Showing posts with label Stories to learn from (sana). Show all posts
Showing posts with label Stories to learn from (sana). Show all posts

Monday, 18 June 2012

Petticoat Government
By JDG/Jodge

I OFTEN spend my weekends at my Uncle Fred’s farmhouse. Both my uncle and aunt are dear to me but I have a closer connection to my uncle. Last Saturday, after eating our dinner, we talked in a gazebo built on top of a hill overlooking the farm. The distant sounds of bullfrogs provided simple orchestration along with the melody of the babbling moonlit man-made creek. The soft gentle breeze lulled me to the most serene state I could remember. But my uncle’s countenance was a contrast to the tranquility of the evening. I can remember how hollow his face was, how his eyes spoke of weariness, how his mouth twisted in the mockery of the shadows staring at us. He was once a handsome man, but now his face has become grim and bitter as if life played a dirty trick on him.

Attempting to slay the uncomfortable silence shrouding us both, I told him my younger sister would be marrying before this year ends. After a long moment of silence, he finally spoke, "Marriage is like putting your hand into a bag of snakes and hoping to get an eel." That was the incentive moment; it started the "pouring out of sentiments" and I became the grievance drainage. He spoke of his regrets of having married, "If I had been warned, I would have tarried. I would not have rushed into marriage. If I had been hanged when I married, my torments would have ended," he said. But he realized that it is now too late. His life is miserable, not much can be done, except on the mere acceptance that wedding and hanging are destiny.

I really do not know whether to empathize with my uncle or camp my self-formed opinions with regards to men-women domination with my aunt. I really think he is to be blamed. He is an obedient and hen-pecked husband. My aunt is a shrewish, termagant wife. Well, it is a tolerable blessing for an emotionally unstable husband. In that respect, I would admit that my uncle could have been thrice blessed.
My Aunt Claire is the embodiment of a petticoat government. Her dominion in their house is kind of political, she being the dominant figure, being superior over Uncle Fred. And that, as I can see, is demoralization to him. He has become an ordinary male staff of the petticoat rule.

Uncle Fred escapes household responsibilities; my aunt calls it indolence. He does not behave in the traditional ways of fatherhood. Aunt Claire is a symbol of all the values he rejects and all the responsibilities he ought to undertake. He is passive in his male role thus Aunt Claire is accorded with the functions that are (traditionally and technically speaking) for men: the hand that manages the people in the farm, the voice that the children listen to, the head that decides what is best for the family.

My aunt is wiser in decision-making. And she knows that he knows that too, so she has the nerve to openly tell him so. She stresses the issue on him and even proves it. She seems to be challenging the intellectual ascendancy of my uncle. And because he seems to have lost his self-esteem, he can not equate with her, thus he loses pride and confidence. I remember my aunt telling me that she has not met a man who is not intimidated by a woman’s intelligence, in reality. All right, she might be bragging. My mind played with the question, how in the world did they end up being tied into this hellish knot.

In fairness to my uncle, he has lovable traits too that make others respect him. He is a simple, meek, good-natured fellow. These made him likable to many of the fellows and children in the neighborhood. He responds to the needs of others; he does jobs for other women and plays with the children in the neighborhood. But with his family duties, he is impossible. My aunt often scolds him about his idleness and the devastation he is causing on his family.

I guess my aunt is left with no other choice but to invade my uncle’s territory. This may explain why Aunt Claire behaves like such a shrew and Uncle Fred has become hen-pecked. As she invades his territory, my aunt’s defense--a woman’s defense--would likely emerge as this: that if she seems to act aggressively or assertively or in other way unattractively, she acts as she must act. She acts as he forces her to act by his unmanly behavior; he shrinks from his responsibilities as a man. Traditionally, women are expected to fear their men, but in this family, there is a reversal of roles. My aunt as a scolding wife dominates the picture.

There are so many Uncle Freds and Aunt Claires in this society--a society that has countless assumptions about the relationships of men and women, a society that challenges familial and sexual roles, a society where the number of "housebands" is statistically escalating, a society where a considerable number of husbands are just male staff in a petticoat government.
____________

Joan D. Gervacio, 26 years old is not sure whether she will become a shrewish wife but when she chooses her man, he should not be powerless, inadequate, or inefficient.

Petticoat Government by JDG/Jodge was published On-line at YOU (INQ7_net's Website for Interactive Youth), on July 26, 2002, Youngblood Section, Philippine Daily Inquirer.


Monday, 9 February 2009

FREE HUGS on Friday the 13th up to Heart’s Day!!!

I am an advocate of Free Hugs Campaign (started by Juan Mann in 2004)...


The Wikipedia says that this year (2009) Free Hug Day will take place internationally at 00:01 on Friday February 13 until 00:00 (midnight) on Saturday February 14, at each country's respective times.


If you have not known of this campaign yet, please click HERE.


Below is the music video (which helped popularize the campaign) by the Australian band Sick Puppies.


Video credits to PeaceOnEarth123@YouTube

Friday, 30 January 2009

“Sir? Are you okay?”

Last Wednesday evening was the second “weekly movie night” that I and my French housemate started doing the other week so we can have a break from our school work.

While walking to the town centre, I noticed an old man, about five meters away from us, wobbling. When he passed us by, I heard him groaning. Although we continued walking, I was looking at him to check, actually curious if he’s normal or not, then he fell down. So we ran back and asked him a very stupid question, “Sir? Sir, are you okay?”... (Are we nuts? Of course, he isn’t!)

I think I panicked because it didn’t really occur to me that I should call 999, waaaaaaah! Having grown and lived in a coconut farm in a remote Philippine village, my mind was not trained to call emergency lines but instead shout at the top of my lungs “Taaaaaabbbbbbaaaaang!” (Help!), hoping that neighbours who live hundreds of meters away would hear. Ahaha!

When I picked his bags of groceries scattered on the path and before I could cry “Help!”, I heard a man shouting from the other side of the road “Call 999”... At first, what registered in my mind was that he was telling us to get away from the old man...so I and my French housemate backed off, then he shouted again, “Call 999”... that’s the time I remembered what I’m supposed to do. I totally forgot the Safety and Emergency Awareness series of the University. Ouch! Pastilan! (Darn!)

So I called 999 while my housemate checked on the man. He was bleeding profusely, from a cut on the left brow! While waiting for the ambulance, we learned that the man is 75 years old...and he kept murmuring 147 street something...I think it took 15 minutes for the ambulance to get to the site. Then a woman passed by and recognized the old man, and that’s the time that I realized what 147 meant. It’s the number of his house on that street. He’s just four houses away from where he collapsed. I think he really tried to make it to his house.

So the ambulance arrived, the police arrived and also the old man’s wife. After telling the wife that he’s carrying some groceries, we left the scene, and headed to the cinema. We arrived on time, watched Seven Pounds, while I smelled vinegar! Hahaha. The bags of groceries, there was a bottle of vinegar...

Ah that movie, the tear jerker Seven Pounds has some scenes reminding us of the incident… the movie started with Will Smith calling 911 and there was a scene when Rosario Dawson fell like the old man. I have a feeling this whole thing is preparing me for something more panicking...Ehehe! But I hope with this experience, my reticular activating system will store this as relevant information, that is, not to panic and to call 999 or 991 right away...

Now, this makes me think that I should tell the Barangay Captain (village head) of my beloved Barangay Cadunan to have an emergency number (or maybe, we have it already, I just do not know). Even in Tagum City (where I work), I don’t know the emergency lines... (Naa ba? Naa na yata). What I know is that in Compostela Valley Province and Davao del Norte, there are stickers posted in tricycles and jeepneys advertising to people to call certain numbers to report ‘Colurum Vans’.

After the movie, my housemate and I just talked about the bloody incidents that happened to us...while eating fries. Yum! Hmmm, that made me recall that I had been to accidents quite a lot already in my entire life…tsk tsk.

For the rest of the night, my housemate was a bit traumatized; she said she could still smell the blood. Not me! Thanks to the vinegar!
 
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