Of Basketball And Henpecked Husbands

I have always had an aversion for Basketball. You  see, I  almost  broke  my  arm  and  my  skull due to the sport.

When I was a kid, I played it with my friends in a school intramurals and when the dunk of my life was about to unfold before everyone’s eyes, someone hit me while on air and I went down arm first, arching the impact on the concrete floor. That was all I remember. When I regained consciousness, I was in the hospital.

When I was on vacation, we held this game in my village – the usual thing our leaders had been sponsoring since time immemorial. The main objective was on sportsmanship, teamwork, recreation and entertainment; things of that sort. I was one of the selected table officials to handle the timer and so, even if it was against my will, I volunteered just so the damn game could proceed.

The game was on its second half when a glitch occurred: I forgot to turn on the timer. My eyes were transfixed on the mating cats at the end of the court and my mind was busy concentrating on the very important question of how could cats mate with their ferocious meowing and fighting?

When the referee inquired shouting me of the remaining time left, I was doused with cold water and I suddenly knew I was still in that part of my country with that damn basketball. So, I frightfully shouted what was registered in the timer, "Eighteen minutes and fifty seconds!"

"What?!" the referee's eyes bulged in disbelief.

Yeah, they were playing like a whole two hours already and all I could say was that they had not even consumed one-tenth of the second-half game time. But still I could see the enjoyment on the faces of the players that their saliva seemed to dangle from their mouths. And that was even when they were already dehydrated and their bodies were limping just running aimlessly back-and-forth the court.

With due respect to basketball fanatics, I really couldn't understand how in the world these people love the game. I told my fellow table officials that I didn't find any sense of appreciation for the sport that I would rather go watch cats in the act of mating or offer anyone for free my expertise of planting "kamote" in my backyard.

"Shut up! You're just a complete loser!" they answered ignoring me as if I did not exist and their eyes swelled totally hooked up to the scampering players. No one was there to support me of my theory: that basketball drives everyone nuts!

"What? And I was now a loser? God! This basketball syndrome must have it on them already and the two segments of their brains now reversed functions!" But, of course I did not say that for fear of my butt getting kicked.

I don't know why the players have to run back-and-forth the court going after that stupid ball, and why they have to shoot it into the ring with the other busy guys desperately extending their arms either to snatch the ball or shield the ball holder from shooting. And this, some players were just actually running to-and-fro the court pretending they held the ball or at least could touch it! I didn't know if the game included mascots in the line-up or decoys, or people just relishing their freedom to run or to show off their highest jumps.

Yeah, some players just chase other players there without even touching the ball until their eyes become bloodshot, their tongues suspend from their mouths, and their lungs frantically gasp for air.

And I saw other players too assigned to polish their team's bench with their butts and at the end of the game they receive equal prize with those who almost died with dehydration and twisted spine. Why don't they just assign a ball to a team, let the players line up to shoot the ball one by one into the ring? That should be easy!

And this: what is a basket doing with a ball? I tried to find out how come this game called basketball when I could see no basket ever carried by any player. It's weird. If it could be basket-papaya, basket-apple, basket-fish, or basket-tomatoes, you can easily find the connection.

But, basketball for a ball... what is it? Ok, unless the players carry with them a basket while they play this game, it could fill up the missing link. Just imagine a player dribbling the ball in his right hand while an empty basket dangles under his left arm. That could be cool and, of course, could justify its name.

Anyway, I read from an encyclopedia that this game started with a name like box-ball or something. But as I was not totally convinced with the story so I embarked on making my own personal theory and research.

I think it started when sometime in 1891 a housewife tried to purchase a pumpkin from the market called "Nepa-Q-Mart"(?). But the pumpkin she brought was bigger than her basket; so when she went back home, she held the basket in her left hand while her right hand rolled the pumpkin.

Annoyed by what happened, she called her henpecked husband to test how he would manage to insert the huge pumpkin into the small basket. You know the style of domineering wives whenever they have a problem they cannot solve? They let their henpecked husbands do the job so that when the poor husbands fail to solve the puzzle, these abusive wives beat them.

So she ordered him to go to the market with only enough money to buy one big pumpkin. Of course, the husband could not place the pumpkin inside the basket so like what happened to the wife, the husband dangled the basket in his left arm while his right hand rolled the pumpkin. But later, the husband found out he could dribble the pumpkin too, and so he kept dribbling it until midway into his house, the pumpkin disintegrated before his startled eyes.

Cowering in fear, the husband hung the basket onto a tree as he figured out what to do with the smashed pumpkin. Suddenly he thought that even if the pumpkin was smashed, his wife could still use it. So he tossed the pieces into the basket until some other sympathetic men helped him do the "tossing". (By the way these men already had their organization at that time they called LHH – Liberation of Henpecked Husbands).

When the husband arrived home, his wife was amazed at how clever he was that she didn’t have to cut the pumpkin anymore!

It ended up that the wife was happy.

So every time the husband buys a pumpkin, he would dribble it home as a small basket dangles under his other arm until the pumpkin disintegrates. Then, the husband and his friends would play pumpkin-shooting into the basket.

In the beginning, it was just called "basket-pumpkin" until they changed the pumpkin into a ball and the basket, a ring which is now called "basketball".

So, that's how Basketball came to be; a sport accidentally invented by a henpecked husband and originally played by the LHH (not really by PBA).

So then, I solved a piece of the puzzle with this sport everyone go nuts about. (And I hope that some award-giving body will recognize me for this breakthrough)

But now, there’s another question which needs to be solve – again. Why until now, didn't they change the word basket to "ring" to make it a "ringball? Ah, well, that could be my next research.

And, by the way, if anyone would like to disprove my theory of the “basket-pumpkin”, here is my advice: Forget it. You are wasting your time on this nonsense.

Events Leading To The Operating Table

I have had experiences with this same stomach pain in the past. It came and after a few hours, it also went away. So, I was no stranger with the said kind of stomach pain.

September 26 (Saturday)

I suffered immense stomach pain in the morning. I didn’t know what it was but it felt like there was a trapped gas in my stomach but could not just pass it out. At about 9pm, I asked our company nurse to give me a pain reliever (injection) and stomach pain treatment. The pain went away.

September 27 (Sunday)

The pain gradually resurged in the morning. I still reported for work but went to Fakhry Hospital. This hospital was what I requested because all my medical historical records are there. Since I felt the pain to be severe already, I wanted to be “admitted”. But the doctor in that hospital only gave me a prescription for ulcer. I went to my room to take some rest and observed the progress. I really thought the stomach pain was really due to ulcer.

However, the feeling of being bloated seemed to increase, and so was the pain. At 1:30 pm, I asked our company nurse to take me back to the hospital for “admission” because I felt the pain to be extremely excruciating. This time, he brought me to Assalama Hospital, in accordance to the instruction of my boss. This is our insurance-accredited hospital. We arrived at the hospital at 2:00 pm and the Emergency Room said that they could not admit me since I came from another hospital. They said I had to see first their specialist who will be arriving at 4:00pm. There was no way but to oblige. Even if my stomach seemed to explode, I waited for two hours.

At 4:15, I was finally attended by the specialist doctor. However, the doctor just gave me medicines for trapped gas and again, I was asked to “go home” in spite of the excruciating pain. I even asked him if it was OK for my company nurse to inject me with the pain reliever to which he replied, “No need. You should be ok after you take the medicines.” At this point, the overall frustrations started to overwhelm me. It seemed no one really understood I was writhing in pain, and nobody took seriously my situation.

When I arrived in my room at about 5:00pm, I hurriedly took the “stomach gas” medicine and observed. But there was still no improvement. Ironically, I could not even pass gas nor go to the toilet. And worse, the pain worsened.

I called up our company nurse and asked him that this time, I should already be admitted to Assalama Hospital since I found no relief with the “gas medicines”. It was about 8:00pm when we arrived in the hospital.

I thought I could finally be given the attention and checks needed. But another glitch occurred: The hospital needed an approval FIRST from my insurance to allow me admission. Again, with my stomach in so much pain, I waited – in the lobby of the hospital!

At 9 pm there was still no approval. I didn’t know what to do, how to go about my unbearable situation, I tried to ask the nurse from the ER if they could just allow me to lie down in one of their beds. The nurse at first hesitated saying that my “trapped gas” specialist has to see me first. I went back to the lobby. After a few minutes, and maybe struck by her conscience seeing me in such a hopeless situation (the nurse was a Filipina), she gave me a bed and asked me to wait for the “trapped gas” specialist. If he came, (and she mentioned to wait for 10 minutes, according to the instruction of that killer doctor), she could inject me with a pain reliever. With what I heard, I thought I had seen light at the end of a tunnel. 

But it was just in my dreams. The doctor never came to see me but instead instructed the nurse to inject me with the stuff - two hourse after he said he would come in 10 minutes! I waited that long and all he could say was to go ahead with the injection.

After the injection, I felt a temporary relief again. I could stand, talk, and I waited for the damn approval from my insurance.

It was past 10 pm when the nurse said that I got to go home and return at 8:00 am of the following day (Sep 28, Monday) because they could not assure me that the approval for my hospital admission could come on that night. So again, I went home so frustrated. If not for the pain reliever given to me that night, I wouldn’t know if I could bear the pain.

September 28 (Monday)

At 5:00 am, I already felt the resurgence of the same intense pain in my stomach. But I waited until 7:30 am when I and driver leave for the hospital. We arrived there at exactly 8:00 am.

I thought that the approval was already sent and all I would do is to go directly to the ER and be confined. But it did not happen. Again I was made to wait in the lobby, writhing in pain, grasping my bag against my abdomen. I asked the nurse if I could lie down in one of their beds but I was declined owing to other female patients who were in their ER at that time. So, the excruciating wait…

It was past 10:00 am when I felt I could no longer wait for the approval. I asked the nurse if they would admit me if I will give just them a cash deposit from my OWN POCKET so the doctors can attend to me and give me the necessary checks and attention. The Filipina nurse helped made inquiries for me and I was also told that the money could be reimbursed when the approval arrives. It was a positive development. The only thing was that I had only SR 1,000.00 and the deposit was SR 1,500.00. So I went to the cashier and pleaded if I can give only SR 1,000.00. The cashier approved.

So then, the admission proceeded. But I had to go first to another specialist (my gas specialist was a 4 pm doctor and was not yet around). Again, I waited for maybe another half an hour since that new doctor was in the ICU. But I seemed to like him because he attended to me right away upon his return as if he understood how serious my condition was. I thought I finally found a really “specialist” doctor. He prioritized me first in spite of another patient who nagged him, he provided me a wheelchair, and sent me hurriedly to the X-Ray, and the ultrasound. It was in the ultrasound when I heard the technician saying I got polyps in my gall bladder area. Of course, it was not good news (I think they use the term polyps to indicate that they find a mass or something). But nothing was better than to understand the real cause of my severe stomach pain after all those misdiagnosis.

After that, I was wheel-chaired to my room. I was given medication and pain reliever injection for temporary relief. At 4:00pm of that day, my surgeon came telling me that I had to undergo an operation the following day, September 29. It was expected and I went to some extent of myself asking to be ready.

But then again, there was a catch: the damn insurance approval this time, for operation. But I admire my surgeon. He said that with or without approval, the operation should proceed. And it will be made at 4:00 pm.

In the middle of my pain, I felt a sigh of relief. In spite of the fear, it was a better feeling.

September 29 (Tuesday: The Big Day)

The whole day was focused on the upcoming operation. It was like the pain in my stomach was overwhelmed with the thought of having me lie down under the operating table, surrounded by people who will cut it open, or shall I say, insert some things into my abdomen. At 3:30 pm, an Egyptian man came to my room and shaved me. Next came a female nurse cleaning the inside of my navel. At 4:00 pm, I was brought to the operating room. There was a brief “how-are-you” greeting from my surgeon and with my observation, I learned that many members of the team were Filipinos.

“This is it!” I murmured to myself.

Anyway, I was made to inhale something and that was all I remembered. When I woke up, I was briefly disoriented and felt dizzy. I could see the smiles of all the team members who surrounded me. When they moved me back to my ward (maybe four or five of them), I checked on the wall clock and it was 8:15pm. I reckoned that the operation must have lasted for 4 hours?

As I arrived in my room, they gave me another bp. To my astonishment, the nurse seemed to gag at the result. It seemed all their eyes were questioning. And the next thing I knew was that they frantically rushed me back to the OR, and when I was there, they took my right arm, injected and injected on them. I could still hear clearly the heart monitor saying “Tot! Tot! Tot! Tot!” like those in the movie where the character’s life is in high peril. That alone made me all the more nervous.

Later, one of the nurse shouted, “It’s ok now!” I didn’t know what it meant but anyway, it made me feel better. Then they returned me to my ward again. I later found out from the nurse that immediately after my operation, my blood pressure went 80/40 and so the panic…

So now, I am recuperating. I hope and pray that things will be better (and my meneire’s won’t attack) and I can resume back to work.

Thanks to all who sent me their concerns and their prayers. I wouldlike to especially thank my PL friend “J” who went all the way to visit me to the hospital.

Pantalan

Mga alas kwatro ng hapon nang maisipan kong mamasyal ng pier, ang usual na pinupuntahan ko kapag gusto kong magrelax, unwind dahil sa kung anong bumabagabag, pressures, isipin sa trabaho, problema sa kung anu-ano. Isa yun sa mga lugar na paborito kong puntahan, kahit nung College pa lang ako. Dun kasi, masasarap ang mga barbecueng manok, kamayan ang kainan, ang cottages ay gawa ng nipa at kawayan, at napaka presko ang hangin. At ang pamatay sa lahat, ang lugar mismo na tila nakalutang sa dagat.

Kapag ganung oras ng hapon, ang trip ko palagi ay ang panoorin ang paglubog ng araw. Ewan, siguro may pagka sentimental lang akong tao pero halos lahat na ng gusto ko sa kalikasan ay nandun na. Doon, nakakapag relax ako, nakakapagmumuni-muni, sinasariwa ang mga bagay-bagay na may sentimental value, at kapag gusto kong kumanta, may videoke at syempre, hindi mawawala ang beer. Tawag namin sa lugar na iyon ay “pantalan”.

June 3, unang bakasyon ko iyon simula nung makapag abroad ng Saudi. Kaya, sobrang na-miss ko ang lugar at excited akong makabalik dun at magawa muli ang mga nakasanayan na hindi ko na nagagawa sa isang taon ko ding pagkawala.

“Norman, punta tayo sa ‘pantalan!” pag anyaya ko sa pamangking halos ka-edad ko lang.

“Sige Tiyo, ilabas ko lang ang tricycle ko...”

Sa bakasyon ko na iyon, kinontrata ko si Norman na syang mag-serbisyo kung saan ko man masumpungang magpunta.

Si Norman ay isa sa mga pamangkin kong sobrang close sa akin dahil siguro sa lapit ng edad namin at dahil sa youngest ako sa family, parang younger brother na ang turing ko sa kanya. Mga problema namin sa family, kami ang nagsi-share at nagkakampihan. At ang hindi ko malilimutang buhay na buhay pa sa isipan ko ay ang sinabi nyag, “Ayaw kong matulad sa tatay kong lasenggero, iresponsable at basagulero. Ayaw kong danasin ng magiging mga anak ko ang hirap na naranasan ko...” Parang iyon din ang naging komon naming adhikain sa buhay.

Ngunit nung pagkatapos pa lang nya ng high school pinaluwas na sya kaagad ng Maynila upang magtrabaho at makatulong sa mga pangangailangan ng pamilya. Sa murang edad, napasubo na sa mabibigat na trabaho sa kadahilanang wala ngang hanapbuhay ang mga magulang. Kaya, bilang panganay, napilitan syang pasanin ang responsibilida na sanay nakasalalay pa sa mga magulang nya. Sobrang awa ko sa pamangkin na iyon at naipangako ko sa sarili na anu man ang mangyari, hinding-hindi ko sya pababayaan.

Nung gumraduate ako ng College at makapagtrabaho, kinumbinsi ko ang mama nya na pabalikin na sya sa probinsya at ipagpatuloy ang pag-aaral. Ayaw sana ng tatay nya ngunit iginiit ko na wala silang intindihin sa gastusin. Kaya, maliit man ang sweldo, kinaya kong papag-aralin sya.

Ngunit may mga kundisyon ang pagpapaaral kong iyon. Una, wag muna syang mag-asawa hanggang hindi makatapos ng pag-aaral at kung mag-asawa man, dapat nauuna ako, kung hindi man kami sabay. Pangalawa, kapag nakapag trabahao na sya, sya naman itong magpapaaral sa sunod na panganay nyang kapatid.

Ngunit, hindi natupad ni Norman ang mga kasunduang iyon. First year college pa lang sya sa kursong Commerce nung mabuntis nya ang kasintahan at napilitang pakasalan ito.

Sobrang sama ng loob ko s ginawa nya. Ni halos hindi na nga ako nakapagbigay ng pera sa mga magulang ko dahil sa kanya, ni sarili hindi ko mabigyan ng luho tapos heto, nag-asawa na lang bigla. Dahil dun, hindi ko na sya tinulungan pa sa pag-aaral. Kaya, hindi nya na natapos ang pag aaral at upang mabuhay ang sarili, at ang sarili na ring pamilya, pagda-drive ng tricyle ang naging hanapbuhay.

May dala ring negatibong epekto sa akin ang ginawa ni Norman sa paglabag sa kasunduan namin. Di ko maintindihan kung magagalit o mahahabag sa sarili. Ngunit kahit papano, hindi ako nagpatalo. Sa kalaunan, nanaig pa rin ang positibong dulot ng pagtulong ko sa kanya. Napag-isip isip ko na sa ginawa kong iyon, hindi nawala ang respeto nya sa akin, ang pagmamahal bilang Tiyo nya. “At least, hindi nya na ako masisisi pa dahil alam nyang ginawa ko ang lahat... at yun na ang pinakahuli kong pagtulong sa kanya. Sariling kaligayahan ko naman ang pagtutuunan ko ng pansin.” ang nasabi ko nalang sa sarili.

Yan ang kwento ng buhay ni Norman.

Mga alas kwatro y media nung makarating na kami ng “pantalan”. Nung makahanap na ng pwesto sa loob ng kainan, umurder kaagad ako ng barbeque at apat na bote ng beer. Kumain kami, nag-inuman. Walang katao-tao ang kainan sa oras na iyon kaya napaka tahimik at relaxed ng ambiance.

Mejo tumalab na ang alkohol sa katawan ko nung ang usapan namin ni Norman ay mabaling sa hanapbuhay niya.

“Mahirap na ngayon ang pagda-drive ng tricycle dito sa atin Tiyo, madaming ka-kumpetensya at halos lugi na sa tax at maintenance ng sasakyan. Buti nga, pag-aari ng byenan ko itong motorsiklo ko kaya naiintindihan niya kapag hindi ako nakapagbigay ng boundary...” ang paliwanang nya.

“Ano ang plano mo ngayon?”

“Ewan ko ba, di ko alam.” sagot naman nyang halos di makatingin sa akin. “Salamat pala Tiyo sa pagtulong mo sa mga bayaran namin sa ospital nung ma-caesarean ang asawa ko. Kung hindi dahil sa iyo, di ko na alam kung saan maghahanap ng perang pambayad sa ospital. Ngayon na-realize ko ang sobrang kabaitan mo. Kahit ganun ang mga ginawa ko, nanjan ka pa rin, sumusuporta sa akin. Di ko alam pano kita mababayaran sa mga nagawa mo sa akin...” at tuluyan na syang humagulgol.

“Ahhhh! Heto na naman tayo, drama. Wag mo nang pansinin yun. Gusto ko lang namang makatulong sa iyo dahil nasasayangan talaga ako sa talino at sipag mo e. Di ba kahit kailan, tayong dalawa na ang magkasundo at magkakampi? At ang isa sa mga ipinangako natin sa sarili ay na sana wag maging katulad sa tatay mo na iresponsable. Yun ang adhikain natin sa buhay, diba? Ikaw pa nga ang nagsabi na balang araw, maipakita mo rin sa tatay mo na makapagtapos ka ng pag-aaral; na maging kasilbi-silbi ang buhay mo, hindi kagaya nya. At sinabi mo rin na ayaw mong maranasan ng magiging mga anak mo ang naranasan mo sa tatay mo...”

“Yun na nga Tiyo e. Hiyang-hiya ako sa sarili ko, at sa iyo. Wala na talaga akong pag-asa Tiyo... siguro, hanggang ganito na lang ang buhay ko. Siguro kung natapos ko lang ang kurso ko, hindi sa ganitong trabaho ako hahantong...”

Parang dinurog ang puso ko sa narinig sa pamangkin ko. Gustuhin ko mang mag offer na tustusan ang pagpapatuloy ng pag-aaral nya, sariwa pa rin sa isip ko ang ginawa nyang paglabag sa kasunduan namin. At nakapagdesisyon na akong hindi na ako tutulong pa kung pag-aaral nya ang pag-uusapan.

Tinapik ko na lang ang balikat nya, “May pag-asa pa, Norman...”

“Ewan ko ba Tiyo. Parang wala na eh. Parang napakalaki ng galit ko sa mundo, at sa itaas. Simula pa lang ng pagkabata ko puro na lang pasakit at paghihirap ang naranasan, mabibigat na trabaho. Halos hindi makakain sa isang araw... Hanggang ngayon, heto, naghihirap pa rin ako. At ang kinatatakutan ko, ang magiging kinabukasan ng anak ko. Ayaw kong maranasan nya ang naranasan ko.” sabay bitiw na malalim na buntong-hininga.

“Di ba sabi nila, habang may buhay, may pag-asa?”

“Sinabi lang yan ng mga taong maganda na ang disposisyon sa buhay Tiyo. Pero ako, ewan kung darating pa ako sa puntong masasabi ko iyan.”

Hindi ko alam kung paano sagutin si Norman sa katanungan niyang iyon. “Determinasyon, disiplina, at paniniwalang maabot mo ang pangarap mo. Baka isang araw, darating din sa iyo ang isang oportunidad...” ang nasabi ko na lang.

“Sana” at pinakawalan nya ang isang ngiting-pilit. “Kanta na lang tayo Tiyo!” paglihis nya sa seryosong usapan.

Dahil walang ibang kumakanta, kaming dalawa lang ang papalit-palit ng pagkanta. Maya-maya, may pumasok na dalawang tao, ang isa ay akay-akay nung pangalawa. Napagtanto ko na bulag iyong isa. Nasa mga mahigit bente pa lang siguro ang edad nila, marurummi at gusgusin ang damit, at kung titingnang maigi ang mga postura, halos taong grasa na silang masasabi.

Nagtinginan kami ni Norman. Maya-maya, napansin kong umurder sila ng isang boteng red horse at hinati nila iyon. Alam ko, kapus sila sa pera ngunit ang hindi ko maindintindihan ay kung bakit doon pa sila pumasok sa kainan na iyon na mejo may kamahalan ang beer. Nung kumuha na ng songbook ang kasama nung bulag, dun ko naisip na baka videoke lang ang pakay nila kaya doon sila pumasok.

Ang buong akala ko, yung hindi bulag ang kakanta dahil sa videoke, kailangang tingnan ang lyrics. Ngunit laking gulat ko nung tumugtog na at ang humawak ng mikropono ay ang bulag. Magaling syang kumanta. Kuhang-kuha ang timing, buong-buo ang boses, at may sariling estilo. Pansin ko rin ang sayang ipinamalas nya sa pagkanta na tila umaantig sa puso ko. Hindi namin mapigilan ni Norman ang humanga at ang pumalakpak sa sobrang husay ng pagkanta nya. “Ah grabe! Mapapahiya ang hindi bulag dito!” sabi ko kay Norman.

Pagkatapos ng kanta, tawanan ang dalawa. Tila napakasaya nila sa simpleng bagay na nakakanta sila at nakainom ng beer, hindi alintana ang mga taong nakapaligid, kung ano ang sasabihin at sa kabila pa ng kanilang katayuan.

Dahil sa pagka-amaze ko sa kanila, nagtanong ako sa waitress kung kilala niya ba ang dalawa. “Ay, nagpupunta po yan sila dito minsan. Yung bulag, si Dino at yung taga-akay nya ay si Bogart. Birthday po ni Dino ngayon kaya sila nandito. Alam nyo po, taga-repair ng sapatos yang si Dino. Kahit bulag yan napakagaling. Si Bogart naman po ay driver ng potpot*. Matalik na magkaibigan ang mga yan...”

Tila may sumundot sa puso ko sa narinig, di malaman kung ano yun. “Ganun ba?” ang sagot ko nalang.

Nakailang kanta din si Dino nung maisipan kong umuwi na. Nung ibinigay na ang chit sa akin, nilingon ko ang dalawa. Napansin kong ubos na ang beer nila ngunit parang nagsisimula pa lang sila sa kanilang kasayahan.

“Ah, miss, paki-dagdag na rin dito ang 6 na bote ng beer, isang buong grilled chicken, squid at isda, pancit... at samahan mo na rin ng kanin.”

“Take out nyo po ba, sir?” tanong ng waitress.

“Hindi... Paki-bigay sa kanila” sabay turo ko sa dalawa. “Pakisabi kay Dino, Happy Birthday!”

Palabas na kami nung paunang inabot na ng waitress ang 6 na beer sa table nila. Kitang kita ko sa mukha nung dalawa ang labis na pagkagulat. Nung ibinulong na ng waitress ang birthday greeting ko kay Dino, kumaway sya sa direksyon namin, at nagsalita sa mikropono, “Sir Mike, salamat po sa inyo. Pinasaya mo po ako ng labis sa birthday ko!” at parang nakikinita kong may luhang dumaloy sa pisngi nya. “Maraming salamat po sa inyo!” dugtong nyang halos mag crack ang boses.

Lumapit ako sa kinaroroonan nila, kinamayan si Dino at pagkatapos, si Bogart, at nagpaalam na. Gusto pa sana ng dalawa na mag stay kami ngunit nagpumilit akong umalis. Ayaw kong mababahiran ng pagkakahiyaan at pangingimian ang selebrasyon ng dalawa. Ngunit bago ako umalis, nagrequest pa ako ng isang kanta na tinapos ko namang pakinggan.

“This song is dedicated to my new friend, Mr. Michael Juha... at sa pamangkin nyang si Mr. Norman” ang pambungad na inanounce ni Dino sa mikropono, at nagsimula ng kumanta. “We dreamers have our ways, of facing rainy days, and somehow we survive. We keep the feelings warm; protect them from the storm... And when one day the sun appears; and we keep shining through those lonely years.... I made it through the rain, I kept my world protected, I made it through the rain...”

Makahulugan ang kantang inihandog ni Dino sa akin. Para akong maluha-luhang naiisip silang magkaibigan at ang koneksyon ng kanta. Naitanong ko tuloy sa sarili, “Ang nilalaman ba nitong kanta ay ang syang nagpapatibay sa kanya upang harapin ang mga hamon at pagsubok sa buhay at sa kabila ng lahat, maging maligaya at positibo pa rin ang pananaw?” Ngunit ang tanong na iyon ay hanggang sa isip ko na lamang.

Pagkatapos ng kanta, umalis kami. Di ko mawari kung bakit parang gumaan ang pakiramdam ko. Ang alam ko lang ay may natutunan akong mga mahalagang bagay sa tagpong iyon.

Habang umaandar ang sidecar ni Norman pabalik ng bahay, pareho kaming walang imikan. Sa isip ko naglalaro pa rin ang kasayahan ng dalawang magkaibigan. Sa kabila ng lahat ng kahirapan at kapansanan nila, hindi alintana ang lahat. Bagkus, naipakita nila ang simpleng bagay na nakapagdulot ng ibayong kaligayahan; na tila wala na silang pweding mahihiling pa sa buhay. Parang sobrang hiya ang nadarama ko sa sarili. Habang kumikita ako ng dolyar, tila kabaligtaran ang nadarama ko – walang maramdamang kasiyahan, palaging naghahanap, palaging may kulang...

Ewan kung ang mga tanong na iyon na naglalaro sa isipan ko ay sya ring mga tanong na naglalaro sa isip ni Norman. Hindi ko na inalam pa. Ang nasambit ko nalang sa kanya ay, “Man, natapos mo ba ang first year college mo sa kursong kumersyo?”

“Opo Tiyo, bakit?”

“Libre ka ba bukas?”

“Libre naman... bakit po?”

“Magpa enroll ka bukas, ituloy mo ang pag-aaral ng college, ok lang ba?”

Halos hindi magkandaugaga sa pag drive si Norman sa sobrang tuwa sa narinig. Hindi na magawang sumagot pa ni Nporman. Nung lingonin ko sya, pinapahid nya ang mga luhang dumaloy sa pisngi.

Nakapagpatuloy nga si Norman sa pag-aaral at sa darating na Marso na ang kanyang graduation. Hindi man ako makadalo, alam ko na masaya sya at di na malayong maabot nya ang kanyang pangarap.

Ngunit may isang bagay na madadatnan ko pa rin sa darating kong bakasyon – ang pantalan. Ang lugar kung saan nabuksan ang isipan ko sa pagpapahalaga at pagpapasalamat sa mga bagaybagay na nasa akin na; kung saan ko natutunan na dapat maging kontento at masaya sa mga simpleng bagay sa kabila ng lahat.

Ngayong June 3, hindi ako papalya sa pagpunta doon. Sana doon pa rin si dino magbibirthday, magbigay ng saya, ng kanta, at halimbawa sa buhay...

Wakas.

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* Tricycle na de-padyak, isang klaseng pampublikong sasakyan sa lugar namin.

That Thing!

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The Other Face Of Christmas (An OFW Story)

(Written when I was a few years into being an OFW in Saudi)

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For a lot of people, Christmas is a happy occasion to look forward to - a celebration of togetherness with family and loved ones. But Christmas has two faces; while the lucky ones luxuriate themselves in profligacy and profusion, the less fortunate go through agony, loneliness, or deprivation.

It has been three years since I last celebrated Christmas with my family. We are only poor but the happiness that we feel together in the celebration of this special occasion was never lesser than the happiness that the rich feel - even in the absence of delicious foods or costly gifts. For the members of my family, seeing each other healthy and reunited are the happiest things that happen every Christmas. We might not eat the most exquisite foods on earth but we have always liked to savor of whatever was served on the table. We might not have enough money to buy the things we wanted, but there was always something for everyone. What counted most to us was to celebrate the occasion together; to enjoy and to share whatever little or simple was there, like our dreams as a family. And one of these dreams is to be together, at least, every Christmas.

But on the Christmas since I left, things changed. It was when I decided to work overseas - here in KSA. I came up with that decision because I have always wanted to help my old parents, and my nephew and a niece to go to college. I am the youngest and the only professional in my family. My two elder sisters were both intelligent but they were unable to finish a degree due to financial reasons. When it was my turn to go to College, they supported me in spite of their own hardships. And seeing how difficult life had become of their families, I decided that if I could, I would never allow the same fate to happen again to my nephews and nieces. So here I am in this foreign land, struggling to face all the odds for a reason bigger than myself… And this decision has changed my life and has brought about a different meaning of Christmas in my family.

I don’t know now how my family really celebrates Christmas with me many miles across the horizons. But my mother would always write after each Christmas to tell me that it was never the same again since I left. She would narrate how they started the gathering, the activities, the pleasantries, and how the night had ended. Then she would add in her P.S. that during the family’s “salo-salo”, they had reserved a chair vacant for me and had filled-up my plate with the dishes I would surely want to eat had I been there, especially my favorite “puto”, her specialty. It hurts. And it hurts me more to be here on Christmas - away from my loved ones, so alone and lonely.

This Christmas, I’m sure it will be full of loneliness and heartaches as my last Christmas. It pierces my heart to know that while the whole world enjoys being with their loved ones, I would be alone confined in the four walls of my room figuring out what my loved ones and friends are doing and if whether or not they remember me on that day. Maybe, I would like to force myself to sleep and forget that it is going to be Christmas time and the whole world frolics. Or maybe, I would just suppress my thoughts in the hope that it would never haunt me.

Last Christmas, I felt like being tortured. The time passed so agonizingly slow that I could count with impatience every tick of the seconds. A minute passed seemed like a year and the hour, a century. I tried to divert my thoughts to some other things but no matter how hard I tried, there was no escape. Whenever I tried to turn on the TV, it was the faces of my family I see, calling out my name to join them. The music played over the airwaves seemed to be the saddest songs I had ever heard in my whole life. And there was the unusually deep and apathetic silence, which deafened me and drove me crazy. I felt like going out of my room and find escape outside. But the fact that we were in the middle of the desert, it was not just possible on that time of the night. Besides, even if I would have reached downtown, there was nothing to soothe me as there wasn’t any night life here, not even a movie house. And worse, there is no Christmas in KSA!

I didn’t really know what to do but I found myself sitting by my study table, reading over and over again the cards and the letters sent to me by my family and friends. Then I searched for the other year’s photos, which I chose to bring here and for which I have learned to treasure. As I scanned every page of the album and reminisced those happy moments I had with my family and friends, my tears just rolled down my face…I hadn’t cried for a long time. My father had always taught me to be a strong person and to manage to hold on in the midst of adversity as much as I could. But the pain I felt at that time was so compelling and so excruciating that it could break whatever rule the strongest of the strong sets for himself. So I broke down sobbing helplessly against my self like a child who had lost his toys…I didn’t know how long had I cried and stayed that way but I just thanked God that it was over the next day, at least, for that year.

But this year, Christmas is back. I’m sure that it would be most likely a repeat of my last Christmas. Only that this time, it will be a more excruciating one.

On my last vacation this year, I married - on the 28th of July - the girl of my dream. Actually, she became my fiancée only the day after I arrived back in the Philippines. That was July 2. We didn’t have much time knowing each other that deeply, but I married her anyway. It was because, not only of the limited time I had on that vacation, but I found in her all the qualities that I had been looking for in a woman - thoughtful, caring, understanding, not to mention beauty. But the best thing I liked in her so much was her determination to face life bravely and squarely. She had been through innumerable hard times in her life but still, she managed to go on, more determined and ready to surmount every challenge that came her way. In that, I learned to love her. And since that day when I married her, I have loved her more and more each day.

But our happiness was short-lived. Just as we became closer and fonder of each other, I had to leave her for another contract here in KSA. I left her on the 28th of August just one month after our marriage. It was so painful to see her on the airport trying to have a last glimpse of me, holding back her tears and her emotions. Her pain was beyond compare, as was mine. But I had to be stronger to make her feel self-assured that things were going to be all right. Then I gave her a consoling smile as I planted a kiss on her lips and bade goodbye. I felt the whole world on my shoulders as I plodded my way to the check-in lounge. I could feel her eyes following the last footsteps that she could manage to see of me. I knew that she broke into tears. But I had to go. At 6:00 p.m. on that day, the plane touched off the runway of the Ninoy Aquino International Airport. That was the last time we saw each other.

Last month, she wrote telling me that she was two months on the family way. Hopefully, I will be a father soon. I could hardly contain the happiness that I felt upon learning the news from her. For the first time in my life, God willing, I shall see my baby. The thought of it lifts my spirits to invigoration and much inspiration. I think about it every time - in my works, in my solitude, even before I go to sleep. But the happiest thought which I have been keeping deep down is the day when I finally cuddle my baby in my arms, look at him or her in the eyes with all affections, feel the rhythm of our heartbeats together, touch our flesh, and communicate an unspoken but intimate language only a father’s heart can decipher.

But the more I think of it and my wife these days, the more my heart aches. This would have been our first Christmas together. But I guess we just have to let it pass this year without each other. It is not going to be a happy one for both of us and perhaps, for our unborn baby. But I have to accept it - that there are always two faces in life as in Christmas.

And this fact of life is what keeps me going. One mentor I highly respect in College told me that there is nothing really free in life; that there is always a price for everything that we want to have - be it happiness, success, wisdom, or material possession. One cannot really feel what it is to be happy if he has not experienced first what it is to be sad; one cannot succeed without rising above trials and obstacles; one cannot learn the hard lessons of life without undergoing pain. And definitely, one cannot have a pair of shoes without having to pay for the tag-price attached to it. And I guess that my being away from my loved ones is not an exemption. It is going to take sometime but as long as there are people willing to extend to me their support and their helping hand, and there are my family and loved ones behind me, there is no turning back. If it were to realize our little dreams and our future, then for my loved ones, life is worth sacrificing; even worth dying.

So I am not losing any hope. I know that a day of sunshine will come after the storm; a day when all of our dreams and aspirations together will come true; a day when I and my wife and kid will be together for the rest of our lives. And I am looking forward to that day in all optimism, in all faith…

This Christmas, I’m sure I will miss again our family reunion. Most likely, a vacant chair will be reserved for me beside my wife as she would be there, an addition to our family’s gathering. Of course, as my mother would always prepare her specialty, I will miss my favorite “puto” too. But even if I won’t be around to celebrate with them this special occasion, in my thoughts and in my dreams, I will be there. Without me, still I wish them all the merriest Christmas ever!

For my wife, I wish she knew how sorry I am to have been away from her on our first Christmas together. But I know that her understanding is as deep as mine as to why I should be away for a time. This is for our future and for our little dreams. Now that we have a coming baby, I need to work harder and to be stronger and braver. She and our coming baby are my inspiration. They make me smile in all my pains. They help me ease out all my sufferings. They have made me a complete person and have helped me mend my shattered dreams. And for this, I love them beyond words can ever say.

On the midnight of December 25, as my wife would look at my picture and think of me, I will be doing the same thing. I know that beyond the skies above, someone who grants wishes and whose understanding is all-encompassing will make our thoughts and all our longings for each other to meet…