The Aftermath

This emotions in this post was triggered after my cousins and my in-laws sent us photos of what remained of their homes after the Marawi siege. I am sharing it here in my blog after I posted it on Facebook yesterday (where it must have been initially posted) as well as the comments it garnered. I made a few editing though. 

I honestly do not like discussing about what happened to MARAWI to avoid scratching the surface of a deeply-seated wound. But I need to let this out.

Today, my relatives were able to return to their homes only to scavenge on what was left of the properties that they built for decades with their own blood and sweat. Most of us even spent decades as OFWs sacrificing precious family milestones to be able to give a better future for their children. Now, everything turned to ashes.

My in-laws house. This was literally built by my grandfather-in-law with his own hands, my parents in-law spent decades working abroad to finish this one. Few days before the siege, renovation was underway. 

My Uncle's Orphanage. This orphanage used to be a home to at least 15 orphans FOR FREE. 

Pointing fingers as to which side of the opposing forces (government troops and the Maute group) did more damage to our properties will not bring back what we’ve lost but if there’s one thing I am sure of, the government forces FAILED to protect the civilians and their properties. They even perpetuated MORE damage to our houses by deliberately wrecking and looting even those located outside the periphery of the battle ground.

This government, instead of comforting its constituents, even insinuates threats that we cannot get our land back because they’re planning an economic zone right on the areas where our former homes were standing. WE DO NOT NEED A DUBAI-LIKE MARAWI like what this government proposes to us. We are not that gullible, Sirs, as you’d want to believe. WE WANT OUR LAND BACK. We do not like malls, condos and exclusive villages inside Marawi, we want our old homes where we live next door to our siblings, aunts and cousin. We want Banggolo and Padian back. Perhaps a little cleaner, yes. 

This government has boldly transgressed the very foundation of the Meranaos' carefully treaded MARATABAT. We will surely never let this one pass. We may be demoralized and weak now but I still believe that Meranaos, strongly resistant and resilient, shall rise again. In shaa Allah. I only pray that I am still alive by the time we receive vindication. To the people responsible for our agony, karma exists and it hits hard. We were neither conquered by the Spaniards nor the Japanese nor the Americans, hence we shall not be conquered by those who were conquered. OVER THE DEAD BODIES OF THE ENTIRE MERANAO RACE. 

Words for 2017

This came quite late for my annual blog tradition where I describe my past year with two words. I was caught up with pre-residency and eventually residency that I had little time to sit down and write. So much for the introductory words. 2017 was my worst year. Ever. All the terrible things that could happen in probably 5 years were squeezed in a single year for me. What better way to describe it than LOSS and DEFEAT.

LOSS

What happened in Marawi is one for the books, it will be marked in our history for the rest of our lives. The story will be passed down from one generation to the next after us. We lost our most prized possession—our homeland, including the properties which were product of our parents’ and grandparents’ sweat and blood. Almost all our family’s properties along Lilod Madaya---those of my grandmother, my grandaunts and granduncles, my uncles and aunts, my cousins’—were lost to the war paved by young men claiming to purge Marawi from its sins. It’s been eight months since the siege and I still cannot get over it. I cannot even bring myself to watch documentaries showing the massive destruction in our land. 

In relation to the siege, I lost someone very close to my heart. Someone I consider a sister. She was blinded by a false ideology thinking that she can somehow save her family and her land by joining the war. I shall respect whatever reasons she had for what she did will never change how I saw her as one of the most kind, innocent and adorable person I have ever met. She will never hurt even a fly. Her soft voice and laughter will forever be remembered. 

In the midst of the siege, I lost one of the most important persons in my life---my grandmother. She was very healthy at mid-80s, but one fine afternoon, as she was about to pray for salaatul-‘asr, she fell while sitting on her bed and was declared DOA at the hospital. I went home to Lanao del Sur, but not in Marawi. My heart was breaking when I was there not being able to smell the fresh air of MSU or even take a glimpse of Marawi because of the ongoing Martial Law. It pains me to see and to know that my relatives, people I grew up with, were scattered all over Mindanao.

At around that time, there were many reports about missing men in Iligan and my brother-in-law was one of them. He was abducted for almost 6 weeks, we initially thought it was a kidnap-for-ransom case but we never heard from the abductors. My in-laws searched the entire Lanao but to no avail. We’ve exhausted all the possible means but everything turned out negative. We’ve only clung to our unrelenting faith in Allah that he’ll be back to us safe and sound. True enough, when we’ve almost lost hope, he unexpectedly appeared at the doorstep of their place in Iligan. I will not dwell on the details of his abduction but up to now he has no idea who his abductors were as he was blindfolded the whole time. What he knows is that they were Visayan-speaking men. Alhamdulillah for the second chance at life given to my brother-in-law. I pray those men won’t bother him again.

DEFEAT

2017 was the best time for my clinical career to get back on track. I applied for residency training at the most prestigious Department of Internal Medicine at the Philippine General Hospital. Out of 100+ exam takers, I was one of the 48 passers who qualified for pre-residency. I was ecstatic when I passed the exam. Knowing how rusty my brain has become after almost 3 years of not practicing, it came as a surprise that some medical concepts were still retained in my memory. From the 48 pre-residents, only 36 of us made it at the end of the pre-res. The rest didn’t continue while some quit in the middle. From 36, only 21 qualified for residency training. I wasn’t one of them. I didn’t make it. It kinda broke my heart a bit because I prepared and worked hard for it but somehow I was thankful because in the middle of pre-res I kept asking myself if I really want to pursue it there. For the entire 2 weeks, I barely see my kids and I lost track of the household that I manage. I left everything under the care of Jabar and the household help.

I wasn’t ready to give up my dream of becoming an internist yet. I looked for an open pre-res in other hospitals. I tried Manila Doctors Hospital. They allowed me to go on pre-res for a week along with 9 others but only 4 remaining slots were open. I gave my best shot for that week. I was very competitive, always ready for an answer, even the chief resident was rooting for me. I was kinda sure I will get in. For the second time, I was defeated. Apparently, the chairman was doubting my commitment because of Jabar’s nomadic nature of work. He was afraid I might quit in the middle of residency. I cried buckets. I felt like I lost all the chance of getting into residency. I’m getting old and the medical concepts I know are becoming obsolete by the day. I need to refresh my brain.

*********************************

2017 taught me that with every loss and defeat, there’s always a chance to rise above the challenges. Loss and defeat are both a state of the mind. Meranaos have lost Marawi but our consciousness will forever be connected to our beloved Ranao. Our Meranao-ness will never be lost. We and our children will still speak our language, we will still wear our malong, we will still cook and eat pindialokan a manok , and palapa will still be our staple spice wherever in this world we will be. This government may have succeeded in bombing our homes and driving us away, but Meranaos will thrive and we will even become better people, in shaa Allah. With our hands, blood and sweat, we will rebuild Marawi.

(Pause. I’m crying profusely now)

I may not have continued Internal Medicine and I may have felt defeated after two attempts at IM residency but I found my niche now with Family Medicine (FM). Alhamdulillah. Family Medicine is a highly clinical branch but offers a lot more benign schedule. Residency training in FM allows me to indulge in deep clinical learning and at the same time take care of my children and of the household. It allows me to take care of my own health and well-being. Alhamdulillah. Allah’s mercy is indeed never-ending. I do not regret those time I went into IM pre-residency because I met wonderful people and maybe that’s Allah’s way of not making me regret my decisions. He made me experience what it is to become an IM resident but did not bring me there because He knows it will not do me good.

Alhamdulillah, alhamdulillah, alhamdulillah. All Praise Is For the Lord of the Universe whose love and mercy is boundless.

N

We received the saddest news yesterday. The news we've been dreading since the siege commenced. As the war stretches on, all our hopes are thinning out.
We lost her to false ideology.
My heart is crumbling to pieces.
How?
Why?
Who am I to judge her intentions?
She's always been a very good person to me and to everyone around her. Well-loved by many. Her soft voice and laughters.
Her beautiful face.
Such gentle soul.
Her memory will live forever and will forever leave a scar in our hearts.
Nobody's coming home yet.
There's no point in coming home.
We have no home.
She won't be with us forever.
May Allah forgive her and grant her jannah.
May we meet again in jannah.
Ameen.

Thoughts On The Marawi Siege

Can you imagine the place where you were born and raised reduced to rubble and ashes?

Photo courtesy of Najib Zacaria (Facebook)

I can’t. Never in a million years. But, it happened.

Two months ago, our city was attacked by young men claiming to purge Marawi from the heavy burden of major sins it carries and ultimately let Islam, their definition of Islam, rule the city. Chaos ensued. The high and mighty Meranaos left their turf and found themselves in evacuation centers or in houses of relatives in the nearby cities of Iligan and Cagayan de Oro. The government forces started to bomb the city to get rid of the terrorists. Airstrikes and bombings continue to rain as of writing time. It is unfathomable.

Photos courtesy of Marawi City Pulse (Facebook Page)

A divine punishment?

I have long been anticipating an end to the madness of the unruly Meranaos. I was guessing of a major calamity to hit like the one I saw at Leyte (typhoon Yolanda) or at Davao Oriental (typhoon Pablo). Just like anything in life, Allah’s plans are unpredictable and way beyond our imaginations. Any Meranao who have observed other cities in comparison to ours will definitely agree on one thing: ours is regressing to anarchy. I do not want to highlight here all the bad stuff going on my beloved city before the siege happened but in a nutshell, major corruption and abuses from the grassroots to the top is undeniable.

What are they fighting for?

The perpetrators of the attack were young idealistic group of young Meranao men who were disappointed by the society, significantly by our leaders and the people who are following them blindly. Knowing that Islam is perfect and is the only solution, they wanted to truly raise Islamic law (shari’ah) in the “Islamic City” of Marawi. However forcibly and violently, out of the teachings of Allah (swt) in the Holy Qur’an and of the Prophet Mohammad (saw) in his hadith (traditions). As the siege continues, the story slowly unfolded. The attackers were not only composed of Meranaos (Maute Group) but they were joined by Tausug bandits (Abu Sayyaf) and even foreign-based terrorists under the flag of ISIS. Several conspiracy theories even rolled out, that President Duterte has his hands on this in order to declare Martial Law in the island of Mindanao as his only way to capture big time drug lords who are hiding in Marawi and in the mountains of Lanao del Sur.

I strongly disagree with the attackers' extremist ideology, that is not the Islam I was taught of. The Islam which taught me to be merciful and forgiving of other people even to those who do not share the same faith with me, the Islam which taught me patience and respect, the Islam which taught me to be gentle and loving. I do not understand which part of the Qur'an or which hadith they are fighting for. Who misled these people? Who planted hatred in their hearts? Why are they so full of it? Jihad? Is it not that the major jihad that every Muslim must fight is his own ego? His own evil? They're spreading evil and mischief and yet they do not know it. They're the hypocrites that Allah (swt) has mentioned in Surah al-Baqarah. 

"And when it is said to them, 'do not cause corruption on earth', they say, 'we are but reformers."

 "Unquestionably, it is they who are corrupters, but they perceive it not." (Holy Qur'an. Surah Al-Baqarah, 11-12)

The fall of the Meranaos.

Today is the 76^th day of the siege, 76^th day of our nightmare and it seems that the end is not about to happen soon. I cannot wrap my head around the fact that my own family are internally displaced people now. My aunts and my 80+ y/o grandma left our ancestral home in Lilod Madaya on the 4^th day of the attack, they put Ina on her wheelchair and hiked from Lilod crossing Mapandi bridge up to Old Capitol and down to Emi (almost 6-8km) where a car was waiting for them to bring them to Pantar. I cannot fathom what they had to go through, the emotional and physical pain. My sister-in-law and my nephew and niece had to walk almost 2 kilometers where my brother was waiting for them as cars cannot pass through their barangay. My mother-in-law left their house with only her handbag and the clothes she was wearing. My cousin even left the money she was keeping for her children’s enrollment thinking that they’d be coming back after 2-3 days. I’m in tears now. Pause.

Everyone has a depressing story to tell. My parents are left in our house in MSU, they refused to leave no matter how strong I urged them over the phone. The military secured the campus, they told me. They felt safe. But the earth-shaking sound of the airstrikes and bombs are very loud from our house, I can even hear it over the phone everytime I call Mama. MSU is the only stronghold left for the Meranaos. If they take it away from us, then they just dim the light that put Meranaos on the Philippine and even on the world map.

The Ruins of Marawi.

Photo courtesy of Marawi City Pulse (Facebook Page)

Every time my father and I go downtown Marawi, we notice all the bad stuff all around us. Garbage, narrow streets, tarpaulins, lawless elements aka motorcycle drivers and even unruly motorists. He once quipped that the only solution is to leave Marawi and create a new one. That’s why, I told him, a lot of Meranaos flee to live in the metro or abroad and vowing never to come back. Others return several decades later to attend a loved one’s funeral or to see their loving relatives. It is like a prophecy coming to life. Seeing all the destruction, it is eerie to return to the city and live in it again. If my father and I can have our way (which is one million times impossible), we want to leave the ruined part of the city as it is. The ruins will remind us and our children of what we were as a people and how we rose (speaking from the future) from the rubble and ashes of destruction.  I hope we can build a new Marawi elsewhere, where we can apply the better change we were clamoring for, where true and just governance can take place, where we can truly change anew. Lanao del Sur is a wide and a beautiful province, we can choose anywhere around the Lake. Just please, don't take MSU away from us. 

An Excerpt from I Am Malala

"Would it have been better if we had not become independent but stayed part of India?" I asked my father. It seemed to me that before Pakistan there was endless fighting between Hindus and Muslims. Then even when we got our own country there was still fighting, but this time it was between mohajirs and Pashtuns and between Sunnis and Shias. Instead of celebrating each other, our four provinces struggle to get along... Did all this fighting mean we needed to divide our country yet again?

There seemed to be so many things about which people were fighting. If Christians, Hindus or Jews are really our enemies, as so many say, why are we Muslims fighting with each other? Our people have become misguided. They think that their greatest concern is defending Islam and are being led astray by those like the Taliban who deliberately misinterpret the Qur'an. We should focus on practical issues. We have so many people in our country who are illiterate. And many women who have no education at all. We live in a place where schools are blown up. We have no reliable electricity supply. Not a single day passes without the killing of at least one Pakistani. 

This girl is superb at such young age! I was watching youtube clips of her speeches and interviews and I can't help but get astounded by her unique train of thoughts for an EIGHTEEN year-old! What was I doing when I was eighteen? Did I even think of having an advocacy? Perhaps, when one is in a horrendous situation like that, it makes one's maturity shoot up a thousand folds.

The Taliban rule makes me think of the MILF ruling over us. I have nothing against them nor am I against the good intention of the Bangsamoro Basic Law, but somehow, it didn't push through for a reason. Maybe that is better for us. Maybe we are not ready yet. With everything that is going on in the ARMM, the crimes, the political clashes, the usurpation of power, how can we say we are ready to govern ourselves? I personally do not depend my freedom on the BBL nor on any political figure. Like Malala and from the experience of my own father, only education can give us freedom. Acquisition of quality education, no matter where it come either from the West or East because all knowledge and wisdom are from Allah alone, can free us from the dark abyss of ignorance and oppression.

You can watch her Nobel Peace Prize Speech HERE,  and the documentary by the New York Times when she was only 10 is HERE.   This NYT documentary opened her and her father's voice to the world. Since then, she and her father, a staunch critic of the Taliban and an advocate of women's education, were frequently invited to speaking engagements and interviews by the media. This made them a target of the Taliban. But nobody knew that the Taliban would dare shoot a child right on her face for her love of education. To their dismay, she lived to continue her advocacy and to represent the 66 million girls all over the world who are deprived of education for several reasons, the main reason is by being a girl. :( 

Robinhood

                        

I was browsing books at Kinokuniya earlier when I chanced upon this quote and suddenly, a part of my DTTB (Doctors to the Barrios) experiences came in a flash. At the time, I had a grasp at how politics is being played not only in my home province but in the whole country as well. I was able to answer some questions on the root cause of our country's corruption and consequent poverty. I found out that it is a mutual give-and-take relationship between the elected leaders and the voters. 

I remember one afternoon when I was backriding a motorcycle driven by a barangay captain in the municipality I served, we were on our way to his barangay to see a patient. Our ride was relatively smooth, thanks to the tire paths (see photo below) carpeting the narrow barrio roads. The captain was telling me how grateful he is to the local chief executive for constructing those tire paths making the transportation to and fro the far-flung barangay easier for his constituents. 

TIRE PATHS. Basically, two narrow concrete roads constructed to fit only the tires of vehicles. This is one of the PAMANA projects of the DSWD. I took this photo when my staff and I were on a convoy to one of the barangays. 

As far as I know, all the developments in that municipality, including the tire paths, are government projects through different agencies such as the DSWD, DA, DILG and DOH. None comes from the personal budget of the local chief executive. And yet, the community people think of it as personal projects of the LCE. I do not undermine the gratitude of the community people, of course we have to consider that without the consent and cooperation of the LCE, none of those projects would materialize. When I was there, I was also beyond grateful for the warm welcome and the kindness that the LCE and his family have shown me and my staff. But I also believe that they should not entirely own up to the developments, in fact, it is something that they OWE to their constituents, and the latter must also understand that being taxpayers (well, only a handful of them) they deserve each and every project in the municipality that alleviates their living condition such as concrete roads (which they majorly lack), educational reinforcement, agricultural/livelihood help, and health support and monitoring.

I have observed that, generally, in the fifth/sixth municipalities (poorest of the poor), most of the constituents rely solely (or shall I say, beg?) from the local chief executive. This starts during the election period where vote buying is not a secret to keep in our country. It is illegal but majority does it. We live in an era where a "clean intention to serve" neither qualifications matter. Money matters. This is where the give-and-take relationship I mentioned starts. The higher amount you give to the voters, the more chance you will get of being elected to the position you're vying. After election, the politician's financial resources is depleted and he now relies on the IRA and other government projects to "save up" again for the next election. Infrastructure and other major developments are compromised in this practice. Since services lack in the municipality, the constituents practically beg to the LCE for personal financial help. This is where the feeling of "helping the people" commences, and the constituents are largely "grateful" to the LCE for the help extended to them. Robinhood, eh?     

Basically, our nation's problem in corruption and poverty is a two-way process. We cannot isolate the politicians as blameworthy, if we have accepted their money when we voted for them, then we are their accomplices. We chose them, therefore, we must endure.

As the national elections come to a close, I fervently pray to God for enlightenment as we vote for those who are capable of leading us to progress and prosperity sans the sugar-coated words and "charitable deeds" while obviously stealing from the taxpayers' money for his personal gain. May God spare us from hypocrisy and following blindly. Ameen.

Pachelbel's Canon and Wedding Frets

This is George Winston's piano rendition of Johann Pachelbel's Canon. There's something eargasmic about it that really soothes my soul, hence, many many years ago, I promised to have this played on my wedding day. I don't care if this has been played in millions of weddings or in movies but this has to be played on my big day! Now that it is fast approaching, I'm fretting about the details such as who's to play Canon while we're walking down the aisle, or the tiny details in the hall prep, or the menu, the wedding invites, the program itself and etcetera. In our culture, it's difficult to have your dream wedding done due to the norms and traditions that we follow (in fact, a wedding song is not important at all), but I want to make sure that those feasible things I want in it to be done. Normally among us, Meranaos, the bride is not supposed to get her hands on the wedding, but I'm a lucky lass to have my parents ask me on how we should go about it. The whole bridal family are supposed to act as wedding coordinators, consulting the groom's family on their suggestions. With ours, I try to inject some of my modern wedding ideas into our tradition and raise it to my parents. If I get an approval then we're good to go. 

I'm getting jittery about this whole marriage thing, not so much with the wedding because the ceremony would only last for some few hours but marriage is supposed to last our whole lifetime together and as we pray, even in the hereafter. Subhanallah. This is the difficult thing about being single all your life and then suddenly, someone comes along to become a part of your everyday life. You used to decide on your own and seek approval from you parents, and now, someone is deciding with you. You used to be only a part of a nuclear family and now you are creating your own nuclear family. I occasionally catch myself absorbed in my own reverie, thinking about the huge leap I am going to make, the enormous detour of my life. With this whole marriage thing, some of the plans I laid for myself went blurry. But as a dear friend told me, we cannot help but make compromises when we're already in the relationship. This is not merely some boyfriend-girlfriend experimental thing that I can easily get out whenever I want to. This is the real thing. And it is a big deal. I can't help but get emotional about all these stuff because of the huge decisions I will have to make in the future regarding juggling my career and my future family life, but I constantly remind myself that we're going to cross the bridge when we get there. I need to calm down myself, there's nothing to fret about, and that Allah (subhana wa ta'ala) is the Best Planner, and He shall direct to us to where we are best fit. Ameen. 

But one thing for sure, Canon shall me played while we're walking down the aisle. Wish me the best! *winks*

HBD T'lowa!

My fraternal triplet sibglings: (L-R) Alexander, Amanee and Zul. Photo taken TWO freaking years ago! Too many changes took place but I can't find a recent photo of them together. 

Happy, happy birthday to this three people who added exponential joy to our family since they were born. They made our Mom famous for delivering them via spontaneous vaginal delivery with normal birth weights, all three of them have APGAR score 9,9. Yeah, beat that!! No noted prenatal and fetomaternal complications. All three of them have unremarkable growth and developmental history with complete immunization c/o private pediatrician. They were breastfed until 6 months of age (don't ever ask me how many boobs our Mom has. she has only one pair. now go ahead and ask her how she managed feeding them!), weaned thereafter with all the nutritious foods that our Mom can come up with. Indeed, she's a wonderwoman at that. 

Trivia: all throughout Mama's pregnancy, we thought there were only two babies in her tummy. That's what her OB-GYN said because that's what she saw in the ultrasound. "You got two boys in your uterus, Missus". That's what she told our parents. So when the nurse went out of the delivery room announcing that the second baby was a GIRL, my Dad couldn't fathom how the doctor mistaken her daughter for a son!! The problem was, he wasn't ready for a girl's name for he prepared two names for both of the boys. Haha!! 

Now, when the nurse went out again informing us of the arrival of the THIRD baby, I swear I was only five but the scene plays vividly in my mind, my Dad and I were jumping back and forth outside the delivery room screaming "We got triplets, we got triplets!!!" (In Maranao though, we don't speak English at home! Haha). I also remember my grandmother scolding my Dad for being overjoyed when we do not know if Mama was still alive. Alhamdulillah, Mama was fine all throughout her birthing period she didn't even look like she'd given birth to THREE PEOPLE every FIVE minutes! How crazy could that be? 

Growing up, I often tease my sister of being "ampon". Nyahahaha! I used to tell her that her real mother was the woman who was also inside the delivery room with Mama who cannot afford to raise her and since our parents are generous, we adopted her. Hahaha! Good thing she didn't took it seriously. 

Happy birthday T'lowa*!!! I wish you all the best in this lifetime. I hope and pray that we just don't grow old but we GROW UP too, that's more important because it entails maturity in dealing with the harshness and glories of life. Cling to what Papa keeps on teaching us, and Inshaa Allah, we will all be guided. I love you three and I miss you much!! 

*T'lowa is Maranao word for triplets. 

When the time comes, I want to have a kid as smart and as cute as you. Love you Sabreen! :)

Elusive Peace

I’m in the middle of a routinely work when the urge of writing suddenly popped up like an old friend tugging at my back seeking for a little attention. And after months of neglecting my personal journal, here I am trying to jot down bottled-up feelings I attempted to ignore. 

I was reading a fiction called “Below The Crying Mountain” by a Filipino author Criselda Yabes about the entangled story of an American mestiza who eloped with a Muslim educated man towards the land of the “Dirty People”; and of Nahla, an ambitious Muslim woman who fell in love with a Christian soldier declared by her people as an enemy. The story revolved in the poverty-stricken and nest of rebellion Sulu. It broke my heart as the story unfolds piece by piece. My heart got even more broken when I opened the television after putting down the book and saw what happened in Basilan which is on the headlines as of speaking moment. It’s as if what I was seeing on TV is a continuation of the book I just finished reading. 

There were 19 soldiers who died in the encounter, 6 of them were held captives before they were mercilessly murdered, the news said. I heard the weeping family members airing their sentiments at how their loved ones’ lives were grimly taken. Stories of these national heroes were told and the images of them bidding farewell to their mothers, fathers, wives and kids promising to come back soon quickly flashed in my mind. Just like a scene in a movie accompanied by sobby music on the background. Little did they know, they will return as cold corpses. I can’t help but shed a tear for their loss. 

I sympathize with the mothers who lost their sons after decades of nurturing them, protecting them from the harsh rains, feeding and educating them to become better men. 

I sympathize with the fathers who worked hard to raise their sons to become perfect gentlemen and good citizens of the nation. 

I sympathize with the wives who, after days and weeks and months of patiently waiting at the doorstep, no soldier husband would arrive. 

I sympathize with the little sons and daughters who will grow up without a father at their homes. 

I sympathize with the nation for losing great men—men who died while serving their motherland. 

On the other hand, it hurts me even more that the culprit were Moro rebels. Muslim rebels, the news said. Not Christian rebels because the media knows not of any Christian rebels, only NPA who unknowingly kills and burns acres of lands in other parts of the country. But they’re not on the news. Only the Muslim rebels are the highlights. The bad guys. My people. 

There goes the media for their one-sided story, feeding the nation with false information. While we sympathize for the nineteen people who died, did it ever occur to any one of the millions of televiewers the other side of the story? How about those thousands of helpless residents who were displaced in their war-torn areas? They are the real victims in the situation. Do the media even investigate as to why the MILF attacked the AFP camp in the middle of the Peace Talk? For all we know, there must be a reason. 

Nineteen were mercilessly murdered as opposed to the thousands who were ripped off from what was left of their lands, from their dreams, from the good future that could be awaiting them. Thousands of mothers and fathers will endlessly hide and protect their children from the bullet rains fired by the national government ammunition. Thousands of children will be deprived of a happy childhood, a better education, and most importantly, deprived to live a meaningful life. Tell me, how does that differ from being killed? 

Then there’s the pushing for an all-out war against the MILF, against the Moros, against the Muslims. They want us to perish. Those people pushing such evil idea know better---there’s no victory in war, most especially, evil shall not triumph over the good. My rebel brothers in the South know that too, but why do they push for a Bangsamoro Republic when we can’t even handle ARMM? Let’s admit it, we Moros aren’t even united. We’d get at each other’s throat to gain power to fuel our pride. I believe we’re too ambitious for a Bangsamoro republic. Yes, it will happen, but not now. Let us not be governed by our impulsiveness and blinded by our pride. To quote a character from the book “Below the Crying Mountain”: 

“Of course Allah was not on his side. He was not on Allah’s side to begin with…did He ever say, take up arms and follow me? There should have been no turning back for Jolo but it kept on doing so because violence breeds violence. 

“..I’d say that of any revolution is to succeed here and now it would be the weapon of tolerance. Only tolerance will bring peace, but no one here, not the Muslims, not the Christians, not this government we’re stuck with, understands the meaning of that word. 

“…Omar failed because he was thinking only of himself. He was trying to prove something, seeking vindication because he was a Muslim. He may talk for all he wants about building an independent state for Sulu but I doubt if he knew what it meant to serve Allah.” 

In the midst of all these confusing chaos, all we can do as spectators of this reel-like reality is to pray for our leaders to make a decision that is unbiased and beneficial for all. Let us pray for a nation undivided by religion, race and language—a nation so united that people coexist peacefully. 

Amen. 

There, I just said my piece. 

Eid'l Fitr

(this is an overdue post) 

Islam celebrates only two festivities: Eid'l Fitr and Eid'l Adha. Eid'l Fitr is celebrated at the end of the Holy Month of Ramadhan while Eid'l Adha, the feast of sacrifice, is celebrated during the month of Dhul Hajj. Basically, the festivities consist of prayers (salaa'tul eid) and greeting family and friends with peace. Most often than not, families spend the important occasion with each other by rising early for the congregational prayer and afterwards sharing their best culinary specialties. Eid'l Fitr celebrates not just the mere act of "being able to eat again" after one whole month of fasting, the same way that Ramadhan is not just about skipping meals/water during daytime. Eid'l Fitr entails that the discipline and the strength of faith that we have developed all throughout Ramadhan must not put to cease but must be continued all year round. The Eid is meant to bring tranquility to the Muslim Ummah as we give our salaam  to everyone. Ironically though, looking at the news, tranquility and peace is a strange word in the Arab world nowadays. 

It is my first time this year not being able to spend the holiday at home, but being with my cousins here in Manila, I don't feel any less at home. We were up very early on the morning of August 30 to catch up the salaatul eid at Quirino Grandstand. Thousands of Muslims all over the metro were there to pray together. It was wonderful, wonderful sight. How can I not believe in the miracles of Allah when the previous night it was raining cats and dogs due to the typhoon and then suddenly the sky cleared and became sunny on the Eid morning? Allah (s.w.t.) indeed gives abundance of Mercy. 

My family in the metro. (l-r) Kuya Dabs, Ate Papay, moi, Ate Hanna, Princess, Uncle Mumar and the two adorable kiddos Sabreen and Asma. Hosni took this photo. 

It was just us here so the table was set to seven people only, unlike in inged  where we don't use the dining table. We use tens of tabaks for a buffet style meal because everyone comes around. :)

It is but tradition that Muslim women boast their culinary expertise on this holiday. My cousin Ate Hannah is an excellent cook so she did all the cooking while Princess and I played her apprentice slicing peppers and handing her the spices bottles etc. She does it perfectly without exerting too much effort and voila! here are her mouth-watering specialties for the day.

Cassava ala Hannah. You guys must have a taste of her cassava cake, it's simply the best!! It's full of texture and every ingredient slips smoothly into your tastebuds you can't get enough of it! For orders, do text me. Hehe. 

Chickne Khabsa Rice. This is an Arabian food which is my ultimate favorite! The rice is cooked using various Arabian spices which gives a strong aftertaste but something that makes you crave for more. The chicken was cooked separately using the same spices and placed on top of the rice.

Pindiyalokan a Manok. This one's a native Meranao food, chicken cooked in shredded coconut meat and our famous palapa (this one doesn't have an English translation) and kalawag (yellow-ginger powder). 

Koning Rice. Who among the Meranaos don't love kiyuning a begas? This is cooked using coconut milk instead of plain water, peppered with yellow-ginger, laurel leaves and pandan leaves. Koning is served during the best  of occasions and when you visit a Meranao household, you know you're special when this is served.

Pasta. Need I say more? Well, I guess everybody just loves pasta! Haha. Oh, we also have grilled chicken that day which I fail to take its photo! That one's better than Mang Inasal or anywhere!

Post-Eid meal. As I always say, nothing beats being with the family on special occasions.

Alhamdulillah (all praises belong to Allah) for a wonderful family I have, back home and here; for being able to survive Ramadhan alongside OB-GYN; for providing all of us good health; for the gift of friends; for being able to live everyday with peace and tranquility in our hearts.

We just got back home from my newly wed cousin M and his wife's kandori (thanksgiving) and thought to myself "What is more lovely than a couple who fought all the odds and found their way to each other?"

It is not unknown how parents arrange marriage for their children in the Meranao society out of purest and best intent. They choose among close relatives to create a tighter bond within the clan, mainly for alliance. For us, the most numerous in number is the most powerful clan. Parents meticulously hand pick The Chosen One for their child and consider various aspects, most importantly a bright future that is in store for their child and The Chosen One. However, most often than not, they consider too much about the in-law's family that they take for granted the compatibility of the two people they are going to wed. They overlook their children's rights and wants. By children, I mean these are actually grown-up men and women devoid of their inherent right to personally choose for themselves. Parents tend to satisfy their whims by neglecting their children's happiness. We are people too, y'know. Most importantly, we are grown-ups (at least we'd like to think so) and I believe we are capable of finding The One for ourselves.

After writing this, people might picture me as an ungrateful, selfish, rebellious and stubborn daughter. Call it defiance of the culture set by our forefathers but I want to set things straight in some aspects. Parents and children must at least meet halfway, right? Parents, no forcing please. Children, try to compromise.....peacefully and respectfully. 

Most importantly, I'd like to address this to all the men who have marriage playing in their minds. If you think you are ready to settle down, make sure you have fixed it with the one you want to settle down with. Be man enough to understand the complexity of what you are about to enter so do not allow anyone to dictate your heart. You are endowed with an intelligence to decide for yourself. There is no one on this earth who can tell you who to marry but your heart, so listen carefully to it. Pursue the one you truly love and choose carefully, but still,. in accordance to your parents' standards so you will not end up as a cast out in your clan. It must be a mutual decision between the two of you. Hence, if you sense that the woman doesn't feel like spending the rest of her life with you, then please, don't push your luck, stay away for she's definitely not The One. 

Why am I writing this? Because I admire my cousin M and his wife A for fighting for their love despite the distance and the somewhat seemingly endless adversities. I admire M for following his heart and for playing deaf when dictators came to him. I admire A for waiting patiently. They do not only brought two clans together but they showed us what real love can do. For that, I pray for a blissful and blessed marriage for them. 

After all their visitors left. M wearing flesh polo shirt and A is the one in blue veil. :)