Still Remembering

I'm exhausted in more ways than one.

Physically, I'm drained from all the moving in the office. And yes, I've carried boxes of diffrent weights and sizes, tables, shelves, steel cabinets and whatnots--although I didn't lift the things I just enumerated by myself. Well at least not some of the tables and shelves and steel cabinets.

I have bruises on my knees from all the pushing of heavy stuff I did. But I have to admit that I am looking forward to our first complete day at the new office tomorrow even if it means another day of lifting and pushing and unpacking in a place devoid of airconditioning and even free flowing air.

Then there's the sleep deprivation which is mostly my fault. I have been staying up really late--make that really early, as in until after midnight. Mostly I spend the time browsing photos and videos of you-know-who. By this time, my readers would think Nichi is overrated but I feel otherwise.

I am compelled to satisfy my need to get a healthy dose of Nichi whenever I can. If only to soothe my inflicted emotions and restless mind.

So here. I wish to share how our Nichi is like in a normal day. He dances when he feels like it. And when he does, he never fails to add his own twist to popular moves.

The rest of the video's still us...in a normal day. (Notice how I highlight how normal this scene is at home. Oh, how I wish I'd have that normal day again!)

Well Isn't That Moving?

My back hurts. I swear I’m going to see a doctor soon.

And we, the whole office people and I, moving from one location to another aggravates my weak back. But I don’t mind. At least things haven’t been ordinary for the past days—excruciating moments when we sit in the office, do our usual tasks and let our butts grow as if “butt growth” will do us good.

So these days, no work in our office gets done. What with the packing?! How can we work? Our official things are sealed in random boxes and so are our “corporate minds.” (Yikes, “corporate” daw, o?!)

We pack all day thus explains our exhaustion. (Hmmm…that sounds kind of weird. Either way, it holds true. You’d naturally feel tired when you do that thing all day!)

So we’re moving. I’m excited. Not that I’ve been deprived of moving. In fact, I’m an expert having moved houses six times in my whole hippocampus-developed lifetime.

Let me enumerate: From Canley Road we moved to Santiago Street [1st move]. Then my mom, one day, had the brightest idea to transfer from the third apartment door to the first one, being that the latter was slightly bigger [2nd move]. Later, as part of a major change in our lives, we packed our bags and headed to Malinao [3rd move]—Malinao which experiences its own version of high tide thanks to incessant rains. Add to that our next-door neighbor who turned their home to a furniture workshop, constantly emitting paint fumes. Both factors drove us to Plaza [4th move]. Everything in Plaza is cramped and fresh air, just as the water supply, is rare. But if you stand just above our staircase you’d smell McDonald’s foods while in the bedroom you’d savor the mouth-watering aroma of Max’s fried chicken! And life in Plaza is almost as cramped as those we see on telenovelas, where the hungry bidas hold on to their tummies while they watch the rich ones get fatter everyday by eating in restaurants like Max’s (or probably McDonalds, too). Until one day the old evil witch, wearing her gold chains, pearl earrings, and silver bangles, will drive the poor bidas away while shrieking, “Get out of my house! You are not my relatives!” Luckily the bidas find a better abode to take shelter in. Then again, going back to our family, hopping to that new spot in San Nicolas [5th move] wasn’t an entirely lucky decision. The house was all right but what was in store changed everything. (Perhaps it is even the reason why I mourn right now.) In San Nicolas, swarms of termites attacked around 25% of what we owned thus prompting us to use all chemicals possible to solve that matter regarding co-existing with pesky insects. It proved to be one of the worst ideas in the world as days later, our youngest, our Nichi began suffering the consequences of prolonged exposure to harmful chemicals and soon thereafter was diagnosed with leukemia—the perpetrator, so to speak, of his early demise. But four years before Nichi’s death, mom had the same brightest idea she had in Santiago. Hence our sixth home relocation from San Nicolas to San Nicolas.

See? I’m not making up the unbeaten six-time move claim. And I haven’t included my dorm hops yet.

Still, the prospect of packing, moving and unpacking doesn’t fail to keep me thrilled. I guess, I’ve learned to enjoy it. As a matter of fact, I have captured some of the moving progress of our office department in photos:



Early today. Things are packed and labeled. Our area is devoid of that asbestos ceiling that gives me the medical creeps and walls that hinder you from believing that you have X-ray vision.

Just arrived. Some of our Department’s tables and shelves are blessed with rain, although I’m using “blessed” in the not-so-favorable light. I guess, what I really mean is, “they got soaked by the uncooperative rain.”

View from the top. The stacks you see are not boxes. They are the tables and cabinets shown above. Amazingly, the hired hands are macho enough to carry one shelf per pair of hands, or I mean, per person.

Here I am. At the old office. Beside our group’s box number three. Smiling.





Perhaps my back wasn’t aching then.

Bakit Ba Hindi Ako Nag-Filipino Major?

Ito pong entry na ito ay kasali sa Wika2007 contest ng PinoyBlogoSphere. Mangyari lamang pong i-click ito para makaboto kayo. Madali lang po bumoto! Umaasa po ako sa inyong suporta. Maraming salamat po!


Minsan kong naitanong iyan sa aking sarili matapos magturo sa mga batang napakahuhusay magsalita ng Ingles.

Wala! Tiklop ako at ang pagiging Communication Arts graduate ko. Muntik na nga yatang dumugo ang ilong ko sa kasasalita sa wikang hindi naman akin sa loob ng mahigit isang oras.

Bakit nga ba ako hindi nag-Filipino major?

Hindi ko kasi alam na may ganoon palang kurso. Marahil hindi ko na rin siya inurirat dahil naisip ko, Pinoy naman ako. Filipino major by birth, kung baga. Sapat na ang mga klase ko sa Filipino para malaman ang mga dapat kong malaman. Isa pa, araw araw naman akong nagta-Tagalog. Kundi pa ba naman ako mahasa noon, ewan ko na lang!

Yon nga lang. Nakalimutan ko ang isang glitch: malabnaw ang Tagalog na kinalakhan ko. Palibhasa sa Maynila na ako pinanganak at nagkamalay, corrupted Tagalog tuloy ang nakagisnan ko. Yun bang may halong salitang kanto, pop, at bakla. Puno rin ng salitang hiram na karamihan ay galing sa mga Kano.

Kaya naman kapag malalim na Tagalog na ang binabato sa akin, napapanganga na lamang ako. Hindi pa naman ganoon kadaling maghanap ng mapagkakatiwalaang diksyunaryong Filipino. Samantalang ang mga English dictionary ay naglipana at ika nga, “they come in all sizes.”

Dagdag pa pala sa nagpalabnaw sa Tagalog ko ay ang mga ligaw na salitang Cebuano sa aking bukabularyo. Bisaya kasi ang mommy ko. At kahit dugay na siya sa Manila, Bisayang-bisaya pa gihapon! [Kahit matagal na siya sa Manila, bisayang-bisaya pa rin talaga!]

Madalas, maski ako ay nalilito kung Tagalog nga ba o Cebuano ang ilan sa mga salitang alam ko. Bagaman dahilan ng pagkalito ko ang pagkakaroon dalawang dialekto sa aming bahay, hindi naman ako nagrereklamo. Ayos nga e! Bukod sa Tagalog, kasabot pa ako ug gamay na Bisaya [nakakaintindi pa ako ng kaunting Bisaya].

Noong tumuntong ako sa kolehiyo at napasok sa Unibersidad ng Pilipinas, nagulat ang isa sa mga grupo sa klase ko nang minsang sumabat ako sa usapan Binisaya nila. May nagtanong tuloy, “Ngano man kasabot ka ug Bisaya? [Bakit nakakaintindi ka ng Bisaya?]”

Ang tanging sagot ko, “It’s a Jedi Trait!”

Kung iisipin, astig siya. Sino ba ang mag-aakala na ang Manila girl na kausap nila e nakakaintindi at minsa’y nakakasalita pa ng Cebuano? Heto nga’t naglipana na ang mga Bisaya dito sa Maynila. Kahit papaano, kaya kong makipag-usap sa kanila sa wikang malapit sa puso nila. At salamat sa Sesame Street, 11 taon sa isang private school, at ilang taon sa kolehiyo, pati mga puti ay kaya ko na ring kausapin! Kahit di ako katangkaran at may kaiklian ang mga biyas, mahaba naman ang kaya kong abutin dahil sa mga wikang alam ko.

Para mas madama ko pa ang pagiging isang certified polyglot o mas kilala ng marami sa tawag na multilinggwal, ipagmamalaki ko na rin ang anim na units ng Nihonggo na ipinasa ko noong kolehiyo. Kaya ko pa rin naman magsalita ng konting Hapon gaya ng atsui [mainit], itai [aray], sumimasen [excuse me], gomenasai [paumanhin], kudasai [pakiusap], at ilan pang mga bulol na pangungusap na pihadong maiintindihan naman ng mga singkit na medyo sakang. At dahil naaalala ko pa rin naman ang Hiragana at Katakana, mga alpabetong Hapon, nakakabasa pa rin ako ng mga sulat sa Nihonggo kahit na maliit na porsyento lamang ang naiintindihan ko. Kahit papaano, nalalaman ko kung ano ang mga pinagsasabi ng isang package na imported mula sa Japan at kung anu-anong pangalan ang pinapakita sa TV ng larong Naruto sa Playstation ng kapatid ko.

Kagaya ng mga sinasabi ng mga Bisayang nakausap ko, dili na mi mabaligya [hindi na ako mabebenta]. Sa kaunting naiintindihan ko, mahuhuli ko na kung sino ang nag-tritrip lang at kung sino ang tunay na matitinong kausap.

Maaari ko ring ipagyabang ang ilang pagbati sa iba’t iba pang lengwahe na natutunan ko noong bata pa ako. Nandyan yung sawa dee ka, kap koon ka, guttenmorgen, merci, kamsamida, añongaseyo, merhaba, tutche at iba pang salita na hindi ko alam ang tamang baybay at di ko na rin maalala kung saang bansa ginagamit. Kapag may makasalubong na lang ako na banyaga, pwede akong mag-trial and error para madiskubre kung papaano ko sila babatiin. At kung maka-binggo ako, dagdag puntos na iyon sa pinagmamamalaki nating Pinoy hospitality.

Ngunit sa bandang huli, isa pa rin ang hindi ko maitatanggi. Bano ako sa sarili kong wika. Nakakahiya man aminin pero heto ako, 27 taon nang nabubuhay at naninirahan sa Pilipinas pero nanghuhula pa rin pagdating sa tuntunin ng balarilang Filipino.

Nang makasalamuha ko ang mga batang Inglisera na muntik nang magpadugo sa ilong ko, nalungkot ako dahil sa aking napagtanto. Magagaling nga sila pero mukhang limitado lang talaga ang kaalaman nila sa wikang Filipino gayong karamihan sa kanila ay Pinoy at lahat sila ay kasalukuyang naninirahan dito sa Pilipinas. Kahit na sabihin ko pang mas ginagamit ko ang wikang Filipino kesa sa kanila, wala rin kaming pinagkaiba sa isa’t isa dahil pare-pareho naming napabayaan ang pambansang wika ng mga Pinoy dahil sa aming kagustuhang maging "globally competent".

Wala namang masama sa pagpapakadalubhasa sa wikang bayaga. Ayos nga iyon dahil nadaragdagan ang kapangyarihan natin bilang Pinoy na pasukin ang kultura at kalakaran ng mga ibang lahi. Napakatalentado pa naman nating mga Pinoy pagdating sa panggagaya ng banyagang pananalita. Madali nating nagagaya ang accent ng kung anumang bansa ang ipagaya sa atin. Kaya naman patok na patok ang call center sa atin.

Sabi sa itinuro ng guro ko sa Filipino noong hayskul, “ang wika ang sumasalamin sa isang bansa.” Ang pambansa wika natin ay punung-puno ng implwensya ng iba’t ibang lahi na sumakop sa atin at pati na rin nga mga bansa nakipagkalakaran sa atin noon. Patunay lamang kung gaano kakulay ang ating bayan. Pinapakita rin ng ating wika ang ating kakayahang makipagsabayan sa mga makakapangyarihang bansa sa mundo. Kayang-kaya nating hubugin ang ating mga sarili para maging kasinggaling nila o higit pa.

Mahalaga lang talaga na pagkatapos nating hubarin ang mga hiram nating salita, alam natin kung papaano babalikan ang tunay na atin. Kung hindi na natin magawang maging kumportable sa sarili nating wika, paano na tayo? Sino na tayo? Para saan pa ang pagpapasikat natin sa mga banyaga?

Oo, maaaring tayu-tayong naninirahan sa 7,107 na isla ng Pilipinas ay madalas na di nagkakaintindihan. Ang dami kasi nating iba’t ibang dialekto! Pero kung alam natin kung sino tayo, kung ano ang nagbibigkis sa ating lahat, hindi tayo mabubuwag ninuman. At sa puntos na iyon, maipagmamalaki natin na ang mayaman nating wika ang nabubuhay na saksi sa katatagan ng ating pagiging Pinoy, Filipino major man o hindi.

* * *

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Nichi on Video

Mostly we watch videos of Nichi or simply look at his photos...

Here's an MTV our dad prepared featuring Nichi and his undaunted spirit!



Meanwhile here's an another MTV prepared by one of the many people who cares about Nichi. (Too bad they haven't met in person.)

So Little Time, So Much To Do

I feel like there’s a sudden surge of things I’d like to do. If only I get the time and the active energy to transform my ideas into the productive outputs I dream of, then I will be in peace.

Nichi seemed to have felt this same feeling before. He tended to become obsessed with things he suddenly feels like accomplishing. He’s always in a hurry and somehow restless to do his desired tasks. Some of which are finishing the adventure games he collected for his Gameboy in less than four months, buying several editions of how-to-draw-manga books which he studied and applied in his artworks, assembling his Gundam robots, and asking me to buy PS2 games even before the Playstation Kuya Wah gave him has not been flown to our home. (The PS2-related message is the last text message Nichi sent me. It goes: “Rainbow na lang ung barilan 2players un.” He sent it to me last June 25, 5:38 pm. I saved the message in my phone.)

Boy, I won’t get over missing that kid! His demise has caused me to want so badly to turn back time. I’ve made a lot of blunders in my life but I would never ever want to rewind the time to undo my faults. But this time, I want to travel back to the past, even the not-so-distant one just to get to hug and kiss my brother again. I want to talk to him. I want to listen to his stories. I want to bug him until he’d hate me for staying too close. I want to pig out with him and hang out in the mall with him. I want to read him a story and be interrupted by his relentless questions or discover that he’s been sleeping the whole time I’ve been delivering my oral interpretation of whatever story we’ve chosen to indulge in. I want to stare at him. I want to take his pictures and not just look at still photos that don’t react to me looking. I want to stroke his infant-like hair and sniff them occasionally. I want to hold his hand and tell him, “Mukha ka talagang anak ng mayaman. Wag ka magpapakalat-kalat sa labas at baka makidnap ka.” I want to hear him laugh, like he’s having a heart attack. I want to see him prepare the refrigerated cake I taught him to make—the same recipe our sister taught me to make—and wrap the lumpiang shanghai he so-meticulously rolls and seals. I want to have him convince me to accompany him to the internet shop where he plays net games with his peers. I want him to lean on my shoulders while we’re riding a cab. I want him to welcome me home again, update me with things I missed when I’m not around, sit on our dining table for hearty meals. I want him to explain to me those Yugi-Oh characters I never appreciated before. I want him to tell me what a good anime Bleach is as well as Detective Conan, to which I agree. I would love to watch the new seasons of Heroes and Lost with him. I want to have conversations with him, the likes that go:

Me: Nichi alagaan mo ako kapag tumandang dalaga ako, ha?
Nichi: Ate, dapat magkaanak ka na lang.

I would like it if I were given the chance to tease him for the girlfriend he got himself. (He told me last year that he’s planning to have a girlfriend this year, to which I objected. He’s too young!) I want him to share his ideas when it comes to being a good godfather to our future niece. I want him to be there so that I would have someone to ask, “Nichi, papasok pa ba ako?” I want to accompany him and dad to the adoration chapel near our house and see him radiate with faith. I want to admire his positive attitude on almost everything, from every word that comes out of his mouth. I want to hear his plans for tomorrow. I want him to be here and not be just some memory. I want to see and feel him happy.

So many things! I had my chances and I wouldn’t say I blew them but I want more of those. If I had it my way, I would have more of those. I really would.

Somehow Nichi’s death took out my fear of my own death, not that I’d kill myself. No way will I do that anymore! Otherwise, I wouldn’t be giving Nichi's early goodbye any justice. I refuse to be bad, too. I'm afraid I wouldn't be be accepted there in his place now if I'm evil.

I just miss him.

I want to do the things I dream of doing and I’d like to also be the extension of Nichi's dreams that’s why my to-do list is now cramped. But I don’t mind. Because my little time to which I’d pack every item on my list, my little time is not so little compared to his.

I’m lucky to have him for my brother. As if that’s not enough, his short life made me realize more how blessed I am to have had that thing he no longer has: time here on earth.

To Anyone from Magpakailanman

I’m writing to you now because June of this year, I got a text message from my youngest brother, Nichi, which goes, “Ate nakita ko sa GMA na naghahanap sila ng kwento sa Magpakailanman.”

I replied to Nichi, “Bakit? Gusto mo bang ipadala natin ang buhay mo”

He answered, “Yun na nga ang ibig kong sabihin.”

I called him right after that to check how serious he was about sending his life story to Magpakailanman. He was not kidding about it. However, I did not pursue Nichi’s idea because I was somehow hoping for him to get better. I was thinking that it would have been the only way for his story to have a good ending once it was shown on TV.

Contrary to how I was planning his story to go, Nichi did not get better. He died July 24, 2007 at the age of 13 because of leukemia, the disease he had been fighting since 2001.

My whole family and I are grieving for our loss. And although it is difficult to find the good in a loved-one’s death, we find comfort in the thought that, at least now, he is in a better place, devoid of pain.

Throughout Nichi’s battle, we all prayed for a miracle to happen. Ultimately, we asked God to let Nichi graduate from his disease and live the normal life he once had. We didn’t get that one miracle but as it turns out, we’ve witnessed, through Nichi, a series of miracles which, despite how much hurt we feel right now, reminds us that there is indeed a compassionate Being up there who listened to our pleas.

The six-year extension to Nichi’s life from the day he was diagnosed of leukemia is already a blessing. Last year, when Nichi’s immuno-compromised body suffered complications, he was able to recover through the grace of God. Nichi was almost in perfect health during our sister’s wedding last December. No one would have imagined that just four months prior to that event, he was in the ICU of the Philippine Children’s Medical Center fighting for every critical second of his life. Nichi’s struggle has touched the hearts of many people. Friends, family, and strangers alike sent their support for Nichi and our family. They came in prayers, blood donation, financial aid, and moral support. It is really overwhelming how a young boy proved that people, even in our time, genuinely care. Through Nichi, we met a number of angels here on earth, all willing to put in help in whatever way they can.

If you will allow us to share Nichi’s story, your viewers will definitely learn so many things from his life. I know that it is too late for him to give you a first hand account of his journey but I’m sure that wherever Nichi is right now, he will still be more than willing to let people know him.

In spite of his death, I believe that Nichi’s life isn’t all that tragic because, as I have said before, it is a life full of miracles. I know my brother. I have witnessed his adventures since the day he was born. I’m certain that he wanted me to send you his story because he wanted people to learn from him. Moreover, he wished people to realize that no matter what kind of predicament they are in, something good always turns out from it.

A Thank-you Letter from my Dad

My dear friends,

Please allow me to thank you, in behalf of my family, for all the help and support (emotional, spiritual, financial) you have extended to our beloved sweet little Nichi. I will not tire saying this to all of you over and over again because you were the force that gave us strength during our struggle to keep Nichi with us. You made us feel we were not alone. You made our predicament much easier to bear. I know deep in my heart that right now Nichi is praying for all of us. Once he asked me, “why are these people helping me?” “Because you are a very good boy,” was my reply. “How can I thank them all?” he added. I said, “You can thank them by including them in your prayers.”

I thought I was that strong—telling my family especially my children, especially Kuya Migs (Nichi’s 14 year old brother) that whatever happens we will continue to live our daily lives. I really thought I was that strong—arranging (a few days before Nichi’s demise) for the funeral service, the chapel where his remains will be interred and the crypt in the ossuary where he will rest—I was wrong! Lately, I find myself teary-eyed in whatever place I am—in a public conveyance, in the mall, in our room—just the thought of Nichi, tears spontaneously come out of my eyes. I really miss my son. I really miss my beloved Nichi.

In the afternoon before his death, I cried. I cried because Nichi wanted to live. He had been praying to St. Peregrine since the night before hoping he be spared from the inevitable. I cried because Nichi wanted to be with his siblings where he is most happy. I cried because there was nothing I could do. I went to the nearby adoration chapel, the sacred place where Nichi and I frequented during the last few months. This is where we say our prayers. This is where I offered myself so Nichi might live. This is where oftentimes I will see tears flowing down Nichi’s face while he was praying. This time, though, was different—I was alone and saying a different prayer, “God please put Nichi to sleep and then take him. He is all yours. I’d be happy if You take him before the day ends.”

At nightfall, Nichi had his last confession and communion. Each member of the family talked to Nichi assuring him that it was all right for him to go. We will miss him but we assured him also that we will be okay. After a few minutes, Nichi took a deep breath then exhaled his last and it was over. It was 10:10PM .

I am inviting you all to visit Tyrene’s http://battik.blogspot.com to share with you more about Nichi.

We are working on a project to fulfill Nichi’s wish: that his life story be dramatized in a local TV program.

May the blessings of the Lord, our God be with you and your loved ones. Thank you very much.

Always,

Willie Delgado

PS: please forward this email to more of our friends. I don’t want to miss thanking any one of them. Thank you.