MY SPARKLE PENCIL

courtesy: tidingsofmagpies

A few days ago, I reunited with my childhood friend, Cathy, thru Facebook. We have been friends since Kinder (we were around 4 or 5 then) until the time my family transferred to another city when I was nine. It was a painful parting. We have seen each other only once after then, just a few months after we have settled to our new home (there was no Friendster, FB, email or even cellphone then, so we completely lost track of one another).

From the moment I got my Facebook account (and even during the Friendster and Multiply era), I’ve been searching for her. It was just last week that I opened my FB messages and found out that Cathy’s father (or mother) have left two messages asking if I was the person they know, and even mentioned my parents’ names for reference. My heart skipped a beat, because I knew that it was them, the family who was and is our family’s family friend. A day later, Cathy had an FB invitation which I gladly accepted.



courtesy: pytk ni bebet / adobo express

I had lots of good memories with Cathy. We always go to school together, along with my brother and her sister. We always walked from our house to the public elementary school at 5:30 in the morning, traversing along the busy (or sometimes flooded) streets of our small town. Then we crossed a timeworn railroad where numerous trolleys (pedaled by shirtless and sweaty ‘chauffeurs’) went across, along with a dilapidated train that passes every 6:00 AM, which always causes an earthquake of intensity 5 on the Richter scale of the decrepit houses on both sides. We sometimes ate breakfast (pan de sal with dari crème or cheese) while walking. At some mornings, instead of eating pan de sal, I will bring out from the pockets of my school skirt 2 or 3 not-so-ripe tomatoes and salt, and insatiably chomped at each with gusto (while Cathy, her sister and my brother cringed at the sight of something as sour as unripe tomato).  

At school, Cathy and I were never apart from each other. We both belong in the pilot section of our levels, and even our grades came out almost the same. After school, before our journey back home, we would spend our remaining coins on buying toys and trinkets or street food.  We often buy sundot kulangot (sweet coco jam inside a small bamboo twig, where you use a toothpick-like stick to get the jam inside), mansanitas (small yellow, orange or red fruits of a local shrub that taste very sour), sago-sago (edible palm tree fruit, with a green shell and white, soft flesh inside), sitsirya (junk food) like ET or accordion pictures of Barbie (worth 25c). Cathy and I always share together whatever loot we have amassed from the meager coins we have.

courtesy: priscillasbeauty

Cathy’s father is an OFW. So, whenever he comes home, Cathy always got me this shiny pencil with perfumed erasers that I really am crazy about. Each of my classmates whose father works in Saudi owns a similar pencil (or so I thought). I was extremely delighted to have one not out of conceit, but because I really love sparkly stuffs. I remember feeling so lucky then, that I got a friend who is munificent enough to share such a marvelous thingy to her friend.

Cathy will always be my best childhood BFF. She will be my sparkle pencil for all time, one who has added glitter and glimmer in my colorful life as a child.

KOMENTS

Hindi madali ang magturo. Ang mga guro ay kadalasang maganda, maayos at mabango bago pumasok sa kanilang klase. Ngunit sa gitna ng isang makabagbag-damdaming leksyon, nagbabagong anyo ang isang guro. Kapag nasa loob na ng klase: Tagaktak ang pawis. Basa ang kili-kili. Talsik pati ang laway. Puro pulbos ng yeso ang mukha. Nangangalit ang mga ugat sa leeg. Tuyo na ang labi at lalamunan. Pigang-piga ang utak. Said na said ang pasensya.

Anumang istilo ng pagtuturo at pambobola ang gamitin ng isang guro, ito pa rin ang karaniwang ending: karamihan sa mga bata sa klase ay nakanganga. Hindi ko alam kung napanganga sa kahusayan ng pagtuturo ng guro, o napanganga sa pagkamangha sa mga bagong aral na natutunan o sadyang nakanganga lang dahil walang naintindihan. Ang mas malala, maghapon na ngang nakanganga, umaangal pa.

Kapag binigyan ng takda: “Ang hirap naman”

Kapag sinaway: “Ang higpit naman”

Kapag pinagbawalan: “Ang KJ naman”

Kapag pinagalitan: “Ang sungit naman”

Kapag nahuli: “Ang malas naman”

Kapag naparusahan: “Ang bad trip naman”

Ilan lang ang mga ito sa madalas na komento ng mga kamote – este, estudyante. (kung makapag-comment, kala mo nag-effort ng bongga…)

Kung imbentor lang ako (yan ay KUNG), magiimbento ako ng robot na guro na may mga nakarecord nang instant comments maliban sa ‘Very Good!’ o ‘Mahusay!’ (Makabawi man lang… harhar!)

Kapag tinawag at nakasagot: “Ang galing naman”

Kapag tinawag at nakasagot pero mali: “Ang hina naman”

Kapag tinawag at matagal nakasagot: “Ang arte naman”

Kapag tinawag at hindi nakasagot: “Ang engot naman”

Kapag binigyan ng direksiyon at nakasunod: “Ang attentive naman”

Kapag binigyan ng direksiyon at nagtanong ulit: “Ang bungol naman”

Kapag binigyan ng direksiyon at hindi sinunod: “Ang slow naman”

Kapag nagpasa sa oras: “Ang sipag naman”

Kapag hindi nagpasa: “Ang tamad naman”

Kapag hindi nagsasalita: “Ang  lowbat naman”

Kapag salita nang salita: “Ang epal naman”

Kapag nangopya: “Ang kapal naman”

Kapag nangopya sa harap ng guro: “Ang malas mo naman”


Yun nga lang, hindi naman mangyayari ito. Kasama kasi sa mga karakter na inaasahan sa isang guro ang pagiging pasensyosa, maunawain at mapaggabay sa mga bata, maging mabait o makulit man sila, masipag o pasaway, tahimik o maingay, matalino o kulang sa talino. Kaya kahit ubos na ang pasensya ng isang guro, nakangiti pa rin siya (bumigay na yata...).

Pasalamat kayo, guro ako... at hindi imbentor.

Hanggang sa Muli


Lungkot. Hapis. Lumbay.
Luha. Patak… Agos... Buhos…
Mamaalam. Magpaalam. Namaalam. Paalam!


'Pang, ingat po...

Kaninang umaga ay namaalam na ang pinakamamahal na Papang… ng aming kaibigan na si Olan. Sa kabila ng pagkaratay ni Papang…, nabigla pa rin ako. Parang may malakas na pintong lumagabog at gumulat sa akin noong nabasa ko ang text ni Olan, “Wala na si papang…” Pinigil ko agad ang pag-iyak. Hindi pala, ayoko muna umiyak. Natigilan ako dahil hindi ko alam kung ano ang isasagot sa text na iyon. Condolences? O quote tungkol sa kagandahan ng buhay o tungkol sa kakayahan ng tao na maghilom ng sariling sugat? Bibigyan ko ba siya ng payo na kailangan niya kayanin at harapin ang lahat dahil bahagi iyon ng buhay? O aalayan siya ng kunsuwelo na si Papang ay nasa langit na, masaya at kasama na si Lord?

Tunay at makatwiran lamang kung bibigyan ko siya ng mga salitang nagpapahiwatig ng isa man sa mga ito. Pero batid kong alinman ay hindi sapat. Walang salitang sasapat at makapagpapaibsan ng hapis na bumabalot sa buong pamilya ni Papang ngayon, lalo na kay Olan (na maliban sa pagiging bunsong anak ay binata pa, kaya’t walang ibang masasandalan kundi si Mamang at ang mga ate at kuya niya). Kaya’t ang nasabi ko sa kanya, “Kahit isang timba na nailuha mo, hanggat may luha ka pa, ibuhos mo lang po. Bawat patak ng luha na iyan ay karapat-dapat lamang ialay sa Papang mo.”

Noong namatay si Nanay Leny… na aking biyenan, akala ko ay hindi ako maiiyak. Ang tagal kasi niyang naratay kaya’t parang makatwiran lamang na siya ay magpahinga na. Isa pa, ang tatapang kasi ng kanyang mga anak, kaya’t kailangan din maging matapang. Dadalawa lang kasi silang magkapatid kaya’t naghuhugutan ng lakas, hindi pwedeng magpakita ng kahinaan ang isa, dahil magugupo ang isa. Pero sa kabila noon, hindi pa rin pala napipigilan ang luha para sa isang minamahal. Aagos at aagos pa rin.

Pero okey lang kahit mag-flashfloods pa, ang bawat pagluha ay katumbas ng pagmamahal ng lahat ng mga naiwan.

Masakit. Nasaktan. Pasakit.
Kahapon. Kanina. Mamaya. Ngayon.
Iniwan. Naiwan. Iwanan. Iwan. Wala na.
Hanggang sa muli, Papang...

GO. WENT. GONE.



photo courtesy of Angela Ficorelli

Gone for three months. Excuses (and alibis): Had numerous adventures: September – friend’s birthday (bearhobs), October – quarterly exams then school field trip then my birthday with a bonus of an MIA employee, November – project granite for in-law then release of school cards then hubby’s birthday, December – exams then parents’ fashion show (where I get to meet a friend whom I haven’t seen for several years, Kulay) then Christmas parties then the much-awaited trip to the city of pines. It was indeed a very hectic ber-months.

Honestly, there was a couple of extra time for my blogging but my hunger for books got the best of me. I snatched a copy of Book 2: Son of Neptune of the Heroes of Olympus series and then bought Book 2: The Throne of Fire of the Kane Chronicles. In both cases, I have to reread the first book in order to recall everything before diving headfirst into the second book. Then in late October, I reread the Twilight series for the nth time, so that I could compare the details of the 4^th book with the first part of the 4^th film (and for the first time, I was not disappointed by how they made the movie). On my birthday, our teachers gave me the Inkheart trilogy, so for several days, I was obsessed with them too. Not to mention the 3^rd book in the Inheritance Cycle, Brisingr, and the first three books of the Cirque du Freak series. In December, during all the chaos and stress brought by the holidays, I reread the whole Percy Jackson and the Olympians pentalogy, which relaxes me before sleeping. It was just now that I realized that I read 18 books in 3 months! (How did I do that? I never read inside the car for I get nauseous, I only read in bed, in the rest room, in the shower, while watching TV, while eating, the whole weekends… lost in my thoughts again.)

Yep, I was gone for three months, but I hope it wouldn’t happen again. It wasn’t easy not to write in those times, especially when those creepy, crawling ideas started chasing each other in my mind whenever I close my eyes (the Jose Rizal idea keeps on winning their mataya-taya game). But in the end, all of them lost, since I was not able to write a single word about any of them.

What made me write again? I just go-went-gone to and from Ogygia.