Happiness is a warm gun

I sometimes wish there was more to Mary.

I was sitting with Berkis, on the checkered blue linoleum mat that, had my wishes been granted, should have no business being laid there. But I wasn’t there when someone went shopping. What I hate about giving people purchasing power no matter how little: they will buy what they want for you and not what you want for the world of them. Two hand-woven mats, I had insisted, twice or thrice over, no plastic mats, no plastic chairs, and no plastic tables. Mhang was at the other end of the line; I had a full half-hour lecture, both our bills charged to office expense, a conversation which I now recall, she kept on interrupting, or not interrupting, but kept on talking into, because, each time that she broke in she was really on another planet on another tropics, like the fish that flew in from the window and the cat that caught it and released it into the sea, like there was sea under the house, and the sepsis existed only inside my head. Wheredoyouthrow the old linoleum but into the window the garbage is piling up under the houses the heaps of plastics upon heaps of plastics clogging the waterways itwasdifferentdecades agobefore the onslaught of the cellophane when everything you deposit intothesea gets eaten bythesea doesn’tkillthesea--

But tonight was no night to be doing lectures. I had lost the verve, and the nerve; all the misunderstandings, the misapprehensions of the past week, maybe of months upon months, and now here was Berkis lounging, making little commentaries about the repairs the purchases while Mary sat by, playing card games in the computer. 

“The linoleum is nice, Shei.”

“Plastic.”

“It’s nice.”

“We had a fight over it.”

“Who?”

“Mhang and I. Siyasammal niyu in dagat, you choke the sea.”

Berkis fell silent, then blurted an alibi. Mary’s eyes went up, stared at me, three, four seconds maybe, then went back to the game at the computer.

For of course it was seawater under the house, not septic tank like I thought it was, and you never know what fattened the fish, but when someone says it’s a miracle that brought the fish flying in through the window over the roof of a neighbour’s house and that it portends good luck, then you have to believe in good luck. And I do. Like I believe everything I see in Jolo. All the magic and all the reality to it. Like all of Mary’s stories.

About how his father razed their house down, for instance, just because he wanted to, on a spur of a moment. He had it poured with gasoline, the day he got drunk and his wife Mary’s mother wouldn’t stop yakking even as he was beating her. If you don’t stop I will burn this house down, he had warned, and off he went to get a liter of gasoline, and Mary, he jumped out of the window into the sea. 

Like the night they were arrested for disorderly behaviour and were threatened with jail, the three other dykes, Sara and Thads and El, promising the cops that yes yes maybe they will start behaving now, huun huun maraih mahinang na kami babai, we will conduct ourselves like girls now, just so the cops would let them go home and not be dumped among the inmates. But when they turned to Mary all Mary said was, Nah dih, bihaini na aku, no, I’m already like this, can’t be a sissy now, and the cops, apparently impressed, told him to choose a cell he could fit into and sure enough he chose one he thought he could inhabit, yari na in kaku, this one, this one will do for me. 

Most days, I have no arguments against their lives. I just miss my deck back in Davao, the air-conditioned offices, the clean air, except that the new room I very recently moved into now also hangs right above a roadside canal, a detail I missed when looking, and it stinks in the evening, so that now it’s like I have not really left Jolo. In Davao of course there are no fishes flying in through the window, no Marys, no magics, no much reality either. I keep on telling myself just to not think and to not argue against anyone or anything I know, that I only have poetic license, they have shaman powers. The crazy old chick Mhang, for instance, no matter how badly she spells. Bottle women for battered women, Jesus Try for Jesus O. Christ, can one have magic power when one doesn’t have word power? How does she conjure the spirits, do they answer to wrong spellings wrong pronunciations wrong names wrong calls?

I have my fits of jealousy, of course. Like that day I commandeered Mary to write a letter, and the net wouldn’t connect, I almost bashed Mary’s numb skull with the red netbook. Of course, you don’t call Mary numbskull to his face, she will smash your face and break your skull. I was so annoyed because he was not even reading the letter in his mailbox, he had his right hand on the keyboard and his left hand on the phone texting all his girlfriends announcing that he was at Pluto Restaurant trying to get a connection to email a letter to a Melikan in Canada who wanted very much to see him and he cannot get through because of poor internet connection in the fucking island. I had hissed at his face. What-are-you-a-robot-you-want-me-to-dictate-to-you-word-for- word-what-you-are-to-write-what-am-I-your-babysitter-your-secretary-your-doting-mother? He blanked out, then logged out on me. Pulled Mhang’s chair close to his side like Mhang was his favourite girlfriend favourite nanny favourite auntie favourite English teacher. We walked home divided, the mails all unsent, he and Mhang arms intertwined, I tarrying behind, thinking of taking the boat to Zamboanga, if only there was money. In the evening I had smashed Mhang’s phone against the floor. 

That next day and the day after next Mary did not appear for work. And Mhang informed me. “He said to me that I should not be afraid of you, that why, am I afraid of you? I shouldn’t be.” 

“Ya. Like all you have to do is ask him and he would shoot me.”

“We wouldn’t do that.”

“You never know what anyone can do around here. That wasn’t the first time he wanted me mauled.”

But Mary he does know how to make it up and now, three times a week he files a complaint to Mhang, Mapasu tuud in u, tiluun kita patandawan hambuuk adlaw ini. So hot-tempered indeed she’s gonna throw me into the window one of these days.

I had cut him and flung his hand away for daring to dislodge my Bob Dylan tape, which I was playing in the cassette, the morning I got mad at Aisa for misconstructing me. Dih kami magsulut ha hangka bay magpatay kami. We cannot live under one roof we will end up killing each other.

I was to accompany Aisa to school having convinced her she should get more of high school, but before we left the house she had said something that sent me bonkers. “Kah Sherfa, please be kind to my teacher.”

It was ten o’ clock and there was no water I hadn’t even bathed and Mary was still sleeping sprawled like a royal rug on the linoleum upstairs sans pillow sans blanket. I left Aisa at the doorway and went up stomping, raising hell for all the world to hear. 

“So I was unkind to your teacher what did I do what??? The only unkind thing I did at your rotten school was to ask you to pick up the plastic trash you dropped at our feet and I would have picked it up myself had you let me and now I am unkind to your teacher even before I could meet her because some educated jerk there looked at me and I didn’t smile up to thank him??? Why, should I have kissed his ass unzipped his pants???? Should I have made him coffee and talked about the goddamn rascals infesting his classroom lining up the hallway whatwhatwhat????!!!"

She went home stricken, the five hundred enrollment money stuck inside her pocket, strips of bandaids patching her forehead. Just days back she was mauled by a gang of lesbians, a fag and a boy. None of her friends helped, they just looked on, she reported. And Mary, when told, just shrugged. “We get mauled all the time. What did she do? Must have provoked it.” And as though that wasn’t enough he blamed Aisa, too, for provoking me. “Dupang kaw isab, if you weren’t stupid, why did you have to tell Kah Sherfa how she should conduct herself? Why didn’t you just go to school with her straight!?!"

“Like it was Aisa’s fault.”

“So it was my fault, Mhang?”

Mhang has a way of demolishing your one-year lecture on lesbianism with a prayer or an analysis, her own take at conflict mediation. “Hatia niyu na ba. Maas budjang ba. Maraih simud ha u niya in saytan piyaig ku ha u hi Mherz.” Be patient with her, old maid, you know. Maybe the devil I exorcised from Mary's head moved residence into her head.” 

They didn’t bother to get lesbian labor to do the roof, could not bother themselves with it now that the money has been sent. A month back the house was given up for condemned, decrepit, the roof leaked nobody was renting it. Now the owner her sister was screaming like it was prize property. “I will not have those tomboys doing the roof!!! If you want to practice carpentry do it somewhere else not on my property!!!” They readied the camera, just the same, and took some shots of Ridz holding the hammer. For funding agency purposes. I was furious. “The fucking FA does not give a fuck about that!!! You just fucking grow some spine around here and fucking do something without the damn camera and without those damn FAs congratulating you, you fucking understand that???!!!” 

They dispersed confused. Someone was squealing, reporting to Kah Sherfa every move every thought they make. At the end of the day the carpenter got the pay, and Mary, for hauling the five sheets of galvanized iron on his head from the roadside to the house and frightened Ridz with his panting Ridz thought he was going to have an asthma attack, was not paid. 

Now that's lesbian labor I say. But nobody takes heed about what crazy old tomboys say about Mary. 

So one sunny day before departure time, after Aisa had been enrolled and after the letter had been abandoned for unsent, Mary squatted by askance, while Bob Dylan ripped the air yelling and howling about being stuck inside of Mobile with the Memphis blues again.

Well, Shakespeare, he's in the alley
With his pointed shoes and his bells,
Speaking to this French girl,
Who says she knows me well

“Favourite song mo?"

an interview with a street fighter

I’m proud of myself that I’m not a lesbian. For me I really am
just a man.


Sheilfa: So again, how do you look at yourself, masculine? Feminine? Because last time you said you’re feminine.

Mherz: Feminine.

Sheilfa: Because?

Mherz: Because…

Sheilfa: What’s feminine, by the way?

Mherz: I don’t know.

Sheilfa: See. When you say feminine, you wear your hair long, you put on lipstick, and you move like a girl. Those are feminine. When you say masculine, you move like a man. How do you think of yourself, feminine?

Mherz: I’m masculine alright.

Sheilfa: So how would you like to be so described, what are the terms or the words you would use or you would like others to use to describe you.

Mherz: None. I’m just like this. I’m happy like this.

Sheilfa: What do you mean by like this?

Mherz: This.

Sheilfa: Lesbian?

Mherz: Yes. Just a lesbian.

Sheilfa: What are the words you’re comfortable with? Are you comfortable with being called timbura?

Mherz: No.

Sheilfa: No. Okay. Lesbian?

Mherz: No.

Sheilfa: Tomboy?

Mherz: Of course, no.

Sheilfa: What then?

Mherz: If I am addressed? Just my name.

Sheilfa: Okay.

Mherz: Because I’m proud of myself that I’m not a lesbian. For me I really am
just a man.

Sheilfa: There you are. See? So for you, you’re a man?

Mherz: Yes.

Sheilfa: Ah. Because if you are called tomboy, or lesbian, it’s like you're neither nor?

Mherz: Yes.

Sheilfa: Okay.

Mherz: Like something that isn’t good.

Sheilfa: Like you’re not complete.

Mherz: Yes.Like you do bad things.

Sheilfa: That’s according to the old school. But… up to this time, it’s still like that?

Mherz: Yes. It’s still like that.

Sheilfa: Male? That’s how you would like to be seen?

Mherz: Yes.

Sheilfa: Alright. When did you realize that you were different?

Mherz: When I was 16.

Sheilfa: What happened.

Mherz: When my father beat me.

Sheilfa: Okay. So you too went through that.

Mherz: Yes.

Sheilfa: He didn’t threaten to have you shot?

Mherz: No. He won’t do that. He just said you’re a good-for-nothing son of a bitch. My father is all threat. He never executes them.

Sheilfa: But that time he had you beaten.

Mherz: Yes. Came home drunk.

Sheilfa: You came home drunk?

Mherz: It wasn’t I who was drunk. He was.

Sheilfa: I see.

Mherz: And he turned on me because I was the first he ran into.

Sheilfa: When you ran into him you didn’t say anything that offended him?

Mherz: None. He just pounced on me. Haha. Without a word. Just like that. Like just out of the blue. I was shocked. He dragged me home. Then he punched me. That was nothing to me, I’m used to it.

Sheilfa: Ah. He ran into you at the footbridge and right on he pounced on you.

Mherz: Yes. I was on my way out. He is like that. If he is drunk, he does not want to see our faces.

Sheilfa: By the time he had already acquired a second wife.

Mherz: Yesm.

Sheilfa: How old were you when your father remarried?

Mherz: I cannot remember anymore because I was too young.

Sheilfa: He was already having this woman who…

Mherz: He already had another wife even before I was born.

Sheilfa: How many are you?

Mhera: Eight.

Sheilfa: From the first wife?

Mherz: Yes.

Sheilfa: And you’re the?

Mherz: I’m fourth.

Sheilfa: You realized that you were different because when he beat you, you felt that you could not give up being a man or…

Mherz: Yes. He kept on saying I should mend my ways. I said, it’s not that easy for me to change my style and stop being me.

Sheilfa: Which is?

Mherz: He said I will not come to any good if I keep on with what I was doing, if I insist that I’m a man. I said, but I’m not neglecting my studies because of my style. He kept on persuading me.

Sheilfa: At the time you were still studying? Where were you, in third second year?

Mherz: Yes. At the time I was still in school. Second year.

Sheilfa: How about your mother?

Mherz: My mother you could not hear any complaint from her. I’m okay by her. She said there’s nothing she can do, I am all that I am. She said she’s grateful enough that I'm still alive.

Sheilfa: Rather than dead?

Mherz: Yes.

Sheilfa: Because around this time, you already went through a lot of street fights?

Mherz: I think I started getting into fights when I was still in Grade Six.

Sheilfa: Twelve years old.

Sheilfa: All your friends were male.

Mherz: Yes.

Sheilfa: By the time that you were fourteen, you were already causing your father a lot of trouble.

Mherz: Yes.

Sheilfa: By that time you were already taking girls home?

Mherz: No. Not yet.

Sheilfa: You only saw then on the street?

Mherz: No. I still didn’t have any girlfriend when I was in elementary.

Sheilfa: No. I mean when you were fourteen.

Mherz: Ah, yes.

Sheilfa: That time that he punched you…

Mherz: Yes. I was already taking girls to our house. One time he even beat me because I brought home a girl.

Sheilfa: How many times did your father beat you?

Mherz: Three. Just three times.

Sheilfa: Why did he stop?

Mherz: Because there’s nothing he can… he could not just convince me.

Sheilfa: You never fought back?

Mherz: What?

Sheilfa: Never that you punched him back each time that he lifted an arm against
you?

Mherz: I don’t fight him back. Hah. He will shoot me.

Sheilfa: Haha. What’s your father like, a councilor?

Mherz: Yes. Number three.

Sheilfa: So since he’s a councilor, is there any hope for him to… because he understands that if one is a lesbian, there’s nothing that one can do about that, so instead of not helping, would he support us?

Mherz: No, it’s like this. Before, when I was still at school, he really was happy about me. He said he doesn’t care what I am up to for as long as I don’t start bumming around. Because he really wanted for me to be a policeman.

Sheilfa: Okay.

Mherz: I promised to him I will be one.

Sheilfa: How old were you when he said that to you? Before he punched you?

Mherz: When I was in Grade Six. When I graduated.

Sheilfa: Okay.

Mherz: When I graduated he really was very proud of me.

Sheilfa: You were in the honor’s list?

Mherz: Yes. Third honor. Then I fucked up. When I got to high school that’s when I started bumming around. I neglected my studies. I was really drawn to my friends’ rackets.

Sheilfa: Girls. Alcohol. Shabu.

Mherz: Yes. I wasn’t into shabu as yet. Not yet. I got into shabu only in 2007.

Sheilfa: How old were you then?

Mherz: Maybe seventeen.

Sheilfa: You got into the habit?

Mherz: No.

Sheilfa: You said once a month.

Mherz: Only if I needed to stay up and work. Like if someone died and had to be buried the next day. What’s magjaga in Tagalog, M?

Sheilfa: To watch, to vigil.

Mherz: Yes. Like that.

Sheilfa: So you have to stay awake.

Mherz: Yes. Because it’s a night-long activity. So that’s what we would do to stay awake.

Sheilfa: So you use it as stimulant, like coffee. But later, you use it if there’s an occasion, like a birthday.

Mherz: No. I don’t do that during birthdays because you have no appetite for food if you’ve taken that. And then… you keep on thinking away. So if there’s a birthday, I don’t do it. It’s mostly for work.

Sheilfa: You said that the last time you got mauled at the pool, you’d taken….

Mherz: No. I wasn’t on drugs then.

Sheilfa: You said you had taken some meth, The bar…

Mherz: None. Just The bar.

Sheilfa: It’s on record!

Mherz: No.

Sheilfa: Son of a fag.

Mherz: No.

Sheilfa: Yes. You said you all had taken some meth but that you were not high.

Mherz: No. It was only The bar. I didn’t take any shabu then.

Sheilfa: Anyway, so that’s how you look at yourself, but your father, and some of your friends, they like to look at you as a girl who is just tomboyish.

Mherz: No. They think of me as a boy, as a young man.

Sheilfa: Okay.

Sheilfa: Beside your father, who else among your friends would like for you to be other than what you are now?

Mherz: Many. Including some of my family.

Sheilfa: Right. Because if you’re a tomboy, you’re around lots of bad people?

Mherz: Yes. Because all of my relatives, they’re religious, they go to the mosque for worship. I’m the only who doesn’t.

Sheilfa: Do you think of yourself as Muslim?

Mherz: Of course, I’m Muslim. But I don’t pray everyday. Before I used to pray,
but only in the house. Even when we went to Zamboanga? I would join Inah Cely for worship.

Sheilfa: Where?

Mherz: In the house only. But it is so easy for me to think evil.

Sheilfa: Like what?

Mherz: If I don’t want to keep up with my study, for instance. Or if I want to take drugs I will really do it.

Sheilfa: Because you’re angry. You know that people won’t be happy if you do it. But before, you didn’t think of lesbians as bad people?

Mherz: They’re bad influence.

Sheilfa: You know of any lesbian who isn’t bad influence?

Mherz: I haven’t done any research yet in Jolo, none yet.

Sheilfa: How did you look at fags? Say you think of them as sinful, bad people?

Mherz: For me they’re just like the lesbians. Sinful, bad people.

Sheilfa: Even non-lesbians and non-gays they’re also sinful.

Mherz: Lesbians and women they’re sinful.

Sheilfa: Whooa.

Mherz: My elders would say that if their wishes will be granted, they would want
for all their children to be male. Because women are the progenitors of sin.

Sheilfa: Like… sexually promiscuous?

Mherz: No. Because in….

Sheilfa: In the Bible?

Mherz: Yes. There are no female children then, they would be killed, because women bring on shame to the family.

Sheilfa: You believe this stuff?

Mherz: Yes. Because I’ve seen some like that. Women. They bring trouble to their elders. Like rape. Or have sex with their boyfriends and get themselves pregnant. They would not tell their parents…

Sheilfa: You don’t think of that as… alright, go on, go on.

Mherz: Then you will just see them walking the road pregnant. Shameful, is it not?

Sheilfa: But you don’t think of men as equally sinful? Because women could not get into these things alone.

Mherz: Yes. But you see, with men….

Sheilfa: With men it’s okay.

Mherz: Yes. They can do anything, nothing is prohibited. You see, everything that lesbians do, men also do.

Sheilfa: Is that why you turned out a lesbian? Because nothing will be disallowed you? Because anything that men do is good.

Mherz: Yes. It’s okay.

Sheilfa: Then it’s not the women’s fault. It’s the fault of the laws and all these religious teachings.

Mherz: Yes.

Sheilfa: But you see, religious texts are up to the interpretation of preachers and religious teachers. And they’re all male. Of course.

Mherz: In our religion, the religious teachers say lesbians are haram.

Sheilfa: Same with Catholics.

Mherz: Yes. It’s really not allowed. They say it’s the most abominable thing here on earth, tomboys. Siksah. That brings on eternal punishment. When they make these sermons at the gym, I do listen, and that’s what they say there.

Sheilfa: Even among Christian churches, it’s also like that.

Sheilfa: You said before that you got beaten so many times. But the one with details, that part that happened at the swimming pool.

Mherz: That wasn’t the last, when I got mauled at the swimming pool.

Sheilfa: After the swimming pool incident, you got beaten again? How many times?

Mherz: Four.

Sheilfa: Okay. Who did these? Didn’t you say the swimming pool incident was the
first time that you got hurt? Maybe they got wind of it and they said, so this dyke is not really that invincible, let’s do it again. So they got you three times.

Mherz: Yes. And they made a mistake.

Sheilfa: Because? You struck back?

Sheilfa: When was it, Mherz?

Mherz: When we went home from Zamboanga.

Sheilfa: Really? What happened?

Mherz: At the port area. I got into a fight.

Sheilfa: How?

Mherz: He was a porter and he was insisting on lifting my bag for me when I wasn't asking him. Then he said, you should be a girl, then maybe I will like you. I said, You son of a bitch. Then he went like this, Why, you want to fight? I said, Why, you think I won’t? Then the guard came at us.

Sheilfa: Oh, a pity.

Mherz: Why?

Sheilfa: No action.

MM: You want action?

Sheilfa: Yes. I want action.

MM: Knock him in the head. (Laughter.)

Sheilfa: Okay. That’s once. The second?

Mherz: In our place. Friend of my sister.

Sheilfa: Nadsilina?

Mherz: Yes.

Sheilfa: How old is she?

Mherz: I don’t know.

Sheilfa: Maybe you also don’t know how old are you?

Mherz: I really don’t listen to their stuff. I don’t care about them.

Sheilfa: Alright.

Mherz: You see I’m selfish.

Sheilfa: What?

Mherz: Selfish.

Sheilfa: Yes. A selfish cad.

Mherz: Yes. At home. But with my friends I’m not selfish.

Sheilfa: I feel sorry for your mother. And your sisters. But never mind. Okay. The second time you got beaten.

Mherz: He was courting my sister. My sister doesn’t like him. She’s young. She said to me he is forcing himself on her. She wasn’t even finished talking yet and I was already in their house. When he got out, I said, Hey, you come here. Then I punched him. We were taken to the barangay.

Sheilfa: Where did you hit him?

Mherz: Here.

Sheilfa: He got a blackeye.

Mherz: Yes. The barangay councilor there said, shame on you, you’re a man and you got beaten, he said, only by a girl?

Sheilfa: Hahaha. You had a fistfight? He really fought you?

Mherz: Yes. We exchanged punches. The councilor there said, she really is a troublemaker, for a girl. I didn’t make any comment.

Sheilfa: They didn’t have you blottered?

Mherz: No. Why would they have me blottered? My relatives will kill them.

Sheilfa: Alright.

Mherz: My relatives are really vicious. That’s why I’m like this. An arrogant bastard.

Sheilfa: That’s why your head swelled.

Mherz: They always take my side. Even if it’s my fault. Mother would tell them, you leave her alone and let her be killed by strangers.

Sheilfa: But in the Tausug tradition, isn’t it a source of pride for you, to have a member of the clan who is brave?

Mherz: Not really. But my father, he really wants for his family to protect me. If my father finds out that I got into a fight and none of my relatives helped me, he will get mad. That’s why his brothers are also afraid to leave me alone to my foes.

Sheilfa: The third?

Nadz: At Takut-takut. The young boy taunted him, said, Hot air! He went back, What did you say? Hot air?

Sheilfa: That’s not a fight. Just a threat of violence.

Mherz: They were playing this leg game. Then I gave back to Nhadz her cell phone. That was when we talked on the phone, when you called? I said, Kah Sherfa called. Then this kid said, Pulma! I went back to him. I said who are you calling Pulma? He said, no, not you. I didn’t punch him. I just pushed him. Just like this. He is big. Bigger than I. I asked the others, how about you, you want to fight? They all turned away because they didn't like trouble, haha.

Sheilfa: How many were they?

Mherz: Many.

Sheilfa: How old?

Nadz: Kids.

Mherz: They're all bigger than me.

Sheilfa: How about your girlfriends and those who are close to you, do they also get harassed or got threats because of their relationship with you?

Mherz: None.

Sheilfa: The girl’s parents… didn’t he beat you because she didn’t go home for like three nights?

Mherz: It was just one night.

Sheilfa: I should be redoing the interviews all the time. The data keep on changing.

Mherz: I don’t know. Because when you last interviewed me, I had a headache.

Sheilfa: So there was no threat to harm you? Didn’t your father threaten to disinherit you for being a tomboy or threaten to send you out into the streets?

Mherz: No. In the first place I have nothing to inherit from him.

Sheilfa: Correct.

Mherz: His being a womanizer is all I can inherit from him. That should be fine by me.

Sheilfa: Yes. Your father is a womanizer, no. How many wives has he got?

Mherz: Many. And he’s got children with a Brigade woman. A whore.

Sheilfa: A Christian woman? So he has a whore? What does it mean when one says a woman from the Brigade, a woman who makes a living servicing the soldiers at the Brigade?

Mherz: Yes.

Sheilfa: Her customers are soldiers?

Mherz: Yes. He was her customer and they begot children. Three. They have been together for many long years. Now he could not leave her.

Sheilfa: A Zamboanguena?

Mherz: Yes.

Sheilfa: So this woman got three children by three different men?

Mherz: No. Only by my father.

Sheilfa: With your father she got three children?

Mherz: Yes. We got to find out only much later when… he took her home. He had to stand by what he did, he said, because they got children, he said.

Sheilfa: That’s the second wife?

Mherz: No. Third.

Sheilfa: Thought your father has only two wives.

Mherz: No. Many. But he didn’t wed the others. He introduced this woman to us and told us he had to support her because of the children, said he is afraid of karma.

Sheilfa: That term karma, what’s that in your language?

Mherz: Suli.

Sheilfa: Were you always that temperamental?

Mherz: Yes.

Sheilfa: And did anyone ever tell you to… say, none ever threatened to have you killed or something?

Mherz: None. But my father’s sister said she will have me brought to a mental hospital.

Sheilfa: Hahaha. How old were you then?

Mherz: Already this old. In 2009. They live in Manila, they’re at San Mateo. Then they came here and when they saw me, why did you turn out into a tomboy? Because when they first came here, I wasn’t a certified tomboy yet, not formally tomboy, I was still hiding it.

Sheilfa: How many years were those when you were not yet a formal tomboy? Thought you said you were born a tomboy.

Mherz: I was in Grade Two. I was born a tomboy but for a little while I hid it. Because my aunties were really strict. She was the one who was sending me to school.

Sheilfa: That’s the aunt that adopted you?

Mherz: Yes.

Sheilfa: The one who was also a tomboy.

Mherz: No.

Sheilfa: You said you’ve an aunt that adopted you, who was living with another
woman.

Mherz: That’s on my mother’s side. This one is on my father’s side. They’re really strict.

Sheilfa: Because of your being a tomboy, are there relatives who, instead of staying close to you, they stay away?

Mherz: Yes. Because they don’t like lesbians.

Sheilfa: How about your male friends? Has there been a change?

Mherz: None really. They just tell me sometimes to change my style. They say, Mherz, that’s old crap, get on with the years.

Sheilfa: Which means?

Mherz: Like get on with what’s current, say in 2009 or 2010. Because by now I should really be a real man if only I have money.

Sheilfa: Any attempted suicide?

Mherz: None.

Sheilfa: You never thought of killing yourself? But often you want to kill people?

Mherz: Yes. That’s it.

Sheilfa: Haha.

Mherz: I want to be alone and be the only person left on earth.

Sheilfa: Hahaha!

Mherz: I’m afraid to die.

Sheilfa: True?

Mherz: True. The reason why I’m into fistfights all the time is because I don’t want them to kill me first. If I get into a fight, I want to kill my enemy first, I don’t want to be killed by them. I am afraid to die.


(the original Tagalog transcript of the interview is posted at: http://tumbalatadavao.blogspot.com/2011/11/si-mherz-at-ang-usaping-sogi.html)

Totoo bang type mo si Vaness?

“Totoo ba na may gusto ka kay Vaness?”

The question was posed rather obliquely.

I felt like giggling. Long had I been waiting for my day in court, for obscenity, didn't I wish. Pero ang nasabi ko lang,

"Uy, okay yun ah, gusto ko yun, hindi ageist. Kanino galing ang balita?"

“Si Khumz at si Mherz, narinig ko, nag-uusap. May gusto ka raw kay Vaness. Totoo ba? Uy, nag-iisip siya o. Sige, isipin mo. Totoo ba.”

Talagang nag-iisip ako.

Ang iniisip ko, sino lately ang katext o katsismis mo, na nagbabasa ng self-incriminating blogs ko, na nagwiwish, na sana, sana nga, may masilip sila na dahilan para bitayin ako?

Ang iniisip ko, so naniniwala na kayo na wala nga akong talent fee sa pesteng HR doc na iyan at ngayon ay naghahanap kayo ng ibang dahilan para lalong mapasama ang dati ko nang masasamang mga gawa?

At ang iniisip ko, what's Mherz's staging, OMG, didn't he tell you what he really knew, and what are you trying to get at, sure ka, wala kang pinagpalitpalit na datos? Pangalan, edad, tauhan?

“Totoo.”

Di ko na maalala kung ano ang reaksiyon sa sagot ko. Nag-iisip pa kasi ako pagkasabi ko nun, at hindi pa ako tapos mag-isip pagkatapos na nasabi ko na yun.

Nasabi ko nga yata, kay Vaness, na sa lahat ng loko sa Tumba Lata-Jolo, parang siya lang ang totoo. Yung iba parang sobrang kapal ng kara, di ko masino, kung nagsasabi ng totoo o talagang nanggagago. At nasabi ko rin yata kay Allais na sa lahat ng barkada niya, si Vaness ang love ko, kasi sweet.

Does that make me incestuously attracted to Vaness?

Nitong mga huling araw linggo buwan kasi, ang tindi ng tagisan ng talino ng mga tao. Surprised nga ako, nakalabas ako ng Jolo nang meron pang ulo at bitbit pa ang netbuk ko. O baka akala ko lang yun. Baka wala na nga akong ulo. Dead man walking.

Si Vaness ay disinuebe, at ang tsismis ni Berkis, na dinideny ni Jo, like most of us daw, may past history of abuse.

“Hindi raw totoo.”

“Siyempre hindi yun magsasabi. Itanong mo kay Mherz.”

If true, that should not make her fair game sa ano mang kuwento o hakahaka ng mga kasama niya sa kalsada, kahit pa man sa Jolo, ang mga babae at mga lesbians, sabi nga ni Mherz at ng mga dakilang anak ni Allah, ang sasama, nakakahiya ang mga ginagawa.

But to go back to me at sa tanong na type ko ba talaga si Vaness,

Kahit pa yata sexually active si Vaness, that does not make her a sexual adult. Di ko alam ano ang basehan ko ba’t ganyan ang tingin ko kay Vaness, sabi ni Rosca the body does it because it is ripe for it, but I have this notion na somehow she did not grow mentally, intellectually, and therefore sexually, like whatever truth the world taught her when she was five, is still what she keeps in her mind at adulthood. A moral retardate? Ang tindi nun ah, like you got stuck in the Garden? Parang yung child vampire sa Interview with the Vampire. Violated at six? Her body got stuck at six.

But of course, that’s my fantasy of Vaness.

As I said, it is unfair to Vaness. Kahit pa man the intent was just to put a wedge between me and the young lesbians, so that I will stop seeing them altogether.

What I feel is, That I should figure in this. Kind of ridiculous na perversely salacious rin.

Of course, I flirt with girls five years old. The storeowner’s daughter, for instance, that goes to private school and speaks to me in English, only, I know that it is all a mind game. Children are great at that: fantasies. And unschooled girls four five years old make great conversations, something I never would say of lawyers and NGO women forty years old and up that I happen to know.

So to go back to Jo’s eyebrow raiser question, Totoo ba, na may gusto ka kay Vaness? Lord, I’m stumped. I fuck the devil, not semi-literate girls. The latter is obscene. When I feel particularly evil, I go for this cad of a dyke or that fuck of a trans, and you can send me back to hell thereafter. Taking up minors who don’t have the bones to bear it is simply not my cup of tea, sorry. Maybe when I’m sixty?

Next time, wish I stole funds instead.

Noong minsan

Nung minsan, umalis ako sa amin, pumunta ng pulo, sumama sa auntie ko, hindi alam ng tatay ko. Alam lang ng nanay ko. Nasa laot na ako nang magpaalam sa nanay ko. Akala ng nanay ko, hindi uuwi ang tatay ko.

Biglang dumating ang tatay ko. Na-surprise, naghanap sa akin. Nasaan na si Merilyn? Hindi sila nakasabi ng totoo. Sabi ng kapatid ko, Waypa muwi, Amah. Hindi pa umuuwi, laung niya, galing sa town. Sabi ng tatay ko, miyatay, sige lang, antayin ko muna siya bago ako kumain. Tapos, hinintay ako ng tatay ko, matagal. Hanggang gabi. Tapos, sabi ng tatay ko, Saan ba talaga nagpunta? Samahan mo ako, puntahan natin. Sabi ng kapatid ko, hindi ko alam, laung niya, kung saan yun siya banda. Yung nanay ko, hindi na niya talaga matiis, sinabi niya yung totoo. Pagkasabi niya, nagalit ang tatay ko, nagwala. Sabi niya, patayin ko kayo, ilabas nyo ang anak ko! Pag hindi pa nakauwi hanggang bukas, papatayin ko kayo, susunugin ko ang bahay na ito!

Tapos, tumawag sa akin. Sabi sa mga Auntie ko, pag hindi nakabalik yang anak ko hanggang bukas, papatayin ko ang kapatid ninyo. Ang asawa ba niya. Tapos, nakipag-usap siya sa akin.

Sabi ko, Hello? Laung niya, ano ang gusto mo, pag-uwi mo dito patay na ang nanay mo? O uuwi ka ngayon din? Umuwi ako kaagad. Mamamatay yung nanay ko. Mas gustuhin ko pa na tatay ko ang mamamatay kesa nanay ko.


(an excerpt from an interview)

They call us kids

They call us kids.
All the time.
We're chameleons.
We change names.
We change looks.
We age.
Then are young again.
We have only our lives to commerce.
For your purchase.

Pagkatapos ng workshop

Si Nadz, sa unang araw pa lang ng training-workshop, nagpaalam na. Na siya ay hindi sasabay sa mga uuwi pabalik ng Jolo sa susunod na gabi, magpapaiwan siya sa Zamboanga, sa bahay ng kapatid na babae na naghahanapbuhay dito (nagtitinda ng banana cue), para maghanapbuhay rin ng ilang araw (magbabantay ng mga sasakyan ng mga papasok sa mga bars at diskohan). Umaga sa Girls Quarters ng Youth Hostel ng PNRC Zamboanga, nagronda na si Tu Tia (espanyol ng Kah Sheh), "Uy, yung mga ayaw umuwi, yung mga gusto muna mag-agogo dancer, mag-waitress, magprosti ng ilang araw, magsabi na, habang nandun pa sa ibaba si Jo at di pa nakaalis para bilhan kayo ng inyong mga tiket!"

Walang nagtaas ng kamay. Sa disisiete na sumakay ng barko galing Jolo pa-Zamboanga, minus kay Nadz at saka kay Tu Tia, ang kinse ay uuwi lahat pabalik sa pinanggalingan. Aba, ang babait ng mga anak ng tinalupan, uuwi silang lahat as scheduled?

Magtatanghali at tapos na ang sesyon, pati photo op at mga gudbay ceremonies, naipamudmod na ni Jo ang mga tiket ng bawat isa, pati na ang four hundred and twenty na katumbas ng pamasahe ng isang tao pa-Jolo ni Nadz, enter Vaness, Merz at isa pang mokong (si Coms yata, na may kapatid rin sa Zambo): Hindi raw sila muna uuwi, tira raw muna sila kay Nadz ng isang gabi. Talaga, ha. Ang bahay ng kapatid ni Nadz ay medyo wala walang kuryente at doon sila magsusumiksik makitira? Ano ang kanilang plataforma.

Pinarefund ang mga tiket nila.

E di nagka-cash sila. Yayamang walang per diem hah.

Buong hapon na nangawala at nang bumalik alas singko, ang iba me nabiling relos na dilaw na plastic, ang iba singsing na gawa sa lata, at ang iba ay hindi ko na inalam. Kung kanino ipapaalam siya ring uutangan.

Habang ang iba busy sa pag-iimpake, at ang iba pa ay isa-isa nang nagsialisan papuntang pantalan, heto si Vaness, nakaupo sa katabing higaan, mata sa bandang paanan, explaining at explicating. Kulang na raw ang pambayad nila sa barko. Si El Presidente Jovene, sa bandang likuran, mamata-mata.

Ang totoo, gusto kong tumawa. Si Kah Hulma ay galit na lumayas nang hindi man lang nagpasalamat, ni hindi sinagot ang tanong ko, kung siya ba ay kumain na o ano, tapos heto ang mga tinamaan ng lintek, at jajamingin na naman kami after enjoying their shopping at window-shopping rights on a cancelled ticket na ngayon ay kelangang i-repurchase.

“Mag-unu kami, Vaness? Magdagang bilat a kapitan sin kappal?” Punch in si Jo.

“Kulang na ang pamasahe namin, hindi na kami makauwi.” Kapag si Vaness in distress, she looks every inch in distress, heartbreaker po talaga.

“Na sige na, kausapin nyo ang kapitan ng barko, mag-service muna kami ni Jo, makatawid lang kayo pa-Jolo.Buti sana kung type kami nun, mas type kayo nun!”

Si Merz sa likuran na kanina ay feigning concern, feigning seriousness, napangisi.

Si Vaness maiiyak na.

Sabi nga ni Anj, “We love your kids!” Pakiramdam ko nag-Mother of the Year awardee uli ako. Kung alam lang nila.

Ang totoo, feeling ko, na feeling ko lagi, I could have done more. Na puwede ring unawain as, I could have done worse. Pero siguro, siguro nga, gaya ng lagi kong sinasabi sa sarili ko, bilang pakonsuwelo de bobo dahil bobo naman talaga ako, the meagerness, the poverty, the unaccomplishment, is what made all the difference. Kasi kung hindi, baka nga matagal na akong itinapon sa dagat.

Hindi ganito ang ideya ko ng pagoorganisa. Ni wala talaga akong balak magorganisa ng mga lesbiana sa Jolo. Mga kaibigan ko nga na ngayon ay nasa Caritas na, o sa Asian Women Bureau na, aghast. Por dios por santo, anila, bakit hindi sa CDO, o sa Manila, o kahit sa Cebu, mag-LGBT rights campaign ka lang din, of all places at of all dako ng kabihasnan, bakit sa Jolo pa bakiiiit???

Hindi ko masabi sa kanila ang totoo. That I love the craziness of it. And that I’m doing it maybe because exactly of the impossibility of it.

“Are they well-off?”, ani Fechi. Naka-dressed to kill kasi si Merz. Natural, mangibang bansa kaya sila, magpa-Zamboanga Hermosa, e di nagpa-handsome, naghiraman pa, showdown talaga. Kahit naman sa Jolo, pag me party, o kanduli, papahandsome talaga ang mga leche. Invest nang invest on pleasure and good looks, hedonists of the highest order. Maybe to fetch well-off girls, or maybe, counterpoint to so much poverty, to so much pain.

Si Ridz, halimbawa, na days back iika-ika, nakawhite polo shirt, bagong pair of blue jeans at white imitation rubber shoes.

“Ba’t ka nakasapatos, yung sugat mo!” Ayaw aminin na nakuha niya sa pagtakbo habang naglalako ng shabu. Nahulog raw siya sa pantan. E di nahulog.

“E, sabi ni Merz, e, eto daw isuot ko.”

Sa barko pa lang patulak ng Zambo nag-order na sa akin. “Kah Sheh, wala akong dalang brief, penge namang pambili ng brief, o.”

The night after and an hour before departure time, “O. Nakabili ka ng brief mo?”
“Hindi nga e.”

"Di bale na. May naka-MU ka naman sa Paseo del Mar."

Hindi ko na tinanong kung nang ligawan niya yun kagabi, binaliktad ba niya ang brief niya, o wala siyang suot na brief?

“Pero peks man, ang guapo-guapo mo talaga ngayon. Nakakainlove.”

“Oo. Bagay na kayo.”

Love ko talaga si Vaness kapag sumabad, in line! Pati ka-MU nga niya minumura ako sa text, bat daw ako hanap nang hanap kay Vaness.

“Kasi akala niya girlfriend kita.”

“Sana sinabi mong hindi, na love lang talaga kita wala kang magawa.”

“I love you more.”

Ganyan si Vaness. Ayaw magpatawad. Pulot dito, pulot doon ng ingles.

“I love you, Vaness.”

“I love you so much.”

Di ka mawewendang niyan?

Pero ang mas nakawewendang, peks man, si Merz.

Ewan ko kung kagagawan ng Rainbow Rights training, pero imagine Merz transmorphing into a girl? Parang gusto kong magsulat ng dula: Ang Pagdadalaga ni Merz Jamad. Ang tagal sa shower, mas matagal nagbihis. One full hour yata before departure time, girdle, underwear, sanitary napkin, baby powder, lotion. Me papasyal-pasyal pa around the ward nang nakatapis ng malong to socialize. Pati si Jo ay nawerla. “Naunu na in subul ini?!?!?”

Macho supremo kaya ang self-packaging ni Merz. Kahit naglalakad sa sahig-higaan o sa taytayan, tikas ang tayo nun, sure ang hakbang, at tiim lagi ang bagang. Wag mong masagi at baka susuklian ka ng straight cut to the jaw. Ang mahal pa ng ngiti. Pasalamat ka kung matingnan ka. Fazed ako. Ang huling gusto kong maka-engkuwentro sa Jolo ay ang classic super-chauvinist Tausug macho. At si Merz, every inch going that way.

Tapos ngayon, heto: Bababa lang ng function room, akala mo magdedebut. May needle pins pa to pleat his polo back and sides, which he didn’t want hanging loose out of place, buti hindi tinusok ni Sheeba na ginawa niyang sastre cum yaya at fashionista.

Kanina sa diskursong SOGI, feminine daw siya, kasi nga hindi naman raw puwedeng habang buhay ay ganito tayo.

Ay ano tayo? Nag-alsa ang tinggil ko. Putanginang palaka, Merilyn, akala ko ba, kaya ka tomboy na basagulero dahil derstand mo what political status comes with masculinity? If I had to ram it down her throat I will, o bagsak lahat ng aking plataforma.

Masculine ka, Merz.

So at recess time, she corrected herself at naglodge ng motion for reconsideration kay Jo. Relay naman si Jo. Hindi raw yun totoo, Sheh, na hindi permanent ang pagkalesbian niya. Sinabi niya lang daw yun dahil nahihiya siya. Kasi nga hindi nila alam na puwede pala yun.

Dinner time, sit ang Merz sa bed ko. Kah Sheh, you’re the best talaga. Sabay cut in ng medyo naligaw sa tono na You came into my life…

Fasten your seatbelt. Don’t panic, Tu Tia.

Pa'no ko ba papaliwanag sa kanila na The house is on fire the firemen all dead

usaping intellectual intercourse

At kanina, pati si Karlo nang-alaska. Heterosexual ka pa rin yata, aniya. Hindi ako napatawad sa aking kawalang-pitagan na pangdudusta sa kanyang pagkadakilang anak ni Allah, at lalong di ako napatawad nang hindi ako humingi ng tawad sa mga nabitiwang di-namumuri na mga salita.

Excited ako na nagbalita sa kanya na nakatanggap ako ng sulat-pahiwatig mula sa dating kasama.

“Kinikilig ka pa rin o. Hetero ka pa rin yata e.”

Ganun ba yun?

“Hindi. Naghahanap ka lang yata ng intellectual intercourse e. Busy ako e. Gabundok na mga gawain, o.”

Shocked ako. Akala niya yata, dahil galing ako sa isla ng medyo siraulong Bangsamoro, wala akong naka-intellectual intercourse doon, dahil nga sa Manila lang nangyayari ang intellectual intercourse. Pag minsan, gusto kong mag-parrangsabil kay Karlo. Akala niya, intellectually attracted ako sa mga latay-burgis na kauri niya. Pa’no mo kaya i-explain sa mga overeducated na katulad niya na mas intellectually stimulating na kausap kaysa sa kanya si Ridz, si Mherz at si Khumz?

Si Ridz na disinuebe na magsasabi, Babae ang nagi-initiate, hindi kami. Sila ang unang nanghahalik, nangta-touch, tanggap lang kami. Si Mherz na disiotso, bansag na basagulero. Hindi naman sa ayaw namin ng Sama, hindi naman sa nagdi-discriminate kami sa Sama kung kaya puro kami Tausug sa barkada. Kaya lang siyempre pag ka nabubuhay sa kalsada, ang hirap kaya nung may isa sa hanay na ayaw ng gulo, na sa harap ng paparating na kaaway tatakbo.

Oo. Madi-demoralize at matatakot pati iyong lalaban sana, sang-ayon pa ni Ridz.

At Si Khumz na disisiete at Grade Four lang ang natapos at ayaw magkuwento ng tungkol sa buhay at sex life niya, the temerity para lektyuran ako.

Kahit anong gawin mo, babae ka pa rin.
Babae ako, Khumz?
Babae ka pa rin ba.
Hindi lesbian?
Babae. Lesbian.
Naman pala e. E, ikaw babae pa rin ang tingin mo sa sarili mo?
Hindi. Lesbian. Ngising aso.
E, sila Mherz at Sara, babae o lalaki ang tingin nila sa mga sarili nila?
Ewan ko sa kanila. Itanong mo kasi sa kanila.

The first act of the Taliban

DID YOU KNOW that the first act of the Taliban was to hang a rapist?

The word talib means student; the original Taliban were born in the chaos of Afghanistan’s civil war. In 1994, a group of righteous seminary students, many of them schooled in Pakistan, rose from the countryside around Kandahar to challenge the predatory warlords then ripping Afghanistan apart. The Taliban’s first act was to hang an accused rapist from the barrel of a tank.

I think of this as I leave Jolo on the second day of the Ramadhan. It was my third visit, the last was three months back when I first met up with the lesbian community there. Now, I bear away full of bad news.

Alyssa, the 17-year old dyke who lived everyday of her life aboard a motorcycle was married off to another 17-year old boy with whom she had been spending lots of time for weeks months on end. The boy, lean and handsome with thick black brows and set jaws, is well-mannered and quiet in a deep way. He once had her maulers salvaged, Alyssa said, and an ex-girlfriend's brother tortured, his nails pulled out, for having slapped him in the face. The ex-girlfriend ditched him after self-administering an abortion, with Coke on mornings without end. Yes, says Alyssa, he is more than good enough for her for a young man,something she cannot say of the silly girls she is dating.

Mherz is also nineteen, reigning king of the road for sometime now until a week back when she got mauled by a gang of boys. Nobody utters a dirty word against Mherz and he friends, they will get a good beating. But nowadays, Mherz is a little depressive, left eye swollen and walks out on friends a lot.

Sadder still is what happened with Vaness. She was the wild thing, you could not ask her to vend candies and cigs for loose change. Last December she beat two boys one after the other in two boxing matches at Kasalamatan. No, trust me, said she, when I expressed misgivings about going with her to a videoke on my first visit, the both of us looking like grandmother and granddaughter dykes. They will come after us, I had said. Not at all, they're afraid of lesbians here, she'd insisted. Sent out of the house by a mommy who adopted her, she now had to go rural where the family that adopted her, the parents of her pretty girlfriend, had to teach her to pray, five times a day.

The last time I saw Kah Weng, the tomboyish barangay captain we had on board, she was all spunk. She escorted the young dykes to a camp-out cum hiking to Bud Datu, jamming it up with the Army officers who had set up defense facilities there. Now she sits at the porch, struck down by breast cancer.

I don't know what else happened on board while I was away thinking, just thinking. Of the impossibilities, the hopelessness of it all, the mulcting, the ribbing, the thieving, the petty but seriously mean fights among the NGO women managers over the loose change and discard goodies that get there, but each time I think of Mherz and the anger in her eyes, in her set jaws, a little hope lives, lives in me.