Woman files estafa complaint against friend

by Acor Arceo

QUEZON CITY, Philippines – A woman filed a complaint against a friend and the latter’s mother on Wednesday, saying that they had yet to pay her for almost P1 million worth of jewelry.

The complainant, 31-year-old Eireen de Leon-Dimailig, filed a complaint against Christine Santos, 29, and Santos’ mother, Cynthia Conroy, at the Loyola Heights Barangay Hall. The two allegedly owe her P982,000.

In a phone interview, De-Leon Dimailig said that her dealings with Santos started in 2003. Santos, De Leon-Dimailig’s former high school classmate, took jewelry items for her and her mother to resell.

“Our dealings were okay then. Some of the items were even made-to-order,” De-Leon-Dimailig said in Filipino. “They had balances to pay then, but only few.”

In 2006, she asked the suspects to settle their account, which had already reached P839,000. However, the three checks that the suspects issued from November to December 2006 bounced.

De Leon-Dimailig said that she repeatedly asked the suspects to pay, offering them installment terms of P50,000 monthly. She was forced to go to the authorities when the two missed payments for June and July.

“I was very lenient because she’s my friend, [but] what will I do? I also paid that amount to the supplier,” she said. “It was the supplier who told me to file a case already. I just need to get my cash back.”

Barangay Security and Development Office Desk Officer Rodolfo de Guzman said that the suspects have been issued a subpoena.

The barangay hearing is set for today, 7:30 pm. De Leon-Dimailig said that she will file charges against Santos and Conroy in court if the case will not be resolved.

The two may be charged with estafa and violation of the bouncing check law. If convicted, they face up to 20 years of imprisonment and fines.

(UPDATED) Quiapo: A place of miracles

by Erika Tapalla

QUIAPO, Philippines--- “We need to see miracles,” says Aling Seling Pineras, a regular at Plaza Miranda. It is a cloudy Friday afternoon and hundreds of people have gathered around Plaza Miranda, in Quiapo. Their arms and hands shield their most private parts from the subtle shoving and elbowing of the crowd.

An inexperienced spectator would think either someone important died or a local celebrity was in the area for self-promotion. But no one important died and there are no celebrities. Fridays at Plaza Miranda are just always jam-packed with thousands of people from all walks of life carrying some cash in one pocket and hope for a miracle in the other.

Miracles come in different forms and in Quiapo, a district in the Manila capital, there are three main customs of obtaining them. Some choose faith in touching the feet of the miraculous dark, wooden, life-size statue of Christ placed high above the altar of the Church; some invest in their fate in the cards disclosed by the dozens of fortune tellers lined in the shade; and some turn to the alternative medicinal concoctions claimed to cure everything from headaches to unwanted pregnancies.

Hustling about in Plaza Miranda - Photograph by: Hub Pacheco

Seling turns to all three customs in times of difficulty. “Everyone in Quiapo can give you miracles,” Seling says. She claims it’s hard to leave the important decisions and troubles in life solely to prayer, to fortune told, or to the concoctions sold at a cheap price.

Whenever Seling is in limbo, she seeks Madam Cecil, “the very best of the fortune tellers.” Clad in a leopard-print blouse, Madam Cecil, an aged woman with a misleading red dot of lipstick on her forehead meant to ward off evil, fans herself as she talks about her occupation. She has been a fortune teller since 23, a job inherited from her grandmother. Unlike others who claim to have a third eye or blessed with psychic abilities, Madam Cecil secretly admits she is just a good judge of character.

“To tell you the truth, I just read the expressions on their faces and their eyes. Sometimes, I don’t even need to interpret the cards,” she says. “I already know what to say from their questions.” By trying to be a confidant and adviser to the client, Madam Cecil gives them the strength they need to make difficult decisions in life. This is precisely why Seling needs Madam Cecil.

When Seling was impregnated twice, she was fully aware she could not keep the child so she chose to drink the “pamparegla” or menstruation inducer.

In Quiapo, abortion isn’t so much a sin or nearly as shameful when the sidewalks are paved with vendors waving corked, emerald bottles of menstruation inducers. The vendors’ helpers lure people with signs reading “1 or 2 months late?”

“A lot of people buy it because having a child is costly,” Seling says. “I know you think I’m a bad person but Lord knows I did a good thing. He has forgiven me.”

An array of medicinal concoctions - Photograph by: Lauren D.

Interestingly, Seling picked Thursdays for both her abortions so she could spend Fridays seeking redemption and forgiveness from God, falling in line to touch the 400-year-old Black Nazarene statue to cleanse her sins. Seeing past the irony of these menstruation inducers lining the Church façade, these concoctions meet the hopes of hundreds of women not wanting to become mothers.

While other people hustle about on the streets bargaining for the cheapest menstruation inducers, DVDs, used and maybe even stolen technological gadgets, an extensive echo of voices is heard howling the “Ama Namin” or “The Lord’s prayer”. The whimpers are solemnly strong they are nearly terrifying.

From a distance, Seling points behind the Church where prayer warriors sitting on their plastic stools wait for someone to approach them for a prayer on their behalf. Usually, clients or customers just give them loose change.

Sometimes it’s hard to take notice of the little miracles in a life full of misery or in a world that does not stop for you, which is why Seling says: “Quiapo gives miracles.” Although it is a place filled with moral irony and almost apathetic people, miracles resonate from every inch of Quiapo.

“Everything is a miracle if you look close enough,” as Madam Cecil says.

Commitment to service brings success to basement cafeteria

by Allan Lazaro

QUEZON CITY, Philippines - With the high cost of commodities nowadays, the chances of finding inexpensive eating places outside the Ateneo de Manila University is close to nil. Fortunately, an Atenean does not have to leave the campus to find one.

Tucked away inside the Loyola House of Studies (LHS) compound, the Loyola School of Theology (LST) cafeteria gives the members of the Ateneo community, students and non-students alike, a very cheap alternative to the college cafeteria and all the fast food restaurants along Katipunan Avenue.

It offers a hearty menu of home-cooked meals together with a retreat house’s serene atmosphere, not to mention a breathtaking view of Marikina Valley. All of these in a complete meal that usually costs no more than P40.

Humble beginnings

Officially named Cora’s Canteen, the cafeteria is named after its owner and manager Corazon Gallardo, who herself spent 15 years as a subconcessionaire in the college cafeteria. Ate Cora, as she is fondly known, says the cafeteria’s beginnings can be traced back to 1997 when she, along with a partner, asked permission from current Ateneo de Naga President Fr. Joel Tabora, SJ, to put up a small canteen in front of LHS.

Cafeteria owner Cora Gallardo serves her customers herself.

LST was yet to be built then so the customers, who were mostly seminarians and Jesuits, ate at the terrace of LHS where there were tables and benches available. After a year though, her partner left the partnership because their small canteen was not really earning much money.

A genuine calling to serve, however, prompted Ate Cora to continue the business. “I didn't really come here to get rich. I just wanted to be of service to other people,” she says.

When LST was finished in 1998, she was allowed to transfer the canteen to the building’s more spacious basement where it has been located ever since. It was a few months after its relocation when the first college student discovered the cafeteria.

“The first college student who came here probably told his friends about my canteen,” Ate Cora says. "It all started from that one student."

The LST cafeteria began to be known to the college students after that. Ate Cora says students even used to call the LHS office just to ask where exactly the cafeteria was located.

Word of mouth

Unlike when she was still starting out with her business, Ate Cora doesn’t need to worry about poor sales nowadays. Through word of mouth, the LST cafeteria has become an alternative destination for students looking for a respite from the academic flurry of the Ateneo or those simply running on a tight budget.

One of the major reasons why the LST cafeteria has become very successful is that the food is much cheaper compared to the college cafeteria. A combo meal of one cup of rice, one main dish, one side dish, and a glass of juice only costs P40 whereas one has to spend an average of P50 just for a rice meal in the college cafeteria.

Cheap meals make the LST cafeteria a popular eating place for Ateneo students.

Ate Cora says she is able to sell food for such a low price because the lease for the place itself is very inexpensive. “When prices of goods go up, many people would tell me to just lessen my food servings since I don't want to raise my prices. But so far money hasn't been a problem so I don't even think of raising my prices,” she says.

Most of the cafeteria’s customers nowadays, she says, are college students aside from the occasional teachers and other Ateneo employees. The cafeteria usually teems with students especially during Tuesdays and Thursdays because the students’ breaks are usually longer.

Former Ateneo student Paul Flaminiano got to know the LST cafeteria through one of his blockmates. He says he used to eat there once every two weeks, often with his friends.

“At first I didn't really like the place because it looked gloomy inside but once I tasted the food I knew I'd always go back. And did I say that the food there is really cheap?” he says.

Communication major Michelle Caligan also heard about the cafeteria when one classmate invited her to eat there. She says she never tried to go there before because it was very far from the college campus.

“Usually, I go there once a month. I’ll probably eat there once a week if it’s nearer,” she says.

Ate Cora says even students from University of the Philippines come to LST not to do research but to eat in the cafeteria. Some students have also brought their own families to dine and enjoy the view of Marikina Valley.

Service and faith

Despite the success of the cafeteria, Ate Cora remains humble. She admits she never dreamt that her cafeteria will be popular especially among students.

“Of course I'm proud and flattered but it's really because of service that I continue to be here,” she says. "As long as people come here to eat , the canteen will be open to them. I'd like to be here for as long as I can."

PHOTOS BY ALLAN LAZARO

(UPDATED) Widow loses P150K to 'sweet-talking' syndicate

by Reddie Chua

QUEZON CITY, Philippines -- A 65-year-old widow on Thursday lost P150,000 in cash and P40,000 worth of jewelry to five unidentified members of the "Budol-Budol" gang, a group of swindlers known to sweet-talk and hypnotize their victims.

Officials from Brgy. Loyola Heights Public Security Office (PSO) found the woman at the KFC branch on Katipunan Avenue, where the suspects left her.

The victim, who refused to be named, was walking along the National Housing Authority headquarters on Elliptical Road when five strangers approached her. One of them asked her the directions to a warehouse on Kalayaan Avenue, and promised to give her money in return.

The victim said she was brought to a grey Toyota FX where she was ordered to withdraw cash from her bank account and go home to get jewelry. She could not help but follow whatever they told her, she said.

“I remember what happened, but I don’t know why I was following their orders,” the victim said in Filipino in a phone interview. “I was so helpless.”

With two of the suspects, she went to her house in Batasan Hills to get her jewelry, and then proceeded to the BPI Express Center on Katipunan Avenue to withdraw all her savings.

The other suspects met her at the KFC branch nearby and gave her a bag which they said contained P100,000 in cash, then left with her money and jewelry. The bag contained nothing but pad papers.

“I was confused,” the victim said.

Authorities said the victim may have been hypnotized by the swindlers, as in any Budol-Budol operation.

“They sweet-talk a lot, that’s why victims are enticed,” said SPO1 Florante Bolante of the Quezon City Police District station 9, where the victim was taken by Brgy. Loyola Heights security officials.

Barangay PSO Executive Officer Paul Casipi said that members of the Budol-Budol gang hypnotize their victims by talking to them persuasively. Because of this, victims like the widow take quite a long time to recover from shock, he added.

This was the sixth Budol-Budol case in Brgy. Loyola Heights this year, said PSD Deputy Executive Director Manuel Falco. He urged people to be extra vigilant when walking alone, because Budol-Budol members “strike anytime, anywhere.”

SPO1 Florante Bolante of QCPD Station 9 demonstrates how Budol-Budol members make pad papers appear like money in bags.

PHOTO BY REDDIE CHUA

Quiapo: A place of miracles

by Erika Tapalla

QUIAPO CITY, Philippines--- “We need to see miracles,” says Aling Seling, a regular at Plaza Miranda. It is a cloudy Friday afternoon and hundreds of people have gathered around Plaza Miranda, Quiapo, with their arms and hands shielding their most private parts from the subtle shoving and elbowing of the crowd. An inexperienced spectator would think either someone important died or a local celebrity was at the area for self-promotion. But no one important died and there are no celebrities. Fridays at Plaza Miranda are just always jam-packed with thousands of people from all walks of life carrying some cash in one pocket and hope for a miracle in the other.

Miracles come in different forms and in Quiapo, there are three main customs of obtaining it. Some choose faith in touching the feet of the miraculous dark wooden life-size statue of Christ placed high above the altar of the gaping Church; some invest on their fate in the worn out cards disclosed by the dozens of fortune tellers lined in the shade; and some turn to the alternative medicinal concoctions which claim to cure everything from headaches to unwanted pregnancies.

Aling Seling Pineras, turns to all three customs in times of difficulty. “Everyone in Quiapo can give you miracles,” Seling says. She claims it’s hard to leave the important decisions and troubles in life singularly to prayer, to fortune told, or to the concoctions sold at a cheap price.

Whenever Seling is lost in a limbo, she seeks Madam Cecil, “the very best of the fortune tellers.” Clad in a leopard-print blouse, Madam Cecil, an aged woman with a misleading red dot of lipstick on her forehead really meant to ward off evil, fans herself as she talks about her occupation. She has been a fortune teller since she was 23, a job inherited from her grandmother. Unlike others who claim to have a third eye or blessed with psychic abilities, Madam Cecil secretly admits she is just a good judge of character.

“To tell you the truth, I just read the expressions on their faces and their eyes. Sometimes, I don’t even need to interpret the cards,” she simpers, “I already know what to say from their questions.” By trying to be a confidant and adviser to the client, Madam Cecil gives them the strength they need to make difficult decisions in life. Precisely why Seling needs Madam Cecil.

When Seling was impregnated twice, she was fully aware she could not keep the child so chose to drink the “pangparegla” or menstruation inducer.

In Quiapo, abortion isn’t so much a sin or nearly as shameful when the sidewalks are paved with vendors waving corked deep emerald colored bottles of menstruation inducers or the vendors’ helpers luring people as they pass with signs reading ‘1 or 2 months late?’.

“A lot of people buy it because having a child is costly,” Seling says. “I know you think I’m a bad person but Lord knows I did a good thing. He has forgiven me.”

Interestingly, Seling picked Thursdays for both her abortions so she can spend her Fridays seeking redemption and forgiveness from God, falling in line to touch the 400 year old Black Nazarene statue in the Church to cleanse her from her sins. Seeing past the irony of these menstruation inducers lining the Church façade, these inducers meet the hope of hundreds of women of not becoming a mother.

While the other people hustle about on the streets, bargaining for the cheapest menstruation inducers, DVDs, used and maybe even stolen technological gadgets, an extensive echo of voices are heard howling the ‘Ama namin’ or ‘Our Father’ prayer. The whimpers are solemnly strong it is nearly terrifying.

From a distance, Seling points behind the Church where prayer warriors are usually spotted sitting on their plastic stools waiting for someone to approach them asking for a prayer on their behalf. Usually, clients or customers just give them loose change.

Sometimes it’s hard to take notice of the little miracles in a life full of misery or in a world that does not stop for you, which is why Seling says, “Quiapo gives miracles.” Although it is a place filled with moral irony and almost nonchalant people, every inch of Quiapo resonates of miracles. “Everything is a miracle if you look close enough,” as Madam Cecil says.