Rains on a blessing-day (Part 2)

Allow me to continue where I left off.

I realized I knew all the bishops in the procession except for one. Being so curious, I began to ask a religious. He could not answer me because he did not know the person.

So, I asked a diocesan priest, Father Ian Fel Balankig. There I was mesmerized to hear that the Archbishop of Guam, Anthony Apuron, was in town to join the procession of the Santo Niño!

I interviewed Father Balankig on how Guam and Cebu are linked to one another, at least in the perspective of the history of the Church. Then after that, I proceeded to interview Archbishop Apuron. ( I later found out on the Internet that he was like me, a Franciscan).

The context of the interview was about the Holy Child in Cebu and the devotion to Him. But, hell, I got caught in the rain somewhere near the University of San Jose-Recoletos. The rain dripped on my phone and I had no way to control the water as I did not have any umbrella with me. My cowboy hat never helped as the material was so porous–my head was already wet!

Usually, my wireless land line phone can allow 10 minutes per call. After that, it just turns itself off. Naputol ang interview with Apuron and I had no choice but to cut him short: “Excellency, we’ve been cut off”…

Good thing after a few minutes, my phone went back to normal, and Johanna called again.

Luigi, ready na ka?”

“Yes, ready na ko”, I replied back.

“Standby, Luigi”.

“Balikon nato ang Arsobispo sa Guam kay naputol ta ganiha…”

Then I went on with the interview. After that, I gave another situation report. This time, I got cut off again. My phone was destroyed–for good.

I had to think of another alternative while standing under the umbrella of other priests at the procession and even from the Archbishop of Guam himself! I thought of staying under the umbrella or my phones would suffer collateral damage. Of course, I did not want that to happen as I would not have any way of reporting, and I would not have any means of communication at all with family and others.

I had a belt bag with me (kana ra gu’ng made in China–remember, they say that God made man, and everything else is made in China!), and I was not surprised that it was not waterproof at all.

I was already thinking of backing out. I did not know where to go. Everywhere, it was wet, and there was no way of doing things.

I reached Elizabeth Mall and I found a solution: I had to transfer my SIM to another phone. Voila, it worked!

I was able to file another report from Alcantara Street. The street was flooded. One or two inches deep. Yet, I was able to report beside some friends from Don Bosco Formation Center.

After I made my report, they knew my predicament. They told me, “Pray to Don Bosco.”

After we made a turn to V. Rama, I realized my SIM card did not register on my phone. Bang. Another problem. “How could I fix this?”

That report would be my last for the entire procession. I still could not recall to this day the number of reports I made for that coverage alone. It was so full of stories to tell.

I was thankful that Jun Tariman (his blog can be found here) covered the procession not far from where I was. I was situated inside the carroza while he was situated just outside of it.

I transferred the SIM finally to my Palm Treo 680. I do not normally use my phone in this situation because it is always reserved for my Globe. It worked, but it went off after a few minutes. The SIM did not register again.

I was already disheartened. I thought to myself, di na lang tingali ko mo-report. Tutal naa na bitaw si JunTar.

But I managed to look for him after we have reached F. Gonzales Street, on the way back to the Basilica.

JunTar asked me why I left the cordon. I told him I could not report because my phones are all dead!

We switched roles, and I rushed back to the live point at the Basilica where Juve and Aldwin were. I had to brave the throng of people there, and they did not even mind that I was a member of the media trying to rush to our live point. I had to brush elbows with all of those people who want to enter the basilica.

Bahala na. I really have to enter. I had to withstand the smell of people’s armpits just to enter the ramp leading to the second floor of the Pilgrim Center, where our live point was situated.

Good thing I was back to home base. I had to dry my phones or else the rust would eat away my phones slowly.

Then we proceeded to annotating the Mass and the religious Sinulog that followed. It was my first procession as a member of the media. It was also my first procession on the second floor–without the benefit of seeing the altar. Good thing we had wireless mics and headsets for our audio, albeit delayed.

This goes to show the Santo Niño has blessed me this day. I went back to base camp in R. Landon fulfilled.

Deo Gratias!


Unanswered questions

February 3, 2011

You may not know it, but I always get questions from those in their lower years. The questions would often be about internship and fourth year life.

This might be the chance for me to answer those questions thoroughly because when I get to talk with the younger generation of mass communication students, I don’t get to give them very thorough answers.
I may not be an expert in the world that I wish to be in, nor can I claim that I have all the knowledge this world can handle.
Questions like:
“Kuya Luigi, okay ra ba ang imong gitrabahoan karon?”

To be honest, I don’t have problems with my work there at dyAB. In fact, I’ve made really good acquaintances with the people there.

For one, I improved relations with people I have already known even before I became an intern with dyAB. Juve Villar and JT Benz were two people whom I have known beforehand. Juve was an interviewee for a project, and JT is a classmate of a beloved uncle. I will not elaborate more here as I really do not want to talk about friendships in public. I’d rather have them private.
Juve and I always sang songs, and we even tried to compose a song together. He gave me tips in composition, which could perhaps be a subject of another post.
JT is fond of innovation (no wonder he and my uncle became so close in college). He challenged me to think of ways to innovate what we could at the station. I don’t know what has become of my project inside the station: to create a efficient system for lost and found articles surrendered at the station.
Allow me to also make mention of someone who made me believe in my talent, RC Dalaguit. Litle did I know that she was a next-door neighbor when I was in my first year of high school (she was in her first year of college that time). She is, up to now, fond of my broadcast voice and my singing voice (only she and Juve really heard me sing). She never fails to commend me for the things I do inside. No wonder mura na siya og ate nako. Remember I don’t have an older sister, only an older brother.

I only met June Perez when I became an intern. He taught me to go out of the box, to go beyond my assignments, to go beyond what is given me. Because of him I had mustered enough courage to pursue my own stories, of course, with his instructions on what assignments to take (magsinapaway na gani hinoon).
“Kuya Luigi, diba nakasulti na ka nako sa una nga naka-cover ka sa Capitol? Unya nakakaon na ka didto?”

Kahibalo mo, I really do not like the idea of eating at the Capitol, during the daily press conferences there. Mind you, mura’g ngilngig kaayo ang feeling kon mokaon ka didto kay kada adlaw, you write stories and file stories about the Governor, the Provincial Government and all other offices, and it seems that when you get to eat there, you do not want to write anymore or report anymore about the bad things happening inside the offices of the Capitol.

If you really look at it, lunch is served every day at the Capitol. Maria Lina provides for the catering. Kada adlaw gyod nang kaon diha. Question is, why do they have to feed the media there every single day? Eileen Mangubat, Cebu Daily News publisher once told me that “we Filipinos give so much meaning to food.” If we give so much meaning to food, then we think about the giver of the food and we start to think well of the giver even if we see something bad. In short, dear friend, you lose your objectivity.

For this post, I would want to answer more questions, but I think I only have time for one more question. This time, I have to acknowledge the sender, Baging del Mar.
“Luigi, why do you sleep so late?”
The answer to this question is not about internship. It is about personal matters, Ging. However, since I have rediscovered my love for writing through this blog, I would acknowledge that one reason for me staying up late is for me to write something here. Even if this is a requirement for my internship, this is one thing I don’t find burdensome because writing is something I love to do.
And, I won’t make this long so that you won’t wonder why I still stay up late.

Good night, Ging.  Good night everyone. I love you all.

Welcome, Archbishop Palma

January 12, 2011


We went to the station for a different purpose. We had to meet for the Sinulog Coverage of dyAB.

Of course, I knew that Archbishop Palma would arrive.

So, during the course of our stay there, we acquainted ourselves with our future assignments. We already knew what to do, and what to accomplish during the entire coverage of the Sinulog, from the Misa de Traslacion on Friday to the Grand Parade on Sunday.

However, my fellow interns and I got so into our conversations inside the newsroom to the point that June Berongan started to ask: “Kinsay mokuyog sa field?” (Who wants to come with me to the field?) Razel Cuizon readily volunteered.

I began to ask Razel where June’s destination was. When I learned that he would be going to see the new archbishop, I still had second thoughts of going as we were so engrossed with our conversation (remember that this was also a sort of a reunion for us interns of dyAB).

Finally, I decided to go with Razel. We went to the crew cab, and off we went to the airport. June B started to orient us with how the coverage should go about. We would talk about how fast the convoy went, and how the people would receive the new archbishop, and the ceremonies that would take place as Ricardo Cardinal Vidal would welcome Archbishop Palma.

Of course, as expected, security is strict at the MIP of the Mactan-Cebu International Airport. The guard got our names and off we went. The guards there already knew our purpose.

At the MIP, I met other media people. I also saw Ryan Sorote covering for the Freeman, Candeze Mongaya for CDN and Badette Parco for Sun.Star. Ubay-ubay gyod tong mga kauban nato sa buhat nga mi-cover.

It was history when I saw Palma at the steps of the MIP (Most Important Person) Lounge at the Mactan-Cebu International Airport.


When Archbishop Palma set foot on the MIP Lounge, I felt a sense of fatherly authority. Palma was a tall and robust man, and even if he is 60, one could say is just over 50.

Government dignitaries like Mayor Rama, General Villanueva of the Central Command, Colonel Digal of the PNP in Cebu, Church dignitaries like Bishop Cortes, Bishop Rañola and other dignitaries from the various sectors of society greeted him at his arrival. Who knows, this could be their chance to get close to Archbishop Palma?

We entered the room where the dignitaries could get to have a brief talk with Palma. He just answered a few questions from the media. He was wearing a cassock a bishop usually wears: with red lining and red buttons in front, and with a purple skullcap.

We had to rush back to our crew cab in order to be able to follow the convoy. There we began our blow-by-blow account of Palma’s arrival.

A sea of white and yellow greeted Palma. Children from different schools went out to welcome him with yellow and white flaglets, reminiscent of the Vatican . Workers had to stop what they were doing in order to get a glimpse of their new shepherd. Motorists peeped into the motorcade just to see who this new “boarder” in the Archbishop’s Residence would be.

All the while we in the media thought that Palma would stop and pray at the National Shrine of Saint Joseph in Mandaue. Di’ diay. He just stopped for a very short while, and fortunate for those who waited for hours because he went out of his van even for a very short while. He was able to see the performances of the children from the nearby schools.

And, we went on. The same thing happened. Workers, schoolchildren, passersby stopped and looked at the Arcbishop inside the van. In Mabolo, the bells rang as the convoy passed by. Cardinal Vidal celebrated his last mass as Archbishop in that parish as part of its 219th founding anniversary, a day before Palma arrived. Incidentally, the church is also dedicated to Saint Joseph, the personal patron and namesake of Palma.

The same situation happened. People went out, streamers were hung, praises were chanted until we arrived at the Archbishop’s Residence Compound.

As we arrived at the Palace, Sinulog dancers greeted Palma.


Fortunato “June” Berongan and I were so fortunate (as Jun B’s name suggests) to be able to go inside the Chapel of Saint Joseph. (I am beginning to notice that everything has fallen in place for Palma as everything is named after Saint Joseph).

There we went, receiving holy water which Palma used to bless us. Inside the chapel I also saw Joworski Alipon of ABS-CBN News (and a former classmate), Karla Bermudo of dyLA, Divine Marcial-Flores and Janice Olmilla of CCTN.

It was history for all of us who were there. I never expected to be there. I knew for a fact that someone else would be able to cover that, and that I may not have a chance to cover. Good thing I decided to go there.

From there, I started to annotate the events as they came. I became a commentator of the events inside the Chapel of Saint Joseph. I had to relate the things spoken in Latin, the personalities inside and the events that will follow.

In short, I wrote history.

And, I’m proud of it.

Rains on a blessing-day

January 15, 2011

Work of Divine Providence, I should say.

It so happened that on the field, we got to change assignments right there and then. by virtue of what I would like to call “common sense”.

I did not have a clear assignment, and my friends Aldwin Gevera and Juve Villar were supposed to be together. From the assignments given by our news desk head June Perez, Aldwin and Juve would be situated at the carroza, where the Santo Niño rests.

Again, I invoke Divine Providence. Aldwin and Juve were instead situated at the head of the procession, that is with those motorcycle-riding men who might as well be in charge of security. Therefore, no one from our team would be in the carroza itself. So, by virtue of common sense, I had to resituate myself.

It was around 10 minutes before 1:00 pm when I got the first call from the news desk. “Luigi, mo-report ka?”

“Sige, mosulod ko,” I told the lady at the news desk, who happened to be one of the finest ladies I’ve met, Johanna Gelicame.

Then it was when I made my first report on the procession and the preparations outside the Basilica del Santo Niño.

The skies were gloomy, the heat of the sun could not be felt, but the heat from the people waiting to see the Holy Child was the one dominating the environment that time.

The cadets from some universities added to the heat. They were really packed together like sardines struggling to be jammed inside one small tin can filled with tomato sauce and spices.

At around that time, the head of the lay Eucharistic ministers was already barking instructions from the sound system inside the Basilica. “Katong mga cadets sa ROTC ug sa CWTS, palihug na og pwesto…”

Anyway, it was a normal thing for me in events like that. I would expect instructions here, there and everywhere. Why would there not be?

Mind you, Aldwin borrowed my phone because he had to see Juve. I lent him my phone. I heard from Aldwin that he’ll be meeting Juve at an appliance center somewhere near the Basilica. Well, we parted ways as I had to make my report.

So, when Johanna called for the second time around, I asked her to call Aldwin or Juve so that I would be apprised of their situation and their location. Good thing I heard Juve on my monitor reporting their exact location.

I left the cordoned area hurriedly to be able to get my phone. Good thing I was able to go through the throngs of people waiting to get a glimpse of the Holy Child.

I was able to arrive at where Aldwin and Juve were situated. I got my phone and went back to my area, the cordoned area.

As I was about to enter the cordoned area, a team member of the security force stopped me. I had to resist, saying that I was a member of the media. But then he told me to ask permission from another head. I told him I was going in and out of the area minutes ago. Good thing, I was able to convince him to let me in, even if I did not have the media ID provided by the basilica (the Basilica only gives two IDs per outlet). Anyway, I had my dyAB ID with me.

I was able to enter. I had to stay at the side of the cordon at first then when the image already left, I was able to enter the second cordon reserved for the carroza of the Holy Child. Good thing the cadets saw me report. They must have been convinced about what I was doing.

Anyway, we already left the Basilica. We were at Plaza Sugbu when I made my third report for the day. It was a situation report from inside the cordon. Note that I was the only person from our outlet who was able to get inside the cordoned area.

I observed something: the crown of the Holy Child was misaligned. It might be perhaps due to the impact when the carriage entered the raised area at the Plaza Sugbu (which used to be part of Magallanes Street). The procession at our end had to stop so that the crown may be fixed. I initially thought that something really went wrong with the image or so.

I relished every moment that I had with the original image of the Holy Child just within my reach.

(to be continued)


JT Benz, radio talent at dyAB 1512 and long-time acquaintance (he was my uncle’s classmate in college) told me that if I would really want to leave a legacy at dyAB apart from the fleeting stories that I make, I should try to innovate something.

He cited that he introduced the electronic newsroom of dyAB using WikiHost.

True enough, after that conversation, our friend Johanna Gelicame got so confused as to what phone to pick up as both phones inside the news desk were ringing. She was almost aghast at the sight of two phones ringing to the point that she almost freaked out.

Juve Villar, the news desk man assigned that time, could not help but laugh. Well, thanks to his initiative, he invented a system for signaling the anchors to turn on the switches for phone patches. Before we devised these, we just used hand signals like the showing of one finger to signal that there is a caller on line 1 and five fingers on line 5.

Unpublished mementos from my journal–November 10

This is perhaps the last of my unpublished mementos as a neophyte of dyAB 1512.

Day 3

November 12, 2010

My news chief, June Perez, called me up for some instructions. He instructed me to go to the Cebu International Convention Center to cover an event which is supposed to be attended by Health Secretary Enrique Ona.

It was a gathering of Barangay Nutrition Scholars sponsored by the National Nutrition Council, with Board Member Agnes Magpale and Undersecretary Bernardita Flores.

After talking with some people at the venue, I realized the secretary would not come, even if President Aquino was in Cebu that time.

So, I proceeded to listen to the speeches of Magpale and Flores. I have this tendency not to listen to very long speeches. I just recorded the speech.

After the speech, realizing that some chord struck me, I proceeded to ask Flores a question on the Millennium Development Goals. I had the Reproductive Health Bill in my mind, but thought that if I asked questions related to it, I might have sounded off-tangent.

When I went to the station, my news chief inquired if we asked about the RH Bill. I told to myself that I should have followed my instinct. I should have asked. Sayang.

Sometimes, it is good to follow your gut, especially if you have been through situations wherein you really feel like using it.

Alan Luigi Flores

Stay or Leave?

December 17, 2010

The thought of my desired career always strikes my mind every time I think about leaving the portals of the university in about a year’s time.

I have always basked in the thought of hearing myself on radio or seeing my name in the byline of every story I write.

For now, those two things are running on my mind.

While I have been basking on these thoughts for the past six or more years, I have thought of other things as well.

The thought of entering the priesthood attracted me so much. So much that I really entered the seminary, only to realize that I would not last even a year of detachment from the outside world.

I have always thought that the priesthood would be easy for me as I was attached to my service in church, to the point of learning Latin in order to know more of the liturgical rites being held in the official language of the Church.

Now that I am just months away (nine months, that is) from attaining my Mass Communication degree, I have always wanted to see if I could use my abilities in media at the same time be of service to God and His Church.

I was even thinking that I would be a priest and a media practitioner at the same time. I was thinking about those priests having their weekly programs some years back, at dyAB where I am working as an intern.

Right now, I am thinking about the recommendations I get from people in some sectors of media to work with them, and perhaps these opportunities might veer me from one of my plans: to eventually return to the seminary after some years in the media industry.

If the plan of staying in the media for long materializes, my fear is that I may not be able to enter the seminary anymore. In fact, one of my priest-friends tells our group of lectors: “Actually, kahit di lahat ay magpapari, one could still preach the Good News.” This priest pointed out to me as an example. Knowing that I was a seminarian, he told the rest of our group: “Luigi can still bring the Good News, at gagamitin niya ang kanyang boses sa media to be able to spread the word of God.”

Those thoughts bring a tall order to me every time I think of my career. Now, the question still lies: Should I continue to aim for serving God as His priest or as a religious, or should I stay on with the media bahala’g gamay og sweldo or leave my ambition to be with the media and aim for something more financially rewarding?

The only thing I ask from you, dear reader, is to pray for me. I promise you my prayers as well.

Unpublished mementos from my journal–November 8

This is a part of my unpublished mementos of my experience as a neophyte of dyAB 1512.

These experiences actually made me learn for once more the ropes.

Day 2

November 8, 2010

I was assigned to the Capitol and the courts. I never knew what to do there. I was a newbie (as I always am) and I was blind to the goings-on at the area.

I spent the time going around the courts and trying to see what hearings I could attend. I saw no reporters roaming around the courts.

Seeing that I was just wasting my time, I decided to look around the Capitol. Good thing I was able to see where the Governor’s Office is located.

After seeing where the governor’s office is located, I immediately went to the Legislative Building. I realized how new I really appeared as an apprentice wanting to enter the media. I had to ask people where I could get the agenda for the session of the Provincial Board.

Good thing a reporter at dyAB, RC Dalaguit went there. It was only from her I realized that the Vice-Governor would give a privilege speech. I had to record something in order to be able to make a report. Good thing one of the reporters there lent me a copy of the transcript of the speech.

It was really a controversial speech as it made headlines the following day.

One realization: You really have to learn the ropes yourself. If I did not do it myself, I could have not gotten anything for that day.

RC and I already divided the points on which to report. I was about to write my script when I realized that I had to rush back to the university to attend my MC Seminar class.

While waiting for the teacher, I worked on my script. The bad thing about it was I was not able to file my report as the program aired is already TV Patrol Central Visayas.

From there, I gained knowledge on the workings of the Provincial Board. Perhaps one thing I want to try covering is the Monday press conference of the Governor.

Dear Prudence

This article appeared on The Purveyor (the Official Publication of the Masscom Coordinates) last October.

I am re-posting this that you may also get to read. This is an unedited version.

Dear prudence…

More than being the title of one of the songs of the Beatles, this is actually an address to Miss Prudence, who, I believe has always been MIA when persons tend to address comments without taking extra precautions.

In my meandering with Miss Prudence, I am reminded that the tongue is a very potent tool in making or breaking a person.

The tongue can build walls and tear down barriers, can bring life and destroy it. Such a relatively small part of the body can bring the entire body to its death.

It can appease an angry mob, or make a placid crowd go rowdy.

While making this realization, it appears that a lot of tongue-lashing incidents have surfaced, especially those that have angered quite a number of Cebuanos already.

Gloria Diaz’s statements regarding the incompetence, or should I say, incapability of Cebuanos to speak English and Tagalog (or Filipino) has angered Cebuano pride. I should say then, that one woman’s tongue has brought almost all Cebuano speakers up in arms against this mortal sin on cultural pride.

The statement “Kasi when you think about a Cebuana who can hardly speak English…and of course, in Tagalog, I think she should answer in…in…in…uhm, Bisaya” caught a lot of flak from Cebuanos who believe Diaz tripped their egos with what they label a bigoted statement.

This is where prudence comes in. Remember that in one statement, several meanings may be attached to it. To some it may not be offensive; to others it may leave some bad taste.

If you would ask me, her pronouncement lacked prudence. I do not know why she had to mention the word “Cebuana” or at least make Cebuanos appear incompetent with their language skills. If she has a Cebuano boyfriend (whom Senator Serge Osmeña acknowledged on television as his nephew) then she should have known how Cebuanos would have reacted on such statements.

The truth is not about her boyfriend of 12 years being a Cebuano himself. It is about the imprudent use of the word that made almost every Cebuano’s ears as hot as the concoction of the tuslob-buwa that one may find in the corners of Pasil.

While she is accused of belittling the Cebuanos’ competence in English and Filipino, she made herself clear by saying that she never meant her first statements to be insults against Cebuanos. But that interview with Mario Dumaual of ABS-CBN News was clear. Clear as crystal. What is there to deny?

At one point, Diaz asserted once more that she has not meant any harm in giving out those statements. She even said the Cebuanos owe her an apology. The truth is, her imprudence has once more irked even our politicians here. Cebu City North District Representative Rachel del Mar gave out a privilege speech condemning her statements. The Cebu chapter of the Vice-Mayors’ League of the Philippines declared her persona non grata (unwanted visitor) here in Cebu. The Cebu City Council is inviting Diaz to their session to explain her statements. Cebu Provincial Board member Agnes Magpale also said “the remarks pierce our hearts as Cebuanos” whether malice is either present or not.

Her imprudence has led her to pride (or I should say her pride led her to imprudence). She never admitted the ethnic slur. Even if Mario Dumaual’s interview with the former Miss Universe winner was clear enough, she never just said sorry. Her sorry would have been enough for the Cebuanos and all others whose capabilities are attacked by those crabs out there waiting to pin you down.

Dumaual also came to the rescue to defend Diaz’s statements. He could have shown us the entire tape (or perhaps the transcript) of the interview so that we would not doubt his integrity as well.

If her intention was to relate that those who may not speak in English may get interpreters, she should have said it that way. No more, no less.

Perhaps what Diaz should do now is to come out in the open, admit it was a slur and say sorry.

Our future jobs as communicators require prudence. Tact. Care and wisdom in choosing our words are important to maintain integrity.

Now my meandering with Miss Prudence has allowed me to prove my point: One woman’s tongue is now up against three million or more people disgruntled at one imprudent and tactless statement.

Dear prudence, would you come out to play?

Uliot diha, part

It was a day after the Pacquiao-Margarito fight. It was a Monday.

At the courts, it was a day for case raffling. At the Capitol, it was a day for press conferences.

In short, ladies and gentlemen, it was just another ordinary day.

There were no new cases filed at the prosecutors’ offices, and I was not really familiar with the Criminal Records Section of the Palace of Justice. Why would I dare enter? I was afraid.

Hell, even if I made friends with a guard at the Palace of Justice, I still had inhibitions of entering the Criminal Records Section. No wonder I would not make any progress there.

I tried entering the prosecutors’ office. I asked how the usual processes took place, what the first steps are. The lady at the Provincial Prosecutors’ Office just told me to look at the flow chart outside.

Hell, I could not even understand the procedures. What on earth did this mean?

To answer my confusion, I went to the receiving area of the Prosecutor’s Office just in front of the offices of the fiscals. I was not received well as the people there were busy (It was quite obvious that everyone at that room wanted to have some space to themselves amid all the papers and all).

I received the same answer when I tried to ask them: "Sir, tan’awa lang ang flow chart sa gawas." So far, this was the order for the day: Look outside and you will see. What’s that, a miracle? No, it wasn’t. It is more of justice delayed, justice denied as the alibis they gave me were: "Sir, naa man god mi timetable for finishing the cases. Kon ganahan ka, adto lang sa atbang." Or, as if not wanting to lose any single stroke of luck: "Sir, busy pa man ko sa raffling sa mga kaso." True enough, the papers rolled were to be used for the afternoon raffle of cases.

Ah, after receiving the refusals left and right, I managed to call the news desk with my wireless land line phone, and good thing, I was able to reach him.

I received instructions to get stories from men on the street. I did not waste one moment. I would have gotten Assistant Ombudsman Virginia Palanca-Santiago. I wonder what made me back off.

I just proceeded to Branch XIII, where the Executive Judge Meinrado Paredes held office. Good thing he was accomodating. He answered my questions about Pacquiao retiring from boxing. In fact, I still have a recording of our conversation which I have not deleted.

I proceeded to Branch XIV where Judge Raphael Yrastorza held office. Sus, good timing. I read that there was a promulgation going on. I attended, then I tried if I could get notes, or at least a copy of the decision.

I never did get a copy. The workers inside the office of the Clerk of Court refused my request, saying that "it is the policy of Judge."

The court was already in recess when I got the court interpreter. I began to ask her questions regarding the promulgation of the case of attempted homicide against a minor which she just read minutes before I disturbed her lunch. Good thing she just readily answered the questions. One report in.

I wonder how I managed. That could have risked me my liberty as a person as it was tantamount to contempt of court. Nonetheless, I still managed. I got to report it at an afternoon newscast.

One thing for today after all the nerve-wracking wrestling with beloved contempt of court: Uliot diha, part.


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