San Mig Light Diplomacy

Real booze drinkers swear under oath that every slurry word that comes out of their dry mouths must hold true and remain unbroken. The practice dates back to our college days when our flamboyant vice-president brokered a peace deal between my tropa and a rival group.

The bitter divide was tearing the class apart, and being associated with one of the faction didn't help in diffusing the tension. It didn't help either that the soon-to-be-ex-girlfriend took sides with the rival group and took our quarrels personally. Our non-speaking engagement followed by occasional acts of insolence sparked our verbal war.

It happened during the canvassing of votes. The society was having its elections and the rivals knew they had already lost. I cannot recall how the brokers managed to invite the two parties to sit together, but I remember the buckets of beer on the antique table and the slurry talk of the rival's leader.

He spoke of his grudges, as well as the betrayals brought by the society elections. An entire class turned against his line-up and threw its support to the non-partisan local party.  Friends back-stabbed one another; he spoke of how my tropa managed to discredit him, thus affecting the chances of his line-up. The soon-to-be-ex-girlfriend ran as his president and she didn't even get a vote from me.

The round of talks went on. How the brokers were able to persuade the leader of my tropa to sit down remains a mystery until now. There were raised voices, but curses never came out of anyone's lips. Grievances were aired, and without beating around the bush, responses were delivered. The rivals knew that to fight on will result in the collapse of the entire society. Being the senior, we must set an example for the younger batches.

"Tara, inuman na lang."

Hurtful words were hurled that night. But candor was necessary to pull out the shards that had already caused too much pain. If not for the efforts of the class veep, the festering wounds would taint the batch until graduation.

We do not want to end up like our predecessors, who never achieved anything out of their hatred for one another.

Differences were settled that night, only because the new president who was loved and respected by everyone asked for support. She was teary eyed while delivering her victory speech when she was interrupted by one of the supporters of the rival party telling everyone that a losing candidate passed out.

The night-long drama ended in a cliff-hanger, but the time-honored tradition of forging peace at the height of one's drunken ecstasy lived on. It was how I managed to open up my sexuality to my straight tropa, and found some sort of closure between me and my first boyfriend.

Misunderstandings reigned over blogspace and I had a part to play. Some have partially dimmed friendships, while others totally broke ties. I never keep frenemies - ever - and when old friendships are eclipsed by some ties belonging to my warring past, light reappears only when peace is forged.

'Tis not only the season of giving, but also a season of forgiving.

In my drunken state

I lurched towards his spot.

Asking for forgiveness

and hoping the past may not haunt us

anymore.

So I gave him a hug

and said.

"Kalimutan na natin ang nakaraan."

I do not know what his smile meant, 

but I was only able to truly enjoy the reunion after I've given my peace

After all, we both emerged victorious from the strife.