Life According To Us

There is something about the sea
That you can not fathom.
The fury that engulfs the shore
Also tames the deep.
A loner’s world
Where only the waves can listen
But never grieves.
Witness but cannot speak.
Lives are lost in the sea.
But provides hope to the
yearnings of the heart of those
who find refuge
among the jagged edge of its rocks
a serene place where one
could rests her tired heart
until the longing has stopped
and the sea has subsided to genteelness.
Let go, the sea would shout.
If you listen, you shall fear it no more.

20 January 2001

There is nothing more saddening than to see the agony of a mother waiting for her baby to die slowly inside her womb. And yet this is where I was upon learning of my sister in law’s condition when she was rushed to the hospital after bleeding. Her placenta is low and thin that the amniotic fluid was dripping away like a time bomb for her baby.

“After a few days, the amniotic fluid will be gone and we have to deliver the baby through ceasarian,” they were told matter of factly by the doctor. He was four months old.

Just a few months back they lost what would have been their second child. Their daughter’s heart was too weak to go beyond her first term.

So we thought it will be a different story this time. The baby was strong. He tested negative for Down syndrome. Except for occasional evening sickness, mother was generally fine. Per all indications he would be a healthy baby boy like his older brother until my sister in law started to have intermittent bleeding.

Deep inside I was hoping there would be a miracle. Based on the ultrasound, the baby was relentlessly clinging to dear life. There was no sign of weakening. He was not yet ready to give up. He was such a fighter.

The night before, his mother dreamt of a young boy pleading her to put him back to the swimming pool where there was so much water. Her mother would have wished it was that easy.

Last Friday, it was all over. At one point during the delivery, the doctor just decided to turn off the Doppler because the little heartbeat was still there.

—

Nobody has seen his face or touched his tiny hands. All we knew was he was brave.

I will try to imagine him as a cherub laughing heartily to his own mischief and enjoying our company in his own unobtrusive way.

I am sure he will always be amongst us.

One summer many years ago, my brother, then a college student, started organising a basketball team to play for the village’s tournament. Interestingly, he did not seek the best he could find. Instead he rounded up a motley group of youngsters aged between 6-10 who were unwanted by other teams. “Latak” is a Filipino term that seems derogatory but somehow aptly described collectively the new team. They are either chubby couch potatoes who cannot quickly run or scrawny nerds who were hopelessly clumsy and uncoordinated. Nevertheless they ended up in the team because of their keenness to play in the tournament. My brother has one rule for the team though: They need to turn up at 6 am sharp at practice. Otherwise, they don’t get to play in the next game. In return, he promised everybody they will have playing time in every game.

During practice, he would push their limits with endless drills. In the afternoon, he would ask them to sell old newspapers together to raise money for their uniforms. After a few weeks and occasional fistfights, these youngsters would bond and be friends. All would feel part of a team.

I would try to catch their games as much as possible. They were the crowd favorites. Sadly not because they were that good but because they were that bad. The hecklers would have a field day. But even under extreme heat and imminent humiliation, I can see in the faces of these young boys the determination to win. And they would really play hard. But it would always end the same way. With their heads bowed, they would accept their defeat time and again until the tournament was over.

“Next year I expect to see you again at 6 am,” my brother would tell them after a long pep talk before disbanding at the end of the tournament.

They would not forget that experience. In the next 12 months, they would join school tournaments with a new sense of confidence.

The following summer, they would gather again at the appointed time. This time they would be taller and more experienced with basketball. Half of the team would come back more confident with awards they won in their school leagues. The whipping boys of old would shoot with precision and block balls with vengeance. The ducklings would become the crowd’s favorite as they rout their opposition one by one. The revenge would be complete by the end of the tournament with the trophy in tow.

Then after 2 years, my brother would disband his old team and organise a new one. It would be the same story. Young boys making their first step in a transformational journey that would teach them the value of hard work, patience, perseverance, team work in success. That would be their first lesson in basketball. But if the boys get it, they would realise one day what they learnt in that court also applies to much bigger things later in life.

It’s quite amusing that even a military coup is no longer taken seriously in the Philippines. It has become just an inconvenient sideshow to the bigger political circus. But it can turn out to be a really interesting specatcle.The news all over Australia shows a bride adamant to proceed with her wedding in spite of the siege. And then you have journalists restrained in what seems to be plastic handcuffs. Call centres going about their business unmindful of the curfew.

The truth is the ordinary Filipino is just tired of politics. A national elections has just finished and yet you have politicians declaring their intentions to run for president in 2010. And then suddenly you have this, military adventurists professing their love for the very people they would disenfranchise.

The reality is that politics is no longer about public service. It has become the new sports of the elite and celebrities looking for new careers who find the coveted prize of power and adrenaline that comes with elections too appealing. The ballot is no longer sacred. Its all about winning the elections or seizing power. Platform of government? When was the last time you’ve heard a Filipino politician articulated a well thought out policy for the Philippines?

If you tried to recall and cannot remember there is nothing really wrong with your memory. It just tells you there lies the sad story of the Phillipines today.

When he was 11, his father suddenly died and as a consequence his family was evicted from the farm and was forced to live temporarily in a car. But he was good in school and eventually finished university. Last night, he dedicated his victory to his parents as he got proclaimed as Australia’s new Prime Minister. He campaigned on a platform that calls for an education revolution.

As Filipinos, we have this intrinsic faith in the value of education. Its a well known tale that some rural folks would sell their carabaos, the backbone of their livelihood, so they could send their children to college. An investment for the future worthy of the sacrifices they have to bear today.

But its not without basis. I’ve known families who wear able to escape utter poverty because of a college diploma. One of my friends here used to work as a gasoline boy in Manila. Yes a gasoline boy! And he said one of his most humbling moments is when he has to pump petrol to the car of one of his crushes. But he finished university and is now a highly paid IT executive here in Australia.

Nothing really beats intellectual capital when it comes to return of investment. Multi-billion new industries can be spawned by new found knowledge. Intel is a good example of this.

On the other hand, I have also witnessed families slide into poverty because they squandered their opportunities for a good education.

David Ogilvy, the reknown advertising guru, said one of the best resumes he ever read was from this guy who would later become one of his vice presidents. That part of the resume that left a lasting impression on Ogilvy went something like this:

“My father is a plumber at Ritz Hotel. My mother a chambermaid at the same hotel. I am a graduate of London School of Economics.”

To me, what he put there, pretty much sums up the transformational power of education because of the opportunities it can bring to people’s lives.