Declamation 4sjm

A Glass of old Water

"Mama, I’m home! It’s very quiet. "Mama, I’m home!" Nobody answers.

Everybody calls me young, beautiful, wonderful. Am I? Look at my hair, my lips, my red rosy cheeks and a pair of blinkering eyes.

Where is she? I look for her in the sala, but she’s not there. Where is she? A-huh! In the kitchen!

I , somebody says that I look like my mother. But that when she was young.

I saw my mama, lying down on the floor, dead. With a glass on her hand. I , she tried to get it.

Now, I am much lovelier than she is. I’m a mortal Venus. Oops! What time is it? I must get ready for the party!

Oh, God, just for the glass of cold water! Mama! Mama! Oh, Mama!

Beep-beep…!A-huh! Here they are! Yes, I’m coming! "Child, are you still there?" "Hmp! That’s my mama" "Child, are you still there? Will you please get me a glass of cold water?" "Mama, I’m in a hurry!" "Please child, try to get me a glass of cold water." "Mama, please, try to get it on your own." "Please child, try to get me a glass of cold water!" At the party, I danced and danced the whole night. You see, I can’t leave the party at once. I have to danced with everybody who proposed to me. At last, the party is over. I’m very tired. Very, very tired. So, I went home to tell mama what happened.

I KILLED HER I killed her because I do love her. These hands, these hands that give life to many, killed her because of my love to her. Ladies and Gentlemen of this honorable court, please listen to me, listen to my story before you give my verdict. I am Dr. Reyes, a cancer specialist. I was born in a slum district of Batalon. My father oh! I don't know him for I am a child of faith. My mother brought me up in such determination and my ambition was to escape the filthy and horrible place of Batalon. I was nourished with hope that someday I might live a life different from her. My mother had a burning faith that she turned the nights into days. All her efforts were not in vain for I pushed through with flying colors. My mother who had given her whole life to me had tears in her eyes as she pinned the gold medal on my proud breast. Later on, I was sent as a scholar of the Philippines to the United States of America. I embraced my mother… tightly as I've reached the plane….."Mother, mother,.." I whispered. You will always be my best mother in the world. After four years, I came back with laurels. I became a cancer specialist. I gave my mother everything but I was too late. I who had used to ease the pain of many, came too late to the life of my dying mother. I gave the best treatment but the grasp of death was so tight around her. My God, what is the use of ten years of study if I couldn't even use it at my mother's pain. Then one night, I heard a strange cry. I run to her room. "Do you love me, child?"… she asked, as I embrace her. " Yes, mother….. If only I could get all your pain and agonies…" " Then….. if you love me, end my sufferings, kill me… Let me die."

"But, mother, I promise to give life and not to end it." God…. She did not deserve the unhappiness. She deserves to be happy. I run to my room and came back with a syringe. "Mother, forgive me…. God, please understand me…." "Mother, mother, you must not die….. Don't leave, I love you. It was only a distilled water…..Mother…… Mother……. MOTHER……" Now, Ladies and Gentlemen, give me your verdict. Yes, it was only distilled water which ended the sufferings of my mother. Judge me….. Punish me……… GO, punish me………….. Thy will be done!!!

and crooks! Now you call me names, accused me, punish me for everything I do, you do it yourselves. Tell me how good you are.

BAD GIRL

Hey! Everybody seems to be looking at me. How dare you stare at me! Why? Just because I am a bad girl? A good for nothing girl, a problem child? That’s what you call me? I say bad words. I lie. I cheat. I steal and I can even kill if I have to, because I am a bad girl. But, where are my parents? You are my parents; my good elder brother and sister in this society where I live. Look what you have done to me. You pampered and spoiled me; neglected. You entrust yaya whose intelligence is lower than mine, while you go about your dinner and gambling sessions. Then, you drifted away from me - longing for a father’s love and yearning for a mother’s care. And I have no one to turn to. I sought the company of my own kind - the company of other children who have been left by their own devices. We organize things, notorious things. Just so you would notice us. Just because you have been bad yourselves. Perhaps, I am the most misunderstood, the most notorious member of this society where I live; but the circumstances then I found, are not my own making. It was you who made this society where I live and the family that I grew. Once upon a time, I was a tiny, whinny kid and itchy, bitchy, bouncing girl whom you fonded with loving care, but as I grew up, everything changed. You began to spend more of your time in parties, pokers and mad table. Thus, you drifted away from me. You even landed on the headlines of the newspapers and peddlers racketeers

Every pain and sorrow that I suffer is a burden in your mind. Every ugly name that you call me is a curse against yourself. Now, you wish to ensure my future and give me more of your time and attention and protect me from every evil influence that protects my very own existence. Then, if you really wish to ensure my future, hurry, hurry, back here where I shall wait for you; because I need you. Then if I am really bad, please you’ve got to help me.

to play the guitar. Ooops I slip! Ok fine. I went to church three times straight without absent b-because of Cris. He’s cute, he’s talented. And I’m still there for the Lord. Taken For Granted “Christians? Christians?” Have you heard that call? They’re looking for me. That’s definitely me. You’re in doubt and Why? You want me to give you proofs? Oh! That’s very easy. Who told you to doubt that I am a Christian? I am a Christian! How? I went to church. I pray. I have my religion. I read the Bible. I love kids and I am giving them what they want. I sing gospel songs. Now you’re telling me that you are in doubt? How dare you to question me? Can’t you see? Or Are you blind? I am the true definition of a Christian. You’re so pathetic; you don’t have the right to question me that way. What?! You want to ask me more?!… I’ll think about it for a second. Hmhm… Ok! I’m sure I’ll be able to answer all your questions fluently. Go… Ask me…. You’re asking me if I go to church every Sunday?! I told you… I GO TO CHURCH… ahmm b-bu-but not every Sunday. Every other Sunday I guess that’s fine with the Lord. Why?! I-I-I have a project every other Sunday. Yes r-r-right, I have a project. The Lord understands that. Liar?! I’m not a liar. I’m telling you the truth in fact I went to church last three Sundays straight and Oh my Gosh Cris is in the stage he’s starting

Liar? I’m not a liar. I am still a Christian. It so happen that I don’t have any projects that Sunday. Ahhh! Fake?! I’m not a fake Christian; at least I go to church. Don’t shout! Ahhh! I said I’m not a fake Christian, I-I-I pray… every other day. At least I pray. No! I said I am a true Christian I read the Bible. I open it… Every time the Pastor is telling me to do so. Ok stop. Why do we need to argue? I guess I really don’t know what Christianity is? Ok! I go to church not because of Christ but because of Chris! I’m sleeping every time there is a sermon because I only love the music. I don’t read my Bible because I guess that’s boring. I sing… “Jesus, I surrender I draw nearer, I fall down” but the truth I’m not sincere with that. But I guess my works will be credited in his name. I share my blessings to the poor, i give gifts every Sunday and I have a religion I guess that works…I don’t know. Right, Ephesians 2: 8-9 was right. It is not by works that I will be saved because Jesus is the only way. And I am so wrong I don’t even mind his sacrifices on the cross. I am supposed to be there because those are my sins. I forgot my purpose here on earth; you know what, he’s been good to me. But I always take him for granted. I’m doing things not for his glory but for my own. I should live for him because he died for me. I’m so ashamed now. But Lord you still forgave me. You’re so good. And you brought me to my knees. Now I’m talking and standing in front of you and I don’t care if you are going

to laugh at me. I care to tell you things that I believe I must tell you. He won everything in me and he’s been waiting for you too… If you believe you have him, you may now shout what Carman once wrote “Jesus is the Champion”.

Vengeance is not ours, it’s God’s Alms, alms, alms. Spare me a piece of bread. Spare me your mercy. I am a child so young, so thin, and so ragged.Why are you staring at me? With my eyes I cannot see but I know that you are all staring at me. Why are you whispering to one another? Why? Do you know my mother? Do you know my father? Did you know me five years ago? Yes, five years of bitterness have ed. I can still the vast happiness mother and I shared with each other. We were very happy indeed. Suddenly, five loud knocks were heard on the door and a deep silence ensued. Did the cruel Nippon’s discover our peaceful home? Mother ran to Father’s side pleading. “Please, Luis, hide in the cellar, there in the cellar where they cannot find you,” I pulled my father’s arm but he did not move. It seemed as though his feet were glued to the floor. The door went “bang” and before us five ugly beasts came barging in. “Are you Captain Luis Santos?” roared the ugliest of them all. “Yes,” said my father. “You are under arrest,” said one of the beasts. They pulled father roughly away from us. Father was not given a chance to bid us goodbye. We followed them mile after mile. We were hungry and thirsty. We saw group of Japanese eating. Oh, how our mouths

watered seeing the delicious fruits they were eating, Then suddenly, we heard a voice call, “Consuelo. . . . Oscar. . . . Consuelo. . . . Oscar. . . . Consuelo. . . . Oscar. . . .” we ran towards the direction of the voice, but it was too late. We saw father hanging on a tree. . . . dead. Oh, it was terrible. He had been badly beaten before he died. . . . and I cried vengeance, vengeance, vengeance! Everything went black. The next thing I knew I was nursing my poor invalid mother. One day, we heard the church bell ringing “ding-dong, ding-dong!” It was a sign for us to find a shelter in our hideout, but I could not leave my invalid mother, I tried to show her the way to the hide-out. Suddenly, bombs started falling; airplanes were roaring overhead, canyons were firing from everywhere. “Boom, boom, boom, boom!” Mother was hit. Her legs were shattered into pieces. I took her gently in my arms and cried, “I’ll have vengeance, vengeance!” “No, Oscar. Vengeance, it’s God’s,” said mother. But I cried out vengeance. I was like a pent-up volcano. “Vengeance is mine not the Lord’s”. “No, Oscar. Vengeance is not ours, it’s God’s” these were the words from my mother before she died. Mother was dead and I was blind. Vengeance is not ours? To forgive is divine but vengeance is sweeter. That was five years ago, five years. . . . Alms, alms, alms. Spare me a piece of bread. Spare me your mercy. I am a child so young, so thin, and so ragged.

Vengeance is not ours, it’s God’s. . . . It’s. . . . God’s. . It’s…