“… after telling me everything, I’d say you’re a great person—a true hero—in your own little way…”
Excerpts and quotes from Orange ❗ NOTE: The following text content below may contain story spoilers.
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Orange. The color of sunset. One moment here, next moment gone. Just like that. Just like us.
So there I was, on vacation mandated by the Philippine Senate. Dad always took his work home and thought I was part of his Third World Republic.
I pictured the farmers who tilled the rich green fields of Ilocos, the Cordilleras looming behind them. I thought of fishermen who pushed their small bangkas to the sea, and how they’d pull in their nets at sunset, rich with the ocean’s yield. I heard the laughter of children as they ran around the poblacion’s little park, their eyes sparkling with carefree innocence. I smiled at these thoughts, and once more, I thanked God for taking me home.
Indeed, I’d make them proud.
I was going to be their finest daughter.
Good and right wasn’t tolerated in the Third World. It was either shot down and buried, or exported and lost overseas.
Ironically, some other two-faced senator with this little knife then guts the great Julius Caesar and kills him… Well—so much for power.
‘Help them’—and I’ll be the hope and promise of the fucking Third World.
In a fifty-million-peso government project, fifteen million goes to some kingpin and his greedy little minions. And what happens to the remaining thirty-five? It goes to substandard pieces of crap that’ll break down and never work again. Now, that is classic CORRUPTION. You see? Broken. Not just the equipment. It’s the system, the government, the country. Broken.
From generation to generation—your forefathers, your grandfather, your father, and now you. Because this is how we do things in our family. This is our FAMILY SYSTEM. This is business as usual! Privileges for your family, entitlement to you. All that special treatment, stockpiles of cash, and all those ‘special project’ funds—all greased-up, corrupted Third World business, chugging along like some well-oiled, dirty old money machine. Because once upon a time, all this was your grandfather’s. And now, it’s your father’s. And soon—it’ll be yours. All yours. All to your name.
Go blame the government, sure. Because we’re the ones steering this nation to wherever the hell it’s going, aren’t we? You’d call us political dynasties. I’d call us dysfunctional, broken-down families! Infecting everyone else with all that is broken within us! Cascading our shit—from top-level national executives, all the way down to bottom-feeding government scum dwellers. Corruption, everywhere, on a national level.
But then—you’d get some wayward family black sheep, going on about honest governance, human rights, justice-whatever, or any of that utopian idealist crap. Well… that rebellious little outlier is going to get himself ostracized, thrown out, silenced, or even killed.
She’d talk about Filipinos—what wonderful, kind-hearted people. Their welcoming smiles, their genuine warmth, their friendship… But I guess Mom lied about the Philippines. I told myself once I’m done with school, I am heading back to New York. I don’t want this corrupted, miserable country anymore.
Our country is broken, but it’s still beautiful. I hope you get to know it someday.
But if I kissed you on the lips right now, wouldn’t this little shell mean so much more?
They’re not rich; in fact, they’re quite poor. But Cris—they’re not helpless. Look at their family. See how much their children already achieved.
If the Philippine government has, as you implied, declared war upon the poor, look then, upon the poor—we are very strong. We are very resilient.
And then, I thought of Manila, where skyscrapers brushed the heavens—and around them lay a massive sea of rusty roofs, squat homes, and run-down shanties.
And as the poor slept within their squalid, wretched shacks, the rich drank to the future, to success, to our nation’s progress.
This is the progression of communism—how the inferiority and overthrow of slavery led to feudalism—and how the overthrow of inferior feudalism led to capitalism. And so, one day soon, the Philippines will also overthrow its own inferior American colonial capitalism to adopt communism—a superior economic and political system—just as history had shown us, time and time again.
“…You see, our first duty was to go to EDSA in 1986. ‘Maximum tolerance!’ our commander shouted as we formed our lines with our army batons and riot shields, a very big rally in front of us! We were terrified, Miss Anna! How can we fight a rally this big! But no—the rallyists did not throw rocks at us. They went to us, and then they told us, ‘Kuya, look! We have food for you! Kuya, look! We have flowers, just for you.'”
“And then, my commander went to me and said, ‘You, Private Ramirez! You will most especially follow Maximum Tolerance! Because you have this…’ And then—he put a rosary in my hand.”
My prayers to God—my Dearest Friend—were like conversations. I spoke to Him in my mind, and He answered me through what I felt and what I thought.
Others thought rich people had it all. But maybe if you looked closer, it could be several of those wealthy folks were actually some of the saddest people on Earth.
I had no real friends, no one to really talk to. And then, I meet a girl from some far-flung province and I tell her everything.
I then stepped out to the balcony where we watched the sunset, recalling that as day gave way to night, I realized this girl was my only real friend. She was my best friend.
I hoped one day he would find it in his heart to forgive me. I pray one day I found it in my heart to forgive myself.
I never believed in me, but You always believed in me. I never loved me, but You always loved me… Papa God? Please—help me unlearn my capacity to hate. Teach me now how to truly LOVE.
Back in college, you were the queen of the world. Now, you’ve glided down from the skies. That ‘welcome to the real world’ humble pie does that to all of us, I think.
I turned to the windows, and gazed upon the nighttime expanse of the Makati skyline. Dark clouds loomed across the heavens above, as a myriad of city lights gathered below, like fallen stars.
Fine! Then let’s call them the ‘Estranged Dollar-earning Heroes of the Philippine Republic.’ Or would you rather just call them maids!
What if those investors are just a bunch of cash-loaded egos who don’t really care about what’s going on in the everyday trenches? They’re like, ‘Stow it, CEO! Spare us those daily operational dramas, all those frickin’ details! Just give us the goddamned profit margin!
I don’t care what others say—I am so proud of you. They don’t know you. But I do. From five summers back, remember? And now—how can I not be so proud to see what a wonderful person you’ve finally become.
I wanted him to succeed, because he was a good person, an honest man who’d work hard and do his very best. And he genuinely cared about the trenches, the employees, the small, everyday people. So many would follow him. I would follow him! He deserved to win! I wanted him to win!
And as these vivid memories played in my mind, I looked upon the candle’s little flame—defiant of all the darkness surrounding it—and I remembered the very words He told me so many years ago…
God and I have a personal relationship. I talk to Him as a friend, just like I’m talking to you right now.
I could still recall that night—the scent of the ocean, waves upon the shore, countless stars upon the summer evening sky—and I remembered what she told me. “… The smallest things are actually the most significant…”
… All because of one person who believed in me, specifically at a time I absolutely did not believe in myself. She told me, “Don’t be afraid. I believe in you. I will always believe in you. So reach out into the world ahead of us, and then dream—and live.
Even today, as all signs, including you, pointed to ‘No’, I brushed it all aside and still believed in YES.
So, that’s what He did. He realigned me, showed me the way, and guided me back to a bigger, more meaningful purpose. And this purpose had nothing to do with accolades, work titles, or anything I had previously achieved. It was so simple—just one heart. And through this, He told me, “Anna—you matter.”
I believe in God. And I will always believe in you, too. I don’t know where such faith will take me. I just know it will take me to someplace very good.