Today is Tuesday, June 15th, 2010 and it is now 747PM here in Makati, Luzon, Philippines.
Recap: Spent 1 day in Makati (Manila), with Jackie. Left her in the condo, flew down to Mindanao obstensibly to pick up a supply of opiates/opioids since the methadone I had brought with me from New York City was getting low.
Landed at Butuan Airport, and took a taxi the 200 kilometers south to my "home," home being Rizza's family compound in San Francisco (San Franz), Agusan del Sur Province on Mindanao.
I was pulling up to the compound when I ended the last "Update" entry.
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I have to admit that it felt so good to see the place. Even seeing the "rotunda*" (*local word for traffic circle, our road "Mangga" spins off of the rotunda) made me feel strange inside.
Pulling up to the compound I thanked the driver, grabbed my overnight bag and walked into the yard.
Like all rural compounds in Mindanao we have a pack of dogs, including my baby, "Jumbo," who is the number 2 in the pack. As always they were ecstatic to see me, baying, hair sticking up as if spooked, actually bouncing off of the ground because the alpha dog, "Chakie," a huge brute would not let any dog get on me. He has a game when I haven't been home for a while, he runs at full speed (that motherfucker can run!) and jumps onto me. He is built like a Saint Bernard, so imagine that fun I have!
This of course made my youngest brother in law Mario Jr. ("Mayo") come running. Not quite 7, he is still my pet.
REGRESS...On Easter Sunday, 2008 just before leaving for New York City to begin chemotherapy for my HCV (Hep-C) I was sitting in the "sala" (living room) with Dad (Rizza's father). We were discussing how Catholicism (his religion) is full of shit, how Easter is a pagan holiday adapted for the nascemt Church, when all of a sudden we heard our youngest "ya-ya" (female servant) screaming at the top of her lungs.
Then, as now we are involved in a bloody "rido" (family feud, and I do NOT mean the cheeky American game show). I was sure that the other side had acted against us. I stupidly ran outside without even my pistol since at the time, as we talked, I had stripped it and was reworking the trigger mechanism.
As I ran to her I saw her at a portion next to the gate where one can see clearly onto Mangga, the road running past the front of our compound. A man, perhaps my age, shirtless and apparently drunk off his ass was swinging a "bolo*" (*1 meter long machete used for cutting bamboo, small trees, etc.), and trying his very best to kill "habal habal*" drivers (*motorized tricycle made from a motorcycle dirtbike with a small c.c. engine and an aluminum shell built around it, with a small bench in front and back, the cheapest public transportation and oh so common even in rural areas).
I do not want to meander too much, especially with the character count on these Blogs, BUT, Bisaya* (*the dominant ethnicity in that part of Mindanao) have a curious personality trait that seems to be universal. They do not have a "Flee Reflex!"
The habal habal drivers were sitting there watching this shit, and as he approached 1 or another they would back over each other trying to get out of immediate danger but only a few meters!
What does our impetuous hero Rachamim do? I walk out into Mangga and several meters down the road is a fallen log on the roadside, I sat down upon the log and kicked off my "tsinelas*" (*rubber sandals, Americans call them "flip flops," these are the de rigeur footwear even in malls, EVERYONE wears them), and waited for the "tad tad*" (*literally means "chop chop") to turn his wrath on me.
I better close this entry here for the character count, and continue in the next "Update" entry.
Recap: Spent 1 day in Makati (Manila), with Jackie. Left her in the condo, flew down to Mindanao obstensibly to pick up a supply of opiates/opioids since the methadone I had brought with me from New York City was getting low.
Landed at Butuan Airport, and took a taxi the 200 kilometers south to my "home," home being Rizza's family compound in San Francisco (San Franz), Agusan del Sur Province on Mindanao.
I was pulling up to the compound when I ended the last "Update" entry.
********************************
I have to admit that it felt so good to see the place. Even seeing the "rotunda*" (*local word for traffic circle, our road "Mangga" spins off of the rotunda) made me feel strange inside.
Pulling up to the compound I thanked the driver, grabbed my overnight bag and walked into the yard.
Like all rural compounds in Mindanao we have a pack of dogs, including my baby, "Jumbo," who is the number 2 in the pack. As always they were ecstatic to see me, baying, hair sticking up as if spooked, actually bouncing off of the ground because the alpha dog, "Chakie," a huge brute would not let any dog get on me. He has a game when I haven't been home for a while, he runs at full speed (that motherfucker can run!) and jumps onto me. He is built like a Saint Bernard, so imagine that fun I have!
This of course made my youngest brother in law Mario Jr. ("Mayo") come running. Not quite 7, he is still my pet.
REGRESS...On Easter Sunday, 2008 just before leaving for New York City to begin chemotherapy for my HCV (Hep-C) I was sitting in the "sala" (living room) with Dad (Rizza's father). We were discussing how Catholicism (his religion) is full of shit, how Easter is a pagan holiday adapted for the nascemt Church, when all of a sudden we heard our youngest "ya-ya" (female servant) screaming at the top of her lungs.
Then, as now we are involved in a bloody "rido" (family feud, and I do NOT mean the cheeky American game show). I was sure that the other side had acted against us. I stupidly ran outside without even my pistol since at the time, as we talked, I had stripped it and was reworking the trigger mechanism.
As I ran to her I saw her at a portion next to the gate where one can see clearly onto Mangga, the road running past the front of our compound. A man, perhaps my age, shirtless and apparently drunk off his ass was swinging a "bolo*" (*1 meter long machete used for cutting bamboo, small trees, etc.), and trying his very best to kill "habal habal*" drivers (*motorized tricycle made from a motorcycle dirtbike with a small c.c. engine and an aluminum shell built around it, with a small bench in front and back, the cheapest public transportation and oh so common even in rural areas).
I do not want to meander too much, especially with the character count on these Blogs, BUT, Bisaya* (*the dominant ethnicity in that part of Mindanao) have a curious personality trait that seems to be universal. They do not have a "Flee Reflex!"
The habal habal drivers were sitting there watching this shit, and as he approached 1 or another they would back over each other trying to get out of immediate danger but only a few meters!
What does our impetuous hero Rachamim do? I walk out into Mangga and several meters down the road is a fallen log on the roadside, I sat down upon the log and kicked off my "tsinelas*" (*rubber sandals, Americans call them "flip flops," these are the de rigeur footwear even in malls, EVERYONE wears them), and waited for the "tad tad*" (*literally means "chop chop") to turn his wrath on me.
I better close this entry here for the character count, and continue in the next "Update" entry.