Erica Joy Valdez will never live out the dreams every 5 year girl has:

finishing school, earning a living for her, and perhaps helping her other siblings through school, and yes, meeting a kind man and settling down to make a life of her own.

Erica was trapped in that two-hour-long fire that raged yet again through the 53-hectare abandoned Bataan Shipyard and Engineering Corporation (BASECO) in Tondo.

Like Erica the BASECO  compound once held dreams, large dreams: of being the country’s main shipbuilding facility, one equipped to build sea-going vessels likelt manned by own world class seafarers flying our tri-color proud and rounding the globe.

But the BASECO dream has long died, and now last Saturday’s inferno has not just destroyed 500 shanties and left 4,000 families homeless but has claimed the young life of  Erica Joy Valdez

The 53-hectare (130-acre) BASECO compound has been ravaged by huge fires in the last ten years:  a 2002 blaze left some 15,000 residents homeless, and a 2004 fire razed shanties of 25,000 people.

There is a Gawad Kalinga village in the compound and Pres. Arroyo even periodically does PR photo-opp visits there. There’s even a Malacanang-appointed board of directors that ‘administers’ token programs there.

But life has never changed for the better and the shantytown is always a blazing tragedy waiting to happen.

Will the new administration Filipinos will elect on May 10 bring change to the hell-on-earth life of the people of BASECO Compound?

Filipinos are the world’s unchallenged ‘texters.
And quite probably we are among the most fanatical ‘socnetters’ this side of the globe.

Socnets are, of course the rave of the internet: the humongous subset called the social networking web sites: Multiply, Friendster, Facebook, Flixtr, Hi5 plus the equally popular and thoroughly addictive micro-blogging sites Plurk.com and Twitter.

FaceBook, in particular, has enamored Filipinos of all social stations and political stripe with upwards of 5,000,000 virtually-connected friends!

The virtual communities cross national boundaries with long-lost friends, and perhaps lovers, finding each other after eons of separation and non-contact.
This is not an overstatement.

Reunions aside surely the most addictive facet of FaceBook is people ‘friend’ one another on the basis of avatars, those profile picture bearing imagined or aspirational personas, childhood pictures, and yes, their true-age looks.
So it was that new friendships were forged face to face the other day at Podium Mall’s Banana Leaf resto!

This ‘founding’ batch of what we whimsically dubbed The United Colors of Filipino FaceBook Friends brought together the Yellows, Oranges, Greens, and perhaps Greys of the current Filipino political landscape.

What a fun, albeit noisy, gathering it was as we partook of Peninsular Malaysia and Thai cuisine.

If you were there you know who you are my new friend/s.

One thing we are promised one another: there will be more and more sessions, with political partisanship left at the door and good, even naughty humor, always cocked (pun intended) ready to be unleashed!!!

The next venue we will ‘invade: Market Maarket.

Mabuhay Ang UCFFF (United Colors of Filipino FaceBook Friends), Mabuhay Ang Pagkakaiisa!!!

I would much rather not write about this guy.

First impulse would be to unleash venom.

But that’s what this supposed 23-year-old Cebuano allegedly named Joel Echavez what’s his blog visitors to do.

Quite sardonically he hints at having gone through a near-death experience.

But his rant against his own race is most pathetic as it is condemnable

Here’s the image of the Facebook link to his blog as it first surfaced aroung mid-day of October 2:

This is just an excerpt:

I will never show compassion to this country, I’d even make fun of the national anthem. You are proud to be a pinoy, you say? The fuck is wrong with you.. The Phils. got what it deserved. Ondoy should open our motherfuckin eyes, but Im guessin, give it about a month, this country will remain the same shithole that it is. Oh, Oh, get this, I heard that while the typhoon was goin down back there, and everybody was in panic, would you believe that there are people who would break in houses and STEAL shit?? Believe that! What the fuck is goin on with you people? So you see, lets not be compassionate about them or about ourselves. We, and I mean WE, deserved it. We deserved to be fucked, and not in the way normal people would want to get fucked, but fucked in a way that faggots wanna get fucked.

The easiest thing to do would be to dismiss the young man.

But the angst in him, his confusion, is too palpable to ignore.

Ending his blog post, Mr. Echavez (confident that he has caught the reader’s attention concludes:

I would like anyone reading this, to say a prayer for those families that are struggling, esp. at those provinces affected by the typhoon. And also for those messed up pinoys, that they would change, that the typhoon would open their eyes. For this country, that it would be worth living. That anyone who comes here in different races, be it koreans, or americans, or africans, jamaicans, blackanese, whaetever, wherever. That we will all live in harmony. Remember, only God can judge. Stop the corruption. The killing and all that. What the fuck have you got to prove? Lets make this country, from the fucked up shithole we call home, a better place.

PEACE!

Joel Echavez’s attempt at a 180-degree turn comes as a lame attempt at diluting his moronic rant.

I’m gravely worried about how many more ypoung Filipinos of Joel Echavez’s age are messed up the way he is.

How many of our young generation, the ones who represent the future, feel Philippine society, their society, is not worth saving and nurturing?

How do we save these bigots?

Updated:

Minutes after this post the errant blog has vanished:

The young man’s Twitter page remains active with the URL to his blog still ‘clickable’ but now takes a surfer to the blogspot error page:

Echavez has now quite sheepishly admitted he was “an asshole” for making thos disparaging remarks that has, in my book, singled him out as a bigot.:

Here’s what he’tweeted’:

This, sort of, loops this post for now.

But I think this is not a public apology that approximates the vevom he heaped on all of us.

It seemed like just another rainy day yesterday. People went about their business, some without umbrellas or jackets. A little rain never hurt anybody, they must have thought.

But it wasn’t a little rain — it was the most rain the country had ever had since 1967.

I must say that even when the rain stopped six hours later, I had only a very general idea of how other parts of the country — or Metro Manila, for that matter — had fared. Only late last night, when a friend sent me a frantic SMS about her husband and young children getting stranded in another part of QC because of the floods, did I realize the extent of the effects of today’s rain: this was Metro Manila, for crying out loud, where floods were not unheard of, but where no one ever had to be rescued from floods!

So many questions need answers at this time: How long will it take for our nation to recover? What will our government do? How will our people react to the situation? And perhaps an important one: Could it happen again?

I was in Cotabato City last week on assignment — my first real trip to Mindanao. I say “real” because I don’t think my trip to Davao a few years ago really counts. It took all of one day and consisted of being transported to and from an office.

This Cotabato trip was via Davao, but as with my first Davao trip, it was just from the airport to the terminal near SM, where we caught a van to Cotabato City. A word on the taxi cab system at the Davao airport: as the cab exits, the guard gets the passenger’s name. I wondered why, until the cabbie explained it was a way of monitoring cabs in case of losses or complaints. It made sense and made me wish there were such a system in Manila! 

I found Cotabato City to have a really old feel to it. Parts of the city felt to me as if time had stood still and the women in their malongs and tandongs were remnants from centuries ago. Nevertheless, it is a bustling city, with a population so diverse that Pilipino is the lingua franca. 

The highlights of the trip were definitely the moments of interaction with the locals. A tricycle driver told us that the city did get a lot of tourists, both local and foreign — but said they could always use more. When I asked him why, he said so that more people would know about their place.

A security guard at the hotel where we stayed told me that he was originally from another province in Mindanao. He said his father wanted to get as far away from armed conflict as possible and decided to move the whole family to Cotabato City. That was some 11 years ago. He would not have stayed so long in Cotabato City, he said, if it were not peaceful.  

An old couple at the fish market let me have my picture taken with them, but did not say a word. The woman (nana, as the Ilocanos say, but babo according to local custom, we were told later) looked at me a little warily, I thought. Not wanting to disturb what seemed to be a quiet, reflective moment, I just gestured that I wanted to shake hands with them as a way of thanking them. The man (tata or bapa) smiled and shook hands, as did the babo.

Some boatmen at the fish market smiled and waved when they saw our cameras. I thought at first they were fishermen, but they actually ferried people in their bancas to their homes across the water for Php12. Not far from where the boatmen were waiting, we took pictures of some young boys. They were shy at first but obliged us with wide grins, and later on, with some giggles. 

In all these, I was reminded of Benedict Anderson’s concept of “imagined communities.” Did these Cotabateños — indigenous and immigrant, Muslim and Christian, young and old, male and female — all perceive themselves as being part of one community? Beyond the confines of that community, did they see themselves as being part of a larger community called the Philippines? 

And, despite obvious differences in appearance and culture, did they see or feel any commonality with strangers like me? Did they recognize in me, for instance, a kababayan?

Filipino Catholic faithful are marking the 402^nd Feast of the Black Nazarene, the patron saint of Manila’s old central business and political district of Quiapo.

The district is home to the Quiapo Pro-Cathedral, shrine of the deeply venerated black-wood image of Jesus Christ bearing his cross is housed.

The statue presents Christ as he falls on his left knee from the weight of his burden as his Roman, and Jewish tormentors jeered and spat on him on the way to be crucified atop Mt. Calvary between a thief and a murderer.

Devotees of Poong Itim-na-Nazareno mainly push, pull, and jostle in unison or against each other as they try to wipe the statue and benefit from its supposed healing powers.

But methinks the truly spiritual teaching the Black Nazarene offers is how we should each carry our individual crosses without misgiving nor grief.

In our temporal existence, suffering and challenges can only make us stronger rather than break our resolve to weather hardship, oppression, and injustice: the very wounds that Jesus endured through to his death.

In the context of Philippine society, the message of the Black Nazarene takes on profound significance given the wide gap separating Filipinos from the their government of the day.

To be fair, the national leadership works hard and takes pains to project sincerity and determination to overcome present socio-economic imbalances,

What is abundantly lacking is public faith in the leadership.

Some are mostly resigned to the situation and many are simply counting down to 2010 in the hope that honest and fair elections will usher in a positive change in leadership and governance.

Filipinos are keeping faith.

In the recent and ongoing attention given to the Bangsamoro struggle for self determination, have we failed to learned from history and culture? 

The answer is a resounding “yes,” according to a lecture on Sulu held yesterday at the Yuchengco Museum. 

Four speakers presented fascinating accounts of the culture and history of a part of the country that few of us even know about: Dr. Abraham Sakili of UP’s Department of Art Studies talked about the history and culture of the people of Sulu from the perspective of the visual arts, while Prof. Ligaya Fernando-Amilbangsa introduced the audience to the pangalay and its role in Sulu traditions. Prof. Julkipli Wadi of the UP Institute of Islamic Studies discussed Sulu power and geopolitics, and Atty. Mehol Sadain, former dean of the same institute, complemented this with a very informative discussion on treaties signed by the Sulu Sultanate and their historical and legal implications. 

Despite the importance of the Sulu Sultanate at one point in history, it could have been located on the other side of the world, for all the average Filipino knows about it.

The reason for this lack of knowledge is simple. It’s not in the history books, said Sakili, and if any mention is made, it’s usually just a few pages.

And yet, at its height, the Sulu Sultanate was a force to reckon with in the region. According to Wadi, among the Islamic empires, it was one of the longest-lived at 465 years. Only the Ottoman Empire (643 years) outlasted it.

In the end, the speakers agreed that knowing more about Sulu and its people would be a big help in efforts geared toward achieving peace in Mindanao. Such discoveries would also contribute toward sustaining cultural diversity and developing a national identity.

The lecture was a complement to an exhibit entitled, “Beyond the Currents: The Culture and Power of Sulu,” which was supposed to end yesterday. Yuchengo Museum Director Jeannie Javelosa, however, announced that the exhibit would be up until the end of the month.

Cavin is Uncle Kenny’s son. I found my long lost cousin through a fellow Filipina who I only met on the internet. I cannot remember why she sent me an email but she did find me in Facebook (I must thank Facebook for helping me find some of my Singaporean childhood friends and now this!) The Filipina lady’s name is Maverick. Coincidentally, I am a director at Maverick By Design (www.maverickbydesign.com) ; so named for the unique talents and characters that each director brought to the company. We were young and fresh with a business concept that was supposed to revolutionize the Philippine advertising and apparel industry.

I would like to think that Maverick is my wake-up call to head in the direction of what I should  I have strived for much earlier to maintain my sanity and happiness…to be myself, loving what I do in an environment that made me, and to be surrounded by people whom I believe will nurture me…the children who will test my patience and understanding; and hopefully hone my skills as a friend, sister, mother, aunt, and mentor.  Is it too late?  It may not make everyone happy but I must think,for a change, like a real adult, in consideration for my family.  Soon, we could be somewhat together again.

When Maverick looked at my surname, she wondered whether I was related to someone close to her. As we exchanged emails, she was amazed at how her best friend and I thought alike…about family, Singaporean childhood, Australia, the Philippines, maturity, realizing the most important things in life etc.  In the beginning, I said I had an uncle who had migrated to Australia and who I hadn’t seen in 20 years etc. I didn’t see any connection until Maverick mentioned Cavin’s name and being from Australia, I thought it was too much of a coincidence for him not to be the little 6-year old chubby Cavin I knew as a 12-year old.  It seems that Cavin has turned out quite to be a well-mannered, considerate, and family-oriented guy like my brother; Uncle Kenny’s parenting skills have been similar to Dad’s afterall. It is a small world indeed for Maverick to have been friends all this while with Cavin and for them to work together at the company where I’m planning to work!

It seems that Cavin has become my paternal grandfather who loved children around him…noisy but happy! …never thought anyone in my generation would take after Grandpa considering how young people these days are materialistic and pampered especially those in Singapore.    It is a pity that Cavin didn’t get to know Grandpa well. The Morier clan is quiet these days. Grandmother passed on in April this year, the same day my niece Sowon turned 4 years old. Her passing was the last time the family got together though Uncle Percy and Daddy were missing.  Cavin was there. Uncle Malcolm met him. Everyone was taller or older…so life goes on yet again; some leave this earth while others enter it.

Whenever I was at my parents’ home in the province, I used to look at the picture of Grandpa in his wheelchair. It was during a family Christmas gathering at our Yishun HDB flat. There was Avril, Kyle, Bong, Bambi, Nicole, Uncle Kenny, Mom, Cavin, and me around Grandpa. We all looked happy then; smiling in the good old days. That same Christmas tree is still with my parents. How sentimental my parents can be. Where is everyone now? Avril is now married with a child. I talked to Kyle and Damien recently. Bong is too busy being a doctor in Manila. Nicole has a German husband. Sean is married with 2 children. Uncle Patrick still lives in Toa Payoh. After that, people drifted away, get-togethers became a rarity, Grandpa passed away in 1993, and my own family moved back to the Philippines. Now, I’ve been meeting up with former schoolmates and childhood friends online (www.facebook.com) ; the only time I will appreciate technology. It seems my journey is taking me back to Singapore.