nahiyasha

[nahiyasha]

floating through the cosmic unknown

i was once a partly hollowed puppet that trusted the all-knowing people to pull my strings. of course, i knew how to walk the big blue orb on my own but at the same time, because i worried about the immense gaze that was ever so often embedded all over me, i let them take control. because if i committed a mistake on my own, they would immediately shove shame on my face. the moment that they will cease to love the show i gave them is a piercing needle that has always been stuck inside me. i could never bring myself to disappoint anyone. ever.

but as the years dapple me with more knowledge, i realize that people will only care for you when it benefits them. i think that's just our natural human instinct when we want a connection with someone that we perhaps find interesting. when there are the kind of people that make us feel good, this still bears the most of our attention. at least, this has been most of my experience. sometimes, i believe, it's okay. it's okay to follow those who gives you the most pleasurable feelings as long as we understand the limits and our boundaries on certain things.

but when this becomes too much to deal with and this relationship quickly shifts from being so pleasurable to something utterly tormenting, the realization that people only formed a connection with you because it gives them power and are willing to take every good thing that stems from you—is going to leave a lifetime painful impact. how is it that people can appear so genuine but have the most evil intentions?

sadly, this has been the cycle of my friendships during my college years. i only form friendships that lived for as long as a bubble floats in front of me. this, eventually, formed its own universe. when i look back at the earlier years of college, i somehow feel nostalgic with these bubbles of friendships i once had. these people i got to meet but somehow our relationship drifted because we stopped being blockmates. most have graduated, and some had change of plans with their future. i used to pity myself for not being able to keep friendships but then i realized that maybe these kinds of friendships formed on mundane routines just isn't my thing. i am not saying that i need a special kind of connection to remain alive in a friendship, but rather most people i meet were not just meant for me to be genuinely friends with. i guess i just didn't fit in places that i often show up.

if i would be honest, during my long years in college, the only place where i felt like i really belong was in ADVO. despite having a lot of articles to write every single day, the university publication kept me sane. ADVO became my safe space; i was able to express myself in terms of writing, making art, and even in making friends with likeminded people. my self-confidence grew, and for the first time ever, i finally learned how to hold myself a lot better when faced with another human being. however, as years go by and they leave me behind one by one—i found myself going back to where i was before. it was as if i were in my first year of college again. i had no one; i knew no one.

most normal human beings would've probably done it all over again, to make new friends as much as possible, but since i am not normal (AH?!) i hid in my own cave. i just didn't have enough energy to let new people come into my life anymore. at this point, i just really wanted to graduate. sure, i liked our little interactions and the way that they exchange quick banters with their friends were entertaining. but, i have no more light left in me to keep more people at this phase of my life. so, instead of kindling a friendship, i resorted to putting the little energy i had into sharpening my craft: in writing, art, and music.

with this, i had worked with a few writers, have gotten into the world of tattooing, commissioned some tattoo designs, honed my crocheting skills, collabed with a few musicians, and had improved my music/guitar skills. truly, i regret nothing. i may not have had the best of friends nor do i excel greatly in this field, but at least i somewhat have my mental health together. unfortunately, i do not aim high like everyone else. it is just not in my system, so, fulfilling the tiny yearnings that i have within myself were enough to keep me alive this long. now with my frontal lobe fully developed, i have accepted that i can only be certain things when i have the means to do them.

i have learned so much about keeping my mental health in a somewhat acceptable shape—i will forever be grateful that i did this for myself. despite. despite. despite...

as graduation slowly becomes a reality to me, i can finally give myself a pat on the back. this phase of my life is finally turning into a chapter that i can look back to. i can somehow see myself becoming a teacher in the future, but the weight of getting into the world of writing, arts, and music is heavier than my desire to teach: a longing i have been aching to satiate. perhaps this is why i have been so lonely during my college years.

i was once a partly hollowed puppet that trusted the all-knowing people to pull my strings. but i can stand on my own now and i have severed every connection with people that no longer brings value to my life. i am no longer afraid to make mistakes and disappoint people for the choices that i make for my own betterment. shame is a deeply rooted behavior of a person, it is solely a reflection of what they truly feel about themselves when they try to drag you down. i am no longer tied to what pains me.

here's to making a life through the cosmic unknown.

#personal #essay #art #opinion #graduating #gradwaiting #college #prose #writers guild #writerscorner #writers on tumbr #writerscommunity #filipino writer

[nahiyasha]

my love mine all mine: an open letter to my past self

dear j,

your love doesn't belong solely to you now. though this may seem unfair, believe me when i say that this phase of your life is the most beautiful experience that you have practiced your love with another. sure, you have practiced your love by means of poetry, stories, art, music, and even in the murmurs of your nightly prayers. i have no doubt that those experiences are also beautiful. but this one in particular involves a sweet and lovely breathing entity that you can finally see, touch, smell, hear, and taste—all in one, a love so heavenly unearthly.

love used to be in fragments for you. surprisingly, now, it sees the whole side of you that you always kept hidden from the world. it can hold your hand whenever you're feeling sad. it can smell your rosy freshly-washed hair and it can also notice the moment you change the scent of your perfume. love can finally listen to the stories you've always wanted to say. to the intricacies of what makes you, you and yes, even to your odd obsession with all types of bread. this love definitely doesn't taste like burden like you used to wonder. it tastes like honey: flowery, syrupy sweet, and it never expires.

only i can understand how lonely it was for you to build a love that grew from neglect, abuse, and isolation. being alone in all your heaving lungs day and night was a torture. no one loved you, no one cared for you, and no one thought of you. but you were wrong. in your comforting dark expanse, someone was there patiently waiting for you to speak because he always wanted to listen to you talk, no matter what it was all about. a boy in a red shirt and a heart so kind. well, you wouldn't know. you wouldn't even notice, because you were asking the wrong people for help.

he stood there with his hands tightly clasped together—too nervous and too careful not to get too close. as he may escalate things a lot worse, he confessed as if he committed such a grave sin. but, you see, we were too young back then. adults should've been on our side but they always weren't there; we were growing kids, but it felt as if we were stuck at 13 years old trying to live without a clue in the world. that is why when we make decisions for ourselves and the people we care about based on our limited knowledge and sources, we never fail to second guess if this is the right choice to pursue. sadly, the decisions we made then aren't always so great. and that's okay.

also, who would've thought that the one you'll love this way has always been close to your heart? definitely, not us. now that you've grown closer to him, he's the lover you've always imagined you partner would be. he knows how to weave words the way a heart would beat from a straight line into the curves of the highs and lows of every feeling; pulsating for you and only you just as you for him. his voice sounds as comforting as the ocean waves that yearns for the shore. his face as lovely as the moon, the celestial body you endear ever so that is now at your reach, and of course, his love as cosmic as the vast cosmos. he's just a boy, yes. but not like any other boy.

well, your love is solely yours after all, however you want it. in a world that costs everything, all your love is free, your love is growing endlessly and this affluence is a rare find in a world such as this. so take good care of it.

it's okay, you can loosen your tightly hidden fists now. for the first time ever, your heart feels an enormous strength in the guise of softness. you are safe now and you are so loved.

i'll never forget you,

y.

#mine all mine #mitski #this fucking song broke me i had to write a letter to my old self bc i love them so so so so much #i miss them but i have grown so much and it's all because of them too #the land is inhospitable and so are we #letter #essay #writings

[nahiyasha]

cancer

publised under The Westernian Advocate Column, Newsletter, 2018

     The minds of youth today seem to feed on whatever is on the trending list in the media, no matter how irrelevant it may appear, they seem to go on about it as if it actually contributes to the growth of our nation—or for this matter, ourselves. There is nothing special in turning controversies into a laughing stock. Somehow, they always try to find a way to pleasure themselves through nonsensical list of trends.

     They need to understand that when a thing does not need to be humored, it actually does not need for it to be. I think what they lack these days is common sense, which is ironic to think of since to step foot in another human’s shoes is easy—yet they always fail to do so because they never really care about what is happening in our society. They only care about themselves, however, because of the wrong ideas that they feed to themselves on a daily basis, they are also the ones who are disrupting their own growth as an individual.

     You will be able to see it through the way they speak. When shallow words leak through someone’s mouth, expect that the mind they have is also as shallow. There was this one time when I was walking near the study area, I heard a group of guys screaming about ‘gang rape’, and as I walk pass closer to them, I rolled my eyes in disappointment when I saw them playing a game on their phones.

     Firstly, there is nothing wrong with playing a game while also being in the vicinity of the campus, because I myself play too sometimes when I have time. But I will never be the person who will use the word rape in such context. Not because I am an English major who prefers to use the term in the right way—but because I know well enough that rape is a serious matter—that people who has and still is a victim of this case is something we need to take seriously.

     Because these are people who deserve so many good things in life yet because rapists exist, it is unfortunate that their lives are already a living torment to themselves. Hence, I will not let myself be one of the problems that cause ignorance in the society. I will not associate that term, or cuss it even, through a mere game.

     We are young adults growing for the betterment, not only for loved ones, and ourselves but also for the community and society with which we are brought up in. We are all striving through college, hoping and believing that the degree we are all pursuing will take us far one day. However, if most of us will conform to the mentality such as this, none of us will reach beyond the boundary of the goals that we take pride in.

     Stop conforming to what society likes to see or talk about. Wanting to be appreciated is given, but that does not mean you should go to such great lengths of absurd thinking only to please the people around you—or so at least to appease to yourselves that maybe people can accept you if you become like everyone else. Maybe that is why our society likes to twist and turn the struggles of most people. It is scary that they keep multiplying—do not let yourself be a part of the people who never actually try to understand.

#opinion #column #newsletter #writing #cancer

[nahiyasha]

a wake-up call

published under The Westernian Advocate Column, Tabloid 2018

     Six hundred sixty-billion pesos.

     This is how much our Constitution affords to make education its top priority in terms of public expenditures ranking above Department of Health (DOH) with a budget of P141.4-billion and the Agriculture Department (DA) of P49.8-billion. In fact, these other departments have been at an alarming need of improvement recently. But this is for another story.

     Our country is said to be one of the demographically youngest in Asean, if not the world; with 40 percent of the population of school age out of the 100,000,000-population of our still growing country.

     However, the product of the system doesn’t seem to reflect the amount that has been allocated to education. Aside from the printing mess of the Department of Education (DepEd) that I talked about in my first column in the Magazine issue, another dismal news had a bitter aftertaste in my mouth.

     The statistics of headline that has been circulating in the media regarding the results of Programme for Internaitonal Student Assessment (PISA) shook netizens to their core of how Philippines went dead last in reading and second last in both mathematics and science among the 79 participating countries or economies. To be honest, I waited for the results to finally come out this December, but I didn’t expect that we would be at a dipping rank among many other countries. It’s pitiful.

     It is quite appalling that our students were dipped last in reading. There are particular regions in the country where Filipinos spoke better English than the other counterparts; however, this just goes to show that it isn’t about how well you speak English. That’s not the case anymore. Clearly, our educational system has not been able to keep up with the rest of the world. 

     This brings me to the ‘Enhanced Basic Education Act of 2013’ otherwise known as K-12 law. One of its goals was to “Give every student an opportunity to receive quality education that is globally competitive based on a pedagogically sound curriculum that is at par with international standards”. However, based on the recent results of PISA, it seems that we are neither ‘globally competitive’ nor ‘at par with international standards’.

     To pave the pathway of our country to attain this is still a long way to go. Nonetheless, by adding two more years in our educational system, particularly in senior-highschool (SHS), K-12 did align our country with the customary length of basic education systems abroad.

     Moreover, based on the results of Organization for Economic Cooperation and Development (OECD) in reading, four out of five Filipino students were categorized as Level 2 or ‘low performers’ in the subject. According to OECD standards, Level 2 students have a proficiency that is “too low to enable them to participate effectively and productively in everyday life.” With this same review, it shows that the government spending per student was lowest in the Philippines as compared to other participating countries. 

     With this, it has been inevitable for teachers to leave a student behind; when dropout rates are minimized, teachers and school administrations are incentivized.  Because of this, it forces teachers to allow non-readers and other poorly performing students to move up the educational ladder.

     Apart from this, the educational inequality in our country is also withstanding issue. Students who come from richer and urban family backgrounds have an access to better-quality education than poorer and rural correlatives.

     There is a lot to be said with the recent results from PISA given the fact that our society has a large young segment of individuals. PISA also had its fair-share of criticisms as their validity and reliability were put in discussion. Many academic articles have debated this, finding that PISA rankings were based on the average thus hiding the affluent distribution of the students’ performance in each country.

     Furthermore, some Philippine educators focus on the comforting prospect of the posted results. Given that, the last international assessment in the Philippines was completed in the year 1999 and 2003. Back then, the results were the same. The previous study also revealed that the Philippines had a poor quality in public education. After receiving the bad news, DepEd decided to stop participating in international assessments. Perhaps, to hide the problem instead of fixing it.

     Therefore, the mere permission of DepEd last 2018 to allow our students to join in PSIA was in itself a commendable. At least now we know where to start in the process of bettering our educational system—a baseline data to track our progress.

     However, our educational system, especially now that is still in crisis, cannot do this alone. I think we should not solely rely on schools to hone our students as not all the activities done in school will make any difference if the home itself, where the students learn firsthand, does not put an effort to guide their child.

     Maybe that’s why the term ‘parents’ are often used in both premises—because the habits, attitude, behavior, and discipline that a student develops affect the way they impose their learning. It’s either the teacher or the parent who’s always being blamed for their mistakes. But I say, these two are synonymous and must always be hand-in-hand.  And you cannot blame someone who is doing just the same thing as you.

#column #opinion

[nahiyasha]

write here, write now

published under The Westernian Advocate Column, Broadsheet (2018)

     There had been many circumstances where people would think differently of me merely because I am a writer. Somehow, they already have a perfected version of me in their heads. They like to think that I can control my emotions and immediately put them on pieces of paper by means of poetry and stories as if I am always busy at my desk writing down these voices in my head. But you see, the thing about being a writer is that we reek of too somber and unbothered personality. We get that most people do not like the way we present ourselves. But that does not mean that everyone is free to use our words against us as you please.

     “Writer ka ‘di ga? Ibigsabihin magaling ka mag gawa-gawa ng mga istorya—ibigsabihin magaling ka magsinualing?” said the person whom I respected as a mentor and a fellow writer himself.

     He exclaimed that because I am a writer, I knew so well how to make up stories and tell lies whenever I want to. He told me that I should be ashamed that someone like me is going to be a teacher one day. My heartbeat stuttered. The smirk on his face as he told me this made me swallow my tongue. I couldn’t fight for myself—I always couldn’t fight for myself. If there is something I am good at as a writer, I guess it’s that I am more willing to feel than voice out my words.

     After composing myself in front on him, I ran quickly to the closest comfort room and had an axiety attack in one of the toilet cubicles. I went out looking like a pathetic bag of bones after that. I pitied myself even though I did not want to.

     Why am I saying this?

     I am saying this because I want people to open their eyes, to really open their eyes enough to be sensitive enough for others. To consider what it means to be human. It’s just ironic how people can say that they advocate for those who have disability, yet they do not let these advocacies to manifest in their everyday lives. It’s like a play of hypocrisy among believers. The faces appear saint from afar, yet if seen close enough to dig upon their hearts, they are just like me, a sinner but a shameless one. These are the types of people who never acknowledge their mistakes. They like to put the blame on shallow things or oddly yet, on things that make you question why people can be that cruel.

     In the case of Boyet, for example, the Teleserye is said to raise awareness for the people who have autism—to let people know that autistic people are people who can also live and do things like normal people do too. But how did the norm take his character? They thought he was so interesting that they made memes and even scenarios to mimic him. They didn’t grasp the purpose of the Teleserye at all because they are too busy being blinded by their own beliefs that the only perspective they can see are their eyes staring back at them. That is how far back their thinking is. They would rather manipulate you to believe that their intention was good than admitting their mistake upon the matter.

     If you truly understand what it means to advocate for something, you would not go lengths to affirm to yourself to others of how privileged you are. You would not mock and use their illness to gain something for yourself; may it be emotionally or a literal one.

    You are now probably confused as to what this has to do with me being a writer. It’s simple. It’s that people also never take me seriously. People have already given me many labels and it’s sad that most of them are meant to put me down. I mean, I am only an ordinary student who happens to be a writer and with a mental illness at that—and sorry to disappoint that I am not as eager as Chaucer is or as passionate and smart as Shakespeare.

     When I first became a member of the newspaper Publication, I had no idea how to carry myself. I would always avoid eye contact or look at the floor as if it was a friend I was walking with. I was a master at labeling myself with the words that meant to fracture me. Before everyone else could pinpoint my disabilities, I already drilled them to me first. Deeply. But ADVO made me realize that I have a voice. I have eyes that I can look at and trust and floor of opportunities that I can walk on.

     People are absurd, and that is only natural. But if you choose to always be that absurd, then ask yourself if you ever tried to find a meaning for yourself once. Instead of wasting your time to be a hypocrite and step on someone else’s self-created meanings. It is never too late to acknowledge that you are a sinner too.

#opinion #column #writing

[nahiyasha]

the million little pieces of a lost boy: a story of a drug addict

published under The Westernian Advocate Features, Magazine (2018)

We are all but lost souls that flicker from a distance, but we have never been as lost and confined in madness like the boy with drug-filled veins and a heart, shattered into a million little pieces —an addict that rehab can’t fix, that death was believed to be his heroine.

     The flash of television screens interest us more when people, who deserve to be put in jail, or be killed even, are interviewed of their seemingly conceited intentions as they mock its consequences. Drug addicts are deemed by the norm as fearful beings—they are labeled as monsters to some extent that people tend to drill their opinion about their lives, of how meaningless and despair their future is going to be as if these “monsters” were not aware of it in the first place.

     However, the people that we see on these screens are real people like us. They are skin and bones who also breathe and feel too much of the world. What makes us differ from them is the obvious reason of how we consider our life choices better than they do.

The boy in his tainted skin

     There are certain parts of our past that we are ashamed to let people know, however, Ahlen John Magalong, a seventeen-year old boy extends his embrace to people who are going through the same experience he had as a growing kid.

      He was known in their town as an alcoholic and drug user at a young age of ten which, as he was involved with drugs, he also became a dealer eventually. Despite having gone through a life that seemed impossible to fix, through his journey in personal and spiritual counseling, he began to understand that to live a life is to have meaningful consequences.

     Like most kids, Ahlen was cheerful and energetic when it comes to his family especially when he is at school. He excelled mostly in his math classes and bagged a couple of awards for his proud parents to see. People admired the personality he had as it came out naturally when he would entertain other people or simply brighten up their day.

     Because of his cheerful personality, some of his classmates took this for granted. At times, they would mock him with the way he express himself or make fun of his appearance even. However, Ahlen tried to be patient so as he would not cause any trouble in school.

     "Ako kasi 'yung bata na napakabait. Simula't simula palang naging star section from grade one to three siguro dahil rin d’un ang dami ko nakakasundong mga kaibigan pero n'ung grade three, nagsimula akong i-bully ng mga kaklase ko. Tinutulak nila ako, kinukutus-kutusan—'yung parang ginagawa nila talaga akong alila,” expressed Ahlen

The boy and his escape

     Ahlen grew up with his grandparents along with his two younger siblings while his father was working in the Middle East. However, he woke up to a too quiet house one day, with his younger siblings still fast asleep in the room, Ahlen screamed for his mother’s name as he ran around the backyard to check if she was there. But his voice did not seem to reach anyone, not even his mother.

     “N’ung nag-eighth birthday kasi ako, kumpleto kami. Umuwi pa nga si Papa galing abroad. Masaya kami, sobrang saya. Kaso makalipas ang ilang araw, bigla na lang nawala si Mama. Na paggising ko n’ung araw na ‘yun, bigla na lang siya nawala. Hanggang ngayon hindi pa rin namin alam kung nasaan s’ya,” shared Ahlen.

     His composure remained untamed, almost too relaxed, as if he was just telling a story of another boy. But it was all written in his eyes, the mouthful of words he wished to tell to his mother instead. The sudden disappearance of his mother in his life, or perhaps leaving, embarked grief in Ahlen’s eyes—a pain that he could not quite figure out yet where to put.

     Since then, Ahlen had been more vulnerable to the realities of the world—he faced a life without his parents witnessing every effort he strive to give. At first, he was dependent on his loving grandparents, but as he was developing his own interest, he began to grow distant to them as well, particularly, when he was then introduced to vices and drugs.

     "Grade 5 ako nag-start mag-marijuana, manigarilyo, at mag-inom. 'Yung kapit-bahay namin na kaibigan ko rin, s’ya nag-encourage sa'kin na subukan ang mga bagay na 'yun. Tsaka problemado rin ako n'un kasi nga iniwan kami ng mama ng walang paalam at walang anumang rason," shared Ahlen.

The boy and his hands

     We always have that one thing that makes us feel better, and often that one thing either make us go ahead or be stuck in our ways. And it just so happen that Ahlen’s go-to was drugs and alcohol. Because he was under the influence of these more often, his repressed emotions causes him to act aggressive.

     "Nagwala ako n'ung grade six, tinumba ko lahat ng upuan tapos malapit lang kasi bahay namin sa school kaya kumuha ako ng kutsilyo, tapos bumalik ako kasi kaaway ko 'yung nasa kabilang section. Walang reason kung bakit, parang gusto ko lang makipag laban sa kan'ya. Na mapatunayan kong kaya ko nang lumaban. Naghawakan pa kami ng kutsilyo, pero nagtapos sa ako rin ang nasugatan,” shared Ahlen.

     Despite that incident, he was still able to continue his studies because the teachers were afraid of him too. When Ahlen became a drug dealer at the age of 11, the efforts he gave were endless and however tiring this was for him, he continued to lay in command under his boss and because he knew that he was going to gain something from it.

     "Malaki ang kinikita ko noon, nasa 10k pero ang pinakamalaki ay 15k kada-linggo na ‘yun. Tapos 'yung gawain na ‘yun ang lagi kong nang hinahanap-hanap. Papasok lang ako ng ilang oras sa school, tatawid na ako ng bakod, then sasama sa aking mga barkada para mag-take ng drugs. Lima kami n'un, ako ang pinakabata. Mas matanda sila sa'kin, mga 35 years old na," shared Ahlen.

     Ahlen's boss saw his efforts and honest dedication in this line of work, especially when it comes to money—because back then, Ahlen would rather take the drugs and not the money he had earned from repacking and taking deals. By the time Ahlen was 12 years old, because his boss was impressed with him, she appointed him as her right hand.

The boy and his masterpiece

     Ahlen lived the same routine almost half of his teenage years, but at fifteen years old, when Duterte was elected as the President of the country, Ahlen, some of his relatives, along with the people he came to be friends with during those years chose to surrender to the police in the municipal. Although at first, they were only attending the counselling so that their names will be cleared from the list.

     I saw the hesitation in Ahlen’s eyes—that brief moment of shame that his life as a boy was deemed that worthless. But as our conversation went on, though regret was etched all over his face, he seemed more content of who he is now. Even though the thought of his mother still crosses his mind each day, he still prays for the good that they may cross paths again one day. Ahlen’s life had left an impression on me—of how drug users are not who we actually think they are. We often see them base on our own judgements that we do not care enough to educate ourselves why they have become that way.

     Ahlen, just like all other drug users, is just like us. He also looks forward for a future to live and to pursue a better life. But we all know that to get far in life, one has to face the consequences from the life choices we make. Unfortunately, Ahlen was lead into a life more cruel than most of us. And that does not give us every right to mock why he is running on the other side of the road, as we ran differently on the other.

     In this world that likes to criticize based on limited knowledge, sometimes, all we need is patience to understand why life happens to be this way in other people’s lives. Knowing the other side of the story to educate ourselves is not that hard. Let us wear off our pride—the know-it-all shirt of ours—and wear the ones that conceive compassion. It only takes a step to get two steps ahead of the ignorance of this world. Be that empowerment in a world that likes to destroy lives.

#article #articles #features

[nahiyasha]

Cape Santiago Lighthouse: Of the light that brings life to sea

published under The Westernian Advocate Cultures, Magazine, 2018

     The moment my feet met the vast field of tall grass stalks and unfamiliar flowers, the thought of a historical memoir leaves me fearful of what could be underneath them. But the view of the sea from where I stood tempted me to breathe in and feel the breeze I never felt in the city. The vibrant hues of green and blues called me as if I were away from home for a long time as the lighthouse stood there waiting to be known.

     Exploring the lighthouse was like a map I never knew I lost. My fingers caressed upon its intricate structure etched with the markings of an enthralling mystery. The lighthouse is not just a mere structure to guide voyaging ships, but rather, the heart of our uncharted seas, the one we are always afraid and unwilling to explore.

Eyeing the Sea

     Cape Santiago, built in the Spanish Era and named after Don Santiago Zobel, was widely known then as Punta de Santiago or Faro de Punta Santiago. It stands on the same land for 128 years, almost untouched by the histories of mankind. You could not fathom how many eyes have witnessed its peeling paint and cement-filled cracks covering the building.

     The lighthouse is now in the care of a passionate keeper who never misses a chance to do the tasks for the lighthouse. Having grown up with it and taking care of it has become part of his life.

     "Dati n'ung time ng lolo at father ko, mga anim o lima silang lighthouse keeper dahil kasama nila ang kanilang family. Kailangan dedicated ka rin sa iyong work dito. 'Pag hindi ay hindi na rin magtatagal ito. Para kang nasa abroad, solo ka, wala kang kasama. Tapos sa gabi, kailangan i-maintain 'yung ilaw dahil 'yun ang purpose nitong lighthouse. Walang problema sa araw, kahit tumulog ka ng tumulog. Tuwing gabi nand'un talaga ang challenge," said Antonio Coz, Jr., Lighthouse Keeper-III    

Anchored History

     Don Santiago Zobel donated one hectare of the land where the lighthouse was built. As Kuya Junior expressed, back then, the Zobel ruled Calatagan just like their forefathers, who were said to be of Spanish ethnicity, have governed over Batangas.

     The lighthouse measures 41 feet in height and about 92 feet above sea level with 65 spiral steps, and three windows. Their own flashing signal at night helps seafarers and mariners to determine the positions of their ships to avoid causing traffic at sea that could result in an alarming situation when ships collide.

     It also has a tunnel hidden in a particular room that leads out to the sea which was built by the Japanese, who used it as their escape route, when they claimed the place during the World War II. When Kuya Junior's father tried to check the tunnel's condition 20 years ago, he found that a lot of guns and skulls blocked the tunnel caused by an earthquake and bombings from the war.

     "N'ung Second World War, ginawa itong garrison ng mga Hapon. Binobomba ito ng tora-tora ng Amerikano kaya hindi na original ang bubong ng lighthouse. May mga parte ng lighthouse na na-repair n'ung 2002, pinastahan lang ng semento," shared Mr. Coz.

     Interestingly, imprints of Spanish language remain written on the structure until now. There are no changes on the face of the lighthouse except for the parts of which were damaged due to the bombing back then.

     "N'ung 1996, ide-develop sana ito ng Golden Peninsula ng foreigner investor. Ang plano ay magpapatayo ng hotel at ng museum dito, golf course, coffee shop, restaurant, and mga cottages. Pero ako talaga ay against d'un, kasi 'pag na-develop na ito, magiging crowded ng sobra ang lugar, kasi magiging tourist spot. Parang mawawala na 'yung ambiance na nabibigay lang ng ganitong tahimik lang na katayuan ng lighthouse," ended Mr. Coz.

Illuminating light

     The lighthouse is more than just a traditional structure as it is considered now. Behind the light that filters the seas is a lighthouse keeper also full of stories to tell. From the tragic ones that shock the heart in some way to the ones that are still afloat at sea—waves ever trying to reach the shore to carry the memories of not only the past but also of the years to come.

#article #articles #culture #escapade

[nahiyasha]

in memory of you

in your absence i immersed myself in sadness, for there was nothing left to love in the remaining pieces of you that was too blurry for me to comprehend in the first place. was it really you? because i felt too many heartaches trying to filter your name in my palms —you made me figure out so many things on my own as if this kind of mystery will compel me to draw closer to you.

but i, too, am human i grow weary of repetitive things that remain obscure, just like how your name sounded sweet every time— only for it to mean nothing to me.

like dirty laundry, my sadness pile on top of one another, and now i am grieving because your name sounds like a metal being dragged on the ground —a heaviness that keeps tugging my heart wide open.

there is no more room for you here, my love for you has finally died.

#poetry #poems

[nahiyasha]

#illustration #art

[nahiyasha]

#illustration #art

[nahiyasha]

#illustration #art

[nahiyasha]

mother

my mother shoved words into my mouth she fed me whenever i cried and as the obedient kid that i was, i learned to nibble on every word and swallowed them as i should. now that i'm older, my stomach has ran acid ーit burns my chest and i would still feel them foam inside my mouth as if every word were told just yesterday. how can i truly love my mother if she couldn't feed me when i was hungry for something else? i cried again with my heart wide open as my knees wobble in fear of how exposed i was in front of her. but this time, i guess she couldn't hear me enough. it was silentーshe couldn't feed me anything, for not a single word left her mouth. she watched me intently as i detach the cord from both of our bodies.      i wasn't the daughter she loved anymore,      but she was still the mother i loved.

#poetry #poems

[nahiyasha]

the horror of floating through the unknown

drag my helpless body down the hallway where it is dark and hidden from everyone, a place too eerie that ghosts yearn to dwell and linger —my purpose is quite the same after all.

compelled to conceal myself in the shadows, sublimating to an unnoticeable presence like speck of dust upon a quaint furniture that no matter how meticulous and kind the hands that care for me, i cannot be wiped clean.

a miniscule of being that i am only has a slight chance to be found. to be known.

#poetry #poems

[nahiyasha]

touch starved

i think i exist only to love but never experience, a pretentious bag of bones like me will only stir your feelings      —you will wallow in it for some time      and then you will forget about me like a cup of coffee that has gone cold.

but if i must admit, it's because i do stunt my own growth: in life, in love, but strangely enough, not in death. an odd number of reasons aid my tendencies; they get glued together to form a paper-maché of well-composed farewells —a craft i have mastered in my years of longing.

i think i exist only to love, but never experience— yet here i am, still longing until i get a hand to hold.

#poetry #poems

[nahiyasha]

my old friend

i crave for loneliness to brush my hair, mother me tenderly to sleep as you did when i had carvings on my left wrist at twelve years old —a braille i fondled with every day, i. don't want. to be. here.

somehow, my nightly hiccups never drove me to my end. i am still gentle because you follow me wherever i go; visiting me at the right moments especially when i am accompanied by my own vomit and the cold bathroom floor—           and then you stay quiet the whole hour           to give me some time to grieve.

i wear you like a protective charm now, for you are the only love i've ever known.

#poetry #poems

[nahiyasha]

#illustration

[nahiyasha]

#illustration