#writingactivity

ACTIVITY 4 WRITE IT OUT✍️

Let's watch the video 📹 together 👥

Then, in your opinion, what is the most convenient weather 🌤️❄️🌧️of your choice ? Construct a short paragraph about 10 sentences of the weather of your choice.

Elaborate it with reasons in the space provided in the module booklet on page 16.

Remember your are only provided 15 minutes ⌛ to complete this activity.

If you have any questions or difficulties, do ask the teachers👩‍🏫. Teachers will definitely help you.

The Manobo-Lapaknon community in Butuan City of Agusan del Norte, as mentioned by Noreen Domingo in her exhibit and book launch entitled Pagsulang believes that “land must not be owned by just one person, but should be distributed evenly so everyone, regardless of rank or social class, can benefit from it.” As the community continues to persist with this belief, the Manobo-Lapaknon peoples are driven to defend their land in which their peoples have lived throughout for centuries from people who aspire to take it from them. They remain motivated to defend their ancestral land despite the lack of support from the Philippine government.

Issues about the loss of land and lack of human rights for indigenous people have been brought to light and discussed, particularly about the redistribution of ancestral land. Nevertheless, it seems to me that the dispute of whether ancestral lands do belong to the indigenous community living there or not and can be redistributed by the government remains an issue. Pagsulang, an exhibit and book launch by Noreen Domingo in the Philippine High School for the Arts, aimed to encourage discussions about the indigenous people’s situation, particularly in her school. The exhibit, as mentioned by Ms. Domingo who is a Butuanon, was also her first encounter with the Manobo-Lapaknon people, making her immersion in the community special and closer to home.

Being able to attend an exhibit wherein each booth is explained by the individual who took and experienced what was being displayed was, as far as I can recall, unique for me, as most of the exhibits I have attended are told by those who only have studied about the contents and stories of what was displayed. However, I must admit that I had little or no knowledge about the issues regarding the loss of land and lack of human rights for the indigenous people. I barely scratch the surface of the issue. This may be partly the reason why I also have no knowledge of the Manobo-Lapaknon community, as I do not attempt to research any indigenous communities. Simply, it is not in my fields of interest. Which is why, as we rode the bus that would take us to the venue of Pagsulang – Philippine High School for the Arts – I could not feel the excitement that my classmates were experiencing. Not even a small buzz of joy or anticipation. Even the scenery – tall trees looming over us, protecting us from the glare of the sun; the long steep winding road that had too many turns for me to count, could not excite me. I had experienced it multiple times, enough for me to lose the thrill of passing through that mountain.

Arriving at Philippine High School for the Arts was different. Although I had been there before, the beauty of the school still amazes me. The entire school seemed like a resort, with its houses designed to look like nipa huts, as if it were situated by a beach. Except, this particular resort was situated in the mountain Mt. Makiling and the houses were modern and mainly made of cement rather than nipa. It was refreshing. As we passed by the dormitories, I had my head craned towards the windows as my eyes were trying to take in all that they can of the view.

One of the highlights of going to Philippine High School for the Arts is that even if its summer time, you will not find yourself sweating from the heat. If it’s not cold in PHSA, it’s cool—both literally and figuratively. It was cool when we stepped out of the bus.

The exhibit was equally so. Entering one of the “modernized” nipa huts, we found ourselves in an air-conditioned room with its walls painted in alternating colors of red and white—colors of the Manobo-Lapaknon community. A laptop was on a table at one end of the room and right across it, a television playing a video, which Ms. Domingo explained was a clip of one of the rituals of the Manobo-Lapaknon community. Walls painted red were adorned with pictures and items from the indigenous community while the white walls had paintings, depicting stories told to Ms. Domingo by members of the Manobo-Lapaknon. I was very much intrigued as I heard and read the stories Ms. Domingo had shared.

 At the end of the exhibit, we found ourselves in front of a display where letters from the Manobo-Lapaknon, translated by Ms. Domingo, were pinned. If interested, we may read and respond to the letters by writing our own message. I was able to read the letter from Marilyn Asaytona Cutar, asking us not to be afraid of indigenous people as they are, like us, Filipino people too. I could not have agreed more, and so I wrote back to her with my sentiments.

The stall, with the smoke from the grilled barbeque wafting through the air, attracted both students and teachers alike (mainly from UP Rural High School) to buy the products displayed – barbeque, isaw, dugo, hotdog, and many more. Some come to buy the pineapple juice offered rather than the food, but I think it all ends the same way – another mouth fed, another hungry stomach satiated, and a family earning their keep.

When the time was reaching 8:25 PM, the stall slowly started to lose customers and that was when the opportunity to interview the owner of the stall appeared - an opportunity that will not be lost, and so the interview was conducted.

 Meal Ticket

Felix, the owner of the stall, shared that he was the breadwinner of a family of three. He and his wife were blessed with their daughter Maureen who helps manage the stall by being in-charge of receiving the payments and giving out change. In a rather hushed voice, Felix had also shared that their daughter, for the briefest moment, became an older sister. It was short-lived since upon birth, the younger sibling had died.

Prior to creating his food stall, Felix was gardener-slash-handyman in Jubileeville: “cutting weeds and such,” as he had described. He, however, had an abusive and rude amo – spouting curse words directed at Felix, and even berating and belittling him. As a father and a family man looking for a way to provide for his family, he did his best to prevent the weeds – bad thoughts and negative emotions - from growing in himself. He needed to feed his family. After a while, Felix had come to realize that one must pull out the weeds to be able to grow a beautiful and healthy garden, so he decided to save enough money to buy a bicycle.

 Souped Up

After being able to purchase a bicycle, Felix fully quit his job. He turned his bicycle into a portable food stall through modifying the bike by installing a motor he bought from a friend and added a grill and counter for the food. The family divided the workload so that Felix’s daughter would be able to help him run the food stall on weekends such as this. Thus, he started his food stall business and from then on, that was what supported his family.

 Sell Like Hot Cakes

Felix’s food stall had gained popularity after he had started selling in areas near their house, so he had bought and made another food stall. This, on the other hand, sold items such as fish ball, kikiam, squid balls, kwek-kwek, and other snacks. Having two food stalls, Felix had decided to hire a dark-skinned woman to help his wife to operate the new food stall, while Felix stationed at the older one. Maureen, their daughter, goes to school during weekdays and she is now in her sixth year of elementary.

Due to the increasing demand for his food stall as a snack after classes had ended and for people heading home, Felix had decided to get all the necessary documents for his food stalls such as a DTI-BNRS Permit. He had also decided to station his food stalls near UP Rural High School for two reasons – the first being that it was near their home, making it a short drive, and the second is that a lot of his customers are from the high school if not the people living nearby.

 Bringing Home the Bacon

Felix, when asked what he felt about his current job, stated that he was happy. He stated that if he had not decided to save up for a bicycle then turned it into a food stall; he would experience abuse from his amo for weeks on end just to be able to feed his family. However, Felix admitted that standing in front of and exposing himself to too much heat and smoke was tiring, but having their daughter as their motivation to work, he tries not to think of the fatigue. He pushes through. By being able to stay motivated despite the struggles he had and has to endure, Felix is able to provide for his family and support their daughter in her studies.

It’s been nearly four years since I, Mithali, and Dylan had a conversation. Mithali and I greet each other on Facebook occasionally, whenever there are posts that ask us to tag or message people who had significantly affected our lives. Dylan, on the other hand, has not communicated with me since our last conversation. We were not friends on any other social networking sites other than the writing blog that connected the three of us. He had already deactivated his account on that site. Mithali and I still had our profiles, but we hardly use them anymore. I would like to wholeheartedly believe that the reason why we don’t communicate on that site anymore is because we were too caught up in our personal lives (and mainly used Facebook) that we barely had time to write fiction anymore or open our accounts. If that were really the reason, I guess I am partly glad since that seems to be the case for most people when they grow up, or so I am told. However, there’s this nagging feeling in the back of my mind that it was not just that. Although it’s not as loud as most of the other memories that plague me at night, its screams echo through my mind and bounces off its walls. My heart begins to pound and I feel nervous; cold from the small waves of regret that appear. I can’t push the feeling aside; therefore, I remember.

Quotev.com; the site where I had met two of my three closest friends. I cannot remember how I came upon QuoteV – the year was 2012 – but I remember I published and read fanfiction on that site; even collaborated with certain authors. I wrote journals. I made quizzes. I made polls that were well known throughout QuoteV. I also edited and reviewed other writer’s works. I even had a small blog where I posted my thoughts on a day-to-day basis. I met Mithali, an Indian student who is aspiring to become a lawyer, when she wrote me an encouraging comment on one of my posts. She also offered to listen to my problems; I took up her offer. After that conversation, we frequently found ourselves having many conversations about anything and everything – from what we ate for breakfast up to our family problems and health conditions, and even the thoughts that make us lose our self-worth for brief moments. To say the least, Mithali was a very positive person despite her struggles, even when she was hospitalized due to a sudden increase in her heart rate. I can’t recall what the name of her condition was but I recall the conversations we have had while she was in the hospital fighting to get better and I lying down comfortable in my room at 3AM. She also liked to socialize, and that is how she met Dylan.

I don’t remember how they specifically met or how I first talked to Dylan, but I do remember Mithali introducing me to him. He was one-third Filipino, Spanish, and Australian; he lived in the land down under. He had a younger brother and an older sister. He and his family were also religious. We also became good friends. After a while, both of them messaged me in our group chat and said that they were dating. I remember feeling very happy for the both of them – they really were a good match. Dylan was also good at conversing with people, just as Mithali was. Out of the three of us, I was the worst at socializing, though it didn’t stop them from making me join their “conversation parties” with other people. I got through them fine and not once did I feel left out. I never felt that I was a third wheel, which is why I cherish them very much because it was the first time I had felt like I was actually a part of a circle of friends. Even up until now, I have never second-guessed that I was an important member of the group. Which is why, when Mithali told us that she wouldn’t be online on QuoteV for a week due to a trip, Dylan and I were not awkward with each other and could freely talk. I, however, didn’t not anticipate our conversation.

Sometime in the middle of the week, a message from Dylan appeared asking a favor from me – he wanted me to tell Mithali that he would be leaving. He explained to me why he had made that sudden decision, and on top of that, Mithali was not around to hear it first from him. That was the first time I had felt helpless. I couldn’t convince Dylan to leave after Mithali had returned. When I woke up one day, I had a message from Mithali asking me what was going on. Dylan had at least left her a message. Dylan’s younger brother had the same heart condition as Mithali. When they were playing Frisbee, Dylan’s brother panicked due to a Frisbee throw and his heart rate spiked and he was brought to the hospital. His brother almost died. On top of this, Dylan’s parents didn’t approve of his and Mithali’s relationship. To cope and be able to think about things, Dylan left QuoteV and we lost communication with him. He didn’t deactivate his account, so we often checked if there were signs that he had been online. There were not any for a while.

Not until us, or rather, I first received the notification from his account. Dylan had left a message. It, however, turned out to be one of Dylan’s close friends. I thought that we were finally going to get a slice of good news regarding Dylan. Maybe even a simple update on how he was doing or if it really was his final decision to leave. Instead, what we got was that he attempted to commit suicide. He took one too many pills. He was. . . comatose. The sense of helplessness I felt at that moment was not because I had failed to do something, but rather because I literally can’t do anything about it.

Mithali, upon finding out what had happened, spiraled into a sort of depression. It was a third strike; I had felt helpless once again. Despite all the logical reasoning and attempts to comfort her by engaging in different conversations, I could not convince her that things will turn out fine and that Dylan would eventually be okay. Mithali ended up being hospitalized too [for her heart condition].

I wasn’t particularly enthusiastic about attending Wilfredo Pascual’s talk regarding Creative Non-Fiction. This is because most of the writing seminars that I have attended do not offer anything new regarding how to write and what it means to write that specific genre. Needless to say, I don’t regret attending Wilfredo Pascual’s talk. I left the event feeling fulfilled and satisfied.

Noreen Domingo’s exhibit also did not disappoint. Honestly, I wasn’t excited primarily because of the aspect of attending an exhibit. I was excited because I’d be able to go to Philippine High School for the Arts once again. However, upon arriving and hearing the stories she had to share about a culture that I have not witnessed and/or experienced, my interest was immediately piqued, and I read and listened.