willfulpleasure

"One"……."Two"……."Three"……."Four"…….where could they possibly be hiding?"….."Five"…..who could probably be just standing at my back?…"Six"…"Seven"…ah si Bongbong diay akong unang pangitaon karon, i chuckled..

Hide and seek is just 1 of my favorite childhood games. I would even choose it over Slimer’s huge appetite in Ghostbuster and Bebop and Rocksteady’s stupid duo in Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles
every Friday night. The game always received a grinning yes  from me
unless Mama held me hostage at home to study or I simply had been into
excessive playing for consecutive days.

Hiding is of course the best part especially
when the town is on blackout or when the coast is on low tide because
there are more hiding options that eventually resulted to slim chances
on me of being bahaw - or the frequent seeker. Being the
smallest and thinnest and having the ability to run faster among my
playmates, I often tag - or save - the post ahead of the seeker.

Though I can fit in anywhere, believe me, even behind a young Talisay tree, I
still have my favorite hiding place: under the Coast Guard office, just
40-50 steps away from the basketball ring where the seeker post is. And
though hiding under the office was hard, as it required clinging long
to the office floor support beams to hide and climbing up quick when
the seeker is distant, the place is really dark for us to hide and even
laugh loud to taunt the seeker. Nevertheless, the seeker cant aimlessly
tag us to the post because he/she can only hear our laughter but not
our specific hiding positions under. He/She should climb down to
clearly see us… which would misdirect him/her while we, one by one,
climb out to 3 other alternative exits - that is during low tide. Even
then, some of my squatter friends or the batang pantalan/baybay still
could brave the waves rampaging the office and sea walls en route to 2
exits. Taking the office wall required balanced walking and docking
(like high-wire stunt walks in Crocodile Park or any circus) while sea
walls required sideward climbing (like sportclimbing and bouldering).
I followed them occasionally but only when the high tides are calm..
or my neighborhood crush urged me to.

The game usually lasted until midnight - damn!
i hated my mother when she calls me at 10pm for bedtime and even hated
her more when more children are laughing aloud and playing and hated
her most when my playmates teasingly call me outside our house to play
another game. Bongbong, Bobong, Bimbo, Mayet, Dindin, Ether,
Inday, Boyet and Leo - my regular playmates, but we usually reached to
more than 20 -were big teasers especially Christmas caroling where they
sing, night after night, at your house with twisted and irritating
(when you dont give a dime) jingles.

What is more exciting is after the game, when
we sit by the seawall and around our older playmates who shared ghost
stories, jokes and even love interests among playmates. But hide and
seek didnt always end good: some games abruptly stopped upon hard
contests of who-tagged-the-post-first or tricky plays of hiding just
around the irritated seeker and instantly tagging the post after the
count of 10 or the 1 twisted rule of the game (kuryentehay or
connected tag - where a player could officially tag at the left end of
wall when the seeker counted at a right end of the same wall) or the
players just didnt show up anymore because they went home without
notice or the seeker just didnt get the chance to hide for the whole
game time.

"Eight".. I extended my arms around me to check for any tricky players just standing and waiting for an instant tag…"Nine"..  "Ten!" "Play!!" I blurted to officially start tagu-anay. I stayed in my post awhile, cleared all possible tricky rules aloud and shouted "walay undang parrot ha," or
"no one will stop from playing the game" (or implicitly translated as,
the game will not stop until I get to hide for consecutive times). "Klaro?" Then I started seeking viciously for Bongbong to avenge.

Hurrying. I walked in and lightly dipped my finger in a silverbowl, like its tip is going to smoke and melt upon touching the holy water. I missed 1 Sunday mass for Ultimate Hat Tournament and have not been praying for countless days. Thank God! I was not late and my finger didnt melt then I found my silence I sought 2 blogs ago. I folded my arm tight; closed my eyes but didnt hear God. I kept my dark sight to relish a cold breeze and His presence. When Neko, a tall Batangueno boardmate, sat beside, I began struggling to not be tempted to exchange short conversations. "I am here for God, not for him," I refocused.

Mass started and I still kept my focus until I made the sign of the cross. Cicero and Paulo Coehlo were right: the cross was an abominable punishment, an instrument of torture. So, "why do we make a sign of the cross?" History accounted that hunted Christians  silently identified themselves with the sign of the cross after Christ died. Eventually, the sign language - or the password - was preserved and we became like fugitives.

I refocused to 3 readings but understood none, even the homily. The old priest who carried 2 eyeglasses and a magnifying glass was on an aimless storytelling even when he had an outlined note on "being tested" - it was the Gospel I suppose. I struggled to avoid disparaging people again like I was in Gaisano Mall and kept my holy connection with my Father. His homily was really horrible and inevitably cracked a cute anecdote, "maayo man jud na sya, Nek, kalat lang jud kaayo iyang homily karon." Neko agreed.

I re-kept my focus and participated on the re-enactment of the eucharistic ceremony of bread and wine because it is only when I almost perfectly remember ceremonial lines. I rarely sing because some tunes and most "murmur" lines are really strange (except.. Lord, I am not worthy you to receive but only say the words and I shall be healed).  It is not my favorite part of the mass, but Our Father.

Not only it has spiritual depth and divinity, you get to hold 1 or 2 gentle hands. Unlucky of having 2 beautiful seatmates and focused. I raised my 2 palms front and midway and sang my favorite heartily…. then felt His presence.

Giving peace is another favorite. You get to exchange smiles with your crushes and I did…at the backrow. Communion followed and instantly cued, leaving Neko who refused to take 1 crispy white biscuit. Then a voice sweetly sang behind me. Luckily, I took a crispier host and saw the sweet singer - she was the one I exchanged smiles!

I have 1 hell of an hour with God while Greta is sleeping, the longest quality hour He demands from us in every week apart from daily minute prayers. Though I was not too attentive with the ceremony, I oddly had fun with God. Merely being in the "moment" He asks us - and enjoying it - is maybe 1 of the best ways to spend time with Him apart from just singing, murmuring ceremonial lines and structured prayers. It is more appropriate than to solely mourn and seek help with Him. Happiness is what you share with your love ones, not sadness. And it is best shared in the mornings.

I walked home with Neko, happy and gratituous; shared laughter with Greta and we became happier.

Amen

yesterday is history; tomorrow is a mystery; and today is a gift, that is why it is called present

everyone raced in and up when Gaisano Mall opened at 10am. i can understand shop attendants, but not shoppers and mallrats - shops are yet to be opened by attendants whom they have raced in with. are these people homeless? early but bored birds? or people who just agreed to meet in the mall? or is it just Saturday when mall items are usually bought early?

surprisingly, people seemed to be serious shoppers: they looked with focus on their target buy and they have their ready wallets out while some withdrew from ATM machines.

but after minutes when none yet carried a shop bag, i started wondering. maybe there were just in until the rain settled? or just wasting time? hmmmm.. i was wrong, they were indeed mere window shoppers….and stranded pedestrians. but im partly unconvinced. they may have bought pocket items that are invisible to me or just exited to the backdoor?

i kept looking, then eureka!! shop bags started popping to disprove all my overcritical speculations. they really were serious early shoppers. if they may have not bagged something, their target item was not available or their kasabot/kakita didnt show up…yet.

i am alone, after all, in the crowding shoppers. i didnt bag anything and open a shop nor meet someone. i was practically rain-stranded pedestrian who missed a 9am seminar. a lone individual forced to eat breakfast until the mall and online atm machines open. with half-drunk hot Jollibee chocolate, i amused myself watching people shop for almost an hour and gradually disparaging them of their cruel intentions of early malling……. i became the people i speculated - "wasting time."

so i walked out; carried my now-cold choco drink and hotdog to withdraw money and went to office to work extra on financial documents. just i sitted, i forgot 2 most important chores while in the mall - to read Paulo Coehlo’s Zahir and withdraw money. i  "wasted time" but somehow enjoyed it. the day was still too early and i have yet to do more good things with God’s present: today. i blogged to relish my daystart, instead of working, while waiting for my rescheduled Pag-ibig housing seminar at 2pm - now that is another good story!

While Manny Pacquiao just passed A+E test to make him eligible for college and ambassador of education, Jenni Epperson (ye.ye.ye. it really sound very familiar to us in Davao Ultimate community) now started tuning up for the sweet days of summer. Eventually, each now has their own next steps. Jenni is eyeing to wear tulip skirts paired with tops with more sleeve and neck details. And Manny is eyeing (and even thinking) Tatit and Angie’s alma mater - Ateneo de Manila University (the neeeerrve!).

While they have their own glam worlds to exploit, our politicians and entertainers are now into eccentric summer frenzies - electioneering shows. Each re-created popular jingles to more comical campaign collaterals. Miguel Zubiri funnily jiggled with Boom Tarat while Mike Defensor desperately banked on the recent A+E test-cum-boxing theme Para Sa Iyo and Manny Poohquiao’s endorsing shout ‘Tol. They effectively caught us…..chuckling to death. Unlike 2 other politicians who supposedly also be comical by their names, Joker Arroyo and Villar (the other Manny) channeled us to moving social adworks on women and corruption. Recto and Kiko on the other hand were walking around low with celebrity wives closely shackled with them.

While electioneerings were becoming more entertaining, more entertainers are becoming politicians. Showbiz seems to build their own entertainment bloc - a dynasty worst than political dynasties. True! Political dynasty holds monopoly of power, but an entertainment bloc holds monopoly of unwise power. Dynasties probably taste more sustainable governance than the latter. But of course, not all entertainers are worth depriving from their political ambitions. Vilma Santos is one, who earned not an A+E test but a degree on Local Government Management at the University of the Philippines Diliman. What’s more, she is equally glamorous with Jenni Epperson.

So please vote wisely. But before voting, register first.

series of alarms then mental snapshots woke me at 5am. as i dipped back to sleep, Mother Theresa appeared, moving towards me with her two hands reaching my face. in a flash, i saw myself staring blankly through a mirror. likely inciting me to look deeper.

"but what to look?" i dont know.

the only clear and right thing to do was rise. so, i rose at 520am. grabbed Paulo Coehlo’s Zahir and my journal. i wanted to jog but didnt have running socks and shorts. yoga too but will wake sleepers - but actually, i really wanted absolute solace, so i sneaked out.

instead of reading, i wrote with the soothing chirps of the bird, lizard and roosters and even the water gushing through the canal. overnight tv and thin sound of moving vehicles also caught my deaf (they say) ear, telling me, "your period of silence is done. you should have risen earlier at 4am."

it was quarter to 6am and more people are waking up and even bathing.

damn, i hate when people steal my solace. i wish they could wake up silently and tiptoe around to do their early chores. i wish only birds make noise in the morning, wish office and school start at 10am for people to wake up at 8am. i wish all early mornings are mine and longer.

but certainly im on a wishful thinking. i forgot i am part - not owner - of the world. so i read Zahir and realized…i was in the quiet coincidence with his key character - reflecting life in silence.

it is a noisy world, where silence is a luxury

"What could possibly be the best Valentine gift for Greta?" I reflected but was short of creativity. I attempted asking but Tata was in a depressed state - not a good mood or source of good suggestions.  Dinner. Flowers. Letter. Spa maybe.

Nah! none above, especially flowers, appealed her….and me. Greta had so much of those back on her college years. Besides, they are common and are commerce’s wicked ploys of consumerism. Florists market flowers (what else would they sell?) as always perfect for women much like diamonds as girls’ best friend to earn more. Duh! ….like the world has no other gift options but either flowers or diamonds. These ploys never encourage creativity and they suck your pocket by instantly doubling prices on holidays.

Relationships are meant to be mutual and men need to be responded much like women (di ba, Sar…Mae…Kat? ). So why care? I had given so much. Worrying gifts should be her concern this time and I grew up "receiving" so much from my middle-class parents. I was sent to the best private school in our town. Groomed and fed well. I even had 2 huge (almost my height and 4-arm wide) boxes of toys, 5 bikes and gallons of sweat from playing with slum kids that I proudly belonged: batang pantalan and batang baybay. So much, I preferred "giving" when I reached adolescence. 

I guess, psychologically, my experience of the benefits of receiving made me appreciate the joy of giving, an essential element of unconditional love. When Id become a parent, Id do so like my parents did - give my children more than basic but less than luxury for them to learn giving. And yes, Ipe, Eraserheads’ Ligaya perfectly fits me.

…..gagawin ko ang lahat pati ang thesis mo, wag mo lang ipagkait ang hinahanap ko. sabihan mo lang ako, aking sinta’y walang humpay na ligaya. aasahang iibigin ka. sa tanghali, sa gabi at umaga…..

"What could possibly be the best Valentine gift for Greta?" I asked again. This is me - I prefer to love and give and be addicted to love. As for Matthew Broderick to Meg Ryan in Addicted to Love, "with love, you cant feel hollow."

I love you more each day, Grets, Happy Valentine and Happy Birthday

"I never like Carlo Rossi. I’d go for Chateau or…. Picasso, most expensive wine that Erap drinks (during his midnight cabinet meetings)," said Oliver, our consultant-writer during an el fresco lunch under the tree shades of Pine Lodge in Eden Nature Park Resort. "I love you, nak," said a proud mom during Mishi’s farewell party.

Poof!

And the moment instantly puffed to the air and time. These are life’s painful realities. Moments are never frozen for you to re-cherish. Either you are awed on split surprise of a moment or regret for missing it. Life never lets you do what you missed doing - like chasing a flying royal blue-neck peacock (especially when you don’t know that they can fly) or wiping Pao’s held tears while wishing Mishi good bye or recording the crisp hushing bamboo leaves that resonated like a gushing river through the nature trail. Watching them on photos or videos and talking about them are so far the best we can do for moments. Re-doing them never are successful.

Poof!

I instantly agreed to Atty. Rowie, our legal consultant, quoting, "Every situation is a learning situation."

So, Edwin, Binyak - my boss’ nephew - Greta and I made the most of the cold moments when we were in Eden Nature Park. We trekked to the playground and joyously rode the zipline - a rope ride where you sit on a small rubber plate, attached to a pulleyed rope that clings to a line stretching around hundred meters. It swings you almost 30-40 degrees horizontal as you reach end. On multiple swings, we became children again.

and poof! Greta and I were on a luxurious off-engine ride down to Toril poblacion, which was overfared at PhP30 more. But we fended it off. Just for Mishi, who is bound for the camels….este!…..Qatar to work as an F.A. (pardon the abbreviation, Dad. Flight Attendant) of obviously… Qatar Airlines. Queer but couldn’t Qatar get a bevy of brainy beauties in their own land that they need to import Mishi? Were all their locals been tarnished with oil or buried in quick sands? I am clueless and will not even attempt in tracing their foul genes and migration. Certainly, I shared grandma’s proud testimonial on Mishi for making herself the first second generation flight attendant in their family. Mishi did not solely passed nursing board examination but pursued her dream - a feat that costed her tears, confusions and escape flights.

Good mom, cool aunts, loving lola and supportive playful friends made her farewell party of colorful collages, powerpointed "mowdel" photos, 8 lollipops and 11 roses and a loud disclaimer of marrying an Arab. A party hosted by a witty Fran, an FM radio newscast dj mistakenly dubbed by Cesar as bisaya. But most amusing was the "crowded" solo photoshoots. It was a party that never felt farewell. So momentous, the host humorously demanded for a similar party. "I’d spill beans. Mishi is flying away anyways. Her mom wouldn’t surely retort." I reflected…. happy and blessed people are not violent and spilling beans and tactlessness are what I am popular on. I confessed to Mishi’s family (making the disclosure tact enough) her injury from playing frisbee in Iligan and my witch advice to Mishi to fly to Manila for her first flight attendant examination/interview. It was a deliberate spill and never worth a regret.

To make things fair. I am spilling others too: Ipe stole My Home magazine in Kubyertos; and sorry Grets, I admired St. Giorgio Frassati (the most handsome saint, remember?); Air sadly requested all listed Eraserheads songs on videoke while Kat confessed her…….

Then poof!

Cold air embraced us Greta again in Eden. Davao City was in plain view at Lola’s Garden while a fresh lettuce-and-herb-flavored air filled our breathe with scent, sweeter than jasmine or any tea of your preference. The morning walk was almost perfect for us Greta but my boss’s nephew was tailing us. He was irritating but did not completely spoiled us. We walked across the vegetable garden and be tapped by sprinkled water; each left gumamela in Mayumi’s wishing well and wished; ran around balimbing, large upo, chestnuts and climbed lanzones trees; "You never get old in this kind of place," Nap, a Maranao area coordinator who I admired for his sheer devotion to Allah and effort to provide his family, gently said as he wrapped his arm around my shoulder. We trailed to the pool with my boss’s father, Papay, where Greta canned few walks for cinematic "real" solo photo takes. We rode the ziplines again and dipped in the chilling pool. Wading, you would be more refreshed than floating in Pearl Farm pool, where water likely meets the sea at the pool edge. Here, water likely meets the forests plus a view of Davao gulf from afar. Like you are drawn to drop from a waterfall as you reach the pool edge. Greta rested flat under the forest fern shade while a happy barkada enjoyed taunting their girl-friends to dive in the cold. Their laughter echoed and was contagious and gave Greta happy cool kisses around her face. We shuttled back to the Pine Lodge and lunched under the tree shades. We feasted on taogi, Nap’s fishda, and perfectly-marinated grilled chicken, as we waved to passing shuttled tourists and critiqued on Filipino’s bland cooking and uncool preference of Carlo Rossi wine. Elsan, a Tausog coordinator I also admired for the profound tell-tales of Islam and Sulu-Basilan-Tawi-tawi history, claimed that Filipinos (he meant Luzon and Visayas) cook tastelessly unlike other Asian neighbors. Thais, Chinese, Vietnamese and Mindanaons, particularly his Muslim brothers, offer varied spicy cuisines that entertain and awe your flavoring senses. I agreed and in just 2 bowl servings….poof…..rice was consumed with fishda’s tasty sauce. "I never like Carlo Rossi….," said Oliver…

POOF!

We were back in the city center. Greta and I missed Eden’s Matinlo pond, the fishing village, floral garden and the ampitheater, where the city is perfectly viewed and marriage rites are solemnly delivered simultaneous with the sunrise and flowerblooms. On split surprise, I realized I am missing Mishi and Luan’s birthday. Wish Mishi could play with us for the last time tonight. "We love you, Mish and …….Belated Happy Birthday, Lu."

rarely do i report to office at 8am, when the sun directly pierces through the glass window and make you squint. hurtful it may be but it plainly tells you, "it is a beautiful day." the moment suddenly strucks me, "why am i missing this beautiful glaring sun? i should report to office at 8am or earlier then."

waking up early is never hard especially when you have all your boardmates’ phones alarming en-masse at 6am, getting up from your bed is. i am just overridden by the thought of nothing-to-do-at -6am, so i often slip back to bed.

"so why am i missing this?," i thought back. early daylight convincingly pre-creates beautiful mornings and pulls you off from a gloomy day-end. but what if the dark cloud clouds? go out! drive in carnival rides; try new foods; read a humor book; laugh out or even caged yourself in a videoke bar like we did last Thursday.

Mark, Badz, Ipe, Febbie, Greta and I went to Damosa to try a festival rides that Greta had claimed open. i was already in my couch with a reading mood after the game was canceled due to the rain. but Greta - on an opposite mood to go out - pulled me off to de-stress from his loud American boss. the idea really made me steamed. it broke my mood; and was not a perfect night for rides. "it’s more fun than reading, why else refuse it," my child side interjected, hurriedly slipped in my jeans and joined Badz and Ipe in Mark’s car.

we fetched Febbie in the convenience store fronting Autoshop and Greta in Victoria Plaza. i hid behind Febbie and the boys joked Greta that i didnt come and prompted her to call me. she instantly did while everyone was holding their loudest laugh! amazingly, Greta still didnt realized my ringing phone. then Ipe spilled the beans and said, "tubaga daw, Pyk." i helloed and Mark’s car instantly became a laughing box. Greta pulled Ipe to her funny disgust while i diffused to my normal body temperature. now im really in for a night ride!

we wheeled to Damosa and dismayed to find the carnival was closed. damn the rain! but the group really seem to break the gloomy night. we proceeded to the airport view to Badz delight, as we became more adjacent to his residence. the airport view was least interesting, so we hopped to Red Knights in Guadalupe Village. it is a small resto, canopied in an apartelle cove that likely resembles Melrose Place. it has expats residing and an Irish cooking and owning the place, where you and your special someone’s feet could splish-splash in the pool while eating. it’s very secluded, you could date your second girl/boyfriend without worries.

the food is great! we just had mistakingly chosen the wrong recipes for our curious stomachs. the shepherd pie with mashed po-te-tu and the mango and apple de-sert pies really disappointed us - not mentioning the hard accents and a Filipina donning a pink undie creeping up to her upper waist that likely looks a girdle. but really, the food is great and foremostly the silence - perfect for dating. so good, our laughter crisply resonated through the waitress’s temper. "pwede hinayan nyo ang katawa…," she favored.

since when is laughing acted on a limited release? of course, we didnt mind the favor. we were as bad as Badz, playful as Mark and Greta, game as Febbie and hot-headed as Ipe; the 2 other foreigners weren’t complaining; and we were out to enjoy. we were so happy, we unnoticingly cleaned our plates despite of lost appetite on de-sert and mashed po-te-tu.

still drizzling, we proceeded to Gimik, Autoshop for videoke. but before Ipe ruled the box, 2 Autoshop ledge dancers got hook on Badz. their eyes teasingly targeted on him… and his.  His got even lasered. if it were a laser rope, Badz could have been abducted from us with a choked DICK!! fortunately, braces were not his preferences that night but the jukebox. Ipe’s performance always scored him superstar but it was his choice of songs that made us howled.

Thursday was never gloomy despite the rainshower. And indeed happy moments are made, not found, not even a beautiful glaring sun. as to Nikki’s Yahoo messenger status message, "there is no key to happiness, the door is always open." we were happy and remembering it proves it all. i am forgetful but Ipe singing James Ingram’s Just Once never slipped my memory until now.

I did my best But I guess my best wasn’t good enough…Just once…Can’t we figure out what we keep doin’ wrong….

"I wish (God) made a button to heaven when someone needs to quit life", a friend told me today. let us call her/him "Mare" for sick reasons it would be cool to conceal obvious characters and tell stories with more drama. I was handcombing my hair when Mare spilled the line. it didnt actually grabbed me first because i am simply apathetic. "but hey, this will make a good blog for today ah! besides i havent blogged for a week." My week-long absence in blogging was actually spent in work, travel and editing. Anyways, i instantly picked Mare’s line and responded, "yeah, the button would be cool." it would likewise be similar with an airline chance passenger line. if one doesnt show up for his scheduled flight, one chance passenger could request to take the absentee passenger’s seat and fly. if id quit life, id just either push the button or stand in line to heaven ("if i ever have a line to heaven, i swear ill be there…, " Introvoys, right?) and exchanged for a divine flight. definitely, there would be more willing souls to exchange for such ticket to stay more or return in the world. And im one of those souls - i still wanted to live the harshsweet life. If God plans to take me, I wish He could reschedule it and gave my ticket to heaven to other begging souls like Mare. In turn, He could discourage man of deliberate death, suicides and mercy killing. Great divine strategy, ey? Of course! i am pro-life! So, God, take me in! I could be your Earth-base Consultant. We’d be like Starsky and Hutch.

January 23.2007. Montebello Hotel, Cebu City.

“I should enjoy the place,” I muttered to force myself up from the bed. at 615am, i swum the pool and gripped the morning chill with a smile. another Korean child was in the pool on a swimming tutorial with a local. though i wasnt bad-mouthing her like yesterday, her mother stared unfriendly -  a stare of warning, "never dare drown my daughter." her stare amused me inside and i crossed the beautiful pool. while i gasped for air for another round, i waded near the struggling Korean swimmer. either she barely understood a single English instruction or she was below average student. i initiated a short talk to the teacher but was too focus on her average student…and his English. so i did another round and plunged out. "what a refreshing daystart," i exclaimed inside.

Edwin, my boss, and i then breakfasted with the consortium participants. believe me, the Korean was still drenched in the pool. but blame it on me. i was not actually gone for too long because i just had a quick bath.

I indulged on bacon, egg, cornbeef, 2 fruit juices and milked cornflakes as Edwin discussed dog fleas with Malu and Bjo. it sure was gross to Greta during meals but not on me. shit is even one of my childhood indulgences.

The group readied for the Barangay Justice Service System Project area tour and visited first the Office of the Liga ng mga Lupong Tagapamayapa. it is the only federated Lupon in the country with around 800 Lupon members, where most are Barangay Justice Advocates (BJAs, our key project participants/beneficiaries). Lupons are first mandated by Presidential Decree 1508 (Katarungan Pambarangay Law) to amicably resolve specific conflicts in the barangay through culture-based conflict resolution processes. They can only resolve slight physical injuries, trespassing, threats, malicious mischief, simple seduction, oral defamation or slander, theft, abandoning minor and persons in danger, imprudence and negligence……and estafa(a fraud committed by abuse of confidence!). of course, i wouldnt refer Ms. Jenny Nalla to them. Lupon could only settle cases involving private parties and offenses punishable by imprisonment not exceeding 1 year or fines not exceeding PhP5,000.00. we collectively are going for the shit court! joke! im still for amicable settlement with her parents. and litigations are just too costly.

thank us ahead, Jen.

Well, while the Liga repeatedly took pride in winning DILG’s Outstanding Lupon in the country, Barangay Pahina and Pasil Lupons claimed to have contributed to declogging court cases and to the city’s 97% efficiency rate in settling disputes. the visit, at the day-end, eventually was a bragging tour. Who cares? they were so rightful of those bragging rights anyways and I had a very refreshing daystart.