was no wedding march, no friends and folks around. I wasn’t in my wedding dress, and my Dungngo was miles away, still sick, but dammit there was no stopping us from exchanging our vows. We exchanged our I DO’s with only God as our witness, and our computers as companions. But that, as far as we are concerned, is as real as the real thing.

So now, I am married.