May iniisip ka?
Oo.
Ano?
Ayaw kong sabihin. Baka magkatotoo.
Dahil makulit ka
Kilala kita. Oo, ikaw 'yun: Nagkasalubong na tayo minsan, sa LRT, sa Gotohan, sa kanto ng Aurora at Katipunan. Nagkatinginan tayo. Hindi mo ako kinausap, pero alam ko, nakilala mo rin ako. Kaya ka narito, di ba? Para sabihing, Oo, oo, ikaw nga 'yun. Naaalala kita.
na, mula noong 24 Enero, 2006, ang nakitambay dito
sa wakas
Wednesday, April 30, 2008
Kahapon, habang naghahanda sa opis ng mga tula (siyempre dinidiskartehan ko 'yun nang walang nakakapansin), biglang nag-ingay ang mga tao. Semi-palakpakan, 'yung parang palakpakan na walang palakpak pero alam mong kung hindi masyadong mukhang cheesy e papalakpak nga ang mga tao. (Labo nu'n, a).
Lagi kasing may bukas na TV sa opis, at nakatutok 'yun sa closed-circuit TV ng Senado kapag mayroong hearing sa 2nd floor. Nagkaroon ng kaunting ingay kasi pagkatapos magsalita ni Bossing, pagkatapos siya i-interpellate ng iba pang Senador, na-ratify na sa wakas 'yung Quality Affordable Meds bill. Siya na ngayon ang Universally Accessible, Cheaper and Quality Medicines Act of 2008. Putcha ang haba nu'n a, naubusan ako ng hininga.
E di ayun, parang may isang malaking buntong-hininga, may collective kilabot na bumalot sa opis. 'Yun bang pakiramdam na "puta, tumulong ako diyan, a." Sunud-sunod kaming humirit: "Tang'na sa wakas," "Ayun," "Puta finally," "Rakenrol. Bote tayo mamaya." Ang sabi sa akin ng ibang katropa dito nagtatalon daw si Boss sa tuwa, pero knowing him, duda ako. Di ko ma-imagine na tumatalon siya, e.
Anyway. Lalong na-hyper ang mga tao nu'ng narinig namin sa radyo na ini-ratify na rin 'yung counterpart bill sa Kongreso. So pirmahan na lang (at siyempre, implementation,) okey na 'to.
Kararating ko lang sa opis nitong Enero, pero alam kong matagal ding tinrabaho ng lahat ng tao 'to. Masarap din pala 'yung pakiramdam na (halos) direktang nakakalunas sa problema ng tao 'yung mga ginagawa mo, o 'yung mga bagay na tumutulong ka para magawa.
Ano 'yung sabi ni Ka Jess Santiago? Parang, "Kung ang tula ay isa lamang pumpon ng salita...?" Sa akin, kung ang tula ay isa lamang pumpon ng salita, tutula pa rin ako. Bagaman hindi tula ang trabaho ko dito-- speeches-- naramdaman ko ngayon na puta kailanman, hindi lang pumpon ng salita ang anumang pumpon ng salita.
At kahit nalabuan ka sa sinabi kong 'yun, okey lang. Basta. Tangina bote.
P.S. Dahil astig ka, ishe-share ko sa 'yo 'to. Salamat kina Waps, Arkaye, at Margie sa pagsamang magsulat noong isang gabi. Kay Waps especially, dahil galing sa kanya 'yung unang linya ng tula.
Mebuyen
I live in a country without vineyards. We nail crosses to the trunks of coconut trees as we wait for the sap to ferment. At night the bats swoop down from their canopies as the many words for fear rest heavy on our tongues. Mangoes dangle from trees like tusks and one summer out of every century a vast predatory cloak of locusts covers the rice fields. Understand: we are easily scared in my country, and when strangers arrive, our villages echo with the sound of a thousand slippers slapping on dirt-roads. I live in a country where a prayer hides beneath every curse, and when one cannot find a word for what one feels, one sighs and lets the wind ache instead. Sometimes we are reminded of our embittered gods, but only as history, more memory than faith, and when they rap at our windows or peer from inside their bamboo thickets, we see only shadows and think of ghosts. I live in a country without angels or snow, without a word for guilt, and we are happy inside our churches until the rains come and the rivers swell and again we are reminded that, once, a goddess watered our country with milk from her breasts and the lands filled with trees like so many green, upturned hands.
Ano ba 'yan, mag-a-atrenta na ulit. Good luck sa lahat ng mga malalalim ang eyebags at isang linggo nang walang tulog at pinatatakbo ng yosi at kape sa mga panahon na 'to. Basta pag-abot ng a-trenta, puwede na 'yan potah. Ipasa n'yo na. (Inom tayo sa deadline, a. Dala kayong extrang kopya tapos basahan/basagan tayo pagkapasa.)
Paalala lang-- sa tingin ko magandang magpanotaryo ka na bago pa pumunta du'n sa pasahan. Lumipat na sila ng opisina; hindi tayo sigurado kung mayroon pa ring magnonotaryo du'n kung dumating ka ng alas dose.
Anyway. Gudlak ulit. Kung hindi mo alam ang pinag-uusapan dito, hehe, sige lang balik ka na sa tahimik at masaya mong buhay kahit papatapos na ang Abril.
P.S. Nga pala, tungkol sa Meds Bill na pinag-usapan noong isang entry: punta ka rito, pirma ka. Dahil astig ka at gusto mo ng murang gamot para sa mamamayang Pilipino. (At dahil, malay mo, ma-good karma ka pagdating ng Setyembre. Hehe.)
Tama na muna ang tula: Kung ano talaga ang meron dito sa medicines bill na 'to
Saturday, April 26, 2008
1.
E di murang gamot.
Paano mas mumura? Ganito: sa ngayon, kapag may local patent ang mga gamot, bawal mag-import ng ganu'ng klaseng gamot din-- kahit pa ba mas mura (nang di hamak!) 'yun sa ibang bansa. Halimbawa: 'yung Daonil (para sa diabetes,) ibinebenta sa katumbas ng 80 centavos sa India. Dito, P9.86. 'Yung Plendil, para sa hypertension? P21.82 dito. Sa India: P2.69. Hangga't walang Quality Affordable Meds Bill, 'yung mga multinationals na may hawak ng patent dito, puwede nilang hayaang mataas ang presyo ng gamot dito, at walang magagawa ang kahit sino.
Kapag naipasa ang Quality Affordable Medicines Bill, puwede nang mag-parallel importation ang mga tagarito (pangunahin, ang gobyerno). Pag nakuha nila nang mas mura ang gamot, maibebenta nang mas mura dito. Simple lang, di ba? At astig.
2.
E kung ganu'n, ba't di pa maipasa-pasa?
Actually, malapit na talagang maipasa. 'Yung tungkol diyan sa parallel importation thing na 'yan, solb na. Naipasa na sa House, pati sa Senate; pinagrereconcile na 'yung dalawang versions ng bill. Ang gusot, nasa pagkakaiba tungkol sa price regulation.
Ganito: 'yung House version, trip nila, sakaling di gawin ng market ang trabaho niya at kailanganin ng price regulation, sa isang Price Regulatory Board babagsak ang trabaho ng pagsasabi ng price ceilings. Sa Senate, sa Presidente malalagay ang price regulatory powers na 'yun, upon recommendation ng Secretary of Health.
Ganito: ang isang Board, appointees ang laman. Hindi mo alam kung sino 'yan, kung paanong napunta sa board, etc. Sa madaling sabi, prone to corruption ang isang board. (Kayo na ang bahalang mag-isip kung bakit ito ang itinutulak ng mga butihin nating congressman.) Ang presidente, puwede naman din siyang mag-convene ng board, manghingi ng recommendation kahit kanino. Ang presidente ibinoboto natin. Ang punto: Sa huli, dapat may taong magsasabi na, "Narinig ko na lahat nang dapat kong marinig tungkol dito. Ito ang desisyon ko." Para alam natin kung sino ang pagtutuonan ng pansin, kung sino ang sasagot ng tanong, kung sino ang sisisihin kapag may nangyaring kagaguhan. At nasa presidente dapat ang responsobilidad na 'yun.
Ang punto: accountability. Transparency. Kung wala niyan, talo tayong lahat.
At 'yan, 'yan ang pinagtatalunan sa bicam ngayon, kaya hindi maipasa itong bill na 'to.
3.
Pasensiya na kung medyo off-topic, a. Naaasar lang ako. Iniisip ko kung ilang tao 'yung walang P9.86 pero may 80 centavos, kung ilan sa kanila 'yung may diabetes, kung ilan sa kanila 'yung kailangang masaktan o mamatay, kung ilang araw o linggo o buwan pang may kailangang masaktan o mamatay, dahil sa pagtatalo ng mga lider natin.
4.
Para sa mga nakainuman ko na, alam ninyo kung bakit medyo maalam ako tungkol dito. Kung hindi, inuman tayo.
"...(B)icameral conferees Iloilo Representatives Ferjenel Biron and Janette Garin’s complaints about the bill’s alleged imperfections should be dismissed as sourgraping. The two lawmakers said that the final omnibus version is a watered-down bill. They expressed doubts about its efficacy to bring down the price of medicines. The price regulatory board the two are pushing is exactly what the pharmaceutical companies are looking for—- a mechanism for negotiations on profits and prices cloaked in anonymity and bereft of accountability."
6.
Pagkatapos kong maasar, naisip ko, kailangan nating palawigin ang kaalaman ng taumbayan tungkol dito. Kamalayan, bok, kamalayan. Tangina pare buhay ng tao 'yan, e, buhay ng tao ang usapan, e.
'Yun lang. Sabi ko nga, di ba: Gawin ang lahat nang kayang gawin sa pinakamahusay na paraan na kaya nating gawin. 'Yun lang. Kaya ko naisip magpost tungkol dito.
Kung gusto ninyo ng FAQ tungkol sa Quality Affordable Medicines Bill, email n'yo lang ako.
Silence like a starless morning, which is not silence at all but a form of longing, the moon like an afterthought in the shape of a sigh solid on your throat, a stone turning to water in an instant. A starless morning like that blue horizon a ship sees when wanting to dock finally and the wanting becomes real like suddenly a vast fogless bay, real like its cargo of spice and crosses and music, weightless things so heavy on the shoulders of the small brown-skinned people in their loin-cloths on the shores. In their loincloths with spears impaled on the sand, speaking in consonants lost on the slumbering eardrums of the old world. But this is my country. This is my country, old as water. This is my country of pumice and songs only in minor-chords only my ancestors don't know it, don't know what to call it, this sadness in six strings only. Count the sadnesses and I will sing to you of my blue starless mornings, my blue starless horizons choked with the suffering of my country, suffering I only now remember because of more suffering. I forget now the water in my ancestors’ eyes when they spoke of the moon, Bulan with her one silver eye, their lips forming the shape of bubbles or rain or was it a comb hung like a soundless chime in the heavens. Bulan I call her now because it sounds so brown. I forget now her hair black as the flowing rivers of my broken archipelago, her ankles brown as harvest soil which everyone forgets because of the luminous grains soon to be in their bellies. Bulan I forget now even the shadows that each name held. Bulan to ask you to hold me sounds so much like an infidelity, like someone dying but when she cries for mercy her murderers do not understand. Or maybe they hear some other thing, More or Please I like it or Someday no one will remember this so just go on killing me. It's okay. Bulan I forget your name sometimes but it's okay the moon shines everywhere and I can call you by whatever name I want. I can even keep silent if I want to. Even if I bleed.
When you imagined them tearing his chest open and finding only water, you found the truth behind history: Words betray. Only the secrets matter.
But perhaps that is only your own truth. What you see when you tear your own chest open. They poured and poured until the native --what? Until he was cured of his secrets? On the page his eyes are a century apart from yours. You imagine his lungs swollen, pale as if bleached.
You imagine yourself, there. Him. On the page speaking in tongues, the soldiers calling for a translator. Even then failing to understand. I was eleven when they burnt the rice fields. Twelve when they cut down my brothers. There on the page, your body a church of secrets. I heard my mother scream. Or maybe it was myself. It was not so long ago. I’m surprised I can’t remember. They pause to call for more water. There is so much water in your country. When I killed the first of my enemies, I felt my throat fill with fire. Perhaps it was happiness.
There is nothing truer than what you have said. What secrets can they take from you now? The names of your spies pour unto the soil. The strength of your numbers dissolve into your blood. You imagine yourself cleansed as you are left with your guts knotted and torn inside of you. Knotted and torn like so many roads
leading to the nowhere one finds at the end of history. Or at its beginning. Where there is neither thirst nor the weightlessness of drowning. Where all that matters need not be spoken.
