I’m no fan of beauty pageants, but I sincerely hope that Venus Raj wins Miss U tomorrow. We need a FEEL-GOOD moment after that Manila Bus Hostage tragedy, and all those other bus-related tragedies (Benguet, CamSur) in the last few days.

Everyone’s been focusing on the tragedies, and with good reason. From faulty brakes to reportedly drug-boosted drivers, from 42 dead in Benguet, to a former beauty titlist dead in Cam Sur—all in a week’s span—this series of disgustingly unfortunate but avoidable events are a glaring reminder of what this country has become: transportation hell.

Of course, the Quirino Grandstand fiasco had nothing to do with faulty brakes and drivers on a high. The world watched in horror as it showcased a disgruntled former policeman with a mission, get his job and benefits back, by calling the Ombudsman’s attention with 22 hostages onboard a Chinese tourist bus. Naturally, GMA and ABS-CBN were there to get the grisly details on the 6:30 news. ABS wins the “Most Insensitive, Sensationalized Award”, in my book, for training their cameras on the bloodied bodies of tourists on stretchers, some of whom the reporter blithely identified as already dead. There was even a shot of Dinky Soliman giggling like a schoolgirl as cabinet officials and medical spokespersons got ready for their press conference. I have never seen such blood-curdling television since Face to Face.

There was a lot to be ashamed of as the crisis segued into the night. I won’t go into all those serious and not-so-serious feedbacks flying all over twitter and facebook all night. I will not go on the defensive, begging the international community not to judge us Filipinos for one man’s actions. C’mon. The late Senior Inspector Mendoza WAS one of us. Frustrated, out-of-control, misunderstood. Hate him on facebook, we hate ourselves. He represented the worst in all of us, so we should rightfully be ashamed.

P-Noy has apologized is groping for explanations to the Chinese government for what happened. HongKong has issued a total travel ban to the Philippines. A facebook friend warns, “Kawawang Singson sa HongKong”.

Me, I’m going to root for Venus Raj, who lost a friend and probably a couple thousand text votes tonight.

Edit 8/24/10: And it’s “hoora” for Ms. Raj, Miss Universe 4th Runner-up!

 
Funny how the UP Centennial (2008) makes me think not of the beehive that was Palma Hall, nor the cold white floor of the Faculty Center where my friend Ria and I used to sit, waiting for an audience with one of our professors. All my happy sappy memories are of Kalayaan dorm, that haven for freshmen plucked from every region of the country you can think of. I remember bitching about the food, and gagging at stories about the fish eating Dona Paz victims, and us eating the fish. I remember filling my dorm room walls with magazine cutouts of my males of the month (yet I don't remember who they are now). I remember Ely Buendia, pre-Eraserheads, sitting alone in the cafeteria, and teaming up with the St. Scho girls for the all-freshmen volleyball team. I remember swapping Loveswepts and Candelight romances with Shy and Rahnee, boarding Recto-bound jeepneys to get to second-hand book stalls, which would promptly fold up at the hint of a raid.I remember waking up one morning to a loud radio broadcast of a coup d' etat, which, until that day, I only read about in history books. I was on the first floor--Room 105--and the whole dorm was abuzz with coup news. Our first concern was, "May pasok kaya?" We then gathered that there were government troops storming Philcoa, a jeepride away from Kalayaan. Someone was warning us: "If you have subversive materials, tear them up or hide them!" I thought about my Loveswepts, dismissing them as non-subversive. I remember our Residence Assistant advising us to stay inside the dorm, but somehow, Rahnee and I were able to slip out to the Shopping Center at the back of Kalayaan. We were hoarding supplies--peanut cakes, sanitary napkins, Coke-in-cans. There was no telling how long we were going to be holed up in the dorm. When we got back, my daddy was there, waiting to bring me home. A group of dormers gathered around us as we got ready to leave. But the dorm admin did not allow anyone to leave unless parents themseves came to fetch them. My dad was the first one there, and I was the first to leave.I hated leaving my friends behind. Daddy explained that it would be irresponsible for him to take them without the knowledge of their parents. I waved goodbye, guilty and bothered. I was rather amused by his mode of transportation: a white cargo vehicle with the single word PRESS in big bold red letters, PRESS as in PRINTING PRESS, not Inquirer or anything. But I figured those flashing red letters did the trick. We were not bothered by anyone from any armored personnel carrier as we sped our way home.
I spent four years in UP, but that one semester in Kalayaan--my first 6 months alone in a big school--is the most vivid. After that sem, I was able to brave the endless lines of registration, my first great heartbreak, my 2.75 in Math.

And that was just the Freshman year.
 
THE FOLLOWING IS A BLOG ENTRY WHICH I COPIED AND PASTED FROM MY ORIGINAL, PERSONAL BLOGSITE:
http://lexaprone.blogspot.com

I purposely fictionalized the style and point-of-view, but it's my personal account of a significant human experience--taking care of a sick parent.

School is a great place to be when you’re in high school.
Since freshman year, and well into our sophomore year, my classmates and I have bonded, invented crazy nicknames, crammed for tests, and cheered for our softball team that haven’t even won anything yet.
In our junior year, we dreamed of what we would wear to the prom.
We (the girls) would all audition for the role of Sisa in Noli Me Tangere.
We (the officer trainees) would scramble from all over the campus to get to the tipon on time (Sir, thank you, Sir!).

I’m a senior now. And it’s different this time.
This time, there’s a baby at home.
It’s different, because I don’t have time to linger with my friends after classes anymore.
“I have to go home.”
They don’t get it. I used to take the last service trip home. Now, I’m the first one aboard.

Weekends at the mall are no longer in my itinerary. I do get to see a movie once a month or so, but that’s nothing compared to the back-to-back-to-back films my friends and I used to watch not so long ago. I tell them, “The baby needs me.” They don’t get it.

I lessened my extra-curricular activities this year. Last year I planned to run for Student Council President (I was already the Vice President), and we had already formed a party during the summer break. I backed out, thinking of all that responsibility, and the time I will have to spend working as president---if I win. “ I don’t have time to be an officer this year. I have to stay with my baby.” They didn’t get it then.

Yes, school is a great place to be when you’re in high school—especially in the senior year. But this year, I have come to realize that being home, staying home, is just as great when you have a very good reason to be home. My reason for wanting to be home early, as often as possible, is to take care of an ailing loved one.

That loved one is my mother, and I call her “Baby.”

My baby has been diagnosed with Parkinson’s Disease early this year. It’s a disease that affects the movement of the muscles. Every movement is slow and awkward, even painful at times. Often, her hands tremble uncontrollably, and I have to hold them in mine until the tremors stop. There are many simple things she can no longer do on her own, like walking and taking a bath. I do these things for her now. She cries a lot, especially at night, so I tell her funny stories, and sing her to sleep. I do all these things for her, even if there’s a caregiver who looks after her while I’m in school.


My friends ask me,
“Don’t you miss our fun times together?”
“Don’t you get tired of taking care of your mom?”

I explained it to them:
“She loved me and took care of me when I was small and helpless. When I had fever, mumps, measles, amoebiasis and chicken pox, she never left my side. Now she’s helpless and sick. I love her, and I will take care of her. I will never leave her side.”

Someday, they will understand.
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    Millette Espiritu graduated cum laude from the University of the Philippines with a degree in English. She earned her Master's degree in English Language and Literature Teaching from the Ateneo Loyola Schools. She is a prolific blogger and pop culture critic. Oh yeah, she's also a teacher.

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