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posted Dec. 11, 2008 (Thursday)

 

Contemplations

Tara Yap

 

Chauvinist cops

 

OVER the weekend, news broke out that a contractual employee of the Iloilo City Hall filed a sexual harassment complaint against Sr. Insp. Virgilio Buena, a senior police officer of the Iloilo City Police Office (ICPO).

 

The complainant alleged that Sr. Insp. Buena insinuated sexual gestures and indecent proposals. She also claimed that Sr. Insp. Buena offered to send her to nursing school and told her to break off her relationship with her boyfriend to be with him.

For the sake of argument, let’s say the accusation can either be solid or mere hearsay. 

 

However, there is no denying that a number of male chauvinist police officers, regardless of rank, exist both in the city and province of Iloilo.

 

A mere police officer 1 (PO1) can be as malicious as a high ranking officer if we talk of sexual predators. 

 

Take for instance a PO1 at Police Precinct 3, the one in Jaro district. Even his supposedly upright background—being a son of a math professor at the only Baptist university in Iloilo City and being a Baptist himself—never stopped him from soliciting sex by masquerading as a man looking for a serious girlfriend or a wife.

 

Suffice to say, these male chauvinist police officers believe they can always use their gun and badge to easily get away with their acts of enticing women for carnal satisfactions. 

 

More than that, these male chauvinist police officers depend on the very fact that their fellow cops will protect them and will even tolerate their malicious acts.  After all, screwing women for their own satisfactions is a norm among their circles.

 

Ano, triping lang gid nila mang bastos babaye tungod pulis sila?

 

I am sure there are many more female victims of these male chauvinist police officers, but they have not mustered enough strength to report the incident or confront the perpetrators themselves. 

 

Many of these women fear men who can always use guns to silence them or retaliate.  Others are afraid of being subjected to psychological warfare wherein these male chauvinist police officers make them, “the victim”, look like “the perpetrator” as vicious lies start to spread among the police force.  More sadly, some women consider a legal move as a headache—of time, of money, of sanity.

 

Notwithstanding legal procedures, the acts of these male chauvinist police officers are tantamount to conduct unbecoming of an officer and a gentleman.

 

More significantly, police officers have the duty to protect and serve.  Whatever happened to service, honor and justice when these male chauvinist police officers use the very privilege of their uniforms to disrespect and insult women? 

 

The sexual harassment raps against Sr. Insp. Buena should be a wake up call to the Women’s and Children Protection Desk (WCPD) of the ICPO, the ICPO itself, and the Police Regional Office (PRO-6).  

 

Aside from a full blown investigation, drastic measures ought to be taken to minimize, if not prevent, male chauvinist police officers from performing sexual innuendos.

 

For a start, the police force ought to undergo Gender Sensitivity Training (GST).

***

In the spirit of yesterday’s celebration of Human Rights Day, let me leave you with what my friend Kristine “Ting” Sanico told a bunch of college kids and yuppies at Rock Ed Iloilo’s pre-Human Rights Day gig at Shel Syd Sunday night:

 

At war, men fight for their country.  As soldiers, they believe it is their right to do so.  They kill the enemy for glory, for pride, for honor.  What we don’t see are the pictures of them raping women and children.  Who gave them the right?

 

At home, their 8-5 jobs sustain the daily needs of the family.  As a father and a husband, they believe it is their right to do so.  One night, the wife can’t keep the baby quiet.  Or maybe, the wife is too tired to make love.  The husband gets frustrated and angry.  He slaps her.  He punches her.  He kicks her.  Who gave him the right?

 

You want the latest sex scandal? So, you download it from your friends.  After all, it is your mobile phone.  You believe it’s your right.  You want everybody else in class, your workplace, your community to see it.  Nothing’s wrong with it. You don’t know the girl, anyway.  Who gave you the right?

 

Please give us our rights too.

 

We have the right to live, dream, bitch, scream, vote, create, whine, fight, complain, enjoy, play, laugh, love.

 

As a woman, you have all the right.

 

Your number one right is to know all your rights.

 

Inquirer Opinion / Columns

http://opinion.inquirer.net/inquireropinion/columns/view_article.php?article_id=60763

YOUNG BLOOD Youngblood : Valedictory By Tara Yap Inquirer Posted date: April 17, 2007 Sometimes I imagine speaking in behalf our graduating class. But since this is not going to happen, I might as well share with everyone what I would like to say: Mr. President, members of the Board of Regents, distinguished guests, members of the faculty, students, parents, my fellow graduates. It is my distinct honor to be standing here today. As an undergraduate, although that description will no longer fit me once this ceremony comes to an end in three or four hours — giving this speech is not only a difficult and monumental task, but also a thinking process. My presence here is an irony in itself. I’ve never really believed (and I still don’t to some degree) that a college diploma is the ticket to success. Or to put it differently, that a college diploma would guarantee one’s survival on the rocky road of life. I have survived some difficult ordeals in my young life, without a degree to help me through. Come to think of it, some of the most successful people earned no college degrees. Thomas Edison was one. He went to school for a total of three months, but was brilliant enough to invent the light bulb and phonograph, among other important inventions. There is Bill Gates, a Harvard dropout who went on to found Microsoft and has become the world’s richest person for more than a decade now. In this country, we have more than a handful of examples. I’d leave out our 13th president and his dead best friend, although they both carved a niche in Filipino movies. But I do remember a prolific writer, who was so prolific that his poems, plays, novels, short stories and historical essays made him a National Artist for Literature. There was also the journalist-turned-senator-turned-diplomat whose name may ring a bell to our generation, thanks mainly to a Manila-based rock band. But we are a people who have become so obsessed with diplomas that they have become fixtures in average Filipino living rooms. This no longer surprises me. After all, we live in a country where more than half of the population lives in dire straits, a stark reality that our leaders deliberately ignore, especially that narcissistic woman at the Palace by the river. To put it simply, we’ve been stuck in poverty for as long as anyone cares to remember and we’ve pinned our hopes either on the heavens or nonsensical noontime game shows. It’s all about resilience, many people say. Yes, we are a resilient people, and we have shown this time and time again. I do not only mean by Lapu-Lapu, who defended Mactan Island against Ferdinand Magellan and his minions, or Jose Rizal and Andres Bonifacio and their heroic sacrifices. I also am not referring only to Ninoy Aquino, who came home from exile in 1983 only to be greeted by bullets, or to those who cast off 14 long years of tyranny and made it possible for us to breathe the air of freedom again. Neither do I limit myself to the thousands who survive the flashfloods and landslides, or to those who live near railroad tracks or underneath bridges or sleep on cardboard boxes. I am not about to put down our people’s resilience, but resilience these days means exile — banishment from our 7,107 islands! For the last 30 years, we have something in common with the wandering Jews — the Diaspora. The statistics are shocking. One out of every three Filipinos wants to leave this country and try his luck in lands far different from our own, be it Saudi Arabia, Hong Kong, England, Australia, or the United States. Worse, he is ready to trade his citizenship in a jiffy. A friend once called this phenomenon a “negative exodus.” I don’t have to look very far to confirm it. From where I’m standing now, I see more than 500 of graduating students from the College of Nursing. I don’t know how many true Florence Nightingales are in your batch, but I’m certain that, with one or two exception, your reason for taking up the course is financial security. And I bet that in three to five years, most of you will be working in other countries. Sadly, those who will go will never look back or even want to look back. I’ve heard so many say, “This country is hopeless. I’m leaving soon.” This remark captures the apathy and cynicism that have overwhelmed our people. But then considering what has been happening to our country since the woman occupied the Palace by the river five years ago, who can blame anyone for not giving a damn? I mean, here’s someone who claims that it is the will of God that she be the leader of our country. But how on earth — or in heaven — can God accept a cheater, liar and thief? That clearly contradicts the core teachings of Christianity. But why are we all here for this occasion? Why have we sacrificed at least four years of our lives to get our diplomas? Why have our parents spent thousands and thousands of pesos for us? Well, our very presence here only shows that we are not pinning our hopes totally on heaven or some nonsensical noontime game shows. Rather, we are pinning our hopes on this thing called college education. There must be something miraculous or magical about it. There is a common belief among us that education can lift us from our sorry state. Or if we are not that miserable, that it will allow us to enjoy a better life than what we already have. Fellow graduates, it is not easy to step into “the other world,” where there are no walls to protect us. But very soon, we will find out that we have left our comfort zones. There will be hundreds, even thousands, of occasions when we will wish we were still in our comfort zones, that we do not have to face so many responsibilities. Our education should help us see and prepare for the responsibilities we will face in the years to come. If we want to deserve to be called graduates, we should never run away from responsibilities. And I do not only mean our responsibilities to our jobs or families, but more so to our people and our society. When we receive our diplomas, we should not only take it as a personal triumph but consider it as an opportunity to heal and rehabilitate our wounded nation. Let us do our part. Let us not give up on our country. Congratulations to each one of us! Mabuhay ang Pilipinas! Tara Yap, 25, is a research assistant at the University of the Philippines in the Visayas in Iloilo City. She’s also a freelance writer and photographer.

Contemplations           TARA YAP

The Daily Guardian          www.thedailyguardian.com

28 July 2008 (Monday)

Bagyo Frank: Sa Litrato

I had no story to tell. When Typhoon Frank battered my Iloilo and the rest of Panay that fateful Saturday, I was in a hospital bed. Suffice to say, I missed out on the biggest and most important (so far) coverage in my hometown. For someone who breathes the air of adrenaline-pumping adventure, I felt defeated. It was as if I let history passed by.

To be honest, I couldn’t wait to get out of the hospital. This whole thing has to be recorded, I thought. While I knew that thousands also did the same with their very own digital cameras or camera phones, I still had the inkling of going out and doing what I’m supposed to be doing—that is, freezing moments that can transcend the test of time.

When I was finally discharged from the hospital the following Monday, I went out to record the horrendous aftermath that literally took us by surprise. Armed with my camera and against doctor’s orders that I should rest, I scoured along Jaro district and clicked the shutter button of my camera. For the next three weeks or more, my photography rendezvous concentrated on the aftermath of the flashflood.

***

To fully grasp my sentiments, let me just share my photographer’s note on the on-going exhibit of the Press Photographers of the Philippines (PPP)–Iloilo Chapter at the lower ground floor of SM City Iloilo:

In that rather stormy Saturday of the 21st of June, our lives took a dramatic turn. In an unpredictable manner, water surged violently and literally swallowed everything in its path.

If we talk of Panay’s contemporary history, then Typhoon Frank was our very own “shock and awe.”

No, Bagyo Frank: Sa Litrato is not a footnote to history. This photo exhibit is history. Trite but true, the past is history, the present is history, the future will be history.

In all bluntness, some of the photographs in this collection are not aesthetically exceptional. In fact,some even fail to conform to the standards of the art of photography with lighting and composition techniques being nonexistent.

Notwithstanding the lack of artistic depth, these photographs still serve as a reminder of our collective experience. The images then transcend the “I” perspective. The “I” mutates into a “We” or an “Us.”

More importantly, what makes this collection of photographs worthy is its capacity to move us—to touch the inner being, if not to educate, enlighten, or awaken. It also dares to question our existence in our relation to our environment, which, at times, we take for granted.

A writer once lamented, “Narrative can make us understand. Photographs do something else: they haunt us.” And these images haunt us.

To encapsulate, there is no denying the essence of these photographic images: that they are moving and they are significant in our continuing story as Panayanons—as people of Iloilo, Aklan, Capiz, and Antique. That, in this world fueled by so much uncertainty, humanity, as history has shown, will continue to rise and fall. After all, Typhoon Frank signified life, death, and resurrection.

***

This is an open invitation to view Bagyo Frank: Sa Litrato. Exhibit runs until August 1, 2008 at the lower ground floor of SM City Iloilo. ***

PPP–Iloilo Chapter is grateful to the support and encouragement of those who made this exhibit possible. Big thanks to Troy Camarista and Kristine Rojo-Yap of SM City Iloilo, Sr. Inspector Erna Foerster of the Photo Artists League of Iloilo (PALI), and Diday’s Delicacies.

Bassinette’s zest for life

Posted on May 19th, 2008

Author: Contemplations, Tara Yap, ◙ The Daily Guardian

www.thedailyguardian.com

www.iloiloviews.com

Yap

joins Ateneo’s diploma in photojourn

by Jeehan V. Fernandez

The Daily Guardian

www.thedailyguardian.com

Thursday, 3 January 2008

The Daily Guardian photojournalist Tara Yap attended the first on-campus session of Diploma in Photojournalism program at Konrad Adenauer Asian Center for Journalism  (ACFJ) of Ateneo de Manila University (ADMU) last Dec. 10–15.

The on-campus session tackled two subjects “Fundamentals of Photojournalism” under Jimmy Domingo and “Newsgathering and Reporting” under Luz Rimban. 

Barbara Herrmann, photo editor for Asia of German-based Stern magazine and Rolex dela Peña of European PressPhoto Agency (EPA) were guest lecturers. 

Instructors in forthcoming subjects are Romeo Gacad of Agence France-Presse (AFP), Ernie Sarmiento of Philippine Daily Inquirer (PDI), and Alex Baluyut.

Yap

has received a scholarship grant from Konrad Adenauer Stiftung, a political foundation based in

Berlin

,

Germany

. 

She has been chosen as a full scholar for her “commitment to photojournalism, strong motivation for professional growth and leadership potentials.”

The diploma program runs until October 2008.

A hybrid of distance learning and on-campus sessions, the program is designed “to train photojournalists who gather news with a critical mind, are driven by a reverence for truth, and are masters of the art and craft of photography and newsgathering.”

Yap

belongs to the third batch of the photojournalism program established by ACFJ and World Press Photo. 

Yap is joined by nine Filipinos and a Japanese including photographers/journalists Luis Liwanag, Lyn Rillon of PDI, Alanah Torralba of EPA, Rene Lumawag of Sun Star Davao, Rommel Rebollido of Philippine News Agency (PNA) in General Santos, and Koichiro Ota of Mainichi Shimbun in Fukuoka, Japan. 

Others are Marnie Dolera of Global Anti-Incinerator Alliance (GAIA), Maan Leomo of Department of Social Welfare & Development (DSWD), Walter Mercado of Tarlac State University (TSU), and Danny Pata of Polytechnic University of the Philippines (PUP).

Diploma in Photojournalism Batch 3 students meet for first on-campus session

date posted: 2007-12-14

12:59:39

http://www.admu.edu.ph/index.php?p=120&type=2&sec=29&aid=4575

ELEVEN photojournalists and other media professionals comprising the third batch of the Diploma in Photojournalism Program congregated on Dec. 10 to 15, at the Ateneo Loyola campus for their first on-campus sessions.

The group of 10 Filipinos from various parts of the country and one Japanese is attending the on-campus sessions for the hybrid core courses, namely, Newsgathering and Reporting for Photojournalists and Fundamentals of Photojournalism, taught by Luz Rimban and Jimmy Domingo, respectively. The third core course, History of Photojournalism, will begin in February with Alex Baluyut as lecturer.

Among the 10 Filipinos are Metro Manila-based photojournalists Rogelio Luis Liwanag, Dannyboy Pata, Alanah Leyna Torralba, and Emlyn Hope Rillon. 

From the other parts of the country are Tara Katherine Yap of The Guardian in Iloilo, Renato Lumawag of Sun Star in Davao, Rommel Rebollido of the Philippine News Agency-Mindanao, Marnie Mutya Dolera of Greenpeace (Antipolo City), Marie Antoinette Leomo of DSWD-Kalahi-CIDSS (Los Baños, Laguna) and Walter Mercado from Tarlac State University.

Koichiro Ota of the Mainichi Shimbun will also join the group.

The seven-course Diploma in Photojournalism was developed jointly by ACFJ and World Press Photo, a media NGO based in The Netherlands.

Eight students have so far graduated from the program since it was launched last year. The second batch is currently going through the specialized courses.

a friend told me a story once how he sat in some park in philadelphia and saw an old woman in a wheelchair and a baby in a stroller cross diagonally right in front of him at the exact same moment.  right there and then, he realized that when "life ends, life begins."

in terms of evolution, that’s very much true. 

then again, life can sometimes end abruptly. there are those who don’t deserve to pass on to the next life. 

i don’t know why this has crossed my mind now notwithstanding the fact that our 24-year-old neighbor who died from gunshot wounds was buried the other day. 

or maybe it has crossed my mind many times before, especially when the family starts talking about my cousin who drowned in a beach during a family reunion a lil’ over 20 years ago and that my aunt and uncle had to fly back to australia with a coffin.

it even crossed my mind seven years ago when we found out that the valve of the heart of my younger sister had a hole.  i remember vividly how my mother dropped to her knees crying after reading my brother’s e-mail (we lived in california then while my older brother and my younger sister were here in pinas) telling her about my sister’s condition.  she’s now under medication.

nonetheless, i guess this has something to do with a friend who has been battling cancer for the last few months.  she called me two weeks ago to say hello.

it took me by surprise of how happy she sounded, or at least, even to a point that she joked about having her body being poked around by med students because she said she’ll be donating her body for experimental purposes. 

and then she said something like "it’s better that i die now than when i’m 90."

i didn’t know what to say.  how am i suppose to respond to that? it was one of those times that i was out of words, that i was afraid that i may be saying the wrong things. 

these days, i’m beginning to be afraid of death …

When Manny “Pacman” Pacquiao’s heavy blows made Mexican Erik “El Terrible” Morales stumble to the ground only in the third round, nothing else stood in the way of being a Filipino. Surreal as it may have seemed, but pro-Glorias, anti-Glorias, Catholics, Muslims, liberals, conservatives, and even half-breeds came together.  That Sunday, or Saturday night for some, we all rallied behind Pacman.  More than that, our so-called Filipino pride – or more fittingly, Pinoy pride – echoed within and beyond the 7,107 islands.

While the euphoria could not be swept aside, it was, and still is, ironic that one man – Pacman, that is – carried the nation’s weight on his shoulders.  Consciously or unconsciously, he knew what was at stake way before he faced El Terrible for the third and final time.  The “Grand Finale” wasn’t merely a battle against who’s the real ring annihilator, but more so, it was a fight for his nation – our nation.

I don’t really mind that Pacman sings out of tune, but with his crushing left and right punches, he did deliver what he promised – “para sa ‘yo ang laban na ‘to.”

I don’t know if mountaineers Leo Oracion, Pastour Emata, Romi Garduce, or Dale Abenojar (?) are karaoke fanatics, but they did sing to the same tune when they scaled the world’s highest peak.  Maybe Efren “Bata” Reyes, Francisco “Django” Bustamante and even Ronnie “The Volcano” Alcano are also singing along to the chorus every other time they reign as billiard kings. 

Suffice it to say, a phenomenal trend has surged recently. That is, we have resorted to battles waged and conquered in the sports arena as a diversion to whatever hellhole we are in.  Lame as it sound, we actually wanted to feel good about ourselves, even just fleetingly.  Pacman’s victory was our victory. We consider the feats of Oracion, Emata, Garduce, Abenojar (?), Reyes, Bustamante, and Alcano as our nation’s victory.

Somehow, the triumphs from adversities of Pacman and the likes of him have been woven into our national psyche.  Truth of the matter is, this is actually about the contradicting, but interrelated duo of desperation and hope.

To begin with, our typical kababyans (Read: Filipinos who are mired in poverty) can somehow relate to Pacman.  The boxer himself came from the dark alleys of General Santos City, but punched his way out of poverty and made himself a certified Filipino icon, or for some, the real Philippine Idol.  His life prior on becoming a boxing superstar is not that different from those who live underneath bridges or adjacent to railroad tracks and could only feed their hungry stomachs with tasteless noodles or toyo and rice.   

More so, we have made a hero in Pacman. Each time he raises his fists and crushes his opponent with formidable punches, we see it as a man trying to combat the lethal diseases of our nation – disunity, political upheaval, economic turmoil, corruption, poverty, or even the perennial wrath of Mother Nature. 

Pacman and the likes of him are only athletes.   But unlike politicians, military adventurers, the pious, or civil society, they rekindle us on a more profound level. They rekindle our souls.  They rekindle our pride.  They rekindle our collective aspiration.    

These Filipino athletes embody the continuing life of our nation.  It is a cyclical story of trials and tribulations, of the conquered and the conquerors.  The ideas of suffering, perseverance, courage, discipline, and patriotism have been laid out for us to emulate.  That is, if we could only learn.  Otherwise, all these victories are bittersweet.