Sunday Bloody Sunday
Saw Claire in church earlier this afternoon. She passed by in front of me twice: first, at the start of mass (although I noted she was late), then, as she and her family left (right after communion). I was itching to call out to her, but in the end I decided against it for the following reasons:1.) She was with her family. This means if I call her attention, I will have to greet her mother and her father--and perhaps even her brother--out of formality and courtesy. That alone is a massive obstacle for me.
2.) The venue just wasn't conducive for "friend-greeting." I mean c'mon, we were in church; I just can't slap someone on the back and say "HOY!!!" while everyone's praying. And don't go telling me that I can always greet someone with a subdued "Huy..."-- I just don't function that way.
3.) I couldn't think of anything to say. Things might get awkward fast if I just say "HOY!!!" and follow it up with nothing. And also--again--Claire was with her family. Their presence will just serve to heighten the awkwardness.
So, in the end, I just let Claire pass by. I did send her an SMS after mass, but she hasn't sent a reply as of this typing. Claire you discourteous girl.
After mass we proceeded to an uncle's house in Toril for a fiesta--to celebrate Christ the King, I think. I spent ten minutes eating, and the remaining three hours were spent waiting on my father who was there drinking and socializing. Damn how I hate parties/fiestas/social functions, specially ones where you don't know enough people to have a good enough time. Fortunately, my brother was with me, and so we both stewed in OP-ness.
I'm always uncomfortable coming to this certain uncle's parties. Their huge house with the spacious driveway, the landscaped front yard, the pedigreed dog (I don't know the breed but dad calls it the "Hush Puppies" mascot), the chandeliers, and the three sala sets--seeing it always makes me feel so poor and un-'cultured'. Like it's always screaming: "Look at this!!! See how we're so much better than you." But anyway, that's just me--my uncle's not really evil or anything. (He is a lawyer though. Hehe.)
And I guess my father feels the same way, too. He didn't really hang around much with my uncle and his Rotary Club-slash-golf buddies at their table with the overflowing Johnny Walker's. Instead, he drank with my uncle's brother-in-law, who also wasn't part of my uncle's golf-Rotary circle. That's one thing my father and I have in common: we're both very masa.
So we went home around 9 in the evening. Before that, we heard that someone had been stabbed dead somewhere in the subdivision. I hope he's not another one of those 'My Way' casualties.
In the car, on the way home, my mom and dad talked about the 'days of the movement' (my rough translation of "kapanahunan sa kalihukan," as my dad put it). You see, the relative my dad was talking to earlier--his policeman-dad was gunned down by rebels during those "days."
Here's how their conversation went on, as I remembered it:
Ma: Ang papa ni Gatsi, gipusil man to no?
Me:(looking out the window but listening intently)
Pa: Oo...Kuan to... tong panahon sa kalihukan.
Ma: Grabe jud tong panahuna to ba. 'Asta si Papa gud, murag dili pud mahimutang ato. (note: my lolo's also a policeman.)... Apil man si Pepe ato diba?
Me:(I don't know who this Pepe is. One thing's for sure--he used to be a policeman, and he used to be alive.)
Pa: Oo.
Ma: Sa Magallanes man to siya gi-tira ato diba?
Pa: O. Gapili-pili lang to siya ug pan sa Magallanes. Gi-posisyonan dayon ug tulo. Gipusil sa ulo...patay.
Me:(imagining Sunny Point Bakeshop in Magallanes...)
Pa: Kahinumdum pa ka atong sa PLDT?
Ma: Ah, O...
Pa: Katong sa Bankerohan pud. Padulong pa ko'g trabaho ato. Nag-kape lang tong duha ato...
Ma: ...Human gibaril la'g kalit. Pilit dayon ang utok sa bungbong ato...
Me:(appreciating mama's penchant for imagery)
Ma: ...Grabe jud to, mga tulo ka pulis jud to kada-adlaw ba. Makaingon jud ka ato sa una, "Mahurot na man siguro ang mga pulis ani..."
Pa: Kakita ka sa City Hall sa una? Ang flag ato...dili jud...half-mast jud to pirminte adlaw-adlaw. Naa ma'y pulis pirme ihaya.
---
After (and while) hearing my mom and dad's conversation, I felt uneasy--somewhat like a combination of nostalgia, pity(for the fallen policemen) and anger(for the rebels/activists). Maybe it was because I was thinking of my late grandfather while they were talking. The thought of kindly old men being shot down with bullets just saddened me. Anyway, it made me think of the relativity of it all. Leftist groups/communist sympathizers are foaming at the mouth over "political killings" when their hands are not free of blood either.
Ah whatever--the bottom-line is I just don't like leftists and activists--period. But I'm not saying "Kill 'em all!" I just don't like noise of any kind, that's all--thank you.
Labels: Sundays and Saturdays
posted by Adobobo @ 1:56:00 AM
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