Author Archives: M.A.D. LIGAYA
EVERLASTING (Part 5)
(Short Story / Last of 5 Parts)
I felt tremendously excited and a little bit worried for my grandmother. I cannot be mistaken. The old man who gave the card was her adorer. I wished that the old man decided to stay longer. I opened the gate. Grandma got out first.
“Where is he… where?” asked my grandmother. “My God! Why didn’t you give this to me immediately.” I scanned the part of the road where I saw the car parked. It was no longer there. In the whole neighborhood, I searched, my Grandma’s adorer was nowhere to be found.
When I returned, my grandmother stood in front of the newly-built bungalow where the old man parked his car earlier. Needless to say any word, both Grandma and I were despondent. My sadness emanated from the failed expectation that I would meet the noblest lover I have known.
The source of my Grandma’s sorrow was different, I was sure. Now, I no longer need to ask if Grandma loved her adorer. Her actions at that time betrayed her – her being so disconsolate for failing to finally see her adorer after more than four decades revealed how she truly feels for him.
We exchanged no words until we reached her room. I decided to stay with my grandmother. She had laid on the bed while I went back to continue reading Peeker’s blogs. My Grandma’s eyes were closed. I watched her intently. Even in old age, she remained elegantly beautiful, notwithstanding all those wrinkles. No wonder why her adorer fell madly in love. Later on, I noticed some tears falling from her closed eyes. At that instance, all the more that it became clear to me how she felt about her adorer.
After a few minutes, a notification about a new blog entry appeared on the laptop’s screen. After 10 years, Peeker blogged again for Charming.
“Grandma, wake up. Peeker has a new post for you!” There was no reaction from Grandma. She seemed disinterested. “Did you hear that grandma, a new post from Peeker!”
It took a while before Grandma reacted and said with her eyes still closed, “Would you like to read it aloud for me?”
“My pleasure!” I answered. With tremendous excitement, I opened the blog entry and started reading aloud.
—–
My Ever dearest Charming,
“Happy 60th birthday… Rest assured that I never stopped thinking about you. God knows I never stopped loving you.
Now I can tell you. I worked in the Middle East only for 5 years. I returned to our country after that, but I decided never to bother you. I made it appear that I stayed for good in the Middle East. Please forgive me for that.
I was there when you graduated from college and in graduate school. You just did not see me. I was there during your 30th, 40th, and 50th birthday celebrations. I was there each time that I wanted to see you. Each time I would only be watching clandestinely from a distance and through the tinted glasses of my car. How lucky I would be to see you daintily tending the flowers in your garden as my car rolled by. You know so well that just seeing you would give me immeasurable joy. But why do you seem sad whenever I see you alone in the garden?
I almost died in jealousy each time I passed by and witnessed on your terrace how gently your husband would kiss you on your cheeks and lips.
I was there also when you got married at the age of 25. You were the prettiest bride that I have ever seen. That was the most ironic moment in my life. While you were tying the knots, mine was unknotted, for it was that day when the court approved the annulment of marriage that my wife filed. I never got married again, for I vowed you would be the last woman I would love.
Why did I stop blogging for the past 10 years? Your husband got sick, and I don’t want to burden you more. I wanted you to provide him with undivided attention. When he died, I tried to respect your bereavement. I may have stopped blogging, but I never stopped tirelessly watching you from afar.
I own the bungalow nearby. I was watching when you and a young gentleman came out of the gate of your house several minutes ago. But I don’t know why until now I am afraid to face you. Perhaps I need an answer to a question I should have asked you before we parted that day.”
—–
Upon hearing that portion, my Grandma opened her eyes and excitedly exclaimed, “What did he say again?”
“Grandma, he was in his house when we searched for him. He saw us.” I retorted.
“Oh, that melodramatic fool,” my Grandma said in exasperation.
—–
“I was the happiest person on earth when I saw you. I would like to believe that you were looking for me and wanted to see me. I hope I am not so presumptuous, but under the bright light post, I saw in your face how much you wanted to see me. When you could not locate me, I saw how sad you were, the same sadness that I saw during our first and only date… it was a picnic we had then… I told you that I would be leaving for the Middle East.
Now I have one request to make. I will now allow you to comment on this post. Please answer my questions.
Do you love me? Please allow me to live the last days of my life with you.
—–
My grandmother obliged. She requested me to encode her reply to her adorer’s questions.
—–
If only you tried to show up before I got married, things would have been different. Right from the start, you have stolen my heart. You’re a thief. But I was so young and so afraid. I didn’t know what to do. I cried when you left. I cried a river. That river drowned me for a long time. I wanted to stop you from going, but I don’t know if you would listen. I was waiting for you to kiss me, embrace me, and do whatever you wanted to do to me. But you never did.
I cried every time I read your blogs. And as the days, weeks, months, and years passed, I felt how much my love for you had grown stronger.
If only you appeared in the church during my wedding, I would have ran to you and asked you to bring me anywhere you wanted. But you never did. I want to think that you’re a coward. I did not ask you to sacrifice to give me away to someone else because you always wanted to toe the line of propriety and morality. I don’t know if I would consider that sacrifice on your part or if it was cowardice. It hurt that you did not try to express your feelings for me. I would have preferred to be ridiculed by my friends and family…by society…than lose you.
You are right. I was not happy all those years because I kept waiting for you. My husband knew about you, about my feelings for you. We quarreled many times because he resented that I could not forget you until he accepted that you would always be part of me.
But I never told him about your blogs. Your blogs kept me afloat, but I preferred seeing you in flesh and blood. I waited for you to show up anytime and take me away, but you never did. My husband knows that anytime you appear, he may lose me. I hate to admit it, and may our God forgive me for this… there were nights I shared the bed with my husband, but I imagined you.
And here you are now, finally.
How cruel of you not to have blogged for the past 10 years. It was during those years that I needed you most. Not just that. You doubled my pain. For not blogging, you kept me drowned in anxiety. I did not know what happened to you. I thought you finally got tired of loving me. I thought you were sick. I thought you were dead.
How cruel of you not to have just shown up, kissed, and embraced me when I left the house earlier.
I want to see you in my garden tomorrow. If you don’t show up, forget about me.
—–
“Are you happy now?” Grandma asked. “Now you know the answers to all your questions.”
“What will you do when you see him tomorrow, Grandma?”
“I will slap that melodramatic old man!”
“Then?”
“I will embrace and kiss him! I will demand that he marries me.”
(The End)
EVERLASTING (Part 4)
(Short Story / 4th of 5 Parts)
Then I noticed that sadness gradually disappeared in the landscape of Peeker’s next blogs as weeks passed after he met Grandma.
—–
“There’s no denying that I have fallen in love with you. But it is also pointless to expect reciprocity from you. I could only dream; anyone can dream that you would love me in return. I could only wish, for there’s no limit to wishful thinking, that you should have come into my life when I had no moral restrictions.
While I ceased uselessly thrusting aside my feelings for you to God, I fervently prayed (and always pray for you) that He may keep my intentions for you pure. After that, I began noticing the good things you have done for me, something that I did not see when trying to shrug off what I felt for you. Only then did I realize how wonderful my life was turning since you came into my life? You have served as a tremendous inspiration.
With you around, I began to view life positively again. I became more passionate and creative with you everywhere in my work.”
I have promised never to let you know how I really felt for you, for I am afraid that you may no longer treat me the way you did and that even our friendship may be extinguished. But it was a risk that I had to take. I decided I must tell you, not because I wanted you to reciprocate, but I just want you to know, before I go and may never see you again, how endeared to me you have become.
—–
“So, grandma, before that 3-month program ended, did he make the big revelation?” I asked.
My grandma looked at me, paused for a while, then said, “Actually, during the last month of the program, he told me about someone serving as his inspiration, a very young woman. Then, later on, he admitted to having fallen in love with her. But no matter how pushy I was in asking him when we talk or exchange text messages to divulge her identity, he would not.”
I could sense the excitement in how Grandma relived the past. Then she continued, “During our last session for the program, he asked if we could talk that weekend in a quiet place, just the two of us. I acceded for a gentleman like him I know could be trusted. We had a picnic in a park on the outskirts of the next town. He was undeniably happy. I had never seen him so happy. I have never seen him smile genuinely or laugh so vigorously. Before, he may smile, but his eyes always radiate sadness.”
“We talked about many things but intentionally avoided touching on serious matters. He informed me that he had resigned from the university where he was teaching. After two months, he would be leaving for the Middle East, where he accepted an invitation to head the university’s English Department there.
Honestly, I became sad and momentarily speechless upon hearing that. I didn’t understand why. But I didn’t like him to notice it. I wanted to tell him not to leave the country, but I chose not to. I really did not like him to leave. I don’t know why. We spent almost the whole day in that park.”
Then I asked Grandma how his adorer told him about his feelings.
“He did not tell me anything about that young woman he fell in love with and drew so much inspiration from. Before we parted that day, though, he gave me the note I had shown you once. He requested that I open it when I got home. Which I did.”
“Ahh, I remember that card, Grandma,” I said, “But you did not allow me to read the short message it contains. Please allow me to read the note now. Please…”
Miraculously, Grandma nodded and gave me the note that she was just hiding in her purse.
“I know you will come looking for this note when I told you about this. So, I made sure you won’t find it. But here! You can see it now!” my grandma said with a taunting smile.
Finally, I got to see it. The note reads, “Falling in love with you was the most wonderful thing in my life. I only regret that it is a love that was never meant to be. Leaving was painful, but it was the best thing I must do. I have never asked anything from you in return except this one… please read my blogs whenever you have time.”
As planned, Grandma’s adorer left for the Middle East after two months. But amazingly, he continued to write blog entries for her…
—–
“I was so happy on the eve of my departure because you allowed me to call you. We chatted for almost a couple of hours. Then playfully that I asked, “Why were you born too late?”… you answered, “And why were you born too soon?” We laughed at those oft-repeated lines in a movie.
Then I asked how you felt when you learned that that young woman with whom I fell crazily in love was you. You said you didn’t know what to feel. You didn’t even know what to say at that moment. Upon hearing that, I wanted to think you are naïve, but who am I to judge you. Perhaps I was the one so naïve, putting an emotional burden on someone so young like you. I didn’t bother to push you further. Later you said you were so surprised that a person of my stature would be blinded by someone just like you that you wanted to think it was just one of those jokes I tried to play on you. I offered no explanation for that occurrence in my life – falling in love with you – was something I could not explain. It just came spontaneously. JOKE? It could be, but it is a joke that I did not play on you, but a joke that fate played on me.
Before my plane flew, I sent you several text messages. Unabashedly, I told you how much I love you. And, of course, you know what you said in return.”
—–
“Grandma, what did you tell him in response?
“I admitted that he has become a part of my life, very much a part of my life. I told him how I wished I could love him in return.”
My grandma momentarily stopped. “Hey grandma, what? What else did you tell your adorer?”
A moment of silence ensued. Grandma stared and smiled at me and answered hesitatingly, “I… I was not sure… I was too young…too confused. I didn’t know what more to say then.”
I was so disappointed with Grandma’s response. I would like to believe what Peeker said that Grandma is naïve, but who am I also to pass judgment on her.
—–
“Goodbye, Charming! The greatest pleasure that I have in my life is knowing you. Certainly, you will remain forever in my heart and mind. I will be praying for your good future. May you have a great family. As I wrote in the note I gave you after our picnic… please read my blogs whenever you have time.”
—–
How tirelessly that Peeker expressed his eternal adoration for Grandma. Her feelings for Charming seemed to have not relented through the years. He never got tired of blogging for Grandma – telling her about events in his life – asking her for prayers for his problems and difficulties – detailing his pains and grief – expressing his unfathomable affection to her. That went on and on through the years.
“Grandma, did you regularly read your adorer’s blog?” I asked.
Grandma nodded and said, “Of course, weekly, sometimes fortnightly, there were times I did it daily. I did it in secrecy, always in the wee hours of the morning when nobody would notice. But he discouraged me from giving reactions to his blogs, which I obediently followed.”
Asking Grandma again how she felt about Peeker would just be a practice in futility, for, as always, she would give a vague answer. But regularly reading his blog would mean that, at least to Grandma, her adorer is someone very special, or it could be more than that.
At 3:00 A.M., I decided to allow Grandma to rest. My thirst for information about her adorer was more than quenched. She promised to give me access to Peeker’s blogs anytime I wanted.
Then I remember the old man and the birthday card. Before leaving Grandma’s room, I gave her the said card.
” By the way, Grandma, somebody wants you to have this.” She read the card as I head out.
“Wait!” She said, “Who gave you this? Where’s he?” I have not seen Grandma so excited.
“An old man in a car parked by the roadside before I came here. I wonder if he’s still there. Why?”
To my amazement, Grandma got a jacket and scurried downstairs while wearing it. I followed her immediately.
EVERLASTING (Part3)
(Short Story / 3rd of 5 Parts)
He admitted being so stupid for feeling how he felt because my grandmother was so young at that time, almost half his age. He admitted to being inappropriate because he was already married then.
“Ahh, those were why you did not love him in return, you were half his age, and he’s married?” Right Grandma? I inquired.
“Just keep on reading, will you!” was Grandma’s response.
I expected she would finally tell me directly how she felt about her adorer. It was again a futile attempt. I just continued reading.
—–
“I have laughed off Francis Bacon’s thesis about love. He said that love is similar to the stage. It is filled with tragedy, comedy, mischief, and fury. I thought it was a shallow analogy. But now here I am, sounding like an actor in a play delivering a soliloquy. And I am not sure when this will end… when I end talking to myself. “
“This is a comedy. I made myself my own laughingstock. And I am almost certain you are laughing now at my stupidity.”
—–
I paused reading again and asked my grandma, “Did you consider all these kinds of stuff stupidity, grandma?”
“Never! Why should I?” was her curt reply.
When I continued, I suddenly laughed (and my grandma was amused) when I read that portion of the adorer’s blog where he admitted he was crazy thinking of grandma almost every moment. The following lines are similar to the content of my video message to a pretty classmate I was wooing at that time. The next were the words I told that lady, “I think of you almost every moment…before sleeping at night, I would think of you. I would see you in my dreams, and when I woke up, the image of your pretty smiling face would greet me. You seemed to have established omnipresence in my consciousness. Your image is present in the books I read, in the movies I watch, in the sky, in the trees, EVERYWHERE!
Then I continued reading the blogs…
—–
” I have disagreed with Bacon when he posited that ‘it is impossible to love and to be wise.’ It is equivalent to saying that love makes a person crazy. I disagreed, but here I am swirling around my own disagreement.”
“Funny, but I considered kinds of stuff like these childish. I hate being dramatic. But it’s exactly what I have become.”
“What have you done to me? Most of my working hours were spent daydreaming about you. The first time that something like this happened to me. I never paid so much attention to a lady, and never had I almost begged to be given attention in return. There were women I dated who were as pretty and charming as you are but more sophisticated and schooled. But none of them charmed me the way you did. None of those beautiful and successful women made me feel and act so strangely this way. It was only you – a youngster – someone who has yet to prove her worth. You rendered my training in Philosophy worthless, for in matters about you, I have become illogical.”
“Yeah, I hate to admit it, but what happened is plain stupidity. This should not be, but I am so helpless. People at a certain stage in their lives commit stupid acts and say stupid things they may regret. Is this my turn?”
—–
“Gosh, Grandma, are you sure you are not a witch? I would like to think that you gave this man some potion.”
My grandma just gave me a smile and a loving nudge on my nape in response. “I would say that he had really gone crazy over you. How did he cope? I hope that your most ardent adorer did nothing stupid.”
Grandma smiled and said, “He is a decent man! He did nothing wrong! I did not know about his feelings, his predicaments, or the pain I caused him. He kept those to himself for a long time! Everything seemed normal when we talked personally, on the phone, or exchanged text messages! Okay, just read on.”
Read on. I did. I passed by entries that vividly elucidated the man’s emotional struggles, the predicament I hoped I would never be able to undergo.
—–
“That night, I went to the riverbank where I would have my reflections every time I would be emotionally burdened. Falling in love was supposed to be a wonderful feeling, but why it has become an emotional struggle for me. It has brought me more sadness than joy.
No, the sadness was not a product of guilt for falling in love with another woman when I had already tied the knot with another one. Not even for falling in love with someone so young. The moral purists may disagree, but falling in love is never wrong. Falling in love per se is not a sin. The subsequent acts committed to pursuing the feeling would determine whether it’s sinful. Ahh, I am clearly trying to justify my stupidity.”
—–
Falling in love is a beautiful experience, but the adorer’s seemingly hopeless struggle to shrug off the feeling prevents him from experiencing the joy of falling in love. He said that he tried so hard to suppress the emotion. But to no avail. The adorer admitted having his ways with women. He knew how to make women fall in love but never tried any trick on my grandmother.
The adorer wished that he could circumvent the existing moral standards so he would not suffer from his ethical dilemma or that he could have been born in a culture that would not give him such prohibitions.
—–
“I know I can love you but never have you. I can love you, for nobody has the right to prevent me from feeling what I have felt for you. As hard as I did, I could not restrain my heart from falling in love with you.
But I can never have you for obvious reasons. That I needed to accept wholeheartedly my love for you is a love that was never meant to be.
It was also pride, not guilt, preventing me from experiencing the joy of falling in love. I found it hard to accept that a young woman like you could put me on an emotional leash. But that also is a reality I have to accept. I gladly put in your hands that emotional leash. Make me happy, make me sad. Do as you wish!
Could this be my karma? I used to be the one who held the handle of the emotional leash.”
—–
I sympathized deeply with the man for all the emotional struggles he underwent because of his love for Grandma. What could be more painful than finally finding true love in the wrong place, at the wrong time, and under the wrong circumstances? What a crazy fate! This stuff, I thought, I would only read in stories and watch in movies.
In one blog entry, he mentioned how sad he became one night when he heard the song “Please Don’t Ask Me.” I sympathized so profoundly when he said that the line in the song that hit him the hardest was… “It only hurts the more I pretend that we could ever be more than friends.”
Several other blog entries dealt with how wholeheartedly my grandma’s adorer accepted the realities that confronted him – the truth that only a youngster like my grandma then would drive him nuts – the reality that he could love my grandma, but he could never have her – the reality that they could never be more than friends.
Then I noticed that sadness gradually disappeared in the landscape of Peeker’s next blogs as weeks passed after he met Grandma.
EVERLASTING (Part 2)
(Short Story / 2nd of 5 Parts)
The door in her bedroom was ajar, slowly that I pushed it open. I was right, she was there, and from the looks of it, she was already asleep. I waited for this moment for so long, and yet Grandma just slept on me and forgot about her promise. I felt disappointment slowly creeping in, but I knew our grand old lady needed that rest.
After a few seconds, I decided to leave and no longer disturb my grandmother.
“Hey, don’t tell me you’re no longer interested to know my secret. Get back in here. My laptop’s open. It’s here beside me. I have already opened his blog.” That was Grandma just before I closed the door.
Excitement readily dislodged the disappointment I was beginning to feel earlier. Finally, the moment had come – the moment when my thirst for knowing more, if not everything, about my grandma’s mysterious adorer would be quenched.
I jumped into my grandma’s bed and started to manipulate her laptop. Attached to her laptop computer was an old but reliable wireless broadband gadget. She requested additional pillows on her head and back so she could also see what I was doing.
The man’s blog was so old-fashioned, as old-fashioned as the birthday card given to me by that old man earlier. There were no video and audio appendages similar to the blogs of my time. It only looked like a plain online diary encoded in a colorfully-designed template.
It was the man’s profile I paid attention to first. To my dismay, his real name was not indicated. What was there was just PEEKER, obviously a pseudonym. There was limited information as well – no age, no address. It was only his profession he cared to divulge – educator-writer.
“Grandma, what’s his name?” I asked casually.
“Secret!” She naughtily retorted. Insisting was pointless because I have tried asking the same thing before, but Grandma would not divulge his name.
“Okay, just tell me where he is now.”
“How I wished I had known.” I paused when I heard that from Grandma. There was sadness in her tone. It was intriguing. But I was happy with her response because somehow, she started to open up about her adorer and unwittingly gave me the slightest inkling of how she felt for him.
When I finished the profile, I started to open the blog entries. I was surprised by the sheer volume of entries in Peeker’s blog. In the archive section, I saw that he had entries from 2009 to 2041. However, he stopped blogging in the past 10 years. Coincidentally, those were the years that my grandpa suffered from cancer until he succumbed to the illness 5 years ago.
What’s more striking was that he blogged exclusively for a woman he fondly calls Charming.
“Yes, that’s the name he christened me with – Charming.” That was Grandma’s response when I inquired about the name. Then I scrolled back to the entries in 2009. My grandma then was just in college. Then I began reading…
The blog entries, with each one always beginning with the salutation “To my Ever Dearest Charming,” were very long. Through the first blog he published for Grandma in May 2009, I learned he was a professor at a reputable university invited to conduct a one-day leadership seminar in the college where Grandma was studying.
In one part of the blog entry, Peeker wrote…
—–
“You gatecrashed into my life when you attended the seminar which I conducted at your school. Of the many participants who came, you easily caught my attention. Not only because you are pretty with so smooth skin. I am used to seeing beautiful young women. But there was something exceptional about you. Your eyes radiate some kind of magic. When I looked into your eyes, I got myself charmed and bewitched. Our eyes met, you smiled, and at that very moment, there was something I felt. I could not understand if it was what they call love at first sight. I was uncertain. I felt I was too old for such kinds of stuff. But I am certain that the feeling was something special, something so disturbing – so special and disturbing that that very night I would keep thinking about you until I decided to open my website and put you and this experience in my blog. This is very funny. And yes… very inappropriate! Thankfully, that would be my first and last time seeing you. Soon, you’ll be forgotten.”
—–
“Grandma, did you ever see him again after the seminar?” I inquired.
Grandma responded in the affirmative, “He was hired by the college as the facilitator of the 3-month English proficiency program for selected students. I was one of those students, and whether we liked it or not, we were destined to see each other again.”
Indeed, whether they liked it or not, their destinies intertwined at that juncture. Their paths crossed, inevitably. Grandma told me that the program her adorer supervised for three months in their university was done thrice a week.
In Peeker’s next blog entry, his emotional predicament was so apparent.
—–
“I don’t know if I would consider that 3-month job offered as a blessing or a curse. Instead of being forgotten, you got embedded deeper into my consciousness. Each time we will have a session, I try to avoid looking into your eyes, not only because I may get distracted in the performance of my tasks but also for fear that all the more that you will get me charmed and bewitched. But not looking at you is like forgetting to breathe. I did not like to deprive myself of the simple joy that your presence brings.”
“Instead of avoiding you, I befriended you. I asked for your mobile phone number and your e-mail. Each time I would plan to make a conscious effort to avoid you, all the more that my feet would drag me closer to you. I have frequently talked and exchanged text messages with you since then. At first, we discussed matters concerning the program I was conducting in your school. Later, we explored various topics, including our personal lives.”
—–
The adorer admitted in his blog that there were rules of propriety that he violated when he befriended my grandma. He unabashedly realized that not long after they became friends, he could confirm what he was so afraid of…that he was in love with my grandmother.
EVERLASTING (Part 1)
(Short Story / 1st of 5 Parts)
It was halfway through the century, my grandma’s 60th birthday. My parents were making sure that it would be a very memorable celebration. The services of a caterer and an event coordinator were acquired to ensure that the nitty-gritty details of the affair would be taken care of.
Our family compound was bustling with so much activity. People were all over. Most were in our sprawling front yard pitching tents, positioning tables and chairs, and decorating a makeshift stage. A few were in the lounge and the terrace for curtains and decorations, while others were in the kitchen cooking. In the backyard, the butchers worked on pig and cow carcasses, making the place messy and smelly. Thanks for the pig being roasted in an adjacent vacant lot. Its delectable aroma countered the nauseating smell of blood and uncooked meat.
It was not, however, with the big celebration that I was excited about but rather with my grandma’s promise that she would show me the blogs posted by one of the many men who fell crazy for her when she was still young. How did blogs look like when my grandma was still young? But more than that was the curiosity developed by my grandma’s constant mention of the man who she never thought would profess so much affection for her, more than the appreciation showered to her by anyone. But whenever I would ask if she also loved the man, my grandma would only smile but refuse to answer. No matter how adamant I would be in pressing for an answer, she would just stare at me and smile. And when I asked why she did not marry the man, she retorted, “Better if you just read later what he wrote for me in his blogs!” How frustrated I would be if she stated the same line for whatever questions I asked about her mysterious adorer.
She told me about the man and his blogs five years ago, after my grandpa died. Grandma said that Grandpa did not know about it. And since then, my curiosity about the man and his blogs has grown enormously. My grandma promised to finally show me what her mysterious adorer wrote about her in his blogs only when she turned 60, and that was that night. Five years of waiting would be over.
Like most blogs, the adorer’s blogs were purely personal, not interconnected or socially networked in the blogosphere. Those blogs were even classified as “private”; thus, they could not be read by anyone but the blogger himself. That was according to my grandma. But before that man left to pursue a career overseas, so my grandma could access his blogs, he left her a note containing the blog’s account name, the corresponding password, and a short message. Grandma kept that note carefully. She mounted it on a cardboard and carefully wrapped it with a plastic cover. She gave me a glimpse of it after my grandpa’s death but did not allow me to read the message. I tried to sneak into her room several times and wanted to find it, but Grandma was so clever. She kept it so tightly that, presumably, even my grandfather did not see it.
Nothing seemed to interest me that night, but when Grandma finally revealed everything to me. Not even the seemingly endless stream of food and drinks and the presence of relatives and friends would distract me from wanting to know more about my grandma’s adorer. I wished the celebration would be finished early, if not abruptly ended.
Anxiously that I waited until the last of the visitors went out. It was almost midnight when the caterers left, hauling their materials and equipment with them. Even my dead-tired parents proceeded to the bedroom and took their well-deserved rest.
My most awaited moment came. I proceeded to the gate, but an old car stopped before I could close it. That old car looked familiar, for many times that I have seen it in the past. It was a Mercedes Benz car. It would always roll off slowly whenever it passed by our house. It was for the first time that it made a stop. It was my intention not to mind whoever was in the car, fearing that the one driving may be a visitor who would require the attention of my grandma, thereby unnecessarily prolonging my agony of waiting for the realization of grandma’s promise.
To my surprise, the driver disembarked and walked towards the gate. I tried to walk away, pretending not to have seen him. But much to my chagrin, he called me out.
“Hey, young man. May I have a moment with you?”
With a heavy heart, I approached him. The driver was an old man. It’s hard to determine his age. I wasn’t good at that, but I think he’s older than my grandmother. However, he looked trim and healthy. His shoulders were broad, and his biceps and chest muscles were well-defined. His physique suggests that he could have worked out regularly when he was young, or he might still be doing it. I have been seeing a lot of senior citizens in the gym where I go once in a while.
“Good evening, hijo,” he said, “please give this to your grandma. My apologies for the bother!”
“No worries, sir! You are welcome! I replied.” It was an old-fashioned birthday card that the old man handed me. I didn’t realize that such stuff still exists.
“Thank you. Good night!” said the old man. He gave me a tap on the shoulder, went back to his car then rolled off slowly. As I closed the gate, I noticed the car parked on a nearby roadside under a bright light post in front of a newly-built bungalow.
When finally, nothing stood between me and the fulfillment of my grandma’s promise, excitedly that I searched for her. Grandma was nowhere to be found, not in the garden or the living room. I suspected she could be in her bedroom dozing off already, for indeed, it was a tiring birthday celebration she had had.
On Gossiping in the Workplace
Can anyone honestly claim to have never gossiped in the workplace… to have never talked about somebody – a coworker or a boss? Well, it’s probably not fair for me to make the hasty generalization that everybody in the workplace gossip. But isn’t that true? Am I really committing that fallacy (hasty generalization) if I argue that nobody in the workplace could come out clean when it comes to gossiping, or am I merely stating a fact?
Gossiping is so prevalent and ubiquitous in the workplace, even in the academe where people, professionals that they are, are supposed to be well-educated and should be conducting themselves within the bounds of professional ethics, couldn’t refrain from wagging their tongues and loosening their lips. And I think that even the so-called servants of God – pastors, priests, and nuns – are not immune to gossiping. Right? I hope I am wrong.
So, if the supposedly educated and cultured people in the academe and the holier-than-thou church people gossip, how much more are the ordinary people in the streets and neighborhoods?
The desire of people to gossip could not be put more eloquently than this way – “People gossip with an appetite that rivals their interest in food and sex.”3 Consider this: “People spend between 65% and 80%-90% of their day-to-day conversation gossiping.”4
Gossip could be defined negatively as “conversation or reports about other people’s private lives that might be unkind, disapproving, or not true.”1 Words synonymous with it include “rumor”, “small talk”, “slander”, “idle talk”, and “backstabbing”.
There exists so bad a perception of gossiping. That is not likely to change, notwithstanding the efforts of some researchers to present a different perspective on the subject.
Gossiping has been stereotyped, and rightly so, as malicious, hurtful, and damaging. It could ruin the organizational climate if it goes unchecked in the workplace. Wagging tongues and loose lips could damage reputation and destroy the relationships between members of an organization. It sows distrust. It could also result in the morale of the subject of gossip getting shattered, affecting his/her work productivity.
Actually, the act of gossiping can either be positive or negative. Gossip is used to convey important information, malign other people, or damage their reputations. It all depends on the motives of the gossipers.
Studies identified four possible motives for passing gossip. They are as follows: to maintain group norms; to enjoy; to inform; and to influence others negatively.2
I classify gossip in the workplace as “work-related” and “personal.” Talking about co-workers and managers is something that is really impossible to avoid, especially when the co-workers conversing are very close friends. It’s difficult not to talk about how other people perform and behave in the organization.
What makes talking about the performance and behavior of the people that surround us in the places where we work negatively is our motive. If there is nothing malicious in our intention, I believe it’s okay. Gossip can also be viewed “as the exchange of information with evaluative content about absent third parties.”2 We can discuss the accomplishments (or the mistakes) of our fellow employees or our managers for the purpose of determining the good things we could emulate from them or to avoid repeating whatever mistakes they may have committed. Even managers also talk about the people they supervise when rating their performance and evaluating policy implementation.
But when the discussions about co-workers (or employees being supervised) are fraught with envy and jealousy, of an obvious attempt to malign them… to strike daggers in their backs… that’s gossiping rearing its ugly head.
We can discuss people in our organization to celebrate their success or tarnish their reputation. We can gossip to praise or make fun of our co-workers and bosses.
Others go as far as talking about other people’s personal lives in the workplace. I could not find any justification for people to talk about the personal lives of their co-workers. The act is simply malicious. Well, if perhaps the intention of the discussion is to figure out how to help a fellow employee wiggle out of a difficult situation, then well and good. But if the motive is either to make fun or demonize the subject of the gossip… to push him/her deeper into the quicksand… for goodness’ sake – STOP!
We should remember this: if the gossiper among your co-workers tells you stories about somebody in your workplace, I bet that that gossiper tells something about you when he/she is talking to someone else.
Perpetrators of gossip should know they could be at risk of being ostracized by their fellow employees for their actions. Gossipers and rumormongers in the workplace are avoided like the plague. Only a fool would associate himself/herself with (or trust) them.
There are different kinds of gossipers, and the best advice I could give is – AVOID THEM AT ALL COSTS.
Let me share the most significant part of the conclusion of a study on gossiping that clearly identified the different kinds of gossipers.
“Every person deals with anxieties. These anxieties are normal in an everyday transitory sense. However, when a person becomes fixated on the pursuit of his satisfaction as the only way to resolve his basic anxiety, his “basic anxiety” turns into neurosis. [Does this mean that gossipers are neurotic?] The neurotic trends all point to one or all of the purposes of gossip and, thus, indicate that a person’s propensity to gossip is grounded on his anxieties. The compliant personality is the gossiper who gossips for acceptance, affirmation, and love. This gossip’s purpose focuses on friendship/intimacy and entertainment. The aggressive personality is the individual who is often described as domineering, difficult, and unkind. This is the gossiper who gossips for information, power, and influence. Gossipers under the aggressive personality trend have more tendencies to gossip manipulatively and maliciously. The detached personality is the one who is inclined to gossip for information. Because he is aloof, cold, and indifferent, there is a wider gap between what he knows in the social structure he belongs in and what he does not know; thus, he is predisposed to gossip to acquire information. A person’s anxieties and neurosis are a reflection of his self-concept. The incongruity between a person’s self-image and ideal self yields a mismatch that normally leads to poor self-concept.”5
Well, the best thing to do in the workplace is to not give anybody a reason to talk about you. Perform your duties and responsibilities as prescribed in your job description and avoid acting like an as _ h _ _ e. This is when gossip serves a positive role – ensuring that members of the organization adhere to rules and standards. Unless you want to be the subject of gossip in the workplace, you should not fail to perform the way you ought to and never misbehave.
Anyway, gossiping is here to stay. The gossipers will never go away. They could be seated right next to you, or you could be sharing the same office. You’ll never know if the co-worker you consider the best among your buddies has been whispering to every ear in the organization the secrets you have entrusted to him/her.
So, BEWARE.
And when you think that gossipers in the workplace spread rumors tantamount to defamation of your character, you can seek the protection of the law. You can sue them. Defamation of character is a punishable offense.
__________
- https://dictionary.cambridge.org/dictionary/
- Foster, E. K. (2004). Research on gossip: Taxonomy, methods, and future directions. Review of General Psychology, 8, 78–99.
- Wilson, D. S., Wilczynski, C., Wells, A., & Weiser, L. (2000). Gossip and other aspects of language as group-level adaptations. In C. Heyes & L. Huber (Eds.), The evolution of cognition (pp. 347–365). Cambridge, MA: MIT Press.
- Dunbar, R. I. M., Duncan, N. D. C., & Marriott, A. (1997). Human conversationalbehaviour. Human Nature, 8, 231–246.
- Chua, S.V, Uy K.J, (2014). The psychological anatomy of gossip. American Journal of Management 14(3), 64-69
On Why Most Asian Universities Hire Native English Speakers Only To Teach English
The career path I set for myself includes teaching English overseas. It was one of the divergent roads I was ready to take if I ever found myself standing at a fork, needing to decide on my academic career. That came when, after many years as a school administrator, I suffered from severe job burnout. I revisited my career path and finally applied to be an ESL teacher abroad.
I searched for job openings in China, Japan, and South Korea. According to my TESOL trainer, the said countries are considered premiere destinations for ESL teachers. They offer the best package of remuneration and benefits. My preferred destination was South Korea, although I also sent applications to universities in the Middle East.
My initial search for ESL positions in South Korea ended in disappointment. Universities offered job openings only to citizens of native English-speaking countries. It means that if you’re not an American, British, Canadian, Australian, Irish, South African, or New Zealander, you may not apply. Even universities in China and Japan prefer hiring (or hiring only) citizens from the said countries.
Never in my wildest dreams did I imagine that such a policy exists. Why, in a world where only native English speakers would be allowed to teach the English language? Isn’t that policy (of hiring native English speakers only) discriminatory? That was when I realized that “native-speakerism” is real. Adrian Holliday coined the term, and it refers to a form of discrimination or bias where preference or privilege is given to native speakers of a language over non-native speakers.
Exclusively hiring applicants from native English-speaking countries discriminates against individuals not coming from those parts of the world, even if they are highly proficient in the language. It deprives them of “equal job opportunities.”
Isn’t the said policy racist? It is! Why? Any practice that directly or indirectly excludes a particular group of people because of a specific cultural nuance is racist. Accent is the cultural nuance that is the main reason for implementing this policy. For this reason, Adrian Holliday created the construct of native-speakerism and classified it as a neo-racist ideology.
However, despite my initial disappointments, I did not lose hope and continued searching for job openings for ESL teachers in South Korea. I kept the faith and clung to the belief that there are universities in the said country that believe that any individual who has the necessary qualification and training, regardless of nationality, race, and color of skin, should be given the opportunity to prove they are capable of teaching the English language.
It turned out I was right. Some universities in South Korea uphold the right of any individual to work and employment without discrimination, a right enshrined in the Universal Declaration of Human Rights (Articles 2 and 23).
I did not beg to be employed as an ESL teacher. I only wanted a chance to have my credentials evaluated and my capabilities as an English teacher adequately appraised. Thankfully, some universities believe that teaching the English language is not a right exclusive to those citizens from the countries mentioned earlier. They accepted my application, and eventually, I landed a teaching job at one of them. I am now on my way to completing my 11th year here in South Korea.
Most universities in this country (and elsewhere in Asia) are standing firm on their policy to hire only native English speakers to teach the English language. Check advertisements for ESL jobs, and you’ll see how unabashedly these universities would include the note “Only Native English speakers may apply.” The primary reason for this is accent. Native English speakers, of course, have a natural and native-like pronunciation. But let’s not forget that speaking is only one of the four language macro skills. Language learning also involves reading, writing, and listening. An accent is only one of the many components of speaking.
The policy to hire English teachers exclusively from native English-speaking countries has created the impression among Asian students that only teachers from those countries can teach English. So, whenever I entered my ESL classes at the beginning of the semester, some of my students, seeing that I am a short Asian with dark skin and not the tall blond native English speaker they expected their teacher to be, would look surprised. I feel like they wanted to ask me, “Why are you here?” There were times that I cracked this joke, “My name is James Bond (mimicking the way Sean Connery speaks), I am the driver of your ESL teacher. He got injured, so I have to take his place temporarily for the entire semester.” That elicited laughs (from those who understood the joke.)
The policy also made them equate English proficiency to being able to sound like native English speakers. It made them think that the primary goal in English language learning is the acquisition of accents.
In learning any language, including English, the primary goal is not accent acquisition but to become proficient in speaking, listening, reading, and writing in the target language. Accent alone does not indicate proficiency in the language. Language proficiency encompasses various aspects, including vocabulary, grammar, comprehension, fluency, and the ability to effectively communicate ideas.
What I consider an obstacle in language learning is the students’ thinking that its primary goal is accent acquisition. It is a fallacy that I have always tried to rectify in my classes. Acquiring an accent is a desirable learning outcome but is not required for successful language acquisition. As previously mentioned, the primary goal of language acquisition is practical communication and comprehension rather than achieving a native-like accent. I told them that English is spoken with various accents worldwide, and no “correct” accent exists. The clarity in communication matters most – being understood by others and understanding them in return.
My advice to my student is to put accent acquisition last on their list of priorities. They must focus first on general language proficiency rather than developing a specific accent. Focusing on general language proficiency means emphasizing correct grammar, vocabulary, pronunciation (using the International Phonetic Alphabet as a guide), and overall language fluency. I always remind them that general language proficiency covers speaking, writing, listening, and reading.
It is illogical to assume that being a native English speaker automatically makes someone a competent English teacher. Language teaching requires more than native-like pronunciation. It involves overall language proficiency, pedagogical skills, and knowledge of the language taught.
It’s about time that universities eliminate native-speakerism from their system. They must adopt a policy of hiring teachers with strong English language skills, relevant qualifications, and teaching experiences regardless of their nationality. Ironically, the ones practicing native-speakerism are universities in Asia. They don’t believe their fellow Asians are qualified and capable English teachers. It is sad to say that they discriminate against their fellow Asians.
Asian universities must hire English teachers based on non-discriminative standards. They must open their doors to both native and non-native English-speaking teachers. By doing so, they will be promoting diversity, inclusivity, and a more comprehensive approach to language teaching. Hiring teachers from a wide range of cultural and linguistic backgrounds can bring diverse teaching perspectives and experiences into the classroom, resulting in a more enriched learning environment that benefits the students. The policy of not exclusively hiring native English-speaking teachers ensures that all qualified applicants are given equal opportunities. Job descriptions should not be crafted to inadvertently exclude a particular group of people and effectively prevent them from seeking the position.
M.A.D. LIGAYA
M.A.D. L I G A Y A 