Aida (January 10, 1950 - January 24, 2010)

She took over a parental responsibility as a second mother to me and my brother, John, when we attended grade school at the University of San Carlos in Cebu City. Her son, Victor, was a bubbly three-year old then. We were the older brother and sister that Victor never had in his life.

Her name was Aida, whom we fondly called Auntie Daya. She was mom’s younger sister. We were always fearful of her because of her strict and termagant ways. But the other side of her allowed us to enjoy childhood. She would bring John on travels with her to the province. She bought me clay stoves and dolls, the usual toys a little girl would always enjoy playing. She took us to the park and yes, shopping. She sewed my clothes with complimenting colors. She had a special knack at the sewing machine just like her sisters, being a daughter of a tailor and haberdasher.

As nephews and nieces come one after another, she was also mother to Oliver, Albert, and Antonio, the sons of the youngest sister, Oliva, when the latter left for the United States for greener pastures. I have less knowledge if Auntie Daya briefly assumed being a mother to Noriviena, Duane, and Jennifer, the children of her older brother, Henry, when he and his wife also left for the United States.

When John and I attended university, she re-affirmed her self as being second mother to us. That time, she extended her role to our younger sisters, Irma and Cherry. And for a short period of time, she was also mother to Salma, Pio, and Oscar, the children of our oldest aunt, Thelma. Then later, she became mother to Bryan Gil. She was also a sweet aunt to the rest of the nephews and nieces, and later, to grand nephews and grand nieces.

She had a strong personality and was cool on anything in fad. She taught us to drink and brought us to drinking bars. Not the ideal and perfect aunt that she was and despite her shady deals, we loved her all over. She guarded her wards like the proverbial mother hen and would fight tooth and nail to defend them. She was one ferocious woman. Like any other mother in the world, we would run into arguments with her. It was a love-and-hate relationship between her and the children in the family; children, being Victor, Bryan, the nephews, and the nieces. When hurts were healed, we would kiss and make up and love her all over again. That cycle repeated perennially.

On January 23, a Saturday, I received a text message from Salma that Auntie Daya was rushed to a nearby clinic in Bonifacio, her childhood hometown. Through communication with my sister, Charisse, I learned that she had a hard time breathing. John rushed her to a hospital in Ozamis City where she was put in intensive care. The news was relayed to Irma in Canada and Cherry in Saudi Arabia as well as to Auntie Oliva in the United States. I kept tab of her condition. She reportedly had a hard time breathing despite the oxygen administered to her. Her kidneys, lungs, and heart were complicated and eventually shut off. She could not hang on to life anymore.

The following day, Sunday, Victor was asking for prayers, saying his mother was in critical condition. Later, I received a text message from Irma while I was attending church service. Auntie Daya was resuscitated. A few minutes after, Charisse informed me she expired. That was around eleven thirty. She was 60, leaving behind, not two, but at least 15 children.

I am comforted at the thought that I was at least able to spend a night in her house when I passed through Ozamis from Iligan last Christmas holiday. Had I known that would be the last time I would see her, I could have spent more time with her. I did spend time with her, but not enough, maybe two hours that night. The following morning, I was waken to the blaring sound of the neighbor’s transistor radio at four thirty. She sensed me coming down the stairs and with sleep still in my eyes, she told me how that neighbor had been a headache (she had her bedroom downstairs). We talked until breakfast up to the time my sister Charisse came to pick me up. She had that extra glow in her eyes that morning because apart from my visit, my son also came. She exclaimed how big Anand had grown. Minutes later, her sister Oliva and cousin Oliver called from the United States and spoke to all of us. When we left, she was happily looking forward to another visit by cousin Oscar the following day.

(Auntie Daya was shown in the picture with niece Charisse and nephew Jopeter at Oscar's wedding in 2005.)

Leaving Home

Last Sunday, he was feeling like a grown-up man. The idea that he would be crossing the sea alone to the mainland was a manifestation of independence. He was finally walking out of the fortress that was home to him for 16 years. It was also a release from mom’s watchful eye to a new world waiting for him.

My little brat was now ready for university to take a five-year degree in computer engineering. On the day he left, he made certain that his stuff were all in his bag. At the lunch table earlier, he told me to feed the cats while he was away. Feeding the equally bratty pets had been a responsibility he took with commitment.

Then the time I dreaded came: bye-bye time. By twelve noon, he got ready to leave for the port while I gave some last-minute reminders: eat on time, study well, be punctual to school, take your cough medicine, watch out for swine flu, etc. He quieted me by scooping my face with both of his hands and plowing two noisy kisses on my cheek. The kind of kiss I plowed onto his cheek when he was a little boy. He also planted a loving kiss on his dad's cheek as they left for the port. I followed him with my sight until he was gone. The house was suddenly empty and I sniffled at the thought that my son is no longer a baby.

The Shaman

He lives in the outskirts between two tiny cities on the island. Beads hung around his neck, cock’s feathers adorn his head, and beetle nuts stain his mouth. His wispy frame blends like a chameleon among the lush bamboos.

He was said to heal illness. Even the testimony of a friend was enough to form my curiosity to meet this shaman. Medical doctors have diagnosed this friend of mine to have something that blocked her ovaries and scheduled for surgery. She went to the him instead who gave her healing water. The following week, the doctors were puzzled to check her ovaries and found them healthy and clear of any obstruction.

One day, while going through Yahoo!Answers, I chanced up on a question if someone knew any spell caster. I casually said yes, as there were so many of this kind of people around the island. My inbox were bombarded with a lot of queries a few days after. People as far as Singapore and Mauritius sought my help to cast a spell on someone they love.

I was particularly interested on a Philippine lady among those who inquired about the spell caster. Her husband has been philandering before her eyes. I went to consult the shaman about it. “Bring me a picture of the couple and I promise you that the man will stop his bad ways and would never leave his wife’s side from now on,” he assured me.

Amidst the shrill voices of strange birds in the trees, he then felt the pulse between my thumb and index finger. “Oh, your uric acid level is so high,” he said like a doctor reading a laboratory result.

True enough and without the shaman’s knowledge, I have been suspecting of high uric acid level in the past few months as I could not clench my fists hard enough. He gave me healing water and told me to drink a glass of it every night to wash down the uric acid. The following morning, I swear I could clench my fist so tight and never felt so renewed like before.

He also felt the pulse of my friend who came with me. The shaman said, “I can feel you have gall stones in your bladder and something difficult for me to explain. All I knew there are two disturbances in your gall bladder.” This friend went to the hospital a week after to get an ultrasound. True enough, she had gall stones and a cyst, which the shaman could not identify but feel. Doctors found it to be a recent growth.

Some questions swirled in my head. How could have he been accurate with his findings? Why did he know of our physical complaints?

Medical doctors seek him for treatment. Illnesses mysteriously disappear after a visit to this man. Young girls go to his hut dragging and flaunting husbands coming from foreign shores. Each girl says, “Shaman, this is the guy whom you cast a spell upon so that he would come and marry me.” I was floored and driven nuts.

Whatever... But I am still bent on helping this Philippine lady who has gone through a lot of tempests in her marital life.

Here Comes The Rain Again

March is fire prevention month in the Philippines. Beginning in the month of February, very few rainfall is noted all over the country and by March, it would be summer and dry for two to three months, except for mountain areas where rain is plenty. Due to changing weather system and global warming we got a lot of rain in February. That is a very cool thing because I love rain and thunderstorms!

Due to changing weather system and global warming we got a lot of rain in February. That is a very cool thing because I love rain and thunderstorms!

However in some parts of the country, there is too much rain that cities and towns were flooded. Roads were impassable and landslides cost the lives of some.

I found our office cat near my table dreaming the rain away. Sheesh! I wish I were in the comfort of my own bed, too! I would never say, "Rain, rain go away, come again another day!"


These rain-and-cat photos were taken today at the office with my cell phone (not so good) but I just could not resist snapping the cat and rain away.

(Yellow flower on top was photographed in my garden after a rain.)

Forgotten People

The sea gypsies belong to the Badjao tribe in the Southwesternmost part of the Philippines near the borders of Indonesia and Malaysia.

Their copper-toned skin and sandy-colored hair glistened against the hot, tropical sun. They are some of the forgotten people in the Philippines, but they carry fascinating stories with them.

They are excellent pearl divers.

Living in houseboats, newborn babies were thrown into the sea as a form of an old ritual. Babies learned to swim before they could even walk or talk.

They have no gods and are known to be pagans. They worship the sea who gives them food and life.

They mimic the cries of the dolphins, the sea their playground and domain.

They do not have any education and they counted their ages by the full moons.

They decorate their teeth with gold and diamonds.

They are an all-time delight to the local and foreign tourists who endlessly snap away their pictures.

(Photo shows Badjao kids swimming for the coins I tossed to them while on a ferry trip back to my island.)