So yeah, as I was saying, I live on the highway. It’s the kind of highway that is not dangerous for kids to cross by themselves. During rush hour – which is a misnomer cuz nobody in the Philippines is ever in a rush – a motorcycle passes every 30 seconds. A truck comes by every five minutes. In my neck of the palm trees, the road is paved nicely. In other parts it is not. I suspect that as in America, politics is the deciding factor in smoothness of the roads.
The highway is not much of a problem for me, although the exhaust it delivers means I must constantly dust off my belongings. I am fortunate to be able to take a cold 1-gallon water bucket bath every morning and evening. At night is when the trouble starts. I don’t understand motorcycles in the least, nor am I permitted to ride them as per Peace Corps policy. However, there are different levels of engine power. The super-charged ones come out at night. Whenever I think I’m about to fall asleep, obnoxious thunder passes by my window. And if the motorcyclists are all taking the night off, I can always count on the dogs, HOWL HOWL HOWLING regardless of the moon phase. Last night I was still rolling in bed, staring at my very yellow walls and ceiling, when the roosters began their morning prayers.
The people I live with are remarkable. Nang Juaning is 73 years young. She tends the counter at Sanny Pharmacy, which she started decades ago. I imagine it was the first place in town to get medicine. When business is slow, as it usually is, she plays 3-card solitaire at her desk. (By the way, Sanny Pharmacy is connected to the house, and I’ve started helping customers as best as I can.)
She has a helper named Regine to help with laundry, cooking and cleaning. Regine is 20, and was never able to afford schooling past elementary school. (Elementary school is free, beyond that you gotta pay.) Anyway, Nang Juaning decided it was time for Regine to continue her education and is now sponsoring Regine’s high school tuition. (There’s no middle school either. Straight from elementary to HS.) My sister Nicole will be happy to know that Regine always eats her meals with us. She sits right next to Nang Juaning. I have yet to convince either of them that I want to help clear the table and clean the dishes.
Nang Juaning has been blessed with six kids, a daughter plus five sons. (There is a push to the big cities. Go where the jobs are. It’s a worldwide trend. Just look at Manhattan. People didn’t originally move there for high rent and indie rock.) As a result of the preceding parenthetical reference, Sanny (the namesake of Sanny Pharmacy) is the only kid who still lives in Inabanga.
Sanny happened to be born a month premature back in 1959, and has suffered some physical handicaps. But he is not one to let a little handicap interfere with enjoying life. He minds the famous Sanny Store, a sari-sari store his wife owns, across the street, or rather across the highway. Walking is a difficulty, so Sanny rides his custom tricycle back and forth from our house to his store. Every now and then Sanny offers me a glass of tuba, the local homebrewed coconut wine. And if any of you come visit, Sanny will surely pour you some tuba and challenge you to a mean game of chess.
Next time I’ll tackle the work I’m supposed to be doing, contaminated groundwater, and the Coca-Cola tax.
Have a nice weekend everybody. It’s gonna be hot!
Posted by dbs at June 25, 2004 12:31 PM