About the author- litigation lawyer in telecoms, taxation, criminal, labor, appellate, family law and corporate; a radio broadcaster, speaker, author a husband, a father, advocate for consumers, for justice www.angkapatiran.org and a sinner who wants to
be a saint. hilman1108@yahoo.com
Conflicting Regulations. This is a comment of a prospective investor to the National Telecommunications Commission policies for VOIP and related policies.
The investor said, that did you know that the regulations on Section 4 ran counter to what is being offerred by Yahoo Messenger, Skype or even EBAY.
The unversality of technology means we are now in the participation generation, with companies like Sun Microsystems giving away software to the world.
The public does not want to pay for their long distance calls with friends and relatives.
Todays 40 cents per minute have scared away foreign investors. this bypass provisions allow monopolistic practices and the non-competitiveness of our telecoms services. I was told that the DSL system in Malolos was down because the wrong infrastructure was in place and no back-up . Our policies should make the Philippines Globally competitive. What do you say NTC?
attysison2020@yahoo.com
A womans need for self-discovery, and her supposed disillusion with her marriage are some causes of infidelity. A man also needs self-fulfillment and may be unhappy, being cuddled, with moral support.
Supposedly there are other reasons. You will be surprised that there are those who claim that having a lover enhances their marriage.
The woman normally can not compartamentalize her life , so she risks everything with her spouse and her children, if any.
It is only in the 20th century wherein romantic love and women can choose their spouse. Earlier, it was usually arranged marriages for women, not to mention
in many countries women are like chattel and can not even be free to move around.
Woman is searching for something,or is she just adventurous.
Experts say that relationships that started sexually do not last more than one year.
Beyond that the spouse would discover the relationship.
A woman values self-esteem, being in control, having her own bank account, being wanted, listened to, forgiven, loved, romanced and pursued with exitement in the relationship, a man who supports her, who cherishes her, who allows her to grow, allows her to work and have a career. It is not easy staying married but we start with ourselves.
Men must read ‘If He only Knew what a woman can not resist by Gary Smalley.
Go to Totus Bookstore Red Ribbon bild Conneticut corner Missouri, Greenhills
More in a latter article.
Attysison2020@yahoo.com
Did you know if you are below 23 for female and below 25 for male , you are advised not to contract a marriage as you do not have suffiecient discretion at that age to get married.
Deception, homosexuality and other signs of psychological immaturity are grounds for the termination of your marriage ties.
In the cannonical court. you ask how long have you been separated. Usually at least two years of separation is required and signs of irreconcilable differences.
Read and answer the questions as outlined in a book on church annulment. then a filing fee down of five thousand, progress payment until 30 or 35 thousand pesos.This is the fee that goes to the tribunal. Of course you have additional expenses of bringing your witnesses, incluing a psychologist and related expenses like a canonical lawyer reviewing your answers etc. The civil state annulment may cost more depending on the ground.
List down 5 witnesses for each (husband and a 5 witness list for the wife )is submitted, preferably with the affidavit of testimony is submitted.
Consult a cannonical lawyer. the filing fee varies according to diocese. More in a latter article.
Attysison2020@yahoo.com
A Great Story
Father John Powell, a professor at Loyola University in Chicago, writes about a student in his Theology of Faith class named Tommy:
Some twelve years ago, I stood watching my university students file into the classroom for our first session in the Theology of Faith. That was the day I first saw Tommy. My eyes and my mind both blinked. He was combing his long flaxen hair, which hung six inches below his shoulders. It was the first time I had ever seen a boy with hair that long. I guess it was just coming into fashion then.
I know in my mind that it isn’t what’s on your head, but what’s in it that counts. But on that day I was unprepared and my emotions flipped. I immediately filed Tommy under “S” for strange… very strange.
Tommy turned out to be the “atheist in residence” in my Theology of Faith course. He constantly objected to, smirked at, or whined about the possibility of an unconditionally loving father,God.
We lived with each other in relative peace for one semester. Although I admit, he was for me at times a serious pain in the back pew.
When he came up at the end of the course to turn in his final exam, he asked in a cynical tone, “Do you think I’ll ever find God?”
I decided instantly on a little shock therapy. “No!” I said very emphatically.
“Why not,” he responded, “I thought that was the product you were pushing.”
I let him get five steps from the classroom door and then called out, “Tommy! I don’t think you’ll ever find Him, but I am absolutely certain that He will find you!”
He shrugged a little and left my class and my life.
I felt slightly disappointed at the thought that he had missed my clever line — He will find you! At least I thought it was clever.
Later I heard that Tommy had graduated and I was duly grateful.
Then a sad report came. I heard that Tommy had terminal cancer. Before I could search him out. He came to see me. When he walked into my office, his body was very badly wasted and the long hair had all fallen out as a result of chemotherapy. But his eyes were bright and his voice was firm, for the first time, I believe.
“Tommy, I’ve thought about you so often I hear you are sick,” I blurted out.
“Oh, yes, very sick. I have cancer in both lungs. It’s a matter of weeks.”
“Can you talk about it, Tom?” I asked.
“Sure, what would you like to know?” he replied.
“What’s it like to be only twenty-four and dying?”
“Well, it could be worse.”
“Like what?”
“Well, like being fifty and having no values or ideals. Like being fifty and thinking that booze, seducing women, and making money are the real
‘biggies’ in life.”
I began to look through my mental file cabinet under ‘S’ where I had filed Tommy as strange.
(It seems as though everybody I try to reject by
classification, God sends back into my life to educate me.)
“But what I really came to see you about,” Tom said, “is something you said to me on the last day of class.” (He remembered!) He continued, “I asked you if you thought I would ever find God and you said, ‘No!’ which surprised me. Then you said, ‘But He will find you.’ I thought about that a lot, even though my search for God was hardly intense at that time. (My clever line.
He thought about that a lot!)
“But when the doctors removed a lump from my groin and told me that it was malignant, that’s when I got serious about locating God. And when the malignancy spread into my vital organs, I really began banging bloody fists against the bronze doors of heaven. But God did not come out.. In fact, nothing happened. Did you ever try anything for a long time with great effort and with no success? You get psychologically glutted, fed up with trying. And then you quit.
“Well, one day I woke up, and instead of throwing a few more futile appeals over that high brick wall to a God who may be or may not be there, I just quit. I decided that I didn’t really care about God, about an after life, or anything like that. I decided to spend what time I had left doing something more profitable.
I thought about you and your class and I remembered something else you had said: “The essential sadness is to go through life without loving. But it would be almost equally sad to go through life and leave this world without ever telling those you loved that you had loved them.”
“So, I began with the hardest one, my Dad. He was reading the newspaper when I approached him. “Dad.”
“Yes, what?” he asked without lowering the newspaper.
“Dad, I would like to talk with you.”
“Well, talk.”
“I mean . . . It’s really important”
The newspaper came down three slow inches. “What is it?”
“Dad, I love you I just wanted you to know that.”
Tom smiled at me and said it with obvious satisfaction, as though he felt a warm and secret joy flowing inside of him. “The newspaper fluttered to the floor. Then my father did two things I could never remember him ever doing before. He cried and he hugged me. We talked all night, even though he had to go to work the next morning. It felt so good to be close to my father, to see his tears, to feel his hug, to hear him say that he loved me”
“It was easier with my mother and little brother. They cried with me, too, and we hugged each other, and started saying real nice things to each other. We shared the things we had been keeping secret for so many years”
“I was only sorry about one thing — that I had waited so long. Here I was, just beginning to open up to all the people I had actually been close to. “
“Then, one day I turned around and God was there! He didn’t come to me when I pleaded with Him. I guess I was like an animal trainer holding out a hoop, ‘C’mon, jump through. C’mon, I’ll give you three days, three weeks.’
“Apparently God does things in His own way and at His own hour. But the important thing is that He was there. He found me! You were right. He found me even after I stopped looking for Him.”
“Tommy,” I practically gasped, “I think you are saying something very important and much more universal than you realize. To me, at least, you are saying that the surest way to find God is not to make Him a private possession, a problem solver, or an instant consolation in time of need, but rather by opening to love. You know, the Apostle John said that. He said: ‘God is love, and anyone who lives in love is living with God and God is living in him.’
Tom, could I ask you a favor? You know, when I had you in class you were a real pain. But (laughingly) you can make it all up to me now. Would you come into my present Theology of Faith course and tell them what you have just told me? If I told them the same thing it wouldn’t be half as effective as if you were to tell it.”
“Ooh I was ready for you, but I don’t know if I’m ready for your class.”
“Tom, think about it. If and when you are ready, give me a call.”
In a few days Tom called, said he was ready for the class, that he wanted to do that for God and for me. So we scheduled a date. However, he never made it. He had another appointment, far more important than the one with me and my class. Of course, his life was not really ended by his death, only changed. He made the great step from faith into vision. He found a life far more beautiful than the eye of man has ever seen or the ear of man has ever heard or the mind of man has ever imagined. Before he died, we talked one last time.
“I’m not going to make it to your class,” he said.
“I know, Tom.”
“Will you tell them for me? Will you . . . tell the whole world for me?”
“I will, Tom. I’ll tell them. I’ll do my best”
So, to all of you who have been kind enough to read this simple story about God’s love, thank you for listening. And to you, Tommy, somewhere in the sunlit, verdant hills of heaven — I told them, Tommy as best I could.
If this story means anything to you, please pass it on to a friend or two.
It is a true story and is not enhanced for publicity purposes.
With thanks,
Rev. John Powell, Professor Loyola University in Chicago
From: ivp-phils@yahoogroups.com [mailto:ivp-phils@yahoogroups.com] On Behalf Of Sobrepena Aniceto M - MBTC
Sent: Tuesday, August 30, 2005 5:47 PM
To: MBFI_NOTED (E-mail); Metrobank_Asset (E-mail); Metrobank_Scholars (E-mail); IVP (E-mail)
Subject: [ivp-phils] RAYMUND NARAG: FROM ‘CRIMINAL’ TO FULBRIGHT SCHOLAR
dear friends
in this time of tension and confusion, be inspired by the never ending saga of raymund narag. he is a delightful
fellow whom i met in the course of our work at the metrobank foundation. after reading this piece, say a prayer
for the success of raymund in his mission in the united states.
thanks and mabuhay ang pilipino!
chito
From “Criminal” to Fulbright Scholar
On August 8, 2005, I shall be an official Fulbright Scholar. I shall travel to New York City to undergo a four day pre-academic orientation on the US graduate educational system. Then I shall enroll in Michigan State University in East Lansing, Michigan, for a two year Master’s Degree in Criminal Justice. I shall study the mechanics of comparative criminal justice system, that is, the workings of the law enforcements, courts and corrections in different countries of the world.
I was chosen as one of the ten Filipino Fulbrighters this year on the account, nay strength, of my previous history. I had a profound “professional” experience which warranted the award. And this experience is considered to be a potential contributory to improve our country’s criminal justice system.
I was once considered a criminal. I was wrongly accused of a heinous crime I did not commit. I was charged with murder, two counts of frustrated murder and three counts of attempted murder in a fraternity related case in December, 1994. I was pursued by the National Bureau of Investigation, prosecuted in court and detained in Quezon City Jail for six years, nine months and four days, pending the duration of the trial.
I underwent the horrors of detention life. Together with my fellow accused, we were made to live in a room that could ideally accommodate 10 inmates but actually had more than a hundred bodies in it. We were made to subsist in a food allowance of P35 a day, which could barely sustain our flesh. Five of my fellow inmates die every month due to diseases, suffocation and emaciated conditions.
And this horror is compounded by the responses of the different actors in the penal system. There developed structures within that made life even more miserable for the lowly inmates- inmates could be subjected to punishments if they break the jail’s social code; there is an economic divide which made slaves out of the poor inmates, and a culture of repression where every inmate is forced to simply accept the harsh realities and to complain may mean a loss of one’s life or limbs.
But far from being bitter about my experience, I made use of my time productively in jail. I organized and taught in the literacy program, I spearheaded the inmate organization towards reformatory goals and enrolled myself in a diploma program offered by the University of the Philippines Distance Education. And believing that I was an academician in the wrong place, I studied the mechanics of jail life- I recorded in my journal the power struggles among the inmate leaders and gangs; I took notes on the intricacies of inmate-management relations; and captured on my camera vivid scenes, like an inmate subjected to a disciplinary action called “takal”. Being a co-implementor of the programs, I also saw the constraints in resources and challenges in the attitude of the different criminal justice actors. And I reflect on those little details: of why inmates escape, of why riots occur, of why inmates come back in jail, of why educational programs fail, etc. I furiously wrote essays, poems and short stories and submitted these to national dailies hoping that they may have interest in publishing it.
These I did with the conviction that someday, when I will be a free man again, I am going to write about the plight of the thousand detainees languishing in our jails. I believe then, that there must be a divine reason, why an innocent being like me had to undergo such travails. I consoled myself with the thought, that perhaps, I shall be the spokesperson of the downtrodden and the forgotten.
Thus, even while in jail, I prepared myself to the rigors of academic life- that my incarceration is a unique method of research gathering, called “pakikipamuhay.” And that the subjects, my fellow inmates with whom I toil everyday, are the rich supplier of concrete and unaltered data. For I believe, the best proof of innocence is my unbridled quest for knowledge.
Indeed, I am innocent. Evidence established in court declared I was not in the scene of the crime, that I was never part of the fracas. Of course, I was wrongly accused. On February 28, 2002, after billeting in jail for almost seven years, I was a free man.
Immediately upon release, I boldly presented myself to all concerned agencies which have a stake in the criminal justice system. I told them- I had been a living witness to something profound, a survivor in a social malady that has long been neglected. Please here ye, so it may not happen again.
There are people who hear voices in the wilderness.
The Supreme Court, through the Honorable Chief Justice, who had been envisioning a free and impartial judiciary, took me in. I was made a consultant on penal affairs. It was to be a partnership: a chief judicial officer long wanting to effect reforms and a former inmate, making sense of his demise. I shall make a case study on Quezon City Jail, my sweet home for seven years, and document what afflicts the penal system. This shall be one of the bases in the wide ranging Action Program for Judicial Reforms.
On May 10, 2005, the Supreme Court, with funding assistance from the United Nations Development Program, published my book, “Freedom and Death Inside the City Jail.” There I courageously divulged everything I knew about jail life, shaking off the fear that crept and lingered in my heart during those periods of detention. I described how the inadequacy of government resources, deficiency in manpower and facilities and the lack of reformation programs, coupled with the slow disposition of cases and the inefficiency of data gathering by the police, resulted in a “unique” penal system. I documented images of a wet market or talipapa inside the jail, of cells constructed like houses in a squatter’s area, of a family with little children doing their everyday chores, of a jail officer working as a padrino to a gang, etc. In his foreword, Hon. Chief Justice Hilario Davide described the book as “truly an eye opener.”
Thus started my career in the field of criminal justice.
My humble presentations and pleadings for the plight of the inmates brought me everywhere. Indeed, God had made me a spokesperson of people behind bars. And one of those who heard my story is the cultural attaché of the US embassy, who introduced me to the Fulbright scholarship program.
It is a scholarship which God awarded me for faithfully serving HIM.
I shall be a Filipino Fulbrighter tall and proud. I shall carry with me in a different shore the prayers of my fellow inmates so that I may be guided in my studies. I shall devour all the knowledge I could possibly get so that one day, when I come back home, I could offer solutions to our country’s many woes. I shall be in the company of scholars, with my seven year data neatly preserved, to prove the world, that everything is a learning experience, if given the proper perspective.
For when I was branded a criminal, it was the beginning of my scholarship. I shall not fail.
Raymund E. Narag
August 1, 2005
You may send comments to:
naragray@msu.edu
raymund.narag@up.edu.ph
raymund_narag@yahoo.com
