Jack The Scribbler

And it’s not just for crewmembers of the USS Enterprise.
It’s also for every budget-conscious entity looking for decent living space within the areas near, beside, and/or adjacent to the University of the Philippines.
The task might not be as difficult as resisting the Borg but the challenges remain formidable enough to shock a starship captain into attention.
To stake your claim on a clean, well-lighted place that has a fully-functioning flush toilet within the UP/Teachers’/Sikatuna Village area, one must have the charm of James Tiberius Kirk, the fortitude of Jean-Luc Picard, and the balls of Kathryn Janeway.
Wily landlords, devious property managers, and suspicious building superintendents are all out there, offering monthly rents that would spark outrage among the Ferengi.
High prices are, of course, part of the overall strategy, a gambit designed to separate the insane from the desperate, the tightwad locals from the moneyed Koreans, many of whom have taken over pocket neighborhoods within the area. But that’s another story.

If you’re an apartment hunter looking for long-term yet temporary refuge within the area, it can’t hurt to have a little good luck and good karma on your side.
However, depending on them too often may result in consequences that can severely distort your time, space, and rent continuum.
More than five years ago, my wife and I found – and immediately took – a one-floor, two-bedroom affair within Teachers’ Village.
Situated within a gated compound, the unit sported new dark green tiles and a fresh coat of paint that was on the creepy shade of yellow.
Rent was reasonable for two adults and a fat cat. The fact that the owner’s son’s family lived right beside us left us with no doubt that we made the right choice.
But that was until we received the electric bill a month after.
It was huge.
We entertained the notion that our cat may have taken liberties with our airconditioner since he wanted to replicate winter weather to which he was accustomed.
An electrician my in-laws hired to check on our cables – and our power consumption – disabused us of our cat’s guilt.
He discovered that the compound’s water pump was directly wired into our apartment’s electric connection.
Our meter went full throttle everytime anyone staying within the six-unit complex peed or pooped.
As soon as we collected and secured evidence – colored photo print outs of our electric meter – we stormed into the landlord’s office, demanding reduced rent and an explanation.
We got the former, never really having cared about the latter.
Although the dispute was settled amicably, my wife and I decided to leave after the six-month contract expired.
Only after two big moves within one year were we able to find a place that suited us perfectly.
But then again, I may be speaking too soon.
After all, we might decide to move again and venture into places where no one among the three of us has gone before.

They got lucky.
On Tuesday morning of August 4, Pricella O. Gealon and Elizabeth S. Tundag were able to book reservations and fly to Manila on the same day.
By 8:30 in the evening, the pair was already bound for the Philippine capital, somewhat pleased with themselves after getting good prices for their tickets.
But they weren’t exactly in the mood to relish their good luck.

Tundag (L) and Gealon (R) take a break after leaving the queue to view Cory Aquino’s remains during the last day of her wake.

The pair – volunteers of the National Movement for Free Elections (Namfrel) in Cebu during the 1986 snap elections – looked forward to paying their last respects to the late president Corazon C. Aquino.
“She was my idol,” Tundag told GMANews.TV during the wee hours of Wednesday in Manila. “She set out to do what she promised to do when she became president.”
An hour after take-off, Gealon and Tundag were already at the Ninoy Aquino airport, waiting for a taxi to bring them to the Manila Cathedral.
After a short stop at a nearby apostolate office – where they dropped off their overnight bags — they were able to join thousands who lined up to get a glimpse of the late president during the last day of her wake.
But the flight, the traffic, and the long wait during their departure and arrival took their toll.
At about one in the morning, after enduring cold winds and intermittent rainshowers, the two women decided to leave the queue.
No one could exactly blame them.
They were wet, exhausted, and were nowhere near the cathedral entrance.
At that time, the queue snaked around the block where the church stood, extending anywhere between three to five kilometers from the entrance, depending on various estimates.
The line even became longer at two in the morning, reaching the back of the Bureau of Immigration (BI) building, which was still at a distance from the cathedral.
By this time, both Gealon and Tundag were already seeking refuge at the Palacio del Gobernador, a nearby building.
While sitting at the building’s lobby steps, they tried various strategies to stay up the whole night, if only to keep vigil during the last day of Tita Cory’s wake.
Besides watching the continuous stream of people who stayed in line with a mix of envy and amusement, the two women also listened to stories exchanged between the building’s security guard and various other visitors.
There was a teacher who complained about the snooty family ahead of her in line. “I even spoke to them in English,” she said.
Or the middle-aged woman who was torn between heading back home on her own since she lost her companions (and, for some reason, her cellphone signal).
For their part, Gealon and Tundag swapped stories during the time they accompanied Cory Aquino in her presidential campaign in Cebu more than 20 years ago.
“When I saw her for the first time, I immediately got the impression that she was very close to God,” she said.
And even though they failed to get their last look at Cory, they will never forget the day they decided to go on a sudden, unplanned trip to Manila one gloomy day in August.
“We’ve already seen her in person,” they said. “It’s enough that we came over to attend her burial and pray for her.”
(Written for the blog section of GMANews.TV)

Engkwentro is Filipino film noir and social commentary rolled into one.
But instead of hard-drinking gumshoes and peroxide blondes, the film features two brothers, Richard (Felix Roco), a drug-dealing gang leader on the run from a vigilante death squad, and Raymond (Daniel Medrana), a truant schoolboy turned neophyte of a rival gang.
With his life at risk, Richard is determined to join his mother in Manila and perhaps even stay there for a few months, if only to cool off.
While plying his drug route – a move to raise cash for his trip – Richard encounters Raymond and learns that he has joined the Batang Dilim (Kids of the Dark), instead of going to school.
As part of his initiation, Raymond is instructed by the gang leader, Tomas (Zyrus Desamparado) to fetch a gun, which Richard later confiscates and returns to its previous owner for a price.
Tension mounts between the two gang leaders, eventually forcing Raymond to make a choice between his new master or his brother.
These complications end up foiling Richard’s plans, emphasizing the hopelessness, even the inability, of those who seek to leave the slums for arguably better lives.

A downscaled poster of Engkwentro as found in its multiply site. To visit said site, please click on pic.

With its quick narrative pace, Engkwentro is able to dive right into its characters’ motivations and moral ambiguities, doing away with the easy, formulaic dichotomies between good and evil, victims and suspects, masters and slaves.
To complement this steely realism, Engkwentro offers unflattering portrayals of dingy alleys and clapboard shacks located in a Davao City slum, the movie’s setting. The images are so sharp and biting you could almost smell the stench of squalor.
But at the same time, Engkwentro has no qualms about baring its political agenda.
Barely a minute or two into the production, on-screen text about the prevalence of extra-judicial murders in the country give viewers a foretaste of what to expect.
Unlike other productions that serve generous helpings of propaganda, Engkwentro manages to stay on message by focusing on elements that help move the story along.
Take the opening sequence, which is already worth more than the price of the ticket.
With the screen rendered pitch black, viewers hear someone gasping for breath. Seconds later, through flickers of light, Richard is seen running for his life.
Similar chase scenes would later be repeated, emphasizing that everyone who is anyone in the film is more or less on the run from someone – cruel cops and crooked creditors, jilted suitors and jaded friends, envious enemies and evil parents.
Meanwhile, providing an auditory backdrop to the whole film is the city mayor’s disembodied voice from a radio broadcast.
Although he continues to deny involvement in the extrajudicial murders of known criminals, the mayor – played by Celso Ad. Castillo – implicitly supports the death squad’s activities.
Unfortunately, the mayor’s spiel is too strong and too confident to be taken seriously, turning his character into a caricature.
But this inconsistency fails to distract from the overall qualities of the movie, which is a winner.
Engkwentro is dirty, gritty, and real, however anyone looks at it.
It is just about the right film to show in a country that could use a little shock therapy to jolt it back to its senses.

———————

Engkwentro is directed by Pepe Diokno