Um, Question

So kamusta naman yung mga laging nagsisigaw ng "Proud to be Pinoy" dati?

Yun mga taong huwag lang makarinig ng balita tungkol sa mga "Pinoy" na nababanggit sa abroad eh parang ta-tumbling sa excitement. Yung mga laging naka-three-stars-and-a-sun, yung mga halos makipagpatayan kapag sa tingin nila eh nababastos ang Pilipinas sa ibang bansa.

Asan kayo?

Sa Facebook ngayon, ang uso, pagtatatwa sa Pilipinas. "Buti na lang hindi ako mukhang Pinoy, at least makaka-shopping pa ko sa Hong Kong". "Magkukunwari na lang akong Indian". "Salamat naman, 1/4 Pinoy lang ako".

Ang bilis magpalit ng kulay.

Asan na yung "proud to be Pinoy"? Asan na yung pagiging makabayan? Yung handang makipagpatayan sa mga kolumnistang sarkastiko magsulat?

Mukhang natahimik na sila.

Hindi ko sinasabing maging masaya tayo at proud sa ginawa ni Mr. Hostage Taker. Obviously hindi ganun ang ibig kong sabihin. Ang sinasabi ko lang, lintik naman huwag namang traydor.

Ang bilis mag-iba ng anyo, eh. Kapag panalo si Pacquiao, awoo Pinoy ako! Kapag ganitong pahiya tayo sa mundo, tameme. "Hindi ako Pinoy, ewan ko diyan sa mga yan".

Kasi nga naman, sayang yung opportunity na mag-shopping sa Hong Kong.

Pero ganun yata talaga.

Kapag mababaw ang pinaghuhugutan, madaling mawala ang pagiging "makabayan".

cross-posted from Tumblr

A Hostage Situation

Around 8 last night, all I was worried about was finding a better day moisturizer with SPF that doesn't reek of sunscreen.  

Then I got home and saw the unfolding drama on TV.

I honestly had no idea. 

Maybe the office is completely sheltered, but I didn't even hear anyone mention the on-going hostage situation. No updates on Twitter either.

To say I was shocked when I finally saw it on TV is the understatement of the year. The reporter kept saying everyone inside the bus was dead, and I slumped on a nearby chair, completely numb.

I think the feeling is best described as ice cold, like someone had poured a bucket of ice water on me.  Had the breath knocked out of me, I think.

Fifteen people on the bus.

Not hostages.

People.

People who, hours ago, were on their way home after what was a presumably enjoyable trip.  

People who, hours ago, had nothing on their minds but the sights they'd seen, the souvenirs they bought, the families waiting for them with beaming smiles at the airport.

I kept thinking about the stuff they'd left strewn about on the bus.  Cameras filled with happy photos, souvenirs, gifts for their loved ones at home -- now completely and utterly pointless. 

Fifteen people.

Not all of them dead, it turns out, but eight dead bodies out of fifteen hostages isn't really much of a consolation.

So forgive me if I can't tolerate the sympathetic people clucking about what a "good guy" the hostage-taker was.  Not today.  Maybe not ever.  

I have no sympathy for murderers.

There is no reason, no logic, no justification, no fucking anything for a man who decides to kill in order to proclaim his innocence.

Fifteen people. Eight dead. One murderer.

An entire nation left to pick up the pieces.