To My Little Sister - Part 5

March 20, 2015

Dear Rose,

I woke up real early today with a stuffy and running nose. The summer time is well on its way so this is not a welcome feeling.  But as always, I'm still ready to write you a letter for the day.  There isn't much really.  Yesterday was a good day though.  I bought another book - Cat & Mouse by James Patterson.  It's a murder thriller.  After watching countless documentaries, TV series and movie series on psychopath killers, it's little wonder that I still do not have the makings of a killer.  Perhaps if I put what I learned into practice it would.  But you know what?  I just ain't made out of killing material.  I have a soft spot for people.  Maybe if I stayed longer in there - I'd probably be one as a teen - with that devil may care attitude that I had.

Anyway, I had a meeting with my big, big boss on training methods.  It was good.  My company is finally seeing the light in terms of technology.  The funny thing is, just when I bought by laptop, they tell me now that they ordered a laptop for me to use at work.  Anyways, this investment hasn't been in vain.  I need as many of the tools as I need to just get to writing and to researching.  Plus, they're also requesting for an iPAD.  Amazing!  It's good to read about things, to relax, just let my brain absorb all the information.  I like this learning thing.  I'm not a nerd or what - hopefully not.  But it's good to read and watch stuff.  You'd be surprised at the extent of the knowledge base on the Net.

Speaking of Knowledge - do you remember the Books of Knowledge we used to read when we were younger?  I couldn't get enough of those.  I loved the stories, the articles.  Do you also remember the time that Mona used to let us memorize those articles on what gravity was, the push and pull of the earth, inertia, the different planets and how they rotated on their axis?  It was the closest thing to education that we could ever get. I just hope that she was better at explaining things rather than just making us memorize paragraphs.   In fact, I remember the photocopied brown, ruled papers, the school materials they bought us, like pencils, papers, the erasers with those eyes I loved to jiggle up and down.

After a few months of leaving - I left on May 25, 1990 - In July of the same year, mom and dad had me enrolled in the very school that Monsie, Nagi, Sandy and BimBim studied in - St. Scholastica's College, Manila.  I was amazed at the number of books and notebooks that I had to bring on a daily basis.  I loved the classes except for Filipino and History.  Not because I didn't want to learn. It was only because I didn't understand a single word.  That, together with the fact that I had no knowledge of what PE and HE meant.  So, my classmates were like - 'where the heck did you come from? You from the U .S. or what?"  One even said, "even if you study in the U.S. you should know what those stand for.  You testing us? That's stupid." So I remember my face becoming real warm - I was blushing from embarrassment and I walked away from the group.  That was the first day of class.  My teachers were very nice.  They always smiled and made it a point to answer all of my questions.  I got good grades and became really good at working on projects they assigned us.  Call me teacher's pet.  Almost everyone called me Teacher's pet because I'd sit and talk with them, ask them about life, their children, what life was like for them.  That's how I knew that the experiences we had weren't supposed to happen. My classmates always thought I was fishing for grades.  I didn't even know what it was at the time.  In fact, I loved talking to my teachers and the nuns rather than talking to mom and dad when I came home.

I only had a couple of friends but it didn't really matter.  I was in the same grade as Mocca.  But she was in a different section.  She used to call me and ask me so much stuff like if I met the brother of so and the guy friend of whoever.  I was like - no, I didn't really have time for that and it wasn't like mom and dad would allow me.  She hurt my feelings sometimes by telling me that I was such a prude but that was okay.  I kept everything inside.  Sometimes, I was sad and a few moments later, I'd be okay again.  The best place I always went to no matter what school I was in - whether it was St. Scholastica's College or Assumption or Philippine Women's University - it was always the Library.  In there, I lived in my own world.   I was in every book lover's paradise.

If there ever was a number of frustrations in school - it was the inability to fully understand Filipino and having mom and dad attend our Family Day or Sports days or other days in school.  I used to be so envious of my classmates in Assumption who brought with them both parents and their siblings.  I'd sit in the bleachers and just look at how happy they were.  I'd be waiting and waiting and then finally one of my brothers would come.  You remember Tong, don't you.  Among all, he was the one who showed a slight interest in my studies and would attend some of my school functions.  It wasn't that I didn't appreciate his presence.  It was just different because I felt I needed mom and dad to be there for me.  Even when I graduated High School - Tong was there.  My parents were not.  I was smiling for the camera but my heart was aching.  Dad said he and mom didn't go because it was too warm.  I said it was okay and that I understood.  But it still hurt. I think what hurts the most is that I didn't let them know how I felt. I've been handling a team for two to three years.  I feel bad when people don't speak up.  I'm not a soothsayer who can guess what's on their minds.  So I remembered how I was with mom and dad.  Stupid huh?

No one helped me with research or projects. I had to do those on my own.  It was good training ground I guess.  Plus, I had the library all to myself.  The librarians from the libraries in Elementary, High School and College knew me.  That was my go-to place, my place of peace, quiet, solitude.  To get lost in the world of books was always better than anything else.  It's a miracle I didn't go crazy with the stuff that I was reading. You'd probably love it as well.  I can't remember real well if you loved reading - I'm assuming you did.  Almost all the girls who grew up there and who're out here would die for books.  hahaha it's a term.

Anyways, as always - I hope you enjoy your day to day.  If you love books too it'd be swell.  We could go to the library or the bookstore together.

Wishing,
Marie

Note:  Boom!  yeah - this is another late post.

To My Little Sister - Part 4

March 19, 2015

Dear Rose,

Luckily my working hours are so relaxed.  I kind of have to really get that feel for work sometimes. It isn't because I don't want to work.  I mean - I like earning.  Sometimes, I just get really tired  (not physically) of working. I've been working in this BPO (Call Center industry) for a little more than 11 years now.  It was very difficult at first because the shift schedules were the exact opposite of the normal work hours.  In the Philippines, you normally work during the day, when the sun is out.  When you work in a Call Center, you sleep during the day and work at night because most of our customers are from the U.S.  When it's daytime there, it is night time here.   Anyways, I went through this period of adjustment that took about 6-7 years.  It was that long!  So imagine if you've only been working there for just a few days, to a month to a year.  Some say, they don't really have a difficult time sleeping but if you've spent a good number of years sleeping peacefully at night - I tell you, when you try to sleep during the day, you do so with a lot of effort during the first few years.  When I lay down and tried to sleep, I could hear people talking, the birds chirping, the roosters crowing, children laughing and playing.  They were constant sources of frustration but I had to keep it to myself.  It made no sense for me to scream my head off (even if I wanted very much to do so!!!)   There were days, when even just a few minutes of sleep was all I had.

Last night, I asked my new boss, Edison, if I could just take the day off and get to work in the afternoon the next day.  So now it's early morning - early for me - and am up writing you. Again dear, I don't really know what you're going to make out of all these letters.  I don't know too if you'll ever get to read them.  I also have no idea how you'd feel living out here.  For sure, you'd enjoy your freedom tremendously.  But then there's just so much one can do out here.

I remember when I first left, I'd stay up a bit at night, in my own room in mom's house, just looking at the neighbour's night light as it shown through my window, I'd think that it was unbelievable how I successfully left.  Many months after, I used to just smile from sheer happiness at how light I felt.  Freedom was sweet victory.  But then when I woke up the next day, mom would ask me to help clean the house, wash the dishes, or I needed to do something else.  Those chores were definitely not my idea of freedom.  But I had to do them.  I think it was a constant push and pull of wills.  I was always thinking that I'd get punished just like I used to when I was in Caryana.  The worst thing they could've asked me to do was to stay in my room.  Many were the times that I got sent up to my room.  Many were the times, I fought, I answered back, I slammed the door of my room.  It broke mom and dad's hearts.  I myself couldn't understand why I used to get so mad. Now that I'm so much older, I can look back and really say how stupid I was.  There was so much I needed from them and I'll have to say they gave all they had.  Sure, we had those moments - I think everyone does.

The anger.  I had really bad periods where I would see red.  Literally.  I think the years of pent up emotions did that.  Little things like dirt, dust, people talking too loud, children being bratty totally irritated me.  I was surprised that Ate Carmina's children (you remember her don't you?) who were very little at the time were so bratty (or so I thought.)  But there were no spankings for them.  It was just talks, hugs and kisses.  I couldn't understand that because all we knew prior to that was that as early as one, little babies could already be taught to sit on their own.  At such a young age, they were already taught to sit still and if they moved and fidgeted their backsides could get tapped or really spanked.  That wasn't the way out here.  Mom was outraged to learn that it was being done.  But it frustrated me that she couldn't do anything else about what I saw and experienced there. "Our" nieces are all grown up now and are beautiful people.

Back then, I wanted to be a Knight in shining armour and rescue all of the little children there including you and all the other girls.  It's a little girl's fantasy.  It was only years later that I realized that dad's warnings to be cautious and his words of having to be realistic finally sunk in.  When you're brought up in a society of rules and laws - the word 'legal' is a buzzword.  Now it does have meaning for me.  Back then, I had no sense of the law, no sense of order.  The only thing that mattered was the sense of right and wrong.  After having received other people's confirmation that indeed, what was being done to us was wrong - I was going to get you guys out.  But no - today, you're still there.  Things didn't happen the way I pictured them when I was younger. Why?  That's a question I ask myself often.  What could I have done to ensure that everything was alright?

All I can say was that I had my own troubles.  There was school too and I had to live.  I enjoyed school.  I loved learning.  I just didn't like mingling with my other classmates too much nor did I like going to parties that mom would bring me to. I didn't really have other people to talk to not unless you count Mocca.  Mocca, when I met her, had totally adjusted to the life out here.  We were in the same grade level.  She was very sociable - too sociable in fact, because she had a lot of guy friends - which mom and dad warned me about.  I would visit their house in Geronimo St. Magallanes Village, to play soft ball or just sit in the swing. Their house was right across a park.   Romina would be there but we rarely talked about our life in Magalang and how she would spank me.  No, we each had those memories firmly tucked in the past whenever we met.  We were mum about those topics.

Today, you're still there and I'm out here.  We have miles and miles between us.  Our mindsets are probably different.  I've been thinking a lot about this for quite sometime - albeit with the help of a friend.  I don't know how you feel now about Caryana.  If you're living in Maurus, I think that  you wouldn't really want the life out here.  If you have a bit of freedom, in that place, it's more than enough.  If you have food to eat, Monsie's generosity - it's more than enough.  Being there, I know what it feels like to be in Maurus.  Girls and boys alike would be so envious at the little favors that we'd receive.  Out here, those same favours wouldn't really  mean anything.   So yes, maybe the life there is better for you.  Ironic huh?  For me to tell you that the life there would be a lot better - yes, it would.  Almost nothing out here is free.  You have to earn your keep.  You have to traverse the highways on the way to work, get used to the noise, the sweat, the dreariness of city life.  The reward we get out of it is food on my table, a place to stay, my thoughts and everything to do with as I please.  I've learned a long time ago that if I abuse the freedom I have, if I do things, say things that could bring negative results, I have to pay for the consequences.  I had to learn to be responsible.  It's a long learning process that you may not be ready for anymore.  I always think that the longer you stay there, the more settled you become.  I wasn't about to go back to learn again to be silent, to follow the rules, and not to question.  There are rules here to follow but there is no one following our every move, no one bringing a belt or a lash to hit you for every infraction.  So, it brings with it, the desire to just do what we need to do.  There is no need for that push and pull of wills. Life is good for me just as it may be good for you over there.  I have my friends, you probably have yours.  I can talk, I can go shopping with them or just spend a quiet day at home watching a movie or just doing simple chores.  I now like doing those maybe because I rent my own apartment. No one will really clean up after me.

So I'm off to work later.  I'll be back tonight.  I'll be working the late afternoon shift today and tomorrow.  I hope to have a bit of fun.  I could fall asleep maybe because my body has to adjust.  The only things I'm really looking forward to is writing the next letter and sleeping tonight.  That'd be a treat.  After the efforts of sleeping during the day, sleeping at night is definitely a treat.

So little sis, hope you enjoy your day.  My letters are probably full of gloom and the past.  I hope that sprinkles of both every now and then would give you a better picture of my life out here if you do get to read this.  Again, I'm always wondering if you'd ever get to write back. All sighs for now.

Yours truly,
Marie

Note:  This is another late post.

To My Little Sister - Part 3

March 18, 2015

Dear Rose,

How are you today? I hope all is well and peaceful.

You know,  I have good and bad memories of that place - your home for the past 35 years? Just like anything else, the beauty of a product, a place, or a person is always marred by that one bad or awful experience.  But before I left, I just had too many bad ones. Those necessarily didn't really happen to me.  In fact, so little happened to me compared to you, compared to our companions.   Those memories bring a bitter taste to my mouth.  l think many times how it would be if one day if I'd see Mona out here.  What would it feel like.  For sure, I wouldn't feel nothing.  She's that one person I truly hate.  I wonder now if you've ever come to love her after all these years. It's possible.

Love? It's hard to define what it really is since we grew up without it when we were younger.  For me, it's tantamount to care borne from a certain attachment to a person or persons.  You're that one person I do care for.  I don't know when it started.  But I remember not feeling anything akin to it when we were younger.  Do you know why I say that?  I could watch you and all the others beaten, and I wouldn't feel any remorse. I felt scared yes, but it never was enough to make me brave enough to fight.  I don't think I did a lot of things that would cause you or any of the others to suffer for me, so to speak. But there was just so little feeling.  There was no urge to fight and tell Mona to stop hurting us. For some girls, there was a frighteningly feeling of glee.  I'm ashamed to even admit it now but yes.  Remember Teresa.  I don't know what she really did for me to not like her at all.  So every time she was punished, it gave me some degree of satisfaction, some degree of accomplishment as if I were the one who directly caused it.  Shame on me!

Oh well, let's reserve those horrors for another day.  Something funny and torturous happened at work today.  I had listened to a number of calls and had write-ups for each of them.  There came a point when I couldn't see the mouse cursor on my screen, so I lifted it and tried to point it at different files.  For some reason, the delete function came up.  I had unthinkingly deleted the file I just created and lost saved work, time and energy.  I will have to redo those when I come in to the office later.  It was just about 10 calls but that's still 10.  At least I didn't lose 20 or more.  That happened once before to...about 45.  I was almost in tears when that happened.  But later will be another day.

i still wonder what you do on a daily basis.  I hear that all those Monsie takes care of are really cared for, privileged, so to speak.  What does she do for you guys?  tell you stories? play the piano? or the guitar for you? Beats me. I can't really picture her being the affectionate type - you know...like the type who hugs.  No wonder it's taboo there.  Imagine me getting the shock of my life when I came out years ago.  Part of greeting mom's friends or Ate and Kuya's friends was to kiss them.  That was an entirely different experience - a scary one back then. I guess I'll greet you the same way if ever I do get to meet you.  I can just picture how you'd be looking at me like I'd gone off the deep end.

Anyways, this is it for today.  I'm off to bed now.  Hope you enjoy the rest of your day.

Much love,
Marie

Note:  This is a late post hence the difference in dates. 

To My Little Sister - Part 2

March 17, 2015

Dear Rose,

I think of you very often. Just last week and the week before, I suddenly found myself crying over you.  In fact, I wasn't very sure why.  I just knew that I missed you.  Funny how all those feelings seem to surface after so many years.  I always thought I was hard-hearted.  It isn't true.  After all those years of pent up emotions and as I grow older, it now just seems a waste of time to continue to hold them back.  If I'm happy, why not share my happiness.  If I'm sad, why not cry a little and then be done with it? If I'm angry at someone, just face that person and spit out whatever and be friends again.  Simple huh?  Never thought it'd be this easy but is!

The years in Caryana teach you to cry in silence.  Do you know how many times I did?  It probably happened so many times to you too.  Prayer times were my loneliest moments.  I was in front of the altar, crying in my heart while I recited the Psalms of David, the Book of Solomon, and the Words of Wisdom. I could find no consolation.   Instead, I pulled my blindfold down to hide the tears that threatened to overflow.  They became so wet, I was afraid it wasn't enough to hold all the tears I shed every time.

That inexplicable sadness.  I can't say I was total void of happiness.  In fact, I treasured every happy moment we could find. What was one moment I remember - eating that powder thingy encased in purple.  Do you remember how we'd blow the powder in each other's faces.  It tasted just like milk.  I think that was one Christmas Day when we were about 4 or 5.  Nagi and Sandy were still the ones taking care of us.

I don't know if  you'll ever get to read these letters.  Maybe you just might do so one day or you may never.   At least, this is an avenue of release too just as I would like to share things that happen to me on a daily basis with you just as if you were with me.

I hope there's someone to exchange the letters with.  Sadly, there isn't for now.  Anyways, that's one happy thing I'm doing.  I'll just keep on writing and writing.

Do you know - sadness and depression are the worst things that can happen but they do happen even to the best of us.  If I had succeeded in ending my life those many years ago, I suppose I wouldn't be here to write you this letter.  The only thing that stopped me was the fear of pain.  Funny huh?  After all those hard blows when we were younger, I'm still afraid of pain.  Yes, I don't have to pretend out here anymore.  I don't have to stifle my cries and pray hard that my tears and my red nose wouldn't betray my pain and sadness.  I can cry as loud as I want now (but God forbid people hear me - it would be an utter shame.)

I hope all is still well with you. Enough about me!  I hope you woke up happy today.  Did you?  I can't imagine what you might me doing.  Perhaps running errands?  Maybe.  I hope you have a great day today.  I'll be off to bed in a few.

Big Sis,
Marie

All Set to Write

This year, I've promised myself that I would write more.  At first I thought I'd be able to write once everyday.  But then it may be asking too much of myself.  There may be days I can write more than 1 article per day.  There may be other days though when I won't even know what to write about.  The problem lies in getting to pick a topic that would interest me the most.  There are just so many topics that interest me, and to write about all those could literally take me hours on end.  So I'm just going to take this a week at a time.

Yesterday, Jessa and I were in Trinoma at Timezone.  It had the usual races, nintendo-like games, basketball rings etc.  There were also these dancebeat stations where players could follow the steps shown on screen. So much for technology.  Jessa and I, on the other hand were busy with videoke.  I had a good time, albeit an expensive way to spend our time - but it was fun all the same.  

Ghosts from the Past - 5

Here's another story - an affidavit from a young man I had been with before.

Republic of the Philippines )

City of San Fernando . . . . ) S.S.

AFFIDAVIT

            I, JOSE MARI LORENZ MIRANDA, 21 Years old, single with present address c/o Mother of Good Counsel Seminary, City of San Fernando, Pampanga, after being duly sworn to in accordance with law, hereby depose and state the following:

1. I was born into this world on the Thirty-first of May 1983, of legally married spouses by the name of Agapito L. Miranda III and Maria Estrellita Miranda. My father was a leather technologist in an international leather company while my mother was a physics teacher in secondary and collegiate education, first at the University of La Salle, and later on at the University of the Philippines, Diliman. I was the youngest child, being preceded by two brothers. Our birth gap was respectively 2 years each. The firstborn -  Agapito B. Miranda IV was born in 1979, and my middle brother, Michael John B. Miranda was born on October 1, 1981

2. The said movement or organization was a newly set up lay monastic community in the town of Magalang, Pampanga where I would spend the next 17 years of my life. A fellow teacher of my mother at the University of the Philippines introduced her to this new movement, and in turn, she introduced my father to the said monastery. They started attending their prayer meetings and participating in the movement’s communal life, though at the same time retaining their businesses etc. It then dawned into their minds that they would bring us – their 3 children into Caryana, their reasons, as they later told me, were because they wanted us to have the best spiritual education and formation possible, which they believed was attainable in Caryana. Thus, they sacrificed everything, particularly their parental affections; to follow what they thought would benefit us their children the most.

3. Around the year 1985, we, the 3 children, were entered as permanent members of Caryana at the ages of approximately 2, 4, and 6. This entailed that we could not leave the compound or see our parents, but spend our lives abiding by the rules and regulations of the place within the compound. On the other hand, our parents were denied permanent membership on the grounds that their delicate upbringing would not be able to stand the rigors of the monastic life. They continued being merely “members” – they stayed in Caryana at night, and participated in the Sunday services etc, but continued working outside. In this frame of life, I grew up, amidst the disciplined and austere life of Caryana and without the presence or affection of my parents.

4. The philosophy or reasoning behind this was the teaching proposed by the head of the place – Fr. Odon de Castro, that the best offering and sacrifice a parent could give was to offer their children to God by giving them to Caryana. They were then supposed to be “dedicated to God” and completely offered to Him. In turn, this sacrifice would guarantee the salvation of the parents as long as they did not turn back on their offering to God. Aside from this was the reasoning that there was no other place in the world where a child could be brought up in holiness and sanctity. This may sound weird and out of place but it is this theory that has so unfortunately, precipitated, if not totally destroyed, the lives of many a child who could have had a better future. Over and above all, it was the way this theory was inculcated into the mindset of parents that has caused many a broken family if not a wasted life.

5. There have been so many controversies over this and many other teachings that were taught to us. I myself have often questioned and thought about the morality of the doctrines that were inculcated into our psychology. The difference in the way of life that we were reared in is that only the side of Caryana is taught and defended while everything to the contrary is vehemently opposed and castigated. The result is that the inmates of that place grow up with only one side of the matter presented before their eyes. This ends up with them accepting for facts and realities what are actually nonsensical teachings. Growing up in such an environment is very detrimental to ones upbringing since one takes and believes for certain what is actually false only to find out later on that one was misled and misguided for the past years, that many things which we were taught to fear and dread were mere invented phantasies which terrorized us into submission or compliance but which never really existed. This would be all right if life were just a play that could easily be rewinded, but unfortunately, that is not the case, and many things, which the Caryana deprived us of, are irretrievable.

6. I can barely remember anything about my life outside Caryana, I “woke up” there and in its atmospheric condition would I be saturated from 1985 – 2002. In short, I came to the use of reason inside Caryana. Waking up there meant that I grew up in an environment of “parentlessness” – if ever there is such a word, and left to thrive and give meaning to my life. It was this fact that caused me so much pain and apprehension before I could finally muster the strength to leave the place. Imagine how a child who came to reason in such a place completely walled out from the outside world, without any access to information or news  - how would he feel and what pains he would have to undergo just to try to discover that world which he was deprived of!

7. We spent the next years of our life inside, practically passing our childhood and adolescence in that place without being exposed to the world or given the information that is the right of every citizen of the Philippines to know about his country and the developments and occurrences that happened. In that place we were totally isolated from what they called the “Outside World” and made to believe that there was no salvation outside that place. There we were made into virtual slaves of those who ruled that place, without any right to protest, question or argue about any rule or measure imposed on us. Our only choice was to obey orders as they were given and unfortunately, many of these orders and rules exceeded humane sanity and savored of unjust and inhuman brutality.

8. The daily schedule of that place is what follows below. This daily schedule is what they call the “Monastic Horarium.” The life in that place is monotonous – the schedule today is the same year in and year out. This will give more or less an idea of the life and structure of that place.

2:45 / 2:50 am -                 Rising, washing of face etc. in preparation for Prayers

3:00 – 4:00 am –               First Prayer called Matins

4:00 – 4:30/5:00 am -        Second Prayer called Lauds

4:30/5:00 – 6:00 am -        Spiritual reading

6:00 – 6:20/30 am -           Third Prayer called Prime

6:20/30 am – 8:45 -           Work

8:45 – 9:00 am -                Fourth Prayer called Terce

9:00 – 9:15/30 am -           First Meal

9:15/30 – 11:45 am           Work

11:45 – 12:00 pm -            Fifth Prayer called Sext

12:00 – 2:00 pm -              Personal Prayer / Reading, / Siesta

2:00 – 2:15 pm -                Sixth Prayer called None

2:15 – 4:30 pm -                Work

4:30 – 5:00 pm -                Seventh Prayer called Vespers

5:00 – 5:30 pm -                Showers, personal Prayer, Reading

5:30 – 5:45/6:00 pm -        Second Meal

5:45/6:00 – 6:30 pm -        Cleaning up, Spiritual Reading, Rosary

6:30 – 7:00 pm -                Eighth Prayer called Compline

7:00 – 7:30 pm -                Spiritual Reading, Study

7:30 – 8:00 pm –               Bedtime prayers then Retire or Sleep.

9. This is the normal schedule of that place and everything else revolves around it. There are of course exceptions to the schedule depending on the age and gender of individuals and other consideration. This schedule is followed punctually – on the dot – corresponding punishments are meted out to all who are late for any schedule. Prayer however, is given priority – everything is adjusted to the tune of prayers so that other scheduled activities will be shortened just to give way to the prayers.  The life is like that of a military camp but instead of whistles and guns it is the bell that is the signal for each activity.

10. The above rule of Rising at 3am for prayers was not imposed on children below 12 years old but in many cases, one of which was mine, it was imposed on us as early as the age of 7. To this day I remember the agonizing moments I spent each morning when the natural tendency to sleep dragged me towards one direction, while the punishments for doing so would force me to wake myself up. There have been other children who were subjected to this rule at an even younger age. The reason behind it was that reportedly, some children were caught playing during the hours their watchers were engaged in prayers, and since playing was heavily restricted, and often totally banned, their playfulness which they could not restrain became the cause for their having to join the prayers as early as 3 am.

11. As children we passed through different groups: firstly, that of infants or babies of both sexes that ranged from months old – around 1 ½ years old. These were taken care of by the Women members of Caryana called the sisters. Secondly, was the group of the younger children comprised of both girls and boys ranging from ages 2 – 6. These were likewise taken care of by the sisters. Thirdly there was the group of the boys and the girls, sometimes referred to as “Big Boys” and “Big Girls.” In these groups, the ages ranging form 6 – 12, the girls were separated from the boys, though both were headed or taken care of by the sisters. The 3 above-mentioned groups are classified into “Children” and they live together in one compound called St. Placid. At the age of 12 or even younger, the children are finally separated. They leave St. Placid and are sent either to the “Brothers” or to the “Sisters” respectively depending on their gender.

12. Our meals were only taken twice a day and the taking of anything else aside from water during the intervals was a capital offense that would earn the most severe penalties. Often, the food we ate was insufficient to satisfy our hunger, particularly when our work was heavy like fieldwork or making hollow blocks. We were not allowed to refuse anything served but had to eat it all whether we liked the food or not. There was a certain amount, we could not eat more than that amount nor less. Rarely were excuses based on sickness, tooth problems etc. accepted for not being able to eat what was served.

13. We were not given the chance to have any formal education in that place. We were taught to read and write; basic addition, subtraction, multiplication and division, the bible and other related things to spirituality, but we were left in the dark as to other things. Thus, if someone decided to leave the place, one of the major setbacks, particularly if he was already and adult, would be that he had no formal education or the requisite knowledge necessary.

14. That there were many things done to me in that place which I have found out after having left it to be very inhumane and unreasonable. There were many sayings and weird maxims they taught, molded and sprinkled with gospel passages in the name of “humility”, “obedience” “submission” etc that terrorized or psychologized us into silently accepting our fate. We the abused were forced to believe that the abuses done to us were for our own good and that if we refused to accept them, we would be precipitated into Hell Fire. These abuses were totally uncalled for and degraded our dignity as human beings. I have undergone many of them, and others have gone through much more. Never did we think that it went against our rights as human beings since we were taught that “There is no such thing as human rights, a truly humble person believes that he deserves nothing.” This weird statement was what was used to support their injustices and make us bow in silent submission to whatever they wanted to do to us.

15. Punishments were meted out in accordance to one’s fault, and many times, according to the mindset or mood of the one taking care of us. We would be fortunate if the one taking care of us – our “watcher” or “senior” would be in a good mood since this factor would lighten our punishment. If not, then we would have to bear whatever his or her passionate rage would dictate. Further, these punishments were not labeled as punishments, but as “Satisfactions” – the theory being that we had to pay something for our sins now in this life lest we pay for them in eternal fire.  The problem here is that most of the “faults” we committed were not faults at all but mere natural human impulses, which were being suppressed under the name of “discipline.” These impulses being part of our human nature are difficult to suppress and would come out by themselves, unfortunately earning for us more and more punishments. Some of the punishments are the following:
1. Water therapy – for every fault one would be forced to drink a glass of water. This would be easy if one was thirsty, but not after the eight cup above. I often felt like bursting – imagine having to gulp down glass upon glass of water! It would cause one to literally urinate every 5 minutes.
2. Amapalaya therapy - one would be given only ampalaya to eat during meals. If within the given time for meals one was not yet able to swallow it, one would be stripped of his clothes and would be hit with a belt or stick every 5 minutes until he had swallowed the ampalaya.
3. Book therapy – consists of kneeling with arms outstretched with heavy books placed on both hands. If one allowed the books – particularly the bible, which was the most, used – to fall, one would earn a beating.
4. Beatings with belts, sticks etc – this was the most common punishment. We were beaten with whatever the senior wanted to use. This would range from pieces of wood 2x2 to pieces of rubber exterior (from the wheels of trucks or cars specially fashioned  into a latigo) to pieces of thin bamboo sticks that gave a sound lashing with corresponding sound effects. At times, parachute belts were used, pieces of rope or cords or the common belts used daily. When we were beaten, we were made to remove our clothes, often till we were totally naked, lie on the floor, and receive the number of strikes corresponding to the fault we committed. The rule however was that we were not allowed to cry or shout. Any sound would earn us another 5 strokes. Thus we had to devise ways and meanings of bearing the pain without making sounds or sobbing.  In order to accentuate the pain we were hit in the appropriate places that they knew would cause us more pain such as the legs, the back, the thighs etc, rather than the buttocks. We were forbidden to move during the administering of the beatings – if we moved due to the pain as we writhed under the whip, the belt or whatever was used would still bear down upon us regardless of what part of the body it would meet. For example if one turned and exposed his knee, his knee would be the one hit. This beating was a normal part of our lives. There were times when not a day passed without our being beaten up. The strokes ranged from 5 – hundreds depending on the fault and the mood of the watcher. When we were still children and under the supervision of the sisters, there were many times when we became callous to their beatings so much so that we just laughed at them. In order to solve this, the brothers were called in order to be the one to beat us up since their masculine strength was triple that of the sisters. These have left horrible memories in me of my childhood – a childhood spent not under the loving care of my parents, but under merciless people who had mastered the art of torture.
5. Snapping at the scrotom - this was a painful discipline done particularly by a sister by the name of Amanda (Mona) L. Recto. She used to order us to undress and would used her fingers to snap at the said part. This would cause intolerable pain to us males. I do not know where in the world did she invent such a tyrannical idea.
6. Tying up and wetting before beating – this was meant to accentuate the pain during a beating. We were wet with water then tied up before being beaten up so that the contact of the belt etc would be triply painful and we would not be able to move during the administration of the beating. At times, it was the belt that would be soaked in water, or while we were bathing in the shower rooms we would be hit right there and then with the belt – our bodies soaking wet and confined to a small cubicle were movement or self-defense was very limited.
7. Hands in prayer - this consists of having to remain in a praying position for hours if we misbehaved during prayers. This may sound simple, but not if the stick was at hand in order to give one a sound slash on the sensitive part of the hands the moment our fingers relaxed or if we fidgeted in our place.
8. Bowing before person - this was done usually while the sister was sleeping. We were made to stand in a row before her bed and remain in a bowing posture for hours. Aside from the humiliation, the back pain was terrible to the point that when we were dismissed we could hardly straighten our backs.
9. Memorizing therapy – consisting of having to memorize a given page or chapter of the bible or whatever as a punishment. Failure to do so would earn one a heavier punishment. Because of my sharp memory, this was rarely used on me. I was pitiable however to see those whose memories were not that retentive.
10. Water in the mouth – this consisted of leaving water in our mouths the whole day in order that we would not be able to talk. At any random time we would be asked to spit out the contents of our mouth. If it happened to be saliva and not water, that would earn us a sound beating.
11. Pepper therapy – this was the punishment for lying. One would be forced to eat pure pepper – the small red one usually called “Sili” without drinking water. That would make one sweat and pant from the heat.
12. Dehydration therapy – this was in accord to the rule that during siesta one was not allowed to urinate from 12 – 2 pm. Once one lay down, one would not be allowed to go to the bathroom but had to restrain the call of nature till the given time. To “Help” those of us – myself included – who could not make it but often urinated in our beds since we could not restrain urinating, our water intake was reduced to only 1/6 of a cup so that we would have less to urinate and would be spared the beating or fasting that would go with it.
13. Confinement in bathrooms
14. Tying to beds
15. Eating dilis soaked in water
16. Eating burned jam
17. Eating spoiled or half-cooked food.
18. Kneeling on salt
19. Kneeling before meals
20. Underwear on head
21. Wearing of cowl
22. Wearing of blindfold
23. Standing during matins
24. Kneeling for hours
25. Stepping on head
26. Standing in corner
27. Hammering of head with hammer
28. Pounding of head against wall
29. Imprisonment
30. Excommunication
31. Fasting

            I have not been able to explain in detail the rest or even enumerate other punishments lest it fill up too much space. The above will give a more or less vivid view of what the discipline actually was inside.                

16. We were further not given the chance to have knowledge of the outside world. Radios, television, newspapers etc were strictly prohibited and we were left in the dark as to what the world really was. This further aggravated the circumstances and gave us the idea that there was no other life except that of Caryana where we could live.

17. Sex was something cloaked in the deepest secrecy. We were left wondering about what procreation, intercourse etc was and how to explain our sexual urges, responses etc. it felt so weird as if there was always something shameful or sinful in sex. This led to many circumstances and instance when curiosity of some led them to adventurous ventures that were no longer human or natural. I prefer not to speak about it here. My point is to emphasize that if only we were  taught in the proper way what sex was, we would appreciate and hold it sacred rather than seeing it as a guilt-laden subject. Understanding it for what it really is would have not let us remain in the dark, groping for an explanation to what after all was just natural.

18. Around the year 1991 – 1992, my eldest brother who is also known in Caryana as Peter Paul, escaped from that place. He managed to break through the prison where he was confined and after 3 days of journeying on foot without food, he managed to find his way to the DSWD where he was given shelter. News about his whereabouts were denied us till we eventually took him for dead. It was only around 2001 when he was allowed to hear mass in the monastery that I and my brother were able to catch a glimpse of him, however illegal it was, and come to the realization that indeed there was life outside Caryana,

19. From 1996 until the time I left, I spent it with the brothers. The punishments were lessened though the schedule was the same. The life was much tougher since we did the work of laborers in the field, rice mills, poultry, ranches etc at our tender age and limited rations of food. Compared to the Sisters, the brothers were more humane – probably because we were already strong and if tempers flared as many times it did, the repercussions were dangerous if not deadly.

20. Due to the experiences I had especially with the sisters, I came to hate and have an aversion for women. Only when after months of staying outside that place have I come to value and respect women, seeing that whatever I had experienced under certain women in that place was only a limited matter and not something that referred to all women.

21. On March 21, 2002, after months and even years of grueling and painstaking deliberation, I was able to secure the necessary permit to get out of that place. I formally requested the permission to leave due primarily because I felt that there was something in that life which was lacking and could not fill my heart. Due to the excessive brainwashing and psychological tactics employed on us, I found it very difficult to leave that place.  I had to face so much coercion, trauma, threats etc ranging from dying out of hunger to eternal damnation if I decided to leave that place. I was looked upon as a heresiarch who was innovating new ideas that would damage the monastic regime and so was excommunicated and not allowed to go with anyone.

22. My leave-taking was even more heartrending. They told me to eat all I could for it might be the last time I would have a meal, then giving me a pair of clothes, they escorted me out to the gate. My notion all along was that they would just throw me out and oh how fast my heart beat as I prepared for my impending doom and “Survival Story”. However, they brought me to my parents – they from whom I had been separated from ever since I entered the monastery. What a pitiful sight, my mother was sobbing unrestrainedly, so affected was she by the news that she was already collapsing amidst her sobs and pleas that I stay. I was then told, “See what your decision is doing to your Mother – can you still say it is the “will of God?” will you still continue.” My answer was an adamant “Yes” and with that they told my mother; “We have done all we could, we cannot force his free-will.”  Together we made the trip to Bulacan wherein instead of affection and caresses from a long lost mother, scoldings, beratings and blows rained down on me. I offered no apologies or excuses but merely said; “The time will come when you will see I was right.” I was even told, “I would to God that you would die tonight.” From 5:30 pm – 1:00 am, it continued until eventually it was time for my parents to return to the monastery leaving me to my brother. I could breathe yes, but my heart was writhing in pain. Those memories remains forever seared into my heart and it shows how heavy the cross may become. Looking back at the past, I am at a loss as to where I got the strength to still go forward. I had reached the breaking point and perhaps it was then that I truly experienced the famous dream entitled: “Footprints in the Sand” wherein our Lord said: “It was then that I carried you.”

23. After I left that place, I concentrated on catching up with my education so as to be able to enter college. I underwent tutorial lessons for 3 months from Grades 1 – 6, then from First – Fourth Year. I took the Seminary’s Entrance Examination’s last January 2003, and the DECS Philippine Validating Test at the DECS, Ultra on March 18 – 21 2003. Having passed both satisfactorily, I became eligible to enter the Mother of Good Counsel Seminary for the Course AB Philosophy, starting School Year 2003 - 2004. It has been difficult for me, since I had no formal education but with patience and hard work, I managed to learn much and pass my subjects.

24. That up to date, Michael John is still inside that place living a life that prevents him from seeing the realities of life and making balance decisions for himself and for his future. It is he, as well as the others like him, that I am bent on helping out so that they may be able to fix up whatever they have missed, and no longer miss what they have been deprived of.

25. It is often used against persons who query about Caryana: “Ask the children themselves and they will tell you that it is of their own free-will that they are in side.” That is not true, how can they say that it is of their own free will that they are inside when first and foremost the essence of free will is that one has knowledge of two choices, neither of which is bad, and he of his own choice opts for one in preference to the other. This clearly was not the case when we were brought up. We had no choice and any other possible choice was govern such a bad picture that from sheer horror and dread one would spurn it. Is that what is called choice? Yes they say that the moment one has reached the age of 18 one can decide of his own whether to stay or not – that no one is being forced to stay – but I ask: did they prepare us for the other choice? No, they did not. they immersed us in such a way of life that everything favored staying in Caryana and it seemed that the worst decision that could be made was to leave Caryana regardless of the angle from which one views it -spiritual, psychological, material, etc – they made it appear to us the unfortunate victims of the place that our lives were meant for that place and that place alone. In the event that one decides to leave, one will find that there are so many obstacles one must first surmount in order to adapt and catch up outside. Would to God that Caryana would be willing to help those whom it has ejected and see to it that they be able to find a decent job and a respectable living. The opposite is true – we who left are looked upon as apostates and deserters with whom no contact must be made again. I think that to be treated that way by the community that so held and dictated our lives for the simple reason that we wanted to leave is very unjust and unreasonable.

26. I do not deny that there are people who have entered that place and remain there of there own free-will – that is their choice and I wish them the best. However, as far as those children are concerned, it is but fair that they be given the chance to see what the world is, and that the atmosphere or environment they are does not obstruct their vision or decision. If they want to stay after seeing both sides of the fence, why not? However, if they do not even know that there is grass on the other side of the fence – that there is another side at all, that is a different question. 

27. This has become one of my most bitter realizations in my life as I face it now ever since I left that place. It is very bitter to accept the fact that the ones you most love have infact been the cause of the problems one must face by himself. All because of a belief that was slowly yet surely inculcated into the deepest recesses of my parents hearts that cause them to shut their eyes to the realities of their life as well as of that of their children just to believe in the teachings of that place. It is a fact that is so bitter but which nevertheless must be accepted and swallowed. It is with this in view that I have decided to bring this up despite the threats of disownment that I have received from my mother. I firmly believe that I must be ready to sacrifice whatever it may cost in order to bring back justice and freedom to those who have been and are still being deprived of it. It maters little what it may cost me personally as long as I have done my duty.

28. My objectives in writing this statement is to expose the hidden issues within which have caused myself and others to suffer so much ill-treatment and harassment. I could easily have held my peace and enjoyed the fruits of success which the talents and graces I have received from God coupled with hard work, patience and perseverance have brought me, but no, I have freely decided to speak out in order that the truth may be known and that my other former companions who remain in that place may be given the freedom to enjoy their lives and their rights as they but deserve.

29. I the name of JUSTICE and HUMANITY I make this appeal: “I am not calling for a debate during which the truth may be once again twisted and perverted to justify errors. You who are responsible for all this mess may speak out what you want or think, but that cannot prevent me from speaking out the truth – namely that that institution deprived us of our rights and brainwashed our minds into believing a bunch of nonsensical lies. To top it all, it is we the children who grew up inside that have borne the brunt of this gross infraction of human rights - of our very dignity as human beings. I demand that such an institution be made to answer for the lives and careers it has wasted and that those hapless victims inside may be made to see the truth, not from behind iron curtains which distort everything, but from the bright and lucid atmosphere of freedom and liberty.

30. The following facts, I must clarify, so far as Caryana is concerned, relate only up to the time I left that place – April 21, 2002 – of course I do not know what other changes may have been implemented since the time I left that place. However, judging from the way it has been running for more than the last 30 years, I presume that things are still the same more or less – at least regarding the setup, schedule, and overall manner of governance are still the same.

31. I execute this affidavit out of my own freewill and volition in order to attest the truth of all the foregoing and for whatever legal purpose it may serve.

JOSE MARI LORENZ MIRANDA

Affiant

            SUBSCRIBED AND SWORN to before me this ___day of December, 2004 in Guagua, Pampanga. I hereby certify that I have examined the affiant and I am satisfied he voluntarily executed and understood the same.

NOTARY PUBLIC

Doc. No. ____;

Page No. ____;

Book No. ____;

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He wrote with so much pain.  I am glad he was able to tell his story as it is and I know for sure that every word is true because that is exactly what most of us experienced years ago. To live with terror in our hearts instead of love is more horrifying than anything else, inhumane to say in the least.  

Feeling Like it's 6 feet under and Then Some

Sometimes being single sucks!  I love my freedom.  Not that being in a relationship will take it away from me but who knows.  I'd have to admit that just when I meet someone, my brain cells go crazy whenever freedom and I are concerned.

I make such a futile effort at romance and love and sometimes it just sucks.  The one thing I definitely want to get out of it is a child or children.  But how can one have a child out of a relationship?  I can't have one with myself can I?  Craziness strikes again.

I'm a member of an online dating site. I've been one for a few months now.  My daily routine is to check the list and see who's interested.  I send a heart - like it does matter.  lol.  This is getting to be a really big joke.  I see my friends and classmates' pics on Facebook with their kids and I'm all sad that I still don't have my own.

I make stuff for the kids in the compound where I live - art stuff, drawing, painting and what not. I go swimming with them, I go to the park with them.  You name it.  But lots of times, I just think that it's all a waste.  I'm happy doing it don't get me wrong.  But wouldn't it be nice to be making stuff for my own kids?  Am I even making any sense today or do I sound like some insane lady who belongs in an asylum?  Bad thoughts!  Go away.  It makes me feel really blue.