Lance Corporal Daniel Smith has officially left the Philippines after almost 3 years of being jailed because of rape. He has now flown to his home country but I'm sure he will not forget what had happened to him. As for Nicole, she is now also in the U.S. and had moved on but is now still haunted for what she did-she announced that she isn't really sure if what had happened was rape. Because of this, the accused became the victim and the victim is now the target of the anger of the Filipino people. The tables have been turned.
I could not blame the court of letting Lance Corporal Daniel Smith because what had happened is the result of Nicole's actions. Some would say that Nicole was bribed; some would say that she realized what really happened was just a plain "job", etc... Honestly, I don't know what happened to Nicole that changed her mind but the Filipinos are now angry at her and, also, I could not blame them.
In this case, it's safe to say that Nicole's statements are not the only factor for Smith's freedom. I want to believe that the court has intelligently studied the case so that the issue of Smith being a victim of injustice here in the Philippines will be erased especially in the mind of the foreigners. This is now a question of dignity.
I really hope that Smith has learned his lessons and would respect women and I hope he finally understood the meaning of "reputation". If there are problems regarding VFA (Visiting Forces Agreement), it should be properly discussed because there's a lot of pros and cons about it. By this way, we can prevent what had happened. And for Nicole, I really wish that she had happened, she should be ready for the consequences of her actions, this is a serious matter knowing that after all she has won the case and the flipping all the cards.
But as what I believed before, poverty is the main factor of the Subic rape case. As long as there is poverty, prostitution would be present. So, politicians please do your jobs instead of arguing because of nonsense matters.
Showing posts with label poverty. Show all posts
Showing posts with label poverty. Show all posts
Friday, April 24, 2009
Saturday, April 18, 2009
Rico's First Crime
I was on the window staring at my plants when I saw Rico under a jackfruit tree two roofs away from their house. I was wondering what he was doing there, I thought he was just playing when I suddenly glance at an unripe jackfruit hanging and Rico was about to grab it while the owner has no idea of what is happening. I tried to shout at him but it was too late.
In squatter’s area where we live, houses are so small that many of them share the same walls. Our house has four walls (naturally) and all of those walls are the same walls of our neighbor’s houses (just try to visualize it, it’s not that complicated). Fortunately, my father had been able to put up a second floor, but again the walls of our second floor, except the north and south where we managed to build two windows and if you come out of those windows you could walk on the roofs of other houses, the remaining walls are the same walls of our neighbors' houses that’s why sometimes we could hear what’s happening in our neighbors’ place, sometimes I could here if there is trouble or if something fishy is going on or if someone is about to do something naughty and one of them is Rico.
Rico was such a pain on the butt ever since the day he learned to walk, he sent six of his friends running home sometimes with a large bruise on their arm, a bleeding lip, scratched forehead and he almost fractured one of his friends arm. And also a lot of times I saw Rico dashing home with blood on his forehead or his elbows, he was such a naughty naughty boy and sometimes his mother would joke that she will not be surprised if she will discover her son inside the jail, her joke has almost come true that boring afternoon but brought me delight and I couldn’t help myself but to laugh out loud of what I saw.
It was a big green jackfruit about ¾ the size of Rico and he was eager to pull it out of the tree. I shouted two times but he didn’t bother although they brought a little nervousness, I could see that in his face but he continue to rotate the green fruit until it snapped out of the tree’s branch. He was barely embracing the spiky jackfruit and I was a little nervous that the owner might see him and suddenly catch him and beat him or worst he might got shot. The jackfruit slipped from Rico’s arms but he grabbed it quickly making a lot of sounds that made him ran a little faster. With his sister and his cousin cheering him, he ran as fast as he could and for less than 10 seconds he managed to run over the two roofs while holding the big green fruit.
I was laughing hard when Rico finished his crime, thank God he was just a 5-year old boy and he couldn’t be jailed for what he did. He received a barrage of preaching and spanking from his parents and from my mother but he is used to it, he really is a naughty naughty naughty little boy I wonder what he will be in the future. We were silent of what had happened because it might create a hell of trouble knowing that some people in our area are blood thirsty even to those who aren’t “man enough”, I’ve experienced it actually.
Rico might forget it when he grew up but that scene will be painted in my memory forever. It was the day that Rico committed his first crime, and I just hope that he will never ever going to do that ever again.
In squatter’s area where we live, houses are so small that many of them share the same walls. Our house has four walls (naturally) and all of those walls are the same walls of our neighbor’s houses (just try to visualize it, it’s not that complicated). Fortunately, my father had been able to put up a second floor, but again the walls of our second floor, except the north and south where we managed to build two windows and if you come out of those windows you could walk on the roofs of other houses, the remaining walls are the same walls of our neighbors' houses that’s why sometimes we could hear what’s happening in our neighbors’ place, sometimes I could here if there is trouble or if something fishy is going on or if someone is about to do something naughty and one of them is Rico.
Rico was such a pain on the butt ever since the day he learned to walk, he sent six of his friends running home sometimes with a large bruise on their arm, a bleeding lip, scratched forehead and he almost fractured one of his friends arm. And also a lot of times I saw Rico dashing home with blood on his forehead or his elbows, he was such a naughty naughty boy and sometimes his mother would joke that she will not be surprised if she will discover her son inside the jail, her joke has almost come true that boring afternoon but brought me delight and I couldn’t help myself but to laugh out loud of what I saw.
It was a big green jackfruit about ¾ the size of Rico and he was eager to pull it out of the tree. I shouted two times but he didn’t bother although they brought a little nervousness, I could see that in his face but he continue to rotate the green fruit until it snapped out of the tree’s branch. He was barely embracing the spiky jackfruit and I was a little nervous that the owner might see him and suddenly catch him and beat him or worst he might got shot. The jackfruit slipped from Rico’s arms but he grabbed it quickly making a lot of sounds that made him ran a little faster. With his sister and his cousin cheering him, he ran as fast as he could and for less than 10 seconds he managed to run over the two roofs while holding the big green fruit.
I was laughing hard when Rico finished his crime, thank God he was just a 5-year old boy and he couldn’t be jailed for what he did. He received a barrage of preaching and spanking from his parents and from my mother but he is used to it, he really is a naughty naughty naughty little boy I wonder what he will be in the future. We were silent of what had happened because it might create a hell of trouble knowing that some people in our area are blood thirsty even to those who aren’t “man enough”, I’ve experienced it actually.
Rico might forget it when he grew up but that scene will be painted in my memory forever. It was the day that Rico committed his first crime, and I just hope that he will never ever going to do that ever again.
Monday, April 13, 2009
The Children of Poverty
Everyday of my life I would walk along the streets of Commonwealth Avenue. I’m used of the place; my family has lived here for almost 16 years. A lot of things had changed since we arrived fresh from the province; the road has widen, infrastructures were built and some were destroyed, the dirty areas have been dirtier, criminal rate has incredibly gone high but one thing has never changed since the very day I stepped on the ground of Commonwealth avenue-poverty.
With no assurance of what will happen to us here in Manila, my father took the risk of selling our small house in Camarines Sur (Bicol region) and moving here for a brighter future and for better opportunities. We arrived here almost empty handed but that was not really the problem, I and my sister’s biggest problem was the adjustment. We are not used of the noisy and stinky street of the city but little by little, or should I say we have no choice, eventually we have surpassed the challenges.
When I was in elementary I started to understand our real situation, the big difference of being rich and being poor. Unlike in the province where I don’t mind if all we could eat were root crops as long as I can see the beauty of nature just about ten steps from our wide backyard and all who live there has the same house and same situation as we were, but here in the city it is so much different. And living in the squatter’s area is like embracing the fact that poverty has caught us and spiked its claws really deep.
Ironically, you would not find the definition of “wealth” in Commonwealth Avenue only the different faces of poverty-innocent naked children running on the streets, blind people stretching there wary hands for spare coins, people walking the blistering streets who had lost there mind because of different reasons but mainly because poverty had eaten their wholeness, beggars, beggars and more beggars along the way. Sometimes I think about their future and how they would enjoy life especially the innocent children who are not yet aware of their present situation, how would they go to school and live their lives? And most often I would question God; sometimes I could not understand His plans.
Whenever I see every face of poverty, I would think of ways to help them but even I could not help myself-being out of school and also unemployed for two years, I’m a graduate of just 2-year computer science but I’m still thankful of my father’s perspirations so if you’re a graduate of a 4-year course and also a degree but could not still find a job, think about me for heaven’s sake!!!. I’m still eager to find a job but I also had a disease and that’s another problem but I’m still hopeful that one day I would find my place in the corporate world, I am maybe ambitious but that’s all I have. I need to find a way to get out from the claws of poverty somehow and also I’m still praying for the “children of poverty” because I, myself is also one of them.
A part of me still waiting for the time that someday, somehow poverty will vanish and all the sufferings will be replaced with joy. I don’t know when, I don’t know how but I’m still hoping. We, the children of poverty, will find harmony maybe not in this world maybe somewhere I just know we will, I just know…
We are the children of poverty and we are also the children of God…
With no assurance of what will happen to us here in Manila, my father took the risk of selling our small house in Camarines Sur (Bicol region) and moving here for a brighter future and for better opportunities. We arrived here almost empty handed but that was not really the problem, I and my sister’s biggest problem was the adjustment. We are not used of the noisy and stinky street of the city but little by little, or should I say we have no choice, eventually we have surpassed the challenges.
When I was in elementary I started to understand our real situation, the big difference of being rich and being poor. Unlike in the province where I don’t mind if all we could eat were root crops as long as I can see the beauty of nature just about ten steps from our wide backyard and all who live there has the same house and same situation as we were, but here in the city it is so much different. And living in the squatter’s area is like embracing the fact that poverty has caught us and spiked its claws really deep.
Ironically, you would not find the definition of “wealth” in Commonwealth Avenue only the different faces of poverty-innocent naked children running on the streets, blind people stretching there wary hands for spare coins, people walking the blistering streets who had lost there mind because of different reasons but mainly because poverty had eaten their wholeness, beggars, beggars and more beggars along the way. Sometimes I think about their future and how they would enjoy life especially the innocent children who are not yet aware of their present situation, how would they go to school and live their lives? And most often I would question God; sometimes I could not understand His plans.
Whenever I see every face of poverty, I would think of ways to help them but even I could not help myself-being out of school and also unemployed for two years, I’m a graduate of just 2-year computer science but I’m still thankful of my father’s perspirations so if you’re a graduate of a 4-year course and also a degree but could not still find a job, think about me for heaven’s sake!!!. I’m still eager to find a job but I also had a disease and that’s another problem but I’m still hopeful that one day I would find my place in the corporate world, I am maybe ambitious but that’s all I have. I need to find a way to get out from the claws of poverty somehow and also I’m still praying for the “children of poverty” because I, myself is also one of them.
A part of me still waiting for the time that someday, somehow poverty will vanish and all the sufferings will be replaced with joy. I don’t know when, I don’t know how but I’m still hoping. We, the children of poverty, will find harmony maybe not in this world maybe somewhere I just know we will, I just know…
We are the children of poverty and we are also the children of God…
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