Wala pang isnag segudo ang lumiupas, nilasap ng mukha ng guro yung blackboard eraser. Hinagis itong pabalik ni itay sa mukha niya. Tumahimik ang klase.

Galit nag alit siyang nilapitan ng guro. Tumayo ang hayskul na si Itay at sinabi sa guro:

“nandito po kami para mag-aral at hindi para batuhion niyo ng pambura!”

Guro:

“bakit, may naintindihan k aba sa mga tinuturo ko? Sige, ipaliwanag mo nga ang…”

Itay:

“eh napakalayo naming sa blackboard paano naminyan maiintindihan? Sa tingin niyo nakakapag-aral kami ng mabuti dito?”

Na-challenge ang guro. Iniba ang kaayusan ng silid aralan at hinila ang de-gulong na blackboard sa gitna ng classroom sabay nagsimula muling magturo. Buong period puro si Itay lang ang tinatanong niya.

***

Napag-uapan naming ito ni itay kanina sa hapag habang napagkekwentuhan naming yung nakakalunos na lagay ng edukasyon sa Pinas lalo na sa mag prubinsiya. Yun bang kung wala daw mga corrupt na nilalang sa pamahalaan at yung mag dapat paglaanan ng pera ng bayan at mga pera para sa bayan eh napupunta talaga sa dapat paglaanan, magiging maayos talagang tiyak ang edukasyon sa Pilipinas.

Couple charged with posing as federal agents to trick an undocumented immigrant into leaving the U.S.

A Hemet couple have been indicted for allegedly tricking an undocumented immigrant to take a plane back to her native Philippines by claiming that they were enforcing a fugitive warrant issued by Immigration and Customs Enforcement.

Gregory Raymond Denny Jr., 38, and his wife, Karen Evon Denny, 52, allegedly handcuffed the victim, Cherriebelle Magada Gabalonos Hibbard, and said they were taking her to San Diego’s Lindbergh Field to be deported, according to a federal indictment unsealed Friday in San Diego.

Gregory Denny, a former bounty hunter, told Hibbard that he was a U.S. marshal and showed a badge and credentials when he came to Hibbard’s home in Hemet, according to the indictment.

When Hibbard balked, the Dennys warned that she and her husband could be sent to prison for five years, according to the indictment. The husband then purchased an airline ticket and the Dennys allegedly escorted her to the plane.

The charges include kidnapping, conspiracy, impersonating a federal officer and making false statements to a federal officer.

The incident alleged occurred Jan. 15. The couple are in jail in downtown San Diego and slated to be in court Monday.

No motive is mentioned in the indictment but the incident may have involved a family feud. Denny is reportedly a cousin of Hibbard’s husband. Hibbard has not returned to the United States.

– Tony Perry in San Diego

Uso kasi dito sa panig na ito ng Amerika na nagte-”Thank you” ang mga tao sa drivers. Well, hindi naman lahat.
Halos karamihan lang sa mga nakakasabay ko sa byahe (na karaniwan ay mga matatandang blondie, o kaya mga nanay na Mexicano o kaya mga Afri-kano na bebots at nanay at mga matatandang Hudyo ) ay nakaugalian nang mag- “Thank you” sa ate o kuyang driver na hindi naisipang ibangga yung minamaneho niyang bus kung saang poste o pader.

Wala namang masama doon. Sa katunayan ay nakakagaan pa nga ng pakiramdam kasi parang kunwari ambabait ng mga tao sa paligid mo kahit alam mong hindi naman. So may kunwaring pakiramdam ka ng security. Kunwaring mabait na community.

Dito kasi sa parteng ito ng Amerika, parang may kultura na sila na dapat kunwari mabait ka. Tipong mag-gu-goodmorning sa total stranger, tatanungin ka kung “How’s your day?” o kaya “How are you” kahit hindi naman nila talaga gustong alamin ang nagnyari sa araw mo o sa buhay mo. Siyempre ikaw naman sasagot ka ng “Ok” para matapos na ang usapan. Tapos maghihiwalay kayo ng landas ng kausap mo nang parang wala lang naganap na pangyayari. Balik sa kanya-kanyang buhay.

Kunsabagay, mabilis naman talaga angbuhay ditto. Baha-trabaho-bahay-trabaho. Babyahe ka ng ilang oras papunta at pauwi sa trabaho tapos uuwi at magpapahinga saglit sa bahay tapos trabaho ulit. Ganun lang. Unless mayaman ka dito at sadyang pinagpala, eh mag-buhay hari o reyna ka na.

Bihira akong mag-”Thank you” kasi gusto ko bukal sa loob. Isa, anumang bagay na madalas ginagamit, nakikita, sinasabi, eh pumupurol. Nababawasan ng value. Subukan mong ibaon ng matagal sa lupa yung paborito mong relo o anumang mamahaling gamit mo na meron din ang ibang mga tao. Tapos pagkaraan ng maraming taon, kapag sira na yung sa kanila,o wala nang mabibiling katulad ng relo mo, o anumang gamit yan, makikita mong tumaas ang value nito. Di hamak na mas mahal kaysa nung una mo itong binili o nakuha.

Marami na kasi akong nagasgas sa mundo, sa buhay ko. Kanina habang nagbibiyahe ako papuntang opisina, naisip ko na gusting pataasin ang value ko. Naks. Seryoso. Hindi lang face value kundi ang buong value ng pagkatao ko. Di naman ito overnight na proseso, pero alam kong kaya ko.

Bago ako tuluyang bumaba ng huling bus na sinakyan ko kanina papuntang opisina, nag “Thank you!” ako sa driver.

-kasama mula kay Gary Granada

For the last two decades, the name Crispin B. Beltran has been associated with pickets,
demonstrations, strikes, and generally everything connected to the militant labor
movement. Not surprising with him being the chairman of the Kilusang Mayo Uno (KMU).
Since August of 2001, however, he has become known as something else – a member of
one of the biggest, most influential bastions of conservatism in the country, the House of
Representatives. From 2001-2003, he was one of three Bayan Muna solons. From 2004 up
to present, he now stands as the chairman and representative for labor and urban poor
concerns of the Anakpawis partylist. Ka Bel breathes, lives and practices the politics of
change and nationalism with the same fervor he does as a leader of the parliament of the
streets.

But no less interesting than his politics is his personal life. His love life alone is the stuff of
movies, megged by the late Lino Brocka or Ysmael Bernal, crossed with Jose Javier Reyes.
Since 1956, Ka Bel has been married to the former Rosario Soto from Malolos, Bulacan.
There’s a joke circulating around activist circles that goes “Ka Bel is a voice who should be
heard in the Lower House, but in his own house, it’s Ka Osang whom he listens to.”

This is their love story.

Ka Osang is the product of a broken home. Her parents separated early in her childhood,
and as the youngest among the three children, she was left to an elderly relative, her
father’s aunt who lived in Gagalangin, Tondo. Ka Osang grew up wanting for nothing – she
was given new dresses and jewelry whenever she asked for them.

But in exchange, she had to be obedient to the very strict, and sometimes unreasonable
rules of her grandmother. She was entered in La Concepcion, a convent- school, and was
told never to look at members of the opposite sex. “Wala talaga akong kaalam-alam sa
mga lalaki nun. Si Papa lang at yung mga kapatid ko ang pwede kong kausapin.” (“I knew
the least thing about boys or men.The only males I was aware of were my father and my
brothers.”)

But the great aunt and the nuns combined were not able to curb the young girl’s
adventurous spirit. One morning, On November 10, 1956 she cut classes and together with
a few classmates, sneaked into a moviehouse.

“Pinanood namin si Nida Blanca at si Nestor de Villa. Pero pag-uwi ko, nalaman na ni Lola
ang ginawa ko. Matindi ang naging away,” she says. (:|”We used to watch Nestor de Villa
and Nida Blanca. When I got home, I found out that my grandmother already knew what I
had done. There was a dreadful argument.”)

In turned out that the Mother Superior herself came to the house and told her
grandmother of what happened. Livid at being lied to, the grandmother slapped Ka Osang
and told her to leave. And that’s what she did.

By 12 noonshe was wandering around Quiapo, with nothing but the clothes on her back
and the other piece which her enraged grandmother threw at Ka Osang as she left the
house.

In a daze, she entered into one of the taxis that was parked in front of Plaza Miranda. The
driver was the man who would be her husband, the then 26-year old Crispin.
“Napansin kong bata pa siya, at medyo tulala,” was his first impression. (“I immediately
noticed how young she was, and how lost she looked.”) He asked her where she was going.
Still reeling from her experience, she answered ‘Derecho ka lang.” (Just go straight
ahead.”)
They had reached Monumento, but she still hadn’t given Ka Bel specific directions. He
stopped the taxi and turned to face her. Ka Osang remembers, “Naiinis na sya. ‘Saan ba
talaga tayo?” sabi niya. Ako naman, wala sa sarili, naiyak na. Sinabi ko na yung nangyari.”
(He started getting irritated. He kept asking me where it was really that I wanted to go. I
started crying and told him the entire story.”)

Ka Bel was very sympathetic. She reminded him of his sisters back home in Bacacay,
Albay. He looked at her with compassion, and told her that he would drive her home. He
also urged her to apologize to her Lola, “Masama magtanim ng galit sa kapamilya.” (It’s not
good to harbor resentment against family.”)

Ka Osang shook her head and made a move to get out. By then, night had fallen. Ka Bel
refused to let her go – “May masama pang mangyari sa iyo – parang wala kang kaalam-alam
sa mundo.” (“Something bad might happen to you — you look like you don’t know anything
about what goes on in the world.” )

So he took her to his boarding house in San Juan where he lived with a few others, and
told her to stay the night. She stayed there, in Ka Bel’s room, for three days.
“Tulala lang ako, nakatingin sa labas ng bintana. Kain, tulog, tatanga sa bintana, iiyak,
matutulog. Sa susunod na araw, ganun na naman.”

(“I was almost catatonic. I would just stare out the window. I would eat, sleep, stare out
the window. The next ay would be the same and the day after that.”)

She was alone most of the time, as Ka Bel drove the taxi all day, and at night attended
school at the Asian Labor Education Center at the University of the Philippines. When he
got home at night, she would already be asleep, on a low, wide bench that served as a
bed, while Ka Bel had his own bed across the room.

“Ni hindi ko alam ang pangalan nya nun. Ang tawag ko sa kanya kuya,” Ka Osang recollects,
laughing.(“I didn’t even know what his name was.”)
Did she ever get a crush on him? “Wala akong pakialam talaga sa kanya nun, ang iniisip ko
lang sarili ko. Pero napaka-maalalahanin niya.”

(“I really didnt care much about him at the time. I ws just looking out for myself; but I do
remember thinking how thoughtful he was.”)

It was at that time when Ka Bel gave her what she calls his first gift.
“Dilaw na sepilyong naka-kahon. May tatak na Good Morning.” (“A yellow toothbrush in a
box, with a label ‘Good Morning” on it”)

On the third day, Ka Osang wanted to go home But not wanting to further inconvenience
Ka Bel, she left the house without telling him.
“Nang malaman ng papa ko kung saan ako napunta noong naglayas ako, galit na galit siya!
Pinuntuhan nila yung bahay ni Ka Bel, tapos binugbog siya. Wala naman akong magawa.”

(“When my father found out, he flew into a rage. He went to Ka Bel’s house and beat him
up. I could’t do anything but watch.”)

Ka Bel was taken to the municipal jail in San Juan and was accused of abusing a minor.
Though it was already the late 1950s, no woman would be caught alone in the company of
a man if they weren’t sweethearts. And it was already a scandal if they stayed in the same
room together alone. Ka Osang stayed in Ka Bel’s room for three days.

In short, they had to get married. Ka Bel could have easily refused, but he didn’t. He knew
that if he refused, Ka Osang would be disgraced. “Kaya kinasal kami. Walang pag-ibig nun.
Ayaw ko talaga, iniirapan ko siya, sinusungitan. Pero siya, bukas ang isip. Sabi niya, napag-
aaralan naman ang pag-ibig.”

(“So we got married. I didn’t love him them. I didn’t even like him much — I would sneer
and pout at him, being completely disagreeable. As for him, he had an open mind. He said
that love was something we could both learn.”)

And soon enough, she did learn to love her husband. Initially it was because he was a good

(“He would give me his entire wages for the month, complete with the receipt”), but later
on it was for himself. She learned to love him for his gentleness with the children, his
sense of humor (“Malambing yan, makwento”) (“He’s sweet, he likes to tell me stories”),
patience (“Nang magsama kami, di ako marunong maglaba o magluto – siya ang gumagawa
nun. Tinuruan lang niya ako, hati kami sa gawaing bahay”), (When we first lived together, I
didn’t know how to launder clothes or cook. We would share the housework”) and
inevitably, for his politics which he had long before embraced.

“Malaking dahilan yun. Kasabay ng pagkilala ko sa kanya bilang asawa, nakilala ko din siya
bilang lider manggagawa. Noong una, hindi ako payag – lagi na lang siya ginagabi, o minsan
di talaga umuwi, kesyo may mga seminar daw. Madalas kaming mag-away,” she says. “Nang
maintindihan ko na yung trabaho niya, nagkaroon ng mas malalim na dimensyon ang
pagmamahal at respeto ko sa kanya.”

(“I learned to love my husband as a leader of workers. At first I was very resentful that he
wouldn’t come home, or when he did, he’d come home late. We would argue and I would
yell. When I grew to understand the natue of his work, I also grew to love and respect him
more.”)

But Ka Bel was ever-patient. He continually explained to her his work, and what it meant.
Even in his early 20s, he had become a full-fledged labor leader. He became president of
the Yellow Taxi Drivers’ Union and the Amalgamated Taxi Drivers Federation from 1955-
1963. From 1963-1972, he was Vice-administrator of the Confederation of Labor Unions of
the Philippines, and then vice-president of the Philippine Alliance of Nationalist
Organizations (PANALO) which became the Alliance of Nationalist Genuine Labor
Organizations (ANGLO), affiliated under the Kilusang Mayo Uno (KMU) whose establishment
on May 1, 1980, signaled the labor movement’s all-out war against the Marcos dictatorship.

Throughout her husband’s growing activism, Ka Osang strove to be supportive. Her love for
Ka Bel and the life he had chosen was severely tested, however, in August 1982 when Ka
Bel along with other labor leaders was arrested by the military.
“Sampu na ang anak namin nang ikulong siya. Wala kaming pera, maliban dun sa binibigay
ng mga kasamahan sa KMU. Nagtitinda-tinda din ako nun sa palengke – isda, tsinelas.
Minsan din binibigyan kami ng bigas at gatas ng mga madre na sumusuporta kay Ka Bel at
sa ibang mga political prisoners,” she says.

(“We already had 10 children when he was arrested. We had no money, and my children
lived on my smal earnings from selling rubber slippers and fish at the market. KMU also
helped us, and nuns who were supportive of the campaign to release political prisoners.”)

By then they were living in a squatters’ community in Gao, Commonwealth, Quezon City ,
where they still live to this day. Ka Osang would walk from Commonwealth to Crame
where Ka Bel was detained.

For two years, Ka Osang not only became the mother and father to their children, but also
proxy labor leader: she delivered Ka Bel’s speeches for him in the rallies, and became a
volunteer for Task Force Detainees of the Philippines (TFDP). She studied acupressure and
acupuncture, and applied what she learned whenever she went to Crame and Muntinlupa,
where other poldets were incarcerated. Along with the wives, daughters, and relatives of
other political prisoners, Ka Osang lobbied for their release.

But the Marcos government was adamant. No way would it release one of its prized
captives. Ka Bel was then KMU secretary general, and the president, one of the original
pillars of the labor movement in the country Felixberto ‘Ka Bert’ Olalia was also under
custody.

By 1984, Ka Bert had already succumbed to the constant torture of the military, as well as
the dampness of the jail cells. He died of pneumonia.
“Dun na talaga ako natakot. May sakit na rin si Ka Bel nun – sa kidney naman. Ayaw siyang
bigyan ng maayos na tulong medikal sa kulungan, kaya lumala yung kundisyon niya habang
tumatagal. Si Ka Bert namatay na, ayaw kong masunod si Ka Bel,” Ka Osang narrated. She
took action.

(“That was when I really got scared. Ka Bel was already afflicted with kidney problems.
They didn’t give him medical treatment in jail. I didn’t want Ka Bel to go through what Ka
Bert did. Ka bert died because of untreated respiratory problems. I didn’t want Ka Bel to
die.”)

In Crame, she consulted with her husband and hatched a plan of escape. Ka Bel would
come home for a few hours’ visit for the supposed birthday of a young nephew, then from
there make his way to freedom.

Then she went to Ka Bel’s lawyers – Attys. Joker Arroyo and Rene Saguisag. “Sinabi ko sa
kanilang wag pumunta sa hearing ng kaso si Ka Bel. Sa araw na yung tatakas si Ka Bel.”

The two men were incredulous – they thought Ka Osang was joking. “Tinanong nila ako -
handa ba akong mabugbog?” Sagot ko, oo. Handa ka bang mamatay? Oo. Ang mahalaga
makalaya siya. Pero di pa rin sila naniwala. ”

(“They asked me if I was prepared to get caught or worse, beaten. I said yes. I said I was
even prepared to die. What was important was that Ka Bel escapes. They still didn’t
believe me.”)

On the day of the children’s party, neighbors and friends came and pretended to
celebrate. Ka Bel arrived with his guards. Beforehand, he and Ka Osang agreed on a sign -
after putting down his second bottle of beer, he would make his move. He downed his
second beer (“Yung beer para malabanan ang kaba – takot kasi siya para sa akin”) (“The
beer was to help calm himself down. He was very nervous and afraid for me”)

. There wasn’t a chance to say good-bye. He excused himself under the pretext of having
to urinate. When he got to the toilet, he pulled out the piece of loose board, and
squeezed himself through a rough hole made in the wall. Then his guards noticed the
inordinately long time Ka Bel was taking. They broke down the toilet door and saw the
gaping hole. They quickly turned on Ka Osang and began beating her.

“Suntok, sampal, sabunot. Di ko na malaman kung ano ang mas masakit, yung mukha ko
ba, yung dibdib,” she remembers. (“They punched and kickedme, pulled my hair.”) They
punched her in the stomach and dragged her outside, to the public basketball court which
was a few meters walk from the house.

“Tinadyakan ako. Akala nila sasaklolohan ako ni Ka Bel kung marinig niya ang mga sigaw
ko. Pero malayo na sya noon.” (“They kicked me when I fell to the floor. They thought that
by hurting me, I would scream, and Ka Bel would come to rescue me. They didn’t know
that Ka Bel and I agreed that no matter what happened, he wouldn’t turn back.”)

For a month or so after, soldiers would be stationed around the house, and the house
became a virtual garrison. But Ka Osang was unfazed. One time, a burly soldier asked her
for a glass of water. She ignored the request.

“Namura ko yung sundalo. Sabi ko, ang dami-daming kriminal na nagkalat – sa Malacanang
lang ang dami na – pero bakit kami ang binabantayan? ‘

(“I cursed at the soldiers. There were so many criminals on the loose – especially in
Malacanang. Why don’t they go after them?”)

Ka Bel went into hiding in Central Luzon. It’s something of a legend in the labor movement
that he was taken in by members of the New People’s Army who heard of his escape. For
two years, he took shelter with the rebels and took the nom de guerre “Ka Anto” after one
of the fathers of the labor movement, Crisanto Evangelista. But instead of an armalite, Ka
Anto carried a portable typewriter.

“Sa mga bahay na sinisilungan ng hukbo, may mga batang nasa high school. Ginawa nila
akong taga-makinilya. Ako yung nagta-type ng mga assignment at term paper nila,” he says
smiling.

(“I stayed in the homes where the NPA stayed. There was a youngster who went to
highschool there. They made me typist. I typed up their assignments and termpapers.” )

Every three to five months, Ka Osang would visit her husband. It was a complicated
process, and very tiring. She went on her pilgrimage to Central Luzon until the Marcos was
ousted via People Power on February 25. When Corazon Aquino became president, she
ordered the release of all political prisoners, and in particular mentioned Ka Bel.

Ka Osang herself went to take her husband home.
On hindsight, Ka Osang wonders where she got her strength. “Siguro dahil lagi akong sabik
makita sya kaya di ko na pinansin yung pagod,” she says.(“I was so eager to see him again I
took no notice of the exhaustion.” )

But more importantly, she adds, she was bouyed by the knowledge that her husband was
an inspiration to many. “Naging aktibista na rin ang ibang anak namin. Walang galit sa mga
anak namin kahit may panahong lumaki silang walang tatay – alam nila kung ano ang
pinaglalaban ng ama nila.” (“Our other children have become activists as well.They show
no anger or resentfullness for growing up without their father being there. They know
what their father is fighting for.”)

And what does Ka Bel have to say about his wife?

He recites a few lines from the song Kasama by Gary Granada: “Hindi lang siya kaibigan, di
lang siya kapatid. Di lang kasintahan, o kaisang-dibdib. Di lang siya asawa, o inang uliran.
Siya’y aking kasama, sa mapagpalayang kilusan.”

In private, they call each other ‘Ma’ and ‘Daddy.’ He says Ka Osang has a sharp tongue.
“Istrikto sya sa mga bata. Pero pag may nagka-problema ang kahit sino sa kanila, bibitawan
ang lahat. Kahit sakit ng sarili niyang katawan, nakakalimutan niya,” he says. A grandson,
17-year old Cris, agrees. “Si Lola lang ang laging nanenermon,
si Lolo, tahimik lang. Pero spoiled kaming lahat sa kanilang dalawa.”

Ka Bel says he is well-taken care of. Ka Osang insists on preparing his clothes every
morning, whether it’s the round-collar shirts he wears to rallies, or the barong tagalogs for
Congress. “Alam ko kung hindi siya ang naglalaba ng damit ko. Iba ang pakiramdam.” (I can
tell when it’s not her who has llaundered my clothes. They feel less comfortable. “)

She is also his chief confidante. He shares with her the details of his day – the rallies he
marched in, the general mass assemblies of the local unions he has attended, and lately,
about the Congress committee meetings and other legislative functions he goes to. “Siya
naman kinukwento sa akin ang kakulitan ng mga apo namin,” he shares. (“In turn, she tells
me about the antics of our grandchildren and how everything is with the various members
of our family.”)

For a couple whose meeting and marriage are unusual at the least, Ka Bel and Ka Osang’s
marriage is solid and loving. Proof of this is their 10 children, who, in turn, have given
them 27 grandchildren. Oh, Osang says cheekily, there were times when Ka Bel was
younger, he did a bit of fooling around, but he always returned to her. That was when the
first three children were very young, and Ka Bel and Ka Osang had frequent quarrels (“Pero
nagsisi naman siya – nag-kursillo sa simbahan, naging sakristan pa nga!”).

They don’t like going to movies – more often, they would just the two of them go to
Bulacan and visit relatives. Every two years or so, they would travel to Albay.
Still very much like the 15-year old he rescued 48 years ago, Ka Osang becomes petulant
when Ka Bel breaks his promises. “Minsan sobrang busy yan, di kami makapuntang
Bulacan,” she scolds.

“Pero naiintindihan ko din. Nami-miss ko lang naman siya. Marami kasi akong kahati sa
kanya, ang mga manggagawa at ang sambayanan.” (I understand his work, his chosen life. I
just misshim, that’s all. I know I have to share him with the rest of the working people and
the masses.”)

mula sa website ng kilusang mayo uno

____________

Sumalangit nawa ang kaluluwa ng namayapang si Ka Bel.