Becoming Oceania

I am not pretty sure whether it is the book I've read or the cigarettes I've consumed that's keeping me up at this time of the day. It's around four in the morning, but lest do I care.

Tacloban is becoming Oceania, I first thought. By Oceania I mean not the continent down under, but the setting of the novel Nineteen Eighty-Four, by George Orwell. Slowly becoming, beginning with the subtle changes the City Government is doing. Now a highly urbanized city, Tacloban is expectd to grown more prosperous in the coming months or years, depending on the actions the leaders would take. What I have observed however is that, along with the progress, the governing body is slowly erasing the memories of the past, beginning with demolished landmarks, bureaucratic reorganization, and so on.

Nineteen Eighty-Four tells about a dystopic totalitarian state where INGSOC, the ruling Party, takes charge of its citizens not just through providing goods, making the people work, but more importantly, controlling the way they think. To think agains the Party is a crime, a thought crime, and a person accused of a thought crime is punished by immense torture, afterwards reborn to love and obey the principles of the Party. What struck me though is that the Party controls Oceania by reinventing history, for "he who controls the present controls the past." By being a citizen of Oceania, one is denied of remembering the past, and should only believe to what the Party has instilled.

To some extent I would like to believe in th Party slogan mentioned above. Looking at the fate of my hometown I could say that a lot has changed, yet there are too little memories to cherish. The citizens ar provided with too many responsibilities to take care of, too many issues to tackle, and too many problems to solve, leaving no room to reminisce. At the same time, the fragments of the past are slowly being eliminated and replaced with things regarded to be more practical and functional, as these things are implied to be needs. By thinking less, people would start to forget, and soon they would be too senile to remember even what just happened a few seconds back.

If the past could be indeed reinvented, then those who would tend to remember what they saw, felt or heard may be caught, tried and punished, presumably if they had thought of something that would put the government in bad light. Lucky that Tacloban is no totalitarian society (yet), and that no Thought Police exists, otherwise I would have been caught and vaporized at this moment. However, just like the Party, the City Government is reinventing the past by feeding its people with conveniences. It would not take long before the citizens would start to pay back: soon will they be slaves, existing to function, devoid of the memories that would have kept their souls, or at the very least, their sanities intact.

I am guilty of a thought crime. Thought Police, come and get me.

Love Reunited

Love can be defined in many ways, but it was only a few days ago when I saw a good, graphic interpretation of the said word.

According to some undocumented accounts about my family's history, our clan carries a curse that will last for seven generations. It is said that for seven generations, the women in our family will bear fatherless children, as my female family members would fall in love with men who already belong to someone else. Perhaps the curse is true, based on a series of coincidences that took place, for yes, most of my cousins (and including myself) grew up with missing fathers, and they are bound to find their dads in the near future. I consider myself lucky for having found mine at the right time.

The case of my cousin is different, however.

Three years ago, one of my aunts fell under the said curse, and our family called her disgraceful for having a child out of wedlock. The father of her child is already married, and therefore they cannot build a family of their own. She eventually gave birth to a boy, who is now a bratty yet still adorable kid who wakes up early to play with his other cousins in their playground-the Tacloban market. My aunt meanwhile shed off her thoughts about her child's father, in the belief that disclosing information or updates about him will only make life complicated once again. She focused on the family business, while at the same time bringing up her child single-handed.

But there is always a time saved for realizations to take place. Out of sheer fun, she met up with her lost love, the father of her child, for a night of merry-making. Bottles of beer were spent, and they had a conversation so light it seemed like nothing happened in the past. She then had the chance to ask and answer questions, to get the explanations she deserved, and have herself clarified. The guy was given the opportunity to say his piece too. That night she saw and felt the sincerity in his eyes, that even though everything is still at the planning stage, she could see that he is now in a better disposition in facing his responsibilities. And because of that, she found hope.

She is now determined to raise their child, not out of obligation, but of true love. To hell with the hypocrisies of our family.

Why am I here, anyway?

Today my aunt and I went to LEYECO, the region's power distributor to pay this month's electric bill. After that chore we proceeded to the downtown area to have late lunch, and since it started to rain again we took a tricycle and headed back home. As we rode on the tricycle I suddenly thought of my father. He is also drives a tricycle for a living nowadays, as he already retired from his job at the courier service. I haven't seen him since New Year's Eve, and yes, I am beginning to miss him.

I am too shy to admit it in front of his face but he is the main reason why I am here in Tacloban. I didn't grow up here in this place, and the first time we met I wasn't ready to call him "dad," given the way things were back then. It took me another thirteen years to see him, and after a short visit last February 2008, I packed my bags and took the bus coming to this city, in order to build memories with him.

Funny though, that for each time we see each other I become timid and shy. I could only smile and ask a few stupid questions such as "how are you," "how's life on your part of the world," and other random stuff. He gives me a warm smile, but after a few minutes we'd have to go on our separate ways since we have other tasks to do. It seems however, that since the New Year, he became too preoccupied with his own chores he doesn't get to visit me anymore. I on the other hand am hoping that one of these days I'd be able to ride on his tricycle by chance, and he would have the time to tour me around the downtown area.

I miss you, Dad. Sampaguita Village seems 900 kilometers away from the Tarcela Street, just like Manila.

The Curious Case of the Tacloban Rainshowers

This is the first time I spent the new year in my hometown, Tacloban. During the holidays I was so excited because I haven't spent celebrating the season in this place, so I exhausted myself with all the merry-making my relatives had to offer. When New Year's eve came however, I suddenly felt sleepy and opted to go to dreamland in the midst of the firecracker extravaganza. Besides, it was a rainy evening and with the clouds covering the night sky, there would be no fireworks to shine on midnight. New Year's Day arrived, and the rain continued to pour. To my surprise, the showers didn't cease even after a few days. Tacloban mornings were awfully cloudy, and the city seemed to be deprived of sunshine. I had to wear my hooded jacket and bring an umbrella to the places I went, and I could only wonder why the rain pour wouldn't stop even if there was no threat of storms in the area.

One afternoon while watching another rainfall in my bedroom window, I remembered and old saying that rain showers are supposed to clean up the land. The purpose of rainfall is to wash away the dirt and grime the land has incurred due to human abuse, and after a long rain pour, sunshine would welcome the soil that's now blessed with new life. That's when it struck me.

Tacloban has always been a dirty place, it even went to the top of the charts (as the dirtiest city in the Philippines). The streets of downtown are crowded at night not by people but of garbage and sewer rats, and there's nothing the people could do (save for a few X-men also known as metro aides who try to sweep some trash during midnight). Perhaps the heavens are trying to clean up this city, but despite their continuous efforts to wash away the rubbish, nothing has seemed to change.

Tacloban is now an HUC, but is this really the answer to the city's current problems? I could only wonder. Even the heavens can't seem to find a solution.

Children's Park and Tacloban's Quest in Becoming a Highly Urbanized City

I was watching a travel show on a cable channel last week and there was a restaurant featured in Charlotte, North Carolina. The said diner was known for its fried hotdog sandwiches which people from all walks of life enjoy. What struck me however is that the diner has been around since 1928, and the owners of the establishment didn't change any part of the place to preserve its nostalgia-the diner reminds its townsfolk of the memories they had over the past 80 years.

I meanwhile began to think about Children's Park. Situated in front of Tacloban's Provincial Capitol, Children's Park used to be the main playground of the city's future citizens, (kids, of course). However, due the ongoing plans for commercial development, the Children's Park was demolished (the ruins still stand though) and was in a way transferred to a nearby coastal lot which is now called "Family Park".

I was born in Tacloban, but due to the circumstances I was not able to spend my growing up years here. But the Children's Park became a vital part of my heritage, since my aunt, who grew up in Tacloban, always shared to me her fond memories as a child in the said playground. It was the place where she enjoyed her life as a kid, and where she build foundations of friendship with her classmates. Through the photographs I saw her and her classmates playing at the big shoe, and rode on the stone elephants that stood in the park.

I first visited to Tacloban when I was 9, but since I was lost in translation I wasn't able to play and make friends with the kids at Children's Park. It took me another 13 years to return after that short visit, but unfortunately Children's Park wasn't there anymore. I soon found out that the site where the Children's Park once stood was supposed to be used for a mall, but the project didn't push through. These days the site of Children's Park is being used as a place where used clothes are sold for bargain prices (ukay-ukay).

I am not sure if my aunt already knows about the demise of the playground she learned to love, but for sure she would be saddened to learn this fact. Children's Park is among the few places in Tacloban where people come in peace and share solace, where children build memories of fun and laughter. Children's Park is also the perfect site where government offices can view their people united, which is a good reminder of not just the city's culture, but of the people's socio-political strength.

As I view it, the demolition of Children's Park is a cruel way of robbing the Taclobanons' culture. The park was a cultural landmark, and it cannot be replaced or transferred for the sake of commercial goals. Was the relocation of the park among the plans towards becoming a highly urbanized city? I do understand the city's needs for better economic development, but I can't seem to find a good reason for putting the city's socio-cultural landmarks at risk. I believe, that no matter how economically stable a state is, it still is worth nothing without culture, for it lives with no spirit. The same goes with its microcosm, such as the city of Tacloban.

The people of have decided however. I just hope that the consequences of the choice they made would not take a painful toll in Tacloban's future.