More of You Know You're From The EOGC Territories If...

Hey guys! Anselmo here! I got more stuff to tell you about what makes an EOGC Filipino and EOGC Filipino. So here's the sequel to  "You Know You're From The EOGC Territories If..."

1.) You ask non-EOGC Filipinos to translate "Aray ko po" into English

2.) Your take on translating "Aray ko po" is "Ouch with all due respect"

3.) You take your office work home

4.) Non-EOGC Filipinos think you're weird

5.) Non-EOGC Filipinos want to work in the EOGC Territories even if they think you're weird

5.) Non-EOGC Filipinos who become EOGC Filipinos think you're just a regular guy next door

6.) You think a holder of a fake EOGC passport should be shot

7.) You like to take the train to work

8.) You hate being called a "probinsyano" by people from Manila

9.) You think politicians should quit office, get out and get a life

10.) "Politician" is another way for you to say "Parasite"

11.) You always check the gasoline station to see if they sell bio diesel or other eco-friendly fuels

12.) You have a set of solar panels in your house's basement (and you set them up whenever the electricity goes out)

13.) "Time" is one of the most important words in your vocabulary

14.) You go to bed in your work clothes

15.) You keep at least one weapon (not necessarily a gun) in your house

16.) A car is just a means of travel (unless it's an antique, then in becomes a priceless treasure)

17.) You give cookies, crackers or junk food to professional beggars instead of money

18.) Professional beggars avoid you because you don't give them money

19.) You give at least one EOGC peso to a real beggar (but since there are so few of them, most of the beggars you encounter are professional beggars)

20.) You think professional beggars should be deported (and shot if they ever come back)

21.) You can tell the difference between a real and a professional beggar

22.) You treat antiques either as investments or personal/family treasures

23.) You have your own wine collection

24.) You have your own tea collection

25.) You like to try different foods
26.) Being workaholic is a virtue
27.) Someone asks you if you're a Filipino and you answer, "What kind?"
28.) You insist on speaking in Visayan even outside the EOGC territories but you know what people are saying when you hear people mutter or whisper in Tagalog
29.) Tagalog speakers are shocked when they hear you snap, "Akala mo na hindi ako maka-intindi sa iyo?"
30.) You are the Philippine movie industry's biggest critic ("The plot's the same! Only the faces are different!")

A Crack at the Lottery

Something odd was going on in the taipan's office.

He was focused on rearranging numbers on a sheet of paper. There was nothing to do that day, anyway. Eventually, he became tired.

Bored. Eric thought. So boring.

He looked at the numbers for a while. Slowly, a thought was forming; it was something he did very often a long time ago. His gaze became even more intent. Suddenly, he had an idea. 

He looked at the day's news and checked the lottery results. In a few minutes, he rose from his seat and dashed out of his office.

"Don't mind me, Denise," he called to his secretary. "I'll be right back!"

He leaped into the elevator, which was nearly filled to capacity, and told the operator to take him to the ground floor. Everyone else in the elevator was wonder what the taipan was up to with this sudden burst of energy.

He ran across the great lobby of Great South Tower, past Maximilian who was returning to his office from a meeting. The younger Ong was talking to somebody on the phone when he saw his father heading in his direction.

Maximilian noticed a mischievous twinkle in his father's eyes as the latter dashed past him. "Dad?" he asked.

Eric didn't answer. He continued running to the entrance and kicking up dust. "Get me my car," said Eric to the doorman, "quick! It's urgent!"

The doorman hurriedly picked up the intercom and called Eric's driver. Within minutes, the black limousine appeared at the main entrance of GST. "Get me to the nearest lottery booth, George," said the taipan as he hopped into the car and slammed the door.

It didn't take long to find a lottery booth, and the attendant was speechless when she beheld Eric Ong step out of a limousine that had stopped outside the booth. The taipan made his way to the booth, in front of all the astonished people, snatched a fistful of lottery cards and ran back into his car.

Up next was an ATM. The taipan fell in line with other people who were withdrawing money. All were nervous and surprised to see him queue in with them. When his turn came, he withdrew twenty thousand (Philippine) pesos and ran back into his car.

It didn't take more than twenty minutes from the time Maximilian saw his father run out of the building to see him run back in.

"Out of my way! Out of my way!" yelled the taipan excitedly as he rushed past everybody, kicking up dust as usual.

Maximilian paused for a moment and put his cellphone back in his coat pocket. He then decided to find out what his father was up to and made his way to the latter's office. 

Inside he saw his father hunched over his desk, snickering mischievously to himself and scribbling on several sheets of paper. Also on the desk were a stack of lottery cards and pile of money.

"Dad, what are you doing?" asked Maximilian.

Eric made no reply and continued scribbling and snickering. Maximilian walked away, shaking his head.

That night at Ong manor, everyone noticed that Eric barely ate or spoke to anybody. Even at the dinner table, he was scribbling on paper.

"Honey," said Christine, "what are you doing?"

"I'm fine, I'm fine," said Eric.

"You're up to something, aren't you, dad?" remarked Linus. "C'mon, say something."

Eric snickered and paid no attention.

"Dad?" asked Cyrus, waving a hand in front of him. "Hello? Hello?"

"Don't bother him," said Maximilian after taking a spoonful of soup.

"Why not?"

"It's moments like these that something pretty unexpected is going to come out. Let it pass, or he might snap."

"Snap? What're you talking about?"

Only Justine kept quiet.

Later, Christine woke up to notice that Eric was out of bed and making his way downstairs. He was still snickering to himself and scribbling. She closed the door and went back to sleep.

Linus woke up and made his way to the kitchen for a midnight snack. As he walked across the corridors, he caught sight of his father in one of the halls, sitting in front of the fireplace and scribbling.

Squinting through his glasses, Linus tried to approach. Maximilian appeared from behind, grabbed him and put a hand over his mouth.

"What are you doing here?" Maximilian whispered.

"Me? asked Linus, turning to his brother. "What are you doing here?"

"He's up to something," replied Maximilian, pointing to Eric. "I'm not sure what."

"What, are you spying on him?"

"Ahem!" another voice whispered.

Both turned around to see their sister, Justine. Without a second thought, she grabbed the both of them by the ear and pulled/led them away.

"What are you two doing?" she whispered loudly after bringing them outside her room.

"Dad's up to something and I want to know what!" Linus replied.

"You're supposed to be in bed!" said Maximilian.

"Look, Maximilian," Justine snapped, pointing at him. "You may be my big brother and you and daddy can boss me around but I am not going to let you give him a headache over something as tiny as this."

"But-"

"Go to your rooms, the both of you!" she threatened. "Or I'll scream!"

"Sheesh, what a pain," Linus grumbled and the two of them trudged back to their rooms.

That morning, Eric was still scribbling and snickering to himself, even at breakfast. As everybody, except Christine, drove off to work (school in Justine's case) Christine, baffled by her husband's behavior pulled out her cellphone and rang the cardinal up.

"Hello Peter, hi," she said. "Can you check on Eric today? He's been acting pretty strange lately. He'll be in his office. Thank you."

Peter arrived at GST later that morning at around ten. Reaching Eric's office, he discovered that the taipan had postponed all his appointments for the day and was at his desk, scribbling and snickering to himself. "Eric," he asked. "You busy?"

"Nyee-hee-hee-hee-hee-hee."

"Christine says you've been acting weird lately."

"Nyee-hee-hee-hee-hee-hee."

As he approached the desk, Peter noticed a pile of lottery cards and a stack of money lying on it. He made a slight chuckle. This was something they used to do often in college.

"Go get 'em, tiger," he said, patting Eric's back. "Let me know if you win the jackpot."

Eric nodded and continued snickering and scribbling as Peter left. Later everybody was at the door, wondering what the taipan was up to. But when he raised his head, they all panicked and hid themselves. By eleven-thirty he was finished and he walked out of his office, clutching a stack of filled-up cards after first stuffing the money into his coat pocket.

He was driven to the same lottery booth only to discover that it was closed for lunch. Undeterred, he stood outside waiting eagerly while the driver bought him his lunch of a cheeseburger and fries (and the latter had to feed it to him as Eric wasn't letting go of the cards)

When the booth reopened at one-thirty, Eric was first in line and he dropped his bets without a second thought. Scooping up the tickets, he went back to his car. For the rest of the day, he continued snickering to himself and shuffling the tickets like a deck of cards. The attendant couldn't believe her eyes; the tapian had just placed twenty thousand Philippine pesos worth of bets.

The next morning, word got out in Manila that Eric Ong was in town. Indeed, Manila was still the capital even though its population had shrunk to only one million.

Everybody was wondering what the whole commotion was about, as the taipan's armored escort -tanks and armored limousines- were unloaded from the EOGC aircraft that landed on a special runway. Even the president was notified. Strangely, the EOGC entourage never went to any of the usual VIP spots.

The director of the government lottery office was astonished that Eric Ong appeared at his office's doorstep, so he had to make himself look good. He donned his barong and, together with other officials, came to meet the taipan at the gate.

As Eric Ong approached him, the director extended his hand in welcome. Eric, in turn, put a hand into his pocket and pulled out... the winning ticket.

Some fifty-four million Philippine pesos were claimed that day.

A week later, a letter arrived at the cardinal's office. It was from Eric. Opening the envelope, the cardinal pulled out a check for twelve million Philippine pesos. He collapsed to his chair, laughing.

Justine returned home from school to discover a large pile of money on her bed, some ten million Philippine pesos. She almost fainted. Cyrus found a key to a brand new car on his bed. Christine found two tickets to Hong Kong Disneyland on her dresser.

As for Maximilian and Linus, they each got a one (EOGC) peso coin.

"He knew we were snooping on him," murmured Maximilian as Linus repeatedly hit himself on the head with a large book. 

For the Love of the Guru 8

That morning, Maximilian sat in the back seat of the cardinal's car, the cardinal sat next to him. Father Lorenzo was in the driver's seat. They were heading for Ong Manor, the residence of Eric Ong.

It was huge and awe-inspiring. Even those who had been there before were still daunted by the vast Victorian-style structure upon each visit. As the car drove past the great gate, Maximilian huddled himself back in his seat, nervous. "I don't know what to say to him," he murmured.

The cardinal smiled. "Just be yourself," he said.

"That's a challenge," said Maximilian. "For four years I've been denying who I was and now I'm not sure if I should put up a facade or-"

"Just let go."

The car stopped at the main entrance of the building and the cardinal alighted first. Maximilian remained inside as the cardinal climbed the steps to the main door. Out of the door stepped Eric, who shook hands with the cardinal. Without further hesitation, Maximilian stepped out and climbed the steps to meet his father.

Eric wasted no time throwing his arms around his son. Both father and son burst into tears at the reunion.

"You stupid boy!," Eric sobbed. "You stupid, stupid boy! Don't you ever leave me again!"

Maximilian held his father tight. "I won't, dad," he said, also sobbing. "I'm home."

Out came his mother and she, too, put her arms around her son. Following her were Maximilian's brothers and sister.

At the end of the day, the cardinal returned to his office after a happy reunion and caught sight of the gun lying on his desk. Apparently, they had forgotten all about it. Oh silly me. he thought.

Taking the gun to the garden behind the chancery, he threw it into the Cagayan River.

For the Love of the Guru 7

The young man ran out of the Atrium, tears in his eyes. All those memories came back to him, connecting in a long chain from the past to the present. He was given a new name by Swamiji. He was told to sever himself from the vestiges of the past. He threw away his old clothes and belongings, except his glasses. He immersed himself in the mind-numbing meditations and rituals, eventually attaching himself to Swamiji and his teachings. He performed duties without question. As the years went by, he became thoughtless and ruthless; only his belief that his guru and the order's teaching would liberate him from the cycle of reincarnation. He carried out orders, threatened, and expelled members. Eventually, he graduated to maltreating those beneath him for their own spiritual good as well as for the glory of the order and Swamiji. And then he committed murder.

Murder?

Yes. He had killed several people already, all under Swamiji's orders. A female sannyasin who maintained her purity only to discover later that receiving an energy transmission meant being ravished by the master, a long-time member who was already starting to doubt the order's teachings... there were at least three, he remembered.

And now Swamiji ordered him to kill his own father? 

If by the transformation of Manila into a ghost town, Swamiji was referring to Operation Trebizond -also known as the Takeover- that would mean that he had lied to the young man. The Takeover had transformed the Philippines. In those areas that weren't under EOGC control, everything was the same: corrupt officials, poverty and backwardness. In those areas under EOGC control, it was different: the old political dynasties were overthrown, unemployment virtually disappeared, the economy was booming and people were apathetic to the government and the government in turn was fearful of corruption from within and the people from without. Traditional politicians were virtually extinct. Those elected to office were more afraid of the people who elected them rather than their political patrons and the voters were not gullible. Even the employees of the government were unable to commit abuses. All this was made possible because of the Takeover. The EOGC stood over the whole system, making it work -at times with force. But the benefits exceeded the negative side-effects. And overseeing this gigantic system was the young man's father.

The young man ran, not looking for a place, not thinking of where he was going. By late afternoon, he collapsed face down from exhaustion on the grass in a park.

He awakened to the sound of bells ringing. Looking up, he saw the cathedral's tower. It was early evening now and the bells were announcing the last masses for the day.

The young man got up and stumbled toward the Archbishop's Palace. He was trembling and panting. The guard at the gate seemed to recognize him and let him in without a moment's hesitation. He was crying again, and he could not control the tears.

He entered the chancery. There, too, the secretary seemed to recognize him and didn't ask him any questions.

Cardinal Zhang had just completed a meeting with a group of foreign priests and opened the door of his office to usher them out. When the last priest had left, the cardinal found himself staring face to face with Maximilian Ong. "Uncle," the young man sobbed and sank to his knees.

Immediately, the cardinal caught him by the arms to stop him from falling. "Maximilian!" he exclaimed.

The cardinal led the young man into his office and seated him on one of the chairs before his desk. He called for Sister Cathy and had her bring in some coffee for Maximilian to drink. The cardinal listened patiently as the young man related everything that had happened to him ever since he left his family. Maximilian even pulled out the gun that had been given to him and placed it on the cardinal's desk and told him of the plan.

The cardinal looked at the gun, then at Maximilian. He smiled warmly and leaned back down on his chair. "Do you still want to return to your family?" he asked.

"I do," replied Maximilian. "But I don't know what's going to happen. I'm ashamed to face my father."

"Your father has never given up on you," said the cardinal. "Sure, he's still angry at that group, but that doesn't mean he loves you any less."

He took out his cellphone and dialed a number. "Hello Eric," he said. "Your son's here. Yes, he's back. And he wants to come home."

Eric lowered the cellphone. He was in his study in the manor. Sinking to his chair, he leaned back an closed his eyes. He sighed.

For the Love of the Guru 6

Chela Mahananda was seated in a cubicle of the mens' comfort room at the back of the stage in the Limketkai Atrium. At any moment now, Eric Ong would make his appearance. The gun was ready. When the time was right it would dispatch the despot so hated by the holy order. He wouldn't mind being felled by a hail of bullets from the EOGC security forces. He would die gloriously for the order and be reborn as an ascended master.

But something was amiss. Ever since he saw the face of Maximilian Ong online, he didn't sleep well that night. He couldn't even meditate. Visions filled his mind. They were memories of family life: his mother, two brothers and a sister. But what disturbed him was the image of his father. The images of his father he saw in his mind had the face of Eric Ong. And it didn't seem natural to visualize another face.

He saw memories of being scolded by his father for offenses he had committed as well as being embraced by him. There were memories of him talking about a lot of things to his father, as well as those of his father talking to him. But he could not erase the face of Eric Ong from his father's image.

Outside, he could hear the sound systems being turned on and workmen setting up the stage. People were gathering in the Atrium. When all was ready, the music went on. There were live performances on the stage as well as lectures on various aspects of business.

As Chela Mahananda waited, those images became even more intense. He saw how he joined the order. He could see his parents, particularly his father, in opposition to his joining the holy order. He saw his father furious when he made the decision to become a sannyasin. He saw his mother coming down with tears. He saw himself leaving Cagayan de Oro. He saw himself being received by Swamiji, being ordered to renounce everything and being given a new name. All those memories were falling into place: from life outside the order to life in the order. The past was connecting to the present.

Suddenly, he heard the sound of military boots. He peered over the door and saw EOGC security personnel taking their positions at the entrance of the comfort room. Then in stepped the figure of Eric Ong.

Mahananda readied the pistol. One shot and that would be it. It wouldn't matter if the security forces killed him afterwards as long as Eric Ong fell.

Eric Ong was at a urinal. His back was turned to Mahananda. A guard stood at the entrance and another stood near the cubicle. There were other guards standing outside.

He peered over and lifted the gun. Suddenly, the smell of burning tobacco hit his nose. It was a familiar smell. This particular brand of cigarette was his father's favorite. It was not an expensive brand. He hesitated.

Eric Ong stepped back, holding a lighted cigarette to his mouth. He turned around.

Mahananda saw the taipan's face. It was not an evil face. It was a plain face. It was also the face of a father. It was so familiar and Mahananda felt heavy in the chest.

"Any moment now," Eric Ong said.

That voice struck a chord in Mahananda. There was no doubt about it now. Tears erupted in his eyes.

"No!" he sobbed. He burst out of the cubicle, past the startled guards and taipan and ran out.

"After him!" cried a guard. The guards ran, except for two who posted themselves at the entrance of the comfort room.

That voice was familiar. thought Eric. Could it be?

Immediately, he ran out. "Stop!" he cried. "Stop! I'm okay!"

"I'm okay," he repeated quietly.

The guards stopped, their quarry disappearing into the crowd.

For the Love of the Guru 5

Chela Mahananda decided to go sightseeing around Cagayan. It was morning. The hit would be on the next day, anyway. And he had seen the place where he would make the hit, the comfort room behind the Atrium stage.

He took off before any of the other chelas could come to his hotel and decided to take a walk around Divisoria. As he walked down the long segmented park that divided the city in olden days, a feeling came over him. It was as if he had been here before countless times.

Maybe in an earlier reincarnation. he thought as he neared Xavier University. He felt somewhat hungry and remembered that he hadn't eaten breakfast, so he entered a small restaurant managed by a fat middle-aged man who was seated near the door. The man looked and smiled at him with a certain familiarity.

As Mahananda seated himself and ordered coffee, as he hadn't made up his mind on what to eat, the man got up and approached him.

"Glad to see you back," he said. "Where have you been all these years?"

"I'm sorry," said Mahananda, puzzled. "I don't understand."

The man chuckled, shaking his head. "You don't remember me?" he asked. "You used to come here a lot and hang out, get some coffee and read newspapers."

"I think you must've mistaken me for another person," said Mahananda. "This is my first time here. You don't know who I am."

The man was taken aback. "Sure I do," he said after a moment's pausing. "You're Maximilian Ong."

Mahananda was annoyed, but he didn't want to offend this gentleman who obviously meant no harm. He rose and put the money for the coffee down on the table.

"Keep the change," he said. "Sorry to bother you."

He walked out the door, leaving the man puzzled and wide-eyed.

As he walked in the direction of the Philippine Veterans' Bank (yes, it was still there and functioning properly,) he ran into two younger men who were aghast to see him.

"Maximilian!" one gasped.

"You're back!" said the other.

Mahananda was even more irked. He took a step back. "What?" he said. "What are you talking about?"

"Where have you been?" asked the first.

"What will your dad say when he hears about this?"

"It's not what you think!" Mahananda blurted. He turned around and saw the man coming out of the restaurant. He turned again, elbowed the two boys aside and dashed past them.

"We have to tell Uncle Eric," said the second.

"No," said the first. "Let's go to Uncle Peter."

Maximilian Ong? Mahananda thought. No way! He's in another ashram! What, do I look like him?

He ran into his hotel and straight into his room. He locked the door and flung himself into bed.

What are they talking about? he thought. It was getting tense. Do I look like Maximilian Ong? I know he became a sannyasin, bit I don't know where he is. We were all required to forget who we were and leave our pasts behind so I have no way of knowing where he could be or if we met, I wouldn't recognize him.

He decided to go out later. The idea of being called Maximilian Ong intrigued him so he decided to look it up in an internet cafe.

A knock was heard on the door of the cardinal's office. "Uncle Peter!" said a familiar voice excitedly.

The cardinal rose, put down his teacup, walked across the room and opened the door. In came his two nephews Paul and Andrew, sons of his younger brother Oliver.

"What is it, boys?" the cardinal asked, noticing the excited and astonished looks on their faces.

"Uncle Peter," said Paul, "you're not going to believe this!"

"It's Maximilian," added Andrew. "He's back!"

"What?" the cardinal started.

Late in the afternoon, Mahananda walked into an internet cafe after making sure nobody was around to mistake him for Maximilian Ong. But some people in the internet cafe looked at him as though he was somebody popular.

As he looked at the computer screen to look for an image of Maximilian Ong on the search engine, he was met with a shock. The face of Maximilian Ong was his.

Am I?

For the Love of the Guru 4

The taxi arrived at the hotel, which was located in Divisoria, and the bespectacled young man disembarked. As he entered the hotel's lobby, he was met by two sannaysins, one male, one female, and three non-sannyasin members of the holy order. They greeted him warmly and some of the members of the welcoming committee looked at him with a certain degree of familiarity. They checked him in as Adaggio P. Conti and accompanied him to his room. They avoided talking about the order until the bellboy left.

"How are things going on here, Chela Kriya?" asked the new arrival as he closed the door behind the departing bellboy.

"Very bad, Chela Mahananda," the male sannyasin replied. "No new members. Our free seminars turn up zero attendance. There are fewer and fewer members attending our convocations. Many are going over to the Buddhists and Daoists."

"It's very bad indeed," concluded Mahananda, setting his bag on the bed to open it. "So, you have the weapon?"

He didn't bring any weapons, obviously, because he would be seized by airport officials if he did. Instead, it was arranged  that the ashram of Cagayan would provide the weapon.

One of the non-sannyasin members, an elderly individual, approached and dropped a handbag onto the bed. Mahananda opened it. Inside was a .45 cal. pistol and silencer. "We hope that you will be able to save us from the evil monster Eric Ong, Chela Mahananda," he said.

Mahananda pulled the gun out and inspected it as the non-sannyasin member continued, "We have constantly prayed, meditated and radiated over this gun. The Cosmic will strike down Eric Ong with this weapon and you will be the agent of its vengeance."

Mahananda inspected the two clips that came with the gun. "This is the only way we can show compassion to our enemy," he murmured.

Not far away, at the cathedral, Cardinal Zhang was in his office. The work for the day had been done and there was now plenty of free time. The cardinal thought, then, that some calligraphy, which was one of his passions, was in order. Accordingly, he took a large sheet of paper and set it on his desk together with his personal jade seal. He used this seal when doing watercolor paintings and calligraphy and, occasionally, when he wrote documents in Chinese.

He ground an ink stick on his inkstone and poured water to prepare the ink. Outside, in the garden behind the archbishop's office, Father Lorenzo Guevarra was heard with his violin playing Soirees a Saint Petersburg. He was usually there in the afternoons if he didn't have anything to do.

From the kitchen came Sister Catherine Hayashi with a tray bearing the cardinal's afternoon tea.

The cardinal thought for a moment, closed his eyes and cleared his mind. Opening his eyes, he took his brush and dipped it into the ink and began to write. He was working on the word "Tian" (Heaven) when he suddenly made a mistake.

At the same time, Father Lorenzo hit a wrong note. At the same time, Sister Cathy tripped, spilling the tea.

"Oh my," she remarked, getting on her knees to clean the mess. "It's a good thing Cardinal Zhang's never seen this tea set before. I'll just get him the usual one, then."

Father Lorenzo stared at his violin, wondering how he came to hit that note.

The cardinal felt a strange chill. He shuddered. "Suddenly, I feel the approach of a murderous intent," he said to himself.