EDITORIAL BOARD Editor-in-Chief Cesar Carlos Heyrosa Associate Editor (Internal Affairs) Paulie Yap Associate Editor (External Affairs) Theresa Kate Palompon Managing Editor for Administration Sofia Isabel Tajos Head of Writing Department Kyn Noel Pestaño Senior Correspondent Laura Posadas News Editor - Talamban Campus Dave Carl Bernasibo News Editor - Downtown and South Campus Louisa Concepcion Carredo Features Editor and Literary Editor Paolo Perez Art Director Pamela Urbiztondo
The Progressive Student Publication of the University of San Carlos
UNIVERSITY OF SAN CARLOS Cebu City, Cebu Philippines 6000 VOLUME XXIX No. 13 OCTOBER 2018
EDITORIAL STAFF Operations DEPUTY FINANCE OFFICER Viktor Lequin STAFF SECRETARY Blaise Pancho ONLINE MANAGING EDITOR Jet Mangubat WEB ADMINISTRATOR Julius John Puno WEBSITE DEVELOPER Joshua Tahanlangit, Cathy Aldiano, Marietoni Louise Codeniera DIRECTOR FOR CIRCULATION AND STRATEGIC DEVELOPMENT Kerstein Nicole Labay Writing Department NEWS BUREAU WRITERS Faith Chloe Bendanillo, Mary Elizah Castillo, Januar Junior Aguja, Ralph Baldoza, Brynch Bonachita, Kim Libarnes, Bernardo Mitra, Maria Consuelo Pacilan, Jel Pamela Pagulong, Abygale Velasquez ONLINE CORRESPONDENT Regie Vocales, Christine Diaz, Zachels Nuñeza, Vince Marc Padao, Kate Jacinth Visorro Art Department LAYOUT SUPERVISOR Giann Mikhael Alipar LAYOUT ARTISTS Janrick Carl Romales, Riza Mae Colon, April Catherine Zafra, Aubrey Joy Morales, Julia Jubac, Janielle Therese Lacandalo, Jose Preben Layola SENIOR GRAPHIC DESIGNER Francis Ian Palanca GRAPHIC DESIGNERS Drix Lloyd Ponteres, Elbert Uba, Diane Therese Diana, Anton Elijah Lin HEAD ILLUSTRATOR Eduard Jude Jamolin ILLUSTRATORS Phoemela delos Santos, Christ Ian Palomares, Monna Lou Maldo, Christine Mae Alferan, Philip Luke Manghihilot, Sabrina Joyce Tamayo, Charlene Grace Tan (Contributor) HEAD PHOTOJOURNALIST Keith Raymier Ayuman ASSISTANT HEAD PHOTOJOURNALIST Ronald Jufrey Milan PHOTOJOURNALISTS Jessa Marie Pedrola, Lance Matthew Pahang, Lea Erica Bulosan, Garel Sison, Franco Rolito Hermosilla, Jhessa Marie Ugdamina, Joanne Marie Bolo, Dodds Marvin Campomanes, Christian Rey Caracena, Vanessa Mae Leuterio, Jason Matthew Lim, Irie Aldana, Neena Fuentes (Contributor) HEAD VIDEOGRAPHER Robert Michael Lim ASSISTANT HEAD VIDEOGRAPHER Frank Go CINEMATOGRAPHERS Ian Llamera, Christian Paul Naparota, Joseph Michael Tan, Jack Ponpon, Annikka Felicitty Balaga, Maureen Mantos, Michael Vince Paca VIDEO EDITORS Daniel Johns Masilang, Keandrei Andrade, Isabella Andrei Orbiso, Julia Toledo
THE COVER The protests, the revolutions — the movements of the past have greatly contributed to the both the victories and the failure of the present and the future. History is indeed cyclic; these movements shall repeat themselves. Words by Cesar Carlos Heyrosa Art Direction and Cover by Pamela Urbiztondo
HOW TO REACH US LETTERS TO THE EDITOR, with the writer’s name, e-mail address and contact number, should be e-mailed to todayscarolinianusc@gmail.com. Letters may be edited for reasons of space and clarity. © 2018. TODAY’S CAROLINIAN All Rights Reserved. Reproduction in whole or in part without permission is strictly prohibited. Today’s Carolinian publishes one to two issues per academic year. Today’s Carolinian may also publish occasional extra issues. An electronic version (PDF Format) of every publication is available in the Today’s Carolinian website.
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TABLE OF CONTENTS
1
PAST
Of Nostalgia and History
1 Baybayin Better On Stone Than On Paper A2War You Cannot Win
8 10 12
3 Bangon na Pinas! Why Pinoy Transpo Is Late For Updates
14
A4Prisoner of Time
16
Him 5
18
Egos 6 at War: Baby Boomers Vs. Millenials
20
Forward the Light Brigade
22
Binisayang Salida
24
In the Beast’s Home
26
Mother Knows Best
28
7 8 9
10 Bury Me, I’m still Alive Don’t
30
11 South Divide A Thing Of The Past North
32
A Nostalgic Reflection
34
Of Dry Bones and Fresh Blood
36
A Day in The Life of Ali Zimmers
38
When the Past Haunts the Mind
40
2 3
PRESENT Now at this Moment
1 Manikang Papel 2 Music Production 3 New Tuition Fee Blues ni Bebang 4 A Reflection on the Philippine Educational Diorama 5 An Ode to the Unbecoming of Philippine Integrity 6 Political Gods 7 The Rules of Nowhere and Eveyerwhere 8 We Built This City Urban Planning Observation 9 10 11 12 13
42 46 48 50 52 54 56 58 60
FUTURE Towards the Unknown 1
62
Age 2 is just a number
64
The 3 Dream
66
Lisang 4
68
2022 5 Philippines: Number One in the world
70
To 6 Infinity and Below
72
When Fat Ladies Sing 7
74
Rust 8
76
When The Sources Run Dry 9
78
Heaven in the Agentha 10
80
Tips 11 of the Kardashev
82
Cryptogaming Currencies 12
84
13
EDITOR’S NOTE
6 TODAY’S CAROLINIAN | OCTOBER 2018
EDITOR’S NOTE
The past: Stories of war and peace, of the rise and fall of good and evil alike, a constant reminder of how far we have come. We see the past through the eyes of a child, as a time when things were simple and fascinating. We glorify our forefathers for their heroic deeds. We celebrate the sum of all histories that has led us to where we stand. Have we, however, learned as much as we can from the follies in the past? The present: Stories of the mundane, of people going about not minding everyone else, a constant reminder of our own struggles to continue living. We see the present as a time when the realization that it may not be a truly wonderful world crush our very notions on existence. We search for heroes, but all we see is an ocean of ordinary people. We find nothing to celebrate when the weight of the world falls heavily upon us and our choices. Have we, however, made the conscious choice to see the singular points that make the present extraordinary? The future: Stories of hope, of the dawn of a new age, a constant reminder that even darkness must pass. We see the future as a time when despair gives way to hope, to see that there are things worth fighting for. We make the choice not to search for idols outward, but inward. We dream to relive stories of glory, with us in the limelight. Have we, however, taken the steps to realize our ideals for a better future? As the pendulum of time swings in harmonic motion, the divide among the past, the present and the future disappears. Today, we worry for tomorrow, not realizing that the mistakes that we commit we have committed yesterday. We stick to the values of the past despite society evolving for the future, thereby neglecting the present. We make many of our choices while failing to see that the arrow of time constantly moves forward. Where — or more appropriately — when do we stand? TC
7 TODAY’S CAROLINIAN | OCTOBER 2018
EDITORIAL OPINION
http://www.rene-magritte.com/son-of-man/
PAST Of Nostalgia and History Kyn Noel Pestaño
“How could she feel nostalgia when he was right in front of her? How can you suffer from the absence of a person who is present?” —Milan Kundera, The Unbearable Lightness of Being
8 TODAY’S CAROLINIAN | OCTOBER 2018
EDITORIAL
Evolution presupposes that our ability to remember, our capacity for storing and retrieving experience, came about simply as a mechanism for survival: to identify which food was poisonous, to recognize friend from foe, to keep track of what the seasons bring. The convenience and pragmatism of this viewpoint, however, is challenged by the presence of nostalgia — the longing for a time long gone held, perforce, by the weight of an optimistic metaphor. Nostalgia, however, offers no aid in the struggle for survival. It is simply there, a baggage of its own accord, independent of its audience’s will, an obsolete want. At best, it provides a reference point for better assessing the distance one has traveled between points. It offers the past as a parcel of mirror shards, reflecting sporadically what we have become and presenting the promise of pain if we hold it too tightly. However, as the epitome of the universe’s attempt at understanding itself, we have long superseded the need to anchor ourselves into the limits of mere survival with the constant search for existential meaning. In this, the evaluation of what we perceive as our past, despite its relative emotive and inaccurate nature, may be regarded as a necessity for realizing oneself as it presents through memory the scaling of possibilities and, through anticipation, the evaluative application of that scaling. Nostalgia, then, is the link between the perspective paradox of causality between the past determining the present and the present determining the past. The longing for something long gone establishes that the continuum with which the past and present reside is not linear; rather, it is a circular interaction where the flow from one to the other is determined solely by the perception of the individual. The past may be physically impregnable to change but it does not exist outside the perception of individuals, so its existence would still retain the malleability of an idea. The state of the present, on the other hand, can be perceived only with the consideration and acknowledgment of what the individuals recognize as the past. This circular interdependence of the past and present, however, is an exploitable concept that some have structured as a means of manipulation and establishment of power. A painfully blatant example of such is the pervasive historical revisionism within the country. Historical revisionism is founded on the malleability of the past and its capacity to affect the present. It is the deliberate introduction of malicious and unverified information with the intent to reshape a people’s past and, consequently, condition their present and future actions. The socio-political context of this, given enough magnitude, is immense. Answering his own question, Kundera said, “You can suffer nostalgia in the presence of the beloved if you glimpse a future where the beloved is no more.” Deriving from his statement’s propositional fiat, it is our responsibility as individuals therefore, to invoke and establish concrete history even before it has succumbed to any malicious alterations. The sanctity of our history as a people arises not only from the identity that binds us as a collective; more so, it is concretized by its didactic role in our daily pursuit for social justice in nation-building. An affront on history must therefore be viewed not with the distance one registers when looking at the horizon, but with the proximity and fear one feels at the presence of a tsunami, of a force so massive it is able to cripple an entire nation into a corpse, into a ruin with neither a past nor a future of its own. TC
9 TODAY’S CAROLINIAN | OCTOBER 2018
OPINION
Baybayin: Better on stone than paper Dave Bernasibo
10 TODAY’S CAROLINIAN | OCTOBER 2018
OPINION
Earlier this year, Congress has approved of House Bill No.1022 or the National Writing System Act. In it, it is stated that it will declare Baybayin as the country’s national script. Baybayin, as described by the bill, “shall refer to all existing and discovered ancient and traditional scripts of the Philippine indigenous peoples.” The supposed purpose of the bill to enact Baybayin as the national script of the Philippines is nationalistic at best, but impractical at most. Baybayin is a dead script. And by dead, I mean like Latin dead. It exists, but is hardly used in day-to-day conversations. Though, like Latin, Baybayin has seen light in art, as in tattoos, and has earned a place in history, perpetuated by museum exhibits. But should we really revive something so obsolete? Would it really benefit us in the long run? In hindsight, it is a very impractical move. The budget that is poured into meetings just for this to be debated over would be better off spent in other more meaningful ordeals, like a seminar on law-making perhaps. However, it does also have its strengths. If ever this were to be passed as law, in five to six years, it might be plausible to use this in common writing. Also, it would make street signs and food packaging look more Pinoy. But ceteris paribus, the means outweigh the end. The extensive methods to achieve this, as with formulating a uniform script that utilizes all available ancient scripts and the means to incorporate them with the existing languages within the archipelago, would not be a justifiable trade-off for an aesthetic writing system and a shallow sense of nationalism. I cannot stress more at how impractical this is. Unlike Kanji, Mandarin, Hangul and other Asian scripts, Baybayin has long been removed from our writing system when the Spanish came to colonize us. Unlike the aforementioned scripts, we have not used Baybayin in such a long time that it would not justify us using it in day-to-day writing, let alone in formal documents. It’s just a step backwards. Also, let me repeat what I said in the earlier paragraph: How will we formulate a uniform script that would apply to all the languages present in the Philippines? We haven’t even fixed Filipino yet, but here we are trying to make things even more complicated. The revival of Baybayin also brings with it more linguistic confusion than just having a disorganized script. In comes stressing. Our language relies heavily on stressing, with words that completely change in meaning depending on where the stress mark lies. In the nature of Baybayin, points or kudlits are added to connote a vowel sound, and an “x” or a cross means an omission of the naturally existing “a” sound in the characters. The Baybayin font available on the internet does not have the “x” accentuation on it. But my opinion still stands; the addition of a feature for stresses would mean to create revisions on the current form of Baybayin. And if that were to happen, would that actually preserve culture? Is it actually preservation if you go and change so much of it? If it is not, then why else would we enact this into law, when its very purpose is cultural preservation? As someone who loves and has tried to learn to read and write Baybayin, I find the bill useless. We do not need laws to preserve it, because the resources to learn it are readily available to the masses via internet. And as stated earlier, there are museums that preserve relics of the Baybayin script and forever engrave it as part of our history. Enacting a law forces the people to learn an ancient script that is practically obsolete, and for me, that’s just nationalism gone wrong. If they want to preserve it so much, why don’t they fund more excavations and research towards the language? Why don’t they assist museums in the preservation of relics and traditions? If they value the preservation of culture so much, why don’t they bring back the datu system of our pre-colonial ancestors? I would love to talk about that, but that’s for another day. Indeed, what is dead may never die, but in cases where practicality and progress are at stake, it is better to let the dead stay dead. TC
11 TODAY’S CAROLINIAN | OCTOBER 2018
LITERARY
A WAR YOU
CANNOT WIN Blaise Pancho
Illustration by Eduard Jude Jamolin
12 TODAY’S CAROLINIAN | OCTOBER 2018
LITERARY
“Did you hear that? The artillery bombardment has started.” The year of 1916 reached its boiling point. The Germans and the Allied Forces were fighting to a standstill as millions of lives were lost and displaced in the War to End All Wars. The offensive was brutal in mainland Europe. The no man’s land began to widen. The Somme was choked with blood and gunpowder, as no one dared to cross the river hoping to end it all. The Allied forces began attacking the defending Germans from their conquered land. Death bloomed for those who fought there. A few managed to come back alive, but the price of survival came at a terrible cost. To them, they became the wanderers — the lost souls. No honorable service has been done in the name of victory. Young men were forcibly deployed into war with little to no training or equipment. However, some only volunteered for the good of the world and to protect their homeland. For Edwin McCormick and Liam Atkinson — soldiers fresh from the barracks — it was for king and country. “Bloody hell, looks like the Krauts are coming back for more!” Edwin answered, shouting against the backdrop of constant gunfire and explosions. He and Liam peeked from the muddy trenches. Up from the war-sculpted clouds, a squadron of biplanes dropped their payload opposite into enemy lines — in view of the two. In one quick dive, dirt rained down to their targets as screams of their enemies escaped from the hellfire. Liam laughed, pointing at the aftermath, “Bullseye! Ed, did you see that? Eh, did you see that?” “Yes. I saw that, but we still have a mission to do. We have to take the eastern Bazentin ridge from these bastards. Stop goofing around!” Edwin replied, his voice still grave.
“Goddammit, we are dropping off like bloody flies!” Liam could only repeat the worsening situation to himself. More British infantry came down to their positions to help Edwin and Liam’s plight. However, nothing changed. The casualties began to stack as desperation quickly took over.
“Wait, what are they doing? They’re coming towards us! Wait, stop! Stop!”, the soldier cried.
The darkness slowly faded into vision, sunlight drowned with dull illuminance.
“Stop! Stop the bombing run!” He stood up from cover, waving the biplanes hoping to stop the incoming shelling.
Images of a nightmare turned into a kind of surreal reality. The sharp artillery sound dissipated into unanswered silence. It was a sudden change of moment; a rare moment unheard of — serenity.
“Get down, you bastard!” Edwin urged him to get back, attempting to grab the soldier by his pants. It was only a matter of rash instinct before bullets started flying towards the soldier. He went down with two bullet wounds in the chest. Edwin jerked away as he fell towards him. The face of the soldier violently turned towards him, his mouth quivering, his hand reaching out to him — for help. Edwin, knowing only that he didn’t know what to do, froze in place. His face turned pale white, trembling from fear of what the situation had become. The dying soldier gave his last breath, his last glance towards Edwin. The bombs shelled their position. Mud, dirt, and shrapnel flew towards their trenches, covering the remaining soldiers with bloody muck. Moans and screams grew louder behind the friendly lines. Edwin didn’t move as the battle reached in a stalemate. The noises became a blur in his head, in one commotion of death and fury. Even Liam’s screams for his consciousness to come back didn’t even deter him.
“So, Ed, what’s the plan on taking this ridge? I mean, it’ll be difficult for us to take it ourselves.”
“We’ve got to get out of here. We’ve got to go!” Edwin urgently begged Liam, grabbing his collar.
“Our field commander tells me that there is an infantry unit waiting just a few yards from this ridge. What we need to do is to kill the defenders in the eastern side so that the unit can infiltrate there easily. Do you understand?”
“You have to snap out of it!” Liam shook Ed violently, trying to snap him back to reality.
Soon enough, they were at their mission’s homestretch only to be hunkered down by heavy gunfire from the Germans. Edwin and Liam lied deep in the trench with their backs turned, covering away.
“Liam! Get down!” The shrill became ear-piercing until darkness consumed his sight, rocking the unsteady ground. They were hoping for the best…or the worst.
“Goddammit, Ed! Get up! Get up!” Liam pleaded repeatedly to him.
Edwin and Liam ventured further away from the Allied-controlled dugouts and into dangerous territory. They could only crawl inch by inch, wading through the muddy filth bathed in entrails and disease. In the background, cries of artillery and combatants from different sides rang as the offensive began to escalate.
The bombardment hit their immediate areas at random, growing closer and deadlier as it dived right towards them like hungry sharks. Without any options, they could only do what they must.
In a nick of time, a friendly bomber squad dived into the enemy position and destroyed the machine-gun nest. The remaining infantries collectively sighed in relief as the cavalry came to save their arses, but the squadron began to swoop into their position.
“Alright, fine.” Liam responded as they turned away from the fireworks, onwards to somewhere they were needed now.
Liam shrugged and said, “Well if you say so. Just… just watch your back. That’s where them Krauts like to stab you.”
“ARTILLERY FIRE!”
Indeed, he had, as he looked towards his friend. “What the hell man? What’s wrong with you? Do you still remember what we’re supposed to do?” Edwin nodded albeit hesitantly and responded in an exhausted tone, “Right. Right.” “All right. Let’s get going, then.” Suddenly, the air became heavy as they hurriedly skulk through the mud. Faint sounds reverberated through the atmosphere. “Wait. Did you hear that?”
“Huah!” A voice rose up from the inevitable.
The voice became gasps for air, shivered and weary. “Wh-Where am I?” Edwin asked to himself as he was now in some kind of a white room. Liam was nowhere in sight. Edwin stood confused as to how he got here. Beyond him was a sole windowpane, shining brightly. He looked around to see nothing else, not even a door to get out of. He approached the window to see what lay ahead. There, the light began to clear up and saw the picture — the boundless ferocity of war and the battlefield in its entirety. Thick smoke rose from the ruined land and planes whizzed by, shot down and dogfighting amongst themselves. Edwin could not hear a sound outside, only seeing the carnage in full detail. However, faint sound was heard around him inside, slowly grew louder as he gazed past the glass. He couldn’t muster what had happened out there. He could only watch soldiers dragging the injured and the lifeless, bombs vaporizing flesh and metal and the muffled screams of the hapless and the broken walk through the hopelessness. He didn’t see them as allies or enemies — just humans answering the call of duty. No soldier was spared from the brutality; enemies and fellowmen killing each other all for the sake of what they understood to be best for everyone — peace. Out in the distance, he saw a familiar scene. Edwin finally understood his plight: He was a mere pawn, a statistic in a war for someone else’s ideals. He, Liam, his comrades, even the ones in the other side were. He could only look and stand there, quietly submitting to his futility. The battle continued past the window with no decisive victory at hand. The sound in the room grew louder and sharper as it echoed in the room. “ARTILLERY FIRE!” a voice cried. TC
The sound became sharp metal shrills piercing the lacerated sky, growing higher by the second. It grew large until they finally noticed what was happening.
13 TODAY’S CAROLINIAN | OCTOBER 2018
FEATURE
Bangon Na, Pinas! Why Pinoy Transpo Is Late For Updates Faith Chloe Bendanillo
Photograph by Jessa Marie Pedrola
It was six o’ clock in the morning. I would walk along the road, a short distance from the main entrance of the village, and there would always be a jeepney with ample space ready to take me in. Six months later, the short walks I used to take became hikes to the next barangay in order to arrive in school on time. Sometimes, I did these long walks on an empty stomach since I woke up late and I believed that I would need to eat breakfast later to save time.
14 TODAY’S CAROLINIAN | OCTOBER 2018
FEATURE
This scenario is easily shared among the commuting public in the Philippines: people rising with the sun in order to catch the jeepney, the train or the bus on their way to school or work. We admire people’s efforts to be punctual but they aren’t helped by the state of the transport system we currently have.
level of know-how is not surprising, it nonetheless validates that weak planning capacity is widespread. This is important for two reasons: first, it shows that past efforts have not made a significant dent to the issue; thus reforms of past approaches are necessary; and second, it confirms that capacity building is still critically needed and should be given high priority.”
According to a 2014 article by Claudio Sarmiento in TheCityFix, an online resource for the latest news and analysis on urban sustainability and development produced by the World Resources Institute Ross Center for Sustainable Cities, there are three keys to quality public transport, namely: bringing communities closer through transport, keeping cities compact, and designing transport around people.
The same study also identified an overview of twenty-nine transport issues in cities. The top ten of these issues include: disorderly loading and unloading on streets, inadequate and/or disorderly parking, limited road capacity, difficulty in funding projects, increased use of automobiles, traffic congestion, disorderly movement of intersections, difficulty in right-ofway acquisition, lack of or ineffective public transport terminals and heavy trucks in urban centers. These made road-based modes of urban transport often ineffective and subject to increasing pressure in rapid modernization.
Bringing communities closer through transport purports that roads should be integrated into existing structures and surroundings and these roads must be local roads that connect to larger byways with frequent public transport services. To make quality transportation viable, cities must develop in such a way that fosters demand for public transport. Encouraging density and mixed land use through urban codes and zoning regulations are ways to create public transport demand. A neighborhood’s design can support public transport systems while acting as a catalyst for more cohesive and sustainable urban communities by allowing these designs to accommodate transport needs and maintain the aspects of safety and accessibility for all people. n a 2012 document Philippines: Transport Sector Assessment, Strategy and Road Map by the Asian Development Bank (ADB), it said that while the transport infrastructure has been developed and spread across the country, the level of service has not been sufficient due to the lack of sustainable financing. The Philippines has seen modest improvements in the quality of its transport services, but a large part of the road network remains in poor condition and intermodal integration is generally weak. Poor sector governance also impedes the efficient operation of the sector. With urban transport, only Metro Manila has an additional non-road based transport systems, such as the railway system, while other major urban areas like Davao, Cebu and Iloilo have almost entirely road-based transport systems that comprise of jeepneys, taxis, tricycles and pedicabs. The main challenges faced by the transport sector, many of which are interrelated, include the poor quality of the road network, poor intermodal integration, weak sector governance and institutional capacity, lack of quality urban transport systems, and limited private investment in transport infrastructure. The Philippines’ expanse in its road network system is comparable with or better than many neighboring developing member countries of the ADB. However, the country lags behind on the quality of the road system because of insufficient financial resources being made available for maintenance and inadequate institutional capacity of agencies responsible for road maintenance. While roads, ports and airports have been developed throughout the Philippines and many journeys require the use of more than one mode of transport, coordination among the agencies responsible for transport infrastructure is generally very limited. Coordination between the transport sector agencies and the agencies responsible for economic development is also poor. Technical capacity in planning, intermodal integration, project appraisal, and monitoring is also insufficient in sector agencies. A research conducted by Lidasan, Espada and De Leon (2009) entitled A Needs Assessment of Transport Planning and Traffic Management of Local Cities: The Case in the Philippines included the respondent cities’ self-assessment of eleven transport planning concepts with a scale of 1 for limited knowledge, 2 for some knowledge, and 3 for good knowledge, their average scores ranged from 1.27 to 1.67. In the words of the researchers, “While the mainly low
While private sector investment in transport infrastructure has been significant, only a few of the transport projects were developed using an open, competitive bidding process aimed at securing funds for the projects within a clearly prioritized transport investment program. Most successful projects have been the result of unsolicited proposals from potential investors to form public-private partnerships with government corporations mandated to develop and operate transport infrastructure.
With the onset of the Tax Reform for Acceleration and Inclusion (TRAIN) Law enacted this January 2018 to support the “build, build, build” program of the Duterte administration, the biggest portion of the 2018 National Budget was given to the Department of Public Works and Highways with a budget allocation of PHP 637.86 billion. The program includes the improvement and construction of road networks, railways, airports, and seaports across the nation. The allocation of funds for infrastructure is one way to solve the nation’s financial problems in implementing better public transport areas for commuters but there are other areas that need to be tackled by government officials and civilians alike. Section 2 of the Shanghai Manual - A Guide for Sustainable Urban Development in the 21st Century Policy introduces policy options for urban transport that include: the push-and-pull approach; public transport, non-motorized transport, transport demand management and transit oriented development; avoid, shift, improve; policy options and measures for road safety; policy options for the mobility of the urban poor and other disadvantaged social groups; and networks and organizations promoting sustainable urban transport. These policy options focus on pushing people out of their automobiles and into using public transport or non-motorized transport like walking and cycling. Transport demand management refers to the measures that try to reduce the demand for travel and re-evaluate the actual need to provide more roads to cater to such demand. Transit oriented development is an approach to urban design that develops higher urban density along transit byways that increase access to urban activity. “Avoid, shift, improve” talks about avoiding unnecessary travels and shorting trip distances that can lead to a shift to more sustainable transport and improvement of existing transport systems. Policy options and measures for road safety, mobility of the urban poor and other social groups concentrate on creating a peaceful and inclusive environment for commuters. Networks and organizations promoting sustainable urban transport are also instruments in lobbying for long terms reforms in the transport systems in the country. We Filipinos have a lot to do to create this seemingly utopian ambiance in transportation. Although the overwhelming problems that persist since time immemorial can frighten us, we need to do something to make this dream a reality. After all, we have a knack for following global trends for fleeting things like fashion and musical tastes. Why can’t we do the same in solving our nation’s problems? TC
15 TODAY’S CAROLINIAN | OCTOBER 2018
LITERARY
A PRISONER
OF TIME Kim Libarnes
16 TODAY’S CAROLINIAN | OCTOBER 2018
LITERARY
11:57…11:58…11:59. Sitting gently snug on his fogged-up window seat, shakily grasping a cup of fuming tea, he cooled his beverage with gentle wind. The cup, a porcelain vessel, was as frail as the passenger sipping wobbly. A gentleman, born in the eve of the declaration of the First World War, was on the locomotive that was scheduled to dock at 3 a.m. at the St. Pancras Train Station, gazing afar as the condensed glass slowly cleared. His eyebrows often naturally met, with every passerby fearing to get any closer to his bench — grumpy. “Sugar? For tea,” an unfamiliar server with his outlandish accent approached cautiously. The man declined with a sulky snob. The train drew to its first stop. The man reached in to the loosely-fitted pocket of his trousers and briskly took out his pocket watch, “11:59 p.m.,” it read. Across his window, by the shed outside, was a couple with intertwined hands, grasping waists with a quick kiss to the cheek while carelessly unminding the audience. The couple, a brawny man roughly five-foot-seven and approximately in his late twenties was inseparable to his partner — another man. The old man’s brows quickly drew closer and closer, disgusted and quickly mirrored the fuming heat of his tea. “What kind of monstrosity is this? Is this the end of times?” the man revolted as his fingers trembled whilst grasping the teacup. He abhorred the sight of the romantic pair and jerked his beverage over. “Dammit!” the man exclaimed in pain as the scorching beverage splashed onto his knee. “All aboard!” the trainmaster cheered as the engine begun to took off. The foreign server rolled his tray once again to the man’s bench. “More tea? Mister?” he anxiously inquired, promptly reaching to the lower shelf of his rusty tray for a roll of paper towels, seeing the beige stain on the man’s trousers. “I’m fine boy. Get lost. Bloody immigrants.” The man sighed in impatience, apprehensively scouring through his worn-out satchel that had a hastily sewn patch of the Confederate flag. He was longing to partake in a protest of some sort the night after. But the train kept on rushing. The Pullman Ltd. Express was the largest passenger locomotive in all of Texas, and with its enormity, it felt as if he was a lone commuter — a perception that was more than just a feeling. “Second stop, Herberns Station!” the trainmaster yelled. The next station featured another sight for the man. He leaned towards the hazy glass window and stared peculiarly at two colored men handing out pamphlets to docking passengers. The man squinted as hard as he could, striving to get a hunch of the words written on the paper. “Davis & Williams for sena... senator,” with blurred vision it read. “Blacks running for politics? To hell with this!” the man hotly blurted. “Tea mister?” the server asked. “You don’t belong here kid! I’ve had it with these changes! It bloody isn’t right!” The minute-hand drew still just a minute before midnight, his time-piece, and time itself for him — stopped. “11:59 p.m.,” the time-piece still read. TC
17 TODAY’S CAROLINIAN | OCTOBER 2018
LITERARY
HIM Kyn Noel Pestaño
18 TODAY’S CAROLINIAN | OCTOBER 2018
LITERARY
1994
“You alright? Can’t really feel my legs down there ‘nough. C’mon baby. Night’s young. Lil P’s blast’ll start in— “Are you mad? Jesus, Bran. Can’t you read? Can’t you read? Can’t you...” His voice breaks in splinters, the adrenaline from their near cliff-dive seeping from his stiffened muscles and into his throat. His hand, barely able from its shaking, curls into the handle and opens the car door. His knees buckle with the feel of solid ground, sinking into the moist October dirt, fists careful and slow in clenching the soil. “Hey, hey, ‘m sorry, alright. I didn’t mean to. I swear to God Mat, I didn’t mean to.” His arms around him steadies him in place. With Bran quelling the tremors from his naked fear, Mat manages to compose himself and throw as well a punch as he could. A narrow streak of blood sluices down his face. Below, the waves rush past the rocks, thrashing themselves into reckless suicide.
1999
2006
2012
2018
1994
“Hello?” “Hey... Mat. Been a—“ He knows the voice too well; strobe lights, cigarette smoke, tongue on fragile neck, vodka spiriting the burn, careful melting in calloused hands — “Sorry.”
In front of him, a man kneels in anticipation of — him? He isn’t sure. Half a lifetime ago, half an ocean away, neck gave way to rope... “I do.” ... and guilt the size of god gave way to — grief?
The wall glistens with what’s left of their wedding-day china. Opposite to the wreckage, he slumps in resignation. His shoulders cave as his hands fail to stifle his sobs. Above him, heavy footsteps slam doors into wreckage; below, wind drifts past curtains, loosening knots he thought he already tied.
His ring, long forgotten in a bedside drawer, gleams softly as the morning sun strokes it. The thought of pawning it strikes him, but its luster reminds him too much of what he had. In the crib at the foot of his bed, his daughter wails in search for milk. He sighs, puts his ring back in the drawer and walks to silence someone else’s cry.
The night lay before them, pregnant with the promise of alcohol. Roof down, Bran’s convertible roars past the crackle of wave against rock. He mouths an “I love you” at Mat, but the wind swallows it and their succeeding laughter. For the briefest moment, his eyes meet Mat’s and the tempest stops its furious howling. He smiles at him, and inside he thanks whatever god there is, thinking, “He must be it. He must be.” TC
19 TODAY’S CAROLINIAN | OCTOBER 2018
FEATURE
Maria Consuelo Pacilan Graphic by Diane Diana
Baby Boomers vs Millennials 20 TODAY’S CAROLINIAN | OCTOBER 2018
FEATURE
An anonymous user from Urban Dictionary defines Millennial as “a term used by insecure idiots to dismiss somebody aged 10-35.” Meanwhile, the top definition for Baby Boomer from the same dictionary comes from user Hubert Cumberdale Jr., defining Baby Boomers as “the most self-righteous, self-important, incredibly arrogant generation of all time.” Millennials and Baby Boomers are two generations that are always pitted against each other. Punctuated by an entire generation between them, the two share drastic differences. In no other relationship are the differences between these two more prominent than in the relationship between a Baby Boomer parent and a Millennial child. Let’s start off with the concept of utang na loob. The contrast between the two generations is extremely evident on how each one approaches the concept of debt born out of gratitude. Baby Boomer parents entered the workforce with the sole thought of giving back to their families first and foremost after getting their first paychecks. Because they have dedicated so much of themselves to their own families, Baby Boomers expect their children to do the same. Of course, some Millennials would rather not operate this way. Millennials, on the other hand, are highly individualistic and believe that they are not indebted to anyone, arguing that they are not born just to be extensions of their parents. Baby Boomers are driven by practicality, while Millennials are driven by passion. In terms of getting a job, Baby Boomers often prioritize stability. In the Philippines, in particular, there is still an overhanging stigma involving jobs in the humanities and arts. Situations where parents force their children to opt for careers in medicine, law or business are all too familiar. Boomers tend to be extremely work-centric and motivated by reputation, making them quick to dismiss any attempts of Millennials at pursuing degrees they rank lower on the scale of practicality and prestige. Concerning attitude towards work, most Millennials are fueled by instant gratification while boomers maintain the principle of delayed gratification. Baby Boomer parents tend to preface conversations with “Back in my day…” and then proceed to cite instances when they had to work harder than everyone else to get what they wanted. Meanwhile, Millennial kids draw flak for wanting everything served to them on a platter. Having grown up
in a technologically-driven society, Millennials are accustomed to surrounding themselves with so much information all at once. Because so many things are now accessible to them, they’ve grown used to getting what they want when they want it. Some conveniences enjoyed by the present generations were not around back in the time of the boomers. This has led to the common argument that Millennials have it “easier”. Baby Boomers grew up at a time when being heavy-handed with children was an acceptable norm to apparently whip them into obedience. Boomers had to earn their rewards. Furthermore, they had to worry about civil rights, protests, and maintaining economic stability after the war. Today, Baby Boomer parents are quick to dismiss the struggles of their Millennial kids, often comparing them to their own. Apparently, Millennials are so entitled that they demand to be rewarded for simply existing. However, this argument is mostly born out of a lack of understanding. Most Millennial problems are written off as invisible. According to Psychology Today, Millennials were reported to have the highest levels of clinical anxiety, stress and depression than any other generation at the same age. Because these problems aren’t as concrete as boomers would like them to be, they fail to understand what Millennials actually mean when they say that they’re struggling. Immediately, Millennials are branded as whiners who don’t know the value of hard work. Coupled with the consensus that Millennials are notoriously bad at socializing and communicating their feelings, then parents would never be able to understand the troubles of Millennial kids unless they actually take the time to educate themselves or engage in meaningful conversations with their children. Millennials are branded as whiners simply because they beg to be heard and not dismissed, understood not compared. Baby Boomers and Millennials are generations prone to clashing because both are tremendously opinionated and boast strong personalities. Baby Boomers are extremely goaloriented, hardworking, and rooted in their values and principles. Meanwhile, Millennials are open-minded, deeply empathetic, empowered individuals who know their worth. Both are simply seeking to be acknowledged and instead of turning it into a competitiown of who’s had it worse, both should foster healthy relationships dominated by a sense of understanding. In fact, both Millennials and Baby Boomers could glean some important life lessons off each other if it didn’t cripple their egos to actually try. TC
21 TODAY’S CAROLINIAN | OCTOBER 2018
LITERARY
F O R W A R D :
The Light Brigade Robert Michael Lim Photograph by Keith Ayuman
22 TODAY’S CAROLINIAN | OCTOBER 2018
LITERARY
Ever wondered how these people we encounter every day came about? How this bank teller decided to become one, how the policeman who just smiled at you took the first step into the workforce, or how the priest succeeded in his journey to priesthood, or maybe how the world is a little better, or worse, because of them? A grade school teacher did. She saw the world and how scary it was for everyone, most especially for the kids she faced every day. These kids, these innocent little children who have seen much of how harsh the world was, didn’t know what they were up against. They didn’t know what the future held for them, just as her, but she knew better. She knew that she could help them prepare, she could try and make them realize their full potential. She didn’t want to scare them into thinking that they weren’t prepared for the world, so she became an image for them — an epitome of perfection, organization, efficiency and maybe even of fear. With her full-baked face, permed hair and scarily loud voice, she delivered her battle plans to the little ones. Her glaring, intimidating eyes and snappy remarks startled the younglings, making them stand on their toes. They knew she was around; somewhere in the classroom, and they should give their best in everything — correctly answering the multiplication tables, scrubbing the wooden floor squeaky clean, even writing in their own notebooks in impeccable penmanship. That, in the end, became their standard of “best”. In hindsight, these kids made their own mental image of their teacher — the scary, strict homeroom teacher that they were under who they avoided at all cost. Later on, these kids became their teacher themselves. Strict, intimidating, but an inspiration.
During those times of being with the teacher, she would ask them about little things, like how their poultry was growing, or how their dad was doing overseas. She was empathetic, she was kind, maybe even a little bit too funny. These kids remember the times when their teacher would envy their simple, homemade lunch with dried fish and steamed corn grits wrapped in banana leaf and how she would persuade them into trading their lunch with hers — a full lunchbox of rice, fried pork with a side of a bonebased soup. She was more than their homeroom teacher. Along the way, they paused and thought that all she did was push them a tad further with the little things they were terrified of, all for them to be mindful of what was to come; not just academically and professionally, but beyond the hallway and the schoolyard. In hindsight, these people may seem not appear to have anything common with you but you can prove this wrong by simply looking closer. During more than 40 years of teaching at least two sets of classes every weekday, they know who made them better, and what made them change a bit, and then ultimately transforming into someone they never thought they could be. She was their common denominator, their source of unforgettable memories from the childhood they wouldn’t trade anything for. They had her mark, her word. They know she did her best, but never did she expect her best would become the next mayor, or the new teacher across the hall. They became the best versions of themselves, never forgetting the path they took while looking further down the road ahead. They may be your average courteous taxi driver, the joking front desk officer from work or your nice street cleaner whom you appreciate, but deep inside they know they are just little kids running around in this big, big classroom called the world, ready for anything and everything because, and in spite of, others. TC
Yes, she became their inspiration.
23 TODAY’S CAROLINIAN | OCTOBER 2018
FEATURE
BINISAYANG
SALIDA Frank Go
Infographic by Drix Ponteres Kahibaw ba mo na ang pinakauna nga salida na gihimo sa atong nasod kay Bisaya? Recently, Nick Deocampo, a multi-awarded filmmaker and film historian, discovered that the first locally produced film in the Philippines was shot in Cebu by Jose Nepomuceno, who is considered as the father of Philippine Cinema. It was a newsreel of the funeral of the wife of Sergio Osmeña Sr. Before this discovery, the first film that was locally produced in the Philippines, still by Nepomuceno, was believed to be Dalagang Bukid in 1919 which is now considered to be a lost film. The next film allegedly made in Cebu was a fictional film in 1922 entitled El Hijo Desobediente. Deocampo wrote about this after reading D.M. Estabaya’s 1975 article in the The Republic News entitled “First Visayan Movies Recalled”. The film wasn’t even mentioned in any Cebuano newspaper of the time, nor is there any indication that the film was produced in the first place, and the alleged copy of the film has yet to be found. Before this, however, Bertoldo-Balodoy, a film produced by Dr. Virgilio Gonzales was accepted as the first Cebuano film. The film showed up in Bag-ong Kusog’s March 1, 1940 edition in an article entitled “Bahin sa Sine nga Binisaya”. The film premiered at our very own Vision Theater in Colon St. and was written and directed by Piux Kabajar who was already a prominent figure in the Cebuano theater scene at the time. According to Resil Mojares, a historian and a critic of Philippine Literature, Dr. Gonzales had two film studios here in Cebu that had a lot of equipment from the U.S., but sadly both studios burned down or were destroyed by bombs during the Japanese occupation here in the Philippines and none of the films were saved, leading to the first blow on the death of Cebuano cinema. In 1947, Cebu’s film scene suddenly came under the spotlight and entered its first Golden Age. In an article by the Philippines Free Press, it was speculated that Cebu produced 50 films between the years 1947 to 1955. Today, Manila’s film production averages around 50 to 60 films per year. Fifty films might not be a good number when compared to Manila’s production, but it was enough for us to gain national attention. By the end of the 1960s, Cebu saw the production of Badlis sa Kinabuhi, which is now considered one of our most famed products. The productivity of Cebuano films increased even further during the 1970s. Eugene Labella’s Mayor Andal was released in December 1973 and portended the revival of Cebuano cinema. Later on, the Visayas held their first film festival in 1975. It was an event where filmmakers would compete and win awards with one primary goal in mind — to show films to the people. A lot of films entered the festival because it was the best way to market their films. The most known film to date from the 1970s was Jose Macachor’s Manok ni San Pedro. It was a film adaptation of Cebu’s famous radio drama Ang Manok that starred “Teban” Escudero, currently a politician in Talisay City, Cebu. The film traveled through different regions in the
24 TODAY’S CAROLINIAN | OCTOBER 2018
Visayas, screening in fiestas and in local barangays, and because of that, gained financial success. In the 1980s to 1990s, the Cebuano film industry reverted to unproductivity and television became a primary focus in terms of visual media. Fast forward to the present digital period, where everyone can become a filmmaker because of affordable digital cameras, Cebu’s cinematic productivity rose once more. In the 2007 Cinema One Originals, Jerrold Tarog, now known for Heneral Luna and Goyo, had his self-produced Confessional, which featured songs from the Cebuano band Missing Filemon, win Best Picture and became a catalyst for Cebuano filmmakers to make selfproduced films. Following Tarog’s Confessional, in the 2010 Cinema One Originals, Remton Zuasola made Ang Damgo ni Eleuteria which was nominated for Best Film. It was the first one-take, full-length film in Southeast Asia. In the 2011 Cinema One Originals, Ivan Zaldarriaga and Brandon Relucio’s zombie film Di Ingon Nato and Victor Villanueva’s My Paranormal Romance joined the festival, Christian Linaban’s Aberya was in the festival in 2012. Keith Deligero’s Iskalawags joined in 2013. In 2016, Deligero’s Lily won Best Director, Best Actor, Best Supporting Actress and Best Editing, capturing the attention of Cebuanos during its production, primarily because of its exotic and impactful plot based on a Cebuano urban legend about a woman who captures and eats children at night. Remton Zuasola’s Soap Opera was in the festival in 2014 and Ara Chawdhurry’s Miss Bulalacao in 2015. Despite all these successes, however, the film scene here in Cebu continues to struggle at both national and regional levels. Though there were films that gained national attention, like Victor Villanueva’s Patay na si Hesus and Reuben Joseph Aquino and Janice Y. Perez’s Mag Buwag Ta Kay, Cebuano cinema dipped at marketing. Most Cebuanos were simply unaware that a flourishing film scene exists here in Cebu. Most of the people who know about the film scene are those who are involved or people who are affiliated with them. The fault for such ignorance, however, isn’t rooted solely on lack of interest or blatant disregard. The culprit lies on the platforms, or lack thereof, of Cebuano films. The only prominent platforms available as of date are Binisaya, Sinulog Film Festival, school organized events and small events like art shows. Local cinemas here dismiss Cebuano films simply for their lack of a reasonable market. This tragically untapped potential and history of Cebuano cinema will continue to persist for as long as the masses are kept ignorant of them. Until Cebuanos themselves realize the gem that is their cinematic heritage, we will still continue to hear this exchange: “Bai, tan-aw ta’g Bisaya na Salida na.” “Naa diay? Ay nalang bai uy, kas kwarta, showing na biyang Avengers.” TC
FEATURE
25 TODAY’S CAROLINIAN | OCTOBER 2018
LITERARY
IN THE
BEAST’S HOME Berns Mitra
26 TODAY’S CAROLINIAN | OCTOBER 2018
LITERARY
In the Beast’s home, Everything has a life of its own The turnstiles have an opinion on everyone They won’t let you in if: You’re dressed as a girl You’re not dressed as a girl You’re in a miniskirt You’re not in a miniskirt Your hair is a nanometer too long to pass as a child of God But if they like you Or you happen to catch them in a good mood Walk right in with your slip-ons And your shoulders glimmering in sunlight In the Beast’s home, Hold on to your clothes Chairs rip skirts off here And the turnstiles will notice In the Beast’s home, Basement bathrooms are lonely And will force you to keep them company For an hour or so
In the Beast’s home, Don’t bring a jacket The air conditioners don’t work here Or so we thought They did once And with all the fury of a rushed C-section And a rumble akin to the thundering footsteps Of every disappointed teacher leaving this cursed place, They exhaled the winds of change A “New Wind” they called it It smelled of money and disappointment It smelled of dead dogs It even smelled of soil from the stadium we never used It did not smell of paint It did not smell of scholarships It did not smell of anything that justified staying. TC
27 TODAY’S CAROLINIAN | OCTOBER 2018
LITERARY
MOTHER KNOWS BEST Sofia Isabel Tajos Illustration by Monna Lou Maldo
28 TODAY’S CAROLINIAN | OCTOBER 2018
LITERARY
“How long do you want it to be, ma’am?”
“You will only be respected if you respect yourself, anak.”
I am at a tailoring shop, being fitted for the uniform I would be wearing for the next few years as I start for college. I look over questioningly at my mom, despite already knowing what she would say.
“A lady has to cover up. Never wear something that makes men think you are an easy woman.”
“A couple of inches below the knees, please. A lady needs to have a decent skirt,” she says as she looks at me. I observe my mother’s face, still so beautiful despite her showing age. I remember a younger version of her, always saying, “Anak, we should always know how to take care of ourselves. Ladies should behave like ladies,” every time I go home a little too late from playing.
The things I have lived by for so long do not hold much weight anymore. My mother has always cared for me, but I now realize that I can live in my own terms. What I wear does not warrant other people to disrespect me. I can do other things unrelated to my goal in life and still become successful. I can still stand strong. I used to think I had to be as old-fashioned as possible, just to keep my dignity. I used to think being a decent human being equates to being conservative, but I now know better.
I thank whatever is up above for mother, for she has taught me how to live a good life – a lady’s life.
----
----
I was wrong. I was wrong. I was wrong.
I’m in my second semester of college, still trying to fit in with my peers, even though I sometimes do not want to. I did have groups of friends before, but I drift whenever I realize that they aren’t good for me. Everybody drinks, goes out late at night to party and disrespects themselves. It’s always the same. I am afraid I will be alone for the rest of my years, but my mother’s voice reassures me:
“We suspect it only took one pill,” I hear the police say to my mother. I watch her face, her heart seemingly breaking more the longer we stay at this precinct.
“Stick to your values, anak. We did not raise you to harm your body. Never be like the teenagers we see outside clubs.” I sigh. I will be okay. Mother knows best, after all. ---“It’s nice here, isn’t it?” I barely hear my friend amongst the loud music and all of the talking, but I manage to shoot her a strained smile. I have finally learned how to loosen up after a couple of years, but the small, nagging voice inside my brain has not yet disappeared. I look down at what I’m wearing, and wonder what my mother would say if she saw me right now. It would probably be along the lines of, “Anak, those are too short! Have some dignity!” along with a horrified look. I laugh shakily and push it to the back of my mind For now, I should have fun. ---- I dance to the music and hear the people shout around me, seemingly in sync with the beat. I no longer get guilty whenever I go out to enjoy myself, normally with my friends, but sometimes alone, when I need to relieve myself from the day’s stress.
I feel the weight I put on my mother’s shoulders as they explain what happened to her. I thought I knew better. I thought I finally learned how to live. I was found by a civilian lying down on a dark alley — bruised and bleeding. I do not remember what happened, but I feel the pain. I only remember going to a party, and I hazily remember staying behind after my friends have already gone home. I did not drink, I say, but the police do not believe me. My mother would have, but she is in too much pain to even look at me. If I had only followed her advice. If I had only respected myself more. If I had only covered up. Thoughts race through my mind as I realize what I have done — to myself, to my mother, who only ever wanted what was best for me. I was wrong, and I will pay for my sins. ----[DOCUMENTARY CUTS] “Multiple women have been victims of rape and abuse. A number of victims believe that they deserve the blame, a number fight for their rights, while the others stay silent. Rape is caused by rapists.” “Her mother knew that the only way to protect her daughter was to let her understand that people cannot stop themselves from hurting other people. She knew that the world was frightening, and that despite knowing that this should not matter, she confined her to cultural norms.” ---Mother knows best, but we should know better. TC
I look at my surroundings and feel a weird kind of peace.
29 TODAY’S CAROLINIAN | OCTOBER 2018
FEATURE
Don’t Bury Me, I’m Still Not Dead:
Popularity of Music Genres Blaise Pancho
30 TODAY’S CAROLINIAN | OCTOBER 2018
FEATURE
The 60s: Born to be Wild The 1960s was a time when the skewed thought of peace was in the air. Its proof-ofconcept was the Vietnam War. The space race between Russia and the US started here, culminating in the victory of landing on the moon courtesy of the Americans. Two major issues were on everybody’s minds — nuclear missiles and segregation. In short, political unrest was prevalent in the appropriately titled “Swinging Sixties”. But the context was important in the music scene. When the Vietnam War ignited, so was its protest movement. Protest songs were popular at that time. The Rolling Stones’ Gimme Shelter and Creedence Clearwater Revival’s Fortunate Son were hot off the charts. Ironically, society didn’t get the gist of the message as the songs were used as rally cries and patriotic songs in the Vietnam War instead. The Civil rights movement was born in the 60s. Martin Luther King Jr. and Malcolm X gave the underestimated and ill-treated African-Americans a voice before dying from assassinations in the mid-60s. However, the dead became martyrs and the fuel for the renewed hope for what was to come for them in the later years. Blacks barely scratched the mainstream audience until Jimi Hendrix happened. He was beloved by his musician colleagues and listeners, regardless of color, because of his ground-breaking musical style and guitar skills. Ultimately, Jimi Hendrix died at the age of 27. Despite his death, his influence in music was and is still revered by musicians so much so that he was hailed as one of the greatest musicians and guitarists of all time. Ironically, black radio wanted little to do with his heavy rhythms, and many white rock radio stations, places one might have thought would be a more natural home for his songs, simply thought he sounded “too black”. In the other side of the pond, The Beatles were still plucking their guitars to the rhythm of success till the 70s until infighting grew and inevitably tore the band apart. With such contributions by the British Isles, they sent The Who, The Rolling Stones, Cream, and the Doors for the American audience to enjoy. The British music industry thrived off from the unique sounding bands which everyone loved even until the 70s. The 70s: Life in the Fast Lane The 70s was a time of free love, individualism, and self-discovery. The Cold War began to simmer down as Russia and the US were finally agreeing on something. While that was good news, it was followed by the Watergate Scandal, a series of uncovering President Nixon’s corruption until his impeachment. The first of many took place in this decade: fuel shortages. It was a decade of hardline presidencies, sporadic protests, celebrity murders, anti-authoritarianism and 8-bit cassettes. Speaking of cassettes, the 70s were also home to the rock and disco genre. Rock and its subgenres were at its peak during this time. Power chords, fast tempo, short yet succinct lyrics and easily listenable rhythm dominated the airwaves. The notion of rock became widespread and quickly branching. This gave rise to glam rock, punk, progressive rock and metal. It was as mainstream as it was meant to be, even charting the Top 40s. In turn, rock attracted everyone regardless of race. Its flipside — disco — was another story. For a time, disco became the biggest genre in the 70s due to its upbeat rhythm and danceable music. It may be compared to mainstream pop today where hundreds of disco bands emerged in a span of two years, such as George Clinton, Bee Gees; Earth, Wind & Fire, Ohio Players and Kool and the Gang. Different bands serving the same kind of music style that their songs can be misidentified by the other. The popularity got so high that nightclubs and gay clubs became the places where people frequented. However, racism and homophobia were still lingering in the 70s and unsurprisingly, there was an intense backlash. Disco was primarily dominated by AfricanAmericans and the gay community, and naturally, white listeners gravitated towards other music genres instead such as pop-rock and metal. Despite its popularity, it was a disregarded genre. Near the late 70s, disco was losing and fading fast. Radio stations ignored or outright refused to play disco music. Airplay was strictly restricted to gay clubs, which marginalized it even further. By 1981, it was completely dead, along with its style, fashion and culture. Disco in the mid-80s became sparse and rare, any forms were subjected to mockery and parody. Hard rock came out on top but it was already declining as it reached the 80s. A new sound emerged from its cocoons — new wave. The 80s: Video Killed the Radio Star The 80s was pop culture coming to life. When people thought of the decade, they would say art deco, neon signs, cocaine and pop music. But there was more than that. Computers were invented, and the Cold War was finally coming to an end. It was the decade where it was hip to lavish yourself extravagantly, with high-end sports cars dominating the highways and malls replacing parks. The 80s was regarded as the golden age of pop. Its musical style became the foundation of pop music in the turn of the millennium. Repetitive yet catchy melody was the only weapon the musicians would use to attract the audience, especially the bops or the teenagers. Often times, pop and new wave were clumped together because of the similar sounds they churned out well in the eighties.
New wave music came from the punk rock of the 70s. In fact, punk was steadily cruising low on the airwaves that by the 80s, the line of punk and new wave became so close and blurry that no one could tell them apart. Most punk bands in the 70s were into the genre that set the 80s in stone. The simple and direct music of rock — the pop music at that time — was marketable and likable even up to the 80s but the new wave was having none of that, straying away from the sound to form an avant-garde music. To give an example, Michael Jackson, the king of pop himself and Blondie, a prominent new wave band gave such contrasting discography even though they are from the 80s. Nevertheless, new wave only rose up to the mainstream audience because of this concept: music videos, specifically MTV. With televisions going up in demand and were easy to buy, this concept grew in size and it came at a hefty price. Record companies took notice of the genre and quickly sought out new New Wave bands. Soon enough, the market became flooded and saturated to the point that the audience eventually thought the genre was an entire gimmick and grew tired by the time 1988 kicked in. By this year, a pioneering rap album was released, blowing everyone’s heads and radios for its violent themes and heavy melodic undertones — Straight Outta Compton. The 90s: I was a Teenage Anarchist After the death of new wave and pop music fluctuating on the radio like a fishing lure on a stormy sea, people wanted something new to their ears. In 1991, Seattle gave them Nirvana’s Nevermind and grunge music. The grittiness and downright depressing tune were the basis of formation for the alternative rock in the coming millennium, and eventually, grunge lived for a short time when Kurt Cobain, vocalist of Nirvana, took it with him when he committed suicide in 1995. Coincidentally after his death, youths began to be aware about addictions and its effects and also about mental health, especially on depression. What followed was another power vacuum and everyone was racing to be the next Cobain. Unsurprisingly, imitators could not follow his legacy and eventually, most bands stopped, giving way to nu-metal, a genre mixed with alternative music and rap; and post-grunge, the antithesis to the gritty and depressing grunge till the mid-00s. Also in the 90s, gangsta rap was born. Due to Michael Jackson’s popularity, the blacks finally shone in another specialty: rap. Disk Jockeying or DJ-ing was the basis of rap and it stemmed from the black ghetto community, who were heavily flooded with drugs, violent gangs and over-policed by authorities. The form of gangsta rap often glorifies the virtue of being a gangster but rap was primarily a voice for the African-American communities of the struggles that were unfairly given to them by the unwilling society. Soon enough, the glorification proved to be an easy liking to the listeners and young rappers. By the turn of the millennium, the true message of rap was lost. However, these gave black musicians the chance their predecessors didn’t have before. In the end, the decade was memorable for its schizophrenic broadcasting where the grittiness of alternative music, violent sound of rap and the revival of bubblegum pop music under the form of boy bands were fighting each other for airplay. The market was diverse and competitive unlike any decade. Both pop and rap music barely won the battle, now fully evolved from their formative years at the end of the 90s and grew up to what it is become today. Alternative music, on other hand, suffered from fatigue that popularity decline towards the middle of the 00s, barely scratching the Top 40s, now dominated by pop and rap music. Today, alternative began to shy away from the limelight, now controlled by pop and rap subgenres. Encore When a trend forms, music follows. Sometimes, it can make or break entire genres. Trends come in shapes and it shows. There are some genres that are born incredibly lucky because of the ever-changing sociopolitical climate and some horribly died also because of it. Like a wave in a graph, there are peaks where a music genre enjoys its status even for a short while and the lows where its irrelevance swiftly follows until a few come to realize their importance and try to revive it. The result comes in the form of niche subgenres where they garner limited fame such as the revival of glam in the 00s and new wave in the 10s. It is now in the hands of determined listeners and musicians if they are ready to be resurrected to the spotlight or be forever buried in nostalgia. What has happened before is happening again. From the protest songs against war to the songs about the ghetto life, or even cheerful or solemn musical tones, the music scene will evolve over time, carrying the same theme but different sound. Eventually, there are genres that will succumb to the changes and new forms will rise from its shell until it goes in a cycle. No matter how we call for the death of a genre, it will always come back somewhere in time, radically different in style and tone. History repeats itself — even in music. TC
31 TODAY’S CAROLINIAN | OCTOBER 2018
FEATURE
North-South Divide: A thing in the past Laura Posadas
32 TODAY’S CAROLINIAN | OCTOBER 2018
FEATURE
K-Pop has done it again and it will continue to do so until it has the whole world dancing to its sickening beats, buoyant choruses and catchy lyrics. K-Pop bands have set every fan’s hearts ablaze including North Korean President, Kim Jong Un’s. We may have all heard that blasting K-Pop, specifically Big Bang’s top hits in the Korean Demilitarized Zone was one of South Korea’s propaganda in showing North Koreans what they were missing out on. Of course, it had only played a little to none in the momentous event that transpired between the two nations — but one can never undermine the power of K-Pop. The line that separated Korea for about 70 years was made as if invisible when the world witnessed Kim Jong Un stepping foot in the South Korean territory alongside South Korean President, Moon Jae-in. Hands were shaken, embraces were made and talks were exchanged at the Inter-Korean Summit paving the way to a formal end of the Korean War. A war and division that was an aftermath of World War II when the Soviet Union and the United States took separate territories in the Korean Peninsula. The Soviet Union wanting for all Korea to succumb to communism while the United States bannering for democracy and capitalism. Further severing the ties was the three-year Korean War when Kim Il Sung, Kim Jong Un’s grandfather tried to reunify Korea under a communist rule by launching an invasion in South Korea. The war fought from 1950 to 1953 cost the lives of three million Koreans, U.N. and Chinese forces only to end up as a truce between the two nations. The scars of the war created two warring neighbors who grew in different directions. North Korea with its heavily agrarian economy and its nationalized commercial industries bred sluggish growth, unemployment and lack of access to health care and education for its people. Most of its resources were immensely invested in the development of nuclear power and in the enhancement of their military prowess. However, on the greener side of the pasture, South Korea is committed to libertarian ideals and democracy making them one of the world’s biggest economies. They boast of the top technology and engineering firms and a gross domestic product of 2.02 trillion USD. Not to mention, South Korea’s growing soft power through K-Pop, highly-addictive Korean dramas and the revolutionary 10-step Korean skincare. Despite
their political, economic and ideological differences that grew wider and wider apart with each passing year; the longtime enemies came to a halt this year. The recent Inter-Korean Summit was a historical groundbreaking event that made a reunified Korea within reach. It birthed the Panmunjeom Declaration which in its essence would reunite separated families from both borders, eliminate the military tension that has haunted citizens and establish a solid peace regime in Korea. Besides that, we would also see the last of a North Korean spy portrayed as a protagonist in Korean drama series, history books will now need revising and perhaps world maps too. Indeed, the weight of history is placed in the hands of Kim and Moon. Even though there is a possibility of a reunified Korea it still remains a huge question mark. How will they reconcile the differences? Will the summit ever deliver a formal peace treaty between the two? Will North Korea agree to denuclearize? Will this be Asia’s version of a reunified East and West Germany? And if a reunified Korean peninsula will push through, both countries will be tested to their limits. Will Kim be willing to step down from his family’s dynastic regime? Will South Korea ready to subject themselves to a Stalinist totalitarian government? Will South Korea have the decency to absorb all the unemployed and uneducated North Koreans to their economy? Will the North Koreans be ready to expose themselves to South Korea’s fast-paced culture? Will we witness a change of geopolitical allies? Will the United States continue to back up South Korea? Will China and Russia do the same for North Korea? Despite the million questions that arise from the Inter-Korean Summit. What does this even mean to the world, to the international community and to the future of international relations? The answer is simple — peace is possible. And that the north and south divide that were ripple effects of the great wars can now be just stories to tell. They can now be written down in history and reminisced only when necessary. And that it matters to you, my dear readers because your children or your children’s children can live in world where there is less hostility and spite, where even the most heavily militarized border of the world can be torn down to make amends and where even the hardest communist leader can be a statesman for all. TC
33 TODAY’S CAROLINIAN | OCTOBER 2018
LITERARY
A Nostalgic Reflection Jet Mangubat
Illustration by Eduard Jude Jamolin
34 TODAY’S CAROLINIAN | OCTOBER 2018
LITERARY
It’s almost the end of the year, and it’s hard for me to admit that I am getting much older. What was a better way for me, than to look back to everything I have gone through in the past and reevaluate myself on what I was. It was that one bright, sunny Monday morning. I sat down on the couch, thinking about what I could do to keep myself going. I got up from my couch, went up the attic and found a very dusty storage box. There I searched for all the old pictures I took and old journals I wrote during my youth. I slowly opened the first page of my photo album and saw a torn picture of myself with my friends. Some decades ago, my friends and I used to skip ropes, hit cans with slippers, play catch with one another, and jump over each other’s backs. We even played hopscotch and flew some kites together every Wednesday morning after our moms finished cooking our favorites for lunch. I smiled and chuckled when I flipped to the next page and saw a picture of myself with my neighbors on the tree. It was that grateful time whenever I got the chance to communicate with people from afar. I would usually go up the tree house, tie a string with a tin cup attached to it and speak whatever joke I wanted to say to any available friend of mine for some long and fun conversation. I also remembered the time when I picked up a rotten piece of paper, wrote heartfelt messages to our loved ones, rolled them up and placed them inside a bottle and personally sent them to their mailboxes outside their homes. Afterwards, I went on to open my journal and saw an entry of the most unforgettable memory I have ever written. I still recalled the time when
I used to play music on a jukebox with our favorite Bee Gees or ABBA songs in the background, as we drank some punch, danced and sang along happily in the night together with my friends and family, like there’s no tomorrow. I also remembered the time when I used to go out dressing like a hippie and danced with the disco lights every other Friday night. Seeing all these photos and journal entries made me tear up even more. The pieces that I wrote were so memorable to me that I wanted to go back and revisit those great memories as a child. As time passed by, the impending fear I felt became more imminent. I knew for sure that things won’t be any better. The anxiety I got made me want to go back to the past. Every precious thing I treasured during my youth went old, and so did my lifestyle. All the pictures I had were starting to rot. The tears went freely. I asked myself whether I was ready to face tomorrow. If only a time machine exists, I would definitely go back in time and revisit every moment I enjoyed during the days of my youth. The nostalgia of everything I went through before kept coming back. I wanted to go back to the times when I felt so much comfortable with everything. I wanted to go back to the time when everything was put into effort. I wanted to go back to the time when the people around me were more civilized and knew what the spirit of camaraderie really meant. I wanted to revisit every good thing that happened during my youth, hoping that everything would stay the same in the present. Times might be different now than before, but one thing is certain for me — that the past would never be something I can change and dwell on forever, but the memories I had of it, I’ll keep them close until I too, become one. TC
35 TODAY’S CAROLINIAN | OCTOBER 2018
OPINION
Dry Bones Fresh Blood Paolo Perez
Illustration by Christine Mae Alferan
36 TODAY’S CAROLINIAN | OCTOBER 2018
OPINION
Traditional paleontology has never seen much of a following in Philippine culture, with our nation’s lush and diverse seas and forests providing a stark contrast to an unimpressive fossil record. However, this notion has been turned on its head by a revolutionary discovery last May of a rhinoceros skeleton in Kalinga, and with it, reshaped our perspective on the history and origin of the Filipino people. Rhinoceroses in the Philippines have long been accepted as a once-fact, though our understanding of them is hazy at best, unlike the criticallyendangered Sudan and his kin or the charging Wakandan war steeds. All we knew came from incomplete specimens, mainly a cracked old jaw, but nothing close to a complete skeleton has even been unearthed. Had ever been, rather, until the Kalinga rhinoceros, all three quarters of it, was discovered, alongside a few crude stone tools indicative of human presence that had apparently been used to subdue and butcher the animal. Tests done by Dr. Gert van den Bergh and his team at the University of Wollogong dated it to 631,000 years old at least, smashing the previously-held idea that human life in the archipelago was only 68,000 years old. Paleontology is an interesting field, an avenue for storytelling. A fossil is a gravestone and an open casket all in one. From mere bits and pieces, scientists are able to extrapolate entire biographies. A gnarled spot on a bone betrays the site of an old injury. A wider pelvic girdle can reveal how an animal walked. Like legends and myths, however, the stories of fossils change over time. Velociraptor is no longer Spielberg’s, clawtapping lizard beast, but a squat, turkey-sized, feathery animal. Its distant cousin Oviraptor was given its name meaning “egg thief” after being discovered atop a petrified nest, but recent evidence suggests it wasn’t raiding the eggs. It was raising them. Putting all these millions of years and splinters of evidence into perspective, it is easy to see how we built the meek into monsters and vice versa, but paleontology, at its core, is simply history with bells, whistles and a “pre-”. Sadly, history is something that as a nation, we are rich with, but as a people we have utterly failed to learn from. When Jurassic World released, it made nearly 600 million PHP in our domestic box office, despite fans decrying its lack of faithfulness to how paleontology had marched on in the interim. When Heneral Luna, a
veritable love letter to our country’s history, warts and all, released mere months later, it made less than half as much and confused moviegoers as to why the paralyzed Apolinario Mabini went the entire film without standing up. Picking apart movies for historical accuracy has become a common gripe in the digital age and yet, we are quicker to pull the thread on millions of years of science than we are a few decades of history on our own soil. Instead, we cashed in on the blood-pumping sensationalism that Hollywood runs on: the idea that falsehoods are more interesting than facts, that the howling masses deserve something better than reality. We twisted our perspective, shifted our compromises, building the monsters into martyrs instead. Infrastructure! Economic security! Perhaps most gallingly, safety! We conned ourselves into believing that these new lies would bear more weight if they built upon, but ultimately flew in the face of, old truths. Our nation’s pride may as well be stuffed and mounted in one of the wings of the new National Museum of Natural History. The bones lining those glass cases were given back to us by the earth, lives traded for stories, but as we took them we buried the truths we thought we already owned — chief among them that the Filipino was worth dying for. Somewhere along the way, we got that mixed up. The rhino wasn’t the only beast that tried and failed to inhabit the Philippines. Other fossil remains point to tigers, giant tortoises and even elephants that, millions of years ago, came and went, returning to their tried-and-tested niches on the mainland. All we have left of them are their bones, swallowed up by the earth. Nature took far more lives than we ever did, but we did something far worse: We put a value on them. Justify it as one will. They were guilty. They were addicts. They knew too much. They fought back. In the end, whether you struggle or not is irrelevant against floods, against landslides, against lead, against power. The Kalinga rhinoceros is hundreds of thousands of years old, and yet we learned more from it than we did from 60 years of our own history. From the tar pits of La Brea to the cave paintings of Lascaux, paleontology is a field dedicated to preserving the truth Perhaps that’s why it never really caught on in the Philippines. TC
37 TODAY’S CAROLINIAN | OCTOBER 2018
LITERARY
A DAY IN THE LIFE OF
Ali Zimmers Abygale Velasquez
Photograph by Jason Matthew Lim
38 TODAY’S CAROLINIAN | OCTOBER 2018
LITERARY
Feb. 14, 2018
“Alright, I got this from here Trina.”
The alarm went off at 7:45 a.m. Sunlight crept into the room through the broken windows. Who smashed it? Light hit my eyes, blinding me every once in a while. I decided to get up. I flinched reaching up, and I looked at my hands covered with bandage. How come?
He started walking towards me. I frowned, and he smiled.
A younger woman wearing white scrubs entered. She said, “Good morning Ali, looking beautiful today.” I stared at her, unsure of what I was going to say. She must have read my eyes because she immediately spoke afterwards, “It’s okay. It’s time for you to take a shower now.” Then there’s that smile, and I felt safe.
“Hi,” he greeted. His voice was rough but gentle. His eyes were like coffee being stirred. “Who—” I forgot. “Who—” “Oh, I’m nobody.” A tiny bit of hope and a touch of desperation escaped his face. He remained calm, but his hand gripped the umbrella he’s holding so hard, his knuckles went white. I watched him, as he dragged a chair and settled beside me. He smells like ocean. “How are you, Ali?” he asked.
Walking was taking too long, too much time and energy.
“How did you know me? Who are you?” I replied.
“Where are we going?” I asked.
“Nametag,” he pointed at the small card on my shoulder. I was confused. He couldn’t possibly read my tag from his position.
“To the bathroom, Ali, you’re going to take a shower remember?”
“I’m friends with Trina,” he continued. She ushered me inside the room, and I saw a reflection of myself: I am pretty, and I am young. I might be older than her, but still, I smiled and the person on the square shaped object mimicked what I just did. I sat down and the water started pouring. I cried because it’s too cold.
I replied “Who’s Trina?” He pointed the lady from across the room who smiled right back. “I have a gift for you.” he said.
we laughed afterwards. His name is Ben. My mom said that I should treasure these moments because it may be gone forever. I don’t know what she meant by that, and I don’t know why she told me to write something like this on my birthday card. Feb. 14, 1987 My name is Ali Zimmers. I am 22 years old. Blue is an adorable color for me. I’m working now. I’m still with Ben. My mom is sick. My dad helps her around all the time. My mom told me I might be sick like her soon, but I don’t believe her. I can’t. Feb. 14, 1995 My name is Ali Zimmers. I am 30 years old. Blue is an adorable color for me. Mom died. This is for you, mom. Feb. 14, 2001 My name is Ali Zimmers. I am 36 years old. Blue is an adorable color for me. I’m diagnosed with Alzheimer’s disease. You were right, mom. Today, I placed the trash on the dinner table, and threw the food outside. I wish you were here. It’s not your fault mom. Feb. 14, 2006
“Why?”
My name is Ali Zimmers. I am 41 years old. Blue is an adorable color for me.
“It’s your birthday.”
Feb. 14, 2013
“How did you—“
My name is Ali Zimmers. I am 48 years old. Blue is an adorable color for me.
“I’m so sorry Ali.” The sound of a faucet being turned off was heard, and I sighed a warm relief.
“Umm, umm, Trina told me.” Feb. 14, 2016
I got dressed and started the day by drinking a cup of tea Trina has given to me. Yes, she was Trina. I liked the sound of her name, as if I’ve been using it for a long time already.
He unpacked a box, which revealed birthday cards with notes written on them. A tinge of recognition came, and then, it went to nothing. He handed them all to me with weary eyes. “I’ll be back; I’ll get you a cup of tea.”
It was about 9:30 a.m. when a man arrived and started talking to Trina from a distance. I looked at him, and there’s no recognition, nothing.
I started to spread all the letters out on the table.
“What happened to the window?” he said. I faintly overheard their conversation.
Words scribbled and written in black ink, these are papers that grew old along the years.
“She found a ball and she tried remembering the term ‘golf’, but she can’t, she got frustrated and threw it. She started picking up the shards of glasses but we got it in control immediately.” Trina answered.
Feb. 14, 1972
“That explains the bandage, but is she okay?”
Feb. 14, 1980
“Yes, she’s quite obedient today.” Trina answered cheerfully.
My name is Ali Zimmers. I am 15 years old. Blue is an adorable color for me. I had my first kiss yesterday. It was quick, I was taken aback and
My name is Ali Zimmers. I am seven years old. Blue is an adorable color for me. I am writing this because my mommy told me so.
My nam is Al Zmmrs. I read it once, and then twice. The man came back but he’s not holding a cup of tea. He must’ve forgotten about it. He’s holding his tears, only to fail. He said, “You’re so young, Ali, and I’m sorry, your mom and I are both sorry.” And I didn’t know what happened, I mumbled “Dad…” a flicker of broken memories, incoherent but meaningful, struggling to be in the light, and then, nothing. I couldn’t remember anything, but my heart did, I know it. He said, “These are yours, Ali.” “Who are you?” TC
39 TODAY’S CAROLINIAN | OCTOBER 2018
FEATURE
WHEN THE PAST HAUNTS THE MIND Theresa Kate Palompon
Photograph by Vanessa May Leuterio
40 TODAY’S CAROLINIAN | OCTOBER 2018
FEATURE
Mental health, despite being one of the most talked about issues today, remains taboo in the context of the Filipino culture. Discussions on the mental well-being of a person are often dismissed, making knowledge on the matter minimal or, at best, superficial.
Once these effects are not acted upon, it may lead to trauma which can greatly increase the risk of depression and anxiety. While some of this trauma may be debriefed, treated and managed, other people may have had it for so long to go as far back as their childhood.
A concrete manifestation of this stigma is the country’s enactment of a mental health law just as recently as June this year. Way back in the late 1980s, the first few versions of the National Mental Health Law were written by Senators Orlando Mercado and Jose Lina in hopes of uplifting the state of mental health in the country.
Adverse Childhood Experiences (ACEs), which was coined by Dr. Robert Anda and Vincent Felitti of the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention, is what we commonly refer to as childhood trauma. These are an adult’s past experiences that may have lifelong consequences to one’s physical and mental health.
Vice President Leni Robredo and Senator Pia Cayetano, who are known advocates for mental health, also filed their own legislations that mandate the study on mental health among medical students and the creation of a national mental health council. Unfortunately, none of the laws were enacted.
Based from Anda and Felitti’s research in the 1990s, childhood trauma is highly pervasive among adults regardless of one’s educational attainment and health care quality. Out of over 17,000 participants, 30 percent experienced abuse as a child while 15 percent were found emotionally neglected.
The Global Burden of Disease Study reported over 3.3 million Filipinos suffering from mental disorders as of 2015. In the same year, 2.9 percent of that population died because of suicide. Consequently, the National Statistics Office considered mental illness as the third most common form of disability in the country.
When Anda and Felitti identified ten categories of childhood stressors, they discovered that 67 percent of the respondents belonged to at least one of these categories. Furthermore, majority of these respondents reported association with more than one of the ACEs.
Though the figures sound alarming, they all send the same message: Stop the stigma. “Isn’t it normal not to be able to cope all the time? Isn’t it normal for women as well as men to feel frustrated with life? Isn’t it normal to feel angry and want to change a situation that is hurting?” — Diana Spencer, depressed and bulimic Mental disorders have been subject, stirring controversies in the past. Some see it as a phase, a manifestation of teenage drama or a way to get people’s attention. Once translated to self-harm, or worse suicide, patients become fodder for gossip and ridicule. Despite the different opinions on mental health, neither drama nor a mere craving for attention is considered a cause of mental disorders. In fact, it is caused by several biological, psychological and environmental factors. These factors, though, may not produce instantaneous changes in one’s mood and behavior. Patients with mental health issues are like ticking time bombs. With one wrong move, their condition may immediately take a toll on them. However, unknown to many, much of a person’s mental state is specifically attributed to a particular period in his or her life — the past. “Words have no power to impress the mind without the exquisite horror of their reality.” — Edgar Allan Poe, depressed and alcoholic Studies have shown how a person’s past experiences are actually integral in the development of one’s mental health. Apparently, even past observations that may have evoked feelings of fear, anger and pain could inflict long-lasting effects on a person.
The ACEs studies showed that adults falling below any of the categories had an increased risk of exposure to alcohol and drug use. Adults experiencing Post-traumatic Stress Disorder or Depression as a result of childhood trauma have also undergone several suicide attempts. In spite of the efforts of Dr. Anda and Mr. Felitti, much is still to be done to address the issue on ACEs. Which is why, in 2012, the American Academy of Pediatrics invested their time in trying to target and prevent childhood toxic stress. “I am so angry with myself because I cannot do what I should like to do, and at such a moment one feels as if one were lying bound hand and foot at the bottom of a deep dark well, utterly helpless.” — Vincent van Gogh, bipolar and depressed Mental illnesses are not social trends that individuals have a choice whether to conform to or not. While others may be born with it, some people undergo the horror that would shape these conditions within them. The state of one’s mental health is neither a label nor a medical tag to be sported. Instead, it is a reflection of a past that was once surpassed but of which some people remain captives. It is a reality often overridden by shame and denial. “I became insane, with long intervals of horrible sanity. And it is true that I am often in the greatest misery, but still there is within me a calm, pure harmony and music. Still, I believe everyone needs to be valued.” — Edgar Allan Poe, poet; Vincent van Gogh, artist; and Diana, Princess of Wales TC
41 TODAY’S CAROLINIAN | OCTOBER 2018
EDITORIAL
At This Moment Sofia Isabel Tajos
42 TODAY’S CAROLINIAN | OCTOBER 2018
EDITORIAL
The present is frequently disregarded by most people. It is seen as something that is lesser than its worth — a place people pass but never stop by, the road and never the destination. At this moment, however, we hold the most power we’ve ever had over what our lives will become, over what we will amount to. Whether the past was worth it, whether the future will matter, it is all decided now. People closely associate the present with its homonym. We say it is a gift, yet we overlook how loving the present means understanding that what we do in it matters just as much as what happens after. This is where we make up our minds. Is this the road we want to take? Will this trail lead us to where we want to be, or is it merely a route we take because we do not have anywhere else to go? We look past all of the choices we need to make but then dream of better days, of a future where we are someone other than ourselves. Understanding that the present is vital does not mean taking the future, nor the past, for granted. We use the power we have now to make what seems like the impending darkness less dim. We use whatever courage we have to carry on with the battles of those who came before us. At this moment, we decide what happens next. Although we may be excited for what lies ahead, what happens next has no chance of happening without today. The prospect of what happens in the future and the lessons that we learn from the past are both as important as what happens now, where there is hope to do better. The future will only become bright if the candle is lit now. The past will hold no weight unless the present brings it justification. We cannot compromise our shot at improving by fixating on the cumulative end. The only things we need to make tomorrow better is today and the right mindset. Standing for what is right, for our rights, is something we only have the privilege of having in the present. A bright future is not a thing that suddenly pops up, it is molded from layers and layers of acts done by people who knew the present mattered. At this moment, we can choose to be better. At this moment, we forge our paths. TC
43 TODAY’S CAROLINIAN | OCTOBER 2018
LITERARY
ma nik ang pa pel Dave Bernasibo
Illustration by Charlene Grace Tan
46 TODAY’S CAROLINIAN | OCTOBER 2018
LITERARY
noong ako’y bata pa ako’y may manikang papel binibihisan ng makukulay na bestida pinipintahan ng kolorete ang mukha paborito kong laruan ang aking manikang papel ipinagyayabang sa mga kaibigan ipinaparada sa buong barangay lumipas ang mga taon ako’y tumanda at lumaki ngunit hawak ko pa rin ang aking manikang papel kahit ito’y makaluma ito’y may punit napag-iwanan ng panahon hawig ng lantang dahon subalit manikang papel ayokong bitawan parte na ng aking nakaraan imahe ng aking kabataan dumaan ang ilan pang mga taon ako’y lumaki at tumanda at sa paglipas ng panahon nagbago na ang aking mukha isang minuto’y nakangiti kumakaway sa mga kawani makukulay na saplot saki’y nakabalot nagwiwika gamit ang tinig na malambot sa susunod ako’y nakasimangot hawak-hawak sa aking kamao ang hinagpis ng karaniwang tao sinisigaw na ako ang sagot. TC
47 TODAY’S CAROLINIAN | OCTOBER 2018
FEATURE
Music Production: An insight of a thriving local artist
Paolo Perez and Robert Michael Lim Photo by Ronald Jufrey Milan
48 TODAY’S CAROLINIAN | OCTOBER 2018
FEATURE
The music scene in Cebu has hit a Renaissance in recent years, with artists of all genres and motivations coming into their own. Collectively, the Visayan music scene has even split off into its own school of original Pinoy music (OPM), dubbed Vispop, and is a major mainstay of the Cebuano culture and nightlife. However, making good music goes beyond finding talented singers and putting together a band. A much-overlooked part of getting a song, let alone an album, from paper to speaker lies in the hands of music producers. “This is where the process of recording a track or a song takes place,” says producer Karl Lucente. “[It] could be with a music producer or sound engineer,” but at its heart, music production takes the raw passion and talent of performers and distills it to its best possible quality. Music and record producers’ roles are varied, ranging from co-writing songs to sound mixing and audio mastering. A producer must be competent at far more than singing or playing instruments. They must be able to compose music, write lyrics and operate recording technology; many do all of this while also performing their own music. Even those who don’t take the role of performer, such as Ryan Lewis and RedOne in the international scene, have gained enough notice to be given billing and credits alongside their more well-known collaborators. Aside from producing music, Lucente also takes a hands-on role in making it as a member of different bands, such as Mandaue Nights, Honeydrop and Hey! It’s Your Birthday. He has also been involved in scoring several local films, such as Barrio Peligro, Sanctissima and Hiklin. Lucente began dabbling in the production side of music with Honeydrop’s debut album, Prelude. “My bandmates were a bit busy at that time, so they let me handle the producing sides of it,” he said. “I started experimenting on the recording and the final mixing decisions.” “I, as well, am still learning about it,” Lucente said when asked if he had any advice for aspiring music producers. “I guess, start with a vision, where both you and the artist are on the same page, to make the song or track worth listening to.” “And, please, try to go your nearest local music hub,” Lucente offered as parting advice, “Cebu has a lot to offer, you just have to discover it.” TC
49 TODAY’S CAROLINIAN | OCTOBER 2018
LITERARY
TUITION FEE BLUES
ni Bebang Madam Isang
Photo by Lance Matthew Pahang
50 TODAY’S CAROLINIAN | OCTOBER 2018
LITERARY
Bebang, beb! Nabayran na nako ang tuition, beb... Chill, dili usa ko mangayo og cash advance ron. Sunod nalang puhon. Bebang, salamat sa pagpahuwam ug kwarta kay kung di tungod nimo, dili gyud maka-take ug final exam si Junior. Nagsuwat ko nimo para ipadangat ang kaligutgot sa usa ka inahan. Paminawa intawn ko kay wala na gyud koy lain kapa-ingnan ani akong problema. Nakadaog ra gani atong best friend pagkakonsehal, dili na dayun managad. Murag nigwapa iyang pamati human sa promo rebond ni Inday Lu so dili nalang ta mag-sounds. Sa sunod chika nalang nato siya i-highlight so suporta nalang ta gamay ron, beb. Mao nagyud ni akong chika pero inom usa og Losartan 50 milligram aron muubos imong dugo una ka mopadayon. Ang akong anak na-block sa ISMIS. Mao man siguro ning gamit para enroll. Nagtuo ko nga nahuman na ang akoang kalbaryo sa pagbayad aning tuition, mas dako ug mas kapoy man diay ning problemaha. Nakit-an nako si Jun nagbakho ug naghuna-huna kung asa siya dapit nasayop. Naghuot akong dughan pagkakita nako sa akong anak sa atong kahimtanga. Gisultihan ko ang Ginoo na ako nalang unta nagpas-an sa iyang problema. Please see the OSA, daw. First time jud ko makadungog ato, beb. Namugnaw akong mga kamot ug halos nangitom ang akong pananaw gidunganan sa dag-om niatong hapona. Sukad-sukad wala pa gyud ko mapatawag sa guidance tungod sa akong anak. Kanunay siya apil sa top ten, pilot section man gani gikan pa sa elementary ug hantod karon proud gihapon kaayo ko niya kay nag-una sa dean’s list. Dili man kini labad ang akong anak ug labaw nga dili ni pabaya sa pag-eskwela. Tungod aning iyang kaagi karon, dili gayud nako malikayan nga mahibulong sanglit maguol. Niadto siya sa opisina kagahapon aron masuta ang iyang problema apan si Junjun nahibulong pud. Gihatagan siya ug restraining order gumikan sa iyang tweets ug sa pagshare ug memes batok sa mga issue sulod sa iyang skwelahan. Wa gyud ko’y kalibutan unsa ning Twitter, beb uy. Mao daw ang gigamit sa kabatan-onan aron ipahungaw ilang gibati. Labaw na ning memes, purya gaba. Mga larawan man daw kini nga usahay katawanan, usahay sarcastic. Pasaylo-a ko, beb. Explain ra gud unya sa sarcastic kay absent man siguro ko atong nagleksyon atong maestra. Pagka-swerte nalang gyud sa atong mga anak kay nakatungha gyud sa San Carlos ug alaot kita nga nagmuna-munas ginhawa aron haruhay lang sila.
Kani akong anak nagpost man diay og rant mahitungod sa kahiubos nga iyang nasinati gumikan sa pag-eskwela. Napuno man diay kuno iyang tweets og balikas. Pulong pa niya: “Unsa’y sayop sa pagpahungaw sa gibati? Personal account man ang Twitter ug labaw nga wala man ko nag-mention ug pangalan. Stalking mani ilang gibuhat, ma.” Dili ko eksperto sa balaod, beb apan motoo ko nga matawag isip invasion of privacy ang ilang gibuhat sa akong bata. Ug kung mahimo man gali aduna’y sayop ang akong anak, aduna pud siguro sila’y sayop nga nabuhat mao nga naka-tweet ang akong anak ug ngil-ad nga pulong. Ang mas nakahiubos kay gi-angin nila ang paglambigit sa akong anak sa iyang mga school organizations. Daghan man unta ni giapilan akong anak sa skwelahan apan wala lage bisan usa ka ginagmayng katilingban ang nidepensa ug nitugot ug tabang sa akong anak. Puros man siguro ni sila pamulitika, pamuyboy ug pahumot sa pangalan. Sorry, beb. Puros ra gyud ko reklamo. Kuan, kani diay nga sunod nga mga detalye ang tinuod. Nagpagawas ang Today’s Carolinian og article gumikan sa kapari-an sa San Carlos mahitungod sa pagpa-omento sa tuition fee gikan sa traynta mil ka pesos ngadto sesenta mil pesos pataas. Napuno kini og daghan nga batikos ug apil akong anak adto. New tuition fee daw, imbes tuition fee increase. Kung ako ang pasultion, ako nalang unta gibabagan akong anak sa pagtuki sa mga issue sa iyang skwelahan kay buot huna-hunaon, wala may kalahian. Dawat naman nako ang kamatuoran nga mahal gyud ang tuition sa akong anak. Mas dako lang hinuon ang bayronon ug silbi, mas dako na akong utangon nimo, pohon. Kanus-a kaha ko maka-impas nimo, beb? Mo-update lang ko sa kahimtang sa kaso ni Junjun. Basin diay ug kaluy-an sa langit ug i-atras sa mga pari ang omento.
Imong amigang tinuoray, Madam Isang P.S. Kalimot ko nga sunod semana naman diay ang due sa akong utang sa Turko. Pahulma lang unya ko ug usa ka libo, beb. TC
Sige padayon ko sa chika, ha?
51 TODAY’S CAROLINIAN | OCTOBER 2018
OPINION
A Reflection on the
PHILIPPINE EDUCATIONAL DIORAMA Kyn Noel Pestaño Photo by Keith Raymier Ayuman
The Department of Education receives the largest share on our national budget, but apart from funding the barely sufficient means by which most of our public schools are run, it has mostly failed to achieve academic competence in both its stakeholders and its constituents. Why is this? The primary culprit, as pointed out by noted educators Andrew B. Gonzales and Bonifcaio Sibayan, is the systemic and cultural overlooking of teacher competence as a significant determinant of student performance. In the span of 10 years with the advent of the K-12 curriculum, several pedagogical theories, proposed methodologies and even modes of instructions have been developed and implemented by the Department of Education only to end up either ignored or misunderstood in actual classroom settings. This translates to the vulgar parading of concepts such as collaborative learning when even the physical arrangement of classrooms, the easiest adjustable variable, still retains its traditional hands-on-the-desk-faces-on-the-board model. The statistics of DepEd’s teacher competence conjunctively paints an extremely grim portrait of the country’s quality of teachers. In 2012’s competency assessment on English, Science, and Mathematics, only 2 percent of public school teachers received a “high” remark on English, with a mean percentage score of 76 out of 100, and only 1 percent on Mathematics and Science. This means that around 98 percent of public school teachers in the country fall below the 75 percent passing mark
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— far below, actually, with a total mean score of only between 40 and 50 percent. This pathetically low quality of public school teachers in the country goes back to the non-implementation of a rigorous enough selection process by majority of colleges and universities, as data suggests that most of the people who proceed and are accepted to Education courses are within the bottom half of their high school graduating classes. This, however, doesn’t encompass the totality of the cause. I ascribe to the ideology that good teaching must be holistic — mind, body, heart. As such, I do not agree to the confinement of teacher quality simply on academic competence. However, a cultural shift in how we view Education as an academic discipline is as necessary as the raising of initial selection standards. We have to do away with the mindset that only the average or even below that should be enrolled in Education because it is “easy” and requires little to no technical abilities. Education is the backbone of society, especially in a democratic one, where the academic maturity of its people plays a considerable role in the selection, distribution and monitoring of administrative powers. Put it bluntly, to dismiss Education as a field requiring only the bare minimum of competencies would be to say that a democratic state such as our own doesn’t need a critical, mature and progressive population. TC
OPINION
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FEATURE
An Ode to the Unbecoming of the PHILIPPINE INTEGRITY Elizah Castillo
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FEATURE
“The best way to take control of people is to take a little of their freedom at a time, to erode rights by a thousand tiny and almost imperceptible reductions. In this way the people will not see those rights and freedoms being removed until past the point at which these changes cannot be reversed.” – Adolf Hitler
For as long as I surely breathe I will no longer continue to seethe With sorrow, shame, and apathy To how horrible my country has come to be
ANOMIE OF THE PHILIPPINE POLITY: Now the Dictator Rests Among Heroes Never has the great Philippine nation been plagued with immense rootlessness and aimlessness than when its magistrates recently decided to bury with great honors the infamous and disreputable former president, Ferdinand Marcos. In essence, Marcos was not given his due and more so, the Philippine polity was not given the justice it so rightly deserves. This much is certain, no amount of good can erase the bad nor the bad cancel out the good. All the facts and perceptions revolving around Marcos rings with much truth, and they must be appreciated all at once. Mind you, the administration of Marcos was filled with so much of both that there is much probability of skewed perception and false understanding. When Marcos lived, his entire legacy was subject to unrelenting controversy and speculation. Now that he is no more, his atrocities and sins against millions persist as a reminder of the death of democracy. Now this is the honor that must be so rightly bestowed upon Marcos, a harbinger of injustice.
INAUSPICIOUS INDIFFERENCE: Operation Double Barrel Under the promise of a prosperous and progressive Philippines, President Rodrigo Duterte vowed to bring change to the Republic of the Philippines through a widespread purging of all felons and lawbreakers. After all, what is the life of a few delinquents, drug dependents and criminals against the peace and development of the Republic of the Philippines? Evidently, Duterte the Different, thinks that the former and latter are mutually exclusive and may therefore be weighed against the scales of democracy. Change is difficult and it comes at a hefty price, one which President Duterte calculates as the extradition of all these marginalized and disregarded populations. Now, this is where Duterte’s leading policy has serious errors. The coming of change, even a guarantee of peace and development for all time, is not worth the infringement of fundamental rights of even a single person. Operation Double Barrel is the equivalent of a swift and uncalculated cleansing of all pariahs in hope of a better nation. For a regime of violence begets a nation of awful lawlessness. A just and humane Philippine society must not constitute only the end but also the means. The only true path towards a more democratic country is through the genuine manifestation of democratic ideals such as placing a premium on the rule of law and the intrinsic dignity in all people.
RENEWED ABANDON: A Government Born of Revolution Essentially, Duterte’s ‘RevGov’ is an ungrounded and dangerous proposition that will exact nothing but disorder and disunity for the Philippines. For the clamor of a ‘RevGov’ is neither inspired nor justified by an appropriate purpose or goal. It is highly reminiscent to the Marcos administration’s bloodlust and corrupt scheme for political power. The call of revolutionary government for change is brilliantly guised as one of the flagship policies of Duterte’s political agenda. It persists as a rising political movement under the banner of coercion and vacant ideological fanaticism. Supporters of the current administration impose upon the other sectors the necessity and advantages of a revolutionary government, where this provisional government includes a distressing possibility of an authoritarian and military regime. This so called ‘RevGov’ lacks substantial scrutiny and consideration by both the government and the people. Duterte must not callously and recklessly impose this provisional without careful analysis of all its effects and implications. Consequently, the Filipino people must also be vigilant and receptive of the actions and inactions of government towards ‘RevGov.’ They must be emboldened and take an active stand against the irregularities of the current administration. Hey comrade, did you hear? Yes indeed. Change is here! Then fellow comrade, heed our plea. Worry not comrade. What is it I must agree? We seek no anarchy! I seek no anarchy! Only the good of the polity! Only the good of the polity! Comrade, look beyond the monstrosities. I shall look beyond atrocities. Beyond your mind’s conformity to reality. Beyond my mind’s conformity to reality In one of the most renowned political and theological theory of authority, St. Thomas Aquinas elaborated that when there is certain, grave and prolonged violation, the fundamental rights of man is a critical requisite for the right to revolt. All men are so vested with sacred and natural rights. Therefore, in a genuine democracy, the intrinsic value of every human person must be respected and duly recognized. Moreover, all civil authorities created, ultimately exist to realize this central philosophy. When civil authorities shall violate this essential underpinning for justice, human persons may exercise the right to revolt to preserve their invaluable integrity. In unison, the Filipino people must exact an intellectual awakening. The Filipino people must rise up against mindlessness, lawlessness, and indifference to elude the unbecoming of its integrity. TC
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OPINION
POLITICAL GODS Dave Bernasibo Illustration by Philip Luke Manghihilot
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OPINION
Gods only exist so long as we speak and think of them. Ancient Greeks and Romans thought, spoke and even erected statues of the gods of the Pantheon as if they were as real as they were fictional and surely, these gods have been immortalized through countless epics, mythos, sculptures and paintings. Similarly, history has also been perpetualized through writing, art, photography and museum displays. We look into the past to understand the present and anticipate the future. As such, we study history in order for us not to repeat the same mistakes our ancestors have made, or bring back practices that helped flourished our society. With this, we have created heroes, some even being elevated to the state of godhood. And as with the gods of the Pantheon, these “gods” may represent for something, which can be something of material value such as wealth, or an idea, like love and freedom. But, as with Rick Riordan’s version of Greek and Roman gods, our historical gods may represent different things to different groups of people. Such is the case of the god we call Ferdinand Marcos. To some, the late Ferdinand Marcos was a hero, to others, a coldhearted dictator. Tales and stories, films, songs and other art forms have passed on the story of a Marcos who ruled the Philippines with an iron hand through martial law. There are stories of those who lived through the regime that speak of the cruelty, yet there are others who speak of it as if it was life within the Pearly Gates. As such, the youth of today, of yesterday, and maybe even of tomorrow are divided on what stories to believe, and it is the task of those who lived through it to tell the truth, for as long as we become blind of the truths of the past, history is bound to repeat itself. Then there’s Imee Marcos. She has asked the public to move on from martial law. But when we move on, we forget everything about the thing, or at least stop speaking about the thing, and speaking and thinking is what makes a god exist. So essentially, is she saying that we strip her father of his godhood, or is she asking us to paint him in a new light, as the hero worthy of a hero’s burial? TC
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OPINION
THE RULERS OF NOWHERE Louisa Concepcion Carredo
“You will never be completely at home again because part of your heart will always be elsewhere. That is the price you pay for the richness of loving and knowing people in more than one place.” — Miriam Adeney Kings and queens, blacksmiths and inventors, peasants and beggars alike all hail from various lands scattered across the plains of the Earth. From kingdoms of skyscrapers with their bumbling and bustling to lands of cottages with their winds of sea and salt, each one of them are able to proudly say they have somewhere they belong — a home. When defining a home, many would name the motherland of one’s parents and the land in which one was born as the determining factors. Yet what if said motherland just so happened to be a faraway place, only heard of in nostalgic stories and seen in faded, stolen photographs from a forgotten childhood? If so, where would their land be? Where or what would they call home? Nowhere and everywhere. A third culture kid (TCK), a term first brought about by Ruth Useem in the 1950s to describe children raised in cultures other than their parents’ own, is likely to give that answer. Rather than having a single land to call home, a TCK has many and, at the same time, none. When born in a foreign place different to where one’s parents were, how will one be able to call it home? Constantly being uprooted with little time to plant their feet feeds into the dilemma of not knowing where their place in the world is. Who they are — the lifestyle they live and the traits they embody — is a hybrid of the culture their parents originated from, the culture in which they currently reside in, and the culture that was formed from the merging of all cultures they were exposed to. If only that culture could be manifested into a physical land, then just maybe, the TCKs would have a homeland of their own. The beasts that plague their lives all stem from a single darkness: an
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identity crisis. Although not all TCKs struggle with an identity crisis, those who do are referred to as “culturally homeless”. Being the lovechild of various cultures and the visitor of a land, rather than the host, could warp the perception TCKs have of their cultural identity. Their lives become a never-ending quest to find the missing piece their seemingly exciting and adventurous existence so heartily lacks. Whilst the children who blossomed in the land of their parents are sharing childhoods and growing into adulthood together, TCKs are looking at their bonds from a distance, just hoping to make a friend or two. Unlike other children their age, they may lack a sense of belonging. Whether or not the act of isolating themselves was intentional, it’s inevitable because they can’t always relate with their peers. As the monoculture children bloom into adults with strong stands for their nation’s politics and social issues and into countrymen who strive to preserve the ways of their own culture, the TCKs can’t help but bloom into their own detached ignorance. How can they be expected to burn passion for a land they never considered theirs? They find it a struggle to care about important issues such as the country’s next leaders and a challenge to have any regard for the norms their peers live by because they didn’t experience life in the land itself. Lacking the loyalty their monoculture peers posses leaves them with little in common, making forging strong bonds harder. Without meaningful relationships to ground them to the lands they live in, cue even more detached ignorance. A house is not a home. Having a castle to live in doesn’t mean you have a kingdom. Years may pass and the TCK may start feeling like he or she belongs. Despite having security and being a part of a community, a bit of us will always belong to where we were born, where our parents were born and now, in the place we live in. Feeling whole is hard when our identity is a blend of so many different places. And sometimes, the love
OPINION
AND EVERYWHERE and safety you feel in the place you’ve settled doesn’t make up for the fact you don’t really have a kingdom to call our own. Being somewhat a wanderer of multiple lands creates a person who becomes a wonderer. Who am I? Where do I belong? They often ask themselves. TCKs can end up growing into adults who don’t really know who they are. Even though they may become perfectly capable and excellent people, the questions scar into their essence as a reminder of the quest they never quite finished. With all that makes them seem ill-fated, the world may think that TCKs won’t get to live out the happy endings of princes and princesses. Whilst it is no secret that they will have to slay their fair share of dragons on the way, there are plenty of reasons why the lives of TCKs may not be so ill-fated at all. Having settled in various countries means that TCKs have had exposure to a vast selection of cultures and environments. Although this could mean they lack attachment or loyalty to a single one, their capability of being open-minded is more likely to be higher than that of a child who grew up in one country. Growing up immersed in cultures that contradict each other in terms of values and lifestyles could confuse anyone, let alone a child, but it is this confusion that matures into tolerance for difference and appreciation of diversity amongst people and places. The eyes in which they see the world are three-dimensional and the TCKs learn early on to manipulate the powers of perspective. The TCK population are more likely to grow up to be people of the world as their experience in different countries help develop their crosscultural competence. They are also usually masters of languages. Out of the 230 million Third Culture Kids in the world, 85 percent are, at the least, bilingual. Having multiple tongues at your beck and call increases opportunities around the globe.
Through experience, Third Culture Kids develop into Adult Third Culture Kids who are chameleons who may not fit in with one specific community, but having interacted with so many makes meeting and accepting new ones easier and natural. Having to adapt trains them to pick up the norms and habits of a community and therefore strengthens their sensitivity to other cultures. The way the TCKs are able to efficiently interact with people, handle situations and adapt to their surroundings builds stable foundations for potentially successful international careers. In a world that so vigorously values belonging, the Third Culture Kids may be seen as nomads. They may be seen as ones who have no homes, no land to their names and no community to feel safe in. Whilst others of their generation continue to build the kingdoms their ancestors started constructing years ago, they have no country or place to lay their foundations. Yet what they may not fully understand is that, with each land they step on, a few of their seeds are planted into the grounds. A piece of them remains and a piece of that land embarks on their journey with them. Carrying that diversity and angle on the world becomes the greatest strength they would ever have. Kings and queens, blacksmiths and inventors, peasants and beggars alike may have extravagant kingdoms and vast lands to call theirs. And some may say they pity the Third Culture Kids and Third Culture Adults for they don’t have that — a home. But what those people don’t realize, is that as the Rulers of Nowhere and Everywhere, their kingdom is the world itself. Their home is found in every land they have walked on and in every person they have met. They have nowhere and they have everywhere, for they are their own kingdom and their own culture. If their third culture could be manifested into a land, then they would have a place to call their own. But if the world could be manifested into a person, it would be the Third Culture Kid. TC
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FEATURE
WE BUILT THIS CITY Observation on Cebu’s Urban Planning and Infrastructure Blaise Pancho
Graphic by Franz Palanca Almost one-half of the world’s population are residing in urban areas. These urban areas forming cities and towns are now home to most of mankind’s activities in the contemporary era. However, in most of these cities and towns, land and access to basic resources and services are somewhat limited and lacking. This is where urban planning comes in. It is defined as guiding the use and development of land with the aim of making the city a better place to live and work. Urban planners determine optimal land use and development for commercial, industrial, agricultural and residential facilities. They are also in charge in devising ways to expand cities, modernize transportation systems, recondition and modernize slums, renew existing sites and distribute public facilities for all to enjoy. Urban planners are not some professionals who just make maps and street layouts and let other people do the work, no, it’s far more complex than that. Urban planning tackles on different sectors in an urban setting. Mainly, a planner must be aware on the physical, economic, social, technical, environmental, legal and administrative aspects so that there will be an effective plan and solution when tackling a problem for a city. Cebu City is one such city and it had its fair share of problems regarding urban planning and design. Often times, people complain on the woes of urban living because of poor planning, inescapable traffic and environmental hazards that threatens their daily life. Here, we will focus on the growing pains of Cebu’s infrastructure and how urban planning is used in assessing these problems. A city must have a well-maintained infrastructure. Major roads and bridges connect to frenetic urban cores that keeps the city running and there are public transportation systems ferry people to places they want to go and lessen congestion. Cebu City has good infrastructure but it is severely
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lacking. While we have jeepneys, buses, taxis and ferries to choose, they are not enough for the growing population of the city. There are instances that these transportation systems get crippled because of the high volume of passengers especially on rush hour. In turn, these cause overcapacity because of the lack of more jeepneys in busy routes or the worsening traffic cutting effectivity of public transportation systems. While light rail transit systems (LRT), subways or monorails seems like a viable solution to the city’s transportation headaches, building one here will be difficult since there is no land left for such systems to be built. If these proposals may go through, long-time landowners will have to give some, if not most, of their land to the government under eminent domain. With land value getting higher, this may cost far more than what the government would actually intend to build. Another proposal is the Bus Rapid Transit system, which works like a railway although it will use buses as the primary mode of transport. It is far more reliable, simple and cheaper. They use the existing roads as routes and stops to deliver passengers. Much like LRTs, bus stops have a fare system to avoid delays and to ensure quick boarding times for those who are in a hurry. The BRTs can attract would-be car owners to use the system to minimize private vehicle traffic that already persist in the city. However, BRTs must have their own designated lanes for ease of travel and this is problematic to the narrow urban streets of Cebu, even if road widening projects are hypothetically done. Also, in a few years, the BRTs cannot keep up with the urban population growth and the result of that will be overcrowding and poor service that may worsen the system’s problems even more. Modernization of jeepney is a long awaited yet hotly contested fix to all of these troubles but again, government will have to shell out more
money than what they invest. There are hundreds, if not thousands, of outdated and underperforming jeepneys that exist and replacing with new models will take a long time to implement and it may cost the drivers if there are no amenities and programs such as dedicated repair bays and shops and salary system to incentivize them. Another problem is the lack of discipline of drivers due to the lax attainment of driving licenses without adequate and appropriate knowledge about safety on the road and rules to abide. Lack of understanding between franchising boards is also one of the problems for this program to tackle. Though, we cannot also fault them for the problems too. Cebu City’s overall urban layout may have a factor to the traffic problems that haunts the residents. For a city that was founded during the colonization period, it is unsurprising that road layouts are sporadic and branching rather than the grid-style system that Americans use in their cities and towns. Because of this, residential houses and establishments are built in poorly-planned roads and streets that connects to major passageways that were made up on the fly by the people living nearby. One example is the M.J. Cuenco Ave. – a road that stretches from Ayala to Talamban. In observation, only two major roads (Salinas and A.S. Fortuna) intersect the avenue and that’s about it. When heavy volume of traffic sets in, the road will get bottlenecked because there are no alternative routes to go to since options are limited other than the two mentioned. Adding new perpendicular roads to ease congestion is now impossible because of existing structures that are now sitting beside the road, not to mention, the road also serves as one of the few gateways to the residential areas from the north. During the American period, there was a plan to execute an urban grid system similar to that in Manila but it was never pushed through because of the world wars that happened at that time.
FEATURE
However, part of the plan was implemented and that was the Jones Ave in downtown Cebu. The Capitol served as the terminus which roads diverge towards uptown and the residential areas to the south. The grid plan would have been easy for the streets and zoning since there are multiple entry points for vehicles to pass through. However, this plan is only effective on flat terrain yet most parts of Cebu City are mountainous and below sea level so problems such as residential zoning and environmental hazards still exist. While the problems seem to be never-ending, there are ways to reduce further obstacles and it comes in small steps before getting through the big ideas. Improve transport terminals for public transport systems, have formal routes laid out to divert traffic to densely-packed streets, restructure zoning areas, reduce low occupancy vehicles to name a few.
sidewalks
In the end, these infrastructure problems can be fixed if there were strategies and design that were forecasted for the city’s future but alas, this is what we have to live through. Without a transport planning function or good decision-makers to tackle these challenges, the city will have to suffer until it cannot carry the burdens anymore. Urban planning is not just the urban planner itself, but a collective voice and decisions done by the community that have the well-intentions to improve life in the urban areas. It is in their initiative and responsibility whether they must answer these problems together or just leave them be. Even these mistakes were done in the past, change can start today. TC
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EDITORIAL
Towards The Unknown Theresa Kate Palompon
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EDITORIAL
Most see the future somewhere between the realms of tomorrow and of the years in succession. However, they fail to see that the future lies in every single passage of time. It is plotted even in the closest points in the timeline. There is a future in the next hour, minute or even second drawing the line that transforms the now into what is soon called the past. Although obscure, the future often evokes a security drawn from optimism and from the acknowledgement of what is good in the present. While it is mostly exciting, it also creates fear that haunts even the boldest of men. With the uncertainty that accompanies it, the future may appear as a one-way ticket towards oblivion. As Albert Einstein once said: “The future is an unknown, but a somewhat predictable unknown”, Drawing towards the future is not a mindless battle. More often than not, people come prepared. In the past, our ancestors managed to predict the future through the signs of nature. They made use of the varying phases of the moon and the lines on a person’s palm to foretell one’s fortune. Through divination, our forefathers were able to foresee the possibilities that laid ahead. Today, we are provided with a broader range of options that allow us to accurately predict future outcomes. Carefully crafted algorithms are programmed to get a precise prediction. The analysis of trends and past data shape current decisions and plans. While we remain unsure of what tomorrow holds, human nature entails a tendency to control. Gone were the days when we allow life to flow freely before our eyes. Instead, we take refuge in plans, dreams and ambitions. With every decision passed, every position filled or every pronouncement made, plans are laid on the table. Then, all that is left is to wait and see. Wait for the probability of progress and change, and see the outcome that measures the rate of its success. While the future bears the burden of the consequences from our past mistakes and the fears of the present, it may also bring the fulfillment of yesterday’s dreams and aspirations, and the realization of today’s plans. Despite this duality, the future has a penchant for leaving a trail for one to follow. It often sneaks clues within plans once made. It is often foreshadowed in the midst of one’s ambition. While the future is an unknown, it is a somewhat predictable unknown. TC
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FEATURE
AGE IS Keith Ayuman
Just a Number
Photograph by Garel Sison
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FEATURE
Na ko nakaila ni Enrile tungod sa usa ka gibalik-balik niyang advocacy campaign sa TV (*kato ganing royalty tax ang topic, dayun sa classroom to siya gi-set dayun kuyaw kaayo’g chalk ang maestra kay automatic muhimo’g bar graph). Katong panahona simple ra ang kalipay: Wild Ones og Tetris Battle sa Facebook, Bubble Gang sa GMA, maminaw’g binastos ug bulay-og nga mga istoryang gugma o pagbulag sa radyo (*preferably iFM ug Good Times with Mo), ug labaw sa tanan, kataw-anan nga segment ni Mark Logan sa TV Patrol. Ubay-ubay nasad ang nilabay pero dili jud ko kalimot atong tuiga na sa taga pagawas sa ABS-CBN ug GMA, ipasalida jud nang pahinumdum aning Enrile nga pina-tagline pa og, “Gusto ko happy ka.” Usahay mugamit sad siya’g, “Problema mo, sagot ko.”
Usahay maaninag ko nga ingon ini siguro ang mahitabo kon’ makab-ot ko ang kana nga pangandoy otso ka tuig sukad karon:
Isip usa ka kinse anyos nga wa’y buot ug sige’g kahagbong, wa ko’y ideya unsa akoang bati-on atong pahinumduma. Kung wala ko nangutana sa akoang lola og unsa ug kinsa na siya, wa ‘guro ko nakahibaw nga senate president diay ni si Dodong Enrilz.
Nisulod si Enrile sa akoang kwarto, kuyog ang tulo ka bodyguard ug nanimaho’g tobako — mahalon siguro ang sigarilyo ani kay di man nako matag-an unsa’y klase.
“Sus dong, wa palang ko’y natilawan ining kinabuhi-a, buhi nana’s Enrile,” nidungag si lola. Nisiga akoang mata sa pag-ingon ni lola nga ang birthday ni Dong Enrile kay Pebrero 14, 1924. Lami man unta mamalikas tungod’s kadugay pero tinuod na, mas nauna pa si Dong Enrile kaysa pag diskubre sa ubang klase sa sandwich. Ahaka, nakasinati guro ni siya’s paglambo sa musika, ‘no? Gikan sa jazz, delta blues, crooners, hangtud rock n’ roll. Wa palang nakarecord si Elvis sa That’s All Right, Mama ug wala pa gani na butang sa utok ni Johnny Cash nga mag-musikero siya, buhi na’s Enrile. Nakaabot na siya’s Golden Age sa Philippine Cinema ug sa wa pa na-invent ang sound para sa mga salida. Grabe, mas na una pa si Enrile kaysa sa pagdiskubre sa Pluto ug paghimo sa TV gani.
Ang sawop nisilaw sa akoang bintana samtang ako naghinuktok ni ini, mao najud ni — hapit na maabot ang akoang adlaw. Dili ko makatuo na makita ko na jud ang pigura nga pirmi nako makita sukad sa onse anyos pa ko. Nagbinuang ra ko sa una nga basi’g maabtan ni Enrile ang pagpanaghiusa sa North Korea ug South Korea, matay! Naba-baan jud da. Karon, imbis nga magbinuang ko nganong taas kaayo ang kinabuhi ni Enrile, ako na noon ang naunay: Ako na nuon ang giadto, ang tao nga hapit na ang “adlaw”. Sakto ang imohang pagduda, mas mauna pako kay ni Enrile.
“Maayong gabie dira Bintoy,” ingon ni Enrile. Nisiga ang akoang mata, kahibaw sad diay ni mu-Bisaya. “Sa kadugay na nakong naglakaw sa kalibutan, napakyaw na nako ang tanang linggwahe diri sa Pilipinas — apil na ana ang Bisaya.” Ni-ubo ko ug nakita ko sa akoang kamot ang dugo. Gitrapo ko ni nga wa’y duha-duha sa tissue sa kilid. “Kakuyaw gud diay ani. Ka-masakiton naman diay nimo.” Dayung pulong ni Enrile. Giyango-yango nako ang akoang ulo samtang nag inom ug tubig. “Oo, buhi gihapon ka. Ako kamatyonon na,” ni ingon ko samtang gaduko sa akoang ulo. “Okay ra na. Problema mo, sagot ko. Gusto ko, happy ka.”
Usa sa akoang pangandoy pagkahuman atong ginagmayng isturya namo ni lola kay ang akong mapangutana si Enrile nganong buhi pa siya. Kung imoha sab nga huna-hunaon, 2018 minus-an og 1924 is equals to nuwebenta y singko (95). Nuwebenta y singko ka tuig na ang nilabay pero ang pagtan-aw gihapon sa mga tao sa Pebrero 14 kay Adlaw sa Gugma, samtang ako ga hinuktok ug gahuna-huna, birthday man diay niya ron. Wa kaayo ko’y nahibaw-an nga istorya matod ni Enrile pero sa akoang pagdungog gikan ni lolo, suod kaayu ni siya sa Masta Dikteyta Marcos. Dekada saisenta (60) hangtud sa pagpangilaba sa Martial Law, saksi si Enrile sa tanan — apil pa ana ang iyang pagdawat sa posisyon nga Minister of National Defense. Sa kadugay nga nabuhi ni Enrile isip usa ka pigura sa politika sa Pilipinas, gamay ra akoang nasinati nga gipangbuhat ug nabuhat ani niya. Karun ra nga akoang edad sinkwenta y singko (55) na nahuna-hunaan nako nga panahon na para makab-ot ko na ang dugay ko nang gipangandoy na pakighisgot ni Enrile.
Imposible ra kaayo ang akoang gi ingon pero kung motuo mo o sa dili, wa jud nagbag-o ang akoang pagduda nga madayunan jud guro ni ang akoang gihuna- huna. Naa sab ko’y naaninag nga kalibutan nga gipalibutan na ug mga “zombies”, sigurado ko nga masugatan jud ko na si Enrile, buhi pa ug unya gagunit og AK-47— pwede sad revolver para pina Lito Lapid. Kuyawa bitaw’g lifespan aning Enrile. Sa sige nako’g yaw-yaw aning kataas sa kinabuhi aning tawhana, sigurado ko nagkatawa o dili kaha ga chill-chill ra to. Dawaton nalang jud nato ang kamatuoran nga mas taas pani’g kinabuhi si Juan Ponce Enrile kaysa’s linya sa terminal sa Ayala. Mas taas pani ang iyang kinabuhi kaysa sa imong pasensiya sa ubang tawo. Di na ta mahibong. Dawaton nalang jud na to. Basi’g tinuod jud ang gi ingon nila nga: Age is just a number. Life is Enrile. TC
65 TODAY’S CAROLINIAN | OCTOBER 2018
OPINION
The Dream Amado Hambugero
66 TODAY’S CAROLINIAN | OCTOBER 2018
OPINION
I have a dream that someday, the student journalists of this nation will rise up and live out the meaning of this creed: “We are biased to the truth, and that one truth shall make itself distinguished from the sea of mistruths. However, sometimes we do admit into inviting partisan peoplepoliticians as long as they share our goal. We love their truth more than others.” I have a dream that one day, in this island of Cebu, the alumni of distinguished publications will be able to sit together at the table of siblinghood. As one family, they shall bicker on who is better, and when the time comes, they will abandon one another, like any other dysfunctional family because of differences in views and sheer unprofessionalism. I have a dream that even high schools, where a lot of assigned publication advisers have no idea of how the student publication works, will be transformed into an oasis of truth or some sort. Sometimes, it is the truth of the teachers, and we will also give space to their poems. I’m sorry, Ms. Santos, if no one liked your subpar poem about puppies and kittens, we will give you some safe space here. I have a dream that the new members of our publication will one day live in a Cebu where they will not be judged by how they write things. This is because we have already judged how they write beforehand, and we already scrapped the articles instead of asking for revisions. That way, no one can ever see some life-scarring atrocity. We shall also scare some great writing from writing too, traumatizing them into leaving the publication if they do not share our views. Not in our time. We love gatekeeping. I have a dream that one day down with strict school administrators, with their vicious colleagues, with their bosses dripping with the words of “freeze the funding”, student journalists will not be scorned or intimidated into writing school propaganda. We have the Campus Journalism Act of 1991 to protect us, except it is a half-a***d law like many others, and not a lot of people, including us, really understand it. I had that dream today, and it was a nightmare. I have a dream that one day every valley shall be exalted, and every hill and mountain shall be made low, the rough places made plain, and the crooked places will be made straight, so that we can organize one big, as in B-I-G big,
event that gathers all student journalists in the country for a summit. Except we do not know how to do sponsorship letters and how to do venue reservations. And the invitation letters are sent even though there is no venue yet. We have also set the date, but there is still no finalized venue. Have I mentioned there is no venue yet? This is our hope. This is the faith that we go back to our schools, colleges and universities in. With this faith, we will be able to hew out the mountain of tuition fee increase with hope. With this faith, we will be able to transform the jangling discords of student politics into a beautiful symphony of brotherhood. With this faith, we will be able to work together, to pray together, to struggle together, to go to class together because we are forced to shift to one common program because we failed our classes miserably from abandoning them for too much student journalism. This is our hope — all hope. No action plan, no attending meetings, no venue, nothing else — all hope. This will be the day when all of student journalists will be able to sing with new meaning: “We don’t need no education. We don’t need no thought control.” Except that this is sung with all its grammatical errors unironically. This is what we get for failing all those classes. And if student journalism is to make a great nation, this must come true. So let the truth ring from the prodigious and torturous mountains in Talamban. Let the truth ring from the mighty dirt-ridden streets of Colon. Let the truth ring from the heightening traffic of the Mandaue–LapuLapu Bridge. Let the truth ring from the other schools, colleges and universities I forgot. But not only that: Let the truth ring from the schools, colleges and universities I forgot to forget but still cannot remember. And when this happens, and when we allow the truth to ring, when we let it ring from every private and public school, college and university, from every barangay, from every town and every city in Cebu, we will be able to speed up that day when all of student journalists will be able to join hands together. Except no matter how seminars or workshops these schools will attend, we will always end up following the whims of teachers and school administrators. Maybe except for Rebel Kule. Why they are not the ones organizing an event, I do not know. And there’s no venue yet. TC
67 TODAY’S CAROLINIAN | OCTOBER 2018
FEATURE
LISANG Regie Vocales
Photograph by Jhessa Ugdamina
68 TODAY’S CAROLINIAN | OCTOBER 2018
FEATURE
Alas singko i-medya. Gihubo nako ako’ng sandalyas sa gawas ug gi-ukay ang yawi sa akong bag. Bag-o ra ko nahimutang ani’ng balaya sukad mipalayo ko sa among balay nga gidak-an. Nag-inusara man tuod ko nga dalaga, dili kini babag sa akong ambisyon nga maka-trabaho ug makaatiman sa ako’ng kaugalingon nga wala akong mga ginikanan. Wala na ako’ng mga ginikanan. Sa paghikap ug sa dayong pagkuha nako sa yawi, nakadungog ko’g mga kasikas sa sulod agi sa gagmay’ng mga tiil. “Ilaga.” Akong gi-ablihan ang pultahan. Gipaandar nako ang suga ug gi-hapsay akong mga butang sa lingkuranan nga dapit sa bintana. Naa na sa’y nidagan, pero sa kini nga higayon gumikan na sa kwarto nga dili maablihan atbang ra sa pultahan. Ako kining gitutokan, naghuwat unsay sunod nga mahitabo, naghuwat unsay sunod buhaton.
Gi-ablihan nako ang pultahan ug nisulod. Sa pagsiga nako sa suga, nakita nako nga adunay dyutay nga pag-abli ang pultahan sa kwarto. Gibutang nako ang bag sa lingkoranan ug naniid. Ablihan nako? Sirad-an? Niduol ko ug ako untang isira balik ang pultahan sa dihang pagkab-ot nako sa doorknob, ni-atras kini. Gikab-ot nakog balik ug ni-atras pa gihapon kini hangtud sa ni-abli na ug daku ang pultahan ug nakita na nako ang maong sulod niining kwarto. Ka-ngitngit. Wala’y suga. Ang suga kay naggumikan lamang sa kahayag sa buwan sa gawas sa bintana. Tumong niini, usa ka ulo sa babaye nga nagduko nga itom ug taas kaayo’g buhok nga mitabon sa iyang nawong. Ang mga bukton niini kay naglaylay, gihigot ug kadena padung taas sa isigkakilid nga kisame. Wala kini’y laing gisul-ob kung di ang puti nga dakong habol nga nagpalibot sa lawas niini. Nagyaka kini. Nikalit ug lihok ang tuhod ini ug madunggan ang tingog sa iyang tiil sa sawg. “Ilaga.”
“Wala naman nisaba.” Akong giduslitan ang sug-angan aron magpabukal ug tubig. Nagkutaw ko’g kape. Ako’ng gibira ang lingkoranan duol nako ug nilingkod.
Pero, agi sa akong kaisog ug kaanad nga mag-inusara, wala ko naghunahuna nga ungo kini. Nga impakta kini. Imbis nga mahadlok ko, naluoy ko. Nganong ingon ani man imong kahimtang? Kinsa’y naghigot nimo? Kanus-a lang? Hinay-hinay ko’g duol sa pagtuo nga basin mahadlok kinig taw.
Alas sais. Nakamata ko sa lamisa kung diin ko nama-init gabii sa dihang namatikdan nako nga wala diay ko naka-ilis.
“Miss? Ako di ay si Lisa.”
“Hala, ma-late na ko.”
Hinay-hinay ko’g tikang ka-usa.
Dali-dali ko’ng nikab-ot sa ako’ng tu-alya ug naligo.
“Kanang… bag-o ra ko nagpuyo dinhi. Unsa imo pangalan?”
Subay sa paghuman sa akong inadlaw-adlaw nga ritwal, gikuha nako ako’ng mga butang nga naa sa lingkoranan dapit sa bintana. Nihapit ko sa samin ug nigawas. Gisira nako ang pultahan. Sa pag-abot ra sa unahan nako nahinumduman nga wala diay nako na-inom akong kape gabii.
Tikang. Duol na ko sa iyang kiliran.
“Ah bahala na to.”
“Miss? OK ra ka?”
Nagpadayon ko sa paglakaw.
Sa pagiswag nako sa iyang buhok nga nitabon sa iyang nawng, nakuratan ko nga ang mga mata niini gadugo ug dagko kaayo nga nagtutok kanako, nagngisi ang ba-ba nga abot na sa dunggan ug ni-yawyaw sa ako’ng nawng.
Alas singko kuwarenta-i singko. Sa pag-abli nako sa pultahan nadunggan na sab nako ang agi sa mga tiil sa kwarto. “Ilaga.”
“Kanus-a ra ka dinhi?” Tikang. Nihupo ko aron makita nako iyang nawng.
“AKO DI AY SI LISA BAG-O RA KO DINHI AKO DI AY SI LISA BAG-O RA KO DINHI”
Ako kining gisitsitan ug nahilom kini. Nisyagit ko ug dali-daling nidagan padung sa pultahan. Padulong na unta ko sa pagtak-ang og tubig sa diha’ng nakahuna-huna ko nga mag-ilis ko daan. Nilingkod ko sa lingkoranan nga atbang sa kwarto. “Pila na ka-trabahante ang nisulay ug guba ani, di jud maabli.” Pulong sauna sa tigbantay. Wala ba kaha sa tag-iya ang yawi ani? Alas sais. Sakit ako’ng tangkunggo sa pagbangon nako. Wala na sab ko nakatog sa ako’ng katre. Wala na sab ko ka-inom sa akong kape. Dalidali ko’g ilis aron mo-adto na sa trabahoan. Alas singko singkwenta-i otso. Nag-karakara ko og kuha sa akong yawi sa akong bag. Mo-ngitngit na, kinahanglan nako mapasiga ang suga sa gawas aron ko makakita. Nakuha nako ang yawi.
“OKEY RA KOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” Gibundak nako ang pultahan sa pagsira. Dali-dali ko’g adto sa higdaanan ug nagbukot sa ako’ng habol, nagkurog naghilak. Alas sais. Dali-dali kog ilis kay ma-late na ko. Nakalimot na sab ko’g inom sa ako’ng kape gabii. Nakalimot sab kog ilis gabii. Nakalimot ko unsa’y nahitabo gabii. Andam na ko molakaw, pero sa pagtan-aw nako sa samin, wala na akong nawng. TC
69 TODAY’S CAROLINIAN | OCTOBER 2018
LITERARY
2022: Philippines Number One in The World Pamela Jel Pagulong
Illustration by Phoemela delos Santos
70 TODAY’S CAROLINIAN | OCTOBER 2018
LITERARY
The Philippines has finally achieved something in the international stage. Where are my proud Pinoys at? Where are the “proud Pinoy here” comments? It is time for us to celebrate! While sipping our morning coffee, the Philippines will wake up to some shocking news. After many years of this administration’s promises towards change and global competence, it has finally put our nation at the pedestal. “Philippines: The World’s Fastest Rising Inflation Rate.” We have never been this proud! Our internet remains slow but our inflation rate continues to rise at the speed of light. At least the administration has remained consistent in this matter. Commendable! Inflation is not the only thing rising fast in our country — rumor has it that sili is the new social status symbol, at 30,000 pesos per kilo, being able to buy it is equivalent to owning an Hermes bag in 2016. We are also undergoing an environmental revolution. The lower class now walks to school, office, work and so on. Partly because they want to lessen pollution, but primarily because they cannot afford the fare. Riding a jeep would cost you 100 pesos from Fuente Circle to USC Main! The rich are just thankful and happy that they no longer have to mingle with the poor every time they commute. The classes have finally come to a consensus in this matter! The Philippines has also upped its ways for food. Our rice is something even the world’s top chefs would drool for! A kilo of rice is 630 pesos — note that this is the price for old stocks of rice with your good old bokbok included. Added protein! The Philippines is now the diet capital of the world! OFWs are grateful for the dollar exchange in our country. 1 US dollar is equal to 310.75 pesos, heaven for those OFWs who want to be millionaires quick. People are now dying to leave this country! The government, however, is thankful for the OFWs’ remittances, so who’s stopping them? Not this administration! The Duterte administration will be ending next month. Will you vote for someone who at least has some competence on economics or give this country into the hands of the cronies of this administration? TC
71 TODAY’S CAROLINIAN | OCTOBER 2018
FEATURE
Paolo Perez
When Ringo Starr wrote of the octopus’ garden in the shade, he had only scratched the surface of what lies under the sea. It is a tempting, alluring playing field, beckoning aspirants from all walks of life — the sciences, engineering, arts and more — like the sirens who called it home in myths of old. With seven tenths of our planet covered in water that reaches down for miles, much of the course of human history was dedicated to charting and conquering the so-called “Seven Seas”. Enormous galleons, frigates, caravels and other ships harnessed the winds, and ships like these are now most heavily associated with two distinct eras: the age of exploration and the golden age of piracy, both glamorized by the bounty of loot that could be made by an enterprising conquistador or buccaneer. That time is now over, however, and while their relics are now covered with spongy, algal growth, some of that sea goop hides treasure more valuable than a sunken chest could ever hold. With the race against antibiotic-resisting bacteria gaining steam, medical professionals are looking to coral reefs for breakthroughs in treatment and drugs, and with good reason. Although they take up a mere percent of the marine environment, because of their need for strong sunlight and an influx of nutrients, coral reefs house what some scientists estimate as close to 2 million species. The reef is the epitome of life, rivaled — but not outperformed — only by certain tropical rainforests, operating every second of the day on a scale ranging from minuscule to massive, and each of its inhabitants is uniquely tailored to do one thing: survive, with all the evolutionary bells and whistles that entails.
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These benefits range from convenient to groundbreaking. Agar, a substance used in food preservation and thickening as well as an ideal medium for microbiology studies, is obtained from red algae. A 2013 study found steroid compounds in Sinularia leather coral with the potential to aid treatment in diseases such as leukemia and carcinoma. The sea sponge Tectitethya crypta has single-handedly yielded drugs to treat herpes, leukemia and, most impressively, AZT, a landmark drug in managing HIV/AIDS. The ocean has been considered a modern medicine cabinet, and slowly, we are finding the keys. Underwater engineering is no small feat, either. Creating electrical systems that work in an environment surrounded by salt and water and keeping them safe and dry when pressure becomes crushing are just two challenges posed to engineers, but their work has resulted in the creation of submersibles and remote-operated vehicles that offer glimpses of the ocean’s deepest zones. The most famous of these underwater vehicles, DSV Alvin, has shaped history by discovering seafloor vents that heat water to temperatures of 400 °C and surveying the wreckage of the titanic. This ingenuity has been paid back in the field of robotics, as engineers have modeled small submarine drones after tuna. Their powerful, crescent-shaped tails create vortices that propel them forward with minimal energy cost. With all these breakthroughs, science still hasn’t uncovered Atlantis or its mythical analogues Lemuria and Kumari Kandam — or perhaps it has. In 2017, Zealandia, a sunken chunk of continental crust upon which rests New Zealand, was deemed by geologists to meet the criteria of a “drowned” continent rather than a microcontinent or a
FEATURE
fragment. All but 7 percent of Zealandia rests under the Pacific Ocean; while it may not be as glamorous as a sparkling city, the landmass does fit the bill of a lost world. With advancements made by leaps and bounds in nearly every STEM field, one has to wonder where ocean exploration can go from here. The answer is limited only by whatever field one chooses to explore next, as only 8 percent of the world ocean has been explored. Highdefinition images exist of the entire solar system, showing vivid storms on Saturn and Jupiter and the red rocks of Mars, but most of the seafloor remains undocumented. Establishments like the EV Nautilus’ Corps of Exploration, the Monterey Bay Aquarium Research Institute, and Woods Hole Oceanographic Institution have made great strides not only in exploration, but in stoking public interest in what lies under our cities by streaming videos of deep-sea creatures such as eels, jellies and cephalopods, many of them newly described by science, allowing curious citizens to experience the process of discovery in real time. The deepest part of the sea bends rules and expectations. Enormous tube worms gather at the lips of hydrothermal vents, housing bacteria that turn inorganic molecules into food. Sunlight is a foreign concept: The only luminescence is biotic, emanating from such sources as the tip of an anglerfish’s lure or the cheeks of a lanternfish. Scarlet shrimp dart about, wearing a color that would be a death sentence in the light but is instantly absorbed by the inky blackness. The deep sea is a testament to the tenacity of life’s ingenuity in the same way that the coral reef speaks to its diversity.
All is not well, however. At best, ocean exploration is a near-limitless field waiting to be discovered. At worst, it is a race against time as greenhouse gases build up in the atmosphere, warming the planet and acidifying seawater. Plastics and liquid waste inevitably sweep out into the sea, taking thousands of years to break down or, more likely, collecting in the stomachs of turtles, whales and seabirds. A wellspring of life, the source of every other breath we take by way of trillions of phytoplankton, is slowly choking to death. It is boiling, half-degree by half-degree. It is dissolving, leaving not even shells behind to remember its fallen. Look out over the ocean and it will reflect the sky: wild blue yonder, steely gray clouds, scattered starlight. What we are failing to heed is staring us right in the face — that if we continue on our current path, extinction awaits. And yet we continue to squabble over territory such as the Benham Rise and the Scarborough Shoal. China dumps sand to reclaim and expand the land, burying entire ecosystems under tons of sand and rubble, and in retaliation we fuel our own expansion, burying our own reefs and seagrass beds to build shopping malls, erecting bridges that stab into the seabed like a stake through the planet’s heart under the delusion that we can own the ocean, and failing to learn time and again when she proves us wrong. The concept of the seven seas eventually gave way to the five oceans: the Atlantic, the Indian, the Southern, the Arctic and our very own Pacific. Since then, however, we have realized that through those five bodies circulate the same water, the same salt, the same sea. TC
73 TODAY’S CAROLINIAN | OCTOBER 2018
OPINION
When Fat Ladies Sing Louisa Concepcion Carredo
Illustration by Giann Mikhael Alipar
74 TODAY’S CAROLINIAN | OCTOBER 2018
OPINION
It’s ain’t over until the fat lady sings. Just when they thought they’ve reached the breakeven point of their own careers, they find themselves juicing their bank accounts to afford required seminars and trainings. Just when they thought they’ve gotten used to the simple routine of renewing expiring professional licenses at the Professional Regulation Commission (PRC) office, they find themselves having to squabble with time and skipping work to attend to the aforementioned seminars. Just when they thought they’ve reached the top of their game, in comes the Continuing Professional Development Law (CPD) to remind them they’re still climbing. Learning does not end at graduation nor does it end when one is hired. That is a given. The law can be praised for encouraging the enhancement of knowledge and maintenance skill because there is no doubt it does. Regular seminars and training sessions to earn units keep the country’s professionals on their toes. If only they were affordable, then there would not be too much of a problem. Because who wouldn’t want to continue mastering the art of their respective profession?
if their employers shoulder most, if not all, of the costs to fulfil the requirements set by the PRC. The professionals may be the ones to retain what is taught but their employers will ultimately reap the benefits of their knowledge. Not only would this solve the problem of unaffordable cost, it would build a working relationship on the foundations of trust and comradeship. Time is money. So when professionals have to sneak away from shifts to attend seminars, they are losing even more money on top of the exorbitant fees they’re paying for said seminars. On an intellectual level, they are gaining. On a practical level, where is the give in give and take? Professionals are busy people with busy work schedules. How does the government expect them to find time to sit down and channel their inner dormant and obedient student inside whilst knowingly neglecting their jobs? Practicality must have been tucked away into a collared shirt pocket when the Continuing Professional Development Law of 2016 was passed. It drips idealism, but fails to see how impractical it is for the professionals webbed into complying to its requirements.
It’s assumed that the struggle to make ends meet had been left behind in college or in the early days of working life. Instead, here they are, years into their profession and having to deal with an unnecessarily complicated process that exploits the need for further improvement to mask yet another ploy to nick the pockets of the Filipinos — this time targeting the professionals and threatening the jobs they worked so hard to earn.
Numerous petitions have been made, and even more signatures of struggling professionals have found their way onto them, all in favor of abolishing the law. In no way do these individuals seek to stop learning, to stop improving or to stop aiming to give their utmost possible best to their jobs. Rather, they aim to revert back to the less costly manner of continuing to be a working professional, back to the days where bureaucratic laws such as the CPD law did not exist and they had the chance to do what they were working for, to provide and to build — careers, lives and futures.
When the money professionals earn from the work they do ends up in the pockets of the PRC instead of materializing into food on their tables, they cannot be blamed for resenting the law. The reason they work is to provide.
If the fat lady was able to sing a song to bring such hassle into their lives, she can surely sing another to bring it out or at the least, find a way to make it more painless than it currently is. Until then, here is to looking at you, Senator Trillanes. TC
Because the CPD Law aims to maintain and improve the work professionals do for the job they possess, it would only be fair
75 TODAY’S CAROLINIAN | OCTOBER 2018
LITERARY
Rust Brynch Bonachita
Illustration by Sabrina JoyceTamayo
76 TODAY’S CAROLINIAN | OCTOBER 2018
LITERARY
I am made to bleed from the reckless drift across the playground — the first kiss of my open wound, a quest to search the unknown and hold it between my hands. The world, they say, is the way it is, like baby teeth falling out, like a phone stuck in hand, as if it were a distant memory I have just uncovered. I am made to bleed from nature’s period of estrangement; a lifetime puzzle given in the midst of uncovering, a search for pieces that I am meant to build.
I am made to cover scars in reaching the boiling point of life — the drying of new blood; its letting go of ideals and settling in the recluse of, “the world is the way it is.”
Puberty, they say, is the way it is; the baptism that I am capable of birthing change, an oracle reading of a promise I never made.
Menopause, they say, is the way it is; a cage, a denial of entry. A way to cut my limbs, a self-induced amnesia, a game over. And all the while, I say, I am more than just my bleeding. TC
77 TODAY’S CAROLINIAN | OCTOBER 2018
FEATURE
When The Sources Run Dry The Energy Dilemma of Today
Kerstein Nicole Labay
78 TODAY’S CAROLINIAN | OCTOBER 2018
FEATURE
Monstrous energy demand paired with flaring oil price hike and a distressing environmental compromise– these are the realities of the state of global energy consumption. The reality of a depleting source, increasing prices and environmental issues has plagued industries and corporations to cut back on their energy consumption and opt for greener and more sustainable energy sources. This, however, is being held back by numerous factors arising from a complex economic-environmental interrelationship. Since the onset of industrial revolution, the demand for energy has continued to propagate. It cannot be denied that industry of energy has become a fuel not only to heat engines but of the whole development of the contemporary civilization. As a result, people are brought to greater heights– convenient living, advanced technologies, chiefly. The consumption of fossil fuels has filled the pockets of the few at the expense of the majority. As the energy demand continues to spike up in direct proportion to time, the supply of energy, on the other hand, will be marked with rapid depletion. The first law of Thermodynamics states that energy can neither be created nor destroyed. Scientists argued that energy can only be transmitted through physical mechanisms such as heat. If so, the world would never have to face the problem of energy shortage. Of course, this isn’t the case in an actual setting. By theory, energy is ‘lost’ in the form of heat dissipated to ancillary components such as conveyor belts, boilers and combustion systems that process the raw energy to become viable at our disposal. The bigger problem here, apparently, is the ever increasing demand for power brought about by the deliberate exploitation of energy to feed the world’s outrageous hunger for energy when it could have been easier if people decided to ditch debilitating habits, live smart and consume less. Energy source does not suffice simply because demand has outstripped the supply. In the process of harnessing fossil fuels, the environment is compromised. The natural aesthetics of the earth’s profile are being defaced and sucked dry leaving it uninhabitable and improbable for humans and the wildlife at the same time. The debilitating situations such as hurricanes, typhoons, drought and global warming are only manifestations of how volatile the environment has become unjust exploitation turn out to be the norm. The second Law of Thermodynamics states that the state of entropy of the entire universe, as an isolated system, will always increase over time. Unlimited, clean and less emissions– this is how renewable energy is perceived. In the face of these entropies due to energy consumption, it is no longer a surprise why this form of energy has easily become a depiction of an energy panacea. However, there is an implicit need to see renewable energy in all its dimensions, including its troubles and social impacts that can be also charged against fossil fuels. Renewable energy can also bring further entropy and chaos. Solar farms, for instance, require a vast space to harness as much sunlight as possible can possibly consume land which could have been more viable agriculturally. Drilling holes on the earth to extract geothermal energy could inadvertently release toxic gases that are detrimental to
health. Similarly, a dam would require the displacement of a number of communities in order to accommodate the facility just as a coal power plant would do. As of writing, the world utilizes 80 percent fossil fuels with only 20 percent left from alternative sources. The challenge of large corporations is to develop a technology that would store energy generated from alternative sources. According to Mario Marasigan, the bureau director of the Renewable Energy Management said, “We cannot do away with fossil fuels, at least in our lifetimes. The demand [for energy in the Philippines] is still increasing and that’s why we still have to accommodate coal.” With the surge of demand of energy, the world can only hope that renewable energy could cope with the pace. The third law of Thermodynamics states that the entropy of a perfect crystal is zero when the temperature of the crystal is equal to absolute zero. In a world where fossil fuels are the primary source of energy to power the processes going on inside the grid, it can be said that the situation is problematic as it is alarming. But though this is a reality, there are a lot of efforts undertaken by different organizations around the world to promote the usage of renewable energy. In a 2018 Global Status Report, sub-national governments around the world have become leaders of renewable energy through energy efficiency initiatives such as corporate regulation and policy development. Corporations began sourcing out their energy from renewable sources in the mid-2000s to address the growing demand for corporate sustainability. USA, Thailand, Japan and 70 other countries in the world through corporate power purchase agreements accounts for bulk of corporate energy sourcing. Through this framework, countries would be required to utilize energy in their operations and to meet the social and environmental objectives. In the transportation sector, the use of biofuels is held back by the lack of policy attention, sustainability arguments and slow technological progress. Fewer vehicles can accommodate biofuels as these corporations also pursue various paths in their research and development. Similarly, the generation of electricity through renewable energy is still quite a challenge considering the lack of technology for the energy storage so that it can be channeled through the grid. Entropies arising from the demand for a more sustainable energy source, though desired to be kept at minimum, are the same forces that push for further technological advancement. The zeroth law of Thermodynamics states that if two systems, A and B, are in thermal equilibrium with a third system, C, then A and B are in thermal equilibrium with each other. We consume a lot of energy with every passing minute. Just as the civilization moves forward, so does our energy development should be. This problem is not only ours to suffer; it is what we share with the world in order to see answers and find solutions. Renewable energy and all other sorts of alternative sources still continue to lag behind because the use fossil fuels remains to be relatively convenient for many, as unfortunate as it may be. One can only hope for the future to flip in our favor. TC
79 TODAY’S CAROLINIAN | OCTOBER 2018
LITERARY
Heaven in the Agnetha Cesar Carlos Heyrosa Everything is beautiful, and nothing hurts. The stars shine brightly as the Agnetha silently cruised through the blackness of space. I lie in her deck, slowly plucking the strings of my guitar. Fred is tending on the controls, trying to catch the gravity of a nearby asteroid as we head to Planet 612.
you’re stuck in it. A sure way to heaven. It doesn’t sound that bad at all. Till the next four hours, Fred. I drag myself out my room and onto the dining table. I can smell mom’s cooking. In a happier time, this would have been enough. “Fred said he loves you, by the way,” I mumble as I take a seat.
On my wrist, the SmartSim begins beeping. “What?” mom asks. “Harry, you better get going now!” shouts Fred as he continues pushing some buttons. “Tell mom I’ll always love her!” He looks up, eyes disappearing over a warm grin. Everything hurts, and nothing is beautiful. The fan spins loudly as the air blows a cloud of dust to me. I lie on my bed, slowly stirring from my last experience in the SmartSim. I can hear mom preparing breakfast, while shouting, trying to wake me up for school.
“Fred said he loves you, by the way,” I reply in a much louder voice. Mom’s brows furrow. She clenches one of her fists. “Harry, I told you to stop using that — that thing!” I look at her intently as the words escape my mouth. “I would’ve if you would’ve been a better mom.” “What did you say, young man?”
I remove the SmartSim from my wrist and keep it under my pillow. The rules were simple: a maximum of four hours in the simulation, never remove the band or lose battery while inside it, wake up when the band starts beeping. A small mistake and
80 TODAY’S CAROLINIAN | OCTOBER 2018
“I said that I would stop using the SmartSim if you would’ve been a better m—”
LITERARY
There comes the sudden snap in the otherwise quiet house. Then here comes the sting on my right cheek. Nothing new.
The SmartSim starts beeping. Everything hurts, and nothing is beautiful.
For a moment, everything turns silent, and then mom breaks down and buries her face under her arms. “That thing took Fred away from us.” “No, mom,” I reply. “You and dad did. He was literally begging for help out of his misery, and you just—” I find it useless explaining it to them, how they just ignored him. Older folks must have had it better back in their days. “Don’t you dare talk to me like that, young man!” “Is that all mom? And you know what? Whatever Fred had, I think I have it now too.” Maybe it would be another slap, but it’s mom giving me a hug instead. “I’m sorry, Harry. I’m so sorry.” I’m sorry too, Harry. “Mom, please don’t let me die.” I can hear mom sobbing more loudly as she tightens her embrace.
I make my way out my room toward another uneventful day. A little farther in the hall, an empty room. It was Fred’s once. I miss him, and apart from some four hours every day in what could be a dream, I’d do anything for a brother to be with me now. No Fred. Only a note on the dining table. Microwave last night’s leftovers. Mom’s at her friend’s again. No mom. Dad left us three years ago. Said he can’t bear my mom swinging from being the best wife in the world to an alcoholic in a few minutes. Haven’t heard from him since then. No dad. The microwave beeps. I take the pasta out and put in a mouthful. It’s burning my tongue, but I don’t give a damn anymore. No Harry.
I’m so sorry too, Harry. “Mom, I don’t wanna kill myself.”
Fred and I are sitting on the floor of the viewing deck of the Agnetha. A star some light-years away is exploding in a splash of all the colors I can’t seem to remember anymore.
Everything is beautiful, and nothing hurts.
“Is it really that scary here, Fred?” I ask.
“Fred, do you regret it?” I ask as I begin strumming the first few chords of a summer tune. I see a comet whizzing nearby. Its tail leaves a streak of blue and orange as the Agnetha heads for the nearby station.
“Yeah,” he says. “Some of the women I slept with, they look like twenty, but they’ve been here for so long now. Those girls don’t know what morality is anymore. I heard others are worse.”
“What?” asks Fred, sitting down beside me.
“What about you though?”
“I mean being here forever.”
“All those books in the cabin are not for nothing,” replies Fred. “I learned a thing or two from you, Harry, and the designers crammed in a whole lot of books here.”
“Forever? I think one day, Harry, even all of this will end. It should.” “Yeah, I heard Benny used to study in the Uranian libraries.” “But until then, this must be heaven, right?” “Benny the bozo?” asks Fred. Fred hugs me. “Even heaven gets boring, Harry. Give it some time.” “He’s a lot better now,” I reply. “He graduated top of his class.” “More boring than real life?” No answer, just a tighter hug. “I finally told mom I might have what you had,” I continue. Fred releases me from his hug. “How did she take it?”
“I honestly thought he wouldn’t be good at anything.” Fred and I look at each other and being bursting out laughing. “‘Hey Fred,’ he used to say, ‘help me outta here,’” said Fred in a deep voice between bouts of laughter. “It was just simple geography! Like the one they teach in third grade or something!” The SmartSim starts beeping. I look at it.
“She hugged me too.”
“Five years, Fred.”
Fred reaches out and hugs me. “Whatever happens, mom loves us, okay? I love you, Harry.” The SmartSim stops beeping. The metal floor gives a little thud. My wrist feels a lot lighter without the band.
“Wait,” says Fred, giving me his comical frown. “No way, we’re the same age now.”
“Harry?” Fred asks.
“I’m afraid we are.”
I stay still.
Fred’s eyes widen. “Has it been that long? It feels like a year just went by.” “Time’s faster when you’re happy, isn’t it?”
“Harry, what did you do? What did you do?” His hug feels tighter now. I feel warm tears and snot on my shoulder as Fred starts bawling. “What did you do? What did you do?”
“It sure does,” says Fred looking away, obviously still in shock from all those five years. “I’ve been flying for five years now. The stars. The sights.” He chuckles. “The women. It’s been that fast.”
I think I just heard an echo of our mom screaming in the halls of the Agnetha, but maybe I didn’t. “I love you too, Fred. I’m sorry,” I say.
“Time sure was a lot slower before all this, wasn’t it? I mean with whatever you had. Or I have.”
“Harry, what did you do? What did you do? What did you do?” He must be hysterical now.
Fred drops his smile and looks at me. If this were mom, it would be another slap. Maybe a punch from Fred, but he just sighs. And then another hug. He sounds as if he’s sniffling. I don’t know. Can someone in heaven really cry? I’ve never seen him cry. He always used to do it inside his room, alone. Like me now.
I hug back.
“You sound like you had it better, then. How many years has it been?”
Everything is beautiful, and nothing hurts. TC
81 TODAY’S CAROLINIAN | OCTOBER 2018
FEATURE
Tipping Scales of KHARDASHEV: Locating Civilization’s Future Brynch Bonachita
Graphic by Anton Lin
82 TODAY’S CAROLINIAN | OCTOBER 2018
FEATURE
Space ships, teleportation and time-travel: The future of civilization is among the mysteries humans try to shed light to. As such, the futurist conception and understanding of development is a subject that remains to be debated upon because the machinery and minds of today could only theorize answers without praxis to questions of what progress may look like in the future. Humanity’s seemingly ceaseless innovation has produced things we never thought would exist today and present ideas we thought were too far-fetched. All of this is the product of humanity’s unquenched curiosity and ability to question and wonder that drive the endeavor to uncover the veil of the unknown and unrealized. That is why, we have the likes of Nikolai Kardashev who developed the Kardashev Scale in measuring the level of civilization’s technological advancement. In 1964, the Russian astrophysicist scaled this form of development by assessing the magnitude of energy a civilization could utilize. That is to say that the more energy a civilization could use, the more advance it is. In fruition, Kardashev categorize civilization in three levels: Type I, Type II and Type III. Before anything else, however, one would wonder how human civilization is measured in that scale. More importantly, can humanity even see itself climb up that ladder? On the first question, the shortest answer will be is that we can’t even be classified in the scale. At least, not yet. Meaning, our technology isn’t as advance to be recognized as a Type I but we’re still slowly getting there. In Kardashev’s “Transmission of Information by Extraterrestrial Civilizations,” Type I, also called planetary civilization, is characterized as something as close to humanity’s technological conditions. In essence, it’s a civilization type that can harness all energy radiated from the parent star that reaches its home planet. Currently, we could only utilize energy like solar and heat energy but are yet to maximize it in terms of use and storage. Type II, referred as stellar civilization, is one that can use and maximize the star itself and its energy. In this level, a device that’s hypothetically similar to a Dyson sphere from Freeman Dyson’s paper on “Search for Artificial Stellar Sources of Infrared Radiation” is presumed to exist. It’s a structure that can encompass and then capture the energy of a star which means that this civilization could directly source its energy from the ball of gas. Type III, on the other hand, is referred as a galactic civilization. As its name suggests, it’s able to tap energy in a galactic scale. Simply put, it’s capable of extracting energy from all of the stars of an entire galaxy. To put things in perspective, it’s
as if these civilizations are able to amass energy from billions of stars and have the technology that will allow space travel across the galaxy and the colonization of other planets. Idealistic as these scenarios may sound, it’s not far from reality. Scientific breakthroughs have paved the way to build and innovate technology beyond our time such as that of quantum teleportation in space, the discovery of seven Earth-like planets 40 light years away and a reusable rocket for space travel. It’s only a matter of time before human civilization produces the machinery that will birth technological conditions that will categorize us as Type I. That is if our physical environment and social conditions hold long enough for our survival and progress. The socioeconomic force of capitalism has led to a race to the bottom effect. Cultivated from the Industrial Revolution of the 18th century, this system that thrives on the endless accumulation of wealth has damaged the environment by accelerating climate change and global warming from overproduction and exploitation of natural resources. Moreover, it has conditioned humans away from a society of mutual survival to an economy of individual sustenance through competition and wage-labor. This present dialectic between man and man, man and society, and man and environment, stunts the possibility of ever achieving a revolutionary technological advancement because it created an unsuitable and hostile environment for development. That is to say, that if we are ever to dream progress, unravelling and resolving the contradictions present within society becomes fundamental. Turning a blind eye to this problem cages us in an endless cycle of conflict and will eventually lead to humanity’s extinction. By changing the status quo to a system that allows mutual survival, society becomes fostered to not or at least be less likely hurdled by social dysfunctions like exploitation, discrimination and poverty. In turn, we are able to prioritize solving problems that affect society as a whole such as environmental degradation. Therefore, the security of our survival essentially allows other facets of civilization to prosper and that includes technological development. Ultimately, tipping the scales of progress in our favor requires stability from the physical conditions of the world and its social unrest. It is when humanity’s quest to seek for answers would be furthered because it allows the free flow of one’s curiosity to flourish. It is through this that civilization is able to make a great leap forward from today’s dreams onto tomorrow’s future. It is then we get closer to Kardashev’s envisioned civilizations. TC
83 TODAY’S CAROLINIAN | OCTOBER 2018
FEATURE
Cryptocurrencies and Their Growing Influence on Online Games Berns Mitra
84 TODAY’S CAROLINIAN | OCTOBER 2018
FEATURE
Cryptocurrencies invaded public attention earlier this year, becoming a hot topic and subject of both suspicion and excitement for people all over the internet. Discussion on the phenomenon caught steam when several companies and individuals began trading them and encouraging others to enter the trade as well, bringing the media and other influential figures to start chiming in on the craze. While Bitcoin and cryptocurrencies in general have become the talk of the town, some questions still go unanswered for the average internet surfer: What are cryptocurrencies? Why should we care? What promises do they hold for technology and even gaming? The era of cryptocurrencies began with the ever-famous Bitcoin, developed by someone only known, perhaps pseudonymously, as Satoshi Nakamoto in late 2008. Nakamoto sought to fill a void in the way people carry out online transactions, whereas everyone before them failed at creating a digital cash system. These prior centralized systems failed because of a number of faults, including the potential for double-spending and other forgeries. To solve this, Nakamoto created a decentralized digital cash system that depended on a peer-to-peer network rather than a central system, inadvertently also creating the first online cryptocurrency. Cryptocurrencies have proliferated, with the number of currencies in circulation ballooning way past 1,600 since Bitcoin’s surge to popularity. Why, then, despite Bitcoin’s supposed genius, have so many other cryptocurrencies have emerged? This is because, while Bitcoin solved the decentralization problem, other programmers have come forward with what they deemed to be improvements to the Bitcoin system. Take Ethereum, for example. Both Bitcoin and Ethereum promise anonymous transactions online and independence from any central body by using a digital public ledger that nodes in a system add refer to, otherwise known as a peer-to-peer blockchain. However, Ethereum offers much faster block times, using a different blockchain altogether, different calculations for transaction costs and unlimited space per block, as opposed to Bitcoin’s limit of one megabyte per block. While most people today only know about these by name, companies, banks and even governments have already begun to show interest in what they can do and the impact that they may have on various areas of concern. Out of all of these areas, none took a hit harder than the one most dependent on technology and the internet — gaming. Cryptocurrencies have changed the landscape of gaming on several levels from the hardware involved to game development and monetization and even the way games run. Influx of interest and involvement in cryptocurrencies, perhaps notoriously, affected the market for consumer personal computing technology. Cryptocurrency mining, the process of verifying transactions within the specific blockchain involved, promises an additional source of
income for those who devote their computers to the process. As such, more and more people have been using their computers and investing in new ones to get in on the action, likewise increasing the demand for certain computer parts integral to the process. PC gamers and non-gamers alike have lamented the increase of prices for computer parts including graphics cards, which have seen an 80 percent increase in price since last year, and RAM, the price of which was already violently in flux before cryptocurrencies went in vogue. Gaming nonetheless has much to gain from the advent of cryptotechnology. Directly, the development and use of cryptocurrencies have proven evolutionarily useful to both game developers and consumers. Indirectly, crypto-technology paved the way for the decentralized enjoyment of online games and open virtual spaces. Certain companies minted new cryptocurrencies to respond to specific problems in the current system of game development and monetization. Most of these new currencies follow the same old scheme — decentralization, peer-to-peer, building on a block chain — but differ vastly in their practical applications. For example, GameCredits, minted in 2015, aims to set itself apart from Google Play by improving game developers’ monetization experience. It guarantees quicker developer payouts, greater revenue from replacing the middleman, and ruling out the possibility of fraudulent payments and transactions. Games themselves stand to change as crypto technology inspired new ways to use existing technologies and apply them to the gaming experience. Enjin wants to create a gaming multiverse where gamers can have “true ownership” of the things they buy and acquire in game, able to take these items with them between different game universes. To execute this, users’ items are placed in cryptocurrency “wallets” provided by the Enjin platform, allowing users to take their valued items with them to different games without the risk of fraud. Enjin also aims to eliminate the possibility of a user losing all their progress after getting their account hacked by leveraging the enhanced security provided by the crypto system. Virtual Reality (VR) gaming is making leaps with crypto-technology as well. The Decentraland platform enables a kind of virtual real estate by letting users purchase their own piece of virtual land with the ownership of each grounded in the blockchain. Another company, RevolutionVR, hosts graphic servers that allow for VR rendering to be handled via blockchain. Cryptocurrencies have been making exciting moves so far and while Bitcoin recently slowed down a bit, crypto-tech’s contributions and influence will continue to make ripples in technology and gaming. Practically every day new currencies with new visions emerge from obscurity and promise something groundbreaking and exciting. If we continue to integrate experimental ideas into our daily lives at the usual pace, crypto-tech is set to leave a much larger crater than projected. TC
85 TODAY’S CAROLINIAN | OCTOBER 2018
“All that we see or seem is but a dream within a dream.” - Edgar Allan Poe Photograph by Neena Fuentes
PARTING SHOT
86
TODAY’S CAROLINIAN | OCTOBER 2018
LIQUIDATION
Today’s CAROLINIAN Statement of Cash Flows For the Transition Semester 2018
Cash Balance, Beginning Cash Receipts: Today’s Carolinian Transition Semester Budget Interest Income Total Cash Available for Use Cash Disbursements: Teambuilding: Transportation Expense Accommodation Expense Food Expense Printing Fees - Certificates Spectrum Fellowship: Travel Fare Food Expense Registration Fee General Assembly and Panel Interview: Food Expense Printing Fees - Score Sheets SSC Elections: Communication Expense First Sem Magazine: Printing Fees Other Expenses: Tax Epense - Bank Transportation Expense Supplies Expense Postage Fee Remittance Fee Miscellaneous Expense Cash Balance, End
P
P
P
P
P
3,490.00 20,350.00 11,188.00 350.00
35,378.00
5,087.00 848.00 25,000.00
30,935.00
2,345.50 112.00
2,457.50
399.50
399.50
177,450
177,450
34.33 722.00 299.25 515.00 360.00 494.05
2,424.63
P
272,909.72
P
167,139.50 171.63 440,220.85
P
249,044.63 191,176.22
Prepared By: THERESA KATE PALOMPON Associate Editor - for External Affairs Today's Carolinian
87 TODAY’S CAROLINIAN | OCTOBER 2018
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