My brother and I were playing golf at the South Course of Valley. We were on the 3rd hole, and we see two golf carts going past us, overtaking our flight, and setting up to tee off on the next hole. My dad goes up to them and asks them why they would do that, why they would overtake us without even asking for our permission.
We learn from the great men of the past that power comes from the barrel of a gun. It is human nature. The more we have the ability to inflict terror and discomfort to those who cross us, the more we become aggressive with our behavior. I've seen this happen to my father. When his capacity to punch someone with his knuckles was replaced by his ability to draw his firearms, his eyes glimmered at the thought of the world bowing under his feet.
Someone breaks up the fight. I thought it was all over. The mayor shouts to his caddy: "Hindi nila kami kilala! Sabihin mo nga sa kanila kung sino ako!" And believe me, I had no idea who this person was. But now I know. He's the person who, with 4 other men, beat up my 56-year-old father and my 14-year-old brother. He's the person who sacks a pleading 14-year-old kid in the face. He's a person who, I am sure, is gonna rot in hell.
I heard dad said those words before. He was a very influential man who could bring down a reputation of someone powerful than him. With hundreds of thousands of proles, tambays, and sex maniacs reading his column everyday, he was a force to reckon with. This fueled the fire that drives his arrogance and sense of invincibility. At one point in his life, bodyguards surrounded him. Every seedy nightspots in the red-light city was his to choose from. And god, the people who shook his hands were the overlords of this forsaken country. That was the life he had.
Until it was taken away by the same forces he shook hands with one September night.
Him and his friend pull my dad to the ground, pulls at his feet, and steps on him like he's dirt. I run to him and try to hold him back, holding him back by his shirt, while this other guy and this girl tries to stop me. She tells me to just stop it. I scream in her face "they're beating my father up and you want me to stop?!" I pull at his shirt--I don't let go. All I can see was my dad being trampled on. I didn't even see my brother getting beat up.
The raid commenced at the printing press and we, the ones in power were advised to hide. It was the first time I saw how powerless dad was to stop his enemies from destroying his emerging empire. Life is politics and had I been the one playing his game, I would have foreseen destruction before it came. It was pride and arrogance who destroyed my father and the months after that fateful night have seen how fortunes changed.
Sounds like something out of a movie, doesn't it? But this is what happened. TODAY. The day after Christmas. To my family. And all I ask for is JUSTICE. The people at Valley Golf did not seem to want to help us. None of the security guards even tried to stop the fight. Right in the clubhouse. I came back after the fight was over and talked to the receptionists. They say they did not see anything. The general manager of Valley Golf would not give us the names of the men who made my brother's ear bleed. It took him an hour. Maybe even more than that. He seemed to not want to help us. Because, we were against the SECRETARY OF THE DEPARTMENT OF AGRARIAN REFORM and the MAYOR NASSER PAGDANGANAN JR OF MASIU CITY, LANAO DEL SUR. They were all scared.
My father did some things I could never write. What I do know is that his brutality rivaled his capacity for kindness. Like all others who fell before him, it was power and sense of permanence that lead to his downfall. Humans have this impression that they can stay forever once they are on top. Unfortunately, those who stay forever are the ones who truly understand how fleeting everything is.
That power itself is bound to end.
In those days, I basked in my dad's power. I could drive someone away or open gates I could never open in my present state with just one ID. I walked along corridors with companions who are willing to defend me - at the command of my father. But never did, in my wildest dreams, get drunk with what I have.
Because I know, it will never be forever.
And now that a different energy empowers me, might as well put it to good use and prune those who deserve to be pruned. It's time to cut down excess branches and leave only those deem necessary.
I share my voice, and my blog as a testament that power may also come in shards of words.
For in the end, masters change.
What endures are humanity and respect for others.
---
Bambee Dela Paz's Blog
Dale Bacar's Blog
We learn from the great men of the past that power comes from the barrel of a gun. It is human nature. The more we have the ability to inflict terror and discomfort to those who cross us, the more we become aggressive with our behavior. I've seen this happen to my father. When his capacity to punch someone with his knuckles was replaced by his ability to draw his firearms, his eyes glimmered at the thought of the world bowing under his feet.
Someone breaks up the fight. I thought it was all over. The mayor shouts to his caddy: "Hindi nila kami kilala! Sabihin mo nga sa kanila kung sino ako!" And believe me, I had no idea who this person was. But now I know. He's the person who, with 4 other men, beat up my 56-year-old father and my 14-year-old brother. He's the person who sacks a pleading 14-year-old kid in the face. He's a person who, I am sure, is gonna rot in hell.
I heard dad said those words before. He was a very influential man who could bring down a reputation of someone powerful than him. With hundreds of thousands of proles, tambays, and sex maniacs reading his column everyday, he was a force to reckon with. This fueled the fire that drives his arrogance and sense of invincibility. At one point in his life, bodyguards surrounded him. Every seedy nightspots in the red-light city was his to choose from. And god, the people who shook his hands were the overlords of this forsaken country. That was the life he had.Until it was taken away by the same forces he shook hands with one September night.
Him and his friend pull my dad to the ground, pulls at his feet, and steps on him like he's dirt. I run to him and try to hold him back, holding him back by his shirt, while this other guy and this girl tries to stop me. She tells me to just stop it. I scream in her face "they're beating my father up and you want me to stop?!" I pull at his shirt--I don't let go. All I can see was my dad being trampled on. I didn't even see my brother getting beat up.
The raid commenced at the printing press and we, the ones in power were advised to hide. It was the first time I saw how powerless dad was to stop his enemies from destroying his emerging empire. Life is politics and had I been the one playing his game, I would have foreseen destruction before it came. It was pride and arrogance who destroyed my father and the months after that fateful night have seen how fortunes changed.
Sounds like something out of a movie, doesn't it? But this is what happened. TODAY. The day after Christmas. To my family. And all I ask for is JUSTICE. The people at Valley Golf did not seem to want to help us. None of the security guards even tried to stop the fight. Right in the clubhouse. I came back after the fight was over and talked to the receptionists. They say they did not see anything. The general manager of Valley Golf would not give us the names of the men who made my brother's ear bleed. It took him an hour. Maybe even more than that. He seemed to not want to help us. Because, we were against the SECRETARY OF THE DEPARTMENT OF AGRARIAN REFORM and the MAYOR NASSER PAGDANGANAN JR OF MASIU CITY, LANAO DEL SUR. They were all scared.
My father did some things I could never write. What I do know is that his brutality rivaled his capacity for kindness. Like all others who fell before him, it was power and sense of permanence that lead to his downfall. Humans have this impression that they can stay forever once they are on top. Unfortunately, those who stay forever are the ones who truly understand how fleeting everything is.
That power itself is bound to end.
In those days, I basked in my dad's power. I could drive someone away or open gates I could never open in my present state with just one ID. I walked along corridors with companions who are willing to defend me - at the command of my father. But never did, in my wildest dreams, get drunk with what I have.
Because I know, it will never be forever.
And now that a different energy empowers me, might as well put it to good use and prune those who deserve to be pruned. It's time to cut down excess branches and leave only those deem necessary.
I share my voice, and my blog as a testament that power may also come in shards of words.
For in the end, masters change.
What endures are humanity and respect for others.
---
Bambee Dela Paz's Blog
Dale Bacar's Blog
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