Sense in these senseless times

I don't know how to start this without omitting any details. Today, I had my brush with the Talibans and the Mujahiddin.

At 12:10 today a bomb exploded in the center of Qunduz in Afghanistan. The target was the former head of the Mujahiddin. In the blast, there were 18 bystanders who were deemed collateral damage, including a 6 year old girl.

The team responded well to the emergency. We were very quick in triaging the injured and prompt in the management of the cases. I saw a man with his left leg totally blasted off,and another with the gaping hole on his abdomen. Despite the severe injuries, we were lucky that we have a good team so there were no other persons died in our hospital.

The head of the Mujahiddin was however, unlucky. He was dead on arrival.

With all the commotions,there was an exodus of people outside the hospital - military, press, common people and other what nots. It was my first time to see tanks and men with AK47s, submachine guns and other artillery I couldn't even name.

I had to deal with the dead body and meet all the grieving "family". I had to have a shouting spree with the members of the special investigations division because they want to come inside the hospital. In the end, releasing the body has reduced the tension in the compound.

My adrenaline has gone down now and I just want to lay in bed and cover myself with a blanket. After all of these, thinking of the lives lost and living wasted, I am happy to have come to a conviction: I am proud to be here and give my best to the victims of these senselessness. There is already too much hurting in this world and me being here, even just providing a little bit of care and protection to the patients is enough.

I salute our brave men and women who risk their lives in helping other people. In the end, what we do defines us -- and that is all that matters.

A-tinggling we will go....

A couple of days ago, while taking a long ride from the field to the office, one of the guys started to ask about the efficacy of viagra on young men. Being the know-it-all that I am, I started my lamentation on the abuse of this drug and the side effects it would cause. I also volunteered some information about Cialis (which by the way you can buy over the counter, without prescription in a lot of countries in Asia)and got some curious georges asking more about it.

And the story winded on to some more sex and me being too polite to tell them, I wanted to sleep, I give in to the endless barrage of questions.

And then I asked: Do you know about the clitoris?

Blank faces - innocence personified.

Apparently, a lot of men all over the world do not know where the love button is!

And I asked further: So what is it that you do? Just huff and puff and blow the house down?

Sex is a funny topic. It gets everyone interested, curious and even downright eager. But when it comes to the mechanics of things, some gets lost in the action and not with the parts associated with it (the act, dummy).

And when I got more puzzled look, I just yawned and closed my eyes. Enough for today's class.

Of cameras and acts

I should have smiled when he took a photo of me.

I have been on TV, yes - a couple of times, but never on international news.Some news agency came to ask for on the interview about 10 days ago on the the floods here in Sindh and then someone from French 24 came and took some footages whilst we are moving into our house (if you call a-one-bedroom-for 14 people-a-house).

15 minutes of fame, here I come. And like I said, I should have smiled. But then looking around at the desperation of the IDPs, I decide to put on sad and serious face. It wasn't on my best angle, and I was wearing a rather pudgy vest -- but hey! a lot of people would kill for their 15 minutes of fame.

Have a scan on your TV channels - everywhere in world, there seems to be a competition showcasing the amazing hidden,some not so-amazing and downright rubbish talents showbusiness has. I admire the guts of those who shame themselves in front of the camera, but I guess before one starts to strut their voice and shrill their dances (you read it right) - they should ask first: "what would santa claus say?"

And so there I was thinking whether I should proceed wowing the world with my emotions, I decided to tone it down low and speak as truthfully as damn possible.

Jacklyn Jose, eat that!

Freaking Glad To Be Back!

I can't believe that it has been more than a year since I have posted something here. I admit I got a bit dismayed by the lack of internet connection in most of my missions, uninspired by some turn of events and had accumulated so much experiences (!) that I totally lost interest in sitting down and typing them into one fluid story.

What broke the camel's back? I have received 3 (yes, Marsha, 3!) requests for new posts -- not from my friends who regularly check on this blog, but random acquaintances. It seems mid life crisis is more apparent these days, no? And so after so much dilly-dallying and spending too much time in the office - bored to death with protocol and policy writing - I did what most office employees do: went online, searched the web and now, writing on my blog.

I promise on a boy scouts three-fingered oath that I will constantly write something here.

There.

Dubious Emails

I have received 33 emails today. A third of these were from Facebook and another third were from amigos and amigas greeting me for my birthday.Two emails were from Yangoon, an email from Pantaloons in India, and two emails asking for help. The rest were unworthy to be opened.

Those emails asking for help were actually funny. So I receive one from a doctor friend from Kenya (Peter Mwangi) saying that he went to London, lost his wallet, and now is locked in his hotel. He needs 5,000 pounds and wants to know my address, telephone number and bank details. The other is from a Filipino acquaintance who I met when I was in Vanuatu.She wasn't a friend - she just pushed herself into my life. The first time I received an email from her was a couple of years ago when she said she is selling her house so she can send her 14 years old kid to school. Now she is asking to borrow money because she is in a "transition" period (whatever that means). The weird thing about her email was she mentioned (in the last paragraph) that she will put the money in my bank (if she will pay), and that I should call her if I will make the deposit.

I can hear the scam bells ringing loud and clear, here!

I am very much amazed at the creativity of people who send "help" emails.The probably spend time concocting stories so some vulnerable person would jump and send them money. I mentioned vulnerable and not stupid -- because I actually know of a guy (an intelligent one at that) who sent "help" to Uganda because his friend needs to be taken out of the hotel! Two weeks later he met his friend at a mall in Manila and told his friend if he did received the money sent. The friend, after the confusion has been settled, said thank you BUT he was never in Uganda. What would he be doing there?

Another guy I know from my VSO days became ecstatic when he received an email from one of those African countries specializing in spam mails. The sender is a banker who holds in trust some 200 million dollars and that the real owner died in a plane crash. So if he (my not-so-stupid friend) accept this responsibility, the banker will send him the money proviso ---- (drum rolls) he gives him bank account number, telephone number, etcetera.

And yes, he did sent the nitty gritty details, including his wife's bank account for fear that $200 million will be too much on his account number. I don't know what the ending to his story is. I didn't know if his savings were cleaned or if money was actually deposited. Who knows? All I know that in this day and age, there still are precious innocents!

One more time - for the books

For those who watched and loved Slumdog Millionaire, they would also love the book from which this movie was based on. The book is Q&A, written by Vikas Swarup and all I can say that it is a gem!I was hooked from page one to the last -- almost forgetting that I had to be in the predeparture area 15 minutes before the flight.

I found myself enjoying a lot of asian authors recently. I think I have finished all the books by Haruki Murakami and had started to discover Indian authors and their amazing talents.

Whilst in India, I have devoured novels by Anita Desai (who have written novels about family tensions and the alienation of lower and middle class women -- some of these were even made into films), Jhumpa Lahiri (who wrote the Namesake and other short stories), Arundhati Roy (The God of Small Things, Kiran Desai, Salman Rushdie,Vikram Seth (A Suitable Boy) and my latest favorite Aravind Adiga who wrote The White Tiger (which won the Booker prize).

I believe there are a lot of talented asians and what they have written touch me because of the commonality of experiences. Not basically because of our location, but it is easier to empathize and sympathize with the characters and the situations.

In this day of movies and videos readily available for anyone at anytime, I still find solace, adventure, love, experience, fantasy, escape, and a whole lot of things from books. I am lucky to have some friends who share with me the same passion for reading.

and you can print me on that....

Greetings-A-Gaga

I am often irritated when upon meeting friends (and acquaintances) who I haven't seen for a long time greet me with this statement:

"Hi... Are you rich now?"


I mean, common. Let's be civilized here. I haven't seen you for a long time and you can't even ask how I am and where I have been all these years? I know that Ethics (with a capital E) is refined as Experiences (with a capital E)grow, and that common sense should prevail at all times (note that common sense is not even italicized -- it is just that it isn't common these days). But wouldn't the natural thing be when meeting long lost friends --- just being happy you've found each other?

I had this friend from med-school days who I have recently met while pushing my grocery cart (where else but SM city?) and guess what he asked me: "I heard you are rich now, is that true?"

I answered: "indi a. makasarang lang.." (roughly translated as : You bet your sweet ass, I am!)

In Ethiopia, one of my favorite places in the world, people when they meet have the traditional hug and handshake. And as a sign of respect, ask the person ten times how he is... Redundant but very endearing.

In Vanuatu, my 'family' would give me a big hug (more of a huge squeeze, really)to show their happiness in seeing me.

So going back to the weird way my friends greet me, I become defensive and often times snobbish. I hate this feeling as this develops into hate....later I would find myself locking my wandering butt in the house for fear of meeting old friends and be defensive about their paranoia of me being rich.

Maybe I should wear a t-shirt saying: I'm not rich, but I am definitely famous.

.... or maybe just the shirt which says: "Fuck off".

God! The travails of going home!

Old Articles

I am posting something which I have written for MSF-HK some years back -- after I finished my first mission in Ethiopia.It's not for the lack of things to write that I am putting this here, but due to some requests from people who have been following my blog. These (articles) have been printed in Hong Kong and distributed to high school students, and published in the msf-Hong Kong website some years back. These articles have also been used for fund raising. I hope you will like them!


Saying a prayer

Dear Friends,

Hi! Salam no (that means peace in Amharic)! It's been quite a while since I have written you all. I have here in Abdurafi, Ethiopia – the farthest and the most isolated part – for the past 4 weeks now. I am all alone in the -project: the PC had just been evacuated because of glandular fever and the ex-pat nurse has to go back to England because of family problems.

It has so far been okay, I mean, being the project coordinator and all. It's a new thing for me so there is a lot of room for mistakes and of course, improvements. I have had the opportunity to manage the hospital in Vanuatu, but here, it's a different ball game. Anyways, if there's one thing which would make me feel bad, it's the patients and not the "office work".

I think from this perspective I could say with much conviction that WE ARE VERY LUCKY. We worry about the trivial things everyday – what kind of food we want to eat, where shall we go after work, our mobile phone credits, what kind of outfit best needed for this occasion, so on and so forth. Here, I have seen a lot of young men and even children walking hundreds of kilometers to work in sesame, sorghum and cotton farms. Their average daily wage is approximately 3 US dollars, and they stay in these farms in the direst of conditions. No clean water to drink, not enough food, and no medicines for malaria and other diseases.

The other day, I had a referral from the local Bureau of Health because of a young man who had fever of more than 2 months, enlarged spleen and severe emaciation (his BMI was less than 13%). The only property he has is the clothes on his back – he doesn't even have anything on his feet.

I could never forget the look on his face when he died. There is that look of hopelessness – something which I could not describe, but something which I can truly feel. Something which you can taste. Here is someone in front of me who left his home and family to earn some money, dying without his family knowing. Dying, without someone saying a prayer for him.

He will be buried in an unmarked grave, along with hundreds of migrant workers from all over Ethiopia.

As a doctor, I try to separate myself from the harsh realities of my job. At medical school, we were told to keep the doctor-patient relationship strictly professional. It would be better to treat patients if you have little emotional baggage. Here, I can't help but empathize with every sick person who comes to the clinic. Why? These are people who bet on their lives to earn some money for themselves and their family. Sometimes, they loose their bet. That is one hard price they have to pay.

I am sorry if this letter is a bit depressing. I guess there is no other way to tell the story. I'll try to make it up beat next time, promise!

Miss you all!

Erwin




September 20, 2006

The value of money

Dear friends,

Hello! I would like relate my story in Amharic (just to brag – hahahaha!) but of course, no one could understand it. I have been here for 3 months now and I feel quite confident in speaking the language. In fact, when I go on rounds, I ask the nurse not to interpret for me. Anyways, it so much fun to look at the faces of the patients when I speak Amharic.

It had been a rough week for us – my national staff doctor has been away for the Somali explo and one of my nurses is sick. The number of patients we were taking care of was more than what the clinic can handle. On top of this, the cholera treatment center has been receiving more than 60 patients per day. Thank God I have another ex-pat helping me with CTC or else I would go crazy!

I know you probably are asking if I still get very interesting cases. Yes, I do. Kala Azar is quite an easy disease to treat if the patient comes early. However, when the parasite has devoured much of the patient, the course would be a short slide down hill. Worst, if the patient is co-infected with HIV.

The other day, I was informed by the nurse on duty at 2:00 am of a patient in status epilepticus. A migrant worker was admitted earlier that day because of severe emaciation, fever, spleenomegaly and epistaxis.

The patient was still having focal seizures when I arrived. A young male probably aged 20-22 years, BMI of less than 15%, lies on the bed. He was clinching his fist very tightly. His random blood sugar was very low, making me think that one of the probable causes of his seizures would be hypoglycemia. But then, he also has diarrhea, so it could be anything. After giving Phenobarbital, hydration and pushing glucose intravenously, the patient calmed down.

When he relaxed his hand, we found 800 birr (about 100 US dollars)! I told the nurse to keep the money so no one would take it from the patient while he is asleep. The next day, he was up but severely weak. I asked him why he is so thin when he had money to spend for food. Why is he wearing a torn shirt when he could buy himself decent clothes?

He gave me a wry smile and answered softly: "It is for my family".

I tried holding back my tears, because a lot of us would do everything for our family, or for the persons we valued. I have heard of countless of stories of people leaving their comfort zones to earn money somewhere else. A lot of Filipinos have sacrificed themselves so their families would have a scrap of luxury back home.

But what is the actual value of money in a place like Ethiopia? 800 birr would feed his family for the next three months. He would be able to buy seeds for the next planting season. He would be able to get on a bus and go home. 800 birr is probably worth two cows, or four goats, or three sheep. 800 birr is big money.

After two days of ups and down in the patient's condition, he died.

I asked the staff as to who shall I send the money the patient owns, but all I got was a shrug from every member of the staff. We don't know where he came from – all we have was a name.

What is really the value of money? For this young man, it was his life.

Every year for four to five months, thousands of migrant workers go these parts of Ethiopia to work in the farms. The population in Abdurafi which is about 50,000 during summer would go up as high as 180,000 during the planting season. Of these, hundreds of young men die from hunger and malnutrition, HIV/AIDS and Kala Azar, and other diseases. The sad reality is that for money, a lot of these people would be willing to risk life and limbs.

On the other side of the world, a lot of my friends have asked me why I am in this kind of work. I, along with thousands of volunteers risk also our life and limbs for a lot of different reasons. I used to respond with a very generic answer: "I want to make a difference". Recently, I have changed my answer to: "I can make a difference". Money has been an issue with a lot of my friends. Of course, I fully understand them. We were in school for almost 10 years of our lives and so, to "waste" it by not earning enough, is absolutely crazy. However, it is not always about the money. Sure, it is nice to have ready cash to spend on things you wanted, but at the end of the day, you ask: "Am I satisfied"? "Have I done my part and helped people"? How much more money do I want"?

So you see my friends, we all have different valuation of things. I don't question our quest for better financial status. The value of what we work for depends on whose perspective it falls into. A young man, barely out of his adolescence would at anytime give his life for a hundred dollars for his family. What would we give in exchange for what we do?

I hope have not touched any raw nerves. My work in this isolated place has taught me a lot of things. I am learning everyday – even though it is the hard way. I also hope that I have opened up some views, and made you all realized how important life is.

Keep in touch and please do give any response to this letter. Miss you all!

Erwin

Questions on Hospitality

I have wanted to write some things on my blog for a long time now. I never had the inspiration for it – despite the many things which happened recently. The saying “old knives need to be sharpened always” is true in my case. I haven’t really lost the knack for writing – I just didn’t feel like writing. I don’t want to make excuses for my failure but, hey! Gimme a break!

However, a couple of days ago I had a rather weird conversation with an old friend --- whom I have not seen for a long, long time – and this woke/provoked/invoked the sleeping wannabe-writer in me.
The setting: Posh coffee shop, somewhere in Davao City
The time: 3 am

Let me give you a background about my friend. He was a classmate in the university. He was from another class, but when we reached 4th year, we went to the same hospital to do our internship. Friend was a quiet guy, very unassuming, and since he is from Mindanao, he seldom joins the Ilonggo group who are more boisterous and popular. Nevertheless, “friend D” was accepted and soon became a part of my other ‘beer-kadas’. We went to Cebu in the last year of the internship to take the now-defunct NMAT (National Medical Aptitude Test). I passed and he didn’t so that was the last time I saw him.

And so we forward to the recent times, when upon coming back home from a mission, another friend told me that he (the former friend D) is a now a big political guy in one of the towns in Mindanao! Pleasantly shocked, because I never saw Leadership potentials in him when we were in the university. He was always the timid guy sitting at the back row, bowing his head during class recitation.

So when I came to Davao last week, I sent some of my friends a text message, informing them that I will be in the city for three nights only (wow--- it’s like I’m doing a show, huh?). Willie (one of my closest friends), couldn’t come because his wife just delivered (congratulations – at long last – it is a boy!!!) and two others couldn’t come because of the strong rains in Kidapawan, Cotabato. So there I was with “friend D”. The first time I saw him was weird – because we didn’t know whether we’d shake hands or not (we were never huggers – even way back then). And after the usual how are you’s, he invited me to a resto where his wife was waiting.

We dined, and it was very nice for the wife was a pleasant conversationalist – befitted to be a politician’s wife. She knows how to say the proper words at the proper time. I learned that they have two beautiful girls and that they are trying to conceive once more. At 10:30 pm, Mrs. Soon-to-be-Mayor left.So me and friend D went out for a beer or two. Or three. Then it was 1:00 am.

He suggested we go to a brothel.

I stopped short and told him – “but your wife?”

No answer. I told him that I would rather stay in the hotel because I have to catch the 6 am flight.

He was persistent.

I didn’t expect him to offer to bring me to the “finest” prostitution den in Davao City. He may want to show his hospitality by offering me that’s why I was caught off guard.

When I was younger (read: uni days), I have had my share of “the good times” with classmates and friends – I admit. Some are memorable but most of those times were awkward and forgettable. I was young, naive, uncertain and lacked the self esteem most kids nowadays would have. Of course, I had the fear of catching a disease -- brought about by the endless hours of staining urethral and vaginal smears.

Anyways, he kind of resented the fact that I didn’t take on his offer. I told him that I am in a relationship and that being with someone else – much more a prostitute – would hurt both of us. I would be lying more if I said I didn’t want to --- it’s just that I guess I have reached this age where relationships matter more than a mere ejaculation.

He left feeling bad. I felt good about myself. I felt sorry for him. I could finally say that after all these years – after all the experimentations and the uncertainties – I have become mature.

And that makes me really proud.

The Travails of Mr. Common Face

A friend of mine once said: "You do have a common face. You could be a spy". Imagine saying that in the weeeeiiiirdest French accent you clould hear.

Of course I was flushed with admiration on my not so common face! I mean, this guy I just met in Maungdaw gave me the ultimate score on my looks! And he is French at that! (Hello... fashion, ring a bell?)

And then when he left Myanmar, he sent me an email saying, I should work for the CIA! Bastard, doesn't he know that any form of communication is being read, translated and transcribed in Myanmar? So, I said, why not work for the CIA? I've been dodging bullets all my life anyway.... (flash: career change).

So going back to my common face, I remember the following anecdotes in my exciting life that I have been mistaken, unidentified and un-minded. Let me give you recent stories of my predicament:

1. Hong Kong this July 2009. I wanted to buy a reload card for my phone at the 7-11 shop just below the hotel where I was staying. The teller couldn't understand shit as I was doing a lot of non-verbal ways to "say" what I want. (Hint: try "reload card" when you play a game of charades with your friends). So this pinay (wearing sexy jeans shorts) came to me and explained in broken chinese what I wanted. I thanked her, profusely, and she asked me in this wonderful accent that is Bisaya: " Asa man ang amo mo dong?".

2. On the plane from HK to Manila, I was lucky to be seated far from the maddening crowds of passengers eager to go home. The guy next to me, has been looking at me like he wanted to strike a conversation. Tired and jetlagged, I decided to sleep the trip off. Halfway through the Land of Winks, I hear the girl next to him telling him that her employer/boss plan to take her to Auckland. She then said: " Kuya, saan ba yung Auckland?" The guy next to me said: "Malapit sa Ohio yan. Sa States." Can't resist any longer, I burst out saying: "Nasa sa New Zealand po yun..." The guy (God bless his innocence) looked at me and said: "Seaman ka ba sir? Mukhang Chiefmate ka na,ah!"

Hay... I could tell you all stories about me barred by the guards in Churachandpur from getting inside the clinic and office -- because I look like Meitei or the time I was mistaken as a Japanese in Melbourne (by another japanese!). This just simply justify the FACT, that I could really work for the CIA.

Career change?

Fun, fun. Joy, joy.

Ironic Man: The Curious Case of The Reader With The Hang Over (or simply, Me in Manila)

After more than 2 months of intense hibernation, the grizzly bear slowly awakes and attacks. the smell of a new season gently seeps into his cave, giving him thoughts of food and pleasures for his taking. The hunger is getting stronger, the need more imminent. He is ready to pounce on anything that fancies his discerning eye. He is ready.

And then he caught a rather nasty case of flu so went back to bed and sleep for another winter.

Life.

Just when I am about to go for a rather long holiday, i got this rather weird flu: My nbose (yeah you read it as you see it) is combgesteb with the wonderful air from Manila, my body is aching from my toes to the tips of my hair, my eyes look like Dopey after a pipe of Hash with Snow White. Heck, imagine all the seven dwarfs in one guy!

So just when I have the inspiration to tread the paved stinking streets of Manila, armed with an umbrella (it's raining intermittently), a pack of condoms (hey, who knows, I might be lucky), flip flops (it is flooding around Ermita --- yuck, imagine all the goos flushed having an interpersonal relationship with my feet!) and a determination to spend at least a thousand bucks a day --- I got this flu!

(Isn't it ironic, don't you think? It's like rain on your wedding day.....it's a free ride....)

Thank you Alanis Morrissette for putting into undying words and music what I feel. I think I should put you up there with my favorite artists along with Pirot (remember Pronvincial Jail?), Snoop Dogg and Judy Ann Santos singing a lullaby.

Great.

Might as well torture me with watching pinoy teleserye.

Geeky and Loving It

I honestly think that I have been processing a lot of useless information. I believe it is my love for trivia that pre-empted this, and it has been down hill since.

Recently, I have been giving a lecture to the staff in one of our morning IEC's (Information, Education and Communication). I blurted out that the longest word in the medical dictionary is PNEUMONOULTRAMICROSCOPICSILICOVOLCANOCONIOSIS and the longest non-medical word is SUPERCALIFRAGILISTICEXPIALIDOCIOUS. I mean, I literally basked in the "knowing"that such words exist. Nerd.

I blame the Hardy Boys and Nancy Drew. I blame Agatha Christie. I blame all the authors, mentors and even Filipino showbiz personalities that have shaped my minds. I blame Who Wants To be A Millionaire. I blame The Weakest Link (which, by the way I won back in 1999). I blame the New York Times for the weekly puzzles.

For someone growing up and not being invloved in physical sports, the mind games were all I had. Geek.

On the brighter side, I was actually proud of being a bit of a nerd. In one occassion, I attended a high-end party given by the British High Commissioner in Vanuatu. There were a lot of stiffed upper lips in the crowd and a lot of wannabes as well. And there I was, sipping red wine and having cheese mingling with the crowds and trying to be with the "in"crowd. And all of a sudden this guy from the upper east side of London said something about the mating habits of the primates in central africa. The poor guy had no clue that this is actually a conversation killer. But guess who came to the rescue? Moi! So I conversed with him the natural destiny of primates in diverse situations amidst the gawks and the gaping mouths. Hah! How nerdy can you be?

Super Geek to the rescue.

And so it was that the processing these unuseful information has become a tragic event for me. Sweet, but tragic. And that, my friend is the irony of it.

Did you know that.....

for norie and chito

i had a nice fun time last night.

it was one of the few moments that i really enjoyed since coming home on a emergency break. with norie, who was on a "lagare" -- being omnipresent in the hundreds of activities that she's involved in, and chito, who flew in from cebu-bohol trip, harrased, haggard and still hyper -- going out for dinner is not only enjoyable but memorable as well.

the fun began when we went to this japanese resto i recommended (i ate there last year and it was fine). the waiter serving us could have been a model for the naruto series or those dragonball z villains. plucked eyebrows, pasty skin and thin-ness kate moss would have been jealous of - he was apologizing all the time for what is not available in the menu. after two rounds of sashimi and getting the last order of the night, i thought that the food was not so spectacular at all. oh but the coversations we had were. (maybe because i was the one speaking most of the time... hmmm...norie?)

it started with a trip down the memory lane: norie bickering about the ONLY time she fed me in vanuatu, me complaining about her lack of food in her fridge (she only has tomatoes!!!!) and me going out to the market at 7 am on a sunday, chito giving me the dish on the latest happenings and of the fun times drinking kava. hayyy... missing na lang si bong. pero mabait kami because we were so kind not to have mutilated nonoy through our conversations.

following the dinner, norie wanted to have some wine (though she will have an early morning flight the next day) and INSISTED that we should go and join her. afterall, it was her post-birthday celebration. guilt-trip. we went into one of these al fresco bars and not finding wine, we ended up with san miguel light. more kwento. i don't know if it was the atmosphere or me being with my friends that, i felt so relaxed.

since it was norie's birthday, chito and i gave her some wishes -- which i will not reveal here. akala mo, ha? but seriously, i love these guys. i am thankful for them, for being them and for being there. they were with me through the tough and fun times, and through all those times when i really needed preynds. we may not see each other or talk with each other but i know, nandiyan lang ang mga yan. ang nagagawa nga naman ng kava!

happy birthday norie. salamat sa t-shirt, to-chits. sa susunod, mag bi-beer house tayo!

a crisis like no other

the morning i received the news that my mother was unwell and was in the hospital, i felt that same uneasy grip on my stomach when i had giardia. i felt like my bowels would turn and do a pirouette. it felt like the news you have been dreading -- you know it is going to happen -- but you just don't want to hear it.

a couple of years ago, i have had that same feeling when i heard that my father had a stroke. i was in malawi, just about finishing 6 months of endless work (that is another story). i was stressed, burnt out and was up to my heels with the slightest call of leaving the country. as soon as i heard that news, i immediately packed my bags and left for iloilo. it was the most casual departure from a project i ever had. there were no goodbyes, no sad tears and no exchange of email addresses.

anyway, upon arriving in iloilo, i was attacked by my family (my father's family, actually). i was accused of being irresponsible and uncaring, arrogant and without a heart. i could have said that i was running a hospital for people with hiv/aids and displaced people in africa, but i just kept mum about it. what's the use? i think i should not dwell about this here -- i have moved on.

so when i heard the news that my mother was sick, the thoughts of my family attacking me again came rushing through. Me, being the only doctor in the family -- is so far away serving other people when i could be serving my family. guilt. guilt. guilt.

i remember a long time ago, when one of my mentors said: "you can choose your friends, but not your family." this has been so true in my case. sad, but true. i can't deny the fact, however, that despite the misdemeanors and mistakes that we all have, they are still my family.

my mother is well now. recuperating and enjoying the company of her sons and grandchildren. she encourages me to continue my work. she is proud of what i am doing and what i have achieved. and at the end of the day, that is all that matters.

i could go around the world knowing that i have my mother's love.

Vacation Views, Anyone?

I have more than an hour before the clinic starts and more than five hours to decide whether I should suffer muscular fatigue and adrenaline boost with our contemplated sports activity this afternoon.

I can not hide my anticipation for my last few months in India. It has been almost a year since I went home or was home in the Iloilo, Philippines. I could just savor Batchoy or the endless array of sea foods at Tatoy's or the Bulalo at theMarina's....and the cold San Miguel beer! I mean, common! If this is something that you don't look forward to, I wonder what is!

Salivating from that thought, I was thinking where I should be going for my remaining holidays. Sure, I do have 89 days left ( to be exact), but I still have 14 days (excluding weekends and official holidays) left to soak my liver up to the possible limit it could take.

So, where would I go? There are very limited places that we can go (as Filipinos) that doesn't require a visa. Let's look at the possibilities.

1. Bangkok. It's about 400 dollars round trip from Calcutta, but I could fairly say that the "been there, done that" dictum plays here. I have been everywhere and anywhere in Bangkok and have had the "experience" to last me a lifetime... (Considering I have 21 lives, I might go back again and again)

2. Kathmandu, Nepal. Think of the movie The Lost Horizon. Olivia Hussey in Shangrila. Wow. I just need to pay 35 dollars visa fee on arrival.

3. The Maldives. Beach-y. But according to some reliable sources, I would need someone to "be with" and watch the sunset. Heck I want to be drunk! Maybe those size-challenged tourists would like nicer...

4. India. I haven't been to Rajastan and Ladakh and Pondicherry. I would love to -- but I am so sick with the Indian food!!! Sobra na, Tama na!

5. Dubai. Requires visa and would be the perfect place to lounge the whole day in the hotel room ordering room service, surfing the internet and watching tv. Oh, of course, they have amazing man made beaches.

So there..

I have to close this. I have to go and save the world.

Don't tell anyone I am superman.

Being Involved In The Big S

Today is the day that my life changes.
I am going to play sports.
I have been psych-ing myself the past few days and even rationalized on my other colleagues’ lack of physical strength and lack of interest to be in the game. I have been doing sit-ups in the morning and push-ups when I feel the need to boost my flagging morale and ever growing belly. How many sit-ups and push-ups I CAN do? Four full sit-ups and nine push-ups. I don’t want to be hurt….
Some checklist before actually volleying this afternoon:
1. first aid kit (do you know that next to cleanliness, preparedness is also next (next) to godliness?)
2. sun block (India is the spawning ground from skin cancer)
3. water bottle (athletes perform better with adequate – not too much – hydration)
4. health insurance card (who knows – I might need it)
5. camera (to capture those winning Kodak moments)
There! Hopefully, if I find this (activity) satisfying and rewarding enough, I’d have a different career plan by the end of the year.
I wonder if Pacquaio needs a student?

Giving Facebook A Face

i have been addicted to facebook recently. although i have but 117 friends (and counting), i am updated with what's happening where and when and with who. i think this has become the social scenario of the millenium, the link to whoever's past and present and to some extent, the future. it is a nice avenue to track friends from elementary days, the odd peeps from high school and the cool guys from college, the groups mates from medical school, the beer buddies from work and just about anybody who has been a part of your life.

anyways, i don't sign in as often as i wanted to - just because the internet here in cool c'cpur is as slow as the apple falling on newton's head. but whenever i have the time (and the internet speed necessary) i log in and see what my fb friends are doing or planning.

what do i not like about facebook? the pics are polished but i couldn't get the smiles. i admit i have empty smiles too... maybe because i am too conscious that this is going to be posted in facebook. now where did those candid moments go? don't post anything that will show zits or surgical scars! a friend i know photoshops her pics first before posting. the photos look so glossy, i hardly recognize her.

that aside, it is nice to keep up with everyone. i have met (online of course) people who i share the same family name with, acquaintances from conferences of long ago, and the crushes who broke my young heart from yesteryears. and isn't it nice to see them fat and wrinkly like any other human being? life...

i don't know when the fad is going to end. definitely i shall be logging in every now and then to see what you are doing.

More Wedding Wonders

so there i was that fateful saturday... dressed up in one of my favorite shirts, faded jeans and leather shoes. i honestly thought i look like a chinese john wayne, just without the swagger and the spit. the plan was to attend the wedding, stay for an hour and slowly slip out and go back home. nice plan.

the event was supposed to start at 11 am, so we opted to "visit" at 1 pm when the ceremony has finished and the send-off has begun. Here in churachandpur, the bride will have a send off party, hosted by the bride's family (of course) where friends, neighbors and family members will have the last chance of "seeing"the bride with the family. After the send off party, she will be "fetched"by the dashing groom to live in a castle far away from the meddling in laws. or she would be living with her husbands parents, who she probably does not know or like. such fate!

while waiting for the 1 pm toll, i decided to go for lunch at the posh-iest place in town, hoping for my usual pork ribs and chowmien. there i was clickety-clacketing my way through the market, the bust station and the dusty streets of c'cpur in a get up my mother would be ashamed of.

the lunch was amazingly delicious and spicy - that was the best part of the day if you ask me. and at exactly 12:30 i went down to the send off party. half way through i met khaipu and seilen who escorted me and provided the "guarding" necessary for my attire.

at 1:15, there were no familiar faces yet and i was getting agitated. i called the other expats twice but it seems that someone's dress doesn't fit with the shoes. it's like: hey this isn't sex and the city and you are not carrie!.

so anyway, the ceremenony started and we were escorted to take a seat. thinking that it would be impossible for us to escape the ceremony if we were in the front part (facing the bride), i asked seilen and khaipu to sit with me at the back. I saw the smug smiles on the two guys -- and i thought - aha! they too, have plans!

the back part of the garden was covered with a tent and some pieces of beautiful cloth so it looked exclusive -- just us having a party, don't mind the neighbors look.

three minutes into the ceremony, seated at the back, i started to gag. not the one needing the heimlich, but the one when you smell something. i started joking to seilen that he should change his aftershave, but when i looked at him, he was covering his face -- apparently smelling something odd and fetid as well!

it was then that i noticed that the ground was covered in pig shit!

khaipu started to feel the wall behind the cloth and the tent and true enough, behind us was a pig sty! we stayed, for two minutes smiling and gagging in between, then raced off to the nearest door. halfway out, i met one more of our staff who greeted me (without batting an eyelash): "my you look human, today!"

i'll never attend any weddings here. not if i can help it.

Gracias, Companeros!

thanks to finn for the pic in the previous blog... and for following this blog.

thanks to norie and chito for always checking what's new here and for providing me with the latest jolog news..

thanks to terence for opening this blog (at last!!!) and saying it is "good"...

gracias mi amigos!

Weddings:Wonder or Woes?

i am attending my fourth wedding invitation here in manipur. i have been to different kinds of weddings all over the world - from the festive island wedding in vanuatu, to the orthodox christian ceremony in ethiopia, the quiet tribal/christian weddings in ccpur and recently the glamorous wedding in imphal. the recent one in imphal was nice and colorful, though we didn't stay for a long time.

i love weddings. it is a good time to see people in different states of emotions: happiness, especially the parents who'd probably thought "i finally got rid of this person after 30 years"; anxiety ("does this man snore when he sleeps?"); hope ("I finally snagged a man after a long wait"); anger ("why can't i marry sally?") and more anxiety ("how am i going to pay for all these?"). it is also a nice time to see all the glitters (bought, borrowed), the clothes (renovated, re-covered, re-layered and received) and the make -up (minimal, natural and over the top).

all in all, the ceremonyand the formalization is a wonderful event. i think it is nice to say vows and pledge that for the next 6 months i will not sleep with anyone else... or promise that i shall never leave you until the next one comes along.

in the philippines, which has been very americanized in terms of the whole sheebang, a bride MUST wear white. and have a blue garter (no less!) to throw it to the expecting bachelors (or ex-married guys) for the fun of finding his future bride. the event has become a pre-dating bonanza and a matching ceremony for those who are : (1) over 25 years old and not yet married (2) 20 years old and never had a relatioship (3) successful men/women who have the face of a horse (4) mommy's boy/daddy's girl (5) stuck to internet porn (6) masculine women/feminine men (7) was in previously bad relationship and (8) just about for anybody who plays the game.

i know you sense some bitterness in my tone. hehehe. so i have to stop here before i destroy the romantics in you. but should the day come for me to get married, you can rub this blog on my face and say: "that's what you get!".

if there is one thing i love about weddings and you really have to press me on this, i would answer: free food and booze. tough choice, but hey, one's gotta live!