So Ngayon Isang Linggo

… so ngayon, isang linggo akong magmamadali. Halos dalawang buwan na akong nagbabasa. Basa ako nang basa ng tungkol sa translation kasi madami akong practice pero wala akong theories, tapos ituturo ko, dun pa sa mga di naman Tagalog. Lahat ng examples ko sa module English to Tagalog. Mamajikin ko yata ang presentation. Isang buwan na ako actually napa-panic. Well, di naman talaga panic. Actually palit-palit na panic, boredom, panic, boredom. Bored na ko kasi ang gusto ko basahin e nobela. Di na nga ako nakakatula.

Pero kasi I have to come up with a learning module for translation. For concrete examples, ginamit ko ang marami sa mga sarili kong translation. Ginawan-gawan ko ng labels. E ang hahaba nung tables, kaya ayun, sa editing pa lang, inabot ako ng isang linggo. Nagawa ko na ito nung isang taon pero di ba dapat I should do better this time? Baka naman kasi ulitin ko lang yung nasabi ko na- same audience pa naman ito – sa Phnom Phen baga, sponsored ng Fount of Blessings. So kada huwebes at biyernes, basa, basa, basa ako sa library. Eh ang kaso, dahil library yun, kung anu-anong magazine ang binabasa ko. Pati coffee-table books - irresistible. E di ko rin naman napuro yung time sa pagbabasa ng tungkol sa translation lang. I therefore conclude that studying in libraries is not always productive.

Dalawang library lang naman ang malimit kong pinuntahan Filipinas saka ATS. Kasi yung Filipinas malapit sa condo ng kapatid ko, yung ATS naman malapit sa tinutuluyan ko sa QC. Nagpunta din ako sa National Library kaya lang bat ganun dun, alas otso ako dumating, alas nuwebe na yung mga librarian nagmo-morning rituals pa. Hirap pa maghanap ng libro. Dilim dilim. eh malabo ang mata ko no. Dami ko reklamo. Kaya di na ko bumalik dun. Tapos dun sa Filipinas library – lammmmig. Ay, nagpunta din pala ako sa Bread of Life library. Dun naka-aral ako. At saka kasi ang lakas ng ulan noon. Di ako makalipat ng library. Walang masyadong distractions dun. Good ambiance. Soooo quiet. Then when you're tired, go to Solarium. Majority of the books on their shelves are really for pastors. At dun naman sa ATS Library, dami tsika, kasi kada eskuwela ko at colleague na makita ako, "Hi Ma’am long time no see," sabi nila. Kasi wala ako load ngayon sa ATS. Tapos ayun na, tsikahan na. Kaya ako naman kakaunti tuloy ang nagawa. Yung whole day, half day na lang. Pero hapi naman ako dun sa mga pa lunch lunch ko with my former students.

Ay naku, in the end, kinuha ko lahat ng ituturo ko dito sa book na Towards a Science of Translating: With Special Reference to Principles and Procedures Involved in Bible Translating by Eugene Nida. Phinotocopy ko ito actually sa National Library. Bawal ba yan? Happily napaka-comprehensive. Binuno ko yung 239 pages, halos mabutas-butas na sa underlining at highlighting. Nagkaka-vertigo na ako sa kakaulit-ulit dahil nakow, mga prends, di madaling basahin. Pero, I recommend NIDA to all translators. So dito ko na kinuha lahat. Eh naconfirm ko rin, marami naman pala akong ginagawang tama sa pagta-translate ko, di ko nga lang alam ang tawag. At least ngayon, kahit papaano, nadagdagan ang vocabulary ko for what I'm doing. I had a limited vocabulary of translation principles, but somehow, it has expanded. Now I can share it. Praise God.

Kaya eto na po. Sa isang lingo, ang balak kong gawin ay mag-aral-lang nang mag-aral ng ginawa kong module. Nasulat ko na, kaya lang ngayon naman kailangan kong practisin at padaliin kasi napaka-teknikal talaga ng mga theories. Yung book na ginamit ko nung isang taon, nawala sa eroplano. Sayang. I forgot the title. Maganda rin yun. Taught me something about semantics, syntactics, and pragmatics in translation. ANO YAN? Yan mga prends ang kaso dito. Kahit magbasa ako nang magbasa, feeling ko di ako talaga magiging at home sa linguistics sa sobrang kateknikalan.

Paano ko kaya padadaliin ang lahat ng natutuhan ko for the participants and interpreter? Yan ang aking hurdle ngayon mga prends.

Pupunta ako dun sa site ng kapatid ko (dun sa resort nya na wala pang tao, kaya akin ang kuwarto. Plugging you are all invited to hold your exclusive celebrations at low cost in that resort -- birthday, wedding, debut, or just chilling out with friends. Will post pictures later kasi di pa yaring-yari eh. Pero maganda ang lugar. Right at the heart of Batangas.) Ideally, magsu-swimming ako tuwing umaga (may pool nga!) para naman ako’y may exercise kuno to stir up my already exhausted brain. O di ba sosyal, may private pool. hehe

Ang hirap talaga. Hirap mag-aral. Hirap magturo. But I keep doing it. And I'm still learning a lot. So I think I'm enjoying it too. Although I keep telling myself "I need a writing sabbatical" - a long time to write - a year maybe?

Hindi naman ako nagrereklamo. Kaya lang ay naku, di talaga ako makakapasyal sa Phnom Phen. Di ba dapat when you go to another place kahit paano you can do some sight seeing? Nung isang taon, nagpunta ako Siem Reap. I went to Ankor Wat, pero kasi ang dami ko pa di napuntahan dun. And I didn't even see the Lake. Gusto ko pa sumakay ng elepante hahaha!

Sa Phnom Phen, I will keep my fingers crossed kung makatapak ako kahit man lang dun sa Royal Palace kasi malapit lang daw yun. I have only one day spare kasi apat na araw yung seminar. APAT NA ARAW 8 to 5 yun mga prends. I think God is pleased at this. At ang priority ay siyempre, yung maging effective yung module at maka-fellowship naman sa mga participants. Last year, they all came from para-church organizations. So much translation needs for Christian literature. I think God wants me to do this. Nung isang taon, di na ako nakapunta sa mga invitations nila. Sana this time, makabonding naman ako at makatsika nang mahaba-haba with new friends.

Gusto ko sanang magpunta dun sa “Killing Fields” kaya lang parang ayaw ko rin. Dun na lang sa former prison? Ano kaya? Sasakay lang daw ng Tuktuk. Pero iniisip ko, why would I want to see the grim remains of Pol Pot's cruelty? Why are those places tourist attractions in the first place? on second thought, I shouldn't even ask these questions. I should have no expectations. Who knows? Sabi nga ni Gypsy (read her blog you will be blessed, klick at the link here) God is extravagant when He gives.

Excited ako talaga kaya lang takot din. I also feel privileged kasi kahit paano, I am somehow contributing a tiny something that may matter toward the healing of that battered land. Ilan kaya ang participants? Sana naman may matutunan sila. Nakaka-ingles naman lahat yun, kaya lang, ako hindi nakakapag-Khmer. Tapos translation ang usapan namin? Hayyyy. Kaya ngayon… isang lingo akong magmamadali.

DREAM, DREAM, DREAM

When my niece announced to the whole family that she would someday work at PIXAR studios, my reaction was “Great. That’s how you dream! Dream big.” From that time on (she was 13) she has streamlined her “dream”, and now, that she’s almost 16, someday, she hopes to design clothes and accessories for the pets of Hollywood stars! As you can see, she hasn’t completely given up on Hollywood. Incidentally, she is already surfing the net for a possible course to take up in college along the lines of “becoming a designer” and her most recent find is a course called “fine arts major in information design”. This discovery kept her busy during vacation, as her active imagination forced a corporate-like brainstorming with her older sister on the possible brand name for original graphic and digital designs. She said that this brand would be launched in year 2015 – where else, but in Hollywood!

My niece knows exactly what she wants.

In fact, all my nephews and nieces know exactly what they want when they grow up. Both of my nephews (10 and 11 years old at this time of writing) have each designed a logo for their future companies. The eleven-year old has designed a private-detective logo, complete with an advertisement that says “Who-dun-it? We’ll dig ‘em out for you!” The ten-year old on the other hand has asked my sister “Mama, how many computers do you think I should have in my Internet-café?” My sister, herself a dreamer answered, “It depends on how much capital you got, Anak”, and my nephew goes, “What capital?”

The young, how they dream!

The first niece to step on to college this school year (2007) took up nursing. This, she says is in preparation for a course she really likes, Medicine. During the parent-student orientation, the facilitator said, “If your child is here because you, parents, forced them to take this course, you might just be wasting your money, since they probably won’t pass the board exam anyway. One piece of advice,” she added, “listen to your children. Understand their interests and strengths. Support their dreams. Because, in the end, it’s their dream, not yours, it’s their future not yours.”

During this orientation, my sister was thinking about her younger daughter – the one who wears four anklets, has pierced her ears twice, owns a collection of fancy earrings, glues herself to improving the “look” of her Friendster, always says “duh?” among other expressions, and lands the lead roles in school plays. My sister was smiling about a time when this daughter suddenly announced “Mama, I already know my fashion design brand: I will call it Simply Ish!”

Ish, by the way is how we call her.

On to the Other Side

Gypsy: You grew up without a father figure, how does this affect your perception of Father God?
Dear Gypsy - I needed to go back before I could answer this question. I will answer the rest in the next blogs. Thanks for asking.


Beginning 1992 and up to the earlier months of 1994, I lived in my small house in Cavite, alone. Phase 14 wasn't yet as crowded as the rest of Pag-Asa subdivision. Behind me was a huge rice field and during weekends, it brought my eyes ample relief. For the first three months, my mother helped me to get my bearings, but later on after that, my only noisy companion was a radio.

I remember coming home after three long rides (Boni to Imus) to a bright white house with a bed, a table, a stove, my ironing board and the radio -- all giving me the quiet collective sigh of a near-haunted house. But I often conquered the gloom by turning the radio on to DZAS and listening to Chuck Swindoll's happy sermons. He made his congregation laugh and I laughed with them during those nights. I could remember coming home very tired from the highly congested coastal road traffic but I kept myself busy. Right after changing clothes, I would be immediately occupied with either scrubbing the tiles, waxing the floor, washing my clothes, cooking for a three-day meal -- while listening to the radio -- before I rested, which was after I've exhausted all the night preaching.

In our house, since my mother was also a father , she taught us to depend only on ourselves. So it wasn't difficult for me to be on my own. In fact, before I lived in Imus, I had lived in 8 different rented spaces.

My mother had always prided herself on living just on her own, solving her own problems, making ends meet by sheer guts and will. As a nay-tay she probably had a hard time disciplining us. As our punishment for various naughty acts, the ultimate sanction had always been to "do five or more Our Fathers, Five or more Hail Marys etc." depending on the gravity of our offenses. All three of us, first siblings would end up sniffing in front of the statue of the Virgin Mary mumbling our "prayers" lest we get the rod. By rod, I mean "bakya, or tabo, or walis tambo, or a heavy rag -- in fact whatever her hands would find close by. Each of my sibling had his and her own vivid scenario of this "light" torture. Of course we're laughing at those times now, but we all can't forget one time when my brother, only five years old, pleaded our case and said, "Nay bingi na naman po ang Diyos."

Now, I think that mothers should be the disciplinarian in the family. I simply took it for granted that a father should play a role in that. Had my father given me even just a whack, I would have, at least, a memory of one intense interaction. But my Father was only a word within the word family. If you ask me to define father, he would be the one who caused you to be born.

God the Father used to be just a phrase in my prayers: "In the name of the Father, of the Son, and of the Holy spirit...." I grew up not minding God the Father. He could be anyone who was remote, up there, beyond the clouds, farther than the moon and the stars. I thought that if Jesus was the one nailed to the cross, and he is God the Son, then He couldn't be God the Father. But I never worried myself about God the Father. I simply just rattled off the Trinity "label" at the beginning and end of my "prayers" because that's how everybody did it.

Unlike Mary who, at least was a kind of shock absorber whenever we were forced to pray looking at her statue, God the Father didn't even have a name! He was "Our Father" probably in the most public sense. Much much later on of course, I would learn about His attributes and His Names. But back then, completely ignorant and indifferent, I went to church knowing nothing about the God we often invoked in our chants. It was like we knew we had a father, but so?

Needless to say a father was a non- issue to me. A father to me may not exist; I was sanay na walang tatay.

It took a long time before God healed me from this apathy. I realized that indeed, I missed having a father. The Word of God showed me that I had a real, accessible, knowable Father in heaven. Amy Grant had a popular song in the 80s which goes:

I may not be every mothers dream for her little girl,
And my face may not grace the mind of everyone in the world.
But thats all right, as long as I can have one wish I pray:
When people look inside my life, I want to hear them say,

Shes got her fathers eyes,
Her fathers eyes;
Eyes that find the good in things,
When good is not around;
Eyes that find the source of help,
When help just cant be found;
Eyes full of compassion,
Seeing every pain;
Knowing what youre going through
And feeling it the same.
Just like my fathers eyes,
My fathers eyes,
My fathers eyes,
Just like my fathers eyes.

If I should have my Father's eyes, I should know How I am My Father's Child. One by one, as I searched the Word of God, the revelations came, but not all at once.

During my isolation in Cavite, as I went through an emotional crisis, I dreamt about crossing a river but I couldn't do that. Somebody offered to carry me over to the other side.

I had to allow him to carry me over to the other side. I had to depend on him. I had to submit to his gentle persuasion. I had to leave all my baggage behind and allow only myself to be hoisted up on his shoulders. I had to stop worrying about the future. I had to be brave and resolve not to go back. I had to let him see myself cry. I had to let him help me. I had to open my ears to what he's saying, "I'm here. I'm your father. Trust me."

Before that time, I had long decided that I would follow God. But the dream was clearly telling me to loosen my grip about everything, letting God carry on from there.

In the morning this was the verse I read from my Bible: "When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; And through the rivers, they will not overflow you. When you walk through the fire, you will not be scorched, Nor will the flame burn you. (NASB ©1995) Isaiah 43:2

That was my Father in heaven speaking directly to me, telling me gently, "Come!"

Finally, I prayed, "Yes, please, carry me over." Up to now, I know that it was one of the most important decisions of my life.

Father’s Day

In Church we all prayed together for our fathers. If there was a concept I didn’t understand, this was the concept of what a father was. I’ve been mothered all my life but I don’t have a single memory of being fathered.

We were swimming one time and my brother was playing with his kids in the pool. All three of his kids, 11, 9, and 7 year olds, were crowding at him, almost suffocating him in play as they grabbed his neck and back, each clambering up on his shoulders. He threw any successful kid back into the water, and they wrestled, and they were laughing their hearts out.

One time, my brother just lay on the floor of our small house, resting from his field work, and he seemed to be in deep thought. Suddenly he asked, “How do I raise my kids to become good persons? It is so difficult.” All I could do at the time was encourage him and say, “Bro, at the range of 1-10, I think you’re 7. Just keep doing what you’re doing. You’re doing fine.”

But what do I know?

Somewhere in this city, my father roams the streets selling cigarettes. Occasionally, I see him and we say hi and hello in less than twenty seconds. One time, he saw me and I saw him and we both stopped and I approached him and asked, “Where are you going?” He said that his false teeth got run over by a jeepney and he was looking for that politician-dentist to help him. I gave him some money that could buy him another pack of cigarettes to sell, but not enough to buy a replacement for his false teeth. Afterwards, completely disconnected, we both went our separate ways.

When he had us, did my father ever ask the question my brother asked? And when he didn’t have an answer, did he simply quit on us and let his life flow independent of our grabbing at his back and neck, effectively avoiding a lifetime of wrestling with us?

Of all the possible reasons for his complete absence in our lives, this is one reason I can understand.

Today is Election Day

Back here in my very humid room where my only view outside are windows as usual, I find it very difficult to concentrate on editing the final pages of a manuscript written by a Japanese while TV anchors and reporters do their voice stunts reporting on each local precinct's performance. We're waiting for my brother to fetch my mother and myself so we can go to the public school where all our names are registered.

My mother is so excited about this election that the first thing she did when she woke up was to call my brother to ask him to take her to the polls. She had been murmuring against all Team Unity candidates and has promised to vote 12-0 in favor of GO. She had watched both ANC and kapuso's coverage of conversations (asking candidates three questions and giving them a minute for each question) and of course, she never listened to Team Unity and KBL candidates.

In fact, she has set her mind to vote for every "young" opposition candidate from the very start of the campaign period or even since Gloria Macapagal Arroyo said "I'm sorry". "Tama na 'yang mga matatanda. Iboboto ko si Bamboo at saka si Trillianes!" (And our laundry lady, Ka Yoly, while ironing our clothes echoes "Iboto si Trillianes!" raising up a close fist for effect.)

For my mother's local choices, she's debated against every one who has vowed to vote for Vilma Santos for Governor and Christopher De Leon for Vice Governor. But she'd been overwhelmed by the majority thinking that Batangas can do good with a live soap - "Let's show these soap writers a run for their money with our local version of 'Relasyon.'"

Just yesterday, my brother told us to vote for his kumpare's kumpare who is running for congressman. And at the mall, the vice mayoral candidate winked at my sister-in-law, who immediately said that he - the candidate - is a friend of a friend of a friend. Back home, my mother immediately castigated my brother and my sister in law, commenting that what's wrong with this country is that every kumpare and kumare of the candidate are forced to vote for their kumare and kumpare - to which my brother retorted - "E sino pa gang ating iboboto ay pare-pareho lang naman yang mga 'yan. Di dine na sa kumpare at nang may mapakinabang naman."

Posted right beside our Batangas City hall is a signed peace covenant. It's been blown up billboard size for everybody to see. I've never witnessed a violent election-related incident in Batangas, although in the past, there were news and rumors of ballot snatching and gunmen threatening teachers to cooperate or else.... We've only had black outs during the counting.

Anyway, my mother has twice reminded me already to get ready to vote. I feel that she has cast all her hope on her ballot -- the only expression of her anger and frustration over all kinds of corruption happening in our land.

True Confessions

.

I have something to confess: I wrote very little in 2006 – very little poetry; only two poems (see www.pasyal.blog-city.com); not a single decent meditative essay and no children’s lesson (to finish the curriculum book assigned to me). Yes, I wrote, but I researched and wrote for my site –articles about translation and Tagalog, which took plenty of time. Even this blog suffered because, thanks to friends who blogged, I blogged every time I got envious that they were able to blog so regularly
Second confession: I read very little in 2006 – I re-read some of the books on my shelves and although I finished them the first time I read them, I didn’t finish them now because, well, by the time I was midway, I fully recalled the story. I can count the times I was able to visit the bookstores since I consciously avoided them, because, blame it on freelancing, I was always working – here at home, and when I wasn’t working, I was meeting with those who will give me work, and, until I had the money to buy books, which was always after I finished the job and I had to go to Manila to buy the books I wanted, I would be careful not to indulge in book browsing at any bookstore or book sale outlet.

Third confession: I stopped reading the newspapers and I have become a certified kapuso, having watched all the fantaseryes in channel 7 (I kept telling myself, maybe I should write a fantaserye myself – who knows)

So in 2007 you can guess what my main resolutions are.

But I also have many things to thank God for in 2006: One, I don’t have a regular job, but I do have regular bills, and I was always on time in meeting my obligations and I was even able to save a little. What an amazing grace!

Two, I have completely adjusted to the provincial lifestyle – now I really want to go home right after a one day (usually Friday) work in Manila. I like walking on our streets, and I can’t identify with those who ride jeepneys to and from destinations within the poblacion. Except the queuing at the banks during bill payments, I now welcome errands because they force me to extract myself from the computer. And I have been learning the art of haggling at the wet market.

I like both the noise and quiet of our house. I appreciate my mother’s patience with me, her tolerance of her own physical pain, her complete abhorrence of any type of wastage, even her occasional outbursts: because she’s here, alive and not losing hope in spite of the progression of her sickness. We banter a lot but that’s because she has not stopped being busy about things – dusting, sewing, organizing – and I wanted her to rest. Yet on second thought I am happy that she is still the way she was, however slower, and even as she does everything wrapped in elastic brace from her hips to her diaphragm. I am being stretched as a human being while living with her and I pray that by God’s grace I will emerge a better person after this.

Three, I am grateful and privileged to meet and work with a new set of “soldiers for Christ,” those laboring at the Philippine Bible Society and Voice International, they who consistently gave me commissions which helped me appreciate how precious the crafting of words are in God’s overall design in spreading His message of love and hope. I am getting assurance that this is my personal ministry, laboring over words as I edit, write, translate, revise, texts that will directly say how much God wants to gather all men, women and children under his huge, loving, protective wings.

Fourth, I have grown to appreciate the Sundays I spend in my local church, because I have found new fellowships and am beginning to pray about a specific area of service there. I am thankful that the pastor in my home church has grown as a preacher and has improved a lot in the way he presents Christian themes during Sunday Worship.

Fifth, I cherish all the times I have spent with my siblings, and my nephews and nieces, and am glad that at this growth point in their lives, knowing their particular needs, I can intelligently pray for each one of them by name.

Sixth, even though I am not kind, not tolerant, not self-controlled, not courageous, not disciplined, not gracious and not generous, I know these very well now, and by God’s grace, I hope I will be kinder, more tolerant, more self-controlled, braver, more disciplined, more gracious and more generous – who knows, I might actually become a better saint (two halos? Smile) in 2007.

And seventh, I know I have done a full year, only by God’s help.

So, I can only ask Him for more help this year.

2 Tim 2:3-7"Endure hardship with us like a good soldier of Christ Jesus. No one serving as a soldier gets involved in civilian affairs -- he wants to please his commanding officer. Similarly, if anyone competes as an athlete, he does not receive the victor's crown unless he competes according to the rules. The hardworking farmer should be the first to receive a share of the crops. Reflect on what I am saying, for the Lord will give you insight into all this."

He is in that Quiet Place

This afternoon, I went to my favorite spot- the tree house - at the Maryland campsite, in Banaba, just a short jeepney and a tricycle ride away from the poblacion. The last time I was here was when I was finalizing my module for the Cambodia Translation Seminar. Evelyn and Cesar Estigoy, churchmates, own this huge space, actually a campsite, and they have generously allowed me to spend some quiet time here away from the crowded and noisy bayan.

I needed the quiet so I can spend some time in prayer because tomorrow, my mother is about to decide on whether she's going to have an operation. Her L5 bone has collapsed and the doctors said that she needs a metal on that part of her spine to prevent further collapse and to decompress the area. She is experiencing a lot of pain and she is finding it very difficult to walk. After two years of her radiation therapy in 1997, she began to feel pins and needles on her legs, and soon she needed to walk with a cane. The damage on her spine deteriorated until one cane wasn't sufficient anymore to help her walk. Now she moves around the house in a chair with wheels, and since she was a very active woman, I am so disheartened to see her weaken this way.

There is a chance that the pain will go away 100 percent if she undergoes this major operation on her spine. Then she will be able to walk without pain, at first slowly. She will have to undergo physical therapy after that, and then hopefully, she will be able to regain her strength. We've been undergoing clearance check-ups prior to opeation and all the medical screenings (pulmo, cardio, neuro, MRI, bone scan, ultrasounds) have so far been good. The only high risk factor now is her age. She is sixty nine years old.

I feel that this opeation needs to be done, but I also feel that we can never be really sure about the outcome. Only God, our healer is able to completely heal, and this is my prayer. Tonight, an elder in our church came to pray with us. We have been blessed with friends who know that God alone is our Helper at all times. I am grateful that where I prayed this afternoon, God was with me. Although there was nobody around and I had only my Bible with me, I felt God's company comforting me in that tree house. I know that my prayers have been answered.