Top Five

It is going to take a while before I write about my recent Marian Pilgrimage, so I’m just posting bits and pieces thereof.

Out of the many beautiful and memorable experiences I had, these are my top five (in no particular order):

Pope Benedict

The Pope. Nothing can describe the joy I felt when I was able to join the Angelus Prayer led by Pope Benedict at Saint Peter’s Square in Vatican the day after we arrived in Rome.  In my entire life, it was my first time to see a Successor of St. Peter.  I was not able to join the World Youth Day in 1995 when Pope John Paul II came to the country to grace the event.

The scene in the square looked so familiar to me because I have seen it several times on television.  When we arrived there, the square was flooding with pilgrims from everywhere – Caucasians, Asians, Africans, Indians, etc.  I looked up and saw the recognizable window ostensibly marked with the red velvet cloth.  At exactly twelve noon, the Holy Father appeared before thousands of us and led the Angelus Prayer.  I did not know how to say the prayer in Italian, but there was a large LCD near us, where we could read our response … er, in Italian, hahaha.  The Pope was so, so, very far away from us, but he was very near in spirit, plus the fact that his voice clearly thundered in the entire square.  After the short prayer, Pope Benedict raised both his hands as greetings to the pilgrims.  The crowd roared in return.  I myself shouted at the top of my lungs, “HI, POPE”!  I did it twice because my nephew Moses instructed me to send his warm regards to the Holy Father, so one more time, “HI FROM MOSES”!  When the crowd subsided, the Pope said a few words and gave his blessing to all the pilgrims present there.  It was again in Italian, and too bad, I did not understand any of it, but I know we were blessed by him through the tone of his voice, his gestures and the way the other pilgrims reacted to his words, when they kept very still and bowed their heads.  It was a good thirty minutes we had with the Holy Father.  After saying his final blessing, he raised his arms again and the crowd wildly responded even more.  He waved repeatedly to the crowd to say goodbye, and all of us waved in return.  I got misty eyed waving from afar, thanking God for giving me the opportunity to be there.  We were supposed to attend the Papal Mass on our last day in Rome but a series of surprising unexpected events prevented us to make it (abangan!).

waiting for my turn

Holy Bath in Lourdes, France. Yup, I did it, I did it, I did it!  I said I’d really try my best to take a dip in the running spring waters in Lourdes, and I did.  In freezing temperature.  Totally naked.  We nearly skipped breakfast to go to the sanctuaries early so that we’d have a longer time for the other religious activities in the Lourdes Square.  We made it in the nick of time and were the last persons to enter the sanctuaries for the first batch.  We waited for almost two hours for our turns, but the waiting was an opportune time to reflect and prepare for the holy bath.  It’s in obedience to the call of Our Lady of Lourdes to pray for the reparation of sinners by symbolically washing and drinking the water.  Like St. Bernadette did, our faith pushed us to brave the cold and imitate what the Saint did.  The bath was brief and hey, Mama Mary did not make me feel the cold waters.  It was a very enriching experience for me. If you’d ask me which part I’d go again, I’d go back to Lourdes again and again and again.

Saint Pio

Saint (Padre) Pio.  We were expecting to see St. Pio’s  incorrupt body in San Giovani Rotondo, Italy, only to be disappointed that his body, after having been fully exposed to the public since June 2008, was already returned to a silver coffin just in late September of this year.  It’s said that his incorrupt body will only be open for viewing during anniversaries and other relevant activities, the soonest of which is five years from now. Nevertheless, this did not hinder me from enjoying our visit there.  The place is so full of St. Pio and his presence is everywhere.  I felt him strongly when we heard mass at the old church where he had celebrated mass for many years.  St. Pio is known for the confessions he administered daily and the confessional box where he frequented is still found in the corner of the old church.  After the mass, we wrote letters to him.   It was a very emotional moment for me while I was confessing my sins by writing him.  I tried so hard to contain my tears as I threw my letter to the enclosed confessional box.  I felt so lighthearted immediately after, just as I always do after every confession.  When I looked around, I found out it was not only me who got emotional there.

Saint Bernadette

Saint Bernadette. My first time ever to see an incorrupt body; my first time ever to see a Saint.  From Lourdes, we travelled to the Church of St. Gildard at a convent in Nevers, France where Saint Bernadette’s human remains lay in crystal glass at the right side of the chapel, open for all to see.  There was little wax on her face because when she was exhumed, there was a blackish tinge on her face and her sunken eyes and nose might make an unpleasant impression to the public.  Apart from this, the rest of her body is intact.  She had been exposed there since 1925 with no artificial means to preserve the body.  When I was not able to see the incorrupt body of Saint Pio, of course I felt a slight disappointment because I had so anticipated to see him. However, seeing Saint Bernadette lifeless, permanently lying at the side of the altar somehow got me thinking how it might be uncomfortable being under the public’s curios scrutiny perpetually.  I mean, how could she rest in peace?  I felt a pang of pity that she might be restless, or whatever.  We even joked among ourselves after seeing her that we should include in our wills a provision that in case our bodies are incorruptible after we die, no public display must be made because it would be too tiresome, hahaha.

Real Flesh and Real Blood

The Miracle of the Eucharist. On our way to Assisi, we stopped at Lanciano, Italy to witness the oldest (as there are quite a few) eucharistic miracle of the Catholic Church.  We visited the Sancutary of the Eucharistic Miracle.  Up on the altar, the “host turned flesh” and “wine turned blood” was openly displayed or what is left of it since the ninth century.  The miracle happened when a monk began to doubt the real presence of Jesus in the “host” as his flesh and the “wine” as his blood.  During mass, after the consecration of the Host and the Wine, the host turned into live flesh and the wine into live blood.  After several examinations since the 9th century, it is absolutely and unquestionably concluded that “the flesh is real flesh and the blood is real blood; that the flesh and blood belong to the human species; that the flesh consists of the muscular tissues of the heart; that the flesh and the bood have the same blood type : AB — the same blood type uncovered in the Holy Shroud of Turin”.  As I went near, the flesh (host) was off white or cream in color, and not fully and perfectly round and the blood (wine) was no longer liquid but dried up and in the color of yeah, dried blood.  What is more, “the flesh and blood were left in their natural state since then and it’s presevation remains an extraordinary phenomenon”.  After that visit, everytime I take communion, I’m reminded of what I saw in Lanciano and receiving the body of Christ has become more meaningful.   BTW, my blood type is AB, LOL.

Getting Ready

All done packing and ready to go and immerse myself in prayer for two weeks.

I hope my luggage does not go over 20kgs.  The PAL domestic flight from here to MNL only entitles me to a baggage allowance of 20 kgs, and although the international trip from MNL to Rome is already 30kgs, the flights from Rome to Lisbon, then to Barcelona and to Paris are considered domestic travels so we’re back to 20kgs.

I am a little excited now — yes, just a little and that’s already better.  About two weeks ago when Ondoy came and wreaked havoc, the glitter of this travel abroad faded.  I could not help feeling uncomfortable, going out of the country, splurging a substantial amount of money, when the country is in crisis.  Somehow, it does not look good to me – we’ll be making merry (even in deep prayer, hehe) while many of my countrymen are drowning from the tragedy of the unexpected flood.   My husband and I made our simple contribution to the victims of Ondoy, though.  I’m so glad that the generosity of the Filipinos reigned in the unfortunate incident that at least, it does not look so gloomy and desperate now and I can leave with a happy and peaceful heart.

Anyways, I was struck in surprise when my sister called me after she attended the pre-departure briefing of our trip last Saturday.  She relayed what was taken up:

1. There are many thieves in Europe. Whoa, I didn’t know first world countries would have so many thieves who target tourists and pilgrims.  When I told my mom about this, she said my uncle was robbed some money when he went to a similar pilgrimage a few years ago.  Because of this, we were advised to wear a waist bag where we will be placing our passports and some pertinent items plus our money, credit cards, atm cards.  Then, it was also advised to wear a neck wallet where we will be keeping a small amount of money that we expect to spend for the day (so that we don’t have to open the very much coveted waist bag).  We are to wear both the waist bag and the neck wallet under our clothes, closest to our bodies, gosh.  On top of these, it’s also better that we carry a day pack where we shall be putting our jackets, snacks and drinks, and souvenirs we might buy for a given day.  I can already picture myself suffocating from the bags.  Even then, I got mine this afternoon [see pix above, hahaha].
2. It’s skinny dipping in Lourdes. My mother really intends to dip in the sanctuaries of Lourdes, France.  So, I told my sister to ask our travel agency if we were to wear swimsuits during the dip.  My sister said she got embarrassed when she asked and learned that there, the pilgrims are to wear birthday suits and take only one quick dip.  Apparently, the waters are so cold (even in Summer, what more in Fall) so it’s not possible to linger in the water and immerse in prayer, hehehe.  I don’t know if my mom will go on with her plan to take a dip because she’s not confident to dip stark naked with only one breast.  My sister consoled that there are several separate bathhouses for men and women and each only accommodates a few persons per house.  This early, hubby says he’s not taking a dip for fear his blood pressure might rise due to the cold.  Me?  I will pray to have courage to take a dip.  Let’s see if I gather enough : P.
3. Dress code in the Vatican. I’ve done my part and I already know that the churches in Europe are conservative that those who are not in proper attire cannot enter them.  So, I didn’t pack any sleeveless [as if I could wear them in fall season!] and skirts above the knee [no skirts for me!].  However, I did not know that during the papal mass which we will immediately attend upon arrival in Rome, the faithful are supposed to wear conservative colors as well.  In fact, our organizer strictly instructed us to wear black coats [or jackets] over our conservative clothes.  Wearing loud and bright colors appears to be scandalous and against tradition.  Big No-no is the color white too as it is considered rude and only reserved for the Pope [and the priests].  Now I understand why GMA was wearing a black long overcoat and a black veil when she visited the Pope before.
4. No pictures inside the Basilica. Too bad that the grandeur I shall be seeing inside the Basilica will only be buried in my memory and in my heart and mind.  Taking pictures inside is prohibited – because the camera and video flashes will destroy the paintings.  They say we can take pictures without the flash, but I’m imagining the Basilica is going to be dark as it is, so taking pictures minus the flash will be useless.  We were just advised to buy pictures thereof as souvenirs.  ngea.
5. No smoking within Vatican territory. Hahaha, hubby’s gonna have a hard time.

If I Had A Favorite Court

If I had to name a favorite court, I would never hesitate to name the Regional Trial Court – Branch 6 of Agusan del Sur as “it”.

In almost seven years of practice across the courts in the neighboring cities and municipalities of Butuan City, this court is the b-e-s-t.  By far, I thought the City Courts in Surigao City were the courts to beat, but, that was before I appeared in RTC-6 .

I had heard fellow kompanyeros sing praises for this court but when I opened the door and stepped inside, I was not prepared for the majesty that stood in front of me.

Outside this prestigious court, two security guards are posted at its doors where they perform security procedures for those who wish to go in.  These guards also let them register in the logbook and get their basic information (lawyers exempted).

The court was immensely huge.  If I compare it with the average court I have been to, its size is approximately times four of the latter (er, times 2 of Surigao’s).  I took the picture above at the entrance – notice how far the bench (or the judge’s chair) is?  That’s how big it is (gosh, you can barely see the bench, huh?).

The court was elegant.  Since this was Agusan del Sur, every furniture in the court uniformly boasts of fully varnished high caliber hard wood – from the bench, down the bar then to the gallery.

The entire room was carpeted and very well ventilated by a floor-stand-type air conditioner.  If you should know, our courts in the Philippines are not air-conditioned – so just imagine how roasted the lawyers feel in their suits.  In this area alone, I felt heaven, especially that I was dressed in black which is known to absorb heat.

This court had sufficient room for the witness stand, and individual desks for the stenographer, the court interpreter and the clerk of court.  There’s even one for the bailiff who actually sat down at his place during the whole session (doesn’t happen here).

The bar was quite impressive too – not just make-shift or an imaginary barrier (like some courts I know) but one which is actually very definitely visible and gets the message across that the area is off limits for the general public.  The “bar” is actually the barrier, dividing the entire court into two.  Only lawyers get to enter the bar (rier), and up further is the bench (where the judge sits).

Sitting in the bar was comfortable.  In some courts, I have to sit on defective chairs which could collapse by my tiniest movement.  Since the average courts are small, members of the bar had to sit at the gallery and mix with the spectators and the many accused until there’s a vacant seat up front.  Here, there was a very lonnngggg table with sturdy chairs enough to accomodate all lawyers present.

Disregarding its physical aspect, I also like this court because of the presiding judge.  There are judges who don’t even know what the lawyers are arguing about, but this judge studies before he enters the courtroom.  He is intelligent and he knows his law (believe me, there are also “dumb” judges!).  He knows the case like the back of his hand.  In fact, he is well recognized to be hardworking and straight.  He cannot be maneuvered by the delaying tactics of the parties.  He takes active control in the proceedings of the case.  I was sickish on my second appearance at his court, but since I know his reputation, I proceeded and attended the trial because I was afraid he might admonish me for not filing the proper motion (which should be at least three days before schedule – I got sick the day before).  Well, he is coincidentally the father-in-law of a close friend, but this makes it harder for me because he might think I’m abusing him when I don’t comply with the rules.

It’s not everyday that I get to appear in this kind of court.  I actually felt like I was out of the country in there (oh yes, it looked like the courts in the Western TV Dramas).  I hope other courts eventually transform like this in the future (hmph, there was already a plan to expand our city courts here but since we changed congressmen, the complete plan vanished into thin air, pfft!).

Pink October

The month of October is International Breast Cancer Awareness Month.  In seeking to create increased awareness of breast cancer, its primary purpose is to provide information for women about steps they can take to detect the disease early and to provide vital information and support to those affected by the disease.  I’m showing my support for this cause by making this entry here.

Until my mother was diagnosed with early breast cancer two years ago, I did not care less for the pamphlets, posters and the like with pink ribbons on it.  I usually see it in hospitals, particularly in the clinics of OB-Gyns.  After my mother’s diagnosis, my eyes have grown so alert in detecting them and reading the useful information it conveys.

When I hear of breast cancer, I repeatedly get an earful of how helpful a monthly breast exam can do to detect breast cancer in its early stage (hopefully it’s early).  The exam is so that one will “get to know” her breasts and determine what’s normal for her so that she can immediately go to the doctor if she notes some changes in them.

The proper way to do a self-breast exam is:

Begin by looking at your breasts in the mirror with your shoulders straight and your arms on your hips. Look for any changes in the size, shape, and color. Look for any dimpling, puckering, or bulging of the skin. Has the nipple changed position or become inverted? Is there redness, soreness, a rash, or swelling?

Now, raise your arms and look for the same changes.

While you’re at the mirror, gently squeeze each nipple between your finger and thumb and check for nipple discharge (this could be a milky or yellow fluid or blood).

Next, feel your breasts while lying down, using your right hand to feel your left breast and then your left hand to feel your right breast. Use a firm, smooth touch with the first few fingers of your hand, keeping the fingers flat and together. Cover the entire breast from top to bottom, side to side—from your collarbone to the top of your abdomen, and from your armpit to your cleavage. Follow a regular grid pattern, so that no areas are missed.Begin examining each area with a very soft touch, and then increase pressure so that you can feel the deeper tissue, down to your ribcage.

Finally, feel your breasts while you are standing or sitting. Many women find that the easiest way to feel their breasts is when their skin is wet and slippery, so they like to do this step in the shower. Cover your entire breast, using the same hand movements described in Step 4.

It is encouraged to do this exam monthly with these questions in mind:

1.  Has their shape changed since the last examination?

2.  Does the nipple look different?

3.  Is there any noticeable swelling in the armpit?

4.  Are there any unusual lumps or thickening in the breasts?

The steps sound so harmless, but you don’t know how anxious I get every time I do self-breast exam.  I don’t only do it once a month, but so frequently, especially when I take a shower.  I do the breast exam while lying down anywhere within the 8th to 1oth day from my period because I understand, these are the “quiet” days as there aren’t too much “hormonal activities” going on in my body – so there shouldn’t be lumps there.  I say this because during and immediately before my period, I really do feel some usual lumps in them (and I suddenly cannot wait for the period to end so that I can see if they’ll disappear!) and they get so tender.  The lumpiness and the tenderness vanish when I finish my period though (thank God!).

It is never said enough.  You have never heard it until you actually listen.

Again, sacrificing redundancy for the sake of emphasis: “Do self-breast exam regularly.”

Feast of the Holy Angels

I went to church today primarily because it is first Friday.  It was only in the Homily that I learned that today is also the Feast of the Holy Angels.

The celebrant reminded us to call on our guardian angels, especially in this current state that the world is in – typhoons, tsunamis, earthquakes.  I so agree.  The ravage brought by typhoon Ondoy got me paranoid.  Suddenly, I’m already afraid of the rain – because our city is below sea level and it’s always floods during heavy rains.  Luckily, we’re here in Southern Philippines and away from new typhoon Pepeng.  Nevertheless, I’ve constantly been praying lately for the safety of my loved ones there in Manila and the rest of the pinoys.

In the past, I used to maintain a close relationship with my guardian angel.  I named him “Max” — actually, he’s “Maxine” — but since angels are designated with male names in the bible, i shortened it to Max, hahaha.  I talked to Max ever so often before, especially when I’m alone.  I don’t know but through the years, I got so busy with work that I can barely listen to my own thoughts anymore, so we lost touch.

I’m so happy I heard mass today.  It made me remember Max.  I’m gonna activate him in my life again.  I know it’s needless to do this since I know he has always been there with me, whether I acknowledge him or not.

In the closing of today’s homily, the priest let us sing the song we learned when we were still young:

ANGEL OF GOD

Angel of God, my guardian dear.

To whom His love commits me hear.

Ever this day, be at my side,

to light and guard, to rule and guide.

Amen.

Howyadoin, Max? It’s been a long time.

Walk For A Cause

Our lone source of water in Butuan City has been endangered by the illegal mining, illegal logging and illegal constructions within the Taguibo Watershed area.  Socio-civic organizations have been actively creating public awareness to save our only source of water here [there are pending cases too, but we can't talk about it here].

As I went down the office today, I chanced the Walk For Cause to save our said watershed. The front liners were our diocesan priests, followed by  the officers and employees of Fr. Saturnino Urios University, the seminarians in the St. Peter’s Seminary, students from the various schools in the cities, and so on and so forth.

The Walk intended to call and pressure those lawless individuals to cease their illegal operations in the Taguibo Watershed Forest Reserve Area.  By the looks of the wrath brought about by Ondoy, I hope those !@#$$ persons heed the persistent plea and stop already, por favor!

Hmmph, irony of ironies, what is this I hear that those selfish, greedy, and thick faced illegal operators joined the walk today as well?  When I heard it, I felt my blood rise, and believe me, I could not help myself from cursing them and wish that some insane vigilante evaporate them.  ASAP.  [i'm mad!!!!]

Along Came Ondoy

ondoy's unexpected wrath along Ocampo Street (formerly Vito Cruz)

Taft Avenue fronting Dela Salle University

My husband’s return flight yesterday was canceled because of Ondoy.  He was stranded in the airport for almost twelve hours.  When the flight was canceled at two in the afternoon, he could not catch a cab back to the condo, which is good.  If he did, he would have been trapped God knows where.  My sister who’s at PGH told him to stay put because the flood along Taft was already waist deep and cars were floating.  I instructed my hubby to spend the night in the airport and he made lip service and said yes.  However, he did not tell me that around midnight, he could no longer stand the airport with all the people and with nowhere to sleep, that he tried his best to get a ride from there to Ocampo Street.  I don’t know his exact route but he probably ended taking the LRT because he mentioned that it was apt that there were tricycles waiting at the exit of the LRT and he rode it to Ocampo.  The catch?  He sat at the top of the tricycle.  He did not get wet on the way to the short ride from Taft to Ocampo.  When I called early this morning to ask how he fared during the night, I was surprised to hear he slept soundly in the condo.  He knew better not to tell me of his plan to go back in the middle of the night, because if he had, I would have strongly opposed because it was dangerous.  On the other hand, it would have been helpful if he had told me he was already safe and dry there.  I did not get much sleep last night worried and thinking about him and how he was doing in the cramped airport terminal.

Thank God!

Yesterday morning, my sister took my niece and her two yayas with her to Malvar, Batangas after they dropped hubby at the airport.  My sister had to go because she had to attend a board meeting somewhere in Batangas so she left my niece and the yayas at her in-laws.  They had originally planned to spend the night there.  What luck, the minute they headed to the South, the waters arrived in Metro Manila.  The street where her condo stands was flooded waist deep.  Some cars parked at the side of Ocampo Street were already floating in the afternoon.  Their area is now flood-free and they are now back in the condo, safe and comfy.

Thank God!

The last instalment of the bar examinations were to be held today.  My uncle, who is an examinee, could not get to Manila yesterday because of his canceled flight.  He was so worried because if he could not take the exam, he is already considered failed.  Thank God, Dela Salle and the rest of Taft Avenue was inundated, prompting the Bar Exam Chairman to reset the last set next Sunday, October 4.

Thank you, God.

Noynoy For President

I was surprised when I passed by J.C. Aquino Avenue corner Doongan Road tonight. There was already a giant signage of “Noynoy For President Headquarters” immediately after the Petron Station. Hmm, my friend Mix’s ancestral home is adjacent to it, btw.

So, yeah, his followers are formally organized here — and I’m guessing that’s the Liberal Party on the move (who else?). In fact, the Liberal Party in the city has long been supporting Tita Cory when she was still very sick. Truth to tell, it was the Liberal Party who organized masses for Tita Cory’s healing then.  Now that he’s certainly running for the highest office next year, the Liberal Party has started the fight in this side of town.

I recall that when Noynoy announced on national TV that he was running for presidency, everybody I met in school, in court, even our clients in the office, were so happy he made the decision.  Include to the list the yayas of my nephews and nieces who were so glad too.  Manang Inday, the janitor of the school, happily relayed the news to me when we met in the hallway later that evening (as if I did not know).

Will I vote for him?  Well, if he would have run for the Vice Presidency, I would not hesitate to say I would.  For President?  I’m open to be convinced.  This early, I know that I will not be voting for Jajajajamby, Erap, Teodoro, Escudero (is he running?).  I’m having a hard time whether to give my precious vote to Villar or Noynoy.

I have nothing else to say because the news and the internet have said it all.  This post is just to satisfy my brother’s prodding to put Noynoy in my blog.  He’s a supporter.

A Thief In Broad Daylight

He came unannounced when my cousin Joen was driving from the wet market on the way home. Suddenly, Joen had difficulty breathing, so he pulled over at the side of the road. He got off the car and in that instant, he fell to the ground. His girlfriend, Joan, who was with him, frantically rushed to his side. Since she did not know how to drive, she had to wave to the public utility vehicles to help her bring him to the hospital. Upon arrival in the emergency room, Joen was pronounced dead on arrival, no matter how my cousin and Joen’s brother, Don, insisted on reviving him over and over again. Death had swiftly taken him with finality at 42 years old.

I had just eaten my lunch and was waiting for a reply message from my friend when my cellular phone beeped. I opened the message expecting Sheila’s message, but the words that appeared on the screen did not make sense to me. It was a message from my mother, informing me of Joen’s unexpected death. My brain could not process the words and I had to call my mother and ask her what the message meant, because surely, the message was not right.

My mother answered in her shaky voice and confirmed that Joen indeed died. She also could not believe it because my brother and Joen just spoke on the phone earlier. Boboy said they were talking about their online game, Travian, that morning. Since there was something wrong with SmartBro and Boboy was worried of his troops in Travian, he sent a text message to Joen later in the morning, asking him to let him play Travian at Joen’s place. Joen answered that he was still in the market and that after, he needs to make a side trip to the office before going home. Boboy texted him back, insisting that he let him play at his house without him. Joen never replied.

Joen was my first cousin, the son of my father’s eldest brother. He is survived by his four children, the oldest barely 20 and the youngest, 9. Papang’s eldest brother died at age 42 too, leaving behind auntie and nine kids, the eldest being 17 and the youngest at 11 months. Joen was the fourth child in the family.

When Joen was in high school, he lived with us because he attended school in Butuan City (my uncle’s family live in Cabadbaran). Papang treated his brother’s children his own, so we were naturally close to Joen and the rest of his siblings.

In his short life, Joen had gone through so much. He married young. He worked hard for the kids. He struggled to keep his family intact amidst the repeated unfaithfulness of his wife. He stayed with the children when his wife went to the US, enduring all, with the hope of joining her later and start their new life there. When indeed the whole family immigrated to the US a few months later, after having resigned from a well-paying job and after selling their house and other belongings, Joen suffered some more when he found out his wife “reconciled” with her old flame. Joen did all he can, but his wife did not even have the nerve to pretend for the sake of the children. Unhappy and defeated of his American dream turned nightmare, he mustered all the courage and shunned his pride, and came home with his four children. With no house to return to in Cagayan de Oro City, he came back and settled in Butuan to start life anew. We resumed our close ties when he decided to live here. He was always a constant visitor in Balbarino because he was my brother’s “barkada” — from their online games to their drinking sprees to their business endeavors.

Joen recently annulled his marriage and was planning to marry his girlfriend of four years this November. They were also busy with their immigration papers for Canada. So, what madness is this, when he has yet to enjoy life?

Tonight at the wake, it was so sad. My cousins and I could not believe it. He was the first of the third generation to join our ancestors. Until now, his death has not sank in. I was opening his Friendster and Facebook accounts, stopping myself from sending him a message and expecting he’d answer back.

It was also hard in the wake. It was just us making the arrangements and the preparations. There wasn’t a wife to take care of things. There wasn’t a mother to receive the guests too. My cousins had not told auntie of his death, breaking it to her gently by saying he was still in the hospital fighting for his life. His nine year old daughter has no idea either. She was looking for her daddy earlier today and my cousins just told her he was still in the hospital. She wanted to visit him but they told her children can’t go in yet. His only son, who wanted to live in the US with his former wife, just went to America last month. His two elder daughters are in college in Manila. My sisters wanted to comfort his children there when the news was broken to them.

His son wants to come home for his funeral on Wednesday but I’m not sure if he can make it. My two nieces will be arriving tomorrow after lunch. Auntie and Joen’s youngest child will be informed of his death tomorrow too. It’s going to break my heart when I see his children. They are all daddy’s girls. Having seen what their mother did, it’s not unusual that the kids endear him. I’m praying that Joen’s soul will be able to move on and rest in peace, despite his unfinished business here. I’m praying that his children will be able to overcome his tragic death, just as Joen did when he lost his father early.

My latest memory of him was before his recent trip to the US.  I was parked in front of Butuan Doctors Hospital and I was having a hard time reversing the car because the traffic flow was heavy.  Joen passed by in his car and when he saw me, he stopped, got off, and held the traffic momentarily so that I could get out.  I was in a hurry, so I just waved at him and drove off.  I was not even able to say “thank you” for his kind effort.

Rest in peace, Jun. Thank you for the happy memories. We will be missing you. Please kiss lola and lolo for me. Give my love, my kisses and lots of hugs to Papang. Enjoy the happy reunion with Uncle. And Jun, tell God to let Uncle Jakey pass the bar already!!!! (We’re keeping your passing from him too because of the exams).

Bye, Jun!

Holiday Guide

It’s another long weekend for us because Monday is again a Special Non-Working Holiday it being the Eid’l Fitir of our brother Muslims.

As usual, our clients are frantically calling me for the rates to be used in computing their employees’ wages in case they require them to work on Monday. This always happens over and over again. No matter how many times I answer them, the rules never seem to sink in their brains. The pangs of irritation are catching up with me so to seal their lips, once and for all, I gave them hard copies of the Department of Labor and Employment’s Memorandum Circular No. 1, Series of 2004. This circular set the guidelines to be observed by employers in the private sector for the rates to be used in the computation of the salaries of their employees who may be working on a holiday.

The circular states:

1. For regular holidays as provided for under EO 203 (incorporated in EO 292) as amended by RA 9177:

New Year’s Day – January 1
Maundy Thursday – Movable Date
Good Friday – Movable Date
Araw ng Kagitingan – April 9
Labor Day – May 1
Independence Day – June 12
National Heroes Day- Last Sunday of August
Bonifacio Day – November 30
Eidul Fitr – Movable Date
Christmas Day – December 25
Rizal Day – December 30

the following rules shall apply:

1. If it is an employee’s regular workday

* If unworked – 100%
* If worked

* 1st 8 hours – 200%
* excess of 8 hours – plus 30% of hourly rate on said day

2. If it is an employee’s rest day

* If unworked – 100%
* If worked

* 1st 8 hours – plus 30% of 200%
* excess of 8 hours – plus 30% of hourly rate on said day

2. For declared special days such as Special Non-Working Day, Special Public Holiday, Special National Holiday, in addition to the two (2) nationwide special days (November 1, All Saints Day and December 31, Last Day of the Year) listed under EO 203, as amended, the following rules shall apply:

1. If unworked

* No pay, unless there is a favorable company policy, practice or collective bargaining agreement (CBA) granting payment of wages on special days even if unworked.

2. If worked

* 1st 8 hours – plus 30% of the daily rate of 100%
* excess of 8 hours – plus 30% of hourly rate on said day

3. Falling on the employee’s rest day and if worked

* 1st 8 hours – plus 50% of the daily rate of 100%
* excess of 8 hours – plus 30% of hourly rate on said day

3. For those declared as special working holidays, the following rules shall apply:

For work performed, an employee is entitled only to his basic rate. No premium pay is required since work performed on said days is considered work on ordinary working days.

Please be guided accordingly.

Note that the above rules are not applicable to those in the government sector with regular status (plantilla personnel). They do not also apply to monthly paid employees who are paid their salaries for every day of the month, including rest days, Sundays, regular or special days, although they do not regularly work on said days.

The rules then, are primarily set to benefit the Daily Paid Employees who are subject to the “no work, no pay” status, (including those working in the government under Job Order/Contractual status). This being, these daily paid employees are only paid their salaries for the days they actually worked.

By the way, to be paid during holidays without working, the daily paid employees must be present or on leave of absence with pay on the working day immediately preceding the regular holiday. If they are absent or on leave of absence without pay, they also do not get paid for that particular holiday.

Now, bemused employers, eyes to the board!