Beware: Children Crosssing!

By Emmanuelle

CONNECT me if I were wronged, but did we witness the lower housing stand united for one glorious or inglorious (no Gloria pun intended, please don’t Amparo me) moment in music history? Or did we just see it give birth again to yet another faction – that of the utterly disgusted – with members coming from those who AB-dominally-STAINED or voted NO or were too weak to NO better? I guest one’s sight defends on the Claridad of one’s eyes. Or on the way one perceives all things great and small God made them all.

Some legislators made long use of the three minutes allowed to explain the why of their vote, but just the same, they shorted out the true will of the people they were representatives of. Hear ye, your royal shortness, we could have had better time waiting for Godot.     

Sa totoo lang, the truth and nobody but the truth, it was all math and epidemic. The butterflies swarmed around this speakermike for years. Suddenly, the butterflies subtracted themselves gone. Pop-a. They didn’t go far; they added themselves over there to another speakermike whose voice boomed lower and slower but whose stars were brighter and around whom the grass seemed greener. Puppety pop-a.

Same garden, different speakermike.

Or take Alice in Wonderland’s Queen version: Off with his head! Throw head, keep body, prop on different head!  The leadership is the same; only the leader has changed. Rewards around for cutters and props men.  When new head starts, too, to stink: off with his head! 

The significant few – the young, the first termers, the dreamers. They could have lent teeny tiny voices to him whose vocals had lost its power. But, pshew, they were so turned off with this latest of the endless charades, they chose to abstain their disdain.

It was an overkill, the royal game nowadays. As with the tanks to make a five-star hotel kneel, tear gas and bullets against a band of bare-footed farmers, batuta to batter fragile bones.

Batteries of periods ignoring a single question mark.      

As I watched his fall from amazing grace, I could have cried buckles of tears. Instead, I crossed my lips, I shut my nose, I blew my eyes. And brought to mind children of the short pants, garterless socks and scruffy shoes. God made them young first before he made them great and small.

Child 1: Bakit mo ako pinahiya sa harap ng madlang people? (How dare you put me to shame?)

Child 2: E ano. Totoo naman. (So what? It’s the truth.)

Child 1: It’s not.

Child 2: It is.

Child 1: Notnotnotnotnot.

Child 2: Isisisisis.

Child 1: Back off! (Pushes Child 2 back.)

Child 2: Huhuhu. Isusumbong kita kay Tatay. (Wipes tears with dirty knuckles. Sniffles.)

Child 1: Sige nga. Hah. My Tatay is bigger than yours.

Child 2: Hah. My Tatay is smarter than yours. He can even outtalk your Tatay.

Child 1: So what? My  Nanay is more  powerful  naman than your Tatay.

Child 2: Kahit na. Kakampi naman namin and buong barangay.

Child 1: Yabang mo a! Lagot ka sa akin, sa amin!

Child 2: Yabang ka rin. Lagot ka rin!

Child 1: Beeeh!

Child 2: Beeeh ka rin! Beeh beeh be-be-beeh!

The boys, formerly as good as blood brothers within the select confines of their small big world, part ways with clenched fists and cross hearts. Kanya-kanyang sumbungan. For a month, the neighborhood watched true drama played before their very eyes. The families of Child 1 and Child 2 would snub each other, talk about and curse each other behind backs, and magpaparatingan ng mga banta sa isa’t isa.

Family 2: Mga walang utang na loob! You owe me more than your life, your place, your savings combined!

Family 1: Aba, e, nakinabang ka rin naman, di ba? Sobra-sobra na nga ang aming bayad, nang-aabuso ka pa.

Family 2: Hindi naman a. Akala nyo lang iyon.

Family 1: Kung akala lang, bakit pakiramdam namin, palagi na lang sakal mo kami sa leeg?

Family 2: Hindi naman, a. Akala mo lang iyon.  

Until one day, all hell broke loose. O, nakinabang ba naman tayong mga tsismosa? 

What to say to those who encouraged the widening of the rift, the maLakas lang kung may kaKampi, the perennial transferees, the professional traders of trust, the mahilig  sumabit wala lang?

You forgot your good manners and right conduct? O di kaya: you were not only bad-mannered; you were also wrongly conducted?

 Andokey la yan sermon, forgive the long, I beg your porkdom. By the way, beware of the playzone you-know-where: children are still crossing words and swords. And they are not very still. They haven’t grown yet, they who will be great, they who will forever be small.

(Readers may reach columnist at jingmil@yahoo.com. For past columns, click http://sundaypunch.prepys.com/archives/category/opinion/feelings/
For reactions to this column, click “Send MESSAGES, OPINIONS, COMMENTS” on default page.)

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