Traitor = Me

As of today, I am 2/3 of a traitor that St. Peter was.
I have committed the act of betrayal twice and I could nearly hear the cock preparing his throat as I move closer to making my third. So I write my confession in this blog. Hoping that by my admission on one, the cock would not crow on me.

I attended a two day seminar last week, it was conducted by the Canadian Immigration Integration Project –CIIP. CIIP is a trial project funded by the Canadian government to increase the success of integrating immigrants into Canada. I guess I should consider myself lucky for being one of those selected to participate. It was a great source of information and good practical advises as well on any worries plaguing the minds of would be immigrants. And since the lecturers were Canadian Filipinos, the sessions were filled with humorous stories related to immigration/cultural differences/bloopers, that only the Filipino creative minds could think of.
At the end of the first full day session, we were given a sheet which has the lyrics of Canada’s National Anthem below. And we were asked to stand in front of the Canadian flag and sing along with Celine Dion’s rendition of Canada’s National anthem.

O Canada!
Our home and native land!
True patriot love in all thy sons command.

With glowing hearts we see thee rise,
The True North strong and free!

From far and wide,
O Canada, we stand on guard for thee.
God keep our land glorious and free!
O Canada, we stand on guard for thee.

The “O” got stuck in my throat like a big Oreo, I nearly choked. I couldn’t bring any of the words to my lips. My chest got stiff like an over blown balloon. The ducts in my eyes were full and ready to open at a slightest trigger of a switch.
I felt the surge of all the memories of the 36 years of my life in this country – the Philippines,
the land where I was born, where I grew up, where my great great grand father had swam to bring our family’s generation into to seek refuge from war, the land where my father died, where my memories and people I love are.
I am leaving her - my country, waddling, perhaps drowning, in the middle of the rising tides of poverty, of political instability, of an uncertain future.
I hear her cries of help. She looks at me with her sad eyes, tattered clothes, hungry child on one hand, the other, balancing a heavy basket of bananas on her head, partly to shield her from the heavy rains but mostly hoping someone would buy them so she and her child would eat tonight.
She wades through the flooded streets, through the black polluted waters, through the chaos of cars, jeepneys and buses all caught in the traffic maze.
She is tired, her burden heavy, black smoke from the big buses blurs her face, hairy men with long dirty nails stand by, ready to pounce and grab her beautiful frail body.
She sings to me with her soft, sad, haunting voice, the last lines of her song – “Buhay ay langit sa piling mo. Aming ligaya ng pag may mang-aapi, ang mamatay ng dahil sa iyo.”

I hide my face in disgrace.
I could have continued working with the universities; I could have helped improve their lab’s technical capabilities in science/engineering, I could have continued doing my share in having products manufactured here and not in China, I could have helped train our workforce to be better than their counterparts in other countries, I could have continued volunteering to teach public school children on using computers…I could have, I could have, I could have.
But I wouldn’t be. I am leaving.
I am a coward, a traitor.
Jose Rizal would have spat on my face.