STRIKING WITH A SANDWICH SPREAD
By: Iris P. Concepcion

This is Ash Wednesday: a feast of burnt palm trees, reminding me of catchphrases like urn, Napalm, Palm Spring and tomb foreheads. My deceased mother was a recipient of my odd joke in the past. I was about ten years old then and had the garrulous itch to play with spiders fighting against broomsticks than having my head marked with a cross.

We had to cook our food in "pugon", a huge structure of hardened soil. This is a Brokeback Mountain setting. From here, the ashes placed in foreheads are similar in terrain. Even the texture.

I told my mother, I could do what the priests can do: dip my fingers in her kitchen area and draw the muddified cross on my forehead.

This is Ash Wednesday and as a middle-aged woman trapped in an 18 year old body, I am still a creature of habit: I went to a Church.

On my way to the worship place, a rally was being held in front of the Hall of Justice Building. Here is the twist: the rallyists were impeccably dressed in clean red shirts, looked well-fed and are not suffering from the heat of the sun. They were mouthing "Laban para kay Ninoy" slogans. There were free sandwiches spread around, the placards were beautiful and the "makibaka" chaps were served triple decker yummy bread like Subway. My forefather was in the foreground munching his own share. His support team made sure no one litters on the ground. They were likewise given free, bottled water from a well-known tobacco and beverage company.

I had to laugh at this warped sense of the reverse. I left in haste least I might like it too wildly. The one in bullhorn was extolling how to help this government in a positive way. Spur: that is the title of their resistance. Order and Law and an End to Corruption. I remember this title as a semi-porn title of a detective book that I once read in the past that was lounging in our bookshelf.

The pleasures of writing: is it me or is it just the whirring of the equipment that are making our roads wider and more navigable? I could not help but smile silently at the logos of these builders. Sometimes while walking under an intense surrounding of buffoons and hecklers, I see these massive engineering machineries and I easily forgive those who abhor the beautiful and the orderly. I am only used to fulfilled musical extravaganzas but these men, they truly delivered on their promise, silent visionaries of these islands. I know who you are: you got credited in the newest brochure for our country that I hoarded (happily) at NAIA-3 Terminal. This has paintings and drawings that are certainly eye-catching.

When they play flutes, they provide notes to the melodies and the rich histories of songs are explained. I even attended a dance presentation and was deliriously bawled by the kulintang instrument used in hip hop form. I think I am pitching in something for this country, pebble by pebble until I can build a national awareness for a happy, cultural structure. The audience is getting numerous; they are more forward with their appreciation. The Cordillera history was made a magnet of bouncing educational tour of melodies and subtle as the movements are, the people are finally getting the drift of it.

Everywhere I go, I may be hungry and felt myself alone sometimes. At the end of these explorations though, I feel little when I see how far others had contributed more than myself. On the road, I met people who had denied me water but I likewise found generous individuals who do willingly I got all their names. I want to pass by them again to thank for their humanity. Most of them are guards and vendors and carinderia owners.

Last night, I spent a night inside the airport with steadfast airconditioning unit. I have seen a jeepney refurbished that is used a a free shuttle to an otherwise exclusive world of players Now, everyone can have access to it. I explained to a girl the comfort of having to get outside of terminals unharrassed; she was for the other procedure. I democratically brought forth my piece. One person at a time.

I met my family who fed me wanton, provided me with provisions (I see the futility of having much these days) and I am glad we are bound by same faith on how we swirl around in this world. Better to laugh than pout indeed. We saw people gorging on meat in waiting areas and wondered where the tables went.

God has a way of making fun of things and while being harangued for being skinny now, I had the hugest laugh at the comical nuances of these incredible, incredible encounters.

I can now wear a bikini without flabs I suppose. Kidding. I am eating stuff with funny creatures drawn. I even got a funny soap. Thanks little miss; you are a great person. I did not know you are that creative though. My size: XD in G-strings.

And that ad with a turtle for safety? Priceless.

Did I tell you my parents are, bar none, the most hilarious old men invented in this universe? Why have not we discovered them before? Even their teeth talk!

And yes, Griffin, I won. I did. You cannot argue with that by just walking to school. You need to sweat.