Gardening, Radio, Childhood Memories

It's hot. I have to water my plants twice sometimes three times a day. 

This is necessary since they are planted on shallow pots and trays,

so they dry easily. Direct sun is good for the plants. Many are

asking me why I didn't put a net over them but its useless because

these are local species, well adapted to our climate. Also, direct

sunlight helps in miniaturizing the leaves. It's a survival mechanism

to prevent transpiration, the loss of moisture through evaporation

through the leaves.

It's summer and I have been sitting if front of the computer watching on-line movies, FB-ing, Blogging, surfing for articles, and most of the times doing all these things at the same time. If I continue doing this all summer long, I fear I may gain another ton or so that mostly will bulge in my waist. I  wish they would bulge in my biceps or triceps...

So, I turned on our little radio, tuned in to RJ 100 FM, my favorite station, and started doing what I love doing, gardening.

I have some bonsai materials mostly main trunks that I have left to grow wild for while, and this morning I checked them again to see if they are established enough to "operate" on.

     This a kalyos trunk (streblus asper). 

It was too tall and too straight. I only on small

(1-2 feet) bonsai. Moving andbpruning small 

bonsai gives me back ache how much more 

large ones.There's not much to do about this 

so I left it growing wild while figuring out what to 

do with it.Finally, I decided to cut the trunk to 
about a foot high and pencil-sharpened the
top to create a jin (leader).

   


 One thing about working while listening to the transistor radio blaring out old songs is that it brings back a lot of memories. Radio still works its magic, at least for me. Old songs especially the ones my father loved to play--Trini Lopez, cha-cha, Johny Mathis, etc.-on our old phonograph player transports me back to my childhood.

        I remember a time when radio was the king of the air. Time when TV especially colored TV was not popular then. It may sound crazy, but back then if you have a vacuum tube colored TV, that means, at least to us children, that you are already rich.

         I remember Thrilla in Manila . I was with my father
( I guess with most of the men in the neighborhood) watching the Ali-Frazier fight on our neighbor's colored TV. I was fascinated by the TV, but what fascinated most was how my father and the rest of the boys cursed everytime a punch was landed, it was as if they were there on the ring. They also did analyses about which i didn't care a ting about. Never did like boxing except when a Filipino is on the ring.

       

The bark is the lifeline of the tree. This is their circulatory system

where all thenutrients from the roots goes up and distributed to all

parts of the plant and where the product of photosynthesis

from the leaves are also distributed.

Anyway, another thing about this material is that the bark on back side was stripped off hence no branches will grow on this side. When I first saw this material, I was thinking of making a formal (or normal) tree but when I turned it around and saw the stripped bark, it's not possible. 

So, the solution is to jin the top and inevitably the stripped side will be deadwood or shari. Bonsai artists use lime-sulfur to preserve and to bleach the deadwood. I don't know where to buy one but if I do, maybe in the future, if it's cheap, I'll use one too.

Re-potted to a trainer pot and then wired. I defoliated

the top branches to stunt the growth and allow the

lower branches to grow faster. This is done so that

the lower branches will be more mature and larger
in size than the upper branches.

Radio was indispensable. It does it all: news, information, entertainment and public assistance. Our neighborhood was a rice field then and the neighbors were not that close then, unlike today, and when it flooded we were isolated, so radio was our only source of information. MBC-DZRH was our favorite station and the station motto was " Operasyon tulong, aksyon agad!." I remember the DJ was Rick Radam and James Bond Pagkatipunan. I don't know if they are still alive but these people help shaped my childhood especially Radam and his Johny Tanggo (Tanga na Gago pa!), the character he created on Radio. Johny Tanggo spawned a movie starred by Chiquito. 

I put a layer of moss on top for better water absorption
and to prevent the soil from eroding when watering.

  The operation is done. This is stressful to the tree especially the repotting and the trimming of the roots. The tree is now put under the shade for two weeks for full recovery.

Anyway...it's good to remenisce. Brings me  back to a time when life was simple.

    I really feel old.

Cocks

My neighbor's chicken coop.

My neighbor loves cocks. Every morning I see him petting cocks. Hmm..that didn't sound good.

My neighbor likes cocks. Hmm...that didn't sound good too.

My neighbor takes care of roosters for hobby and for additional income too. Sabong or rooster fighting is a traditional national sport of the Filipinos so its not unusual to see cjicken coops in the yard.  

Our dog cage. Behind it is mt neighbor's chicken coop.

Since his chicken coop is behind our dog cage, I see him every morning him feeding, petting, and exercising his roosters. During weekend, I see him sparring his birdss with the other neighbors'.  They congregate   analyzing and discussing  the moves, strikes, the strength and weaknesses of the cocks;  recommendations being made here and there.

Aside from the feeding, he also conditions the roosters. There's the vitamin regiment...just imagine the effort and the cost.  There are sayings that a Filipino man takes better care of his rooster than his wife. Naturally, emotional attachment to the animal also develops.  

I was feeding the dog when I happen upon my neighbor while he was mixing feeds. He was shaking his head. He told me that two of his roosters were stolen, aside form the other stolen a few months earlier. He was angry. Anyway, I sympathize with him. As usual, the suspects are minors. Many of these thieves, who are of minor age, has been caught but nothing could be done about it except to release them to their parents custody after the arrest. It's that stupid Pangilinan law.

Exasperated, my neighbor was left to posting this message on a coconut tree:

Translation: Hey you chicken thief. You forgot the feeds; the chicken may go hungry. We know who you are. There are more, steal them all. You left some.

Blah, blah, back home and back to work

Maybe the reason why I hate paperwork is that  I am simply a lazy and disorganized human being. Reported to work greeted by my grade leader (a very nice human being who I have nothing against with) with lots of forms to fill up: SALN, Clearances, Mean Profile Results. I am lucky I have no advisory class becuase otherwise, I would be neck deep in paperwork.

Back home after a three-day vacation in the province. Although I went home with a little cough and shortness of breathing, a premonition of an asthma attack, maybe because of the stress of travel and lack of sleep, I mean, my in-law’s house could not accommodate all of us, so, mostly it was the kids who slept well because of exhaustion from the swimming, but for an asthmatic like who could not sleep without an electric fans, I had no choice but to sleep on a sofa in the porch so that I could have ventilation. But despite the lack of sleep, I love going to the province because I really enjoy being with family and I really enjoy the place.

Next year, it was planned that the reunion would be held in Cainta to the violent and vehement protests of the children. Personally, I would rather have it held in the province forever. But well see…

________________________

Reported back to work a little evasive of the boss. Anyway, I am always evasive of the boss. I have never outgrown my fear of principals even now that I am already a teacher; I think I have grown more afraid of principals since becoming one. So, I sneaked into the office to log my time and there she was standing. I smiled an uneasy smile and greeted her good morning. She smiled back and told me I missed the fun of the school team building. Yea, I was a little afraid that she would give me the pulpit for not participating in the team building, but I had valid reason that I have informed my grade leader about—the reunion, remember. 

Anyway, she did not sermonize or anything; she was nice to me today. I mean, she was nice always, but sometimes administrative duties could be so stressful that I understood why sometimes bosses had to be a little rough or something.

____________________

My grade leader handed me forms and I was shocked to find out (busy with graduation, remember)  that I had not accomplished the mean profile report for the 4^th grading period for MSEP. Now, I was looking for the MSEP teachers for their reports so that I could consolidate it; I could not find them.  It's summer you …fill in the blank...

I mean, really, this paper work thing is not in me …

I’m waiting for the reports to come but I think it would not come…

Oh, yes...it arrived.

I was handed my SALN (Statement of Assets, Liabilities and Network). I was tempted to tear the whole thing a la Andres Bonifacio to protest the seemingly insulting form handed to us poor teachers knowing that most of us have no assets and net worth to speak of; we are always in debt you...go after the justices, senators, congressmen etc.


Blah, blah, blah, blah....

Kalamay Story

We were about to go home when my older brother-in-law decided that we spend another day in Quezon so that we could eat Kalamay. Kalamay is a native cake made from ground sticky rice, sugar, butter, pandan and  (liters of sweat) cooked in coconut milk.

Now, all I know about Kalamay is the ten peso slice that I buy from bilao carrying vendors that sells them. I have eaten a couple of slice but I have never seen how it was made. Well, I have seen glimpses how it was made by my in-laws, but I have never paid that much attention to it until now.

 I know how sumans are made because my late grandmother sold them for living. My mother also cooked bico, but bico is whole grain sticky rice cooked in coconut milk it also requires a lot of stirring but unlike the Kalamay, it is not ground and not as sticky as Kalamay. 

Anyway...here are pictures of how Kalamay is cooked:

My bilas Arman (my wife's sister's husband) was cooking brown sugar in coconut milk. On the left were ground sticky rice made into balls by my mother-in-law. I thought they were making humungous kariokas, but she explained that that was how Kalamay was made. They were shaped into balls to better absorb the caramel-coconut milk mixture...whatever. On the right was my brother in law's prominent belly--obviously from the thousand of beer bottles and other liquors drank. Ramil, my brother-in-law, is an very nice guy.

Nanay Norma, my mother -in-law, putting the sticky rice balls into the boiling caramel-coconut milk mixture.

Here was the fun part: the stirring and the mixing. The stuff was so sticky that it took  my brother-in-law Ramil and bilas Arman, two "muscled" men, with paddles made from coconut stem to mix it to the desired consistency. 

My mother-in-law and my sister-in-law Melda had to hold the talyasi so that it would not tip over. I was not able to help because of the smoke coming from the fire would trigger my asthma.

My mother-in-law pouring oil into the bana leaves so that the Kalamay would not stick. Traditionally bilao was used but since we could not find any bilao, my mother-in-law used an aluminum basin covered with banana leaves. Banana leaves added flavor to it.

                                             

Having fun with the paddles.

We were not able to eat the Kalamay because it was still hot and we were scheduled to leave at two in the afternoon. It was decided that we would just bring it along with us and we would divide it per family once we reach Calamba, Laguna where my other sister-in-law lived. But we were so tired that we forgot about the Kalamay until we were near Calamba, Looking for it, we found out it was under the luggage and was stepped on many times by the children that we thought it was already sticking on the van's floor. Fortunately the Kalamay survived the trip to Calamba and then to Cainta and we were able to enjoy it long after we were home.

Dirty finger

 I laughed so hard when I saw the Duterte patriarch cussed and dirty fingered the media people in front of national TV. Not to be outdone, the son, a barangay captain who was also a member of the city council, also dirty fingered the media. It seemed the first family of Davao does a lot of dirty fingering.

Again, there was nothing humorous about local leaders acting like teen-age punks because it was unbecoming of a civil servant. But despite the mayor’s actions, (it seemed that) she was supported by the leaders and the people of the city maybe because the Dutertes have done very well for the city. Though the elder Duterte, now the vice mayor, has employed unorthodox methods to improve the peace and order of the city, though he was criticized by human rights group, still he produced results and has made Davao City the city that it is now, peaceful and conducive to business opportunities and a tourist destination. When people were fed up with mediocre and ineffective leaders and new but unorthodox leaders were elected, they tend to overlook the new leaders frailties and idiosyncrasies as long as they were delivering their promises.  

Of course another reason why the people of Davao supported ( or seemed to be supporting) the Duterte’s was, maybe, they were afraid of the city's first family. What choice was there when the mayor is a Duterte, the father of the mayor, the vice mayor; the brother of the mayor, a counselor, what you have was a local monarchy. Even the court sheriff, the victim, dared not file charges and instead he, the aggrieved, was the one who apologized to the mayor. Now that was weird.

It seemed that there were no critics, no condemnation from the opposition in Davao. Or maybe there were no oppositions in Davao because they were fingered into silence.

What ever it was the whole thing was it was entertaining—better than comedy shows.

Now the DILG and the Human Rights Commission are joining the drama. 

____________________________________________________________

My wife checked on my daughter’s school things, and she found a note saying “no assignment.” (This may seem like an invasion of privacy…) My first reaction was to get angry, but since she was now in high school, a teen-ager, I held my tongue. She had been spending too much time facebooking and this has distracted her from school work. I kept on telling her that she must prioritize her studies, but the temptation of logging in must have overcome her many times.  So to tell her that I meant business, I put a password on our computer.

When I got home yesterday she was already there reading and writing. She smiled asking for the password. I told her that she had to first finish all her schoolwork before she could even touch the computer. My daughter obeyed without any sign of hmmm…defiance or bitterness, as far as I could tell from her mien, but what’s going on in her mind could be something else.

I did not sleep until all her school work was done because if I even let up for a second, she would open her facebook account and that’s the end of her study.

Typhoon Chedeng

I heard on the news that a strong typhoon named Chedeng is coming to land in the eastern seaboard of the country. Though the ETA of the storm is still on Friday, the weather bureau has already given advanced warning of the typhoon's potential destructive power as far back as last week. The Disaster Management Coordinating Council is doing its job exceptionally considering the limitations in material and personnel. All the government agencies under its coordination are exhibiting their equipments and personnel response team on TV to assure the citizens that the Ondoy disaster will not happen again. This is a good thing and the government deserves a pat on the back for its disaster response preparedness. There are already preemptive evacuation being done in the provinces directly on the typhoon's path.

I have done a little preparation of my own by trimming the trees in our yard. I am hoping that what happened two years ago will not be repeated. I forgot the name of the typhoon whose wind power almost uprooted our duhat and caimito tree. I watched helplessly as the trees slowly leaned and the roots started to appear out of the ground. I could not do anything but watch and wait. When the rains and the wind stopped, I cut the branches and pushed and pulled the trees back to stand. I love those trees and cutting them down is not an option. Now, I made sure that the trees are trimmed so that they would not be top heavy and easily felled.

I am worried about old and termite ridden house. It’s an old house that has survived a lot of storms. But it is almost 60 years old and no major maintenance has been done on it. I do not have the funds to hire carpenters to check on the condition of its wooden trusses and floorings. I just hope that it will survive more storms to come.

It is during the storms that I pray with all the faith I could muster. Even though sometimes I seemed irreverent about God, it is during times of distress and fear that all disbelief is overcome by fear. I remember what General MacArthur said, “There are no atheists in the foxholes of Bataan.” Whether one believes in God or not, he or she cannot help but call upon his name when faced with perils.

Danger is the best motivation to praying.

__________________________________________________

Reunion stories

What I love about our reunions is not the food (though the food is always outstanding); it’s the preparation of the food. The women in one corner chopping, washing and cooking while talking, giggling like they were little girls and then bursting into peals of laughter. They “murder” their husbands, complain about their children, complain about money, complain about the weather…. Their stories sometimes meander to actors, national issues, about neighbor’s lives, classmates, jueteng…and of course, sex ( they could be very naughty at times). They are enjoying their company. 

As usual, the men were under the tree drinking and laughing and telling jokes and tall stories that we all knew were meant to be humorous rather than factual. The family is a musical family, the guitar and the naughty songs were there. 

My brother-in-law bought a half gallon of lambanog. There are good lambanogs and there are bad lambanogs. The best way to judge them is to taste them. Anyway (look around) I looked at the lambanog .It looked good because of the fruits floating in it. I smelled it and decided to taste it. No, I don’t drink anymore but this time it’s out of curiosity. So, I asked for a taste. I took a shot, and booommm…like drinking gasoline. 

One thing I don’t like about lambanog is the after taste. I have tasted many types of liquor before, but lambanog is different because it’s after taste lingers for hours that even chewing a gum could not remove it. According to my father in law, it is not safe to drink lambanog anymore because some distillers add chemicals to their products. The shot gave me a throbbing head ache anyway. 

It was a good thing that my brother in law had a motorcycle because I was able to enjoy the trip to the market. I did not have to ride in a tricycle- a bumpy, uncomfortable that takes about thirty minutes to get to the public market. But with the motorcycle, I felt freedom. The coastal road was lined with trees and the panoramic view of the sea overrode the desire to go fast but rather, it made me slow down to enjoy the breeze and the views. 

Everybody was looking for their children. Everybody was shouting somebody else’s name. Of course they could not find them, they were swimming in the sea. The little children that used to run naked were now young girls conscious of the minutest details of their looks. Taking pictures whenever the urge came…they were lucky because in our days pictures use film so every shot had to count. But with digicams, they could take pictures of anything, anytime and anywhere. In a few years from now the generation gap would be evident. 

The children loved the reunion. They had special food, the beach, games and what was most important was that they felt love not only from their parents but also from their uncles and aunts. The memories will forever bound them till they grow old. 

There was also sadness. When we left to go home, my parents-in-laws were crying tears of joy and tears sadness. My wife’s parents are getting old, and I could see the longing in their eyes to be with their children more often. My father in law even proposed that we held our reunions twice a year. Of course, if this was possible, we would not deny them of this request but there were many things to consider like time, money, the distance etc. But it’s hard to say no especially when they started talking about death and dying. Why do they have to blackmail us with death? Maybe I’ll understand them when I reach their age. It’s the empty nest syndrome.

We must please our parents especially in their twilight years.. They have sacrificed so much and the least the children could do is to grant their requests whenever possible. They deserve it. It is good that our children see how much we love their grandparents for it would set a good example for them when we too became old.

Reunions...

As a Chinese proverb says: "Reunion after long separation is even better than one's wedding night." 

Looking forward to next year’s…

Footprints

I woke up this morning, and I was surprised because there were footprints in the house.

It was still dark, and I wasn’t wearing my eyeglasses, so I didn’t suspect anything. I thought that the glitters that my daughter was working with last night got stuck on her feet making the footprints. Idid not realized that someone had broken in the house while we were sleeping until my wife came down and asked me why the floor was muddied.

When I looked closer, I noticed that the footprints were made by muddy feet. I also noticed that footprints were small, maybe made by a child or a small person's feet. I followed the footprints to the TV where I put the digicam; the camera was gone. I then went to my study table where I put my wallet; my wallet was gone, and so was my mp3 player. My daughter's allowance, my wifes cash and pieces of jewelry were aslo taken. I also found out that the footprints entered my daughter’s room. That scared me.

My daughter’s bag was also missing. The thief got all the small items he could carry and then put them in my daughter’s bag and then took off. The amount of money taken was not that much, but what made me angry were the ID’s and atms in my wallet. I did not report to work because I had to file affidavit of losses for all of them. My whole day was wasted.

But the worst thing that happened was that we lost the feeling of security. We felt violated. My wife said she can’t sleep anymore.

My neighbors used to play cards near our gate, and whenever they were there I felt secured. But these last few days the poker table moved to another neighbor’s house. My security guards were not on duty. 

Anyway, the neighbors were also concerned because this could also happen to them.

I noticed that there were no tambays in the neighborhood today. I d not want to specualte...

Before, I had insomnia. I couldn’t sleep until two or three in the morning. But now that my insomnia was cured, this happened.

Our dog, Pampam...she's not doing her job! I'm thinking of buying a rottweiler or a german shepherd...naaaaa...too expensive to keep.

Aquarium Story

I keep an aquarium. It is beside the computer. I put it there because it relieves my stress (so I thought). Once in a while I would glimpse at it to relax my eyes. Or, If I am thinking I watch the fishes (there about three species) swim leisurely.

It is really relaxing. But once in a while (or too often), I would plunge my hand into the water, scaring the fishes into panic, to move a plant here and there. Once I bought a driftwood that costs me 200 pesos (I asked the pet storekeeper why it was expensive, he told me it was a yakal wood. I don't know. I just took his word for it.) I put the driftwood and it added a natural look to the aquarium.Unfortunately, after a day, the driftwood dyed the water yellowish. I put a new filter but the color did not change. Nothing I can do about it. A yellowish aquarium is not good to look at.

I remove the driftwood and then replace it with a sea shell of unknown specie. The one where, a long time ago, my sister once wrote a Bible verse to piss my mother off. Come to think of it, that sea shell must be older than me! Anyway, its history...we all love our mom very, very much. Still, I was not satisfied, so I replaced it with another shell. Anyway, my wife kept shaking her head. "Di na naman mapakali sa aquarium!," she whispered audibly.

A few days ago, I saw this strange looking fish, dragon fin according to the aquarium label. It looked like an eel but it has a dorsal fin running along its back and its tail looks like a tail of a Chinese dragon (European dragons have hooks on their tails). Anyway, I bought it and put it in the aquarium together with goldifsh, bubble eye, and rhubarbs. The dragon fin was an added attraction.

The next day, I checked on my pets, I was horrifed to find that a bubble eye has lost an eye and another bubble eye has lost half of its face! But still, they were alive. I went back to the petshop and asked about dragonfins. The store keeper told me that dragon fins are carnivorous. They eat other fish. They start at the eyes, then the face...I asked the him if he would like to buy back my dragon fin, he said no. How unintelligent of me! Now there are two strange, pitiful looking fish in my aquarium. Lesson learned: research about fish before buying them. The sight of the marred fish depresses me.

I don't want to kill the dragon fin. So, I bought s small aquarium for him or her or it.

Every time I look at my aquarium, I feel I have to move something, or add something. In fact the fishes got so used to my hands plunging down their little world, that now, they do not even pay attention to me. Instead of scampering, some even lick (that is if fish could do that) my hand.

I am now trying to avoid looking at my aquarium, it stresses me becuase feel I have to move something, or change something... And my wife looks at me every time I look at the aquarium. I am also starting to annoy my daughter.

Maybe its a disease...

Dog bites and anti-rabies

Our dog Shancai (named after the leading character in the Japanese TV Novela “Meteor Garden”) gave birth to five puppies last Friday (June 27). I came home from work and I found four puppies scattered on our balconahe. It is rule that no one, even the owner, should touch a new born puppy when the mother dog is watching. It is a rule that every Filipino teach their children. So, when I saw that Shancai was not wagging her tail at me, I immediately understood that as a sign that she was did not want any help. I smiled at her and entered the house.

I did not want those puppies; we already had three native dogs and a Labrador. I was planning to bury the puppies so that I would not have to feed them. (The price of rice here in the Philippines doubled in the last few months.) I was thinking of a plan to get the puppies out of Shancai’s sight so that I could grab them and put them in a plastic bag and bury them or throw them away in a river. I know that when these puppies begin to look like puppies, I would not be able to do my plan; my conscience will prevent me. So, I waited for the opportunity, but it did not come. I know now that I will never be able to carry out my plan.

The next morning I found two puppies being eaten by ants. Well, nature took care of what I was planning. But it’s pitiful, heart breaking, really, to see a mother dog licking a dead puppy. It’s almost human, too human. I knew that if I did not do something, the other puppies will be killed by the ants too. So, when I saw Shancai wagging her tail at me, as if begging me to do something, I gathered her puppies and put them in a batya (washbasin), safe from the ants. Then I put the washbasin in the far corner of our balconahe. Then I put my daughter’s tricycle as barrier so that Shancai and her litter will not be disturbed.

But my gulay, my goddaughter, was bitten by Shancai. It was afternoon and my wife and I were both asleep when it happened. Though she did not admit and she lied about it, the neighbors saw that she went alone to our balconahe and then she came out with a bleeding finger. Our dogs, as most dogs in the neighborhood, are not vaccinated with anti-rabies because it’s expensive. So, I ended up paying a share in the anti-rabies shot of my goddaughter and my gulay, it’s a lot of money!

I cannot blame Shancai, though I was tempted to euthanize her because I am afraid she’s rabid, when I found out the neighbor’s version of the story, I knew that Shancai was innocent and the one to blame was the one who could think, in this case my goddaughter.

But I cannot blame my goddaughter too because puppies are irresistible.

My gulay, bad things happen and I’m having headaches.

A Time to Read

Finally I was able to sit down and do some reading. When I came home from Baguio after featching my daughter and spending eight hours there, I brought with me some books that I “stole” from my sister’s library. My sister is a teacher of theology so most of the books I stole were (photocopied) theological books, books I cannot buy in the local bookstores.

I am reading about church history. I don’t know the title of the book because the owner of the book, definitely the book is not my sister’s because I know her handwriting, and the comments and the underlines are definitely not from a theology teacher. Maybe the book belongs to a student of my sister, who to save money, did not photocopy the title and the copyright page of the book. I love reading about church history and I have read more books about the subject than about systematic theology because it is more interesting to know the people and the social, political, economical and the general atmosphere of the era that produced theologies.

What I find interesting about church history books are the people and the little things like from the book I am reading now, I found out that King James to whom the King James Bible was dedicated and named after was gay, a certified licentious homosexual…I mean, maybe that’s why some people preferred calling the King James Bible as the Authorized Version or AV…This was the first time I read about this trivia, no surprise since the book I am reading starts with the reformation period of church history.

Given the chance of a seminary education, I would love to focus my studies on church history. Well it’s a long shot…I don’t have the money and right now I feel I am called in my church (not necessarily as a “titular pastor” but more of a teacher) to work. But there are other possibilities like an online seminary education that my sister told me to pray about. Studying while teaching and ministering…definitely this is something to pray about.

Yeheeyyyy! What's next?

With my wife Myra and daughter Jesse Faith

After four years of studying and laboring I finally received my college diploma. I am happy because I know this is what my family prayed hard for and God has heard their prayers and my prayer too. Thank you Lord.

With the Mommies of the class (this their second college degree)

Four years ago my Diche (younger older sister) invited me to attend summer theological classes at the Baptist Seminary. I had doubts if I could pass the course because judging from the theological literatures I have read, I knew that theology was too abstract for me. But I did try and I was encouraged when I did well in the New Testament and Christology classes. My Diche told me to go to college with the hope that I would go to the seminary for the ministry.

With an instructor and some of my classmates

When I came home from the seminary, the first thing I did was to prepare the necessary papers for college. I enquired and the enrolling officer told me that for someone my age, elementary education is the most practical since teachers have no age limit. I weighed her recommendations and saw the logic in it. I enrolled for the elementary education course. I never regretted the decision. I feel at ease teaching children and from the evaluations I received from them, there’s connection. (All of my pupils commented that they love my class because I made them laugh. So, I’m not only a teacher, I am also a stand up comedian.)

Some of my pupils

I feel famous. One day I was riding my motorcycle when I heard someone shouting, “SSssiiiiiiiirrrrrrrr Gggggeeeeeeeeoooorrrrrgggeee,” I stop. I had to stop. I looked and found my pupils riding in a tricycle smiling at me. All the stress and the tiredness left me on seeing my pupils smiling at me.

I will miss being mistaken for a professor and campus director. I will miss joining competitions and being mistaken for a coach, judge and instructor. I will miss doing gymnastics. I will miss dancing folk dances, modern dance,cha cha etc. I will miss the choral recitations. I will miss my classmates asking advice from me. I will miss classmate asking me what’s the English for this and for that, I will miss my instructors, I will the campus…Old as I am I never thought that graduation could be this emotional.
College Education changed the way people look at me. I am now called sir by some of my neighbors and church members. I used to make fun of teachers but I never realized how they are respected (generally speaking) until I became one.


Now what? I hate to say this but its obvious now, I am meant for the ministry. I may not like it but all indications seems to be pointing towards it. I would be the happiest person if I am wrong but I would also be the happiest person if I am right for it is the greatest privilege to serve the Lord and no one can resist His calling.

Hayyy naku!

On our way home on a passenger jeepney

Duetos de sintunados/Seek ye first

My 8 year old daughter playing Seek ye First on the bamboo flute. My wife took the video using a celphone. Look at my daughter's eyes, she was giving my wife the look because my wife was smiling everytime my daughter hit a flat note.

I hope my daughter will take music more seriously than her father.

White Hairs

I was looking in the mirror while drying my hair when I noticed something shining in my head. I was not wearing my eyeglasses so to make sure that they were not shiny super dandruffs, I went to the computer table, picked up my glasses and wore them. And just as I suspected, they were not shiny super dandruffs, they were white hairs. My gulay, I don’t know which is worse: super shiny dandruffs or super shiny white hairs. I mean, no matter how super dandruffs can be it can be defeated. I can have my head shaved, applied hot virgin coconut oil, then scrubbed with anti-fungi cream and to make my scalp super resistant to fungi, I can drink vitamin E and then rub some of them vitamins on my scalp.

But white hairs?

My father used to have us pull out his white hairs. It’s a sort of a rite of passage. My older siblings did it before me and my younger siblings did it after me. I don’t know about my other siblings but when my father asks me to pull out his white hairs, I was most of the times compensated. My father paid me five centavos a piece. The pay is good considering that fifty centavos then can buy me a bottle of local soft drinks (Pop Cola) and a piece of bread. Today, I’m offering my daughter a peso a piece. This is quite expensive compared to the five centavos I used to get when I was a kid. But my daughter will not take it; she would not pullout my white hairs. I cajoled, pleaded and threatened but she will not be intimidated. I remember not being able to say not to my father. If my father asked me to pull out his white hairs, pull out I must compensated or not because if I didn’t obey…well…but usually it didn’t even come to that part, I always obeyed.

Now, I can’t do that because today it’s called child abuse.

Death Shall Have no Dominion

It was raining and me and my daughter had nothing to do. I saw this dead mouse lying under my computer table, a victim of rodenticide, and something popped in myhead...I saw "Solaris" a sci-fi movie starring George Clooney and Clooney was reciting this poem by Dylan Thomas and I thought, why not.

A good bongding activity with my daughter, I should say.

Champurado Overdose

Last night it rained heavily and our tin roof, as always, leaks, so like most Filipinos, what I did was put pots and pans under these leaks to catch the rainwater. I don’t know, I had the roof “bandaged” but somehow rainwater has this ability to create holes in our roof.

I fetched my wife from work and on our way home, I was thinking of food, comfort food to cure that feeling of dampness and sluggishness that the rain brings. Rain plus champurado (rice cooked in chocolate) plus tuyo (dried fish) or dilis (dried anchovy) equals heaven. So I bought half a kilo of sticky rice, 15 pieces of dried fish, and sugar and chocolate and cooked champurado.

The problem was, because of the sticky rice, when the champurado cooled, it became so sticky that I’m thinking of putting the left over champurado in a baking pan, sprinkling some dried anchovy on top, I would then go around the neighborhood shouting, “Bibingka especial! Bibingka especial! Chocolate flavored, topped with dried anchovy!”

Naahhhhh…my neighbors knew better; they’ll know immediately that I’m selling brownies.

Morning sickness and history

I was woken rudely by my daughter asking me to bring her to school. I hate mornings; mornings make me sick; I feel nauseated, and hazed as if I had taken ten tablets of Benadryl AH. Anyway, I’m trying not to go back to our papag (cot). I have nothing to talk about in this blog because I’m a little busy, hmmmm…not really that busy but the anxiety of school zapped the typing energy out of me. I haven’t read any good books; in fact I haven’t read anything except a few glances at Jose Rizal’s, the Philippines’ national hero, biography. I am not a Rizal guy; I am a Bonifacio guy. Bonifacio is the founder of the Katipunero, the revolutionary movement that fought the Spaniard and was later executed by his fellow revolutionaries. He is my national hero. The problem is that Filipinos think that having a genius national hero like Rizal will make them a genius. (No, I’m being mean again!) There will always be controversy surrounding Rizal’s selection as the country’s national hero because in the first place the guy was really not a revolutionary he is more of an assimilationist (I don’t know if that’s the right word). He wants equality with Spain and not independence.

Anyway, I can’t do anything about it except accept the fact that even in selecting national heroes the Filipinos like branded goods. Rizal was a genius, surgeon, writer, magician, humorist, philosopher etc. –reminds me of Lex Luthor.

I like my heroes to be simple guys, like Bonifacio, a warehouseman during the day and a brave revolutionary organizer and soldier at night, like Superman.

(Must be that darned pirated CD of the movie Superman Returns.)

Anyways, Teodoro Agoncillo (The historian who is pro-Bonifacio. Just look at the cover of his book”The History of the Filipino People” and you’ll know what I mean) is a better writer of history than Gregorio Zaide (Rizal’s biographer).

I Hope I will not be sued.

Rottweilers vs. Pampam, the rat eater

Perya

I was about three or four years old when I rode my first Ferris wheel and I can’t forget the sensation, it felt like my intestines were being removed from my stomach.

Those were the days when the traveling fairs (or perya) that visit towns during their yearly feasts were the provider of the nightlife of provincial towns. I remember my elder siblings bringing me along to these peryas. They were throwing coins and balls hoping to win prices like glass tumblers and porcelain plates that they can bring home, while I was busy munching on popcorns and chicharons.

I remember I was crying on the ground while my siblings were threatening to leave me there, alone, days when white ladies floating around the Kalachuchi trees were the boogeyman used to scare the gulaman out of us.

The peryas broke the monotony of life then. Mothers with their toddlers would be sitting on the bingo bench while the announcers crack jokes, here and then someone would shout “Bingo” and off they went home with a set of plates, or pots and pans, or anything that can be useful in the home.

Mothers were laughing and babies crying and fathers were shouting and boys and girls running…

I took this picture during Taytay’s fiesta and it’s not the same. The lights of the perya were not as bright as they were during the days when street lights were non existent. The jokes of the Bingo announcer were drowned by the noise of jeepneys passing, of videokes. Once in a while I could see people on motorcycles collecting money from the poor Pinoy Gypsies running the perya.

There were less people, there were more dogs.

Breakfast

This must be how jet lag feels like.

I wake up at around five thirty, take a bath, wear my uniforms, bring my daughter to the school; after that, I will be going to school myself. For almost two and a half months I got used to sleeping early in the morning and then waking up just before noon, eating, reading, a little house maintenance here and there, typing, guitar etc., all the things that a person who has no money does during their vacation. (It’s no use looking for summer jobs; I’m over qualified when it comes to age requirement) Now it’s school time and the sudden shift in my routine gave me headaches, made me sluggish, irritable, my stomach grumbles because it got used to breakfast at noon and lunch at dinner, no true breakfast. Now my stomach is asking for food every morning. I don’t like breakfast because I don’t want to wake up earlier. To compensate for this lack of food, my stomach is manufacturing gasses that will act as filler for the empty spaces that breakfast should have filled up. It’s difficult concentrating when gasses in your stomach are trying to ram through the back door. I can’t release them because I fear that these bubbles may carry some liquefied matter with them.

I'm in a different time zone now.