Shimmering Splendid

For the first time, there were displays of lights such as these:

They were vibrant, even in the dark

a flash of Green Curtains

Coils of Burning Red

and some random whites

They form a current, a breeze, a spectral flow

 

 

I was drawn to them

Never had I seen these lights in front of our simple house

Never this way

   

The lights were music to the eyes

They were paintings

A visual feast

They will shine bright for now

But they will get dimmer through time

Until they’ll run and disappear from our sight

They begin to take forms and shapes

The way we want them to be

Symbols of Yuletide

Figures of Christmas right before my eyes

Sure it is Christmas. It should be a merry month, a happy season. Thirty seasons like this have gone through my life. Thirty-two for the family. They were wonderful and joyous. But this Christmas would not be the merriest of them all.

It would make me try to forget this basically different situation that we’re in. It would be extremely hard to hide our reactions and thoughts about the whole thing.  It’s pretty hard not knowing what dad would do with his life after Energize. At this time when everybody should be happy and gay, he’s faced with the prospect of sadness and gloom.

Maybe this would be the toughest Christmas yet. It would be very hard to project that we’re glad when we could not even stop ourselves from worrying.

What if dad would break down and cry during Noche Buena? Dad would always lead the family for a simple prayer before the midnight meal. I would be expecting him to do it but I would not want to see him cry like he did when my sister ran away. But what if he could not stay tough anymore?

I stared at the display of lights and thought on how our Christmas would turn out. We always value each other’s presence at Noche Buena. Christmas was different when we were younger. It is different even now. And our family has not been complete since 1999. There will always be an empty chair at the dining table. 

But it will always come, the season that is. The lights would just be ornaments to show how people would strive to be happy and thankful for the days that have gone by.

Don’t Come Back November!!!

I just had my fill of cappuccino at Postrio Cakes & Pastries branch at Parkmall. I had nothing else to do. I had already made business calls to my clients, my boss and my officemates. It’s sales cut-off once more but I decided to throw in the towel, sit down at the coffee shop and sip my coffee without any worries.

I missed my sales target this month. Of course this isn’t the first time that I won’t hit it. I’ve experienced it so many times since I got this sales job and it seemed that missing the mark had a certain bunch of effects on me.

When I realized that I would be missing my target,

1.       I would have sleepless nights. Especially in the last week of the month, it’s really hard to force myself to sleep. Unless my body could no longer hold myself awake, sleeping is like a swinging battle in bed. A battle between body and mind. In my desire to hit the target, I went beyond working hours. I stayed up late to think about anything more to do to improve my sales. And in thinking, my eyes would not close, even when I had already lain down in bed for several hours.

2.       I would feel the stressors. As always the case, my boss is responsible for most of my stress but I also got it from something or someone else. These stressors would knock on my joints and let me feel the pain of gouty arthritis. I would be wary of my movement and I prayed that the gout would not happen. When I get stressed, I would look at my sides and check for dandruff flakes. But the most difficult effect of being stressed from working on a low performance month is the art of gobbling. And I am pretty much sure that I’m a certified stress-eater.

3.       My vision became unreliable. Even if I’d wear contacts lens or glasses, still there were moments when I could not see things clearly. I’ve experienced near mishaps this month, one that involved me driving ZeeWee around town. One time, I was stopped by a passing motorcycle. The angry motorist approached me and barked like he was hit by ZeeWee. But he wasn’t. I apologized, though I really did not notice him when I made a left turn at the intersection.  But I did think that my vision failed me.

4.       My spirit would be dragged down by frustration.  There’s a certain feeling of happiness when one achieves an objective. But there’s also a certain feel of defeat when targets weren’t met. Out comes frustration and the spirit became too unwilling to go on. It’s such a heavy feeling and at times I would find myself shouting or crying for no apparent reason. People in the house would wonder if I got a fever or something.  But most of the time, frustrations at work could shut myself up. I just sulk in silence.

5.       I would forget to communicate with my loved one. Maybe because I got saturated with work or because my work had consumed most of my mind, I tend to overlook my communication with Bro Bear. Often times I would get missed calls or text messages and I could not even call or reply him back. His calls and texts are like anchors that safely fasten me to the reality. And I would hate myself for apologizing to him all the time because he did not deserve to be neglected and brushed aside.

6.       I would spend so much time in the computer or would be on the phone often, urging my clients to make more sales.

7.       I hate to say this but I would be blaming the misses on something like the undelivered stocks, the unpaid accounts, the blocked customers or the unconverted projects. I do believe that things happen for a reason or more. Cause & effect and the fishbone diagrams, I think, are applicable in explaining performances in sales. Even life could be analyzed through such method. I always had my list of reasons ready before my boss would call up for explanations.

8.       I would not notice how fast the time flies. I would be unaware of how quick the day turns to night or when the hands of time would strike midnight. Though in some cases I would see myself guarding the time, wishing and hoping at the sides and asking it to stretch a little bit more. In the world of sales and distribution, everything is fast-paced and a month is like a week or two. The week would start as fast as it would end. It’s double time always.

9.       I would fear for my job. Sales performance is a major factor or key result area. Most sales agents got their asses kicked because of poor sales output. It’s a major test of character too. I would feel the need to be humble to absorb the pangs of failure. At times it’s embarrassing and I would hate myself for getting into such a situation. It makes me want to update my curriculum vitae and send it to all HR departments of our competitors.

10.   I would have to accept it as it is. I should move on because there would always be another month, another cycle, another time.   

It’s Made Known to All Now

Dad flipped the pages of SunStar Daily, a local newspaper and had stumbled on this article.

But he also noticed this:

It finally came out in the newspaper. Dad will be one of 44 who’ll be unemployed starting December 1.

   

Type the Words and Out Comes Carlo

Type a few letters to form a word, then comes another word, and another one. Before the group of words could form a thought my finger’s too quick to press the backspace key. Then I would stare again at a blank blanc document, thinking of what keys to press, on what letters to use to form a new word, then another, and another. Until the words would continue to form one after the other, in between punctuation marks, in between spaces, in between thoughts and ideas the words would link together and form a story.

I’d been sitting and waiting here at the Bancasi Airport as I waited for my flight back to Cebu. I wanted to write more about Butuan, about its history and culture, and the way I experienced CARAGA but I could not think of more stories and description that would put the place apart and different from any other place in the country. My experience in Butuan was like staring at my notebook, hoping for something that would come out from my mind, some ideas that would somehow keep me going.

Yes they have the Balanghai but then what good has come out from letting the national treasures lie in a sorry state at their neglected museum? I tried to search for a positive character of the city but I may have tried in vain. I wanted to explore deeper into it, not just the sites of the Balanghai boats.

I stopped on my thoughts about the city and the boats. The aircraft had appeared at the parking bay in front of us. The plane from Cebu had arrived in time. The plane had just stopped near the waiting lounge. Its fuselage was slanted to the left. As soon as the aircraft’s twin turbo engines stopped, two movable stairs were positioned at the side doors.

Out from the forward door was Carlo, the flight attendant. He stepped out of the plane to talk with the ground crew who was already on the top landing of the stairs. I think my eyes dilated when I recognized his built and his head from afar. I may have drooled pools of saliva as I fixed my stare on him. I guess I forgot to notice that my fingers were pressing keys in rapid succession and when I looked down on my lappy, descriptive paragraphs had already formed.

I called it a harmless crush. I mean I could not even describe the admiration for the guy. I don’t know. We were never introduced. But I did know that I’d completely forgotten that I was still in Butuan. I did not mind the waiting. Seeing Carlo was like seeing a tooth sparkle in a Colgate-toothpaste commercial.

“Hahahahaha. Close mo?” This was my Bro Bear’s reply when I “texted” him that my crush would be on the flight. Bro Bear knew the type I would like: the chubby, fair-skinned, hairy and good-looking kind. Carlo fitted the category except that he had less body hair. Of course I did not know him that much. I just happened to know his name (the name was on the name tag as well).

So who the hell is CARLO? Hahaha. If you are a frequent Cebu Pacific flyer, you would have a greater chance to be in a flight with him. He is often assigned on the earlier trips from Cebu to Davao or Iloilo. I was surprised though that he’s assigned in the Cebu-Butuan flight as well.

Earlier in the year, I often booked myself on the first flight to Davao hoping that Carlo would be on the flight.  I usually requested for a front row seat so that I would be first to deplane and that I would have more leg room during the flight. I would think that flight attendants would possibly have conversations with people in the front row too, especially when the plane is about to take off and touch down or when the “fasten seatbelt” sign is on.

When it was time to board the plane, I checked my pass and noticed that I would be seated in 15C, an aisle seat that was at the middle of the fuselage. Oh well. Carlo usually sits behind the cockpit, at the forward door. Had I known I could have requested for a seat in the front row. Or I could have also opted for a seat near the emergency exit door so that Carlo would approach me and explain to me the mechanics and the chook-chuck-chenes of the emergency plan. Then we could have had a conversation. But it was not the case.

So I just found myself watching him from afar. He had a gorgeous visage, oval-shaped and fair. The entire flight, I just fixed my head at the center of the plane and followed him around with my eyes. He would stand up and go to the food prep section, hold a cup of coffee and serve it to the pilots. He would check the lavatory or attend to a passenger’s concern and when he turned his back and leaned forward, his glutes would protrude. Aw. His profile was like a cycle of a sine wave on a vertical axis. The upper curve is his belly and the lower, his glutes.

I imagined myself giggling and dancing like a happy bear. I was just amused at the sight of a beaver. Yes, Bro Bear and I would call someone beaver if a guy has a built that is smaller than a bear and “flabber” than a hunk. A beaver is a guy with baby fat, a cute chubby hairy person. My version of a cute chubby person is Carlo.

I could imagine Bro Bear doing his bear dance while singing “Yummy yummy yummy…” What if Bro Bear and Carlo perform the bear dance together? Hahaha. I began to fantasize. Pardonnez-moi!But it was cut short. The plane touched down after 40 minutes. Carlo was at the forward door again, thanking the every passenger as they leave. I passed in front of him and took a final look of his cherubic face. I was out of the plane and out of the dreamland at once.

The reality remains that I am a chubby-chaser. I am a Bear-lover. I’m in an ursine relationship (Am I a bit defensive bro bear?). I switched on my phone as I waited at the carousel for my bag. Then a message from Bro Bear appeared on my mobile. “Hahahaha. Igat (landi). I love you!”

I smiled and imagined the bear dance once more.

Where the Earlier Settlers Lived

The heaven was a bit downcast when the plane touched down at Bancasi National Airport. The flight was completely filled with passengers and people seemed to be in hurry to claim their luggage from the newly-installed carousel. I smiled because the baggage conveyor was new and people seemed to be a bit delighted about the airport’s latest acquisition. On the other hand, I thanked Cebu Pacific for its on-time departure from Cebu.

I was back in Butuan for I do not know how many times already this year. I had an earlier blog about this place but I never focused on its historical aspect. This is not a trip primarily devoted to the uncovering or identifying the facts about the origin of the Filipino people. I flew in to Butuan primarily for work-related activities but on the side, part of me wanted to visit CARAGA and understand its significance to us Filipinos.

This Tuesday was a bit dismal in all aspects. For one, the weather was dull and gloomy – the sky never cleared up even for a bit. Two, our prospect client for a clinical chemistry machine had decided to buy from a local competitor. And three, the museums I’ve visited was disturbingly drab.

I asked myself what products or objects Butuan City is known for. Certainly it’s not known for its food as there were only a couple of decent restaurants in the area. We could not even find any pastry shop say Goldilocks or Red Ribbon even as we passed by all major streets in the city, except for a local one along the national highway. We were told that a Goldilocks shop may have closed down because of poor sales.

The city is not known for eco-tourism either. Butuan is situated on a delta of several rivers, the largest of which is the mighty Agusan. None of the eco-tours could be found in the city. We were also told that there used to be a river-cruising activity nearby, similar to Bohol’s Loboc River Cruise but then it was not at all sustained.

Economic activities in the area are fewer than its neighbor cities like Cagayan de Oro. But Butuan, being the regional center of Caraga and as of the moment, the capital of the province of Agusan del Norte (in later years, the capital is said to be transferred to Cabadbaran), government administration and regional department offices are located here.

It used to be the “Timber City of the South.” Much of the logging and lumber actions were coursed through the Agusan River.  The boom was said to have happened in the 1950s to 1970s. At present, the industry had diminished due to the log ban and because of several efforts to protect the forest and the environment as whole.

 

Butuan and timber I think had a long history together.  Found in the 1970’s were several archaeological sites of wooden boats at the banks of El Rio de Butuan and Masao River. The boat parts and some of the wares were dug up from muddy banks and were reconstructed through commissioned archaeologists and restoration experts of the National Museum.

  

The first of these discovered boats was restored, preserved and displayed at the Balanghai Shrine in Libertad, Butuan City.  I visited the shrine before lunchtime and the museum was in a terrible shape. Though the Balanghai was housed in a glass box and supported by frames to hold its shape, the building was poorly maintained. Behind the boat displays were rows and rows of old wooden planks from some of the excavated Balanghai boats. We were told that these parts are still to be preserved and re-assembled. Some of the walls where replaced with ply woods to protect the boat parts that were just displayed in th open, which were still in the process of restoration.

Judging from the structure of the shrine alone, you wouldn’t think that it’s a museum. I thought that it’s just one of the rundown government offices around. Well yes, it is under the National Museum but sad to say, the place was in a very disappointing state. Obviously there’s no support and no effort to restore and improve the condition of the shrine.

I was bothered by the poor condition of the Balanghai Shrine. But at least I was relieved to see the old wooden boat.  There it was, several meters long, a bit narrow but big enough to carry a family or two.  Historians claim that in the boat there was a social organization, a basic unit of sort, comprising a group of families that functioned much like the barangays of today.

These archaeological finds clearly pointed out that there was a flourishing activity in Butuan hundreds of years before the Spaniards came.  These boat parts were carbon-dated and had been traced as far as 320 AD. I looked at the Balanghai and wondered how many more of these were still buried deep in the delta.

They said that 9 of these boats had already been known to exist. 2 more have been added and were in the process of documentation. Out of these finds, only 3 were excavated, the rest were still buried in the mud. The National Museum could not excavate them due to lack of financial support.

I looked at the ancient planks that were still waiting to be assembled. Every plank had wood splinters protruding on opposite sides. I found out that these were pegs used to attach the flat timbers together. The Balanghai was also described as a round bottomed boat, Neolithic in architectural design, that is driven by a sail and steered by a rudder.

I could not take photos of the boat since the museum would not allow it. Suffice to say though that seeing the Balanghai boat with my own eyes is a form of recognizing the possible root of the Filipino race. Certainly one of these types of open-water boat may have carried the forebears of our nation.

I decided to proceed to the National Museum Branch in Butuan City. Just like the Balanghai Shrine, the museum is dilapidated and depressing. There were only two galleries in the museum. The gallery on the left houses the artifacts discovered before the Spanish colonial era. The other gallery displayed the ethno-cultural items attached to CARAGA.

  

  

  

The items in the Archaeological gallery justified the claim of historians that: there existed an international trading activity between Butuan and China as well as with Cambodia, Thailand and Vietnam long before the Spaniards came; that our ancestors practiced a burial system where the dead are placed in wooden coffins and are placed in caves; and that the area had a thriving gold ornament industry that attracted traders from foreign lands.

These boats, the Balanghais, pre-historic native boats of Butuan are the best items attached to Butuan City today. As a repository of the ancient boats, may the city continue to value its dug-up treasures, being the only site that contains such artifacts. May the national government fuel some funds to unearth the remaining Balanghais and restore the Shrine for people to be reminded of how we Filipinos came to be.    

A Chance in the Land of the Souls

I’ve been wanting to search out how this place came up with a name CARAGA. People may think that it’s an abbreviation of the names of the provinces under this region, but it’s not. Unlike SOCSKSARGEN which is made up of the provinces of South Cotabato, Sultan Kudarat, Saranggani and General Santos City, CARAGA is not an acronym of sort.

Politically, CARAGA ADMINISTRATIVE REGION is composed of the provinces of Agusan del Norte, Agusan del Sur, Surigao del Norte and Surigao del Sur. The region was created in February 1995 through Republic Act 7901. These cluster formed the northeastern portion of the island of Mindanao.

I’ve been to CARAGA several times and yet I could not point a certain fact from my memory about the place, except that it’s in the island of Mindanao. I’ve been asking myself if CARAGA had a particular place in the history of the Filipino people or if it has cultural and socio-economic significance.

A lot of chronicles claimed that this is the “Land of the Brave and Fierce People.” But I question the bravery and the viciousness since there’s not much record about tribal wars and colonial resistances by the CARAGANS.

But pardon me if I come across haughty and arrogant. I must say that I am a self-confessed ignorant stranger to the region and yet I welcome any opportunity to learn, explore and understand the history and the culture of the place. Do not get me wrong though. I would love to visit CARAGA and unravel its hidden facts when I get the best opportunity to do so.

I know that there are some port keys to the region. The name itself may be the starting point of my personal unraveling of CARAGA’s air of mystery. Historians would claim that CARAGA comes from the word kalagan. The word could be split into kalag and an. Kalag is a Visayan term for soul and with the suffix an added to it the new word kalagan would then mean the land of the souls.

I do not know where the central soul of the region is. CARAGA has these cities: Butuan and Cabadbaran in Agusan del Norte, Bayugan City in Agusan del Sur, Surigao City in Surigao del Norte and Tandag and Bislig in Surigao del Sur.

Butuan City may have one of the oldest cultural treasures in the country because of the discovery of the balanghai boats near the Libertad River. Agusan del Sur had its amazing marsh which claims to be the biggest in Asia. Surigao del Norte, aside from being known as the center for surfing activities in the country, it is also known for its rich deposits of nickel. Surigao del Sur had its cultural tribes like the Mamanwas and the Mandayas. These are interesting places to name a few.

I’d have a wonderful opportunity to explore Butuan City this week. I hope that in this regional center, I would be given the chance to see the soul of its brave and fierce people.

SNL: Saturday Night Loneliness

Jeans with embroidered back pockets, a dark blue pull-over on a tight polo shirt, a pair of light sneakers and an outbreak on the nose, I stared at the mirror, getting ready to leave the house on a Saturday night.

Mom and dad had arrived from the mall. They bought dresses for the grandchild which they haven’t seen yet. I waited for them to return. I didn’t have the keys to the house. Before I left, dad reminded me to pick up Lester at 10 pm from his duty at a provincial hospital.

ZeeWee and I sped away. A day after the fiesta sa Birhen sa Regla, the traffic in Mandaue and Lapu-lapu were considerably light. I managed to reach the airport in 20 minutes. I parked ZeeWee at the Waterfront Hotel and proceeded to the ticketing center of Cebu Pacfic.

“It’s Time Everybody flies.” There it was again, the logo of the airline that never failed to disappoint me. I was able to get tickets for my Butuan trip next week. I needed to go since my dealer had an important bidding to attend to and besides, I needed to be away from my base city (CEBU).

This particular weekend had been terribly lonely. On the way to the city, I sent text messages to my friends, inviting them for a dinner or coffee. I felt the need to see them because we did have several things to talk about. We needed to discuss on things we mentioned in our emails. Besides, it’s Saturday and people should be going out with friends to unwind and to chill out.

But I was the only one who’s up to it. Friends replied back that they just needed to stay at home to nurse an illness. A friend texted me back that she’s still in Manila until the second week of December. Others replied that they’re still at work, and some did not reply at all.

So I was all by myself at the I.T. Park, sipping my mocha frapp while I flipped the pages of The Inquirer and The Manila Bulletin. I still had 2 hours to wait for my brother. I still waited for anyone to invite me to a certain gig or something. But I knew it would not happen.

I visited my dealer’s restaurant at The Gallery and checked out for some action. The strip had its usual share of people. I saw my dealer’s acoustics band playing in their restaurant and I decided to just hang around a bit and listen to their music.

I was alone on a Saturday night. I couldn’t quite understand why I felt so much loneliness just by sitting outside of the restaurant and watching the band played on and on. Maybe it’s one of those days that we should just let by. Yes I felt down and a little distressed. It’s just ironic that the band “Chito & Friends” sang their version of Stevie Wonder’s “Overjoyed.” I left before the song came to an end.

 

 

 

Lunch with the Zodiacs

The signs came to dine together for lunch. The crab sat at the near end of the table. The goat was at his left and the archer, to his right. The scorpion joined in with the reheated lasagna on her hands. The lion was still in the john, doing something on the throne.

The goat’s sinangag was served for the crab.  It was a request from the Cancer sign. The goat made sautéed left-over rice with garlic, onion and a dash of salt. This food was paired with a piece of fried poulet avec un peu calmar et le porc barbeque.

The archer was contented with her lunch of deux tranches du poisson. As she chewed on the fish meal, beads of tears fell on her cheeks. She missed her prodigal daughter, the mother of her grandchild Drew. Now the goat stopped munching on the pasta. He knew that the archer could not understand why her daughter would not open up to her.

It has been two years since the prodigal daughter fled back to Canada and she never had the chance to listen nor to talk to her. Now this daughter has been hiding away from the family. We could always just imagine how she’s been and what she’s been up to.

The goat asked the archer if she still wants to go to Canada and look for her daughter. The archer continued to cry. She said that if ever they’d get to Canada, they’ll take the chance to look for her but they will not raise their hopes of ever finding her.  The archer and the crab felt that this prodigal daughter would not want to see them.

I, the goat, told them that when the opportunity appears, they should just enjoy Calgary with the archer’s sisters, well and good if they could locate Drew and her mom. I tried to ask them why their daughter was like that. Why she turned out that way. Has pride and remorse consumed her?

The goat asked the archer “If ever you’d see her in Canada, what would you say to her?” The archer fell silent. The goat knew that she wanted her daughter to come back home and start a new life here.  “What could I say?” she asked back. “She’s just too stubborn and proud and angry. I do not know what to say to her to make her change her mind. I’m already old and I don’t want to die without seeing her again.”

The crab wanted to see her daughter too. He remembered how sweet the prodigal child was when she was young. But now, he could not understand why she turned out that way. The goat explained to her that generally people born under the sign of the scorpion are mysterious and suspicious. Scorpio is the misunderstood sign in the Zodiac. They are known to be unyielding, perhaps bordering on being stubborn.

The crab listened on as the goat explained that Scorpios are also known to hold grudge to those who hurt them. They have great memories but they are incapable of letting things go, which was perhaps why we never heard the prodigal daughter say she’s sorry.  She is the type who could never forgive and forget.

The goat remembered the other scorpion in the family, the one to his left and said, “Your case is a combination of the traits of Scorpio and Sagittarius. You fall on the border of both signs being the last day of Scorpio. Yes you are very determined in getting what you wanted and you manifested some traits to be always in control. I would not be surprised why people in the house could not understand you at times.”

“You are a bit an archer because you seemed to be easily affected with boredom. Procrastination is your common Achilles heel and you often could not finish what you’ve started.”

But the archer in front of me was different. My mom is less emotional than my dad – the crab – and I could always find in her the positive spirit and the optimistic attitude. Mom is the cheerleader in the house. She always speaks the truth, no matter how painful it is to hear. She always speaks what’s on her mind. What I like about mom is that she’s good in decision-making. Like most archers, she shines under pressure. Mom could easily survive any crisis.

The goat shifted to the crab and told him that people born under the sign may be both dependent and independent. Yes. They do not depend on others for the basic necessities but then they are needy and dependent on others emotionally. Crabs need to feel that they are needed. Oftentimes they are shy and insecure. They sulk in self-pity and they get easily hurt and offended.

My dad also dwelled in the past. Just like any other Cancer, he has emotional issues to deal with. But how could he solve these issues if his daughter is so proud and unyielding?

Before they could even ask what traits goats or Capricorns have, the lion emerged from la salle de toilette.  He then proceeded to the table and devoured the reheated lasagna and the marshmallow chocolate cake. The lion was hungry. We stopped the conversation and turned to the lion that was my brother.

The crab then averred that my brother had the same Zodiac sign as the little rock star diva. We all then resigned to the fact the people under the sign of the lion always make their presence known.

Birthdays and Travels

To avoid the horrendous traffic that might be caused by the Feast of the Virgin of the Rule (Opon, Mactan Island), I went home before the clock struck 4pm. I didn’t want to be stranded in the streets of Mandaue and miss Ellen’s Birthday.

My sister prepared food for her birthday. When I got home, her specialty dessert – trays of mango float – were already in the fridge and she was at my other sister’s house to prepare the lasagna. I saw mom at the kitchen, to make ready the chicken parts for frying while dad took charge of the slabs of pork belly for the grill.

We always celebrate birthdays like this – a simple dinner in the house with Mom, Dad and the siblings plus our brother-in-law and the little rock star diva. Ellen also invited her boyfriend for dinner and he brought an amazing cake with lighted candles. The little rock star diva blew the candles off.

The siblings were not complete. As mentioned in the earlier blogs, one of the siblings, which I labeled the prodigal daughter who now has a daughter, was based in Calgary, Alberta. Our other sibling, the pretty and gor-geous Ken was working in Cavite and she could not come. My brother Lester was not with us at dinnertime as he was on duty at a government hospital.

  

So it was just us and the little rockstar diva. Dad was so fond of my little niece kim. Allow me to correct that with her tender age of 2, she’s quite a bit huge. Kim always snatches mom and dad’s attention. After all, she’s the first grand child. Now the kid is like a puppet. She would mimick all the words she hears, she would copy whatever dad would do such as ballet splits and pirouettes. Yes the little diva likes to tiptoe and ballet dance, just like what she saw on a barbie movie.

Seeing little KIM has made Mom and Dad remember their other grandchild which they have yet to see in the flesh. DREW, the prodigal daughter’s child is almost 2 years old now. My parents would wonder if there would be a chance for them to see the mother and child or would they ever be given the chance to hold the grand daughter for the first time.

As Dad was busy playing with the little rockstar diva, Mom was thinking about her dreams and wishes of traveling to north america not only because she wanted to travel but for the ultimate purpose of finding where her daughter and grandchild live. Yes she knew that they’re still in Calgary but then how would you locate them if the only information you got is a P.O. box number? We did not even know how to contact her as she did not give out her phone numbers also.

Mom told me that dad would sometimes cry in silence when he’d remember DREW. How he’d longed to hug and play with Drew as much as he would with KIM. But thinking about Drew being so far and isolated from him made him even more sad. If only the plane fare is cheap and visa to Canada is easy to get then he would take the first flight out of the country and in to maple-leaf country. How he longed to hold DREW before he’d die. He felt sorry for the child. Drew has nothing to do with the issues with her mom and the family.

I learned from mom that dad wanted to buy dresses for DREW. He would ask mom to go with him to the mall to get Drew some clothes. But I asked mom how they’re going to send it to Canada when a P.O. box number’s the only contact info they ever got.

Mom said that they’d still do it, no matter what. Mom also dreamt of seeing the mother and child. She’s hoping that one of her nurse children would land a job in the states. She hoped that either Kim’s mom or Ellen or Lester would sponsor their trip to the americas. She would also ask her sisters in Calgary to sponsor and invite them to come to Canada. In that way, they could do a little search to locate the prodigal daughter and Drew.

It’s such a happy-sad moment, discussing the plans of travel at the dining table. I looked around and the seats were not completely filled. There were three empty chairs. One for Lester, the other for Ken and the last one which had been empty for almost 10 years was for the prodigal daughter. My parent’s would no longer wish for the seat to be filled, they’d wish to travel to Canada, look for her and Drew and to be with them even only for a few specks of time.

A Version of Paradise

Several hundred feet above the city, secluded from the concrete panorama that is Cebu, there’s a piece of Eden in the highlands of To-ong where the heavens could bow down to kiss the lips of the fruitful land and the earth could offer its fruits not only to the sky but also for stunned soul.

In the seventh heaven, green vines cling to matrices of white lines as its roots lay hidden by plastic stretches of black. Their roots dug deep into the ground for nutrients as their leaves bask under the sweet sunshine rays. Some of these vines had yellow displays, awaiting pollination. Other vines are already carrying its hope at the stems. The hope being referred to is the gourd.

There beside the rows of ampalaya, a kiosk was built. A concrete hexagon constructed as the master’s resting gazebo. From this vantage point, the master beckoned the stunned soul to step in and savor a sweet fruit from his farm. I looked at the master’s hand and saw the huge papaya which he opened.  The master did not throw away the seeds of the red lady variety. He collected them and placed them in a nursery cage and let them germinate. Soon in time for Christmas, when new plants sprout from the seeds, the master would gather all the toilers of To-ong and give them the papaya seedlings.

The red lady variety was very sweet. Such a papaya, the master said, was difficult to grow. He planned to share to the farmers, his ways of producing sweet red ladies. I ate three wedges of this produce rich in vitamin A and C.

The master and the stunned soul held the meeting under the cover of the gazebo. The view was breath-taking. His paradise is his fields of gourds, fruits, vegetables and crops. The master is himself a farmer.

His was a different kind of farming. His was a mixture of techniques mostly new and organic, different from what farmers usually do.  The master had formed a brotherhood of farmers. Farmers could seek aid and assistance from the group.  At the gazebo, the master could transfer knowledge and techniques to his co-members.

His produce were brought to several huge markets in the metro. His papayas were bought by several suppliers to five-star hotels. His veggies were sold to the city market every week. And the master is making profit from these activities.

The nice thing about his farm was his drive for the organic method of planting. His quest for the ultimate organic method of farming continued on. For the moment, organic fertilizers were used to produce the crops. He practiced composting – the digging of pit with alternate layering of organic waste from the farm with the soil and with the use of vermi-worms to aid in the decomposition of the wastes and the production of important nutrients for the plants.

The master talked on and on about his projects for his kingdom. He wanted to promote eco-tourism. He wanted to build up a training complex for corporate or organizational team building activities. He wanted to put up a restaurant where he could personally cook for the guests using the fruits and vegetables that the guests would pick from his farm.

Such a huge dream, but it’s not at all impossible. I haven’t known any endeavor here in the province similar to Sonia’s Garden in Tagaytay City. If his plans would push through, it would be a certain hit.

  

  

Now that the gazebo had already been constructed and the water system already installed, the master could always come to his paradise to take a break from the city stress and to unwind from a long day’s toil.  He had already executed portions of his dream. He had already started enjoying the fruits of his vision. And on the hill tops of To-ong, the master would eventually reign on his version of paradise.