RAIN, CHIMES, AND PLANTS

It has been raining the past few nights.  A nice soft rain trickling off the corrugated roofing and splattering on the pebble covered earth below. If the rain increases, puddles form within those infant stones and the soothing sound of droplets breaking the water’s surface can be heard as a rain cleansed breeze lightly filters its way into your drowsy senses.  On the main island of Luzon, the dry season has begun; but in the Visayas, the showers never seem to disappear.  It is not that we endure a monsoon season all year, but we don’t lack precipitation either.  Most times, it will be a cleansing shower in the afternoon, followed by a spectacular sunset.  The day ends in a very pleasant evening with star filled skies and sleep inducing air wafting its way through open bedroom window.

Since returning home, it has been quiet.  I went to Bacolod yesterday, ate at KFC (saved $1.50 with my senior discount), went to the movie (The Grey), and bought some groceries at the supermarket.  I have a pair of athletic shoes which I named my “water shoes”; that was due to the fact whenever I wore them, it rained.  True to their name, I was precipitated upon on the way up as well as on the way back yesterday.  I spent time under canopies on the way up in an attempt to keep myself relatively dry, but on the way home, I let nature take its course and ended up being saturated from head to toe.

On the way up to Bacolod, there had been a detour at Bago City, but the northbound traffic could now go on the dirt portion of the main road.  Right next to that puddle pocked passage was the new concrete replacement AND upon that pavement were motorbikes going the opposite direction.  On my return south I decided to skirt around the detour signs and take advantage of the new road.  The pavement was about twelve inches above the dirt and somebody had piled old pieces of asphalt there to help the bikers to get up and onto the smooth surface.  Unfortunately, as I tried to power my way up onto the road, the bike got stuck.  It was too heavy to make the last leap up and onto the new lane.  I backed down the pile of rubble and tried twice more, but the underpowered baby of a motorbike couldn’t do it.  I was sure it was the wet surface, or the bike was too heavy or the strapped down groceries on back was the cause…..never once did I consider the fact that my physical enormity might be the reason  All that time during my struggles, there

The hump after dirt was laid

was a Videoke stand nearby with a group of women talking. Of course, they saw me struggling to get my motorbike onto the new pavement and started pointing and laughing. In the meantime, I stood up and as Ipopped the clutch I lifted up on the handlebars.   The extra Oomph from my arms and legs (not to mention getting my acre sized arse off the seat) enabled the two wheeled cycle to clamber up the unstable asphalt pile and onto steady ground once again.  Now, the construction company had put sizeable rocks upon the pavement to dissuade people from driving on it, but so many motorbikes had traversed its stone strewn surface you only had to follow the tire tracks to be able to wend your way through the labyrinth.  AND, as I passed that store, the women continued to laugh at my poor “motorbikes” expense.

Umbrellas - Every Filipina must have one for sun and rain

I have to stress that when driving any form of vehicles in the Philippines, it does not allow for sightseeing of any kind, but over the many trips around the countryside, there were certain things that never changed.  Workers tended to their rice fields as well as laborers continued to chop down sugarcane in the rain.  Umbrellas were everywhere and used in the rain as well as during sunny days. You even saw them being used on slowing moving motorbikes.  I was given one for Christmas by the owner of the compound, but it was still sitting in a corner within its plastic wrapper.  Real men don’t use umbrellas....

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Every morning at 5:10 am, Our Lady of the Snow Catholic Church would play recorded music on its loud speakers.  I realized it was to get the parishioners up for the 6:00 am mass.  The music would play for about twenty minutes and then quit.  On Sunday mornings, it played a lot longer.  The speakers were loud and even though I lived over a half kilometer from the church, those metallic chimes were quite clear.  One morning as I lay in bed listening to the hymns, the arrangements changed and suddenly I was listening to “Silent Night”.  It was followed by “Oh Holy Night”.  That continued on for three more festive tunes until someone shut off the system in mid song.  No more music was played that day.  

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I have discovered the Filipinos will grow wherever there is land available.  Case in point, there was a narrow stretch of ground between a roadway and rice field just north of my compound and some people had decided to tear out the Carabao grass and replace it with Alogbate (Malabar Spinach) and Tinangkong (Swamp Cabbage) plants.  At first I was surprised, but then was intrigued.  In other parts of the Philippines, there would’ve been those who would have illegally picked the vegetables in the dark of night, but not in this part of Negros. I have constantly been astounded by the honesty exhibited here.  People may still have high walls and lock their doors, but then you see vehicles left out overnight with their windows open or gardens, such as that, unprotected in the darkness and you somehow feel safer.  In parts of the Philippines to feel safe at all is something of a miracle at times.

OWAK, THE KIDS, AND THE HOUSE

I have returned from my adventure across the Visayan Sea to visit my adopted kids in Cebu.  It was a great weekend.  My intentions were to swim each day in the aqua blue waters of Owak, but it rained from Friday evening until Sunday afternoon.  Now, when I said rain, I didn’t mean those pesky showers that irritate like a dripping faucet; but a continual Noah’s Ark downpour!  After the

Canla-on Volcano

earthquake the other day, we had some rainy periods and someone commented the rains were caused by the earthquake.  I smiled with that claim.  If Canla-on volcano was erupting I could see ash filled rain clouds, but earthquakes and rain are like nuts and fruit.   They may be round by nature, but never work hand in hand

On my way to San Carlos (where the ferry was located), I looked for damage from the earthquake, but from what I could see, there was none.  In the several towns I passed through, life continued on as usual. The streets of the communities were full of shoppers, as the women were at the wells or alongside the rivers washing

Ferry at pier in San Carlos, Negros Occidental

laundry.  The highways were basically untouched.  The bad spots continued to be a headache and even a few more holes had developed since my last passing in December.  Most of the potholes were nuisances which required a sharp eye to avoid the jaw rattling impacts, but there were several where you were forced to decelerate to a crawl and wend your way through the maze of car sized drop-offs. It had to be almost impossible for cars and trucks to avoid all of them and when I did come upon a four or more wheeled vehicle on that road, they were going even slower than me. 

The drive to San Carlos was exactly 109 km, or essentially 67 miles. In the states, that distance would take approximately one hour and fifteen minutes to complete, however in the Philippines, the same distance took two or more hours.  You always had to negotiate around twenty-five plus kilometers (15 miles) of mountainous terrain with many of the curves limited to 15 mph.  Another thing I noticed; on my way into San Carlos, it would always be sprinkling droplets. Sometimes it turned into rain, while other times, it was a brief shower.  

Clarisse & Charissa Mae Baguio - pic won't straighten up

The kids were excited to see me when I arrived at the nipa hut and spent each night at the hotel (they love veggie pizzas).  Toytoy (10 years old) had no problem telling the neighborhood kids he was going to Negros during school break, but Clarisse (12 years old) was hesitant.  She was always afraid that if it didn’t come true she would end up getting lots of ribbing from her classmates.  Santiago (8 years old) and Charissa Mae (4 years old) were excited, but I don’t think they comprehended the impact other than they were going to spend time with papa.  For all of them, it would be a temporary release from their overly crowded existence.  Even with four children in one bedroom (along with Stephen sleeping on the couch) in Negros, it was better than 16 people currently living in a two room bamboo house in Cebu. 

On another note, Wilcel (John’s wife) has been raising a two year old second cousin by the name of Brix.  His mother is married to an American, but he did not want the responsibility of her four children, so they were “farmed” out to relatives.  Brix is a very bright boy, who was also going through his terrible two’s.  I was

Wilcel Baguio, Brix, with James Baguio in background

introduced to him in November and he was highly suspicious of me.  By my return in December, he had become a little friendlier, but rather offish.  However, by February, he had somehow determined I was his papa.  Every time I showed up at the house, it was papa this and papa that.  On Sunday afternoon, I walked with Diana to discuss the family situation and arrangements for bringing the kids to Negros. As we passed the back side of the house upon that narrow path, there was Brix peaking through the bamboo fence and calling out, “Papa Daryl, Papa Daryl”.   Far too often I have heard of foreigners coming to marry a Filipina, but refusing to take the loose baggage (children) as part of the deal.  Sure, most sent money to the families each month for upkeep of the offspring, but the sons and daughters were always left behind with their grandparents, or other relatives.  It troubles me that Brix may never ever see his real mother again, or have a father to guide him, nor know his siblings who are now scattered among the many family members, but is just abandoned to an uncertain future with no solid connection to anyone. I know I cannot change nor save the World and its millions of abandoned children, but I am so proud to have been able to transform the lives of those four tiny souls who have entered into my life.  They are a quartet of innocence who have come to thrive upon my attention and kindness and who affectionately call me papa.

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Yellow Blossom touched by nature's tears - Clarisse Baguio

The construction of the house is on hold. I have the blueprints and all the permits, but I am unable to go beyond that.  It is a hard pill to swallow and even harder when I had to tell the people who had prospects of four months of employment that nothing was going to happen.   The 300 foot well that is currently being sunk on the property should be finished within the week.  I will help Julius mix and pour a cement platform and then surround it with loose rock. There are many neighbors who have no clean water and if I can’t use the well for now, there is no reason for those in need, to not have a free and potable source.  Sometimes we forget that we need to share with the less fortunate, those resources in which God has blessed us.  In my case, that well is the answer. 

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There have been no earth tremors now for over two days; Canla-on Volcano has not erupted, and I am almost over my latest head cold.  For all those things and many more I am very thankful. Yet, what I am most thankful about is the ability to write and share my experiences with you, my readers.   It is a rewarding and highly satisfying endeavor and would be impossible to achieve without your encouragement and support.  So, I want to say thanks to you, who matter the most.

INSECTS, BICYCLES, AND THE NEW HAZARDS ON THE HIGHWAY

New Public Market - Himamaylan

The days here are like most days in the states.  The sun silently rises in the morning, throughout the day it follows an invisible path across the blue sky above, and settles gently upon the distant horizon each evening. It has repeated that same task for millennia.  Just like in the US, people arise, go to work, and shop for food at the local market.   OK, your market in the states is a super market whereas the market here is an open air affair and filled with individual vendor standsstalls.  Maybe the modes of transportation here are a bit different, but in essence, everyone struggles to make enough to feed, clothe, and shelter their families.

I don’t notice the flies as much here as I do in the States, but the mosquitoes here appear to be more voracious and very sneaky.  It is always the itch after the fact that proclaims you have been bitten once again.  Then there is always the thought in the back of your mind, wondering if you have been infected with Dengue Fever.  Many of the cases are mild to moderate, but then there are those few victims who end up desperately clinging onto life.  Most of the fatalities seem to impact the young and the old. Thank goodness I am in neither of those categories.  In case you were wondering, Dengue Fever is also prevalent in the southeastern part of the United States.   And there are a lot of other crawling and flying insects over here which like to nibble and irritate the masses.  

Oh yes, that brings me to another item, little Red Ants. They have venom that stings like a son-of-a-gun, and after one is bitten, the skin develops little red welts. Then, after the pain subsides, the itching begins.  There is a nest out by where Yen (my puppy) lives and every time I play with her, they manage to crawl onto my bare feet and bite the dickens out of me.  Now, they are kind of like mosquitoes in that you don’t know they are there until the pain has begun.   When Julius was killing chickens for Taw Taws birthday in August, blood from the flopping and flying fowl got into my Crocs. When I got home that night, I left the shoes outside the front door of my residence.  The next morning I stepped outside to take pictures of the party and without looking slid my bare feet into that black rubber footwear.  Within seconds I was jumping up and down as scores of the little six legged creatures coated my feet and started working their way up both legs.  It was hard to swat and jump at the same time and for a while I truly thought the ants were getting the “upper leg”.   In the end, after I removed those shoes from my rapidly swelling feet, along with vigorous brushing of my hairy appendages, and copious

Red Ants slicing and dicing a hapless earthworm

amounts of water, the attack ended; however, the pain did not.  I went inside and coated my legs with isopropyl alcohol.  In reality I exchanged one form of pain with another, but at least the alcohol helped to quell the agonizing burning and disinfected the red welts as well.  For the rest of that day, my lower legs looked like they had a severe case of spotted measles and as the hours passed the insatiable itching began. 

All in all, no matter where you live on this planet, you will always have to deal with some form of insect infestation and it seems that no one is immune from their bothersome ways.  

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It seems that my honeymoon on the bicycle has finally come to an end.  I am now thrown within the rest of the pedaling masses as the teaming traffic no longer slows down for me when approaching from behind.  There have been vehicles that came so close to me I swore I could have leaned over and kissed the side of the car, truck, or bus.  As for the traffic driving toward me; in the beginning they would wait until I was safely past before they began passing a

A High Rolling Bicyclist passing thu Himamaylan City

slower vehicle, but now they seem to be indifferent in regard to my well being.  Except for the pedestrians, I am now the lowest and slowest of the vehicles plying the highways.  It doesn’t matter whether you are wearing biking attire or pedal a fancy bicycle, everyone else has their agenda and you are just an insect of humanity slowing their progress.  So, I pedal with a little more awareness of my surroundings.  Many residents will say hello to me as I pass by and I do have conversations with those I meet when taking rest breaks, but beyond those enjoyable encounters, I find the highway vicious, brutal, and unforgiving to the lowly bicyclist.

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Today was grocery day in Bacolod. The trip each way is approximately forty-five miles and takes around ninety minutes to get there.  I had stopped on the way up to allow a rain shower to pass. Since last year, they had been tearing up and replacing concrete segments of the highway. Having completed the concrete sections, they were now working on the asphalt portions. Regrettably, when they replaced asphalt, you got the honor of driving on packed dirt for three or more weeks. It was as if they expected the traffic to pack the earth for them.  The dilemma for me was when it wasn’t raining, you were choking on dust and when it was raining, you could just imagine the gooey and greasy results.  If in a car, truck, or bus, it was tolerable, but if you were on a motorbike, the conditions were far less than favorable.  On the way up this time, it was “wet and mucky” and on the way back it was “dry and dusty”.   

There are always special moments with each sojourn to Bacolod and today was no different.  During the sugar cane season, the highways would be filled with molasses tankers.  I always loved to cruise behind their long, dirty tanks and let the sweet aroma of molasses intoxicate me, until one day when I saw the slimy bronze goo slowly dripping from the hose in back and determined that following one of them was not necessarily the best thing for me.  

Most straight trucks would locate their batteries on a shelf attached to the frame behind the transports cab.  This afternoon as I was returning home with my purchases, I found myself behind a molasses tanker.  The approaching traffic was spaced in such a way that I could not get around the lengthy behemoth.  However, at a major intersection, the blue metallic beast slowed and was starting to turn right when I heard what sounded like a shotgun blast; then I saw pieces of the truck’s battery as well as battery acid fly across the highway.  Just seconds before, I was ready to open up the throttle to pass and there was a distinct possibility I could have been injured by the flying debris and/or coated with that caustic compound. Fortunately I was not and except for sitting thirty minutes (further down the road) awaiting the afternoon downpour to pass, it was another enjoyable ride. 

For the most part, I always try to find something a little different in each day.  Good or bad, it is the variety which pushes me onward and keeps my spirit alive. The Philippines provides me that spark, that diversity which enflames my desire to explore a paradise that so many either ignore or take for granted.  I may not have been born or raised here, but there are times when I feel I have spent my entire life here and in so many ways, I want it to remain that way.

EARTHQUAKES BY THE ISLAND OF NEGROS – DAY TWO

It has been a day since the earthquake struck my corner of the Philippines. Although there was damage to the hospital and gymnasium, no buildings collapsed or people injured. They did have to move the patients from the hospital into tents for the time being.  I discovered this morning that the epicenter of the quake was just a little over twenty miles away.  There is a line of mountains to the east of our community and the earthquake was basically on the other side, along the coastline. 

I went to Kabankalan this afternoon to transact business and found that the second floor of Gaisano’s (Dept. Store) was closed and all the lights were extinguished on that level.  The building housed various other shops in a miniature mall type complex.  I did see some damage to the outside of the structure, but it was mostly open for business.  However, the crowds that normally filled the hallways and surrounding businesses were noticeably absent.  Even the lines at Jollibee’s (a Philippines sort of McDonalds) were conspicuously absent.   The lack of people within the mall was evidence that the populace was scared.

 

Last evening after a 6.2 magnitude aftershock, I was walking to Julius’ house and as a trike passed me on the road, I caught a few words of their conversation.  They commented that the earthquakes didn’t seem to bother the foreigner.  Also, in my compound, the residents couldn’t quite comprehend my lack of anxiety to the death and destruction which was standing at our very doorstep.  As I walked down the street, I saw that people had moved out of their homes and were sitting on the sides of the roadway in plastic chairs with loaded backpacks.  We exchanged pleasantries, but I could sense their curiosity as to my calm behavior. 

When I went to Red Cross disasters in the states, there were always rumors of terrible disasters in the next town, or county, or that were coming our way.  Hearsay was always rampant during those events, and in the Philippines it was no different.  Such things as Canlaon Volcano erupting; or that ten bodies were found atop that volcano and who had died mysteriously.  That the coastline had emptied of water and a giant tsunami was imminent.  Those tsunami fears took our city by storm.  The tsunami alert was for the east coast of the island of Negros with a potential of three foot waves, but everyone had become convinced this gigantic wave was coming that very evening to wipe out the city and all its occupants.  Julius’ family didn’t talk about the tsunami concerns with me, but I could sense that they were very uncomfortable with the situation.  

On my way home, I noticed that people were hastily loading their basic belongings into trikes and leaving for higher ground to the east of Himamaylan.  As I entered my compound I found that, except for one other family, the rest had either left or were in the process of leaving their homes for unknown destinations.  As I sat in my living room looking at the news on the internet and monitoring the aftershocks, the sounds of departing vehicle passed my lighted bungalow.  During that time period I received a text from Julius which said that the Batang Peninsula (shoreline west of town) was empty of water and there was to be a major earthquake at 10:00 pm.  They added they were staying the night atop the hill where my house was to be built. Many others followed them to the shelter of that elevated mound.  I knew that since the tsunami watch had been canceled over seven hours ago, it was unlikely a tidal wave would miraculously appear now and as to the major earthquake appearing at 10:00 pm.  The time arrived and passed without a shiver to the ground. 

Now, I could have told all those people that there was no tsunami and that it was unlikely there would be a major earthquake at 10:00 pm.  But, I also knew I was a foreigner and thus an outsider and no matter what technology I had available to provide me the hard facts enabling me to discount those rumors, they still would not have believed me.  I knew as each one exited the compound gate, they were certain I was crazy for staying behind. That I was signing my own death warrant; and when they returned in the dawn to inspect the carnage from the overnight waves, they would have accepted the fact I had been washed away like so many cement blocks, palm trees, and discarded rubbish. 

It is amazing at how easily a civilization can be overwhelmed by fear. It doesn’t matter whether they are educated or not, it is that sense of survival which drives them to extremes. Yet, it is not just the unsubstantiated rumors which drive a society, but even the media has its contribution to it. The radio yesterday received reports from officials that rivers had emptied and the water had disappeared from the shoreline.  Thus the media also spread the fear and panic.  As soon as it got dark, the rumors seemed to grow exponentially in all their darkest details.  What may have started out as a simple thought by one individual soon became fact, and like an uncontrolled virus it soon infected the minds of the town’s inhabitants. And here I was, the only person who laughed at the initial quake and then ignored the rumors which surrounded me. 

All today and into this late hour the aftershocks continue to linger, blessing us at least once or more each hour with subtle reminders that the earth does move. 

I learned something very valuable from this near disaster.  An informed population is less likely to panic in deference to an uninformed population.  It’s hard to control paranoia once it had begun. Governments had been using that method of rumors and innuendoes for centuries to control and manipulate their masses, but it was a simple earthquake which gave me the front seat opportunity to see the rumor mill at work. 

EARTHQUAKE TODAY JUST OFF THE COASTLINE OF NEGROS

You always hope for something exciting everyday in the Philippines, but many are uneventful for most people.  Yet to me, I have tried to see every day as a new page in a lifelong chapter.  

Yesterday I was under the weather.  It had been coming on for two days, but yesterday I truly felt its effects and spent the night shivering the first half and sweating the second half.  However, by this morning, I was well enough to resume my daily activities.  

I spent the morning performing insignificant little tasks at the city hall, then got photo copies at the internet café and finally did the thing I enjoyed the most which was sitting on a shaded bench along the highway.  Now many may find it quite boring, but I remember my grandma would sit in her open garage with relatives in the evenings and watch the traffic on the highway pass as they talked about their happenings of the day. Well, maybe I didn’t have anyone to chat with, but I did enjoy watching all the trucks, cars, bikes, trikes, buses, jeepneys, and people pass by.  Everyone seemed to have an agenda, but my only priority was to sit back, relax, and observe.  Let’s face it, I had the best job in the World, and that was doing nothing.

I went home with some paperwork and since it was 11:45, I decided to walk to the Oasis Café for lunch. I did that a few times each week as a mango shake and chicken curry cost only $2.50.  As I approached the cemetery, the ground started shaking violently.  There was a group of wood/bamboo houses across the road and people started pouring out of them. The ones on the street just froze and I had to admit, it was a challenge standing still (actually had to move a couple of times to maintain my balance).  There were gasps, a few shrieks, and a lot of frightened expressions on the faces of those on the street. I was on the cemetery side of the road; I looked around to make sure nothing could fall on me and I began to laugh.  It was like being on an amusement ride or on the ferry in rolling seas.  The shock wave seemed to come in waves, but back and forth and as I stood there, I could literally see the earth move. It was just a terribly eerie feeling to watch something move in such a way that, in your mind, should never ever be able to do that. Some residents were afraid the ground would open up and swallow them.  As the 6.7 magnitude trembler settled down, I saw the young as well as the old clutching their chests.  Some sat down on available benches while others leaned up against walls.   The area dogs were barking up a storm as I moved on down the street. I was sure that some thought I was mad because of my laughter and excited attitude.  Had I been inside my house or around things that could have toppled on me, I would have reacted differently, but I was in the open and because of that, it was exhilarating experience. 

I visited with people (who were now standing or sitting outside their homes) as I continued on my way toward the Café. Many asked if I had earthquakes where I lived and I always replied that my part of the states was pretty safe from those things.  Since they all had lived their lives with earthquakes here, I thought it must be hard for them to envision there could be no earthquakes where I lived.  A 4.8 aftershock occurred as I walked along the highway, but I didn’t notice it as the rumbling from the traffic masked that one.  However, after ordering my lunch, another large aftershock (5.6 magnitude) hit. There were five customers and waitress in the eating area of this concrete, wood, and bamboo structure.  Even though I was the furthest one inside the café, I was the second one outside.  I never had a chance against the young waitress who sprinted out the front opening and down the steps.  The three female customers clutched their chests as the street lights and café sign swung vigorously from the see-saw movement of the earth.  Whereas the initial earthquake lasted for almost forty-five seconds, this aftershock shook for only around thirty seconds.  As soon as it quit, I commented that the show was over and walked back to my seat. The waitress followed me, but the other two couples stayed outside for quite awhile. 

I did not see any physical damage anywhere I passed, but on my way home, there were a lot more people sitting or standing outside their places and a new addition was chattering radios.  Residents were huddled around squawk boxes as it told of the conditions and damage. One person called the radio station and said the San Carlos River had been emptied and then another had said the water on Canlaon Volcano was rapidly emptying off the mountain. Others had heard that Canla-on was erupting and that the quakes center was by Iloilo (pronounce elo – elo).  The radio spoke of a Tsunami watch until 3:00 p.m. for the east coast of Negros and west coast of Cebu islands.  Still there were those who worried about a giant tsunami wiping out the coastline and that there would be another large earthquake at 3:00 p.m. (ironically, there was a 3.8 magnitude tremor at 3:04 p.m.).

The true story of this earthquake was it did occur at 11:49 a.m. and was logged at 6.7 magnitude on the Richter Scale and located less than 30 miles Southeast of me. That was the strongest quake I had experienced so far in my life. The first aftershock was at 12:03 p.m. (4.3 magnitude) with the one that drove me outside the café at 12:20 p.m.(5.6 magnitude)  Since then there have been at least ten additional aftershocks ranging from 2.0 to 6.2 magnitudes.  The last three large ones took me back outside.  The latest reports say that at least 43 people have perished through mud slides and collapsed buildings. Oh yes, the tsunami warning was for one meter waves (thirty-nine inches) for the coastlines.  If you want to see the location of the earthquake, copy and paste the following coordinates in Google Maps.    9.964°N, 123.246°E   

Prior to my arrival on Negros, earthquakes had not been felt in years, but since my arrival, there have been two large tremblers around this island paradise.  In addition, they had no typhoons cross the island since 1994, yet this summer we had one direct hit and one graze this island which has made me to think that even though I love the island, perhaps Mother Nature doesn’t feel the same way about me.  

FOOTNOTE:  As I proofread this article, there continues to be aftershocks and now there are residents (including those in my compound) who are taking their possessions and evacuating into the mountains east of town.  I look at the data.  The aftershocks are lessening and the last tremor was over two hours ago.  There are two volcanoes on this island, Canla-on Volcano (to the north) and Magaso (to the south).  Canla-on last showed activity in 2004, however Magaso has not been active for the past 14,000 years. Still anything is possible in the Philippines.

AN ADDITION TO MY FAMILY

I finally have a female in my life.  OK, now that I have caught your attention, it is a little puppy I got from one of the neighbors in the compound.  I figured if I was going to have a house, then I was going to have a

Yen Yen

pack of guard dogs to keep the intruders away.  Her name is Yen and although she does whine every once in awhile, she has been a good outdoor dog and does not whine at all after sunset.  She eats everything I (or the housekeeper) gives her and after the first day, we have had a good time together. I want to emphasize she is not a house dog, but will live entirely outside.  I will pick her up and hold her; and she loves nestle in my goatee. We also have a great time when I rough house with her on the ground.   

There is a story as to how I acquired her.  The dog at the house kitty corner from mine had a litter of six puppies. I asked for one, but they said it was too late as they had been promised to others.  A few days later, the lady came to my house and asked if I would still like a puppy.  She added, that particular puppy kept running away from the new owners and always returned home to her mama.  Of course I said I would be happy to take her in.  

Yen's Mama

The first thing that happened was she (with the help of mama) broke through my bamboo fence.  ‘So, there’s the problem’, I thought to myself.  I thus went out into the lane and separated babes from mom and then cut a stretch of cord from the back clothes line.  Clothes dryers in the Philippines?  NOT IN THE PROVINCES.  I tied one end of the cord around her neck and then with the other end, it was tied to the metal portion of the fence on the west side of the house.  As would be expected, the four legged addition was not too excited about the situation.  With mama at the outer fence barking encouragement, Yen would back up and then run as fast as her four little legs could move.  Every thing was fine until she reached “the end of her rope” and then TWANG. Her head and neck went up into the air as her torso, legs, and tail slid underneath due to the momentum.  It took less than a second, but there she was on her back wondering what happened.  Still, she was determined to be reunited with her parent and thus repeated her performance twice more before giving up in TEMPORARY defeat.  She then tried to chew through the cord, but the teeth weren’t developed enough.  Finally she backed up trying to pull the noose off her head, but that didn’t work either. I had to admit she was persistent, but Yen finally became pretty exhausted from all that puppy work; hence the poor canine finally curled up and took a nap. 

Are you here to play with me again?!?

I thought that things would settle down quickly after that, but I discovered this was not to be the case.  Within the hour, Yen was barking, whining, and whimpering.  It seemed that mama had squeezed under the metal gate at the back of my yard and was now chewing on the tether holding her baby.  I did not touch mama, but opened the gate and told her to GET!  She knew she was not welcome, but a little over an hour later, there she was in my enclosure again.  Once more, I opened the gate and ushered her out.  “Mama is just as bad as baby,” I grumbled to myself.

I would go out every so often to give Yen attention, but she was having nothing to do with her captor.  Then about 4:00 pm while writing, I looked up to see mama walking along the fenceline.  I got my sandals on, walked out into the kitchen and peered out that widow.  Sure enough, mama was squeezing under the metal gate.  Racing outside I yelled at her in English, some Illongo, and a few words that probably had no decipherable meaning and picked up some pebbles. Mama made a hasty retreat under the barred barrier as I tossed a stone at the gate, which bounced off it harmlessly.  I then tossed a rock at her as she trotted up the street toward the compound gate. That pebble bounced off the screen that was on that side of the house. By the time she reached the lane in front of my house, she was up to a pretty good run as I just yelled at her some more.  Yen?  She just stood there and watched as mama made a hasty passing.  Interesting thing was that mama never came back again.  Whatever bond they had was terminated by my tirade.  It seemed that puppy realized it and warmed up to me immediately after that. 

I am really trying to take a nap

You may think that this is a happy ending to a sad story, but it continues on.  I got Yen on Wednesday. On Thursday a six year old neighborhood boy was talking to Yen through the bamboo fence.  The housekeeper asked what he was doing and the youngster said it was “his dog”.  I guess the housekeeper said, “Not anymore.” Well the child said that he was going to take her back.  The housekeeper told me not to pay any attention to him as the youth was just upset over losing a dog he could not control. 

This morning, I was sitting at baby reading my morning emails when I spied this same kid using a stick to get the lock moved so he could open the gate.  I asked him what he was doing in VERY BASIC Illongo.  He looked up and saw me watching him through the open window. His eyes became huge as he stopped what he was doing.  For a moment he stared at me in total terror as the piece of wood slowly dropped from his (now open) hand and then he just vanished.  The only consolation is if that little boy doggynaps my Yen, I do know where to find them.

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On the crowded streets of Cebu City, Cebu

As well as the quiet streets of Himamaylan City, Negros Occ.

 was in Bacolod yesterday and made an interesting observation.  I had seen this before, but somehow it was more prevalent yesterday.  Whenever I was with my children or when watching other parents walk with their little ones, they always held their hands.   What I found uniquely different in the Philippines, was the parents held firmly onto the youngster’s wrists.  It’s not that they were dragging them along, but still held tightly onto that lengthy appendage.  However, one time I saw a papa earnestly pulling his little daughter past me in the mall. The poor little thing walked as fast as she could, but sometimes would have to jog to keep up.  That did bother me greatly.  Another observation was, if a child had a tantrum, there was no physical correcting.  Most parents would ignore the demonstrations and continue walking with them (sometimes forcefully pulling protesting feet) through the mall.  Those who finally addressed the problem did so in a private corner or sat them down on a bench until “the moment” subsided.