My travels to places where there are no paths to follow.
No. The title of this piece is not what you might think it is, you dirty-minded reader, you.
“What’s wrong with that?” Kabsat Kandu asks. “Bitch, witch, itch, glitch—they’re just words to describe something. The dirt is in the extra thoughts you put into them.”
But really, we’re talking clean unadulterated fun here, I assure my feisty neighbor. Continue reading “Community of bitches”
Consider the choice: either spend a weekend in glitzy Las Vegas, or a full week in an Indian village in upstate New York with only minimal amenities. Which one to choose?
If you choose Las Vegas, here’s ten bucks, good luck with the slot machines. If you choose upstate New York, this column is for you.
I was with the Cordillera People’s Alliance when we were invited by American indigenous activists to attend the Land Is Life founding conference. It was decided that I go to represent the CPA . The conference, to be attended by IP representatives and rights advocates from the various continents, was to be held in Fonda in upstate New York. Continue reading “Indigenous spirits revisited”
Since I was a child, I’ve often noticed jeepney drivers, conductors, and mechanics wearing one over their shoulders or keeping one handily tucked into their pants pocket. Even though our street corner was teeming with jeepneys all day long, we didn’t use it at home. So I had always associated it with the hoi polloi, the Great Unwashed of the streets.
Then I became an activist. Driven by martial law repression, I went full-time into underground activism from 1976 onward, with Metro Manila as our regular AOR, plus some parts of Cavite and a strip of Bulacan as our “rear base,” sort of. There I first met up-close the plebeian Good Morning Towel, aka GMT. Continue reading “Good morning, towel!”