pabaon

its friday. and i couldn't remember how many friday nights have i stayed back in kabacan. last year, my butt would have been itchy as if i was sitting on a centipede come friday afternoon. i would have been enjoying a beer or two at mts already.

but that was year.

this year, i feel that i wanted to stay longer in the area. why not? asks i.

there are so many stories to hear. so many stuff to experience.

just like today.

i was talking about the crisis that has permeated carmen communities. and today was no different. i was supposed to meet up with young people from motunan. it was a hot day. and i tried to arrive earlier in ranzo, because nasser, elmer, norodin, kadil and guimla have been waiting since morning. though we agreed to meet up in the afternoon, they were quite excited so they came earlier (much, much, much).

i arrived at 12:30noon. i excused myself from katanayanan just before they prepared for lunch. i knew there was none. and i knew that there wouldn't be neither in ranzo.

when i saw the kids, my hunger panged even more painful. they haven't had lunch yet, neither have i. but that was where the similarity ended, for they haven't had their breakfasts, while me, at least i've had bangus paksiw at buntis' place.

i bought some bread for us. i felt it a sin to find a house where we can be invited. but lunch is as scarce as the harvests of corn in a drought like this.

at around 4.40pm, i was quiet. for i am already very hungry. finished the water from the orange starbucks water bottle that janet gave me for my birthday. i had to contend with this first, while waiting for brod toto to finish his meeting.

finally, before the sun went on its quick decent, we were able to get a trike to bring us back to carmen. as we made our way out of ranzo, i noticed heavy drops of rain splashing on the windsheild. not long after that, rain was finding its way into the small tricyle driven by a fat man. my pants was getting wet, but at least my shirt isn't.

almost at carmen, when the small tricycle driven by a fat man suddenly came to a halt, the sparkplug has been affected by the wet mud. the rain has not abated. i noticed that the road was turning into a river. this is quite a downfall.

the fat man driving the small tricycle hailed the log truck driving after us, for us to hitch a ride to carmen. this is going to be wet. so i took out my red ponchos and put them on, secured my cellphone and shades inside my bag, and went out into the rain.

i have always loved the rain. and with the knowledge that my stuff inside my bag would not get wet this time. i relished the droplets trickling down my face. sitting on some gemelina logs, my pants were being drenched. i felt cold, but warm inside. this is another story that would be one for the books.

as the truck turned left, we asked the driver to let us down. for now we have to walk to the highway. the rain still pounding, i can't help but break into a smile. at least the ground got wet today. at least hope for some farmers is kept alive.

at least today, i felt like a kid again. am sure this would be a happy weekend. with or without the beach :)