Tag Archives: Sara

Qwertyman No. 108: The Owl and the Parrot

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Qwertyman for Monday, August 26, 2024

The Owl and the Pussy-Cat went to sea

In a beautiful pea-green boat.

They took some honey, and plenty of money

Wrapped up in a five-pound note.

WHO’S THE English-educated Pinoy of my generation who doesn’t remember this verse by Edward Lear, a so-called “nonsense” poem which we happily recited even if, as expected, it made no sense? It had animals who had fun doing outrageously improbable things together, and we were so caught up in the magic of a pig who sells his nose-ring so the owl and pussycat could get married by a turkey that we even believed a word like “runcible” existed, even if it didn’t, at least not before the poem. After the poem—and because of the poem, first published in 1871—“runcible spoon” entered the English dictionary as “a sharp-edged fork with three broad curved prongs.” That’s why MS Word no longer flagged “runcible” as a misspelling as I typed it on my computer a few minutes ago.

That’s the power of true literature, something that gets beneath your skin and deep into your subconscious imagination, more effectively than reason or logic can, so that it becomes more real and more credible than reality itself. There’s a disarming honesty to nonsense poetry that doesn’t pretend to be anything else but. (Of course, given how students of literature have to sound deathly scholarly to earn or deserve their PhDs, a lot more nonsense has been written and published in ponderous journals about what “The Owl and the Pussy-Cat” really, really means.) 

As adult readers or reciters, we can all just enjoy the image of the owl and the pussycat dancing “by the light of the moon,” and think about how good that would be to do with our owl, our pussycat, so why can’t or don’t we? We’re amused but wistful at the same time, and that’s a complex emotion—wistfulness or “regretful longing” especially cuts backward through time and experience to make spot valuations, mostly about losses.

But let’s get back to the fun part—or maybe not so fun. 

Last week, it came to our attention that our multi-talented Vice President Sara Duterte—fresh out of her role as the “mother of Philippine education”—is apparently also an author of children’s books, having come out with one titled Isang Kaibigan (A Friend). We should all be happy when our political leaders turn to writing (presumably without the aid of a ghost writer), because it offers proof that (1) they actually think; (2) they still know their subjects, predicates, and objects, and therefore understand that people commit acts that lead to consequences; and (3) they know they won’t be in power forever, and want to be remembered in a good way for a long time.

That said, it’s a pity that most politician-authors throw away their chance at real greatness (in literature, if not in politics) by churning out some commissioned biography inflating or embellishing his or her accomplishments while leaving out the tricky ((and truly interesting) stuff. Good business for peons like me, but usually so poorly done as to be forgettable, the worst fate a book can suffer. If you think of pole vaulting, the bar was set highest at 7 meters by Winston Churchill, who became both Prime Minister and Nobel Prize winner for Literature (yes, literature). At around 5.5 meters we have genuinely talented fellows like Jeffrey (now Baron) Archer, the colorful Conservative MP who wrote popular novels, one of which sold 34 million copies (out of 320 million total for his entire oeuvre). Most others can barely hop over the bar at one meter. 

Enter VP Sara, whose maiden venture, a 16-page book, reportedly touts the virtues of friendship among people in dire straits. While it makes me wonder why the VP’s thoughts are drifting in this direction, it’s surely a worthwhile message, given all the unfriendliness in Philippine politics—even in the Philippine Senate. 

That’s where VP Sara went to ask for a P2-billion budget for her office, including a paltry item of P10 million for the printing and distribution of 200,000 copies of her book. Rather reasonably, Sen. Risa Hontiveros asked the VP what her book was about, prompting this strangely tart reply:

“This is an example of politicizing the budget hearing through the questions of a senator. Her problem is, my name is listed in the book. And we will be giving that book to the children. And those children have parents who will be voting. And my name will be spread wherever the book is given.”

I became even more curious about what was in the book, so I went online and discovered that it was the story of an owl whose nest is destroyed by a typhoon and who then finds refuge with a friendly parrot. So, okay, maybe it won’t win any PBBY book prizes for writing for children. And I’m afraid to say that with answers like that, Author Sara won’t fare too well in the writers’ workshops, where the panelists are far nastier than Sen. Risa.

But Isang Kaibigan establishes an important point, right? Friendships are important; friendships can save you; what you do for a friend in need today will be remembered tomorrow. (Never mind what the naughty wags will say about the VP being left out in a political storm—who will offer succor? Who will prove her true friends while she rebuilds her house toward 2028?) And where more pretentious authors typically load their “About the Author” pages with cloying lists of “awards won” and annoying cliches like “He divides his time between Bacolod and Berlin,” VP Sara keeps it simple and gets straight to the point: “Isa siyang kaibigan.” She’s a friend!

So what’s not to like? Well, maybe the P10 million bill, which lesser writers like me can only be envious of, having to wait years to watch our print run of 1,000 copies vanish book by painful book. VP Sara’s 200,000 guaranteed sales will surely break bestseller records, and we can gnash our teeth all we want but it still won’t answer our question, “How to be you?”

I don’t know how many millions of pounds Sir Winnie asked for and got from His Majesty’s government to print and distribute his books during the war, but it must have been a lot and the Brits must have read all of them because they certainly came through with just their blood, tears, and sweat. Sometimes, some honey and plenty of money is all an author needs to shine and be happy.

Qwertyman No. 100: The Political Doghouse

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Qwertyman for Monday, July 1, 2024


TO NO one’s great surprise, Vice President Sara Duterte resigned from her concurrent posts as Secretary of Education and vice-chair of that long-named (short name: red-tagging) council. Maybe because I was far away from Davao when the news came in, I heard no wailing and gnashing of teeth. A tree fell in the forest. The world moved on.

Inday Sara promised to continue to be a mother to the country’s teachers—the same people she had ordered to strip their walls bare of teaching aids. She was back in the news a week later after reportedly announcing that her father and two brothers were going to run for senator in next year’s elections. Her name was brought up as a possible “leader of the opposition.” None of these silly propositions generated the kind of groundswell she may have been hoping for, as someone once touted to be a shoo-in for the presidency who just got suckered into sliding down to No. 2 (to her Papa Digong’s boundless dismay) in a deal craftily brokered by former President Gloria Macapagal Arroyo.

To Duterte diehards—and let’s face it, there are still quite a few, although being out of office tends to lose people by the day—Sara will always be their golden girl, the victim of craven betrayal by their erstwhile “Uniteam” ally. To her non-fans, she will always be the bratty bureaucrat who demanded P650 million in confidential funds and who bragged about spending P125 million of DepEd money in the time it takes you to say “low PISA scores.”

Where she goes from here is the big question. In a touch of supreme irony, she now finds herself in almost exactly the same position as her predecessor, Leni Robredo, who was boxed out of Digong Duterte’s Cabinet and pretty much left on her own.

And there the inevitable and (for Sara) unfortunate parallels arise, because VP Leni shunned privilege, turned her exclusion into a challenge, and made the OVP a model of what a government office with meager funds could do, with honest, visionary and purpose-driven leadership. Leni became, and continues to be, beloved, as close to a saintlike figure as any elected official could aspire to be. That this quality failed to propel Robredo to the presidency says more about our electorate and political culture than about her—the dark, mutable, and serpentine side of Philippine politics that the Dutertes thrive in.

I have no doubt whatsoever that Sara Duterte will continue to be politically engaged and even run for the presidency in 2028, no matter what. In that, she will have less to worry about from Leni Robredo, who has expressed her desire to return to local politics in Naga, than from the likes of the eminent Sen. Raffy Tulfo, who topped Pulse Asia’s latest survey of presidential contenders at 35 percent against Sara’s 34 and Leni’s 11. Yes, that’s the kind of electorate we have, which can’t tell between meritocracy and mediocrity, so Sara will prosper in that environment and may even win against BBM’s anointed (Speaker Martin Romualdez scored a dismal 1 percent in the same survey).

Still, 2028 is four long years down the road, a lot of time for things to congeal and to unravel. Familia Duterte will close in and consolidate behind the name and the tough-guy brand, and in the event that all three Duterte boys make it to the Senate—an absurdity moderated only by the presence today of so many DNA matches in that august body—then Sara’s path to the Palace will have been cleared by a bulldozer. 

Of some minor interest is the fate of the two Digong acolytes in the Senate—Sens. Bong and Bato—who seem to be feeling orphaned. Both have been making the requisite pledges of fealty to the Dutertes, despite Bong Go being slammed by Davao Mayor Baste Duterte for not defending their home turf loudly enough from the lofty positions to which their patron raised them. Chastised, the two said they would support a Senate inquiry into the “excessive use of force” in the police raid against fugitive pastor Apollo Quiboloy, whom Sen. Bato had vowed to guard with his life should he appear in the Senate under subpoena—a degree of sensitivity and solicitude profoundly absent from the murderous “tokhang” campaign that both men supported.

So the Dutertes are far from dead and gone, but BBM—and let’s not forget the Kakampink forces simmering below the surface—has four more years to vaporize the Uniteam that never really was. (And then again, BBM claims that the Uniteam remains intact—nothing to worry about, folks!—because the Dutertes’ political party, the PDP, was never part of the coalition. Say that again?)

More important than preserving the fiction of the Uniteam, the opening provides Marcos with yet another opportunity to shore up his political capital—already boosted by his turnaround from his predecessor’s policies on Chinese aggression and on the war on drugs—by selecting a qualified, full-time professional for the post. Several names have been mentioned in a hypothetical shortlist, none of them apparently an expert in basic education, where most of our problems begin. And while it may be true, as Inday Sara herself noted, that you don’t have to be a teacher to be DepEd secretary, you have to understand that Philippine education needs more than mandatory toothbrushing to brighten up.

Ultimately, Sara Duterte’s resignation from her DepEd post may yet be her most valuable service to the nation, by opening the door to someone vastly more qualified to take on that critical job—unless, again, the DepEd is made to serve its other purpose as a doghouse for political strays.

Qwertyman No. 56: The Rule of Rules

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Qwertyman for Monday, August 28, 2023

HAVE A problem? No worries—the Philippine government will make a rule to fix it (maybe). Don’t have a problem? No matter—the Philippine government will make a rule to give you one.

Some days it feels like all that government exists for is to make new rules, because, well, it’s the government, and so it has to look and sound like one. Never mind what the preamble to our Constitution states, imploring the aid of Almighty God to “establish a Government that shall embody our ideals and aspirations, promote the common good, conserve and develop our patrimony, and secure to ourselves and our posterity, the blessings of independence and democracy under the rule of law and a regime of truth, justice, freedom, love, equality, and peace.” Forget the rule of law and all that jazz; all hail the rule of rules.

Two pronouncements by our hallowed poohbahs caught our attention in recent weeks. 

The first was an order from the Vice President and Secretary of Education, DepEd Order No. 21,  directing in its implementing guidelines that all public schools must ensure that “school grounds, classrooms and all their walls and other school facilities are clean and free from unnecessary artwork, decorations, tarpaulins, and posters at all times…. Classroom walls shall remain bare and devoid of posters, decorations, or other posted materials. Classrooms should not be used to stockpile materials and should be clear of other unused items or items for disposal.”

Why? Because these were distractions to learning, explained the good secretary, presumably including in her edict the pictures of past presidents, national heroes, posters of Philippine birds and plants, TV-movie idols, Mama Mary, cellphone and softdrink advertisements, half-naked women, CPP-NPA recruitment posters, the periodic table of elements, weapons of Moroland, and the winking Jesus. 

I actually found myself agreeing with the removal of some of these popular items of wall décor, especially the pictures of politicians, which doubtlessly produce anxiety and despair in those who might contemplate them seriously. The good presidents will make you ask, “Where did all that goodness go?” The bad ones will invite only dismay and even self-loathing: “How did these jokers even make it to Malacañang? So you can still be that kind of person and become President? What on earth were we thinking?” This leads to even more profound and troublesome questions about the nature and practice of democracy, which a poorly trained and underpaid sixth-grade teacher will be hard put to answer, undermining whatever little authority she still exerts over her students. (To her credit, Sec. Sara reportedly removed her own picture from a classroom she visited.)

But Rizal, Bonifacio, Mabini, Tandang Sora, and the usual pantheon of Philippine heroes decking our classroom walls? Will removing their visages encourage students to think more deeply about their Science or Math problems, or will young minds simply drift off to Roblox, Taylor Swift, and Spongebob Squarepants? Will making our classrooms look as bare as prisons (and even prisons have calendars and pinups) lead to a spike in student attentiveness and performance? What does it say of DepEd—with all the academic resources and intelligence funds at its disposal—that directives like this are issued apparently on a whim and without prior and proper study? Where was the attention to science and education that the secretary was aiming for?

The other new rule that sent us screaming to our group chats was the imposition of new guidelines for foreign travel by the Inter-Agency Council Against Trafficking, announced by the Department of Justice, supposedly to curb the incidence of human trafficking, which we all acknowledge t0 be a serious problem. But is this a serious solution?

Under the new guidelines, Pinoys going abroad to see the sakura in Tokyo or to watch the New Year’s Eve ball drop in Manhattan won’t get past NAIA immigration without showing their flight and hotel bookings, proof of their financial capacity to afford their trip, and proof of employment. That’s a lot of paperwork to bring along, and if you’ve seen how long the queues can get at NAIA even without these papers in the way, you can imagine what they’re going to be like with each single document having to be scrutinized by an immigration officer. There’s an even longer list of additional requirements for people traveling under sponsorship and for OFWs—including a requirement for a child traveling with his or her parents to present a PSA-issued birth certificate, which was already a requirement for that child to have been issued a passport.

Exactly what this rigmarole adds to the reduction of trafficking is unclear to my muddled mind, because it seems to me that any good trafficker worth his or her illegal fees will be smart enough to produce the fake documents their wards will need to slip through airport security. As experience has shown, it isn’t even fake documentation but corruption and connivance that have greased the wheels of trafficking. 

Which reminds me, I received a letter some time ago from an expat Briton and a longtime Philippine resident named Thomas O’Donnell, complaining about such unnecessary requirements as the filing of annual reports by foreigners in this country. The Philippines has a reciprocity agreement with other countries such as the UK, Thomas says, but the UK doesn’t require Philippine residents there to do the same thing. So was it—like many of our other rules—just something to keep our bureaucrats occupied (or possibly, profitably occupied)? Where was the fun in the Philippines, Thomas lamented, and how was a fellow like him supposed to love it? 

Having lived here for 23 years, Thomas clearly has found other, countervailing reasons for staying on, but he has a point. Despite an anti-red tape law in the books, we still invent ways to complicate the simplest things. And answer me this: if the DepEd chief thinks that bare walls can lead to clearer thinking, shouldn’t we declutter our travel processes as well, so we can all sit in the departure lounge in peace with an hour to spare, waiting for our flight (that will likely be delayed, but that’s another story)?