(UPDATED) The art of Khanser

by Reddie Chua

QUEZON CITY, Philippines -- Once during her childhood, Marites Khanser went to their town’s library and heard shocking news. The librarian said there were no more books available for her as she had finished reading their entire collection for children. Young Khanser had to start reading books for adults from then on.

That was long before she became Dr. Marites Khanser, a doctor of business administration who constantly wants to learn. Even as a child, Khanser already had an insatiable desire to learn.

Though from a poor family, she consistently did well in school. She studied for free throughout her student life.

A summa cum laude graduate of the Jesuit-run Xavier University in 1979, she always wanted to excel.

“I would cry if I didn’t get an A,” she says.

She finished an MBA degree at Xavier and an MA in English at the University of the Philippines-Diliman. She then earned her doctorate from De La Salle University-Manila.

An expert in a field of numbers and logic, she used to teach leadership and strategy at the Ateneo de Manila University’s John Gokongwei School of Management, joining a pool of accountants, mathematicians and managers in the faculty.

Yet her hunger for knowledge remains with her today -- this time in the arts. Who would have thought that she is also a skilled painter?

“I’m really multi-skilled. I can do a lot of things,” she says.

Painting is a skill she has just learned.

“I am a late bloomer when it comes to painting and in fact, I never thought I could paint,” she writes in her book “Reflections on My Paintings: An Artist’s Memoir.”

Khanser used to manage an art gallery in Davao City that featured works of other artists, but she never thought she would make her own paintings someday.

About two years ago, she trained under the geniuses of the Manila Art Den and mastered the skill within months. For someone more than 40, there is indeed reason to believe that it is never too late to learn.

This is because she had an inspiration, a strong force that motivated her to acquire the new skill. That inspiration was University President Fr. Bienvenido Nebres, SJ, her mentor.

“I wanted to paint the portrait of Fr. Ben,” she says. “That’s why I discovered my gift."

Khanser was Nebres’s scholar for 15 years. The priest encouraged her to pursue a doctorate degree in business and supported her studies. When she finished, she put up a Doctor of Business Administration program at the Ateneo de Davao University, which she headed.

Her first creation was a portrait of Nebres. She considers it one of her best, and later gave it to the priest as a gift.

Painting portraits of people is her favorite. She admits, though, that it usually takes a long time for her to finish a portrait because it is hard to capture the essence of a person.

She also loves to paint places she has visited, like a river in Thailand.

“When I go abroad, I take pictures and I paint right away,” she says.

Although she seems to have achieved so much, she still wants to do more. Painting is not the end of her skill-searching, she says.

“I really explore my limits. I don’t hold barriers to myself,” she says.

There is only one thing, though, that she would really love to do for the rest of her life: to travel. Aside from this, she promises not to stop developing new skills.

We might see her singing her lungs out, playing an instrument, or dancing in the ballroom someday. She believes that there is no end to whatever she might want to learn in the years to come.

This hunger for learning made her finish reading an entire library many years ago. But until now, Khanser is still hungry, and she keeps getting hungrier.

(UPDATED) A Long way to go

by Erika Tapalla

QUEZON CITY, Philippines -- With his deep blue eyes, dirty blonde ‘do, and toned physique, Kirk Long can easily make girls swoon. But he’s not just a pretty boy. He’s Ateneo de Manila University’s basketball recruit on full scholarship, anxious to spread his wings as a Blue Eagle in Season 70 of the University Athletics Association of the Philippines (UAAP).

Once the word became official, Kirk was hyped up, leaving university students at the edge of their seats waiting to see this guy in action.

Now that the UAAP basketball season has commenced, Kirk was barely seen where he was expected to be -- on court.

“Coach just wants to wait and doesn’t want to put me in a position where I’m gonna fail and be discouraged. I still have a long way to go, have a lot to learn, so I’ll wait for my time to come,” he says.

Kirk has always loved basketball. As a child he frequently played with toy basketballs and mini-hoops given him by his father. Growing up in the Philippines where basketball is arguably the most popular sport further heightened his interest.

Although it is apparent that basketball is very important to Kirk, there’s more to him than his long strides, fast hands and high jumps.



“I’m learning to be a well-rounded person, focus on my studies and have some quiet spiritual time because putting all your trust and hope in basketball is not enough,” Kirk says.

His parents transferred from Kansas, USA to the Philippines when he was two-and-a-half years old. They came to the country as missionaries to spread the Gospel and accept Jesus Christ as their personal savior. They subsequently established a home for street kids at Valley Golf in Antipolo.

“I try to have a good testimony with God, ask for forgiveness for all my sins and keep good relationships with people around me both on- and off-court,” Kirk says.

He values friendship highly and has formed strong relationships during his stay.

“I guess I’m an emotional guy,” he says somewhat bashfully. “When things don’t go right, when my friends leave, it tends to carry over to other things and I have to learn how to control my emotions so I could focus.”

With a boyish smile, Kirk states he is still in the process of learning how to balance his time.

“It’s always fun to go out with friends and hang out, but I have to make sure I use my time wisely,” Kirk says.

Rising popularity and amazing skills aside, he’s still an ordinary guy anyone can easily talk to whether it be about his nonexistent love life or basketball.

Electronics paradise

by Allan Lazaro

QUEZON CITY, Philippines - The Raon Shopping Center was a place very easy to miss if one did not know what he was looking for. From the outside, Raon looks like the other aging and decrepit buildings along Quezon Boulevard . The large yellow sign outside does not prepare anyone for the seemingly ordered chaos inside.

As the electronics hub of Quiapo, the Raon Shopping Center houses a multitude of shops which sell all kinds of electronic appliances and gadgets. All the items being sold are very cheap as they are either second hand or imitation products.

I was looking to replace my broken tape recorder when I went there last weekend. My friend Ryan Chua has been there several times already so he was my guide that day. As we entered the building, it was easy to see that the place was a Wowowee stampede waiting to happen. Raon was cramped with throngs of people moving about, trying to find the best bargain amid the chaos.

Speakers and amplifiers were stacked up on one another beside one wall while stereo systems, television sets, mp3 players, video game consoles, and DVD players crowded the shops. Wooden or cardboard stands of pirated DVD’s and video games littered the narrow corridors. Customers went in and out of the various stores. No tape recorders were on display.

Ryan and I jostled our way through the crowd inside Raon, all the while trying to find a shop that could possibly be selling tape recorders. After a while, I followed Ryan inside a store selling telecommunication gadgets. We asked the sales lady if they had tape recorders but unfortunately they were out of stock.

We entered the next store which primarily sold DVD players and radios. At last, there were models of tape recorders on display in the glass stand inside. I immediately asked the lady behind the counter which model was the cheapest. She picked one box and took out a peach-colored tape recorder which looked very much like a baby’s toy.

As she proudly showed us the features of the gadget, I noticed to my horror that Diether Ocampo’ face was plastered on the sticker. Even if it only cost Php800, there was no way I would buy that model.

Disappointment all over my face, I asked the sales lady for their Sony models. She showed us the cheapest one which cost P1,200. To my surprise, it was a Sony TCM-150 which another friend of mine owned. I believe he bought his for P3,000 at SM. Since the TCM-150 looked genuine enough and included the how-to-use manual and all, I decided to buy it. A one week warranty was not bad, I thought, considering I bought it at Raon

We got out of the store into the milling mass of people in the corridors. For some reason, the cramped interior of the store was cooler than the outside even if there wasn’t any ventilation.

We exited toward Gonzalo Puyat St. which was as busy as Raon, if not more chaotic. It was amazing how vehicles were still allowed to pass through the street despite how both sides of it were littered with vendors with their carts and stalls. Other electronics shops also lined up the street.

On the street itself, vendors displayed their wares – clothes, accessories, microphones, antennas, and other electronic gadgets. Pirated CD’s and DVD’s were everywhere. I wondered if Raon’s management had a policy against porn movies because at that point, I realized that Raon only had local and Hollywood movies plus some anime titles. All the porn – straight, gay, lesbian, children, bestiality, Asian – were sold outside on the street. It was quite disturbing to see a father shopping for porn with his little daughter beside him tugging at his shirt.

Not far ahead, we could hear a vendor’s amplified voice marketing his product. The seller was wearing an improvised microphone, which had lots of electric tape, on his head. The man was selling what he called the “Master Cutter,” a pen-shaped glass and tile cutter for only P200. He was actually very good at what he was doing and his gadget seemed effective. Unfortunately, I didn’t see myself having the need to cut tiles anytime soon.

It was almost 3pm and Ryan and I were hungry from all the walking. As we neared the corner of Gonzalo Puyat St. and Evangelista St., we couldn’t help but notice the sweet smell of the muffin-like bread being sold by one of the vendors. Hungry as we were, Ryan and I bought two pieces of still steaming muffins for only P5 each. The muffin was actually made up of hotcake mix with chocolate syrup in the inside. The muffins were delicious so we bought another two pieces.

There were many food vendors on the intersection of Gonzalo Puyat St. and Evangelista St. Aside from the muffins, we also ate fried squid and chicken skin which sold for P3 apiece. Buko juice was P5 a glass. There were also vendors selling fried chicken, betamax, isaw, and fish balls.

With only P50 left in my wallet and my feet sore from walking all afternoon, I felt that it was time to go back home. Ryan said that there was a shortcut near Evangelista St. to the Recto Station of the LRT. After a few minutes of walking northwards and passing two closed and boarded up Ministop’s, we knew we were getting lost.

After a while, we finally found the busy intersection of Gonzalo Puyat St. and Evangelista St . I kidded Ryan that we were always due to get lost at least once whenever he was supposed to handle the directions. It turned out that we should have been going southward instead of northward on Evangelista St .

As we were about to enter Recto Station at around 430pm, Ryan went back and walked toward a man giving out flyers in front of Isetann. “Gusto mo punta muna tayo? (Do you want to go here first?)” he said while waving the flyer in front of me.

The flyer was for Snow White KTV Bar along Rizal Avenue, just the next street parallel to Evangelista St. Apparently, the live show would start at 5pm. Unfortunately, I already had what came for inside my backpack. That adventure would have to wait for another time.

By: Erika Tapalla

QUEZON CITY, Philippines---With his deep blue eyes, dirty blonde ‘do, and toned physique, Kirk Long can easily make girls swoon. But he’s not just a pretty boy. He’s Ateneo de Manila University’s basketball recruit on full scholarship, anxious to spread his wings as a Blue Eagle in Season 70 of the University Athletics Association of the Philippines (UAAP).

Once the word was deemed official, Long was hyped up, leaving university students at the edge of their seats for a chance to see this guy in action.

Now that UAAP basketball season has commenced, Long was barely seen where he was expected to be – on court. “Coach just wants to wait and doesn’t want to put me in that position where I’m gonna fail and be discouraged. I still have a long way to go, have a lot to learn, so I’ll wait for my time to come,” he says.

Since as far as Long remembers, he has always loved basketball. As a child he frequently played with toy basketballs and mini-hoops given to him by his father. Growing up in the Philippines where basketball is the favorite pastime and most popular sport further ingrained the sport in his life.

Although it is apparent that basketball is very important to Long, there’s more to him than his long strides, fast hands, and high jumps. “I’m learning to be a well-rounded person, focus on my studies and have some quiet spiritual time cause putting all your trust and hope in basketball is not enough.”

Kirk Long

Transferring from Kansas, USA to the Philippines at two and a half years, his parents first came to the country as missionaries to spread the Gospel and Jesus Christ as the personal savior. Long’s family has established a home for street kids at Valley Golf, Antipolo. “I try to have a good testimony with God, ask for forgiveness for all my sins, and keep good relationships with people around me both on and off-court,” says Long.

He has formed strong relationships and highly values friendship. “I guess I’m an emotional guy,” he says somewhat bashfully, “When things don’t go right, when my friends leave, it tends to carry over to other things and I have to learn how to control my emotions so I can focus.” With a boyish smile, Long states he is still in the process of managing the division of his time to balance everything. “It’s always fun to go out with friends and hang out, but I have to make sure I use my time wisely.”

Rising popularity and amazing skills aside, he’s still an ordinary guy anyone can easily talk to whether it be about his nonexistent love life or basketball.

PHOTOS BY Erika Tapalla
VIDEO BY Erika Tapalla, edited by Ayo Supangco

The art of Khanser

by Reddie Chua

QUEZON CITY, Philippines—Once during her childhood, Marites Khanser went to their town’s library and heard shocking news. The librarian said that there were no more books available for her, as she had just finished reading their entire collection for children. Young Khanser had to start reading books for adults from then on.

That was long ago she became Dr. Marites Khanser, a doctor of business administration who wants to learn and learn more. And yet her hunger for learning remains with her today—this time in the arts.

An expert in a field of numbers and logic, she used to teach leadership and strategy at the Ateneo de Manila University’s John Gokongwei School of Management, joining a pool of accountants, mathematicians, and managers in the faculty. Who would have thought, then, that she is also a skilled painter?

“I’m really multi-skilled. I can do a lot of things,” she says.

Painting from inspiration

Painting is a skill she has just learned. “I am a late bloomer when it comes to painting and in fact, I never thought I could paint,” she writes in her book Reflections on My Paintings: An Artist’s Memoir.

Khanser used to manage an art gallery in Davao City that featured works of other artists, but she never thought that she would make her own paintings someday.

About two years ago, she trained under the geniuses of the Manila Art Den and mastered the skill within months. For someone who was already more than 40 then, there is indeed reason to believe that it is never too late to learn.

This is because she had an inspiration, a strong force that motivated her to acquire the new skill: University President Fr. Bienvenido Nebres, SJ, her mentor.

“I wanted to paint the portrait of Fr. Ben,” she says, “that’s why I discovered my gift."

Khanser was Nebres’s scholar for 15 years. The priest encouraged her to pursue a doctor of business administration (DBA) degree and supported her studies. When she finished, she put up a DBA program at the Ateneo de Davao University and headed it.

Her first creation was a portrait of Nebres. She considers it one of her best, and later gave it to the priest as a gift.

Painting portraits of people is her favorite. She admits, though, that it usually takes a long time for her to finish a portrait because it is hard to capture the essence of a person.

She also loves to paint places she has visited, like a river in Thailand. “When I go abroad, I take pictures and I paint right away,” she says.

Insatiable

Even as a child, Khanser, already had an insatiable desire to learn.

Though from a poor family, she consistently did well in school. She studied for free throughout her student life.

A summa cum laude graduate of the Jesuit-run Xavier University in 1979, she always wanted to excel. “I would cry if I didn’t get an A,” she says.

She finished an MBA degree at Xavier and an MA in English at the University of the Philippines-Diliman. She then earned her doctorate from De La Salle University-Manila.

Although she seems to have achieved so much, she still wants to do more. Painting is not the end of her skill-searching, she says.

“I really explore my limits. I don’t hold barriers to myself,” she says.

There is only one thing, though, that she would really love to do for the rest of her life: to travel. Besides this, she promises not to stop developing new skills.

We might see her singing her lungs out, playing an instrument, or dancing in the ballroom someday. She believes that there is no end to whatever she might want to learn in the years to come.

This hunger for learning made her finish reading an entire library many years ago. But until now, Khanser is still hungry, and she keeps getting hungrier.

PHOTO TAKEN FROM http://community.webshots.com/

(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

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.

(UPDATED) Revisit the writings on the wall

by Erika Tapalla

QUEZON CITY, Philippines -- When the sun has gone to bed, “Bonz” and his posse scurry about empty streets armed with nothing but spray cans, ready to mark their existence in their time and context on bland walls. Their work is lyrical and political, yet illegal when it defaces public or private property. Their work is a response to the world in which they move. Their work is called graffiti, street art, writings on the wall, or even vandalism. Whatever term it masquerades behind, the work of Bonz remains a catchy and powerful way for nonconformists to get noticed. But is there really more behind this risky endeavor? Does it deserve a second glance?

Bonz most certainly thinks so. He believes in expressing his art in the street to add color and meaning to our familiar surroundings. Although the graffiti movement has long been present in the global culture, Bonz believes it has yet to blossom in the country. It is only during election period when graffiti is actually noticed -- when obvious contempt for a candidate is depicted by adding horns to his head, blood dripping from his mouth, or simply spraying the entire face until it can no longer be recognized.

Together with his crew from SBA or “Samahang Batang Aerosol,” Bonz releases stress and emotion and spray the walls with the colors of the rainbow.

“Some of our work are preserved in playgrounds and basketball courts because it’s a production. The talent of a writer really comes out in the details of the piece,” says Bonz.

More often than not, Bonz’s creations are inclined toward the Filipino culture. Characters have Filipino attributes, or recreations of favorite cartoon characters that play a large role in a lot of Filipino children’s childhood. But MEGA Magazine’s Art Director and street artist Maia Reyes, who goes by the name “Supreme” on the desolate walls, believes in a higher form of graffiti.

“I took the art form to another level by executing my piece on permission walls. Personally, I think it’s the lack of respect toward other people’s property, which makes me prefer to do it legally. The important thing is I get to do whatever it is that I want and to actually share it with other people,” she says.

Supreme has had many exhibitions and has collaborated with other graffiti writers like Caliph8 and famed foreign artist Futura, to name a few. In these exhibits, the concept mostly revolves around the hip-hop/street/urban underground culture that is still budding in Manila. Using spray paint, acrylic and fat markers, they would scribble on the walls commissioned by top brands such as Lee, Nike, MTV and Sneaker Pimps.

“Graffiti will survive through time but I don’t think it reflects our culture. It only reflects our culture if the theme of the piece is related to the Philippines,” contends Reyes. “If anything, I want people to be aware of the graffiti culture, to celebrate the art and skill that goes behind it.”

Early man’s innate urge to write on surfaces grazed historical textbooks as cave drawings used to tell stories of our ancestors. After thousands of years, it seems this primeval itch to mark walls has not left us; but could these marks really tell a story? It seems graffiti offers a dose of hope and a gulp of freedom to many.

Revisit the writings on the wall

by Erika Tapalla

Art that is familiar yet overlooked; generated not for purchase, trade, or retail but shared in every city anyhow. It’s called graffiti, street art, writings on the wall, or even vandalism. But whatever term it masquerades behind, it remains catchy and a powerful way for nonconformists to get noticed. But is there really all there is to this risky endeavor? Does it deserve a second glance?

Using a spray paint as the primary tool for executing a piece, graffiti is illegal when it defaces public or private property. Nothing new there. But when the sun has gone to bed, artists scurry about to the thrill of creating a new piece to mark their existence in their time and context. Their work is lyrical and political. Their work is a response to the world they are moving in.

23-year-old “Bonz” believes in expressing his art in the street to add color and meaning to our familiar surroundings. Together with his crew from SBA or Samahang Batang Aerosol, they release stress and emotion and spray the walls with the colors of the rainbow. “Some of our works are preserved in playgrounds, basketball courts 'cause it’s a production. The talent of a writer really comes out in the details of the piece,” says Bonz.

Bonz’s creations are inclined and centrifugal to the Filipino culture. Characters have Filipino attributes, or recreations of favorite cartoon characters that play a large role in a lot of Filipino children’s childhood.

Although the graffiti movement has long been present in the global culture, Bonz believes it has yet to really cultivate in the country. It is only during election period when graffiti is actually noticed – when obvious contempt for a candidate is depicted by adding horns to his head, blood dripping from its mouth, or simply spraying the entire face until it can no longer be noticed. Just for kicks? Maybe not.

June 12 2007, TIME Magazine’s Stephanie Kirchner released an article entitled Remembering the Wall showcasing the 1.3 km East Side Gallery decorated with colorful murals illustrating Berlin’s history, culture and politics. October 2005, a photo essay entitled Art of the Street, street artists and their provocative works were featured to show more depth to a mere drawing. Even years ago, artist Shepard Fairey conceptualized the Obey Giant graffiti campaign aiming to “reawaken a sense of wonder about one’s environment; stimulate curiosity; and bring people to question both the campaign and their relationship with their surroundings,” and succeeding to revitalize one’s attention to detail.

Reawaken. Stimulate. Question -- this is what united people of different races to commune with each other through intense visuals. Graffiti was used to tell their story that surprisingly indirectly affects different people; and trigger action. Quite subdued and recognized for mere aesthetic purposes, graffiti offers a dose of hope and a gulp of freedom to many.

Look long. Look hard.