To a friend who lost SAR13,000 to someone. (Gist of story: He gave money to someone as a business collateral for something. This morning, that someone left his job and went home to the Philippines without notifying anyone about it.)

I'll not add salt to your already-wounded, battered soul (and pocket!). I will not say you're the stupidest for what you did. Instead I'll say that everyone is entitled to a little (ugh, costly) mistake. I just can't figure out why you allowed to be manipulated like that. But hey, shit happened.

It's only money. You can earn it. An old friend once told me that the easiest to earn in life is money. You cannot earn respect that easy. You cannot earn praises that easy. You cannot earn experience that easy. But as long as you are employed, you can easily earn money. So when you lose money over something, just think of it as stolen: never to return, but can always be re-earned.

Let's count ourselves lucky. After a day's work, we don't cough blood due to hardships nor do we inhale the smell of pulverized sand nor our hands caloused from hard labor. Some people in other parts of the world -- including the Philippines -- have to literally cough up blood for a few peso.

This Granta article is an ode to all of them.

Moving Parts: Hajiriya and Gajiriya | Online Only | Granta Magazine

Excerpt:
Gajiriya squats next to me, staring at the ground, saying nothing, nodding every now and then, to agree or disagree. When I ask him something, other people answer for him. It doesn’t feel as if he’s unable to talk; there seems to be no physical impediment. It’s as if life has robbed him of speech, as if a disbelief at his own condition has turned him mute. Following his gaze downwards, I notice something: there are small balloons at the end of each of Gajiriya’s fingers, the fingertips are swollen, turning each finger into a weird probe shape. Arching over its swelling, the thumb of his left hand still has a long, manicured vanity nail, typical of western Indian men.

As I’m photographing the boys, they start talking about the contractor who came to recruit them.

‘Does he still come?’ I ask.

‘He doesn’t come.’ Hajiriya shakes his head. ‘He knows we know. We all know what those factories do to you.’

‘So now they are recruiting from much further away,’ Magan adds, ‘from other states, all the way north in Rajasthan, from further south in Gujarat.’

‘We will kill that contractor if he comes here again.’ Suddenly there is a small pulse from Gajiriya. ‘The villagers will all gather and kill him.’

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I just returned from the hospital so they can take out my stitches.

The photo of my wound was not for the fainthearted, and definitely not for those taking their meals, and I thought of posting it here. But I had a change of heart (not literally, huh!). And so I present to you a posterized photo of my wound.



It doesn't really hurt now. I actually feel fine at that moment, Buddha-sitting while I'm writing this post.

What has the experience taught me?

I learned that I shouldn't definitely take my body for granted. Before my operation, I don't really consider the food I eat. I know that I shouldn't eat meat at least four to six hours before I sleep. But I did. Now I know the culprit behind my acute appendicitis: I put a lot of stress in my digestive system.

I'm changing.

Now, it should be the right food and the right amount of everything, be it water, sleep or sweets. Anything in excess is definitely a no-no.

For this 'homecoming' post, let me allow to thank the following:

♥ My Lord God from whom everything good comes;
♥ My family who gave me courage (my sister told me that my case is only half of her two C-section experiences);
♥ My friends who accompanied me and ate my hospital-food;
♥ The Filipino nurses at Al Fakhry Hospital who nudged me to walk the morning after my operation, and who constantly asked me if I had already passed gas and poo-ed;
♥ And to you, my blogger friends, for your prayers and witty comments about my appendectomy (the pain of laughing out loud with your comments is sweet).

I'm well now and should start blog hopping soon. See you.

It happened so fast. I went to a hospital for a checkup because of a stomach discomfort. I've been diagnosed with an acute appendicitis.

From the latest figures of Comelec, there are more than 48 million voters in the Philippines for the May 2010 Elections. As to absentee voters (including the OFWs), news reports count us to over one million.

In 2004, 64.89 percent of 359,296 registered OAVs voted in the 2004 elections. In 2007, there were 504,124 registered overseas voters, but only 16.21% cast their ballots (ABS-CBN News).

Will our voices remain muted in 2010? I doubt. I believe this May 2010 Elections will see more OFWs exercising their right to vote.



Let's vote, kabayan. Let's show them that we are not 'bayaning napilitan'?

Notes:

• I did this video for an old post published on November 2009.
• If you wish to find out if you're a registered absentee voter for this year's election, visit this Comelec page. (Don't look for Saudi Arabia under 'S'; it's under 'K' as Kingdom of Saudi Arabia). Or you can quicksearch it here.

Mondo. That's the cafe's name. Unfrequented because it's situated in an area hidden from public roads. The cafe's facade is affluently designed, hence, most people would assume that they are high-priced. The truth is: their price is fair.

Every morning on my way to work, I notice the graceful chaos of birds (seagulls, I think) in a vacant lot near our place.

Between five thirty up to around eight, the birds -- and a cat -- feast on morsels of kubhus left by worshippers from a nearby mosque.

Oh how they fly in unison whenever they sense an arrival of a cat (or a person). At times, they just frolick on top of the National Commercial Bank getting their early sun bath.

This morning, I went there to observe and take these photos.

















Happy birds day to me. I'm something years old today.