Art in the time of swine flu

Sorry for corrupting the title of a great novel but just now I can’t think of how to describe a great and daring effort to showcase Philippine art in these dreadful times when health and home are under threat.

Manila will have its first international art fair, “Manilart 09”, starting today until July 19 at the NBC Tent, in Bonifacio Global City in Taguig. At last we have our own, and we don’t have to envy our next-door neighbors Singapore, Kuala Lumpur, Hong Kong and Taipei which regularly hold international art fairs and attract art lovers from all over the world.

Support Philippine art. Go, please, go, and go home with some great art pieces if you have the money to spread around. Enjoy what you buy. Your descendants will enjoy them too.



We Filipinos have always taken pride in the fact that our artists do very well abroad and bring home honors and honors. This bolsters our belief that we are indeed an artistic and talented nation. We want to shout to the world and say that there’s more where they come from. Whether it’s in film, music, dance, literature or the visual arts, we have what it takes.

Time and time again we have received affirmation overseas and that is fine. But why can’t we also showcase our talents ourselves, here, where they abound? It is very good to go out there and be affirmed and recognized. It would also be very good, if not better, if the world out there, people from different climes, would come here—in droves—and see for themselves. Why can’t we make them come in droves? Are azure sea and azure skies all we have?

Our neighbors (you know what countries these are) mount their own huge artistic productions, but using a whole caboodle of Filipino talents, making OFWs of our fine artists who have to leave home for long periods in order to earn, and more important, to showcase their talents and fulfill their calling.

A friend of mine, veteran NGO writer Manolita Gonzales, has shared with me her long article “The Business of Selling Art” and her interviews with artists and with Manilart 09 project director Jonathan Sy. “Manilart 09,” Gonzales says, should get wide support and could I please write even just a paragraph on it?

It is not all aesthetics, there is an economic component to all this, in these hard times, Gonzales tells me. The country would be served well if Philippine art could come into its own in the world market. Why, China and Vietnam have found their niche and could leave us behind if we don’t perk up our own art scene and flaunt it to the world.

Manilart 09 is a joint project of the Bonafide Art Galleries Association (Bago) and the National Commission for Culture and the Arts. More than 40 galleries are participating and more than 500 works of art (paintings and sculptures) will be on display. Some Southeast Asian groups have been invited.

Why Manilart 09? Manila has always been considered one of Southeast Asia's most vibrant cities and has a pulsating contemporary art scene. Filipino artists are highly regarded by the global art community because of their distinct style and creativity. Philippine art fares well at international art auctions and exhibitions. Filipino art collectors and enthusiasts are among the most sophisticated in the region.

Manilart 09 it is not just be an exhibit, it is a festival. Filipinos with or without money to buy should come even just to immerse themselves in the beauty of these creations. It’s like going to an art museum except that many, if not all of the pieces, will be snapped up and we may never see them again.

Sy told Gonzales: “You’ll be astounded by the sheer magnitude because it’s the first time this is happening. I’ve seen it abroad, in Singapore. It takes you two hours to enjoy all the pieces. I am excited because here you will see that Filipinos are indeed very talented. We are second to Indonesia in terms of prices. There are foreign collectors who love Philippine art. Our art is quite diverse, like Indonesia’s, and it has oriental Malay, American and European influences. You can see that our Filipino artists are very nationalistic.”

The opening night is tonight (invitational). Manilart 09 will be open to the public tomorrow until Sunday. I will probably go tomorrow. Entrance fee is P200 (students and senior citizens get a 50 percent discount.) There will be lectures, demonstrations as well auctions.

Txtrs unyt! Cell phone users continue to raise their complaints and those I’ve received I sent to leon@cp-union.com and kathangkatotohanan@gmail.com, the addresses of the advocacy group lobbying on behalf of hapless cell phone users victimized by cell phone companies and product promoters. Am glad to know that load life will be tripled starting Sunday.

Here’s one more complaint:

“Thank you so much for your 'Texters unite!' This week I could no longer bear the incessant ringing of my cell phone, receiving numerous text promos - especially from 2728. I deleted these unwanted msgs, only to get 6 to 10 text promos back each time I deleted their msgs. This went on for days. I told them to stop. I did not ask for the promos; they had invaded my privacy. To no avail.

“I berated them. Their reply was severe and vicious. They INCAPACITATED my cell phone! Now I continue receiving their promos. However, I could not text back. I could not even use my cell phone to text or call anybody else. How could then the NTC regulate monopolies which could disable any mobile?”

'Biskwit'

Welcome back, Mildred Perez. We are very proud of you.

And you, Chip Tsao, what say you? (We have not forgotten.)

Back two days ago from Hong Kong was the praiseworthy 38-year-old Filipino domestic helper who returned P2.1 million (HK$350,545) in cash and checks which she found in a garbage bin several months ago.

Why in a garbage bin? Because Mildred was scavenging. Because she had quit her job. Because she had an abusive employer. She had been rummaging through garbage piles for scraps in order to support herself and find means to pursue her case in court against her employer. She was out of work.


Hong Kong law prohibits foreigners who have sued their employers from being employed while their case is being heard. And so fate led Mildred to a foul, slimy and vermin-filled pile that yielded an envelope that could have been her family’s ticket to a better life. It was like manna from heaven. A cinematic moment indeed. Mildred could have become, to borrow a movie title, a slum-dog millionaire. There’s a lot Mildred could have done with what she found.

Instead, Mildred searched for the envelope’s owner. She found the owner. She returned the cash and checks to the owner. As a reward for her honesty and effort, Mildred—unemployed and hungry—received a can of cookies from the envelope’s owner.

“Biskwit”—that’s what Mildred said she received. That was the word she used when airport reporters interviewed her upon her return. She said it with a straight face, with nary a hint of self-pity.

“Biskwit” is a Filipino generic term for biscuits, cookies and crackers. Biskwit is a cheap, light crispy flour-based snack that is better than the artificially-flavored, cholesterol-laden, artificially colored chips in non-biodegradable foil packs. I grew up on Marie biscuits, Graham crackers, Fita and Skyflakes that, I later learned, are all generically called biskwit. Jacob’s I found too bland.

Biskwit and coffee are what the Filipino masa usually serve in wakes. Biskwit used to come in cans; now they are in colorful plastic tubs and all-purpose buckets. They are sold in bus terminals and piers, are the perfect pasalubong (homecoming present) for a waiting brood in remote areas where there are no groceries.

While pursuing a story in a poor, far-flung community many years ago, I was served, several times, a barrio-style buko (young coconut) drink with biskwit floating on it. I will never forget that and it still makes me smile.

Some years ago, a photographer friend asked me for a title for his photograph of a shy boy in a relief center receiving a biscuit pack. The boy was about to break into a smile. I insisted on the title, “Biskwit.” The photograph won an award and it’s still hanging in the Inquirer photo gallery.

So what brand of biscuits/cookies/crackers did Mildred receive from the lucky owner of the cash and checks? Were they Danish, English, Chinese? With or without melamine? Did she partake of them by her lonesome or did she share them with fellow OFWs? I will be honest to say that if I were in her place, I would be very happy to receive some monetary reward from the Chinese owner of the envelope. Mildred was jobless and without money—that’s why she was scavenging.

But an honest deed goes a long way and it is heartwarming to know that it is in the Philippines, and from her fellow Filipinos, that Mildred is getting her material and psychic reward. She cannot expect that from Hong Kong where many, the likes of magazine writer Chip Tsao, regard Filipino OFWs with contempt. Tsao openly mocked them and us here in the Philippines by saying that we are a nation of servants and other demeaning things.

A native of Nueva Vizcaya, Mildred is the mother of two teenagers, is married to Eddie, an honest tricycle driver himself, who several months ago also returned the money that a passenger had left behind. He also went out of his way to search for the owner.

Nueva Vizcaya Rep. Carlos Padilla paid for Mildred’s trip home. He and the provincial government have promised P150,000 in cash for the Perez family, plus scholarships for the children. I hope more people would pitch in because Mildred has to go back to Hong Kong to pursue her case of indecent assault against her former employer. I hope he goes to jail.

Padilla announced that he will be inviting Mildred to the House of Representatives to personally receive commendation from Speaker Prospero Nograles. Politicians should meet her and look her in the eye and behold honesty in person.

If you are poor, P2.1 million is very, very big. If you are very rich, you can just splurge it on one big SUV.

Sometimes I feel uneasy when honest deeds by poor persons are made much of in the media. It is not that they do not deserve the accolade. But have honest Filipinos become so rare, are we a world of dishonest people that we showcase these acts of honesty? And not just the honesty, but more important, also the poverty. Not that it’s hard for the poor to be honest, but that the rich have a lot to learn from them.

* * *

Texters unite! Speaking of honesty, the cell phone companies have a lot of repenting to do for the unused vanishing loads that revert back to them, for stealing them, in the millions, from hapless consumers. I have to add to the list of complaints (which has not been brought up by the text advocates) the fact that cell phone cards have expiry dates (like in food items) at the back. You have to load them before the expiry date, and once you’ve loaded, you are slapped another expiration date before which you should consume your load.

'We are the world'

THE YEAR was 1985 when I first watched the TV documentary on how the song, “We are the world,” was made, line by line, note by note, part by part. While watching the final version being sung by 45 pop artists, individually in parts and as a chorus, plus the images of hunger and poverty, I had a very profound experience. The earth broke open, the landscape in my heart moved and I sank to the floor and wept.

Being more of a classical music listener, I was not a Michael Jackson follower, but I can say that I bought at least one Jackson recording, and that was “We are the world.” I still have the “USA for Africa” album in cassette tape (no CDs then) where it is the lead song. (USA stands for United Support of Artists.) There are nine other songs (not by Jackson) in the cassette but it was “We are the world” that I played over and over. Buying the album meant taking part in a huge fund-raising for a cause. And every time I played the song and sang along, I felt one with the world and the universe. It became my anthem.


(It’s playing on my player now and it still sounds good. Those who were born yesterday can watch the hows of it on YouTube.)

Now we know that it is not just the singer and the song that move us, it is also the images and imagination that go with the song. That’s what MTV is about.

So that was in 1985, the year the album was released and the year of the killer drought that devastated very poor African countries and their people. Hunger and death stalked the continent. That was also the year that a political groundswell was building up in the Philippines and Filipinos were in anticipation of something earthshaking to happen. Our hearts were raw and ready.

As Eric Caruncho, the Inquirer’s resident pop and jazz authority, wrote the day after Jackson died, “For a certain generation of Filipinos, the ’80s will be remembered for two epochal events: The Edsa People Power Revolt and the release of Michael Jackson’s ‘Thriller’ album.” Jackson would come to the Philippines for a huge concert in 1996.

When “We are the world” came to be, Jackson was 27 years old. He co-wrote the song with Lionel Richie. Director Quincy Jones, in his invitation note to participating artists, said that they were to “check their egos at the door.”

I watched the video again on YouTube, and I saw that Jackson did not dominate the recording. He had his parts, but Ray Charles, Bruce Springsteen, Stevie Wonder, Cyndi Lauper and Diana Ross had more moments.

At that time Jackson had long graduated from his little-boy hits (“Ben” among them) and he was fully an adult in his gilded military jackets with quivering epaulettes. He could also look menacing enough in his dark get-up as he stalked alleys with his “Thriller” zombie pack. His skin was still brown but his nose already looked chiseled.

Until his sudden death last week, Jackson, a father of three un-mothered children, had always remained a man-child who fancied himself to be Peter Pan. Dogged by child molestation cases (of which he was acquitted), wearing a strange reconstructed face and skin color he was not born with, he became reclusive, an oddity. Then he announced next month’s concert tour that would end all concert tours. The world waited.

Before it could all come about, his heart stopped. He was 50. But with his sudden death, the music and the dance came alive again, if not more alive. The world mourned but also celebrated like it never did for anyone.

Well, long before Jackson died, Cebu’s orange-clad prison inmates have been dancing to his music and getting millions of hits on YouTube.

Suddenly I want to know more about him. How many writers will write the story of his life? Who will play him in the movie? The world has a lot to learn from the King of Pop’s life and death, not to mention his dance, his music. Where were these all coming from?

It’s interesting to know how “We are the world” was written, how the words were chosen, how the artists’ sometimes conflicting views were dealt with. The recording was done during and after the American Music Awards in California. Jackson skipped the awards to record the chorus that would serve as guide to the other artists.

And so that piece of advocacy music hit the charts and became number 1.

Excerpts:
There comes a time/ When we heed a certain call/ When the world must come together as one/ There are people dying/And it’s time to lend a hand/ To life, the greatest gift of all
We can’t go on/ Pretending day by day/ That someone somewhere will soon make a change/ We are all a part of/God’s great big family/ And the truth, you know love is all we need
(Chorus) We are the world/ We are the children/ We are the ones who make a brighter day/ So let’s start giving/ There’s a choice we’re making/ We’re saving our own lives/ It’s true we’ll make a better day/ Just you and me…

But I discovered that Jackson’s “Earth Song” is just as powerful especially now that Planet Earth suffers war and devastation:

What about sunrise/ What about rain/ What about all the things/ That you said we were to gain/ What about killing fields/ Is there a time/ What about all the things/ That you said was yours and mine/ Did you ever stop to notice/ All the blood we’ve shed before/ Did you ever stop to notice/ The crying Earth the weeping shores?
What have we done to the world/ Look what we’ve done/ What about all the peace/ That you pledge your only son/ What about flowering fields/ Is there a time/ What about all the dreams/ That you said was yours and mine/ Did you ever stop to notice/ All the children dead from war/ Did you ever stop to notice/ The crying Earth, the weeping shores?
I used to dream/ I used to glance beyond the stars/ Now I don’t know where we are/ Although I know we’ve drifted far…

Michael, child of the universe.

My text friend, Bro. Ceci

THIS column was supposed to be on the 2009 World Food Summit and the human right to food but … that can wait.

I was stunned when I read on Tuesday the half-page obituary on the sudden passing of De La Salle Brother Ceci Hojilla. It had a big picture of him laughing. Cecilio Montelibano Hojilla served as a De La Salle Brother for 48 years, the obit said. “Br. Ceci left a legacy of being a teacher, a mentor, a storyteller, a photographer, a friend, and a brother to countless young people.” He was 65.

I met Bro. Ceci face to face only once. He invited me to deliver the keynote address at a La Sallian convention at the De La Salle Center in Batulao some years ago. The subject I was to speak about was poverty as I saw it as a journalist. I remember meditating and praying over it for a week and writing till late at night, trying to give it a human face. I was forced to take stock of what it was like inside of me and outside of me.



I arrived in Batulao and found a big La Sallian group (faculty, staff, administrators—from top to down) but without Bro. Ceci. He was in the hospital for a bad back. But Bro. Ceci made sure I was in good hands. The occasion went well and I got to eavesdrop too on the La Sallian way and catch some of the charism. And although they knew I was an Atenean, they told me I was an honorary La Sallian. Sure.

When I got home, I got lots of text messages of appreciation from those who listened to what I shared, including from Bro. Ceci who was not there. I told him I was so impressed with the La Sallian formation program for its lay collaborators. Bro. Ceci was a driving force behind the amazing program.

I got to meet Bro. Ceci face to face much later at a meeting held in De La Salle-Green Hills. That was the first and last time we met. But he and I became text friends for several years. He would text me his comments on articles I wrote or I would ask for prayers for a crucial or life-threatening matter. I felt so reassured when I received a text message from him (too long to quote here) that said he was going to ask for the intercession of all the La Sallian saints for my intentions. And he said it with such concern, conviction and joy.

I still have two of his long text messages in my cell phone. (He didn’t abbreviate or use undecipherable syllables lyk u n I do of10.) Too bad I deleted the last one he sent last month on my piece about my forays in Maribojoc, Bohol. Sometimes he would say where he was—on a beach or somewhere reading the article that he liked. It was not often that he texted, once every few months perhaps, but he always said something to boost one’s spirit even while commenting on the day’s latest news. An apostolate by texting, I must say, among other apostolates besides.

There are many old messages from many people that are still in my cell phone. Some I forgot to delete, others I saved to inspire me on stormy or seemingly meaningless days. One was Bro. Ceci’s reaction to my long-ish 2007 Easter article about divine experiences (vocation stories, too) of both lay and religious.

His text message (9-Apr-2007, 01:19:05 pm): “Stunned by ‘God’s fierce passionate love’ (the title of the article) could only have been written by one who herself is a tremendous lover. For how else can one understand the language of love & write so eloquently about it? Takes a saint to know one. Thank you so much for a love-ly & inspiring Easter message. Padayon sa paghigugma. (Continue to love.)”

It’s still in the inbox. Time to transfer it now to the archives.

Last year, at around Easter again, when I had to do a piece on the so-called “new sins” (social injustice, drug abuse, genetic manipulation, etc.) that a Vatican dignitary had pointed to and I had to gather a “forum” of opinions, Bro. Ceci was one of those I picked to share thoughts. His text:

“If the wages of sin is death, the worst victim of ‘excessive wealth’ is the rich man himself. One only has to recall the gospel story of the suffering beggar, Lazarus, and the wealthy but ‘unaware’ and nameless ‘party man’. Perhaps the Church finds it necessary to remind everyone that there is more to the popular slogan ‘Live simply so others may simply live’ than dole-out charity.

“Pangit, di tama. (It’s ugly, not right.) Even kids react when they realize the disparity between the few who are rich and the many who are poor. This is true especially when the young discover that there is actually a ‘cause and effect’ relationship between the two seemingly separate and independent realities.

“I am reminded of a quotation I once read in a Franciscan Monastery in Assisi. ‘The justice some men seek is the change others fear.’ — Bro. Ceci Hojilla, FSC, La Sallian Brother animator.”

I think—yes, I think—I last saw Bro. Ceci at the red-carpet showing (May 28) at the Ateneo of Ditsi Carolino’s documentary on the victorious struggle of the Sumilao farmers of Bukidnon and the Mapalad farmers of Negros. This was when farmer-leader Rene Penas gave a short and moving speech. (Two weeks later, Ka Rene was gunned down.)

At the screening, I saw someone who, I thought, looked like Bro. Ceci. He was with some La Salle Brothers (who braved the Ateneo) but he was the only one who wore a long religious habit, and black at that. And so I took a second look.

We sat a few seats away from each other but I couldn’t help wondering if he, the guy in an odd black cassock, was perhaps a visiting foreign religious superior and not Bro. Ceci. I couldn’t get myself to ask. Now that I see his big picture in the Inquirer, I say, yes, it was him, and I regret not saying hello and thanking him for his inspiring text boosts.

Text me from heaven, Bro. Ceci.

‘Kamoteng Kahoy’

The other day I went to see the movie “Kamoteng Kahoy” directed by Maryo de los Reyes and written by Ricky Lee, both veterans and multi-awarded. I went because the movie was based on a real-life tragedy that happened in Mabini, Bohol in 2005.

It is a good film to watch these days when deathly horror flicks seem to be all there is. The theaters are drowning in blood, gore and green vomit.

I had written about the tragedy that claimed the lives of 27 school children and downed more than 100 after they ate fried cassava snacks sold by a vendor. Questions were immediately raised. Was it the cassava root that did it? Was it the way the food was prepared? Cassava contains linamarin. If cassava is improperly prepared, this toxic component could remain. When ingested, linamarin converts to cyanide in the human digestive system. The Department of Health ruled that it was pesticide, present in the cassava snack, that did it.

And now the movie.



It begins by introducing the individuals whose characters would play out more intensely after the tragedy, that is after scores of school children of San Isidro die. Aling Idang (Gloria Romero), maker and vendor of the lethal cassava snack at the school premises is at the center of the plot but it is the children Ariel (Nash Aguas) and Atong (Robert Villar Jr.) who would move the story to it denouement.

Ariel is a sensitive child with separated parents who are trying to forgive each other even as they live separate lives but it is Ariel himself who has to come to terms with the situation at his own pace. He survives the mass poisoning but his feelings of loss (close friends Rosemary and Dennis are among the dead) add to his confusion. He experiences survivor’s guilt as shown in his drawings.

Atong, the street-smart orphan kid, is a perfect foil to Ariel’s state of confusion. Unkempt, dirty and full of sores, he doesn’t have many friends. Severely battered by his motormouth aunt (Irma Adlawan as the surrogate mom from hell), he is tough as nails and has developed his own coping mechanisms. He is serving his punishment in the classroom when his classmates start falling sick during recess.

The movie does not dwell long on the day of the tragedy itself and its immediate aftermath—the wailing and gnashing of teeth, the media frenzy, the mass burial. But with the mood set, the movie proceeds to show how the bucolic town of San Isidro turns itself upside down. Grieving families turn against Aling Idang and almost lynch her to death. The old lady is herself full of grief and guilt and in a sudden show of fierceness vents her ire on her grown-up wishy-washy son.

The grief-stricken Ariel tries to move on but is weighed down by his dear friends’ passing, survivor’s guilt and family affairs. He visits the old haunts and there is only Atong who helps him confront his pain. Atong advises, philosophizes, challenges, even taunts. He is the quintessential kutong lupa with an attitude.

And so battered boy befriends grieving boy. And while the town tries to come to terms with its loss, Atong and Ariel set off to do things together, minus the old friends who died, with the former leading the way. The piglet-stealing episode and the two boys’ repartee the night of the “crime” was, I thought, so charming.

The movie does not say it succinctly, but forgiveness is all over it. Forgiving one another, and more importantly, oneself, is easier said than done. Ariel’s drawing of his surroundings shows that he is beginning to come to terms with the changes in his life.

Atong sets off for parts unknown, that is, the mean streets of Manila. The parting is bitter-sweet. Both survivors, the boys will look back to the friendship that grew out of their pain. Great little actors too!

Alas, the kamoteng kahoy (the movie’s title) or cassava was nowhere pictured. Nowhere was it shown how this root is grown and becomes food. Aling Idang was shown mixing, that was all. There were shots of some leaves in the beginning but there was no reference to them. They simply looked like wild growth or some garden plant.

Okay, I’m not a film critic, so that is all I should say was obviously missing.
Cassava is the world’s third most important crop. Cassava (manihot esculenta) originated in Brazil where it is called manioc. The Portuguese colonizers later brought it to Africa. Cassava is the principal source of nutrition for about 500 million people. The root is a rich source of carbohydrates, protein, minerals and vitamins A, B and C. Why aren’t we growing more of it for food and as alternative energy source?

The North Americans have it as tapioca (sago to us) for their custard-like tapioca pudding. The Chinese use it for tikoy. From cassava also comes gawgaw (all-purpose starch powder). Filipinos make a variety of cassava delights, among them, cassava bibingka.

The day of the 2005 tragedy, I was eating cassava pitsi-pitsi. Bulanghoy, balinghoy or kamoteng kahoy has come a long way from its barrio nilupak beginnings. Making nilupak (by pounding together boiled cassava, young coconut and sugar) is still an excuse for farm folk to soak in the glow of the full moon.

If you laid out before me a variety of desserts that consisted of pastries with vanilla essence and fancy toppings on one side and native goodies (kakanin) on the other side, I’d make a beeline for the latter. The blend of coconut meat and milk with sticky rice or grated starchy roots, caramelized sugar and pandan, sometimes with a sprinkling of sesame seeds and nuts, was concocted in heaven where the majority must be Southeast Asians.

Go catch the movie.

In death Saro-Wiwa triumphs, Shell pays

Ken Saro-Wiwa, Nigerian writer, poet, martyr and activist who was hanged, along with eight others in 1995, has triumphed even in death. When you gas up at Shell, think of Saro-Wiwa.

A news report the other day said: “The oil giant Shell has agreed to pay $15.5 million in settlement of a legal action in which it was accused of having collaborated in the execution of the writer Ken Saro-Wiwa and eight other leaders of the Ogoni tribe of southern Nigeria.

“The settlement is one of the largest payouts agreed by a multinational corporation charged with human rights violations. Shell and its Nigerian subsidiary SPDC have not conceded to or admitted any of the allegations, pleading innocent to all the civil charges.”



So why is Shell paying? “[T]he scale of the payment is being seen by experts in human rights law as a step towards international businesses being made accountable for their environmental and social actions.”

Royal Dutch Shell was to stand trial in federal court in New York for complicity in human rights abuses in Nigeria, but on the eve of the trial it decided to settle. That Shell shunned a trial meant that it was afraid of evidence that could be presented. A report said that “among the documents that were lodged with the New York court was a 1994 letter from Shell in which it agreed to pay a unit of the Nigerian army for services rendered. The unit had retrieved one of the company’s fire trucks from the village of Korokoro, an action that according to reports at the time left one Ogoni man dead and two wounded.”

Shell wrote that it was making the payment “as a show of gratitude and motivation for a sustained favorable disposition in future assignments.”

I had goose bumps as I watched the report on this development on CNN. I had written about Saro-Wiwa some years back not only because of the cause he had espoused but because Filipinos working in and around Nigeria become hostage victims of errant groups, bandits among them, who were exploiting the anarchic situation there.

Wiwa had led the Movement for the Survival of the Ogoni People so that the government would heed their demands. When he and the eight others, all members of the Ogoni tribe, were hanged, Greenpeace issued a statement saying that they were hanged for speaking out against the environmental damage to the Niger Delta caused by Shell through its 37 years (since 1958) of drilling in the region. Saro-Wiwa was campaigning for the basic right to clean air, land and water and his only crime was his success in bringing his cause to international attention.

Greenpeace slammed Shell’s call for “quiet diplomacy” at the 11th hour that was not of any use. Shell had ample opportunity to demonstrate concern when Saro-Wiwa was in detention and on trial, but it chose to remain cozy with the Nigerian military dictatorship at that time.

Saro-Wiwa’s execution created ripples all over the world and today, many environmental and literary groups hail him as a hero.

Here was what Saro-Wiwa said to the tribunal: “I repeat that we all stand before history. I and my colleagues are not the only ones on trial. Shell is here on trial… Its day will surely come and the lessons learnt here may prove useful to it for there is no doubt in my mind that the ecological war that the company has waged in the Delta will be called to question sooner than later and the crimes of that war will be duly punished. The crime of the company’s dirty war against the Ogoni people will also be punished.”

Several times in 1993, Saro-Wiwa was arrested but he was adopted by Amnesty International as a Prisoner of Conscience. The supposed reason for his arrest was that he had incited the youth to murder.

Saro-Wiwa had written 27 books and had been honored for excellence in creative writing. He was a member of the Ogoni tribe composed of some 500,000 people. The Ogoni live in the densely populated Ogoniland in southeastern Nigeria.

At that time Ogoniland had produced more than $30 billion worth of oil for Nigeria through the government’s joint partnership with Shell. But the oil endeavor had resulted in severe pollution of Ogoniland.

The $15.5 million settlement came after three weeks of intensive negotiation between the plaintiffs, mostly relatives of the executed nine, and Shell. Anthony DiCaprio, the lead lawyer for the Ogoni side working with the New York-based Centre for Constitutional Rights, said they were pleased with the result.

The deal highlights the end of a 14-year personal journey for Ken Saro-Wiwa Jr., son of the executed leader. Among the 10 plaintiffs was Karalolo Kogbara who lost an arm after she was shot by Nigerian troops while protesting the bulldozing of her village in 1993 to make way for a Shell oil pipeline.

Part of the settlement amount will be used to set up a trust called Kiisi (which means “progress” in the Ogoni Gokana language) to support community projects in the Niger Delta.

In a statement the plaintiffs said: “It is said that justice delayed is justice denied but today our private agonies and our long struggle for justice have finally been vindicated and we are gratified that Shell has agreed to atone for its actions. In accepting this settlement we were very much aware that we are not the only Ogonis who have suffered in our struggle with Shell, which is why we have insisted on a donation that will enable other members of our community to benefit from our victory.”

Read more or watch video clips about this landmark case. Visit http://wiwavshell.org. Amazing struggle.

Land, a hunger

As I write this, it is one day to go before the deadline for the passing of CARPER (comprehensive agrarian reform extension with reforms) in the House of Representatives. The good news is that two days ago, the Senate passed on third reading the CARP bill extending for another five years the land acquisition and distribution program of the government. The budget is at P147 billion.

If CARPER was passed before the House adjourned yesterday, then all the last-minute efforts on the part of the farmers and their fellow advocates in the church, academe, media and civil society would have been worth it. But we can’t sit back and say everything will henceforth be smooth.

Last week, the documentary “Lupang Hinarang” by multi-awarded filmmaker Ditsi Carolino had a red-carpet screening at the Ateneo de Manila University to help push the CARPER nearer its fulfillment. There were T-shirts, photo-ops, flyers, the film—just about everything for CARPER. It was heartwarming to see young people manning the campaign, like the future of their country depended on it.



I bought myself a T-shirt with the message “I stand for farmers, I stand for CARPER, I stand for justice.”

As Carolinos’ documentary showed, many farmers had to put their lives at risk in order for them to own a piece of land. Land is a hunger. “Lupang Hinarang” is a film in two parts about a fierce and deadly battle raging between farmers and landowners in the continuing saga on agrarian reform in the Philippines. The documentary opens with the farmers from Sumilao, Bukidnon, among them, Ka Rene, Linda and Bajekjek, who, inspired by Gandhi’s protest march, journey on foot for two months from their mountain village to the presidential palace in Manila.

It is a killer 1,700-km. journey through scorching heat and pouring rain. They battle fatigue, illness and great uncertainty. After weeks of walking, the farmers reach Manila, stage a rally at the corporate offices of San Miguel, confront the agrarian reform secretary and face anti-riot police before finally meeting the President.

The second part tells the story of the sugarcane workers from Negros. After armed guards kill one of the farmers in 2007, Chay Lindy, Chay Gamay, and Chay Biray join other farmers on a harrowing 29-day hunger strike on the steps of the Department of Agrarian Reform (DAR) in Quezon City. The hunger strike results in victory for the farmers. They return to Negros to a land they could call their own. For some, the return meant a shocking bloody end.

“Lupang Hinarang” is a timely documentary set against ongoing debates in Congress to extend and reform CARP or to kill it.

How did CARPER fare in the House’s last day yesterday? How did the voting go? The numbers should be in the papers today. Akbayan Representative Risa Hontiveros, a proponent of the bill, called this last effort “meeting a deadline with history” and urged her colleagues to put aside charter change and concentrate on CARP. The Senate version may not be perfect, Hontiveros said, but the House could adopt it.

You can log on to http://peace.net.ph/carpercampaign to find out all about CARPER. You can read all about it in the website’s list of articles. If you are a student, you can even do a term paper, a thesis or a doctoral dissertation on this. You can click on the name of your district’s representative and find out where he/she stands on the CARPER and write to urge him/her to vote in favor of CARPER. Or, if it’s a done deal by now, say something to support, congratulate or express your disappointment. Flaunt the power of your vote.

In 2006 and 2007 Centro Saka Inc. (CSI) surveyed close to 1,500 agrarian reform beneficiaries (ARB) to validate the Department of Agrarian Reform’s (DAR) accomplishments in the distribution of private agricultural land (PAL) in 12 provinces. The criteria used to validate CARP accomplishment were: actual award of land or title, physical occupation/installation of the ARB in the awarded land, and provision of support services for the awarded land.
Here are some findings:

The majority (82%) of the respondents received titles as proof of their being recognized as CARP beneficiaries. But 18% said they have not received any title. CSI says that since all the respondents were drawn from DAR’s master list of beneficiaries who were reported as having been awarded titles, how do you explain that 18%?

Of the 919 respondents who were awarded titles under CARP, 65% confirmed that they were still holding their titles. But 35% said they didn’t hold their awarded titles. And why? Reasons given: They have not yet received their titles but were aware they had a pending title. The titles were being held by the cooperatives because they were mother CLOAs. Others said they pawned or used their titles as collateral. Some sold the titles or lost them. Still others declined to say why.

The most frequently stated reason was: no titles have been issued them.
And remember, there is a difference between awarded lands and awarded titles.

Agrarian reform is unfinished business.

And by the way, the five-day 8th Agraryo Trade Fair started yesterday at the SM Megamall Megatrade hall. It is spearheaded by the Department of Agrarian Reform’s Bureau of Agrarian Reform Beneficiaries Development. I went to last year’s fair and went home with lots of organically grown stuff.

This fair is a showcase and one wishes many more farmers would be among these ARBs. Are the ARBs really as blessed as they appear to be? What difficulties did they undergo? I will be at the fair and I will interview some of them.