People call me Lito for short of Julito. Unknown to some of my friends and even family members I have another nickname that is Pal. It’s an acronym of a flag carrier and coincidentally it’s where my late father used to work as ticket clerk. One might wonder how in the world did it happen I got that name when it’s far-sounding from my original name. Well it traces back during high school days. My classmates coined that name for me. Despite my strong objection I was helpless in stopping them from calling me in that name. They just love it with passion and it carried on until I went to college. That misnomer only stopped when I transferred to another school. Of course, this time, when I introduced myself to new friends I would use my real name.
Name calling is part of our culture especially in the younger group. My younger brother’s name is Prospero whom my classmates fondly call Posporo. Since my nick is Lito, they also changed my name to Palito, the brother of Posporo. Aren’t those names compatibly funny? This brought laughter in group conversations and it kept going on and on until a Pal was born, the nick for Palito. That’s how it started.
The Palito we know in the movies is the gauntly thin comedian who portrayed roles of a dead person in comedy flicks. I am the opposite of him because I was never thin in my whole life.
Those who had no inkling of what’s the story behind this other name of mine just called me Pal casually.
In the beginning it was awkward to be called by Pal because of its unflattering connection to the comedian. I was like a new me. Somehow I’ve learnt to live with it. Some friends still call me by that name until now and I don't mind. It has become part of me and my past. With it cling happy memories and friendship that I will forever cherish.
Sunday, March 29, 2009
Friday, March 27, 2009
Remembering Her
Yesterday a friend of mine complained of breathing difficulty after he took antibiotics and pain reliever prescribed on him for his boil. In the end he had to be admitted in the hospital because he could not bare anymore the uneasiness. I remembered my niece, Julia when she was still alive and sick of cancer, exactly the same medicines my friend took she was also taking on top of her chemo treatment and all other things. Comparing her condition with my friend’s I realized how brave she was at seventeen to handle all the discomfort and pain without complain for one year. She only rested when she died last year of February.
She was so close to us. We were devastated of her loss but we tried to move on. Time will heal the wounds but the scar will remain forever.
She was so close to us. We were devastated of her loss but we tried to move on. Time will heal the wounds but the scar will remain forever.
Carelessness And You
At noontime today I went to buy a phone card coz I need to call home for some very important matter. While tearing the plastic cover of the card I have decided to load it later as I have to rush before the queue at the canteen gets long, so I slid the card and phone into my pocket. At the queue I searched my pocket for the meal ticket. Then I took my food from the serving counter to the table. As I was sitting I thought of loading the credit into my phone. When I searched my pocket I was dismayed to find out that the card was lost. My heart was beating fast because the amount of that card is worth a fortune, enough to pay a month’s bill for our internet connection at home. I stood and followed back my way and looked every corner of the hall. I was too shy to shout if anyone had found a card. I’m just glad I didn’t. All the faces present their in the hall looked guilty to me. I went outside and trailed back my way to the commissary where I bought the card. I even asked the sales clerk if he has given me the card even if I am sure he did. I was hoping he would say, “No”, but he said, “Yes, I did”. He was right. Realizing that it was hopeless finding it I went back to the canteen and continued eating my lunch. I tried hard not think about it but I couldn’t stop from hating myself for being careless. Whose fault was that? If someone saw it dropped on the pavement and just kept quiet and then secretly picked it up then he is guilty of dishonesty. But if he picked it up and I was not there anymore then I consider him to be lucky, and it’s my fault for being careless. If it was you who saw the card dropped would you call my attention? Or you found the card and no one was there, would you bother yourself to find out who the owner is or go inside the canteen and tell the staff to put the card in the lost and found box or register? Your answer will reflect what kind of person are you so be very careful.
Thursday, March 26, 2009
Miss Baked Alaska
This lady is a friend of mine way back in my freshman year in college. I’ll call her Baked Alaska because I just feel like it. It is a dessert and has nothing to do with her name. Anyhow it is connected with her in a way that it is essential to where she is standing right now. Oops! No, she is in the hospital right now recuperating. While I was busy constructing the profile of my new craze – blogging she popped up at Skype and we chatted until she realized that it was almost 3 am. It was my first time to hear from her in over 30 years. We were communicating thru the email in the last 5 years (maybe) but not talking live. Before parting I invited her to view my blog. So she was my first invite and the reason to keep on writing so that my blogs are ready when she’s up. I hope she will enjoy reading my blogs and if ever she will give time to read I would like to take this opportunity to wish her to get well soon. With the so many topics that we talked about I forgot to tell her my well wishes. Our conversation was jovial, somewhat short despite the 1 hour and 30 minutes talk time. She’s got a beautiful grandson and living a good life with her family and friends.
By the way I got all the time to create all this craziness because its holiday here in Mali today. It's the annivesary of the end of the despotic martial rule of Pres. So and so (I forgot the name), the day democracy was regained.
Independence day is in September when the French declared the Malians independent from their colony. French and the vernacular dialect, Bambara are the medium of communication here. Unfortunately, I can't speak the French language with fluency. I would love to learn the French way but the twisting of the tongue is so difficult. The sound is so diffirent from what you read. Besides, the accent of the Africanized french is diifferent from the Parisian french; it's like the Canadian french of Quebec. Bonaparte would rise from the grave and scold me if he hears my french and I would say, "Oh la la! Pardon Monsieur Bonaparte pour le moi Francais, C'est terrible" (OMG! Sorry Mr. Bonaparte for my French, it's terrible)
Au revoir. A bien tout.
By the way I got all the time to create all this craziness because its holiday here in Mali today. It's the annivesary of the end of the despotic martial rule of Pres. So and so (I forgot the name), the day democracy was regained.
Independence day is in September when the French declared the Malians independent from their colony. French and the vernacular dialect, Bambara are the medium of communication here. Unfortunately, I can't speak the French language with fluency. I would love to learn the French way but the twisting of the tongue is so difficult. The sound is so diffirent from what you read. Besides, the accent of the Africanized french is diifferent from the Parisian french; it's like the Canadian french of Quebec. Bonaparte would rise from the grave and scold me if he hears my french and I would say, "Oh la la! Pardon Monsieur Bonaparte pour le moi Francais, C'est terrible" (OMG! Sorry Mr. Bonaparte for my French, it's terrible)
Au revoir. A bien tout.
MY FRIENDS
Welcome to my world and know my friends. As a break I will feature friends without mentioning their real identities. I’ll be using nicknames similar sounding to their real names or something that will describe their character. The events are told in satirical style to protect their rights to privacy and to add mystery. C’mon let’s play the guessing game.
Barkadas
Zany – The name sounds cool. I call him this because of his zany character. Our friendship started when we were still in high school. We’re neighbors but not stone throw away. You have to pass a creek before you get to their house. He is a funny guy, a natural comedian. He can easily find a word to describe a person or thing that will make you laugh to death. He’s got a beautiful wife and 2 handsome boys. He hasn’t changed that zany attitude despite the years. This is guy is into photography but his shots have not impressed me (lol…just kidding). He is still a tyro. Just a few more time of practice and he will be ready for his premier exhibit. Some time in his married life he relocated his family in the highlands and put up a computer business.
Bellicose – This friend can be true to his name if provoked. But he is a true blue friend who will never leave you in the dark if you’re in trouble. He will fight and defend for you to death. He can tell funny stories out of ordinary event. He married quite late in life, that’s why his 2 lovely daughters are still toddlers. This guy is eloquent and efficient in English speaking. Also writes well. He is our watchdog in grammar and pronunciation. This guy loves plants and likes to decorate their house. But I guess his attention is already diverted to his daughters. His family is staying in his beloved mama's mansion near the island where the bridge hangs.
Crossbow – He is the least visible among my friends. The last time I saw him was in Bellicose’s wedding. That was centuries ago if Zany married during the prehistoric era. He is intelligent and a wise guy like Mcgyver, athletic and determined to be at the top. I named him crossbow because his legs tell. He’s got beautiful children too. He is still living in the city of golden friendship and I don’t know what’s up with him lately.
I love my friends. I dedicate this memoir to them. I thank them for touching my life.
Barkadas
Zany – The name sounds cool. I call him this because of his zany character. Our friendship started when we were still in high school. We’re neighbors but not stone throw away. You have to pass a creek before you get to their house. He is a funny guy, a natural comedian. He can easily find a word to describe a person or thing that will make you laugh to death. He’s got a beautiful wife and 2 handsome boys. He hasn’t changed that zany attitude despite the years. This is guy is into photography but his shots have not impressed me (lol…just kidding). He is still a tyro. Just a few more time of practice and he will be ready for his premier exhibit. Some time in his married life he relocated his family in the highlands and put up a computer business.
Bellicose – This friend can be true to his name if provoked. But he is a true blue friend who will never leave you in the dark if you’re in trouble. He will fight and defend for you to death. He can tell funny stories out of ordinary event. He married quite late in life, that’s why his 2 lovely daughters are still toddlers. This guy is eloquent and efficient in English speaking. Also writes well. He is our watchdog in grammar and pronunciation. This guy loves plants and likes to decorate their house. But I guess his attention is already diverted to his daughters. His family is staying in his beloved mama's mansion near the island where the bridge hangs.
Crossbow – He is the least visible among my friends. The last time I saw him was in Bellicose’s wedding. That was centuries ago if Zany married during the prehistoric era. He is intelligent and a wise guy like Mcgyver, athletic and determined to be at the top. I named him crossbow because his legs tell. He’s got beautiful children too. He is still living in the city of golden friendship and I don’t know what’s up with him lately.
I love my friends. I dedicate this memoir to them. I thank them for touching my life.
Coming To Africa
In October of 1997 I packed up my things and left my supervisory job to join the horde of oversea workers seeking for greener pastures outside the boundaries of our beloved Philippines. Destination: Mali, West Africa. This is not my first stint in Africa. In 1995 – 1996 I worked in Libya, a Muslim country up north of African continent and inhabited by fair-skinned men of Arabic descent. After 14 lingering and lonely months, straight in a row without leave, I went home for good. Luckily without gap I was able to find a job locally. But not longer than a year my happy feet was set to leave again . For us Filipinos, to work abroad is always an opportunity, so I went ahead with full of hope.
In almost 13 years of working in Africa 11 years of which is spent in Mali. Other places were Guinea, Democratic Republic of Congo, Ivory Coast and Libya. Places of stopover include South Africa, Kenya, Senegal, Nigeria, Burkina Fasso and Sierra Leone. Some places are cold and some are extremely hot. What is common to all these countries are you see blacks everywhere.
Mali is now like a home to me. After all these years I have grown to love the place. I’ve seen how their capital city, Bamako progressed into a better place, villages with no electricity before and now they’re enjoying one. Villagers in bicycles before are now driving motor bikes made in China, quite an improvement. The newly-tarred road we used to negotiate before had become pot-holed and difficult to travel in the recent years after seasons of rain, but now, it’s re-tarred and tolled. I saw how the years unfold before my eyes. But most of all children before that we used to kid and scare are now in their teens still remembering me as the big and stout Lito. I’m counting years here in Mali as well as the number of my waist.
Years back this place was top 5 of the poorest countries in the world. How ironic? This is where I earn my bread and butter. This is where the blessings that my family enjoys come from. Mali, the place where I exchange Philippines for greener pasture, yet cattle here are
grazed on dried turf during long summer months; the place of milk and honey where it is abundant in real life; the place where my future lies.
In almost 13 years of working in Africa 11 years of which is spent in Mali. Other places were Guinea, Democratic Republic of Congo, Ivory Coast and Libya. Places of stopover include South Africa, Kenya, Senegal, Nigeria, Burkina Fasso and Sierra Leone. Some places are cold and some are extremely hot. What is common to all these countries are you see blacks everywhere.
Mali is now like a home to me. After all these years I have grown to love the place. I’ve seen how their capital city, Bamako progressed into a better place, villages with no electricity before and now they’re enjoying one. Villagers in bicycles before are now driving motor bikes made in China, quite an improvement. The newly-tarred road we used to negotiate before had become pot-holed and difficult to travel in the recent years after seasons of rain, but now, it’s re-tarred and tolled. I saw how the years unfold before my eyes. But most of all children before that we used to kid and scare are now in their teens still remembering me as the big and stout Lito. I’m counting years here in Mali as well as the number of my waist.
Years back this place was top 5 of the poorest countries in the world. How ironic? This is where I earn my bread and butter. This is where the blessings that my family enjoys come from. Mali, the place where I exchange Philippines for greener pasture, yet cattle here are
grazed on dried turf during long summer months; the place of milk and honey where it is abundant in real life; the place where my future lies.
How It Came About
First I would like to thank the person who made me push to create my own and first blogspot. They didn't push me actually, it is their blogs that inspired me to make my own. Ever since I have wanted to come up something like this. Some sort of a trove for my journals. My break came when I was invited to view the blog site of my former lady boss in Iligan. The invitation came by chance when she was unloading her mail inbox with old mails. Had she deleted my "mildewed" mail without sending me the invitation this site would have been in the limbo still. Since then I was following her blogs and got addicted. Somehow the idea of making one of my own was ever present in mind everytime I open her site. I had comments in some of her blogs where I deemed I fit in, and this built up and boosted my confidence in writing. I still have a lot to learn and improve in this skill. Yet, I decided to continue the launching of this blogspot to spring board this endeavor of mine. MEMOIRS OF AFRICA will cover my experiences in this Dark Continent, past and present. It will also feature friends and family and anything under the sun. I invite you to follow and enjoy reading my silly blogs.
Tuesday, March 24, 2009
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