My Favorite Photos

I have posted here some of the pictures I have taken during the past three years I have worked with an international medical NGO. Most of them moved me and concretized my reasons in staying and continue doing the work I am doing. Most of all it re-affirmed my convictions why I became a doctor.

Children pics constitute most of these as they were the

ones who are easy to capture. They are also the ones who tell most stories. They were the ones who moved me to tears. Every smile, every laughter brings hope. Every action brings a new experience. Bawkett, the three year old orphan boy from Ethiopia who died from AIDS related diseases, Nur Ali, the boy from Myanmar, Asefa, the malnourished kid who everyone thought would die, but bounced back after 2 weeks in our care. These and more.

I know that I am not a professional photographer, being that is not part of my career plans. But I do hope that I will share with you all these beautiful pictures of places and people. And I certainly wish that you will be with me next time I take another shot.

Soultrip

I was on my Ben Harper mode today. I woke up with late, having watch three movies until 2 am, went down to the kitchen and discovered coffee made and French toast on the plate. Nice.
Several things have been lined up and though quite a lot of it requires sitting down and facing the computer, it will nevertheless, be a slow day. Hence Ben Harper.
He was introduced to me by someone special when I was in Vanuatu. She brought loads of underground music and most of them suited my different moods. Cake, when I feel like listening to funny and familiar not-so-mainstream songs (You should listen to their version of Guitar Man and I Will Survive); Van Halen, when I feel uppity; Queen, when I felt I did something good (It’s a Kind of Magic, Under Pressure and We are the Champion); Macy Gray for the cool and romantic in me; Manu Chao and Amadou & Mariam for the humanitarian chap in me; Tenacious D for the wild and hilarious side of me; and of course Ben Harper.
I particularly liked Excuse Me, Mister, Oppression, One Road for Freedom and Another Lonely Day. I have had several albums but I liked Fight for your Mind, the best. I don’t think it is romantic. I can’t really place it if its rock or alternative. It does sound hippie and fresh, though. I liked the guitar and the cool voice (not the best I have heard, sometimes it does sound hissy, but it is certainly nice). Like Janis Joplin gets to you on a nice cold day, or maybe even Joan Baez on a cold rainy day.
I really don’t have any favorites when it comes to moooosic. And though I am a self confessed child of the 80’s (no, I was born in the 70’s), I never really got the hang of Michael Jackson’s falsetto. I admit that there are really good stuff in that decade though. There were hang-on’s from the 70’s (Beatles, Eagles) which formed an integral part in who I am and how I ran my life.
I remember that in one party in Maungdaw, Northern Rakhine State, Myanmar, I was playing Shakira’s Hips Don’t Lie, when someone hissed at the repertoire. I was a bit embarrassed and shied my iPod away from their discerning and discriminating ears. So feeling hurt and maligned, I headed for the bar. I could have swallowed the whole beer bottle coz I heard Boney M floating in the air (Brown girl in the rain, falalalala…). Indeed, music is an acquired taste.
Music is also personal. Some may identify certain facets and events of their lives through the songs that they hear and love. Some actually pattern their lives through a song. Music is more than an expression. It is a personal companion, a lover, a friend who never complaints when you change, when you are late or even when you love something or someone else. Life is ineffectual, void and ennui without it.
So when someone asks me what my favorite music – group, genre – is, it usually takes me time to answer. Truth is, all depends on my mood. The other week, I was singing “Big Butts” and yesterday, I was singing the advert song for an efficacent oil (efficacent oil maaasahan….). How is that for versatility?
I still need to listen to a lot of new ones. There are, I know, good Filipino singers and bands out there, but I just need to sort them out and let them pass through my sieve. So much has change in the Philippine music scene these past years. I wouldn’t venture listening to Mystica or April Boy, tough. In the meantime, I’d rather continue with Ben. For now, that is.
Puke. Corny. Music. Life.

My Favorite Retort (AKA Attack of Mr. Universe)

Obama won! Obetchabygollywow. I felt like getting my balalaika and sing the Winds of Change. ("Follow the Moskva and down to Gorky Park...")

I was so glad that I declared a moment of silence to remember Nonoy. Not that Nonoy is dead. He is just a person who you don’t want to be. Okay, let’s be kind --- a living dead. Bong will not agree with me coz Nonoy has always been his client. He would always come to Nonoy’s defense whenever we (or is it just me??) would make fun of lil’ Chuckie. I am sorry but I do have my wicked side. I don’t discriminate Nonoy – he is an entirely unique being, and despite the fact that I don’t really like him, I am (was) always civil with him. He has potentials and talents, but despite the advance (or advancing) age, he needs to be guided and taught the essentials of right and wrong.

I am going to be defensive now – but what exists as a playful banter is not meant to hurt him. He is not perfect like the rest of us, afterall.

Anyways, back to the Obaman-of-the-year, I would so like to go back to a guy I met some months ago in Myanmar, so he can kiss Obama’s black ass. This guy is in his 50’s and is the most insipid, hateful and rude red necked bigot I have ever met in my life. He had been working for a “respectable” NGO for the past 10 years now and had had the opportunity to travel and meet different people. I won’t tell you of his nationality, but who ever can guess it right, wins a dinner at my favorite Thai resto in Manila.

So we were there, one rainy night in the UNHCR bar, having a round of vodka and tonic, when someone asks Mr. Universe where he had been prior to coming to Myanmar. Mr. U said that he had been to Kenya and that: “they are the worst criminals in this world”. Nobody made a comment.

He continued to talk about the Indians: “ They’re effing dirty”. Nobody said anything.

The Malawians: “They are sick because they are stupid”

The Americans: “Stupid and Rude”.

Brazilians: “Promiscuous”.

Australians: “Boring copycats”

Chinese: “Communist bastards”.

And so after we listened to his ranting about the worst members of the United Nations and still not one from among the 10 people in the bar commenting, he arrived at the Philippines (Mabuhay!).

He said: “Filipinos will do anything for a dollar. They leave their children so they’ll earn dollars. I have no respect for those kinds of people”.

Now there I was, (hold my hand please) sitting in one corner happily drinking my vodka-tonic, attempting to not react at the ravings of this lunatic. But I couldn’t. I just had to.

So in my shivering Sean Penn voice, I spoke to Mr. Universe and said: “That is true. Filipinos will do anything to earn a dollar. They will wipe somebody’s ass for a dollar. This is so we can send this money to our family and our family will have a better life; our children will have a better education. This is sacrifice. But of course, you can’t understand sacrifice, because you have never sacrificed a thing in your life. Your ancestors invaded, colonized and stole other nation’s riches so (you) are now living the life that you are enjoying. Who are you to judge other people, when you, right here, right now, smell like a skunk?”

Oh my god. I had a standing ovation.

The guy kept quiet and as he was about to leave, the barman (who was Burmese/Myanmar), “accidentally” dropped his glass on his lap. Talk about karma.

So now that Obama has won, I just wished I would meet Mr. Universe again and give him the bleating and the beating that he deserves. And of course, he has to kiss all the asses that he maligned.

Of course I could arrange to have Nonoy live with him. Imagine. Wouldn’t that be a better world? Or would you call that reclusion penal?

I would call that justice – just where it is due.