Nothing More

Dancing in the dark

Last Saturday, there was no electricity for almost 12 hours. From 6:14 am to 5:49 pm, I basically did nothing but read and sulk at the corner of my house, waiting for the lights to turn on. Somehow the prospect of brownouts had already made an impression in me, and that there wasn't much I can do except train my mind not to think about it. So I conditioned myself to let go of the situation and numb myself completely as the brownout went on. Just as the sun had risen clear in that beautiful Saturday morning until it finally died down late into that dull afternoon, I was doing practically what other folks in the town are doing almost their entire lives: nothing. 

The problem of brownouts in Agusan del Sur is no longer a technical issue, over the years it blossomed into a cultural thing, with its recipients participating willfully in its growth. I, myself, participated in that blossoming only last Saturday as I eventually became part of that condoning crowd who pampered the Agusan del Sur Electric Cooperative (Aselco) into an absentee landlord. I purposely zippered my mouth for me not to say anything negative about the darkening of the whole region. And probably for the first time since residing in this place almost a decade ago I somehow became, for just one day, a functioning statistic in a culture whose tolerance to ineptitude is self-sacrificing. You could say that I am proud to have contributed something for the community, as I intent of doing it again all for the development of the region.

You see sometimes it makes sense not to do anything at all. Of course, you get angry because it upsets your lousy routine and disturbs the even tenor of your daily grind, but the more you take a resigned look over its upsetting mode, the more you begin to understand that there are things in this place that should not be questioned in the first place. It should not be questioned because it has existed long before it became a by-word inside our darkened rooms; it has existed long before we were conditioned to accept it as it is. And since we can't possibly beat the whole chunk of it, we might as well join the bandwagon of basically doing nothing at all, and save ourselves of the energy, moolah and time of trying to fight our way through without any results. 

That’s what I did last weekend. I know it sounds so pathetic, but that’s basically the spirit of the place. One has to believe in Diogenes, or you’ll be getting in the way of the sun. By doing so, you become an outcast, a wet blanket, a prude who spoils the party by crashing into it. And unless you swim the wave, they don’t want you in the yacht. So better still suit yourself, and live a life like a blind person, aware of its surroundings but couldn’t tell exactly what it is. I did that and it was a normal day for me.

I let an evil presence pass my way. I offered no resistance at all for me to be included in that inner circle, to be one with the rest of the neighborhood, so to speak, despite being beaten to a pulp like sadomasochism. But in this case sadomasochism is good because it gives you some peace of mind and an easy way out. And as I sank even more as the hours progressed, eating fried fish and drinking some bland, distilled water in between, I began to absorb this brownout like water to a sponge. I simply allowed its absence as a necessary castigation until I felt nothing amid its lashing and punishment.

No time to complain this time. Whether we like it or not, we have to raise a positive attitude for us to survive. Aselco was just doing its job, no more, no less. The people behind it were just doing what they’re supposed to do, and that is to provide the region with enough fluctuation and leave us groping in the dark even in broad daylight. We should not be in the position to blame them because they were only implementing what their superiors were asking them to do. Simply put, they’re so like us, grabbing every opportunity when it presents itself, just doing their jobs, nothing personal. And besides, it’s just a matter of getting used to. Shit happens. And they come in here, in hordes, in spurts like black bugs crowding those lighted alleys. And not a week passes without the passing of our electricity rattling in our homes. Which is actually good at times since what this region needs is a resuscitation, a jolt, an electric shock, in order to rise up after what seemed to be a long sleep. So it is not really good to blame Aselco.

But last Saturday was a rest. Although I felt like a vegetable by letting this brownout eat my itinerary. It was not a busy itinerary anyway; it was more like a chore. And I was watching the garbage outside the house hoping it would turn itself into a stone. I was hoping for a miracle, by the way, some divine intervention in response to the intense heat burgeoning outside the house. I sat like a retard flipping a lifeless book of poems, scouring for some disturbance and the Emperor of Ice Cream. Silence crowded my moments and ennui invaded my time. I was restless. It seemed like the time for the lights to turn on was a slow recovery, like an acute disease circulating in my nerves, Stage 4. And yet all through the day there was some peace, a contentment perhaps not known when compared to the anguish I felt before every time a brownout strikes. I rested from the advocacy of waking up, I was curious to see how a dead person would react when he is confronted with the dark.

There were no criticisms coming out of my mouth. I savored the situation while it lasted, and found, to my amazement, that the whole set-up was actually good for my health. I discovered my blood pressure in normal condition, my heartbeat regular, and my reflexes were good. I struggled at first, but as the seconds dragged into minutes and the minutes into hours, I was amazed at the praises I was uttering in favor of Aselco. I saved a lot of energy that day, my saliva, my cell phone battery, my mind, my time and even my rest. It was one of those days when doing nothing has its own justification and reason for being. No electricity, no work, no nothing.

I became one with the crowd. All of a sudden I found myself agreeing with them not to complain anymore because I really don’t know how the system works. All of a sudden I found myself nodding their way because if not I might get into trouble, and regret it for the rest of my life. All of a sudden I found myself enjoying this brownout for the very first time because I felt I had accomplished something, what with all the conservation plan of energy and time I saved during the course of this 12-hour plague. So whenever a brownout this long occurs again on a Saturday or worse on my Sunday best, I now have a pretty good idea on how spend it, simply by turning on, tuning in and dropping out.

Nothing is cool indeed. And it’s safe even. No hassles, no worries, no headaches. Just plain, simple living, no politics involved. Brownouts are all part of the job, it comes with the territory. And I wouldn’t want to waste my time fighting over a recurring nightmare. It’s just a bad dream, so let us sleep and wake up the morning after with the same finality you used to apply the day before. If a 12-hour brownout comes your way again, consider it privilege, seldom do you find a region with a 12-hour retreat away from the comforts of cold water and the electric fan. It’s not Aselco’s fault, nor do the people who were responsible for that extended brownout, but there’s really not much I can do except admit everything. I basically did nothing the whole Saturday, and I couldn’t care less if I’m helping or not, I just did what I had to do under the circumstances. I know it sounds crude, callous and calculating, but that’s the only way to survive in this town, nothing more.