The right to play

I helped a friend do some research with the Eskaya Communities located in the towns of Candijay, Duero and Sierra Bullones in Bohol Province. It was his last day of research and I tagged along happy to be his interpreter. (My interest: is added knowledge on the Eskayan culture and a good roadtrip on a Sunday!) On our way to one of the communities, we passed by this happy scene of people playing basketball.

Browsing through these photos (taken months ago), reaffirmed my belief that kids have the right to play... Happy children's month.

This time it is for granny

The month of October is dedicated for children. I dedicate my re-blogging commitment to the grannies who generally smothers the children with spoiling love and affection.

The above photo was taken in my trip to Chiangmai in October 2008. She did not dress up to the occasion of receiving an 'alien' in her house. She was very much dressed up to do the winnowing of their rice produce. She patiently did the pounding and the winnowing amidst laughter and antics of her grandchildren (or great-grandchildren).

With grace and wisdom, she answered all my questions and still continued to do her task. When I kidded about how seriously good she was at her task, she smiled and replied... she is preparing the rice for her 'children'...

Ey, the world is still on!

Yes, my last blog entry was last year. It was in my post-operative moments when talking to the computer monitor was not such a bad idea. From that time until now, I day dreamed of having loads of blog entries. Everything, canned in my mind.

Don't count on me as a groupie of doomsday sayers telling that the world will soon end. I just can't join their group because they were just waiting for the world to end. Now that the world moved on, they have to set another deadline when the world will soon stop. Why? They found it good to wait...

For me, I don't need to wait for it to end for am aware that other people's world already ended-- over some relationships, untold stories or perhaps, unrealized dreams. Should we listen to them, perhaps, their world may seem trivial. But then, I find it more colorful than waiting for the world to end...

(this spot might be a good place to wait... but hey, who will sponsor my provisions?)

Panghagban, Buenavista

At least it is the place called home by my tatay. He was born in the area and knows the place by heart. He is proud to say they domesticated the entire place. Translation: they cut down trees and razed down the grasslands in favor of rice fields and pastures for the livestock.



My early memories of the place was hard work. We used to take the 10 k walk to visit my grandparents. No amount of rationalization as to modern convenience could convince us that the walk was hard but easier now. For kids used to the tricycle, it was truly excruciating. However, we easily forgot how difficult the walk was with the thought of novelty... going to the stream, climbing on hills and being the center of attention.



Last weekend, I returned to Panghagban. Nothing much changed. The hills rolled minus its greenery. It is as if time stood still for the people to ravage the land or forage on it.


May change ever happen...