I would from the out set prefer Becky, please call me Becky, the beautiful chicken…yeah I would rather you called me my name than the Curious Chic. And of course I preempt you would tag me ‘impatient’ by the time ‘am through with you. Though I would sincerely love to know what you have in mind now about me. Maybe you conceive some figures like a cow, an owl, or an elephant.

Anyway, I got no time. This is just the tale of my three eggs and me or rather my two and half eggs and me. Hot! Well, the would-have been third baby, sorry third egg was so slow to come by; but I could feel part of it with my fingers while I pushed. “Green egg” Oh, green egg! That was what it was all in my mind. I really guess it’s fantastic to have different things at times like colourful eggs.

So the labour came, but I would love to see the egg drop. Drop-drop-drrrop from my back, but Becky had no mirror. Oh, the egg is coming, so I ran to a stream some yards away. “Wait eggie, we’re there” I said to us as I reversed to pack my back over the flowing waters.

Legs apart, I bent my head and voyeur! “oh I can see it, no I can’t see it. So I pushie and pushie and shssss. Then I saw a big dimple on the rippling water, and a dancing dazzling white ball diving downwards. Wait a second, for I can’t wait for a minute. Is that not my egg? So I peeped into the water and got skill scared by the fishes’ bulging eyes. I brrrr up panting, shaking off water; and off I went because chickens don’t swim.

“Don’t worry, Becky. Things are always doubled and we get troubled when we don’t struggle!” I came to my comfort. This is exactly the way I fix things I can’t fix, like my next is still scanty. It works hard to get one knitted reed by reed. So, when Becky laid her first egg, it dropped off and cracked. I cackled, thinking it was funny. Meanwhile, I got no time for stories, am on my way home.

Oh home sweet home! Could it be we value things more when we’ve lost them? My green egg, my cracked egg, and my…no, am not going to loose this one. My baby is in there, my babie. Oh sweetie baby. She’s a girl, a fluffy pretty chicky chicken. Errh, let me see what name suits her. Akeelah, Boo, Disney, Chelsea…ah, could fix the poll or the roll in an alphabetical order like let me seeeee: Akeelah, Boo, Chelsea and…wait I got no time for it now please. Maybe some other time, I may got time to fix ‘em. Then, I will add the last one. Maybe Disney ends it.

Well, well-well, I guess I need to see the baby here first before the rituals of name. So, I placed my eye close on the egg to know if I could hear a thing, possibly a quack. I heard nothing. Then, I brought it under the sun to know if I could see a thing, but nothing again. Oops, eggs they say need tender warmth to hatch. So I brought my nest by a fire stand. I was away to catch some fun, when my nest caught fire. I still ponder and wonder how my egg wandered off to a corner, looking droopingly ashy.

Ay, it is now about the 8th month, and I can’t wait further for another one whole long month of gesticulation. And I said, “Hey, chickie, mama wants to catch some fun like Grasshopper-chase, Quacking-in-da-air, Sand-in-da-wind, Sand-wish, and on and on and on. So get out let’s go.”

Don’t worry Becky, things are always doubled and we get troubled when we don’t struggle! I came to my comfort. This is the way I fix things I can’t fix like when I broke my last egg. No, it broke itself by itself when I rolled it down the isle. I guess that was what my mama once said to me that, “The Curious Chicken chuckles no chicks.”

That for now seems to be all. When I got time I will tell you the rest of the rest of the story. It’s me Becky.


http://renaissanceafrica-ostar.blogspot.com

THE MONKEY AND THE HONEY BEES

It was a beautiful day. Sun flowers cane sun-bathing while the serene breeze blows gently over the fields. Hence, the bees went busy buzzing as they make their juicy lovely honey. Drones as usual drummed and hummed and as well waxed! Other little bees fanned the hive with their soft wings to cool off the heat.

However, outside the hive, messenger-bees caress the beauteous blossom for nectars. Legs laddered with this sweet substance, they danced back and forth the busy hive. Yet, flowers smiled seductively with exquisite colours still, and exuberance of graceful fragrances. Dangling and flapping, the butterflies perched from one to another checking on the pollens.

Nevertheless, beneath these bridal flushes of the springtide, were other little creatures knitting, tailoring, hunting, gathering, parading or peaceful at a leisurely pace. Moreover, not the soldier ants who are always set in a military array! Today, there seemed to be a prison break. Alarms went up; all were on the alert, trigger-ready to shoot at sight....

Meanwhile, Mottie, the lazy monkey whiled away picking edible leaves while planning to make a bee-line for the bee hive. Yawning and preying through leaves and reeds, he waited till the moon began to smile. The bees would not see me, he said, as Mottie the monkey goes for the honey, he assured himself.

And there dared the daredevil! "Mottie's a man-monkey and Mottie needs some honey!" he recited as he stealthily inserted his curious index finger through the honeycomb. Out came the chilled-honey-coated finger one-two into his q-shaped mouth as he sang, "oh sweetie Mottie honey monkey, monkey honey Mottie sweetie oooh...." Eyes closed in pleasure to the rhythm of his sweet song, while his other fingers walked lyrically round and round his ridiculously protruding tummy. "More fingers ah sweetie Mottie, more honey oh sweetie monkey honey!" he thought, so he inserted all his fingers greedily and nervously into the honey-pie....

Bang! Came one shot on the head. "No way, just a scary dream and am not scared a dime" Mottie explained away. Bang-bang and BANG!!! Came one, two, three and pellets of stings all over the poor monkey. Then he leapt to the sky shrieking and falling like sort of a cluster of cosmic offshoot from the moon.

At once, pebbles of bumps flourished on Mottie's body, but he held so dearly his honeyed-fingers despite the excruciating pains. So, Mottie fell and fell and fell without an attempt of grasping any gangly tree branches for safety. Thereupon, he hit his head severely on something and thereby got paranoiac!

I am not just Mottie no more. He might have climbed up, but a winged Mottie monkey flies down. The only flying monkey, flying down in a butterfly grand upward strokes. I don't want honey anymore, but a barrel of an elephant's milk. I am not a monkey any longer, but a roaring tiger. Don't you see the trees running and speeding away because i am running....

Then came the flop, the last flop indeed that broke the monkey's amnesia. And he banged up the ground and laid still. There Mottie laid still till certain acupunctures instilled a sense of life in him and he woke from his trance heaped like a log of wood floating on a troubled sea. And it was in the deployed camp of the indefatigable soldier ants that he fell in! So, they speared him, butchered him, mobbed him while he was still hypnotized and resolved to bear him home.

However, Mottie woke up a better monkey and sprang off in a feat that even bewildered him. "No more lazy sweetie Mottie honey monkey again" he resolved, "but with the rising sun, i shall rise and be wise. And like the busy honey bees, i shall work for my daily bread and be at leisure with the moon at dusk."


Sparing some seconds starting someone smiling!

Lil'Smile Foundation
Ostar Amakeze
Nimo

WONDERFUL LITTLE WORLD


The little doggie toggled along to their punctuated galloping. The garden was coloured by their dimpled smiles while the graceful sun rays tenderly on the blossoms.

Katie and Lily were swirling round. Derby, the little curly dog watched and turned till they all got dazed! So Katie fell in a shallow pool of water. “There she goes oh my Katie,” shouted Lily admiringly. And there too Lily jumped.

Ah!

This is not funny for Bethel. So she went in right into the pool to pull them out. “Don’t be silly Lily and come out my cute Katie,” she shouted while Derby sat on its tail watching with a doggish interest.

Katie came out first and ran up to a pathway shouting, “Bethie, Bethiee, Bethieeee!” swooshing and printing her soaked socks on it. “Hey see what i have done, my legs- one, two, three,” she exclaimed with toes tip-toed and fingers crawling in the sky. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, awlllllll-of-my leeeegs! She shouted again full of pep.

Bethel and Lily excitedly joined her, but Bethel counted thirteen footprints instead.

No, you made it up. You, Lily, and Derby; isn’t it true dear Derby?

Derby whined and wagged its tail as if it’s so.

Oh dear it’s it. It’s 10+3= 13.

Yes 3+10= 13, but they were all-of-y-o-u-r legs, insisted Bethel.

Ok. What’s number 13 minus Bethie, Lily, Derby and me, asked Katie seriously.

Number 13 minus 1 Bethie is 12
Number 12 minus 1 Lily is 11
Number 11 minus 1 Katie is 10
Number 10 minus 1 Derby is 9

Oh yeah number 13 minus 4 is 9, but ‘am just only 4years old. Derby was my birthday present from grandma when i got three. I wish i were five now to get another Derby maybe from grandpa, dreamed Lily.

I am 5years old, and 5 plus 4 is 9. I guess your Derby is only 1; and 1 plus 9 equals 10, calculated Bethel.

I am 3 too and….hi Kelly what are you doing there?

Pointing at a little boy of same age range crawling on the field. They run up to him. Kelly snarled like a lion and they stopped fear frozen.

We’re not scared boii. It’s shit Kelly. Just wipe off your dirty runny nose. The girls shouted.

Why are you afraid? Giggled Kelly mischievously. Is it because i used my runnie runnie to do lion’s sharp teeth? He laughed again.

But are you not a boy? Katie asked.

Mummy says little Kelly don’t be silly and poppa calls me lil’man, but i am a boy. A boy-lion king! Kelly said.

L is for lion and lions roar, that’s what my daddy said like r-o-a-rrrrrrr! Lily blabbered. Derby was frightened and put its tiny tail across the legs.

Don’t be scared dolly doggie ok. She’s not the boy-lion king. I am the boy lion king and ‘am not going to chase you around, assured Kelly.

Ok guys let’s catch the birds; they are flying so low on the flowers. Katie said

They are not birds, but beautiful butterflies. Are they not beautiful? Inquired Kelly

They are beautiful because they have colour green, white and blue. Said Lily

And red, and black and white and all the colours of my crayons. Bethel said.

Oh dear, and all the colours of my rainbow in my colour book, said Katie.

Me too, i have rainbow said Bethel.

Yes, that day i was dreaming tomorrow i have my rainbow too, Kelly cut in, ‘and every kid has got a rainbow that’s what my teacher said.

…..and they chased the beautiful butterflies around, around and around till the light faded. Indeed every child has a dream, a colourful dream of a brighter tomorrow.

Help a child grow.


Sparing some seconds starting someone smiling!



Johnbosco Amakeze 2008
Lil’smile Foundation
Nimo

♪AIASHA THE SINGING BIRD AND HER FRIENDS♫


From where you stand, you would think Aiasha stoops on a scudding ice berg as she sings. Her melodious voice pierces the vault of heavens like the quivering of a violin. She looms, obviously emerging to a clearly sight, and you now just find out she’s leaning on Boubo.

Lean on me
when you’re not strong,
I’ll be your friend
I’ll help you carry on
for it will be long,
till am gonna need
Somebody to lean on

You see Big Boubo, revels Aiasha, “It so solemnly strikes my sweet soul on the, ‘lean on-carry on-, be long-, to lean on’ each time I sing this sweet song.

“That’s alliteration and pun and alliteration all through Aiasha” said Boubo.

Thanks for the compliments. I guess the artist must have been a sentimental poet.

The song still hums in resonance. “I always feel celestially uplifted at it and I fly without wings each moment I know it applies to us because we’re friends.”

I doubt it Aiasha. You’ve always flown on your wings. {Chuckles} Well, I must thank you for being always there for me.

You’re a great friend Boubo. I wonder what life could’ve been without you baby.

Boubo

Ok. Boubo baby boy!

Nice beautiful birdie baby. Could you try a little assonance next time?

A lill’assonace next time?

Ya, next time, any time, time time. And now is the time. My father used to say, that the beginning of tomorrow is today, and my fatty momma says, {moving in sway to imitate her}, “one step at a time, do what you can do today and never say I can’t do it, unless you’ve tried to do it and tried well enough.

“Alright sweetie” thinking thoughtfully, “let me try, but e-m—can I recite Ostar’s Graceful Night. You see, the sun is setting in splendour still…..

Na-na-naaaa buddy! Ostar has done it for himself there and erected himself a statue here. When we do whatever we can do well enough, we erect our statues and we live memorably ever after. You can do it ok. Just believe you can and no matter how little. What’s important is how well.

Oh Boubo you drive me crazy with your inspirational words. Give me a big hug, big heart, a lo-ve-lieee biggie-huggie sweetie.

Aiasha skids to Boubo’s bosom and hugs him the much her fingers could go.

I just feel like staying here forever, there’s a comeliest warmth here my dear!

A big shot Aiasha, you make me jumpy by this bill and coo. However I like the last part, “….like staying here forever, there’s a comeliest warmth here my dear! A-L-L-I-T-RA-T-I-O-N!

Oh my God, really?

Yeah buddy!

Never knew, well, I would love to do it consciously purposeful.

Oops, consciously purposeful? Where did you get that?

Right from my heart, it just rings and that’s how I feel getting something rightly done, you know. Ok. Hold your breath ‘am coming out consciously purposeful.


Ok. Alright ‘am holding it on.

Sleep deep sweet heart
Of bliss and peace tonight
The spoils for our toils is rest
Till the morn dawns in blest

Oh my God, oh my God it just rolled. Can’t believe it. Am done Boubo! Heaved Aiasha satisfactorily.

Do you know what!

What?

You’re ingenious and I bet you, you’ve just recorded a poetic monument a-n-d what’s the title?

E-m, let me seee…Nightie Nightie. Na! It’s Good Night. I prefer Good Night to Nightie Nightie. It’s Good Night Boubo, it’s Good Night. It’s Good Night ok.

By now the nightly darkness has descended upon earth. Every creature has gone in except for the nocturnal ones that have just woken up either to walk or work. The darkness now talks:

Hey Aiasha, what was that you said is the title of Nightie Nightie? Blurred the sleepy elephant.

Don’t tell me you were somnambulating while i was reciting, Boubo. It’s Good Night Boubo!

Thanks Sweetie. Good night too Aiasha. I love you.

With a gentle slump, Boubo slumps in slumber.

Hey Boubo stop, stop, stop it. I didn’t mean good night, i meant Good Night. Don’t just sleep, but stay up a little while. Let’s eeem, {looking to the moonlit golden sky} do the game of the sky, like counting the stars, chasing the moon, orrrrr…..ok. Boubo wants to sleep. Shssssssssss! Let somebody not wake him up. Ok Boubo sleep. Sleep Boubo ok. I’ll sing you a lullaby to dream sweet dreams. I love you too Boubo, though I wish you were awake with me, but good night with Good Night.


♪GOOD NIGHT♫

Sleep deep sweet heart
Of bliss and peace tonight
The spoils of our toils is rest
Till the morn dawns in blest

At length the melodious serene sound gives way subtly as sleep scoops Aiasha away too to a wonderful world of dreams. Soon the morning breaks with beauteous buds of flowers unfolding. Leaves glistening at the touch of the tender morning sun smiling on their dew-drops. Sweet fragrances intermingle with gentle breeze as it combs the trees and their boughs. The morning rendition of the birds’ choirs echoing the beauty of life as…..

Oh my God and the good morning my good God… as Aiasha wakes up.

Is it morning?

Yeah, wake up and see All Things Bright and Beautiful!

All things are bright and beautiful, whispers Boubo. “Aiasha, Aiasha….

Ya baby

Look at me in the eyes

Ok. There my eyes gooooo

I don’t want to regret never ever have told you. All things are bright and beautiful to me because you are my friend. You have been so lovely and most caring. I love you Aiasha.

Aiasha clasps her fingers over her chest and weeps joyfully. Her eyes closed as she asks.

Why do you love me Boubo?

I do because you are Aiasha.

Oh my God! Whispers Aiasha. You’re the best thing Boubo that has ever happened in my life. You are my angel Boubo. I thank God we’re friends and Boubo all things are bright and beautiful today and always because you’re always there for me. I love you Boubo.

You’re most highly welcome sweetie. Is morning time and let’s get back to work. Grandpa says you wake up with the morn, work with the sun, and then rest with the moon.

Oh my God it rolls. I bet you it does. Just like that: with the morn, with the sun, with the moon. It really rolls Boubo.

Thanks. That was my grandee. So, let’s do what we should do.

Shelter?

Shelter!

And what’s the concept Aiasha?

Diligence to the end!

Come o on!

They shake hands and legs in a most stylish way and bombom too. Aiasha falls headlong, chuckles and stands to clap of her hands. Then, they set out to work. Boubo pulls some logs of wood and begins to fix a hut. Aiasha gathers reeds and leaves to make a nest. Diligence! And dutifully they work and work. Aiasha working skilfully and painstakingly as her nest takes a highly net-worked L shape. Boubo hums indistinctly. Aiasha pleased with her work slides in and out and in and out again. Boubo’s hut is ready too. Aiasha lands.

What a monumental edifice you’ve got here Boubo!

Ah?

Oh my God, it’s amazing!

Well, I appreciate, but I bet you Aiasha. Your hut…. Wait a minute. I mean your nest is a fantastic artifice. Can’t help staring at it.

Thanks Boubo.

Thanks too Aiasha.

Aiasha jumps on Boubo’s face and hugs him. Meanwhile at the background, it seems to be that, ‘There’s Fire on the Mountain’ for everyone is on the run! Every wings and legs are either reinforcing or building a shelter against the heavy pregnant gloomy cloud, but the Tortoise and his kinsmen.

“Hai shelly Buddies, just hold firm your shells and ignore the crying clouds. We can’t cringe ok. If it floods eventually and you sail, say ha-ll-ooooo to our Tortleton families wherever; but whatever, let hope not die in you before you die. Till then, go about your abnormal business, though every control is under alarm, but whatever ever happens, that’s the destiny”.

So and so happens as Okirah dashes in hurriedly in a dazzling iridescent plumage.

Hey hey hey Juliet! Enough of that kissie kissie and come over here and help me fix something!

Aiasha and Boubo are embarrassed at Okirah’s rudeness and lack of courtesy. She stands aloft in pride on a tree branch waiting for Aiasha to come over.

Em, good day Okirah, and how do you do? Boubo said courteously.

Ah! Did anything speak right now? Okirah said contemptibly, displaying her most colourful feathers.

Oh my God! ‘Am sorry Boubo. Never mind, I’ll settle it ok.

Settle my foot, you love-stricken insignificant creatures! Will you or not help me fix a nest Aiasha?

Boubo rises furiously and makes for the tree on which Okirah perches. Aiasha sticks her sticky legs on the ground and wedges Boubo back. Her legs making a parallel furrow forward.

Hey Boubo stop it Boubo. Boubo stop. Okirah isn’t worth the sweat! Aiasha pleads. Please ‘am sorry, ‘am sorry, and ‘am so sorry.

At this, Aiasha breaks up, hangs it up and sits on Boubo’s foot to weep. Boubo now stops to console her

‘Am sorry too Aiasha. I didn’t mean to hurt you sweetie

Sweeeee….. what? Snaps Okirah.

Is ok sweet heart. Ok just do it as you want it; concedes Boubo.

Oh dear buddy Boubo! Thanks, but that’s Shakespeare. No, William’s, “As You Like It”. Alright. Thanks as I would want it. Ok Okirah, i’m coming over at once without my tears again.

With or without whatever, I don’t care. Okirah chirrups, preening herself.

So sweet a sass. Whispers Boubo disapprovingly.

Ok Okirah, let me see your reeds and leaves, Aiasha demands with tears.

Reeds and weeds? Sorry I came with none and how dare you think I would carry such dung along!

Am sorry….

Sorry my foot, and use your stuff. Okirah cracks

Oh my God….

Aiasha is at the verge of throwing in the sponge. Her heart throbs. Aiasha’s heart is breaking. In a jiffy a text flashes on her from one of the literatures she read, “…. to ignore and despise an injury or calumny is a far more effectual remedy than resentment, fighting and revenge.” So she sets out consciously purposeful, dutifully bold, and decisively revealing the cuts, the joints and the strokes of a perfect nest.

Next is the winding and the basketing. And at the same time you bear the L-concept consciously purposeful in your mind as you knit….

So what’s the crazy concept? Queries Okirah uninterestedly

…. So that when tightly tied and hung inversely, neither wind nor storm can sunder your slumber or saunter.

Wait, wait-wait-wait, save your breath. Just hold it there, ‘am done with it. Have learnt it, have learnt it, and have learnt it more than you do. So just hand it over to me, ‘am gone. Splutters Okirah irritably and most indignantly.

All the while, Boubo stoops downwards moping upwards at the drama of the tree.

What a little beautiful beast! Thinks Boubo silently

A little more, Okirah please. I love you Okirah, a little more of the tutorial on the basketing please. I wouldn’t want you to be shut off and out in the wind or rain, i lo….

Love my foot Aiasha. You think ‘i’m that cheap eh? Stay clear out of me and…. Well, well, well thanks for nothing anyway. Of course i could just make this in a straight blow so don’t swell your head you’ve done something laudable ok. Okirah brags.

Braggadocio! Whispers Boubo.

Okirah I don’t mean…. I mean you’ve just got a weapon here. Is suicidal to think you’ve got a nest. That’s half-baked Okirah. A little more patience please, let’s at least make a short L of it.

Count me out of it. And if you’re thinking of keeping me in this stinking place any longer, forget it!

With this Okirah veers off and disappears in the thick air of the dark cloudy rumbling sky.

Oh my God, oh my God, Boubo Okirah’s gone, she’s gone, O dear she’s done too” mourns Aiasha.

“He who is hasty is in danger of stumbling and hurting his foot” mumbles Boubo as he still looks pityingly at Okirah’s shadow in the air.

That’s Solomon’s proverb, but dear my heart is so broken. Why me, why me Boubo. She’s so beautiful, and if only she were also amiable, she would pass for a benign goddess”. Dreams Aiasha.

What’s ‘amiable’ Aiasha?

It’s being cheerful and friendly, and good-natured and good-humoured just like you Boubo. Just being nice, you know.

You’re just saying it Aiasha. I feel greatly flattered!

No buddy, you’ve been more a friend than words could say, a congenial companion.

And turning to where you stand as if speaking to you she says,

You see oh dear buddy, Boubo would say no to Aiasha if Aiasha tends to be stupid, and Boubo gives Aiasha a big sweetie huggie hug if Aiasha does a thing well!

Besides Aiasha makes me more to believe in myself, that I can do and not that I can’t, that ‘i am strong and not weak, that ‘i am brainy and not a dunce, that i am beautiful and not ugly. Above all she says that three elements constitute the word, ‘Friendship’. The middle ‘end’ like virtue is the most important and deserves definition from the out set. When the end is good, we can through the last ‘Ship’ sail safely with mast of sincere faithfulness over the storms of the first ‘Frailty’ to a congenial companionship. You see, i still ponder on these wonders as i waddle and wander where and how my dear Aiasha came by these…..

Boubo is still talking to you when Aiasha screams to him.

Boubo, watch your baaa-ck!

My back? He turns fear-stricken.

Na. your trunk Boubo. Back off to your shelter. The storm is come! Aiasha quivered.

They scurry to the safety of their shelters as the rains let loose in torrents and pellets of ice-drop. Thunders are drumming within the wombs of the clouds, often coughing out fiery sparks like cannon balls. The lightning brandishes strokes of flashes hither and yon. The winds are awoken from slumber and in irritation they sweep everything they can lay hands on in a furious gust!

Is a tempest Aiasha. Hold the fort and be strong! Trumpets Boubo.

Ok Boubo. Be strong too and don’t jump out of your skin. Errr- and know that Shakespeare wrote The Tempest. I guess it is the second to the last of his plays.

Yoh Aiasha. I ponder and wonder if some one is somewhere writing on this one now.

Perhaps a wanderer might do it. Aiasha suggests

Or a hunter says Boubo.

They laugh as the rainy darkness thickens. Is now far into the night. You can hear Boubo snoring away peacefully, but Aiasha is not sleeping. Aiasha is crying and praying.

Oh my good God please keep Okirah safe wherever the storm buffets her. May she neither be strangled nor drowned. Oh my dear God i love Okirah. She’s so beautiful and queenly, just a little rude, but i believe she will grow out of it. Can’t hate her please save Okirah oh darling God. I know you’ve got to save her because you’ve got to save her because you’ve got the whole world in your hands. Promise me you will, just a little more promise….

Turning to Boubo

Hey Boubo are you there? Are you there, are you….? Em, do you remember where it says, “Be still and know that I am God?” do you Boubo? Dooo, or are you stilled already? Oh Boubo is stilled already because he lies down and sleep comes at once. Aiasha too shall be stilled for God of the birds will save Okirah. Hey, everyone I’ve got it. Is Psalm 46. A whole of it, a whole of lot of it and verse ten says it all! Wait; did I say God of the birds? Yeah, i did and it makes a lot of sense, though he’s also God of Boubo and you, you know what i mean. Eehm, let me put it into a kind of song in dedication to my dear Okirah.



♪GOD OF THE BIRDS♫

I see the trees in sways
In dance of the stormy winds
As noon shuts her smiles
At the claps of the thunders
While the lightning flashes and snaps
The dark crying crawling clouds
The birds holding close their feathers
As their wobbling fluttering nests
Toggled against the tempests
But you little fledging birds
Burn up all the bridges
For God of the beautiful birds
Would the winds ‘neath your wings
When it is o’er with the storms

♥with love, Aiasha



A ghostly dawn succeeds the ghastly night. Wearied of her mournful vigil, Aiasha sleeps of deep still. Floods surging in surfeit and wrecking whatever its razing tongues could lash. Some homeless creatures either hold some standing trees tenaciously or float on logs of woods upon waters. However, floating resignedly upon waters too are Kwubenki, the elder spokesman of the Tortoiton family and few others. Close to him is Mbekwu, ramshackled like an out-done boxer with bumps all over his heads.

Eehm, who there you are, or are you not Mbekwu? Queries Kwubenki drolly.

Wwwwe-ll, i was Mbekwu, but now call me either without ‘m’ or ‘kwu’ preferably without the latter, because the metamorphosis is strictly sinister. He bemoans.

Hey, boy what has come over you? Is that a fit of temper or what? What’s up shelly buddy?

My head! Pointing at the protruded bumps saying, “That’s what’s up boss.”

That’s silly as a wheel boy. Let’s first try to get out of this mess first.

Not at all; not as silly as that boss. Remember that, ‘whatever ever happens, that’s the destiny’, so lets stay till whatever completely happens on us Kwubenki.

Fears grapple the rest at this pessimism and they gawk.

No no no! It has of course dawned on me that Kwubenki makes no meaning again. Though that was my native name, but do spare your breath next time and call me only ‘Kwu.’ Ok. The other suffix is been knocked off too. Gone to the seas!

A haa-awhoo-awhaaa…. Laugh-coughs Mbekwu, holding his etching shell together.

Wait a minute buddy. That’s not all. This is not destiny buddy. It was misleading of me, and gullible of you and us. Just the boomerang buddy and you can put the blame on me buddies.

Yoh boss! Yo yo, i like the last part of your funeral speech. That’s Akon you know, that’s him niggar. That’s the vibes, ‘you can put the blame on me.’ as we die.

I do boy, i do know but let not hope die in you before you die. Don’t you remember or is your brain been knocked off too.

Reverberating instrumentally behind the scene is You Can Put the Blame on Me. Then, unfolding gradually, is the panorama of the wreckage. Ok. Hold your breath because I know what or who your mind is searching for. OKIRAH!

Of course here i am squatting in squalor, be-dra-g-g-l-e-d beyond recognition. Look at me and see if there’s still any Okirah in me. No. nothing! So you may address me therefore as i am now. Irah, Irah! Very much close to ‘irascible’ because that’s what i am. Annoying! An annoying ugly thing, that’s me or don’t i annoy you? Well, I know i do. So remove the first two letters from my name for nothing is ok again with me. Besides, I can’t shout HELP! Somebody h-e-l-p!! Because ‘am annoying.

Like the whispers of a hungry cave, Okirah’s voice echoes in Aiasha’s wearied dream land, ‘HELP! Somebody h-e-l-p!!’ and she starts and pants and scurries off her nest.

‘HELP! Somebody h-e-l-p!!’ certainly no body is somebody but meeeee. So wait Okirah, Aiasha is woken up from thousand slumbers by your voice. Hang on Okirah and don’t hang up ok! Hey, let some other somebody tell Boubo ‘am not shutting him out. Out-out-out in the cold, but will be back. Back-back-back to Bouboooo. Wait a minute that sounds a kind of song. Let’s seeeee- doo reee miiii faaaa-aaalacious! And that means out of place because someone is somewhere right away not singing, and someone has got to put some songs in her, and that’s me. ‘Am the someone and a little help makes the difference. That’s the way of the Lil’Smile buddy. Sparing some seconds starting someone smiling!

At the background, rescue mission is on. All Animalitarian Societies are ‘all hands on deck. Constructions, renovations, rehabilitations are all on at the same time. The sun peeps through the wetted clouds, shivering over the ruins. And like a stage light, it casts prominent rays on Okirah! Aiasha runs by.

Hey! Hi buddy there’s something Okirah about you. Are you or are you not Okirah, Okirah?

It might have been. ‘Am a loser!

Na! Far from it buddy. Losers don’t breathe. Besides, the sun is coming out to burn away the cold and to dry our tears.

Whose cold and tears? Nothing about it is ours, but all mine. Never mind, ‘am breathing my last and don’t care about the sun either.

Is all ours buddy. When one of us is in pain, all of us are in pains. And i do care about you. I love you and i mean it when I say i do.

Tears stream down Okirah’s cheeks.

I was always either too busy for you or too proud because i have beautiful feathers and can fly higher….

Oh my God, Okirah stop, stop, stop, s-t-o-p Okirah!

….but never knew you have a most simple, sincere and scintillating soul! And above all, you have love.

You kill me Okirah. Lean on me first, let me take you home.

Like a soft rising sun, the music Lean on Me reverberates as Aiasha makes to give Okirah a helping hand. Okirah for the first time turns to you with eyes dilating.

Would you rather i did?

Hey buddy. Piggie backie, piggy Okirah lets whoosh.

Okirah still stands bemused when Aiasha scoops her up and off they zoom beneath the tree upon which Aiasha pitches her nest. Boubo watches the oncoming marathon astonishedly.


Hei-hei-hei, hey buddy what’s after you? What has come over you? Or is this an Aiasha-Run-Round sort of game?

Don’t be silly Boubo. It’s Okirah. It’s Okirah that’s over me and not any of your grotesque questions. I’ve got to fix her first, first!

Boubo is at once hurt and his glowing spirit droops. He rises to go.

Oh my God, Boubo! Boubo please don’t walk away. Don’t go please. Good bye isn’t really good when tears fall like rain. Boubo please do stay, for i can’t be Aiasha again if you’re gone.

And when the rain falls and causes floods, someone’s got to be be-dra-ggled! Okirah allergically drooled.

Boubo still walks slowly away.

Boubo tomorrow dies when you walk away and today’s but a gloomy day. I hurt you, and ‘am so sorry. Wouldn’t mean to shout on you, i was only on edge and i….

I was the stinker! Okirah cuts in again droopingly.

Oh my God, Okirah stop please. Boubo I didn’t mean to hurt you. Please stay and tell me you’ve forgiven me, ‘am sorry please….

And he who is hasty is in danger of tumbling his tusks and hoaxing his trumpets. Okirah drools.

Aiasha extends her hands in a miserable gesture, tears trickling and waiting on Boubo to turn back. Suspensefully, Boubo steers around.

Sweetie ‘am so sorry if i have saddened your heart. Friends are forever and i wouldn’t ever turn my back on you again.

I wondered who could’ve been able to pull you out if you fell into the flood as Aiasha did on me. Okirah taunts.

Ignoring Okirah’s post traumatic silly utterances

I believe you Boubo, and if no other one does in the whole wide world, i Aiasha do. I will always stand by you chivalrously as a friend as we walk side by side.

Oh Aiasha, you drive me crazy with your words. Give me a big hug, big heart, a lo-ve-lieee biggie huggie, sweetie.

Ha! I got it. Those are my words. Buddy Boubo and a….

Oh yeah, and a kiss! Okirah pre-empts.

The sun now smiles gracefully, glistening over fields and plains in a bridal brilliance. Birds singing in an orchestrated formation while beautiful butterflies dangle and hover over beauteous flowers. Younger buds peep at their fairy wings, giggling and pushing to blow. The cloud is dry now and crispy in a splendid azure template. And down, down, down, trees, the big no less than the small sway in dance as Aiasha and Boubo titivate and preen Okirah to shine again in sheen! Boubo showers water on Okirah while Aiasha basks too as she washes her. Okirah skips around, gulps water involuntarily and makes off. Boubo fires a small ball of water and shoots her down.


Be-dra-g-g-l-e-d!! Aiasha teases.

Be-dra….Okirah gulps another bout of water and rotates her eyes like a frightened ugly owl

Oh my God. Somebody’s scary! Aiasha pricks.

God my oh! Not more than Boubo’s jumbo park of dung. Okirah cackles pointing at its heap.

Boubo fires more water balls at Okirah. She picks up and dodges craftily till she lands into the dunghill!

Oh my God Boubo! Aiasha faints.

Be-drrrrrrrrrrrrrra-ggled, brrrrrrrrra-gga-do-cio! Okirah simmers in the paste as she splatters the shit all over.

Boubo takes off but stumbles over Aiasha’s foot. Aiasha wakes.

Oh my God, have i missed a thing?

‘Too close a bowling.’ Boubo pants

Okirah emerges in all ridicule. She ‘bla bla bla’ and shouts triumphantly

Wheee! Winners don’t quit and quitters don’t win. Quitters are losers and losers don’t breathe. I breathe. Therefore ‘am not a loser.

Interesting! Mumbles Boubo

Could make up a soulful song, i bet you Boubo

Song? Okirah asks with surprise

Song! Yeah come on buddies, hands in hands, shoulders to shoulders. Though we don’t have our dancing shoes ready, but our dancing steps are providentially with us. So….

So first things first Aiasha. Boubo harks back.

O dear, I almost got it so wrong there. Yeah, first things first. So O….

Kirah is first! Don’t you see it? ‘Am the first, ‘am the winner, ‘am scary or not. I scared off someone’s breath and it was a knock out. I bawled the biggest ball ever with Boubo. That was on the hit too and I errrr of course made a dunk of myself in a basket of dung. It was all me and now, ‘am first again. First on em….? What ‘am i not saying, on em…..em?

On the need that cleanliness is next to godliness. Aiasha garnishes.

Oh godliness? Sheepishes Okirah.

Oh yeah and we will help. The waters are on the way Aiasha, so keep your hands on the plough.

On the plough? No, on the plume. Come then o waters on me and make me washed like the clouds where you come!

Seriously poetic, but not from the skies now. Watch out Okirah. Here it comes! Boubo’s spewing fires of waters.

Fires of waw….

And the water catches up with Okirah’s loquacity. Aiasha washes and cleanses her till she comes anew. Latter, Boubo gathers some sticks and makes a little fire and they set Okirah close to it.

Washing and setting? Okirah broods

Yap yap! Chirrups Aiasha

But why do you Boubo bother about me too?

Because the friends of our friends are our friends

And when one of us is sick, the rest of us are sick. Aiasha twitters

What of when there are fires in the eyes? Okirah muses

Whose eyes?

In your eyes. In both of your beady eyes. I can see fires in your eyes. Besides I can see me too by the fires. Then what of me?

Ooooh, there we go! We sit right there in your eyes by our little fire.

Aiasha turns round and round as would a beautiful maiden in a pretty gown before a mirror, and says

Hello me and Boubo in Okirah’s eyes why do you turn around too and says hello, ‘me and Boubo in Okirah’s eyes?

Really?

Really! Boubo assures

Why is it so? Why do i see me in your eyes and you see yourselves in my eyes?

It’s because of Ifunanya. Aiasha says

What’s Iphiyana?

O dear not Ifya or whatever. It’s Ifunanya. It’s a native of Africa, Igbo precisely and literally means ‘to be seen’. It however means love properly.

You see to love someone, one sees another first, beholds that charming qualities in him or her, cherishes them in the heart whereof love comes. Boubo concludes.

And this is why we see ourselves in the eyes of every fellow that we may love all in charity in view of every virtue; and if someone doesn’t mind let’s run around our fire and celebrate our friendship with a song.

So what’s the title of the song, Aiasha?

Fires of Ifunanya! Okirah chirps

Hurray it’s dancing time, so let’s rock and roll it!!!


♫ FIRES OF IFUNANYA ♥♪

Like tongues of fires
Hands-in- hands as friends
We whirl round and round and round
In gust like the wind

Shake and shake your tail
And shake off the frail
We might though march our toes
With our dancing shoes

But it does not hurt
When there’s love in the heart
Oh my God and O my dear
Thanks always for being there

In making me live
By showing some love
Here we see us in our eyes
Whirling round Ifunanaya’s Fires

Ifunanya makes our burden light
Ifunanya makes all bright
Ifunanya bears no wrongs
And makes us fly without wings

I might be worthless to some other one
But in my true friends I’ve won
A comely pride of place
In a graceful love and grace

Health and wealth don’t measure
Nor class and beauty sure
All you’ve got is nothing
If your heart is not loving

Oh sweet Ifunanya
Thanks for your Ifunanya
And let the fires burn
And keep on the run

Ifunanya makes flower blossom
At a touch on every bosom
Ifunanya makes life full
Ifunanya makes life beautiful

Thanks for being here
Because you care
Have you felt the heat?
Let’s rock, roll and rock it


Instrumental

Move-roll-roll Boubo
Move-roll-move jumbo
Rock-roll-rock Aiasha
Rock-roll-rock Okirah
O-o-o roll it
Awh, control it
Shake your body
Tubby buddy
Let the fires burn
And keep on the run
If you feel the heat
Roll to the beat
Till sweet sleep
Lures to the deep

Really, they are rocking and rolling it! But the gust and the vigour diminish as earth draws close it curtains of darkness gradually. By now too, the dancing steps come at variance with the dance tune. Boubo is a dancer to watch. He rocks in and out the track, drowsily and dangerously he steers.

Watch it Boubo. Aiasha cautions.

Ya. I watch it!

You watch what, but what do you do and where do go? Alarms Okirah

Nothing. No where. ‘Am only rolling it here as the band rolls.

But we say you control it!

Ya, I control and roll and rock at the same time.

….drowsily and dangerously he steers towards an edge and would crash land at some further steps. Aiasha overtakes him to peep beyond.

Oh my God! She shouts

What’s down Aiasha? Okirah inquires

Rolling off a cliff upon monstrous rocks!!!

Em, well’em, I guess is all rocking.

Stop kidding Okirah! Pull Boubo back by the tail. ‘Am pushing ahead….I mean pushing back by the head. Pushing back, backing push, backing off and backing on.

Ok. All hands on Boubo babe! ‘Am watching my back, but back me up Aiasha.

Alright Okirah, let’s moooove!

‘Am moving- ‘am rolling it. Boubo snores. Virtually enjoying the swing, Aiasha and Okirah pant heavily. Boubo still sways indefinitely to the band. Boubo is heavy and Boubo might not move so long as the band rolls.

Are we or not rocking it? Boubo revels.

That’s the symptom. I bet you everybody. It’s acute somnambulism. I guess it is infectious because I don’t know who’s the somebody pushing me too. Okirah blabbers from bewitchery of sleep.

Stop Okirah and don’t look back when you lay your hands on the Boubo.

Or on the plough? Well, Boubo’s much more a plough now than ever. Whispers Okirah.

Hey. Stop it. You don’t whisper a point when you’ve got one. You assert it ok. And is high time the music stopped. The day is far spent and the night is come to our rest.

Turning to you, still pushing Boubo and panting, she nods in an anticipated affirmation as she asks, ‘Isn’t it true eh? Isn’t it not true buddy? It is t-r-u-e! That’s what ‘am saying pal. Thanks for your perseverance, your affable presence, patience and most congenial companionship thus far. You’re faithful. Thanks too for being there for us. You’re fan-ta-taa-tastic! And turning to the band….meanwhile here is no match to your imagination, not even in its wildest ratiocination! Could you have known that it has been a live band and that the Tortoitons and Tortletons are well represented; if the stage lights are not driven on the background? Mbeku conducts. Kwubenki kicks and dances seriously in the limelight till he lately notices your eyes are fixed on him.

Ah zum zum zum, peew-pawrrr. I got no dance again. He recoils shyly as he drums on his belly pum pum.

Hey! That’s ocules serventes buddy! Yeah, it means serving the eyes, but you shouldn’t….

Yap! You don’t whisper a point when you’ve got one. So, do the dancing the best you can. Okirah cuts Aiasha short.

Of course, do-do-do-dooo whatever you do well, but at the right time most importantly.

And what are we saying Aiasha?

That the spoils of our toil is rest. So let’s give the world a moment of peace and a respite to our body and soul.

Good night everybody till the morn dawns in blest.

So the light begins to dwindle, casting out the gloomy faces of the wearied band crew. Some drunk with sleep drop at spots. Some ridiculously recline on their instruments. A monkey drops her tambourine; sleep-walks to a standing microphone and sleeps off. Dramatically the light fades off with the crashing of the monkey as the pole tinkers away on the stage. The night is dark, but its darkness is graceful. So peace flows like a cave. And like the clinking of fallen icicles from the cave top, Boubo’s voice ruptures the serenity.

Errr, where’s the band?
Rolled off!
And the rest?
Gone to sleep
And you?
Standing by you
Aiasha?
Yeah buddy Boubo
Okirah?
Oh my God sweetie sweetie!

Okirah’s mimicry tickles them and they all crackle

Even in darkness i can see light
At night there’s hope of morrow
Of life, of love and of might
In a vessel of friendship to row
Even in the ripples of storm
Love holds us on to the oars
Soaring to sure shore of morn
Of honour and feats and glories


Thanks for being there
With ♥ Aiasha, Boubo & Okirah

Ostar* Amakeze 2008©

Edited by
Emeka Amakeze B.A [Hons] Linguistics

Hear hear J. Cruz. Sabi ko na the Frivaldo case had something more to offer than the plain language of the law. Sometimes it could be frustrating to study law, when the SC Justices themselves are not following the law. They could weave reasons to accommodate their whims and even make you believe that White is Black or the other way around (in many cases na). There are a lot of flip flopping with major decisions. As a good professor would say "The Supreme Court is supreme, but they not always correct." As a recommendation these kind of decisions should be marked then thoroughly discussed and analyzed by the profs with their students, looking at other angles and a possible political color behind (dun sa mga questionable decisions lang). Coz it's already confusing us sirs and ma'ams. Also I recommend to mark these decisions and be scrapped from everyday recit. (LOL!! hhahha) Mabuti pa let's read J. Cruz:

The ‘supremacy’ of the Supreme Court

By Isagani A. Cruz
Philippine Daily Inquirer
First Posted 21:55:00 04/26/2008

WHEN A PATIENT DIES DUE TO MEDICAL incompetence, the matter is hushed up, the victim is quietly buried, and the case is soon forgotten except by the bereaved family. When the Supreme Court commits an error, ignorantly or deliberately, the case is published in the newspapers, perpetuated in the SCRA, and becomes the law of the land.

In Mabanag v Lopez Vito (78 Phil. 1), the Supreme Court dismissed the complaint that the proposal to give Parity rights to the Americans violated the numerical requirements for the amendment of the Constitution. Influenced if not dictated by President Manuel Roxas, the majority justices held that the question raised was political in nature and so beyond their jurisdiction. It took all of 10 years for the case of Tañada v Cuenco (100 Phil. 1101), rendered by a wiser tribunal, to reject that false doctrine.

Martial law degraded the Supreme Court into a mere lackey of Ferdinand Marcos, like the AFP and the Batasang Pambansa. Judicial subservience sustained the villainies of the regime, with Javellana v Executive Secretary (50 SCRA 33) and Legaspi v Secretary of Finance (115 SCRA 478) among many other decisional obscenities.

The latest was Garcia Padilla v Enrile (121 SCRA 472) that, besides extolling the immunities of the despot, held that rebellion was a continuing offense that could justify the arrest of a suspect, whatever innocent act he may be doing at the time, without need for a judicial warrant. Incredibly, that doctrine was affirmed in Ramos v Umil (187 SCRA 311) that was rendered by the reorganized Supreme Court still enthralled by the ousted tyrant.

After Edsa 1, Imelda Marcos was convicted of graft and corruption by the Sandiganbayan. She elevated the case to the Supreme Court, where its Third Division chaired by Chief Justice Andres R. Narvasa affirmed the judgment. Contrary to its own rule that a decision of the Division was not appealable to the Court en banc, the full Court reviewed the conviction -- and reversed it.

All but one of the justices who acquitted the petitioner in Marcos v Sandiganbayan (297 SCRA 95) had been appointed by Imelda’s conjugal partner. Other appeals from a Division to the Supreme Court en banc have not been similarly allowed in strict compliance with the excepted rule.

Twice ousted from his elected position as provincial governor for being a naturalized foreigner, Juan Frivaldo was finally allowed to retain the office after he reacquired Philippine citizenship in administrative proceedings begun and completed the same day. To the claim that he was still an alien when he filed his certificate of candidacy for the disputed position, he was lamely deemed to have retroactively regained his former status when he ran for election in several earlier polls.

Obviously a “lutong macao,” Frivaldo v Commission on Elections (251 SCRA 727) was unconditionally supported by only four justices; pro hac vice (only for that case) by four; only “in the result” (but not its reasons) by three; with two dissenting, and the last two not taking part.

In Lewis v Commission on Elections (497 SCRA 649), the Supreme Court held that dual citizens could vote in Philippine elections although they did not have the residence qualifications required by the Constitution. Filipinos with exclusive and total allegiance only to this country must strictly comply with the rules in the fundamental law, but not the “duals.” The Court held that “there is no provision in the dual citizenship law -- RA 9225 -- requiring ‘duals’ to actually establish residence and physically stay in the Philippines before they can exercise their right to vote.”

The decision was unanimously approved by the 15 members of the Supreme Court, including the chief justice then, none of whom must have read Sec. 5 of the law. It clearly states that dual citizens “intending to exercise their right of suffrage must meet the requirements under Section 1, Article V, of the Constitution…”

Under that provision, voters “shall have resided in the Philippines for at least one year and in the place wherein they propose to vote for at least six months immediately preceding the election.” The only recognized exception is where the absentee Filipino never abandoned his residence in this country while abroad for employment purposes, studies, government service, and other like reasons.

The decision in the current case of Neri v Senate (G.R. No. 180463), March 25, 2008, was written by Justice Teresita L. de Castro and concurred in by eight other justices, all of them appointed by President Macapagal-Arroyo, except Justice Leonardo Quisumbing. The six who dissented were also appointed by Ms Arroyo, except Justice Consuelo Ynares Santiago, and were led by Chief Justice Reynato Puno, who was by-passed for one year to accommodate a junior colleague before he was finally named to his present position.

I mention these facts because they are as important as the arguments pro and con the constitutional issues raised in the motion for reconsideration of the Neri case. They could even be more decisive than the legal disputations when the Supreme Court rules on the political strife, “with finality” but not necessarily wisely and without fear.

There was a country priest who bought a horse. The man who sold him the horse told the priest that he made a very good choice because the horse was raised in a religious atmosphere.

“You don’t say ‘Giddiyap’ to make him start, Reverend,” the man said. “He wouldn’t respond to that. You have to say ‘Praise the Lord.’ And don’t say ‘Whoa’ if you want him to stop. Say ‘Amen’.”

After paying, the priest mounted the horse and said, “Praise the Lord.” The horse cantered off towards his church. However, after a few miles, a mad dog darted into the road and scared the horse. It took off so fast across the open field, toward a cliff bordering a river two hundred feet below.

Frightened, the priest forgot the instructions given to him and frantically shouted “Whoa!” as he pulled the gorse’s reins, but the horse kept running. Finally, he remembered and yelled “Amen!”. The horse stopped at the very brink of the chasm.

The priest heaved a sigh of relief. Wiping his forehead, he said, “Whew! That was close. Praise the Lord!”

Today was supposed to be my first swimming competition. Unfortunately, me and my teammates were late for the scheduled call time. As a result, the Seniors won by default.

I was supposed to compete for breatstroke this lex celebrationis. I'm just a beginner. I just learned the sport 2 years ago. But I decided to sign up to represent the freshies, out of fun, games, friendship and to do something novel. BEcause I know swimming is not my thing i decided to put a little effort. To have somehow what they call "fighting chances". So even though i'm tired after class and I have a lot of readings piled, I took time to hit the pool and do laps. At 3am i jog around our place. Also, me and my teammates- JP and Colleen did some land training at the UP Acad Oval after class. Added to that I got sick for several days.

Tapos we lost it by default lang, tsk tsk... But of course we take full responsibility for it. We were late eh.. even though it was just for a couple of minutes.. We learned our lesson the hard way. :(

Anyhoo, more time to train for next year. :D Moral lesson: Always be on time. hahahha

Kitakits na lang next year. Ahu! Ahu!

My Professor's tip to survive in school or in any endeavor for that matter is
to have "the Will to Perfection."

He would say and may i quote "Remember, our heroes had nothing. They only had the will to perfection."

With the upcoming final exams, it's really hard if this can be manifested in my test paper.

It's really hard sir, but i'll try. In fact, i have always been trying. You know, "i did my best, but i guess my best wasn't good enough."

To my classmates, Good luck to us all!

Wuhuu!! "will to perfection!"
Ok back to reading.

I'm looking forward for the coming year for they say that as you grow older you become wiser.

On my 23d year, I know i'll see even more beautiful days.

On Monday- the 14th of May, Filipino voters will flock the precinct polls to cast their votes to elect senators and several local positions. This election season hasn’t so far been a smooth one. It has not been free of election-related ambushes and disappearances, black propaganda, bickering between candidates and all sorts of dirty tactics employed by desperate opponents and camps.

I am a registered voter who won’t be able to vote. Let me rephrase that. I am a registered voter who would desperately want to vote but under the circumstances cannot. It is always the case that during elections I’m stuck in Manila when on the contrary I’m registered in Tacloban, which is an hour plane ride or a 24-hour car drive-- attending school (for the last election) or for a job (for this Monday). I confess, I am envious of those who can vote and since I turned 18 I haven’t voted yet. Huhu..

But not everybody in the Philippines feels the same eagerness of being able to vote. Some people I’ve spoken with are eligible but they just won’t. Their reason being that:

1. it’s better to stay indoors during election day to avoid any untoward accident. Perhaps they have forgotten that we don’t live anymore under the martial law era. Hey that was years ago when you were coerced and tortured. It is safe to walk along the streets now.

2. the entire election process cannot be trusted anymore as evidenced by several cases of votes being manipulated by the power hungry.

Of course several other reasons could come up but let me focus on these two.

The first reason represents apathy among Filipino citizens and sadly most of them by the youth. The Philippines is largely composed of a young population. With a low voters turnout from them this suggests that there are a few young Filipino participating in government processes.

On my point of view, being eligible to vote is a political right which not everybody in this world is able enjoy. When you are eligible to vote you should feel lucky, for this means that:

1. you are not disqualified by law. people convicted of a crime cannot vote. if you’re eligible then celebrate you are a free man. Go to the precinct polls and proudly cast your vote.

2. it means that you are a Filipino. You belong to a lineage of brave men and women who fought for this country just so their posterity will be able to enjoy rights such as this political right. This also manifests that you officially belong to this beautiful country in which you have the power to effect change through your vote. You have a citizenship. Remember you are not an alien.

3. In some countries people die just so they could vote. Wait, before that.. people die just so they could conduct elections. If you could vote this means that you live in a democratic country. We are not ruled by a tyrant Wohoo!! although sometimes we feel like we are being ruled by one. But what’s legal is-- you have a say on who it is that you would want to serve in government. Come on! It’s like you’re the master and on election day you get to choose your servant—your public servant. A piece of advice—hire them based on their qualifications, merit and fitness and most importantly integrity and sincerity for the job.

4. To answer the question on votes being manipulated, it evidently has happened in the past and we have no way of guaranteeing the “indifferent” of this not happening in the future. But wouldn’t it be nice to participate still in the process and be part of history. Look at it like a big basketball game. You are inside the dome. Instead of snoring while sleeping—participate. If you’re part of the audience then closely watch, stand up and cheer, clap, etc... Then if in case cheating happens you could proudly stand as witness and complain. If you were the couch potato snoring during the game, what right have you to be a witness and be the complainant—the game did not unfold before your eyes.

So for those who are eligible – please exercise your right!

As for me since I’m an eager beaver wannabe voter I registered for the Parish Pastoral Council for Responsible Voting. There we will assist the Board of Canvassers in the counting and tallying of votes. I understand we’ll stay awake ‘til the wee hours of the morning to accomplish the election returns. Anyhow that will be in another blog.

photo: at a Brgy Highway Hills Elem. School voting precinct

Since coming back to Manila last November, today is the first day that I went out of our house during mid-morning. I usually leave the house at 5:30 am for work or when the sun is down during weekends. Unconsciously the first thing I noticed was the weather. It was sooo hot!! Was it just me not getting used to the temperature or the sun missed me so much it gave me a sizzling welcome?
Anyways, I was hoping to jog a couple of rounds at the UP acad oval but instead, I just finished one round (when normally i could do about two... :D or more than that). Today my body fluids were easily drained by the sun. I gobbled 2 bottles of mineral water and went home as soon as possible to avoid further nausea or worse-- fainting. Added to that my skin was complaining of the piercing heat it was experiencing.

I understand that the Philippines is a tropical country and that summer is just probably making a grand entrance but what if...what if??? there's another reason behind the extreme heat, something fatal...

My concern is, could this be the ozone layer’s revenge to mankind due to using too much CFCs and other CO2 emitting products & equipment? hmm...

I hope “The Day After Tomorrow” hasn’t come.

Let's just hope i'm wrong.

photo: University of the Philippines-Diliman, academic oval. Despite the bowing age-old trees, the kid beside me exclaimed "the heat is like inferno."