User talk:Gil samaco jr

 Moments before the terminal of Cagayan de Misamis was demolished, the street 

peddlers were evacuated early from the site to Agora, where a larger, better, well-equipt facility was constructed to erect an integrated terminal. The pines near the public theater had not cracked the flooring then, but the foundations of the old terminal cracked more than the usual since, a demolition team had battered it for two days and three hours. The old concrete, scattered in the surface of the earth, had covered the irregularities of the road and two days after, the asphalt that evened it, buried as well the memories of the old place, thus, the past was simply torn down in days and hours, that no one ever paid a simple regard, or care, or laid respect to the stories and trivialities of the place that was once a center of human activity in Cagayan de Misamis. The families who owned eateries that refused to leave the vicinity opened their caserole every thirty minutes in disbelief, and the aromas that filled the interior of the caserole remained undid, contrary when it's as early as seven oclock in usual days, people would race over for viand and it kept them busy-unlike the day they sat and wondered how everything changed for life when the terminal was no longer. They were saddened, and

they wept near the river of Cagayan, silently, flowing with the tiny waves. Days passed and the 

streets that once started early had gone by. The peddlers, the passengers, and the trucks

vanished forever along with it's life and cycles that made the terminal; one by one, 

the eateries closed and before Manong Ado lifted his last wooden brace to declare his own depression in the world of food business, he heard a faint knock and a gentle sound from the outside. He doubted if it's any of such interesting people he met, and he supposed that those people had stopped coming though, since the last came a day before and had commented on the taste of his beef stew. When the sound repeated again, he knew there was something even better and he took the chance to inquire what kind of commotion that

tenderly knock to his window. 

"Good Morning dear friend, i was just wondering, if i'm lost, the terminal, i mean, the terminal's located here, and i'm really in a hurry." Her old eyes sparkled like diamonds, and like diamonds it sparkled without forgiveness to any light "There was. But it was transferred to Agora." Manong Ado replied while scratching his head. "I know, or at least i know. I mean, i know i'm lost in time-days ago i was informed that the terminal was moved to another, better location. But you see, i want to lean on it's old pillars, just to remember my life thirty years ago." "Good for you. As if we have had any choice. Well they pulvurized all its memory, and they used it to fill the holes in the streets then smoothened it with asphalt." "I see, the smooth road now. Can i come in? I know this place became an eatery say about six years ago?" "It was." Ado replied slowly.

     Ado guided the lady while she offered her hand to the young man, and Ado did find her 

congenial with all the fancy and fashion flavored with a distinct elegance. She sat in a wooden chair with faded shellock and started to speak with exceptional eloquence.

"Many Years ago, while the war was nearing it's end, my husband and I braved to the city steps with our carabao. We called him "Puti", and he was the only white Carabao in a farm

owned by a wealthy teacher. Way back then, the ways were of old that we have to learn all 

the herbal plants and remedies to save children and people... especially soldiers. "

    Manong Ado poured a hot Sikwate in a neat teacap and counted three rice cakes in a 

small dish. He served it while the lady watched him and was delighted by his cheeriness. "I remember, the slow steps of Puti, and how we travelled the lonely roads of the 40's, i

could see the distant place they call Cuidad, and i wondered what the colored boxes were, 

and the obvious houses arrayed near the Cathedral. They look like dreams to me, and i loved to see the view of cuidad in mornings when my husband would take me near the precipice to watch our farm growing every minute. He was a poet, and he made sure his proems deal with the farm life, that simple. When the conflict heightened and forced the Japanese infantry to patrol the roads near our farm, he met a Japanese soldier who was kind and interested with the simplicity of his poetries, and he visited our farm since by then, they both shared friendship for the Japanese learned easily the Bisaya than the Tagalog dialect. When he frequented his visit to our house, he learned a lot about the elements of poem that inspired my husband. He learned the value of having one true wife, having one true love, and commiting to one passion. And he also affirmed that his passion became his destiny, and that there are conflicts that are better solved using the greatest of all weapons, that it is not through sword or gun, but through pen and mind that the changes in the world are formalized to an ideal direction. Hence he decided to put down his arms in silence, and during the time when the last battlecry of Japanese warrior loyal to the Emperor reached the corners of the cuidad, he was found hiding inside the convent with the American Jesuits, finally converted to his love for God and commitment to simplicity. How did he manage to shift paradigm that easy? My husband asked

the same question. And when he did, he always stumbled into something new to his poetries 

that seldom made him understand. And he fathomed the simpleness that was after all complex in the play of words that are vivid pictures of confusion in a time of war. When these confusions paved some conclusions about hope, freedom, and praise, the effectual beauty sprouted one warrior to become a child of God, whether they call it transformation or evolution, i call it a Miracle. Mang Ado folded his arms in the table, followed the lines carefully and related his experience with what happened to his business. The lady touched the glass teapot to feel it's smoothness, and she also felt the hot Sikwate that adhered to the glass. "Back to puti, yes he was a beauty. Everytime he set himself up for a new day

in the farm, we see his color a reflection of a name and my husband would call him "purity", 

he was a lovely animal also Loved by Ishigo, the Japanese. So Jovino, my husband, became a special friend of Ishigo. He was never part of any Huk movement, as we knew the Hukbalahap or Hukbong Bayan Laban Sa Mga Hapon, resisted the Japanese rule. Thus, the art of poetry became a way for two different worlds to understand the cycle of times and even the secret service under the Huk command was compelled the way Jovino turned the Rifleman into a Marian inspired person that he later detested war, and favored the abolition of standing enemies, for at last he found out the answers to his question that the greatest among all enemies lie in the heart of man himself.

also, one day when we travelled to return something that does not belong to us.

Fifty years and almost seven months, when the old scene of eateries were covered with buildings that fairly earned well with business, the once busy corner near the old terminal had lost its meaning. It was a place frequented by policemen, and during the evening, the transformation became even more dramatic when the lights faded and new colors of the city emerge in the outskirt of unpredictability. It was just a simple corner of course, where the games of men and young women suddenly collide in an idiocy blindfolded by guilt. There were establishments close to that corner, and for reasons, visited by the famous personalities. The aroma, along with the unfolding time and what the people called development, ommited the simple realities of what was the people, and a new form of reality blossomed with the sickness of generation influenced by the adventures of sexual fantasy, precipitated by the aloholic trance that's addicted to mundane pleasure. It was vivid, some unimaginable vices that are too harsh, and the insensitivity brought about by a failing world. No one remembered the terminal, and it's meaning slowly drowned with the flood that shocked the whole city three days after the new year of 2009. Barely a week after, another flood in the eastern part of the city devastated schools, homes, establishments, and the highways swam like crawling flouder in a sand of mud and garbage. /////////////////////////////////////////// The people in Mindanao are not ready. A boy who once earned by shining shoes in the terminal clearly recalled, that it wasn't like it before, and that it was filled even with greater magic; the parades of

Buting measured the distance of the waves that travelled in the lake and saw that it seemed endless from the harbor, he used his hand to cover the blinding light above his eyebrows and from there, he could see a figure at the other end of the lake, like a thin, slim, fire from a scented wick. "It's like a fire in the night." He said. And by the time he spoke those words, the fire moved closer, closer, like it was rowing nearer to his stance and held him for a moment-burning a deep curiosity inside him that stimulated both heart and mind. When the union of his emotion and intellect had him investigate what kind of incident had caused his passion, he tend to forgot what kind of feeling it was, but recalled how to capture a moment and live for a moment. But it was more than passion; it was indeed a fire that's hotter everytime he blew it, out of question, that it captured him although he denied. When the face of the fairy that waved his wand before him alighted from the wooden canoe, he could barely speak a word and he hid his breath that smelled alcohol out of his astonishment.

but although he blushed before her, she needed not to prolong his agony and started to smile that seized him forever.

(when one is in love, he is like captured and imprisoned forever, when one is exiled, he still could miss his life; but being exiled for that love is like facing eternity without turning back, and each time i think of that, i am being pulled by that eternity in a blackhole of uncertainty.)

Seeing the sea angels crossed the sea like a firefox that defied sound, Isidro wasted no time by encouraging Editha to visit his beloved place. There was no wind for the day, that the sea was calm and best for travel, and the long horizon filled with sailing clouds that moved to one direction, was cleared minutes after they boarded the new water vessel often cited in the daily paper-inside the pages of leisure and life. The vessel first turned three sixty like it was surveying the scene the moment its rope unfastened from the port, by the moment it synchronized with the compass and map that also matched with its trajectory, it started to heat its invincible engine, lifting the vessel up into a ride that lasted short. When the doors of the vessel reopened, Editha's eyes were rounded as she saw the sea more emphasized by the time she smelled it, and she tasted it in her mind, as she saw an obviously old road and screaming people. There were peddlers in the port, but the young children who skillfully jumped to the waters and begged for peso were among the interest she coundn't resist to flashed with photos! Isidro grabbed her hand and pulled her with grace to the port of Camiguin. ///////////////////////

The shifting clouds one dark morning travelled swiftly to the mountains, and the cold intensely wrapped the household in a humid that was unusual for an ordinary rainy day. It was morning, but later than two hours the humidity dropped until the sky gave way and rain poured first into the mouth of the crest. An hour passed noon that seemed dawn, the cuppacino colored river had dramatically risen, and it brought the most violent signs of bad luck like dried leaves, twigs, branches, logs, trees, and finally some animals that looked like monsters with their bloating stomach; it was a scene that people never saw for the last twenty years and the public rescue group panicked for some phone calls and priority requests made by anxious officials and the media. A few number of volunteers managed to report immediately, but the angry river-as manifested by its character, seemed insensitive to the pleas of people that were calling, reaching, pleading for help, but it was not time for the river to listen. No time for the river to act gingerly.

/////////////////////// Outside the call center, near the field of grass colored by the sunset, the setting of the sun had cast a light among the smoking men talking about the war-torn regions of western side, and they harmoniously speak about the events, discussing issues from past to present of what had become of the whole island that was previously regaled with

///////////////////"Where will the birds go Lolo?" Pedro saw four dovelike figures in the sky heading to the sunset, and he wondered, like little isidro, where it was heading. "They follow the reflection, to capture the true reason of the sun" He replied, but he also doubted his answer. "How about the black fish near the surface of the sea?" When pedro followed through the direction of isidro's fingers, he saw a huge fish that also followed the reflection of the sunset, but it shifted direction the moment it almost faded in their eyes. "One day my good child, you will see great upheavals. In your life, or the life of other people. these things must happen." "Why?"

Back where we sat, the waves turned differently, bringing a breeze that was sentimentally sudden.

I saw the fine hairs of Isidro, and his cheerful deportment. I could feel his heart full of energy.

///////////////(Falling to the ravine scene) The sound of war that deafened us, made me cry in a deep ravine where i could no longer scream the sound of the first letter in the alphabet, and when the pressure was too heavy to take, i knew i was hissing the sound of the last letter of the alphabet and have subsided to a different fantasy near the beach with Lolo.

first war: isidro's experience under preserap, 105 mm howitzers, civilians forced evac, second war-_ July 12, 2007 )14 marines were wounded, 10 were beheaded,

"men are jealous for what others have, instead of being zealous for the achievements of other people"

1900's history:

 MNLF-resistance movement formed after jabidah massacre
 *group wanted independent moro islamic independent state
 *took part in terrorist attacks and assasinations to promote their ideas
 *the central government sent troops to stop them

1981- Salamat Hashim split from MNLF due to reluctance of MNLF to launch insurgency against phil government

     and movements toward peace agreement

1987-MNLF accepted governments offer of semi autonomy, MILf refused, thus they were considered separatist group july 1997-general cessation of hostilities, broken in 2000 under ERAp. MILF declared Jihad 2005-milf attacked government forces milf-abu sayaff march 2007-government recognize the self determination of moros july 12, 2007-14 marines were wounded, 10 were beheaded as marines were searching for Father Giancarlo Bossi who was kidnapped in Zamboanga by abu sayaff (MILF cooperated with military but military intel was arrogant and went to rebel territory) August 2008-temporary restraining order against peace agreement with MILF MOA-AD was to allow rebel groups autonomous control of the region with the right to establsih a police force and control of natural resources. September 2008- 400,000 were evac, 300 were dead of war October 2008-supreme court contrary to law and constitution

>1950's-Mindanao became a land of new beginnings when broad tracts of land were given to poor farmers around the country >March 18, 1968-299 muslim military trainees were murdered by marcos regime in Corregidor.-the muslims decided to free themselves from manila and create a moro nation >Nur Misuari-University profferssor led MNLF-achieved ARMM >Bangsamoro-The term comes from the Malay word bangsa, meaning nation or people, and the Spanish word moro, from the older Spanish word Moor, the Reconquista-period term for Arabs or Muslims.

It may also refer to the Moro people, in general. These include the Tausug, the Maranao, Maguindanaoan, and the Banguingui > Bangsamoro(Originally the Sultanate of Sulu) > Americans integrated the lands with the rest of Philippines > The Moro is a name given to Muslim Filipinos, a collection of several multilingual ethnic groups, the largest mainly non-Christian[1] group in the Philippines, comprising about 5.25% of the total Philippine population as of 2005[update],[2]

Rajah Sulayman, Crown Prince of the Muslim Kingdom of Selurung (Maynila) lived alongside his

uncle Lakan Dula, King of the Hindu-Buddhist Kingdom of Tondo on the north banks of the Pasig 

River, at the time of the Spanish conquest, is one example. The classic rivalry between the Hindu-Buddhist Kingdom of Sugbo under Rajah Tupas and the Islamized Kingdom of Mactan under Lapu-Lapu (believed to be descended from Tau-SUG pioneers who have since called themselves SUG-buhanon) representing a religious demarcation line in the natural kinship between the peoples of Sulu (Lupa Sug - "land of Sug") and Cebu (Sugbo - "north of Sug"), likewise pointed at the wider conflicts endemic throughout the islands when the Spanish arrived. This Hindu-Buddhist and Muslim dichotomy in pre-Hispanic Philippine society was thus interpreted by the Spanish as a real split between the two groups, thus calling the more pliant Hindu-Buddhist populations as "Indios" (Spanish for "Indians") and the Muslims as "Moros" (Spanish for "Moors").making them the sixth largest group in the country, counted collectively

However, seeing that the majority of native Malays in the Philippine archipelago were "indios" instead of

"moros", the Spanish proceeded to name their Asian possessions the Spanish East Indies or Indias 

Orientales Españolas.

The Spanish arrived in 1521, although effective colonization did not start until 1565. This caused most of the Philippines to end up under the Spanish rule. The sultanates, however, actively resisted the Spanish, thus maintaining their relative independence, enabling them to develop an Islamized culture and identity distinct from the rest of the Christianized Malays which the Spanish called "Indios".

With intentions of colonizing these islands, the Spanish held incursions within Moro territory. They also began erecting military stations and garrisons with Catholi missions which attracted Christianized natives of civilian settlements. The most notable of these are Zamboanga and Cotabato.

Feeling threathened by these actions, Moros decided to challenge Spanish authority. They began conducting raids on Christian coastal towns. These Moro raids reached a fevered pitched during the reign of Sulu Sultan Muizz ud-Din (aka Datu Bantilan) in 1754.

The string of coastal fortifications, military garrisons and forts built by the Spanish ensured that these raids, although destructive to the local economies of the coastal settlements, were eventually stifled. The advent of steam-powered naval ships finally drove the antiquated Moro navy of colorful paraws and vintas to their bases. The Sultanate of Sulu, the only sultanate left standing, itself soon fell under a concerted naval and ground attack

from Spanish forces.

In 1876, the Spanish launched a massive campaign to occupy Jolo. Spurred by the need to curb slave raiding once and for all and worried about the presence of other Western powers in the south (the British had established trading centers in Jolo by the 19th century and the French were offering to purchase Basilan Island from the cash strapped Sultanate), the Spanish made a final bid to consolidate their rule in this southern frontier. On 21 February of that year, the Spaniards assembled the largest contingent against Jolo, consisting of 9,000 soldiers, in 11 transports, 11 gunboats, and 11 steamboats. Headed by Admiral Jose Malcampo captured Jolo and established a Spanish settlement with Capt. Pascual Cervera appointed to set up a garrison and serve as military governor; He served from March 1876 to December1876 followed by Brig.Gen. Jose Paulin (December 1876-April 1877), Col Carlos Martinez (Sept 1877-Feb 1880), Col. Rafael de Rivera (1880-1881), Col. Isidro G. Soto (1881-1882), Col.

Eduardo Bremon, (1882), Col. Julian Parrrado (1882-1884), Col. Francisco Castilla (1884-1886), Col. Juan Arolas 

(1886-18930, Col. Caesar Mattos (1893), Gen. Venancio Hernandez (1893-1896) and Col. Luis Huerta (1896-1899).

The Spaniards were never secure in Jolo so by 1878 they had fortified Jolo with a perimeter wall and tower gates, built inner forts called Puerta Blockaus, Puerta España, and Puerta Alfonso XII; and two outer fortifications named Princesa de Asturias and Torre de la Reina. Troops , including a cavalry with its own lieutenant commander, were garrisoned within the protective confine of the walls. From Jolo, in 1880 Col. Rafael Gonzales de Rivera who was appointed the governor dispatched the 6th Regiment to Siasi and Bongao islands. The Spaniards were not secure in their stronghold because it would be sporadically attacked. On 22 July 1883, it is reported that three unnamed juramentado succeeded in penetrating the Jolo town plaza and killed three Spaniards.; The word “Ajuramentado” was coined by Spanish colonel Juan Arolas after witnessing several such acts while serving duty in the Jolo garrison.

check ABU SAYAFF FILE