IRONorwaY.

IT WAS very ironic. Two instances of horrific violence occurred in one of the most peaceful and peace-loving countries in the world last Saturday. An apparently mad, paranoid individual set off a bomb that killed seven people in downtown Oslo and later massacred 93 people, most of them children, in the island youth camp of Utoya.

It was the worst case of carnage in Norway since World War II and the deadliest day of terror in Western Europe since the Madrid bombings in 2004. Norway is a pacifist, peaceful country that hosts the annual Nobel Peace Prize awards. (The irony in the Nobel Peace Prize itself is that it was funded by Alfred Nobel, the man who invented the detonator or blasting cap for detonating nitroglycerin and igniting explosives.)

Mugna is devise, concoct, contrive, fabricate and an amusement park.

In our place  we call it "perya." But ever since I studied in Iligan City and got to know the place through the arduous  years of college education I now call it "mugna." The first time I heard the words I couldn't make out what it means albeit the literal English translation. In  my Bisaya, mugna means devise, concoct or contrive or even fabricate. In Iligan, when jeepney barkers shout at the top of their lungs the controversial yet popular word they mean amusement park.

And to the amusement park we went. It's quite amazing how a vacant lot during most days of the year turns into a place laden with so many make-shift shops and boutiques clad with hundreds of people who seem to remain undecided as to which pirated DVD would they buy, or which henna tattoo design would look good on them. As for us, we were captivated by the hats and bags made from abaca fiber and in our zeal we    took photos wearing them. (Clearly, the consent of the owner is out of the question  when our group is so bent on  having our photograph taken. That rule goes without exception.)

Don't look for me. I'm not there.

And of course, who could forget the rides? They're obviously close to dilapidated compared to the famous (and sometimes infamous) rides of big amusement parks like Enchanted Kingdom or Star City but  still they beget excitement and the occasional shrill of mixed terror and longing to indulge thyself. (Ha, I imagined myself unable to restrain a jump.) There are, in fairness, a considerable  number of rides. Although some are unexciting, and other highlights scientifically uninviting (headless lady, to see is to believe. Gah!), some still stood out from plain eyesight. They name them Galactica and Spider (although we insist to call it Octopus.) Galactica reminds me of the physics problem about uniform circular motion that ends with the statement "riders say that they felt like being pushed to the wall. Is there really such a force?"

Experience with the Galactica told me that it pays thirty pesos to get dizzy. It also works when you want to increase the number of people you see by threefolds. However, the feeling of travelling on a bus traversing a long and winding road did not deter me from trying the ride named after the mollusk with eight tentacles. (The truth is, I've wanted to try it ever since. This time, I succeeded in doing so.)

Whopee-doo. The enjoyment is apparent. Even when subjected to high angular velocity, we still managed to contort ourselves just to pose for the camera and bathe in the photons emitted by the flash.

                                                                                     

Now who would deny Iliganons and non-Iliganons alike to find revelry in the place by forwarded bomb threats from God-knows-where? 

Happy fiesta, Iligan! Viva Sr. San Miguel! I'm deeply indebted to this event. Without it, we wouldn't have no classes for 2 days.

Where were you when...

...Venus Raj plucked her answer from Neptune?

Photo Courtesy of cbsnews.com

 I was surfing the net looking for beautiful streamer designs at a classmate's boarding house. The wi-fi is free and the television is far away. The sounds are barely audible you'd think the Ms. Universe pageant was broadcast through radio (with matching ek-ek-ek-zzz). I actually went there just to check. ( It is indeed a TV, albeit the video quality was deplorable.) That moment the top ten was about to be announced and I was happy (honest!) that Venus was in the top 15. Then I got tired of the long commercial breaks, so I went back to my work. After a short while the spectators raced towards my spot (which is the common area, incidentally) in hysteria. Apparently voicing out their utter disappointment, shaking each other, pounding the table and yes, holding back tears. Feigning interest I asked what happened and confirming what they said, I opened my Facebook account and found it studded with status updates that were either announcing Venus' rank or simply stating the word "major, major." Now, it has become a very hackneyed expression. (More like over, over and  pagxur oi!). I reckon Venus tried to translate bonggang-bongga to English. That is, I bet she was trying to say Wala akong bonggang bonggang problema. 

And it has become so popular. I am a major, major fan.

... the SWAT was apparently swatted?

I was at school the whole day. When I went home I passed by the ATM booth adjacent to the guardhouse at the exit of the institute where the flat screen television (Ows?) was tuned to ABS-CBN News. People were glued to it, and I tried to absorb the spectacle before my eyes. What I was able to process was " Quirino Grandstand." Then the bus, then the reporters and then the police. (Corny joke: Why did they send a SWAT team, what, is the hostage taker a fly?) Then there was Rolando Mendoza, who was a former policeman. I heard myself go, "WHAAATTT??" Afterwards, I noticed the bus was painted with Chinese or so characters. I thought they're Korean. (Say goodbye to SuJu encore concert). Later on it became clear to me, they were Chinese from HongKong. I felt morbid-- morbidly disappointed. I thought of the consequent tension in the international arena. I even thought of Venus Raj redeeming some of our sweet perfume to the nations. Then I went home. I murmured "Goodluck" in my mind.

An impassioned call to arms

After a handful of hapless individuals who gave MSU-IIT the reputation of making students end their otherwise promising lives and dispelling out-of-wedlock pregnancy as the domineering fad, everyone's heightened attention was once again aflame when a freshman nursing student was reportedly stabbed to death after being mugged in one of the peaceful mugger-infested-but-neglected baranggays of Iligan.

Being a victim of mugging myself, aka holdup, for twice in a row, I was passionate enough to announce that muggers aka holduppers should be burned at the stake while impaled. Hah! And not just that, first their nails must be smashed with boulders from a cement quarry and take note, one by one, nail by nail. Attention future muggers: Please find a new holdup prospect. I'm not rich. Ala kayong mapapala sa kin. The next time you pounce at me, I might ask you if we had known each other.

Before I sound like Jigsaw I must say many share my sentiments. Luckily for me, the items that were taken were not laptops.

They got my archaic, vintage copy of Kahlil Gibran's The Prophet, enough to make me hesitate to give my bag away, causing the mugger with a sick mind to hit me on the shoulder with his GUN.

Plus, the textbook of Chemical Engineering Thermodynamics which unfortunately costs more or less a thousand and more unfortunate for me because, in bold letters, IT'S NOT MINE!

Plus, my cellphone with a loyalty and service award ( I regretted that they got it because my mom recorded a song there for me. It was not usual for her to do that. She must have done it accidentally, while exploring my phone's features.) 

And of course, photocopies of the notes that would be opened in the exam the following morning.

Reverberations: I was mugged at 4 am, my exam starts at 7:30 am. All that I have studied, if there are any, evaporated. Incidentally, the exam was all about EVAPORATION. 

Ripple effects: Medical check-up and X-Ray for the possibility of shoulder blades dislocation or my clavicle giving away at any moment.And how can I forget becoming instant celebrities, with everyone you meet asking you about what happened. I feel for my companions during that time (we were three), I wish I could wrestle the muggers and put shit siling labuyo into their mouths.

But I realized i was still lucky that I'm still alive. (hey, that was a GUN. A freaking GUN.) That's why I thoroughly support the cause of concerned IITians who marched around MSU-IIT and paraded towards the consciousness of local authorities, not just in Brgy. San Miguel, but in every baranggay in Iligan City to remind them that part of their responsibilities to the people is ensuring that they are all SECURE. 

The slogan reads, "Pagmata na, Captain".( Wake up, Captain). If you will not, what will happen to our ship.?

Are they even familiar of Maslow's hierarchy of needs?

Do not let night catch you walking along Brgy. San Miguel. You'll get mugged and worse, you'll get killed.

I must say not just in that baranggay. Tibanga is also infested with fiends and whopee-doo , they're practically everywhere.

Oh captain, my captain. What were we doing all along?

You might ask, what was I doing in Tibanga Hi-way at 4 am.? No I was not picking-up costumers, I was merely going home to a friend's boarding house after studying from another friends boarding house (B-HOUSE HOPPING) 30 meters away. I know, I know. I shouldn't have done that. And this brings me to my point. Securing security is a mutual effort. It's not enough that we leave everything to the baranggay officials. We ourselves should exercise prudence and vigilance since the world will always be full of people who have sick minds, to describe them lightly.

However, you who were elected to perform your duties of a peaceful society should not use this point to rationalize your negligence. After all, it is in the knowledge that your constituents are secured in whatever time of the day, that you can be rest assured that you yourself and your own family are safe.

I still won't rest my case.

Photos Courtesy of Manny Cabido. Last two photos courtesy of Mary Bernadine Dumaog.

Britain's Got Susan, Pilipinas' Got Jovit

Susan Boyle: Too old for the voice of an angel. Jovit: too young for a voice who reminds you of Freddie Mercury.

These two people can prove to you that prejudice is one of man's most refuted faculty. At first, you'll think as if the judges would pass out their performances as another nuisance to the show's main showcase. Until you heard them. In both cases, the first note nailed it twelve feet over, and twelve feet under. Congratulations, you proved to us that super stardom,( especially here in the Philippines), is more than just having a pretty face and starring yourself in a sex scandal.