the tale of faiths...
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Okay, fuck studying for the time being. I just need to tell tales about the recent events in my life.
First of all… there is BAD FAITH.
Mala fide is somehow defined as knowledge of a defect, or knowledge of the existence of fraud, civil or criminal.
I’m using it now as a double-edged sword.
This is how my grandmother recounted to me…
A few days ago, there was this man who came to our house and talked to my grandmother. He was asking if a ‘santo’ can be brought to the house. (Pag-aakyat in the dialect) At first, he said it will be the Nazarene that will be brought, and when my grandmother asked what will be her responsibility, the man said, just pay for the gas expense for the jeep, amounting to P250 pesos.
Not long before the man left, according to my grandmother, he returned, this time saying that a certain ‘Nanay Orang’ said instead of the Nazarene, ‘Butchoy’ will be brought. My grandmother was a bit disappointed since she really wanted the Nazarene to be brought in the house. (Side story: During those days, she prayed to Nazarene at the Aglipayan church and asked for a son. It was granted. Hence, the importance of the Nazarene to her personal devotions) At any rate, she agreed. And then the man recanted his previous P250, and asked instead of P450.
Right then and there, I smelled the scent of bad faith.
The following day, this group of somewhat semi-civilized people came barging to the house and went in, bringing a giant statute of a Sto. Niño, a.k.a. Butchoy. My grandmother said the people didn’t even had the decorum to say greetings. They just came in. The woman in the group said the ‘alleged’ prayers should be said, but my grandmother, being devote to the Sto. Niño, showed them her alternative prayer. (Side story No. 2: My family, particularly Lola Soledad “Oleng” Bernardo de Paez, introduced to Malabon the celebration and the Devotion to the Sto. Niño more than two decades ago. A certain image of Sto. Nino de Praga de Makati was brought to our house, and the first procession and novenas, according to her began in this very house where I live.) My grandma has this Sto. Nino rosary which only has 12 or so beads. The woman insisted that only the ‘rosary in the hands of Butchoy’ should be used.
Again, I smelled bad faith. Fanaticism.
The first time I saw the statue, I wasn’t awe inspired. I was filled by a certain terror by the first sight of it. First of all, it wasn’t really much a work of art. It has this disproportionate figure from head to toe. The first thing I remembered was that walking doll that my titas used to terrify me when I was less than five years old.
The people said it will only be here for one day. And so, the next day, my grandmother had prepared some food. But alas, night time came, still, nobody came to pick it up.
After recounting to me these events, I told my grandmother, I smelled the scent of fraud.
So the next day they came. My grandmother, almost teary eyed. Lambasted them, for being such rude people, that in bringing in that statue in the house, they did not bring in the ‘Holy Spirit’, but instead, they just wanted the money. (Yes, there was an envelope allegedly planted behind one of the vases they brought in within the statue.) She detested how they did not fulfill their promise of returning the next day, without any word. As a gracious host, she had all the right to lambast them, since the food prepared was spoiled.
And so, napahiya sila.
They will never return to this house.
Evidentiary Matters:
It is highly probable that they planned to go here since our place (due to the nature of the business) is open to the public. They could have been usual passengers in the bancas, and knew that we had substantial income.
They could have known that the family is well-known in the local catholic and aglipayan churches.
They were not locals. They came from Bangkulasi, in Navotas, a place where my grandmother never stepped foot on since she came to Manila after the war.
They were a bunch of simpletons, not the usual church people, neither did they bear any title or authority from a church. (And you probably know what I mean by ‘church people.’)
They did not bear any solicitation letter, not even a piece of note.
They used religion.
They used fraud.
They will be condemned.
And so, after their somehow disgraceful exit, I consoled my grandmother.
xxx xxx xxx
I have been having these weird dreams for the past few weeks lately.
The first dream, all I can recall was that I was bitten by a snake. I couldn’t recall if I picked it up or it just snagged me. But as far as I know, somehow, a piece of the fang was left on my skin, probably on the arm.
The second dream, just the other night, I was in this large church, somewhat southern style, like the Black-American Gospel churches. But this had several floors. On the top most floor there was this beautiful room, or boudoir. It had this nice big oven, sorta like an industrial chicken roaster. Inside there, churning, were large pieces of almost charred bread, or perhaps, logs, or whatever.
At the lower level, services where going on… I was walking around, behind the posts, there was this somewhat gilded pipe organ, but not so ornate. I can’t recall if what I was hearing was Handel’s Messiah or Beethoven’s Fifth or Ninth.
When I glanced over the balcony, and while still behind one of the posts, I saw ‘him.’ Let us appellate him as ‘M’ He saw me and looked back. Then I went away.
Then, last night, or the other night, I dreamt of her. Let us name her ‘LC’. I can’t recall the details no more, but I can feel the emotions. It was happiness. She was smiling again. Somehow, we seem to have reconciled our differences, we held hands, stood close to each other, almost near-kissing…
Then I woke up.
Fuck. It was just a dream.
I could have slept forever with that scenario in my mind.
xxx xxx xxx
Yesterday, before our moot court exercised. ‘M’ approached me. (this is real life now, btw)
“Pare, usap naman tayo. Sige na.”
Me: (Apprehensive) “Wrong timing ka naman eh.” (Well, that’s true, ‘coz I was mentally preparing myself for the moot court.)
He: “Pare, galit ka ba a ken? Na-guguilty kasi ako, hindi mo na ko kinakausap eh.” (that or something to that effect. I wasn’t really intent on listening to him) “Hindi ko naman alam na may ano pala kayo ni Y dati.”
Me: “So, alam mo na ngayon na there is something between me and Y?”
He: “Oo, sinabi niya sa ken dati pa.”
Blah blah blah…
In short… I told him this.
I do not consent, I cannot condone. It’s not ok. Pero dahil magkaibigan tayo, I wouldn’t make a big deal out of it. Matanda na tayo. Whatever conflict between us, sa atin na lang yun. Hindi ko na sinasabi sa mga barkada ko sa AB, maski sa mga iba nating friends. Ayoko ng chismis. Matanda na tayo…
“Good faith na lang pare.” I said.
Good faith…
Bona fide.
End conversation.
Somehow, I did feel vindicated.
I have already dealt with the guy.
Now, I have to deal with the girl.
Dreams, fate and faith?
This is surreal.
Okay, fuck studying for the time being. I just need to tell tales about the recent events in my life.
First of all… there is BAD FAITH.
Mala fide is somehow defined as knowledge of a defect, or knowledge of the existence of fraud, civil or criminal.
I’m using it now as a double-edged sword.
This is how my grandmother recounted to me…
A few days ago, there was this man who came to our house and talked to my grandmother. He was asking if a ‘santo’ can be brought to the house. (Pag-aakyat in the dialect) At first, he said it will be the Nazarene that will be brought, and when my grandmother asked what will be her responsibility, the man said, just pay for the gas expense for the jeep, amounting to P250 pesos.
Not long before the man left, according to my grandmother, he returned, this time saying that a certain ‘Nanay Orang’ said instead of the Nazarene, ‘Butchoy’ will be brought. My grandmother was a bit disappointed since she really wanted the Nazarene to be brought in the house. (Side story: During those days, she prayed to Nazarene at the Aglipayan church and asked for a son. It was granted. Hence, the importance of the Nazarene to her personal devotions) At any rate, she agreed. And then the man recanted his previous P250, and asked instead of P450.
Right then and there, I smelled the scent of bad faith.
The following day, this group of somewhat semi-civilized people came barging to the house and went in, bringing a giant statute of a Sto. Niño, a.k.a. Butchoy. My grandmother said the people didn’t even had the decorum to say greetings. They just came in. The woman in the group said the ‘alleged’ prayers should be said, but my grandmother, being devote to the Sto. Niño, showed them her alternative prayer. (Side story No. 2: My family, particularly Lola Soledad “Oleng” Bernardo de Paez, introduced to Malabon the celebration and the Devotion to the Sto. Niño more than two decades ago. A certain image of Sto. Nino de Praga de Makati was brought to our house, and the first procession and novenas, according to her began in this very house where I live.) My grandma has this Sto. Nino rosary which only has 12 or so beads. The woman insisted that only the ‘rosary in the hands of Butchoy’ should be used.
Again, I smelled bad faith. Fanaticism.
The first time I saw the statue, I wasn’t awe inspired. I was filled by a certain terror by the first sight of it. First of all, it wasn’t really much a work of art. It has this disproportionate figure from head to toe. The first thing I remembered was that walking doll that my titas used to terrify me when I was less than five years old.
The people said it will only be here for one day. And so, the next day, my grandmother had prepared some food. But alas, night time came, still, nobody came to pick it up.
After recounting to me these events, I told my grandmother, I smelled the scent of fraud.
So the next day they came. My grandmother, almost teary eyed. Lambasted them, for being such rude people, that in bringing in that statue in the house, they did not bring in the ‘Holy Spirit’, but instead, they just wanted the money. (Yes, there was an envelope allegedly planted behind one of the vases they brought in within the statue.) She detested how they did not fulfill their promise of returning the next day, without any word. As a gracious host, she had all the right to lambast them, since the food prepared was spoiled.
And so, napahiya sila.
They will never return to this house.
Evidentiary Matters:
It is highly probable that they planned to go here since our place (due to the nature of the business) is open to the public. They could have been usual passengers in the bancas, and knew that we had substantial income.
They could have known that the family is well-known in the local catholic and aglipayan churches.
They were not locals. They came from Bangkulasi, in Navotas, a place where my grandmother never stepped foot on since she came to Manila after the war.
They were a bunch of simpletons, not the usual church people, neither did they bear any title or authority from a church. (And you probably know what I mean by ‘church people.’)
They did not bear any solicitation letter, not even a piece of note.
They used religion.
They used fraud.
They will be condemned.
And so, after their somehow disgraceful exit, I consoled my grandmother.
xxx xxx xxx
I have been having these weird dreams for the past few weeks lately.
The first dream, all I can recall was that I was bitten by a snake. I couldn’t recall if I picked it up or it just snagged me. But as far as I know, somehow, a piece of the fang was left on my skin, probably on the arm.
The second dream, just the other night, I was in this large church, somewhat southern style, like the Black-American Gospel churches. But this had several floors. On the top most floor there was this beautiful room, or boudoir. It had this nice big oven, sorta like an industrial chicken roaster. Inside there, churning, were large pieces of almost charred bread, or perhaps, logs, or whatever.
At the lower level, services where going on… I was walking around, behind the posts, there was this somewhat gilded pipe organ, but not so ornate. I can’t recall if what I was hearing was Handel’s Messiah or Beethoven’s Fifth or Ninth.
When I glanced over the balcony, and while still behind one of the posts, I saw ‘him.’ Let us appellate him as ‘M’ He saw me and looked back. Then I went away.
Then, last night, or the other night, I dreamt of her. Let us name her ‘LC’. I can’t recall the details no more, but I can feel the emotions. It was happiness. She was smiling again. Somehow, we seem to have reconciled our differences, we held hands, stood close to each other, almost near-kissing…
Then I woke up.
Fuck. It was just a dream.
I could have slept forever with that scenario in my mind.
xxx xxx xxx
Yesterday, before our moot court exercised. ‘M’ approached me. (this is real life now, btw)
“Pare, usap naman tayo. Sige na.”
Me: (Apprehensive) “Wrong timing ka naman eh.” (Well, that’s true, ‘coz I was mentally preparing myself for the moot court.)
He: “Pare, galit ka ba a ken? Na-guguilty kasi ako, hindi mo na ko kinakausap eh.” (that or something to that effect. I wasn’t really intent on listening to him) “Hindi ko naman alam na may ano pala kayo ni Y dati.”
Me: “So, alam mo na ngayon na there is something between me and Y?”
He: “Oo, sinabi niya sa ken dati pa.”
Blah blah blah…
In short… I told him this.
I do not consent, I cannot condone. It’s not ok. Pero dahil magkaibigan tayo, I wouldn’t make a big deal out of it. Matanda na tayo. Whatever conflict between us, sa atin na lang yun. Hindi ko na sinasabi sa mga barkada ko sa AB, maski sa mga iba nating friends. Ayoko ng chismis. Matanda na tayo…
“Good faith na lang pare.” I said.
Good faith…
Bona fide.
End conversation.
Somehow, I did feel vindicated.
I have already dealt with the guy.
Now, I have to deal with the girl.
Dreams, fate and faith?
This is surreal.
Like art imitating life.
posted by ohme at 11:58 AM
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