Dahilayan Barrio: Eden At Your Reach?

After a protracted stay of over a quarter of century, it might come easy to decide that the US, especially sunny California, may be the yearned-for paradise away from any old hometown ensconced in a third-world country like the Philippines - hot, humid, underdeveloped, and, crowded with a lot of people I personally felt quite alienated from in terms of common interests and values.

After much thought and soul-searching I did come to the conclusion that my new adopted place was the place where I would like to spend the rest of my life, specifically the San Francisco Bay Area. Home to the fabled Golden Gate Bridge. Blessed with a most hospitable climate the whole year round, and equally blessed with the most interesting and amazingly cosmopolitan people one could find in the entire globe. Not to mention all the given comfortable accoutrements that go with living in a first-world country.

This resolute resolve had always shadowed me, even on the countless visits made back to the old homeland, the last one lasting for 3 months. At the back of my mind, I could always console myself with that comforting thought, especially when besieged by nagging difficulties during the visits. Such as the intolerable heat and humidity, the atrocious traffic, ubiquitous squatter areas or shantytowns, and more. I knew that I could always sidle back to my safe haven when the visit ended. Nothing that a quick return plane trip could instantly dissipate.

And I had always felt that nothing could drastically alter that steely resolve. But I missed to reckon that I have always been stubborn and obstinate. Label me as the guy who keeps repeating to do things until the desired results come out, unheeding conventional wisdom's admonition that those who keep repeating endlessly an action even though the desired result is not accomplished may be judged as crazy.

Thus, I had never given up the exercise for finding tenable reasons why the old homeland could be just as "good" as the acquired earthly Eden that one has usurped in moving to another country.

This had led me to the cold and calculating process of listing all the reasons why the adopted place had been considered as the perfect nest to spend one's twilight years. And matching them with acceptable alternatives in the old homeland. No stone was left unturned. Even imagined reasons got thrown into the mix.

The process has been both lingering and tedious to say the least. And after a long and hard look, some things appear to gel, determinable and recognizable but still quite hazy. But I subscribe that like most things in life, nothing is ever cut and dried, black or white. Hard fought decisions are usually arrived at based on imperfect methods, insufficient data, and yes, less than 100 percent clarity and surety. Thus, most decisions result from some combination of logic and rolls of the dice.

The same is definitely true with this comparison match-up between the old and the adopted homeland. The comparison itself has been done in a rather unorthodox manner, given that comparing very diverse locale is in itself quite subjective and values assigned rely largely on personal perception and bias. I suppose that if one looks hard enough for reasons, one will ultimately find some.

Of all the places that I have traveled in my youthful years and during more recent times, I have pinpointed one such locale that to me could comparatively match up with the one decided upon in the US. And that choice hinges on the following criteria of climate, its ability to sustain lifelong interests and avocations, accessibility, economic viability, and maybe such factors as familiarity with customs and culture. Biggest drawbacks are its distance from the rest of our immediate family, the deplorable economic and political situation in the country, and maybe the economic trade-offs inherent with living in a third-world country.

Anyway, all things considered, my choice has been the little, agricultural, remote, and rural barrio of Dahilayan, in the municipality of Manolo Fortich in the Province of Bukidnon forming part of the northern region of the island of Mindanao.

For the past 3 years or so, we have been slowly and quite imperceptibly acquiring contiguous farmlands in the above barrio which rises some 1300 meters above sea level and nestled in one the various foothills forming part of the majestic Kitanglad mountain range. The imposing shadow of Mt. Kitanglad looms large and inviting facing south from where we are located. The combination of soft rolling hills and sharp steep inclines in the terrain while at times providing daunting challenges in farming, makes for a landscape that can combat boredom and cookie-cutter looks in farm lots. No endless stretches of uniform looking plots or bland flat yards around structures.

And no fears of being isolated from the rest of civilization, since the place can be reached from the bustling northern Mindanao city of Cagayan de Oro in an hour or so, though the conditions of roads at times leave much to be desired. Especially during rainy seasons. But the eye-catching travel scenery makes up for this lack of comfort, traversing through verdant fields of pineapples, vegetable tracts, and simply virgin valleys and gullies enveloped in thick foliage. Intermittently broken up with sites of man-made structures such as greenhouses and even piggery housing. But the overall outlook of the area is still one of being untapped and unspoiled by too much intrusion of urban-like sprawl and structures.

We must also point out that the area is part of the now 25,000 has. being cultivated by Del Monte's Philippine Packing Corporation for its now varied operations. In earlier times, PPC's main product was canned pineapple. Thus an added bonus to those inclined is the famous Del Monte links some 20 minutes away from the barrio, where golf enthusiasts, both local and foreign, are wont to visit when in the area.

Agriculture in its many manifestations and variations has always been welcomed and blessed in most areas of Mindanao, which boasts of its nature-given gifts of good fertile soil and suitable climate. Thus, earning for it the dual distinction of being a rice granary and vegetable bowl of the country. All this of course, prior to the current ethnic and social unrest now endemic in most parts of southern Mindanao, where unfortunately agriculture is most suitable and once most thriving. Now pervasive poverty, widespread ignorance, and the many horrible ramifications of both are the daily realities in most provinces, where most relevant statistics are skewed higher compared to national figures.

But for this chosen barrio one of the biggest factor in its favor has been the climate, cool and temperate and almost at direct odds with the heat and humidity in the low-lying cities and towns that dot the coastal areas. And as I personally note, most like that of the San Francisco area, complete with the morning and late afternoon spectacle of white-mist fog. Nothing like the surreal ambiance brought on by nature's little cat feet (as Carl Sandburg intoned) to bring on grand and profound thoughts.

And quite integral to all the thicket of personal preferences, there is for me the added underlying purpose of the place to promote my thoughts and plans for helping this blighted land through essential agriculture pursuits, which after all has been from its existence its anointed soul and purpose.

To raise a small hand in the entire island's drive to gear up and go back to its roots which today remain stunted and neglected, that is now my focus.

Revisited: Get To Choose: France or USA?

In their utter disappointment of the USA and what it now represents as perceived by them, a good many of my former compatriots in order to push deeper their expression of this discontent and disdain had put forward the thesis both in print and blogs that France as a country was a much better choice than the upstart USA. Not only as a country but also more determinedly as a place to migrate. This need to exit is in keeping with their serious pursuit of noble personal aspirations that now seemed distant and difficult to attain in the old homeland.

To be fair and to present a more balanced view, I had gathered together in an earlier blog polite arguments not only favoring the other side, but expressing certain doubts about whether a fair and impartial comparison between the two could be feasible given the very subjective nature of many of the criteria advanced.

But present developments specifically in France may make even more evident where the favorable verdict should lie. International media have been ablaze for the straight 10th day in its unrelenting coverage of the rioting and dreadful vandalism that have gripped first the dark underbellies of French communities but which have now spread to its showcase city, Paris, the vaunted city of lights. And from media indications there appear no clear signs of the unrest abating and getting curtailed by authorities.

Needless to state, this boils down to civil rights issues of France's burgeoning minority communities, most notably its Muslim population. These invariably are the practitioners of Islam, which religion whether wittingly or unwittingly has become the wedge in Western civilization's united campaign against terrorism.

We grant that any such societal unrest where violence and destruction are inevitable consequences is always to be condemned and not condoned. Society is never served well by such cancerous onslaughts on any community's peace and security. Civilization is pushed backward by such displays of uncivilized behavior.

Thus, the world should be in unison in condemning such atrocities, where issues, whether political or social, are sought to be redressed by wanton destruction and gratuitous vandalism.

But the USA especially can't help but recall how France collectively had derided its attempts as feeble and irrational when it was laying out what it viewed as earnest and good faith justifications on why the world through the UN should move to forcibly oust the Baghdad despot.

How well we recall the emphatic lectures given by French officials on why the US should heed its anti-war advices, France being the competent authority on such matters. It pointedly referred with obvious pride to its own efforts in dealing with its own minorities, which are comprised largely of Muslims. Now, we are once again treated to the cliché that sometimes the past may come back to haunt and bite you.

Now new converts in media are singing the tune that this flashpoint may signal and usher in more similar disruptive incidents in other countries of Europe which have now been rudely awakened from their somber slumber of denial to this gnawing threat. We read earlier snippets about this in the Netherlands. We know that good ally, England, has minority populations in its own shores in conditions mirroring those in France. What about Germany? And those little safe haven countries trying not to court world notice with their own homegrown social issues?

The future does not look well, especially if the rest of the world continues to be scattered and fragmented in the urgent drive to erase world-wide terrorism which is a direct threat to all of civilization, in all countries.

And like it or not, or whether PC or not, we have to unstintingly bring our efforts to bear on the breeding places of terrorism where our fact-finding fingers have inexorably pointed to.

We must address that cancer before it critically metastasizes to bring down the global body politic.

An Acknowledged Phenomenon In The Blogosphere?

Punditry or opinion writing has always found comfortable and adequate expression in the blogosphere from its inception. Its continuing phenomenal growth can be argued as being powered and sustained by this innate desire to opine and to search for proper media to express them. OpEd pages are arguably the most read or visited sections of any printed or on-line paper.

We can surmise that there must be countless sharp minds, honed through many years spent in either academia or profession, floating out there in the firmament, many with time, talents, and pen to spare, to devote to this punditry. And the blogosphere has been picked as their proper and easily accessible forum for such grand cerebral exercises. Where every eager participant is allowed free and ample clean slate to create masterpieces.

It can also be argued that many opinions expressed in the countless blogs sprayed across the broad extent of the blogosphere are about the things that are socially, politically, or economically impacting the different countries in the world.

From my many incursions into blogs, I can safely say that many are of this orientation and motivation. Forming opinions about what is wrong about the country and what steps to be taken to bring it back to the righteous path of prosperity, equality, and equity.

In my old homeland, it has almost become the favorite national pastime for pundits and opinion makers to dissect and analyze all the political and economic ills of the country and to mentally erect their individual theories on the best paths back to recovery and prosperity. It may help rationalize this by pointing out that the country at present suffers from what might rightly by judged as record negative findings in the areas of poverty, corruption, social discontent, etc.

Thus, dissertations about these readily grab the rapt attention of many readers because these dire conditions directly affect many of the same readers. On the part of these attention-yearning pundits, a veritable field day ensues to try to come up with the most riveting prose that can both stir the emotions and the minds of many to devote eyeballs to their sites or papers.

Some go beyond by framing their theses in gilded books of both hard cover and paperback. Without question such products enjoy brisk sales nowadays. Many consumers are interested to devote time and money to purchase their works, so they can sob and heave in the warm embrace and comfort of astutely interwoven prose and buzz phrases or ideas.

And the local blogs and media are littered with such punditry. Many are adulated, widely read and listened to, and accorded high places in the hierarchy of important and influential people in society.

But to me, there is one other equally patriotic and noble group that does things less flattering, less attention grabbing, less appealing, and maybe less valuable before the eyes of the general public. But most probably, can show more and better results. This is the group that most likely decided early on that the best approach to the path to recovery and prosperity was to put shoulders to the plow, investing whatever meager time and resources to the many little economic activities that when taken together equal the local economy. And in the larger context, the entire country's economy.

These are the people who believe in the cliché that change to be meaningful and sustainable must begin one man at a time. That to effect change, we begin with each person, giving each the opportunity and the means to economically uplift himself.

These are the people who believe that trying to singularly grapple with the entire onus of the country's ills, both real and perceived, is to guarantee failure. That to wait for a miracle may be wistful thinking, at best. Or that to expect great followings simply because your hypotheses stand tenable to great logic and scrutiny may be unrealistic.

These are the people who believe that thinking grand schemes and plans are good in theory and on paper. But may take generations to translate to implementation or good results. Or may likely all fall by the wayside due to indifferent neglect or inattention.

These are the people who believe that solutions are never neat and easily categorized, nor capable of being put to cadenced and orderly prose. Good ones are usually messy and randomly chaotic, and typically do not follow standard expectations.

These are the people who accept that workable solutions do not necessarily invite good public attention and approbation, nor produce spectacular results. It is sufficient that they end up with good and productive increments that taken on the long haul can produce meaningful changes.

One wonders if this group can get sufficient attention for and coverage of their endeavors in the same blogosphere that appears to idolize the other kind. Their number could be just as numerous and pervasive as the present anointed darlings of the blogosphere.

In A Bind On What To Blog

Urgent businesses, both personal and otherwise, brought me once again to the old homeland left behind over a quarter of century ago. Having spent three months reacquainting with already unfamiliar haunts just a little over two months ago, I had thought that the transition would be an easy cakewalk the second time around. After all, three months are a sufficiently long period of time to spend to get familiarized with one's immediate surroundings. Even medical practitioners are quite agreed that the human body itself requires only from 3 to 6 weeks to reacclimatize. Thus, the rest ought to follow suit.

But already the end of the second week of my new sojourn would indicate to me that the disconnect and disorientation have been just as sticky and tenacious as the first time around, or any other time around for that matter. In fine, getting used to the new locale and taking on habits and chores corresponding to the new environs have never been an easy task. Such matters as which news, or political issues, or social concerns (local vs US), should I sink my teeth on take on unruly challenges that normally would not even be given second thoughts by the locals.

After all, my life essentially is now that life in the adopted country that I have chosen to embrace and where my immediate family roots are now well in place and thriving. It does not matter much that I still maintain a decent residential house in the city in the Philippines, where I grew up, got educated in, and worked for a quite. That I still maintain bank accounts in local banks, or that I continue to maintain and cultivate investments in local enterprises would in my judgment render to me only remote relevance and importance. This, albeit being profoundly conscious that deep down, I pursue all these because I subliminally identify with the place and its people and am morally constrained to exert my level best under the circumstances to assist in its earnest efforts to economically uplift itself. The added burden of having close family relatives and acquaintances still in the place and quite literally in a mortal struggle to make ends meet makes its case more compelling.

That I have to spend more time here is not the issue. The bone of contention rather is how one can continue without confusion, puzzlement, and conflict, living the new life adopted over the old life that was abandoned many years ago. Thus, should I concern myself with the quirky nuances of local politics, or festering social issues currently impacting the local scenes? Or should I rather continue with the acquired routines and attitudes now seamlessly enmeshed with my new life? It is rather amazing to realize that deep and subtle changes in practically all areas of human living are manifested in attitudes and in values, apart from the typically visible and tangible metamorphosis that one goes through when uprooting one's family from one country to another.

The Internet or the World Wide Web has of course become the phenomenon that allows every participant the open world of options and choices catering to every conceivable individual preference. Thus, keeping in touch and participating with family activities or discourses from 7,000 miles yonder is no problem. Neither is keeping close touch with the politics, the social activities, etc. or what have you, of one's new milieu any great concern. After all, the Internet has made the global environment one big interdependent community. International events are no different with the ready accessibility and ubiquity of local events.

But the in-your-face distractions of critical local events sprouting all around are difficult to effectively ignore and discount, regardless of how hard one may try. Much the same way that getting some sleep would be next to impossible amidst blaring radio sounds in the background.

And this has been my dilemma. My regular incursions in the blogosphere continue to affirm this confusion. Should I focus precious limited time on reading up on US blogs dissertating on issues relevant to the US, or should I go to local blogs agonizing on the myriad of social, political and economic maladies besetting the nation? Which at times could be at cross-purposes, or maybe exhibiting downright shades of conflicts of interests?

The uneasy compromise that I have grudgingly applied is for me to limit my interests and concerns on local events, and maintain the aloof attitude of a distant and disinterested observer, deaf and somewhat powerless to even formulate opinions on the pressing issues. And to continue marshalling efforts and resources toward the adopted country which offers many grand promises not only for me but more importantly, for the younger members of our family who have hitched their lifelong stakes in a country that arguably offers the best possible opportunities for living.

Regrettably, making this priority choice has been quite easy and unequivocal from purely personal interests' point of view.

I personally find that because of the added perspective and hindsight benefit of being able to competently compare the old life with the new, the former and most everything integral to it have been found gravely wanting and disappointing.

E L V I S !

In the doldrums I currently find myself in, I am impelled therapeutically to reminisce about things that most influenced my dear lamented childhood. Of heroes and idols that harangued wakeful moments. Of heroes and idols that made flights of fancy and fantasies possible and almost realizable. Of heroes and idols whose lives youthful dreams could be hitched to

In short, of heroes and idols that we all wanted to be like when we grew up.

For me, one of the most enduring ones is that of the King, Elvis Presley. Who closer than an alter-ego I had wanted to be. In looks and of course, in singing style.

Reality does have its own inimitable ways of pulling feet to firm ground. And genetics and the ensuing years inexorably proved that true.

Still, color-fast vestiges of dreams resolute and deep simply cannot easily be consigned to the dustbin of forgetfulness. Such dreams have their own equally unwavering guiles of growing on legs and living their own little lives in one’s consciousness and reality.

Again, Elvis Presley is one of them.

Since then and over time, the legend lives on!

What started as a very inauspicious introduction to him via a run-of-the-mill pocketbook of 50’s song hits with the King’s countenance emblazoned at the back cover in somber black and white, my unending drudgery continues on. Featured on that songhits book was the raw, rough and loud rendition of the King of “I Want You, I Need You, I Love You”. It didn’t matter, I clung to his every stuttered word and tried with all my puny might to imitate, with every groan and hip-shaking move.

Many hurts and aches have come and gone brought down by the onslaught of time and untold miseries interspersed with some inspired moments. But still no end in sight for the dream that refuses to die.

Thus, I continue to be saddled with the unenviable task of gathering together what remains of a king who died too young. Continuing the journey of still trying to be like him.

I have in my possession over 4 gigabytes of Elvis Presley songs on MP3 format and permanently stored on CDRs and on hard disks in a couple of PCs, detailing songs released as singles, outtakes of many songs that never made it to the final recordings, songs collected as albums released through the years prior to and after his death. Songs performed on appearances with radio and/or TV hosts. Home recordings on very crude recording machines and media translated into MP3s. (Elvis is on record as having recorded about 700 songs. Quite a feat for a short lifetime of 42 years.)

More gigabytes of video clips of performances before and after the Las Vegas years. And clips from the movies highlighting the songs that became hits.

BetaMax and VHS tapes of his earlier movies and those videos manufactured after his death as commercial memorials of his legacy. Including now unplayable reel-to-reel tapes and 8-track cartridges that continue to deteriorate over time and humidity.

Various books, both pocket-size and the coffee table type, as more commercial attempts to capitalize on his enduring popularity. Picture clippings from various magazines and newspapers. And a boxful of floppy disks with Elvis pictures on them. A folder with the detailed anthology of all Elvis songs.

And yes, Elvis trinkets such as a refrigerator magnet, a pen that plays a favorite Elvis phrase in a characteristically unique Elvis way (“Thank you, thank you”), and an ornate and intricately-designed metallic opener, a huge beach towel silk-screened with his face on it. And yes, some cards and a tin box for a jigsaw puzzle. A couple of framed 45s of songs that hit No. 1 on the charts.

Some LP albums, boxed cassette sets, audio CDs, even Video CDs on Karaoke format. Can’t locate several 78s from the Sun Recording Studios with their familiar bright yellow labels, containing the songs now collated in the album justly tagged as the Sun Recording sessions, which has been adjudged as the definitive album on the enduring phenomenon called Rock and Roll.

And yes, a couple of sheets of Elvis postage stamps, featuring the old and leaner Elvis.

And of late, a karaoke machine which had the complementary DVD disc that contains about 14,000 songs in English, Tagalog, Chinese and Japanese. Okay, but its one redeeming value is that the songs of Elvis featured among the selections are the Elvis songs of old. Pure and pristine, raw and unadulterated Elvis. Now, who would remember these songs? Poor Boy, Treat Me Nice, Baby I Don’t Care, Love Me, Anyway You Want Me.

I once heard inside one very popular music store chain, a young amply-haired salesman loudly complain to an associate nearby that he wondered why many were continuing to buy Elvis records when he did not even write his songs and sang only the songs of others.

He was right of course, popularly speaking. But technically, do you know that in the initial release of Poor Boy, Elvis is credited as having written the song? Over the years, I have not found any other Elvis song similarly accredited.

And lastly, on this same blog I have a link to an Elvis site, which details particularly his early years.

Thus, Elvis may have left the building, but his legend stays on.