Same date and location as before, 830PM now...
To continue...
Westerners are undoubtedly wondering why someone didn't simply call the police. On Mindanao this is rarely even considered in the cities but in rural areas it is never an option. IF they even come it will usually take hours even when a garrison is near by.
The Philippines, unlike Western nations, has a nationalised police system, the "PNP*" (Philippines National Police). It operates in paramilitary fashion and police are rarely, if ever, local folk. In rural Mindanao this means they are less respected than a stray dog (at least one can eat the dog). Many are corrupt (making 180 US a month one can hardly blame them) and those that are not are generally inept.
Now, as I said in the last entry, Bisaya lack the reflex that allows one to flee when they face danger. It is not the "Headlight" dynamic, like a deer in one's headlight, because as I said the habal habal (trike) drivers were moving a few meters to and fro.
In any event, he noticed me as I knew he would. In retrospect I wonder what his drunken and befuddled mind must have thought when he saw a white face sitting on a log hahahaha.
He stumbled my way, swinging his 1 meter long blade and it my mind went into "survival" mode. Time slowed down, I heard no noise, saw only him and his blade but as I stood up I saw that he held what I now saw was a 2nd thinner blade, about half as long as the bolo (machete) in his right hand.
Now, against even a sober man and 1 blade, my money is betting on me (real superhero I am!). 2 blades though? Well that changes the odds in a terrible way.
As he came I thought quickly, a bad cut and I would probablly bleed out (nearest real hospital being 200 kilometers away), and trying to disarm a man swinging 2 blades was definitely going to get me cut, badly.
Thank G-D we had had some rain, I was bending my legs anyway in fighting mode, and scooped up a nice handful of mud quickly..as he came lumbering towards me I waited a bit, and then, WHAM, right in his eyes, perfect delivery. Hahahahahaha, he was soooooooo pissed off. He looked like he was going to cry, but then after quickly recovering he was even more enraged!
I was bouncing side to side, legs bent, watching his midrif because that will always telegraph an opponent's movements. When our bodies move, in ambulatory fashion, it is generated from the abdomen. I was barely out of reach from the longest blade but close enough to get his drunken spittle in my face as he cursed me.
As I moved side to side I was able to occasionally get in a good scoop of mud, generally on his face, as I looked for a piece of wood to beat the shit out of him, when finally a pistol shot rang out and the asshole stopped moving. Unfortunately though, it was merely a warning shot and he was not hurt. A neighbour had let off a shot but it allowed me to get immediately out of harm's way.
Walking into the compound...and this is the pisser...Rizza denigrated me, "Why didn't you do martial arts on him? I thought you were so good at it!" I looked at her for a quick second, and I said, "That Jackie Chan shit is not reality, you cannot get within reach of a man with 2 long blades," but I was just digusted with her.
As I quickly looked for something near the gate, I found a truck wiper (windshield wiper off of one of our 10 wheeled trucks, the wiper is an aluminum rod, flexible, about a meter long). Picking it up I quickly walked back out int Mangga while the family just stared at me, mouths open, and the neighbours actually cheered seeing me again (hahaha, "Kill the Kano" maybe) but on walking up the road, he was 2 compounds away by our cousin's place...the PNP were finally out of their drunken revelry, pistols drawn and coming at him on 3 sides. I was hoping they did not kill him outright so that I could whip him into a coma, maybe mark his face with his own blade...
He was drunk, full of brandy soaked testosterone but NOT retarded. He dropped the blades when the PNP fired a volley of warning shots. IF I beat him now the PNP would turn it into an extortion scheme against me, "Sir, it is the law but we do not agree with it. If you pay just a reduced fine now we can close the case"... Uh, no thanks, anyway. I will just find out which broken down grass hut he calls home and beat him senseless, then make his family homeless by burning down their hut. Thanks anyway.
Aggravated to no end I walked into the compound because now all eyes were on me, hoping to see me do what I wanted to do. Mom ran up and was shaking, I guess the shock wore off. She could not believe that I had an absolutely normal heartbeat.
I am sure that as I was bouncing around it was elevated but I was picked for my job (in the IDF) based upon my physical (and mental) profile. I have a rather constant heartbeat even under intense stress. I have also been stress innoculated to such a degree that I handle it quite well. In situations like that, I am tenacious, I want to finish the person, but not in a way that causes my judgement to be erratic.
My 1st question to Mom was where did that loser live. She said his family lives further down Mangga, nearer to the Surigao del Sur provincial line. I was happier then, knowing my time would come. Dad just stood there with 4 of my brothers in law, mute like one of those Easter Island statues. Mom joked, "Dad swore if you were hurt he was going to shoot the man," Dad having gone inside and grabbed his 45.
I hugged him seeing he was scared for me, but needled him saying, "See??? I always tell you, carry that fucken piece, don't keep it as a trophy!"
We went inside and then the phone calls started coming, "Raki is so brave, ""Raki is a hero," "Raki!!!!!!!!!!!" I was none of the above. I was a stupid fool and should have had my fucken head examined.
I then went on their PC, not feeling like walking over to my house, even though its just a few meters, I was embrassed at creating such a public spectacle...Now this is why I have told this sordid tale...Little Mayo, who was all of 5 back then, climbed into my lap as I began surfing the net. He wrapped his little arms around me and buried his head in my chest and began sobbing so heavily.
I was so suprised, but so, so, so touched. Even now I have to be careful lest I get teary eyed recalling that day. I cradled his face in my hands and asked him if he had been scared. All he could do was nod yes and cry. I held him tough, kissed the top of his head and told him I was OK, nothing was going to happen to me. He held me tight until his sobbing quieted down, maybe 10 minutes or so and I realised that I really had to think about my actions.
All my other brothers in law, the next youngest being 10 then, were pumped up, proud as everyone congratulated them on having such a heroic brother (there is no concept of "brother in law" in Bisaya Culture,to them I am "Kuya," which simply means "Elder Brother"), but little Mayo was taking it an entirely different way.
My sister in law Marian who was 8 then was proud as well but in her eyes I could never do wrong. She is so cute. The week before I left to go to the Philippines she made a new Yahoo ID to IM with the words "I love you Kuya."
Even with all this shit between Rizza and myself they are still so dear to me and that is the most fucked up part of the deal. That is the only part that makes me mad enough to smack Rizza (luckily for her that is something I would never do. Me? I had a girl spit in my face once and I simply turned and walked away).
So, upon returning, Mayo ran out and grabbed me. Marian next, then the elder boys smiling huge smiles and I went inside, Mom and Dad having been in Court for the final hearing in the case against Uncle Allan, the case that sparked our "rido" (family feud).
One of the kids called Mom up on a cellular to tell her I had come. She called the landline and we talked a bit, telling her I would only be there less than 2 days (turned into 9 but hey).
I went next door to my house, and aired it out, since it had been a couple of months since I had even spent 5 minutes there.
I then piled the kids into one of the SUVs and drove into the town proper, to pay my respects. My G-Dfather was working in the provincial capitol since he works for the Governor. My G-Dmother, the former mayor, sister of the current mayor and Col. Lademora's (I will get to him) daughter. I gave her the small gift I had brought for her (22K gold bracelet. I don't know why but SE Asians love 22K, soft like butter and that weird deep yellow colour, the colour of pure gold).
I went next to pay respects to Uncle Leo, my closest friend apart from Dad, and the rest of our huge extended family. By about 9 that night, stuffed from the obligatory dish at each home we returned to wait for Mom and Dad.
Popped in a DVD, it still amazes me when they get theater quality bootlegs before the movie is even in theathers in the US but I am well aware of the process of "how," since it is an endeavour I once considered getting into. Saw a movie, "Splice" that was OK, nothing to write about.
About 1 AM the dogs went crazy and I knew they had arrived. Spent about 30 minutes talking and then I went to my house to sleep.
To continue...
Westerners are undoubtedly wondering why someone didn't simply call the police. On Mindanao this is rarely even considered in the cities but in rural areas it is never an option. IF they even come it will usually take hours even when a garrison is near by.
The Philippines, unlike Western nations, has a nationalised police system, the "PNP*" (Philippines National Police). It operates in paramilitary fashion and police are rarely, if ever, local folk. In rural Mindanao this means they are less respected than a stray dog (at least one can eat the dog). Many are corrupt (making 180 US a month one can hardly blame them) and those that are not are generally inept.
Now, as I said in the last entry, Bisaya lack the reflex that allows one to flee when they face danger. It is not the "Headlight" dynamic, like a deer in one's headlight, because as I said the habal habal (trike) drivers were moving a few meters to and fro.
In any event, he noticed me as I knew he would. In retrospect I wonder what his drunken and befuddled mind must have thought when he saw a white face sitting on a log hahahaha.
He stumbled my way, swinging his 1 meter long blade and it my mind went into "survival" mode. Time slowed down, I heard no noise, saw only him and his blade but as I stood up I saw that he held what I now saw was a 2nd thinner blade, about half as long as the bolo (machete) in his right hand.
Now, against even a sober man and 1 blade, my money is betting on me (real superhero I am!). 2 blades though? Well that changes the odds in a terrible way.
As he came I thought quickly, a bad cut and I would probablly bleed out (nearest real hospital being 200 kilometers away), and trying to disarm a man swinging 2 blades was definitely going to get me cut, badly.
Thank G-D we had had some rain, I was bending my legs anyway in fighting mode, and scooped up a nice handful of mud quickly..as he came lumbering towards me I waited a bit, and then, WHAM, right in his eyes, perfect delivery. Hahahahahaha, he was soooooooo pissed off. He looked like he was going to cry, but then after quickly recovering he was even more enraged!
I was bouncing side to side, legs bent, watching his midrif because that will always telegraph an opponent's movements. When our bodies move, in ambulatory fashion, it is generated from the abdomen. I was barely out of reach from the longest blade but close enough to get his drunken spittle in my face as he cursed me.
As I moved side to side I was able to occasionally get in a good scoop of mud, generally on his face, as I looked for a piece of wood to beat the shit out of him, when finally a pistol shot rang out and the asshole stopped moving. Unfortunately though, it was merely a warning shot and he was not hurt. A neighbour had let off a shot but it allowed me to get immediately out of harm's way.
Walking into the compound...and this is the pisser...Rizza denigrated me, "Why didn't you do martial arts on him? I thought you were so good at it!" I looked at her for a quick second, and I said, "That Jackie Chan shit is not reality, you cannot get within reach of a man with 2 long blades," but I was just digusted with her.
As I quickly looked for something near the gate, I found a truck wiper (windshield wiper off of one of our 10 wheeled trucks, the wiper is an aluminum rod, flexible, about a meter long). Picking it up I quickly walked back out int Mangga while the family just stared at me, mouths open, and the neighbours actually cheered seeing me again (hahaha, "Kill the Kano" maybe) but on walking up the road, he was 2 compounds away by our cousin's place...the PNP were finally out of their drunken revelry, pistols drawn and coming at him on 3 sides. I was hoping they did not kill him outright so that I could whip him into a coma, maybe mark his face with his own blade...
He was drunk, full of brandy soaked testosterone but NOT retarded. He dropped the blades when the PNP fired a volley of warning shots. IF I beat him now the PNP would turn it into an extortion scheme against me, "Sir, it is the law but we do not agree with it. If you pay just a reduced fine now we can close the case"... Uh, no thanks, anyway. I will just find out which broken down grass hut he calls home and beat him senseless, then make his family homeless by burning down their hut. Thanks anyway.
Aggravated to no end I walked into the compound because now all eyes were on me, hoping to see me do what I wanted to do. Mom ran up and was shaking, I guess the shock wore off. She could not believe that I had an absolutely normal heartbeat.
I am sure that as I was bouncing around it was elevated but I was picked for my job (in the IDF) based upon my physical (and mental) profile. I have a rather constant heartbeat even under intense stress. I have also been stress innoculated to such a degree that I handle it quite well. In situations like that, I am tenacious, I want to finish the person, but not in a way that causes my judgement to be erratic.
My 1st question to Mom was where did that loser live. She said his family lives further down Mangga, nearer to the Surigao del Sur provincial line. I was happier then, knowing my time would come. Dad just stood there with 4 of my brothers in law, mute like one of those Easter Island statues. Mom joked, "Dad swore if you were hurt he was going to shoot the man," Dad having gone inside and grabbed his 45.
I hugged him seeing he was scared for me, but needled him saying, "See??? I always tell you, carry that fucken piece, don't keep it as a trophy!"
We went inside and then the phone calls started coming, "Raki is so brave, ""Raki is a hero," "Raki!!!!!!!!!!!" I was none of the above. I was a stupid fool and should have had my fucken head examined.
I then went on their PC, not feeling like walking over to my house, even though its just a few meters, I was embrassed at creating such a public spectacle...Now this is why I have told this sordid tale...Little Mayo, who was all of 5 back then, climbed into my lap as I began surfing the net. He wrapped his little arms around me and buried his head in my chest and began sobbing so heavily.
I was so suprised, but so, so, so touched. Even now I have to be careful lest I get teary eyed recalling that day. I cradled his face in my hands and asked him if he had been scared. All he could do was nod yes and cry. I held him tough, kissed the top of his head and told him I was OK, nothing was going to happen to me. He held me tight until his sobbing quieted down, maybe 10 minutes or so and I realised that I really had to think about my actions.
All my other brothers in law, the next youngest being 10 then, were pumped up, proud as everyone congratulated them on having such a heroic brother (there is no concept of "brother in law" in Bisaya Culture,to them I am "Kuya," which simply means "Elder Brother"), but little Mayo was taking it an entirely different way.
My sister in law Marian who was 8 then was proud as well but in her eyes I could never do wrong. She is so cute. The week before I left to go to the Philippines she made a new Yahoo ID to IM with the words "I love you Kuya."
Even with all this shit between Rizza and myself they are still so dear to me and that is the most fucked up part of the deal. That is the only part that makes me mad enough to smack Rizza (luckily for her that is something I would never do. Me? I had a girl spit in my face once and I simply turned and walked away).
So, upon returning, Mayo ran out and grabbed me. Marian next, then the elder boys smiling huge smiles and I went inside, Mom and Dad having been in Court for the final hearing in the case against Uncle Allan, the case that sparked our "rido" (family feud).
One of the kids called Mom up on a cellular to tell her I had come. She called the landline and we talked a bit, telling her I would only be there less than 2 days (turned into 9 but hey).
I went next door to my house, and aired it out, since it had been a couple of months since I had even spent 5 minutes there.
I then piled the kids into one of the SUVs and drove into the town proper, to pay my respects. My G-Dfather was working in the provincial capitol since he works for the Governor. My G-Dmother, the former mayor, sister of the current mayor and Col. Lademora's (I will get to him) daughter. I gave her the small gift I had brought for her (22K gold bracelet. I don't know why but SE Asians love 22K, soft like butter and that weird deep yellow colour, the colour of pure gold).
I went next to pay respects to Uncle Leo, my closest friend apart from Dad, and the rest of our huge extended family. By about 9 that night, stuffed from the obligatory dish at each home we returned to wait for Mom and Dad.
Popped in a DVD, it still amazes me when they get theater quality bootlegs before the movie is even in theathers in the US but I am well aware of the process of "how," since it is an endeavour I once considered getting into. Saw a movie, "Splice" that was OK, nothing to write about.
About 1 AM the dogs went crazy and I knew they had arrived. Spent about 30 minutes talking and then I went to my house to sleep.