You're in a hurry? Go somewhere else...

I can't believe I've been here in Cebu for over 3 months now and I haven't done much in terms of pleasure trips or pleasurable activities. Unless you consider construction work pleasurable.

I've sworn to myself that I will never want to buy, sell, rent or do business here because I don't want to have to deal with any offices with the word "government" attached to it. And also because here in the Philippines, the people have no sense of urgency, (which, of course, to some degree has some merit in itself) and I equate "slow" with laziness. After several months dealing with business owners, store clerk, construction workers and electricians, I have concluded that the word "urgent" applies only to other people but not Filipinos-- it matters not if they're waiting for a jeepney or a kidney transplant.

I had to demolish an old shack.
Now what do I do with this open space?Uhuh... use it for this. If there's one thing I'd like to wish, it would be that I can go back in time when I hated cats.

Whatever sells...

Man peddling star apples.


Fixing a flat tire for the pedicab. The pedicab transport people at 5 pesos per person, about 10 us cent.

When I was growing up I sold everything, cigarettes, peanuts, vegetables, but I've never tried going around selling goats.

When I was hungry.....

Last Saturday, we had teamed together with Jacob Ong and his group to do another feeding in the island of Olango. They provided the physical food, my group provided the spiritual food. I didn't come with the group so I had to take the pumpboat by myself.

Yes sir, No sir.

Twenty-five years ago, my first real job in America was in a law firm and I would never forget what my boss told me when I used 'sir' before his name. "Ritchie, don't call anybody "sir" or ma'am, because that would automatically put you in a subservient position." Well, I'm here in the Philippines for 3 months now, and it drives me crazy that everywhere I turn I hear "sir" or "ma'am" as if that's a persons name in itself. I can't get myself to feel comfortable calling anyone besides their first name and it makes me cringe when I am addressed other than my first name.

Someone says I'm too Americanized and I say, so what's wrong with being practical? Filipinos are title crazy, we all know that; what with, Attorney this, Engineer that, Mr. or Mrs. so and so. Aren't we just too drunk with ourselves? Come on, calling someone sir or ma'am is not being respectful--- it's being colonial. Otherwise, why are you not addressing your maid who is the age of your grandmother, "ma'am" and address your old and hunchback driver "sir." Sometimes we have to ask ourselves why we do what we do and as my black co-worker used to say when she was unhappy with our white boss: "We're not at the plantation no mo' so I ain't doing that."
And you say that all I do is find something to complain about. Well, that's true, so you can call me crazy, just don't call me "ma'am." Ok?

Of Cats and....

When I was growing up, we always had animals around us; we had dogs, cats, goats, cows and carabaos. And if you consider frogs and big house lizards animals we had plenty of them too. I never felt a connection to any of them except for the carabao that I used to ride on. So it is safe to say that I was not an animal lover like most people are. So when I heard people talk about their pet dog, or their pet cat like they're their kids, I'd roll my eyes and say under my breath: "You're 1 french fry short of a happy meal."

I didn't even fall prey to Chat's constant nagging for us to have animals in the house when she was young. Then she got married and that gave her license to do whatever she wants, in her house, right? So my misery began. I fell in love. With her cat. I've never known such pure joy until we had this snotty, stubborn, you'll-do-what-I tell you, cat. I won't tell you how many times I've cried when he was sick, how many nights I'd lay awake wondering how that cat managed being alone when Chat was out of town on business. Needless to say, I missed him so bad when I left Dallas to come here in Cebu.

And now I have this new source of misery and joy. After being here for 3 months, I began to get attached to this stray cat who attaches himself to me. He sits and waits at my door and talks to me, then he'd follow me around purring. And unlike Chat's cat, this one here considers me his family and not a member of his staff. (You see how I now sound like those people I talked about?) So last week, when he stopped eating and won't move or talk to me anymore, I got despondent. I had my helper wrap him up in a towel and we took him to the vet a few houses down. He was fine until we opened the towel to reveal his eyes. He clawed his way out and ran-- faster than last year's winning race horse. While the doctor and I stood there helpless. I went home and felt like the world had collapsed on me, that I had no more reason to live for. I didn't see him until two days later. He showed up at my door healthy and feisty. And as I am writing this he's at my door trying trying to claw his way inside. He's purring and I am happy.

Forgive if you want to live

"I mourn the loss of thousands of precious lives, but I will not rejoice in the death of one, not even an enemy. Returning hate for hate multiplies hate, adding deeper darkness to a night already devoid of stars. Darkness cannot drive out darkness: only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate: only love can do that."
--Martin Luther King, Jr.

When my newspaper guy delivered the paper this morning, he didn't say good morning or anything, instead, he pointed to the headline and said: Osama is dead, Osama is dead. And he said it with such jubilee in his voice. I told him the newspaper is wrong, because I saw Osama at the restaurant with other bearded men eating pork barbecue and drinking San Miguel beer. He then said: "I thought you'd be happy because you're from America." I then got serious with him and explained why no one should rejoice over someone's death, even if he's the enemy. My reasoning is this: If someone killed one of my family member and the killer is caught and made to serve prison time or put to death by lethal injection, that is never going to make my dead loved one alive. Nor does the punishment sufficient enough for me to feel satisfied that justice is done. Besides, there is no real justice here on earth, period.

I am always reminded of this woman whose family, all 8 of them were killed by her estranged husband. Several years later, she was asked if she was able to forgive her ex-husband. Her reply was immediate: "Oh, I had to forgive right away because I do not want him to own me too." That is wisdom. Hatred is never the solution to anything.

To think or Not to think

I am a foreigner to my own country of birth. For one, I have to familiarize myself again of how my people think. And two, for thinking that my people even think at all. I say this because of my everyday experience here the last 3 months, compounded by this weeks dealing with the prima care staff. I got very sick again, same symptoms I had in 2009. You ask why I didn't go to the ER? Trust me, as long as I am coherent and can think for myself, I am not going there...at least not HERE. In Cebu.

Scene 1: I walk in to the reception desk of Prima care clinic. Lady asked me to fill out paper on what I want done. I give the paper back and she told me to go to the Cashier to pay. (Remember: No money, no treatment.)I went and then I asked cashier if I can get my temp done before my blood test. "I don't know ma'am, you have to ask reception." Blood pressure up and now at boiling point while shivering from chills. I
sidle up to the reception."Miss, can I get my temp taken before my blood work?" "I don't know ma'm. Ask them at the back." Blood and horn now spurting out of my head. I looked around for an ax. And murder her. Didn't find any.

Scene 2: Eva Braun called me to sit down and clinch my fist. Her "look" made me behave. Unable to get blood on left arm she went for my right arm without saying anything. I'm going to behave. "Miss, can you get my temp when you're done?" "No, it's not included in the service." I looked around for a match. I wanted to burn down the whole place and didn't care if she was Hitler's wife.

I walked past the cubicle of the half-wit cashier and the smiling robots at the front desk. I sat and behave in my corner, but Even with my brain dissolving fever I was still able to come up with a solution to this country's misery. And it's not money. But a good supply of sharp ax, lighter fluid and matches.

Happy resurrection!!!

If Christ is not risen from the dead, then we are still in our sins and if our hope is only in this life, then we are most pitiable. 1 Cor 15:12-20

Tradition that kills

Now I know why I am so messed up in the head. I came from this country who believes that self mutilation is cool and enough to atone for your sins. WARNING: IT'S GRUESOME PLS. WATCH WITH CAUTION.

Jesus said that He died that we may live and live abundantly. The only atonement for our sins that God will accept and will reconcile us back to Him is the death of His son on the cross. We were bought with a price: The blood of His Son and not with gold or silver or blood of bulls and goats. Our part is to admit that we have sinned and that Jesus paid for them on the cross. We are saved by faith and not by works, so this works of flagellation and crucifixion is simply horse crap and for the stupid and ignorant.

When I was growing up, our whole village took Holy Week seriously. We were sad from Wednesday to Friday,and in my household, it was a sin to smile or laugh during these days. "You can't be happy, Jesus is dead this week." My parents would tell me. And I better not bathe on that Saturday or I'll be accused of bathing with the "bad Jews, as they clean the blood from their hands."

Thank God, that I read the bible and now freed from man's deadly tradition and the grip of the misguided priests.

It's complicated

Politics or Religion is a volatile topic to discuss, but I've observed that when the discussion is about men or women, you're always left hanging because each claim to have it together. Men says women are conflicted, and we women says men are so complicated. Well, some woman made this observation and I'm not sure what to say about it.

The nice men are ugly.
The handsome men are not nice.
The handsome and nice men are gay.
The handsome, nice and heterosexual men are married.
The men who are not so handsome, but are nice men, have no money.
The men who are not so handsome, but are nice men with money think we are only after their money.
The handsome men without money are after our money