Designing from Experience

I was commissioned to design a box for a local chocolate company with specifics including it should appeal to the international and local AB market.

And, of course, there’s the product I should try. Yes, some companies do let you taste their products so you can have the feel, the inspiration to do whatever they wanted you to do for their packaging. For free! While munching on their chocolate, my mind wandered around- time traveling- 34 years way back. 

When I was younger, I used to spend my school breaks in a forested area way out of civilization in Batuan, Bohol. The place was called Tanod, literally, to watch, maybe because you go there to watch over your plants, ala plantation style. This was where my grandparents of my mother’s side lived, their old age no longer allowed them to go back and forth from their original house to watch their kaingin, so they made a house there. The total population? Except for the macaques that were abundant at that time, there were only four adults living in two houses there. Four old adults.

At eight, I never felt out of place in Tanod.

I became one with the cliffs, one of the sources of inspiration. I would go there to look for fossils. I used to hang from one of the sharp promontories that protruded from the steep cliffs. I would imagine Da Vinci or Wilbur Wright and their visions of flying while hanging from the promontory; but felt extremely afraid I would fall off to death. I also imagine dying and death there in Tanod.

The trees were also my friends. In fair weather or on rainy afternoons, I have a special nook in one of the biggest trees where I seek shelter by the lush foliage. No one can find me there. Amazingly, the trees were abundant in the area despite some patches of kaingin. The old folks were slashing and burning for rootcrops and corn, their main staple. Might also be the reason why the macaques, not native to the area, would do occasional raids for food. The old folks would fought back by putting up dangerous traps or shooting them macaques with slingshots. In retaliation, the wise macaques would come up to their houses and made their abode like a tornado just happened inside them. A vicious circle almost always never ending. 

This might be why the macaques would bully small children who came in their way, running after them until they were in some safe place. Can you imagine? I was the only kid in that place.

Why am I telling you these?

Because during those times, having a piece of chocolate bar or a hot cup of chocolate means you have an American friend or one of your relatives is in America. In short- you are rich, because you only have chocolates imported from America.

But not for me. Or us.

My grandparents had a considerable number of cacao and coffee trees around Tanod. During harvests, my taga lungsod eyes (a derogatory term for the much more civilized people from the town center) would pop out due to the war of reds, yellows, oranges and greens everywhere I turned.

Tatay Pastor, my lolo, would then ask me to suck and eat all the meaty parts of the cacao pods and coffee beans. This has a double purpose even if nowadays, sucking cacao seeds is discouraged because it would cause bacteria to thrive in the seeds, hence, affecting the quality and taste of chocolate. But it did not matter back then.

For one- the nutritious seed coating (called testa) is good for children to eat, a better alternative to candies.

Secondly, out of poverty, sucking on the seeds would give temporary relief of hunger pangs and parents would not worry about the need to buy food.

But while the rich had their imported chocolate, ours came fresh and direct from source.

After roasting, the browned cocoa beans would then be crushed using a big shell called melo-melo (Indian Volute). During grinding, my lolo would put muscovado in some portions and feed them to me.

No kid at that time exactly knew how it felt to be intoxicated. But at eight, I already knew. I would glow after several doleouts, my head felt like swimming in an unbeknownst stupor. The sugar-infused fresh chocolate and the hot choco would knock me sweetly down and woke me up famished.

I haven’t been to Tanod anymore. I haven’t been to that place since 1981. All the four people who loved me there gone. The place abandoned. I heard the place is now thick with trees and shrubs and already, the macaques taking hold like heirs of my grandparents. 

I want to go back to see if the cacaos and coffee trees are still there, my hauntings are still there.

So while I am thinking of how should I make this chocolate box appetizing to the international market, my mind wandered off and I became sentimental. Nostalgic. I cried remembering the people and the place.

This is the only product packaging that had me crying. I should bill them more.

My first study for Mint, Coconut, Chili, Dark and Coffee chocolate boxes

My second study for Mint, Coconut, Chili, Dark and Coffee chocolate boxes

Can you guess which of the two studies was approved by my client?

Government response: A case of my letter sent to my hometown Batuan in Bohol Province

The recent developments in the political scene of the Philippines made me wonder and realized how fast things can get or how the government can act fast if they really wanted to. Unlike the services we experienced since time immemorial, the government in fact has been known to be as slow as a turtle and can get out of their office faster and swifter than 4PM.

Noynoy Aquino paved a straight road (daang matuwid, his favorite) to persecute people especially those with links to ex-President Gloria Arroyo and then Arroyo herself. Not that I am against Arroyo’s persecution and prosecution, I was just amazed at how fast Noynoy waves his hands and everything followed in magic. Legalities were done in just a few hours where it used to be centuries. It’s like having a miracle, Alleluiah!

Unlike what happened to my letter to the Municipality of Batuan, my hometown in Bohol.

Exactly two (2) months ago, October 6, 2011 to be exact, I sent a letter to Mayor Francisco Pepito and the members of the Sangguniang Bayan care of Municipal Vice Mayor Antonino Jumawid who happened to be on leave at that time, asking explanation on why the Official Website of the Municipality of Batuan, Bohol plagiarized several articles posted in the said website. The website I was talking about bears the Official Seal of the Municipality of Batuan, Bohol and blatantly copied the Vision of the Municipality of Calape, Bohol and the Messsage of the Mayor of the Municipality of Mabini. To make matters worse, Hillary Clinton’s picture was in the Mayor’s Message.

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The supposed Message of Mayor Gregoria Pepito (who died long before her reelection came) which I copied from the website:

This is the official online portal of Mabini, (remember this is the official website of Batuan) the town, its government, and its people. Here you will find what promises to be Mabini's most comprehensive and authoritative one-stop informational clearinghouse on the net.

Facts and figures, news and features, details on and about Mabini in a consummately convenient compendium of instant and interactive content. Consider it your virtual guide to the municipality. Discover Mabini from its illustrious history to its unfolding story the splendor of its past, the dynamism of its present, and the promise of its future.

Learn about the Town and the gracious gifts of its geography. The municipality of Mabini and its many thriving barrios, its people, and its chosen leaders.

Experience the delightfully diverse boundless beauty and bustle that make up the colorful collage and the proud panorama that is Mabini.

Empower yourself: Make your mark and do your share in shaping the future of this, our vast and vibrant town: click on, sound off, be counted.

Finally, rich and colorful Calape (and then my town has shifted to another name) has found its home on the world wide web.

We hope you find it as much your home as it is ours: warm, well, and worth it.

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Fuming mad, I went to write the letter.

A few days later when I went home for a speaking engagement with the younger Batuanonons, Vice Mayor Jumawid approached me and talked about his development goals for our town but not even mentioning my letter. I pointed out to him about it and he told me he did not receive a copy of the said letter. (I sent him my letter a week after through his email address and got a long response after several technical glitches. I don't even believe it was an official response.)

Several of my neighbors who happened to be close to the mayor told me their own version of the things they did after receiving my official letter including the command to put the controversial website offline. I know their move was well-intentioned but still an official letter from a constituent deserved an official response from the municipal officials.  

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The supposed Vision of the Municipality of Batuan:

Experience the delightfully diverse boundless beauty and bustle that make up the colorful collage and the proud panorama that is Calape. Empower yourself: Make your mark and do your share in shaping the future of this, our vast and vibrant town: click on, sound off, be counted. Finally, rich and colorful Calape has found its home on the world wide web. We hope you find it as much your home as it is ours: warm, well, and worth it.

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Everyone told me the mayor was not even aware of the existence of that website, pity the mayor. He wanted somebody to call me but they could not find my magical business card. Magical in a sense since no one seemed to get hold my business card attached to the letter. Hence, nobody, not one, was able to contact me. Not counting that my parents and relatives are still very visible in my hometown.

For the information of my readers, I enclosed together with my two-page letter my business card and screen shots of the website I was referring to. But since my business card has some magic, nobody cared to call me up, send me text message or reply through my two (2) email addresses.

Now this is a very basic example of how SLOW government responses are. I was planning to make a follow-up letter but called it off. It would make no sense at all.

That is why I wonder how fast the people of Noynoy Aquino could do things in just a week’s time. And it was not just replying a letter.

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Section 5 of Republic Act No. 6713 otherwise known as AN ACT ESTABLISHING A CODE OF CONDUCT AND ETHICAL STANDARDS FOR PUBLIC OFFICIALS AND EMPLOYEES, TO UPHOLD THE TIME-HONORED PRINCIPLE OF PUBLIC OFFICE BEING A PUBLIC TRUST, GRANTING INCENTIVES AND REWARDS FOR EXEMPLARY SERVICE, ENUMERATING PROHIBITED ACTS AND TRANSACTIONS AND PROVIDING PENALTIES FOR VIOLATIONS THEREOF AND FOR OTHER PURPOSES states the Duties of Public Officials and Employees. - In the performance of their duties, all public officials and employees are under obligation to:

(a) Act promptly on letters and requests. - All public officials and employees shall, within fifteen (15) working days from receipt thereof, respond to letters, telegrams or other means of communications sent by the public. The reply must contain the action taken on the request.

(d) Act immediately on the public's personal transactions. - All public officials and employees must attend to anyone who wants to avail himself of the services of their offices and must, at all times, act promptly and expeditiously.

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Update: The website was taken down a week after I sent the letter, possibly a confirmation that they received it. Its address was- www.batuanbohol.solinog.com.

After the rain

A cold new year

Honestly I haven't had my shower and bath for two days now because of too much cold here in my hometown in Batuan, Bohol. Since January 1st, the rain has not showed abatement and is not giving a promise of sunshine. We are now even more concerned because the creek near our house is starting to rise.

I could not go out even if I want to. So to while the hours away, I combat the cold with freshly brewed corn coffee, a usual fare we love on rainy days since our grandparents introduced it to us. And still we love it.

Cup after cups, I am praying for the rain to stop so we could start our family reunion on time.

And by the way, HAPPY NEW YEAR EVERYONE!

We do more police work than the police

Having been spent for weeks because of major activities, I lay wasted on my bed in Batuan waiting for a much needed sleep to come. The Sandugo trade expo and our batch reunion a week before the Sandugo had me literally dying for sleep.

But just as I was about to enter the REM stage, my sister suddenly turned all the lights on and asked me to come out. Everyone was shouting.

It turned out, my sister in-law saw someone other than his husband inside their home, a burglar perhaps, somebody unwelcome courtesy of her alcoholic husband who also happened to be my brother. My drunk brother went out of the house without bothering to close the doors and some alien saw the opportunity. In a small town like Batuan, it is not rare if everyone knows someone is selling her fat pigs. Fat pigs mean fat cash. My sis in-law sold three.

Equipped with flashlights, Tatay and I went around the vicinity and searched for the intruder. We scanned the backyard, noticed the bags taken outside and did not touch them for fear of tampering evidence. We even scan the neighboring houses to see some unusual activities going around. Our neighbors saw someone running like hell. We know it was the intruder. Although we know that he has been long gone, we wanted everyone to feel secure.

We interrogated our sis in-law when we came back. From the time she heard the doors in the rooms being opened and closed to the time she saw the man about to enter the master bedroom. She told us she could not remember the face but she was sure the man wore a camouflaged shorts and a sleeveless shirt. In the backyard a red slipper we believed was owned by the intruder was placed along with the bags and the make-up kit that looked like a secure cash vault he rummaged around before fleeing. I took pictures.

The police arrived, an interesting event since it was already past one in the morning. Knowing Batuan is just a small town, police presence in the wee hours is very rare. My sis in-law told us she texted the police. Wow.

But the “wow” moment faded right when they went inside the house. They just asked a question or two, looked outside and said they will resolve the matter during office hours. That was all.

I was expecting a more CSI approached. But they did not even bother searched the place. They looked at the bags like they were useless evidence of the intrusion. No poking, no searching for clues. It was Tatay who pointed the flashlights on the scattered things because they did not bring any. They did not ask if my sis has a clue on the identity of the intruder. They did not ask details. It was my sis in-law who was guilty of babbling some unsolicited review of the events that happened. They neither said a yes or no or whatever. I wondered if they listened at all. The police was gone in less than two minutes.

The police did not make us secure. One of them was wearing a pair of camouflage shorts and a sleeveless shirt.

My town also suffered from a deluge

Sometime this year, Batuan, an interior town and my hometown in Bohol suddenly caught itself in an unprecedented deluge. There was no storm forecasted. Or maybe my townmates were just numb to weather forecasts. They were unreliable anyway. It was just a steady rain.

Mother, always on a lookout especially when it rains because our house is a step away from a creek, my Mother who is much better than a meteorologist, started packing things and stored them on the second floor of our house. This was always the case everytime it rained.

Suddenly and without warning, a wave of muddy water invaded our home and almost all homes of Batuananons. Some of our appliances floated by. Nobody came to help because everyone needed help. My aunt shouted and cried because she was living alone at their house. Only when each home had their properties secured that they came and helped everyone.

There was only a local news to record the tragedy. No local government units came and offered help. Even the government officials of the municipality of Batuan turned a blind eye. No disaster coordinating bodies. No nongovernment organizations. Not even the national government's presence was there . There were no private sector offering ukay-ukay, sardinas, noodles or rice.

The day went by as if nothing happened. Just like the flood.

But we survived. They survived.

I was the only one whining. And I was in Cebu and not even affected by that flood.

(photo grabbed from Batuananon Friendster)

Return to Innocence

I am sick. And I hate it. I wonder why I suddenly have fever and was actually shivering from the cold I felt. My joints are painful, my back like some truck rammed on it. While lying down on my bed, moving from left to right is rather painful. Even getting sheets to warm me up is an agony.

And then the bad dreams.

This time I dreamed about my past and Grandma again. The second time, actually. We were riding on this jeepney together with almost all townmates were in there as passengers. There was Melvin, my classmate in the elementary and a good neighbor. He was acting he did'nt know me. There was Dencio, my barber since I was young. There was Mam Uping. And several others busy in their own little worlds. Except for Melvin who migrated to Singapore a long time ago, everyone is dead.

Suddenly the scene came to a home which was not really our home as I remembered it was. Coming out from the CR, my Grandma confronted me why I was suddenly home and rarely goes home. I was not able to answer. I didn't have answers. Then, I was pulled in a vortex of white stairs. Not falling. Running but not running. I don't know. I saw my feet acting like they were running but I felt I was pulled. And down there, I can see the choir of children singing something I could not decipher. Everything is in white.

I woke up in sweat. And the headache throbbed like I my head is going to burst.

I hate this.

Home for the old

I woke up at 3 in the morning today. Maybe because I am getting older. That's what old people do. Sleep early. Wake up early. But I did not sleep early.

Somewhere in this urbanized neighborhood, I can hear the chickens crowing and the birds chattering, ending in a beautiful chaotic chorus as the early morning lightened up and the lights turned off. The pigs getting alive grunting and begging for food, perhaps. I am so glad I can still sense the provinciality (is there such word?) in this part of metro Cebu. Just like home.

When Daughtry belted out Home, suddenly I miss Batuan, my true home.

I know Tatay would now be preparing the food for our pigs. Or for the chickens robbers loved to snatch when my parents are sleeping. Mama, the ever hardworker amongst us, may have prepared our food already with the thermos full of hot water ready for the coffee-hungry in the family.

The entire surroundings in Batuan would be alive by now. Just like any other town. The city morning life is so different from the province. That's what I really missed. The burning of leaves in the mornings seems so hallucinatory and refreshing as compared to the smoke the cars are giving off outside.

I would now be having my second cup of coffee as I make tambay outside and being greeted by farmers on the way to their lands, some of them with a carabao in tow. Nong Uriel, the local baker, would be offering me his pandesal. His daughter likewise would be smiling at me with her bibingka, knowing the fact that I love bibingka. And I would be buying from them.

I miss home.

The Circle of Life

We were saddened by the death of our grandma last week. Although she is already old at 93, we were shocked because she was still well and about during her death. She suffered from stroke even if she was taking ferrous sulfate because she was supposed to be anemic.

But while we experienced death a few days ago, a new generation of Dolotina has emerged. A good news came from the US telling us that another addition to the family just happened, a cute baby boy is born to my cousins. And next week, the first week of March, we are expecting another addition to the family again. My sis will also have her baby.

Such is the beauty of life. When one dies, another life is born. 

Art from loranablog.wordpress.com

A sad night: Goodbye Lola Anania Dolotina-Molina!

I was informed a few minutes ago that our Lola, Anania Dolotina-Molina of Alicia, Bohol, died at Ramiro Hospital in Tagbilaran due to stroke. She was 93.

I felt so down.

When I was younger she was one of my favorite lolas because she would always hug us whenever she visited our place. I can remember the way her smell would engulfed me as she would extend her arms. I was uncomfortable with hugging but hers was of comfort and peaceful reverie.

The last time we saw each other she was crying because her sister, Felicidad who was 103 by then, died last Christmas 2009. I approached her and she hugged me so tight because she told me she missed me. I choked.

Now hearing the sad news made me cry. I too, really missed her. But sadly she did not know that. I never told her. Now she is gone and I would never had the chance to.

May you rest in peace Lola.

(Two of my favorite lolas- Felicidad who died last Christmas 2009 at the age of 103 and Anania, 93, who died a few minutes ago.)

Environmental concerns: Flooding in Batuan (Bohol)

I was in Manila this weekend when I received a text message from an old friend in my hometown. She told me their house was flooded due to heavy rains. It was their first. Their house was in a flat land near a ricefield. She told me that our place was flooded too up to the waistline.

I was not a bit concerned at first because I did not receive any info from my family. Almost all of us got mobile phones, except for my parents who abhor techie things, and being flooded would of course send them to panic, and informing me would be fitting.

But my text message asking what happened to them was unanswered. I was thinking of my book collection I just sent home because I would no longer be staying at my rented place in Tagbilaran.

FYI, our place is right beside a small creek that used to be our playground when we were young. I almost got drowned on that creek. It used to be a river-wide when I was young, but when I saw it as I grow older, the creek seemed to reduce itself smaller each time I go to my hometown. I would laugh at myself, remembering that drowning incident. It would be funny to see that murmuring creek becoming a rampaging river.

But honestly I had its rare overflowing experience. I was sleeping that time when Mom woke me up because the waters had come in up to the level of my bed. I was more amazed than afraid of the flood.

When no one was not minding me, I called up my sister. She told me the truth. The waters have invaded our place and they were busy catching things that floated away. Our appliances, our stuff in the kitchen, MY BOOKS! They were not able to text me back. They had more concerns to do. I was heartbroken.

For the first time I heared my family talking about environmental issues. They told me Mother Nature is getting angry because of wanton destruction of the environment. The cause of the flood was extremely mind-boggling since the water source is just a small hole somewhere. Where did all the water came from?

Despite being heartbroken over the state of my books, I pity my parents who suffer all through the experience. I know they were also concerned of our things and other valuables. The things most people would consider not of value like family pictures and memorabilia were in fact priceless and even worth a million. We could never have them again.

(First picture grabbed from Batuanon's Friendster account)

“Are you upset little friend? Have you been lying awake worrying? Well, don't worry...I'm here. The flood waters will recede, the famine will end, the sun will shine tomorrow, and I will always be here to take care of you." -Charlie Brown to Snoopy

Portrait of a prodigal father and son

My brother. An alcoholic. A father. A prodigal son. Irresponsible. Doesn't care if the world ends now or never. This portrait was taken by his son during the New Year 2009 using my Sony Ericsson W810i.

Happy New Year Everyone!

Despite the threats, the political issues, the crisis all over the world, we have survived 2008. May we have the eagerness to start anew and make this year and the years to come more peaceful, more bountiful, more generous and more meaningful.

Let's sing our blues away. Happy New Year!

Guys you see on the pics are the happy traditional carolers of Batuan, Bohol.

Batuan on my mind

The following pictures were taken when I was on vacation in my hometown in Batuan, Bohol. I just miss the place, my place. 

Batuan was where I grew up and have been brought up. The ricefields in the foreground were my usual hangout during my childhood. Childhood then was very basic. We played where space was available which was equivalent to just about everywhere. We interacted with other kids. This ricefield was our playground especially during summer vacation. We used to fly kites here and play house using rice straws. We had our own "family" in the fields, our own "house", our own "community." We also created bad guys around who would burn our "houses" after raiding our communities and kidnapping some desirable women-girls. So cinematic, indeed. But my childhood taught me a lot of the real world.

These places gave us rest as well as food. These lots I have plowed, planted rice and harvested the same. Hayyy, so much reminiscing. It only means I am too old.

Camera: Sony Ericsson W810i, natural light

   

   

   

Children of the Rice

  

 

 

 

 

This bunch of gregarious nephews are the soul of our clan. Pictures taken during the All Souls Day in Batuan, Bohol using Sony Ericsson W810i in natural light.

Siksik sa Laman

Yeah, just like packed sardines, riding in a public bus after our town fiesta in Batuan, Bohol is a terrible hitch to Tagbilaran, the province's capital city. Good for me I was seated smacked between two drunk men bringing fighting cocks.

But nothing more packed and meaty than this lady, on my way to Cebu City via Weesam Express. Excuse me Ma'am you are blocking my way!

Have a Green Palm Sunday

Among Catholics, today is Palm Sunday. This is in commemoration of Christ's triumphant entry into Jerusalem which later also had him martyred.

Christ’s triumphant entry into Jerusalem is a messianic event, through which His Divine authority is declared. The events of Palm Sunday call each of us to lift up our voices and praise God; and behold our King, the Word of God made flesh. Palm Sunday summons us to accept both the rule and the Kingdom of God as the goal and content of our Christian life. (St Barbara Greek Orthodox Church website)

Since childhood, the celebration would always had me busy getting young parts of leaves of coconut trees for us to wave during the blessing of palms.

Now that I am older, I was wondering if any of us had the thought that we are slowly killing our coconut trees just for the ocassion. And the country's coconut industry is not doing well in the world market as well.

For the love of coconuts, why don't the Catholic Church imposed on ONE STRAND (is that one leaf called?) OF COCO PALM for each Catholic? Attention Catholic Bishops Conference of the Philippines!

I remember my neighbor back then. He had his coconut cut down for the ocassion and had his kids carry the whole bunch complete with various designs to St James the Apostle church in Batuan.

We all love theatrics I know, but let us be environmentally-correct this time.


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Photo from BBC news
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