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rgmonzon-folio · 5 years

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Honda launches new Big Bikes in the Philippines

Published in:

www.hondaph.com

insideracing.com.ph

gadgetsmagazine.com.ph

www.motoph.com

thephilippinepost.com

Parañaque City–December 18, 2018— Honda Philippines, Inc. (HPI), the number one motorcycle manufacturer in the country, unveiled its newest Touring and Roadster Big Bike models, CB650R, GOLDWING and CB1000R, at a press conference in Parañaque City.

HPI first introduced its line-up of Big Bikes in the country last December 2017 as response to the growing economy and improving lifestyle of Filipinos that created a demand for higher engine capacities. The launch received an overwhelming response from the riding community and marked the company’s completion of its product line-up in the Philippines.

“We are overjoyed with the riding communities’ acceptance of the Honda Big Bikes when we first launched them in 2017. In fact, some models were completely sold out and many riders are asking for more,” said Mr. Jomel Jerezo, General Manager of Motorcycle Sales Office, Sales and Marketing Division of HPI. “We want to continuously expand and improve our line-up to suit the improving lifestyle of our riders. With this, we are happy to introduce the newest Big Bikes which will once again excite Filipino riders.”

With the growing acceptance of the Philippine market for Big Bikes, HPI released its newest models CB650R, GOLDWING, and CB1000R from the Touring and Roadster categories for Filipino riders to experience the joy of riding Honda’s motorcycles on Philippine highways.

CB650R

HPI launched the CB650R from the Roadster category, highlighting its Neo Sports Café design with a modern and minimalist styling concept. The in-line four-cylinder engine is fully on display, and the signature round headlight and sculpted fuel tank are part of the Neo Sports Café style.

This compact middleweight naked sports bike is equipped with full LED lighting, New Digital LCD Panel, and tapered handle bar. The design also gives it a more aggressive riding position. Like the CB500X, it also provides superior handling and riding comfort thanks to its lighter frame (13lbs lighter than CB650F), Showa Separate Function front suspension (SSF), and 4 pistol radial mount brake calipers.

The CB650R is equipped with a powerful engine—liquid-cooled, in-line 4-cylinder, DOHC engine with assist/slipper clutch. The model also comes with Honda Selectable Torque Control, 4-2-1 exhaust which makes it a perfect a combination of looks, performance and top-line specifications. The Unified Suggested Retail Price (USRP) of the CB650R is Php501,000.

GOLDWING

Honda also introduced the Goldwing, a Touring model, which embodied long range comfort, luxury and quality for over 40 years. Redesigned from the wheels up to be sharper, lighter, and more compact while maintaining its myriad of advanced features.

This bike is hailed as the ultimate performance tourer with its 1,833cc, liquid-cooled, horizontal opposed 6-cylinder SOHC, 4-valve per cylinder, 7-Speed, Dual Clutch Transmission (DCT) Automatic transmission, slipper clutch, cruise control and Honda Selectable Torque Control (HSTC). This tourer also provides superior handling and riding comfort with its double wishbone front suspension, all aluminum swing-arm, combine-ABS, electronic suspension pre-load, radial front brake calipers, ISG (Integrated Starter Generator). It also comes with ride mode features such as the tour, sport, rain, and econ to provide you maximum functionality during any type of ride.

With top of the line equipment and technology based on automobiles, such as throttle by wire, hill start assist, walking/reverse mode, keyless ignition (SMART Key System), LED Lightings, and Airbag, the Goldwing provides the rider the best handling and comfortable rides. The USRP of GOLDWING is Php1,880,000.

CB1000R

Finally, the CB1000R from the Roadster category was launched. Similar to the CB650R, it has a Neo Sports Café design, with a more compact and muscular big-sized naked bike look. Adding to the over-all style is the iconic circular headlight, flangeless fuel tank, and aluminum radiator cowl. Like most of models in the line-up, the CB1000R is built for superior handling and riding comfort, thanks to its light weight mono backbone steel frame, full LED lightings, radial mounted dual disk brake, Showa Separate Fork Function Big Piston (SSF-BP), Ride Mode, Full LCD display, and throttle by wire.

The model also boasts of a powerful engine, which is liquid-cooled, DOHC in-line 4-cylinder, 16-valve and HSTC, delivering maximum performance. The USRP of the CB1000R is Php865,000.

The Big Bikes are now available in Honda’s major stores nationwide now.

For more information, visit hondaph.com/hondabigbike or follow Honda’s official Facebook page at Honda Philippines, Inc.

#pressrelease

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rgmonzon-folio · 5 years

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Honda Riders Celebrate ONE DREAM In The Riders Convention 2018 – Luzon Leg

Published in:

www.hondaph.com

Business Mirror

Quezon City, April 21, 2018 – Honda Philippines, Inc. (HPI,) the number one motorcycle manufacturer in the Philippines, holds the Honda Riders Convention 2018 – Luzon Leg at Megatent, Libis, Quezon City. Loyal Honda riders and enthusiasts gathered from 10AM for a day of fun-filled activities that celebrate camaraderie and support to HPI. This is just one of the many activities Honda will hold under their new ONE DREAM campaign, which imparts the accomplishment of the Filipino’s dreams through Honda’s products.

HPI President Mr. Susumu Mitsuishi emphasized in his first riders convention the importance of riders to the success of Honda. “You are the reason why we have succeeded all these years. Honda is always inspired to create the best products and latest innovations that suit your lifestyle, so we can continue to inspire our Honda Riders like you.” Mr. Mitsuishi told the crowd of a thousand riders.

One of the highlights of the event is the launching of Honda’s latest models, which prove HPI’s commitment to continually develop and expand its roster of technology and design that suit the uniqueness of Filipinos.

The New Honda BeAT is one of Honda’s Automatic models unveiled in the event. It now comes with its stylish new stripes in nine exciting colors designed for the young and fashionable Filipino taste. Meanwhile, Honda also boasts of its All-New PCX150, its flagship Automatic model among the commuter models. It exudes class and style with its elegant and premium design while maintaining a relaxing riding condition for the rider. Honda also unveiled a new color variant from the high, on-road sports segment – The New CBR150R in Mat Gunpowder Black, which now features a new stripes design that makes it look more aggressive and speedy. And finally, another model from the off-road sports segment was also added as The All-New CRF150L was unveiled – geared for those who have adventurous and active lifestyles. It embodies the striking and aggressive image of the CRF250R, which makes riders more daring in undertaking off-road pursuits.

The ONE DREAM campaign is not only aggressive with the continuous release of new products, but also through its above-the-line activities that are set to reach more Filipinos in 2018. One of these is Honda’s partnership with Philippine Basketball Association (PBA), the country’s most prestigious basketball league. Riders even had the chance to witness the ceremonial handover of the ball signed by PBA players themselves.

Riders also had the opportunity to participate in various activities geared towards their interests as motorcycle enthusiasts, such as the test ride activity, the Riders Skills Challenge and Motor Show. Honda also honored the riders’ special skills and talents through the “Riders Got Talent” competition and the “Biker Babe” segment. To cap off the day, various clubs were recognized for their various achievements as Honda riders. Finally, they were serenaded by the music of Cucay, a multi-talented Big Bike rider, and entertainment from 6Cyclemind, one of the most popular bands in the Philippines.

With the goal to reach more Filipinos throughout the year, Honda will also hold legs of the Riders Convention in Visayas and Mindanao for the upcoming months. For more updates, visit www.hondaph.com and stay updated with the latest in the world of Honda motorcycles by going to facebook.com/hondaph.

#pressrelease

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rgmonzon-folio · 5 years

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Honda releases the new RS150R variant at the 11th Inside Racing Grand Prix

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www.hondaph.com

Cavite, November 18, 2017 – To conclude the 2017 motorsports season, Honda Philippines, Inc. (HPI) participated in the 11th Inside Racing Grand Prix (IRGP), the culminating racing competition of the year. It is one of the most awaited local events in underbone racing, which is held at the Carmona Racing Circuit in Cavite since 2007. With the prestige of the race, HPI put its best racers along with the New RS150R at the forefront event.

Honda also introduced the new color variant for New RS150R, which is inspired by the CBR250RR and CBR150R’s Honda Racing Red design. The new variant not only comes with a new, aggressive racing-inspired body coloring and stripes, it is also equipped with features derived from Honda Big Bikes used in the international racing scene, particularly the MotoGP. With this new variant’s style and features, riders can carry the pride of Honda’s racing teams.

Designed with Honda’s racing philosophy in mind, the New RS150R is the underbone model built for complete control at the rider’s will. Its twin-tube frame has an advanced design that gives a short wheel base, a narrow handle width, a wide steering angle and low seat height – all of which give high agility and easy handling that make the rider feel secure even at high speeds. The New RS150R still shows off the same new generation, 6-speed, Dual Overhead Camshaft (DOHC,) 150cc liquid-cooled engine, which produces abundant power and fast acceleration in any gear position while still being fuel efficient, making it a suitable underbone model for IRGP, one of the most awaited races in the country.

Style-wise, it keeps its signature aerodynamic LED headlights and its stylish, fully-digital meter panel. It also sports a fully chrome muffler, LED signal lights and a clamped handle bar.

Safety was also greatly considered in producing the New RS150R, considering the speeds it was meant go. The sportbike is equipped with a Bank Angle Sensor, an exclusive Honda safety feature adapted from various Honda Big Bike models which automatically switches the engine off before hitting the ground during an accidental fall. Also meant to handle the usual racing speeds are its durable tubeless tires and front disc brake, which has a big diameter for safety. With its features giving it power, ease of control and maneuverability, the New RS150R is also a perfect bike for urban riding.

In the IRGP, the New RS150R made Honda’s team better equipped to compete with competitors of the same class, further driving Honda’s competitive spirit. This cements Honda’s history of racing, and serves as a testimony to its affinity to challenges.

The Inside Racing Grand Prix is the culminating race of each racing season, which was first held by Inside Racing Magazine in 2007 to bring the spirit of MotoGP in the Philippines. To know more about Honda and its racing events follow the official Facebook page of Honda Philippines, Inc.

#pressrelease

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rgmonzon-folio · 5 years

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Honda PH partners with Pasig for Honda Arangkada 2018

Published in:

www.hondaph.com

www.motoph.com

www.manilatimes.net

Pasig City—June 23, 2018—Honda Philippines, Inc. (HPI), the number one motorcycle manufacturer in the Philippines, joins forces with Pasig City to commemorate its 445th anniversary by imbibing safety and environmental consciousness through Honda Arangkada 2018. This whole day celebration is geared towards the residents and motorcycle riders, wherein they learned helpful, ride-enhancing tips and enjoyed the lineup of entertainment.

As a company that puts safety at the forefront, Honda conducted several safety seminars for various types of riders – from Automatic (AT) riders to Tricycle Operators and Drivers’ Association (TODA) members with the AT and TODA Safety Riding Tips. Non-riders were also given the chance to gain a new skill with the Free Learn-To-Ride program, headed by the Honda Safety Driving Center.

Participants also learned more about the features of Honda products and technology which make them more environmental friendly through the Program Fuel Injection (PGM-FI) Highlights talk.

Since Honda Arangkada 2018 is also a grand culminating event for Happy BeAT and Click Day, a weekly thanksgiving activity that treats participants with various freebies, HPI also held the TODA Preventive Maintenance Schedule Orientation and Free Change Oil services for the first 100 AT users and first 200 TODA members.

The day was capped with a grand celebration filled with entertainment as popular OPM band Callalily livened up the energy of the crowd. Riders also got to cheer for their representatives during the Biker Babe segment.

With this, HPI aims to continuously coordinate with cities like Pasig for a safer and greener community specially for every Filipino family.

For more information about Honda’s events and activities, follow Honda Philippines, Inc. on Facebook – www.facebook.com/hondaph/ or visit their official website – www.hondaph.com.

#pressrelease

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rgmonzon-folio · 5 years

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From Glass Slippers to Lightsabers

At the tender age of three, I have usurped my parents and became Supreme Lord of the Television set. Under my command, the T.V. blared the Disney Channel 24/7. From what I can pluck from my foggy memories, I would sit at the lowest step of our staircase, swivel the big, black box that was our T.V. to face me, and watch as it blared to a fantastical life with a press of a button.

I hummed along to the music my favorite Disney princesses would sing. I clasped my hands to my mouth at jaw-dropping twists and turns reminiscent to Aladdin’s carpet rides. My heart would pound along with the drum beats as Mulan fought China’s foes. I was completely enthralled in worlds within the black box, which kept me from the lure of potential playmates in our neighborhood of back-to-back row houses. The rubbery clop-clop-clop of their slippers as they chased each other on the eskinita pavement and their shrill cries of taya! were drowned by the whimsical tunes I never grew tired of.

Within the confines of our white walls and beyond the fairy tale renditions of Disney, I learned to create worlds of my own. I learned I could fashion my pambahay garb into gowns as magical as Belle’s and Cinderella’s, I learned to will images and drawings from books to come to life and undertake adventures of their own - under my own terms.

I even learned, despite my still developing skill with my native tongue, to speak English. I pieced together the words Mickey Mouse and friends uttered with their animated actions, and built my vocabulary before I even started going to school. Growing up, my parents would remind me that in my pre-preschool age I would only occasionally ask them what certain words meant - and it wasn’t long before I could speak coherent English sentences on my own.

Language weaved itself into the fantastic world of moving images, and storytelling took to a whole new level. I knew what magic and adventure meant, and I loved it.

It wasn’t long before my parents updated my old, vandalized boxed set of Grimms’ fairy tales - which was gifted to me during my first birthday. You could see it in an old photograph, where I was in the living room in blue jumpers, huddled with a pile of dolls and toys, beside me was the boxed set which I now wish I had preserved better. Luckily my parents eventually gave me other storybooks to enjoy, which got me into drawing as soon as I got school notebooks and crayons with blank pages at the back. At five, despite my scratchy handwriting and drawing skills, I wrote my first story, about Hello Kitty who dug too deep into her garden and found relics of an old world.

Of course you’d think all of these would be an immense advantage once I stepped into school, but with my classmates speaking Tagalog, I only became acutely aware of how different I was. And with the fact that I didn’t interact as much with other children compared to my T.V. screen, social interaction made me want to duck my head into my blouse the way turtles hid in their shells.

But somehow my classmates’ parents knew I could speak English, and they found joy in making me translate phrases into the language, to my utmost embarrassment. They found me smart and gifted, despite never having been on top of the class. Apparently, speaking in English made you smart.

Whenever I was singled out, I would squirm and try to hide behind my mother’s legs, who would in turn coax me to entertain the people fascinated in me. But that made me speak less, in fear of making mistakes and seeming less brilliant than people set me out to be - a trait I still have traces of to this very day.

Going into grade one, I decided not to highlight my difference, much to my mother’s dismay. Everybody else spoke Tagalog, so why should I do otherwise? But for some reason I had been branded, and people could not forget.

I revealed myself in writing, even in my earliest essays. Perhaps this marks the start of my love of the craft and my dream to become a writer, my dream to make people feel what I felt when I read or watched a Disney classic.

I learned to watch more action-packed cartoons in grade school, which aired in the usual Disney Channel. I was then introduced to a new world of heroes. While I did not fully trade my princesses with caped superheroes and super spies, I learned to anticipate stories in sagas when I went home from my classes.

I got hooked on stories of boys and girls with magical powers who fought crime and the dark forces of evil. There’s an allure in the charming protagonists, like Jake Long - the American Dragon, who went to school like me, but would switch to their secret lives through a magical transformation sequence.

American Dragon is one of the most beloved cartoons of my childhood, one that made me faithfully await new episodes as they aired. Its story was more complex than my preschool line-up of shows, as Jake came from a lineage that could transform themselves into dragons, with the task of protecting the magical world from evil, whilst maintaining daily lives as mortals. Plus, Jake still had to go to school. He had a sweat deal.

In that show, evil didn’t simply come from ugly monsters and beasts, as is the usual depiction in fairy tales. There was also evil among the dragons that supposedly protected humans and magical creatures alike, and evil among humans and magical creatures who were supposed to be protected.

These just made me love the story more - sprinkle in the classic subplot of Jake falling in love with Rose, who happened to be of a human tribe sworn to rid the world of dragons like himself, and I was hooked. For a cartoon written for the grade school demographic it was strangely complex (the fact that the main character is a Chinese-American in New York, with an African-American and Caucasian best friend also made it culturally diverse!)

This made me want to write my own novel and work for Disney all the more.

At eleven years old, we finally got access to the internet, which utterly changed the game for me. I was used to appreciating my animated media all by myself, my only companion the white walls of our living room, our Japanese-themed portraits behind the T.V., our wooden sofas, and the cold, green tiles with wispy patterns on the floor.

Internet showed me other people’s feedback on my beloved childhood classics - the shows which honed my hopes and dreams to this very day. People actually hated High School Musical, and I found that utterly heartbreaking.

I’m not the least bit joking - my anger surged like boiling water in a kettle when I read youTube comments from crude teenagers unabashedly declaring the HSM sucked. It was corny and unrealistic.

And I could not have it.

In turn I did some bashing of my own when High School Musical’s biggest rival came out - Camp Rock. I hated the Jonas Brothers with a passion on the sole grounds that they threatened the popularity of the High School Musical cast (which is ironic, because I later on learned to love the brothers’ sitcom Jonas L.A.)

Upon discovering fanfiction, I even learned that my writing ability was heaps and bounds behind other people my age, and becoming a famed author and a Disney employee became bigger and bigger of a stretch.

In a nutshell, the internet ruined my life.

I even made it a point to avoid movie reviews of the films my favorite Disney actors would star in, in fear of the jolting pain and anger I would feel at the critics’ responses. That is until I matured, if only by a fracture of a degree, to try not to let these words hit me personally. In the first place, it was strange, since they were never really addressed to me, but to my favorite films and shows, and yet I would feel like they attacked my family with bolos.

Looking back on my pre-teen self makes me laugh, knowing how truly childish I was. Thankfully as i went into my later teens, I learned to accept criticism for my beloved films, after all, it is a basic requirement for a subject in college called English 103, or Critical Writing.

College had went out of its way to shatter many of my previous beliefs and providing me with lenses with which to view the world. With several workshop classes, I received criticism for my own works, which in turned helped my to hone my future projects. However, the attachment I felt, and still feel, towards my favorite films and shows is natural, as I write this very moment and trudge through the BA Communication Arts program because of them. I guess I just learned to accept their flaws when putting them under a critical lense.

I learned that Disney made better and better films because they learned from their criticisms. Had they not, girls would still be passively waiting in the towers their stepmothers locked them in for their princes to save them. Now we have Rapunzel in Tangled, a girl with agency who chose to climb down her tower to free herself from Mother Gothel’s abuses. Rapunzel became not a subordinate to her male love interest but a partner. We’re also blessed with Moana, a Polynesian heroine that depicts non-Eurocentric beauty, with her thicker limbs, her rounder face and nose, and her curly, windswept hair. She didn’t need a man to complete her.

Now I could say with ease that Cinderella had been sexist with lines like “Leave the sowing to the women!” Ariel in the Little Mermaid had absurd motivations, as she was willing to sacrifice her entire life for a stranger she’d just met, whose only known quality was his good looks. I do admit I still need work accepting that Mulan is sexist due to its adherence to the gender binary, this film is an absolute favorite, but I recognize I still need to be objective, as what the academe didn’t pay me to say.

And yes, I came to realize that High School Musical is unrealistic. Also, my English proficiency didn’t make me a smart student or a better person, as college slapped in my face. And I’m okay with that.

I am thoroughly relieved I moved on from my pre-teen phase. Now I have discovered more groundbreaking shows and films, which defy the standards of a hero (with the emergence of an anti-hero,) the binary opposition between good and bad (with morally ambiguous characters,) the very idea of storytelling (with experimental forms of film and stories,) and so much more.

Eventually I picked up a lightsaber with the Star Wars saga, which is a whole new epic experience, given the classic original trilogy and the mess of a prequel trilogy. It was a new brand of fantasy for me, yet still equipped with the epic adventures and heroes of my childhood. I am less protective of this series however, as I was before my childhood faves. I may have a crush on Anakin Skywalker, if only for his brooding looks, but I could still recognize the acting for him was flat and robotic. And while the prequel storyline had great potential, the execution was poor, specially with the script’s dialogue.

But that only prompted the creators to redeem the saga with an epic seventh episode, with a fantastic heroine in the form of Rey, a complex villain in the form of Kylo Ren, and a possibly gay romantic subplot between Finn and Poe.

In my journey from glass slippers to light sabers, I learned that being told that you suck could help you not to suck in the future. Criticisms for films, books, T.V. shows for that matter, aren’t meant to put them down, likewise workshops in writing classes aren’t meant to have your work’s flaws pointed out so you would quit writing forever. Criticism was meant to make the future body of art better, serving as reminders for creators not to make the same mistakes.

Right now, I’m glad professors and peers have told me what needed fixing in my writing classes throughout college. Otherwise, I wonder if I’d ever make it to my senior year...

#nonfiction

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rgmonzon-folio · 5 years

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Cinderella from Mahaplag, Leyte

As I watched my friend ringing up her siblings with her smartphone, promising them about her gifts for her nieces that would help them with school, I was astonished upon remembering her story from years back, and I realized how much had changed. I recalled when she was the one who needed help, but hardly anyone heard her plights, so much so that she would hardly voice them. They were so much as breathy whispers that dissipated into the harsh atmosphere.

Now, she would beam with life as she showed me what she had accomplished in her hometown of Mahaplag, Leyte - simple achievements from the slightest renovations of their simple home, the added household furnishings, the new piggery, and even the billiard house she had made for her father’s enjoyment and extra income.

I always thought if written down, her story would ready like a fairytale - and my friend would be Cinderella, from her humble beginnings, to her falling into the clutches of an evil stepmother figure, to eventually her ongoing happily ever after. But this story has a modern day twist - she didn’t rely on a Prince Charming to sweep her off her feet. And despite having a fairy godmother who kickstarted her journey, she was still in charge and did the hard work. She was the one who ultimately turned her life around.

So I did decided to fulfill my once floating idea to write the real-life story that had always inspired me and I hope would inspire many others: the story of a princess and her journey.

Humble Beginnings

The little princess in this story was born and raised in a small, provincial town; a quiet, rural village lush with greens at every corner called Mahaplag, Leyte. Their humble house stood at the slope of a mountain, something that was by heaps and bounds far from a royal palace, lit by oil lamps instead of electricity. It was more of a symbol of poverty, small for a family of eight children and a frail, single father. The little princess was the youngest, and despite the family’s lack of riches she was showered with love and care. Her name is Mary Jane Cozo, known affectionately as Mayie by her friends and family.

Mayie had two older sisters who helped her bathe at the nearby stream every morning, usually exasperated with her antics of wading too long and playing with the clear and cool water, as they still had to rush home to put on their school uniforms and go to school. She had a father who would find ways to alleviate her suffering caused by the unnamed skin disease she acquired, despite of his inability to pay for expensive dermatological treatment. He would bathe her several times a day to ease the heat caused by the watery boils that erupted all over her body, and found herbs and juices from around them to try to diminish the symptoms. The poor girl even had to have her thick, wavy hair shaved as the boils spread to her scalp.

Those struggles hardly dampened her days, however, as she had plenty of time to play and have fun. Mayie loved trudging through the surrounding farmland for adventure, picking all the fruits she could want, playing all the games she could play with her friends. One of the things she truly loved was eating - all the chicken, crustaceans and rice cakes made her the happiest kid. Even though the seafood partly aggravated her skin condition, she didn’t care. Eat on, she would say when she’d recall to me her childhood. She was happy even as she sprouted into a plump, chubby kid who would get picked on not only for her skin and bald head but also for her size.

She would merely laugh as she described her younger self, eyes shimmering with genuine amusement. She recalled how in the end of the day, after a fun filled day of play, she’d have to take another bath, then her father would have her take a nap. Eventually when her hair grew back, she’d wake up with them braided by her older sister, who would complain about Mayie’s hyperactivity otherwise, if she were awake.

Despite the chance to wish for more - for more money, more food, even electricity - Mayie was happy with her simple provincial life. That is until her third year in high school, when she had realized there were things her family and her hometown couldn’t provide her. Despite her promising academic career, she had to drop out. The road to her dream of getting her diploma and donning her white toga turned into a big question mark.

She still looked at life with a positive lens. Her skin disease ebbed as she was touched by the first signs of womanhood. She had a handful of friends she shared precious moments with, marked by her sharp-witted jokes. The first boy of her dreams, her first Prince Charming, even reciprocated her affection, which blossomed into her first romance. She knew she would find a way to go to school eventually.

A distant family member from Laguna made the call one day, that he would help her finish her studies. Her Kuya Jerome was a seaman who made a significantly substantial income. Mayie grabbed at the chance and was plucked from Mahaplag, Leyte and placed in the photocopied row houses and eskinitas of Calamba, Laguna, my hometown.

Her Kuya Jerome’s house was bigger than she was used to, up and down with two bedrooms, a proper sala set and kitchen. They also had electricity and appliances Mayie’s father could not afford himself - a television, a stereo, speakers, a washing machine.

When Kuya Jerome ws aboard the ship he worked for, sailing to every end of the world, his three daughters and obese wife nicknamed Ling stayed at home, practically rolling in the dough a seaman could make. It wasn’t hard for Mayie to see why Ling had grown so large - she hardly lifted her behind from the sofas, chairs, and beds of the house. She would wake up, make a hearty, fattening meal and sit down singing karaoke for the rest of the day. When her husband’s money would come in, she’d spend it on alcohol, gambling, affairs, and her daughter’s whims.

For staying in their house as she studied, Ling decided Mayie should cough up some rent. Ling took this opportunity to have someone do the housework she’d neglected for karaoke, vices, and her incredible laziness. And so began Mayie’s toil as the household’s unpaid maid, who woke up as early as five in the morning to do the laundry, and then make breakfast for her four female masters. As the masters ate, Mayie would have to pour them juice or water whenever they asked, and had to be prepared, sitting at the edge of her seat, to go to the fridge or kitchen counter to grant the extra food requests.

Then she’d clean up the house from top to bottom, wiping every counter surface and table top then sweep the floor. At around ten in the morning she was allowed to turn on the T.V. and watch the morning slate of Tagalized anime, her only reprieve for the entire day.

After, she’d make lunch and dinner, where’d she’d have to wait around for her masters again, ready to respond to their every desire. Soon, Mayie’s plump body slowly shrunk into a thin, bony frame. The arduous labor stunted her growth at four feet and eight inches. Her skin, while free from her childhood boils, was dry and lifeless. Her hands were calloused from toil. Her beacon of hope still shone, however, and loomed as the new school year approached.

However, the opening of classes came and went, and Mayie was not sent to school. She carried on her life as an unpaid maid, whose labor was too much in exchange for food and a bed to sleep in - things she had enough of back in her Leyte home.

She was only fifteen when she landed in Laguna as a chubby, healthy teen who was promised a chance to study. She turned nineteen, frail and small, still unable to go to school.

A Failing Promise

Four years had gone by, and Mayie was never as much as taken to a high school to be enrolled. At this point, she would be much older than her classmates, at nineteen years old. She got tired of toil but never complained, her smile and humor still earning her friends to joke with and share music with around the neighborhood, whenever she would have sparse spare time. With her optimism, she was a joy to be with and a bell of any ball.

She had made friends with the woman directly behind their house, named Thelma. Houses in this subdivision were cramped and separated by eskinitas, some only by a sparse piece of land barely enough to be made into a room. Upstairs, where Mayie’s slave masters had their covered balcony turned laundry area, she could see Thelma right across, who was usually occupied with her laundry in the balcony-turned-laundry-area of her own. Their initial chit-chats eventually turned to friendship.

Thelma saw opportunity knock on Mayie’s door late 2006. Thelma, had found out about a friend who had recently underwent surgery named Emie, who is my mother. This is when our paths first intertwined.

During Emie’s recovery, she was not allowed to go about her usual household tasks such as laundry and heavy-duty general cleaning. Thelma was quick to recommend the hardworking and the toil-sharpened Mayie.

Emie was only looking for a part timer, someone who’d occasionally come in and do the laundry and most of the major cleaning. She’d pay per visit until she could do the chores once again. Thelma, saddened by Mayie’s unpaid state, decided that this would be good for her. Sure, added labor is involved, as Mayie would have to work for another household on top of working for the one she lived in, but she accepted anyways.

She first went to our house when I was a ten-year-old. Off the bat I was already taller than her, my built already bigger. She was a quiet stranger who was not frugal with her smiles and warm greetings. As she sat on our sofa, my mother nearby fished small details from Ate Mayie’s life, which soon became a vast collection with which to paint the persona of the girl.

With every visit she diligently and expertly went about her tasks, my mother supervising her as she did the laundry. As she often came on Saturdays, I’d join my mother in watching over, sometimes awkwardly attempting to help out. Chats were very much welcome, and they often turned to long conversations about Mayie’s life, and more. We’d bellow in laughter at the stories of her childhood antics in Mahaplag. Sometimes I’d hunch over in fear as she told me about her experiences with engkantos. She’d teach me how to properly scrub my clothes, explaining with utmost patience as I tried and failed to make the squishy sound she made as her hands rubbed the foamy cloth together. After work, my mother would let her share a meal with us, and we’d talk more as we’d eat dessert. Then I’d turn the T.V. on introduce her to my favorite Disney sitcoms, like Hannah Montana.

On Sundays she would drop by again, this time to iron the clothes she’d washed the day before. I’d come with her on the hot spare room upstairs, where she’d bring out the heavy ironing table and start working on the newly-dried, wrinkly pile of clothes. Eventually she started telling me about her high school life, her many friends, and her first love. I smiled and teased as she’d tell me about the letters exchanged, the jealousy fraught interactions with her Prince Charming, all the while she pushed the iron to and fro to straighten the creases out from my uniform.

I learned that she loved to read pocket books, so I went downstairs to my bookshelf, picked two or three of my absolute favorites and shared them with her. When she finished reading, we’d have more stories to share and jokes to laugh about.

In her first few days, she had brightened up the house usually occupied by just me and my mother, since my father was always at work. She’d make our bellies ache with laughter at her jokes. She’d foster a connection with my mother with their provincial upbringings, occasionally comparing my more urban one. Easily, Ate Mayie had become one of my closest friends.

One day, my mother had decided to ask if Ate Mayie still planned to go back to school. Ate Mayie was quick to answer yes. But she was still waiting on the promise of Ling and Jerome, which at that point was still in the mist. My mom was alarmed that the promise was pending for four years. Even more alarming was that Ate Mayie was unpaid.

We eventually learned about Ling’s unimpressive pursuits in life, her laziness, her squandering of her husband’s hard earned money aboard a ship. I would watch as my mother’s brows would crease together in frustration as our new friend confessed about her life in Calamba.

Taken to Ate Mayie, my mother bought her a gift of a simple apparel to ease her burden. Ate Mayie accepted with glee, only to have it taken by her obese slave-driver. It was clear at that point how exploited this girl was, and how unfair the course of her life had been. My mother and I were deeply dismayed.

Then, Ate Mayie had seemed like a real-life Cinderella, living with a wicked stepmother and stepsister, yet still riddled with Disney-princess-brand optimism, with the will to still wish upon the star. We were moved at how positive she was despite her extraordinary hurdles.

I was sad when she had finished her duties with my mother. I missed the laughter that filled the room. I went back to keeping to myself, my books and shows, and Ate Mayie went back to the Visayas. She was sent to Ling’s sister, Vanessa, under vague promises of freedom, only to be entrapped once more into another round of slavery in Cebu.

“The sisters seem delighted with the free labor,” my mother would hiss under her breath when talking about Ate Mayie’s masters, “they want to live like queens even though they can’t afford it.” In the hands of her evil stepmothers, the promise of a brighter future went dimmer and dimmer.

Three years later she came back to Calamba, only to be a maid at my neighbor’s house, where at least she was free from the clutches of Ling and could keep her money for her own. It was still too measly however, to fund her education.

A New Hope

After her stint at my neighbor’s, my mother and her siblings decided to hire Ate Mayie to tend to my ailing grandmother in Marinduque. It was like she was sent back to her small town roots, living at my aunt’s where the house was surrounded by farmland, trees, chickens, streams, and even an ocean a few walks by. There, her only real job was to tend to my grandmother, who was resigned to her foldable bed.

With glee, Ate Mayie would change Nanay’s clothes and brush her hair, and she would tell the same funny jokes and stories. She’d even sing to Nanay and make her laugh and smile. Ate Mayie’s part time job was enjoying the warmth of my aunt’s friends and neighbors, who gave her food by the plenty. Without the arduous labor she got to stroll the scenic views of the town and meet the friendliest people.

My aunt, who was a high school teacher, was touched by Ate Mayie’s show of kindness and positivity, and decided to send her to school when the new academic year would have started. She’d provide Ate Mayie with her uniform and other necessities. Hope sparked again into a raging fire, into a certainty. After years, she was finally going to school.

After only a month, my grandmother passed away. Ate Mayie was without a purpose in Marinduque, all the while grieving the loss of Nanay with us. She moved back with us to Calamba for the meantime, all the while recalling her time spent in Marinduque to be her happiest.

Meanwhile my mother was growing impatient at the thought that Ate Mayie would have to wait until the school year started to actually go back to school. My mother had stumbled upon the Alternative Learning System or ALS, a project spearheaded by the Department of Education for people like Ate Mayie who have been out of school for a while. Despite it being the middle of the regular school year, Ate Mayie was enrolled there and started going to classes right away.

There, she was not out of place with her classmates, who were around her age and sometimes even much older. They were not required to wear uniforms, and classes were accommodating to their knowledge level, rather then sticking to the year-level curriculum. She met friends with amazing stories at par with hers - she met a girl who dropped out due to poverty, a mother who still wanted to finish high school, a formerly rebellious teen who wanted to straighten out his life. ALS was a beacon of hope not just for Ate Mayie herself, but for others like her who had seemingly lost hope. ALS was her glass slipper.

We were school girls together at the time. She lived twenty-four seven in our house, with complete access to our T.V. and my books. We had extended bonding sessions over them, and eventually even over homework. Together we read the Percy Jackson series and watched the latest flicks in the cinemas. She and my mother bonded over chores, but Ate Mayie was not required to wash anyone’s clothes but her own. She was a friend, not an employee.

We were there, my mother and I when Mary Jane Cozo finally donned her white toga.

Happily Ever After

After her high school graduation, she enrolled in a vocational course and applied as an operator in a company. She got her first taste of a wage, a wage that was finally more than a few hundred pesos and involved perks like a Social Security System I.D. After years of struggle and exploitation, she had made a life for herself - with the help of some fairy godmothers from Calamba and Marinduque.

Now, in 2017, she’s been working for several years. She’d helped her father start a piggery and a billiards house. She helped her niece go to school. She has money saved up in a bank and more so that she can go on occasional trips to Tagaytay with her officemates. Sure, there are the occasional workplace hang-ups, and occasional worries that the company she worked in would close down. But she could always go to another one. She could always find a way.

Armed with a diploma, she could never slink back to her life as Cinderella who’d wash off the cinders.

#nonfiction

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rgmonzon-folio · 5 years

Text

Mambabarang For Hire

Betsy was an office clerk by day, a mambabarang by night.

She stood at five flat, her curvy body accented by her tailored office uniform, her face round and painted with only the slightest make-up, her skin brown and smooth. She was smart and well-mannered, partly because of her parents’ upbringing, partly because they spent for her education. She grew up mostly ordinary, if not for her penchant for insects, which was perhaps the influence of her male cousins who loved to trap beetles in match boxes.

Her barang business started long into her career in advertising. She guessed she had already been casting hexes as part of her day job, persuading people to buy things they never really needed. She was always well spoken and dutiful, easily one of the firm's best assets. If she had any flaw, it was that she loved vengeance. She didn't enjoy it for herself since she was strangely a forgiving person, and she didn't make much enemies, so she poked her nose into other people's fights, helping officemates exact their revenge. What started from simple blackmails turned to the dark and mystical eventually.

Soon, things escalated enough for them to put a simple, almost nonchalant poster down the office that read in bold print: Mambabarang for Hire. The board they had for ads wasn't claustrophobic, it allowed for space and breathing room instead of filling every nook and cranny with a variety of print ads like in college bulletin boards. It was easy enough to spot in a busy city, as it should, lest they all be fired from their jobs.

The ad contained the following first few copies: MAMBABARANG FOR HIRE! Have revenge at the tip of your fingers! The proceeding lines had Betsy's professional email address which used an alias, as well as her cellphone number, and a simplified link to a Google Form, which served as a simple application to Betsy's hexing services.

The survey looked like this:

Name: *optional

Name of target:

Sex of target:

Offense of target:

What kind of insect would you prefer to use with the hex?

cockroaches

beetles

maggots

ants

others (pls specify:)

Please select a duration of your hex:

1 day (Php 200)

2 days (Php 350)

3 days (Php 500)

5 days (Php 650)

1 week (Php 800)

Thank you! That is all. May you wish to inflict more specific hexes than specified above, feel free to request the Mambabarang via this email address: [email protected] . Services charges vary depending on package availed.

The very first request came about a day after the ad was posted. It was a woman whose husband cheated on her, a typical case. She wanted the mistress to pay the price. She requested the maggots to torment the ‘tramp’ for a day.

"Good choice!" Nathan, Betsy’s closest, perhaps only friend, smiled while reading the form response. "Maggots are hrrr," he shuddered in revulsion. "I once saw a trash bag with a hole on the alleyway. I thought it was filled with rice until I took a closer look. My mistake! The grains looked like they were moving, but they were actually maggots! Invasive little things!"

"Yeah," Betsy nonchalantly agreed. "Especially when you have poor kitchen hygiene."

"Ughh," Nathan groaned, "I will never forgive Ton Ton for that!"

"Come on," Betsy stood up as she switched her PC off, the form response fading into black. She slung her handbag over her shoulders and tucked her swivel chair beneath her desk. Together, she and Nathan headed out of the office.

"What, you can't work your dark magic here?" Nathan sniggered.

"I can't bring jars full of creepy crawlies to work, can I?" Betsy eyed him mischievously. "Unless that's what you want-"

"No!" Nathan's face turned ashen. He loosened his tie and adjusted his collar. "I'd rather not see how these things work. Although I am extremely curious."

"But curiosity killed the cat," said Betsy as they crossed the street along with dozens of other people trying to beat the 5p.m. rush.

"Yes, and this cat would rather not know how the kalaguyo would end up with maggots sprouting from her nose, mouth ears and.." Nathan paused, "her unspeakables."

"Well, the process is more tolerable than the result, I assure you," said Betsy as they reached the end of the road where jeepneys stopped over. Barkers' yells polluted the already thick city air, and the pair waited for a jeep en route to their homes.

"I'm glad the result isn't something both you and I have to see," Betsy eyed Nathan, who snickered then smirked in response.

When a jeep with enough seats finally arrived, the pair boarded. "Shouldn't the husband be punished, too, though?"

"Eh, if it were up to me then yes," Betsy scoffed, "it takes two to tango."

"So would you? Would you make maggots squirm from the treacherous husband's ass?"

Betsy shook her head. "That's not what the client wants. That's not what I'm going to do."

"Ah, I see," Nathan nodded, "you're not gonna get paid for the extra service!"

"Nathan!" Betsy feigned offense, placing her hand on her chest like ladies did in black and white movies. "Is everything I do a money making scheme to you?"

They both laughed, while the world heeded no attention to the pair in corporate attire, talking about hexes and maggots. "But I hadn't thought about it that way," Betsy considered, tapping her index finger on her chin. "The extra service, I mean. In fact, I can hex anyone I want! Anyone that crosses me, really."

"But maybe I'm better off not putting too much input into things," Betsy concluded with a shrug, and she noted by Nathan's nod and expression that he agreed. She noted that she should ask him soon how she got a friend that supported such a.. shady endeavor, to say the least.

That night, she took it upon herself to call him after the ritual, feeling certain that she would have her first satisfied customer the next day. Her giddiness kept her from the lull of sleep for a while, as she thought about how the husband’s sneaky seductress would find her maggots. She laughed, at thought that it was better than any late night drama local networks could ever come up with. She fell asleep quite satisfied.

By the end of the next two weeks, Betsy already had five customers. She took note of the people and the reasons, two of them she knew personally. But of course, as a professional, she knew she had no right to disclose what she's learned.. except with Nathan. She couldn’t help but tattle especially about their high school principal having her way with an enemy from the school administration. Nathan didn't find it hard to believe, however. Mrs. Cuevas always was such a.. questionable character.

"I'm surprised she isn't a witch herself," Nathan hissed, sitting at the edge of Betsy's desk as she finished the remainder of her lunch. Betsy responded by raising an eyebrow.

"I mean - I didn't mean that that's what you are!" Nathan stood, suddenly panicky and defensive, raising his splayed fingers. "I think you're a perfectly normal human being, Bets!"

Betsy proceeded to scowl at him before her lips broke into a grin. When Nathan's eyes scrunched in confusion, Betsy broke into a laughing fit.

"Just kidding, Nate!" she struggled to speak as her laughter died down. "I guess that's what's I am," she nodded, to which Nathan also responded with a nod and a grin.

"I just, haven't thought about that way."

A moment of comfortable silence passed as she finished her cheap cafeteria macaroni. She brought her monitor back to life and logged into her online account for her debit card. She cracked a grin as she saw her clients’ payment coming in. Nathan whistled as he bent down beside her to take a closer look. He then looked around to check for officemates snooping around. “Wow, this is actually a.. good business venture. Income-wise, I mean,” he whispered.

“I could give you a percent of it,” Betsy shrugged nonchalantly.

“N-no!” Nathan backed away from the screen and straightened out, loosening his tie. “That’s not what I meant.”

Betsy beamed at him, a hand scrolling through her mouse absentmindedly. “Don’t worry Nathan, you’re like my adviser here. I think you deserve it.”

“Doesn’t mean I should take it,” Nathan shrugged, heat rising slowly from his neck to his face. Betsy only sighed and rolled her eyes.

“We’ll have dinner then? It’s on me,” Betsy suggested.

“Aright,” Nathan nodded and smiled, “that sounds nice.”

Several weeks had passed, and the lives of Betsy and Nathan proceeded like that. Betsy would get her occasional customers, and they would go out to eat once the paycheck rolled in. To her surprise, she was making enough money to amp up her savings.

She never really had reason to have second doubts on her clients request, until one morning when she’d just gotten to the office and checked her Gmail. Her temples were already pounding with sharp pain. She massaged her thumbs against them, doing little to repress the feeling. Her eyes were hot with sleep deprivation. She scanned her emails anyways, occasionally drinking her to-go coffee, and saw the first hex form for the day. The client had wanted to hex Nathaniel Bautista.

Betsy’s chest tightened. Panic overpowered her headache, and she frantically swiveled around to scan the office for any sight of her friend. He wasn’t there yet.

Her hands grew clammy, as she held her mouse and coffee. She let go and cracked her knuckles, not knowing what to do. She breathed in, and realized she hadn’t even read the client’s reason for wanting to hex her closest and perhaps only friend. She felt like her blood was rushing to her head all at once, with her heart working overboard.

Part of her didn’t want to know what Nathan had done - she came across several horrid offenses reported by her clients, from abuse to rape. She hoped it was just a jealous person, Betsy knew Nathan was handsome enough to have left some sort of trail of disappointed hearts. If she would’ve found out that her friend was a rapist, Betsy wouldn’t know what to do.

Her eyes finally made their way to the client’s response, which read: I just want him to feel bad for once. His life is too perfect, his life always was perfect. He got everything he wanted. It’s unfair. That’s good enough reason, right?

Betsy let out a sigh of relief. She even smiled for her client’s reason - though her eyes glinted with malevolence. Somehow, a name from high school resonated in her, a name of someone who had always been jealous of Nathan. She shook her head, dismissing the idea, as there could be a number of people jealous of her best friend, and the information would be of no value to her anyways. She valued the anonymity of her clients.

But she still lingered upon the question, her hands clasped under her nose. While she hexed a number of offenders for grave reasons, she had also hexed a number of offenders for petty reasons. She even had a feeling some of her clients just wanted a distasteful prank. A knot twisted in her stomach. For the first time, she felt panic at the thought of what she had done to the ‘offender’ of Mrs. Cuevas, and of the rest of the clients that followed.

Offenders - she had called them targets in her form.

The funny thing was that oftentimes she knew the targets had shady personalities, however, save from Mrs. Cuevas, she knew nothing about her clients. She did value their anonymity...

She ended up asking herself whether she would hex Nathan anyways.

Her immediate answer was no. No way in hell, she thought, of course not! She then felt guilt creep against her skin, like goosebumps that seeped inward, until there was a chill in her chest. There was no amount of money in the world that would make her harm Nathan, Nathan who had stood by her side all these years, Nathan who she easily ironed out her disagreements with. Nathan who was never her enemy even when they fought, they just forgave and forgave without second thought. With Nathan as a friend, Betsy never had adversaries of her own.

And it wasn’t like what her clients paid her was much, they were more than a stretch to get her even domestic plain tickets.

But what if the client had good reason? a voice inside her pressed. What if Nathan had killed or raped behind your back?

Betsy reclined on her swivel chair and closed her eyes, which were still hot from last night’s excessive computer monitor exposure and lack of rest that followed. She heard the glass double doors of their office open and in came Nathan, wearing a particularly well-fitting polo shirt, his hair neatly trimmed and framing his face nicely, the gold watch Betsy had given him glimmering under the florescent lights. Her breath hitched and as he caught her eye, his brows creased in concern.

“Hey, what’s up?” Nathan asked, placing his 7-Eleven coffee on Betsy’s desk. “You look.. out of it. The extra work got you last night?”

Betsy nodded, still tense.

“Hey,” Nathan’s eyes panned to Betsy’s screen, exposing a form response, “you have a client for today-”

Betsy switched off her monitor before Nathan could read its content. “Yeah, I don’t feel like checking that right now,” Betsy let herself heave a nervous, strained laugh.

Nathan sat at the free portion of her desk, which Betsy realized she never filled up for him, and took his coffee again. “Is it starting to be too much?”

Betsy nodded, relieved with the chance to give a genuine answer. “It’s just, the things I know, the things I found out,” she sighed. “I mean I knew people were capable of doing bad things, gas chambers happened in World War Two for Pete’s sake but, it just all seems to real.”

“I understand,” Nathan nodded, gently placing his hand on hers.

You always do, Betsy smiled weakly, but said nothing.

“Tell you what,” Nathan reciprocated the smile, “we should relax later. When was the last time we went to a bar and let loose?”

“Too long,” Betsy sighed.

“Then let’s go tonight! Tomorrow’s our day off and I’ll be the designated driver,” Nathan offered, beaming.

“Sounds great,” Betsy agreed.

When the night fell, the smell of alcohol made Betsy’s stomach churn before she even sipped much of it. They sat by the counter of a particularly crowdless bar, a bottle of cold beer in hand.

“Come on, Bets! Relax,” Nathan urged, resting a hand on her shoulder.

With a sigh, Betsy took a swig of beer, and muttered, “I think I don’t want to be a witch anymore.”

Nathan’s brows raised in shock.

“It’s-- It’s too much,” Betsy concluded with another swig. Tiredness already slackened her arm and leg muscles, so she knew she didn’t have much power in her to drink more than her current bottle of beer. “I don’t know what I was even thinking, to be honest,” she gave a strained laugh, and another swig.

“Easy there,” Nathan warned, brows creased. He grabbed her wrist to stop her from taking another swig. At this rate, she would be out cold and he’d have to drag her all the way to her house, only to face her mother’s stink eye.

But that’s not where they ended up after the bottle of beer was discarded. Instead, Betsy was facing the rim of the bar’s dirty toilet, the graffiti all around the walls swimming in her head. Her stomach was churning, and something was clawing her way out her throat, but for a while, nothing was coming out.

Nathan was patiently waiting behind her, carrying her things. He had told her not to kneel on the shady bar floor, as her knees were exposed by her pencil skirt. But her tired body gave in, so he just put a length of tissue under them.

When there was a frantic knock on the door, Betsy finally threw up. Dozens of small, black cockroaches landed on the already repulsive toilet. Tears streamed down her eyes, and her heart clenched in fear of whether anything else would come out next - or what could come out next.

For all the times she’d used her clients hatred, she never knew she had learned to hate herself.

#shortstories

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