MY OLIVER TWISTS

I admit I am a cry baby. I cry at the littlest mushy thing like hugs, unexpected "thank-you's", freebies, tearful "I'm sorries" from my 2-year-old, even the teary-eyed students who looked seemingly betrayed at the prospect of goodbyes.

Yesterday was unexpected. I guess I was too overjoyed by how things turn out that I gave the habalhabal driver some good extra pesos when he hauled me to the gate of the school after the uphill and downhill ride--one last time. And who would not be, my next assignment would be five-minute walk away from where I live.

I was all smile when I got to the gate and to the classrooms when I saw my students teary-eyed and looking lost. They knew. Long before I knew. They saw my replacement English teacher first and knew right at that instant I'm leaving. I was cornered with darting hurt look from each of them. Despite being thrown in a pandemonic state of things, I still caught some murmured questions aimed at me like machine guns that have no plans to relent. Questions were hurled from what sounded like thick strangled tongues trying desperately, wanting to ask in English (as such was my rule if they had to speak within earshot of their English teacher).

"Are you really going ma'am? Away from us?"

The replacement teacher wasn't at any count bad. Not at all. So I am sure after this little hoopla, things will fall into place. They will be all right. These orphans, as how my students would like to call themselves with me their class adviser, gone in a few moments from then. From that, one can understand why I call them my "Oliver Twists." I have never seen a hunger as theirs--you could stick a spoon to their mouth, they'd bite, spoon including. I can see them wide-eyed everytime I taught them not only what my lesson plan stipulates but also the unwritten laws of this universe we call culture despite the modern times.

I thought I had never began my trek with these kids yet. We have miles to travel or so I thought. I had unconscious plans to train them and mold them in what powers I could muster. Two months, only two months and I am done with my Oliver Twists.

Again, I am a cry baby. When I saw them broke down in broad daylight (even at the presence of the new teacher), I knew right there I was through. And what little I had with with them was more than enough. Right there, while they're like that(wanting more of what I could give) than later when there is no certainty if they would still want more of what they could purge from me the same way they want me now.

Such self-absorbed thinking you might say. But all this fuss is enough to tell me I have taught enough. My Oliver Twists are no orphans. Not at all.

LITTLE MISS TEACHER

We were running late for church yesterday morning. We woke up at 8 o'clock, the exact hour I should be in church for Sunday School class. Soon, in the flurry of it all, we finally touched down church grounds at about 90 minutes past 8 with 15 minutes or so remaining for Sunday School hour. It was good though that the others were trapped in the rain that they got there just a few minutes after I settled myself almost reclining by the corner couch of the young professional Sunday school room. In all this, I forgot my toddler and her church offering. You see, I made a decision that her first orientation with money has got to be something to do with church and offering. Hence, every Sunday she feels obliged to put in a few pesos to the Sunday School offering pouch.



This Sunday though, this was missed out. Right after the morning service, one of the church stewards called my attention. She raised a familiar bright yellow hair clip from the heap of coins in the offering pouch and jokingly blurted out,

"Mrs. Panes,You better redeem this from us! Just look at what your daughter put in the offering pouch today!"

Somewhat embarrassed, I took a coin from my wallet and dropped it into the pouch obligingly. "It actually turned out though," the lady continued, "that when the offering from the children's room was collected, your daughter was the only one who couldn't fish out any coins from her pocket. But we told her it was all right. We were not aware though that she managed to put in something instead while our attention was somewhere else."

There I was, as in many other times, despite myself, pleasantly surprised at what looks like a resourcefulness but really, more of a resoluteness to give at any cost by any means.

In all my years, I have always been amazed by the wonders of the little object lessons God throws at me at times I least expect but I have never been muted with such profound teaching as I was right there at that minute with my little toddler as my little teacher.

IN THE FOLDS

I came to your door once,

Slipped a note folded twice.

You went in and out more than thrice.

Yet, there by the hinge,

I still lay

Trapped in the folds;

Waiting

For this door's

Creaking.

BEYOND ME

There are things that are way, way beyond the human mind. But I look at these things from afar. These are things I'd rather keep in periphery. There are bigger things. Higher things.

As of late, I discover not only in one instance, but in several cases what I already noticed way back in college. Through an incidental mental exercise, my psychology professor confirmed that I had (had, because that's what I prefer)positive signs of this little thing they call precognition. Precognition is from the Latin word "praecognito" which means prior or previous knowledge. It is the obtaining of knowledge or a vision about an event before it occurs. Now, I supposed this is too inconsequential to talk about as I tried the hardest not to mind or entertain thoughts about what I could be capable of. But lately, my two-year-old daughter has shown me some apparent signs of the same gift or thing (whatever you call it). Not that it bothers me much, but it makes me wonder and therefore, curious for her sake.

I'd rather not enumerate all the weird scenarios that brought this into mind.I have tried to do research about instances like this. But researching on things that may just be way off our finite mind is a darkened territory only the Higher being sees.

Again, I tried to ignore the signs. But if I have to mention one instance that really grabbed me by the throat, I'd say,it's the movie "The Rite" where Anthony Hopkins played as the priest who exorcises but gets possessed later in the movie. I and my husband got curious about the video that because of boredom we plunged into it hoping to while our early evening away.

My daughter was busy with her coloring book and other toys and it was obvious that she wasn't listening nor watching the movie when all of a sudden she said "I'm scared." And in that instance, one character in the movie who was narrating his horrifying story in a phone scene, said the same line after a second my Kiny said such line. That stunned me. I didn't know how to react. But while she said that line her face looked scared. I was sure she had no idea what the movie was all about. Of course she speaks English but the movie was far too serious for her age.

Okay, I'd rather take it as pure coincidence, you might say. That's what I'm set to do. But then again, my baby, suddenly, blurted out my student's name out of the blue one night when I got home from work. I dismissed it as one of her nothing-much-to-say moments but random names. That morning of that day, I transferred to one of the city schools in Cebu leaving my previous students of the other school. The next day, the student with the same difficult name to utter for a 2-year-old texted me she was crying the whole night for one problem that she thought of no one but me. Right there, after reading it, I remembered Kiny half-shouting my female student's name out of the blue. Of course, another coincidence. I'm dead set on that decision. But there are more "coincidences" I choose not to spill here that do not fail to arrest me.

But for whatever purpose God intends for these little moments my daughter is going through, we are always at his disposal. He knows and shapes her life not her mother nor this world. Thus, I set to rest in his peace, come what may.

KANG DODONG UG SA UBAN PANG MGA SUNDALO SA ISLA SA SPRATLY

Taod-taod
Kilom-kilom na sad.
Mahimo na sigurong
Mupiyong,
Bisan kadiyot.

Apan asa kaha
Ipatong ni Dodong
Ang natun-ogang tingkoy
Nga ang isla
Gikampatan na man
Sa mga kinakhaan
Ug mga itlog
Sa mga lumad-langgam?

Asa man ni Dodong
Patuy-oron ang
Iyang mga tiil?
Nga matod pa sa mga
Silingang langyaw
Ang isla
Tumbanan na
Sa ilang mga tiil.
Gani ang ila kunong
Tingog
Mao ang dahunog
Nianang dagat.

Pahuway lang usa, Dong.
Mahimong sa suok na lang
Mutikungkong.

Basin ugma
Sa kaadlawon
Maunhan na nimo
Ang mga langgam
Ugma,
Ang imong mga tunob
Muangkon
Sa mga balas;

Mulakra,
Mulapos sa mamala
Dili gyud mapapas--

Bisag mugahob pa
Ang dagat.

pag-ayaw: panamilit sa akong pinuy-anan sa bukid sa busay

Mokumpayot pa man gani
Sa lapyahan
Ang mga balod
Inig pamira na
Sa lawod;

Mokuto-kuto bisan
Ang gabawog-bawog
Nga kawayan
Inig pahilayo
Gikan pagyukbo
Sa inahang yuta;

Ako pa kaha
Kon tawgon na unya
Sa laing
Pasilonganan?

KINUMKUM

Diay kinumkom

Nga mga adlaw

Gutlo--

Akong gilain

Alang kanimo

Hinagpat gikan

Sa katuigan--

Mga daklit

Nga nalunhawan

Sa mga agik-ik

Ug talidhay

Ayawat na lang

Imong makuot-kuot

Kung ugaling

Mudawo na

Ang kalibotan.