“If God exists, all depends on him and we can do nothing against his will. If he does not exist, everything depends on us.” — Albert Camus, The Myth of Sisyphus.
“Life, as we find it, is too hard for us; it brings us too many pains, disappointments and impossible tasks.” — Sigmund Freud, Civilization and its Discontents.
We all have our bad moments in our lifetime, but others suffer more misery and bad luck than necessary. These unlucky ones consider the world a living hell. They can’t change their circumstances because there are dark forces working hard to make that happen. Their only recourse is to rely on the Almighty God to give them redemption, if not now, then perhaps in the next life. They must believe this to be true; otherwise, evil will forever go unpunished.
[1]
Sidney Pontus never knew his father. His mother had a one night fling with a US serviceman stationed at Clark Air Base in the city of Angeles in Pampanga. At least his mother got a name, Sgt. Cornell Winston, before they split up. By the time his mother realized she was pregnant, Sgt. Winston left the country for a new assignment in the Middle East. He never knew Sidney existed. Sidney, however, inherited a trait that would give him so much pain while growing up — his father’s dark skin. Sidney never thought that it would be the cause of the constant bullying in school. He bore it all by accepting the fact. It is what it is, he told himself just to alleviate the pain. There’s more to life than the colour of your skin; besides racism is pervasive. Human beings just absolutely fear anything that’s dark. But as he got older, he became taller. Since basketball was the number one sport in the country, it was natural for Sidney to be attracted to the game. He realized the bullying stopped as he excelled in the sport. He figured by becoming a basketball star, it would be his ticket to being freed from verbal abuses. So he dedicated most of his time in developing his skills and making it into the elite squad. His commitment never faltered, and for that reason, he became one of the rising stars of the Philippine Basketball Association (PBA).
To be drafted by the National Basketball Association (NBA) would be a life-changer. So when the Miami Heat gave Sidney an invitation for their draft selection practices, he was ecstatic beyond belief. He knew he was ready and showcased his basketball talent with the confidence of a professional athlete. He didn’t disappoint and became the highlight of the Summer League in Las Vegas. He signed a two-way contract to play with the Miami Heat and the Sioux Falls Skyforce, Miami Heat’s G-League team. He was a standout in the G-League and received the Most Valuable Player award at the end of the season. The following year, Sidney got a guaranteed contract as an NBA player for the Miami Heat — $10 million for three years. For the first time in his life, Sidney felt his future was financially secured.
But Lady Fortune had a cruel side. Sidney suffered an anterior cruciate ligament (ACL) injury to his left leg on his second year with the Miami Heat. To ease the pain during his rehabilitation, Sidney’s doctor prescribed him with fentanyl. Soon after, Sidney became addicted to any opioids that made him spiral to the worst possible condition. He lost his NBA career and savings and turned him into a homeless person. Now he plied the streets begging for handouts.
[2]
In one of the big cities in Southern Philippines, there resided a family of means in a Big House where katulongs were paid to do the household chores. They were recruited from nearby towns and barrios of destitute families. Most were young girls, except two middle-aged men who were assigned as driver and gardener. All were packed in a small, windowless room, beside a massive garage full of high-end cars, which served as their living quarter. Double bunk beds aligned the four walls of the room. They were only allowed to bring their meager clothes. It didn’t bother them since they were used to extreme poverty. All were there to supplement the income of their poor families.
Innocencia Hinagpis was a sixteen-year old from barrio Liwag whose job was to clean the rooms of her employer’s three children. One day while she was picking up the scattered clothes of the eldest son, who came home a week ago for a break from studying law as a second-year student, she felt the embrace of muscled arms from behind. The left arm came down to caress her right breast while the right arm explored the essence of her womanhood. She was turned around abruptly and pulled down onto the floor. Her underwear was yanked off her legs and suddenly a massive erection penetrated her virginity. In less than a minute, an explosion burst inside her. She saw the face of the eldest son with a satisfied grin. He stood up without remorse and went straight to bed to sleep off his drunkenness after an all-night party with his friends.
Innocencia cried softly and was in shock of what just happened. She didn’t know what to do. She stayed down on the floor for a while and listened to the loud snore of the eldest son. She realized she was in no position to demand justice; her low status wouldn’t allow it. There would be no redemption from the abuses of the rich. She pulled herself up, picked up her torn underwear and continued her work as a maid.
Months later, a bump was emerging slowly from Innocencia’s stomach. The truth could no longer be hidden, especially when she’s getting sicker and sicker in the morning. At the urging of her fellow servants, she approached her employer reluctantly and told him about the rape. Instead of compassion and understanding, Innocencia was fired and kicked out of the house. She was given ten thousand pesos to keep her mouth shut.
A year later, Innocencia’s father went to see Innocencia’s former employer to demand for more money as he had another mouth to feed. He was given five thousand pesos with a warning that he should never show his face again. He ignored the threat when the money was gone and came back to ask for more. He was never seen again and the police treated his case as a missing person without further active investigation.
In her desperation to survive, Innocencia became a prostitute and continued to be mired in extreme poverty. Soon after, her child succumbed to malnutrition and died at a young age of two. Meanwhile, the eldest son of her former employer became a powerful politician.
[3]
There was a town not long ago when the church was trusted more than the municipal government. Next in line was the elementary and high school ran by the nuns. They had a strict code of ethics and disciplined misbehaving students (mostly boys) the old-fashioned way. Laughter and noise were never tolerated. Students were taught to learn early in life to take everything seriously. Sinful acts were absolute deviations from God’s will. Only through confessions could make them whole again. But before these boys were sent to confess their sins to the parish priest, they had to undergo a spiritual punishment in the form of the ever-present rod. During that time, all the town folks believed in the virtue of discipline and adhered in the adage that “whoever spared the rod hated his son, but he who loved him is diligent to discipline him.” So no matter how bad they felt of their mistreatment, the boys could not rely on their parents to save them. Silence was their only recourse.
Fr. Socrates Morales was an amiable person with a believable manner in speaking. He could convince even the doubters with the lucidity of his mind. His arguments were always logical and clear to understand even to those who lacked the proper education. Nobody could beat him in the debate. He was destined for a higher standing in the church hierarchy.
He was the parish priest for less than a year but because of his wonderful sermons, his parishioners flocked the church in numbers just to hear them. They listened to his words with their hearts fully immersed in God’s love. They absorbed his pleadings to avoid sins and obey God’s commandments according to the wisdom of the bible. So every day, when he performed the mass, Fr. Morales explained what God wanted them to do with their lives.
The community trusted Fr. Morales completely. His reputation was of the highest standard and carried much influence. No one could dare to blemish his name without the consequence of being blacklisted and ridiculed. And because of that total trust, Fr. Morales could do anything he wanted.
At first, it was just an innocent touch. Fr. Morales would voluntarily help the two sacristans assigned to his mass dress and undress. His hands would somehow brush their butts in an unintentional manner. Sorry, didn’t mean it, he would say, and the boys simply ignored the unwelcome touch. Later on, he would lavish the boys with gifts and invite them to an overnight stay in his secluded vacation house outside the town. Fr. Morales prepared the sumptuous meal himself and allowed the boys to drink alcohol. After dinner, they would play the stripping card game. By then, everybody was so inebriated. That’s when Fr. Morales would start molesting them. None of the victims ever talked, not even when Fr. Morales was assigned to one town or another. He remained a Teflon man. Several years later, Fr. Morales was promoted to become the private secretary of the Archbishop of Manila. Later on, he was sent to Rome for further ecclesiastical studies. He submitted several profound articles in L’Osservatore Romano which drew the attention of the Pope, especially his perspective on sexual abuses committed by the clergy. He remained in the Vatican unscathed of the church scandal. When he retired he came home to the Philippines as a celebrated priest.
21 May 2025