Look how vulnerable humans are today, and I see you from one among conscienceless human robotic that this country should be rid of, shame shame!
People in the next decade will have broken into the mind barrier; limitless and living in interconnectivity, stations may man virtual replica of people who today may yet transcend how portals may resemble a door knob, and yet Filipinos may not really make the entry.
But why? Well, technology in the cyber world may not be eaten, not edible. So, if an entire nation lives in abject squalor, no food and really famished, upheavals of the few becomes normal, people will die for their laptops, cellphones, IPods for need of food by the hungry, the impoverished. If we make calculations like the number of Jeepney to deploy service a nation of say a hundred million as transport mainstay, the government will have to make second and third level roads to be able to make do with the Jeepney. But how about the numbers of foreign car manufacturers, the gangs are all here in promo war you ain’t seen yet! And we ask, can we really afford this all roads and no food, and the hard cash needed to buy petrol for them, is it affordable?
Can we really be cute with inanity as a nation, not in Mindanao we’re not. For centuries, Jolo, Sulu, and the proximate belt in Mindanao have been free from path of really bad weather, now we’re the next loop of people who may decimate after typhoon Sendong. The globe is warming up and we can only be as helpless because we’re now bald of forest covers for the bananas and the pineapples, a fruity kind of death wrap for a place already shackled by manmade calamities and all because of greed for power and wealth by whom? By people in Manila.
So now I just know that polity to shape governance to look after our welfare as patrons in Mindanao of what ballyhoo Manila government and of what it can muster saying we’re covered, is just slimy cow dang. If Manila is a contamination, then we’re sadly afflicted with it, of viral anomalies in Mindanao and Sulu of things not of our origin. So, what do we do now?
The fault line is the best reminder of the answer itself, Manila people are the worst managers and if we are the business entity in Mindanao and Sulu, we simply fire them!
Hard to hide the revolting angst, the edgy heart of what’s inside me, but times as these requires that people like you and I needed jolting, and if all the more than forty years of unrestrained bloodletting is not enough waken us to what realm we deserve as citizens, typhoon Sendong may be the wakeup call!
“If we make calculations like the number of Jeepney to deploy service a nation of say a hundred million as transport mainstay, the government will have to make second and third level roads to be able to make do with the Jeepney. But how about the numbers of foreign car manufacturers, the gangs are all here in promo war you ain’t seen yet! And we ask, can we really afford this all roads and no food, and the hard cash needed to buy petrol for them, is it affordable?”
Must I not be the sophisticated man in mind and spirit, of civility said in fancy cars and fancy clothes then I should live like the days of the very old when trees grew plenty and rivers are crystal clear. In Mindanao, dreaming backward may be a necessary daydream. In much of today’s careless journey with getting rich and raking wealth, thievery in government have all but been the bane why because in this carelessness, systems breakdown all but shattered everything else, degraded a people who till today is never knowing, or just maybe partially knowing what may have been wrong finally realizing our trees are gone, dignity trampled, homes washed away by flooding, raging, overflowing rivers, and no trees to stop them.
Arming and fighting more wars is not a solution either, we’ve been at it for more than forty years only now we realized even that is staged. Women of the Islamic faith with the rebellion joined relief efforts for they too lost loved ones and countries from the Islamic world themselves aghast and heartbroken, dig deeper in their pockets handout whatever amount they can afford buy blankets, clothes, food etc. The Islamic world is yet to taper now in determined spirit as we did, people powering for freedom! So how do we start anew?
Dreaming backward will transport as back in time, during the sub-state period. This was also known as the Commonwealth era the time the United States hold sway to running our lives in Luzon, the Visayas and Mindanao. In the early 1920s, already giving up on military campaign efforts, America sent teachers instead of soldiers effectively ushering in an era my grandma called ‘peace time’, this workable window of peace allowed for locals learn what meant schooling to be able to develop communication skills, be more proactively in talking mood and importantly, develop as people assimilate into the greater mold of what is democracy, to be people of laws not outlaws.
In same time twist, American managers thought of hydropower, energy tapping from water resources, and the lakes by her ward allowed for it providing electricity. This was the humble beginning of Mindanao entering the era of development.
“Must I not be the sophisticated man in mind and spirit, of civility said in fancy cars and fancy clothes then I should live like the days of the very old when trees grew plenty and rivers are crystal clear”
Backward dreaming to begin anew would in ways tinker with a lot of contrasts one that I imagine will probably make me the pauper on the roof, begging to be heard. But what if this were era of trees and crystal-clear rivers, what if songs in these times in hymns mimic the gentle sway of trees, tweeting of birds in flight from clear skies and water of puritan hue and if it were Mozart’s, will we ever understand why the need for violin, songs to refresh the spirit?
These days of squalor, noises will drown one’s minute respite with moment of eyes to shut, daydream of the good old days. The old Manila of the sub-state period, for the frolic of the few there is the horse-drawn carriages and for mortals to make paces quicker there is the Trambia, an electric locomotive running on rails in city streets. Distances farther away are made closer in time and on schedule made possible by bigger locomotives in rails to keep food wherever there may be needed, affordable because they come in bulks.
What then haunts of nightmares when in spates of modern present-day scare, petrol become less and less obtainable as masses, throngs of people from overseas where wells of their oil run dry if not incinerated, become aware they are not free and therefore must bequeath to be one much like us in the free world. What if questions to hanker on wars yet to happen, what will become of you and I parched of oil, economy to blunder and food run aground because transport grounds to a halt, what now then? Begin anew, but from what, when and from where?
What seeks you mortal to question God as raging water flushed from hills bald of trees, wash away lifetime savings homes and loved ones. If not of your insatiable greed, trees would have been there to halt the rain’s angrier sway, then matters of your pain would have been saved; hasn’t God been kind bring books to you to read to emulate written centuries before, the Qur’an, the Bible, the Talmud, all of it says preserve life in his name, but you violated. Or as mortals, shouldn’t it jolt that anger is not our sole domain, a monopoly for us only, the mortals? Nature has shown angst of path to flatten earth, and rightly so it is.