P[e]NORAMA

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I’m for using a Philippine language (Tag, Ilocano, Bisaya, Hiligaynon, etc) as a tourism brand. It will be exotic, hence, it will catch the interest of foreign travelers. More importantly, it readily has the Tatak Pinoy. All that needs to be done, in my opinion, is study well which language, and what word/phrase to use.

And then, use an English tagline. That’s what will bring the message across to foreigners.

What the DOT can do is come up with a brand/tagline making and logo making contest. The winning tagline, brand, logo will be used. They can come up with mechanics, and then say choose 20 finalists, and then there will be online voting!

The prizes can be as low as P100,000 for each (tagline, brand name, logo) or as high as P 1 M. That would still be cheap, compared to the money good advertising can bring in to the country. And compared with what good companies actually spend on branding.ers.

Filipinos are very creative. Why can’t the DOT pool our talents?

And while we are talking about branding, it might as well be great to point out to DOT about improving what we offer. Better and cheaper products, good team-ups with hotels and the transport industry. And yes, clean and comfortable comfort rooms in tourist destinations.

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Today is the Fall of Bataan, and tomorrow is the 67^th anniversary of the start of the tragic Death March.

During the past weeks, I spent some time reading several books on the defense of Bataan and Corregidor during the Second World War for my articles for Manila Times (Bataan Rising) and, God, it was very difficult to stop the tears rolling down my cheeks.

Friends, let us all bow down our heads and pray for the heroes of Bataan, and thank them for fiercely defending our freedom.

To our war veterans — living and dead — our great salute to you, Sirs/Madams. And to everyone who suffered from the Japanese atrocity, please know that I share your pain.

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As a Bataan Day special, please let me lead you to my article on Bataan. It’s posted on my main website because I couldn’t seem to arrange the pictures properly here. Please click HERE.

As individuals and as parents, Mom and Dad are by no means perfect. Just like any other parents, they, too, have their own weaknesses. But as their child, I admire how well they have played their roles. Here are some of the things I appreciate about them.

1. I appreciate that they always listened to us. And not only that, they solicited our opinions. Even when we were still in our elementary years, our voices were already heard on family matters. Like for example, they would ask us if we should get a house help. They would share the pros and cons, and ask us if we could add to the list. Then, we would decide as a family. When we were in high school and we were beginning to become financially burdened, we made together the decision to swap our residential land to an agricultural one so Dad could farm it.

And when one of us kids commit mistake, we were always given time to air our side and explain our actions. Only after we all have spoken would there be a decision as to the kind of punishment we would be meted out.

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Domestic helpers. Mail-order brides. Exporters of human labor. Scammers.

These are how people the world over have come to know us, Filipinos. And sometimes, I can’t blame them. For though it’s not completely true that these are what constitute us as a people, it’s not completely false either.

Our main export product is our people. A big chunk of our population — roughly ten percent — are Overseas Filipino Contract Workers (OFWs), many of whom are working abroad either as domestic helpers, construction or factory workers, nannies, and health workers, among others. The government calls our OFWs “the modern-day heroes,” because they have saved the country’s economy many times over through their remittances. Without our OFWs, our economy would have long gone under.

We also have mail-order brides — women who have become wives of foreign nationals through dating sites. I do not think this phenomenon is true only among Filipinos, or South East Asian women for that matter, but our case seems to be out of proportion. Just type in the word “Filipina” in the search engine, and you’d see sites advertising Filipinas as if we were commodities.

Being a Filipina, this situation affects me greatly, more so because I cannot claim that the conception that Filipinas are mail-order-brides is entirely false. Many Filipinas have actually taken the easy road to financial security — by marrying a foreign national they met only through the internet and who they have never met before tying the knot, and someone they don’t — or at least, didn’t at first — love.

And so that’s what our women have come to be known — not just mail-order brides, but brides for sale.

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AN UNSEEN HAND turned an unusually bright spotlight upon a darkened stage. Out of nowhere, a figure stepped onto the platform, with no idea how he got there or where he came from. Neither did he know what to do. But in his mind, he seemed to be hearing a voice fainter than a whisper, giving him a vague instruction to act and to say something. 

Half-bewildered, half-suspecting someone was pulling his leg, the figure looked to his left and right, and realized that he wasn’t alone; that he shared the stage with several other beings — puppets, marionettes, dolls, and stick figures — who, like him, had no idea why they were there.

It was as he turned to his right that the figure noticed something peculiar: the arena where he and the other beings were to perform had no seats for spectators.

AFTER HOURS OF walking to and fro the stage — many times crossing paths, a few times colliding with, and sometimes walking alongside the others — the figure just knew, though he couldn’t explain how, that he was being called off the stage. So he delivered his last lines, bowed to the other beings, and started to make his exit. As he retreated to the backstage, he heard some kind of noise erupt. Whether it was a collective applause or booing, he wasn’t sure; he didn’t turn to see.

Reaching the backstage, the figure saw a silhouette making weird gestures as though he was conducting an orchestra. Thinking that the silhouette was another actor about to step onto the platform, he gave him a sympathetic look and exclaimed, “Whew! That was some kind of a play. A scriptless one! Would you believe that? And undirected, too. Weird, isn’t it?”

Receiving no response, the figure persisted, “By the way, are you an actor, too?”

The silhouette shook his head, not taking his gaze off the invisible orchestra. “No, I’m the director.”

Stunned, the figure exclaimed, “The director? You are the director? Why then aren’t you directing? I would have been spared of all those collisions. I would not have gotten lost. I would have been able to put in a better performance; I would not have a-fretted and a-strutted upon that weird platform like some kind of a drunk!”

The silhouette momentarily turned his attention to the figure. “I was. You just weren’t listening.”

 Copyright 2005 by Sherma E. Benosa

All Rights Reserved.

Re-posted to cap my “Life Is…” series.

If you notice, that is this blog’s new tagline.

More than a week ago, I decided to change my header, and with it, my tagline. My tagline used to be simply my name. But then I decided to put my name in the header, which, by the way, is a view of my hometown, Nueva Vizcaya, located about 180 kilometers north of Metro Manila, the country’s capital, where I am currently based.

So I thought of coming up with a good tagline, something that is relevant to my domain name (Brainteaser), and will encapsulate what the blog is all about — my reflections about life and about the things I label ‘essential.’

I wrote down some words. Brainteaser. Life. Reflections. Puzzles. And from there, I was able to come up with the tagline, which is also a statement of how I view life.

You see, I see life as a big puzzle board upon which pieces and clues of a difficult and unending riddle is scattered. In our attempts to solve this riddle, we look everywhere for clues — in the challenges that come our way, in the people that join us in our journey, in the roads we take, in the humps that deter us in our travel. We see glimpses of the answer there. But the greatest clue, I think, is inside us. The pieces of the puzzle lay hidden in the contents of our hearts and in the strength of our faith, for in this puzzle, we are an important piece, a significant clue, and an indispensable player, all rolled into one.

As to the answer, I believe it had always been given: God. There could be no other answer. We only seem to stumble upon different answers because we are slow in realizing — and accepting — His significance, as a result of our inability to recognize Him among the clues we stumble upon.

//Sherma E. Benosa; 11 June 2008; 9:57am

First posted at my photo-blog, Photo.Graphic Thoughts.

(c) 2008 Sherma E. Benosa. All rights reserved.

A sense of déjà vu washed over me as I took a seat inside the CASAA, the eatery near what is probably the most popular building at the University of the Philippines — Palma Hall — for it is here where the general education subjects are taught. I glanced around, hoping to see someone I knew. Recognizing no one, I contended myself with the soft chatter and occasional bursts of laughter of the dozen or so students around me.

Ah, college life!

Having absorbed the energy of youth surrounding me, I started poking at my food — sizzling pork chop. I remembered, it was my favorite when I was a college student myself, although very seldom did I order it for lunch because, at P35 per order, it was simply beyond my means. A decent lunch wasn’t a priority for me then; school supplies and reading materials were.

Now, seven years after graduation from the university, I again find myself sitting inside the very same eatery I used to label “expensive,” but more comfortably now than any of my previous visits, for gone are the days when lunch was either crackers or cheap cookies.

I took a bite at the food which, at P50 per order, I now found affordable. But I soon discovered that it no longer tasted as good as I remembered it. Somehow, it had become bland to my taste buds. As I continued to eat what used to be one of the best-tasting food I’ve ever tasted, I wondered: “Was it just me or was it really the food?”

Halfway through my lunch I decided I was already full. I stood up then slowly made my way to the door, not bothering to come up with an answer. As I closed the screen door, a sad realization hit me: my memory of one of the good things of my college life is now forever altered. Tsk! Tsk!

PS: I walked out of CASAA, past the main library, through the shopping center, to that often crowded area beside the post office, across Kalayaan dorm. As expected, a crowd was already building up. I walked up to the man taking orders and said: “Mama, isaw nga po. Pito! Tsaka po coke in can.”

No, I haven’t changed much. It must have been the food I was eating earlier. Not just me.

//Sherma Benosa
7/3/2006 9:28:56 PM