Thursday, 28 August 2014

A CALL FOR MOM AND DAD (declamation)


A CALL FOR MOM AND DAD


Ring... ring... ring... is it the phone? My, it's two o'clock in the morning yet. But wait. It is Dad. Has he just got home from the business meeting, maybe... poor Dad! He works so hard for Mom and me.
I walked on tiptoe to the door ( another honking was heard ). Oh, is it Mom? Yes and what happens? She looks drunk, swinging her way to the sala.

All I hope was to give them surprise but I get, instead the biggest surprise in my life. Dad, my hero leads a Cassanova lifestyle: wine, women and party. And Mom, the lady behind the recent fund raising campaign is the exact opposite of the image she projected in that last week's PTA event. A cheat, a liar. How could they do this to me? "You brute," Mom shouted, You think you can always hide things from me? I saw you with your secretary," and she started throwing things at Dad.

"Stop that, Matilde." And he pushes Mom hard enough to the wall.

Is this the home I was eagerly looking forward to return for a vacation? And Dad, is he worth emulating? My Mom, what has gone with her? I got out from my place.

Mom, Dad what's wrong? Benjo, good you are here. Dad managed to say. We can no longer go on this way anymore. It's no use of hiding things from you I must confess. I love you son. You are the only reason of my staying here. Now it is for good. I must leave the house. Son, please understand. He went up and in an instance he came down with his luggage. Mom seemed to be in the state of shock. All she could do was cry.
Benjo, my son. I can no longer hide the truth. Your Dad and I are never happy. We have to part ways. Please, Son try to understand.

I bite my lips to hold my tears but I held Mom by shoulders. Mom, why has this happened to us? Have you ever thought of the effects on me? That happened a long time ago.
I do not know where Dad is now. It took me long to gather the prices of my broken dreams. All I know is I am very much affected by what happened to us.

To you fathers and mothers present in this hall now, I challenge you to step forward to prove you are not cowards like my own Dad. I challenge you mothers to stay firm and unwavering, never to let your family break.

Saturday, 16 August 2014

LRT BOMBING

LRT BOMBING

Bread. Bread. . .spare me a piece of bread. Believe me, I don't want to society but fate dooms me to this deplorable situation.

We used to be a happy family. Dad was a good provider until that pitiful day in May. All I could remember was Mom crying over the sad news of Dad's untimely death. He died in an airplane crush and his remains was nowhere to be found.

Mom gallantly took her responsibility as our guide and provider. Benjo, Mom and I made up the happy family we were once.

A day before New Year, we took the LRT to evade the heavy traffic. I was in pink dress, matched with a pink ribbon. As I mused with towering edifice on our way to lola, a great Commotion ensued. Mom embraced me tightly to shield me from apparent danger. Everything went fast. BOOM. . . A DESTRUCTIVE EXPLOSION WENT OUT.

"RIZZA, take care," she said and finally loosened her hold on me. Her look was gloomy and slowly she closed her eyes as she gave forth her last.

"Mom." I cried out loud as I struggled to get out from the broken seat. As I looked at the crowd, I saw everything in disorder; people in commotion and crimson blood oozed from my Mom's forehead.
"Mom," I cried bitterly embracing her lifeless body. Everything went dark, darker until I found myself in a hospital. Worst, Benjo was nowhere to be found.

What awaits a small, incapable girl like me. Nothing but a the bare truth of misfortune-darker than the hundred nights. . . uncertain than a thousand blank reality.

Bread, bread. . . give me a piece of bread.

TOO HIGH A PRICE (declamation)

TOO HIGH A PRICE

Oh Joey, Joey, Joey, You're dead. This cannot be. Heavens! I can't believe it. He is still too young to die. Joey, No, no. Joey is now dead, gone.

My kid bother is gone. He died of poisoning and this can happen to any of you. Listen.

No, no never, over my dead body. you cannot sell that piece of land. That has been the land cultivated by my father's father. That's the very means I sweated my blood on to send you all to college. Never. That  was the firm and final say of Lolo regarding a two-hectare rice field right after the Taiwanese factory in our small barrio. That happened some two years ago. Joey and I were still small but we understood how much that piece of land meant to Lolo. After his death dad in exchange for a fat sum money traded it just the same.
Now with this, gone are the green pastures and the rich vegetation with an equally fresh river where fish used to swim.Gone is the vast habitat of the birds and their young ones. Gone is the fresh air which abounds plenty.

But with Dad got a fabulous L-300, a luxurious dwelling and a big savings account to several figures. Joey and I still miss the fruits bearing garden, the lovely little hill of wild flowers and small fish pond where we usually spent our time fishing. All of these gone, occupied by the Taiwanese factory now. All left to us is a small lot given to lolo's caretaker where Joey and I still go for a visit.

The fresh dancing water is no longer free from pollution; aquatic lives start to die. Toxic materials coming from factory flow freely to the river, poisoning every creature depending on it.

And worst of all, that pitiful Saturday morning, Joey my kid brother, brought home a big mud fish. He had it cleaned and broiled it. He had just finished a few bites when he felt unusual all over himself. He felt splash of warmth all over his body; his face reddened as he writhed in pain. We all panicked at the sight of a young helpless boy dying of toxic. How he cried in anguish, and how Mom shouted in despair. But all were to no avail. Joey had to go, my only brother had to leave, so fast, so swift.

Yest that piece of land lolo refused to sell, that piece of land is now polluted. It brought Dad a big sum but a more precious one: joey's life was taken. It gave us L-300 but it could not even be in service when joey needed it most. That big sum! Never did it cross Dad's mind that such cannot even buy Joey's life. dad paid too high a price.

Now ladies and gentlemen, ia this what you call progress. . . . . .development over our own welfare and safety? Enough is enough, you all cheat. nothing can compensate for the clean fresh air we breath, it is now mixed with unsafe one coming from the chimney of that factory. Nothing can ever replace the clean river where we used to fish, now damaged by factory waste; nothing can ever pay the silence we are deadened by the day-in and day-out sound of the grinding machine. . . . .Nothing and Joey paid all these with his young life.

My friends, dear everyone, give this a thought, a serious kind:In your decision to give us the best, we consequently suffer. In your desire to provide us education we miss the most.

Please stop the killing. How many Joey's will pay for this?

Friday, 15 August 2014

THE PLEA OF AN ABORTED FETUS (declamation)

THE PLEA OF AN ABORTED FETUS

Set me free. Let me live, I deserve to be born, I want to live. For heavens's sake, have pity.

Ladies and Gentlemen, dear fathers and mothers, listen to my plea, listen to my story. I could have been the 17th Lady President of the Philippines Republic, had you given me the chance to live, had you not deprived me of my life, had you not taken away my privilege to be born.

Some eleven years ago, a healthy ovum started to generate in the womb of a woman with six other children. My coming should be a herald of joy, a symbol of love incarnate but to my mommy it was a burden, a problem, an additional mouth to feed. To Dad, it was a mistake, an effect of mom's carelessness for not taking the contraceptive pills.

One gloomy day in June, my unexpected coming was confirmed. It was a painful decision. I could sense the imminent danger as Mom got inside the abortion room. I was an unwanted child. no one loved me. No one cared. I was a rejected being, a tiny lump slowly forming into human being with human soul. I was already beating and my thumb had already the unique mark. As I was holding strongly to my mother's womb a splash of heat came over me. I writhed in extreme pain.

-Mom, why have you done this to me? Am I not the flesh of your own flesh, the blood of your own blood?

The rubber suction caught my tiny limbs and mercilessly twisted it slowly cutting it from my body. I struggled for my life. 1,2,3 and the first part of me came out.

-Mom, why have you permitted this? Am I not Dad's pledge of love to you? Then it was followed by another rubber suction sucking the other part moving it with force until both were fully amputated.

-Mom, why have you done this to me? Am I not God's image you promised to love and protect? Then I felt shaken once, twice, several times until I do not know anymore what has been going around. I gushed forth my breath. . .

Then came the final blow, my head- the abortionist termed as No. I was totally cut from my torso; total annihilation.

Gone is my chance to lead a healthy normal life.

Gone is my chance to behold the many lovely things God created for us

Gone is the promise of a blissful life.

Gone, gone forever.


THE PAINS OF GROWING UP (declamation)

THE PAINS OF GROWING UP

A child, aged three, in short pants was holding a balloon with his right hand and ice cream cone with his left. He was running aimlessly while the father followed. Shouting, kicking, crying boisterously. That was then, a few years ago, but it was just faint memory. Yes, for that boy some years back was I. Dad and I used to be great pats ceases to be now. We are at a distance from each other. He talks, I do not listen. I explain he does not admit. . . And this is just one phase of growing , a painful process of change.

My friends, any change is not easy at all.

"My son", I remember Dad admonished, "you get to be different. You are a grown up child now. Don't be hard on your younger sister. Don't hit her anymore," he said, when I once hit Alice.

A grown up I mused to myself so I can now go to Disco join friends and have the real taste of life". But he again interrupted, "My son, remember you are still young, a little boy".

A grown-up or a  little boy. . . who am I really, an adult or a little boy?

Life is a series of surprises. What I used to enjoy when I was a kid will no longer be the same. Eventually and gradually things will take a shift. Doing things with Dad's assistance will slowly mean doing it on your own. Taking a risk may mean Yes; that's ok; or no, you should learn better, next time. Less supervision but more reprimands. . . failure of success I am starting on my own. Discovering  things, using my discretion, deciding by myself are all parts of this painful process. I fail occasionally. I get discouraging remarks. I learn new ways. I experiment with peer groups. These characterize a teenage life. A bandwagon I am, I like to be equal with my members. What they have, I must also; what they do too. And to all these Dad prones, Mom disapproves, society condemns. . .

As I feel my way to independence in the little part of my brain, I have some reservation. . . What? Will this ever win my old's approval?

If not them misunderstanding is possible. Human as I am go against their standards different from mine. Inexperienced go against their standards different from mine. Inexperienced as I am I react opposite to what they expect to me. Uncertain as I am, I refrain to conform to what they desire. As a result we end up hostile to each one. Disobedient, recalcitrant and stubborn, they brand me. I feel short, misunderstood and unloved, I find solace and approval with my peer. They understand, they accept me because we have similar standard, we have the same world. they like me because we very well approve each other.

I want to be on my own, my parents are not ready to accept this fact. A child no more, an adult neither, I feel lost. We became alienated from each one. Growing is really painful just as advancing in years for parent is so.

All I ask of you is continue holding me- I still need you. Open communication line. Stop filling my days with 'Don't and No'. Listen to my unworded desire. You will always be part of me. Let us both put life and love to our days as we journey together to the mystery of life.

BASTARD (declamation)

BASTARD

Penoy, Balot. . .Penoy, Balot.

Yes Penoy, Balot has been my means of livelihood.

I am Martha. Please listen to my story. Like you we may be both victims of circumstances. I was born out a wedlock to a young colegiala who swayed off her feet when she became madly in love with a young man of the flickerville.

Bastard, bastard, that's hoe they called me. Society condemned me for a crime not of my own making but just a mistake by destiny. I have never felt what a father's love was and worst of them too much misery drove my mother out of her sanity. I was oftentimes beaten mercilessly for every little misdeed.
One evening I got home late. Right at the door mother was there with her long stick. Without a word she hit me mercilessly.

"Please, mother, stop it. I beg you." I was alt\ready bleeding until I could no longer take it. Before I knew it, I felt blood oozing on my forehead. Crimson Blood!

"Mother, why do you do this to me."

But that didn't stop her. She got the bolo and was about to strike me that I ran as fast as I could to save my life. All i know was a speeding car went between us. . .SHHHHH

When I turned my back I saw Inay lay helplessly.

"Inay", all I could say. I ran back to embrace the lifeless body of Inay.

"Good lord! Why did you permit this- You are my mother. Inay, I love you inspite of what has been.

Thursday, 14 August 2014

I KILLED HER (declamation piece)

I KILLED HER

I killed her because I do love her. These hands, these hands that gives life to many, killed her because of my love to her.

Ladies and Gentlemen of this honorable court, please listen to me, listen to my story before you give my verdict. I am Dr. Reyes, a cancer specialist. I was born in a slum district of Batalon, My father oh! I don't know him for I am a child of faith. My mother brought me up in such determination and my ambition was to escape the filthy and horrible place of Batalon. I was nourished with hope that someday I might live a life different from her. My mother had burning faith that she turned the nights into days. All her efforts were not in vain for I pushed through of flying colors. My mother who had given her whole life to me had tears in her eyes as she pinned the gold medal on my proud breast.

Later on, I was sent as a scholar of the Philippines to the Unites States of America, I embraced my mother. . .tightly as I've reached the plane. . ."Mother, mother", I whispered "you will always be my best mother in the world."

After four years, I come back with laurels. I became a cancer specialist. I gave my mother everything but I was too late. I who had used to ease the pain of many, came too late to the life of my dying mother. I gave the best treatment but the grasp of death was so tight around her. My God, what is the use of ten years of study if I couldn't even use it at my mother's pain.

Then one night, I heard a strange cry. I run to her room. "Do you love me child?", she asked.
As I embraced her "Yes, mother. . .If only O could get all your pain and agonies. . ."
"Then. . .If you love me, end my sufferings, kill me. . .let me die"
"But , mother, I promise to give life and not to end it"
God . . .she did not deserve to unhappiness. She deserves to be happy.
I run to my room and come back with a syringe
"Mother, forgive me. . .God, please understand me"
"Mother,mother, you must not die. . .Don't leave, I love you. It was only a distilled water. . . Mother. . . Mother. . . Mother. . . Mother. . ."

Ladies and Gentlemen, give me your verdict. Yes, It was only a distilled water which ended the suffering of my mother.
Judge me. . . Punish me
So, punish me. . . Thy will be done!!!

FAKE (declamation piece)

FAKE

I got this smile, I skip and I play like a kid.
I'm happy. People think i'm optimistic, talented and smart. I am religious. I have many friends.
Do I look like that? Do I? I hope you're convinced by this synthetic, this fake smile of mine. Most people envy how perfect my life is. How I don't have problems and how I seemed to be fine with everything.
But am I?

I always smile and agree to everything request. To be fine with everything my so called friends wanted. Do they know that all they're seeing is fake?

A mask of fake happiness and glee. That the only reason is, I cannot say no. have they thought of my feelings? are they even my friends?

That every time I see them, I have this smile that no one ever dared to disbelieve.
This sense of optimism everyone envies? It's all superficial. In fact, all I think of is sadness, despair, hate, and often I just can't go on anymore. Does anyone know that? Once I told my mom to cut the afternoon church club meetings, Guess what she bladed?

No God will be disappointed to you, she said.
I wanted to reply "Well if you put it that way" or "Sure make me feel guilty. Do I have a choice?" but all I can do is agree and pretend I didn't ask anything.

The Saddest part is with all the masks, my disguises, my covers. . .all the lies. . .Everyone seems to believe. No one knows how gloom, how depressed. . .unhappy I am. No one, none of you people.
None of you dare to doubt
I don't know. . .I if I still know who I am beneath.
Is it even there? I don't know.

Wednesday, 13 August 2014

OUR HOUSE WILL NEVER BE A HOME (declamation piece)

OUR HOUSE WILL NEVER BE A HOME

"Kring-kring, kring-kring, kring-kring" the alarm clock ringing on my side. Suddenly, I heard my mother's voice "Ana, Ana wake up its already 9 am in the morning", mother said.

"Here you are again waking me up, its been a week since you were here coming back in the Philippines bagging my whole life into disaster, I wish you weren't my Mother, 10 years of abandoning me? Then suddenly you came? What for? Ruining my life into mess?"

Knock- knock....A sweet voice came out as the door open " Ana, Ana my dear your late , aren't you supposed in the school by this time?"
I remember when I was young so witty but pretty. My Mother used to play piano, and I sing and sing as my father lift me up. I was ten years. . . . a long darkened side of my life. I heard a Bang bang bang, a gun, Yes a gun. . .Blag. . .as I raise my eyes I saw him lying on the floor. Red red red, a blood, Yes a blood running from my fathers lifeless body, my Father died because of her. Yeah because of her, because of her. . .
Our house will never be a home, it's been 5 months when I was here, hahahaha, hahahaha. I was here because of her.
I was on Mental Institution because of her. I found a house that can never be a home hahahahaha, hahahaha. Bang, bang, bang, bang, bang countless shots coming from a gun, I raise my head and look on the floor, I saw my mother lying on the floor together with her fresh blood!!! Yes! Yes! I kill her. I kill my own Mother hahahaha, hahahah. . . . .tear. . .tears. . . suddenly fell on my eyes. . .What for? Aren't I am happy now I kill her, she kill him, I am left behind in a house that will never be a home.

AM I TO BE BLAMED ( declamation)

AM I TO BE BLAMED

They're chasing me, they're chasing, no they must not catch me, I have enough money now, yes enough money for my starving mother and brothers.

Please let me go, let me go home before you imprisoned me. Very well, Officer? Take me to your headquarters. Good Morning Captain! no captain, you are mistaken. I was once a good, just like the rest of you here. Just like any of your daughters. But tome was. when I was reared in slums. But we lived honestly, we lived honestly in life. My father, mother, brother, sister and I. But then poverty enters the portal  of our home. My father become jobless, my mother got ill. The small savings that my mother had kept for our own expenses was spent. All for our daily needs and her medicine.

One Night, my father went out, telling us that he will comeback in a few minutes with plenty of foods and money but that was the last time I saw him. He went for another woman. If only I could lay my hand on his neck, I will wring it without pain until he breaths no more. If you were in my place, you'll do it , won't you captain?

What? You won't still believe me? Come and I'll show you a dilapidated shanty by a railroad.

Mother, Mother I'm home, Mother? Mother?!

There captain, see my dead mother, captain!

There are tears in your eyes? now pack this stolen money and return it to the owner. What good would it do to  my mother now? She's already gone, do you hear me? She's already gone. Am I to be blamed to the things I've done?
s

Tuesday, 12 August 2014

HOOKED IN DRUG (declamation piece)

HOOKED IN DRUG

My hands, my arms, my head, my body. I am shivering. I am trembling, what is happening. Yeah, mom's jewelry box. I need it. I must get it. yes, I need several thousand of pesos to sustain me, to give way to my vice. Do you hear that? I need money for cocaine, I am helpless drug dependent.

It started out with a simple invitation to experience what is new. Little just little, once just once ... until I started yearning for it. Until I find out I cannot stand without having it more often.

Dad is too busy with his political career, wooing people to vote for him in a congressional seat in our province. Mom was equally occupied to grace the local dailies for her charitable projects left and right. I was left alone all to myself. It was only yaya who kept me company, pampering my every need. Cars, money, good time, all I wanted. Name them, I get them. Tired with all these I looked for more until I explored drugs with Fred, my friend. I started to change from good reserved individual to an out-going, happy go lucky. I became an illusive lawbreaker with dad and mom's influence.

What? Do you know if this ever made happy? No, I am not. I want peace I don't and cannot find peace. The urge to use drug becomes so strong and irresistible. This is the best escape I find over the emptiness and unworthiness of my wasted, meaningless and aimless existence.

Do you understand I want to change but I cannot. All I need is to end my life. This is truly a useless life.
Goodbye beautiful life, beautiful world. Goodbye Dad and Mom  I don't deserve you (bang,bang)

I WISH I WERE NOT BORN (declamation piece)

I WISH I WERE NOT BORN

I walked on tiptoed. Dad must be home now. How my heart bleed when Mom left him for abroad. No amount of mom's explanation could appease my anger. Why did she do this? My poor Dad! now I see every reason why he has to come home late, why he has to drink. He must, I even told myself. He deserves to give way to his emotions.

I walked quietly and slowly turned in the door knob. The greatest secret unfolded before my naked eyes. I caught Dad in a very compromising situation with our driver. My whole world shattered; my knees trembled. Discovery even made it more shocking. Dad is a homosexual! What is this? I shouted.

I wish I were not born. Damn you! And I ran as fast as I could. That was many years ago.

I wanted to end my life. I was like a little kitten with no one to turn to. Helpless and confused I started to pick up every piece of my broken life. The father with whom I should feel secure and protected failed me a hundred times. He did not have the arms to protect me from harm. Instead he brought me shame and untold misery. The mother whom I need to embrace to strengthen me and love me left. Parents, why do you fail me? Where else can we find solace in our dark moments of despair? What have you done?