BAMBOO, RE-BAR, MEMORIES & TROPICAL STORMS

 With Tropical Storm Washi (or Sendong in the Philippines), passing just to the south of Negros the other day, it gives me some time to settle down, watch the palm trees sway in the tropical breeze, drink a ice filled glass of tubig (water) and recount of the recent experiences I have encountered.

Before I begin, I want to stress that what I write should, in no way, depict a negative light on the Philippines.  I love this country. It may have its own unique qualities, but that is why I love it here. If you get out into the provinces, you discover an innocence, which is quite refreshing.  Most will talk about the foreigners being taken advantage of, but once I got away from the metropolitan centers that ceased to be an issue. Most of its citizens are honest and hard working.  The living conditions may be challenging in some locations, but as a whole, it is a lifestyle I have grown accustom to.

Since most of my observations have been from the highway (except for a couple of walks I have already completed), much of my writings have reflected that.  Hence, I will add a nice little story to this chapter.

One item I have not touched upon yet is the transportation of bamboo among other commodities.  Most times you will see bamboo pulled by a trike. I have seen it pulled by a trisikad and even hauled in a straight truck.  In the cases of the trikes and trisikads, the bamboo would hang about six or seven feet in front of the vehicle.  They would be elevated about three or four feet off the ground, sort of like a bunch of jousting lances waiting to skewer some unsuspecting bicyclist or pedestrian from behind.  But wait, the same bamboo would also be dragging on the ground another ten or more feet behind the trikes.  There were never any flags at either end, so you had to be alert.  How often did that occur? I would see at least one trike each day as I traveled down the highway.  Now, the trucks were a little different.  Their boxes were usually about twenty feet in length, but the bamboo was so long and cumbersome that it would also drug on the ground.  Again, no flags would be attached to warn approaching motorists.

So, my little story occurred in 1974 while stationed at the Communications Station in San Miguel.  In those days, street lighting was not that good (if there was any at all and none existed during brownouts) and the carts with Carabao (Water Buffalo) would literally crawl down the highways after dark, thus you had to be “aware” of what was going on about you at all times. One day, it came to my attention that a Marine Sergeant had been riding down the highway at a rather aggressive speed after dark.  Unfortunately, the wooden cart (which had no slow moving vehicle sign on its back) was hauling a load of bamboo.  Of course, the biker did not see the cart until it was too late and was thusly impaled upon the elevated bamboo.  That was the first time I had heard of the term “Biker on a stick” and it literally stuck with me.  I did have a motorbike at the time and was commuting thirty miles each day to visit my wife who had just delivered our second son at the Naval Hospital in Subic Bay.  With that tragedy fresh in my mind, the thought of that term reminded me of the unseen hazards one might face after sunset.

Another commodity hauled frequently by trike was re-bar.  Those were metal rods used to reinforce concrete walls and pillars.  You did hear a hissing sound when passing or coming upon a load of bamboos as it slid along the pavement.  However, the re-bar had a musical sound to it as it (sometimes) sparked its way over the concrete.  It may not be an acceptable form of transporting those items in the states, but it works quite easily here.

Yesterday, just north of Hinigaran, a young dog had been hit by something that morning.  I have seen cats left on the road to be smashed into oblivion by the constant stream of traffic, but by the time I passed by the same spot on my return home, the dog was nowhere to be seen.  Which left me to wonder if it wasn’t buried in somebody’s belly later that day. 

The dark grey clouds persist as the winds assault the palm tops of the trees, yet no rain has fallen since last night. A few minutes ago, a couple of children were wearing coats and knitted caps as they jumped on the motorbike with their parents to go somewhere.  Yes, they will actually pack four and five people on a motorbike here.  Still, even with the cooling breezes here and the local residents chilled by them, I find them refreshing and does give me a faint reminder of Iowa in the late Spring or early Fall.