Cats and Kittens

Bagoy when she was till small chasing scorpion

Ana when she was still young

 Except for giant dogs, no matter how tamed or harmless they are, I just can't pet them. People are right for telling me that dogs can really sense fear, but it's just me - not a fan of huge dogs. I love puppies though and that justifies me as an animal-lover.

I don't hate dogs, cats are just my preference - and kittens too. Besides, I was raised in a home were creatures like dogs or puppies were totally outside the circle. It's more of a cultural thing rather than being indifferent or mean. The good thing is, I've learned to love dogs as well the recent years of my life. If you've been following my blog, you could have read my articles about my own puppies.

One day, a kid at the center brought a kitty home from Pagoda. It was the ugliest kind I've seen - unfriendly, quiet, and not cute. All she did was to sleep near the warm oven made of clay all day long. Despite that, she won some hearts especially me. My kid named her Bagoy.

And then, another kitty welcomed in months after Bagoy came. She was exactly the same - ugly,  quiet, and not cute - who also found comfort near warm ovens. We named her Ana.

Those looks didn't matter - they deserved to live - they needed some love and cares even if they remained strange kittens to other beholders. As for me, and for as long as I'm around, I'll be their greatest fan.

More than magic can do, everything has changed - they are no longer unpleasant tiny kittens they used to - they have grown up beautiful and adorable. In season and out of season, they stood the test of times - from fearful ones to fearless mothers - multiplying their offspring - not sure till when.

Ana's first delivery - with four kittens

Ana's second delivery - with four kittens

 Ana just delivered four lovely kittens last week for the second time. Unfortunately, one got killed by an unknown big cat. I was told it was the father cat that did it. Not sure how true, but people here told me that a father cat usually kills a male kitten because it's a threat to them (male cats).

In some ways it's true because another big cat killed three of her kittens in the past as well - only one survived - we named him My-my. He stays here at the center - active and playful - now my favorite cat.

Every night, I'm doing my best to protect the remaining kittens. Crazy me, but I let them sleep near me in the evening to make sure they survive. They are so irresistible and very cute. Meanwhile, Bagoy is also pregnant and soon will give birth - hopefully this time her kittens will live - her first baby died. It's gonna be another watchful-night to do.

The only thing I am sad about is that these kids at the center don't really care about animals. And so it's another campaign to do. I've been doing it since we lost one kitty the other day. It happened when I was at the tournament. If I was here, it won't probably happen.

Can't wait to see these lovely kittens grow and live their own.

Cats and kittens?

Yes, I love them!

My Shoes

"Now you know what it is like being a volunteer." I told a sixteen-year-old teen on our way to the border. It was one uncomfortable afternoon when prayer has never been that fervent. My miscalculation had something to do with it - few hours to my visa's expiration date - a huge hassle every so often.

Then I had to hit the road having only one angel around - this young boy because our big boys had already gone to the University at that time. And who wouldn't feel guilty and anxious to death? Thank God, he can drive quite a distance; a very solid and defensive driver, too.

Not my intention to put him in my shoes, maybe destiny allowed - to speak on my behalf the many silent cries I have - and from this unveiling, who knows, comes an unforgettable memory to reminisce - that's up to him still, but I will.

If only there were options, I won't turn to him for such a dangerous favor. But life isn't always the way we think would happen - it is full of circumstances beyond our control. As much as I wanted to reject the idea, the situation was just too demanding to resist some help - caught in the middle of urgency. Wish I could stop the spin of time.

"This is my life, son." I said. He deserves to know after all. And so had to bring in the open everything he should know - my culture shock, my odyssey, my loneliness and fear, my worries and anxieties, my sacrifices and challenges - all these with hope that he'd be able to grasp each story fully - my shoes.

Of course, part of unraveling were happy stories - my joy in serving, meeting great people, winning amazing friends, the opportunity to travel, the honor to be a volunteer, the privilege to live in different cultures, an immersion to opposite life-styles, and a lot more - all these, along with silent prayer, he too would remember someday the shoes I was wearing.

Again, it wasn't my ulterior motive to put this boy in my place, but thanks to this first and last chance to reveal my life before him this way.       

"Study harder, and never take for granted the effort of volunteers." I preached my last words. This was to appreciate the rest of selfless educators/volunteers for their sacrifices and kindness giving underprivileged kids a good education.  

My shoes are my shoes and it's up to someone to put himself in. 

 

       

Thoughtful Hearts

...A gift from my kids on Heart's Day...

"What's up with this network?" I complained trying to browse some cliche posts on my Facebook home. A click more would probably ruin my day, annoyed. Thanks to You Tube for diverting my attention away - if not, it would be another unnecessary struggle minding unimportant things around.

Well, you deserve to know for reading this article. Don't worry, got no intention of calling you nosy, and if I had, then should have kept it to myself. After all, they were only cliche-ridden propaganda friends took time noticing, and which I find corny.

"Here they are again!" I mumbled in irritation. As if I had the rights to show such attitude. Yet, the more I wondered, the same messages kept coming in and back every single day for a week.

"What????" my endless nitpick. And before another quibble started, one's thoughtful greetings changed everything, which brought me to my senses.

"Happy Valentine's Day, teacher Al!" one of the staff greeted.

"Oh, yeah. I totally forgot!" I said instead of wishing back soon. I didn't understand, but felt like I owed people an apology or an explanation for carping in a while. "Happy Valentines, too!"

I told someone what happened in defense of my actions, but I was barking up the wrong tree. She isn't a fan of a Heart's Day either for her strong stand on Buddhism. I was told. So blogging it would do, hopefully.

Sorry for not so sentimental about this occasion- my forgetfulness is to blame mainly, but I have another issue going on - my decision to refrain from so many commercialized stuff.

Thanks to a thoughtful heart when all these cliches seemed didn't work for me - in some points they do - a spoken greetings to remind me that it is the thought what actually counts. 

"Daddy, we have something for you. Happy Valentine's Day!" The kids surprised me with a gift. I wasn't expecting that since I no longer keep track of this kind of celebration. But then, it's all about these thoughtful hearts appreciating a father's love.

Thanks to sweet individuals for remembering me today - when all I thought everything was just a typical flier to commemorate Saint Valentine's effort years ago - a usual way to anticipate this day.

Happy Heart's Day!

...Kids' gesture of love to a Father...

Somebody's Discomfort, Someone's Craft

I'm not a model, just trying to be one of them

Few clicks or more of this, but definitely not one - you'd hear this annoyance once you'd spend time with me in a trip or even in a simple walk around downtown. Some friends typecast this a self-obsession, but I prefer the other way - collecting memoirs.

Absolutely not a camera shy or allergic to photos, but I wasn't born a model; not in my genes. At times, I felt like yielding to instinctive whispers and start having faith in the alluring possibility of becoming a model, but it's just a make-believe. I know.

I modeled once in a while only in my room - not big time. For one reason, this is someone's craft and not mine. To think of a person as the subject of a photo shoot, I couldn't imagine how uncomfortable it must be to come out with an epic result. But then it's not about somebody's discomfort, it's all about someone's strength. That's why I'm not a natural model.

And so thanks to this one time opportunity (for now) - an odd one I'd say to steal someone's profession or career - modeling just for few minutes. It explained why such a craft is not an easy thing as many people thought.

"Excuse me, can you model one particular shoot for us?" she asked me with no hesitation.

"Ah, O.K." I replied back, surprised.

The first three sets weren't that uncomfortable although they involved complex movements and repetitive takes for the sake of perfection - the last two sets were.

"I'm sorry, can you model for two more sets?" she pleaded for more.

That was then the start of uneasiness along with an endless click and annoying do something over effort. They were those awkward sets that required professionalism and gifted models to stop the annoying sound of the camera or to satisfy the photographer's concept.

I had to do some bizarre eye-to-eye shots with a person I considered a stranger, vice versa. And did few more to complete the sets. And I don't think leaving the scene would make a difference.

"Click!" pressed the photographer his last shot.

I felt an incredible sense of relief, thank goodness. But minutes before that was a another story - this guy (ME) was in total agony. I couldn't wait to finish the task and just walk away. And one opportunity a way made me think how difficult it is to be a model. 

Again, so thankful for this experience still, but I can't hold this thoughts back - somebody's discomfort, someone's craft - that's how I perceived it.

P.S.: For the sake of confidentiality, I preferred not to mention the place or event where this particular story happened. Sorry about that.

One of the photo shoots I had to play around.

TONGUES

This is no illumination on the power of words or a written warning about what this seemingly tiny part of the body can do harm - our untamed tongues. After all, I'm tactless as well in some ways, intentionally or not. And I'd take that as work in progress character for not careful in saying or doing something upsetting. 

No one's perfect!

From one field to another - religion or science or culture or arts - tongue has fitted in so interestingly for a coffee talk or so, which left experts in scrutiny including simple inquisitors. And so I will place myself in the latter position - not an expert, but a curious person who's very amazed in the power of a small tongue to produce spoken languages.

So you got me now, hopefully - voila! I'm talking none other but a mother tongue or a foreign tongue or an ancient tongue or a literary implication called language! 

I'm burning with curiosity, and so want to address one question to a particular people-group, the Southeast Asian citizens. It isn't highly intellectual though or a kind that threatens one, so don't come to me saying... "Curiosity killed the cat." 

Have you ever been in an open-tour-van filled with different SEA nationalities? 

  

Sorry if this disinterest you, but I find this experience rare or once in a blue moon. Then, before one realized it, he or she spoke half of the tongues fortunately. Then English finally played as a second language, sat aside for a moment. 

I had this equal, perfect scene last month on my way to Bangkok from Poi Pet. That was a typical ride but not the experience itself. I've been to this route several times and patronized the same tourist company. And so no expectation - nothing special so to say, but not that day - riding with people in different SEA tongues for the first time. 

Two guys, even though hailed from two different countries (Malaysia and Indonesia), and yet shared a common language, the Bahasa, which is also closed to my home dialect known as Tausug. That's when I had to elaborate few similarities for these individuals to know, and for me to discover more similar vocabulary.

And so one Southern Vietnamese man was with us. He speaks English, but I and him decided to speak his tongue once in a while - for my advantage to practice my Vietnamese and for his' when he couldn't explain something in English.

Right next to me were Khmers who speak English just average. Thankfully, I speak basic Khmer and can carry a conversation using such tongue. What a joy to know!

Then, we had two local Thais who happened to be the driver and the tourist guide. Well, that's another story since a lot of us don't speak the language. I only learned few important phrases enough to greet and appreciate insiders.  Honestly, we didn't have problem communicating along the way, and so that was cool.

And few more citizens were also there, which need no further story telling.

Tongues...when it produces words, that's when we discover treasures without necessarily going to another world - simply by listening attentively.

Tongues...when it says something, that's when we acquire nuggets of wisdom even outside the four walls of school. 

Tongues... when it speaks, that's when we truly learn to behold the beauty of a language. 

Different tongues, but there's no distinctions to humanity - only the execution of each language - yet shares a common meaning.