Ocean Of Heads

It was the 9^th of May when Philippine President Gloria Macapagal Arroyo visited Al-Khobar and my Company was one of those invited to send delegates to the gathering of OFWs. There were only eight representatives chosen including me. Actually, if I would have my own way, I would never, ever participate in a gathering like that. Not because I am anti-Arroyo; it's that I hate the idea of people congesting a place, pushing, shoving, even killing each other just to see or hear someone or something. With the modern technology that we now have, there should be no problem just watching these people on TV, or the internet. And I think it doesn't make any difference.

Anyway, as I was appointed leader (which shocked me; probably the criterion was the lesion in my brain) and so, I obliged.

The invitation never mentioned of any specific role for the leader except that he had to wear a Barong Tagalog. I never have worn a Barong Tagalog since I came to Saudi and neither did I have one. So, from my sets of polo shirts, I chose the one which looked like a Barong Tagalog which was not really a Barong Tagalog. I tucked it in, sleeves rolled, pretty much like one of those semi-formal wear. I knew I looked stupid. I could see it in the shocked eyes of my co-employees who said nothing in front of me but their minds I could hear screaming "What a stupid look!"

When we arrived at the venue, Le Meridien Hotel there were like hundreds of people queuing at the information. We passed that hurdle and afterwards, we were instructed to go to the garden. Easy!

The garden was huge but already full of people. There were snacks in a buffet. I thought that the president will just magically emerge there delivering her speech while we would hold a can of soda drink on the one hand and a slice of pizza on the other. It would have been heaven, with the ambiance. But later, we were told to get in to the function room. That was where purgatory started.

With me were over a thousand more standing in front of that door pushing, shoving each other. And the door was not even opened yet! One woman freaked out, "Please don't push! I can't breathe, I'm sweating, and I'm about to collapse!" to the insensitive reply of the others, "Tagalugin nyo po, di namin naiintindihan, Pilipino po kami! (Please speak Tagalog, we don't understand; we are Filipinos". Some clapped their hands like crazy.

And I told myself, "Yeah! Why would she complain? Everyone is sweating to death, everyone is collapsing; everyone is pushing someone. That's normal if you want to kill yourself in a crowd of fanatics. And the problem with our fellow-Filipino organizers was that they idolized Wowowee so much that they wanted to make a repeat of the ABS-CBN stampede, Al-Khobar style. But I could not discount the fact that they were so clever to fill our stomach first before herding us all to that minuscule entrance. They knew we needed the energy to survive with the pushing and shoving and the heat and the indescribable smell of people.

It's what over-congestion can do to your mental health. One can scream, one can clap his hands, one can become patriotic, even worse, one can think that the other persons are platforms he can stomp his feet on when the need arises.

After more than three hours in that state of purgation we were finally able to get into the function room. As I was one of those with withdrawal-compulsion syndrome, I was among the last to get in. Naturally, I was seated at the backmost rows, the farthest spot from the platform where the president was to address the crowd. As I sat, all I saw were oceans of heads. There were black heads, grey heads, blonde heads, highlighted heads, hairless heads, nearly-hairless heads, huge heads, doughnut heads, bean heads, blackheads, whiteheads, and stupid heads – all types of heads!

The other people seated with me were all wearing Barong Tagalog. Since I was wearing a Barong-which-was-not-really-a-Barong, I thought I fit in with the classification.

The program started. Since the stage was just an improvised platform, I could only hear the sound of the emcees. They spoke in English. "Wow!" I said." They must be wearing Barong Tagalog and speak English!" But all I could see were heads! I knew I was in hell.

The next numbers were called. I was surprised why some people in my group stood. God! I was seated in a group of performers! So they stood, went to the stage to render a song number and again, all I could see were their heads. Then another number was called and all the people looked towards my place and another group stood up, rendered their number.

Every time a number was called, people would look to my direction and I could see some of them singling me out probably their minds asking whether I would perform an exotic number, or walk on a tightrope, eat fire, to be targeted by a dagger, or perform magic. And I would cower directing my eyes to the roof or the chandelier or anything that doesn't move in embarrassment of their inquisitive look.

The president finally arrived, stood there on stage. God! I could not see her head! Since she was less than five feet tall, the president's head was like the whirlpool in that ocean of heads. So, I just gratified myself with her voice on the speaker like listening the president's announcement on a radio. That's all I did for the entire length of her speech.

Well, it was not a useless activity on my part, after all. I was able to se the roof of the Le Meridien Hotel, I was able to count how many chandeliers they have there, I was able to smell different types of sweat, and I survived chaos. I did not see how the president really looked like in person (her face on TV was clearer), but I heard the president speak through the huge speakers. That was the most important part.

I think it was my Barong-which-was-not-really-a-Barong attire that gave me luck in that activity. I swear I'll burn it! Grrrr!