A TALE OF TWO SUPER TYPHOONS

TROPICAL CYCLONE HAIYAN is touted to be the strongest storm ever in the annals of Earth’s modern climatic history. It will churn winds at a velocity of 215 KPH with gusts of more than 250 KPH. It will traverse a wide swath of the Pacific Ocean before targetting the central islands of the Philippines then proceeding on to Vietnam. Once it enters the Philippine area of responsibility on November 8, 2013, it becomes Typhoon Yolanda.

I have survived countless typhoons and weather disturbances on land and on sea and Typhoon Yolanda will be the strongest so far that I will experience. In my mind is Typhoon Ruping which visited unexpectedly on November 13, 1990 at 205 KPH. From sunny weather, during that time, Cebu was gripped in howling madness in just a few hours, causing untold destruction and suffering.

Here in the Philippines, typhoons are rated from ONE to FOUR. At Signal No. 1, a typhoon will spin winds of 30 KPH and above. At Signal No. 2, over 80 KPH winds are expected to howl. Signal No. 3 bring winds of 120 KPH and above as roof sheets are blasted away from houses. A Signal No. 4 is the ultimate typhoon that raises winds of 180 KPH and beyond. When it arrives, it will not bring a lot of rain but the ferocity of its wind will level houses and uproot trees.

Because Typhoon Yolanda is approaching, I will try to reconstruct the events when Typhoon Ruping visited Cebu on that fateful day and the obstacles faced weeks after, especially in the city where I lived. My house is located beside a creek and across mine is a public school with Gabaldon-type¹ buildings with a warehouse shielding me from the south. I was not at the house when Ruping struck for I was training in Lahug as a police recruit.

The training center then was located near a small airport which is now converted as the Cebu IT Park. It was an open field then and very exposed. I remembered it was a very hot afternoon. We were cleaning the marching grounds with our hands and the day ended uneventfully. During supper, it came. Everyone ate their meals hurriedly and discipline vanished quickly as each man left the dining table on his own instead of as one unit as was practiced.

We all went to the barracks for safety and to weather the strong tempest. Rain pushed by gusts of wind entered through the rafters, near the doors and windows and, once these gave way, all those near it transferred to the drier side. My cot was located in the middle and so I was safe and dry. Everyone tried to sleep it away but the winds rocked the roof and the wooden building. All felt threatened by the intensity of the winds and all transferred to the mess hall.

By 1:00 AM, Typhoon Ruping uprooted the very posts supporting the roof of the barracks and lifted it whole from the ground and then it crashed on the bunks splintering the wooden roof beams and the cots emptying the damaged barracks of whatever occupants. We stayed at the sturdy buildings which still have roofs on it and waited for daylight. Nobody dared to venture outside and I thought of my wife and my 10-month old son in my old house.

In the morning the storm still raged. Peeping from the windows, I could see roof sheets flying in spirals as tree branches, already deprived of leaves, danced in the air, got broken, while those that not, got twisted grotesquely. Despite that, we were dry and able to eat meals. Presence of authority in camp seemed to vanish after lunch and I gambled to jump over the fence and decide to travel on foot to my residence, three kilometers away, at 2:00 PM.

It was raining hard and visibility is not that good. I need to be very careful with those falling debris and toppling trees but I also had to keep an eye of my trainors who are known to patrol the camp vicinities. I had to be cautious and hope the rain will shield me. The streets were almost deserted except for a few intrepid people clearing debris yet, amidst them, were falling branches, toppled electric posts and those flying roof sheets that came from nowhere.

I ran by way of Camp Lapulapu into Torralba Street then turning left to Salinas Drive where it led down to San Jose de la Montaña Street and then Mabolo. From there, I follow MJ Cuenco Avenue and straight into my home. The Lahug Creek was swollen but, seeing from the sides, it had overflown some hours ago and my house, especially the lower part, was still inundated with flood water.

I saw my wife sweeping away the muddy water and how I am glad that she was alright and I hugged her. My son was asleep upstairs and tears of joy stream into my cheek seeing him unaffected and warm inside his crib. I went down and cleaned the lower floor while my wife prepared supper. When my task was done, it was almost darkness. I hugged my son when he awoke and we all ate dinner under the candlelight.

She said my father brought her a lot of canned goods, rice and candles two days ago and she find it funny why father have to go the trouble of bringing these items since it is very sunny and very assuring. She had not experienced a terrible storm before since she is from Zamboanga del Sur. She later knew that father have known better and had monitored their situation in my absence. I would have felt the same about father too.

I wished I could stay long. Everything is black outside. Once my son slept, I kissed them both and left for the training camp. It was painful to leave them alone yet I have to fulfill my commitment as a provider for my family. It was 10:00 PM. In darkness, I walk very slow. Lights coming from people with flashlights illuminated briefly the streets giving me some ideas where I would walk. It was cold in the dark as the rains had not abated.

I slip back in camp undetected. I noticed a makeshift barracks was hurriedly built and

candlelight shone from inside. When I went in, another police trainee met me at the entrance but he was on the cold floor doing the “snake crawl”, a physical punishment wherein you have to crawl from Point A to Point B several times on your stomach, wriggling forward without using hands which are clasped from behind.

It was too late as the most hated training staff came into view and caught me when a troop count was ongoing. Right then and there, I was ordered to join the one on the floor but the other guy was dismissed outright and I got the full brunt of the punishment. I have no misgivings. The punishment was worth it. I have accomplished my personal mission and came satisfied with the thought that my family was safe. For two hours, I was cleaning the whole danged floor with my belly.

In the morning there were no morning exercises and it was now sunny. We spend the whole day cleaning the center of debris and mud while some of us were called to do repair work on the houses of the training staff. This particular day was the start of the day where all our meals were served with pork running for a whole month. It was kind of a luxury for the first few days though but when it becomes routine, all wished to subsist on even the lowliest of dried fish.

On the the third night after Ruping had left, I escaped after supper and returned to the center before the bed count had started. I had now developed the strategy based on the routine of how the staff ran the training. Two nights after that, I escaped again, and then more. I never made a run on a Sunday or a Saturday because, I knew, the staff would make a surprise head count from out of nowhere!

The following week, we recruits were used during relief operations, helped in cleaning the city streets, donating blood, etc. Then we hit the road again after a hiatus of fifteen days. We welcomed the road runs and it helped release all the stress we had of being cooped up in a place without news of our loved ones and a time to shed off those fats which we got by eating pork three meals a day!

In all that time, several relief operations were conducted by volunteer groups, foreign humanitarian missions and non-government organizations in Cebu. A United States Navy carrier group was even sent here to help in the rehabilitation effort. Power lines were re-strung and waterworks were slowly connected. For a whole month, Cebu was enveloped in darkness but flickers of light slowly claimed its place. Open wells became the source of water for a lot of communities.

One headline that gets worldwide interest was the loss of zinc anodes attached to a US Navy warcraft overshadowing the damage that the Mandaue-Mactan Bridge got from a cargo ship during the blowout. It turned out that it was stolen by adventurous locals and got sold in a junk shop. How these locals got past layers of sea patrols and high-tech detection gadgets bespeaks of the Cebuanos ingenuity to overcome obstacles and difficulties.

Normalcy returned to the streets of Cebu before Christmas and it was the extreme difficulties experienced right after Typhoon Ruping that Cebuanos shelved off their petty differences and worked together for the common good. Although all faced hunger, thirst, cold, heat and uncertainty, there were no lootings. Peace and order did not break down. Neighbors helped each other out. The dead were not left behind on the streets to rot and the injured taken cared of.

I was just amazed at how fast Cebu was able to recover. The governor then was Lito Osmeña and the mayor of the capital city was Tommy Osmeña. Both are first cousins and both worked hard to make Cebu the best place in the country to invest in. Both did not relied help from the national government. Instead, Cebuanos here and abroad rallied to help their fellow Cebuanos. After that, Cebu boomed!

After a year, Typhoon Uring pummeled Ormoc City in Leyte but their fellow Cebuanos did not turn their backs on them. The Cebu Provincial Government and the Cebu City Government were the first to rescue the people of Ormoc from starvation and disease. Malacañan Palace did not know what to do and our people took charge.

As Typhoon Yolanda hit Samar, I braced for its effect. I still lived on the same place but I am at home now unlike the last time. I had already accepted the fate of my roof but I have prepared the contingencies that would ensure my family’s survival. I stocked food, water, candles and batteries; charged full the cellphones, my radio and LED torches. I made sure that all family members are home. We just had a scare from that 7.2 earthquake three weeks ago and all now know what to do.

As the winds whipped the trees and houses, I noticed that the winds just skimmed high above the city’s airspace. Rain was just light and did not cause flood. The creek beside my house turned brown but it refused to go crazy. I leave house and proceed to the office where I worked astride a motorcycle quite confident that this weather is just a temporary nuisance. I brought my survival and first-aid kits with me along with my knives and a two-way radio to monitor the situation.

In just a matter of a few hours, Yolanda hit its third and fourth landfall in Northern Cebu and Bantayan Island. The glass door of the office rattled as the wind increased its ferocity. Meanwhile, my wife becomes worried about the wind strength and messaged me on the cellphone to immediately come home. I did not budge and kept on observing the wind velocity. Her second text implored me to stay at the office as it is dangerous to travel.

I did go home at 2:00 PM. I passed by the church in Mabolo and one of the ancient acacia trees fell towards its courtyard. When I arrived my neighborhood seemed normal except that there are few venturesome individuals. The foot bridge beside my house is full of people. A huge strangling-fig tree growing beside my neighbor’s house fell towards a public school, blocking the creek. Some people are chopping away the limbs but it is hard work and too few hours for the day.

Thankfully, the new house resisted another calamity and all the roofs are intact. We did not have electric power though as the line was cut when that huge tree fell. We do have ample supply of water and candlesticks. Candles lighted our first night until the fourth night. Dark nights made staying at the living room a must and conversations glowed giving my home the warmth it needed. The children played checkers or chess instead of PSPs and TV.

All that time, I am ignorant of the chaos in Tacloban City and the situations on the rest of the Visayas where Yolanda passed until power was restored in my home. Then I promised to myself that I will do my best of what can I do to the people of whose homes were ravaged by Typhoon Yolanda. Cebuanos are a people dedicated to their faith and, with that, of their veneration of the Señor Santo Niño.

Document done in LibreOffice 3.3 Writer

 

1Single storey wooden buildings that were constructed in the 1920s up to the advent of World War II. It is a type of architecture that was adopted in all public school buildings.

THE SAGA OF A TOE NAIL

UNKNOWN TO ALL of you, I had been suffering from a deformed toe nail for a year now and it limits my movements, especially when I use my right foot. You see, when pressure is applied, the overgrown nail pushes against flesh and causes so much pain. Running along trails are out of my retinue now and downhill walks are carefully measured. I am also cautious that no foot would step on mine.

This toenail remained uncut because it had warped and curled on its right edge. As if that is not enough, body fluid, water and sweat mixed in with detritus and hardened between nail and flesh as it formed another layer of hard material making the toenail extremely thick. I have bought a special nail cutter and another to trim it but the jaws are not that wide to accommodate the unusually-thick nail.

This started right after leading a climb in June 2008 up Mount Dulangdulang in Bukidnon and continuing on to Mount Kitanglad the next day. The nails on both big toes suffered from four days of jungle rot and blackened. It was very painful when it dried up. I even thought that the nails would be gone for good and was preparing myself to accept living without nails on my big toes.

By some miracle borne out of my unusual genes, the toes stayed and some of the black color faded. Not only that, it begins to grow normally although it had not adhered fully to the flesh beneath it. Because of those tiny airspace, semen fluid, water and sweat coagulate and congeal in small amounts which succeeding nail cutters efficiently removed.

The left toe had recovered slightly and had not given me any trouble anymore unlike the right toe which looked like the big toe nails of my late grandfather. When he lived, he used to trim the nails with a razor blade. He preferred the Gillette brand. But I do not have the dexterity to use a razor and I am afraid it would cut me instead.

I was contemplating of clinically removing that problematic toenail for good but I had a change of mind. I remembered reading Sir Ranulph Fiennes in his autobiography, “Mad Bad and Dangerous”. He mentioned in the book that he suffered from frostbite during his Antarctic sojourn and got rid of his two fingers later when it was becoming so bothersome and have caused extreme pain by cutting it off with a hand saw.

I followed his gist and put this to effect on the toenail on the night of November 4, 2013. Armed with a saw blade for metal, I slowly cut the annoying nail at the part two centimeters below the contour of the big toe. I work the saw blade back and forth in short cycles to lessen pain but it brought minimal respite. I get a satisfaction when that part was removed and then I move on to cut the rightmost part at an angle.

This is more difficult because the saw end would bump on the side of the toe. I persevered, doing this in very short see-saw movements until it is almost sawed off. A small part still held the rest so I wrench and pull it off from the toe. Ouch! All this had been witnessed by grandson, Gabriel. He took the pictures of this brutish operation.

When I thought I now have the desired length of the nail and felt comfortable about it, I finished the left side of the nail with my newly-acquired Mörser nailcutter. I carefully cut off the sharp edges with the cutter and it looked normal again. I rubbed some nail file to smoothen the edges.

My right foot feels light and the ugliness brought by that overgrown nail is now gone. I now feel confident to move around where, before, I was hampered. I would do this again, if ever, the toenail would grow back.  At least, for now, it is behaving.

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THE DAY THE EARTH WENT WILD

IT IS THE FEAST OF Sacrifice for the faithfuls of Islam – Eid’l Adha – and it is a bright sunny day. It is October 15, 2013 and it is a legal holiday here in the Philippines and it made many people happy, especially children for there are no classes. My wife did not bother to wake me up early that morning. When I do rise from the bed it was almost 8:00 AM.

I enjoy the day as if it is a Sunday and, as usual, I drink a glass of water coming from the tap before going to the bath. My wife and grandson Jarod are watching TV and I join them in the living room. It is 8:20 AM. Suddenly, without warning, I felt the unmistakable shake of the ground coming from an oncoming earthquake before it begins to accelerate.

I immediately stood up to take shelter under the stairs. The stairs, along with the doorway, are my assigned refuge areas should an earthquake hit Cebu. The stairway is made of steel anchored on a landing three-feet high with the highest step welded to six-inch wide steel purlins and attached to three angle-bar trusses. My wife, together with Jarod, ran towards the doorway.

As me and my wife were shouting for the rest of our household, who all were still asleep upstairs, to evacuate the house, she automatically switch off the main electrical switch while I hold the TV set from falling down and lean my body weight towards my book shelf to keep it from falling. It is like wrestling a brute animal. The earthquake is persistent but I did not give an inch, no matter what, and no book fell.

One by one, Lovella, Gringo, Rocky, Kurt and Gabriel stream down the stairs for the outdoors. I admit I got goose bumps when the quake rose in intensity with such magnitude that had never ever been in my memory. I wished it would stop but it seemed to shake itself forever. The pandemonium caused was like a thousand 18-wheeler loaded trucks running full-speed on a rough road beside your house.

When I think that the shaking of my house was too much and too long, I unashamedly shout to Providence begging the earthquake to stop and my plea was heard or so it seemed. It stopped. Silence. I see my wife crying by the doorway. The rest of my household were on the footbridge and are quite shocked but okay. I trust on that bridge since I know how it was built and how thick the steel bars used.

I go back the house and check on the damage. I see no major cracks on the walls on ground level then I run up the stairs. When I am at the second floor, a strong aftershock hit my house again and I see my firewall swaying east and west. Amazingly, this house is so resilient. During its construction, all the beams, posts and frames are made of steel. I know very well that steel is very flexible unlike concrete.

All the bottles are down but no breakage, especially my Yellow Tail Shiraz and Johnnie Walker Black, which were placed above the ref and fell to the floor but, miraculously, remained intact. Another aftershock came, this time swift, brief and strong. I quickly filled a Nalgene bottle with cold water and went out with it together with my cellphone, my William Rodgers knife and the Cignus V85 VHF/UHF radio.

Once I rejoined my family on the bridge, some of my neighbors are already there. I turn on the radio and scan the different channels. I monitor each and caught some important communications like one individual’s observation of bubbles coming from the depths of the harbor waters at the waterfront, another’s alarming report on the damage of the Cebu South Bus Terminal and another report on a fire in Duljo-Fatima.

I sent text messages to my Camp Red network for the epicenter of the earthquake since I have no Internet connectivity in my home. I got replies and all tell that it is a 7.2 magnitude on the Richter Scale and its center is two kilometers south of Carmen, Bohol. Holy Toledo! I cannot believe it. I noticed the black creek beside my house shaken from its murky stupor.

My estimate was that it was a 6.6 but later reports says it was a 6.8 that hit Cebu. I check the outer walls of my house and along its foundations like the creek retaining wall and the bridge itself where we took our refuge. I check for tell-tale signs of dust and I found plenty on the bottom of my firewall since the outer part is unfinished. That is the weakest part of my house and I will retrofit it once I have a budget.

Aftershock after aftershock, we all stayed on the bridge and when the tremors are not that intense anymore, I visit the backstreet where most of my neighbors lived. All stayed outside and I have never seen so many neighbors! There seemed to be no major damage on their homes and other structures so I go back to the bridge and inspect the wall of a public school for tell-tale signs.

I walk past the school onto the main thoroughfare and looked for structural cracks on the old MJ Cuenco Bridge but I see it had not sagged in the middle nor the problematic soil erosion on one of the foundations where a warehouse is presently built was disturbed. A lot of people are on the street though and too few vehicles.

I go back to the rallying point and we all decide to go back inside the house but two successive aftershocks cause all to go back outside. Another calm interlude and we all found ourselves back inside. When another tremor came, all refused to budge anymore because they could now discern the difference in intensity.

When I think everyone is calm and confident, I leave the house astride a company motorcycle to make a tour of the city and of the offices where the company I worked for are servicing. I pass by GMC Building near Plaza Independencia and it was all rubble on their front parking lot as a parapet fell from its facade. Detritus on the bases of buildings tell of damage overhead and a good sign to evade those areas.

I proceed to the Basilica Minore del Santo Niño but it was cordoned off. I continue on foot and take pictures of the severe damage of its belfry. Across this holy place is a commercial building where its top annex serving as a penthouse, collapsed. Two blocks away, the steel tower of the 14-storey Century Hotel is bent at the half.

I arrive at the Cebu South Bus Terminal and the covered interiors are now off-limits to people. A lot of the acoustic boards that cover the ceilings, to include its metal holders, collapsed and fell to the floor. A row of fluorescent lighting units are suspended by their wires after the boards fell and a lot of glass blocks on the entrance and exit facades are crushed and splintered.

From downtown, I cruise for the uptown area and arrive at the Cebu Provincial Capitol, the seat of government of the Province of Cebu. There were a lot of structural cracks on the old building but the greatest damage is from its annex building where a slab of concrete fell on the parking lot infront of the post office. Moreover, the ceiling panels of the Vice Governor’s Office have collapsed to the floor.

I move on next to the Capitol Central Hotel, Leadamorphosis BPO, Escario Building, Cebu Grand Hotel, KIA-Gorordo before making a coffee stop at the Pag-IBIG Fund in Cebu Business Park. From there, I motor on to Sky Rise 1 and Sky Rise 2 at the Cebu IT Park and continue on to the Banilad Town Center. I park momentarily to take a walk to the nearby Gaisano Country Mall, where a big slab of concrete supporting an access stairway broke and fell to pieces.

After that I go to the office to monitor the damage online before leaving at 6:00 PM for home. In all that time, there were already several strong aftershocks and my wife had been texting me to come home as it is already dusk. I returned the motorcycle to its parking area in my neighborhood and everyone are staying outdoors afraid of being caught inside in darkness during strong aftershocks.

My presence brought back assurance of safety to my household as they were held hostage to anxiety and fear when darkness fell. I feel the warmth of homelife beginning to glow as everyone are present and engage in conversations. Calamities such as these brought us more closer as we tuned in to primetime news. Dinner is served and I assume my position as the house patriarch.

The island province of Bohol was the most affected area. 17th and 18th Century Catholic churches, most of these heritage sites and natural treasures, were not spared. The old structures crumbled like sandcastles and the grandeur of yesteryears vanished along with it. I am quite sure that there would be a lot of casualties in Bohol as there were in Cebu.

It was the strongest earthquake I have experienced yet, surpassing the 5.6 magnitude that shook Negros Oriental last year which unleashed a grand tsunami scare in Cebu. Before that, it was a 4.5 in 1989 with epicenter at Southern Leyte. Cebu may be protected by other islands from tsunamis, but it is not anymore immune from big tremors. I am quite alarmed that crust movements are getting uncomfortably intense and so close.

That recent quake lasted THIRTY-TWO SECONDS. If that would go one minute, I am very sure that there would be a lot of old and recent structures tumbling down along with a high casualty rate. I would have survived, of course, underneath my steel staircase even with falling debris but the cost of repairing the damage would have been appalling but not insurmountable.

Always always ALWAYS designate a refuge spot inside your house. That spot is, by your own judgment, the safest place to weather a strong quake. If that cannot be possibly available, prepare an escape route and practice it by memory. That route should take you away from standing structures like unfinished firewalls, electric posts, water tanks, high fences and glass-paneled high-rises. You must also avoid standing below cliffs and coconuts.

Almost always, electrical power will stop and cellular communications will bog down in the first ten minutes. Use the hand held radio, if you have one, to monitor communication traffic and to inquire information. If you do not have two-way radio, use an old-school transistor radio instead and tune in to AM channels. Through these, you will dispel uncertainty and panic among your family and your neighbors.

If you had prepared yourself well from disasters, you and your family would survive the first three days. This time frame is very critical since help would usually come, at the most, 72 hours after the initial impact. Within this span, you and your family will subsist on food and water you stocked prior to disasters. I would encourage people to start learning about prepping and urban survival.

Document done in LibreOffice 3.3 Writer

MICKEY MOUSE BUSHCRAFT

WHEN YOU PROMISE SOMETHING, you better be good with what you said else you get annoying reminders! In my case, my grandson gives me that annoying and repetitive reminders and it becomes annoyingly sweet when you get a bear hug from him all the time.

I am busy most of the week except Sundays. But even that, the faraway hills always claim it, without a doubt, be it rain or heavy rain! On some rare occasions though, I am nailed right in my home. Like when I am utterly sick, just plain lazy or with an empty pocket.

I am at the end of my road for this week and I am broke. Maybe, it would be good to stay put just for this particular Sunday, September 29, 2013. I wake up at seven and try to clear my thoughts about the things I need to do today and I play an album of Crosby, Stills & Nash to give me that needed “push”.

Across the coffee table and lying prone on the sofa, little Gabriel had been watching me through the corner of one eye with another eye on the PSP. I very well know what he felt today and I feel that he is quite surprised by my unusual presence on a day that he knows I am not supposed to be around. He knows that because he glanced at the wall clock.

As I finished my light breakfast, I collect all my pieces of bamboo and my blades. I will polish again my bushcraft skills right here in my shrinking backyard. I had been planning this for so many times because my wife and the rest of my family does not know what I am doing on weekends.

Although I regularly post my activities in Facebook, my wife does not have an FB account. My two sons have but they focused all their updates on their online game conquests. My grandsons have accounts too but these are just dummy profiles put up by their mom since they are minors. All know that I have crazy stunts in Facebook but, like all people do: To actually see is to believe.

When Gabe sees me carrying all the bamboos and the sharp things outside to the backyard, his face lighted up and a smile flashed on his face. I place it all on a monobloc chair just outside the door and Carlo, my Belgian malinois mongrel, begins to push his cold snout through a gap of the impromptu steel gate, trying to reach me. I opened the small gate and Carlo’s tail wagged some more and he licked me as far as his tongue could reach.

Carrying all the things down the concrete steps, I stop on a pile of wood and steel bars underneath the water-apple tree and, from there, I go back the house to get the KODAK Easyshare M23 camera and the CIGNUS V85 portable VHF/UHF radio, Carlo trailing behind. The transceiver radio can tune in to FM stations and that would provide me music.

Quickly, I assess the small clearing and I instantly know where to start my fire and do my cooking. I have a green bamboo pole with two conjoined segments which I brought from Lilo-an a week ago and, from this same bamboo, I will demonstrate to all how to cook rice in it. I make short work opening the two segments of the bamboo under the scrutinizing eyes of my wife and Gabriel.

I used the Seseblade “sinalong” knife for this job. It is a small knife, about five inches in blade length, but it did the job well. It could take the pounding from a heavy stick and its blade dig deep into the bamboo’s surface. This is not the first torture test that I have done on a Seseblade though and I could see that the blades made by Dr. Arvin Sese are tough and durable.

Carlo, meanwhile, ran and jumped all around the spaces in between as he seemed to be in ecstasy at the prospect of seeing and feeling me so very close. I admit that I have not had so much time to bond with Carlo as what I did with my previous dogs and I get pestered by him and he is a very snotty customer. I ignored him as much as possible and keep him at arm’s length.

I start to gather whatever dry wood I could get as firewood. I chop blisters of wood from a half-dry mango trunk with my hatchet and collect it inside a plastic bag. When it got full, I turn my attention on dry branches. I struck a match to light a paper underneath a pile of dry kindling when one of the sparks caught a biodegradable plastic bag and this plastic burned quickly just by that. It is a good discovery though for me.

It is always a challenge to cook on a bamboo with very few resources like dry wood. You have to keep the flame going even with half-dried wood and that means constant blowing and inhaling thick smoke in the process. Good thing I have a small bamboo pole which I used recently as a dart gun and blow air through it many times directed at the embers. I was able to cook my rice using this technique.

My wife was not impressed at how I prepared my rice. She says this, she says that, and so on...blah...blah...blah...! I just smiled and I let her smell a grain of cooked rice. She still was not impressed and she goes on with what is on her mind. All the while, Gabriel had been reminding me with his bow and arrows. I keep his hopes high by promising him again after lunchtime.

I need to keep the fire going because my wife is preparing a 1.3-kilo milk fish (Local name: bangus) for grilling. She pass me a small iron grill and I place it over the embers before the fish gets its turn above it five minutes later. I watch over the coals and keeping an eye on Carlo, who had been busy with his antics trying to get my attention.

We finally got our lunch at 11:30 AM after I transferred the rice and the fish onto the table and after taking a bath. Jarod, Gabe’s elder brother, is so impressed about my bushcraft cooking and is smiling as he ate, enjoying this novelty. I hid my pleasure and gave him a wink.

After the meal, comes siesta. I know the boys will take their customary afternoon sleep and I accompany them upstairs toting two books to while away time and to tease my eyes to sleep. The books are not boring. In fact, I recommend it for reading. The Last Climb by Thomas Cosgrove is an exciting fiction novel in a Peruvian landscape while The Cliff Walk by Don Snyder is a true-to-life midlife crisis experience.

After finishing one chapter each, I felt sand rolling in my eyes and I reclined on the floor to embrace Lady Dreamtime. Gabe shook me awake and I did not know I slept for an hour. That freshens me up and I go outside again to our backyard and work on the bow and arrows as Carlo kept pestering me once I entered his realm.

I am able to make a short bow for Gabo with two short arrows and showed him how to hold and use it. He seems to enjoy it the moment he released his second arrow. The arrows are pointed and I remind him not to point it with a bow at anyone and at Carlo, much more so using it indoors. He seems to completely understand my instructions as he stowed the bow and the arrows in a safe place once he gets inside.

It was one quality day spent with family and my watchdog. Sometimes though, it is strange to be around home on a Sunday after a long habit of spending it outdoors. I do not mind it and I love it. Maybe, on some days, they will be with me in the mountains and valleys, simulating a SHTF scenario and living it. Then they would know what I am showing at Facebook.

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THE FINE ART OF WATERPROOFING

NOVEMBER 30, 2012 is a legal holiday. I may have to take time off from my day job and enjoy the day. No, my wife asked me instead to repair the the upper floor bathroom of her daughter which had been leaking through floor and ceiling into the ground level bathroom. Since I know something about waterproofing, she requested me. Bye bye day off.

Waterproofing is a trade skill that I learned during my warrior pilgrimage days and that was more than a decade ago. I used to work as a free-lance waterproofing applicator together with a neighbor and it was another source of income for me during those days. You toil under the heat of the sun with a fire torch and melting asphalt sheets on the roof deck. While working, you either sit on your ankles, you kneel or you crouch. It was such a reprieve then to just stand after 15 minutes or more of bending your knees .

Well, I may have to re-visit that situation again with arthritic knees now and then prepare the materials and equipment needed for this waterproofing job. The surface that I am working on is just small: two meters by two meters. It is indoors, so no sun to torment me but it is windowless. In a small confined area, it will be very very hot, I tell you.

I searched the local yellow pages the day before for “waterproofing” and all items found are waterproofing contractors except one who supply asphalt membranes. I phoned Ritebuild Systems in Mandaue City and they were able to sell me a roll of Sika BituSeal asphalt sheet that is 10 meters long, one meter wide and 3mm thin. Yes. So thin indeed. Back then, we used to work on membranes that are 5mm thick!

In the morning, I proceed to the Cebu Home & Builders Center in Consolacion and buy the other stuff like a gallon of Shell Flintkote bituminous primer, a Kessler gas torch, a 75ml bottle of butane, two cheap brushes, a bottle of paint thinner, a cutter, a pair of work gloves, safety glasses, disposable masks and a spatula. I complement the butane fuel with three used bottles which are leftovers from my camping sorties.

I start the work right after lunch. So, that leaves me just five hours of daylight. I had the bathroom floor thoroughly cleaned after it was removed of floor tiles two days ago. A row of tiles all around the wall that is located at the bottom layer were also rid of to free the spaces intended for waterproofing.

Fine dust were the last to be taken away before a thin coat of bitumen primer were to be applied. I paint black on all the bare spaces devoid of tiles including the upper part of the inside surfaces of PVC pipes which are used as drain. I re-section the floor in imaginary segments so I would not waste my supply of bitumen membrane.

The bathroom do not have lighting and the only source of light comes from the door and from my small LED torch. Since it is cramped and hot, I directed an electric fan to the bathroom door. I need a lot of air flow to disperse the vapor resulting from the melting of asphalt and so I use another electric fan to suck air coming from outside the window into the living room from where the other fan is located near the bathroom.

The heat from the flame torch and the melted asphalt goes back at you as it bounce off from tiled walls. The tiles are a perfect convector of heat as it possess a shiny sheen. What made matters worse is that the heat are carried by the air blown off by the electric fan once I change position facing it. From time to time, I turn off the appliance.

I am sweating profusely, drops of sweat fall from my eyebrows into the softened asphalt, my knees, my feet, my forearms, the bare floor, my eyeglasses and into my eyes which cause a sting. My t-shirt, my briefs and shorts are all wet including my pair of cotton work gloves.

The gloves are smeared with tar which adhere when I position the hot membrane to the floor sections. If liquified asphalt is accidentally touched, I would quickly remove glove as it is very hot. I would stop every thirty minutes to stretch my legs and to cool down my body and the gas torch. I would do that by going downstairs (where the refrigerated water is) and inhale fresh air outside. A fifteen-minute break is all I need every hour. Fair enough.

You have to overlap each sheet over the other by at least two inches and seal it by pressing down the spatula going from left to right or reverse or up going down. You cut small square pieces of membrane to patch areas where you are short of measurement and seal it all around. That is painstaking work since you need both gloved hands for torch and spatula and nothing for the flashlight. Fortunately for me, I have an extra hand from a carpenter.

The most delicate one is sealing the drain edges. Possessed with a very good imagination, I hurdle it in a breeze and finish the entirety of the waterproofing job at 6:20 PM. Before I say it is over, I may have to test the efficacy of the waterproofing by temporarily sealing the drain holes and open the water tap to create a water pool then wait for three hours for a leak.

Got rid of the wet clothes and change into dry ones. Dinner comes and, after that, a good seat infront of a TV set to watch the Philippine Azkals beat the Myanmar White Angels, 2-0, in the Suzuki Cup. What a day!

Document done in LibreOffice 3.3 Writer

CINEMA BLUES

IT HAD BEEN a long time.  

Yes, I think it is almost a decade since I last brought my wife to a movie house.

 

What was that film we last watched?

Oh, Alexander the Great.

Yeah.

I remembered it starred Collin Farrell as Prince Alexander of Macedonia.

I remembered too that we watched it at the Elizabeth Mall.

By God, that was in 2003!

How come watching movies become so rare for me now?

Well, economics play a role.

As of late, it is uneconomical for me to spend money for old-fashioned conventional entertainment like cinema houses offer.

I simply lost my zest to watch films on the big screen as my budget is stretched to the limit running a household.

Also, film piracy has to do with that.

You could watch your favorite stars on dirt-cheap DVDs in the comforts of your home instead of commuting yourself to the malls where the modern cinemas are.

It’s much cheaper to buy pirated films than lining yourself for a seat inside a movie house.

And you could watch the DVD films over and over and over…

Without cuts.

No sweat.

Besides that, in this age of WIFIs, you could download moving pictures or watch it on your palms or on your laps.

But last night (August 23, 2012), I finally got to seat myself inside the cinema.

 With my wife, of course.

The flick is Bourne Legacy.

Good movie.

Compliments of our sponsor although I get to shell out one peso.

How come I pay just a peso when it is expensive to watch a movie?

It’s complicated.

Ask me why?

It is a movie pass good for one person that is validated which elicited from me a peso. 

I am given a ticket for that which I press into an optical reader and the turnstile opened up for my wife.

The other is an e-Card.

I just place it inside a slot, it bounces back to my hand and the turnstile opened up for me.

Ingenious.

That’s how they run things in SM City Cebu.

I really miss the big screens and the “sensurround” sound system. 

Last night was a nostalgic night for me.

There were fewer than twenty people watching inside.

 

Good for me.

Bad for business.