PUGAD BABOY DOES JUDAY

What happened when I dropped by delfindjmontano.blogspot.com

It has been a few months now since Australian Brian Gorell started exposing on his now widely known blog the nooks and crannies of Manila’s high society, especially those part of the Gucci Gang, which his ex-lover DJ Montano is a member of. I’m not about to indulge myself in a blow-by-blow account of the events that have transpired in Brian’s blog and his life in the past few months. I know you know already, but if you don’t, all I can say (or ask) is “Where in the world have you been?”

There have been a few times ever since when I thought of writing of delfindjmontano.blogspot.com here in cantblamextin.blogspot.com, but I never came to it. It seemed to me that every single person is already writing about it and reading most of these articles, blogs, and other materials have exhausted me. I felt that everything has already been said. I really didn’t find it appealing anymore to put in my own two cents.

I have since been an avid reader of Brian’s blog. You know me. Well, if you don’t, you must know, then, that I do love a good intrigue or two. And I do hate thieves-liars-posers like DJ Montano. From the beginning, I have been appalled by the people who have caused Brian’s sufferings and hardships. Really, I want these devils to die a slow death…but of course, DJ should pay up his hefty debt, first, or have one of his pseudo socialite-slash-BFFs pay it for him.

I must admit, though, that it has sometimes been difficult for me to understand some of his posts. His blog reeks of anger, frustration, and, I guess, revenge as well because of the trickery that was DJ Montano and his swindling ways. But sometimes, I think that the words he chooses to express these emotions with are inappropriate already. One moment, some idiot (DJ) unlawfully takes the property of another. The next moment, a crime, a wrongdoing, or an unorthodox characteristic is, all of a sudden, imputed not just to the selfish half-wits that did wrong to Brian, but also to the whole Philippine nation.

xtin said...
good thing i chanced upon your blog again, with your comments section up and running, because i've been wanting to say something.

although i share your sentiments, that you were really f*cked up by dj montano--stealing money and other property from you--i do not appreciate how you often describe the philippines and us filipinos.

how could you even muster enough, i don't know, courage (?) to say that you love the philippines and the filipinos when you often speak of us in a dark tone? so condescendingly and so sweeping, brian?

how can you say that you love the Philippines when you call us a THIRD WORLD country, not in an objective critique, but in more of an insulting manner?

how can you say that you love the Philippines and its "amazing" vacation spots when all you've virtually ever been to is BORA?

how can you say that you love filipinos when you call us thieves and murderers, and portray us as if we are ALL money-grubbing half-wits and criminals of creatures.?

how can you say that you love filipinos when you call us freeloaders, liars, and social climbers in such a sweeping manner, even though only a FEW people ever did wrong to you? people YOU chose to trust... people who belonged to a society YOU once enjoyed and thrived in. you were once one of them, brian. whatever words you speak, there's no denying that YOU WERE one of them. You, DJ, Celine, Tina, and other cohorts were part of this society you’ve continuously described and bashed. But not ALL Filipinos were and are part of this society you speak of.

I don’t understand your irony, brian. You say you love our country and its people, but you put us in such a bad light in SOME (if not MOST) of your blogs. I don’t appreciate how you generalize everyone here when all your comments only proceed from less than a year’s experiences you have supposed to have had in INTERCON and BORA. As much as I feel for your deteriorating health and financial distress, I still think that you can’t bash the FILIPINO PEOPLE as if you KNOW US and as if you lived in OUR COUNTRY for a significant amount of time. You still lack perspective, mate.

If you’re pissed, limit your sentiments to the people who did hurt you. Never ever generalize. Don’t be fallacious, brian. You’re way too smart for that.

Notice that I came here not to do grammar and spell checks to your blog entries. I just hope you’d also focus on the meaning of what I’ve said rather than the form I chose to put it in.

All of that being said, I still do want to say that I sincerely wish you well. I’m praying for your safety and peace of mind. Good luck in your endeavors, brian!

May 26, 2008 1:24 PM

I posted this and waited for it to be approved by Brian. So just this morning, I checked back and found my comment visible to everyone (as it was duly approved by the owner of the blog). Brian even had a brand spanking new post entitled “Quack!” (http://delfindjmontano.blogspot.com/2008/05/quack.html) addressed to his haters, apparently drawn in by his previous post “Murdered in the Philippines” (http://delfindjmontano.blogspot.com/2008/05/another-australian-murdered-in.html), to which my above quoted comment was directed at. Did Brian consider me a hater because of my comment? Hopefully not. I tried really hard to be as objective and constructive as I could have been. Besides, even if I did sound like a hater, I really am not. I just was not appreciative of some of the things he said.

I was about to close the browser window and get on with my day when I decided to look at the other comments. I found this:

Anonymous said...
To xtin...

I would like to know what part of the Philippines you lived in. The way you speak sounded like you live in a perfect world. Please do not try to tell us that you have never been wronged by anyone amongst your race. That is hard to believe. I am a pure Filipino and know what is like to be fooled and scammed, not only by people I trusted but everyone surrounding me. The government, the rich, the poor, family and friends are just all the same when it comes to money. They do whatever it takes to get what others have.

I am one of many Filipinos overseas that are still trying to help the country despite of bad experiences I've had while living in the Philippines. This is because somehow I still have the love and hope for the country. I understand where Brian is coming from when he said, "he love the Filipino and the Philippines" but at the same time he sees the worse of it. This is the problem of the Filipino mentality, you think when you said you love someone or something you can put aside everything bad about that person and go on your merry ways. This is the reason why a person/country is not moving on to better things because we ignore what we need to fix.

More power to you Brian…Keep it coming!

Your Supporter from Texas USA,
Grace
May 27, 2008 3:29 AM

The first moment I read this post, which is obviously directed at me (thanks to the very blatant salutation), I was amused. I took this one opportunity to react in the blog and I instantly gain a detractor.

Now, I shall take my time to extend what I feel to Grace and Brian, here in my own blog. Lest someone accuses me of using delfindjmontano.blogspot.com, someone else’s blog, to air out MY CONCERNS.

Dear Grace from TEXAS, USA,

Thanks for taking time to react to what I said.

I “lived” (sic) in Parañaque, Philippines. I grew up here. It has been 25 years. I have since graduated from a Philippine University, obtained a Philippine Professional License, and worked for a Philippine firm.

My experiences and education, as worthless as they may seem to you, have taught and made me aware that this is a perfectly IMPERFECT world. Indeed, I was “wronged” by people of the same race as I am. I admit to walk the same soil as thieves and liars, but I will never hate the whole society and have one rotten citizen ruin it for everyone. As when I am robbed by own of my neighbors. It will never mean that my WHOLE NEIGHBORHOOD will rob me just because one of my own neighbors actually did rob me. I also know “what is” (sic) like to be scammed by the people whom I “trusted” (sic).

As far as we are the same in these matters, there are bound to be disparities between our characteristics.

As opposed to your way of helping the Philippines by working overseas, I CHOSE TO STAY HERE in our country. To work and expand my career. HERE. “Despite of” (sic) my bad experiences, as miniscule and mundane as they may seem. I do not support brain drain that is why I am here where I am at. It was a choice to stay in and work for the country that gave me a home and provided me with an education, and have its OWN society, not a foreign nation, reap the fruits of its investment it had devoted in me. I believe that in my own little and silly way, I will be able to help improve our country. If that sounds irrationally idealistic to you, then there is absolutely nothing I could do about that.

I do understand where Brian is coming from. I just do not understand his irony in saying that "he love the Filipino and the Philippines" (sic) but at the same time he talks, albeit in a very subtle way, so condescendingly of the country he oh so loves. There is a huge difference between simply SEEING the worse of it and being condescending about it. As much as I also support his cause, only to the point where he wants his money back, I cannot support political incorrectness. If DJ Montano is a thief, then he alone should be persecuted for it. If an Aussie was murdered by a Filipino, it does not mean that all Aussies that go to the Philippines will be murdered. I am no patriot, but hey, it sure does affect me when someone comes up with a nasty slur about Filipinos and the Philippines. Not only a thin line but a distinct border exists between constructive criticism and plain indiscriminate bashing. It is only the former, never the latter, that we FILIPINOS should pay attention to and work on.

I am not perfect neither is the “world” I live in. It does show in my “grammatical lapsing” (sic). But I think I am allowed idealism and hope. I am lacking of it, most of the time, but this time around, I am full of it.


Dear Brian,

I am no hater. As I have said, I am, in fact, an avid reader of your blog. I commented on your post (and many others that you have published) because I did not appreciate its condescending undertone. I never called you a racist, because I do not believe that you are. You are pissed. That I know. The sweeping statements and the hasty generalizations that your entries DO contain, those I do not appreciate.

You said in “Quack” that Filipinos get riled up with just one negative comment thrown our way. Well frankly, who won’t? Especially when it talks of murderers, swindlers, liars, and other shameless what-nots in the same sentence where the words “FILIPINOS” and the “PHILIPPINES” appear? It does not take a genius to connect the dots.

It is like the times when people comment on the things you say because of your sexual orientation or your supposed illness. You do get mad at those moments, right? Well, so do we.

I am all for you writing anything in your blog, come what may, whatever you feel like writing about. After all, it IS your blog. You have the freedom and I am in no position to stifle that freedom. But if I find anything in your block that I do not appreciate, I should also be given such liberty to express what I feel. That is what the “comments” portion is for, after all.

We are a good people. We are rough around the edges, but we are a good people, nonetheless. I know you know that. It’s just that, sometimes, you do not sound like you do.

Despite that, I do support your original cause in your attempts in getting your life savings back. I do hope you get your money back. I will pray for your good health and even better days for you.

xtin

BEGGING FOR ALMS: A TRAGEDY OF OUR CULTURE

A batang pulubi comes up to me asking for alms, saying, in a holier-than-the-pope manner, “Ate, pahingi lang po ng pambiling tinapay…” He flashes me those glassy eyes, which look like they’re about to burst into tears. In my mind, I give him an “A+” for the effort. Then, I don’t think twice of giving the kid a hostile look and shooing him away with it.

It’s a uniqueness I am not actually proud of, but do admit that, unlike most of us, I don’t take pity on these so-called deprived kids. Reason is, I know that these mongrels are only nice and angelic for the time being when they are asking for money. Otherwise, they’ll be running around trashing some place, cussing, or simply being the uncouth and ungrateful little half-wits they have become.

Call it a hasty generalization if you want. Call me ruthless, even. But I stand by what I have said. These kids…I will not have myself give an impression that begging is a lucrative endeavor. I’d rather shoot them down with hostility and nastiness than have them think that they could just beg to make a living. I’d understand if these little ones are old, frail, gray, and unable to give much physical effort. But they are not. They haven’t even peaked, for heaven’s sake. I am not about to give them this warped idea that they don’t need to go to school because they could simply ask people for money and get by.

But, who could blame them, right?

Our present-day society promotes a culture of beggars and free-loaders, from everyday people giving loose change to street beggars to television networks organizing game shows with hefty prizes at stake.

To me, giving these street children money is teaching them the wrong thing about the value of money. Having these game shows, again, to me, is a slice of the same cake.

I frequently watch these shows. The contestants are always (not even almost always) people who are poor and evidently financially distressed. Most of them do win as much as a million Pesos in one appearance. These poor people think that they are simply cashing in a fortune without anything personal at stake. But when I look at these shows more closely, I see that the contestants win big prizes, yes—but generally at their own expense.

They are made to look like idiots. They are made to sing. To dance. To cry and wallow in their despair. And other what nots. They are laughed at as they provide cheap entertainment to viewers like me. I find all of it hilarious really, but at some point I get the idea that they are only being the puppets that they seem to be just because they want to win. For whatever amount of money, be it cellphone load or a suitcase full of bills, these poor people go to the game studio ready to bear it all. I’m thinking that they merely are naïve of how silly they look on TV or just flat-out don’t care. Maybe because they have nothing more to lose but everything to gain? Desperate for salvation from the slums of poverty and hopelessness? Yes, that is it.

This is where our culture of beggars has come today. It has become so “profitable” that even TV networks are joining in. The game shows are the new catalysts of the new generation of pulubis. They give out prizes in the guise of helping, pro bono, these financially-deprived individuals. Whereas, they actually make huge corporate profits by capitalizing on these people’s nothing-to-lose mentality and sheer desperation.

Ang mga pulubing ito…they get inspired of the stories of the winning contestants in these game shows that they immediately want to try their own luck. They know nothing of what they are, in truth, risking—their integrity, image, and, yes, maybe even their life.

Now, hold on…are any of you saying that I am exaggerating? Christine, no one has died while playing these harmless game shows?

“Eat sh*t,” I say.

So how and why did 71 people die (800+ injured) at the Ultra that day over two years ago? Were there any rampaging beasts chasing them down that slope, causing them to stampede over themselves?

The Wowowee Ultra tragedy on February 4, 2006: The people were there as early as a few days before the actual show. They all were living those few days, not on food, but on the gleaming ray of light at the end of their poverty tunnel. In their minds, a few more days of empty stomachs were nothing. After all, everyone will indeed end up as winners. (http://www.pcij.org/i-report/6/wowowee.html) That when they go home, they’d have enough money to live by a few more measly days. But that fateful morning, there were no winners. They were all losers. And there were 71 grand losers.

As much as we want to think that no one told them to come to Ultra that day, no one forced them, that they came in flocks, and they all did at their own will, it is not as simple as that. These beggars think the way they think—that they have nothing to lose and that they’re individuals left with hopelessness and desperation—mainly because we made them that way.

Our culture feeds on their desperation instead of feeding their hungry mouths with nutrition and filling their uneducated minds with useful knowledge. By giving them more freebies of loose change and grand cash prizes, we teach them that it is perfectly okay to feel hopeless and use their own desperation to get an easy buck or two.

A culture of beggars and free-loaders. To my mind, it is downright disappointing that it has come to this. So however pitiful-looking a batang pulubi coming up to me is, I will remain unimpressed. I will not encourage a culture that feeds on their unknowing state of mind. Will you?

HERO OR ZERO?

(Author's note: the upside of working overtime in the office is that i get some lull time, when i find myself caught up in audit. i get a chance to unblock my writer's block ;)

I watched some show a month ago. It described Filipinos as a culture and a people always in need of a hero. Why? Well, I’ll just take this opportunity to allow my overly unqualified self to psychologize this.

We are a persecuted people. We are the underdogs in every race we enter into. We are all Marimars and everyone else is our very own Angelika. This is why we always need a hero. Someone to save us from suffering. Someone to look up to. Someone to thank after the storm has died down.

A recent storm in our lives has not exactly died down, but our society is apparently in the midst of a hero most of us are grateful for.

Rodolfo “Jun” Lozada. The former president of the Philippine Forest Corporation. The “lowly”, Chinese immigrant forced into the limelight of the ZTE scandal. A man who testified against a number of public officials regarding their corrupt ways, including his own, and gave the whole nation a dose of a medication it just so needed—the truth. For that, he is being regarded the modern-day hero.

Psychology now aside, I now question not the credibility of his person as a witness, but his newly-attained celebrity-slash-hero status. I could see that he is now on a pedestal built by our being, again, a society thirsty for truth, salvation, and a clichéd hero. What I could not see and understand, however, is why, in God’s holy name, we put him up there. Way up there.

It all started when he was repeatedly asked to attend the Senate hearings on the ZTE probe and when he never seemed to heed to the Senators’ requests. He never came to the hearings. Someone said he was out of the country. Probably in the UK or something to that effect. He was threatened with an arrest.

Finally, rumors surfaced that he was coming back to accede to the Senate’s request. But when he arrived in the airport that day, he never came out. Everyone came looking for this guy. More rumors came up, of him being kidnapped and sorts. He popped up the next day already in the care of the La Salle brothers.

He graced the Senate hearing with his presence, at last. Not to mention making his most awaited appearance with the La Salle brothers and (RVM) nuns in tow.

Since then, he has been engaged in what I call a nationwide “concert tour”. Like some rock band, he goes around cities, provinces, and schools to impart his little known experiences as a Senate witness to the people who apparently still want to know more.

Frankly, I am sick of his act. No, I’m not saying that he is a grand liar. I am just tired of him basking in fame as if he really is a hero. He does not deserve my admiration, and really, anyone else’s for that matter.

I know of a hero as someone who did something great. In a grand scheme of things, a hero does something out of the ordinary to effect some good. By those simple criteria, Jun Lozada, does not impress me.

Just when did the tables turn? How has something that is supposed to be a “given” like telling the truth become so…hero-like? In this day and age, I understand, the truth has become so rare, that anyone found telling it is regarded as amazing. However, I believe that it has become so overrated, especially when it is told in such a grand manner… (cue clips from the ZTE hearings with Mr. Lozada bursting to tears one moment after the other)


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We should remember that corruption is a crime of complete deception and dishonesty. And Jun Lozada was really once part of the deception. Him “outing” himself and the rest of the ZTE players should not be considered heroic. It was his obligation to the country, a country that has been plagued decade after decade (after decade) with graft and corruption, to tell the freakin’ truth for it is what we have always deserved. We are all expected to be honest and anyone found to be just that should be thanked, I guess, but not put up a pedestal. I know that we are part of a system that rewards perpetrators who have suddenly had an attack of conscience. To me, that is just a pity. If someone has done wrong, he should be punished. If he subsequently decides to be honest about it, well and good, but what wrong he had done in the first place should never be decriminalized. Telling the truth is merely an obligation these perpetrators, just like Jun Lozada, had to fulfill, plain and simple. The truth is always fascinating, but it is not out of the ordinary, much more heroic. No medals or certificates should be given out to people who choose to do something so pedestrian.

I would like take this opportunity, though, to recognize the efforts of Mr. Lozada. Thank you for telling the truth. Thank you for shedding us some light on a long-running political myth. If you did anything heroic, it would not be telling the simple truth. It would be going out of your comfort zone, even risking the normalcy of your family’s life and safety. That is admirable, dear sir. Apart from that, I remain unimpressed. You’re still no hero to me, unfortunately.

All this has been disappointing: truth becoming so rare, corruption being more common, and the constant cycle of having whistleblowers as our heroes. We do not need this type of hoopla to find our heroes. In fact, we do not need heroes to save us. We should keep in mind that there could be greatness in everything we do, however mundane that thing is. We could be our own hero. Because as much as stories of others inspire us, it will always be us who can solve our problems and get ourselves out of persecution.

DEATH IN THE (BROTHER)HOOD

Never have I witnessed a person turn purple and die right in front of me. I am wondering, though, if my seatmate in class has. He is a Sigma Rhoan, you see, and I am restraining myself from asking him all these floating questions I have in my head.

Sigma Rho is a UP Law-based fraternity. Sigma Rho alumni, if I remember correctly, include Senators Edgardo Angara, Juan Ponce Enrile, and Jovito Salonga, my most admired political personality. Their tambayan was by the UP Law parking lot. It is the fraternity my seatmate is a member of. My knowledge of the organization, I am afraid, stops there. I have no idea of their activities or their “track record”, so to speak. I do not know what brand of brotherhood they have with each other, let alone, how they treat people outside their brotherhood—and those who wish to be part of it.

Apparently, CA was one of those in line to join Sigma Rho. But before he could actually be called one of the brothers, he went to his final initiation rites two weeks ago and never came out of it alive.

CA, or Cris Anthony Mendez as he has more popularly become, was a fourth-year UP Public Administration student. He was a Student Council member. He was a son and a big brother. CA was all these before his life was put to an untimely end that weekend. His death resulted from countless physical traumas he suffered all over his body—hits and blows apparently from paddles during the hazing that “never” took place, in some undisclosed location, on a rite of passage that should not have happened or, at least, should not have gone wrong.

CA went about that weekend thinking that it would be the last night of his series of rites of passage for the fraternity. I am guessing he never really thought it would be his last night—ever. And that he would ever become another Alex Icasiano and Lenny Villa.

His unresponsive body was reportedly brought by a certain Dr. Cruz to Veterans Memorial that night. The hospital’s security guard, in a sworn statement, said that he saw Dr. Cruz, a resident doctor of Veterans, and his son, Miko, that night. The father-and-son tandem admitted CA’s body. The guard also noticed that the two were engaged in seemingly agitated and restless conversations between themselves. After a while, more vehicles came and, suddenly, the hospital grounds was populated by, at least, twenty more people—twenty men.

All these men left together. One live body less, that is. Deserted and abandoned by the men that brought it there, CA’s body was claimed by his mother the next day.

CA has since been buried. Rallies and vigils have taken place in his memory. Many things have happened in the three weeks since his death. So much has surfaced with which everyone has frenzied over. So much, that is, except the truth. Everyone has aired their minds, except the Sigma Rho brothers from which CA was hoping to be one of.

I say all these with apparent uncertainty. My facts could definitely be proven wrong. But there is a white elephant in the room. As unsubstantiated all the allegations could be, I cannot sit beside my frat-man seatmate and stay as silent as him and the rest of his brothers.

It would be an understatement to say that I have been moved and affected by CA’s death. And it is because of this that I have decided to write.

I find myself in the middle of this controversy. I walk the same pathways CA may have, even once, walked on during his years in UP. I walk the same halls past and present Sigma Rhoans have walked on and still do. Yes, there is, to some extent, an affinity. But as I walk, seemingly aimlessly, I look around hoping some clarity would devolve in my confusion.

I find absurdity in the matter not because I think that hazing is a dispensable rite of passage in a fraternity. I’ve heard a lot of people asking why fraternities have to hurt their neophytes before they allow them in their organization. This I do understand, believe it or not.

I could be criticized for my way of thinking, but I actually see what the role of hazing or inflicting pain—physical, mental, or emotional—is.

What exactly is this role, you ask?

Let me put it this way. Imagine yourself being scolded badly by your parents. Your dad whips out his leather belt and lashes you with it. All the while he utters obscene and terribly derogatory remarks at you. How do you think would you feel?

Helpless? Battered? Pitiful? Violated? Alone? Abandoned?

These exactly are the things hazing makes you feel. It is in these emotions that the fraternity makes its point on the subject of brotherhood.

You would instantly think that brothers, if they really are such, would not hurt their other brothers. But that is the thing, you see. Even before the neophytes could say that they are part of the brotherhood, they should actually believe that these men actually are their brothers.

Inflicting pain on them is simply a tactic to make them realize that whoever they are—affluent, rich, popular, powerful, influential, or not—they are kaput. They will always need someone to pick them up when they are browbeaten.

The neophytes are stripped off of whatever pride they might have had. Without it, they could easily find it in themselves to reach out and ask for help.

It is mostly when a person is so down, helpless, weak, and in fear, as when he is subjected to hazing, that he longs for someone to pick him up. After hazing, the brods supposedly aid to the downtrodden neophytes, at a time when they are poor and vulnerable. It is in this vulnerability that they will most effectively realize that, truly, their brothers will be there for them through thick and thin. It is in that moment of defenselessness that the neophyte would most clearly see the importance of brotherhood.

As I see it, hazing is not mainly to command respect. It is definitely for the establishment that the group is for brotherhood—that this brotherhood is well beyond respect. It is always going to be about trust and loyalty.

If there is some other reason for hazing, that I do not know. If there is, I would find it harder to understand. May I would start to think that all those other reasons are only unreasonable rationales. Lame excuses for the otherwise inhumane acts of violence.

However, for whatever noble cause it might be, losing a life from hazing is a completely different matter. If there becomes a casualty from it, then its supposed objective will be in vain.

What good will it do to teach a brother how to become part of the brotherhood, if there will be no brother to speak of? If that brother does not live to be part of the brotherhood?

I look and see if I could ask my seatmate these questions. He is not there. He didn’t go into hiding. It is just that we have moved on to the next semester. We don’t have a class together anymore. It took me this long to have the courage to have myself heard, only to find my questions still left unanswered.

* * *

After three months, what is most disturbing is the fact that CA’s case is turning out to be another forgotten story. It has seemingly become too stale for our taste.

Most of the involved have gone back to their normal way of life. I have seen Miko in campus again, attending his classes. The former hot and intriguing news on CA has been overlapped by the Estrada Plunder Case, Glorietta and Batasan Bombings, and the Malacañang Bribe Scandals.

The loss of CA’s life is truly heart-breaking. His death is turning out to be a waste as no one is learning from it, as it seems.

I’ve learned several things, though. I have learned that no matter how much a life is actually worth, people could not care less. That no matter how incriminating evidence and circumstances can get, some people’s conscience still does not kick in. That no matter how important fraternity brotherhood is, as they say it is, its benefits do not go beyond the grave. That no matter what exclusive brand of loyalty there is in a fraternity, it will always be overrated.

WHEN A LITTLE ANGEL COMMITS SUICIDE

Upon hearing the news that a 12-year-old girl hung herself in their shanty because of extreme depression and poverty, I could not find words to console myself. What has this society come to?

Two things: 1. This society is so poverty-stricken that the hopelessness and desperation in the air drive even innocent children up the wall.

2. This society has media so liberal and free that it has taught even the most naive how to commit the most inhumane and unimaginable acts of violence.

I can only have a bruised heart for this little girl, Mariannet. I could not imagine how miserable she felt that she thought that the only solution to her woes is to end her short-lived life. No, I could not imagine. I never could. But I could speculate of how it must have been for her and her family.

Their family's finances must have been in such a real mess. They were not able to have their meals. The children were not able to go to school. Or if the children did go, they had no books and school supplies with them.

Their relationship with each member of the family must have been deteriorating because of their financial crisis. The mother and father frequently fight. The children gaze into empty space, in an attempt to drown out the yells and heated arguments between their parents.

It must have been an ultimately dreary day. Mariannet's tears fall, as desperation and hopelessness settles even deeper in her young soul. She, with her frail and weak built, readies a makeshift noose. She makes that one last step and hangs herself.

Her story is truly heartbreaking. If a poor little 12-year-old girl, who's supposedly still optimistic of the world and full of hope, had it in herself to end her own life...we should all have it in our selfish and to-hell-with-them attitudes, to kill ourselves as well. It is, anyway, our fault...for culturing a society that allows little angels like Mariannet to fall onto the ground.

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