Britania Once More- Part Three

Mayor Alameda’s “Ademala” is the grandfather of all motorboats-for-hire in Britania. White, wide, and with parallel seats like that of a jeepney, the “Ademala” has a way of calming down tourists scared of seafaring.

I boarded the “Ademala” along with other judges and went straight to the rear, opting to sit beside the boatman because I had several questions to ask. Standing near the hull and facing us, the tour-guide leaned back against a pole and raised the megaphone to her mouth to do her spiel. But then the boat roared and the wind snatched away her words.

I stared at the water, awed at how clear it was. Beneath us I could see sand, seaweeds, corals, fish. A foamy spray hit me in the arm as the bamboo outrigger plowed through.

The tour-guide had given up and was having a small talk with those sitting in front. I pitied her. She should have done her spiel before departure, that way she wouldn’t have to shout the bits of info she wanted to share.

Fifteen minutes ticked by and the “Ademala” was ready to hit the whiter than white shores of Buslon Island. I took off my Nikes because I wanted to relive the heavenly feeling of how it was to walk on arguably the Philippine’s finest and softest sand.

Buslon is the most popular of Britania Islands because it’s the nearest and ergo, the easiest, fastest and cheapest to access. From here, one can do island-hopping either by swimming or riding a boat. However, during low tide, one can do it on foot! Yes, that's right---on foot!

For the launch, Buslon Island was decorated with huge, multi-colored umbrellas and artsy sailboats. By the biggest rock formation a long table stood; and behind it were men and women in floral uniform holding a leafy fly swat. Draped with coco fronds and heaving from seafood, fruits and delicacies, the table created a fusion of colors that made me all the more ravenous.

After someone prayed, we all turned into food amoks.











Then it was island-hopping time!

I’ve been to Britania at least thrice but I haven’t gone to its distant islets like the pebble-rich Bon-bon and Naked Islands. (It’s called Naked Island because it has nothing on it except the sand, the sea and the sun!) And so when the tour-guide announced the boat was ready to depart for Naked Island, I ran to Ademala like it was Noah’s Ark. As we passed by them, the rest of Britania Islands grouped and regrouped as though an unseen magician was doing his trick to enthrall us.



From afar, Naked Island was an apparition, a fallen cloud that God never bothered to pick up. Shrouded in white, it shimmered as it stretched to its full length of about four basketball courts.

We jumped off and ran, imprinting footsteps deep into the sand. The skies hung pretty low such that when we reached the top of the mound, we extended our hands for God to lift us to heaven in one fell swoop. Then the cameras clicked as my companions lived their fantasies and captured the enchanting moments for Facebook purposes.

Naked Island cannot be described; it can only be experienced.



From Naked Island, we went straight to Barangay Britania for the critiquing session of the day’s affair. Ms. Lala Ambray brought my things because I left them in Buslon Island.

In my book, Britania Islands will always remain tops. And though I want them solely for my own selfish enjoyment, they're too beautiful to remain unshared!

my addiction

I love condensed milk. And if you ask me what’s my favorite sandwich spread for my pan de sal and pan de leche, Liberty tops my list with Star Margarine sprinkled with brown sugar as close second.

My mother made desserts that required condensed milk like leche flan or buco salad. And every time this happened, we---the six of us---would squabble for the empty Liberty can. And when it got rowdy, mother would invoke my being the youngest. And so I’d repair to one corner of our kitchen where I would spoon whatever remained of the creamy, sweet, yellowish viscous liquid into my mouth. Other times I’d pour hot water into the can, stir, and shake it before drinking the contents straight from the can’s jagged edge. Thinking about this now felt strange because I was the kid who hated drinking Nido and American Tiki-tiki.

My memory bank is crammed with images that include a can of Liberty with twin punctures plugged in by its own dog-eared label, sitting on a saucer that contained water to keep the ants at bay. (There was no ref yet!) And just before it turned sour, we’d make pastillas—milk candies---out of it.

Most of my baon as a kid went to my classmates who sold pastillas. Placed inside a Nescafe glass, these pastillas were shaped in circles and dusted with white sugar so they wouldn’t stick together like goat dung.

Pastillas became my drug of choice. Sometimes the craving grew beyond quelling that I had to buy them on credit. But knowing there would be hell to pay if my parents found out, I had to make my enterprising classmates promise not to seek me out at home for payment. But because all promises are made to be broken, my parents found out and made pastillas of my butt!

I went cold turkey and joined Pastillas Anonymous! No, scratch that; I’m hallucinating.

I went through college clean of my addiction. But every time I saw a can of Liberty, I had this compulsion to open it and pour its contents on a hot oiled pan to make pastillas that I would have wolfed down in one go!

Years rolled by. Then recently, and just like that, my drug of choice started appearing on the shelves of big stores in Tandag. They may now come wrapped in water cellophane and shaped in tiny squares but they are as yummy and sweet as the pastillas of my youth.

I’m on relapse!

writing pays

today i have received a pouch sent by ms. anika ventura of eastgate, the publishing arm of PAL. it contained a complimentary copy of Mabuhay, a check, and an acknowledgment receipt.

writing is its own reward. still, it feels good to know that it also pays. even if only for a pittance.

Britania Once More - Part Two

The welcome program over and done with, we moved on to the Layag Design Contest. As jurors, we sat under a small nipa shed at the brink of a 100-meter walkway that stood on stilts.

The sun penetrated the nipa roof and the wind caressed our sweaty skin. From afar, Britania’s 24 islands, islets, and sandbars flecked the turquoise water like half-submerged domes of Poseidon. Then suddenly, as the winds shifted, the boats emerged from nowhere. In groups of five, they cruised toward us in boldly painted sails that broke the monotony of a monochromatic sea. To make sure we wouldn’t miss their assigned letter as basis for judging, boatmen tamed the wind and maneuvered their sails, the better to charm us with their creation’s best angle.



The sun grew fiercer and the shed’s shadow began to grow longer on the water. As my stomach growled, I could only hope that Dir. Bulabog didn’t notice. The boatmen began taking their time like we had the whole day to spare. Good thing Dir. Bulabog instructed the guy holding the megaphone to tell the boatmen to move it faster. By the time the Layag Design Contest was through, we were ready to eat the pencil we used for rating the participants.

At my back and reading from a list, a familiar voice was saying who would ride which boat. Her enunciation was excellent and her English, good. The huskiness of her voice was familiar, like that of her father who’s my good friend. When I turned to look at her, she smiled and said, “I told Papa you’re coming.” San Agustin, specifically Britania, could not get a better tour guide than Ms. Baby Darunday-Ladanan!

Together with other judges, I climbed down a stair connected by a wooden plank to the outrigger boat that would bring us to Buslon Island where lunch was served. I didn’t notice the boat was named Ademala, much less realize that it was an anagram of the Mayor’s family name. Hunger has a way of shutting off my brain!

Britania Once More - Part One

When Ms. Lala Ambray, Provincial Tourism Officer, fetched me at half past 7:00 o’clock, I was already in my faux tourist get-up. It was a beautiful June 16 Wednesday morning, the sky was spotless, and we were headed for San Agustin, Surigao del Sur for the launching of Britania Island Tour Package.

The invite said, "be our guest and critic (sic) who shall evaluate/assess the whole tour product and its features for possible modification and refinement." We would also sit as jurors of the "Layag Design Contest," a corollary activity of the launch.

We reached San Agustin’s Town Square before 9 o’clock. Two years ago we would have been half-way still. But now that the highway had been fully concreted, travel time is cut in half and not to mention, many times more comfortable.

We walked toward the sea, to the lighthouse that looked like a three-tiered cake for its conical shape. Visitors from all over Surigao del Sur and Caraga Region, apparently done with breakfast, were now chatting, milling about, and blowing smokes. We stopped midway to look at the dead fountain’s focal point---a snaking swordfish in heavy paint! Does water spew forth from its sharp-toothed mouth?

Somebody smiled and we realized it was the amiable first lady of San Agustin, Ms. Mercy Alameda. Beso-beso. She then introduced us to the regional directors of NEDA and DILG and other visitors before leading us to the table weighed down by fruits and some edibles. We politely declined as we were still full.



It was past 10 o’clock when the Municipal Tourism Officer briefed us on the day’s activity. From San Agustin we had to proceed to Salvacion where all vehicles would be parked and everybody must take either a tricycle or a motorcycle to Britania. This way, she said, we’d get first hand experience on how it is to be a tourist in Britania. Well…

After about 10 minutes, we reached Salvacion Junction where the newly-built Tourist’s Information Center gleamed and smelled of fresh paint. (Lala Ambray commented on the placement of apostrophe; I let it pass, the activity being not about punctuation.) Too eager to greet us in their rehearsed lines and smiles, the reception staff made us write, among other things, our name on a logbook. In exchange we got a shell-laden, hand-painted “Welcome to Britania” lei and a fringed buri hat.



Tricycles and motorcycles vroomed to life after visitors mounted them. DILG Provincial Director Bulabog made me ride a motorcycle driven by the barangay captain of Salvacion. Good choice as he was a driver skilled at maneuvering his red-and-black Honda away from craters, puddles and rocks that littered the unpaved, narrow road. And most importantly, he knew his facts: From the highway, it’s 2.8 kilometers to Britania; the proposed road (not the private road currently being used) leading to Britania had been converted from a barangay to a national road, which means it may be completed sooner than usual.

Expectedly the road was better than when I last visited it, which was the Monday after Easter this year. However, despite our suggestion made weeks before the launch, there were no signages to guide tourists like me who have no sense of direction. (Although we saw one tarp on our way home, tourists would easily miss it as it was not conspicuously placed.) Thankfully, LGU-San Agustin had replaced the two rickety wooden bridges. But still it bothered me to see that garbage, mostly cellophanes and diapers, remained caught between the gnarled roots of mangroves that richly and beautifully line the dirt road. Unchecked, this may drive persnickety tourists away as it hints at the water quality of Britania. While this can easily be solved by a coastal clean-up, it’s really community education that will have a far-reaching effect.



When I reached Britania, the crowd was already thick at the area where the welcome program was to be held. Under a humongous blood-red umbrella were monoblock chairs and a long registration table. A rostrum stood beside a royal blue cloth that hung in front of a wall and pinned with words welcoming guests and visitors to Britania. As though in a concert, a group of men and women in blue, peach, and red floral outfit sang Kamayo ditties specially composed for the occasion.











As one important guest spoke after another, I couldn’t take my eyes off the rice cakes and the fresh young coconuts because my stomach was roiling from hunger as it was almost noon. And then finally, Gov. Johnny T. Pimentel, NEDA and DILG Regional Directors Cochingco and Bordeos unfurled the tarp just when the crowd turned restless from heat and hunger.

But lunch was still an island and a Layag Design Contest away!

*****

jejemon

according to urban dictionary, a jejemon is:

1) Usually seen around social networking sites such as Friendster and Multiply, jejemons are individuals with low IQs who spread around their idiocy on the web by tYpFing LyK diZS jejejeje, making all people viewing their profile raise their eyebrows out of annoyance. Normal people like you and me must take a Bachelor of Arts in Jejetyping in order to understand said individuals, as deciphering their text would cause a lot of frustration and hair pulling. CAUTION: THESE INDIVIDUALS ARE BREEDING! THEY CAN BE SEEN WRECKING GRAMMATICAL HAVOC ON FACEBOOK TOO!

2) Jejemons are not just confined to trying-hard Filipino gangsters and emos. A Jejemon can also include a variety of Latino-Hispanic fags who enjoy typing "jejejejeje" in a wider context, much to the disdain of their opponents in an internet MMORPG game such as Ragnarok and DOTA.

3) Basically anyone with a low tolerance in correct punctuation, syntax and grammar. Jejemons are usually hated or hunted down by Jejebusters or the grammar nazi to eradicate their grammatical ways.

****

for more definition of jejemon, go to this link: http://www.urbandictionary.com/define.php?term=jejemon

how tagon-ons voted

[Disclaimer: This armchair analysis centers on how Tagon-ons voted in the Sangguniang Bayan race. However I delimit it to the Top 10 SB candidates, using results from the randomly selected 13 of the 24 barangays. To get the voting pattern, I gave one point to a candidate if he landed anywhere from 1st to 8th place in any of the 13 barangays.

There’s nothing scientific about this discussion. No winning candidate was interviewed. All information was gathered from unverified secondary sources.]



The recent elections in Tago partook of a money contest where candidates played ATMs, dispensing crisp bills as though they’d go offline in the morrow. Others made it look like they were on relief operations, giving out noodles, detergent bars, rice, toothbrush, and reading glasses.

But before going any further, a definition of some terms: a) “Tili-tili” (literally a rain shower) means either cash or goods that the candidates give to voters to win votes; and b) “Planting rice” means a wholesale giving of tili-tili.

The cash “tili-tili” in the SB race ranged from P20-50. Because there was a shortage of small bills, other candidates went for three voters for P100. This tili-tili was stapled to the candidates’ campaign material and distributed by political leaders using the Comelec’s List of Registered Voters as guide.

To be effective, tili-tili should be uniform in amount, meaning, if a candidate gives P20 to the “intelligent” voters in Poblacion Tago, then voters in Layog or Anahaw Daan should also receive P20. If the candidate becomes selective, i.e., preferring to give bigger tili-tili in Poblacion than in the barrios, he courts being junked by offended voters outside of Tago. This happened to one candidate who gave P50 in the central part of Tago and P20 in the barangays; though he won, he didn’t land in the top three as earlier predicted.

Voters without personal attachment to candidates tend to vote for whoever gives them a bigger tili-tili. Okay, not all. But most! One voter who received four 20s but had only one slot to spare said he confronted his guilt by placing the tili-tili inside a bottle and picked the candidate who would complete his list of eight SB members.

Because candidates believe that there’s no substitute for victory, they engage in planting rice. But to work, planting rice requires two things: 1) enough cash to cover all registered voters; and 2) an organization of honest and loyal leaders who will distribute the tili-tili as intended by the candidates.

By its definition, planting rice is giving tili-tili to all registered voters. But even how well-oiled he is, a candidate can’t afford to go for 100 per cent exposure. And so he or his voodoo analysts study the result of the previous elections and ask: How much percentage of the total registered voters were the votes garnered by the top SB member? The politician's crude and unwritten formula is to multiply this percentage by the present number of registered voters and then multiply the result by two. The product becomes his target for planting rice operation.

How expensive was planting rice in Tago during the recent elections? A winning candidate spent a whopping P640,000.00 by “buying” 75% of the total registered voters (about 16,000) at P40 each. Vote conversion rate however was placed at 50% because for every two voters he “bought,” he got only one vote.

(Just so you get the whole picture, let me stress the obvious. The P640,000.00 was for tili-tili purposes alone and did not include expenses for caucuses and rallies, and mobilization for leaders.)

What’s the mechanics for planting rice? Using the crude formula cited above, the candidate decides how and where to generate these target votes by checking the voters in each barangay and decides who to include in his shop list, prioritizing his and his leaders’ relatives, friends, and acquaintances.

Planting rice has become a pervading practice in Tago that it now cuts across the hitherto sacrosanct stratum of the “rich” and the “intelligent.” Leaders of politicos have become brazen as to knock at the door, holding a bundle of tili-tili for the entire household. Gracia hatud bay! And as if to lessen the shamelessness and guilt of the act, the paymasters would say that the tili-tili is all part of their budget and that if the recipient wouldn’t accept it, then it would go to their pocket.

But a total price war it was not. Some SB candidates gave P30 and still bit the political dust while others gave P20 and emerged victorious. Another candidate, who has been claiming that he's no practitioner of tili-tili giving, also won. Perhaps for these winning candidates, a good organization was the clincher. Or simply that it was written in the stars that they would become legislators no matter what.

None of of the candidates who distributed consumables won. And interestingly, all incumbent candidates, while putting up a good fight, lost. Makes one wonder how people treat performance or lack of it as voting consideration!

Here’s how the top ten SB candidates of Tago figured in the political landscape of the 13 randomly selected barangays. The 1st and 2nd placer got 13/13, meaning they were consistently in the Top 8; the 2nd, 12/13; the 4th, 10/13; the 5th, 8/12, the 6th, 7th and 8th, 6/13; and the 9th and 10th, 4/13.

I can tell you how this voting behavior changes in May 2013. But first, show me the money!