NBI clearance, bow


theviewingdeckdotcom

How it used to be BEFORE online applications.  (The queues move slightly faster now, thank you.)  thanks to theviewingdeck.com for the great pic!

NATIONAL BUREAU OF INVESTIGATION MAIN, TAFT AVENUE MANILA.

I hadn’t updated my prescription glasses, so from 15 meters, i could only read one word on the sign near the entrance :

ONLINE

from 10 meters, three words stood out :

PATALASTAS : ONLINE APPLICATION

Confusing, but curiouser and curiouser.

5 meters  (No wonder no one was paying attention) :

PATALASTAS : LIBRE PO ANG ONLINE APPLICATION SA NBI MISMO.

(Reminder : Online applications are free inside the NBI office itself.)

And the reason no one was paying attention to the half-hearted, weather-beaten sign?  Everyone around the NBI Clearance Center entrance was asking applicants : Online application? Online application?  Online application?

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The only explanation I could come up with:  although online applications are encouraged and even strongly recommended for everyone wanting a National Bureau of Investigation clearance (for jobs, security clearances or anything that requires a certification that you haven’t been convicted of a crime), there are still people who don’t use the internet  and have no choice but to do it the old-fashioned way : go to a bureaucrat’s desk, submit a written application and wait for the precious piece of paper.

Enterprising people with laptops and PCs know this, and entice applicants into using them instead of going in, cutting in half the queueing time and, in effect, the waiting time for an NBI clearance, not knowing that in fact, the NBI, anticipating this, already has computer terminals and NBI employees waiting for this type of applicant, ready to help them apply online, for free.  Thus the sign above.

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Although I counted around 800 to 1000 heads as I entered the applicants’ area, I wasn’t too worried.  I had already applied online in a different NBI branch, had my pic and fingerprints taken, and was just waiting for the hard copy of my clearance.

So what was I doing in the main branch?  Unfortunately, because I had such a common name (both the first and last), quite a few people I shared my name with had committed quite-serious crimes, including robbery, fraud and serious physical injuries.

Because of this, my clearance issuance had to go through “quality control” before release, still no biggie, but delayed enough to after my departure date, vacationing OFW that I am.

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Before the “quality control” officer, I was warned to have my application receipt (proof of payment for the clearance), identification document, and airline ticket and produce them instantly.

What I didn’t realize was that there were dozens and dozens of people needing their clearances issued before their respective departure dates, just like me, and we were all cramped into a small 5 meter by 7 meter room.  The salary grade of the QC officer didn’t allow for any bigger.

To speed things up, said QC officer just asked all those present (including me) to place their scraps of paper on top of her desk, neatly and first-come-first-served.

All present (including of course, me) dutifully complied.

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Unfortunately, another person entered the room, added his own scraps of paper and surreptitiously placed these on top of those previously placed in front of QC officer.

I could be wrong, but this person looked like he knew what he was doing, reminding me of “facilitators” who for a small fee facilitate transactions in a typical government office.

Even before any of us could react, QC officer did it for us:

Hoy!  Nakikita mo bang andami nang nauna sa yo?  Kahit taga-rito ka, ilagay mo dapat mga papel mo sa ilalim, dahil huli kang dumating. Hmmp!

Loosely translated, the QC officer berated the “facilitator” for neglecting to follow the (paper) queue, implied that (at least that day)  she served whoever came first, and fellow NBI employees couldn’t expect any favors from her.

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Coincidentally, because of her fair play, my paper got her attention next.  She scrutinized my clearance payment receipt, my passport, and my ticket, didn’t even interview me, scrawled her initials on my paper, and asked me to return in two hours.

In the meantime, I went to McDo for a snack, and on a whim bought a small apple pie for Ms. Low Level But Very Fair Quality Control Officer.

Despite knowing that I was committing the crime of Indirect Bribery under the Revised Penal Code, I wanted to show her my appreciation, and undoubtedly the appreciation of all those persons in the room with me.  I sneaked said pie on her desk when no one was looking, and no one was the wiser.

I got my NBI clearance two hours later without incident, and left the NBI compound containing around 5,000 applicants that day.

Mabuhay po kayo, Ms QC officer!

 

 

 

 

 

the agony & ecstasy of a 21k back home


finisher shirt and medal[  Note : If ever the opportunity presented itself on vacay, I told myself that I would run at least a half-marathon.  Lo and behold, right before the start of my last week, a 21-kilometer race was scheduled, just beckoning me to join.  Here’s how it went, thanks for reading Precious Reader! ]

LONG BEFORE I saw the finish line but less than 2 km away, I was already feeling nauseous.  In fact, I was already feeling faint, and for the first time since I started running around two-and-a-half hours ago (although I didn’t know it then) I was beginning to entertain doubts about finishing this crazy endeavor called a half-marathon.

Only the simple fact that there were others around me who were doing the same thing, trying to survive the 21k, willing themselves to finish despite fatigue, nausea and general discomfort, the reality that I was practically the oldest guy in the bunch, and finally, pure pride and the fear of ridicule, kept me from dropping out, dropping dead and giving up.

But, as usual I’m getting ahead of myself.

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Obviously everyone around me was excited, despite the muggy night air, despite the horrible starting time (2:00 am!) and despite the grueling 21 kilometers of tedious running ahead of us.

I had a special thrill ahead of me: when I finished (IF I finished) I would’ve been able to say that I ran not just two marathons but two marathons in different countries, New Zealand and the Philippines.  Not even the hardiest, most experienced and most conditioned runners I knew could say that, I had the advantage of travel and being at the right place at the right time.

But now at the starting line, I wasn’t so sure of myself.  Unlike my first half-marathon in Wellington, I didn’t prepare religiously, I hadn’t watched the things I ate the last few weeks (sisig, crispy pata, lechon, lauriats like there was no tomorrow… you be the judge) and most importantly, my running buddy Bunso my younger son was back in New Zealand and unable to hold my hand from start to finish.

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First five kilometers, although the exhilaration of running with hundreds and hundreds of gigil runners was intoxicating, I had a bad feeling because that part of the race, you’re not supposed to feel anything, pure adrenaline, the scenario of being with runners loving what they do, and everyone cheering you on, it should be effortless.

That early, it wasn’t effortless for me, and a bunion on the right side of my right foot was beginning to pinch me.  My shoes were less than a perfect fit, and I hoped the discomfort wouldn’t be too much for me.

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The route was easy enough : Skyway on Filinvest City in Alabang, then Sucat, turning around just before Bicutan and back the same way.  Easy enough except that once you got your rhythm and maintained the spring in your step, you had to contend with boredom and the lack of interesting things to see both on the track and the general surroundings.

I knew even before the first quarter of the run that there were lots of people who would finish ahead of me, probably 75% of the runners.  Not only was I a slower-than-average runner, but I also needed to make sure that I had enough in the tank to finish the distance.

So I didn’t mind that there were dozens and dozens of runners passing me every few minute, but I also noticed that the superfast runners who started out like jackrabbits at the opening bell  were starting to slow down, probably because they’d started out too intensely.  It was a cliche, but it wasn’t a sprint but a marathon.

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The soreness started even before we made a U-turn near Bicutan, and I found myself starting to avoid the glances of race marshals who were trained to keep their eyes peeled for the slightest sign of weakness or lack of resolve, early fatigue or worse, anyone experiencing shortness of breath, chest pains or cramps, all danger signs of something worse that could happen.

As long as the legs weren’t complaining, I was OK.  Soreness was expected, but as long as it could be endured till the last 5k, life was good.

Problem was, remember the bunion (kalyo) on my right foot?  The slight discomfort was beginning to grow into a worrying inconvenience, soon not only the shoe but the sock would chafe against the tenderizing skin.  I could run a certain way so that the impact was lessened, but doing so would affect my running gait, in effect I would tire more easily and seriously endanger my chance of finishing the race.  Problems, problems problems.

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All around me at the last 6k people were starting to slow down.  Some runners would let me pass them, then recover their strength and pass me right back, and slow down again.  I couldn’t adopt such a run-walk-run strategy because it would be a temptation to just taper off the rest of the way : I didn’t trust my stamina enough to rely on that.

By the two-hour mark, the night sky was giving way to pre-dawn light.  Early morning buses were blasting their horns right underneath the Skyway below us.  The air was so layered I could smell different parts of the air : carbon monoxide, exposed rubbish, and the dust particulates.  And of course, I could smell my own sweat.

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At Filinvest City, probably a kilometer before the finish line, every exposed part of my body was screaming : the lactic acid in my legs, the bunion in my right foot, my upper arms chafing against my torso, even my slippery spectacles pinching my temples.  Literally, naduduling na ako sa pagod at hilo.  Only the potential embarrassment of fainting kept me plodding on.

At the end it was anticlimactic : everyone was doing a slow jog now, and even then it took every last ounce of energy to force myself not to walk because jogging would give way to walking, and walking would give way to stopping.  Too dangerous, even then.

At the finish line, I gulped three cups of free electrolyte drinks, munched a free banana, slapped salonpas and pain-relieving gel, all provided by the sponsors, slurped arroz caldo and got my finisher’s medal.  The electrolyte drinks promptly gave me diarrhea, and as soon as I collected my wits, grabbed the first bus back to civilization.

And that, Precious Reader, was that!

Thanks for reading!

 

 

 

 

(wag maging) dayuhan sa sariling bayan (don’t be a stranger in your homeland)


san carlos[it’s already too late for a last, senti blog for the year so instead i’ll move it forward and nail a first blog of the year, up to you na lang Precious Reader to like and hopefully appreciate the topic.  onwards 2016!  Thanks to philippinecities.com for the San Carlos City pic above!]

EARLY ON, I’d already given up learning goodwife Mahal’s Pangasinense dialect, not the least because it was markedly different from the Ilokano tongue of my contemporaries in university, but also because I didn’t want my in-laws to think I was trying too hard.  In my slanted opinion, the Pangalatoks sound somewhere between Ilokanos and Kapampangans (although the latter really take some getting used to if you’ve never heard them before).

How wrong I was to not try learning even a few phrases!  Tell you what, the Pangasinenses dearly love their language, just as they love everything about their province.  This, despite the fact that the province is divided into large groups of Pangasinenses, Ilokanos and Tagalogs.

The dialect is richly sprinkled with the schwa sound (roughly a combination of the short “a”, “e” and “u” sounds), kien is a particle I heard in almost every sentence, antotan and labut were words obviously with a lot of uses / meanings since they were used as often as we did “uh” and “naman” in Manila.

Where we stayed for New Year’s Eve was a city that was considered the heartland of Pangasinenses, and I saw close-up how Mahal’s people were : frugal, hardworking, and clever.  Of course, I’m being biased and opinionated, but in the sort time I was there, that’s what I saw.

Almost every house I saw had either areas set aside for the drying of palay, an open area set aside for carpentry work or woodwork, houses were always being rebuilt or remodeled, and believe you me, I hardly saw any idle menfolk around, of course it was the holidays where people were expected to be hung over, tongue in cheek. 🙂

The reality however was, everyone was just waiting for the national elections, and based on the public works posters practically shouting the names and mugs of the incumbents, not everyone was patient enough to wait.  Everywhere were not-so-subtle posters, pictures and greetings of personalities obviously seeking public office.  Even schools had posters of potential candidates surrounded by children, purportedly benefiting from the incipient education policies of these candidates.

Sa bagay, campaign period for the national elections is less than four months away.

All in all, I haven’t been around my homeland much, but I can tell that San Carlos City is one of the more progressive places I’ve seen.  I only hope that in their drive towards progress, the Pangasinenses don’t lose sight of themselves and their identity.  The fact that Mahal comes from here is just a bonus.

Thanks for reading!