Post-PUV-modernization, I suggest a museum for tourists that shall be called Phased-out Utility Vehicles Museum, or maybe Public Utility Transportation and Automobile Monument. Why flatten and weigh rusty scrap metals out of all jeepneys, when some topnotch models can preserve culture, evoke sentiment and turn feelings for the fallen icon into cash?
In my maiden article for this column I made mentioned of a fishing village in Kesennuma, Miyagi prefecture, Japan. One of the villages we went to was Karakuwa. In the book, “Mindanao Muslim History: Documentary Sources from the Advent of Islam to the 1800s,” which I co-authored and published this year at the auspices of Ateneo de Davao University, Caracoa is repeatedly mentioned along with other indigenous warships which sorts of “challenged Western gunboats by sheer maneuverability and speed” in navigating the seas of Visayas and Mindanao (2017, 76). Caracoa or Karakuwa was a large boat, the fastest at the time and equivalent to the battleships in modern times. These ships were largely employed by Muslim polities (e.g. Sultanates of Maguindanao and Sulu).
I have not heard of the concept of alone time until I reached mid-20’s. Being single that time, it was practically difficult for me to understand that we need to spend a sometime in isolation. I was mostly scared of being alone, so I did not really find time to practice it.
Problematizing the Mindanao Settler Identity As the assumption of the Settlers’ mere utility to state encroachment needs to be questioned,…
Not even the crazed United States President Trump whose multibillion-dollar business empire could bring him to another planet haven, away from the contamination of radiation and save himself if his dirty finger presses the nuclear button.
One of the problems that confront our farmers is the lack of post-harvest facilities, from the very staple rice and corn to a more complex and highly perishable vegetables and even meat storage and processing.
A few weeks ago, I inadvertently sparked among my social media contacts (and their contacts) a heated discussion about art, politics, alliances and cultural institutions; hence this attempt at making sense of the timely prairie fire, after the suffocating smoke settled, finally vanished and blended with the dissonant aroma of noise-air pollution. The wick: “ano ‘yang bringing back political theater, new protest poetry sa entablado? sinong huminto? kailan naging apolitical ang ahrt?” (What’s bringing back political theater, new protest poetry on stage? Who stopped? When has ahrt been apolitical?) Though far from the infernal flames of DDS-Dilawan troll war, firewood kept the thread ablaze for a few days, and I had to extinguish it and limit access; as of now, only those who chipped in comments and ideas regarding the new protest performance poetry shenanigans can reflect on their word choices and life decisions. As for me, no regrets so far.
Since that memorable day when songs and poesies
Crafted of pain and anger of the Avians were lanced
To the sky which virtually shredded the thick clouds
And floated like ocean waves in the firmament,
The Narrative of Neglect: The Mindanao Settler against the Narrative of the Regions and of the Filipino Nation Which is…
Only two decades ago, we still see our oldies knitting and crocheting. Many times back then, I would see a grandmother of some playmates who would sew and knit while we run around and play. These days, I rarely see that and I see many adults, counting myself in, so hooked with the screens.