young and restless

With a little more than a week to go until the culminating summer parish youth camp, Imelda showed up here at the convent. It was the return of the Queen. I couldn’t count how many times people have recalled to me the golden days of youth ministry at St. Raphael Parish when Imelda was president. How active and involved the youth were back then! That is before Imelda left to go into the mountains of Samar...

Anyway she’s back and the pressure at least partially is off my back. That very day, the two of us got on the motorcycle and were off to visit the youth up in the mountain. The second day, Jorge drove us to the five barrios to the North (we ran out of gas, yet again, and had to push a little ways along the dirt road until the downhill stretch). After visiting all 14 barrios, we’re now expecting a turnout of 200+ kids for the overnight camp which is to be held in a small field of carabao grass in Sitio Tadloy, a pleasant, remote place. It’s B.Y.O.B. (Banig – sleeping mat), and unless the Governor lets us borrow his tent, we’ll be sleeping under the stars. I’m trying not to stress out too much, as there is still so much to plan, but this is the Phlipside after all—things just seem to work out in the end, and if not, whatever.

Sense and Sentibility

Even though it often bothers me how pleasure always takes priority over work here, having visitors is a good enough excuse to forget all and spend a day on one of the islands. On Monday we broke in Yuning and Elesita’s new pumpboat which we were able to help them buy with a small loan. We didn’t forget the tuba, but for the first time since I’ve been here, we managed to overlook our food. Hungry and stuck on a disserted island, we took to the sea. Jorge with his spear went off in one direction to hunt fish; Yuning, RJ, Berto, and I went off in the other to dive for urchins. It was high tide so the urchins were deep, and only Yuning and I were willing to take the plunge. It’s a rush diving 20 ft down, scooping up as many urchins as you can with a stick into a net-bag, before your pounding heart tells you best get your ass up. The urchins are de-spined with a thrashing of the bag, cracked open, and the mushy yellow flesh is eaten as is. Jorge’s catch of small reef fish and snails were simply thrown on some burning embers and eaten. We found some coconuts on the ground fallen from the storm, to open and sip on.
Later that evening was KC’s debut (18th birthday) party in the parish hall. She’s the daughter of Salem and Willy the fireman, good middle to upper class folk, who are active in the Church and always go on outings with us. I was waiting all night for them to play “I’m Coming Out,” but instead “Let’s Get Retarded In Here” blasted from the speakers. All the important people in town were invited to give symbolic gifts to KC with accompanying explanatory speeches to welcome her to womanhood. My favorite was Madame Nova’s speech about her gift, a belt, which stood for KC’s self-confidence and maturity. Kind of a stretch, but touching nonetheless. As for myself, I joined the ranks of 17 other young squires vying for this damsel’s hand, as I presented myself and my red rose before here in exchange for a waltz. (Mervi’s dance lesson on the Baltic Sea has paid off it seems.) But alas, it turns out her heart has been conquered by another, from Tacloban, a kingdom in the East. Tall, dark, and handsome, is KC’s type it turns out.

Caloy

I weathered my first bagio (typhoon) here last week. Caloy his name was. Signal 2 they say. We had to dodge a lot of coconuts and branches in the road, but wasn't so bad when Jorge (shirtless) and I took Na Betty home to Bulalacao at about 7 in the evening. It hit hardest in the middle of the night. Pretty scarry. In the morning my floor and all things under my bed were soaked. Several huge mango and nangka trees were snapped in two. The following day I took pictures of Na Bebie's sister's house which had been distroyed, so they could avail of the $60 calamity relief funding from the local government to build a new home. For now they'll sleep under the plywood and nipa remains.

The power was out for almost 3 days. It kind of felt like a snow day, being stuck inside, with nothing to do but sleep and hang out. There's a lot of people staying at the convent at the moment. Bob's wife Joy and their 3 year old daughter are staying with us for a few weeks.
There are also other visitors here with a secret purpose which I have yet to uncover. They seem nice enough though. On the dark night after the storm we stayed up late by candlelight playing guitar and singing and eating "bring house" (i.e. take home) from the fiesta in Masagongsong.

Right now we are preparing for our overnight youth camp in the mountains at the end of the month. It's proving challenging to organize but we'll see.. these things always seem to work out in the end. At least that's what I keep telling myself.

Blessings to all
d

sense and sensibility

Even though it often bothers me how pleasure always takes priority over work here, having visitors is a good enough excuse to forget all and spend a day on one of the islands. On Monday we broke in Yuning and Elesita’s new pumpboat which we were able to help them buy with a small loan. We didn’t forget the tuba, but for the first time since I’ve been here, we managed to overlook our food. Hungry and stuck on a disserted island, we took to the sea. Jorge with his spear went off in one direction to hunt fish; Yuning, RJ, Berto, and I went off in the other to dive for urchins. It was high tide so the urchins were deep, and only Yuning and I were willing to take the plunge. It’s a rush diving 20 ft down, scooping up as many urchins as you can with a stick into a net-bag, before your pounding heart tells you best get your ass up. The urchins are de-spined with a thrashing of the bag, cracked open, and the mushy yellow flesh is eaten as is. Jorge’s catch of small reef fish and snails were simply thrown on some burning embers and eaten. We found some coconuts on the ground fallen from the storm, to open up and sip on.

Later that evening was KC’s debut (18th birthday) party in the parish hall. She’s the daughter of Salem and Willy the fireman, good middle to upper class folk, who are active in the Church and always go on outings with us. I was waiting all night for them to play “I’m Coming Out,” but instead “Let’s Get Retarded In Here” blasted from the speakers. All the important people in town were invited to give symbolic gifts to KC with accompanying explanatory speeches to welcome her to womanhood. My favorite was Madame Nova’s speech about her gift, a belt, which stood for KC’s self-confidence and maturity. Kind of a stretch, but touching nonetheless. As for myself, I joined the ranks of 17 other young squires vying for this damsel’s hand, as I presented myself and my red rose before here in exchange for a waltz. (Mervi’s dance lesson on the Baltic Sea has paid off it seems.) But alas, it turns out her heart has been conquered by another, from Tacloban, a land far to the East. Tall, dark, and handsome, is KC’s type it turns out.

Time passes differently here. I apologize for not posting in a while, but it seems there's not enough time in the day. Edgar's dad passed away recently. The "lamay" or wake lasted for 10 days, so for several nights we'd stay in Bulalacao. People of all ages hang out all night around the house playing cards and talking. It was actually fun. I'm sure it was utterly exhautsting for the family, not only mourning and staying up all night, but also serving hoards of people with coffee and snacks for 10 days straight. But this is Filipino style. Community and being together is what life, and I supposed death, is about. One night, after a couple of hours of shut-eye at Elesita and Yunings hut up the hill, we woke up again at 2:30am for Mananita, the early morning birthday serenade, because it was the birthday of Edgar's dead dad. Everyone cried. It was a poignant moment.
Another night Elmer and I were on the way there by motorcycle. Emi is a massive man with a huge belly and he was driving. A few dogs strolling in the road were caught unawares and we hit one dead on. Emi still laughs at my scream of, "Oh my God!" the moment before impact. But nothing happened to us. Just a thud and a yelp. I guess He heard me. But sorry about the dog.
In other news about death (it seems I'm facinated by this subject.. is that weird?), my three turtles met a tragic end. I put the bucket which they called home in what I thought was a shady spot in the garden. But I was mistaken. At about quarter to noon I happened by and found that the ruthless sun had abused them all morning. The bucket was filled with turtle soup when I found them. Even the baby one was cooked. No amount of fresh cool water could revive them. Poor bastards... all my fault. The next day Jemuel and I had a proper funeral service at the peir, tossing their stiff bodies in the sea.

Let's see more info.. we started a bible sharing goup with the youth and we are meeting regularly, not only for prayer but cleaning the curch grounds, visiting the barios, and planning for an overnight youth camp in the mountains.

oopss. gotta run. catching a pumboat to calubian~~