Saccharum officinarum

a poem by Roger B Rueda

as the day breaks they are cutting the cane the slave cane

whose nightflowers of rubicund and rosy

are hiding their revelries from rays and view,

that rears over its cutters cracking and whizzing

with the immobilised vigour of a hungry peasantry;

that is a nightmarish crowd of androids, a ferocious

thick inflow of spikes and flapping buntings,

surging recalcitrantly and unable to rush onward,

checked by centuries of slavery that have bred it almost

seedless and sterile, needing man for

each new generation that's grown from the speartips

of those cut and crushed

by cohorts of men who are barely more free:

and where the cleared ground ends

they antagonise each other

the cane that is slave to its planter and cutter,

the cutter near slave to the owner of cane

in the dizzy heat of midday they are cutting the cane

bottles of water and white rum lie in the shade of slashed branches

with white rum and red wrath they are cutting the cane

hewing the thin skeletons for the marrows melodiousness

with cutlasses that live in contempt of bone

the bone of the neighbour who looks at your wife

the bone of your wife who's run back to her mother

the bone of your friend who's been seen with your boyfriend

every livid grievance can be cut out with a cutlass

but not the protest of cutting the cane for a pittance:

both cane and cutter carry leaf blades for the owner

in the calm of the evening they are cutting the cane

the infinite cane, the cane they make infinite,

the cane like themselves, like the arms of the starving,

the sweet cane that leaves an acerbic taste in the mouths of its reapers

The Other Night

a poem by Roger B Rueda

On the side, my mate lighted
a candle.
Fireflies balled
beside the fire,
pricking the black
about us.
From each end
of the shrubbery,
crickets whirred the warm,
slick air.
I thought of those who have
loved me,
gone like summer drupes
plumped from leaves;
their shadows
followed me
into the house. Now,
by the moon, a fading star.

Grab a copy now!

This isn't your ordinary grammar book. It is thoroughly recommended for advanced students, student teachers, and practising teachers. It is a handy reference book which works like a grammar dictionary. Just look up for example, countable and uncountable nouns, and it gives a brief but comprensible explanation. Ring 0917 799 8660 for courier and freight deliveries.

[A Plain & Practically Lucid English] Grammar

Product Details
Paperback: 320 pages
Publisher: CentralBooks, Quezon City
Language: American English
ISBN: 978-971-691-990-5
Product Dimensions: 6 x 9 x 0.7 inches
Price: Php 650
Contact: rueda215@gmail.com/0917 799 8660

Learning grammar is a way to devote to yourself. You don’t need anything more than a couple of good writing resources and an eagerness to take the time essential to sharpen up your skills. At first, it might be a drag, but ultimately, all those grammar rules will turn out to be second nature and you will have become a first class writer.

Mother

a poem by Roger B Rueda

She still minces it in little bites, the pith of a banana,

mung bean sprouts slick and shiny, lumpia wrap

blooming  from the pads  of her fingers,

until each seam gleams from her mother’s touch.

She tweaks sticky rice, each grain

twice-rinsed, to free the starch,

to feed this son, strengthen the march

of those suckling’s legs she recalls, the thump

and pull as he swam up from

the hollow sway beneath her ribs.

Her hand cupped on her middle, back

then she imagined him a sharp-tailed prawn,

fizzing pink curl of flesh,

anemone in a sweetened sea.

He belongs to me, she had held,

hollowing mangoes with the bowl of her spoon.

Giving she knows: to live. So even now,

Molo balls grow fat and rich in broth,

gabi, bangos, radish, string beans,

tamarind leaves  for soup. He will always

want sinigang, when he comes.

She’ll boil water later, sauté aubergine with eggs,

as good as that wife might wish

she could make, that wife who keeps

him, so distant, for years now,

in a country she’s never seen,

where she knows, just knows,

the bangos is never fresh,  the sinigang

so saline or  bland from lack of tamarind sap.

Tiwi

an essay by Roger B Rueda

A tricycle-ride away (60.42 metres) from the town proper of Barotac Nuevo, Tiwi is seat of the Iloilo State College of Fisheries (ISCOF) main campus. Tradition-bearers recount that then a dark cloud of tiwis would come swarming out of their nests and the mangrove swamps all over the ponds or rice-fields. Since then, the place has been called Tiwi by the local folks, who were originally fishermen, who were dab hands at culturing bangos and oysters along the coast. (The cluster of shacks and shanties, grey and weatherbeaten, covered in faded bamboo shingles, was then a scene to see in this peaceful village.)

The bird inhabits the marshland of the place, at the ponds. They have reclusive nature. Cautious and well camouflaged, the tiwi is hardly ever seen these days. They must have gone off somewhere very far in a sulk.

A wading bird, the tiwi eats a variety of bugs, earthworms, small molluscs, shrimps, and some vegetal matter as well as occasional seeds and berries. Its beak is long and flexible, able to find food by feel alone. When I was a young boy all of nine or ten, I saw some tiwis while slogging around swamped bottomlands. When startled, the birds would fly off in a zigzag pattern while emitting a high-pitched call. For one, not confident in its camouflage, being the same colour as dried grass, the tiwi can not stand still when it feels danger.

Their nests are dry grasses put together in a grass tussock at the edge of slushy areas. Usually, the hen lays four blotched eggs. Then, after an incubation of 18-20 days (shared by both parents), the eggs hatch. Like other ground-nesting birds, the young leave the nest almost immediately after hatching and are able to follow the mother in search of food. Within a couple of months, the small tiwi can fly well enough to fend for themselves.

The tiwi measures about 10 1/2 inches long and weighs about 4 1/2 ounces. It is most comfortable in shallow, freshwater marshy ranges. The tiwi’s brown, black, and grey feathering makes for superb camouflage in brambles and low-growing grasses. Its legs are shorter than most wading birds' legs.

I'm afraid that someday the bird will vanish without trace. Most Tiwinians must have not seen this bird. Conservation projects are the only hope of the bird to be kept for future generations. Locals should take pictures of the bird they happen to spot - to capture life that is transient and elusive. For one, the bird stands for the barangay and its people.

Tiwi is the most populated barangay in Barotac Nuevo. In the world of magic and myth, they must be tiwis incarnate, quick-witted and sprightly. And these days, most Tiwinians are no longer fishermen. There are some who are and most of their fishing effort and harvest is focussed on five species: bangos, tilapia, seabass, prawns, and mud crabs. Each morning, you can still see local fishermen unload their catch and an early get up is rewarded by the most spectacular sun rise.

[Did you know? The first settlers of Tiwi were the Bayogoses, the Baitos, the Belgas, the Benbans, the Barsaleses, and the Bondads.]

The Adjective

an essay by Roger B Rueda

The adjective delimits (or limits) the noun or varies its meaning. A simple denotation can be deepened or changed or confined by an adjective.  We can grasp everything - from concepts to images - considerably or unmistakeably through the adjective.

Personally, the adjective helps me enchant my readers to slope into my imaginings, my ideas. It builds a tone for them, it generates a frame of mind, and it shows rigidity. It enlivens my writing to them, translating an experience or idea into written words that let them visualise the situation.

The art of playing with the most fitting adjectives is the key for making a writing work well with the reader, I believe. Using a wide array of adjectives in a writing is indeed effective in the sense that it does not only drive away the readers’ encumbrance but also kindles their curiosity, to scour the whole texts for clues, for its drift.

That’s why as a writing teacher, when I teach sentence stylistics, my efforts are centred on the adjective – essentially, on the noun phrase, whose other component is the adjective. A writing can be well organised for one thing but can be rather dull without the sense of balance in the noun phrase. The adjective colours a writing and divulges the true nature of the writer. It gives anything we say some kind of configuration and piquancy and impression. It spices a writing up quite a bit or further, or somewhat. It calibrates the abstracts and feelings by helping the noun to be more perceptible and discernible. 

I’ve pored through the volumes of documents – novels, poetry books, journals, dictionaries, grammars – to get my hands on the adjective sequence, something that is widely held and shared. Demonstrably, I’ve incorporated it in a grammar I wrote in 2009, in APPLE [A Plain & Practically Lucid English] Grammar (CentralBooks). One thing I've wanted is to simplify the difficult task of teaching writing to beginners or foreign students. The sequence logical or practical as it may appear gives the noun phrase an element of structure, and that is important to a learner who is following a broad trail of dubiety and unfamiliarity, the trail where he seems to scrabble for ideas or methods. For one, a learner needs a thoughtful, penetrating mind, which he doesn't have yet, on the whole. A beginner learner in English might feel quite peculiar for the strangeness of language not their own. 

Indeed, I have come up with something to follow. Here is the list, a catalogue of a series, in turn; then a catalogue of examples – a sort of vade mecum for beginning writers:

(1) determiner-a, an, the, some, many, much, little, a little, a few, few, one, two, three, ten, fifty, this, these, that, those, first, second, third, my, his, her, their, our, your, Celine’s, any, several, every, a quantity of, a number of, a small number of

(2) opinion- amusing, anxious, beautiful, boring, comical, confident, crazy, delicious, droll, edgy, elegant, entertaining, exciting, fluent, funny, gorgeous, inferior, intelligent, happy, high- humorous, interesting, low-grade, mad, mediocre, nervous, passionate, poor, pretty, quality, rich, sad, sexy, serious, striking, stunning, substandard, tired, tedious, ugly, uneasy, witty

(3) size-big, large, small, thin, fat, tall, short, long, enormous, colossal, humongous, giant, king-sized, medium-sized, long-sized, short-sized, family-sized, plump, oversize

(4) weight-bulky, chunky, bantam-weight, heavy, light, hefty, thick

(5) participle-(-ing) cooking, playing, baking, dancing, swimming, writing, reading, singing (p.p.) fallen, hidden, broken, iced, baked, written, burnt, mixed, cut, sold, frozen

(6) temperature- cold, fiery, frosty, hot, lukewarm, temperate, tepid, wintry

(7) humidity-dry, wet, misty, soppy, watery, hazy, foggy, murky, cloudy, soaked, damp, soaking, drenched, sodden, soggy

(8) shape-round, triangular, rectangular, oval, elongated, circular, heart-shaped, pear-shaped, egg-shaped, spherical, rounded, globular, rotund

(9) age-old, young, new, vintage, antique, primeval, contemporary, current, previous, former, obsolete, medieval, traditional, long-established, time-honoured

(10) colour-pink, white, black, yellow, magenta, green, red, purple, blue, brown, grey, orange, sky blue, navy blue, yellow green, beige, taupe, mauve, lavender, auburn, colourless, fair-skinned, pale-skinned,

(11) origin-South Korean, North Korean, Korean, Japanese, Chinese, American, Australian, Chilean, Argentinean, Italian, Peruvian, Canadian, New Zealander, Russian, Swiss, Roman, lunar, solar, Mongolian, Philippine (culture/government/history), Philippines (news, crime, business, company)/Filipino (person)

(12) material- bamboo, cotton, crystal, egg, emerald, fibre, jade, gold, leather, metal, paper, plastic, fabric, apple, banana, beef, pork, fish, mushroom, mango, tomato, steel, carbon, coal, vinyl, porcelain, pearl, diamond, ruby, plywood, silver, rock, hydrogen, flour, ivory, wooden

(13) purpose- (-ing) , baking, cooking, , dancing playing, reading, singing, swimming, writing/ (noun) body, computer, eye, hand, pencil, school, street, table

By the way, number 5 is either the present participial adjective or the past participial adjective. The present participial adjective is used to refer to an action (perhaps developing or functional). Number 13 is the gerundival adjective. It is used to refer to a purpose. Determining the two adjectives is contextual, so the use of the two adjectives has to be executed with meticulous attention to detail and background. There are some dictionaries that incorporate these adjectives, but of course its description and definition are confined to few sentences, or worse there is nothing at all. 

Of course, the adjective has its own inflexion, but not much in English. A good memory retention is enough. There are some exceptional rules, but, well, a good grammar or a usage book is enough, to blaze a trail for you lest you are at sea. There are a lot of online sites, too, to turn to.

We can curiously intertwine our thoughts and the adjective as we draw in our bookworms to our words, as if by magic – as we quantify and limit a noun. An understanding of the adjective categorically makes anyone a better writer as well as a better speaker of English, in general, possibly - for one thing. This is because our life, every stratum of it, I think, should be pervaded by adjectives, since our life is nounlike, theoretical and more tangled than ever, yet it seems rather humdrum, you know. 

Streetchildren at Jaro Park

a video by Roger B Rueda

When I grow up, I want to work at a department store [like SM City or Gaisano] as a saleslady because I want to get an ATM card and save money in the bank. But first I need Php 60 to have my photo of me taken for me to apply for an ATM card.

I’m happy if my mum is happy and if she doesn't get sick. And I'll be happy if my father gets out of gaol.

I want to help my mum earn money - she's the only one who does that in our family. She works very hard to support us. I also have to sell candles. I always look for money to buy these accessories and sell them, to help her.

Charity: Clothes and Shoes

an essay by Roger B Rueda

Of late, Roh Eunhye, a Korean ESL student in Iloilo City, handed out pre-used clothes to some indigents in Lapuz District. 

All of nineteen and from Sangju, Roh Eunhye is very energetic, and her motives are entirely altruistic. Giving (time, money, and energy) to her is a central way that she strives to find meaning. She feels a closeness to other people, and generally appreciates life, when she shares.

She says she feels good to give and finds it fulfilling. 

The locals were hospitable and welcoming to her. When we arrived at the place, some jumped for joy when Roh Eunhye announced to them that she was going to give them some pre-used clothes and shoes. They were happy and posed for photographs, with their donator. They thankfully helped the Korean woman bring her luggage towards the street. 

This week she is planning to hand out food in the inner-city slums. The rewards of helping a community through charity last longer than money, she believes, for one thing. Roh Eunhye has already decided to work for charity to keep her eyes open wide to the vast genuine needs of the poor in the community where she lives.

For me, this young woman is a source of inspirations for the community as we must realise that charity works also give us an understanding that there is something larger than ourselves. 

A Read for Breakfast

an essay by Roger B Rueda

‘Breakfast’ is a poem, which has in a way enkindled me to write more poems, something that is tangible and lifelike but whose effect is analytical and unbounded. I happened to read the poem in Philippine Panorama and later in Mantala, an anthology of Philippine Literature edited by Dr Leoncio Deriada, where my two poems appear, too. It is by the Ilonggo poet Alain Russ Dimzon, a friend of mine since 1997 when I was a sophomore mass comm student. His brand of writing is one of the best so far amongst the Filipino poets I’ve ever read.  An influence to me, he leaves the door open to secretive experiences of a mystical, existential nature. The characters he creates sometimes enter imaginary worlds of equal importance to the real world. He combines ingenuousness and sharp intellect with great understanding of the importance of the imaginings. And I think ‘Breakfast’ is one – a fiction poem.

Dimzon is a realist, and perhaps a feminist. His poems are in the vein of the poems published in The New Yorker.  They are integrational, wisdom-oriented, and improvisational beyond concepts of settlements in ever-changing situational simulacrum. (The other poems of Dimzon, which I like, are ‘The Timekeeper’ and ‘A Rain Scene,’ which won him First Prize in a Home Life Poetry Contest.)

‘Breakfast’ is so simple, but its effects are very multifaceted to a mind – to my mind then, even till now, I’ve realised. The utterance is easy, so lucid at first.  It is a subtle poem, yet it contains an elusive level of contradiction. It is the compression of intensely felt experience into the sound waves of poetry and the decompression of intense experience through the catharsis of poetry by a son who grew up deprived of a father and still longing perhaps to be with his father.

Breakfast here is very figurative, as it is eaten in the early part of the day.  It offers a timeline, an inception. It is like his childhood, untimely and wet behind the ears. I think the reading of this poem is inexpressibly poignant. A cry inside me broke from me, as the poem starts soft and melancholy.

There is an intellectual energy and daring in this work, as the faint misery of his mother is the main point of the poem. Her virtue confined to her being a Christian, perhaps, and a natural monogamous, is hidden starting from that very first breakfast and at every breakfast that comes next.

His telling the father that he still owns the seat at the table tells of his and his mother’s deep sense of humility – a signal to the father to forget about his pride and shame.

The grandson in the crib lets slip how so kind a son he is. Being a good son to his mother is his first priority, as he is still hoping to keep the family his mother has set her heart on.  It is saving the matrimony and the family both his mother and he himself are keen on to hold their fire. Thus, perhaps, he can’t leave his mother though he has a younger brother to take care of her.  And it shows how everlasting fatherhood is.

The poem is given space to take breaths, and the small details – the tiny symbols, the deft word choices, and the slenderness of the lines – give the poem a quality of care and taste that is enviable. Its narrow lines, too, are enough to make the reading discoveries fresh as readers plough through the entire poem.

Anyway, here is the poem:

Breakfast

for Father

One morning

when the family

ate breakfast

you were not there

on your seat

at the table

The night before

through my blanket

I saw you

slap Mother

She was sobbing now

as she drank

her glass of milk

and bottlefed

my youngest brother

I hurried

on my boiled egg

to be in time

for my Grade Two Class

(The years

doused our anger

in the pool

of our tears)

You may come

and eat breakfast

with us again

You still own

your seat

at the table

You can sip

your black coffee

and read

your newspaper

while my son

your first grandchild

is babbling

in his crib

Barotac Nuevo

an essay by Roger B Rueda

In Barotac Nuevo, football is a religion to a lot of people. It is so profoundly, so fervently entwined into the fabric of Barotacnon culture that the two entities are intricately linked – they define each other and share an intrinsic uniqueness, an instantly recognisable image. Being the Football Capital of the Philippines, Barotac Nuevo has transformed football an expressionistic art form and an effective tool for social cohesion. It has hordes of incredibly gifted players who have made their way to the national shores over the last few decades. Amongst them are Ian Araneta, Yanti Barsales, and Chieffy Caligdong –

all are on the Philippine ‘Azkals,’ our national football team.

Barotacnon youngsters play football on the streets, on waste ground, concrete; any available surface. Most of the teenagers have no boots, so they play unshod, further promoting an ability to strike the ball properly. They love dancing and partying aside from playing football. They also work hard and are very creative. They use their mornings to help their families in household errands and use their afternoons to play football. The beautiful game keeps them exultant even though their families couldn't meet the expense of sending them to school. In a word, Barotacnon children always treasure each moment whenever they play football.

Barotacnons are gentle, kind, and fascinating. They are friendly and talkative people. They are law-abiding, fond of food, concerned with their religion, familiar with agriculture, and expert at fishing.

Barotac Nuevo is seat of the Iloilo State College of Fisheries (ISCOF), the Western Visayas College of Science and Technology (WVCST), and St Paul’s School.  Thus, they earn it the title as the Educational Centre of the Fourth District of Iloilo. (The institutions have created and expanded the town's elite.) Further, it has a hospital run by Western Visayas Medical Centre and a radio station in ISCOF at Tiwi. 

Sandwiched between Dumangas and Pototan, the town has developed a unique version of Hiligaynon with some hint of Kinaray-a. It can be called perhaps as Hiniray-a. It is spoken by about 51,867 locals.

It’s famous for baye-baye, sweet delicacy made from coconut water, grated scraped young coconut meat, sugar, and toasted pinipig (crushed rice grains). It is believed that the first  baye-baye was made of ground roasted corn and was cooked by a farmer's wife in Sohoton. It’s sold at bus stops or on a bus itself as some hawkers climb on it.

History

Capitan Simon Protacio, the recognised head (chair) and the wealthiest denizen of the place, established the town of Malutac in 1811 in the Spanish time. The town was renamed Barotac Nuevo in March 1812. The name Barotac is a portmanteau of the Spanish word baro which means mud, and the Hiligaynon word malutac, which means muddy; (for one, the ground here smells of rain in June and people muddy their feet or slippers when they walk. The soil here is smooth to the touch. When moistened, it’s soapy slick. When you roll it between your fingers, dirt is left on your skin.) Nuevo, which means new, was added to classify it from the town 19 miles up north named Barotac, which was later called Barotac Viejo, to distinguish the two Barotacs from each other, perhaps to make it clearer.

On the word of the traditional stories narrated by tradition-bearers, Barotac Nuevo in the 1600's was legendary far afield with its purebred horse ranches, and Tamasac, a tireless white mount was the strongest, fastest, and finest in the neighbourhood. It was quick thinking, agile, and sure footed. The horse was meant to be Barotac Nuevo’s emblem - of strength and courage, and perhaps uniqueness of its own experience: then, someone bestowed a good-looking horse from India on the Governor-General Manuel Gonzalez de Aguilar (4 March 1810 - 4 September 1813), but they couldn't find any horse in Manila, which they could use as a pair of the horse to draw the Governor-General’s carromata, a light, two-wheeled, boxlike vehicle. De Aguilar’s servants rambled through the islands in search of another horse until they got to the town of Dumangas in Iloilo. Malutac then was only a ward (a barangay) of Dumangas. They spotted Tamasac, a lovely slender looking horse that had great endurance qualities and was very spirited, as he whinnied. They hankered after the horse at a price the rancher wanted, but Capitan Protacio would not sell it even though he was agreeable to give it without charge on condition that Malutac should be made a pueblo, a Spanish settlement. (By the way, tamasac means splash, the sound made when something hits water or falls into it.)

The men hurried back to Manila and passed on the Governor-General what Capitan Protacio wanted in exchange for his horse. In all seriousness, the Governor-General didn't turn him down. He rather wrote a letter to the Gobernadorcillo of Iloilo to grant Malutac autonomy from the town of Dumangas and declare its township as soon as possible. Thus now, Capitan Simon Protacio and Tamasac loom in the plaza of Barotac Nuevo, after the late mayor Bernardo Siaotong put up the statue as a symbol of gratitude of the Barotacnons and commemorated the two icons by inscribing their names on the headstone, in 1926.

The country had been at war for years, so the latter long part of the life of Barotacnons was spent in obscurity and terror, and those years were a nightmare to some.

On 13 June 1944, a Tuesday, Barotac Nuevo celebrated its first fiesta since the beginning of the the Second World War, to honour the death of St Anthony of Padua, the patron saint of lost and stolen articles. 

Since then, the town of Barotac Nuevo, appropriately bustling and energised, has been considered a flourishing rural town in Iloilo with countryside that offers a more peaceful and less congested living environment. Its growth is ascribed to its abundant natural resources – agriculturally and aquaculturally. 

Griffins in Tiwi

a poem by Roger B Rueda

We took a stroll round Tiwi. The night was

pure with cold air and lit with stars.

The boys were nattering away
towards the street –

they had been boozing all night.

We lurked in the dark.

We lay on our back at the stand,

listening to the sound of the wind

sighing in the trees.

We looked like griffins.

No, we were griffins –

we beguiled them

into choosing to linger;

we sank our venomous fangs

into their necks.

When they let out a sigh of relief,

it was over.

We leaned up and kissed them

on the cheek.

We began a slow saunter

towards the waiting shed.

Our joints ached,

and the memory shattered our pain.

Cat

a poem by Roger B Rueda

You don’t have a long tail and sharp claws –
I don’t know how come you are called Cat.
For me, you are frightening –
a kentauride on my mind
as you scowl there on the sly.
Your subtlety is so plain –
don’t ever say anything now,
I’m not thick like your flunkeys.
Don’t touch the Bible.
Don’t pray.
You’re Beelzebub.
Now I understand –
you are Cat.
In turn, as I strip off your flesh,
I can see how sable your heart is –
self-seeking, avaricious, rancorous,
green, cross, virulent.
Your actions resound
with your horseplay.
Halt – we are not chickens,
in the lurch, thoughtless, chickens.
We are not crabs, either –
we don’t move sideways,
we don’t leave one up the creek.
Yes, you are Cat – we know you, well.
You shrink from tigers, lions, leopards,
cheetahs – you are an ailurophobe,
the lady of the flies, benevolent, devout.

Fire

a poem by Roger B Rueda

I saw a big flash and a huge ball
of fire reaching hundreds
of feet into the sky.
You brought home
the huge ball glowing
with heat.
You kicked it hard –
a fire burned the drape
out of control.
Then the ceiling,
the lizard got a jump
on the blaze on tenterhooks.
The flies buzzed
gallingly.
There was a moment
of panic –
some were shivering with fear.
You gave a wry smile.
The fire swept
across portions
of the house.
Tempers flared
and harsh words were exchanged.
You glared at us
as if we were torchers,
as if we vented our anger
by carrying out arson attacks.
Were you oblivious?
You should have felt
a flicker of regret.
Pray that our landlord
would judge you with compassion.
There was a terrible smell of burning.

Panay

a poem by Roger B Rueda

The wind whispers by like someone’s trying
to tell you a secret.
The clouds in the western sky
are lit brightly on their undersides
like the yellowy-silver bellies of fish,
and overhead some stars are out.
A small breeze seems to come right up
of the ground, stirring the tree branches
in every direction.
Bananas, mangoes, coconuts, & leads,
grow left and right like a could forest,
hiking to find your way out.
Along the road the cornfields lie newly
flayed, mile after mile, their green skin
pulled back to reveal Iloilo’s flesh
of orange velvet dirt.
Cicadas scream brightly from the thorn scrub.
Mayas working like crazy building
their nest for their young.
Some children pick up a rock and throw
it through the centre of a tree, raising
a small commotion of brown feathers.
They immediately settle again.
Seeing ants, quails, tiwis, cranes,
gathering food for the rainy days.
Having the time of your life playing
in the Magapa and Suague rivers.
Boats in Boracay shoot by
like a singgálong chasing its prey.
Skiing down the bumpy rough slopes
of Iday, Salihid, and Napulak.
Seeing the wonderful sights of Panay.

Love

a poem by Roger B Rueda

Like water cascades down the cliff
from the hills behind.
It flows gently down
into the vale.
It crashes against the shore
day after day.
It flows over the edges,
onto the land.
It flows steadily
out of heavens.
It falls from the clouds
in small dribs,
in soft white bits.
It flatteringly fills
not only some fissures
but all, to the hilt,
an amorphous, thin mass
rising and falling and graceful.
It pervades throughout the depth.

The Roles of our Senators and Representatives

an essay by Roger B Rueda

Every Filipino voter has to be mindful of the candidates she votes for, for voting is a means of putting her sovereignty into the hands of the one she votes for. Politicians who decide to buy the votes of the electorate with money have no regard or respect for the sovereignty of the people, a vote a sacred choice worth more than money. Voting to surrender one's sovereignty to another person is a serious decision making. It is giving our will, our power, our authority, our sovereignty to someone, for a nation becomes what its citizens vote for. The electorate have to move beyond mere party names, slogans, and adverts, and critically assess the proposals the parties have put on the table to tackle the developmental challenges of the nation. We, the electorate, should not allow the monetary and other material inducements to influence the choices we will make. The change is in us.

To esteem our legislators well, it is good that we know the roles they carry out.

Hereunder, I have listed here the roles our senators and representatives have. This may enlighten you, as regards the incoming Philippines national elections in May.

Well, senators and representatives function in many capacities as they discharge the numerous duties of their office. All of their accountabilities may be seen as apt into four key roles: policymaker, constituent servant, representative, and pundit.

Policymaker

This is the most important role for any member of the Senate and the House of Representatives. Senators and representatives cast a lot of votes each session. Most votes are on procedural matters, some are on legislative issues, and a few are on appointments and confirmations.

Tax cuts, health care reform, and entitlement spending are just a few of the issues that members vote on every year, with fiscal implications running in the billions of pesos. When it comes time for re-election, most members – mainly senators – are judged on their voting record by the voters.

Every senator and representative needs to be generalists, understanding something about almost everything  – global warming, urban poor, commodity programmes, medicine, IT, flowers, conversion of a state college to a university, and much, much more.

Constituent Servant

This is a less conspicuous and desirable role than law-making, but for House members above all it can be equally as important come re-election time. Members are expected to get involved on behalf of their constituents to help solve problems, endorse local businesses and trade, bring money and projects back to the district, and explain the meaning of legislation to affected interest groups. House members tend to pay closer attention to constituent casework than do their upper chamber counterparts.

Representative

Much as it sounds, this role relates to the legislator's duty to understand and represent the views of their constituents in Pasay City or Quezon City – one of the foundations of a pro-republic government. Members commonly adopt one of two tactics when discharging their representative duty.

Senators take a broader or ‘trustee’ view of representation, meaning that they put the interests of the country before the narrow needs of a city or district or province where they come from.

Other members (most often representatives) believe that their votes should replicate the views of their constituents, even if it's at variance with their own philosophies. Most members will vary their approach depending on the issue.

Pundit

As a final point, members have a duty to edify the public about the issues that are before the Legislative body. They characteristically keep their constituents cognisant through newssheets, office hours in the district, city hall meetings, direct mail, and media guestings. Some of the much keener members will use committee or subcommittee hearings as a way to fire up public opinion and ‘educate’ the body of voters to their particular (every so often subjective) standpoint.

For more information, visit http://www.senate.gov.ph/ and http://www.congress.gov.ph/.

Out the Window

a poem by Roger B Rueda

in a schematised
sign of the heavens,
which is resplendent
with figures of divinities
turning my woe,
i plop shingles
amidst my dactyls.

in this daily dozen
i find a relief
for cricks as little
as that bold,
shivered-pinioned
cicada resting,
sneaking on the tilt
of a palm leaf.

On Voting Smartly

an essay by Roger B Rueda

A lot of voters take positions on political issues without doing their assignment. They are simply won over by friends, the mass media, the political party their family have constantly supported, or what they have confidence in is the predominant public judgement. With a little enquiry, any person can be an educated constituent. Here are the things I want you to do to be a clever person on the electoral roll.

1

Call on the websites for the United Nationalist Alliance (UNA) and Liberal parties, as well as third-party groups. Learn about their primary objectives, values, proposals, and favoured programmes. You can try http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/United_Nationalist_Alliance or http://www.liberalparty.ph/. (In making our decision we should peruse the politicians accomplishments for the past three years.)

2

Go to the official websites of the senatorial candidates for this election. Like the party sites, they will present predisposed opinions for why that candidate is the best in the field. Relate them to each other, and compare the educations and capabilities of each candidate without favouritism. Read the major programmes each candidate wants to implement and ask if it would help you.

3

Pay attention to contrasting standpoints. It is not uncommon for people to thoughtlessly keep an eye on the word of the party they wish to vote for, or just vote against the other party. An educated voter should be able to come up with real explanations for why she is voting for someone or against someone else. The only way to do that is to consider the standpoints of all candidates without preference. Watch any debates and take notes on how aspirants explain or defend their policy proposals.

4

Read the profiles of all candidates, as well as any declarations for and against local propositions. Know if your politicians attend session regularly or if they have professionalism on their dealings. Ask your friends if a political party and a personal ambition play the primary roles in shaping how politicians view the adequacy of professionalism in their workplaces.

5

Show up at caucuses. Ask your politicians some issues and let them shed light on the issues you don’t understand.

6

Don't depend on quotes in a newspaper article or broadcast sound bites for information. If you missed a speech or news conference, read the texts online, or watch it in its totality online.

7

Write to the politician who has given you some money. Send the money back to him by mail and explain why you are voting for him without his money. Tell him that he should respect you because you have respect for him and that you believe that a vote is a sacred thing for you as you have a sense of human dignity. Don't let your politicians affront you. 

8
Befriend your local politicians at Facebook. Communicate with them. Like their pages. Interact with your barangay chair, councillors, mayor, representative, board members, governor, and senators. Know them well.

Remember voting is not like ordering food off of a menu. When you order bloodstew at a restaurant, you alone bear the consequences of your decision. No one else gets stuck with bloodstew. If you make a bad choice, at least you are hurting only yourself. For the most part, you ought to internalise all of the costs and benefits of your decision.

Cheese Ring

a poem by Roger B Rueda

for Arleen

So there it was—
a Cheese Ring, singular,
orange like the afterglow of touch,
resting on its own waxy shrine.

I looked at it the way one looks
at something already mourning
its fate.

Maybe it had been spared—
shyness, maybe.
Or that moment when fullness folds
into guilt.
Maybe someone left it
the way we leave each other:
gently, with excuses,
not knowing we meant to go
all along.

It must have thought,
I'm the lucky one.
Or
I'm the least loved.
It must have sat there,
watching the lizard inch closer,
the way desire does—
uninvited, legged, slow.

The waiter came.
The world shifted.
That thin orbit of snack
almost laughed,
then trembled—
a breath away from being
another forgettable end.

But I—
I took it.
Not out of pity.
Not even hunger.
I wanted to know
what survival tastes like.

So I bit—
and it broke like a small grief
against my tongue.

.

Christ

a poem by Roger B Rueda

You were a fresh pea in the pod
of eternity, indulgent, innocent,
modest, longsuffering, warm.
You began to seed yourself
down the steep hillside
of Golgotha 2013 years ago,
your hull smashed, castigated,
unloved, reviled, spurned.
My grandmother, yes,
she is, she must be
a squash in the garden
of all time now, bearing
bounties, the old woman
your select seed, I consider,
her glasses lost when she
acted upon a sacrament;
she went home squinting
at the street.
I know the laws of Segregation
and of Independent Assortment.
Mum, too; me, too:
we’ve chosen you.
We’ve been dripping wet
in your blood, our time:
we are folding up,
flourishing, rousing, withstanding,
making out, entreating, waiting –
till the stretch we, too, seed
ourselves in memory of your love.