A date with a Fly-in nun

Ground-breaking, April 2012

Some 4 years ago Sr. Angelina, saw in her dream the image of Mary, Queen of Peace in a savannah of her hometown, Gulu, Uganda.  To her recollection, Mary was telling her to look for a suitable place to build a school.  She eventually found a land that resembled what she saw in her dream;  her congregation acquired it then started to build makeshift structures and called the place, Mary Queen of Peace Primary School.  At the ground-breaking, there were only two of us and we scattered soil given to her as a souvenir from Jerusalem.

Mary, Queen of Peace at the EDSA Shrine

In December of last year,  Sr. Angelina traveled to the Philippines as my personal guest and the first item on the itinerary that I prepared for her was to hear Mass at my neighborhood church, the EDSA Shrine.  It was only then that I learned that the official name of the church is Shrine of Mary, Queen of Peace.

What a coincidence!

Bringing a gift from the African nuns

Sr.  Angelina knew only one other person in the Philippines, Fr. Lorenzo Carraro, of the Comboni Missionaries of the Heart of Jesus (MCCJ).  I thought I would have difficulty finding him for her but the first person I asked gave me Fr. Carraro's contact details right away.

It seemed that the angels were at work!

Fr. Lorenzo, an Italian,  spent 23 years (of his 50 years as priest) in Uganda.  He was subsequently assigned to Manila and has lived in the Philippines for the past 15 years.  He has written a book entitled Mission Across the Continents, and has received awards for his journalistic contributions.

It was heartwarming to witness the reunion of Sr. Angelina and Fr. Lorenzo!

The East meets West

The Manila Oceanarium was a spectacular place of interest for a native of landlocked Uganda.  Sr. Angelina enjoyed the family of sea lions and the kaleidoscope of colors of the marine life on display.

She actually thought that we were several leagues under the sea

Our visit to the Malacanang Palace Museum was the first time for me. Although at its nascent stage, the museum was well curated.  We were lucky to have the company of a Palace staffer, who provided footnotes to what the museum tour guide was saying.  For example, there was the huge table made of hardwood that was given as a gift to President Manuel Quezon by inmates of the Iwahig Penal Colony who were granted presidential pardon in the '40's. There was also this  collection of hardbound books that were previously owned by Napoleon Bonaparte's wife, Maria Louisa, bought at an auction by former Palace occupants in the '70's.

The Malacanang Palace museum library

Also, first time for me was the Intramuros or Walled City tour, guided by Carlos Celdran, who was recently in the limelight.  The trial court found Celdran guilty of offending religious feelings when he appeared as Fr. Damaso and "interrupted" the Mass at the Manila Cathedral.  His tour, Walk This Way, is both intriguing and hilarious.  Assisting Carlos Celdran are his "tour guide yayas" who never fail to serve him drinking water when his voice starts to get hoarse.

The nationalism of Carlos Celdran

It was not meant to be part of the itinerary, but my daughter went with her friend to do Christmas shopping in Divisoria.  They were quite happy to bring along Sr. Angelina.  They made her eat in Chinatown, and ride in a train and jeepney.  The sea of humanity that greeted them in those places was similar to the dense crowd that one experiences in downtown Kampala, Uganda.  The overwhelming devotion to the Black Nazarene made Sr. Angelina conclude that Catholicism in the Philippines was active.  The life size statue of St. Padre Pio in Libis also enthralled Sr. Angelina to no end.

The Black Nazarene, Quiapo Church

Other than the religious and cultural tours, we brought Sr. Angelina to the place where Philippine banknotes and coins are manufactured.  She considered it an unforgettable experience to see how money is made.  It is a pity that she was not able to see the gold refinery operations, once the pride of the Bangko Sentral ng Pilipinas Security Plant facility.

St. Padre Pio, Padre Pio Shrine in Libis

The daytime tours were culminated by the Christmas lights display.  The lights extravaganza at the Ayala Triangle and Araneta Center were quite impressive that Sr. Angelina wanted to bring similar Christmas lights to Uganda.  I told her that she cannot enjoy the display of those lights there because they have regular brown-outs that last for days.  In her fascination, she said that if need be, she will keep their generators running just to display those lights, Christmas or not.

Christmas lights in Farmer's Plaza, Cubao,  Quezon City

All told, Manila did not disappoint  a first time visitor.

The jeepney ride

An African's adventure in Manila

In Iloilo

Inviting a Ugandan to Manila was quite easy as Ugandans do not need a visa to travel to the Philippines.  But having a 69-year old African nun as a personal guest was a challenge.

I needed to find a place for her to stay since our flat has no extra room that will give her privacy.  (I don't really know what nuns do when they are indoors and not praying, and what sort of ritual they do when donning their habit.)

Padre Pio Shrine in Manila

Since it was not an official visit, I had to figure out what activities would be appropriate for her.  She has a very faint familiarity with the Philippines so she had no specific sightseeing preferences to speak of.  If she were not of the religious order, I could plan for shopping, swimming and swinging... all the Fun stuff in the Philippines.

I ran to my contacts and mentioned the visit, hoping to get some ideas.  Everyone was sympathetic and showed a willingness to help... but everything was tentative.  Nothing concrete to fill-in the 21 days that she will be in Manila.

With the Philippines'  iconic Jollibee

I must have embarked on something good because when the time came for her arrival, things fell into the right places.

The first visit to the Philippines of Sr. Angelina Akello of the Little Sisters of Mary Immaculate in Gulu during the Christmas holidays had been a memorable experience for our family.  As we took her around, we met  a lot of good people along the way, rediscovered new things about the Philippines, and got reunited with old friends.

In a "trisikad" in Bacolod

When she arrived she was limping and suffering from gout.  When she left,  she could outpace me during our hikes.  She attributed her "recovery"  to her adventures in the Philippines.  More of this on the next posts.

2014 promises to be a great year.  Happy New Year to all.

Typhoon Haiyan (Yolanda) – My story

When I look at the footages of the destruction and suffering brought by storm surge Haiyan, I wondered if it was how Leyte looked like during World War II.  History books tell us that the Battle of Leyte Gulf is one, if not THE greatest naval battle in the history of warfare.

An aunt told me that WWII could be described as a drizzle compared with typhoon Haiyan or Yolanda (as she is locally called).  During the war, they only had to dodge the bullets from the air, land and sea but they had shelters, medical supplies, food to eat, and clothing to keep them warm. 

Yolanda exposed Leytenos, like myself,  to a certain nakedness.  There was no place to hide.

Although I profess to “love one another”, I love my brother firstly when the tragedy hit close to home.  I momentarily put aside concern for my “neighbors”.  

Home is Tanauan, the 2^nd most hit town in Leyte, with recorded casualties to date of close to 1,300 out of 5,600.  It is 15 kilometers from Tacloban City.

For four days after the storm Tanauan had no communication lines. I had been continuously scrolling  my phone address book and  email contacts.  I tried to recall each family in our neighborhood and searched for their names on Facebook hoping to get some information.   It was like combing the beach and looking for a lost jewel.   

Seeing for the first time a TV footage of the destruction of my town and the dead bodies on the ground without knowing if my kin was among them or not shook the strength that I was trying to put up.  In this day and age when communication is instantaneous,  no news was bad news.   It was the longest and most torturous silence that I have experienced.

I kept vigil and when I see food and water at home, I am overcome with guilt.  I fasted, believing that I have saved it for someone out there in Leyte.    I refrained from audio-visual entertainment because it was time to grieve.   Whenever my fears crept in, I found comfort by saying “Lord, Thy will be done.”

I volunteered to help in a relief center hoping that one of those sacks will reach my brother or someone who would share provisions with him.  I  saw how people felt good after making donations in cash, kind,  and services.  I wished I could assure them that their kindness have reached the survivors and made a difference. 

10 kilos of rice to be included in blue pails

Crying is good, but cry in front of family;  they will sincerely comfort you and help you restore your faith.

There were also tears of joy when friends whom I have not heard from in ages sent messages to say that they remembered that I come from Leyte and worry about my safety.  Words of sympathy even from non-FB friends brought hope and encouragement.  They rejoiced with me when I told them that my brother and his family were safe.

As I was helping ship provisions for Leyte I was told that a relative who was staying in an evacuation center where cellphone signal had been recently restored managed to make a difficult journey to our hometown to search for my brother.  In our brief conversation she assured me that she personally talked to my brother and that he and his family were safe.

My car overloaded with relief goods

Finally, a close family relative traveled from Manila to Tanauan.  He was able to locate a spot where there was a phone signal and with  the remaining power in his mobile phone, he handed it to my brother so I can hear his voice.  My brother chose to stay in Tanauan and start all over again.

As he starts to rebuild his life, the first items on his shopping list were a radio, and a flashlight.   I thought that he needed more so I sent him a luggage containing all the essential items that were on my packing checklist when I left to volunteer in Africa (including carpentry tools and religious items for a new improvised altar at home).  But most importantly, I got him a tarpaulin to serve as a temporary roof to keep him and his family dry, in the meantime.

Medicines and prayer books for shipment

Food for him and his family comes from the relief goods and he now longs for fresh fish and vegetables.  Water comes from a nearby well that is shared by the entire neighborhood.   Power is still out but mobile phone signal is back  and his phone (which I sent with the luggage) is charged by getting power from a friends’ motorcycle.

Contents of tumblers

Now I know that a big part of our lives is gone.  But everything in our destroyed house can be replaced; everything except for the cherished mementos from our departed parents and brother.  Our biggest consolation is that our parents who met during WWII did not have to bear witness to and suffer this great tragedy of 9 November 2013.

Typhoon Yolanda made me miserable but it was a long lost relative also named Yolanda who brought me joy. She gave me the first news that my brother and his family were safe.

And to my brother, I hope the lyrics of this song (He’s My Brother by the Hollies) bring you cheer.  

The road is long

With many a winding turn

That leads us to who knows where

Who knows where

But I'm strong

Strong enough to carry him

He ain't heavy, he's my brother

So on we go

His welfare is of my concern

No burden is he to bear

We'll get there

For I know

He would not encumber me

He ain't heavy, he's my brother

If I'm laden at all

I'm laden with sadness

That everyone's heart

Isn't filled with the gladness

Of love for one another

It's a long, long road

From which there is no return

While we're on the way to there

Why not share

And the load

Doesn't weigh me down at all

He ain't heavy he's my brother

He's my brother

He ain't heavy, he's my brother

All photos in this post without captions were taken from Google, without permission.  These are photos of Tanauan before Typhoon Yolanda.

Million People March: 26 August 2013

I successfully convinced my two sons (who are in their early 20’s) to come with me to the Rizal Park to join the march.  This was to be their very first experience to be on the streets.

!Maki-baka! Hwag magbaboy!
(English translation:  Let's have beef, not pork)

As expected,  it was a picnic Sunday.  For a total of P350.00 (USD7.86) we had a hearty breakfast in a hole-in-the-wall eatery  along Adriatico St.  

They were just on standby

A tree house across the grand U.S.  Embassy

The morning sun was shy and the cool breeze from Manila Bay dominated the air. The new U.S. embassy building was impressive.  The police force and all other government enforcers were just in the sideline, unobtrusive.  Roxas Blvd. to Luneta (which were closed to vehicular traffic) became the playground of the masses that beautiful Sunday morning.

The gathering at the park was literally clean fun.  There were no showbiz people and/or politicians hogging microphones.  Since there was no formal program, no one person or organization dominated the activities.

Cardinal Chito Tagle, the Archbishop of Manila, was there, too.

In fact, no one used the Quirino grandstand.  Wherever there was a small dry ground in the park, people will converge in small groups listening to music,  dancing,  chatting with old friends, or spreading their sit-upons.

Among the bosses of President Aquino

Going around the many pocket groups entailed reading the placards with catchy, if not humorous,  text.  Picture-taking was commonplace, and the two carabao statues were the most photographed background,  even more popular than Jose Rizal, the national hero whose imposing monument is the icon of the park.

From the simple to the complex

Two ugly things I noticed:   A vendor selling umbrellas at a price not many people took, and a radio reporter who interviewed the owner of the effigy of President Aquino, who in a very sly manner, asked the man, "Why are you not burning this effigy?".  To which the man said, "I am here not to do such a thing".

Three participants captured my admiration.  The motorbike rider who came with his amplifier-bedecked bike.  When I asked him to increase the volume, he said, "Ma'am, that's already full volume because my amplifiers got submerged in the floods brought by typhoon Maring".

Looks like we could fly

The San Juan de Letran  students (I reckon, the biggest contingent) came with their drums and bugles. A big screen displayed on real time the twits that earned the event the highest trending for the day in Twitter.

The world was our audience

But the meaning of the day could be summed up by two people from Mariveles, Bataan holding their banner.  Their issue:  The 2 garbage trucks that the local government procured in 2011 could be the most expensive garbage trucks in the Philippines -  costing around P13 million each, when the market price  for the same type is less than P5 million.  They have raised the matter to the appropriate government agencies concerned, including the Commission on Audit.  They are almost frustrated because they have not even received an acknowledgment of their complaint.  Some passersby promised to help them in their expose.

A garbage truck for the price of a helicopter?

Late lunch was at Café Mediterranean and we ended the day with an appreciation of old maps displayed at the MOA lobby (see http://lifestyle.inquirer.net/121905/self-esteem-grows-with-cartography).

A few days ago our hearts were rending for the flood victims.  As soon as the skies cleared, we left behind our troubles and gaily showed up at Rizal Park.  

Indeed, it is more fun in the Philippines!